#they are doing a life drawing session. but once again. 7 in the fucking morning OTL

[bytebun]

shall I go to bed early. and wake up for 7am tomorrow

[zipstidbits]

hi zip! 👋 i'm just really curious about how you got into astrophysics 👀 and what careers interest you in that field if you don't mind sharing ☺️ i just think it's so cool, but like, in the way of someone who knows absolutely nothing about astrophysics except that it's probably really hard and also rockets 😛🚀 have a lovely day! 💞

hi zesty!!!!! thanks so much for asking, i don't mind sharing at all :))))

how i got into astrophysics:

both my parents are second-generation americans so education/college was always The Big Goal growing up. this translated to my parents really emphasizing math and science skills and i got really interested in science this way. (the post-cold war american cultural emphasis on science as a whole probably contributed to this as well, lmao.)

i ended up momentarily ditching the science dream because i started struggling with math in middle school. i can do it, but my adhd means i struggle to hold numbers in my head (do mental math) and sometimes i can be slow/need to write things out more than others/make silly mistakes/and then get bogged down by imposter syndrome. this was like 10+ years ago so i had zero diagnoses and minimal support so i hopped onto the anti-math train.

i never stopped liking science though. i want to know everything and imo, science contains the answers to everything and is how we'll learn all that is unknown right now. once i hit high school and science class started having a shit ton more math i started to view math differently. it became the whole 'the enemy (math) of my enemy (the unknown) is my friend' thing. thankfully, math, when applied to physics concepts, makes more sense than when in a pure math class, so this became a very doable arrangement.

i also started consuming a lot more pop-science/science in the news around this time. neil degrasse tyson, the one astrophysics class i took in high school, and my dad who played a lot of star trek and pbs space videos on youtube to bond with me opened my mind to the most beautiful thing ever (space). i just think it's the coolest thing ever and the unknowns are so cool and i want to know what's going on up there so bad!!!!

this (and some spite*) led me to apply to college for a BS in physics. doing just physics and not astrophysics was sort of a safety net because i thought i'd really like particle physics too but it turns out quantum mechanics is evil and fucked up so i chose to stick with astrophysics as my concentration, lmao.

*i felt like a lot of my peers in high school assumed i couldn't do this because i wasn't naturally good at math/physics and i took a little more time and effort (i spent a lot of early mornings and afternoons in help sessions, lmao) and a part of me wanted to prove them wrong.

then, this past fall/winter, i applied for a bunch of astrophysics phd programs because i've thankfully got a BS degree and i've made my mind up on what i want to do in life (study/learn about space). i got rejected from 7 out of the 8 schools i applied to which was terrible in the moment but great now because i didn't really have to choose what program to accept, lmaoooooooooooo.

careers that interest me:

i very much enjoy teaching (i was a teaching assistant this year) and i would really like to continue it. i could probably do that in most research jobs by mentoring others in a lab/research setting but also being a professor sounds really cool and appealing to me since i could do research and traditional teaching, lmao.

i'm kind of willing to give most astrophysics research jobs a try, i think? the only line i'd really draw is i don't want to work anywhere near the american military-industrial complex for moral reasons

thank you again for asking zesty!!!! sorry for rambling so much and i hope you have a lovely day as well!!! <33333

[full-of-jams]

Tangsuyuk Love

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Summary: College student Jungkook passes cute notes with a customer who always orders take-out tangsuyuk at his part-time job. Meanwhile he’s trying not to miserably fail his Math class, while hiding his ever-growing crush on you.

Genre: college au, f2l, fluff, smut, one shot, did I mention FLUFF?

Warnings: mild swearing, sexual content, hold your heart palpitations!

Word Count: 11.5k

A/N: I wanted to write something light and sweet before I continued with Good Riddance. It will be easy, she said. It will be fun, she said. It will be quick, she said. Ha. haha. ha. ha. Ignore my pain. Enjoy!

°°°°°°°

[09/04 18:34 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY] 1 Tangsuyuk (large) 1 Jjamppong 2 Kimchi Mandu ---------------- Note: Without pineapple! Please make the jjamppong extra spicy, my boyfriend just broke up with me T-T

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (large) -- 20,000 1 Jjamppong -- 5,000 2 Kimchi Mandu -- 6,000 1 Soju -- 0

Total: 31,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: Service! Nothing’s better than the fresh taste of soju to lighten a heavy heart :) Cheer up LatteIsHorse-Nim!

Paper Note: JK-nim, thanks for the soju. It sweetened my bitter night. This is Tokki, please give him a loving new home! TT-TT

Jungkook was fucking terrified of you. If it weren’t for the fact that he was close to failing Statistical Analysis, he would’ve considered faking a stomach flu and making a beeline straight out of the library.

“If you have a box containing 3 white, 4 red and 5 black balls what is the probability that you will draw a white ball on your first draw and a black ball on your second draw?” you asked again through gritted teeth.

You looked up at Jungkook and were met by an empty stare. Usually you enjoyed tutoring your fellow classmate. He was a smart and funny guy, maybe a bit awkward at times, but always trying his best. Today every little thing grated on your nerves. It took you every ounce of energy to get out of bed and look like a presentable human being this morning. You really didn’t want to sit here for another hour if the boy was just going to stare at you like a petrified statue. “It’s really not that difficult. You just have to apply conditional probability.”

Jungkook let out a frustrated huff and pulled at his hair, “I really don’t know, this doesn’t make any sense! Why do I even need this stuff for my major? Who cares if I pull out a white ball or a black ball first? It’s not like I’m planning on becoming Houdini!”

Sometimes you pitied him, but who on Earth had an irrational fear of Gauss distributions and probability?! They were beautiful, harmless, abstract concepts of life. Your sympathy was muffled by a thrumming headache. All the late-night crying already had you chugging water and slapping ice cubes on your face at breakfast. Right now you just wanted to go home, change into your pjs, order some tangsuyuk and binge watch Boys Over Flowers. The cringy acting and Go Jun Pyo’s luscious locks were the only things that made your miserable life feel a bit less pathetic at the moment. “Jungkook, we went over this last time. Just apply the damn formula,” you snapped.

“Why are you being so scary today?” he asked wide-eyed and apprehensive.

You took a deep breath, rubbed your temples and tried to calm your inner turmoil. It wasn’t his fault; you were just in a really shitty mood. “I’m sorry. It’s not my day today. Is it okay if we rain check? I promise I’ll make it up to you next week.”

Jungkook wasn’t used to seeing you this distraught. He wracked his brain on how to lift your spirit. “Hey, do you want to hear this math joke my friend Jin told me the other day? What do you call an angle that is adorable?”

The boy scrunched his nose adorably and waited for your response. He was really handsome, you noticed that back when you two first met. Back then you just didn’t have a reason to care. Back then you still had a boyfriend.

“I don’t know, tell me,” you answered.

“Acute angle!” he said with a timid smile.

Despite your foul mood you had to snort at his joke.

Jungkook’s smile grew wider. It wasn’t a full laugh, but at least your frown disappeared. He discovered early on that you had a soft spot for bad math puns.

Although he absolutely detested Statistical Analysis, he has come to enjoy your study sessions over the past couple of weeks. The TA of his class, Namjoon, was a close friend of Jungkook’s and a sunbae of yours. Once he discovered that his favorite dongsaeng was abysmal at reading a z-score table, he immediately referred him to you.

At first Jungkook was very reluctant to accept any help. He was a mechanical engineer for fuck’s sake! He calculated distributed load across uneven surfaces and directional derivatives all the time!

His inner protests died down during your first session when you unwittingly asked him if he was constipated while he tried to calculate the standard deviation. During your second session he noticed you liked to doodle small geometric and fractal comics on his work sheets whenever he was solving a problem.

‘What did the triangle say to the circle?’ ‘You’re pointless!’

By the time your third session rolled around he still hated statistics, but it was too late and he’d developed a hopeless crush on you. Your monologues about dead mathematicians and the beauty of an infinite series were oddly captivating. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone who was so passionate and animated about anything in all his life.

“Is everything okay?” Jungkook asked carefully. You seemed tired and a bit wary. “I-I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel like it. Sorry, it’s none of my business,” he immediately added.

You smiled at his flustered state. Jungkook’s heart stumbled when your smile turned sad and you said, “No not really, but I’m sure I’ll be fine sooner or later.”

[13/04 19:12 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (large) 1 Jjajangmyeon 1 Jjajangbap ---------------- Note: JK-nim! Omg your tangsuyuk is the best! I could drown in that sauce! How is Tokki doing?

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (large) -- 20,000 1 Jjajangmyeon -- 4,500 1 Jjajangbap -- 5,500

Total: 30,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! Little Tokki is doing well and bravely guarding our store! Don’t drown, but here’s some extra sauce for you to enjoy. I asked for it to be without pineapple. Hwaiting!

“Yah! Why does it smell like rotten take-out in your bedroom?” Jisoo asked.

Scowling has become your new go-to expression. “Too soon. Just let me wallow in my self-pity and sorrow.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve thought your friend was playing ‘The Floor Is Lava’ considering how gingerly she walked across your room. Safely on the other side, she ripped open a window to let some much needed fresh air in. 

“I think you’re going to be wallowing in mold and fungus instead,” Jisoo commented with disgust. “Wallow all you want, I’m here to support you, girl. But I can’t allow you to turn your place into a biohazard zone. Isn’t your sister bothered by this?”

“My sister doesn’t care; our rooms are off limits to each other. As long as we both keep the common area clean, she won’t complain,” you said.

Jisoo sat down on your bed and patted the empty spot next to her. She immediately retracted her hand. “Eww, is that tangsuyuk sauce on your sheets?” she asked, completely appalled.

You shrugged and thumped onto your bed.

“So what are your plans for tonight?” she asked, trying to suppress a shudder.

“It’s Monday night. What plans could I possibly have?”

“We’re in college! Weekdays, weekends, they’re all the same!” your friend exclaimed. She looked at your sprawled-out figure. “I told you from the very beginning he wasn’t good for you. I know it doesn’t feel like this right now, but you’re lucky he’s out of your life. I really can’t watch you torture yourself over a jerk like him. Let’s go out to Hongdae!”

“I can’t go out. I already have plans.”

“Didn’t you just say you didn’t have any plans?”

“I lied. I have a date.”

Jisoo paused for a second, unsure how to respond. “Really? With whom?”

“Gong Yoo. We promised to kiss each other on first snowfall,” you responded listlessly.

“Yah!” Jisoo yelled and smacked your butt.

“Oww! What was that for?” you cried in surprise, rubbing the tender spot.

“Re-watching Goblin is not a date! You scared me for a second,” Jisoo said.

“How is it not a date? I meet a hot oppa, multiple hot oppas, we have dinner together, I giggle and blush and at the end of the night I get kissed to sleep.” You sat up and gave your friend a weary look. “I really don’t want to go out right now, but also don’t want to be on my own. Can’t we just stay in and watch a drama?” you asked with the saddest face you could muster.

Jisoo wanted to argue, but she couldn’t resist your pout. “Fine. But first you change your bedsheets, I’m not gonna sit in moldy tangsuyuk sauce all night. And I get to choose the drama.”

“Call!”

[16/04 17:58 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Kimchi Kimbap 1 Beef Kimbap  ---------------- Note: JK-nim thanks for the extra sauce! It was delicious. Are you a dipper or a pourer?

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Kimchi Kimbap -- 2,500 1 Beef Kimbap -- 2,500 1 Soup -- 0

Total: 18,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! Personally, I’m a dipper, but I don’t discriminate! I added some broth as service for you. It’s chilly tonight. Don’t catch a cold!

Paper Note: JK-nim, let’s be friends? I’m also a dipper! Did you know that butterflies can’t fly when they’re cold? Here is one that I folded, sending back my warmest thoughts to you on this frosty spring night.

The first thing that caught your eye was Jungkook who was patiently waiting at the library entrance. Despite the steaming goods in his hands, his entire body was shivering. The temperature suddenly dropped last night, but he couldn’t be bothered to dig up his padded jacket when he left the house this morning.

Before you could even greet him, he shoved a hot milk tea towards you and mumbled, “Here, it’s cold today so I thought you could use something warm.”

You were surprised by this sweet gesture. “Thanks,” you reached for it and examined the drink in your hand, ”How did you know I like black milk tea?”

He ducked his head and mumbled something into himself.

“Sorry, what did you say?”

Jungkook lifted his head. His cheeks and nose were a lovely wash of pink from the cold. “You mentioned once that you’re an OG milk tea drinker, so I just guessed” he repeated again, louder. “I saw this bungeoppang cart on the way here. We can share them while studying?” he said, holding up a small paper bag.

Your heart warmed and for the first time in weeks your face split into big smile, “Sure, I love bungeoppang! We’re not allowed to eat inside the library. So how about we eat everything first before they get cold and then go in?”

The both of you took a seat on a bench. By now Jungkook definitely regretted being too lazy to find his jacket this morning, but he was determined not to let it show. He passed the bag full of bungeoppangs to you.

You happily reached for one of the fish-shaped pastries and started munching on it. Your face crinkled, steam came out of your mouth. Jungkook’s heart skipped as he watched you in fascination. Your cheeks were flushed. A sudden instinct to stroke your rosy skin overcame him. Instead he reached for a bungeoppang and took a careful bite. “Are you feeling better today?”

“A little bit,” you said between bites, “I’m really sorry about last time. I feel bad now. I ditched you and now you’re treating me to snacks.” You went on and stabbed your straw through your milk tea. “I should be the one treating you instead.”

“I like to treat you,” Jungkook said, mesmerized by the way your lips moved against the straw. He suddenly realized what he was doing and cleared his throat, “A happy teacher is a good teacher! You’re already spending your time tutoring me.”

A laugh slipped out of you, “Jungkook, you’re paying me for your lessons. But it’s okay, this bungeoppang and tea definitely hits the spot, so I’ll accept it with a grateful heart. What are you drinking?”

Jungkook looked down on his drink and gave it a shake, the black pearls swirled around buoyantly. “Banana milk tea, I prefer sweet drinks.”

You leaned back against the bench and looked up at the clear blue sky. “Sweet things are the best combat against the bitter taste of life,” you sighed. You closed your eyes and soaked in the crisp air. Jungkook felt your melancholy, he could warm your body, but he didn’t know how to warm your heart.  

“Sorry that I’m bothering you with my personal stuff. It’s just that I had a really bad breakup recently. I shouldn’t let it affect our lessons,” you said with a wistful smile as you lifted your head again.

The boy next to you remained silent. You turned and saw a contemplative look on his face. “It’s alright, everyone can have a bad day,” he finally said, “You don’t have to pretend to be okay when you’re not. If you’re never angry or sad, you won’t know when you’re happy.”

His words stunned you. Has Jungkook always been this thoughtful? You turned away from his gaze and looked down at the pastry in your hand. “They’re rhombus shaped,” you muttered in an attempt of distraction and showed your bungeoppang to Jungkook. “The fish scales,” you added when he looked confused.

“Ah yeah, the scales. It’s actually erroneous since most of the bungeoppangs depict a ganoid scale structure when in fact carps have cycloid scales to allow for a greater flexibility,” Jungkook explained.

A blank look appeared on your face. Probably the same blank look he had whenever you tried to explain the Bayes’ theorem to him. He let out an awkward laugh, “We studied the mechanics of fish scale structures in Material Science. You can correlate the flexibility of a scaled surface depending on its underlying geometric structure and material. It’s pretty cool stuff.”

“I can’t believe you can geek out about the geometry of fish scales, but don’t know how to define your probability population,” you snorted in disbelief. 

“Hey, when will I ever need to calculate the probability of two people with the same birthday in a room? I just have a hard time learning stuff I never have to apply,” he said defensively.

Then you suddenly had an idea. “Tell you what, how about this? If you pass your statistics final, I’ll treat you to the best Chinese take-out in town! You can order whatever you want!”

Jungkook didn’t want to dampen your excitement by telling you that his part-time job already allowed him to eat as much Chinese take-out as he wanted. “Okay, but don’t complain when you go broke. My record was five jjajangmyeon and two tangsuyuk in one sitting.”

You batted away his challenge. “First you have to pass your finals,” you teased.

“I’ll pass,” Jungkook said.

You smiled at his cute determination. “Then it’s a date.”

Jungkook beamed back at you. “It’s a date.”

[05/05 18:21 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (large) 2 Pork Mandu 1 Tteokkguk 1 Jjajangmyeon 1 Tteokkbokki ---------------- Note: No pineapple plz. JK-nim! Happy Children’s Day! For this special occasion I’ve decided to order all of my childhood favorites. Life is too short to eat bad food. I hope today you treat yourself to something delicious as well!

“Yah! JK! Your girlfriend placed an order again!” Yugyeom yelled across the store.

A mop of black hair peaked out from the back of the shop. “She’s not my girlfriend, she’s just a regular,” Jungkook yelled back.

“A regular you flirt with,” Yugyeom snickered, “I saw all the notes you left her in the system. ‘Don’t catch a cold!’, ‘Hwaiting!’ Don’t tell me that’s not your lame attempt at flirting.”

Suddenly an angry Yoongi stomped out of the kitchen. “Keep it down boys, we have guests here.”

Jungkook went up to the register and printed out the online order. “Hyung, can you make a large tangsuyuk without pineapple?”

“It’s a national holiday, there’s like two people here tonight,” Yugyeom muttered under his breath.

“What did you say, Yugyeom?”

“Nothing, hyung!”

Yoongi snatched the order out of Jungkook’s hand and gave both boys another irritated glance before he headed back into the kitchen.

“Hey JK,” Yugyeom said in a lower voice as he moved next to his friend, “aren’t you ever curious how LatteIsHorse is like? I mean, she must have some sense of humor judging by her username.”

“Sometimes. Don’t you ever wonder how our regulars are like? But it’s not like I’m ever gonna meet them or know it’s them when they come into the store,” Jungkook said with a shrug.

“You could though. Mingyu’s out on delivery, Eunwoo’s off so we have a free bike. The store is dead tonight. You could go deliver the order and have a look,” Yugyeom spurred him on.

Jungkook considered his friend’s suggestion. Every time he opened his locker a little origami bunny and butterfly stared back at him and brightened his day. It was true, he was curious how LatteIsHorse was like. “Okay I’ll go, but don’t pretend you’re doing me a favor. You just don’t want to do delivery tonight.”

<Ding Dong>

A pretty girl in a Yonsei hoodie and shorts opened the door. She somehow looked familiar, but Jungkook couldn’t place from where. Maybe he met her on campus before.

“Delivery from Golden Bang,” Jungkook said, holding up his metal box.

“Ah great! I’m starving!” the girl said.

Jungkook started unloading the box and handed the dishes to the girl. Once he was done, he lingered awkwardly in the doorway. The girl gave him a curious look, clearly wondering why he wasn’t leaving. Jungkook gathered his courage and said, “I’m JK by the way.”

What followed was a beat of silence. Jungkook could feel his ears burn.

“Err, it’s nice to meet you, I guess? Is there anything else you need?” the girl asked after the painful pause. “Ah got it! Just a sec!” She ran into the apartment and came back with her wallet. “Here’s a tip, we’ll put the dishes back outside for pick up,” she said as she scrunched a bill into Jungkook’s hand, “Thanks for your hard work. Happy holiday!” And then she shut the door right into his face.

What just happened? Jungkook was stupefied. After an eternity he finally moved and mechanically pulled out his phone. He checked the delivery order on his app. LatteIsHorse – this was the address. She didn’t recognize him. Why was he so naive to believe that she would remember him? All he wanted in that moment was for the ground to open and swallow him up.

“Dinner’s here,” your sister said as you came out of the shower. “Did you order banana milk?”

“No? Why?” you joined her at the dinner table and started rummaging through the dishes. “Where’s the receipt?”

“I threw it in the trash,” she said. When she saw you opening up the trash can and fishing for it, she added, “Gross! What are you doing? Why do you need it?”

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (large) -- 20,000 2 Pork Mandu -- 6,000 1 Tteokkguk -- 4,500 1 Jjajangmyeon -- 4,500 1 Tteokkbokki -- 3,000

Total: 38,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! Happy Children’s Day to you too! I added my favorite childhood drink, banana milk! I hope it brings back as many happy childhood memories for you as it does for me.

There, sitting on the table, was a small bottle of banana milk. A smile spread across your face. “I need to file it away for tax purposes.”

Your sister looked at you like you were crazy. “Let’s eat already, I’m starving. Wash your hands.”

[14/05 16:55 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [TAKE AWAY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Jjajangbap ---------------- Note: JK-nim, hope you’re doing well. I’m in the area today, so I thought I’d stop by and say hello in person! Is it weird that I feel a bit nervous?

The restaurant door wasn’t going to open itself. The past 15 minutes of you standing in front of it has proven that. You had some errands to run in Hongdae after school and decided on a whim to place a pickup order at your favorite take-out place. 

Why was it so difficult to enter a restaurant? If you steeled your nerves any more, they’d probably break from how brittle they’ve become. You just had to open that damn door.

Sometimes you wondered if you liked that place more because of its great tangsuyuk or because of JK’s little notes which always managed to put a smile on your face.

One thing was for sure, you weren’t stalling because of the tangsuyuk.

“Welcome to Golden Bang!” a bright male voice rang across the restaurant as you passed through the door.

You walked up to the register and sneaked a peek at the boy’s name tag, ‘Yugyeom’. You felt a slight twinge of disappointment.

“I’m here to pick up my order? LatteIsHorse?” you asked tentatively.

A sign of recognition flashed across Yugyeom’s face. “Of course, your order’s ready! I’ll just bag it up for you,” he said cheerfully. He walked away and quickly came back with a white plastic bag full of food. Then he printed out your receipt and handed both to you.

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: YG ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Jjajangbap -- 5,500

Total: 18,500 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

You looked around the restaurant, it was empty since dinnertime was still a while away. You wondered if Yugyeom was managing the store alone right now. At least the cook must be in. “Your tangsuyuk is really delicious. It’s probably my favorite.”

Yugyeom gave you a big smile, “Happy to hear that you enjoy our food so much. The tangsuyuk is our chef’s family recipe. It’s one of our most popular menu items!”

You wringed your hands and finally decided to bite the bullet and straight out ask, “Is JK here? He usually takes my orders when I order delivery, so I just wanted to say hi.”

“JK’s shift doesn’t start until 6, so he should be here in about half an hour. If you want, I can relay a message,” he said with a knowing smile, “Or you can also take a seat and wait for him. I’m sure he’d be thrilled to meet you.”

No way you were going to sit here for half an hour and wait up for a stranger. “Ah no, that’s alright. If you could just say hi from me, that’d be great,” you quickly replied with a flush. JK would probably think you’re a creepy stalker.

“Sure, can do! Enjoy your day!” Yugyeom said merrily as you walked out the store.

A feeling of both relief and sadness passed through you. You slowly walked down the busy streets of Hongdae as you reprimanded yourself for being so stupid. What were you going to say to JK anyway if you met him? Thanks for being nice to me? You’re the reason I don’t burst into tears every single night? You’re the reason why I don’t feel completely alone when I’m sobbing into my food over Song Joong Ki’s acting? Thanks for making me gain 3 kilos in the last month?

Whatever you said, it would’ve only made you sound pathetic.

A crippling wave of desperation suddenly washed over you and rooted you in your tracks. A single tear rolled down your face. Then another. You dropped down into a crouch and started to bawl. You couldn’t fathom how you’ve reached this all-time low in your life. Why did you feel so incredibly sad about being stood up by a stranger? Especially when that stranger didn’t even know you were coming?

“Y/N?” an alarmed voice asked. You looked up when you felt a soft shake against your shoulder.

Through your tear-blurred eyes you recognized Jungkook’s face. He crouched down next to you and asked, “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

You shook your head and tried to wipe away your tears. It was a useless attempt as they kept on streaming down your face.

Jungkook hesitantly pushed your hair out of your face and asked, “Do you want to go somewhere else so you can tell me what happened?”

You gave him an imperceptible nod.

His hand gently moved down to your arm, afraid that you were going to push him away. With a steady grip he slowly helped you back onto your feet. Then he slid his hand through yours and led you down the hustle and bustle of Hongdae until you ended up in front of a convenience store located in one of the quieter residential side streets. He sat you down in a plastic chair and told you to wait. After a while he came back with a packet of tissues, a bottle of water and two red bean popsicles.

You gratefully took the tissues and loudly blew your nose. A small part of your brain told you to act more ladylike, especially in front of Jungkook, but the bigger part didn’t really care and just wanted to drag you back down into the pits of loneliness. A strangled sound came out of your mouth as you started to hiccup, making you sound like a drowning cat.

You expected Jungkook to laugh at your weird orchestra of emotions. Even you found it absurd and would’ve laughed if you weren’t already crying and hiccupping at the same time. But all he did was quietly open the water bottle and hand it to you.  

As soon as you lifted the bottle to your mouth another hiccup made you almost spill the water on yourself. You held your breath for a few seconds and then took a careful sip. It seemed to work. You took a bigger sip, when another hiccup racked your body and you squeezed water all over your face.

There was a bewildering moment of shock, then you started to laugh deliriously. Forget before, this was your lowest point in life. This was so pathetic that it was hilarious again. Your laughter garbled whenever you hiccupped, only causing you to laugh even harder. You would’ve continued laughing for another long minute if you weren’t choking for air.

A small smile played around Jungkook’s mouth. He took another tissue and started wiping down your face. You hiccupped under his touch. He must think you’re a nutcase.

“I have a question. We have to do some statistical testing in my Quality Management class. What would a hypothesis look like if I wanted to analyze any deviation in a spare parts production line due to temperature conditions?” Jungkook asked.

Did he really forget hypothesis testing already? He finally managed to get it after four sessions! You frowned slightly. “You could set up a null hypothesis stating that a variation in temperature does not significantly impact the parameter of measurement in your production line. Jungkook did you seriously forget this?!” you said indignantly.

Jungkook gave you a playful laugh, “No, I think you drilled it so hard into my brain, I could probably recite all variables of the standard deviation formula if you woke me up in the middle of the night. Your hiccups stopped though.”

They did.

Embarrassment set in as you realized your predicament. Maybe your hormones were going crazy, maybe you were going crazy. You were getting whiplash from the emotional roller coaster you were on. In an attempt to hide your disgrace, you picked up another tissue and wiped away the remaining water, snot and tears.

There was tangible awkwardness in the air.

“I hope you like red bean,” Jungkook said shyly as he unwrapped a popsicle, “Red bean is my favorite. My friends keep on calling me old fashioned, but it just reminds me of the time when my mom used to buy me these after taekwondo class. I think I liked the popsicles more than I liked going to class.” He sighed in reverie and held up the popsicle for you.

You stared at his hand. You remembered how it felt against yours just a few moments ago. Firm, warm and steady. Then you looked up at Jungkook. He hid it well, but you could tell that there was concern behind his encouraging smile.

“This is so embarrassing,” you said as you accepted the popsicle and turned your head away from him, “I don’t know what is wrong with me right now. I’m usually not like this.”

“Did something happen earlier?” Jungkook asked cautiously as he unwrapped his own popsicle and took a bite out of it.

Did something happen earlier? Why did you cry? Where you really crying just because you didn’t meet JK?

“No,” you said and slowly shook your head, “I don’t know. I just suddenly felt overwhelmed.”

Jungkook hesitated before he asked, “Are you sad because of your breakup?”

Were you sad because of your ex-boyfriend?

“I don’t think so. In the beginning when we broke up I was devastated, but I don’t think that’s the case anymore,” you said more to yourself than to Jungkook. “Everyone told me I was lucky to be rid of him. I really didn’t understand why. But I think it’s becoming clearer now. Maybe it’s not sadness. Maybe it’s fear. I think I just feel lost. I don’t know who I am anymore. Maybe it scares me to know that I was able to lose myself and I don’t know if I can find a way back.”

Before you knew it, you spilled your heart, your deepest and darkest fears to Jungkook. You barely knew this boy, yet it still felt oddly comforting. He remained quiet and listened.

“I wanted to meet someone today, but they weren’t there,” you continued, “I think in that moment I just realized how utterly lost I was on my own.”

Jungkook searched for the appropriate words. How do you respond to someone’s most vulnerable thoughts? “I mean you know what they say. It’s not about how much you’ve lost, it’s about how much you have left.”

He peeked at you to check if it worked.

“Jungkook, did you just quote Iron Man at me?” you asked incredulously before a giggle slipped from your lips.

You noticed how his cheeks dimpled when he gave you an embarrassed laugh, “Sorry, I was trying to say something that would cheer you up. I’m probably not doing a very good job.”

In that second you realized how kind-hearted Jungkook actually was. Your heart squeezed. “Don’t say that. Thanks for listening to my problems. And thanks for the red bean popsicle. I also ate this a lot in my childhood. Mainly because my sister hated them. She always used to steal my ice cream out of the freezer so at some point I asked my parents to only buy me red bean popsicles. She never touched those,” you reminisced.

Jungkook laughed at your story, “Your sister sounds like a piece of work.”

“We used to fight a lot, we used to never get along,” you became thoughtful, “At some point that stopped. I think we just grew up and grew to understand and accept our differences. She doesn’t steal my food anymore. I don’t steal her clothes anymore. We may not always agree, but we respect each other’s decisions.”

“You know, for someone who just said she feels lost, you sound pretty self-reflected right now,” Jungkook mused, “Maybe you need to do the same as you did with your sister. Understand yourself and accept the differences of your past and present.”

You paused at this. He was right. You were so desperately trying to fend off these negative emotions that you never took the time to actually think. You were chasing an image that never existed. Not in the past nor in the present.

“You’re surprisingly good at giving advice. Thanks, Jungkook,” you said.

“Surprisingly? What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, offended. The glint in his eyes gave his teasing away.

Laughter pealed from you. Jungkook was captivated by the sound. He drank in the way your eyes creased with mirth and followed your fingers as they brushed back your hair.

Jungkook’s phone vibrated. “Oh shit!”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. I was actually on my way to work and my boss is asking me where I am,” he said as he stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

Jungkook startled when you suddenly jumped up. “Then you should get to work! You should’ve said something sooner. I’m so sorry for keeping you here!”

“No, it’s really fine. I’ve done enough overtime. He won’t complain if I’m a few minutes late,” he said, “Are you feeling better?”

You ignored his question and pushed against his shoulders to get him out of the chair. “Go to work, Jungkook. I’ll be fine, your red bean popsicle did wonders,” you responded placatively.

When he still didn’t move, you grabbed his arm and pulled him back onto the main street. Jungkook’s skin scorched under your touch. “Go to work, Jungkook,” you said again with more emphasis.

“Are you sure…?” he asked, unwilling to let you out of his sight before he knew you weren’t just going cry again at the next street corner.

“I won’t burst into tears,” you said as if reading his mind. “You were right, I need to reconcile with myself. So I’ll go home, enjoy my dinner and think about who I am and who I want to be. And you,” you said giving him another gentle shove, “need to go to work.”

Jungkook saw the stubborn look on your face. He wondered if you realized you were using your teaching voice right now. You weren’t going to take no for an answer. “Okay fine, text me when you get home?”

You waved away his concerns. “Sure. Go already,” you said with a big reassuring smile. “See you tomorrow at school!” you added before you turned around and walked away.

“You’re late,” Yugyeom said as soon as Jungkook entered the store.

Jungkook gave Yugyeom a sheepish look and only muttered, “Yeah sorry, something came up on my way here.” Then he rushed past him to the back of the restaurant and changed into his uniform.

Once he came back out he noticed Yugyeom throwing him strange looks.

“What?”

“Your girlfriend says hi,” Yugyeom said with a hint of amusement.

“Who?”

Yugyeom gave Jungkook a meaningful look, “LatteIsHorse. She ordered pick up. I think she was hoping to meet you. She’s cute. She looks like she’s probably a college student around here.”

“I know,” was all Jungkook replied.

Yugyeom’s eyes bulged in curiosity, “You know? You know she’s cute or you know she’s a student? You never told me what actually happened that night!”

Jungkook gave him a tired look and said, “She didn’t recognize me. She wore a Yonsei hoodie, so I guess she goes there. Nothing else happened.”

“Hmm, that’s weird. She was asking for you today, so she definitely knows your name,” Yugyeom said.

“Who knows, maybe she was having a lot on her plate that day,” Jungkook said with a shrug. He wondered where you lived and if you already got home safely. “Why are you obsessing over this so much?”

“Man, do you know how painful it is to watch your sorry attempts at flirting? I’m just trying to help you out, mate,” Yugyeom quipped.

“I wasn’t flirting! I was just trying cheer someone up who was obviously feeling down! It’s called being a decent human being,” Jungkook exclaimed.

Yugyeom gave him the side eye, “Yeah, that’s still not gonna get you laid.”

[19/05 18:47 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Bibimbap ---------------- Note: JK-nim, I visited you at the store last week, but you weren’t there. TT-TT I hope you don’t think I’m weird, I just really like talking to you. You always manage to put a smile on my face when I’m having a hard day. We’re still friends, right?

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Bibimbap -- 5,000

Total: 18,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! I’m sad that I missed your visit to our store. I’ll try harder the next time! I added some extra bulgogi to make up for it. :) Of course we’re still friends. I don’t wish any hard days upon you, but I’m glad to hear that my words have a healing effect. In case you ever need a friend to talk to, feel free to talk to me. 010-1234-5678.

The study sessions with Jungkook continued per usual. He still struggled and had frustrated outbursts from time to time, especially when you forced him to revise probability distributions. When you finally reached regression analysis, things became easier.

Although your sessions remained the same, something in your dynamic changed. The both of you became looser and more playful around each other. He wouldn’t clamp up anymore and you felt more at ease around him. You became friends. He never once mentioned that disasterous afternoon.

At home, on the evening of the incident, you shot Jungkook a text and slumped down on the couch. Your sister was out that night, so it was just you in the apartment. Normally, the eerie quiet would’ve unsettled you and you would’ve distracted yourself from your deafening thoughts. But that night you just let them scream, yell and tear at you.

It was an excruciating process, but in the end your head was clearer, your heart calmer. You still weren’t quite there yet, but at least you made a first step out of the endless pit of desperation.

There were other things you noticed about yourself. Gradually you realized you didn’t mind being on your own anymore. You rediscovered your love for drawing and created you own mandala art. You also learned to code your own website and now had a clickable version of your cv on the go. Although you made time for yourself, you weren’t a hermit. You went out for drinks with Jisoo and soon asked Namjoon to take you along to your university’s Math Club. There you met a lot of familiar faces that you’ve encountered in class but never talked to. With them you spent animated evenings discussing stimulating math problems and exchanging incredibly bad math puns.

You also started noticing things about Jungkook. He wasn’t as timid and shy as you initially thought. Once he got over his awkwardness, he turned out to be quite a cheeky and goofy guy. He teased you or told you silly jokes whenever you were on a break. Despite his obvious aversion for statistics, he still took your lessons very seriously. Diligently listening to your explanations and trying to solve the problems to the best of his abilities. His study-mode showed you other sides of him. The cute pout he had whenever he tried to hide his confusion. Or the two little ridges which formed between his eyes whenever he was concentrated and deep in thought. More often than not you fought the urge to smooth them out with your touch or even better, with a kiss.

“Is something wrong?” Jungkook asked when he caught you staring.

“No,” you quickly said, “I was just thinking that you don’t seem to have much trouble with regression analysis.”

“I don’t know, the relationship between the variables just makes much more sense,” Jungkook said.

You looked at him and considered, “Hmm, maybe you don’t need my tutoring anymore?”

Brief dismay crossed Jungkook’s face. “My finals are in three weeks. I think I’d still prefer if you helped me revise the earlier chapters,” he said, “Unless you need more time to study for your own finals.”

Being in college meant that you were always in dire need of more time. That constant nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to study was an occupational disease. But you didn’t have to kid yourself, those four hours a week spent on Jungkook weren’t going to make or break your grade. Besides, you enjoyed spending time with him. You wondered if he felt the same.

“It’s alright, I’ll help you revise. Just don’t embarrass me on your finals. I don’t want Namjoon to tell me afterwards that you didn’t manage to calculate the mean of the population or worse, read the scoring table upside down,” you teased him light-heartedly.

Jungkook’s ears turned bright red. “That happened once!” he said, “How long are you going to hold that over my head?”

You laughed at his indignation. “Don’t forget, you’ll get endless tangsuyuk if you pass.”

[26/05 20:09 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

1 Tangsuyuk (small) 1 Jjamppong ---------------- Note: JK-nim, I’d like to get the advice of a friend. There’s this kind, sweet boy that I really like. I would like to tell him how I feel, but he’s seen me in my lowest and ugliest moments. Maybe he’ll think I’m just baggage? I guess I’m afraid of his rejection.

Golden Bang 7 Wausan-ro 29-gil, Seogyo-dong

Server: JK ------------------- TO GO

1 Tangsuyuk (small) -- 13,000 1 Jjamppong -- 5,000 1 Soju -- 0

Total: 18,000 -------------------- Thanks for ordering at Golden Bang! Have a golden day!

Note: LatteIsHorse-nim! It’s only human to fear rejection. I can completely understand. I also have someone I really like. She’s really pretty, smart and funny. Spending time with her makes me really happy, but I never managed to tell her. Maybe we should both gather our courage and cheer each other on? I’m not saying that drunken confessions are the way to go but consider this soju a symbolism for (liquid) courage.

Paper Note: This is a flexagon. Whenever you need a word of encouragement give it a flip!

Jungkook examined the hexagonal origami in his hands. On the outside it read ‘Flip Me!’

He gave the flexagon a flip. ‘JK you’re the best!’ And another. ‘The world needs more people like you!’ And another. ‘Don’t forget that LatteIsHorse is always rooting for you!’ And another. ‘Aja, aja, hwaiting!’ And another. ‘Thank you for being my friend!’

Jisoo barged into you room and flopped onto your bed. ‘Ahhh! I’m so glad you finally cleaned in here. Seriously, if I find another rancid noodle stuck to my clothes, I’ll call in a hazmat team.”

“I don’t know why you’re complaining so much. It’s not even your room,” you said.

“Hey, where are you ever going to find a friend like me?”

Your friend sacrificed many a night away from college parties to binge watch handsome oppas sweep equally beautiful unnies off their feet with you. And she wasn’t shy telling you that.

“Let’s go out tonight,” Jisoo suggested. She rolled back onto her feet and started walking around, inspecting your cleaning job.

“Our finals start in two weeks; I really don’t want to spend my weekend nursing a hangover.”

“I’m not saying you have to get wasted. Tonight is the Pre-Game Night. We have to go!” Jisoo demanded.

The Final’s Pre-Game Night was a campus-wide tradition. Every semester on the Friday a week before finals huge parties were thrown to signal the beginning of the end. It was like a dare – were you confident enough to get completely drunk and still hope to pass your finals? Naturally everybody on campus joined in and drank.

“Not getting wasted at a Pre-Game party? That’s like saying you’ve decided you don’t need to breathe. I really don’t think…”

“What’s this?” Jisoo suddenly interrupted. “LatteIsHorse-nim! Personally, I’m a dipper, but I don’t discriminate! I added some broth as service for you. It’s chilly tonight. Don’t catch a cold!” she read aloud, “LatteIsHorse-nim! Happy Children’s Day to you too! I added my favorite childhood drink, banana milk! I hope it brings back as many happy childhood memories for you as it does for me.”

You flung yourself across the room and almost tripped over your own feet trying to rip the receipts out of Jisoo’s hands.

“Oh. My. God. Is your take-out guy flirting with you?!” she asked.

“No! He’s just a friend. We send encouraging notes to each other,” you tried to explain.

Jisoo threw her hands in the air. “Okay that’s it! We’re going to the Pre-Game party, whether you want or not. You can’t tell me that the only flirting interaction you have is with a stranger who delivers you tangsuyuk!”

The place Jisoo picked out was ram packed and buzzing with energy. It was an open dorm party; all the common rooms were transformed into dancefloors. Different types of music played from each corner of the building. Crates of alcohol were stacked against the walls.

The both of you grabbed a beer and made your way through the crowd.

“You’re going to have fun tonight, alright?”

“I don’t think this works that way,” you laughed.

“Then put some effort into it. We look way too cute for it to go to waste,” she said as you roamed around the floors and explored the different areas. You looked down on your dress. It was a pretty warm night; you had opted for a flowy summer dress with a blush pink floral pattern. Jisoo was right, it was cute.

You discovered a familiar face at the edge of the crowd. “Sunbae!” you said.

Namjoon turned around gave you a surprised smile. “Y/N! Out of all the places on campus, we meet each other here tonight. What are the chances?”

He was surrounded by a group of friends, you spotted Jungkook right behind him. The boy gave you an excited wave. A slow smile spread across your face. “I don’t know, but why don’t we ask Jungkook to calculate it for you?”

Namjoon let out a hearty laugh while Jungkook groaned in exasperation.

“Do you see what I have to put up with every week, hyung?”

“Didn’t you just say it’s the best thing that happened to you?” Namjoon taunted, “You have some nerve showing up in front of me tonight. You better ace your SA finals. Do you know how many favors I had to pull to get Y/N to tutor you?”

“What do you expect me to do?” Jungkook sputtered, “Go home and lock myself up on Pre-Game Night?”

If it weren’t for Jisoo you would’ve done just that. Speaking of Jisoo, your friend cleared her throat and gave you a painful nudge in the side.

“Ah yes, uhm, Jisoo you already know Namjoon. This is Jungkook. You know, the guy I’m tutoring.”

Jungkook gave her a small wave.

Jisoo didn’t even try to hide her amazement. “This is Jungkook? But you’re like wayyy cute!” She turned to you and added still loud enough for everyone to hear, “Why didn’t you tell me he was cute?!”

The embarrassment was obvious on Jungkook’s face. You could tell that Namjoon was getting a rush out of his dongsaeng’s reaction and before he could provoke him any further you decided to jump in.

“Who wants to go dance?” you asked loudly. You turned around and headed to the dancefloor without waiting for any of them to respond.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were tutoring a hunk?” Jisoo muttered under her breath.

“He’s not a hunk. Don’t call him that.”

“Yeah but he’s hot. You made him sound like he was a nerd.”

“He is a nerd.”

Your friend gave you a glare, “Why are we arguing about this? I know you’re not that oblivious.”

Of course you weren’t oblivious to Jungkook, but you weren’t going to tell Jisoo that.

“Let’s dance.” You grabbed Jisoo’s hand and twirled her around.

Namjoon and his friends joined you on the dancefloor. The mood of the crowd was electric. Music pulsed through your veins. Drinks flowed, shots were downed, people pulled out their best, lamest, craziest dance moves. Everyone celebrated like the world was going to end.

After a while you became hot and needed a new drink. You looked around for Jisoo and saw her grinding up against one of Namjoon’s friends. She’d be busy for a while. You inconspicuously moved away from the group and decided to go get some fresh air.  

“Wait up,” Jungkook said as he appeared next to you, “are you getting something to drink? I’ll join you.”

His dark curls were slightly matted with sweat. His baggy t-shirt clung to his body. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol or Jisoo’s damn voice whispering into your ear. He was hot.

You circled your arm through his and pulled him through the crowd. His muscles shifted under your touch. You grabbed two drinks from a crate and handed one to Jungkook, your nerves tingled when his hand brushed against yours. The both of you remained in comfortable silence, leisurely walking through the dorm, neither of you in a hurry to get back to your friends. You explored the facility areas, weaving through pounding and quiet parts of the building.

“You look really nice tonight,” he said after a while.

The heels of your shoes echoed against marble floor of the dark hallway. “Thanks, Jisoo raided my closet.”

“She’s really something isn’t she?”

“She’s the best. I’m grateful to have her as my friend.”

Somewhere further down the hallway you made out two figures pressed against the wall, probably trying to find a quiet place of their own.

“You also look nice,” you said to Jungkook.

“I’m wearing the same things I always do,” Jungkook said, his voice turning shy.

You were getting closer to the couple. You could see how the guy was sticking his tongue down the girl’s throat. She seemed to enjoy it from the sounds she was making. Lucky them.

Your next words were definitely fuelled by your tipsy state, “I guess that means you always look nice.” Jungkook missed a step. You had to laugh at his blunder.

The couple in front of you broke apart and looked in your direction. More annoyed about being interrupted rather than embarrassed being caught. You were about to make a funny comment to Jungkook when your heart stopped and you froze.

A string of saliva still clung to the guy’s lips. His eyes widened when he recognized your face in the darkness. “Y/N?”

Your breath hitched and your grip tightened around Jungkook’s arm. He glanced between you and the guy, the situation slowly dawning on him.

“Why did you stop? Who’s that?”, the girl whined.

“No one,” the guy responded as he returned his attention to her and they started making out again.

Jungkook didn’t know if he wanted to puke or punch that guy. A sharp pain in his arm brought him back to his senses. Your nails dug into his skin. He put his hand around yours and loosened your iron grip.

“Let’s go,” he said and quickly pulled you past the couple. You followed him in a daze. He stopped once you were outside of the building, hidden away in a quiet corner.

His hands reached for your face and he lifted your eyes to his. “Breathe.”

You closed your eyes, let out a long breath and let your head fall against the wall behind you. The horrible encounter replayed in your mind. You had to open your eyes again.

There he was right in front of you. Worried Jungkook, kind Jungkook, beautiful Jungkook.

Your hands reached behind his neck and you pulled him a bit closer. You tried to decipher his gaze, it was dark and yearning. Everything was a haze, the alcohol in your blood made you daring.

“Kiss me,” you whispered.

His mouth crashed against yours. Your hands slipped up into his hair and your bodies entwined. You opened your lips and sucked in his hot breath. Your tongues found each other; he groaned at your taste.

He moved one of his hands down your side until he found purchase on your leg and hitched it up against his waist, pressing his body further into you. You let out a moan when his hips ground into yours.

All your senses drowned in Jungkook. You drowned in his scent, you drowned in his touch, you drowned in his heat. You tried to use Jungkook to drown out the grotesque image from before. Suddenly the heat of the moment disappeared, and a cold shower ran down your spine.

You broke away from your breathless kiss and put your hands against Jungkook’s chest to put some distance between you. He gave you a disoriented look.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have kissed.”

Jungkook’s eyes grew wide and alarmed. “Did I do something wrong?”

His lips were swollen, his hair was mussed. You wanted nothing more than to pull him back in, but you couldn’t. Not here. Not like this. He deserved better.

You pushed yourself off the wall and gave him a small shove. He immediately let go of you and stepped back. “I shouldn’t have kissed you like this,” was all you said before you ran back into the building.

The next day you woke up to a splitting headache and a heart full of regret. You really needed to talk to Jungkook and explain to him why you ran away the previous night, but you were too much of a coward to pick up your phone and contact him. You decided it was better to talk to him in person at school.

The following week at school you waited for him in the library. Your heart was in your throat. Your prepared speech played in an endless loop in your head.

‘I’m sorry I ran away. I shouldn’t have kissed you in that state. It wasn’t fair to you. You deserve better than that.’

You looked down on your phone to check the time. A message blinked. You opened and read through it. Your heart sank. He wasn’t coming. He wanted to study the last week before finals on his own. He thanked you for your time.

Slowly you got up and packed your bag. You blew it. You wanted to do him right, but you only caused him pain. Thinking back, you realized he gave and gave and gave and all you did was take. He was right to stay away from you. There was no way he’d be happy with someone like you.

The week passed and finals week commenced. You immersed yourself in your exams and tried to get over your heavy heart. You were pretty sure you aced Geometry II, but the Numerical Analysis exam was nothing but a blur.

Although your heart ached, you didn’t fall back into the same dark pit of the past. You didn’t feel lost, you got on with your life. Nobody noticed the Jungkook-sized hole in your heart except for you. You wanted to talk about your feelings, but you didn’t think Jisoo or your sister would understand. They’d probably just tell you to get out there and find a new guy.

Another week passed. You were walking out of your professor’s office, finalizing the details of your summer internship, when you bumped into Namjoon.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? Aren’t you off for summer break yet?” he asked.

“I was just discussing my internship with Prof. Kim,” you said.

“Ah you’re participating in his research program?” Namjoon said, “I heard it’s really interesting, he’s intense though.”

“I think intense is fine for me, I need something to do with my brain. Otherwise I’ll just go crazy,” you said with a smile.

“Speaking of intense, what did you do to that kid?” Namjoon suddenly asked.

You tensed. Did something happen to Jungkook? “What do you mean?”

“Did you brainwash him or something? He got a 98 on his SA final! When I handed him over to you, he was still asking me why the positive and negative z-scores tables had different values,” Namjoon said in awe.

Relief washed through you and your chest filled with pride. “Watch out sunbae, I might be coming for your TA position,” you said with a wink.

At home you sprawled out on the couch. Your sister’s classes ended earlier than yours so now she was away with her friends travelling the countryside. Your mind wandered as you stared up at the ceiling of your quiet apartment. You really wanted to call Jungkook and congratulate him, but you didn’t think you should. He clearly didn’t want to be in contact with you, you hadn’t heard anything from him since his text canceling your study sessions.

A pang of sadness washed through you. It should have been a happy moment for the both of you, you should be eating tangsuyuk together right now. You really wanted to tell someone about your joy and your grief.

Then you suddenly remembered your friend. Your friend who never judged and always had something wise to say. Maybe he would understand the conflicts of your heart. You got up and dug through the receipts on your desk until you found the one with his phone number on it.

You hoped he wouldn’t think you were crazy, but then again, he was the one who offered himself to talk to you any time. You typed in the number and hit call. Your phone dialed when suddenly the number displayed switched to a name. Jungkook.

You quickly hit the cancel button and stared at your phone. Did you accidentally hit Jungkook’s contact? Was your phone broken? This time you typed in the number more carefully and hit call. Again, the display switched to Jungkook’s name. You hit cancel.

Your heart began to race. You opened up Jungkook’s contact and compared it with the number on the receipt.

Holy shit.

JK was Jungkook. Jungkook was JK.

The stranger who cheered you on and made you smile whenever you felt down was Jungkook. You combed through all your receipts and reread them one by one. What was the probability for this to happen? This was so bizarre, but it made so much sense. Jungkook was the kindest person you knew. Why wouldn’t he be kind to a stranger who needed some uplifting words and comforting tangsuyuk?

[13/06 18:20 PM] User: LatteIsHorse ---------------- ORDER [DELIVERY]

3 Tangsuyuk (large) 6 Jjajangmyeon ---------------- Note: JK-nim, I hope you’re doing well! Can I ask you for a strange favor? Would you mind delivering today’s order to me? I would really like to meet you and thank you in person for always being by my side! <3

<Ding Dong>

The doorbell rang. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest. You slowly walked up to the door and opened it.

“Delivery from Golden…,” Jungkook’s voice faltered.

“Hi JK-nim,” you said quietly. You opened the door wider. “Thanks for coming today.”

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asked.

You had to smile at his look of utter confusion. “I live here. Come in, you can put the food on the dining table.” You turned around and walked back into the apartment.

Jungkook hesitated before he followed you inside. He moved up to the table and unloaded his box. He tried to steady himself. “You’re LatteIsHorse-nim?” he asked skeptically, “I’ve been here before. Last time someone else opened the door.”

He has visited you before? “Oh, that was probably my sister. I live here with her. She’s out travelling right now.”

“So you’re on your own right now? Why did you order so much food?” he asked. A giant mountain of neatly stacked dishes graced the table.

You came up and pried the metal box out of his hand. Then you moved in front of him and unclasped his bike helmet. He flinched at your sudden closeness.

“To celebrate. Congratulations on passing your Statistical Analysis exam. Namjoon told me you passed in flying colors,” you said in a gentle voice. “I promised you the best Chinese take-out in town, didn’t I?”

Jungkook still looked shell-shocked and simply stared at you.

“I’m sorry about that night at the Pre-Game party. I’m sorry I ran away. I owe you an explanation.”

Jungkook regained his wits and swallowed. “It’s okay, you don’t have to explain yourself. I get it, we were drunk. It was a mistake.” He looked down and tried to turn back around.

You grabbed onto his hands before he could move away. “Jungkook, look at me.”

He stopped turning, but his eyes remained on the floor.

You took a deep breath and squeezed his hands. “I really like you. I’ve really liked you for a while now.”

His eyes shot up to your face.

“The reason why I ran away that night was because I felt guilty. I probably would’ve ended up kissing you anyway, but in that moment, I kissed you because I wanted to forget. I didn’t want our first kiss to be like that. I wanted it to be the me who liked you and not the me who tried to drown out her shitty ex-boyfriend. I’m sorry if I hurt you.”

There was an unreadable look in his eyes. Your heart fluttered in nervousness. “How long have you known I was JK? How long did you know I had a crush on you?” he asked.

You could feel your blood rushing through your ears, the butterflies in your stomach beat like crazy. “Since today. I was sad because I thought I couldn’t share the promised meal with you. I wanted a friend to talk to, so I thought to call you. You who was always kind to me, even when I wasn’t kind to myself. Isn’t fate strange? We cheered each other on to find each other.” You had to laugh at the irony of it all.

Your hand hesitantly moved up to his face and stroked across his cheek, “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I made you sad.”

Jungkook melted against your touch. “If I’m never sad, I won’t know when I’m happy.” Then he closed the gap and pressed his lips against yours.

It was a sweet but sad kiss. Filled with happiness and sorrow. Every touch was filled with an ‘I missed you’ or an ‘I’m sorry’.

Jungkook pressed you against the edge of your dining table, he lifted you up and you wrapped your legs around his waist. You both deepened your kiss. Your hands snaked through his hair and pulled him closer into you. Jungkook braced his hands against the table and instinctively ground his hips against your core. You moaned his name at the sensation. The both of you broke apart to catch your breaths, you pulled at his jacket and removed his layers of clothing.

You stilled at the sight of his bare chest. He was truly beautiful. Your fingers traced along his skin and marvelled at its silkiness. Jungkook shuddered under your touch. His hands moved under your shirt and you both lifted it off your head. Then you gripped his hands and slowly led them around your back, urging him to take off your bra. You wriggled out of your jeans and laid yourself completely bare in front of him. Jungkook stopped and stared at you, equally amazed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered.

Your heart swelled and you pulled him back into a kiss. Both his kisses and his hands left a burning trail down your body. His mouth sucked on the soft skin of your neck while his hands moved across your breast, across your stomach, lower and lower. Wetness gathered between your legs.

“Jungkook,” you sighed. The muscles of his back shifted under your touch.

He released your neck with a loud smack and looked at the artwork he created. He still couldn’t get over how overwhelmingly beautiful you were. Your cheeks flushed, eyes bright and his name at the tip of your tongue. He felt himself strain against his confines.

“Please,” you whimpered. You looked down at his hand and tried to silently command him to touch you.

He kept his eyes trained on your face when his fingers moved lower and slid through your folds. Another moan left your lovely lips. He teased you with his touches, gathering your wetness until he finally pushed down where you wanted him most. Your hands dug into his back, your hips bucked, and you threw your head back in pleasure. He steadied your hips with his other hand and slowly pushed a finger inside of you. Another loud moan echoed through the room.

Jungkook was transfixed by you. He added a second finger and started pushing in and out. Your eyes squeezed shut in pleasure and small breathless pants left your mouth. Jungkook increased the speed of his movement and marvelled at the way you reacted under his touch. Then he moved his mouth to your breast and closed his lips around your nipple. You raked your hands through his hair and arched into him. Your core tightened around his fingers. All your nerves were on fire.

You pulled him away from your breast and guided his mouth back to yours. Your tongue traced his lips and you swallowed his moan. You wanted more, you wanted him closer. His fingers curled and his thumb pressed down on you. Jungkook held you tight as you shuddered and fell apart around him.

He rested his forehead against yours, your breath mingled as you both panted into each other. He slowly removed his hand from you and traced his mouth with his slicked fingers, then he moved them to your lips. Your tongue licked the tips of his fingers. His grip tightened around your waist.

“I want to feel you,” you said.

Jungkook shuddered at your words. “Where is your room?”

“The door behind you.”

Jungkook lifted you off the table, you tightened your legs around him and gave him another kiss. He walked you both to your room and gently laid you down on your bed. He took off his pants, then slowly moved onto the bed and hovered above you.

“Tell me what you want,” he said.

Your fingers caressed his face. “I want you to be happy.”

Another shudder ran through him. “I am happy. What else?”

You traced his eyes, his nose, his lips. “I want to be the one making you happy.”

Jungkook couldn’t contain himself anymore. His heart felt like it was about to explode. He covered your body with his and pressed himself into you. Your eyes rolled back as he entered you slowly. You felt so full you wanted to burst out of your skin. You could feel how the Jungkook-sized whole in your heart filled up again.

He rocked into you and took your breath away. Your nails raked across his back and left red lines against his smooth skin. Jungkook ducked his head into the crook of your neck and moaned against your skin. Every pull dragged pleasure out of you, every push brought you closer together.

You wanted more. Jungkook gave you more.

You wanted him closer. Jungkook pushed deeper into you.

With every moan, Jungkook pushed harder, pushed deeper. He wanted to melt into you. He wanted the lines between you and him to disappear. Your desire was his desire. His pleasure was your pleasure.  

Jungkook could feel you tightening around him. He moved his mouth over yours and gave you an ardent kiss. The light of your desire turned brighter and brighter until it burst apart into a thousand little flames. You cried against his lips and let the heat consume you. Your body pulsed around his and the overwhelming sensation brought him right over the edge with you.

The both of you laid on your bed and clung to each other. Neither of you willing to let the other go. Your pounding chests beat in tandem. Jungkook stroked his hand across your hair and kissed your head.

“I want you to be happy too,” he said.

“I know,” you said as you smiled against his chest, “You make me happy.”

Jungkook pulled you tighter into him and you remained silent for a while. His hand traced lazy patterns against your skin. Your breathing evened out.

“Are you allergic to pineapple?” he suddenly asked.

You looked up at him in surprise. “No. Why?”

“Because you always order tangsuyuk without pineapple.”

“Oh. That’s because my sister hates pineapple.”

Jungkook frowned, you pulled yourself up and kissed the little ridges between his eyes.

“What?” you asked.

“I think the jjajangmyeon is all soggy by now,” he said.

You had to laugh. “Probably, but the tangsuyuk should still taste great.”

Jungkook kissed you with a smile. “You’re right, tangsuyuk always tastes great.”

°°°°°°°

02/05/20

Copyright © 2020 full-of-jams. All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, repost or translate without permission.

[aka-ashi-keiji]

“i can’t hear you”

Bakugou Katsuki x best friend reader

soft angst

tw: screaming, emotional meltdown.

short fic about bakugou and you’re his childhood best friend, and you help him through dealing with his hearing loss. enjoy lovies.

*******************************************************

You woke up to the sound of your mother knocking on your door and yelling, “y/n wake up, you have training today with katsuki. i love that boy but i am not in the mood to deal with his explosive attitude over you being late .” You lived right next door to katsuki all your life and since your moms were best friends, you guys were best friends since you learned how to walk. Every saturday you guys would train from 8 AM to noon in his garage since it was basically a mini gym, and then after you both would head over to your house. You checked the time on your phone on the bedside table and it read 7:50. “SHIT MOM WHY DIDN’T YOU WAKE ME UP SOONER” you yelled as you jumped out of bed and quickly found a black tank top and grey sweatpants to train in. You could hear your mom chuckling as she walked away from your door. You grabbed your headphones, phone, water bottle, and Nike’s before yelling a goodbye and dashing over to Katsuki’s front yard. 

You knocked on his door four times so that his family knew it was you. You were halfway through slipping your shoes on when Mitsuki answered. She yawned and pulled you into a side hug. “Good morning y/n, you hungry?” She asked as she closed the door behind you guys and started towards the kitchen. “No thanks Mitsuki, I don’t like to train on a full stomach. My mom is making a huge lunch though, you guys are welcome to join us.” You said cheerfully, but kept your voice low since it was very early and you could tell Katsuki’s mom was still half asleep. She nodded and then whipped her head to face you wearing a look on her face as if she had just remembered something very important. “Kat has been very on edge lately and not very responsive this week.” She paused before starting again and turned her gaze to the floor, almost as if she didn’t want to talk. “I think it might have to do with his hearing. He won’t admit it, but I think his quirk is finally starting to affect him. Good thing we put him in those sign language classes as a precaution.” she laughed dryly and then turned back to look at you. “Just, take it easy him with the teasing today okay? and maybe try speaking a little louder. I’ll go see if he’s ready” and with that she gathered herself up the stairs and disappeared. 

You thought silently as you waited, and all of a sudden it made sense. Lately at school bakugou has been yelling more than usual, and telling everyone to speak louder. Maybe he was yelling more to be able to hear himself? You didn’t know. Bakugou has been learning sign language since he was 7 years old as a precaution for this and has been regularly signing while he talks since he was 10. So, bakugou using his sign language all the time wasn’t uncommon, but maybe Mitsuki was right. You made a mental note not to say anything until you actually noticed a big change in your guys’ training. You waited patiently for about another 10 minutes before Katsuki finally came downstairs. 

“Hey idiot, nice outfit.” Katsuki greeted you in his groggy morning voice, his hands signing his words lazily. You looked down at the tank top and sweatpants you were wearing and looked back to him, you both were wearing the same exact thing. “Morning pom pom” you greeted back as you gathered your things and started to head towards the garage. You turned around to see bakugou staring into nothing, so you called out. “Hey kat, you coming?” No response. You repeated yourself, but this time loud enough you were sure you woke his dad. He whipped his head towards you and nodded before following along. As you were walking down the hall, you turned to him and asked, “You okay?” while signing your words. Katsuki looked down at your hands and his cheeks started to dust with the lightest shade of pink. He huffed and his red eyes sparked as he just growled out a ‘yeah’ and walked ahead of you into the garage, starting to set up for your session. You yourself had picked up sign language at a young age because your dad was deaf because his quirk was being able to shoot sonic booms from his hands. you pressed the button to open the garage door and let some light in. You then walked over to the speakers and plugged your phone in as you hit play on your playlist specifically for training days. Bakugou stopped setting up the bench press station and yelled, “Can you turn it up? “ as he signed quickly, but then went back to putting the weights together. You turned back to the speaker only to be surprised since the volume was already almost at max capacity. You shook your head and turned the volume all the way up. This session should be interesting. 

It was around 9:30 AM at this point and you and Kat had finished weights and went on a 2 mile run. You were currently sitting on the floor stretching your quads as the loud techno music boomed around you. You glanced over at katsuki who was stretching on the other side of the garage and he seemed to be in a whole other universe. You called out to him, but he didn’t do so much as flinch. You picked yourself up off the floor and slowly walked towards him. You called a few more times and still got nothing from him, so you decided to turn off the music. As soon as you did Katsuki’s head shot up and his eyes darted towards you. “What the hell was that for dipshit? We’re gonna start sparring soon, we need it.” He said/yelled at you while you sauntered over to him and took a seat about a foot away from his now steaming body. You wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your arm before talking to katsuki, well you didn’t exactly talk with your voice, you were mostly signing. “Katsuki are you sure you’re okay? You’re not responding when I call out for you.” You waited for his response as his eyes stayed on your hands that were once moving. This time he answered, but for some reason he didn’t sign. “If I tell you, you can’t tell a single soul you hear me dumbass? Not even my parents. “ You nodded your head and gently reach over to squeeze his hand four times, your guys’ way of saying I promise. He then began to talk, and signed very aggressively as he did so, and what he said was enough to shatter you into a million pieces. 

 “I’ve been struggling in a way lately,” he started, “I tried to cover it up by just yelling all the time hoping people would just think it was my normal behavior. But, really it was so i could he hear myself.” Katsuki let out a long breath and you could see his hands slightly shaking. “It started out last week as just a slight ringing, but it got louder every damn day. But, this week the ringing got quieter, and eventually everything around me started to sound like I was underwater. “ He looked up at you and your breath hitched, tears rolled down katsuki’s face as he held eye contact. He shook out his hands and took another shakey breath before he began, “I- I can barely hear you y/n! And its so frusturating.” the volume of his voice was rising, and you could see the pain he was feeling through his eyes and the tears that were now dripping down to his shirt. “I can’t hear your fucking voice damnit! It’s the only one that doesn’t drive me up fucking walls.  it terrifies me!” He was screaming at this point as his hands worked through the air to express his words. The tears came at a much quicker pace once he had stopped to breathe, and those tear turned into sobs as he curled in on himself. He tucked his knees to his chest and ducked his head into his arms as they wrapped around his legs. His shoulders and back shook as he cried, and for a moment you didn’t know what to do. You haven’t seen Katsuki cry since you both were 8 years old and he was playing with his quirk and accidently blasted your arm. He started crying as soon as he heard you wail in pain, and the lecture from his mother didn’t help in the slightest. You subconsciously reached up to rest your hand on the scar as you tried to think of what you could say to him.

 Katsuki leveled his head and looked up at you, and slowly reached his hand out, still crying quietly. For a second you didn’t know what he meant, but it soon clicked in your head and you took his hand in yours. you looked at him with teary eyes and signed, “How can i help?” He untucked his legs from his chest and moved closer to you. Then, before you could even register what was happening, Katsuki had his arms around your waist with his head on your shoulder. You froze, it had been quite some time since either of you had needed a hug like this. once your shock had subsided, you brought your hands to rest on his upper back and rubbed soothingly. He began to cry again, which then led to sobs just like they had before. You began to talk, whispering variations of ‘I’m here’ and ‘You don’t have to be scared’, only to remember that he probably can’t hear you. Seeing katsuki as vulnerable as this broke your heart, and single tear fell from your face. Katsuki could feel your jaw muscles moving against the side of his face, so he knew you were talking, but he couldn’t hear you. “I- i- i- I can’t hear! I can’t hear you! Y/n I can’t hear you, fix it please, please I hate this so much!” He screamed into your shoulder which luckily muffled it enough to not draw any attention from the neighbors. He gripped onto your waist tighter as he breathed long and hard breaths. “I’m so scared. I’m terrified of losing you.” He whispered. This had confused you so you gently placed your hands on his shoulders and put a bit of distance between you guys so he could see you signing. “What do you mean you’re gonna lose me? I’m not going anywhere.” You said and waited for his response. He brought his trembling hands up to start signing and began, “I’m scared that if i can’t hear you, I won’t hear you calling me for help when you’re in danger. What kind of hero am I if i can’t even save my best friend?” You took one of his hands in yours and began to sign with your other. “You’re gonna be okay, We’re both gonna get you through this. I know you, and you don’t take shit from no one. And I know damn well you’re not gonna let a little hearing loss get in the way of beating deku.” He laughed slightly at the last statement, and seeing his small smile was like the world coming off of your shoulders. “We’ll take you to the doctor, they’ll help you.” He shook his head at that and his angry glowering returned. “It’s not anything to be embarrassed about. And I’m sure your parents would do anything to help you become the hero you want to be.” You finished your monologue and squeezed his hand four times, promising him you’re not going anywhere. He smiled down at his hand and then brought his other one up to sign, “I love you shithead” and you signed back, “Yeah I know, I love you too Kat”.

 He began to stand up and Katsuki pulled you up with him.  He immediately pulled you into the tightest bear hug possible. No one knew, but Katsuki was the biggest hugger, and it was your favorite thing about him. You released your arms from his waist and he released his hold around your shoulders. You took the sides on his face in your hands, and pointed to your lips as a signal to read your words. He nodded his head, and in a volume Katsuki couldn’t hear, you said, “I can hear you, I can hear you.”. He nodded and smiled the most genuine smile you’d seen out of him in years. “You ready?” he signed, and you answered “for what?”. He smirked and was quiet for a few seconds before shoving you to the side a little and running off towards your house. “Race you!” he yelled, “First one there, is your mom’s favorite you loser.” Kat called again. You smiled and shook your head as you sprinted off after him, remembering this is the Katsuki that will be the #1 hero someday. 

***************************************🌸

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 8: Coincidence

Chapter 7

Read on AO3

A few sessions at the stables passed since Claire and Jamie’s discussion about his brother. Claire had felt uneasy that first week, seeing him after he’d shared something so private with her, but he seemed to be none the wiser to her discomfort, nor did he have any of his own. He was chipper as ever and didn’t treat her or Faith any differently. It was strange knowing something so viscerally painful about this man’s life and going on with him as usual, like it was normal for them to have shared something like that. Claire supposed she should have been uncomfortable, but as more and more weeks passed by since that day, she felt nothing but at ease in his presence.

Additionally, as time went on, Claire was becoming more comfortable in her new role at the hospital. Joe was becoming a true friend. They could often be found hiding in the same corners, drinking coffee together, or taking lunch together. He’d shown her pictures of his family and she of hers, having to confess then that Faith’s father was not in the picture. Upon revealing the whole story, Joe had looked at her calmly from across the table they were sharing and said, very simply:

“Fuck Frank.”

They kept making plans for Faith and Claire to come to his house for dinner, which, of course, kept getting thwarted by conflicting schedules. It was a running joke between the two that they were actually only pretending to like one another, and making excuses to avoid going to each other’s homes.

God, she was grateful to have him.

For that matter, she was quite grateful for Mary Hawkins as well. While Claire didn’t see her in person anymore since Faith had switched appointment times, the sweet girl was always checking in with her over Facebook Messenger, asking her how Faith was adjusting. They, too, kept making plans to get lunch that were always put on hold, aside from the one time they’d managed to meet at a Starbucks for five minutes before Faith started panicking about the noise. Mary had been beside herself with apologies over Messenger, and Claire spent several minutes calming her down as well as Faith.

It would appear that a social life was always just out of reach for Claire. Oh well. Maybe someday. She was trying, after all.

The Facebook group of other moms was comforting as well, and even though Claire was hardly active in it, the sense of camaraderie she felt reading stories and seeing events planned for their children was uplifting to say the least. She often found herself wishing that Faith was able to enjoy these events, and that she had the time in her schedule with the hospital to even attempt them.

Maybe someday.

The equine therapy did seem to be helping, and so did Faith’s time with Mrs. Lickett. Claire had confirmed with her to make sure it wasn’t hopeful-mummy-blinders making her think so, and she’d agreed. There was improvement, however small, from the time Mrs. Lickett had met Faith. She did not have meltdowns with any less frequency, but they were the slightest bit easier to be talked down from. Not all of them, of course. It would be a while, or perhaps never, until Faith was entirely capable of stopping a meltdown once it started. But Mrs. Lickett seemed pleased with her progress nonetheless.

Claire was coming home to different crafts and drawings every day, and these past few weeks, they were all Halloween themed. Colored plates with google-eyes and construction paper glued together to look like pumpkins, bats, and Frankensteins, little ghosts on string made out of cotton balls glued to white paper, and even (with Claire’s permission) lollipops covered in tissue to look like ghosts. Claire was enjoying copying the faces that Faith and Mrs. Lickett had drawn on them to make Faith laugh before unwrapping them to eat.

Claire even considered picking up some pumpkins at a grocery store on her way home from work so she could try her hand at carving them with Faith. Claire’s unconventional upbringing had not left room for such frivolities, and Frank had never been interested in the mess it would make in the house, so Claire had never actually done it before. But the thought of trying something new with her daughter in their new life was thrilling to her.

Toni had informed them yesterday at the stables that for Halloween week, the kids could wear a costume, as long as they were able to ride safely in it. Claire was thrilled; she knew she couldn't actually spend Halloween with Faith or take her trick-or-treating, so to get to see her in costume, even not on the actual holiday, would be a comfort. She and Mrs. Lickett had discussed perhaps allowing her to take Faith trick-or-treating herself before Claire got home from work, but nothing had been solidified yet. 

On Saturday morning after breakfast, Claire led Faith into her bedroom. Faith had a purple trunk in her room that she and Claire had adorned with countless princess stickers over the years, containing all of her dress-up costumes.

“Alright, Faith. Who will it be this year?” They sat down in front of the trunk together, Claire lifting the lid. “Which princess do you want to be when you ride Pippi this week?”

Faith often put the costumes on and wore them around the house, and now the apartment. This was only her fourth Halloween, so she hadn’t used them all for the holiday, but they had all certainly been used. Her first Halloween, Claire had put her in an adorable Dumbo costume. Her second, she was a precious little Minnie Mouse, and her third, she was Elsa, of course.

As she watched Faith dig through the trunk, her eyes fiery with excitement, Claire was sure she’d go for Anna this year. She was certain that if it were possible to wear two costumes at once, she would have been both Anna and Elsa last year.

So Claire was surprised when Faith pulled out a blue-green dress with Celtic trim.

“Merida?” Claire said, smiling through her furrowed brows. “That’s who you want to be this year?”

Claire certainly had no objection, but Brave had never particularly been one of Faith’s favorites.

Faith took the lid of the trunk from Claire and began repeatedly poking her finger into one of the stickers. Claire looked closer, and an enormous grin spread over her face as it dawned on her.

It was a sticker of Merida, riding her horse, bow and arrow aimed.

“Yes, darling!” Claire laughed, hugging Faith from behind and pulling her into her lap, sitting cross-legged. “You’re going to be just like Merida and Angus when you ride Pippi! Is that right?” She kissed her cheek repeatedly and tickled her. “Is that right?”

Faith giggled incessantly and squirmed to get out of her mother’s grip, but not before Claire planted one last kiss to her cheek. Dizzy with giddiness, Claire began cleaning up the mess that Faith had made of her costumes, and it wasn’t long before she heard the beginning of Brave coming from the tellie. Apparently, Faith had been getting the hang of the DVD player by herself. The Scottish burr of the protagonist caught Claire’s ear, and she paused, lingering on the Cinderella dress she’d just picked up.

Jamie is Scottish.

Her mind was suddenly treated to the image of Jamie’s face lighting up upon recognizing the Celtic patterns on the costume, and upon Claire telling him that Faith was dressed as a Scottish princess. Perhaps he would know without needing to be told. Was Brave popular in Scotland, or was that a sweeping generalization?

Either way, she couldn't shake the thought of those blue eyes, impossibly bright, his smile ridiculously wide (and crooked), his deep, chesty laugh. Yes, he would certainly get a kick out of Faith’s costume of choice. Faith certainly didn’t know that Merida and Mister Jamie shared heritage, unless she had some uncanny ability to place accents that Claire was unaware of. She’d chosen Merida this year because of her newfound love of riding horses, and it just so happened that the best rider out of the whole line-up of princesses in her chest was also the only Scottish one.

Claire shook her head, laughing as she closed up the trunk again.

Bloody funny coincidence.

——

Friday came, and Claire found herself almost as giddy as her four-year-old daughter. She was over the moon at Faith's excitement as she pulled the costume over her head. 

"Now where did my little Faith go?" Claire said absurdly. "She was here just a moment ago, but she's been replaced with a Scottish princess!"

Faith gave a shrieking giggle and bounced up and down, jiggling her hands. Claire laughed out loud.

"Do a twirl for me, Princess, let me see."

Faith began spinning, the skirts of the dress poofing out. This was somewhat of a tradition for them. Whenever Faith wore a dress, costume or not, Faith loved to twirl and see the skirt flutter as she did.

"Look at you!" Claire said, clapping her hands. "Miss Toni is going to be so excited, and Pippi, and all the kids, and Erica." Faith dashed to her bed to retrieve Horsie. "And Mister Jamie, too. Mister Jamie will be very excited." Claire felt a rush of excitement herself, thinking of his face when he laid eyes on Faith.

"Alright, Princess. Off we go." Claire stood up and took Faith's hand, leading her out of her room. "Go get your pumpkin." Faith grasped the trick-or-treat pumpkin that was sitting on the coffee table. Claire knew it wasn't going to be filled at the stables as it would be on the actual holiday, but since she couldn't be there while Faith actually trick-or-treated, she wanted to be able to see her holding it in her costume for today.

"Can Mummy get a picture, lovie? Please?" Claire stood back with her phone. "Can you smile, Princess? Please?" Faith was holding the plastic pumpkin in front of her face, shaking her head.

"For Auntie Gillian, Faith," Claire pleaded. "You know she loves to see you in your costume, and Merida is her favorite! Please, darling."

At the mention of her beloved godmother, Faith changed her tune. She moved the pumpkin away and had an excited look on her face, and Claire immediately snapped the picture. She got a few more of Faith in various stages of excitement.

"Thank you, baby. You're a very good girl." Claire kissed her head and quickly sent the photos to Gillian, typing:

We went Full-Scot this year! How proud are you??

Her heart light, Claire led Faith down the stairs and to the car. Once Claire settled into the driver's seat after Faith was all buckled, her phone buzzed and she opened it to see a slew of messages from Gillian:

Gillian [4:32]: OMG!! LOOK AT HER!!

Gillian [4:32]: What a doll!! Tell her Auntie G says she looks beautiful!!

Gillian [4:33]: SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND! SCOTLAND!

Claire chuckled to herself, shaking her head as she put her phone in her purse.

"Auntie G says you look beautiful, darling." Claire flashed a smile into the rear view mirror, and Faith hummed contentedly. Claire had deliberately left Faith’s curls untamed today in an attempt to mimic Merida's hair the best she could without the wild red color. She was damn proud of how adorable her daughter looked.

When they arrived at the stable, Claire was certain Faith could have rocketed into the sky given how high she was jumping with excitement. When they entered the welcome center, there was a wide assortment of princesses, superheroes and Star Wars characters. Claire's smile widened to see Toni wearing tiny pigtail braids and a blue checkered dress.

"Not in Kansas anymore, are you?" Claire said. Toni looked up from her computer and her face lit up.

"Oh my goodness! Look at you!" Toni squealed with delight, standing up from behind the counter and stretching her body over it. "Princess Faith lives up to her title! You look amazing Faith!"

Faith hummed and twirled back and forth, swishing the skirts.

"Hello, Faith," Erica said sweetly, donning plaid, pigtails, and a cowgirl hat with matching boots. "I love your costume. Mister Jamie is going to love it."

"Oh wait until you see him!" Toni squealed.

"What do you mean — ?"

At that moment, the back door opened, revealing a little Captain America and his mother, followed by the most astonishing thing Claire had seen all day.

Mister Jamie was wearing a kilt. And a shoulder sash that matched, and tall boots, and a brooch, and a sporran.

Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ.

"He does this every year," Toni said, laughing. "A Highlander for Halloween, every day of the week!"

Claire couldn't stop staring long enough to respond.

"Alright Captain America, sir!" Jamie boomed, reaching behind the counter and producing a fistful of candy. "Here's yer bounty, lad. 'Twas a pleasure riding wi' America's finest." Little Nolan was beaming, and his mother was too. "Have a great Halloween, Mrs. Weiss. See ye next week."

As the two of them departed toward the front door, Toni looked like she was going to explode.

"Jamie! Jamie, look!" She was incessantly swatting at his shoulder.

He finally obliged her, looking down at Faith, and every mental image Claire had conjured over the course of the week didn't even come close to the real thing.

She didn't think his eyes had ever been bluer, or his smile more crooked, or his cheeks more pink.

"Well, what do we have here?" He crouched down in front of Faith, and the fabric of his kilt slid up to reveal his knees. "Is this a real Scottish princess right before my eyes?"

Faith gave another squealing giggle, bouncing up and down. What happened next was nothing short of astonishing. Faith, Claire's daughter that did not -- under any circumstances -- allow anyone but her mother to lay a hand on her, all of a sudden thrust her hands onto the plaid of his shoulder sash. 

Claire's stomach lurched, about to launch into a speech about boundaries and personal space, but Jamie put up a hand to stop her, his eyes never leaving Faith.

"D'ye like my tartan, Miss Merida?" He was entranced by Faith, who was equally as mesmerized. She must have recognized the clothing from the film; all the men in Brave dressed nearly identical to how Jamie looked.

Her little fingers began circling his silver brooch, and Jamie’s chest expanded with pride. “That’s the Fraser brooch, has our motto on it as well. D’ye like it?” Faith just hummed and bounced again. “I’m glad to hear that. I like yer dress verra much. Ye look bonny.”

Claire sucked in a sharp breath upon realizing that her mouth had been hanging open since Jamie had appeared, and she snapped her lips together.

“This is just too perfect,” Toni gushed, coming out from behind the camera. “I have to get a picture of this for the wall. If you don’t mind?”

“No, of course, go ahead.” Claire threw a quick glance at the wall to her right, containing hundreds of photos of children on horses, getting high-fives from therapists, group photos at holiday gatherings, and so many more. To think of her daughter stuck up there among the throng made her heart swell.

She truly does belong here.

She watched in awe as Faith cooperated without question for the photo, not even attempting to cover her face. She was smiling the most cheesy smile Claire had ever seen on her daughter’s face, and Jamie’s was almost just as wide. Claire quickly shuffled beside Toni to get a picture for her phone as well. She sent it to Gillian before putting her phone away:

You won’t believe this. Faith’s therapist is an honest-to-God Highlander, and he wore this.

Pictures taken, Toni took Faith’s candy pumpkin and put it behind the counter for safekeeping.

“Are ye ready then, Princess Merida? To ride yer noble steed?” Jamie stood up and started walking toward the back door, and Claire had to scramble to grab her hand before she was out the door and a mile ahead of them.

“And where’s yer costume, Sassenach?” Jamie smirked, walking backwards as usual.

“The memo I got said the children were to dress up, not the parents,” she said, playfully defensive. “Besides, I haven’t worn a Halloween costume since I was still a teenager.”

“Och, ye’re no fun then, are ye?” he said with an emphatic wave of his hand. “How did ye celebrate the holiday all these years?”

“I didn’t go to those wild parties in college, or med school for that matter.” She shrugged indifferently. “Just watched a movie with my roommate, if we even had time for that.”

“And after that? Ye never dressed up with yer wean?”

Something dark clouded Claire’s mind for the smallest moment.

“You can’t be serious.”

“It’s her first Halloween! I think it would be sweet if — ”

“It’s a sweet idea. But you are a grown woman, darling.”

She shook her head. “No.”

Jamie didn’t miss how her face had fallen, how clipped her response had been. His brows crinkled together in concern. If he wanted to say something, he didn’t, and they passed the rest of the way to the stable in silence, save Faith’s incessant giggling.

Erica and Jamie got Faith settled with holding the reins, and then Jamie hung back, as usual, while Erica led Faith to the riding hall.

“Is it real?” Claire said abruptly, and he looked at her with confusion. “What I mean is…is the material authentic?”

“Oh.” He grinned, nodding in understanding. “Aye, ’tis. This is real Fraser tartan, in my family fer generations.”

“It’s lovely,” Claire said. “You only ever wear it on Halloween?”

“Mostly, but not only. Wore it to my sister’s wedding a few years back, our Ma’s funeral before that.” He said it so casually, but her heart strained to hear it. How much had this man suffered…?

“Special occasions, tradition, ye ken,” he said. “I just like to show it off on the days I’m allowed to stand out a bit.”

He winked, and Claire felt her cheeks get hot.

“What is it?” she said, eyeing the brooch. “The Fraser motto?”

He made a noise in the back of his throat and removed it from the plaid, handing it over to her. She held it close and ran her fingers over the letters.

“Je suis prest,” she read. “I am ready.”

He seemed taken aback at first by her perfect pronunciation and her translation, but then he smiled widely. “Aye.”

“Ready for what?” she teased, handing him back the delicate silver.

He smirked as he put it back in its place, then peered up at her through his lashes. “Anything.”

——

Claire watched contentedly as Faith rode, once again in awe at the sheer insanity of the coincidence that her daughter and her therapist had both chosen Highlander apparel for Halloween. It was like watching a deleted scene from Brave: the princess’s father teaching little Merida to ride.

And then she shook her head clear of that thought, admonishing herself for allowing such an inappropriate thought.

“Did you plan that?” A voice filled her ears, and she jumped.

“Hm?” She turned to see a mom looking at her, someone she’d come to know as Mrs. Beardsley in the weeks that she and Faith had been coming to the stables at this time.

“Did you plan that, you and Mister Jamie?”

“No, not at all,” Claire said, laughing. “She picked it because Merida rides a horse. I had no idea he was going to wear that.”

Mrs. Beardsley chuckled. “That’s pretty funny.”

“Isn’t it?” Claire glanced over at Kezzie, Mrs. Beardsley’s son. He was dressed like Superman, and his therapist was praising him in sign language. “He looks adorable, too.”

Mrs. Beardsley thanked her, and they continued watching their children in amiable silence. Claire had snapped about a million pictures of Faith on her horse, with and without Jamie in the frame. When they were back in the stable, Pippi brushed and helmet removed, Claire requested just one more picture.

“Could I get one of her with Pippi before you put her away? Without the helmet?” she asked Jamie shyly.

“Aye, of course.” He smiled warmly.

Claire snapped as many as she could, and though Faith was staring at Pippi rather than ever looking at the camera, she didn’t mind at all.

“Alright, got it.”

Jamie grinned and went to take the reins to put Pippi away, but Faith would not move at first. She was nuzzling her face into Pippi’s snout, and Jamie apparently couldn't bring himself to move either of them just yet. Unbeknownst to either Faith or Jamie, Claire snapped a final picture:

Faith mesmerized by her horse, and Jamie mesmerized by Faith.

She would not be sending that one to Gillian.

They returned to the welcome center, and Toni put some candy in Faith’s pumpkin, causing her to squeal with excitement again. Jamie lathered his hands in hand sanitizer before plunging his hand into a bowl full of little yellow, orange, and white triangles.

“What on Earth is that?” Claire scrunched up her nose.

“Ye’ve never heard of candy corn, Sassenach?” Jamie said playfully. “It’s quite American, I suppose.”

She chuckled. “Should I try it, then? Since I’m American now?”

“Aye, suppose ye should.”

Claire cleaned her hands as well before taking one of the little triangles into her fingers and popping it into her mouth. As she bit into it, her taste buds were immediately assaulted by the most sickening sweetness she’d ever tasted. Her face screwed up in disgust, and Jamie burst into laughter.

“That bad, is it?” he said, his laughter rumbling in his chest. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him laugh so hard.

“It’s revolting,” Claire said, not even wanting to swallow it. “I practically want to spit it out.”

He laughed harder at that, tears leaking from his eyes. “I’m sorry, Sassenach. I didna think ye’d be so appalled.”

“You either love it or you hate it, at least in my experience,” Toni said. “I could’ve told you she’d hate it.”

Claire did not miss the look he gave her in response, but she didn't have time to contemplate its intention.

She reluctantly swallowed the grainy sweetness, and she shuddered in disgust. “Christ. Remind me to never try anything you give me again.”

“Will do,” he said, laughter finally subsiding. “What sort of sweets d’ye like, then, if this was too much fer ye?”

“Richer things, for sure. Chocolate.”

“Ghirardelli or Lindt?” Toni chimed in. “The Lindt truffles are my favorite.”

“Oh, I couldn’t choose, I love both,” Claire said. Jamie popped another handful of candy corn into his mouth, and Claire upturned her nose. “I can’t imagine eating handfuls of that when such a thing as Lindt truffles exist.”

“Dinna yuck someone else’s yum, Sassenach. Must I talk to ye like ye’re one of the kids?” He gave her a mocking look of warning, and she rolled her eyes.

“Oh, I love sour candy too,” Claire said. “If there are any sour patch kids in that bucket I may have to steal them.” She gestured to Faith’s little pumpkin.

“Here’s an extra one, just for mom,” Toni said, plucking a little bag of the sour candy from the bowl behind the counter and handing it to Claire.

“Thanks.” Claire smiled warmly, putting it in her purse. “Well, I guess we should be off, then.” Claire took Faith’s hand. “Say goodbye to the Scottish warrior, Faith.”

Claire gave Jamie a smirk, and he grinned back at her.

“S’long Merida,” Jamie said. “It’s been a pleasure.” He gave a ridiculously low bow, and Faith giggled. It took a moment for Claire to realize that she was giggling herself.

“Bye-bye, Princess!” Toni said, and Erica echoed.

Faith waved gleefully, yanking Claire toward the door, never one to delay her McDonald’s.

“Happy Halloween, Sassenach,” Jamie said warmly, hands resting on the belt holding his kilt up.

She flashed a final grin at him before Faith’s tugging won out, and they were out the door and walking toward the car.

Claire buckled in her squirming little girl, and she absently thought that it might be a struggle to get her to sleep tonight. Today was so wonderful, however, that she didn’t care at all.

Once Claire was settled in the driver’s seat, she reached into her purse to check her phone, having heard it go off several times while she was otherwise occupied. She chuckled softly to see five messages from Gillian, and then opened them:

Gillian [4:54]: holy hell Claire

Gillian [4:54]: ye’ve got to be JOKING

Gillian [4:54]: THAT is her therapist???

Gillian [4:54]: he is the hottest bloody man I’ve ever seen in my life

Gillian [4:54]: and he’s in a feckin KILT

Gillian [4:55]: if you don’t get on that i’m booking a flight and getting on it myself

Claire sucked in a sharp breath and threw her phone into the passenger seat, every muscle in her body stiffening.

As if the damn woman could sense from an ocean away that Claire was ignoring her texts, her phone buzzed again.

Gillian [6:12]: well? am I booking a flight? ;)

Claire [6:12]: Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ, G.

[threeletterslife]

06 | Illegirl

→ previous | next

→ summary: Excelling in every school subject, acing every math test and conquering the academic world is something you do as easily as breathing. As your residential social outcast nerd, you live rather as a recluse, talking to almost no one except for your dear ol’ cousin and that sweet boy in a few of your classes—Jungkook? was that his name? Befriending your ʰᵒᵗ AP stats teacher was the last thing on your high school senior agenda…

→ genre: 90% fluff, 8% crack, 2% angst | teacher!au & f2l!au

→ warnings: profanity, kissing/making out, the yikes of being friendzoned

→ wordcount: 5.7k

You've never really thought about it before but now you realize that teachers do have a life outside of school.

They don't just sleep under their big, teacher desks at night and pop up in the morning right before the first bell rings. You know now that teachers, although with so much authority and intellect, are just humans—they have feelings, they have a life and they can also be your friend.

You beam as you look at your teacher as he lectures. A friend he was...

Your eyes shift up and down Jimin's figure and man, was it too sweet for your eyes. He's so good looking. Actually, even that was an understatement.

Your teacher's tight, white button-up shirt fits his figure just perfectly as his tie sit handsomely on his broad chest. His black jeans look strained on his muscular legs, and your eyes start moving up to settle specifically on his thighs. Goddamn.

Jimin pushes up his glasses (that he only wears in a classroom setting) and that motion draws you in to study his ethereal face. Your breath hitches as you marvel at his wide, almond eyes, adorable nose and those soft, plump lips. So beautiful, so surreal, so...

"Y/N? Y/N. Y/N!"

You jump a foot in the air. "Huh, what?" you shout, startled out of your mind. You know you probably sound like some twelve-year-old caught with porn and you mentally scold yourself for sounding so off-guard.

It gets worse when everyone in your math class laughs at you and you can feel your cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

"I asked you a question," Jimin says as he points to a problem on the board.

You've always noticed that your teacher never ever cuts you slack for being his friend; he doesn't show favoritism, preferring to treat everyone quite equally, no matter how bad someone might take an L on his test. You always thought that was honorable of him, but now, you kind of wished he'd leave you alone to die in your ocean of humiliation.

Palms already sweaty from all the unwanted attention on you, your eyes shake as you squint at the problem. It's hard to focus on the numbers. "Oh shit," you mutter under your breath, but you've always been a loud mutterer.

Everyone laughs again.

Uneasy sparks blaze in your stomach. You hate how everyone is watching you, waiting and listening for anything out of place to ridicule your every move.

But you take a deep breath and the math problem seems to clear up in your vision. It's an easy one, thank god.

"22 pi over 7," you squeak quickly, ducking your head under.

"Hm? Speak a little louder, Y/N," Jimin says as he adjusts his glasses, craning his neck towards you as if he couldn't hear you.

Goddammit, Jimin.

"22 pi over 7!" you yell in the stupidest and shakiest voice ever to be heard by mankind.

Finally, the fire in your stomach burns out when Jimin nods. "Correct," he chuckles slightly, his eyes glinting a bit. " Try not to daydream too much, Y/N. Even geniuses need to pay attention."

The fire is back and hotter than ever, except it's not only in your stomach, it's everywhere in your body. So. Fucking. Humiliating.

Trying to cool yourself, you set your head down on the desk, looking at your shoes as if those dirty, black Watt Star Converse were something actually worth looking at for more than half a millisecond.

Damn. I used to never get distracted... What the fuck is wrong with me?

After school, you trudge to your math teacher's classroom, still embarrassed about the incident earlier. When you walk in, Jimin's erasing the whiteboard, his back facing you.

As quietly and quickly as possible, you set your stuff down at your desk in the front of the classroom and sit. I will not initiate conversation. He's gonna hate me for getting distracted during class.

But when your teacher turns around, he laughs warmly, eyes scrunching up in the way that you love most.

"Y/N, why so quiet today?"

You flinch. "Oh, uh, no reason." You always sound so suspicious when you lie to Jimin.

"C'mon, you look disturbed," your friend says as he sets the whiteboard eraser down, abandoning it to walk towards you. "What's the matter?"

Oh, you know, just simply embarrassed that I think my friend, my teacher is hot and got fucking distracted over his goddamn body during his class.

But you can't say that.

"Oh, um..." you trail off, racking your brain for a good excuse. But as smart as you are academically, you're as stupid as a guppy when it comes to making plausible excuses. "I'm on my period."

You cringe the moment the words leave your mouth. Why, Y/N, why the fuck—

You want to crawl in a hole when Jimin raises his eyebrows in question. "Oh," he says. You swear you see his face flush pink as he turns his back towards you again, walking towards his messy desk. "Did it start today?" he asks.

Okay, what now?

Now it's your turn to flush pink; you didn't think Jimin would ask questions about your fake female problems. "Uh, yeah," you lie. "The cramps distracted me." Feigning pain, you try to convincingly grasp your stomach.

Jimin looks up at you from his desk, his silky black hair falling loosely over his twinkling eyes. To your surprise, he's smiling. "It isn't the first time I heard that excuse, Y/N. I know what you're really like on your period, remember?"

Well, shit. You did remember, you had just hoped he didn't... But it was your darn luck that he did. What did you expect from your intelligent teacher?

Face steaming, you huff. "Oh, whatever!"

Jimin only laughs, his eyes nearly disappearing as his full lips open up to a breathtakingly beautiful smile. You gulp. There's no doubt about it.

You're crushing on your teacher; he's much more of a distraction than your period will ever be.

"Operation help Ji—I mean, Mr. Park starts now!" you announce as the members of your math club cheer loudly.

"I don't know what kind of fucked up nasty humans were mean to our teacher, but we're totally gonna show them!" Nicole declares, Sarah and August agreeing aggressively by her side.

"But the question is... how?" Jungkook asks shyly, scooting closer to you.

Very aware of his movement, you slightly squirm, but pretend nothing happened. "I was thinking of a math tutoring club? For anyone who wants tutoring or is failing the class," you say. "And that way, if asshole parents complain again, we'll be able to say that Mr. Park did everything he could to help them—he has a fucking club dedicated to passing his class!"

"Ingenius as usual," August laughs.

"And when would we start this club?" Sarah asks.

You grin, your eyes sparkling with ambition. "If we can, tomorrow."

"No, no, no!" you practically scream, hitting your favorite pencil against a packet of math problems aggressively. "For the last time, you can't divide x to get an answer! You're gonna lose solutions! Do you want to lose solutions? Do you want to lose that A?"

The teen you're tutoring looks about ready to cry but you honestly feel no remorse. She had been constantly checking her goddamn text messages, giggling over quite inappropriate texts about Jimin. It makes you sick.

If she thinks Jimin's so fucking hot, why doesn't she at least try to be good at math?

"Hey, hey, Y/N, calm down," a familiar, silvery voice calls.

Jungkook.

"I'm trying!" you protest, flinging up your hands.

Jungkook laughs, sliding into the chair next to you and looking at the girl you were tutoring.

"What are you having trouble with?" he asks the girl in such a silky, smooth voice that if someone told you he was an angel, you'd believe them.

"Everything!" the dumb girl wails.

You roll your eyes.

"Hey, hey, then let's start from the very beginning, okay?" Jungkook soothes, smiling softly.

Goddamn, I wish I was that patient.

You just start to zone out as Jungkook literally reteaches this girl how to factor. You honestly wonder how she even passed elementary school. But then again, you have to admit you're a little jealous that this girl has so many friends to text. Yet you'd rather be smart than be popular—that's just how you roll.

You pause. But it's not like you don't have friends. You just don't have that many. And I actually like all the friends I have for once...

You don't remember falling asleep when a large, warm hand gently shakes you awake. Your groggy eyes open to see Jungkook, a goofy smile plastered on his face. "Tired, Y/N?" he chuckles.

The girl he's tutoring rolls her eyes. "Hmph. She yells at me for checking my messages but she does something even more unproductive," she grumbles.

Oh no. You did not just wake up to deal with attitude. You're not gonna have it. "Excuse me, but while I'm out here mastering linear algebra, you don't even know how to factor. Guess you had one too many hours of texting, huh?" you snap.

"Dayum," Jungkook mutters under his breath. He casually holds his hand out for a high-five, which you do, extremely dramatically.

"For your information, I know how to factor now," the girl huffs.

"For your information, that's a required skill for fifth graders," you bite back. "In addition—"

"As hilarious as this is," Jungkook interrupts, placing a hand on your arm, "You should calm down. It's a tutoring session, not a roasting session."

You sigh as the girl practically drools over your friend.

"Sure, Jungkook, sweetie. Thank you so much for your help so far," she giggles, flirtingly twirling her hair with her slender finger.

"Yeah, whatever," you reply as you feel Jungkook's hand slipping off your arm, the warm heat now gone.

Jungkook goes back to teaching the girl, oblivious of her seducing attempts. You roll your eyes as you look around the tutoring club—the turnout was better than you expected, honestly. For the first time in a classroom, however, you feel lost. You're not the best at teaching, (to be exact, you're the worst). Your patience is shorter than your height, (which is saying a lot), but everyone else in the math club seems to be teaching naturals.

Feeling a little guilty you can't do much to help out, you start to play with your pencil, twirling it around and doing cool tricks that you've accumulated over the years. But of course three minutes in, your hand loses grip of your writing utensil and it flings off, hitting the ground and starts rolling away from you.

Sighing irritably because you have to physically move to go get it, you stand up from your chair, crawling on the floor to reach your pencil. "Found you, you idiot," you tell your blue oxi-gel when you hear a light laugh coming from above you.

Facing forward, you come face-to-face with a pair of knees covered with smooth, black material. Looking up, you see your teacher smiling down at you.

"Were you actually talking to your pencil?" he teases, face set with a brilliant grin.

"I... uh..."

"God, what is this?" Jimin asks as he looks around his classroom filled with students. "Y/N, are you organizing a cult?" he whispers with a full grin plastered on his face.

"What no!" you protest as Jimin helps you stand up. "It was kinda supposed to be a surprise but..."

"It's a math tutoring club," Jungkook chimes in. "We're helping students reach that A, you know?"

"You guys made a tutoring club for me?" your teacher says, placing a hand to his heart. "I'm about to burst into tears."

You chuckle at Jimin's dramatized actions. "Well, no one deserves mistreatment. Ahem, especially not body objectification," you say as you glare at the girl Jungkook's tutoring. She rolls her eyes.

"Awww," Jimin coos. "You guys are amazing. You know what? We're ordering pizza, my treat!"

People cheer so loud your ears physically hurt.

You sigh out, clutching your full stomach as you slide into the shotgun seat of Jimin's nice car. "Damn... Since we already ate, does that mean we're not eating dinner at your house tonight?"

Jimin chuckles lowly. "Why? Wanted to go to my house?"

Your cheeks blush red as you shake your head aggressively. "No! I was just saying..."

"Well, I mean, we didn't have dessert yet, didn't we?" Jimin suggests, smiling. His fingers softly brush against yours as he reaches for your seatbelt, buckling it for you. "You always forget to wear your seatbelt, Y/N," he laughs. "You never know when I might fuck up on the road."

"Hmph!" you say, crossing your arms over your rapidly being chest. "Stop babying me! I was gonna put it on this time!"

"That's what you say every time," Jimin chuckles as he starts his car with a press of a button. "Now, cupcakes or brownies?"

"Huh? Um, cupcakes?"

"Great! We'll stop by the market to get some ingredients. We're going to learn how to bake!"

Oh no. Why did that sound like a disaster waiting to happen?

But surprisingly, it was a miracle waiting to happen. You stuff your face with aesthetic, black frosting, occasionally biting at the soft, plush bread. "To think we can bake cupcakes but not cook ramen right the first time," you chuckle.

"To be fair, we actually used directions," Jimin says, neatly slicing up his cupcake to eat piece by piece.

You scrunch your nose. "You look like a prince who's too snooty to eat with his own two hands."

"Or maybe I want to be hygienic? You know, unlike you," Jimin teases as you huff in response. Jimin pokes at you, making you turn to him in exasperation.

"What?" you sigh.

"I dunno... I never really got a chance to thank you..."

You raise your eyebrows, thoroughly confused. "I mean, but it was a team effort..." you try to say modestly. "Besides, I didn't do much of the teaching. I mean can you believe this girl didn't know how to fac—"

Jimin rushes in for a hug, knocking the wind out of you—you lose all train of thought, you lose your voice and all sense of functionality. All you can hear is your heart beating wildly in your chest and Jimin's steady breaths against your ear.

"Y/N... Thank you," he whispers, gripping you tighter. "I know it was you who came up with the idea. And I just—I'm so touched. When I told you my problems, I only expected you to listen, maybe, I don't know, sympathize? But you took my problems and found a solution, putting it into action. No one's ever done that for me before... I don't even know what to say..." your teacher trails off, still hugging you tightly. "I'm emotional, I know... But I almost broke down crying when I saw you and your friends hosting this club... all for me."

Your brain turns into mush at Jimin's heartfelt confession, and you can't help but hug him back, burying your face into his shoulder. Words can't seem to make it past your mouth—you can't afford to ruin the moment by saying something completely stupid.

But that's when you feel it. The rapid thumping of a heart. Except it's not yours—it's beating faster than yours.

It's Jimin's.

You walk into Jimin's class slightly earlier than usual, your phone pressed against your ear as you bob your head up and down, staying silent for a few seconds and then talking away.

"I know, I know, I miss you too, Jin," you say just as you slide into your comfortable seat, slipping your backpack off your aching shoulder.

"Yeah, I know, I love you too. Of course, I'm still alive!" you huff, rolling your eyes. "And no! I didn't burn the house down... yet. No, we don't eat ramen daily—we eat it every other day," you protest.

You're quiet again as Jin gives you a piece of his mind.

"Yes, I know ramen's bad for me," you sigh. "Fine. We'll try to make salad or something today. Mhm. Yeah. Yes, I'm in his class right now. No, Jin! I can't just hand my phone over to him, are you out of your mind? You can call him on his phone at some other time."

You sigh loudly as your cousin rambles on the phone. "Wait. What?!" you suddenly shriek, causing a few early-comers in the class to stare at you in shellshock. Quickly lowering your head in embarrassment, you aggressively grasp your phone with both hands. "What do you mean you're going to be away for another month?" you whisper angrily. "Are you serious? Why does the drama team have to be so good?"

Jin chuckles on the line as you pout. "I know, congrats and all but you've been away for too long. Stop teasing me, I just miss you!" you huff.

Your cousin attempts to explain himself as you sit through it all, nodding your head occasionally. "Okay, then," you say in a sad, defeated tone. "I guess, good luck... Anyways, I've got a test this period, gotta fly." You pause, frowning. "Of course I studied! Who do you think I am?! Yeah, well thanks, I'm pretty confident. Mhm. Yeah. Have fun. Love you too. Yup. Bye." Smiling softly, you end the call with your cousin, slipping your phone into your backpack to replace it with your lucky pencil and eraser. There, now you're completely ready for the math test.

From the corner of your eye, you see Jimin, watching you. When he catches your sight, he gives you a small smile paired with a discreet thumbs-up. Your heart flutters.

Gosh darn diddly dang.

Ever since that night you felt his heart beating wildly in his chest, you can't help but wonder if maybe, possibly, hopefully, you're not in a one-sided crush. It was pretty plausible Jimin had always been so caring because he liked you back—either that or he majorly friendzoned you.

The annoying school bell blares, throwing you out of your thoughts, and as if exactly on cue, your teacher stands up from his desk, taking graceful steps to the front of the class. He clears his throat to gain the attention of still-rowdy students. "I hope everybody's prepared," Jimin says as he shifts from the weight of stacked tests. "If you studied polar curves as I said, you'll be fine for the unit test."

A low murmur fills the class as your peers start to panic.

"What the fuck is a polar curve?"

"Shit, I don't even know what unit this is!"

"Definite integrals, you shithead."

"Well goddamn, I'm gonna fail again."

You cock your head. Yeah, definite integrals might be challenging at first, but they weren't hard—it just required a lot of practice. But something told you most of your classmates didn't even know how to spell 'practice.'

As Jimin passes the tests out, you hear students groan from their first glance of questions.

"No noise, no talking!" your friend reminds his students. "If you need extra scratch paper, pencils or erasers, they're up here in the front; you know the drill. Good luck to you all!"

But you can barely hear your teacher as you're already racing to finish up a problem on the exam. You've figured long ago that Jimin's test questions were always in order from hardest to easiest—which explains why most kids rarely finish. You, on the other hand, learned to immediately flip over your tests and work your way from the back to front.

You don't hear anything, nor do you see anything except for the all too familiar graphs and curves printed out on white paper. Your favorite pencil flies across the exam faster than your mile time, and soon, you're finished.

Wiping your sweaty and cramped hands on your jeans, you look up at the clock in the front of the classroom. You've finished at least twenty minutes early. You sigh softly. I don't feel like checking answers.

Almost instinctively, your eyes glance at your teacher's desk—it was starting to become a habit to look at him. But also, you wanted to see if he was grading the math tests from earlier periods. Except, he most clearly wasn't.

Why? Because he was looking at you. And your eyes meet. Electricity courses through your veins and you swear your heart stops beating for a few seconds. You can't hold the gaze as you quickly turn your head, releasing a breath you didn't know you had held.

Goddamn. Now, this is awkward.

Trying to shake off the awkwardness, you take a small breath and grip your pencil in your hands again. Maybe it's time to check answers.

Except—except, you can see out of the corner of your eye, your teacher still watching you. It wasn't a creepy stare though, no. It was like a handsome prince lovingly admiring his beautiful princess. Well, you were no beautiful princess, and though Jimin might be handsome, he was no prince. But still. His gaze made you feel... secure and even admired. Your heart flutters in your chest.

Why is he watching me?

You're too scared of the answer to even possibly ponder it.

So, sighing quietly, you use all your willpower to pretend like your teacher is not watching you as you cross your legs and tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear. You give your lucky pencil a nice squeeze. It's time to check answers.

"Did you know you frown when you concentrate?" Jimin asks as he does the dishes, diligently washing a bowl that had been previously filled with a healthy salad.

You sit on the kitchen counter, making some tea as you cock your head. From all that watching, he would know all of my stupid behaviors when it comes to test-taking. But you feign ignorance. "How would you know?"

"Well, not to sound weird but sometimes I watch my students take their tests," Jimin says as he dries his wet hands on a nearby towel, then sauntering over to sit next to you on the kitchen counter.

Your heart falls. So I'm not special. He watches everyone.

"No, not all of my students... I only ever watch you," your teacher admits as he scratches the back of his neck in what seems like slight embarrassment.

Your heart leaps in your chest. You don't know how to pirouette, twirl, turn, but your heart was surely doing it at the moment. Was this it? Was he confessing? Were you not in a one-sided crush?

"It's because I care for you," he starts awkwardly. "I mean, don't you tend to watch things you care for? Just to see if they're alright? I dunno..."

Ohohoho, you have no idea.

You nod enthusiastically. "Mhm, of course." Your lips stretch out into a large smile—you're unable to control it. You feel warmer than the cup of tea in your hands. "So you truly care for me?" you tease slightly, casually nudging Jimin.

He nudges you back, laughing. "Of course, Y/N, you're like a best friend to me."

Your eye twitches slightly, your smiles wavers and vanishes and you don't feel as warm anymore.

Well shit, you were friendzoned.

Smiling in accomplishment, you stretch back from your seat, mentally celebrating the finishing of your homework. Your blasted teachers had given you some extra weekend work, but jokes on them, you finished it all in—you glance at your watch—seven hours.

Wait a minute. Seven hours?! You do a double-take, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand and polishing the glass of your watch. The delicate, silver hands still pointed all signs that it was indeed, 10 pm.

Well fuck. I've literally been at school seven more hours than I should've. I've been at school for practically 15 hours! That's more than half of the hours in a day—I spent approximately 63% of the whole day at school!!! And even worse, I mISSED DINNER!

You take deep breaths to calm yourself, immediately looking up to see—no surprise—Jimin working hard at his desk. His eyebrows were scrunched up cutely, and he was biting his pink lips in concentration. The sight of him instantaneously calms you down.

But then you notice Jimin looks frustrated, stressed even. You always admire him for taking care of his own problems, yet sometimes you wish he'd learn to burden others with his dilemmas.

Slowly and quietly, you creep up behind your teacher, looking over his shoulder. "Need any help, Mr. Park?" you whisper in his ear, a small, teasing smile plastered on your lips.

Jimin jumps slightly, turning around to look at you. His serious look is replaced with a reciprocated bright smile. He flutters his eyelashes and runs his fingers through his silky hair, refusing to break eye contact with you. "Oh c'mon no one's around," he says, chuckling. "Jimin will do."

"Yeah, no shit no one's around," you pout slightly, casually placing your chin on Jimin's shoulder. Ever since he majorly friendzoned you, you have to admit it was easier to have physical contact—though your heart beats wildly in your chest every time the two of you touch.

"Hmm..." your teacher hums, twirling his red correcting pen. "It'll take just a bit more... Is our little Y/N bored?" he asks as he reaches out to mockingly pat your head.

You groan dramatically.

"What time is it?" Jimin asks absentmindedly, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

"10," you mutter lazily, wanting to doze off with your face up against Jimin's warm neck.

"WHAT?!" your teacher shouts, shifting suddenly to grasp your arms and bring your whole body in front of him. He even tugs you forward, closer to him. Your heart is already having its own mini explosions, not being able to comprehend such closeness from your ultimate crush.

"Why didn't you tell me it was this late, Y/N?" Jimin cries. "Shit, I'm so sorry, I made you wait so long! God, I lost track of time!"

You just shrug, although a bit surprised at his outburst. At this moment, you're just worried Jimin'll hear the aggressive thumping of your poor heart—it can't take this anymore. You're definitely not built for unrequited love. "It's all good," you say, trying to smile calmly. "It's no big deal, really."

Apparently, your stomach thinks otherwise as it lets loose a large growl, much to your horrification. "Oops," you whisper.

At that, Jimin runs his fingers through his hair, sighing. "Fuck, we've been here for seven hours, Y/N, it is a big deal!" He grabs both of your hands, taking you by surprise. "We skipped dinner! I swear to god, Jin will kill me if he found out!"

You giggle. It was slightly amusing to watch Jimin fret so much. "What if we don't tell him?" you whisper mischievously, leaning forward. You're trying so, so hard not to scream in the utter joy that your crush is literally holding your hands right now.

Nope, I'm not going to acknowledge that at all, you tell yourself dutifully.

Now you're waiting for Jimin to answer, to say something funny, or witty as usual. Yet, he doesn't. Instead, he's actually quite silent—it doesn't seem normal. You take a peek at his face to make sure he doesn't look sick or anything, or maybe it was just a dumb excuse you made up to check his ethereal features out.

That turned out to be a big mistake.

You peer into Jimin's eyes, only to catch them looking at your lips. His eyes flutter back up to yours, and now the two of you are staring at each other. Your eyes speak a language only the two of you can understand.

His eyes tell you to inch closer to him, to part your lips.

Your eyes tell him to tug you into his lap, an all too familiar action. He doesn't let go of your hands.

You can feel his breath, hear his breath.

Hell, you can hear his heart. And you're not mistaken—you swear on your own life that you hear the quickened pounding.

And still, you're staring right into his soft, but slightly hooded eyes—never breaking contact. You're so close. So, so close to him, the closest you've ever been.

He slowly, tantalizingly slowly leans in, almost to give you a chance to back out. Oh, hell no. You're staying.

His beautiful, breathtaking face is so close that your eyes are almost crossing to meet his. Then, he closes his eyes just as he closes the minuscule gap between the two of you.

Your lips meet.

You don't know how something can go by so quickly and slowly at the same time. Each movement of your connected mouths is so languid, so relaxed, yet quick, but victorious fireworks are exploding behind you.

Straddling Jimin, you feel his body heat, your bare legs chafing against the smooth material of his slacks. It's so close to heaven that it is.

He works his magic, lips pulling and parting at the precise moments, his tongue finding its way into your waiting mouth. You can barely function from the heat of the moment, but you realize that you are glad he doesn't taste like beer this time.

Jimin sweetly squeezes your hands that are encompassed in his, leaning back slightly for both of you to breathe. Immediately, your eyes are open, and they lock onto his. But as if in a time restraint, both of you hurriedly shut your eyes again and lean in to meet each other's lips once more.

It's euphoric, really.

And for the first time in your life, you get to feel what physical affection is like. This one's not a lustful, drunken kiss, it's so much more than that. You put your heart in this, and you hope Jimin did the same. It surely felt like it.

With one last, sweet and soft, lingering kiss, your teacher, crush and friend leisurely pulls away. You almost lean forward to follow his lips—you guess you miss them on yours that much.

Your eyes flutter open, meeting Jimin's hooded ones.

Goddamn. You don't know how to feel, what to say, what to do, what to think. Your hands are still tightly enclosed in his.

"Oh..." you breathe out, hoping Jimin would say something for you, anything. But he doesn't. He remains silent. It's so not like him.

Regret starts to pour into your body, coursing through your veins. It feels like poison. You can feel yourself wilt, as you realize—it was still one-sided, Jimin had merely been caught up in the heat of the moment, again.

"Fuck," you whisper, mostly to yourself. "Fuck," you say louder, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Jimin loosens his grip on your hands, and you slide them away, the warmth all gone. You search for your teacher's face for anything, any sign that he was okay with what both of you had just done. But again, nothing.

"Oh my god. What have we done?" you mutter, looking down and away. You were yet to slide away from Jimin's lap, but you couldn't bear to move away from that sort of comforting warmth.

"Shit, Y/N," Jimin breathes. It's the first phrase he says after the... well, kiss. "I'm so sorry," he mutters, his hand fluttering around your face to cup your cheek, but you flinch away. Goddammit, Y/N, why?

"Fuck, I'm so sorry, Y/N," Jimin whispers, he tugs his hand back to his chest. "It was a mistake! I didn't mean it. Oh god, don't tell Jin." He notices you're still on his lap and jumps up, making you fall down onto the cold, classroom floor—you're too shocked to react much. "God, I'm so sorry!" He tries to help you up, but you shake your head and stand up on your own.

"Y/N. I'm so sorry. It was a mistake," Jimin repeats. "It really was."

Your head is spinning, and you don't know what to say, or do, for that matter. "Then, a mistake it was," you finally manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "Can we go now?"

I made out with him again. And he wasn't even drunk this time.

You repeatedly have that thought, over and over and over again. You can't seem to get the feeling, the sounds, the sight out of your head. You'd given your all into that little kiss, but Jimin deemed it was merely 'a mistake.'

That didn't hurt at all, nope, not at all.

You're quite good at lying to yourself. Because you know that hurt you a lot. God, I'm so humiliated. You just want to roll up in a small ball and throw yourself into a deep, dark corner. But you can't. Unfortunately, that shit is only figurative.

Sighing, you take a slight peek at Jimin in the driver's seat. His face is completely emotionless, which makes you worry.

We just ruined a perfectly good friendship, goddammit.

You're dropped off at your house; no words are exchanged between you and Jimin, you don't even turn back to give him a parting wave (like you usually do). Unlocking your front door, you quickly walk inside, slumping down to the floor immediately. With your back leaning heavily against the door, you bury your face in your hands.

Things had been going so well. Life had been going so well.

Now it seemed like you lost your best friend—who knows what more you might lose?

—previous | next

—masterlist

[lalaytight]

NCT 127 + Sungtaro as Uni Students

-Information Prior to Reading-

Clearing - When applying to University after the official date of the A level results, national results, the clearing section opens which allows people who did not get the required grades or have changed their mind in term of courses, apply to university and get a spot.

Dissertation - he final project completed in the last year of University, is normally around one set topic and makes up a good chunk of the final grade awarded at the end of the course.

Pre's - Stands for Pre Drinks a social event where alcohol is consumed prior to going to the clubs.

Masters- A second degree normally 12-18 months long in addition to the bachelors degree when you first graduate. Normally more specific than the first degree.

Gap Year- A year taken between finishing up school and going off to university, normally spent either saving for university or more commonly travelling the world and 'finding' yourself in a third world country on a beaten path.

Pull/ going on the pull- The act of trying to get a date or take someone home with you whilst on a night out in the clubs/ pubs. Can be either successful or unsuccessful but is a great past time.

Tactical chunder-  The act of throwing up whilst drunk in order to sober yourself or remove some of the alcohol from your body. Is often done to make room for more alcohol.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, Swearing, overall shenanigans, phallic imagery (?), Illegal substance usage

Moon Taeil

Taeil is studying a Chemisty Masters. He completed the undergrad and met a girl. The year below and didn't want to do long distance. So he signed up for a master's course so they could stay in the same area. And he has to admit it was definitely a good choice. Not only is he not having to worry about getting a job, loosing his missus to someone else or having to part from his mainly younger best friends.

He considers himself old now and therefore, isn't involved in any of the society's or sports clubs. He also can't be bothered, not between labs and reports he's got to write. He can barely make time to play fortnite yet alone serious sports. But he will sneak into any of the parties being hosted by the societies his friends are a part of. Will bring his own bottle of Gin and never take it home but its all about the atmosphere. And hanging out with his friends.

In class, Taeil works with the same lab partner for everything. He hasn't changed since September and has no intent to. He's not big on making more friends than necessary and he's got this tight bond with his current partner and therefore, doesn't bother looking for anyone else if they have to do group work. He's studious and his reports are always written well. There's also a little smiling moon placed in the top corner of any one he has to print out. It's completely against the guideline published but its so cute he gets away with it each time. Plus he's also a major teacher's pet and will stay late to help clean the lab after a session.

On a night out Taeil is plastered. He's drunk out of his mind but it's the way he likes to be. He's buying everyone drinks. His bank accounts hurts at the end of the night but he only sees it as a good night. He has no interest in pulling or trying to flirt with anyone he's a committed man. But he will attempt to help his other friends settle down. Therefore, he's everyone's wingman. A shit one but its the effort that counts. If he's lost he's by the bar ordering shots for someone he thinks is sobering up too fast.

John Suh / Johnny

What would the great Johnny Suh study at university. Well its nothing you expect it to be. He's studying building surveying. Yeah you heard that right. And he's so proud of it. The looks he gets when people ask him what he does and that's his answer. This big tall buff guy who kinda screams like he's studying something sporty. He's all about buildings. Wont even try to say he's doing archetecture. Rather he'll just bring out a folder of photos on his phone which are just him in his High Vis Jacket in a multitude of poses.

Johnny is the captain of the Rugby team, that's how he met and then adopted Jeno. He can be seen only on Wednesday at the student night wearing his rugby uniform, the university mascot drawn on his face and a bottle of beer in his hand. He starts the sing along of the rugby boys as they walk through campus. You'll know the one, where they talk or chant about their appendages. He cheers the loudest when one of the newer players join in

In class Johnny is that one guy that everyone loves. He's fun he's entertaining and he's just so nice. He's always there to help his other peeps when they're struggling responding to the questions in the course group chat on Facebook. He send's merry Christmas and happy holidays messages without fail. The cutest little messages and stuff and if you didn't expect this great six foot something guy behind the screen you'd be correct. He's so nice and polite and seemingly hard working that he can get away with anything. You wouldn't notice that he does fuck all in a group project. He's just so present you think he's contributed loads. Until you notice the only writing he has on the entire worksheet is his name.

Johnny is the ultimate party planner. He's always responsible for organising the house party or pre's and he gets absolutely everyone around. He know's Jeno and next thing you know the rest of the younger guys are round his house and Johnny's suddenly got like 7 20 something year old sons. He's bringing all the snacks and an endless supply of Magners. Anyone wants a drink, help yourself. On a night out he's the first to break off from the group. He's straight to the smoking area to light up his juul. He spends a little too long there cause he's too busy flirting but he leaves with their insta and then goes to try and bully Mark onto the dance floor. But when Mark protests and he's told to leave Taeyong's son alone, his best partner is crime Jaehyun is right by his side to go thot drop to the 90s club hits playing on the floor.

Lee Taeyong

Taeyong is another masters student. His first degree was in illustration and he hated it. Completely put him off art. He never wanted to draw for a living ever again. Never again. But he didn't know what to do with his degree. That was until he went to a careers event and there was an art therapist present, and he knew this was his calling. Or perhaps he was desperate and the way the man talked seemed to draw him in. Therefore, his masters is art therapy.

Taeyong used to be the president of the music society, and he could have stayed on another year when he started his masters. But he decided to take a step back and instead focus on his studies. Or at least pretend to. Now he just focuses on not killing his housemates and wondering why he stayed in a student house for another year. Not when he could have afforded a studio apartment.

Taeyong feels a new life for art by doing his masters course. He's slowly falling back in love with the thing his first degree ruined for him. And the therapy side is so interesting and new to him that he's constantly amazed. To the point where he goes and actually does the further reading. He might be the only one in the class to do so but that doesn't stop him. The lecturers love him because of his genuine interest in the subject and he always gets the opportunity for anything cool they put on. His interest though can be a little dangerous as he's constantly testing his new techniques out on his roommates and if he has to see one more dick drawn by Yuta one of them will not be attending lectures the next day.

Taeyong contrary to popular belief is not the mom friend on a night out. He is the next morning. But on the night out he's wild. A lightweight who sticks to drinking wine only, he likes to belief he's the light and life of the party. He isn't really but he is the one on the tables at the club throwing the best dance moves. Every time he hits the dance floor its like he starts a performance and you can't take your eyes away. Somehow he's still in control of his movement. It's a miracle but he does it somehow. And the next morning he refuses to admit he was once again performing at the club like he was on a stage in front of millions as he's forcing bread down the throats of every single housemate.

Nakamoto Yuta

Yuta doesn't seem to be a big reader when you look at him. You'd never think he'd spend most of his university time bent over a book reading it to be able to write the report about it. Probably because he doesn't but he's an English Literature student nevertheless.

Yuta belongs to the football, soccer, club and is the captain. He takes great pride in his team but will not hesitate to do a fun meaningless game often. In fact he was the one who suggested to Johnny that the football and the rugby team should play eachother at tennis of all sports to see who was the superior. Before a big match Yuta attempts to organise more practice, but its never okayed by the coach. He still goes to the pitch to wait and is disappointed every time when nobody turns up to his unofficial training session.

Yuta loves his English literature class. Mainly because they do deep dives into the book and he secretly does love reading he just doesn't like being told what books to read. He's passionate about Brontè and can tell you almost anything about the twilight universe. But he absolutely refuses to read the books for the assignments. Rather he'll scroll his way through a couple summaries, a wikipedia page and one of those websites that publish old essays instead. His grades are high and he's yet to be caught not having read really any of the books they've worked on. Rather he just flings around the terminology and hopes its actually being used. Yuta attends every lecture, not because he wants to learn. Rather because he loves going in to his class and talking to the rest of the students on his course. He's a part of a mainly female friendship group and he's not hesitant to tell them when they deserve better than the guy that's stringing them on. He's always there to remind them how they truly deserve to be treated and point out the red flags when the girls try to justify staying with them. He wouldn't ever date any of them, and he's sure many of them think he swings for the other team only. But like he's not going to protest. Unless they're being mistreated by their partners and they need to wake up. He also makes a small fortune selling his old notes to students in the year below, Jaemin has set up a monthly subscription pay to ensure he gets all the notes he can't be bothered to take.

At a party Yuta can be found drinking some sort of liquor and chatting to Doyoung in the corner. The pair are laughing like school girls and having the times of their lives. If you ever approach expect to be disgusted and possibly confused considering how much of a strong feminist he is. The pair can be found having the most controversial conversations possible. Yuta just wants to argue though and Doyoung presents a very good opportunity. When asked later he will never deny what you heard nor excuse his words, only gives a meek smile and then disappears. He's found in the grimiest bathroom normally and he's not alone. Let's leave that one up to the imagination. But he's the self proclaimed king of one night stands.

Kim Dongyoung / Doyoung

Doyoung was confused at first over what subject to take. He was torn between law and criminology. To the point where he had applied and had offers for both courses some of which being at the same university. However, when it came to results days he ended up on the criminology course. He's not pressed though.

Doyoung is not involved in any societies or sports. However, he is pretty involved in another aspect of the university community. He's very frequently involved in the university confessions page on Facebook. He's actually one of the admins. And he loves to approve and post the more controversial confessions. Especially the ones which are most likely to cause massive arguments between courses. He'll accept the confession post it and then just sit back and watch the chaos. He's Admin C.

Class wise Doyoung loves the argumentative side of the subject. Why wouldn't he be involved in the discussions and debates. It's his favourite part and he's always team captain. But when it's normal classwork he's just as involved. In his opinion if he's paying all this money for the course he's going to get as much out of it as possible. He'll do the snazzy presentation for your group project with the transitions background noises and memes. You get high scores because of this presentation. He's top of the class and has no intent of letting that position go to someone else.

On a night out he can be seen purposefully trying to stir the pot. He's a shit starter and proud and its even worse when drunk. You think someone is looking at you funny, he'll say they are and then go with you to confront them. He'll talk about something controversial and try to play devils advocate just to watch your reaction. He is also the one to have the evidence of what happened on his snapchat the next morning. A useful ally to have if you want those pictures deleted.

Jung Yoonoh/ Jaehyun

Big, tall, kinda scary looking Jaehyun is studying education. He's always wanted to be a dad, but his parents warned him of the problems of being a teenaged dad. And then again at having kids really young before you have the money needed to support them. So he had to suck up the desire to be a father until he found an happy alternative. Enter Jaehyun studying to be an Early years, ages 4-8, teacher. He can be the school father to these children and then hand them back to their parents in the afternoon.

Jaehyun used to be part of the football team until he realised he couldn't be bothered. He then tried to dabble in some of the societies but he couldn't find one he enjoyed. Rather he settled in becoming one of the campus crushes. Running a successful instagram account and taking a part in the social media take-over event the student union hosted.

Jaehyun loves his course only when he's out working on placement within the school setting. He hates the class work. But when he's in class that's where he shines, well most of the time. He loves the kids, and they love him. The bond he builds is so strong and it normally works very well in his favour the class listening to what he wants them to do and everything generally seems to go well for him. He's also a hit with the female teachers who are supervising him. To the point where he can get away with nearly anything. He'll never forget the one time he turned up after a heavy night out, hanging out of his boots, to the point he was throwing up in the students toilet and he's charm and good looks meant the female teacher he was working with let him off the hook. He swore never to drink again before going to work but he totally owed it to her for not reporting him to the university for being completely out of sorts to the point where he just put on a film all afternoon and snoozed on the desk.

When he's not got work the next morning Jaehyun is down for the longest night out he can muster. He will drag everyone to the one club that closes at 6am. By the end of the night there's only a few strong solider's left, namely Johnny, Yuta Jungwoo and himself, but he'd never stop. His wallet hurts after paying all the entry fees but it was completely worth it. His favourite student night is the naughties night that is hosted every term, he's screaming along to Beyonce and Fall out boy all night along. He's hit hard by the hangover the next morning but his cuddle buddy Taeyong is more than used to it by now and the pair sit watching reruns of Judge Judy and feeling sorry for themselves.

Dong Sicheng/ WinWin

Included in WayV link pending

Kim Jungwoo

Jungwoo might arguably be the smartest of the bunch and he won't let you forget when he's proudly stating he studies Engineering. He deserves to as well cause the course is hard. He's a mathematical genius and he's dream is to go on to study robotics afterwards.

Jungwoo is a proud member of the Harry Potter society. Well kinda, his housemates all know he's a part of the society and he's very active talking about it to them all. But he won't actively tell people he's apart of it outside his close friends. It's mainly because he's embarrassed that he's one of the younger members normally heavily surrounded by middle aged women. But he wouldn't leave, he's too deep in the fan fiction they're collectively writing. #JusticeforWolfStar.

Jungwoo is relatively quiet in class choosing to stick with his selected course mate group. He doesn't tend to speak to anyone outside his tutor group and instead focuses more on just trying to pass each assignment sent his way. He does try his hardest to stay on top of the work assigned for him, and tries to put his effort in. But as he gets closer and closer to the end of the course he cannot find it in himself to put as much effort in as he did in his second year, he was pissed or high for most of his first year to say he was putting his uttermost effort in. He is however, well known for bringing the best weed brownies to the tutor group parties. It's a secret recipe he refuses to tell anyone how he does it.

If you've lost Jungwoo on a night out he's 1000% in the smoking area. If he's not lit up he's sat there chatting people up left right and centre. It's his favourite socialisation point and he states he can always find the most interesting people in the smoking area. And normally get a couple of free cigarettes out of it. He's the first to ask if you've got a lighter he can use. He's a big fan of hitting the gay club at about 3am because their drinks are normally cheaper and it stays open the latest. Also because there's a chance he'll bump into a drag queen.

Mark Lee

Included in NCT Dream's version

Lee Donghyuck/ Haechan

Included in NCT Dream's version

Osaki Shotaro

Shotaro is another student studying theatre studies. At first he wanted to just study Dance but then decided he liked the idea of studying more of the entire theatre style. So he randomly applied for one theatre studies course. He was accepted and didn't look back.

Therefore, as part of the group studying theatre he has to take part in the productions the university put on. Well it's not a exact demand for the course but it's heavily implied. And Shotaro doesn't mind, especially when he successfully lands the role of Dance captain every single time. It's his favourite thing to go up to the cast announcement list and see his name next to dance captain. He also loves attending all the costume fittings ensuring to arrive as early as possible and drag it out for a little while longer. It's most likely because he's got a crush on one of the students working on the costumes, but he's way too shy to actually ask them out.

Shotaro can normally be found staying late in some of the practice rooms. Despite his dancing skills, being part of the theatre course means he has to be involved in the other sides and his confidence is lacking. Therefore, he is working his hardest until he feels like he's on par with some of the other students. He mainly gets help from Haechan who's taken a liking to the other boy and the pairs mutual love for Justin Bieber solidified their friendship.

Another lightweight, Shotaro is cautious of how much he has to drink at any point of the night. He likes to still be in control and therefore has never been black out drunk. But he has tried a little bit of everything. Plus Yuta has practically adopted him on nights out and therefore, if Shotaro is tempted for a drink he'll get one but never has to pay for it. And no Yuta doesn't pay for it either but they do con some unsuspecting person into paying for them both.

Jung Sungchan

Sungchan was another confused at first on which subject he wanted to study at university. He was torn between just Media and then the more specific Film Studies. Though after one very intense talk from a Film studies tutor at sixth form he did chose Film studies.

He's also involved in the school productions, he has the responsibility of filming the performances, well at least one or two of them, so that they can upload them to the theatre society's YouTube channel. He is also in charge of organising the lightening of the show when he's not working the camera. When he has to focus on the recording he just ends up praying the lightening works as he leaves it partially under the control of Jisung and knows if he dares has a go at the societies baby he's dead.

Sungchan is that one member of the class who seems to always have the best editing software on his laptop and the most intense amount of knowledge regarding it. When anyone asks he only states it because he didn't want to look like an idiot on his first couple days. The truth is that he runs a rather successful YouTube channel where he makes edits and crack videos. Sony after effects is his best friend.

On a night out Sungchan lets loose. He absolutely loves the feeling of alcohol in his system. He becomes clumsy and for his size it can cause many problems but he wouldn't have it any other way. He tends to have to be guided through a dance floor by someone else to avoid bumping into people and spilling his over priced double vodka and coke. He's desperate to head for food at about 2am and rushes to follow someone the instant they mention being hungry.

[diner-drama]

Cuddle Buddies (1/?)

"Cuddle Buddies: professional platonic cuddling therapy services for the busy modern professional" are an entirely legitimate organization serving the touch-starved. Look, it's just been a long time since Steve's been in a relationship, and a guy has needs, you know? Sometimes after a long day of being a strong, hard-nosed solicitor, weathering insults and attacks from the opposing counsel and your own coworkers, you just want to have someone stroke your hair and tell you you're good. Bucky loves his job as a professional cuddler, providing non-romantic physical touch to people that need it, and when his new client turns out to be a pint-sized spitfire with a smile to die for, that's just a bonus.

Also on ao3.

"Rumlow, if I wake up tomorrow to find out that you've thrown my client on an airplane and deported her in the middle of the night I will have your ass in front of the bar association before you can blink," barked Steve into the phone held between his ear and shoulder, trying to get his keys out of his pocket one-handed. "You really think they're going to let this slide after last time?"

He paused for a second as the person on the other end of the line made a few abortive attempts at a response, then cut him off. "I'm turning off my phone now. If you still want to talk in the morning after considering my offer you can call me then, but if you pull any of your bullshit in the meantime, I will fucking ruin you."

Steve hung up the call with a flourish and shouldered his front door open, throwing his phone into a basket on an occasional table before closing the door behind him and leaning against it, rubbing his eyes exhaustedly. Being a hard-ass human rights lawyer was all very well and good during the work day, but by the time he got home Steve was more than ready to shed his tough persona and let himself be soft.

The suit jacket was the first to go, shrugged off his slim shoulders and slipped onto a hanger. Then, his smart, shiny shoes were slipped off and replaced with warm, thick socks. He swapped his starched shirt for an old, lived-in hoodie, and his neatly pressed slacks for sweatpants. His black briefcase found a home in the spare room he used as an office, and he shut the door after it, mentally shutting away his work life. He ran his hand through his smartly-combed hair to muss it up and rolled his shoulders back, taking a few deep breaths and letting the stress of his day roll off him.

He wandered around the living room, picking up a blanket from the steamer trunk by the window, drawing the curtains, and switching on the electric fireplace which filled the space with warmth and low, flickering light. He picked up his personal phone from the coffee table and sent a quick text to Sam to let him know he made it home safely, sent a thumbs up to Darcy in response to a terrible meme she'd sent him, and briefly considered video calling Peggy before remembering that she was in a conference in Singapore.

He flopped down onto the couch and wrapped himself up tight in the blanket, enjoying its weight on his shoulders. Opening his laptop, he coughed in embarrassment when the tab that he'd opened in a fit of loneliness last night popped up. "Cuddle Buddies: professional platonic cuddling therapy services for the busy modern professional" seemed to be an entirely legitimate organization serving the touch-starved, and they had excellent reviews.

Look, it's just been a long time since Steve's been in a relationship, and a guy has needs, you know? Sometimes after a long day of being a strong, hard-nosed solicitor, weathering insults and attacks from the opposing counsel and your own coworkers, you just want to have someone stroke your hair and tell you you're good. Steve did his best to keep his work and home lives separate, but lately it was getting difficult to switch off from his worries when he was lying in bed at night, going over details from his cases while he tossed and turned on his pillows.

He scrolled through the information on the website one more time, thinking about how it might feel to invite a stranger into his home to cuddle him. Would it be uncomfortable? Would they think he was pathetic?

Putting aside the laptop for a minute, he ambled back into the kitchen to re-heat some shepherd's pie and put on the kettle for a cup of tea, climbing on a step stool to reach the mugs. His fingers and toes still a little chilly from the crisp autumn evening outside, he decided to fill up a hot water bottle, tucking it carefully into its fluffy case and holding it under his arm as he brought his dinner and drink back to the table. After a couple of bites of the pie, he pulled out a neat little wicker basket from under the table and took out his evening medications. Tapping the pills into his hand, he swallowed them with a gulp of tea and took a couple of huffs of his steroid inhaler for good measure, before getting back to his meal.

Steve may have lost the genetic lottery when it came to his height and his abysmal health, but the gods had seen fit to bless him with more than his share of sheer, bloody-minded scrappiness, which he felt more than made up for it.

Once he'd cleared the plate away and made himself a second cuppa, he opened up a book on his e-reader and held the comforting, warm weight of the hot water bottle to his chest, wondering idly, not for the first time, whether he should get a cat. He was a couple of chapters into a mediocre romance novel when he started tapping his fingers, thinking.

After a brief moment of indecision, he grabbed the laptop with renewed certainty and began to type a request into the website.

Bucky was just waving goodbye to Nat as he walked away from their session when his phone chimed, alerting him that there was a new customer inquiry that the agency wanted him to look at.

Maria: 28 yo man in Red Hook interested in trying cuddle therapy to help with work stress. Would prefer male therapist. Due to asthma, no cologne or scented products, and non-smokers only.

He smiled, and shot off a quick affirmative response. Maria often sent him their new clients - there was something about him that reassured people if they felt a little unsure about the services. Bucky was perfectly happy with his chosen profession - non-romantic physical touch was, in his opinion, essential for a happy life, and he got to provide it to people that needed it. Bucky liked to observe people and through his job he'd met a wide array of curious characters, so the work was never boring.

Also, the pay was amazing and Alpine would only eat the expensive cat food, so there was that.

He continued on his journey, enjoying the changing leaves on the trees around him and the chill in the air. Just as he was about to step onto the subway, his phone buzzed again, and after he found a seat he saw that Maria had sent him the phone number for his new client. He sent off his standard greeting straight away, eager to get his schedule firmed up.

Bucky: Hi Steve, this is Bucky from the Cuddle Buddies agency. When works for you for our first meeting? Looking forward to working with you!

Steve: Thanks for getting back to me. Saturday evening would be best for my schedule. Can I pay the $80 fee via bank transfer? -Steven Grant Rogers, Shield Solicitors

The response came immediately, and was far more businesslike than his usual interactions with clients. Still, Bucky could be businesslike. He even owned a tie.

Bucky: You sure can - the agency should send you out a contract tonight with the bank details. I can do Saturday at 7 if that suits.

Steve: Saturday at 7 sounds fine. What are the terms of the contract?

Of course, Mr. Lawyer Man wanted to know about the contract.

Bucky: It lays out what to expect in our interactions - we provide purely non-sexual services - as well as how to deal with cancellations, how we protect your privacy, and the billing structure.

Steve: Thank you. I look forward to meeting you on Saturday.

Bucky shook his head, wondering how this stuffy, formal guy was going to act during their cuddle session.

Steve didn't have the opportunity to start feeling anxious about his cuddle appointment because the negotiations with the lawyers at the ICE detention center took up every moment of his time. He was wrapping up his conversation with a client via email in his home office when his alarm chimed to let him know that he had half an hour until Bucky arrived.

After stretching his arms over his head, wincing at the tightness of his shoulders after slouching all day, he stripped out of the pajamas he was still wearing and indulged in a long, hot shower, scrubbing away his stress and emerging pink-cheeked and fluffy-haired. In his bedroom, he changed into a soft blue flannel shirt and a pair of pants that looked like slacks but felt like sweatpants, and another pair of his warm, fuzzy socks.

Pacing around his living room, his nerves ramping up, he selected a different blanket to leave ready on the couch and checked twice on his selection of teas. He had just put the kettle on to boil when the buzzer sounded.

On opening the door, he was immediately reassured to see that Bucky had a friendly, engaging grin, and was wearing a soft, knitted sweater. He held out a hand to shake and then immediately felt like an idiot, but Bucky just grasped Steve's cold hand with his warm one and squeezed it.

"Hi, you must be Steve," said Bucky with a pleasant Brooklyn drawl. Without being asked, he pulled a Cuddle Buddies ID card out of his pocket and handed it over to Steve, who checked the details on it and handed it back.

"Nice to meet you," said Steve stiffly. "Please, come on in. I'm just making a cup of mint tea, do you want one?"

"That'd be perfect, Steve. Mind if I take my shoes off?"

"Go ahead," replied Steve with a thin smile, attending to the whistling kettle.

"Thanks," said Bucky when he accepted his cup of tea. Steve couldn't help but notice that Bucky was wearing mis-matched but co-ordinating socks, one with red stars on a white background, and the other with white stars on a red background. He ushered Bucky to take a seat on the couch and sat in the armchair opposite. Bucky's posture was loose and open, but Steve was sitting bolt upright and jiggling his leg nervously. Fortunately, Bucky chose to take the lead in the conversation.

"So, I usually start first sessions with clients by talking about what your goals are for therapy," he began with a reassuring smile. "For example, some clients are looking to feel more comfortable with physical touch, some want to get over a breakup, or reduce stress, and some are just looking for companionship."

"I guess the companionship and stress things," said Steve after thinking for a moment. "My job takes a lot out of me, so I don't really have the time to pursue a relationship, but I do miss that human touch."

Bucky smiled gently, as though what Steve had said wasn't anything out of the ordinary. "What do you do?"

"I'm a lawyer, I mostly represent people who are in danger of deportation," said Steve automatically.

"That sounds rewarding," replied Bucky encouragingly.

"It is," agreed Steve, "but it's incredibly draining. I have to be so hard and tough all the time. Sometimes I think it would be nice to just be..." He tailed off, unsure how to finish his sentence.

"Soft?" supplied Bucky.

Steve smiled, feeling more comfortable despite his misgivings. "Yeah."

"Thank you for being so open with me, Steve," said Bucky, reaching over to squeeze Steve's knee. "If you don't have a particular preference for how we start, how about you join me on the couch and I put my arms around you. Does that sound good?"

Suddenly shy, Steve nodded and moved to sit next to Bucky, who immediately wrapped his big arms around Steve's shoulders and pulled Steve into his broad chest. As requested, Bucky wasn't wearing any fragrance, but he still smelled good, like fresh laundry and crisp autumn air, with an undercurrent of clean skin.

As he relaxed into Bucky's embrace, Steve tried to remember the last time he'd been held so gently. He was a regular recipient of Sam's big bear hugs and Darcy's chest-crushing squeezes, but he hadn't had a long-term romantic partner since law school, and his career didn't leave him a lot of free time to look for one.

"How does that feel?" asked Bucky in a low, soothing voice, gently rubbing at Steve's shoulder.

"Really good," breathed Steve.

"I'm glad," said Bucky gently. "How about I lie down on my back here and you snuggle up to my chest?"

Steve nodded his assent and Bucky released him slowly, and then rolled over to lie along the couch, opening up his arms so that Steve could slot himself in to rest his head on Bucky's warm chest. The knit of his sweater was soft against Steve's face, and one of Bucky's big hands came up to cup the back of Steve's head, rubbing small circles at the base of his skull with his fingertips.

"Thanks for not wearing cologne," said Steve, sounding muffled.

"Pal, I think you sneezing in my face would be worse for me than for you," laughed Bucky, the sound rumbling through his chest.

"It's not my sexiest move," agreed Steve, burrowing deeper into the soft warmth of Bucky's body.

Steve hadn't expected that conversation would carry on easily while they were cuddling - he predicted awkward silences and a feeling of general embarrassment - but they continued chatting while Bucky carded his fingers through Steve's hair, and he felt himself dropping deeper and deeper into a calm state of relaxation.

"So why'd you become a lawyer?" asked Bucky in a low voice, barely breaking into the spell he was casting over Steve.

"Ma came over here from Ireland to work as a nurse," replied Steve drowsily, "and when my pa died, she ran into some trouble with some of her immigration paperwork. There was a lawyer who worked pro bono to stop her from getting deported... the guy really changed our lives."

"So now you help other people the same way."

"I try to. How'd you get into professional cuddling?"

"After I got out of the army, I used to go for counseling sessions at the VA. Took a couple of years, but eventually I started on a course to be a counselor myself. A lot of those guys are so touch-starved, you know? My friend got the idea to start up a cuddling service and I jumped at the chance. It's been my full-time job for three years now."

Digesting this information, Steve was silent for a moment. He wouldn't have pegged Bucky as a soldier given how open and relaxed he was, but Sam didn't seem like an air force pilot, so you never knew. He cast around for a follow-up question. "Are there a lot of cuddling agencies in the world?" he settled on eventually.

"Oh yeah, it's a real growth industry. There's even a book called the Cuddle Sutra."

Steve scoffed. "You're kidding me, people write books about this stuff?"

Bucky cuffed him gently on the back of the head. "Shut up, punk. That's my profession you're besmirching."

"Are you allowed to tell your clients to shut up?" smirked Steve, never happier than when he was being a little shit.

"Only if they're being a punk," grumbled Bucky, wrapping an arm around the back of Steve's shoulders to pull him closer.

Over the course of the next forty five minutes, Steve learned more about Bucky's family, his asshole cat, his collection of semi-dead succulent plants, and his opinions on the present administration of the country. Bucky managed to wheedle Steve into talking about the bullying he faced at work, the stress of not having as many resources as he needed to help everyone he worked with - and he very nearly managed to get him to disclose his mother's recipe for shepherd's pie, and was only stopped by the threat that the ghost of Sarah Rogers would haunt him until he died.

Between the cozy warmth of Bucky's body, the soothing cadence of his voice, and the way his minty breath ghosted over Steve's forehead when he chuckled, Steve was pretty much in heaven, wrapped up in comfort. When Bucky's phone started to vibrate in his pocket, they both let out a little noise of annoyance.

"'Fraid that's my alarm. How'd you enjoy your first session?" asked Bucky, still stroking lines down Steve's back.

Steve hummed contentedly. "Worth every penny," he replied, sitting up and stretching his arms over his head.

"I'm really glad," said Bucky sincerely, squeezing his shoulder before standing up and heading towards his shoes. "Same time next week?"

"That'd be perfect. Thanks, Bucky. For everything."

"No problem," he replied with a genuine grin, fishing his phone out of his pocket. "Now I'd better call Maria before she gets the cops after me to make sure I haven't been murdered in a back alley somewhere."

"I'm glad they care so much about your safety."

"I love my job," laughed Bucky as he let himself out the front door, waving goodbye to Steve as he put the phone to his ear.

Steve spent some time smiling and waving like a goof until Bucky rounded the corner, at which point he finally shook himself awake and shut and locked his door. It was only eight PM but after a few nights of fractured sleep he was ready to follow his relaxed, sleepy feeling straight to bed.

After he pottered around the room, straightening up and putting things away, he brushed his teeth and jumped onto his big, comfortable bed, where he rolled himself up in his comforter like a burrito. He was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

[dutten-does-the-fanfic]

I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 4

Title: I Want You Here With Me (Is It Too Much to Ask for Something Great) ch. 4 of 14 (ch. 1) Pairing: Isak Valtersen/Even Bech Næsheim Word count: 9414 Warnings: Language, implied/referenced child abuse, internalized homophobia, sexual content

AO3

Summary: The one where it’s been two years since Isak last saw or spoke with Even, and no one knows that Isak ever knew Even at all.  

Present

Isak doesn’t go home.

He finds a public bathroom to clean himself up a little bit, using the water from the sink, and it’s just as disgusting as it sounds and he’s not entirely certain he feels any better afterwards, but the taste of vomit is out of his mouth and he doesn’t stink too much of sweat and alcohol, so that’s a plus.

Then he wanders around for a bit. He tries to avoid any obvious streets, nothing too close to the university or their apartment, not near the place they go grocery shopping or Jonas’ favorite Kebab shop, but everything else is fair game and Isak treats it as such.

He’s got his wallet on him – thank god, but he only has 100 kroner and he doesn’t know when he’ll be able to bear the thought of going home, so he has to be careful how he spends it.

At least he doesn’t have a hangover, which he tries to console himself with as he stretches out on one of the benches. There are children playing on a small playground the city has built, their screeches loud enough that he hears it all the way from where he’s sitting.

He tries to let himself, just, be, but the list of things he’s trying to avoid thinking about seems to be growing endlessly and his heart hurts and he ends up looking like an idiot trying to catch his breath whilst sitting on a bench.

He keeps going over it, mind running in circles that won’t actually end up solving anything. He can keep wondering why the hell Even is suddenly here, what will the boys say – they’ve already got so many questions and his disappearing-act will only increase the amount.

Isak has to go home eventually, he knows that. His laptop’s there, all his schoolwork, his stuff, but he can’t, he can’t do it.

God, he feels like he’s sixteen all over again, sneaking into Eskild’s basement because he can’t be at home anymore. The reminder leaves him feeling short of breath all over again and he ends up having to lean over and put his head in-between his legs unless he wants to pass out.

He can’t answer the questions. Hell, he’s never said it out loud to himself, he can’t do it to the boys. They don’t even know that he – that he doesn’t, with girls, or anyone else, really. Not when he’s still such a mess, he can’t bear the thought of being close to someone else.

He never told anyone. He never said a word, and once he’d spent enough time around Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus and finally had had someone to tell, he didn’t know how to. By that time, they’d already gone to so many parties together and there had only been talk about hooking up with girls and Isak just didn’t know how to tell them, “Actually, I don’t do that,” so he’d just never said anything.

Lord knows what they’re thinking has happened. Isak can barely grasp the concept and he lived it, it was his life, Even was –

Stop it. He’s not doing this to himself again. He’s fine, or at least he’s working on being fine. He has coursework and he’s slowly but surely getting his degree in biovitenskap and he’s doing it all on his own and he’ll continue doing it by himself. He’s bound to get good at being alone at some point, with enough practice.

Isak shudders and tries to draw his hoodie closer to his body. It’s stupid, he has no reason to be cold, it’s September for crying out loud, but here he is anyway.

He doesn’t know how long he stays there. Long enough that parents are shooting him weird looks as they take their kids to the playground, and they do so again when he’s still there when they leave.

There are so many people around Isak, and he spends a stupid amount of time worrying about what all of them are thinking when it doesn’t matter. He’s allowed to sit here, he’s allowed to keep secrets, he’s allowed to be heart-broken, he’s –

This was supposed to be his year, he’d promised himself that he wasn’t going to spiral again. He wasn’t going to drink excessively and miss half his classes and all of his study group sessions.

And the thing is, he had been doing fine. The semester has only been going for a couple of weeks, but he hasn’t once needed to email his professors about an extension. He’s turned in every single assignment, has done all the reading. He’s even mentally set off time to schedule a meeting next week where he’s supposed to work with his new study group. He hadn’t been drinking excessively and he’d only had one minor freak-out this past week, which is a vast improvement.

He’s alright, or at least he’ll be alright.

Sooner or later Even will go back to America and Isak will only have to deal with the mess he always leaves behind this one final time. He just needs to figure out how to deal with Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus – that is, Isak realizes with dread filling his stomach so much he fears he’ll throw up again, if they even want anything to do with him anymore.

He’s bailed on them twice now – Jonas had been so angry, so, so angry and Isak still doesn’t actually know what to say, what he can even say to them, especially not anything that would be helpful either.

God, things weren’t supposed to be this difficult. Isak was supposed to work towards getting a degree, he was supposed to redeem himself in his own eyes and be a better friend, a better person, and all it took was one night to smash it all to pieces.

He can’t do this. He can’t do this – he doesn’t know how. He never learned the first time, Jonas somehow just ended up dragging him enough out of it that he could finally breathe again after drowning for so long.

He was supposed to be better, yet all he seems to do is fuck everything up.

Isak bites down on his clenched fist to keep a sob inside. There are already enough people looking at him weirdly, he does not need to be the guy crying on a bench as well.

He tries to focus on his friends, but his mind keeps drifting back to Even. Isak shouldn’t even be surprised at this point, it always was like that; Even on his mind 24/7 ever since he met him.

Even looked good, healthy – a bit surprised, but Isak could imagine he was happy. Being a director had been all Even had been able to talk about when thinking about the future, and Isak isn’t bitter Even got to live the dream, but he sure does wish he hadn’t been left in the dust, trampled over and broken and trying to remember how to live without Even by his side.

He shouldn’t take comfort in the fact that somewhere, in an entirely different universe, there would be an Even who had stayed, or an Isak who hadn’t been left behind. He prefers the last one, because in that one Even still gets to make his movies, but that thought is usually reserved for the particularly bad nights, the ones where Isak has definitely had too much to drink and has only gotten the courage to look up movie reviews and check the latest gossip sites when he’s lying in bed and has pulled the duvet all the way over his head.

They’re not thoughts for midday Oslo. They’re not thoughts Isak should be thinking period, because they’re not good for him. They’re not. All they amount to is a morning of regrets, of newfound knowledge that Isak will spend the rest of his life wishing he could forget.

Ignorance is bliss, and even though Isak likes science, likes exploring and understanding, he understands that phrase a little too well and he wishes he didn’t, he really, really does.

And now he can wish Jonas and Mahdi and Magnus also weren’t aware of things. If Even just hadn’t shown up at that stupid fucking party, or if Isak had stayed at home like he’d initially been planning, before he’d gotten his grade back with a little check-mark telling him he’d passed and Jonas had practically manhandled him out of the apartment to go celebrate with them. If, if, if. They’re practically spilling out of him at this point and Isak gasps in heavy breaths as he presses his fingernails into the palm of his hand, trying to feel something.

He needs to focus on his surroundings, he can’t get stuck in his head – not here where there’s no one to help him, where his phone is dead and he can’t contact anyone and no one can contact him.

He needs to not be alone, but there’s nothing he can do. He can’t face anyone, can’t answer the questions and he can’t say anything – he can barely breathe, let alone talk and Isak has to bite his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

A couple of parents have started pointing towards him, so Isak slowly gets up on his feet and moves on.

He follows the tracks of the pram. He doesn’t have any money, but he doesn’t have a destination either, so he might as well walk, try and make time pass quicker than it does.

It doesn’t work and by early afternoon, he’s starving and feels an even worse headache coming up from consuming too little fluid.

Isak’s better than this, or he wants to be. He wants to be able to take care of himself, he wants to be able to have his friends and his degree and a life, and he just doesn’t understand why it’s so hard, why it seems like no matter what he does, he just can’t.

His stomach feels like it’s folding in on itself so Isak ends up at McDonald’s, ordering the cheapest thing on the menu that’ll somewhat fill him up and the biggest cup of water they’ll give him.

He looks pathetic, he knows that, sitting all alone in a booth, surrounded by a mess of vibrant, happy colors while he more than anything resembles a wrung out dishcloth as he picks at his food. He doesn’t have anywhere to be, so he isn’t in a hurry, and despite feeling absolutely hungry out of his mind, eating isn’t a particularly pleasant experience.

His plate ends up empty, though, finally, and with a full stomach and dissipating headache, Isak ends up falling asleep right there, in the middle of children screaming and parents complaining, his head presses against the window as he nods off.

The sky is turning purple when he’s ushered out of there by a grouchy employee who probably thinks he’s on drugs. Isak tries to apologize, but the guy just looks more annoyed the longer Isak drags this out, so he does what he’s asked and gets out of there, doesn’t look where he’s going until he’s nearly in another area of the city.

He should go home. He should. The sky is slowly darkening and then he’ll have been out on the streets for nearly 24 hours and he shouldn’t be doing this.

Instead, Isak’s feet take him the opposite direction of home. If he’s lucky, he’ll find another basement, otherwise it’s nice enough out that he won’t freeze, especially not if he can find an alley or something to block the wind.

He can do this. And tomorrow, he’ll go home. He has to, he can’t keep doing this. He had promised himself he wouldn’t keep doing this and he’s going to stop, he really is.

For now, though, he’ll just let himself have this moment of self-loathing and self-pity. He even lets himself have a little bit of cry as he hunkers down in a muggy basement that smells like it’s full of mold. It makes his throat hurt and irritates his nose, but it’ll only be for one night.

It’s still long enough that his head feels entirely clogged up, like he’s coming down with the worst case of the flu, when he wakes up stupidly early. Or at least he figures it’s stupidly early because the sun hasn’t even started to rise, leaving the world feeling dark and desolate as only the very early commuters are up. Still way too many people for it being Sunday, but Isak is wandering around as well so he shouldn’t be hypocritical.

His heart starts to pound whenever he gets one street closer to their apartment and he feels so stupid. No matter what, no matter how angry the guys are and how many questions they want answered, it’s his home too – or it’s supposed to be. Oh god, what if they kick him out? Isak wouldn’t even be surprised if that were to happen.

Where would he go, where would he live? Eskild would let him stay on the couch for a lot longer than he probably should, even with the way he’d been blowing him off the entire first year of uni and only a halfhearted attempt of rekindling during the summer holiday, but all the rooms are filled up and he can’t keep living his life like a sidepiece.

Linn probably wouldn’t mind him being around, but Noora had moved back in when Isak had moved out in his last year of high school and he never really got to know her. By that he means he never actually met her outside facetime-calls where Eskild would suddenly shove him into frame to say hello to someone who was practically a stranger.

He can’t do this, shouldn’t be doing this. He can’t be creating problems before they’re an actuality. He needs to go home and confront the boys – or be confronted, Isak doubts he’ll ever actually go to someone to confront them about an issue, but it’s a nice thought that he could ever be that confident.

He should go home. He’s going to go home. His feet are certainly taking him in the right direction, Isak realizes with such a fright he manages to startle himself into taking a right one street too early.

That’s okay, though. He can take a left a bit further down and he’ll just have walked a bit of a detour, that’s fine. If he manages to take the left, but then walks past the next left he needed to take so he ends up walking all the way around the apartment complex that’s fine too. And if he takes the alternative route once or twice more before he finally decreases the distance to the apartment enough that he just feels silly at this point, then that’s also fine.

But Isak really does feel silly. Honestly, it shouldn’t be this big of a problem, it shouldn’t, but somehow it is and that makes him feel even worse about the entire thing.

Still, he acts braver than he feels and takes the final right and there, there is his home, right across the street. He just needs to cross the street and he’s home.

He doesn’t move.

Instead his brain conjures up all these reasons why he shouldn’t go home just yet. He’d spent most of the night sobbing – fuck, his eyes will be red-rimmed and it’ll be obvious he’s been crying. Shit.

He can’t do this. He actually can’t do this.

Isak’s standing right there on the street opposite of their building. He’s looking straight at their front door, he has the keys in his hand, ready to go, and he can’t do this.

He can’t look the boys in the eye. He can’t just saunter in there like he hasn’t technically been missing for probably close to 40 hours by now. He can’t do any of this.

Still, he needs to go home, and going for another trip around the block is only going to delay that fact, it won’t make it go away. He has to do this, but his chest feels too tight and his feet won’t cooperate and he doesn’t know what to do.

Actually, he might know what to do.

Because he can walk around the building, jump over the banged up gate leading to the green area with all the personal gardens for the people living on the ground floor. Mrs. Petersen, the woman who lives underneath them and continuously complains about the youth’s behavior, has a big apple tree growing in her garden, the last wisps of the tree ending right in front of Isak’s window. Plus, their windows are the ones that slide open and Isak’s never actually used the lock for it.

This… this might work out – especially if he can actually manage to climb the damn tree. Isak hasn’t done this since he was maybe twelve, so that’s about eight years, close to a decade, since he last climbed a tree.

“Just like riding a bicycle, ik’ sant?” Isak tells himself as he rubs his hands together. Jesus, all of this serves to wind him up more rather than work as the pep talk he’d intended it to be. “Muscle memory. You just gotta –“

He manages to crawl over the fence into Mrs. Petersen’s garden, and then he just reaches out with both hands and hefts himself up onto the first branch. He pulls himself up far enough that he can just about manage to swing his leg up and over, and then he’s sitting.

So far, so good. Honestly, he could be quite content right here if it weren’t for the fact he can feel rough bark digging into places bark shouldn’t ever dig into, so he draws his legs up until he can shuffle himself onto his feet. From there, it’s just a question about moving up to the next branch and not looking down at any moment, no thank you.

Isak has seen enough action movies; he knows what happens every time the main character looks down. Granted, he isn’t crossing a broken-down bridge, but he’s certain he could get a rather sizeable bruise from falling down from this height.

He’s surprisingly quick at getting to the top of the tree as well as surprisingly sweaty once he can grasp onto his windowsill with the tips of his fingers.

The window slides up without any problem and Isak ignores how he’ll have to look at the now greasy finger stains on the outside of his window – that is, if he actually gets to set foot in this place ever again after this.

Stop it, Isak hisses at himself as he swings one leg over the windowsill. He shouldn’t paint an alarmist picture before he needs to. He’s certain he can spend at least a day in here before the boys even notice he’s home –

The sole on his left shoe squeaks against the window, somehow accidentally snagging itself on it so when Isak goes to step down, half of his body is left behind and down he goes with a bang, landing painfully on his right knee, braising himself with his hands luckily before he also manages to bash his head into his bed frame.

Isak remains there as he gets his bearings. What is the likelihood of no one having noticed or heard any of that? They sure as fuck never hear him when he’s yelling about bills or going grocery shopping, but they usually have a sixth sense for when their presence is not needed. Surely, though, he could be lucky just this once –

His bedroom door slams open just as Isak has managed to work himself up onto his knees. Both he and Jonas stare at each other completely frozen with a wide-eyed look on their faces. Oh god. Oh my god.

“Did you just climb up here?” Jonas’ hand clenches on the doorknob as he looks at Isak with disbelief.

Isak’s heart is pounding, his tongue feels like it has swollen up and is too big for his mouth. God, he doesn’t know how to do this, especially not when Jonas is standing right there in front of him, hair frazzled and his body practically vibrating from pent-up anxiety.

“The apple tree.” Isak licks his lips and mentally kicks himself. This isn’t what matters.

“Jesus,” Jonas breathes out so softly Isak barely hears it, and then he continues more forcefully. “Where have you been?”

Isak winces. He doesn’t know half of the places he’s been wandering through. Besides, he doesn’t think the actual location matters much, so he just shrugs and mutters something unintelligible that makes Jonas quirk both eyebrows in disbelief.

“Did you stay at someone’s? We were out most hours yesterday looking for you.”

Wait, what?

They were… looking for him? Isak can’t wrap his head around that thought. Why would they – were they so desperate for answers that they couldn’t wait for him to come back? He shouldn’t have come back, all of this was a mistake. He doesn’t know how to do this.

“Did you…” Jonas hesitates, his hand sliding on the doorknob from how tightly he’s holding it. “Did you think we wouldn’t?”

Of course they would find a way to get the answers they want, Isak is a fool for thinking differently, he –

“We, uh –“ Jonas looks past Isak as his shoulders drop into a hunch. “We stepped over the line that night. We, we were just – yeah. It was too much.”

They overstepped – what is he even talking about?

“We were too much. We were unfair to you and, just, we’re really sorry, okay?”

‘Sorry’? ‘Okay?’! Isak can’t breathe. He doesn’t understand any of what’s going on, he really doesn’t.

“We were so worried. We didn’t know where you were, where you would go. You didn’t answer your phone, and then we figured you’d probably run out of battery sooner or later, but we couldn’t just let it go unchecked, you know?”

Isak doesn’t know what kind of secrets his face is revealing – he knows all the once he’s trying to keep hidden – but Jonas sees them, he somehow always does and Isak doesn’t know how. Even if he did, he isn’t sure if he wants it stop anyway.

“Are you all mad at me?” his voice comes out a lot more quiet than intended, a lot more timid. Isak had wanted to sound more sure of himself, but he can’t.

Jonas’ face falls. He looks almost desperate, and Isak doesn’t understand. “No one’s mad at you, alright?”

Isak doesn’t reply. Mostly because he doesn’t actually believe it, and Jonas must be able to see that on his face.

Or he can see something at least, because that something makes something in Jonas change. Suddenly, he doesn’t stay there frozen at the door, but he storms towards Isak, taking quick strides around the bed until he can grab on to Isak, who briefly worries about bringing his hands up because, is he about to get punched?, but all Jonas does is draw him into a hug.

Isak doesn’t remember the last time he got a hug – a real hug, not just a side-hug or a pat on the shoulder, but an actual hug.

Or, he does remember, he just doesn’t want to.

“Don’t do this again,” the tip of Jonas’ nose is warm where it’s pressed against Isak’s ear. “We worry, man. We just – we – this is your home too and I’m sorry if you felt like we were running you out of here, we were just –“

“Worried, yeah, I get it,” Isak murmurs. He doesn’t get it, but admitting that would mean Jonas would stop hugging him. He wants to press his head into the crook of Jonas’ neck, just to hide away from the world for a little bit, but he doesn’t do that. He presses his chin into Jonas’ shoulder a little harder to avoid the temptation instead.

“I still don’t know what to think about – about what happened,” Jonas breathes out. Isak more so feels the breath of each word rather than hears it. He knows Jonas can feel how he instantly tenses up.

It’s stupid, in the back of his head he knows it is, but all he can think is that he can’t run when Jonas is holding onto him, and suddenly that’s all that seems to matter.

“But frankly, it isn’t any of our businesses what, what the story behind that is. And if it’s bad enough that you’ll just – leave, take off like that, then…” Jonas trails off and Isak doesn’t dare breathe until he finishes whatever thought he has.

“I’m here, we’re here, if you ever want to talk.”

Oh god no, please no, no talking, Isak can’t, he can’t –

“And until that happens, that night according to any of us never happened.”

Isak forces his eyes shut so the tears gathering in the corner won’t fall like they’re already threatening to. He still doesn’t quite understand any of it, but…

Jonas isn’t only giving him an out, he’s giving him his chance, the one he’d worked so hard on for so many months, the chance that told him he was good enough for someone to want him to stick around, he was good enough that Jonas, Mahdi, and Magnus wanted to move in with him, to share a flat and a space and a life with him, and one small tears escapes, slowly rolling down his cheeks before the fabric of Isak’s hoodie absorbs it.

“Just, please don’t take off like that again,” Jonas tightens his grip, once, in a tight squeeze and then steps back. He doesn’t say anything to the fact that Isak’s eyes are wet.

“Okay,” Isak whispers. And that’s all it takes.

Jonas gives him a small smile and claps him on the shoulder. “Let’s get some breakfast, alright?”

Both Mahdi and Magnus are in the kitchen, only Magnus actually looking awake and aware, and for a second the urge to run flares up in Isak again, just get out of there before they notice he’s there, because it’s too good to be true, it can’t be all that it takes, but then Magnus turns around, looking taken aback, then his face lights up and with a rushed out exclaim of “Isak!” he grabs onto him and squeezes tightly enough that it leaves Isak out of breath and dizzy.

Mahdi gives him a fist bump and tries his best to hide away a weary, worried look that Isak has a feeling he should probably be getting used to seeing on their faces.

Any second now, they’ll start, all the questions, all the accusations, all of the everything, Isak can feel it, and he knows it, any second now –

“Gutter, let’s have a feast for breakfast! Brunch or whatever –“

“Brunch?” Mahdi jeers. “You want us to cook brunch?”

“Yeah!” Magnus laughs. “Proper one, with like, sausages and bacon and –“

“Sorted,” Jonas yells, overpowering both of them as he slabs a box of cereal onto the counter. “Everybody, grab a bowl and pray to God we have enough milk.”

Mahdi ends up snorting some of the milk out of his nose when Magnus regales them a story about his week while Jonas is playfully ribbing into him, and all Isak can think is that it’s nice getting to feel like he can’t breathe simply because he’s laughing too hard rather than any other reason.

Sometimes, Isak grins as he looks up at the boys, this is all it takes.

 Past

The thing is, Isak and Even live on opposite sides of Oslo and their schools aren’t exactly close by each other’s. They shouldn’t be crossing paths at any point during the week unless they’ve explicitly arranged to meet somewhere.

With that being said, Isak’s standing frozen like an absolute idiot in the middle of the road, because right there, right there is Even.

And he is not alone.

There are five other guys with him, all dark haired and with hesitant touches and careful smiles, like they don’t quite know what to do, but they all want to be there, it isn’t a pity thing.

Isak doesn’t get it, doesn’t get why Even looks so uncomfortable around them if they are as friendly as they seem. He doesn’t meet their eyes, doesn’t reach back out to reciprocate their careful touches – he’s so different from the Even Isak usually sees that Isak almost feels like he’s looking at an entirely different person.

Who are they? Are they classmates? Old friends? New friends? Close friends? Isak isn’t getting a lot of contextual clues. Plus, he isn’t actually going to get close enough to Even that he’ll be able to hear what they’re all talking about.

Close to Even. Shit, he shouldn’t even be this close; sure, he’s across the street and down the road, it was more luck than anything that he even saw Even to begin with, and there’s absolutely no reason why any of them would look in his direction, nor would anyone but Even be able to recognize him.

They… wouldn’t be able to recognize him, right?

Isak knows he hasn’t told anyone about – about Even and whatever it is he’s doing with Even, even if he came close to it with Eskild, no one around Isak knows about Even.

But Even… Isak isn’t around Even 24/7, he would’ve had plenty of opportunities to tell someone.

Is that why he looks so uncomfortable? He told those guys and now they’re ribbing into him? No, Even doesn’t seem the type, especially not to a group of guys Isak doesn’t even know if he’s friends with, but anyone else? His parents? Any close friends he does have?

Isak has literally no idea. It’s the first time the thought even comes across his mind and it’s bad enough that it feels like the ground has been swept away underneath his feet, his stomach doing uncomfortable rolls that make him feel nauseas all of the sudden.

Because Even could’ve told anyone and it wouldn’t only be affecting him, it would affect Isak as well.

A couple walks past him, probably only a year older or so, giggling and whispering to each other. They’re probably around Even’s age; do they know? Is that why they’re giggling? They walked past the, the – shit, Isak can’t even think it and suddenly half of Oslo might be shouting about it?

Alright, now he’s overreacting, half of Oslo wouldn’t even care about some random dude doing ‘stuff’ with another dude, but Isak can’t think clearly through the blood rushing in his ears.

He should leave, he should just go, get home, lock himself away until that horrifying moment where his parents will be pounding on his door, demanding to know what all the talk is about. In fact, he’s going to leave, right now, Isak goes to twist around on his foot when he sees Even look up, narrowing in on his exact location with terrifying accuracy.

And Even looks surprised to see Isak – not that he should, this is Isak’s part of the town, after all, like they’ve divvied it up, for god’s sake – but he also looks worried, even as he tries to cover it up and play it off as nothing as the boys clearly start to ask what’s wrong, looking in Isak’s direction as well.

Shit, Isak turns around so quickly to walk down the hill he nearly tumbles down it altogether. He grabs onto the nearest lamppost, ignoring the sticky feeling to it as he hurries away.

Shit, shit, shit.

He’s breathing far too heavily for how short as distance he just ran, it’s been a while since he last did any actual exercise instead of just wasting time away on FIFA.

Why would Even look worried? Did he think Isak was going to confront him about telling everyone? Isak doesn’t even know how to do confrontation, doesn’t Even know him well enough to know that –

Even does know him well enough to know that.

Jesus, Isak’s a shitty person. He shouldn’t just suspect Even right off the bat, there are plenty of reasons why he wouldn’t want to hang out with those guys. Maybe they make stupid, insensitive jokes, Isak sure as hell knows all about that. Even can have just as many reasons for wanting to hide who he is, wanting to hide Isak from the people in his everyday life, just as Isak has.

It’s not that Isak’s ashamed of Even, that’s not what it’s about, it’s more so… Isak would shout it to the world that Even is his – that he likes Even, show him off to everyone, but showing off Even would mean showing off himself as well, and –

Isak doesn’t want that.

His phone pings in his pocket and Isak leans up against the brickwall of the nearest building, his breath coming out in short pants as he fishes his phone out of his jeans.

That was you, right??? The text from Even says.

Isak could ignore it. Or he could write back a bunch of question marks himself, implying he has absolutely no idea what Even is talking about – he could ignore everything that just happened so if Even really had told people, had told those guys about Isak, then Isak still wouldn’t know he was the butt of whatever joke they had going on, he wouldn’t have to lose Even when he’d barely gotten to have him.

Yeah, he writes back. You alright? You looked uncomfortable.

It takes a while for Even to reply, and when he does it’s just the number ‘2’.

‘2’. ‘2’? What the hell does ‘2’ mean?

Isak glares at his phone, like that’s going to get him any answers, but then he hears a pair of feet pounding on the pavement, despite how many people are whizzing past him.

Even’s frantically looking left and right before he spots Isak on the other side of the street. He jaywalks over there before Isak can walk over to the crosswalk to meet him. A car honks angrily at him, but Even doesn’t even look back to wave an apology.

‘2’. ‘2 seconds’, except Even didn’t waste two seconds actually typing that out.

He’s winded, which makes Isak feel a little bit better about his own lack of fitness as well, and they both just stand there in front of each other, waiting for the other to say something. Isak should give Even the chance to explain himself – not that there’s actually anything he has to explain, it could all just be a scenario Isak has built up in his head.

“Are you,” Even hesitates, brushing the tip of his shoe against Isak’s. “Are you keen on coming back to my place?”

Isak raises an eyebrow. What does that mean – Isak has never been to Even’s, just like Even has never been to Isak’s, so why suddenly invite him there today of all days? Is there something Isak should be worried about, and if so, is it even a good idea for him to go anywhere with Even?

Isak shakes his head, trying to expel those thoughts – he’s being stupid, there is absolutely no reason why he should be thinking so badly of Even. He’s just paranoid and it’s the easiest to blame the person he’s closest to, who just so happens to be Even.

Even doesn’t know that though, and Isak has to watch Even be crestfallen for a second before he realizes Even thinks he’s telling him no.

“Yes!” Isak blurts out, too loudly. A man walking past them turns back to look at them before he goes back to his own life. “Yes, I’d love to.”

“Oh!” Even bites his bottom lip before he plasters on a nervous smile. “Great.” And then they’re off, heading into an area of Oslo Isak usually doesn’t traverse in, has no reason to go there at all, actually. He tries to keep it out of his head whether or not that’ll ever change. He should keep the what if’s to a minimum for his own mental health.

Even’s home is bright and colorful and absolutely the opposite of what Isak’s home feels like. Maybe they hide it away as well, though, because Even’s nose crinkles once they’re inside, kicking their shoes off before Even leads Isak into a room that’s so Even that even if Even hadn’t already described it, Isak would’ve placed Even here.

From the drawings tacked all over the closet to the guitars and the mess, it’s Even through and through.

What really gives it away though, are the huge windows with a sill just big enough that you could comfortably sit there, even with two people. They’re up on a high enough floor that the only thing outside the room are the tops of the trees, the slim branches knock against the glass periodically when the wind hits them.

Even steps into his line of sight in front of him, back hunched a bit, not enough that Isak could comfortably kiss him, were he to do that, that is, but enough that Isak can see Even for what he really is; absolutely exhausted. There are dark bags underneath his eyes and a slight frown to his lips. Even as he tries to tuck it away and smile at Isak it’s still there, almost like it’s been there for so long it’s now a part of Even.

“Halla,” Even mutters, shuffling a little bit closer. It makes it seem like he’s actually confident about this, but Isak can tell he isn’t, can tell he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. That puts Isak a little bit at ease, makes him feel like they’re standing on common ground.

“Hei,” Isak whispers back, tilting his head back just a smidge more without thinking, simply doing it from the mere proximity of Even, just in case Even feels like leaning down to meet him.

Even radiates warmth, even as they’re not physically touching each other Isak can feel it getting warmer the longer they just stand there, switching between actually looking at each other and looking away. God, it feels like they’re being immature children, but Isak doesn’t know what to say.

Does he even have any right to inquire as to who those guys were? Is that the kind of relationship he and Even have – can he just ask about personal things? He knows he can, has done it before, as has Even which is why they know things about each other they’ve never dared telling anyone else about. Some secrets they haven’t actually told each other either, but they’ve been quite evident from the first kiss they’d had in the street in the middle of the night.

Still, Isak doesn’t know of the boundaries, if they do so exist, and even then he has no idea what he actually saw or didn’t see. He has no idea where to begin.

Even clearly doesn’t either so he leaves Isak, letting him stand in the middle of his room like an absolute tool as he goes to fish around for something next to the couch underneath his bed.

Isak watches the curve of his back, the way the t-shirt stretches tightly enough that he can make out each and every knob of his spine. He shouldn’t have thought badly about Even before, already he can feel his body start to calm down from the near panic he’d managed to work himself up to.

He might not know Even’s friends or his parents or be a part of his life – the non-secret part of his life, anyway – but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know Even. He knows about his dreams and aspirations, he knows what he likes to drink in the morning despite never having shared a morning with him that wasn’t through the phone, and he knows that Even likes to use ‘secret ingredients’ in just about everything he cooks, even though Google will tell Isak it’s not that uncommon of an ingredient to use.

He knows Even. And Even knows him.

“Hey,” Even holds up an already rolled blunt. “You game?”

The window sill is big enough that the two of them can comfortably sit there. Isak stuffs his foot underneath Even’s leg and Even only complains about him being absolutely freezing for a minute before he takes the first drag and passes it over to Isak.

Isak’s only smoked twice before. Both times he’d been wasted enough that it didn’t look odd that he didn’t know how to do it properly. He holds onto the paper carefully, making sure to keep away from the burning end as he tries to copy what Even had just done.

And then he proceeds to cough his lungs out.

“What are you doing?” Even laughs.

There are tears gathering in Isak’s eyes, possibly from a mixture of the smoke and the gasping for air, but to be honest, choking is worth it if it makes Even stop looking like he’s about to pass out in the next second.

Even’s already reaching over to help him out.

“Breathe in,” he orders. “Hold the smoke in your mouth for a few seconds and then breathe out.”

Isak coughs one more time before he lets Even guide the joint back up to his mouth, pressing it gently between his lips. Even’s pupils widen as he watches the way Isak’s lips fall pliant underneath his touch, and Isak feels high enough already, even without the drugs.

He does as instructed, but it doesn’t help anything. He can’t hold the smoke in and his lungs are threatening to burst already. This is a lot harder than it looks.

“Jeez,” Even draws back until he can rest up against his side of the wall again, taking a successful drag himself. “You never cease to impress.”

“Hey,” Isak whines, throat sore already. He wiggles the toes on the foot underneath Even’s thigh, nudging him hard enough Even’s leg bounces from the movement. “It just got stuck in my throat!”

“Mhm,” Even placates, nodding his head seriously even as he’s pulling a weird grimace to stop himself from laughing again. “Don’t worry about it, I can show you something else instead.”

“In a minute,” Isak coughs into his elbow one last time. He folds his fingers around his knee and leans his head back.

The window is cool on his right side despite how warm it still is outside. Even takes another drag and looks out the window, giving Isak the perfect opportunity to just sit back and admire the specks of sunlight shining in, coloring his skin and hair in a more golden hue.

“Aren’t you going to ask?”

Isak takes long enough to reply that he can see Even’s fingers starting to twitch in nervous anticipation.

“Do you want me to?” he ends up asking. Am I allowed to?

Even shrugs, like it doesn’t matter the slightest to him, but Isak can tell it’s a lie, he somehow always can despite how much of an enigma Even can feel like.

“Are they your friends?”

Even though Isak isn’t smoking, simply sitting this close to Even, and probably from the failed attempts he’d had himself, Isak can feel his body slowly losing up. It’s either imaginary or Even has banked some really good stuff, because he doesn’t know if he should be feeling the effects so quickly. Unless he should take into account that he’s definitely a novice.

Even grimaces a bit at that question. “Yeah. Or, I mean, yes, but – it’s complicated.”

Isak nods, once, like that actually means something to him. He doesn’t have a back-story, not one to Even’s life and he doesn’t even have the names of his maybe-potentially-group of friends.

“There’s been some stuff going on,” Even’s staring resolutely out the window like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen, “started back before I even met you. They were just asking if I’m okay.”

He says that word like it’s a bad thing. But then again, Isak doesn’t know what happened, maybe it isn’t fitting to ask that.

Even turns his head back to glance over at Isak again, a careful smile already plastered onto his face, “Anything new with you?” Even though the smile is clearly fake Isak takes the hint to change the subject, even as he’s shifting with the need to know – just in case.

“I met a guy,” he says instead.

“Wow, replacing me already?”

“Nei.” Isak tuts, nudging Even a bit more forcefully this time for such a stupid comment. His stomach flutters with butterflies at the implication that Even could fill what clearly sounds like a romantic role in his life. “He, uh, lives in a kollektiv, and one of his roommates is thinking about moving out soon.”

“Okay?”

“He –“ it feels good to get this off of his chest. He’d already suggested to his dad ages ago that he should move out sooner rather than later, but it had been a while since his dad was willing to listen to him. “He offered for me to move in when she leaves, and, uh, I – I think I’m gonna do it.”

Even’s eyes are soft as he looks at Isak in a way that makes his stomach flutter with something other than a feeling of dread that seems to constantly be swirling around in him. “I think that’s a really good idea.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Even turns back to look out the window, but Isak keeps on staring at him.

He isn’t going to lie, it’s still bothering him slightly. He gets that Even might’ve gone through some things he doesn’t want to share with Isak, Isak isn’t going to make him talk, nor would he feel comfortable knowing about it if Even doesn’t want him to.

But his brain works in patterns, in analyses, it doesn’t come naturally to him to just let a question lie. He might squirm away from it when it’s about something this personal, but Isak can’t stand the idea that someone out there, even someone he’s never personally met, knows this about him, about him and Even.

It’s going to bother him for a long, long time, he can feel it, if he doesn’t ask, so despite Even’s clear dismissal of the subject from earlier, the words tumble out of Isak’s mouth.

“Have you told them?“ About us, about how I feel about you, about how I think you feel about me “About me?”

As soon as he’s finished talking there’s a certain rigid tenseness to Even’s shoulders that Isak hasn’t seen before. It makes him look bigger, broader – he probably should feel more intimidating, but Isak isn’t scared. He’s scared around a lot of people, nearly constantly terrified if he’s honest, but never around Even.

“I haven’t told them, no,” Even taps on the blunt and a few burnt pieces fall off out of the open window.

It sends a pang through Isak’s heart and he doesn’t even know why. He should feel relieved – he does, he most certainly does – but it’s like a double-edged sword. The relief of not having been outed added to the worry as to why Even isn’t telling his friends.

“They wouldn’t believe me if I told them I liked you.”

“Oh.”

What does that even mean? Even isn’t out, neither of them are, but surely it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch were he to tell his friends he also likes boys?

“Not, it’s not – it’s not because you’re a boy, it’s – shit,” Even shakes his head and takes too heavy a drag, his voice hoarse from it when he starts to speak again. “It’s that they wouldn’t see you as, as my boyfriend, they’d see you as an obsession. They think my behavior towards certain things is more like a fixation and me being fanatic. They discard my feelings as an overreaction and I’m so sick and tired of being told what I’m supposed to be feeling and how much I’m allowed to feel. I hate it.”

Isak’s heart is pounding from both admissions, but he forces the word boyfriend into the back of his mind for a later examination, when he’s trying to fall asleep later tonight, because this –

Even isn’t quiet about what he’s feeling, and if he is it’s because he’s talking through his body instead, or through his ideas. But this is a lot more of Even in a depth Isak hasn’t had the privilege of seeing before now.

“Only you can feel what you’re feeling.” It comes out a lot softer than Isak’s usual tone of voice, soft enough that it draws Even’s attention to him. His eyes don’t leave him.

“All I know is…” Even starts, “I don’t ever want to lose this feeling. This, what I feel about you.”

“Me neither.”

They don’t move for a while after that. Burning embers drip off of the joint out the window. The drugs are slowly but surely being wasted, but Even doesn’t comment on it or move to do something about it.

Maybe it should feel awkward, doing love confessions during the middle of the day the first time Isak has ever been in Even’s room, but it feels so natural, and for the first time in so long, Isak doesn’t feel the constant need to run, to hide, to flee. He’s perfectly content to sit here, crowded into Even’s space.

He sits there and listens as Even tells him a little bit about the boys; their names, how he’s closest to Mikael, but he seems a bit distant about it so Isak wonders if they might’ve pulled a bit away from each other during whatever it was that happened. Isak in turn tells him more thoroughly of his meeting with Eskild, at least the parts he remembers and believes from Eskild’s reenactment the day after.

There are more important subjects they should be talking about, and they kind of do. They talk around in circles and agree without actually saying any of the words to show it.

“I don’t have anyone I could tell – or that I want to tell, about me.” About us, Isak tells him.

“I don’t either.”

Neither of them wants to come out, so they won’t.

And it’s not like they’re ashamed of each other, they both have their individual reasons that they don’t share right now. It just isn’t anybody’s business who they like, and they shouldn’t have to share that with the people around them if they are only going to be judged for it.

So they’re going to keep quiet.

To be honest, it makes Isak feel a lot more settled, like he’d been more worried about this than he’d originally realized, but now that they’re on the same page – on the same boyfriend page – it feels a little easier to breathe.

“Hey,” Even reaches over until he can softly slide his fingers across Isak’s knee, the tips catching on Isak’s own hand. “Come here.”

Isak doesn’t know where he gets the confidence from, but instead of just leaning closer to Even, he shifts onto his knee and shuffles forwards until he’s straddling the upper thigh of Even’s leg, the one resting on the floor for support.

The space is much too narrow for it, and Isak has to rest his left foot on the floor as well, but this way he can feel every breath Even takes, can see his eyes that are too dark for how much light is floating into the room.

He’s taller than Even this way by maybe an inch, so Even looks up at him as he takes a drag, the fingers on his free hand curl around Isak’s hip, squeezing around his side before Even straightens his spine. He leans up until his mouth can press against Isak’s own.

Even breathes the smoke out slowly. Isak catches the grey wisps within his mouth that he closes when Even presses his thumb against his bottom lip. His lips don’t part before Even pushes just the tip of his thumb inside his mouth, Isak’s tongue peeking out to press back against him.

Even’s eyes are definitely darker when Isak slowly lets the smoke out without any troubles this time. It feels like a rush of adrenaline spiking through him, and later Isak will think that’s why he’s able to lean in and kiss Even without Even having to make the first move for once.

It’s a lot different than any of the previous kisses they’ve had. From the careful first kiss when Even had been so, so much braver than Isak could ever see himself being, to the four tentative kisses Even had given him when they’d left the coffee shop, to all the other kisses they’ve shared between then and now. It’s not easy getting to have a proper make-out session when they’re both in the closet and never in a private setting – never before now, that is.

At first it’s as soft as all their previous kisses, but then Even swipes his tongue out, just pressing it along the curve of Isak’s lip, and then it’s anything but soft.

Isak can’t move any closer. His knee is already pressing up against the wall behind Even and there isn’t really any room in general. It doesn’t matter once Even has discarded the joint – did he just throw it? – and lifts his own hips up a bit while his now free hand curls around Isak’s thigh, giving Isak more purchase to move around as he pleases.

It’s so good. Warm heat curling in his abdomen and groin that intensifies when Even lets out a low groan at a particularly satisfying roll of their hips.

Even reaches up to grab onto one of Isak’s curls, pulling just hard enough that Isak loses his breath as he lets his head be guided back far enough that his throat is stretched out and Even can press forward with his mouth first.

He’ll have marks later, he can feel it from the tiny bites, just too hard sucks Even gives him for it not to bruise. It doesn’t matter to Isak, though, at least not in the moment as he curls his own fingers around Even’s arms, shoulder, anywhere he can hold onto as his breath comes out in shorter pants.

Later, he’ll probably give Even shit for it, teasing him about an apparent possessive need he didn’t know he had. But now he leans back down and breathes in the air Even exhales until they’re both too sensitive to keep moving, Isak slowing down from the deep grinds so just softly rolling his hips.

“Is that marijuana?” a disgruntled voice screeches all the way from down the street.

Isak and Even tumble down from the sill too quickly. Their limbs end up tangled together and they land hard on the carpet.

“Shh!” Even presses a finger against his own lips when Isak starts to giggling and can’t seem to stop, but he can barely let the air flow through his lips himself from how much he’s trying not to laugh.

“Jesus,” Isak laughs and then tries to muffle his noises by rolling into Even, pressing his face into the nook of Even’s neck. He can feel each vibration of Even’s laugh on his cheek like this.

“We probably shouldn’t do that by the window again,” Isak giggles once he’s gotten his breathing sort of under control.

Even barks out a laugh too loudly that Isak has to come out of his hiding place to press his hand against Even mouth and shush him, even though he can’t do it properly from how wide his cheeks split from a grin.

“Uh, we should definitely do it by the window again, is what I think you’re trying to say,” Even tells him when Isak lets go.

“Jesus,” he repeats and lets his weight tumble down onto Even’s body in retaliation.

Even’s breath leaves his body in a whoosh, but all he does is work his arm around Isak’s shoulders and pull him in.

“Hey,” he whispers. “I still owe you a nice story.”

“Set on a beach,” Isak insists.

“Set on a beach,” Even promises, pressing a kiss onto Isak’s head.

Next part

[thesinglesjukebox]

CARLY RAE JEPSEN - WANT YOU IN MY ROOM

[7.80]

Give a [10]! or a [4]! We don't care! Anymore! (actually we clearly do care)

Josh Winters: The sound of the heart set aflame. [10]

Tobi Tella: Oh my god. The synths, the sultriness, that goddamn HOOK. Dedicated had a lot of great and fun, pop music, but this comes out of left field in the best possible way. It's one of the most direct and sexy things, she'd ever done. Is this what gay heaven feels like? [10]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: Big "looks-up-grinning-like-the-devil" energy: when CRJ sings, "I wanna do bad things to you," the mischief is both inexplicably sweet and dirty. [8]

Michael Hong: "Want You In My Room" might be Carly Rae Jepsen at her horniest, but it's also Jack Antonoff at his least restrained, together making something that's thrillingly giddy. Carly Rae Jepsen drops some of those thinly disguised hints for more straight-forward temptations, coming across as intense where Dedicated erred more towards tepid. There's still room for coyness, with the distorted "want you in my room" bashfully buried in the mix and the way Jepsen's voice brazenly glides across the instrumental on the line "slide on through my window." But most importantly, "Want You In My Room" feels completely uninhibited and absolutely freeing as Carly Rae Jepsen delivers any line with as much of a wink as she desires. [9]

Kayla Beardslee: Pure joy. [9]

Edward Okulicz: Every song that goes by, I find myself enraged by how average I find the average Carly Rae Jepsen to be, and I'm not entirely sure that I'm not jealous of the euphoria she inspires in others. But honestly, she's no Vengaboys, let alone a Paul Lekakis; I believe Jepsen, but I don't buy her abandon. [4]

Alfred Soto: With Dedicated proving an ephemeral listen, "Want You in My Room" does a professional job as any discrete track at isolating her strengths: finding a hook for any title and singing as if any doggerel were Heidegger. The outro sax wipes the smear of the redundant vocoder, suggesting other paths that the arrangement avoids. [4]

Kylo Nocom: Given the runtime and production choices, one would think somebody had went out and decided to parody the style of Emotion with its Wikipedia article and five hours to complete the task. "Want You in My Room" slightly lacks sophistication in both songwriting and in aesthetic: it feels like half of the song is missing by the time the track decides to fade out, and the wonky percussion/clean guitars/fucking SAX are rather ungraceful signifiers of '80s kitschiness, as if hints were taken from Carly's turn with the Fuller House theme song. These tiny grievances immediately disappear once those robot-voices and shouts burst out, an exercise between restraint and shamelessness that's completely undeniable. I didn't register that the vocoded voices were actually saying anything the first few times I heard this, let alone the title, but it's quite sly how that turned out: the most explicit demand of the hook is obscured, leaving "I wanna do bad things to you!" which beats around the bush a tiny bit (thankfully, less embarrassingly than Camila) and additionally gleeful cheers before that lovely inquiry of "baby, don't you want me too?". I'm still frustrated this ends so quickly, but even this doesn't matter when it's the Carly song I've been using to soundtrack the crush-anxiety interludes of my life. Really, this could cut off after the first chorus and still be more exciting than nearly every other song on Dedicated. [8]

Joshua Lu: It's tempting to draw connections between Emotion and everything Carly Rae Jepsen has done since Emotion -- thematically, her work hasn't evolved much since 2015, with her primary concern being PG-13 depictions of love and heartbreak. But Emotion's portrayal of affection was grandiose and imposing, fit for blasting out the windows of your car as you get lost in the streets of LA, while Dedicated's take feels distinctly slighter and more intimate. "Want You In My Room" takes more of its cues from Kiss, if anything -- even overlooking the disco tinges and how that was the first time she worked with Jack Antonoff, Kiss employed intimate lyricism that could verge at times on the diaristic, with songs like "Turn Me Up" and "Curiosity." The song's title, conveyed through Antonoff's phalanx of robots, renders that closeness literally, but that intimacy comes through metaphorically as well, especially with that quintessentially Carly-esque grotesque lyric of "press you to the pages of my heart" and that absolutely filthy request to "slide on through my window." I'll always prefer this mode of Carly, whose depictions of carnal affection feel more genuine and evocative when she's cooing them in your ear instead of bellowing them to the world. Even the outro works for me; the music video helps to explicate that her lover has finally made it to her room, and the bleating saxophone becomes an aural metaphor of whatever the two of them are doing, now that the song has accomplished its purpose. [10]

Will Adams: The discourse around Jack Antonoff and his status as the supposed ingenue behind female pop stars' critical reappraisal is exhausting, mostly because it ignores my biggest gripe with it: the production is bad. As we've seen before, his penchant for vocoders sinks the songs and, in this case, the entire chorus. The rest is his typical beige, vaguely '80s, vaguely '90s, vaguely everything feel, as if those "Dreams" guitars haven't been done better elsewhere. Carly's not off the hook either, with lyrics as empty as "press you to the pages of my heart." The sax riffing at the end would have been nice had it not resulted in a fade-out, which only serves to let you know that no one involved bothered to write a bridge. [4]

Joshua Copperman: That post-chorus is peak Carly - her songs are best when they're anxious but sensual, innocent but winking. But that's the problem with this song, content to be an E*MO*TION throwback when the best cuts on Dedicated ("I'll Be Your Girl," "Everything He Needs") push her sound forward in ways that still remain consistent with her past. Antonoff's on autopilot, lifting his own Tom Petty rip from "Don't Take The Money" for his usual mix of 80s and non-80s signifiers. Singles Jukebox editor and writer Katherine St. Asaph's issue with Dedicated was that Carly didn't play to her fanbase enough. This goes too much in the other direction giving the gays exactly what they want but nothing more. That doesn't mean it's bad, but it's too slight when Carly's beloved for her maximalism. [6]

Andy Hutchins: Fun, frivolous, brisk, and brief in the way so many great pop songs are, and a better spiritual successor to "Africa" in 2019 than Weezer actually covering it. But I will admit that listening to the potential [3] or [15] that would have been CRJ riffing on Rye Rye's spin on Vengaboys was deeply distracting. [7]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: "Want You In My Room" is the worst kind of song to write about: so self-evidently joyful and skilled in every aspect (those synths!! that sax solo!!) that it's hard to point at any one thing to analyze. Is it enough to just say that the song is the best execution of crush pop in the catalog of an artist who is the queen of crush pop? Is it enough to say that I listen to the song in the shower and my morning walk to class? Is it enough to say that this song (and really, the whole starting run of Dedicated) is an excellent soundtrack to a roadtrip with the one you love? I don't know, and I don't quite know how to express how good it is that Carly Rae Jepsen is around and making music like this, but I hope this helps. [10]

Jackie Powell: Carly Rae Jepsen knows her base just as well as she knows herself. All of the elements of "Want You in My Room" confirm that."...And I'll press you to the pages of my heart" in the pre-chorus proves how Jepsen simultaneously views love and her music. She loves fantasy and probably adores fanfiction (Does anyone have confirmation on this?) "I think I like when people look at music from a way that's this childlike magical thing that happens to us," she said at Electric Lady Studios recording her Spotify singles session. She has made it her brand for the nerds who love love--but struggle to capture it-- feel at home with the awkwardness and desire that they feel inside. Jack Antonoff knows how to extrapolate Jepsen's inner feelings and give them a sound; the track begins with three different percussive loops which symbolize the racing heartbeat of sexual and romantic excitement. The aforementioned Spotify session version of the cut further echoes the idea that this song is an orgy that would take place at a campfire for young adults. (I guess I just described Woodstock. Imagine Woodstock in 2019...oh wait.) She proves once again that both fantasy and desire are natural and shouldn't be a source of any shame. [8]

Vikram Joseph: There's probably not much that my 11-year-old self has in common with me right now. But I remember getting up an hour before school to listen to the radio, and the way that I would lose myself in pop music and it would carry me through the day, painting the cyclical banalities of breaktime and double chemistry in weird, vivid colours that I didn't fully understand back then. And it's not so different to the way that I respond to it now; the way that caffeine and Dedicated made my commute shimmer and glow on sticky mornings this summer. For me, "Want You In My Room" has been the album's febrile, halcyon peak from the start - a high-camp maximalist fantasia of love and lust, the rare ecstasy of uncomplicated desire played out in a technicolour dreamscape of synths, vocoders and sax solos. It took four months for it to acquire a music video, but there must have already been a million existing in our imaginations, us as the stars, cameras panning as we walk down streets as flamboyantly as our queer little hearts dare to. It's garish, sugary and barely sounds real, and that's fine - because great pop is escapist, always has been and always will be, and "Want You In My Room" makes me believe I can have it all (even if it's fake). [10]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[filmfanatic82]

Read on AO3 (HERE)

Chapter 7: Raven (II)

Where the hell is Blake?

The question shoots through Raven’s mind for the umpteenth time as she’s forced to watch Clarke and Lexa pretend they aren’t mere seconds away from jumping each other’s bones. She runs her hands over her ponytail and lets out a heavy sigh.

After having spent the better part of the afternoon with Octavia, hiding out from the world underneath the school bleachers, Raven suddenly finds herself craving the younger girl’s presence much more than usual. Sure, she’s always had a soft spot for Octavia, sometimes preferring her company over that of anyone else that she knows. But lately…

Lately, it's been different.

Then again, everything has. Ever since that night a few months ago when Raven had drunk one too many cups of Monty Juice and found herself locking lips with a dark and mysterious junior name Echo.

It had started off innocent enough. Just a friendly game of spin the bottle between the usual delinquents and a few other randoms that went to their school. Absolutely nothing out of the ordinary.

Not until it was Raven’s turn.

At first, thanks to the ever-growing effects of Monty Juice, Raven had thought the bottle had landed on Clarke. Which wouldn’t have been anything new. She had ‘kissed’ Clarke a million and one times before. Usually just a quick peck on the lips or, every so often, when Clarke had downed one too many tequila shots, it would be something deeper.  

And sure it was enjoyable… More enjoyable than any of Raven’s makeout sessions with Finn. But, she had always chalked it up to the simple fact that it was Clarke.

Who wouldn’t enjoy kissing Clarke Griffin?

But, it wasn’t Clarke who moved forward towards Raven. Is was an unknown girl, rocking heavy eyeliner and a ‘don’t fuck with me’ black leather jacket, that slowly made her way across the circle. Her rich hazel eyes locked in on Raven, causing a strange, electric shiver to shoot down Raven’s spine. And…

Shit.

Raven couldn’t move. She sat there, muscles frozen, fixed in the girl’s gaze like a helpless prey seconds before a predator pounces. Breathing wasn’t an option. Nor looking away. All Raven could do was watch as the girl’s red cherry lips inched closer and closer to hers and…

Then, it was as if someone had turned on a freakin’ floodlight within the depth of her brain, finally illuminating the obvious fact that had been there all along.

Gay.

The word flashed in blindly neon lights. A simple yet powerful revelation.

A truth, that up until this point, Raven had been struggling to put into words.

By the time the girl pulled out of the kiss, there was no turning back. Raven’s eyes had been opened and her world could never be the same. And…

It fucking terrified her.

“You okay, Rae?” Clarke questions. She stops drawing suggestive circles with her fingers on Lexa’s chiseled bicep and turns her attention toward Raven.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Raven straightens herself up in the bean bag chair and glances down at her phone once again.

Still nothing.

Raven fights against the itch to shoot off yet another text as her fingers wander upwards and grasp hold of the tiny metal crane that’s tucked away just beneath her soft heather gray t-shirt.

The necklace had been a birthday present from Octavia. A simple yet elegant origami crane on a plain metal chain that all but screamed Raven’s style. She had found it dangling from inside her locker on the morning of her birthday with a handwritten note that said ‘Saw this when we were on vacation and thought of you. Know it’s not a raven, but figured it was close enough. Happy Birthday, Rae. I know it’ll be a good one. Love O’

They had never talked about it nor did Raven ever mention the present to Finn, but it resided around her neck nonetheless. Day in and day out. A tiny reminder of her favorite constant human being in her tumultuous life.

Her Octavia.

Well… Not hers…

But maybe…

The far off sounds of the front door opening echoes throughout the basement, instantly snapping Raven out of her thoughts.

“Who’s that?” Raven asks.

“Not sure. Lex?” Clarke nudges Lexa in the shoulder, breaking Lexa’s intense concentration on the tv.

“Huh?” Lexa gives a hard blink, clearly not sure what was just said.

“The front door just opened,” Clarke responds.

“Strange. Doubt it’s my mom. She got assigned a big case last week and has been pretty much living in her office all week.”

“Maybe it’s O,” Raven offers up with a slight nonchalant shrug.

“Octavia?” Clarke asks, confused.

“Yeah. I invited her to tag along tonight. She seemed to be having a rough day and figured she might wanna join us.”  

“Rough day?”

“Dunno. Just something I picked up on.”

Clarke gives a bit of a nod signaling that she doesn’t need any further explanation. She gets it. “Thanks.”

“Always.”

The dull drone of the tv filters back in between the three of them as Lexa and Clarke zone back out, mindlessly spoiling each other with feather-like touches across the patches of exposed skin.

Raven let’s out another sigh and then, without another moment’s hesitation, gets up and heads up the basement stairs.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

“Yo, Blake. What the hell took you--” Raven trails off as she rounds the corner into the kitchen and spots…

Anya.

Anya freakin’ Woods. The older of the infamous Woods sister and the one human being on the face of the earth that can manage to throw Raven off of her game in a matter of milliseconds. Anya doesn’t talk. She spars. Verbally poking again and again, until she achieves what she wants.

“Reyes,” Anya says in a calm draw, not fully bothering to look up from her phone.

“Cheekbones,” Raven responds, matching Anya tone. She knows this game well. It’s one that they’ve been religiously playing since the very first time Raven step foot in the Woods house almost six years ago.

“Sexiled?”

“No. Just taking a break from the mad orgy down there.” Reyes makes her way to the fridge, trying her best not to pay Anya any more attention than she needs to. It’s a move. A deliberate and obvious one.

“Hairboy finally learned to share his toys with others?” Anya asks with the slightest rise of her eyebrows. Her classic tell. One that Raven has learned throughout the years to watch for. Anya has the itch to play. “Interesting.”

Raven visibly bristles at the mention of Finn’s name.

Shit.

A wave of instant regret washes over Raven. She doesn't need to turn around to know that a small but noticeable cherisher smirk is crawling its way across Anya’s lips.

“Or is Hairboy not in the picture anymore?”

Raven takes a deep breath as her hand grips tighter around the door of the refrigerator. A thick, suffocating silence settles within the kitchen. It’s her move. And she needs to make it before Anya catches on. Before…

“Hello?” Octavia’s voice cuts through the kitchen bringing an immediate sense of physical relief to every inch of Raven’s body.

“Thank fucking god,” Raven mutters under her breath as she grabs a bottle of water and shuts the fridge. She turns around just as Octavia make her way into the kitchen and greets the younger girl with one of her signature, cocky grins. “You made it. Was beginning to worry we were gonna have to send out a search party or something.”

“Sorry. I wasn’t sure about what to wear and--”

“And you dragged your heels for a good 25 minutes before deciding to raid Bell’s wardrobe?” Raven says finishes Octavia’s sentence with the greatest of ease. Her eyes can’t help but give Octavia a once over, pausing to appreciate just how perfectly Bell’s skinny gray jeans and faded Led Zeppelin henley exemplify Octavia’s nature androgynous features as her mind starts to head towards those ever-tempting thoughts. Thoughts that Raven knows she shouldn’t have. Especially about Octavia. But it’s practically impossible not to.

Not when she looks like that.

“Yeah. Sorta,” Octavia replies, shifting a bit from foot to foot, shoving her hands deeper into the back pockets of her jeans as she does. “Where’s Clarke and Lexa?”

“Downstairs.”

“Cool.” Octavia gives a slight nod and then without another word, ducks back out of the kitchen, leaving Raven once again alone with Anya.

The silence seeps back in between the two of them for a moment or two as Raven’s mind lingers on her Octavia fueled thoughts, then--

“Careful, Reyes. Your gay is showing,” Anya says with a strange underlying sense of knowing to her voice. She slips out of her chair, tucks her phone in her pocket, and gives Raven a parting wink before making her way out of the kitchen.

Checkmate.  

“Fuck,” Raven exhales once Anya is out of sight and races her hands over her ponytail in a burst of undiluted frustration.

Anya freakin’ Woods.

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Crying.

Anya’s crying.

Anya doesn’t cry. Never. Not even when she accidentally broke her wrist in four places last summer at the Roadhouse pub.

Oh god… Why is Anya crying?

The question flashes across the blurred mess of jumbled lights and sounds within her mind for the briefest of moments, but before Raven can even attempt to form the words, a blanket of darkness falls upon her once again.

/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Lightning.

A bolt of freaking lightning.

Raven’s mouth opens to scream as every nerve in her body ignites at once but no sounds come out.

“Clear.”

“Got a pulse.”

“Good. Push another round of atropine.”

All Raven can do is helplessly stare up at the semi-blurry blob like images above her move in a strange, frenetic dance. Tears flow freely down her cheeks, cutting a clear definitive path against her olive complexion.

What the hell’s happening?

Why is her body on fire?

Raven’s mind gropes at the array of questions as they fly in and out of her consciousness, utterly desperate to hold onto one long enough to fully grasp the truth behind it.  

“What’s her name again?”

“Rae… Raven… It’s Raven,” Anya’s voice cuts through the sea of Raven’s fragmented thoughts, so fragile and broken.

“Okay good… Raven… Raven, can you hear me? Can you feel my hand? I need you to squeeze my fingers if you can hear me?”

Raven tries to locate the part of her brain that controls her motor functions but comes up short. Nothing seems to work. She tries again… and again… and again…

“Raven? Raven, stay with me… Shit. She’s coding again. Get the paddles ready…”

Raven battles harder against her failing body as the darkness starts to creep in, slowly invading every inch of her consciousness. She needs to give them a sign -- any sign -- that she’s still there. That there’s still life in her.

But the darkness continues to spread. Blanketing everything it touches with its dense nothingness. A black sea that stretches beyond infinity. It inches closer and closer, only milliseconds away from consuming the whole of Raven.

“Clear!”

Unable to fight it any longer, Raven simply gives in and lets the darkness swallow her whole.

////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The steady beacon of sound breaks through the darkness of Raven’s mind, awakening her synapses once again. Unlike before, though, there’s a pedicular sense of clarity. As if the lights have been suddenly flipped on in the dark expanse and finally the stray bits and pieces merge together, forming one holistic picture. A terrifying yet decipherable picture. One that Raven needs no further explanation to understand.

They crashed.

Rapid images of glass shattering and metal twisting pop across her consciousness like fireworks lighting up a night’s sky. And then the screaming and followed by a tsunami of pain.

Just the mere memory of it is enough to make Raven want to fade back to the comforting warm of the darkness. But instead, though, she pushes down those memories with a hard swallow, allowing them to venture into the place where she stores all of her other life moments that she doesn’t want to have to deal with.

“I’m sorry.”

The words instantly grab hold of Raven, like a familiar hand reaching out and intertwining their fingers with her own. It’s comfort. A comfort that, up until this very moment in time, she thought was long gone. Only meant to reside in the now tainted memories of Raven’s past.

Raven blinks. Her eyes crack open and the world around her comes into focus revealing a glimpse into her surroundings. Cold and sterile.  A plethora of sickly green tinted curtains mixed with a small army angrily beeping machines. Although she can’t move, she can feel the constricting presence of the numerous wires and tubes, snaking their way into different parts of her body, some pumping her with a concoction of drugs while others reporting in on her vitals.

Raven blinks again and yet another layer of her current world reveals itself. There, tucked away in the far corner of the room, sits an amalgamation of someone she once knew and someone she has always secretly desired to meet. The human being who's solely responsible for the deepest of scars etched across Raven’s soul.

Sure, their clothes and undercut hairstyle are slightly foreign to Raven, but nonetheless, those hazel eyes are exactly the same. The ones that have the ability to bore through her rock-solid emotional walls with the greatest of ease and strip her down until there’s nothing left but the truth. Those eyes are the ones that until this very moment have plagued Raven’s dreams. A bitter reminder of all that could’ve been.

Raven attempts to call their name, but her voice is simply nowhere to be found. The mere effort causes another wave of exhaustion filled pain to wash over her, forcing her eyes to shut once again. It’s too much.

Everything is too much.

A whisper of a groan escapes Raven’s lips as she fights to remain lucid. It’s so faint that it should be lost amongst the chorus of the machines, but…

But it’s not.

Raven is suddenly aware of the familiar sensation of someone’s hand slipping ever so carefully into her own. Fingers interlacing themselves one by one, like a strong and comforting lifeline.

As darkness starts to seep in once again, luring Raven back into the land of unconsciousness, she can’t help but think that maybe -- just maybe-- after all these years of painful avoidance to the point of almost non-existence, that they can reside in each other’s lives once again.

Just maybe…   

[prodchoi]

Delirium [part three]

Part one

Part two

[1,650+ words, blood mention, horror]

~

“Please.. please stop”

The shrieks and groaning from the.. entity. In front of him drowns his thoughts. His mind running in a million different directions Please. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This isn’t real. Wake up I thought this was over. “YOU CAN'T LEAVE US AGAIN CHRISTOPHER” He flinches at the booming voice, falling backwards onto the steps, covering his ears.

///

[4:12pm] October 8th 2013, Sydney, Australia

A 16 year old boy sitting in the waiting room of a therapist office, his earphones playing some form of rap music. His mother shuffling the new patient forms beside him. Dark curls covering his head, a distant look in his golden brown eyes. A short blonde lady behind the reception counter pokes her head out the door, “Christopher Bang? You’re ready to come back” Chan gets up from the hard leather chair, straightening his shirt as he walks to the door, The nurses smiles at the him and he returns a small polite one. “It’s the door at the end of the hallway”. He advances towards the wooden door, nerves on end. Dr Patricia Lang ‘I’ve always hated doctors.’ He knocks twice, not sure whether to just enter or not, a quiet “come in” from the other side of the door.

//

“When did this start Christopher? The dreams I mean.” He stared at the clock on the desk, face blank in reply “About four months ago”. The older woman across from him nodded “Can you tell me what happens?” He gave a dry look “No”. She smiles, eyes crinkling at the rebellious boy. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me” The annoyed look on his face softens a bit, he opens his mouth as if he’s going to speak, conflict flashing in his eyes as he closes it straight back. “We don’t have to talk about it today, if you aren’t comfortable. Tell me a little about your life. What do you do Day-to-day? What are your interests?” He frowns a little, he wants to tell someone. Anyone. But he can’t form the words. “I.. I like music. Producing.” The blonde but greying woman nods, happy with anything he gives her. “My husband loved playing the guitar”. He looks at her finally, his emotions unreadable “My dad does too”. She wrote down the things he mentioned, black ink scribbled onto the yellow pages of her legal pad

Presumed schizophrenia. Depressive. Insomnia Sleep paralysis. Anger issues (?). Takes no form of antidepressant. Very active in sports and school activities until recently.

The hour had passed for his session, Chan felt more relief to leave than he did to be there. Feeling cornered, but he knew he needed this.

//

September 14th 2016

[4:26am]

Chan sits at a small corner desk, littered with crumpled notebook paper and different anime figures, a rather large goku figure stands on top of one of two large speakers. His features are lit by the blue hue from his laptop, Placebosample.mp3 sits in the open tab. A worn notebook wide open as his hand rests on its open page, pen loosely standing between his index and thumb, words stopping mid sentence. he fell asleep two hours ago, eyelashes resting on his cheeks and his lips in a natural pout.

Things are better. One visit left with Dr Lang before I leave for korea. Mom is less worried. The night terrors are rare. The last one I had was a 8 months ag—

The words stop there, nothing but a scribbled line to continue where his flowing thoughts halted. He stirred in his sleep, the ache in his back from the old desk chair waking him. “Agh fuck” he groaned as he stood, back making less than healthy popping noises as he leaned side to side. He shuffled just far enough across his room to face plant the bed, scooting up the rest of the way to the pillows in a caterpillar-like motion. ‘I’ll finish it this weekend’

//

[7:30am]

Morning comes sooner than he’d like, rays of golden sunlight streaming through the window beside his bed. One eye open, his face in a sleepy grimace, he rolls out of bed to do his morning routine that consisted of

1.Showering

2.Brushing his teeth

And 3. munching on something that probably isn’t meant to be a breakfast food

Surprisingly, he hops through the living room on one foot, attempting to shove a vans sneaker on his other with a pop tart hanging from his lips, as he realized when he zoned out in front of the fridge for 15 minutes he was late for his therapy appointment. The words ‘fuck fuck fuck fuck’ is all that ran through his mind at this very moment. A less than brief wait at the public transportation station has him on edge, already annoyed at the seemingly backed up traffic.

//

Dr Lang gave him a warm smile, Chan returning the favour at the familiar woman. He takes notice of how much she’s changed since their first session. Her hair is shorter, a salt and pepper grey filters her used to be blonde pin straight hair. More lines set in her face than there used to be.

“A little late today, aren’t we?”

He huffs a little, rubbing his palms on his jeans, “I overslept a bit” a sheepish look on his face. Dr Lang nodded, amused by the young man. “As this is our last session together before you leave.. I’d like to ask you a few things, Christopher”. He cocked his head a bit at her sudden change of feeling, but he knew exactly what she was going to bring up. “It’s been over seven months, Dr Lang. I don’t think I have to worry about it anymore” She shifted slightly, crossing her legs. “Christopher as much progression as you’ve made, I’m just afraid they might come back once you stop coming here” Her eyes look genuine, eyebrows furrowed. Chan looks at the floor, the carpet less guilt inducing than the woman across from him. “I’ve thought the same thing.. but I have to do this. I don’t need the medication anymore regardless, and I’ll be seeing a therapist there as soon as I’m able.” The older woman sighed, his stubbornness never fading over the years. “If they do come back you’ll be the first person I call” he gives her a soft smile, dimples poking at his cheeks. Opting to change the subject briefly, she takes her leather bound notebook and flips to one of their earlier sessions from that year, “Can you retell me the dream you had about 8 months ago?” Chans eyes whip up at the mention of the date, surprised she would bring it up out of nowhere. He nods, sighing a deep breath, readying himself. “Okay”

//

January 7th

2016

[11:26pm]

Chan is sprinting, barefooted on wet grass, trees passing by in blurs.

Go go go go go

Dogs barking a snarling behind him, closer and closer it seems. Snapping at his clothes and skin. He falls and is suddenly in his childhood homes living room. Blood coats the walls.

WELCOME HOME, CHRISTOPHER.

He scrambles from the floor, charging to exit the door and escape.

I’ve done this too many times to be afraid. He breaks through the thin wood door with his shoulder, already knowing the door knob wouldn’t open it. He rolls as he hits the ground, getting back to his feet in seconds and running again.

DON'T RUN FROM US.

DON’T LEAVE US.

Distorted screaming wails from every direction he covers his ears as he runs, knowing it’s tricks all too well now.

DON’T LEAVE US.

The red-orange hue in clouds giving everything in the copy of his neighborhood a sick, cheesy horror image. That’s what all of this felt like now.

A sick joke.

He halts suddenly, turning back to face what he’s feared for years now.

“ENOUGH!”

His chest heaves as his blood pressure rises

“I SAID ENOUGH, GODDAMNIT!”

He was shaking with confusion and rage at the thing in front of him. His breath leveling as he stared at it approaching him, slower than the hurdling motion it was following his running form with.

“Stop..please for the love god.. stop”

The…creature. Or how ever you can explain it morphed into a human shaped figure. It mirrored him. The skin turned a sick pale white, his hair stringier on the creature, everything was him. Just drained. Everything but the eyes. A milky white. Like pools of fog sitting where the eyes should be.

He raised his arm to wipe his face, body exasperated. It copied his movements.

“What are you? Why won’t you leave me?”

He isn’t scared at this point, just in awe that all the times he’s ran from it, it hasn’t hurt him yet.

The creatures breathing fluctuates as heavy chokes of air and the sound of fluid filled lungs depressing.

We go by many names

Its voice disembodied as it speaks, as if it speaks into his head rather from its form.

“Why me?” Chan stares at it, in what presumes is it’s eyes, the hair on the back of his neck standing when he makes ‘eye contact’

You are not weak, Christopher.

We need you.

We feed from you.

It draws in a snarling breath.

Your people call us, Incubus. Chan recognizes the word, “Aren’t you a.. sex demon, or something?” It chortles at his question. We do many, many things depending on the host. We feed on your fears rather your desire, dear boy. We thrive off of it. We thrive off ofYou.

Chan attempts to understand its words, though his anger only bubbles under his skin. “I don’t want you”. He seethes through clenched teeth. “I don’t want any of this”. The creature sways in place, its form twisting into something different, yet familiar. Dr Lang.

Let’s make a deal, Christopher.

[kkoktuu-blog]

남궁코에미 @yuggxm

THE GIRL SHOWED SIGNS OF NOT EATING A PROPER MEAL IN AT LEAST 3 WEEKS, HAVING LOST A CONSIDERABLE AMOUNT OF WEIGHT AND BODILY STRENGTH. 

if his eyes weren’t already glued to the phone screen, he would have rolled them until he couldn’t see anything but the darkness. he had already read the article multiple times. before he could even get through the headline, he was out the door. before he could manage to swallow the words of the first paragraph, he had pushed his way into and through the afternoon crowd. stormy hued eyes took in as many sentences as they could at a time, haphazardly putting together symbols of hangul that otherwise meant nothing to him when alone    but they were all attached to her name. his cheeks flushed with the redness of embarrassment, anger at himself and the attempted will to prevent himself from harboring any resentment for her.

he knew she was lying to him. of course, she was starving. her figure had slimmed down through her clothes to the point where he didn’t even have to wrap his arms around her to tell she was thinning. 

he had been lying to himself; she’s been dancing for hours at a time for GOD only knows how many consecutive days. she’s been training, she’d tell you if she needed anything.

she knows you’d give her anything.

no, of course she doesn’t, why would she trust him with anything anymore?

how could she, when his past speaks for itself?

a harsh swallow as he followed the words on the screen for the nineteenth time in a row. 

SHE IS HEAVILY GAURDED IN ICU, AND IT’S BEEN REPORTED THAT HER FATHER, NAMGOONG HYUN, A WELL KNOWN SURGEON IN BUSAN, HAD TRAVELED TO SEE HER AND AID IN BRINGING HER BACK TO HEALTH.

how could he forget? by the time he had finished reading the entire segment, he was trying to force his way into the hospital room. hyun had let him in, after all. 

WE WILL CONTINUE TO KEEP KOEMI IN OUR THOUGHTS.

that line kept haunting him. he hadn’t left her side, he hadn’t stopped checking on her anytime he got. when they were together, he did everything he could to keep her comfortable. to keep her happy. she hadn’t once left his thoughts since he met her.

not even two days ago she was just in his arms. he had ignored her tears, ones he’d normally brush aside and kiss away. he tried to save her the headache of questioning her again and trust her... but did she trust him?

he started the article again. 

if she did, he wouldn’t have found out how she was doing from an online source.

some woman in her late twenties typing away in a newsroom on the fourth floor of a building, earning her wages from daily clicks and scandalous titles. she found out before him, and she had never met koemi outside of a camera. she had never seen her off the screen. 

taehyun wouldn’t have beat him here, hell, taehyun wouldn’t have found her like that.

he’d have an answer, he’d have a solution, no           

it wouldn’t have happened. 

fingers rushed to lock the screen once again, head shaking a mess of black strands out of his face. he had been staying here, a bag of necessities tucked and hidden away from view. he didn’t have to beg her father, the look in his eyes late night on the first day was enough.

hell, he wouldn’t have had to beg the man who pulled enough strings to allow the hospital to let him give medical assistance to his own daughter. if he could get in, so could aaron.

he had done his best to stay out of the way of the workers, slumbering silently in the bedside chair anywhere from 4-7 in the morning, awakening only to excuse himself while the workers ran their checkups, pacing the halls of the building, exhausting the elevators and over-exalting the views from the roof. when “visitor” hours recommenced, he’d slip back into the room, freshen up as quickly as he could, and return to her side. 

the watercolor stains he received from daily trips to calm his head on the rooftop washed off quickly in the sink. the guilt of having not been there for her never did. 

he couldn’t dare bring himself to be upset with her, if anything, especially after his discussion with taehyun, he questioned if he really did do this to her.

what he’d give for a smoke break, a real smoke break. junior had offered to take him out of the city for a couple of hours to get a session in, but he refused. he couldn’t leave her here, even if she’d be in the eventual company of matt, sachiko, taehyun, or whoever the fuck else, he needed the comfort of seeing her okay. the second she could tell him that, he’d be on his way. out of her way. 

for now, he settled for something nearly as comforting. an impromptu canvas found itself in one of the gift shop’s mini journals. a faux leather back, easily snapped shut for his convenience. the black bound collection of cheap papers didn’t handle the texture of rich pigment and water well and warped to an odd and starchy finish once the brush strokes dried. immediately after the first day, he made sure someone delivered him his own journal tucked away in his work desk, one that could stand the challenge. by chance, the friend even put in enough thought to bring him a bag of overnight stay supplies and a real meal.

the warped dry leatherback laid facedown on his chest, while he slowly tapped a pen against his personal journal. flowers were the most therapeutic thing to draw, and he found himself making replicas of the bouquets delivered that stood on the stand near koemi’s bedside. the ambiance was beginning to irritate him, he almost wished his redhead counterpart were still on the other side of the room clicking away at the handheld toy for some variation in sound. 

a sigh as he slumped back over in his chair, “ you know what’s funny? “ 

of course, there’s no response. that’s more than enough permission to continue, however.

“ just the other night, you told me to bring you some painkillers on my way to see you. “

the iv was his only sign that she could be listening. the continual and constant unchanging beat of the system egged him on.

“ so i guess in a way   now that i think about it   taehyun is right. i did do this to you. “

a rustle of the papers as he shifted himself away from her view, knowing that her eyes were still shut, regardless.

“ but i don’t blame you, koemi. mistakes happen, you’re human. i keep telling you, you don’t have to try and be perfect. people will understand if you ask for a break. if you don’t, things like this could happen. and, well, i guess it did happen... but, you’ve got to fall to learn how to walk. “ he snapped the journal shut, clapped together his other and set the two on the table. they had now become a makeshift pillow, and he doubled over and buried his face in it.

he mumbled, “ i mean... i told you more than that. that i’d do anything for you, you could tell me anything, i.... i’m trying not to be upset with myself, either, “ he rolled over to shift his view to her.

“ trying not to be a hypocrite. but i’m... upset. i don’t know who to be with, though. did you not tell me because i’m part of the problem? “ 

lashes fluttered shut over the boy’s stormy gray eyes, “ no, i’m not trying to stress you out. i’m just confused. is that a better way to put it? “ 

“ i’m just so confused, koemi. it’s been a fucking year, and i’ve tried to be the better man, so much has changed, i just thought i earned enough of your trust back for you to tell me that you couldn’t handle anymore. but i mean, why the hell would you     fuck i just                        “ a sigh, a laugh, he forced his fingers through loose bangs, pushing them out of the way of his eyes, but kept the hand there to shield them.

“ i’m trying not to cuss so fucking much, too. “ silence.

the tick of the wall clock. 

the beeping of the equipment.

“ if it’ll fix anything, i’ll be one less problem in your life. “ 

[nedcanquen]

Chapter 6: Mr 7th Floor

Tags: Slow Burn (like…really slow burn) - endgame is NedCan but they don’t get there directly, Single POV, Yep, Canada will date other people before endgame because he’s very desirable even if he doesn’t always know it, Audit firm AU, Office AU, some angst…

Pairings: NedCan (endgame), NorCan, implied NedDen, DenNor (I can’t believe I missed this in the last update), implied Spamano, France/Jeanne d’Arc, GerIta

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 |  Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Photo from Pexels / Pixabay

Matthew doesn't know why he’s once again, riding the elevator to his desk. It’s an odd kind of detachment, he’s controlling his body but he isn’t. It’s on autopilot, but mostly because he doesn't know what else to do when he wakes up that morning. Well, he doesn't really wake up, because he hardly slept in the first place, so he went for a run. After the run failed to do whatever it was he wanted it to (he had no idea), Matthew showered and got changed for work. The best explanation he can give himself is that it’s routine, and routine is comforting right now because he doesn’t have to risk thinking - down that path led to ugly doors and ugly thoughts. Still, Matthew’s brain isn’t the type to just fully shut off, it needs something to be distracted. Right now, between Francis’ command that he take a step back from work, the reality of fighting his personal demons over his lost promotion and lost potential relationship, or being a workaholic, the latter was sadly, the much preferred option. He knew how to work, he could do it on autopilot, but perhaps his mistake hasn’t so much been being a workaholic, but that he’s been focusing on the wrong thing.

“Patrice, Sylvie, sorry for the short notice, but how about we change our setting and have a brainstorming session?”

His team has been walking on eggshells around him all week and it’s not healthy. It’s one thing for his unprofessionalism to affect himself, but it crosses a line when it affects everyone else. It’s time to fix that. He’s lucky that the team is pretty self-sufficient but still. Patrice smiles and nods while Sylvie looks relieved. That’s a good sign at least. To continue the positive mood, Matthew decides to completely change their scenery. They pack up their computers and walk to the building across the street to set up in the firm’s bar.

The PK&DE bar is actually located on the opposite building of the one where he usually works - an odd halfway measure to compromise PK&DE’s rapid growth - they had to rent floors across the street to seat everyone comfortably. On normal days the extra walk can be frustrating, but today it turns out to be a good thing because the distance liberates him in a way and he can be the mentor that he needs to be. He still takes pride in being a professional and the work that he does, the lack of a promotion wouldn’t hurt otherwise, but he hasn’t been doing a good job of being that professional in the past two days.

Their productivity is off the charts that morning, so this is definitely a good call. Sequestered away in their own corner, Matthew walks Patrice and Sylvie through the process of actually resolving the issues they raise in their audit reports based on what they’ve learned from sitting with the client for months. Well, Patrice should be promoted to Manager soon so he’s been through this before, but for Sylvie it’s still a process of being given knowledge. She needs more experience before she’ll be able to connect the dots. Without exposure to sessions like these though, there are no dots to connect. It’s not good enough to write a long audit report and flag problems. PK&DE charges a premium because they’re supposed to be able to deliver more. Clients were not receptive to inane textbook issues and answers after putting up with you sitting in their office for months, digging through all the paperwork of the past year and knowing that audit findings could cost them their jobs. If they raised an audit point, it had to actually be something worth raising, and something worth raising, needed a worthwhile solution.

They’ve drawn mind maps with a spider’s web of linkages and scribbles on several pieces of A3 recycled paper that’s been taped together and covers two tables. They could do it on a computer, but there’s some kind of connection that the brain makes when you physically draw something out, especially drawn out this big when you’re discussing it at the same time. It helps to make sure that Sylvie is adding her own notes to the mind map as well so she feels invested and can therefore contribute more to the process - she’s the one literally sitting at the client’s and reading through every single document they have, so she is the one with the most knowledge here.

Having the issue illustrated in front of them also makes the knots somewhat easier to unravel. Matthew is already drawing links to where the problems are and potential solutions lie and he can coach Patrice and Sylvie towards them as much as he can without giving the game away. For Patrice he’s mostly teaching management skills by this point, so really it’s Patrice doing most the leading with Matthew jumping in occasionally and filling in whatever gaps are missing.

Matthew feels better already, and it’s good to be reminded of these rare moments of accomplishment, hidden behind the many more moments of frustration behind office politics or administrative paperwork that otherwise takes up his time. Matthew does care about his team, and it’s likely a more healthy driver, to be driven by working with good people, rather than believing that your life is worthless if you aren’t the best at everything. It’s easier said than done though. It also doesn’t take away the reality that Matthew is an introvert by nature and part of the reason why today is working out so well is because he’s only sharing space with two people, rather than everyone in the department, as much as he likes them. It’s also a lesson in trust, he knows that sometimes he takes on too much of the work because he doesn’t want to overwhelm the younger staff. He does less of that now, but he needs to figure out better ways to do that more often and let them have the hands-on experience for themselves without him abandoning them. Some things you have to let people experience and fight through for themselves after all.

“You could have booked a meeting room - those have whiteboards for you to play with.”

They turn and greet Ha, who’s walking to them. Matthew is grateful that she hasn’t sat him down and demanded that he leaves Francis, or asked him what he feels or needs to do. Matthew supposes that she just knows he needs some time to calm down. After all, he knows her well enough to know what she would do in this situation - fight tooth and nail then leave (she is terrifying if you get on her bad side), but he’s not Ha, or Michelle, or Arthur for that matter. Matthew wishes more than occasionally, that he could be more like Arthur, or Daan, or even Alfred when it comes to work, if he’s being honest. It would certainly make things much easier, but he’s not. He’s just Matthew, and it’s exhausting to try to be someone else.

But ‘exhausting’ is oftentimes still easier though, because now he has to re-figure out who ‘Matthew’ is. Today seems to be a good start on that.

“Meeting rooms are all booked, I already tried.” Matthew responds. “HR is on a hiring push. I don’t want to interrupt the hopefuls. What’s up?”

“Lunch?”

Matthew looks at his watch - it’s 11.55 already, where has the time gone? Ha is looking over at their mind map and Matthew has to shake his head. “You guys go ahead. Thanks for coming all the way to get me but,” He wants to avoid potential uncomfortable questions over how he feels, which may come up at a lunch setting but not an office setting. “But I think I want to keep working on this. I can grab something here anyway.”

But Ha just smirks and winks, she’s looking at his computer screen now. “No need to lie Matt, I can keep a secret you know.” She whispers, giving a sly grin to both Patrice and Sylvie, who look confused but dangerously intrigued.

“What?” Matthew asks with some worry.

“Oh so he didn’t tell you two?” Ha asks Patrice and Sylvie.

“Secrets Matthew? I’m hurt.” Patrice jokes and Sylvie just smiles, waiting for the punchline. Yeah, Matthew wants to know it too.

“It’s exciting but don’t you think it’s a little too soon?” Ha is leaving the question open ended. Too soon after what?  

Matthew still has no idea what she’s talking about. Something nags at the back of his mind though. Ha’s expression slowly changes as she realizes he isn’t lying.

“Your calendar Matt, it’s showing a lunch appointment with Daan deBoer at noon.” She waves her hand at his screen.

“OH SHIT!!!”

“OH WOW!”

“WHY ARE YOU STILL HERE?!”

Somehow all of this was exclaimed at the exact same time. Matthew forgot. How had he forgotten lunch with Daan?! Fuck fuck fuck, it’s 11.56 now, and it’s lunch hour he’s going to be late because the elevators are slow as molasses uphill during lunch and of course this is the day he decides he has to work in the OPPOSITE building! It’s too late to send a message now and all he can do is run. “My computer! The mind map!” It’s confidential, all of it, and yes these are technically the firm’s grounds but Matthew hasn’t locked his laptop to the table as IT policy insists he does and they follow a strict clean desk policy.

“We’ll take care of it Matthew! We’ll bring everything to your desk, just GO!” Ha yells.

Matthew is a good head taller than her but he’s not going to argue with that tone or expression so he sprints out of the bar and desperately presses the elevator button several times. He had barely looked at his laptop all morning, since he was so focused on Patrice, Sylvie and the mind map, and with how much he had shut down parts of his mind, fighting between indulging in the voice that emphatically berated him for being forgettable and not good enough and stamping it out with everything else, he had plain forgotten. It was embarrassing to the extreme. The elevator doors finally open, filled with disgruntled and hungry workers but Matthew pushes himself in anyway.

He’s not a small man. Usually it’s not a problem, but now he gets some stares, no doubt annoyed at him for insisting on entering a full elevator, but Matthew spares them that as soon as the doors open by sprinting out the doors. The building doors slide open fast enough and he can see Daan standing across, as he promised, in the lobby of the opposite building and looking at his watch. Matthew knows he’s late, Matthew knows that Daan has a reputation for hating tardiness when he’s in Canada, Matthew sprints across the street and hopes that he can be forgiven for a few minutes since this is the first time they’re having an appointment.

Matthew doesn’t see the car. He sees Daan look up with a frown on his face that quickly turns into alarm. Then he hears the horn, the screech and burnt scent of stressed brakes and a car taps him just enough to make him fall off balance onto the road, more from shock than any actual impact. He lands on his shoulder. If the car doesn’t stop, there’s nothing to save him, but thankfully it doesn’t move. Matthew lets out a breath and realizes that he doesn’t feel hurt, it’s just the smell of engine and rubber that’s assaulting his nose and eyes. He looks up at the nose of a silver Porsche and hears someone wailing from inside the car. Matthew rises so fast he feels dizzy and has to lean on the car hood for a moment, but his main concern is making sure that whoever’s in the car is unhurt from such a sudden braking, especially in a car this powerful. A shocked blonde man with somewhat disheveled, but mostly slicked back hair is sitting on the driver’s side, holding a smaller crying man with auburn hair.

Footsteps run up beside him and Matthew feels himself manhandled off the road to the safety of the sidewalk. He looks up to ask the person to release him, he’s being held with a desperate grip on the forearm that he didn’t fall on and it’s not helping - oh. It’s Daan. Of course it’s Daan. And he looks absolutely livid.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?!”

Matthew opens his mouth but no words can come out because at this proximity, Daan’s angry voice sounds like it has an echo. Matthew also doesn’t appreciate being yelled at, but he has to admit that what he just did was pretty stupid and dangerous, and not just to himself. A car door slams and Matthew turns to see that the car has pulled over to the side and the blonde driver has stepped out of it. It wasn’t an echo, it was Daan and this man yelling at him at the same time. “I’m sorry.” He says to the other blonde man, who looks uncomfortably familiar.

“And you…” Daan glares at the approaching man. “Are you blind as well as fu-”

“Daan it hurts.” Matthew says calmly, tensing the arm where Daan is still gripping tight. It’s an exaggeration, Matthew can take pain, but he’s finally remembered who the two men in the car are and he doesn’t want Daan to say something absolutely career-killing over a dumb mistake that Matthew made.

Daan stops mid-rant and looks back at Matthew, bewildered, as he drops his hand. “I’m sorry. But damnit Matthew-”

“Luddy!” The formerly crying man has stuck his head out the window completely, and is calling out from across the road. It didn’t look like Daan was going to get to finish his sentences, for that, Matthew is grateful.  “Everyone’s alright? I have tomatoes in the back, let’s feed everyone tomatoes! All will be well!”

What? That is the most random thing Matthew has heard today but he also hears some laughter from the crowd that has gathered at the lobby and on the side of the road. ‘Luddy’s’ face lights up with a slight smile, so it seemed to be the right words to break the tension. Until today, Matthew has only known of Feliciano Vargas by reputation. He’s a male socialite who is a social media celebrity and has a reputation for randomness with a strong streak of social genius. This is a man who can act stupid and do stupid things but make a lot of money off of it. He understands people in a way Matthew knows he never will.

“Oh...joy.” Daan seems to murmur to no one in particular and doesn’t look particularly joyful. Matthew looks back at Daan while Daan looks back at him with wide eyes. He tugs Matthew closer and says more calmly. “You’re lucky to be alive. If it were Feliciano behind that wheel, and not Ludwig, you wouldn’t be.”

“He is right about that.” Ludwig Beilschmidt, Managing Partner of Heta&Lia, approaches them. He had taken over as Antonio’s successor after a scandal. A man built from completely different cloth from Antonio, Ludwig was an Assurance man all the way, just like Matthew. He was likely selected to give his firm undoubted integrity after that mess, and his famous husband gave Ludwig some degree of likability, even to those who thought he was too stony. But the ‘stoneman’ only ever melted for his ridiculous husband. Seeing has how he had inadvertently made Feliciano cry, Matthew now knows that if he ever wants to change jobs, he may as well cross the entirely of Heta&Lia off his list. “Are you alright?” Ludwig asks.

Matthew blinks in surprise. “I was going to ask the same about you and your husband. I’m alright, you barely tapped me.”He holds his arms up, as if to prove it. Other than some minor scrapes and bruising that Matthew can feel, he is fine. The reality is exhilarating. Thanks for…” Not driving over him? “Stopping, that was entirely my fault, I’m so sorry.”

He could say a lot more, how his mind has been anywhere but present this whole week, but it sounds silly now. Matthew can barely contemplate how sad it truly would have been if he had died in some meaningless accident with his mind anywhere but here, sad and upset about his life. “I really haven’t been...I’m sorry. If there’s any damage to your car…” Matthew gulps, even a minor problem on a Porsche would probably be monumental.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Daan scoffs. “Ludwig, he’s one of mine. He was running to meet me. If there’s a problem, let me know.”

“No!” Matthew objects, but Ludwig simply nods.

“I checked just now. There is nothing. If my brakes were to break over such a thing, Porsche should not be selling cars. And Feliciano and I are alright. You really have no idea how Feli drives. I actually hope that this experience will instill some sense into him.”

Daan lets out a snort. “If you believe that, there’s a bridge I’d like to sell you Ludwig.”

“Hey!” It’s Feliciano again, who seems to have snuck up behind them, holding a small box of the tomatoes he promised. “I offer you tomatoes and that’s how you repay me? They’re free tomatoes Daan! Don’t you like anything that’s free?”

Amazingly, Daan rolls his eyes and cracks half of a sarcastic smile. “Yes, yes, and you only care about food and fashion, Ludwig is stupid and has no sense of humor, Matthew here is niceness incarnate and oh what else have I forgotten? I received coupons for all my birthdays and went Dutch on every date.”

“I do have high food standards! Don’t pretend you don’t agree!” Feli teases, dropping the box into Daan’s arms. “And don’t you dare go Dutch on this date, this guy almost got run over just to see you!”

The words fall on Matthew like a ton of bricks.

“Fe-Li…” Ludwig grumbles.

“What?! Oh give me a break! The whole industry’s been repressed since Antonio! It’s ridiculous!”

Ludwig sighed but his lips are still upturned, fond. “It is not ridiculous Feli, and not everyone who eats lunch together is on a date. I’ve also explained why, multiple times, that what they did was-”

Feli waves his hand with an impatient flourish. “It’s a job Luddy! A job! You can always find a new job but your soulmate? That’s for life!”

They’re all silent for a few beats then, and Matthew can’t quite believe how unbelievable this week has become but here it is. It has cumulated into his narrow avoidance of being manslaughtered by the man in charge of a rival firm, who’s being told off by his husband for thinking that Partners should not tie up people to their desks to publicly have sex with them. Okay, fine, Matthew is being uselessly pedantic, that’s because he knows Feliciano’s words are going to echo uncomfortably with him for a long time. There really isn’t any argument one can put up against what he was saying, which is why they’re all standing there uncomfortably and Ludwig finally takes his husband in his arms and starts murmuring something that Matthew assumes is Italian but with an odd accent. Meanwhile, Daan simply rolls his eyes and begins studiously gazing at the label on the box of tomatoes in his arms - a funny distraction, but at least he has one. Matthew is quite jealous of him in this moment.

“Right, well…” Matthew decides to say because he needs to get out of this awkward situation right now! “Thanks for the tomatoes, I think I’ll get going.”

“Wait!”

“What?” 

Ludwig and Daan both yell at him the same time. Ludwig wants him to wait it seems, while Daan looks equal parts worried and offended.

“I mean…” Matthew desperately waves at Daan. “You’re hungry aren’t you?”

Daan just gives him an exasperated look while Ludwig sighs loudly. “At least let us take you to a clinic to get checked out! You cannot simply go walking on back to work!”

Oh right. He looks at the husbands and for some reason feels even more exhausted at the idea of dealing with them for any longer. On any other day he could do it, well no, any other week. But not this week. Feliciano is...a little too much honestly and Matthew feels exhausted at the thought of having to deal with him for more than five minutes. Ludwig is...well the sad part is, he’s kind of the role-model of any auditor and Matthew isn’t so sure he likes the image of Ludwig as his future self. Also, the codependency they exhibit - he’s not sure if it makes him jealous or makes him cringe. “Thank you but I’m really really..ready to move on from this. I’ll take myself to the clinic, I promise I’m absolutely fine.”

Ludwig looks like he’s about to object so Matthew squares his shoulders and puts more authority in his voice. “If I have any other questions or feel odd for any reason, I will get a hold of you. I really appreciate everything, truly but you’ve done everything you can - most importantly, you didn’t kill me. No one is harmed.”

Ludwig at least gives him a sympathetic look. Matthew feels that the man can understand him at that moment. “Right. Well, enjoy the tomatoes.” Ludwig says. “Matthew, if you feel odd for any reason, definitely give me a call and I will organize a visit to a specialist for you.” He hands Matthew his card, even though Matthew can likely find him through an online search. Then again, he sees the handwritten mobile number written on it and takes the card. It does help, having the direct line rather than having to jump through unnecessary hoops.

“And Daan.” Ludwig turns to Daan. “If it makes you feel any better, they are good tomatoes. You know how picky -”

“Yes, yes.” Daan cuts in tersely. “Even psychopathic nutjobs can have hobbies and be good at them.” He waves farewell immediately after, and Matthew does the same, pondering those words.

After some polite farewells, Ludwig and Feliciano turn to leave, then Daan calls out, “Wait, Feliciano, how is your brother doing?”

Feliciano turns with a warm smile. “He’s happy Daan. Happiest I’ve ever seen him.”

Daan just nods. They leave and Matthew wonders what that was all about. Daan hands him the box before he can ponder too deeply. There’s a giant label on the side that boldly displays the brand ‘LOVE’S TOMATOES’ that temporarily confuses him.

“Wha?”

“You’ve kind of earned them, I mean, you did survive getting hit by a car and Feliciano isn’t lying when he says he’s picky about his food. I saw the trunk when he opened it to get these, the whole damn thing is full, no wonder he’s trying to give some away...” He rambles. Daan rambling, this week has gotten odder. “Honestly though, are you alright? I’m sorry for grabbing you earlier.”

Matthew can only nod. “It’s okay, I mean, I feel alright, but after lunch I’m going to a clinic just to get checked out, and then I’m definitely going home. I’ve learned my lesson. This is the type of week where I should just stay in bed.”

Daan laughs and nods. It occurs to Matthew that Daan is uniquely positioned to know about all of the blows Matthew has suffered this week, and maybe that’s why he wanted to speak to him.

“Well that’s good at least.” Daan says. “But why don’t you go now? I’ll come with you. At the very least, you need someone to help you carry a box of tomatoes.”

Matthew shakes his head and also finds laughter bubbling out from himself. “This is the most random thing, ever, I mean…”

Daan shrugs. “That’s Feliciano and Ludwig for you. The most unlikely, sickeningly sweet couple you’ll ever meet. You’d expect that level of mutual codependency to explode but it seems to work on them. You know they’re actually childhood sweethearts? Poster childs for choosing to stay together and accept change...a lot of it.”

Matthew has to smile at that, he doesn’t believe in two people staying together no matter what if it causes more pain than good, but Ludwig and Feliciano seem especially happy together, despite their differences.

“Which is also why Feliciano never had to grow up, well, they’re both kind of unevenly matured, to be honest. Ludwig is emotionally constipated because Feliciano can project enough emotion for three people and Ludwig handles all the responsible things, like drive in the city, so that Feli doesn’t accidentally kill anyone. But they’re happy.”

Matthew smiles and shrugs. “Well, to each their own. Anyway, I can put the box in my car, I’m not parked too far.”

Daan nods and they set off. “You know,” He starts, not too long into their walk. “If you need to be late, that’s...fine, I know it happens. Just let me know ahead of time.”

Matthew doesn’t want to admit that he forgot their lunch appointment, so he just nods and smiles out of habit, before he realizes that he’s too tired to continue swallowing things down all the time. Besides, as significant as Daan is to the periphery of his life, if Matthew is going to offend the man, he may as well do it now with some honesty rather than later when it would actually hurt.

“Uh yeah about that...I’m sorry, I was having a brainstorming session with my team and we got carried away. I completely forgot and didn’t look at my phone or computer or anything...”

He tries to bury his face in the tomatoes  but that’s not a good solution. From this close he can see how good they are though.

“Alright then,” Daan shrugs. “That happens too, but when it does, I’d like to imagine that whatever I’d lay on you is better than this. If it’s not, well, just say so.”

And that was that. Simple, except there are weeks where Matthew is willing to put up a fight and weeks where he’d rather avoid one. Still Matthew is relieved, yet he wants to kick himself for his habit of making mountains out of molehills. It’s a little funny that Daan thinks it’s so easy for anyone to just tell him anything, but maybe it is for his actual team members.

It’s strangely comfortable and companionable after that, having Daan as a walking partner on these familiar streets. As nervous as he is, Matthew doesn’t really want their conversation to stop, though right now it’s inane and work-related. Daan is kindly not bringing up Mathias and Lukas, or the fact that he hasn’t been promoted, maybe because he’s also recovering from the fact that he almost saw someone get run over. He seems a little...overly engaged, like he’s trying too hard.

When they reach the car, Matthew’s much more humble twelve-year-old Ford pickup, at least in comparison to a Porsche, Daan takes the tomatoes so Matthew can get his keys to open the car.

“Do you need me to drive?” Daan hesitantly offers. “In case you’re still shaken up?”

Matthew let’s out a chuckle. “Thanks but, no offense, you seem more shaken up than I am. Box can go in the back seat, thanks.”

“Hey!” Daan objects. “You’re fine now, wait till the adrenaline disappears! You’ll be exhausted in seconds. Also...I don’t really like driving, that’s where more of the nerves come from.”

What? “Really?!”

Daan shrugs. “I can drive, sure, but I feel better when I’m cycling. Driving a car feels too, hmm, stressful. You’re always surrounded by idiots.”

“I don’t see how cycling on the same road as those idiots with no protective casing or air bags makes that better.” Matthew retorts honestly, now a little worried. He knew that Daan liked to cycle but not this much.

Daan smiles and climbs into the passenger seat next to Matthew. “I’ve been cycling for as long as I can remember, it’s like walking or talking for me, I’ve been driving for far less years. My reflexes are better on a bike.”

“What about winter?”

The man shrugs as Matthew climbs into his own seat. “It’s the same as winter driving - you change your mindset, make sure you have the right equipment…” He shrugs. “And if it’s really bad out then yeah fine, you can’t cycle, but you can’t really drive either. It’s not that big a difference.”

There kind of is. “Buying groceries?”

Daan gives him an incredulous look. “I’m just one guy, I don’t need a car to hold them all, and my housemate,” It’s the first mention of Mathias all day and Matthew imagines that Daan says the word rather pointedly. “Buys his own stuff. If we’re really desperate we get a supermarket to deliver. How much do you eat at home?” He teases.

Matthew can’t really imagine life without a car at all, so finally he settles on, “If the heating in your building goes out in winter, where do you run to so you don’t freeze to death?”

Daan laughs. “That has never happened, but I guess if it really came down to it, the cafe isn’t too far from where we live and it’s a different building.”

Matthew gives up, if Daan can’t see the correlation between Matthew’s recent near accident and literally cycling everywhere... “Right, well, we’re going to the clinic. If you get hungry, holler and we’ll stop there first instead?” Besides, if Daan avoids driving to that extent, he’s not trusting the man with his car.

“Nah, clinic first.” Daan answers the unspoken question as he buckles his seatbelt. It’s all so casual, as if they’ve been friends for a long time.

Matthew nods, figuring that both of them wouldn’t really have an appetite right now. “Then take out and we can eat at my place, and then I’m serious! I’m asking the doc for the rest of the week off and I’m not leaving my bed!”  

It’s only after he says it that Matthew realizes what he’s just done, but he can’t hit himself in front of Daan, so he starts up his car instead.

 The doctor gives Matthew the rest of the week off, a clean bill of health save for some scrapes and bruises (as expected), sleep aids and at Matthew’s final hesitant request and brief discussion, a referral to a therapist. Matthew has no idea if it’ll actually be effective, and his promise to Lukas is probably not binding anymore, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t a good idea. Maybe it was almost getting run over earlier in the day, but Matthew is willing to think a little differently, even if he’s still hesitant to make life-changing decisions in the heat of the moment. He’s not actually going to get the rest of the week off, there’s too little notice, but Francis said that Matthew can claim the lost time back. Matthew is grateful but he wonders if time will allow him to actually do that. Or if he wants to. He still doesn’t know what to do with free time or with himself. There are meetings he has to ‘attend’, which he will do by calling in or video conferencing, and he’ll work on urgent deliverables in the quiet of his home. Backup plans were made, emergency texts were answered as much as possible. Now all Matthew has to try to do is relax a bit.

Lunch is terribly indulgent, but hey, if you can’t indulge after surviving a near-death experience, why live? They pack two giant burgers from Harveys and head over to Matthew’s flat (Daan actually insists on paying for the burgers - survival comfort food, as he calls it). It occurs to him that since this crazy week started, he’s had guests over for three days in a row. His dining table is being used more than it has in years. With the exception of the previous night’s unpleasant ending, he was always happy to welcome these friends into his home. He also knows that at some point he will be ready to welcome Lukas into his life and home again, it’s not like he wouldn’t open the door if Lukas knocked on it tonight after all. But Matthew had never been nervous with these other guests. That is not the case with Daan behind him as he opens his door. Daan is probably the last person he ever expected to end up in his home.

“Right well, it’s humble, but it’s home.” Matthew hangs his keys on the hook next to the door and feels at a loss for a moment, not having a heavy bag to set down either. He had texted Ha earlier as well to help him bring his stuff over afterwards.

For now though, it is nice to come home without the added weight of his laptop hanging on his shoulders.

“Thanks for having me,” Daan says, somewhat formally after walking in. “Uh do we need plates?”

Matthew laughs nervously. “We’re going to rough it, straight from the wrap, if you don’t mind.” He really didn’t feel like doing the dishes afterwards. He also really didn’t know why he invited Daan over without thinking about it, at that moment he had just desperately wanted to retreat home. “But if you want plates, they’re in that cupboard over there.” He points it out.

Daan shrugs with an amiable, “Wraps it is.” And places the box of ‘Love’s’ tomatoes on the kitchen counter. As Matthew walks over to his table with the takeout, Daan calls out. “Want some fresh tomatoes with that? They’re pretty good just sliced up with olive oil, salt and pepper.”

There are already tomatoes in the burgers but okay, he may as well experience how good these tomatoes are, presumably grown by Antonio Fernandez-Carriedo. It had been years since he had thought of the man, but he supposed Feliciano did have a point. Ever since the scandal, inter-firm relationships between management and any kind of junior staff seemed to have shuttered to a halt, at least publicly. If Matthew were younger and had first had his crush on Daan after the scandal, he probably would have been allowed to forget it. Heck, he wouldn’t have admitted to it in the first place, 3am or no.

“Sure. Salt and pepper’s on the table, olive oil in the cupboard above the stove on the right, knife’s in the drawer next to the sink, uh, second drawer down.”

It was a miracle he had maintained some semblance of adult life in the past year, but he’s grateful for it now. He doesn’t know if he’d be able to live it down if he had invited Daan back to a cluttered flat with piles of things carelessly tossed everywhere, which was the state that he lived in before he had an honest conversation himself one day about how he wanted to live. It also helped that he had been having guests recently; he had just cleaned up yesterday for Lukas. Still, none of these musings prepared Matthew for the sight of Daan doing extremely domestic kitchen things in his home.

It’s odd, and Matthew tries to ignore the confused beating of his heart in his throat because he’s simply too...fascinated at the sight of Daan with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and cutting tomatoes. His Partner persona is not really present. It hasn’t been since the near-accident, actually, now that Matthew thinks about it. He just can’t stop observing. At this moment, Daan is clearly annoyed at how blunt the knife is and is digging for the knife sharpener. Who would have thought that after having uncomfortably faced the front of a car just inches from his face a few hours ago, that the sight that would finally make his brain fry up and stop working this week is simply Daan in his kitchen? 

He’s so fucked. A million and one thoughts fly through his mind in an instant and it’s amazing he still manages to stand - ‘Of course you’re losing your mind over this guy in your fucking kitchen,’ he thinks ‘You’ve never been allowed to forget about him for years, but don’t get carried away Matthew, he’s just, well, who the hell knows why he’s here? You’re going to ask him though! Hey why are you so fixated now? Are you rebounding? Damnit Matthew, it’s barely been a day! But Feliciano said - who cares what he said! This is the unattainable guy you crushed on because you saw him in an elevator! Not your soulmate! Get a grip!’

“Are you judging me?” Daan’s question cuts through Matthew’s panicked thoughts and he can only stare dumbly.

“Huh?”

“You’ve been giving me this kind of scary look for the past minute or so. I swear Matthew, and you have to trust me on this, but a sharp knife is just one of those small things that makes a huge difference towards a more satisfied life. Now, is this cheapo Ikea sharpener the only one you have?” Daan’s tone may be teasing, but it is still laden with judgment.

“Yes, it is. There ought to be another knife that’s sharp, I think Ha sharpened it on Monday when she made dinner.” There are only two knives after all.

“Well how about I sharpen this one as well and then you can have TWO sharp knives.” Has his tone changed? Yes, what did it mean? Why did it change? “How about that? You’ll owe me one forever.” 

Matthew’s mind can puzzle over the mystery of Daan deBoer all day, but it can’t, nope! It’s been a stressful day but Matthew knows he has to get a grip on himself, so he simply starts taking out the food and drinks and placing them on the table.

Still, Matthew has to laugh as the sound of a blade being pressed against stone echoes off the walls. “Are you always this silly when you’re not at work?” He has to ask.

Daan turns, temporarily stopping his work. “You think I’m silly? Sharp knives are serious business Matthew.” He runs the blade across a few more times. “Sharp knives lead to good food, good food gets you a market and connections, and those...get you money.”

Matthew can’t figure out if he’s joking, so he gives up at this inane line of reasoning, and simply grins. “Fine, I’ll sharpen my knives.” He walks into his kitchen to hand Daan a plate for the soon-to-be cut tomatoes. He distantly wonders if this was what Daan’s younger siblings had to endure - strange anecdotes about life and money. Daan’s a bit odd sure, but who isn’t? It’s strangely endearing.

Eventually they eat, and Matthew savors the juices and taste of familiar cooked meat on his tongue, allows the smell of his burger assault his nose and lets out a sound of appreciation. Survival comfort food indeed. Once they had finished their burgers (it didn’t take long, they must have both been starving), Matthew decides to cut to the chase. “So why did you want to have lunch with me so urgently this week? Was it because you knew I was going to start it with a demotion, followed by getting dumped?”

Daan freezes for a moment and there’s a second of uncomfortable silence before he regains his composure and chuckles. “That’s what I like about you Matthew, when it counts, you get straight to the point.”

Room full of Alfreds. Room full of Alfreds. Can’t show hesitance, you can handle this. “Well?”

Daan takes a breath. “I didn’t know that Francis was going to pull such a stupid stunt. I thought the Communications team made a silly mistake and left out your name until Arthur brought it up at the Partner meeting and Francis didn’t deny it. I originally wanted to see you to give you a heads up about Lukas and Mathias. I wasn’t there when they spoke at the cafe, but I sure as heck saw Mathias when he got home. I also had no idea if you’d even want to see me today, but when I didn’t get any message from you canceling our lunch plans…” He shrugged.

Matthew almost asked why he wouldn’t want to see Daan, before remembering that Daan was a reminder of his job and Lukas wrapped up in one. Except, Daan was kind of two guys - the guy he admired before he even met Lukas, when his job was still fun - gruelling, but fun - and he was also the actual guy who was sitting at his table that he’s only getting to know now. “Why give me a heads up?” He asks. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful but...I’m not actually one of your team members, we run into each other but we’re not exactly...close, we’ve worked together once.”

Daan nods and has that smirk again, Matthew is starting to wonder now if it’s not so much confidence, but a defensive quirk. “On the firm front, well, you reached out to Emil when you thought you could help him. I know we’re used to doing that for junior staff but it isn’t actually supposed to stop the moment you become a manager.” He leans back in his chair and looks at Matthew in that searching Partner way. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, sometimes it helps to talk it out with someone who’s not in your team. You can talk to me, if you want. If you’re not comfortable with me because I’m in the same firm or whatever, maybe you’d prefer to speak to Belle? She can keep a secret, isn’t part of the firm and has worked with both Francis and Arthur before…”

Wow that’s… “That’s really kind of you.” Matthew has no idea what he’s done to warrant this, but maybe Emil felt the same way when he was adopted by a manager he had avoided, impromptu, in a men’s bathroom.

“Secondly, unrelated to the job, back when I thought you and Lukas were going to be a fixture I figured I was going to see quite a bit of you, one way or the other. And…” He shrugs. “I didn’t mind that. You seem cool. I know it’s kind of awkward, given our professional relationship but, I was going to ask you to be my friend.” Daan laid that out in a matter-of-fact manner. “Hey, you know about my rabbits, and my travel schedule is finally going to fall back to a slightly more normal pace. I look forward to spending time actually living here and making friends again who aren’t my relatives, Mathias, or clients.” He laughs.

“Oh…” Matthew can’t help the smile breaking out on his face. “Really?”

Daan’s expression turns lightly calculating. “Why would I lie?”

Matthew is sure there could be plenty of reasons but he can’t think of them at the moment. He doesn’t know Daan well enough. Then again, what was it that Lukas had said? Daan was capable of deceit, but not so much outright lying. And there wasn’t much deceit involved in asking a no-name manager who couldn’t even get promoted to be his friend. This means that for some inexplicable reason, Daan really thinks he’s cool. Even if not, there’s no way Matthew will pass this up. Handsome or no, he’s wanted to get to know Daan for years, it would finally get rid of the awkward feeling he has, especially if Daan can reveal things that Matthew already knows about him, organically. Besides it’s just...well he doesn’t know why Daan thinks he’s cool, but there’s no doubt that Daan is, and intriguing, and just plain admirable.

Matthew is definitely going to wake up tomorrow morning and find out that he’s dreamed the whole thing. “I can’t think of a reason.” He answers, but he’s grinning from ear to ear, he just can’t help it. “I just didn’t see that coming. Can I be honest about my ulterior motive to being your friend though?”

Daan’s expression changes, somewhat wary, but intrigued. “Sure, since we’re being honest. What is it?”

“I really want to meet your bunnies.”

Matthew expects laughter and gets it but not quite like he expected. Not this beautiful, bowled over laughing, happy kind. He can’t help but join in, it’s too infectious to hear Daan laugh and to see the man smile. He has no idea what he’s doing but that’s the point of friendship isn’t it? You’re not supposed to calculate friendship. But Matthew also knows better. He’s been on the receiving end of this question before, in the States, from people who wanted to be his brother’s friend. He earns his money based on his ability to be likable by the most amount of people possible...but he can’t control other people’s motives. He can only be honest with himself about his own. He does want to be Daan’s friend.

But why him? Why Matthew? A guy who wears a mask all the time when Daan is so straightforward and has never needed to pretend to be likeable. Or…

Has he?

Matthew doesn’t know why it’s never hit him before. Time seems to slow down a little as he just looks at the silly guy in front of him, laughing. The silly guy who whined about being locked out of his apartment after a long journey home, the silly guy who lives with his childhood best friend so that friend wouldn’t get too lonely after the love of his life left him...and never asked him to leave. The silly guy who bought a third rabbit because he thought the first two were getting lonely. The silly guy who’s scared of driving cars! None of this matches the image of the Partner he’s heard about and worked with, the miser, the taskmaster, the robber, the prodigy. Maybe he’s all of these in one, or maybe some of these are a result of masks that he wore so that he could climb so high while so young, so that the rest would take him seriously.

Whatever it is, whoever Daan is, Matthew wants to know. He’s always wanted to know. Heck, if he actually gets hit by a car tomorrow, one of his last thoughts would probably be cursing himself for a coward if he couldn’t let himself believe Daan and try.

“Deal.” Daan grins. “You know, my sister always says that the only reason I have these rabbits is so I can have friends. Now I can tell her that she’s absolutely right. I am a genius. She should listen to her brother. Now come take a look, I took a really good pic yesterday!”

Matthew shoves the paper wraps aside like the messy slob he is so he can move closer to see (he’s a reformed messy slob, he’ll clean it up later, but for now, cute bunnies take priority).

“Okay, so introductions are in order. Maple is the baby of the lot, he’s the brown-colored one, Hitam, she’s the black one, she was a baby when I adopted her, together with Nijntje, who is the grand dame of them all. I got them when I first moved back to Canada, which was in…”

Maybe this isn’t going to be the worst week of his life after all.

[maybe-its-5sos]

14 Days of cupid

Hi!

Me ( @maybe-its-5sos) and Allie ( @kryptolipsx) have decided to do two weeks of valentine’s blurbs starting from the 1st of February up to 14th of February! The requesting period is from January 24th up until the 1st of February, so don’t miss your chance of getting something written by us!

The requests are going to be shared so you won’t know which is going to be writing for you! (So either specify that in the ask, or follow us both so you see it for sure !)

We have come up with a fun set of prompts and sentence prompts, and you can request any combination of both! 

Our Asks: maybe-its-5sos & kryptolipsx

Sentence prompts:

"Hey, Alfred can you do me a big favor and drive Bruce into the city and let him talk someone else to death?"

"At least you're here now."

"That is the cheesiest thing I've ever heard in my entire existence."

"This is too much, take it back."

"I promise, a quick vacation like this will take your mind off everything."

"what the hell are you doing, it's 5 in the bloody morning."

"Doesn't mean you need to dish it out."

"Was that really necessary ?"

Person A :"Will you stop staring them to death ?"  Person B: “Not until their actually dead.”

"I'm not getting any younger!"

"so….a date?"

"Who gave you that idea?"

"When do we tell them ? "

“Maybe we should leave them alone?”

“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day.”

“What did I do ?!?”

“Never in a milion years would I touch you, Not even with a 2 foot stick.”

“ I never thought you were the romantic type…. I still defenently don’t.”

“Is that a ring?”

“Is that your phone, or are you just happy to see me ?”

“Call me that again and you’re single.”

“Don’t even get me started.”

“In my defence….”

“Is that lipstick ?”

“Who gave you that hickey ?”

“If you're sad about being alone on Valentines Day, just remember that nobody loves you on any other day of the year either.”

“Go back to wherever you came from!”

“Why can’t everyone just be whelmed.”

"I find you very attractive."

Person A: "Whale you be my Valentine?" Person B:"Dolphinately"

"I'm a divorce lawyer,"

“I always looked for someone I could live with, but ended up finding someone I can't live without. “

“it’s beautiful isn't it?”

“If you wanted to ask me out, you should have said so to begin with!”

“You're the only one that I need sweetheart. “

“You're bat shit crazy!”

“You're the cutest cupcake I know”

“It's Valentine's day bitch.”

“ I would fuck you right now if we weren't in public.”

“ Did you get the package/gift?”

“I added a little something!”

“You look absolutely stunning, for a potato.”

“Is that my shirt? It looks good on you!”

“Will you be mine forever?”

“I love your new haircut, did you give [person] the scissors again?”

“Are you coffee, coz you make my morning.”

“Are you alcohol, because you kill my braincells?”

“congratz, your life is officially more fucked up then mine.”

“ did you sit in sugar? Coz your ass is sweet.”

“I like your legs, what time do they open?”

Prompts:

51)   Person A gets a bouquet (Person B) favorite flowers, Person B is super happy about it but when they smell them they realize they are fake, causing for Person A to hit over the head Person B.

52)   Person A goes to the store to buy valentine candy while there they meet Person B doing the exact same, they discuss their plans and decide to be each other’s valentine.

53)   Person A gets something for Person B, but Person B forgot about the holiday all together. Person A at the end of the day realizes Person B forgot and is very sad, but Person B pulls through at the last minute taking them on a midnight stroll through the city.

54)   Person A gets a rose on the first day of February. And they keep getting them as the days go on, their roommate Person B, notices and asks about it in front of Person C who is their other roommate. The next day, two roses with different ribbons appear. But on Valentine’s there is none, so Person A feels sad and lonely only to come home and find Person (?) with a bouquet of roses with color ribbon of said admirer.

55)   While on their first date on Valentine’s Person A manages to spill their drink over Person B’s clothes, making Person A embarrassed they get up paying for the meal. As Person A tries to say goodbye outside the restaurant still embarrassed, Person B asks them to come over and maybe helped them out of their clothes.

56)   Person A writes a note for Person B for Valentine’s day that is very sweet, and meaningful only for Person B to laugh and say. “Wow, this is so lame, even for you!”

57)   Person A & B get invited to a party both of them getting stuck looking over the kids, as they do a small activity one kid comes forwards with a drawing that valentine’s is for people like A&B.

58)   Person A can’t celebrate with Person B and they planned to do something another day but Person B surprises them on Valentine’s at their workplace.

59)   Person A gets Person B for every formal date on their last one Person A hasn’t given any by the end of the date but as they kneel on the spot they had their first kiss they take out of box with an engagement ring.

60)  There is a ball for Valentine’s day, Person A had noticed Person B since they walked in the room, at midnight Person A kissed Person B until they are breathless.

61)  On Valentine’s Day, Person A gets a cards, flowers & teddy bear from Person B secretly, then tells them to look out of the window and Person B has gathered some friends to hold up posters spelling out “Would you be my Valentine?” And there is a sign pointing at Person B.

62)  Person A tries to cheer up Person B on Valentine’s after their recent break up, at the end of the day Person A realizes how lucky there were to have Person B. (Platonic or Not)

63)  Person A & B getting stuck at home after a snow in on Valentine’s but they still manage to have a lovely holiday.

64)  When a Person A & B don’t celebrate Valentine’s but they go to the store for the candy sales, only for person A to get Person B a single flower professing their love for Person B.

65)  Person A asking B about their valentine only for Person B to say. “You’re my type.”

66)  Person A plucking petals from a flower saying, “They love me, they love me not.” And Person B say above them. “They love you.”

67)  Person A saying I love you for the first time to Person B.

68)  Person B asking Person A about their most memorable with the other and what made them fall for the other.

69)  Person A setting up for Valentine’s around the dining room only to burn down the set up after leaving the candles without some support and holders. Person B walks in on the middle of it only to walk out and call 911 to come and clean up.

70)  Person A asking B for cuddles on Valentine’s. “You can’t leave me…You said cuddles all day.”

71)  Person A and Person B are best friends but they don’t have a valentine’s. They spend the day together only to realized they are in love with the other.

72)  Person A & B go on a double date only for their dates not to show up, so they just date each other since it is Valentine’s. At the end of the night Person A kisses Person B.

73)  Person A and B are stuck on a mission on Valentine’s both of them rushing to get to their dates. Once they finish the mission one of them is bleeding out, but as they show up for their dates they realize they are partners in crime.

74)  Person A is fighting a villain only for the villain to flirt and ask Person A to be their Valentine. Person B gets jealous and shoots the villain throwing them off the cliff while at it.

75)  Person A saying they love Person B and bumping their nose before pecking the tip of their nose, Person B shows how much they love them back.

76)  Person A & B being at a friend’s party for Valentine’s, and Person C suggests playing spin the bottle and Person C dares Person A & B to do 7 minutes in Heaven.

77)  Person A telling them in a really cute way that they are pregnant with Person’s B unborn child.

78)  Person A is a single parent and take their kid to the store to pick out candy and as the child picks the candy they see Person B. The child walks up to them before saying “We will take this one home too.” Before looking back at Person A.

79)  Person A & B broke up a long time ago but before Valentine they keep running into the other until Person B says to A that it must be cupid setting them up, and going on a date on Valentine’s day.

80)  Person A adopts a puppy on Valentine’s tired of being alone, and as they walk to the park the puppy runs away towards Person B. Person B asks Person A out at the end of the day Person A thanking the puppy for their matching skills.

81)  Person A getting Person B a teddy bear for Valentine’s only to find out that Person B got them the exact teddy bear back.

82)  Person’s A cat leaving every day at the exact same time and Person A following on Valentine’s day and finding that Person B is petting their cat. Person B looking up smiling at A “Look what the cat dragged in.”

83)  Person A taking Person B to the zoo for a Valentine’s date but Person A is scared of Person’s B favorite animal but as Person A freaks out & Person B comes in between the both saying “Be nice to them! I will protect you but they are my children too!”

84)  Person A can’t be with Person B for Valentine’s so they have a skype session while opening the other’s presents.

85)  Person A likes to dress up Person B’s pet for the holidays, and surprisingly, Person B’s pet doesn’t seem to mind it and sometimes will even like to be dressed up. But when Person A dies Person B finds their pet bringing them outfits on Valentine’s that Person A used to put on the pet, and Person B begins dressing up their pet, but breaks into tears while doing it.

86)  For Valentine’s weekend Person A is housesitting but when they don’t find the pets in the house they find Person B feeling the animals. Person A thinks Person B is breaking in and poisoning the pets so they attack them before Person B can explain.

87)  Person A goes to the flower shop to get flowers for their friends but as they reach for a certain bouquet Person B does the same and as they touch the tattoo on their wrists burns slightly letting them know they found their soulmate.

88)  Person A has to go undercover with Person B along with (Damian Wayne, Jon Kent or Billy Batson as their kid) and the whole time have to pretend to be married and very in love. So for a Valentine party their kid asks for a new brother.

89)  Person A gets candy for Valentine’s to give to Person B but as Person B gets ignored through the day, they throw candy at Person A to get their attention.

90)  Person A gets their candy stolen by Person B only for B to taunt them with it as it rests in their mouth. Person A kisses them trying to get the candy back but they are surprised when Person B kisses back.

91)  Person A & B are tired and hungry from a mission, as they walk by a restaurant they notice that couple’s get discount and free dessert for their dinner. So Person B suggests to pretend to be a couple with Person A.

92)  Person B asks Person A on a date for valentines so they can pretend to be together and make Person C jealous after cheating & breaking Person A’s heart. Person A realizes just how much they love Person B all along.

93)  Person C asks Person A for a valentine’s date in front of Person B to make Person B jealous and get them to admit their feelings for Person A.

94)  Person A gets arrested after egging/breaking Person C car’s (They cheated, lied ect.) to Person A so Person B questions Person A on motives and they simply say. “That asshole broke my heart so I broke his car.” Person B chuckles shaking their head. “Well we can’t have that” Before taking them on a date clearing the charges.

95)  Person A gets hit with Ivy poison on Valentine’s day during the fight. Person A goes to B’s trying to get them to help only to come on to them and declare their feelings for them.

96)  Person A forgot about Valentine’s day so when Person B asks what they want for dinner Person A responds with “Eat shit and die.” Person B is confused by their mood “Okay, but that doesn’t answer what you want for dinner.”

97)  Person A & B are both affected one night by the Ivy Serum causing them to be friends with benefits but as Valentine’s comes around they both realized it has always been more than that.

98)  Person A tells Person B that for Valentine’s they want Person B to be their first, they are their best friend and trust them with everything. Person B is in love with Person A so they can’t refuse the offer but before they make love, Person B confess their feelings for Person A.

99)  Person A & B eat love potion chocolate thinking they are liquor chocolate. The next morning, they wake up next to each other naked and covered in chocolate.

100)  Person C pretends to turn evil kidnapping Person A so that Person B comes to the rescue and finally admit their feelings for Person A.