#this is about how lee wanted the two of them to stop dawdling and just leave. go out into the world. when buck wasn't willing to

[raineyraven]

just watched vide noir (2022) and i have to say the tragedy of a man whose love leaves him because he wasn't what she needed him to be, who through his journey to find her again became the man she wanted him to be so that he could get to her, only to reach her and find that it's too late to get her back, who grew and changed in his quest for someone who was always going to be out of his reach and he didn't know it until he'd undergone that change?? that shit fucks oh my god.

[deepperplexity]

Titel: Help Your Hatred

A/N: So I felt like writing something a bit more "simple" and ended up with this. Not sure of the title but I kinda like it and hope you will enjoy the story! :D

Summary: You had been with Severus, secretly, for nearly a year when his darkness scared you away; as he played his part as a Death Eater with such intensity you caved to the fear that he felt for you what he stated during a secret meeting you overheard between him and the Malfoy's. That he loathed muggleborns with such fervour he wished to abolish their magical rights and to top it off he said, in that sombre voice of his, that they meant less than nothing to him personally. The ringing honesty, you could not even consider being false, was the sound that broke your heart.

Pairing: Snape x Muggleborn!Female!Reader

Setting: Diagon Alley, Rosa Lee Teabag shop -> Spinner's End

ABBR.: │ (y/n) - Your Name  │ (y/n/n) - Your Nick Name │(h/c) - hair color │ (e/c) - eye color│

Word Count: 5086

Warnings: Harsh language, alcohol, kissing, rage

Masterlist page // Masterlist post 

The scent of heaven wafted around you. All fragrances you could possibly imagine and then some. The shop you worked at, Rosa Lee Teabag, had been your workplace for no more than a few weeks. The worst few weeks of your life. The work was pleasant, your life was not. Your face smiled, your heart was shattered. As if the tea had spilt out of its containing bag and slowly spread away from where it belonged. Impossible to recover.

Your head pounded; a harsh and thundering reminder of the too many drinks you had consumed the evening before. But what else were you going to do? Sob and cry all night? No, no that was simply not happening. Some heavy drinking and then you were out cold with not so much as a little snivel.

You shook your head to clear the sticky fog. Your hands deftly tied ribbon after ribbon to tighten teabag after teabag of individual orders sent by owls.  Vanilla, jasmine, cinnamon, green, red, black - tea after tea. How can people drink this stuff? You thought as you sneered at the hoard of bags on the little worktable. You were a coffee person;  a coffee addict. Three cups were required to even get you to grumble 'good morning'.

No, don't think about coffee! Too late, your mind already raced to Severus and the lovely mornings you had spent together sipping pitch-black coffee in complete silence until you both had made it past the first three cups each.

His onyx eyes penetrated your mind, that wicked smile, the black hair and the godlike hands that knew exactly where to - no, no, stop, stop, stop! You sighed deeply as your hands fisted and your shoulders tensed.

No matter what you did, where you were, who you were with - he was always there. You could never escape him. Not in your waking hours nor your dreaming ones. The only time you found reprieve where when you reached the bottom of the bottle. When your mouth was numb, your fingers slippery and your brain in a complete daze of silence and darkness. There he was not. For alcohol had never been part of your relationship. You had never witnessed him touch the stuff nor had you drank anything in his presence. You had actually loved that about him.

"I loved many things about him," you muttered as you snatched up a new little bag of silk to stuff with some green tea reeking of citrus so strong it stung in your nose.  You tied the little purple sash and plopped the bag in its designated box. "Too many things," you mumbled as you grabbed a new bag to repeat the process. The box would require twelve reeking bags and Merlin knew how you'd have to damn near scrub off your skin to get rid of the horrid smell.

"No dawdling," Mrs Grant chipped as she poked her head through the thick curtains that shielded your little workstation from the rest of the store. You schooled your face into a pleasantly smiling one as you looked towards the head of Mrs Grant. Her grey hair tightly curled and the glasses on the tip of her nose. "No Mrs Grant, no dawdling," you smiled as you cinched yet another sash and she gave you an approving nod as you placed the bag in its box that now was full.

After 28 boxes, 12 bags in each, you staked the orders to be sent out for delivery in the early morning hours of the coming day. You reeked, absolutely stank, with varying smells of citrus fruits and flowers. The combination was awful, to say the least. You couldn't wait to get home and soak in a hot bath for hours with no other company than a bottle or two of wine.

Your hair was wrapped in a towel as you strutted through the tiny attic apartment in slippers and a thick robe. The bath had eradicated the smell of tea and you felt more like yourself again. Had it not been for you being in hiding, yes you were hiding from the love of your life, you might have risked heading off to get a drink out with other people. But the wine bottle in your hand would have to do.

It had been a snap decision to go away when you had heard your beloved Severus utter such clear words of hatred towards people like yourself. Muggleborns. How he had slandered your rights to use magic; despite the fact he knew you had been a street kid until an owl with a Hogwarts letter had found you. That had changed your life, saved your life most likely. Yet he had crushed, shattered and broken you; your heart left in ruins.

You slumped in the little armchair covered in worn fabric. As you glanced around the little attic space - just one room with a kitchenette and a tiny little bathroom - you felt more lonely than ever. The space was cold and worn, it looked tired and unloved despite your best efforts to make it more than a miserable attic.

The landlord, who was also your boss, had been kind enough to let you stay for nearly no rent provided you worked the hours she didn't want to shoulder. That meant split shifts. Early mornings and late afternoons. It wasn't ideal. But it was work and a roof over your head. You had nothing else as you had lived with Severus the past five months; in secret, of course, as none could know of your relationship. It was too dangerous as Severus had pointed out time and time again.

You drank directly from the bottle as the conversation you had had with Mrs Grant several weeks ago replayed in your mind. How you had begged her for work, begged her to not tell anyone of you and lastly begged her to help you find somewhere to live. You had stooped so low that you played the puppy eyes and turned on the tears as you told her about an abusive partner that you were hiding from. It had been a lie, of course. Severus had done nothing but love you tenderly. Until that day you overheard him that is.

You shuddered, what else have you said about people like me? What else do you truly feel for magicians such as myself? Were you just playing me? Stringing me along? The thoughts were dark and harsh. You didn't want to believe it but you had heard it with your own ears. And the pain, the pain was just too much. The doubt heavy and the fear of having been duped once more by someone you thought loved you was just too much to handle.

You tipped the bottle and drank. Tried to shut out the thoughts and memories. Did your best to persuade the tears not to fall. But this evening, it seemed impossible. The alcohol helped but did not numb you enough. In the tiny fireplace, a small fire crackled and the wind seemed to penetrate all walls as it chilled you to the bone. Or perhaps, that was just sorrow. You couldn't quite tell at that point.

You cinched another sash. Outside the morning had barely begun and light had just started touching the rooftops of Diagon Alley. But you had been working for two hours already. Running on just 4 hours of sleep and no food. Food made your stomach turn and you couldn't handle eating until the morning had passed.

Severus had always cooked such wonderful meals, even breakfast was a delight every morning. Pancakes, waffles, massive sandwiches, fruits and all kinds of goodies. You missed waking up to that smell, the smell of his love as he made you food each and every morning. Before him, your breakfast had been coffee and nothing else. Now, it was just that again.

Box after box you filled with teabags to be sent out for lunch deliveries. Mrs Grant opened the shop at 09.45 am sharp, and people filed in with requests of specific teas or personalized blends. You could hear them in your little backroom where your workstation was situated. Merely hid by a thick drape covering the entrance.

The bell dinged as the door opened and closed. over and over again it dinged as people came and went. You just packed teabag after teabag, box after box. It was nearly automatic now. The work wasn't hard, but so damn repetitive that it barely kept your mind from wandering.

You sighed as you wrote the address of the recipient of the box you just finished. as the bell dinged yet again and Mrs Grant greeted the customer with her usual question of how she could help the person. But the voice that rang out after hers went quiet made you stiffen. Your heart pounded and your hands instantly shook as Severus drawled out a request for a simple tea with a subtle flavour.

You stood frozen in place as you listened to the conversation on the other side of the drape. "Certainly, Mr-?" "Snape," his voice murmured. He sounded, different. Colder, harsher. "Certainly, Mr Snape. May I suggest a simple yet impactful Earl Grey?" Mrs Grant crooned with that shop-owner-voice. No sound came from Severus so he most likely just nodded. You were still frozen in place, the only thing that seemed to move was your pounding heart and vibrating hands.

Mrs Grant talked about varying teas, nearly lectured Severus on how to dip it properly and how to make the specific tea she offered him reach its full potential. But you barely heard any of it as you tried your best to not break down and cry. He was so close yet so far away. You wanted to run to him, run from him. War broke out within you as you wobbled on your feet. Swaying from side to side as both love and fear battled to win your favour.

"Will that be all?" Mrs Grant asked. "That is all," Severus said quietly. Mrs Grant most likely nodded as she began tapping the old registry. The clicking sound hit you like harsh blows, over and over. As if a countdown was ticking. Mrs Grant asked for the money, clinking noises came after, a rustle of a paper bag and then she thanked him and wished him a good day. Harsh steps echoed away.

"Actually, I do have a question, if you do not mind?" Severus's voice rang out, more clear this time than before. "By all means, Mrs Snape, go ahead." "Have you perhaps seen a woman, (h/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, soft-looking yet fierce in her presence?" Your heart pounded as Severus described you to Mrs Grant. You sent out a silent prayer that she would not reveal you to him. At the same time, tears lined your cheeks in the hopes to be enveloped in his arms yet again.

"Hmm," a moment passed as Mrs Grant seemed to ponder his question, "no, I do not believe I have. We have so many customers it's a little hard to keep track of them all though," she said and you could hear that fake smile in her voice that she gave most customers. "Pity," Severus murmured and his voice vibrated through you despite the distant, the drape, the low tone of it. It reached you like the light of the moon harshly penetrated the darkest of nights with its white light.  

Your knees buckled as the doorbell clinked harshly. You sank to the floor, a whimpering heap. Sobs escaped your mouth as your heart tried frantically to leap out of your chest and your lungs desperately fought to fill with air that didn't quite give enough oxygen. The world spun around you while all the memories that you had battled away came rushing in like a tidal wave set on destruction.

"Oh dear, whatever is the matter?" Mrs Grant hurled away the drape as she most likely could not avoid hearing your crying. "I'm- I'm so sorry Mrs Grant, no d-dawdling," you cried as you tried to find the strength to stand. "Oh hush, what is the matter? You're a sorry mess," she said with that cold yet sweet voice of hers as she stepped closer. You merely shook your head, unsure of how to word it. If she found out it was Severus she had been running from she would think he was abusive to her when that had been a lie to get a chance at true hiding.

"Just, give me, a moment," you sobbed as you tried to take deep breaths, "I'll be all right," you continued but Mrs Grant would hear it. "Oh no, you go on home and sort yourself out Ms Collin," she said as that was the fake name you had given the woman, "and then you come work when you are not such a mess. We can't have you here like this. The customers might hear," she continued and those words were so harsh.

She did not in fact care about you. No, she cared about the shop and her reputation and a crying worker was not to be had within its walls. It sent the wrong signals and you understood that, still, the words felt coldly harsh and without sympathy for you as a person. But you nodded as you stood on shaky legs.

With your cloak tightly wrapped around you and the hod pulled up to hide your face you hurried out the store. The house was only two buildings over. You climbed that rickety staircase and unlocked your door as swiftly as your unsteady hands allowed. Tears streamed down your face and you could barely catch your breath. The only thing on our mind was Severus.

The door finally creaked open and you pushed it as rushed steps could be heard beneath. "(Y/N)!" Severus's voice rang out and your body froze mid-step. "(Y/N)! Wait!" He called yet again as you heard him run, the stairs swayed as he ran up them. Just as he was about to reach you your body jerked to life and you flung yourself inside while slamming the door shut so harshly the walls rattled.

His fists pounded the door as you had barely had time to lock it. "(Y/N), please, open," he called as his fist banged once, twice.  You cried where you had fallen to the floor. "Go away!" you managed to choke out. "Open this door!" he growled and the handle rattled. "Go away!" you shouted once more, stronger this time, despite the tears and sobs. The involuntary shaking of your entire being.

"Damn it all," he growled and in the next moment, your door was shattered in splinters. The cold wind swarmed in as you crawled backwards. Away from the door and the imposing man that towered over you fully clad in black from head to toe. His face looked strained, his eyes hollowed out and he seemed thinner. He seemed broken.

"Go away," you whimpered as the mere sight of him - broken or not - made your body ache for his embrace and touch. Your heart strained with the hurt he had inflicted as the love he had given reminded you of just how deeply you loved the grim man squeezing through the entrance of your little attic home.

"Never," he growled as he stepped towards you, "never, (y/n)," he said again and to hear your name in that tone of voice, his voice, made you shiver. His hauntingly dark vocalization brimming with depth like the deepest of seas and your words were the curse of darkness that rested in its most remote pits. It hurt, so fiercely. That our name no longer teemed with softness and light in his voice. No longer was your name the reprieve of glowing heat and stardust it had once been when he spoke it so softly.

He stepped towards you, "You left me." His voice was no more than a growl. You blinked in an effort to get rid of the tears. "You left, without a word. Nothing," he hissed and took the last step that placed him right by your bent legs as you shrunk beneath his deadly glare. His eyes endlessly dark galaxies of starless holes. Such pain, such sorrow and horror, rested in that darkness. You looked away, could not bear to watch the man who seemed nothing like the man you loved.

You said nothing. You had no words for him at that moment. Too afraid of what might have slipped out should you have tried to voice anything at all. He tsked as he looked down on you. You could feel the anger that radiated off him in pulsing waves that pressed you further to the floor. Never had you been afraid of him before. Never had you felt crushed or dominated by him in such a way. Something about him was different and you hated it.

Your body locked up, you were unable to control your limbs as fear pulsed through you. Your head bent backwards so that your eyes met his. Severus held his wand pointed at you and panic crept through your body as he had control of it. As he had robbed you of your own physical being. Imprisoned you with no way to run.

"You have no idea what I have been through," his voice thundered out. Your eyes were locked in his as you fought the control he had over you. "No idea what I have felt or thought," he continued as he elevated you up off the cold floor, "you left me without a word. Left without an explanation." Thos endlessly dark galaxies shined with tears that he would not allow to slither free.

He stood you up with the will of his wand, "stand," he said as he broke the spell. You wobbled and grabbed the armchair's back to steady yourself as freedom came back to you. You breathed heavily now that your chest could expand more freely. You scowled at him as the tears finally stopped, anger taking the sorrows place. You straightened and forced your body to stop shaking.

"I loved you," you said as steadily as you could. His eyes widened as he seemed to stiffen. "But it was all a lie. You, you left me long before I left you," you continued as you seemed to find your courage. You released the chair as something cold slithered into your heart and made a nest of ice. "You, Severus," you continued as your stiff legs carried you towards him, "are filled with hatred and I have no intention to be with a man like you." Your mouth thinned as he took a step back while you stepped towards him.

He seemed to be speechless as your eyes slowly glazed over with a thin veil; it kept him away from your mind and kept your love well-hidden as the slithering cold stretched its claws out lazily to grab a hold of the entirety of your heart.   "I can't help your hatred, but I can choose not to be a part of it." The words were free of emotions as you seemed to leave in some way. As if the very essence that was you, your warm and happy self, were encased by that clawed ice. Because of him. Because of how badly he had broken you with mere words he most likely never thought you would hear.

"(Y/N)," he breathed out, "what are you-" "I loathe muggleborns," you said, "I want to abolish their magical rights as they are not pure," you continued. He seemed to stiffen as his words were repeated by your cold voice. "They mean less than nothing to me personally..." His words, harshly uttered by you, rendered him pale and stiff.

Something snapped in you as his silence stretched on. That's what I thought, Severus. That's what I thought, your mind whispered in despair as he made no effort to explain or sway you with new words. You both stared at each other. Your eyes glazed and hidden as ice expanded in your heart, his eyes darkly empty as if death had stolen the very life that was his essence.

Time stretched on. Steadily ticking away as you grew ever colder both inside and outside as the wind caressed your skin coldly. The cloak laid in a heap on the floor as it had fallen off when Severus had blasted through the door earlier. You shivered and shook but you did not break the eye contact you had with him.

Something shifted in him. His shoulders dropped a bit and he exhaled what seemed to be an extremely deep breath. "You mean to tell me," he murmured in a drawl, "that I have died over and over in fear of who might have held you captive, who might have kidnapped you, what horrors you were being subjugated to in order to get at me. You mean to tell me, I have been going out of my mind these past weeks only for you to have left me for words I have given no truth?" His voice was darkly humoristic. As if he was indeed going mad.

"I heard you, everything Severus," you said flatly. "I know you did, do you not think I knew you always listened to my meetings? Did you not stop for a miserable second to consider what I am? What role I play?" His voice rose steadily as something seemed to come back to life in him. Your heart throbbed a bit harder. For yes, you had considered it all but the truth that had rung so clearly in his voice as he had uttered those words were unbearable for you.  

Severus moved so fast you had no time to react. You were in his embrace for you could take half a breath as he snared you with his arms and held you tightly. Your head pressed against his chest, his pounding heart loudly hammering right below your ear. "You idiot," he murmured and then you heard it. His sobs. He was crying, for the first time ever you heard him cry.

You screamed at yourself to push him away but your arms merely clawed at the clothes covering his back as you tried to get as close as you possibly could. Tears streamed down your face as you sobbed with him. You both were a complete mess in each other's arms as you sunk to the floor. You only then realised how stupid you had been and nothing could stop the harsh words you screamed at yourself.

"(y/n/n), come home with me," he whispered with a gravelly voice nearly choked with tears. You simply nodded as you were unable to speak through your crying. He kissed the top of your head and held you even tighter. "Never leave me again," he growled on a dark sob, "never do this again. I have died every day that I could not find you," he said with the pain he was obviously trying to hide from you. True pain, actual truth was the thing he, your beloved Severus, always seemed desperate to hide. How could I be so stupid? Truth is the one thing he always tries to hide from the world, you thought as your fingers began to cramp from their firm grasp of his clothes.  

You stood frozen in place as you both entered Severus's house at Spinner's End. The house was destroyed. "What happened? Who did this?" you asked with a slight gasp as your eyes roamed the house. Severus said nothing as you ran through the hallway and scanned the living room. Everything was trashed, broken, shredded or tipped. books, broken glass, ripped wallpaper and smashed furniture. It was complete chaos.

You hurriedly ran to the kitchen only to find it in an even worse state. Everything was destroyed. The one things, the single thing that was whole and still in its place was your coffee cup, your favourite coffee cup that you always enjoyed your morning coffee from. You reached out for it and cradled it softly in your hands. You understood at that moment that Severus himself had done this. Had wrecked the home you two had shared for five months.

"I will restore it," he said sheepishly as he leaned against the door jamb three steps away from you. You turned to him with tears in your eyes. "Oh, Sev," you whispered before you walked right into his embrace. "I lost control," he said as his chest vibrated with his words, "I was afraid and hurt, angry even," he said as you hugged him tighter. You had felt it all too, in a different way.

"Please, (y/n/n), please do not put me through that ever again." You nodded your confirmation and he seemed to exhale another one of those deep breaths. "If you promise me something," you whispered as you looked up at him. He arched a brow but nodded. "I understand what you are and who you are, what you need to do and say to keep playing your role. But," you swallowed as the words got stuck in your throat.

He tilted your head ever so slightly with his hand under your chin. Coaxed you to go on. "I need you to be honest with me. Just me, I don't care what you tell others, but I need truth from you." "I am honest with you," he said in a soft drawl. "In some ways yes, in others no. I believed those words of hatred since you gave me no reason to not believe them. You have never said anything about my blood or-" He hushed you with a deep kiss that heated you to your very core.

It melted away the icy claws and banished the slithering cold from the nest it had earlier created in your heart. You deepened the kiss as he hummed against your lips. A moment later he straightened and the contact was broken. "I was of the impression that you knew, despite my lack of words." You gave a tight smile at the man you loved more than anything in the world as he spoke. "Words, are needed sometimes, Severus," you whispered as a life of insecurities bubbled just below the surface.

His eyes searched yours, softly caressing away that veil with mere looks as the stars once more shone in his eyes. "A truth," he whispered, "is that I love you. Ardently, earnestly, fervently, deeply." He weighed each word to emphasise them as your knees buckled and he held you up with those strong arms. "And I love you, with every part of my very soul," you breathed as a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. He gave you another kiss and this time he did not end it until you both were desperate for air.  

Extra scene; Severus POV

I had looked everywhere. She was gone. No note. Nothing missing of her belongings. She was just gone. As if she had vanished. Fear crawled through me as I could barely utter her name anymore from how hoarse I was after having screamed her name the past hour. The house was I disarray as I had moved things, searched through things - for her or a note or anything at all that would tell me of her whereabouts. Yet, it yielded no information or inclination as to where she was. My beloved, my (y/n).

Days passed, turned into weeks. Every spare moment I had I searched for her. Between work, the Order and DE meetings paired with spying and information gathering there was little time to eat or sleep. I ended up forsaking my basic needs just to search for her. Any rumour, any clue, anything at all. But there had been nothing. No sound of her whereabouts or state.

My patience finally snapped as I trashed the entire house in fury. The anger radiated through me as if I were little more than just that. Anger. No matter the reason for her disappearance I could not bear it any longer. I was going insane, mad, had lost my mind.

The danger of it did not escape me. My role in the world, my duties and the importance of my capacity to play the part on both sides; in the dark and in the light. I barely could and people were starting to notice. The wrong people. I was breaking. Never had I imagined that one little person such as her could cause such pain and agony, pose such a risk to not only my life but to the outcome of the upcoming war.

I had been a fool for allowing love in my life. A fool for such a natural need. Life had never given me any reason to believe I could hold such things as love, joy or hope. She had come with it all and now she had taken it with her and left me more hollow than ever before. I can not go on for much longer without her by my side, I know that...

Hatred had filled me up. Hatred for life, for all things in it. Hatred for the hope, the love, the joy and the sweet scent of her skin. Hatred, pure and white. It filled me, consumed me and begged me for release. As I had granted that day I trashed my entire home, everything I had and owned was destroyed. Everything I was; destroyed. Broken.

As I entered the kitchen to find something to soothe my aching body with I just stared at the complete mess. Broken glass and porcelain, smashed kitchen chairs and unhooked cabinets. Spices and broken shelves littered the floor. The only thing my rage had not consumed was her cup. The one cup she always took her morning coffee in.

"Coffee," I mumbled, "no, bad idea. Too much caffeine. Tea, some simple and mild tea," I muttered as I stepped around the mess only to find I had no tea left. We, (y/n) and I, had only drunk coffee lately and I had not bothered to restock on tea. Stupid, foolish, no tea in the house. Disgrace, I thought to myself with a sneer and a sigh as I headed towards the hallway to grab my cloak.

Hi dearies! :D I hope you enjoyed this rather simple fic, I had fun writing it ^^ The first time adding Severus POV as an extra scene; what do you think of that? ^^

Taglist: @lizlil​ 

Masterlist page // Masterlist post

[needdl]

NejitenMonth Day 5: Scars/Tattoos

Available on FFN or AO3

Neji’s mouth was a flat, disapproving line as he held her hand firmly, and she tilted her head over to grin at him. “How’s going over on your end, babe?”

His frown deepened at the endearment, which he’d told her he found degrading. He grunted. Tenten laughed a little and turned her head back up to look at the ceiling, closing her eyes and wincing a little as the needle scraped over the bones on her wrist.

Neji noticed, of course. “I told you that you shouldn’t do this.”

“Too late,” she chirped back. She ran her fingers over his knuckles, and his expression softened slightly (even though she knew he didn’t mean to do it, he just had an involuntary response because he liked her that much.) 

“Done.” Her tattoo artist sat back, looking as expressionless as he had when he first started. She couldn’t get a read on the guy, but maybe that was okay.

Neji stood behind her as she paid and got her aftercare kit, then they left for his car, still holding hands even though Neji was grumpy. Tenten had looked at the tattoo right after the artist had finished, but Neji hadn’t and now it was covered by bandages and he would have to wait. He had no idea what it was, and Tenten was admittedly a little nervous about what he would think of it.

Their lives continued for the next few days while it healed. Tenten was in the finishing stages of moving her stuff to Neji’s apartment, so she was going back and forth a few times a day with her odds and ends. They both went to work and came back. Neji had to work late one night, so it was just her and the cat hanging out and watching Netflix. Neji got home with takeout, so they ate in front of the TV and then had wine on the balcony. (And then had sex on the balcony- because it was private, thank you very much.)

Tenten changed her tattoo bandages after her shower, so Neji still didn’t see it until the day she took the bandages off completely. And she was in a bit of a rush that morning to get out the door (she ran late admiring her pretty tattoo- so what?) so she’d just had time to kiss him and the cat goodbye before ducking out the door.

(They still hadn’t named the cat, because they hadn’t really meant to adopt him. They were lucky the apartment building allowed pets.)

Tenten went through her work day as normal, occasionally getting compliments on her tattoo, and then went grocery shopping on her way home.

Neji was home already, cat in his lap as he sat over their coffee table going over paperwork. Tenten quietly watched him stroke the purring cat for a few moments before making some noise as she took off her shoes and hollered, “I’m home!”

They swiveled with hilarious synchrony to look at her, then Neji carefully nudged the cat off his lap so he could rise and kiss her. She hummed happily then passed him a bag of groceries, and they headed into the kitchen to put everything away. 

Tenten was reaching up to put the tea away in the cupboard when Neji suddenly stopped her and yanked her hand around to examine her wrist.

Aha. He’d spotted her tattoo.

It wasn’t terribly complicated, just his, Lee’s, and Gai’s initials, but the way he stared at it made it seem like it was some alien script.

After a few long moments of him staring blankly and not saying anything, Tenten cleared her throat. “Honey?”

He blinked a few times, then gently lowered her wrist. “It’s… nice.” He meant it, too, and she beamed.

Neji was just as disapproving of the next tattoo, even though he appreciated her first one.

He held her hand again in the chair, all the while telling her that she should stop, even when the tattoo was almost complete and it would be weirder to walk away. Tenten just smiled at him the whole time.

Neji could bluster all he wanted, there was no way she wasn’t getting this tattoo done. She was newly engaged, after all. She needed something to commemorate it.

Not that Neji knew that was why she was getting a tattoo, but he could just see it later and get all flustered.

Neji was grumbling to himself over the permanence of tattoos as he went through his work email on his phone, absently lacing their fingers together on his free hand. Tenten stifled a snort.

Haha, loser, you like your fiance.

The tattoo took a little longer this time- and the artist was just as reticent as before- but before long it was all finished and they were back home going through their list of potential cat names.

Because her new tattoo was on her shoulder blade and therefore almost always covered, Neji didn’t see it until she wasn’t wearing a shirt. And it wasn’t even during sex, surprisingly, it was when they were coming home from a jog and she stripped off her lightweight tee with complaints of the sweat.

She went into the kitchen to get them both some water while Neji put their shoes away, and when she turned around to toss his to him he almost fumbled the catch and was three centimeters short of getting decked in the face.

She blinked at him, startled. Neji didn’t even bother to acknowledge his error, instead marching towards her and spinning her around to examine her back. Her brow furrowed. “Uh, Neji?”

“Your new tattoo.”

“Oh.” His hand drifted slowly over her skin, over the small silhouette of a bird in flight, and his fingers were almost reverent.

It was a tattoo that meant a lot to both of them but especially to Neji, and Tenten was proud to bear it on her skin.

Neji bent his head and pressed a slow kiss to the mark, clearly feeling too emotional to speak. Tenten bit her lip as her own emotions swelled.

Neji stepped back, and she waited for him to say something about how he couldn’t believe she got a tattoo for him.

“Your skin is really sweaty. Gross.” He wiped his mouth.

Ah. “You’re so romantic.”

“Yes. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Tenten had officially landed her dream job, and much to Neji’s disgruntlement that meant getting a tattoo.

“I don’t know why you keep doing this,” he complained after she came home from her consultation. She rolled her eyes in return. She was feeling a little crabby and snappish that day, and his attitude wasn’t helping.

“Because I want to ruin my skin with horrible permanent marks,” she snarled, slamming the door to the coat closet. Neji wisely kept silent. She shot him one last mean look then scooped up The Cat to go anger-cuddle in bed.

Neji gave her some alone time for the next hour, then abruptly came into the room to hand her a bouquet of carnations and a hot pad for her cramps. She had no idea when he’d learned her menstrual cycle, but she appreciated it.

She gave him an half-apologetic look and he kissed her cheek, then retreated again. The Cat (they really needed a name) got up and pulled the door open with his paw, sat for a bit looking down the hallway, then followed after Neji. Tenten yawned and settled the hot pad over her lower stomach before pulling her book off the nightstand to keep reading. 

She emerged twenty minutes later to put the carnations in a vase and help Neji with dinner, feeling much better. He absently touched her lower back as she settled next to him with the cutting board and the leeks, and she leaned up to kiss his jaw.

The actual tattooing came later. Neji couldn’t make it, so instead Ino went with Tenten. It was a very different experience- mostly because Ino subtly flirted with the tattoo artist most of the time they were there, and incredibly enough he actually talked back. 

The two of them were still deep in conversation even after Tenten had wrapped up paying, but she was happy to just dawdle on her phone while Ino slyly got the man’s phone number- she hadn’t been focused on dating while she was getting her master’s degree, and it was nice to see her so bright and engaging again. She even had the artist blushing at one point, and he was so pale that Tenten was shocked to see the evidence of blood in his veins. She’d really just assumed he was a tattooing robot.

They departed fifteen minutes later with Ino humming happily as she looked at her new contact- “Sai 🖌” and Tenten grinning to herself as she settled gingerly into the passenger seat of Ino’s car (the tattoo was down her spine and it had been extremely painful to get it done but it looked dope as hell).

Ino came up to the apartment for a bit for some snacks and conversation, plus some premium cat snuggles, and headed out soon after with a cheerful wave and promises to get lunch soon.

Neji didn’t get home until Tenten had already gone to bed, sleeping on her stomach after discovering that every other way was pretty uncomfortable. He smelled a little like alcohol when he stopped to kiss her head.

“How was Choji’s bachelor party?” She murmured drowsily.

“Good. Less rowdy than I expected, frankly.” He crossed to the dresser and started changing into his sleeping clothes, and Tenten closed her eyes again. 

She dozed off while he was washing up in the bathroom, but woke up again when he settled into bed next to her and kissed her head again. She reached out her arm to settle over his waist. “Glad you had fun,” she whispered. 

He laced their fingers together with a wordless murmur, already dozing off. Mr. Cat jumped up onto the edge of the mattress and settled in, tucking his paws underneath himself so he was cat-loaf shaped. 

Nice, Tenten thought, and then she was asleep.

She woke up the next morning to Mr. Cat sitting on her butt, which Neji found quite humorous, but she elected to ignore them both and fell back asleep. Neji got up and made himself some toast, then very carefully returned to the bedroom and ate it without getting a single crumb on the bed, which was an incredible talent and the real reason Tenten was marrying him. 

(He also shared some butter with Mr. Cat, but would deny it if she asked.)

Tenten woke some twenty-odd minutes later and was ready to get up. She stifled a grunt of pain when she moved her back for the first time and the skin felt like it’d been poked with a needle a bunch of times (for whatever reason), but it was easy to ignore after that. 

She bullied Neji into going to make her toast but was not successful in keeping the crumbs off the bed and was reprimanded.

Eventually they had to get up and go do things, which was a bummer. Luckily enough for Tenten the weather was warm enough that she could wear a loose-fitting shirt with no bra and avoid having to bandage her tattoo, and luckily enough for Neji the weather was warm and his fiance walked around with no bra.

(He never said anything, but his eyes lingered.)

They had been going over wedding plans for almost two hours and decided they needed a break. Tenten stood up to stretch, and Neji actually asked, “Can I see the tattoo?”

Obligingly she turned and pulled up the shirt so he could see the minimalist letters going down her back- “PERSIST”.

He ran his hand down her skin right next to the letters, not saying anything. She swivelled her head to look back at him but he didn’t meet her questioning eyes, just stared for several moments longer before saying in a rough voice, “It’s surprisingly sexy.”

“Ex-cuse you, surprisingly?”

“Yes.” He faced her indignance head on and said, “You know how I feel about tattoos.”

“You just weren’t looking at them on the right person,” she purred. She took the shirt off the rest of the way and turned to face him.

Hilariously enough, she was stomach-down for a lot of the sex that afternoon slash evening- Neji flipped her back over so many times when she tried turning to face him that she just settled down like that.

“Settled” being the operative word- the things they did together were pretty, ahem, active. 

Tenten made her way out of the bedroom in the late afternoon and walked completely nude into the kitchen, fed Mr. Cat, then hurried away again. Neji welcomed her back with open arms and a keen glint in his eye.

They went out for drinks the next week with their friends to celebrate Tenten’s new job and wound up making their way to a club for some after-drink drinks, which was a great idea that also happened to be horrible for their livers.

Tenten was dancing with Ino and Sakura when she noticed Neji approaching them. He snagged her with a hand on her waist- which made her smile, because Neji wasn’t suave by any means but he was so deliberate in all his actions that sometimes the lines blurred- and pulled her a little ways away so they could dance together.

Tenten beamed up at him. She knew he didn’t really like dancing, or club music, or clubs, but he wouldn’t have come if he didn’t want to and she was glad to have him here.

She leaned up and pressed a sweet kiss to his mouth, then looped her arms around his neck so they could sway together. He put his forehead against hers and closed his eyes, expression as grave as ever, but his grip around her waist was tender. She lightly rubbed her nose against his, humming happily. She was tipsy but not drunk, and that usually had her feeling pretty cuddly.

He pulled her close to him as they turned- it really wasn’t an appropriate dance move for the fast-paced club music, but it was the most Neji would usually do in this setting- and Tenten let out a happy sigh and rested her head against his shoulder.

He let her go back to Sakura and Ino a few songs later, after pressing a parting kiss to her mouth and giving her a sweet smile. Tenten returned to her friends with a happy glow about her, and they immediately proceeded to tease her mercilessly for the rest of the night.

Much later, she and Neji walked arm-in-arm down to where they’d parked the car, waving goodbye as their friends parted ways. Ino and Sakura, who had of course driven together, were hitching along with Shikamaru and Choji on their way home, as both women had cheerfully decided neither of them wanted to be a designated driver and had indulged themselves.

Fortunately for the soon-to-be Hyuga-Huangs, Neji never cared for getting drunk and was perfectly safe to drive. Which meant that Tenten could have a really fun time getting handsy in the passenger seat while he did his best to focus on the road, then end up getting sleepy and not want to do anything other than go to bed once they got home.

Neji obligingly tucked her in and kissed her goodnight, which was nice of him. Then he quietly sat out in the living room drinking tea and petting the cat as he continued wedding planning.

“When will you stop getting tattoos?” Neji demanded.

Tenten yawned. “Dunno. This is only the fourth, you know.” Sai ignored them both as he continued working- which was hilarious, given that he’d become something of a regular in their group of friends now that he and Ino were going steady.

He’d talk when he wanted to, Tenten knew. He was just blunt.

Neji continued to scowl down at her. “Ridiculous.”

She grinned cheekily up at him and shot back, “You gripe a lot for someone who likes to spin me over and stare at my back tattoos during sex.”

Neji flushed crimson, and even Sai let out a little noise and slowed his movements with the needle. Tenten smirked, unabashed.

They were finished twenty minutes later and driving home, Neji still a little pink and refusing to speak. Tenten just smiled held his hand with hers as they drove, running her fingers over his palm.

The magnolia branch going down her thigh wasn’t exactly meaningful like her other tattoos had been, but it was pretty and it was sexy, so Tenten liked it just as much as her others. And for all his blustering, Neji definitely liked all of her tattoos, so maybe she’d be able to get him to shut up on the next one.

It was not the case. “Tenten-”

“Huuuuuushhhhh,” she told him, eyes closed. “I’m celebrating, I’m getting married next week.”

“So am I,” he snapped back. “You don’t see me getting a tattoo.”

She opened her eyes hopefully. “You could-”

“No.” She pouted.

“We could be matching, it’d be cute!”

“No.”

“Hmph.” She exaggerated her pout a little more and was pleased to see him eyeing her mouth. 

This time the tattoo was on her right hand- a tiny black heart, tucked into the knuckle closest to her hand on her ring finger by her pinky. 

It hurt like the dickens to get it done, and the pain was almost making Tenten’s eyes water- and then it really was, and tears were dripping down her temples.

Neji did not take it well. “Tenten. What’s going on. Are you hurt? Should he stop? Tenten-”

She cracked open one eye and grunted up at him, “Just digging into the bone. I’m good, Sai, keep going.”

Sai, who had not stopped, muttered absently, “Okay.”

Neji glared at her as he tenderly wiped her tears away. “If you’re fine, then stop crying.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Well, I don’t like it so you must cease.”

She smiled softly up at him, her heart melting at his verbose wording. “I’ll try, babe.”

“Done,” Sai said shortly. He pulled back and started started putting his things away. “Your magnolia branch is still the best one.”

Tenten grinned at him- he’d definitely enjoyed the magnolia blossoms the most, seemingly because he liked the artistry that went into it. All of her other tattoos were pretty minimalist, after all. “Yeah, that’s aesthetically my favorite, but the other ones mean a lot to me.”

“Whatever,” Sai said offhandedly. “Let’s go ring you up.”

Tenten bit back a laugh and got out of the chair, lifting her arms above her head to stretch. Neji stood too and grabbed her hand to inspect the tattoo, then placed his palm on the small of her back as they walked over to the front desk.

Tenten paid and got her aftercare kit. “Thanks, Sai. See you later!”

“At your wedding,” he said. “I’m Ino’s plus one.”

Tenten grinned at him, pleased he was volunteering the information and also that he looked so happy to say it. “That’s great! Can’t wait to see you there, then.”

“Hopefully you can’t wait for a few other reasons,” Neji grumbled.

“Right, right- wedding gifts, of course…” They waved to Sai as they walked out the door, and once they were out of sight by the car Neji suddenly pinned her to the door.

“Wedding gifts, Tenten, really?”

She laughed. “I thought it was funny!”

“You’re a menace.” He kissed her slowly, then stepped back and opened the car door for her. She smiled and patted his butt before grandly taking a seat. 

Neji sat down in the driver’s seat and started the car. “No more tattoos now.”

“Hm. We’ll see.”

He didn’t even protest this time, just shaking his head with a small smile as he started the drive home.

[jimlingss]

Beyond Reach [3]

Chapters 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 (Finale) Words: 9k Genre: Angst, Grim Reaper!Au, Ghost!Au Summary: If someone could see what you could, they’d pass out. But you don't blame them. Who would ever expect for a ghost, a priestess and a grim reaper to be together - much less be rescuing others. Warnings: Death and topic of suicide. Viewer discretion is advised.

He forms from nothing, particles that stitch together in thin air to first reveal his face. He wears a grin, one that rivals the eeriness of the Cheshire Cat. The black cloak comes next, his figure solidifying in front of the bloody scene.

“Lee Eunae. Born November 12, 1988.” His voice booms over the two of them. “Kang Geonsik. Born October 26, 1985. Your time has come.”

“W-who are you?” The woman is quivering and hyperventilating, failing to realize that she no longer needs to take breaths. Yet, she still trembles and cries out, “w-what do you want from me?!”

“I must bring you away. The underworld is waiting. It’s time for your judgment and the world of the afterlife.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you!” The man nurses his wound at his head having not fully grasped what has happened to him. “I don’t know who you are!”

“I am the Messenger of Heaven and Hell. Bridge of all the worlds and the universes.” He grits it out his teeth, exhausted from having to explain to these pathetic humans. “I am the Grim Reaper. And you-”

He points to each of them, “-are dead.”

“N-no…” The woman stumbles back. She grabs fistfuls of her hair and shakes. “I can’t be..I-I can’t!” Her eyes land onto the scene of the collision behind her, the car that she stumbled out of moments ago. She pieces together what she can - the ambulance sirens in the background, the beer bottles rolling out of his car that crashed into hers and the gasps of pedestrians who cannot see them. “You-”

She lunges at the man, tackling him down and he lets her, being in an equal state of shock. The woman rattles him like a rag doll. “Why did you kill me?! Why?! You murderous bastard. If you were going to die, do it alone! Why did you have to take me with you?!”

“You bitch! Get off of me!” He shoves her, the two wrestling on the ground in grief over the loss of their own lives. Namjoon, on the other hand, is tapping his foot relentlessly, sighing and he checks the death list for a second time.

“Okay. That’s enough.” He peels them apart. “Stop it.”

“Why?!” The woman screeches at the top of her lungs, hot tears rushing down her face. “Why does it have to be me?” She shifts onto her knees and kneels in front of him, tugging on Namjoon’s black cloak. “Please. Spare me. Please. There’s so much more I need to do. Don’t take me away!”

“I don’t care.”

The Grim Reaper replies in a chilling tongue and it’s genuine. He really doesn’t. And he doesn’t understand. Dead is dead. There’s nothing he nor anyone in this world could do anything. Why can’t humans just accept it? Why must they fight over the inevitable?

Their existence always leads to death anyways.

“Please!”

Luckily enough, the two souls aren’t holding back. Namjoon is able to summon the door to the underworld, the air next to him tearing apart to glow white. The man shouts at the top of his lungs and the woman continues to cry. He throws them both into the other side. Before Namjoon steps over -

He wonders why they’re so hysterical.

“Why is he still here?”

“Don’t ask me.”

Namjoon turns on his heel, the cloak whisking in the wind like he’s some kind of superhero ironically enough. “You know I can hear you both, right?”

Hoseok smiles sheepishly and you stare back at the Reaper without an inch of fear. “Why are you here?” You hold up the end of your broomstick, poking him away like he’s some rat.

The ghost falls back in laughter and attempts to help you, shooing the being with his hand. “Go away. Don’t you have better things to do? This is a shrine, isn’t it suppose to be on your places-not-to-go list?”

The Grim Reaper scoffs and slaps away the broom. “For the second time, I am not a demon. These little charms, sacred shenanigans and your ceremonies have no effect on me.” Then he shifts to you and narrows his eyes with a smirk. “Secondly, I’m here because of him.”

He then points directly at Hoseok. “That guy is on the top of my list.”

Hoseok bounces behind you, sticking out his tongue to tease Namjoon. But he shrieks when you step aside. “Go ahead. Take him for all I care.”

“How could you betray me like that, Y/N?!”

Namjoon chuckles. Hoseok gasps and chases you around. You focus on sweeping the courtyard, lips nearly twitching into a smile.

A few days have flown by in rapid succession. You and Hoseok have developed a routine, one where he helps you with the chores around the shrine, one where you’re there to keep him sane, one where often times you both don’t need to meaninglessly talk to fill in the silence.

It isn’t so quiet anymore.

And Hoseok watches you from time to time, a large grin always blooming across his cheeks. Slowly but surely, you’re beginning to speak more. You don’t always answer so sharply and coldly. The serious demeanor is melting away. Hoseok is breaking past your barriers without you even realizing.

“Uh...miss….” A child runs and the moment you look over, they slow down to a turtle’s pace. There’s a group of children behind the boy, all observing the scene carefully. They whisper to each other like you’re a monster they’re trying to conquer.

It’s ironic - they way the children in the town are scared of you, a girl once blurting out that you have an intimidating air. But when you were a child, you were the one that was fearful of everyone else.

You follow the young boy’s finger who points to the blue ball that’s rolled near your feet.

On any other day, you’d ignore it and walk away. You don’t like to get involved. Any matter, big or small, with people or with children. But this time, you nudge it with your foot towards the child before leaving.

He grabs it within his hands and dashes away.

“Y/N!” Your grandmother calls from within the house. “There’s a phone call for you!”

When you enter and put the old telephone handle to your ear, it’s a gruff voice that you recognize all too well. “Yoongi?”

“Hey there…” He coughs awkwardly on the other line. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, normal. How are you?” It’s a surprise to hear from him since you expected people to want to distance themselves as much as they could from painful memories. But maybe others weren’t like you. They faced their tragedies head on, something that you were unable to do, something that required courage.

“I’m doing better, I guess.” He exhales in exasperation and clumsiness, a bit speechless on what to say. The corners of your lips nearly twitch upwards. “The weather’s nice these days, huh? I mean...the sun is shining and the sky is...blue.”

“Yes.” You hum in agreement, dawdling around on general small talk. But Yoongi quickly runs out of things to say and there’s only silence, static and tension on the other side.

He then decides it’s more of his nature to cut straight to the point. “So, I’ve been thinking about getting a proper job again. I’m going to get my life back together. I’m going to figure out what I want to do and where I’ll go from here.”

You hum softly, “Kyungi would be proud of you.”

“You think so?”

“I do.”

There’s a shaking exhale on the other line, Yoongi perhaps holding in his tears. Your grip around the telephone handle tightens and you shut your eyes, tuning your ears to listen attentively to him. “I visited my family’s grave awhile back and I don’t feel so angry anymore. I think my sister’s been able to reach her peace. I just...I don’t know. I called to ask how you were and there’s….there’s no one else for me to talk to except for you.”

You understand what it’s like to lose someone and be alone, to find the silence in your own room deafening. You know what it’s like to have loneliness follow you as a parasite, for no one else to be able fathom your grief. Despite hate involving yourself, you find peace that Yoongi’s able to confide in you. “You can call me anytime. I want to hear from you, Yoongi.”

There’s a pause and you can almost imagine him nod. “Okay. I’ll call you.” He clears his throat again, regaining his composure. “I-I might go travelling soon to get away for a bit. But when I come back and everything’s settled down, come visit me, okay? You and Hoseok and Namjoon.”

“We will.”

Yoongi might never be able to forgive the person who’s murdered his sister. But he’s let go of the resentments and anger, no longer consumed by revenge to unknowingly ruin his own life. Though his regrets may not be completely erased, they’ve been consoled by his sister’s words, the last time the siblings spent together that he wouldn’t have if not for you.

Yoongi will move on but he will never forget. His sister will always be his family.

For not liking to include yourself into other people’s problems, you find relief swelling inside your chest to hear about how well he’s doing. You don’t regret helping Yoongi at all.

“Where are you going?”

Hoseok hops off the porch, joining your side and scanning you from head to toe. You’re no longer in the traditional, sacred wear. It’s normal clothes like every other civilian. But the ghost finds that he likes you in whatever you’re wearing.

“I’m going to the marketplace to get groceries.” You turn around to the Grim Reaper. “Are you coming along too?”

“I guess.” He follows and you’re not quite sure if Namjoon’s feet are touching the ground or he’s hovering an inch above the air. His black cloak drapes all the way down to the ground, yet not catching the dirt or gravel. “I have nowhere else to be.”

The ghost scoffs, walking down the stone stairs with you. “Don’t you have souls to reap or other spirits to chase down?”

“No.” He pauses and hums, “This morning I already took a good handful from a burning retirement home.”

You and Hoseok don’t respond. The two of you are in sync with each other, without needing to utter words, picking up your strides away from the killer. “Hey!”

As you enter the bustling marketplace, buying spring onions and the likes, Hoseok shouting in the background about the good deals at specific stands, you don’t notice.

You don’t differentiate between the dead and the alive. They all look like people to you. So when you’re moving around and you find yourself almost colliding your shoulder with another, you apologize and dodge swiftly. “Excuse me. Sorry.”

The wind chimes ring.

The boy freezes in his steps. He cranes his neck around. His cinnamon irises double in size.

“You can see me?”

A grin erupts across the young ghost’s features.

The Grim Reaper watches through the mirror, not amused as to why he cannot see a reflection of himself. He exhales tiredly, crossing his arms to look outside through the parted doors. The sun is bright. Too bright that it hurts his eyes. He rules out that the darkness is a lot better.

Hoseok skims over your traditional wear, the red skirt and white jacket, observing how you tie your hair back with the scarlet ribbon. A part of him wishes he could do it for you, catch all the strays that you miss, lessen your struggle, run his fingers through the strands-

“You should really stop helping people.” Namjoon mutters and you straighten out your clothing by running a hand over it.

“I agree.”

The two follow you out of the room, walking to the other side of the house. “I live with a bunch of cold souls.” Hoseok laughs out, gazing at your backside.

“Technically speaking, you aren’t living anymore.”

Namjoon adds onto you, “And I don’t have a soul.”

The ghost laughs and it dies down when you slide open the doors, finding another spirit sitting across the low brown table; legs crossed, obediently waiting for you and orbs twinkling at your presence. His fingers play with a blue rubber bracelet around his wrist. The stranger is a youthful boy, one that has boyish features, rounded cheeks and a crescent-eyed smile. If it weren’t for the sickly colour of his skin, he would look like any student walking down the street.

You feel slight...guilt for how the rest of his life has been wasted, the tens of years that he’ll never be able to live. But you shouldn't feel that way. It’s not your fault. You don’t even know him.

This is why you hate involving yourself. If it wasn’t for your curse...

“Hey!” The spirit jumps up and then bounces back down when you take a seat. “Y/N, right? Thanks for helping me.”

“I never said I was going to help yo-”

“Are you a ghost too?” The boy looks over at Hoseok inquisitively. “I haven’t ever seen another ghost around! This is amazing! How long have you been wandering? It’s been a few weeks for me. Can you remember anything? I can’t. I wonder why that is.”

He looks like he’s one minute from exploding into a sugar high. The grin on his face is unmistakable. Hoseok is gaping for a second before he, too, smiles. “I can’t remember anything either.”

“And who are you?” The boy quiets down, darting his eyes to Namjoon who’s leaning against the wall. There’s a long silence and the ghost has mysteriously calmed down. “You’re a Reaper, aren’t you?”

Namjoon shrugs and he glances at his wrist like he has a watch. “Listen, you two.” He looks at you and Hoseok. “I have a lot of work to do...and this…” The being uses his finger to motion to the ghost boy. “..this isn’t really my thing. I’m leaving.” Namjoon grabs a hold of his cloak, spinning it and disappearing into a shadow until there’s nothing there. His slithering voice echos, “I’m coming back for you, Hoseok.”

The ghost doesn’t move until you turn around and begin addressing him after a long sigh.

“What’s your name?”

“Jimin.” He answers with confidence and a gentle smile, holding onto at least a little bit of information on who he is. He taps the silver name tag on his blazer. “Park Jimin.”

“Well, Jimin.” You hate being involved. And you won’t start to like it any time soon. “I’m sorry but there’s nothing that I can do for you-”

“Please.” He interrupts, “there’s something really, really important to me. I can feel it.” He pats his chest where his heart should be. “And it’s on the tip of my tongue. I-I just can’t spit it out. But if you help me, I think I’ll find out what it is. Please, can you just help me? For a little while?” His thumb and finger raise to show a tiny space. “Just a little?”

Hoseok gazes at you, waiting for your reaction. You mull over Jimin’s pleas. This curse of yours that will never set you free. You don’t want this. Any of this. But you feel your companion of a ghost staring at you, boring his eyes into your flesh. Hoseok is making you weak. And you’re already dreading the decision that’s creeping up over your shoulder like a monster.

“Pretty please.” Jimin shuts his eyes tightly, scrunching up his face and he holds a single finger up to you. “One day. For one day.”

A smile grows on Hoseok’s face when he knows what you’ll say and he looks away, staring back at the boy who nervously sways from side to side. “Fine.”

“Really?!” Jimin’s eyes light up, practically twinkling like stars. Then he lunges over for a tight embrace, forgetting that he can’t grab a hold of you. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Uh huh.” You scoot yourself back, not enjoying how the spirit is ‘in’ your body. “But what do you need me to do?”

The ghost points to the insignia design on his uniform blazer. On closer inspection, it’s a school’s crest: JHS High School.

“It’s there.” Jimin says in the most seriousness since you’ve met him. “What I’m looking for...it’s there.”

The train rumbles on the tracks, jostling around the people and belongings inside. There aren’t many people around when it’s mid-day and mid-afternoon. A man wearing a suit takes a seat across the aisle but beside you is empty and across from you, a very familiar ghost is seated.

Hoseok notices the way you’re fiddling and biting your lower lip every so often. You’re nervous.

“Do you not leave the shrine often?” He asks you, looking over at Jimin who’s a few seats down, peering at the phone screen of a teenager who’s playing a game. Hoseok redirects his attention to you when you don’t respond, “Y/N?”

The scenery flashes by too quick for you to truly soak in the beauty of nature. It makes you nauseous. “No.” You peel your eyes away from the windows, swallow hard. “I don’t.”

It’ll take two trains and one bus to reach the destination. Just thinking about the journey makes you resent the luck that you have - to run into the ghost, to fear being surrounded by strangers, be able to see the dead in the first place. You aren’t normal.

“But truthfully…” You’re not sure why you’re willing to share your secrets with this ghost. A ghost who hasn’t left your side, holding both the record for the longest time and your courage within his hands. “I’m scared of returning to a school.”

The classmates and teachers you encountered at the time you were a student...were less than kind. Rumours spread about your abilities and you were ostracized, not even openly ridiculed or teased. You were feared. You were feared by those who were younger than you, the same aged and those who could be as old as your parents. And they treated you like a disease.

“I’ll still be here with you.”

If Hoseok could - he would reach across and hold your hands within his, intertwine his fingers and grip you close in his arms. But as someone who no longer lives, he can’t. “You don’t have to be scared.”

You take a deep breath, lips twitching slightly. He almost thinks it’s a smile. But then it disappears just as quickly as it came. “Do you remember anything?”

He racks his brain. Picks it apart piece by piece. He screams within the hollow space. There is nothing no matter how hard he tries.

“No.”

Every second that passes, Hoseok is terrified he’ll be taken away from you. He panics at the sight of a shadow, a black cloak materializing out of air, a booming voice that rips in his ear. And he is even more frantic to find his past. He is desperate to his very core. The ghost would dig through dirt with his fingernails, would sacrifice his very soul simply….to know.

“So this is it?”

Jimin opens his arms wide at the school in front of him; students who are giggling together, enjoying their lunches and the sound of whistles blowing in the distance, signalling the beginning of a baseball game. They’re dressed similarly to how Jimin is; boys in white shirts, navy blazers and pants while the girls are in the same colours but skirts that end at the knees, paired with high socks. It’s like any other school, groups of kids together, teachers passing by without a care in the world. You catch wind of the latest celebrity news, complaints about classes and gossip. A group of girls pass by in sly whispers and you’re suddenly propelled back into your own days of schooling.

You sigh, “You’re not sure?”

“Well...I don’t really remember anything.” Jimin shrugs and walks ahead with his hands fiddling with the blue rubber bracelet around his wrist. If you didn’t pick him apart from the crowd, Jimin would blend in with the rest of the kids running around. “You should try asking about me.”

You enter the school, questioning the safety when no takes a second glimpse at you. You’re a complete stranger and the teachers don’t seem to recognize, passing by without doubt. It’s not like you’re even in their uniforms. You’re in regular clothes. You’re a grown woman.

“I guess you still look like a student.” Hoseok laughs, a desire to ruffle your hair and mess it up cutely. To him, you look lost and confused, wondering why you haven’t been kicked out yet.

“Seems like a relaxed place.” Jimin muses and nods with satisfaction. “Exactly my style.”

The boy keeps walking into the halls and you’re about to ask where he’s leading you but then he halts, tilts his head and his eyes spark. “It’s here. This classroom. I remember now…” Hoseok raises his brow, curious as to how Jimin can recall. “It’s slowly coming back to me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I am.” The ghost looks up at the sign. “Class 3B.”

Before your hand can wrap around the silver handle to slide the door, it opens automatically. A young girl does a double take on the person blocking the way and she pouts her lips. “Oh. You don’t go here.” She turns around, scanning her chatty classmates to see if it’s anyone they know or if someone is waiting for you. But no one is paying attention.

“Um...student.” You glance at Jimin for a split second. “D-Do you know who Park Jimin is?”

“Park. Jimin?” She tips her head and frowns deeply.

Another girl bounces up to her. “Hey! Seulgi! Who’s that?”

“This lady’s asking for Park Jimin.” She replies in all of her confusion and then she looks up at you. “Who are you, though?”

“I’m his…umm-….tutor. Yes, I’m his tutor and I haven’t heard anything from his family.” It isn’t the worst lie you’ve ever told. The two naive girls seem to buy it after swapping expressions with each other.

“He used to sit there.” The other girl who’s name tag reads ‘Jeongyeon’ says. She spins around and points to the vacant desk.

“Used to?”

“Yeah.” Seulgi nods. “Haven’t you heard?”

They say life is full of coincidences.

Maybe it’s part of the way fate plans it out, how destiny has already set its path. Perhaps they really are merely accidents, serendipities or happenstances. Chances and flukes that may make or break our next courses of decisions. Whether or not it has been planned by some higher deity or Heaven, at the exact same time that she’s about to tell you, a crowd of boys come down the hallway.

They’re holding soccer balls, fooling around like any other boys their age would. But in the other direction, another is walking past. And he is forced to move to the side, passing through Jimin’s body and colliding his shoulder against yours. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You brush off the stranger quickly, looking at the girls. “What exactly happened?”

The two girls shift closer together, lowering their voices into soft murmurs. “Park Jimin drowned in a tub.”

“The rumours say he killed himself. But no one knows for sure.” She looks around, making sure no one is listening. Gossip over the incident has been banned. “If you really want to ask someone...ask Taehyung. He should know more.”

You don’t realize that Jimin is no longer paying attention. His eyes have drifted off into the distance, down the hallway. Right where the other boy went.

“Who’s Taehyung?”

Hoseok stares at Jimin, interested as to what he’s thinking. Seulgi nudges her head in the same direction the ghost is looking in. “That boy who just bumped into you-”

“He’s Kim Taehyung.”

Jimin has not spoken a word since the news has been broken to him. You’re not sure what he’s suppose to be like, his personality and his likes and dislikes. Frankly, you don’t really want to know or get yourself further involved. What you do know, however, is that this seems unlike him.

Jimin has been bubbling with energy, beaming and giggling ever since you met him. And now you feel obligated to say something. You’ll damn your curse and your moral responsibilities as many times as need be.

“I’m sorry.” You stop on your heels. “I know it’s not what you want to hear but at least now you know. You wanted to know, right? It’s time to face the music. There’s another place where you belong and it’s not here-”

“That’s not it.” Jimin interjects. He isn’t in grief about the way he went. No. “It’s-...there’s... something,” he hesitates with a sharp breath, “familiar about him.”

“Who?”

The ghost’s pupils pin on someone behind you and when you spin around, you recognize the student who bumped into you earlier. “Taehyung. He’s familiar. Kim. Taehyung. ”

Jimin enunciates each syllable carefully like it carries some kind of weight or meaning to him.

You run to the so-called Taehyung, calling out his name until he freezes. The boy is taller than the ghost by your side, sculpted features and rather handsome for his age. He has a naturally mischievous look to his face, a bit of a playful and troublemaking demeanor even. But his blonde hair and honey shaded irises help to create a warm aura.

“Do you know who Park Jimin is?”

Taehyung frowns and tilts his head to the side. He looks genuinely confused. “Who?”

You try to reason with Jimin but as the student walks away, the ghost decides to follow him.

“What do we do now?” Hoseok asks as the pair of you watch Jimin’s backside disappear with Taehyung’s.

“What are we supposed to do?” You exhale while grabbing your wallet to prepare for the bus ticket. “There’s nothing else we can do. We go home.”

There’s a hope within you that the ghost has found his peace. That he has been brought safely to the other side. That he will no longer wander aimlessly on the Earth, lost and driven insane by being invisible. What you don’t anticipate is to see him again.

“Y/N.” Hoseok pronounces your name gently as if calling an infant awake. It makes your throat constrict but when you look up at him, he wears an expression that you can’t decipher.

Your fingers wrapped around the broom handle freezes, “What’s wrong?”

He steps aside and you’re met once again with the boy. Except, he’s no longer cheerful and full of the life that he doesn’t have. Jimin is painstakingly desperate as he falls onto his knees.

“Please.” The ghost begs you, “Help me.”

Your tone of voice is sharp and cold, “I already did.”

“No.” Jimin stumbles on his feet and chases after you when you walk away. “There’s something about him. I just know it. Kim. Taehyung. There’s something about him that’s so important. It’s ripping me apart, I can’t remember. I need your help, I can’t do it alone. Please, Y/N. I’m begging you. Please!”

It’s your curse. Your moral obligations that you try to forget, poking you in your back like a steel fire iron. It’s your ancestors that have weighed their dead weight on your shoulders. Your blood that has tainted your eyes to see beyond. Your sense of responsibility, your conscious screaming inside your filled head. A fear of regrets. It’s in the way Hoseok gazes at you with softened eyes, full of fondness and curiosity, to know what you’ll do, to know what you’ll say.

You can’t ignore it.

“This is the last time.” You clench your fist, looking into the eyes of the spirit who grins at you with a boyish smile. “Don’t ask me for anything again. Understand?”

Kim Taehyung stares at you. You stare at him. The two ghosts are looking back and forth, all the spaces in between. No one flinches. No one changes their expression. The student looks entertained while you’re unimpressed. “I told you-”

He tilts his neck back, taking a huge inhale of the sky. “I don’t know who he is.”

“Where are you going?!” You shout after him as the carefree student walks away. Jimin chases after him and you feel compelled to follow in his footsteps. “Kid, are you not gonna answer me?”

Taehyung spins around on his toes with a humongous boxy grin, “Why don't you find out for yourself?”

The town is larger than your own, though still in the suburbs and far from the metropolis area. Run down shops owned by families fill the populated market, teenagers leaving convenience stores with popsicles in their hands and toddlers peering at the fish tanks out in display. It’s noisy, students like Taehyung and elders like your grandmother and everyone in the middle age range have come to the same place. They walk all in different directions, going to different places, focus their eyes downwards, immersing themselves in conversations selectively within their groups. No one looks twice at you. No one bothers to say anything aside from shouting advertisements and cheap deals. No one sincerely smiles or looks within your eyes.

You can understand why someone can feel so alone in a crowd full of people.

“Hey lady.” Taehyung breaks the quiet that has lingered with you two (or rather, you four). He raises a brow mischievously. “Do you have money?” He’s stopped at a pastry stand, licking his lips at the food.

You’re still unamused. Taehyung’s been leading you around for the past half an hour. And you’ve been following for god knows why.

“No.” You scoff, “And my name’s Y/N. I’m not ‘lady’.”

“Aww…so no money then?” He pouts at you and exaggeratedly slumps his shoulders. Then, as he’s about to protest, Taehyung becomes momentarily distracted, eyes move behind you. When you turn, the video game music and strobe lights from inside flash erratically.

“You want to go inside the arcade?”

“N-no.” He clears his throat, “no.”

Jimin joins Taehyung’s side as he begins to walk again. From a distance, they look like two regular- “Friends.” The ghost says, “Ask him if he has any friends.”

If there’s anything you’ve learnt from being involved with both alive and dead beings - it was easing into the conversation to truly get the information you want to know.

“Where are you going?”

“Just wandering around.” He answers and you would think that he’s the ghost. Taehyung is withdrawn. The boy doesn’t speak as much as adolescents his age who have a knack for whining and complaining, babbling on nonsensical things and constantly giggling.

“Do you have any friends?”

“One.” He smiles and lifts up a single finger, “one true friend.”

Taehyung doesn’t say else more and you don’t press on. There’s an inkling that if you push him to tell you who that is, he’ll crawl back to the recesses and confines of his mind. Instead, you follow him a few more blocks down, leaving the market and towards the river. Hoseok keeps close to you in the meanwhile.

“What do you think will happen if I fall down?”

Taehyung propels himself on top of the ledge of the bridge. You jolt in alarm, lurching forward to grab onto his ankle to keep him from falling. But he simply laughs and balances himself with his arms out, like it’s some sort of balance beam. “What are you doing?! Get down!”

The fencing barrier is simple metal that keeps someone on top from plunging downwards. Yet, the boy has no care in the world as he continues to to walk across as if it’s a tightrope.

Jimin is solemn and without a smile, watching his same age companion closely. Hoseok, on the other hand, is by your side, yearning for some way to help but coming up empty. The ghost condemns himself for being powerless once again. And he prays that he’ll be able to remember; be like Jimin who at least knows who it is that’s important to him.

“Do you think anyone would miss me if I jumped right now?”

Taehyung thinks out loud, not expecting any answer from you. He keeps his eyes down to the murky waters. “Will my parents be sad? Will anyone cry for me? I think…..I think they’d eventually forget anyways.” The boy meets your eyes and smiles with sorrow. “Why do we live?”

Jimin fiddles with his blue rubber bracelet, gnawing on his bottom lip, looking to you desperately.

As you open your mouth for words to come tumbling out, Taehyung bounces safely on the concrete and twirls around to you. After coming up his own conclusions about you, he’s decided to admit the truth-

“I know who Jimin is.”

Jimin frowns and as his hands touch the indented words in the cheap wristband - he remembers.

It comes back, tumbling at the door to his heart, breaking down the hinges, smacking him across the face. The realization makes him stumble back, shell shocked. Tears mark down his cheeks and he crumbles to his knees and begins to weep. Jimin sobs within his hands.

“Park Jimin is my best friend.” Taehyung says with a beaming grin. “Was and always will be.”

“But he hates me.”

Hoseok lowers himself to comfort the other ghost and you pin your eyes on the boy’s backside as he leans over the barrier of the bridge. Taehyung stares down at the waters again.

“Maybe if I was a better friend, he wouldn’t have done what he did. Would he come back if I apologized?”

You reply bitterly, more with the grief still stowed away in your own soul than to intentionally harm Taehyung. “The dead can’t be brought back.”

Hoseok looks up at you with a blank expression. Taehyung laughs at your remark that couldn’t be any more honest.

“Jimin most definitely did not have a tutor.” He smirks, unaware that his dead best friend is crying in front of him. “Who are you?”

The boy is shoving his face with the noodles, smearing the sauce across his cheeks and lips with his vigorous eating. You feel guilty for lying to him earlier about not having money but he wiped it all away with some laughter, saying he knew it all along. He’s practically inhaling the food and you wonder why he left himself starve.

“Can you slow down?” You feel like a mother and part of it disgusts you while the other part causes your heart to warm, mostly when Taehyung lifts himself and grins.

“You know…” He says mid-chew and then swallows. “The last time I ate this...it was with Jimin.”

Unknowingly, his named friend is sitting across from, gazing at him with tear-stained cheeks.

You end up sending him Taehyung safely home, his house is not out of the ordinary in the least bit and you stand by until he’s entered inside. But before doing so, he waves and grins, thanking you for feeding him. He even winks and shoots finger guns at you, promising that he’ll catch you some other time.

You scoff, all too aware that his playful demeanor is a cover-up to hide his suffering.

“Now you know what you want to know. It should be good right?” You coax JImin softly when he doesn’t budge, eyes kept at the door that his friend has left through. “Jimin?”

“Hmm?” He peels his orbs away, meeting yours in brown hues.

“Go to the other side.” The moment it comes from your parted lips, Hoseok frowns and feels a barrier being lifted between you and him, a clear line drawn in the sand. “No good comes here if you’re wandering around. You’re only hurting yourself. There’s a place where you belong. Go and rest peacefully.”

You end up leaving him at the front gate of Taehyung’s house.

Hoseok is alongside you, once again, making the trip home. But he’s oddly silent, not babbling on about how much he adores the other ghost, about the circumstances of their situations, about you and if you’re okay.

“What’s wrong?”

He’s surprised when you can catch on so quickly. “Nothing. It’s just...every ghost we’ve encountered...they can remember but why-…”

“Why can’t I?”

He wants to rip out each strand of his hair, pull apart his brain and unravel it on the ground to inspect. He wants to curl up in a ball, rock back and forth, call upon help from the highest Heavens. He wants to scream and shout, lash out his anger and misfortune. He wants to cry.

Hoseok wants to let the droplets of his eyes speak what his desperate soul cannot.

“Why don’t you tell me to leave onto the other side?” He changes the topic, the sides of his lips upturning as he focuses on the profile of your face. “You’ve said it to everyone thus far. Everyone but me.”

You stay quiet, stealing a glimpse of him for a mere split second. Hoseok for a moment removes his smile, grown serious. The barriers are falling. The line is being washed away by the wave kissing the shoreline. He’s going to get through to you-

But you don’t say anything.

“You can leave too.” You tell him. “If that’s what you want.”

The walls build higher, brick by brick, until he can no longer see you or know what you really mean. What are you trying to hide? Who’s made you this way? Why?

When Jimin is left on his own, he enters the house.

It’s unfamiliar to him, the memories he withholds are few and far in between, fuzzy in images. The ghost has no other choice but to follow the sounds, stalk it like a shadow - the noises of crying.

When he enters the bedroom, he finds photos of himself and the boy who’s curled up on the bed, stuffing his face with a pillow. There are frames on his desk, pictures pinned on the wall. Some of which they’re making silly faces, others more serious. And they vary in age, one that doesn’t look much different from how Taehyung looks now but another where the two of them look like they’re merely age four or five. Jimin wonders just how long he’s known Taehyung for.

“I-I should just die too.” Taehyung hiccups, sobbing until his eyes will run dry, until his body will give up, until sleep will take him and give a moment’s peace offering. “Jimin. Jimin! I’m sorry.”

Jimin drops to his knees, trying to grab Taehyung's hands. But the ghost’s skin passes through the boy’s flesh. Jimin tries again - to hold Taehyung, to wrap his hands around his shoulders, shake the sense back into him. The spirit fails each and every time until he roars out in frustration.

“Don’t. Please. Don’t do it!” He cries over and over again, the two weeping their souls together. “Live. Taehyung, you have to live!”

“Live!”

Taehyung can’t hear him.

Another week comes and goes; Namjoon too busy to stay long, Hoseok going off by himself and insisting that he has to regain his memories, you cleaning every inch of the shrine even when it doesn’t need to be and managing the supplies even when nothing ever goes amiss. It feels like you’re wasting away your time, letting it pass by without a care. There’s nothing else to do, this is your fate. Somewhere along the way, you’ve learnt to accept it without complaints or longing to know more about the world.

“You haven’t left yet?” You stop dead in your tracks, lifting a brow at the ghost several meters away. “I thought I already helped you.”

“Y/N.” Jimin fidgets with the blue rubber bracelet, arms pulled close to his body and he nibbles on his bottom lip. “I-...Taehyung-”

“I told you that you should leave. I’m not going to help you anymore. You can only help yourself.”

“What’s going on?” Hoseok appears behind you and he looks stunned at Jimin’s sudden appearance. “Hey kid...what are you doing here?”

“I-” Tiny, crystal beads flood down the boy’s face, the droplets hitting the concrete and dissipating. His shoulders shake and he lowers his head, staggering to hunch over. The spirit’s knees kisses the cement and his head soon follows, bowing in the courtyard, in front of you.

“Taehyung’s going to try to kill himself.”

The blood in your veins pulse, sympathy controlling your limbs to draw forward. You can feel it. The curse of your empathy makes your soul lurch as you watch Jimin. The desperate and heart wrenching emotions of the ghost has seeped into your skin, making you want to gouge out your eyeballs with tears. You want to cry until death - soil your hands into the ground until your fingernails fall off - keep walking until your feet bleed - if that meets you’ll find a moment of redemption.

You know this regret.

Instead of the words ‘help me’, you hear a torturous begging request. “Save him.”

It’s two trains and one bus, the fastest you’ve ever raced to the station, one where Hoseok is without a smile. The only thing that relieves you is that you don’t smell it. The scent of death, the distinct ash smell that has been entrenched into Namjoon. It’s absent from the air.

You arrive by evening, before night time has fallen. Taehyung’s parents don’t know about his whereabouts, confused on who you are as you pummel their door with your fist. But as you address yourself as a family friend of Jimin’s, they ease and tell you of how distressed Taehyung has been ever since the death of his dear friend.

The worry on Taehyung’s mother’s face tells you she can recognize your panic. You don’t tell her the condition of her son, fearing that they’ll criticize you, find you no less than an insane asylum patient, contact the authorities to take you away - it’s happened one too many times in the past. When you leave, Taehyung’s father waves you off and you’re reminded of how uncanny the resemblance between the parent and son is.

“Where could he be?” Hoseok paces back and forth. “Jimin, there has to be a place.”

You nod, looking at the boy, “Try to remember.”

Jimin cradles his head within his hands. He rubs his temples, muttering underneath his breath. It takes a full minute for him to finally gaze up at you, his brown orbs twinkling and a slight smile on his lips. “The rooftop.”

“Oh! It’s you again.” A girl sipping on the juice box in her uniform points to you. She’s with her friend, Jeongyeon, the two of them loitering around the school grounds in front of the main doors. She smiles at your out-of-breath form. “Are you okay, miss?”

“Tae-” You heave a giant breath. “Taehyung.”

You hate involving yourself. You should’ve never done this. You would have never had to leave the shrine, the place of your comfortable home to go running half across the region with two ghosts. You wouldn’t have to feel. This desperate need. This pain. The sadness. The feelings you had tried to ignore for so long.

“I think I saw him head to the rooftop.” Seulgi frowns and then becomes startled when you bolt past her. “Hey! You’re not allowed inside the school, you know!”

Hoseok runs ahead of you and for once you’re chasing his backside.

Luckily, the doors are still open and the pair of you sprint up the stairs, numerous times where you nearly take a misstep and tumble down the flights. “The doors to the roof are always open.” Jimin shouts as the memory flickers back into his mind. You’re on the third level, about to step onto the last one but the ghost stops you - “Y/N!”. His scream ricochets down the empty hallways and Jimin points to a locker, his own.

“Do you think life’s worth living?”

Jimin is laying on the grass, staring up at the cloudless sky, wondering if there was an escape out there for his pain. He shuts his eyes, feeling the warm sun rays kiss his cheeks. If only life was always like this...if it was...he wouldn’t want to die so much.

“What are you even talking about dude?” Taehyung laughs and nudges him. “Are you having an existential crisis? Stop being so sappy.” He turns away and scrolls through his phone, finding a silly photo he had saved earlier. “Take a look at this.”

Jimin peels back his eyes, smiling sorrowfully but his best friend doesn’t notice.

“I should have listened to you.” Taehyung stares up at the sky. The ceiling that his friend had spent so long counting clouds and memorizing the hues of blue in. Nothing’s changed, the sky is still the same but yet everything in Taehyung’s universe is different.

Namjoon is waiting. He is tapping his foot, checking his list, looking over at his non-existent watch. Any time now, the boy will jump and the Grim Reaper will be able to take his soul.

“What are you doing here?!” Hoseok treads to him, extending out his arm to catch Namjoon’s cloak but the Reaper disappears before the ghost can do so, materializing behind him. Hoseok turns around, “You’re not going to take him! The boy is going to live!”

The Grim Reaper laughs and he replies in a bone-chilling voice. “This is how life works. He’s going to die.” Namjoon is amused, “No one can stop him aside from himself.”

“You’re an asshole.” He spits it out in blind rage, “You know that?”

It’s an argument, one that they almost never have. But it happens. It happens like in all relationships, a breaking point, a bump in the road, barrelling forward before either can realize.

And Taehyung doesn’t remember what the reason is anymore. He doesn’t know how this started, if it was his fault or not; if it was because his friend always sided with his parents and never him, always too understanding, always too kind for Taehyung’s liking. He’s infuriated that no matter how much he provokes Jimin, his best friend just stands there...and takes it.

“I don’t care about you or your little problems, okay?”

At this point, Taehyung is throwing out everything he can think of to hurt his friend, anything at all so that they’ll be a change in his expression, so that Jimin will lash out like Taehyung is. So that Jimin won’t look like the victim and Taehyung won’t feel like the villain.

“Frankly, no one cares about you, Jimin. Not even me. No one would miss you. You should just….die.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Taehyung cries again and again, words that he’s repeated every single day since he found his best friend in the bathroom. The ice, cold water that splashed over the rim and soaked into his clothing. The night where Taehyung’s hands trembled but he still used all his strength to drag out the person he’s known his entire life. The minutes that Taehyung cradled Jimin’s lifeless body in his arms, calling his name until his voice gave out. “I’m sorry.”

Taehyung’s foot nudges towards the edge. “You’re my best friend! Why did you have to die?!” His choking voice screams at the top of his withering lungs, for the clouds to listen, for the birds and the bowing sun, the green fields and the empty buildings. Taehyung screams to the world that hasn’t changed and for his life that has. “I didn’t mean it….Jimin! Jimin! Why?!”

Taehyung. Jimin. The two of them carry a single burden. A regret for what they’ve done.

Something that can never be taken back - the cannot be undone - that can’t be repeated once more.

“You punk!” Jimin yells at him, a crescent moon smile with his infamous rounded cheeks. He shoves the screen of the game closer into his face, fingers pressing haphazardly. “Tae! Stop it!”

Taehyung grins, his mouth moving into a boxy grin and he laughs. “I don’t think so, Chim. You’re going to have to try harder that that.” The pair of them are leaning against each other, focused on the competition and being what they were suppose to be…...children.

His eyes linger at the corner where a few months ago, his best friend and him had played together, when they still laughed, hugged each other and shoved the other one off. A time that was simple, taken for granted. It was when Jimin was still alive. When Taehyung was ignorant to his best friend’s suffering.

“Don’t!” You scream, stumbling onto the roof. “Don’t jump.”

Taehyung shifts around and smiles gently at your presence. He wipes his cheeks away with the sleeve of his shirt. “Hey.”

“Taehyung.” You slowly approach him with your hands out. “Don’t do anything rash.”

He asks you suddenly, head tipping to one side. You stop in fear he’ll slip off the edge.

“Do you think life’s worth living?”

“It is.” You tell him in all sincerity, “We live for those moments of happiness, for the people who love us and those who we love. If today was bad, then tomorrow can be better.”

“If we die, then we won’t ever find out what happens when things get better. And they will.” There’s a slight pause and you go on, “we just have to keep having hope.”

Taehyung smiles again and he exhales a long breath, “That’s a good answer...I should have said that to him.”

“What do you think I could’ve done? Where did things go wrong?” He asks you, tears marking his face again. “Could I have been a better friend? D-do you think I could have saved him?”

“Jimin wouldn’t want you to die.”

“You think so?” Taehyung smiles slightly, it’s not full of mirth but agony. “You don’t think he’s angry at me? That he’s resentful? He must hate me.”

“No. I’m not mad at you, Taehyung!” Jimin wails out, below his best friend, trying to wrap his arms around Taehyung’s abdomen to carry him down. But each and every time, Jimin’s skin passes through his best friend’s flesh and he cries harder. “I was never angry at you! I never have been! Taehyung!”

“There was so much we had to do together.” Taehyung sobs into his arm, shielding his eyes away. “I don’t understand. I cared about him so much. It hurts...it hurts. Y/N. It hurts so bad.”

The boy’s blazer whips in the breeze, his hair whisking and carding through. The tangerine light pierces his backside. It’ll take one step to join the other side. “Jimin...w-why?”

Namjoon watches, no longer impatient for time. Hoseok is by your side. Jimin falls to the ground, crying with his friend. “I’m sorry. I-I thought no one cared about me.” The ghost laments his regrets, apologizing to the person he’s left behind, the person he never considered. “I’m sorry! I regret it! I regret it, so...don’t kill yourself. Don’t die, Taehyung. I-I don’t want you to die.” Jimin hiccups and he gasps out his words, “I’m not mad at you, Taehyung! It isn’t your fault!”

“It isn’t your fault!”

“Do you want to know who I am?” You calmly stride forward and Taehyung hiccups, finally removing his limb to look at you. “You’re right. I’m not Jimin’s tutor. But he came to look for me.”

“I can see ghosts.” It’s the simplest explanation and one that you don’t know if he believes in. “Jimin came looking for me. He hasn’t been able to move on. He begged me to save you.”

Taehyung falls off the ledge but forward, onto the concrete of the rooftop. You immediately drop to his side but the boy recovers and grabs your shoulders, his eyes pinned into yours.

“W-Where is he?” It’s the first thing he asks you.

Taehyung stumbles over his words, searching your face for any lies, rushing desperately. He shakes you and weeps out his words, “W-Where is Jimin?”

“He’s beside you.” You look over to where the ghost is. “He was never mad at you. And he says ‘it’s not your fault’.”

“You idiot.” Jimin sobs out like a baby born into the world, releasing his heartbreak without restraint. He shouts to the sky what’s the most obvious to him. “How could I hate you?! You’ll never stop being my best friend!”

Taehyung laughs lifelessly when you repeat Jimin’s words. He believes you. And he turns to the empty space beside him. “We were suppose to graduate together and now I’m alone. We-we had so many things planned. How could you leave me behind?”

“I’m sorry. I should have never…” Jimin shakes his head, looking back into the warm eyes of his friend, “But you’re not alone. I’m here. I always will be. I’ll be with you, Taehyung.”

“There’s something Jimin was suppose to give you.” You dig in your pocket, the small item that you had found in Jimin’s locker. It was in the back where no one noticed, part of a broken compartment. You take Taehyung’s wrist gently into your hands, slipping on the rubber blue bracelet. Jimin holds up his own hand, revealing the exact same one.

The stupid thing that Jimin had won at a crane machine game in the arcade so long ago.

Taehyung cries even harder, “You really don’t hate me?”

“No. Taehyung.” Jimin giggles and rubs his eyes, “You’ll always be my best friend.”

Namjoon’s list alters and he sighs, disappearing into the shadows. Hoseok watches you and he smiles softly. Jimin attempts to hug his friend, putting his arms around the boy without touching him, the closest he can possibly get for being on the other side of life.

Taehyung fiddles with the bracelet, fingers grazing the grooves and the indented words. A tiny grin appears on his face and he calls his friend’s name under his breath, recalling the sound of his giggles and his smile. The boy that will always be in his memories.

The bracelet reads: Friends forever.