#this is the first time I’ve tried this and I’m really enjoying myself lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kepamount · 2 years ago

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let me love you

mason mount x reader - one-night stand, smut and fluff

warnings: discussion and consumption of alcohol, brief mention of drugs, brief mention of infidelity, unprotected sex, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, praise and degradation, crying during sex, asphyxiation, overstimulation, i think that's it but pls lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 10.4k+

rating: M

a/n: hey guys! this is the first instalment of a new trilogy from the ariana grande series! the next two parts after this will be titled safety net and into you (after the two songs ofc), and hopefully it won't take me too long to get those out! this hasn't been proofread so pls forgive any mistakes lol. lmk what you think, hope you enjoy! <3

‘You alright, love? Can I-’ ‘I’m not interested,’ I respond shortly, not even looking in his direction as I pass by, following after Steph and Isla as they lead me through the club. We walked through the front entrance less than a minute ago, and I’ve already had four different guys try it on with me. They must really appreciate my skin-tight, tiny black dress, and the face of makeup I spent an hour doing.

The back room is cut off by a velvet rope, manned by four big and burly bouncers. They don’t even ask for our names or IDs, moving the rope out of our way as soon as we approach and letting us through without a word. I feel myself relax as soon as the curtain falls shut behind us, the music that was blasting in the main room becoming a low pulse in the background so I can actually hear myself think.

‘Benny!’ Steph exclaims when she spots her boyfriend across the room, forgetting about us and rushing over to him. I almost want to remind her that she’s here with her friends, but I can’t be annoyed when I see his face light up at the sight of her, his arms outstretched so she can fall into them, instantly dropping into his lap and pressing her lips to his.

‘You can go to your boyfriend as well, if you want,’ I say amusedly to Isla, the girl already making eye contact with Cal, the boy beckoning her over with a cocky head motion. ‘Nah, it’s girls’ night,’ she says, though she sounds completely unconvincing, and I roll my eyes. ‘Just go. I’ll be fine. Gonna get myself a drink, or five,’ I say drily, Isla laughing. ‘I’ll be back in a couple minutes though, okay?’ she promises, and I nod, watching her go and join him.

Most girls who have just gotten out of a relationship would feel shitty at seeing their friends and their boyfriends together, but I couldn’t care less if I tried. In fact, I’m relieved I’m single now. My ex was so boring that I can’t even remember the last time I was in the club, and it feels good to be back. I’m ready to get drunk as hell, snort some blow and then get a box of 20 nuggets on the way home.

‘Three shots of tequila and a glass of rosé, please,’ I ask the bartender, the boy instantly starting on my drinks as I get my phone out of my bag, checking through my notifications. I laugh to myself when I see that I’ve got seven texts and three missed calls from my ex. Someone must have spotted me at the bar we went to before this place and reported back to him already, so now he’s saying he’ll pick me up and take me back to his at the end of the night if I want him to. I’d rather crash at Steph and Ben’s and have to listen to them having sex in the next room.

‘Lime and salt with the tequila shots?’ the bartender asks, and I nod instantly. Tequila isn’t complete without lime and salt, and I think I’ll need whatever help I can get to stomach these shots. It’s been a while since I drank tequila that wasn’t in a cocktail, and I don’t wanna end up vomiting all over the boujee back room of this club.

‘y/n,’ a vaguely familiar voice says from behind me, and I turn to see Mason Mount standing there, looking heart-flutteringly handsome with his flattering all-black outfit, his perfectly trimmed beard, and his short hair long enough to tangle your fingers into. Not to mention his dark eyes that sparkle brighter even than the thin silver chain around his neck, visible where his top two buttons are undone.

‘Mason. Hi. Long time, no see,’ I reply with a smile, stepping forward to hug him. The last time I saw him, he was so slim, all skin and bone without an ounce of muscle on him, but he’s bulked up since, his arms feeling strong and sturdy when he wraps them around me. ‘It’s been too long,’ he agrees as we break apart, which is kind of him to say.

We’re more acquaintances than friends, and even that feels like a bit of a stretch. My best friends date two of his teammates, so we used to see each other fleetingly at parties or on match days, but we barely spoke when we did see each other, just polite greetings and superficial small talk. And even those encounters became a rarity after I got into a relationship with my ex-boyfriend, a player on a different team, and became a social recluse. Not seeing Mason for so long has made me forget how beautiful he is.

‘Should I give you my condolences or my congratulations?’ he asks with a mirthful glint in his eyes, and I can’t help but let out a little laugh. ‘Congratulations, definitely. I’m glad to finally be free,’ I say drily as the bartender puts a wineglass down in front of me. I pick it up, clinking it against Mason’s whiskey tumbler, both of us taking long sips of our drinks.

‘I didn’t realise you drank,’ I say, knowing that Ben’s in the minority as a footballer who loves a good drink from time to time. ‘I don’t, really. We’ve been here an hour and I’m still on my first,’ he says bashfully, making me laugh. ‘You chose the worst possible spirit. If you don’t drink often, you’re supposed to have a vodka and coke or something. A drink where you can’t even taste the alcohol. Whiskey’s awful,’ I say, wrinkling my nose in disgust.

‘You’re an expert on alcohol then?’ he asks amusedly, the bartender putting my three tequila shots down in front of me just as he finished speaking. ‘Don’t tell me they’re all for you,’ he says with mild shock on his face, and I nod proudly. ‘I’m newly single and everyone here knows it. I need all the help I can get to get through the night,’ I say drily, putting down my wineglass as an idea appears in my mind. It's a terrible idea – the entire room will be watching if I do this, and it’ll only enrage my ex when he finds out – but the boy standing next to me is far too enticing for me to decide not to do this.

‘Can I borrow your hand?’ I ask innocently, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion. ‘My… hand?’ he echoes, and I nod amusedly. ‘To take my shots,’ I clarify, the boy still looking lost. ‘You’ve never done tequila shots before?’ I ask, Mason shaking his head, looking intrigued. ‘Can I?’ I ask, holding a hand out to him, and he nods, putting down his drink and resting his hand in mine.

‘So first, you’re supposed to coat your tongue in salt, so that it’s easier to drink the tequila. Traditionally, you put salt on this part of someone’s hand and lick it off,’ I say, running a manicured nail down the skin that connects his thumb to the rest of his hand. ‘And you’re supposed to lick the skin before you even put the salt on,’ I add, the boy raising an amused eyebrow. ‘Go ahead then,’ he prompts, victory unfurling in my chest as I pass him a lime to hold in his empty hand.

I lift his hand to my mouth, eyes locked with his as I drag my tongue along his skin, his pupils dilating as he watches me. I shake some salt out onto the damp part of his skin, licking that up too, my tongue stinging with the sharp flavour. I pick up the shot, knocking it back and trying my best not to wince, before taking his other hand into mine, lifting it so he can put the lime in my mouth, my eyes on his as I suck the juice out of it, the tips of his fingers touching my lips.

‘Bit much just for a shot, isn’t it?’ he asks amusedly, though his darkened eyes and slightly heavier breathing betray him, the boy clearly worked up. ‘People do body shots with tequila, which is even worse. Licking salt and sucking limes off different parts of people’s bodies,’ I tell him, the look on his face making it instantly obvious that his mind is imagining what it would be like to do body shots with me. I wonder which part of my body he’d choose.

‘Well, if you’re about to ask me if you can do body shots in the middle of the room, I’m gonna have to decline,’ he jokes, prompting a soft laugh from me. ‘I have more decorum than to do body shots in public,’ I smile, the boy grinning. ‘Only in private then?’ ‘Only in private,’ I confirm, both of us laughing.

‘Here, you do one of these. Not as a body shot. Just a normal one,’ I say, and he looks conflicted. ‘I’ll set it up for you,’ I smile, licking my own hand and pouring out the salt before picking up a lime, resting it in my exposed collarbone. He’s instantly convinced, a dark grin on his face as he lifts my hand to his mouth. He licks up the salt along with my own saliva on my hand, before picking up the shot and knocking it back impossibly fast, trying to get to the last step as quickly as possible. He slides a hand around to the back of my neck, pulling me closer and leaning down to take the lime, his lips brushing my skin so lightly that I wonder if I imagined it.

He sucks the lime dry, dropping the peel in the empty shot glass with a grin before licking some juice from his lip, my eyes zoning in on the action, my stomach tightening with desire. He really is a beautiful man, and I know I’ll be disappointed if I don’t go home with him tonight.

‘Gonna do your last one?’ he asks, not waiting for my answer before he sets it up, putting the lime between his teeth, a challenging glint in his eyes. Never one to back down, I lick up the salt, knock back the shot, and push myself up onto my tip toes, leaning in and taking the lime from his mouth, being careful not to let our lips touch. If he wants a kiss from me, he’s gonna have to be a big boy and ask for one.

The disappointment in his face almost makes me laugh as I swallow down the sour lime juice, putting the peel and the empty glass down on the bar. I’m suddenly aware of lots of eyes on us, whispered conversation filling the room, and I smile. ‘We got people talking.’ ‘Your ex won’t be happy.’ ‘Forgive me if I don’t particularly care,’ I say drily, sipping on my wine, and the boy grins. ‘Let’s give him something to be really angry about then,’ he suggests, and I raise an intrigued eyebrow.

‘Come home with me. I hate going to the club. Your friends have ditched you for their boyfriends. There’s no reason for us to be here,’ he murmurs, and I feel butterflies fill my stomach, so tempted by the thought. ‘I’ve only been here ten minutes, if that. It feels like a waste of an outfit, and my hair and makeup took ages,’ I say forlornly, and he laughs. ‘I’m enjoying your outfit, babe, and your hair and makeup. It’s not a waste,’ he promises, and I feel myself swaying even more at the pet name. ‘I wanted to get drunk tonight,’ I pout, and he rolls his eyes amusedly. ‘I have loads of wine at home. You can take your pick,’ he offers, and I’m convinced.

‘Okay. Let’s say bye to our friends and then go,’ I say before downing my wine, the boy offering me his arm so I can link mine through it. He leads me over to where his friends sit, Isla and Steph part of the group, and they all try to pretend they weren’t just watching and talking about us.

‘We’re gonna go and get something to eat,’ Mason says, not even trying to come up with a decent excuse, and badly-stifled laughter runs around the group. ‘Those limes didn’t fill you up?’ Ben asks, Steph elbowing him in his side amongst more laughter. ‘Okay. Just text us when you get home,’ Isla says, directing the comment to me, and I nod though I know her and Steph will be checking my location anyway.

‘Look after her, Mount. I’ll kill you if something happens to her,’ Steph warns, Mason nodding seriously. ‘He’ll take care of her, don’t worry,’ Cal says, clearly making a dirty joke, and Isla hits him with her bag as they all laugh again. ‘You’re all so annoying,’ I sigh, the boys laughing even harder at that, and I just wave goodbye to Isla and Steph as Mason leads me away from them and towards the exit.

We have to walk single-file in the main room because of how packed it is, so Mason untangles our arms, clasping my hand tightly in his instead, leading the way around the edge of the room and looking back every few seconds to check I’m okay. I can just imagine the tabloids in the morning, not to mention the blurry photos and videos of us on Twitter and TikTok. The football world and the celeb gossip scene is gonna have a field day with this.

I can’t help the shiver that racks through my body the second we step outside, Mason instantly shrugging off his jacket and draping it over my shoulders. I don’t even have a chance to protest because the valet approaches us, Mason grabbing his wallet from his pocket, handing the valet his ticket.

‘You drove?’ I ask when the valet goes to get his car, and he nods. ‘So I could make a quick escape if I wanted to. I’ve only had three sips of whiskey.’ ‘And a tequila shot,’ I add, the boy grinning. ‘And a tequila shot,’ he repeats, my phone making several text notification noises a moment later. I get my phone out of my bag, unable to hold back a laugh at seeing that it’s Steph and Isla blowing up the group chat, clearly not as cool, calm and collected about the whole thing as they pretended to be before.

‘The girls?’ he asks amusedly, and I nod with a little sigh. ‘They’re freaking out. Sending texts in all caps to the groupchat,’ I say, the boy laughing. ‘I’m surprised they didn’t say anything when we were still inside.’ ‘Girl code. You have to play it cool. Can’t let the guy get a big head from thinking that it’s a big deal that your friend’s going home with him,’ I tell him, his grin growing. ‘Is it a big deal?’ ‘Kind of, I guess. I’ve been in a relationship for a couple years, and I wasn’t one for… going home with guys even before that,’ I tell him, and he tilts his head thoughtfully.

‘What about after your relationship? You’ve been broken up for a while now, haven’t you?’ he asks, and I nod. ‘Yeah. Two weeks since we announced it, but I dumped him about a month ago.’ ‘And you haven’t… had a rebound in that month?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly, the boy looking satisfied at that. ‘I’m honoured.’ ‘You should be,’ I reply, Mason laughing.

The valet pulls up in front of us in Mason’s Lamborghini, jumping out and handing Mason the keys, the boy thanking him graciously which earns him brownie points. Seems basic, but when your ex was rude and arrogant, you appreciate a guy with manners. He opens the passenger side door for me, grinning at my thanks as I climb in, the boy shutting the door behind me before walking around to the driver’s side.

‘Connect your phone,’ he prompts, and I open my Settings app, clicking on the Bluetooth section and scrolling past all my saved devices to connect to his car. ‘Wow. How many cars have you connected to?’ he asks, and I let out a slightly embarrassed laugh. ‘A fair few. I’m a certified passenger princess,’ I claim, flipping my hair over my shoulder, and he just laughs, pulling away from the curb.

‘What music do you like?’ I ask, scrolling through my playlists. ‘I mainly listen to American rap, but I don’t know if that’s the vibe,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘What’s the vibe, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy failing to hold back his smile. ‘Heartbreak music. You just got out of a two-year-long relationship,’ he reminds me, and I scoff. ‘Yeah, right. I was more heartbroken when I was still in the relationship than I am now,’ I laugh, Mason silent for a few seconds.

‘I know you’re probably sick of having this conversation but… what happened with him?’ he asks, and I let out a little sigh, clicking on my ‘gimme the aux’ playlist, full of songs that I play in other people’s cars to prove I’ve got good music taste. Playboi Carti comes on, Mason looking impressed, and I try not to laugh at how successful this playlist is at its purpose.

‘Our relationship got really boring towards the end. He stopped taking me on dates, buying me gifts, even complimenting me. We just spent all our time at home, watching boxsets and having sex. He became really complacent, and I realised that I deserve to be treated like a princess in a relationship, and not taken for granted or made to feel unloved the way I did. I communicated to him that I was unhappy in our relationship, and he turned around and said that he was too and that’s why he slept with the club’s social media girl,’ I say flatly, Mason’s mouth falling open in shock.

‘That is not what I was expecting you to say. Wow. I’m so sorry, y/n,’ he says, and I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. It didn’t really hurt me, because I just wasn’t in love with him anymore towards the end. I felt disrespected and angry, but not upset,’ I say, Mason nodding in understanding as he drives, one hand resting on the wheel whilst the other moves the gearstick every now and then. He’s a sexy driver, completely relaxed behind the wheel, his eyes flitting to the mirrors from time to time.

‘Was he at least good in bed?’ he asks, and I laugh, surprised at the question. ‘He was okay. Not the best, not the worst,’ I say fairly. ‘Same as how he is on the pitch then,’ Mason mutters, surprising another laugh out of me. ‘At least he’s consistent,’ I say, Mason’s response interrupted by my phone suddenly ringing through his car speakers, a familiar phone number appearing on the screen.

‘Spam call?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Sort of. It’s him. My ex,’ I say as I reject the call, Mason’s eyes widening in amusement. ‘No way. You didn’t even change his contact name to ‘dead to me’ or something. Just straight deleted his contact?’ he asks, and I nod with a laugh. ‘For him to be dead to me, I’d have to actually care about him, and I genuinely don’t,’ I say, my phone ringing with another call from him.

‘Please let me answer and speak to him,’ Mason says, and I shake my head instantly. ‘No way. He’ll literally go insane,’ I say, Mason grinning. ‘All the more reason.’ ‘No way. Don’t your teams play against each other soon? He’ll probably go out of his way to injure you if you piss him off,’ I say, Mason scoffing. ‘Yeah, right. I could take him.’ ‘Okay, skinny white boy. It’s not worth the risk,’ I say, Mason looking at me with big, persuasive eyes. ‘I won’t even speak. I just wanna hear what he says to you,’ he says as the ringing stops, disappointment on his face.

‘He’ll phone again. He calls three times and then gives up,’ I say, Mason looking hopeful. ‘And you’re gonna answer this time?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Yeah, okay. If it’ll make you that happy,’ I say, Mason grinning widely. He waits, almost excited for the phone to ring, unable to hold back a laugh when it rings again. ‘Go on, then,’ he prompts, and I press the green button, waiting for it to connect.

‘y/n. Where are you?’ his voice blares out from the speakers, both of us wincing. ‘Fucking hell. Are you shouting directly into your phone speaker? Why was that so loud?’ I complain, my ex letting out an irritated noise. ‘Where are you?’ ‘In a car.’ ‘Whose car?’ ‘Mason Mount’s car,’ I say, Mason grinning at the momentary stunned silence.

‘I didn’t think it was true.’ ‘Who told you?’ ‘Twitter. It’s already everywhere,’ he says, and I roll my eyes. ‘Well, yeah. It’s true.’ ‘Why are you in his car?’ ‘What do you mean? We’re driving somewhere. Why else would I be in his car?’ I say irritably, Mason stifling laughter. ‘Where are you driving?’ ‘It’s actually none of your business, at all,’ I remind him, a sigh sounding through the car speakers.

‘I know, but… it’s just killing me to not know what’s going on with you. All the rumours and shit, I just hate it. First, you’ve moved on with Central Cee, and then, you’re getting a marriage proposal from an Indian prince, and now, you’re dating another Prem footballer? It’s driving me insane,’ he says, and I roll my eyes again.

‘You should’ve thought about that before cheating on me and taking me for granted. We’re done now, so you don’t get to ask questions about my life and expect answers.’ ‘Fine, okay. Just at least tell me if you’ve got a new boyfriend now.’ ‘I don’t. I’m single.’ ‘So it’s just casual sex then?’ ‘She’s hanging up now,’ Mason says, a brief stunned silence following his words.

‘Who the fuck do you th-’ ‘Bye!’ I shout, hanging up on him, and Mason and I burst into laughter. ‘Right, I’d better block his number because he’s gonna spam call me now,’ I say, having to reject a call so I can block him. ‘He’s insane.’ ‘Tell me about it,’ I mutter, feeling relieved when I finally block his number.

‘What’s this about Central Cee and an Indian prince then?’ he asks, trying his best to seem relaxed but clearly curious, and I can’t help but laugh. ‘Cench and I aren’t dating. We were in the studio together for my next album, and we wanted WingStop, but delivery wasn’t available, so we drove to the nearest one and collected our order instead. People saw me in his car and the rumours started. But the Indian prince stuff is actually true. A prince spoke at some international relations meeting and mentioned wanting me as a wife in his speech,’ I say offhandedly, Mason’s eyes wide.

‘Wow. Have you responded?’ ‘No. How do you publicly reject a marriage proposal from a prince without putting yourself in serious danger?’ I say, Mason laughing. ‘What are you gonna do though? Just ignore it?’ ‘That’s exactly what I’m gonna do. Pretend it never happened and pray I don’t run into him until both of us are married so he can’t bring it up,’ I say drily, the boy shaking his head amusedly.

‘So you wanna get married one day?’ ‘At some point, yeah, I think so. Not for a long time, though. I wasted a couple years of my youth being in a shitty relationship, so I wanna enjoy myself for a while now. I don’t think I’ll even start dating again ‘til I’m close to my 30s. I’m more than happy to be single for a while now,’ I say, Mason nodding.

‘Fair enough. Dating again when you’re… 27, 28? Then marriage a few years later. Any kids?’ he asks, and I nod instantly. ‘Definitely. I want a few. At least four. Two boys, two girls,’ I say dreamily, Mason laughing. ‘You can’t choose, y/n.’ ‘I can if I adopt.’ ‘You want to adopt?’ he asks surprisedly, and I shrug. ‘Maybe. It’s always an option. I’m not sure if I have the pain threshold to go through pregnancy, and the idea of giving kids who would ordinarily struggle the chance for a better life and better opportunities seems really appealing to me. Why bring more children into the world when I can help the ones that are already here?’ I say, Mason smiling softly.

‘That’s really sweet. I think you’d make an amazing mother. Biological or adoptive,’ he says kindly, my heart warming. ‘Thanks, Mase. I’m sure you’ll be an amazing parent too,’ I say, the boy grinning. ‘Our kids will be lucky,’ he says, making me choke on my own gasp. ‘Our kids? Getting a bit ahead of yourself there, aren’t you, Mount?’ I ask amusedly, the boy just looking content with his own joke. ‘Never say never, y/n. You don’t know what relationship we might have in a few years’ time,’ he says in a mystical tone, and I just roll my eyes. ‘Yeah, we’ll see,’ I mutter, Mason just laughing.

We fall into a comfortable silence, Mason tapping his fingers on the wheel in time to the Lil Baby song that’s playing. I shift in my seat, my dress riding up to a point where it’s barely even covering my crotch, and I pull it down, able to feel Mason’s eyes on me as I do so. I can also feel him smirk to himself, obviously amused at how I’m trying to cover up while we’re literally on our way back to his house.

‘Cold?’ he asks, not even waiting for my answer before he turns up the heat. ‘Your jacket’s keeping me warm,’ I say, pulling it closer around me. It’s still holding the heat from his body when he was wearing it, and it holds his scent as well, something fresh and expensive.

‘You look good in it,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. It makes the outfit, I think,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘I did think it was missing something, to be fair,’ I joke, his smile alerting me to the fact that he’s about to make a joke that he’s already very proud of. ‘It was missing the rest of its material,’ he says, and I gasp, hitting his shoulder lightly as he bites his lip to hold back laughter. To be fair, the dress is pretty tiny. The neckline barely covers my nipples and the hem barely covers my ass, not to mention the fact that it’s practically a second skin and it has the thinnest little straps that just about manage to hold it up.

‘Don’t shame me.’ ‘I’m not shaming you! It’s hypocritical to shame something you like, isn’t it?’ he asks with a grin. ‘You like it?’ ‘Yeah, I do. I love your skimpy little dress,’ he laughs, making me roll my eyes. ‘I had to wear something to give me the confidence to walk into a club for the first time in over two years.’ ‘You don’t have to explain yourself. Honestly, I’m just hoping you’re wearing outfits like this every time I see you.’ ‘I’ll wear it to your next match,’ I smile, and he falls into a thoughtful silent for a moment. ‘Actually… maybe not then. I’d end up shooting into our own goal if I spot you in the stands wearing a dress like this,’ he says drily, the car slowing down as he pulls into a familiar residential area.

‘You live around here?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘About thirty seconds down this road.’ ‘I’m literally five minutes away from here. I’m always at the Co-op at the top of the road,’ I say, the boy looking surprised. ‘No way. I’m always there as well. How have we never run into each other?’ ‘I’m glad we haven’t. I always look an absolute mess when I go, and I’m usually buying alcohol,’ I admit, Mason laughing. ‘Should I be concerned about your alcoholism?’ he asks, and I shake my head with a laugh. ‘It’s not that bad, I promise. I barely had a drop when I was with my ex.’ ‘Oh. In that case, drink as much as you want. I won’t even try to stop you,’ he grins, clearly trying to communicate that he’d be better for me thank my ex, and I just roll my eyes amusedly.

He pulls up to his house a few moments later, reversing onto the drive with his head turned, hand on the back of my seat. It takes every ounce of my self-control to not watch him, knowing I’ll probably throw myself at him the second I see him doing the sexy reversing thing. He turns off the engine, climbing out of the car and rushing around to help me out, grinning like he’s proud of himself for being so gentlemanly. He motions for me to lead the way up to the front door, following me up the drive and unlocking the door using the security system keypad set into the brick beside it.

I step into the front hall, slipping off my uncomfortable heels, my feet relieved at being flat on the cold floor. He flicks a switch beside the door as he shuts it behind us, flooding the room with light, and I find myself impressed at how nicely decorated it is. It’s also spotless enough that I can tell it was cleaned today, and I find myself unusually jealous at the thought of some girl cleaning his house. I try to comfort myself with the possibility that his cleaning staff are male, though the thought’s tinged with doubt.

‘Let me get you a drink before you start getting withdrawal symptoms,’ he jokes, stepping around me and leading me to the kitchen. It’s similar to my own, with a big island in the middle of the room, and I admire the furnishings, impressed at his taste in décor. ‘Your house is beautiful,’ I say quietly, not wanting to disrupt the complete silence filling the room. ‘Thanks. My mum helped me choose everything,’ he admits, making me laugh. ‘Well, your mum’s got good taste,’ I say, the boy smiling at hearing a compliment for his mum.

‘Which wine do you want?’ he asks, opening the wine fridge. ‘I’m happy with whatever,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You must have a favourite. Just come and choose,’ he says amusedly, busying himself with getting a wineglass and ice out for me as I look through the many unopened bottles in the fridge. I spot a bottle of Asti, instantly won over, and I get it out carefully, shutting the fridge and bringing the bottle to the island where he’s standing.

‘Why do you have so much wine if you don’t drink it?’ I ask, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes as he watches me pour out a half glass, dropping in two ice cubes with the little silver tongs he hands me. ‘So I’ve got something to give the girls I bring home after a night out,’ he grins, and I pretend to hit him with the tongs, the boy ducking with a laugh.

‘I’m joking, I’m joking! The wine fridge was already there when I bought the house, and Mum said I might as well just fill it up so it doesn’t look weird, and so I’ve got options for people to choose from when I host,’ he explains, and I nod in understanding, putting the wine bottle back in the fridge as he puts the ice away.

‘So do you do that on a regular basis? Bring girls home after a night out?’ I ask casually, Mason looking amused at my question. ‘Not regularly. A couple times. But I’ve never let them choose their favourite wine from my wine fridge,’ he adds, making me laugh. ‘I guess I’m special then.’ ‘So special, babe.’ ‘I’m honoured,’ I say drily, taking a sip from my glass as he laughs.

‘Can I use your toilet?’ I ask, the boy nodding. ‘It’s just down that way. Door on the left,’ he says, and I walk down the corridor he points at, opening one of the doors. ‘That’s your right, y/n, not your left,’ he laughs as I stop myself from stepping into a store cupboard. ‘Oh. I struggle remembering my left and right.’ ‘Clearly,’ he says amusedly, my eyes landing on something in his cupboard.

‘Wow, this is quite a board game collection,’ I say, Mason coming to stand behind me as I admire the three shelves lined with board game boxes. ‘I know it’s not why you came back to mine but… do you wanna play one?’ he says excitedly, like a big kid. ‘Excuse you, Mason Mount, but playing a board game is exactly the reason I came back to yours,’ I lie, pretending to be outraged by his insinuation, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Yeah, right. The only game you came here to play is an adult version of Twister,’ he grins, wiggling his eyebrows, and I can’t help but burst into laughter at the terrible joke, Mason unable to hold back his own.

‘What game shall we play then?’ I ask, and he looks surprised. ‘Wait, you really want to?’ ‘Don’t tell me you’re scared of losing to me, Mount,’ I taunt, his competitive streak taking over when he raises a patronising eyebrow. ‘Can’t be scared of something that has a less-than-1% chance of happening,’ he replies childishly, and I scoff. ‘Put your money where your mouth is then. Let’s play,’ I challenge, and he holds out a hand for me to shake. ‘You’re on.’

And five minutes later, here we are. Two grown adults on the carpeted floor of his living room on a Saturday night in our clubbing clothes, two Guess Who? boards set up between us and my wineglass on the coffee table beside us, music playing from his sound system in the background. Mason’s lying on his front, legs outstretched, while I’m sitting with my legs bent to the side, keeping my thighs clamped shut.

‘Okay, shall I start?’ ‘Wait,’ he says suddenly, that mischievous glint in his eyes again, ‘let’s… raise the stakes a bit.’ ‘Don’t tell me you wanna put money on Guess Who?, because that is a low I’m not ready to go to,’ I say with narrowed eyes, the boy laughing. ‘No, not money. What about… clothes?’ he suggests, and I tilt my head in confusion. ‘The loser buys the winner a new wardrobe?’ ‘No, y/n. You lose a round, you lose an item of clothing,’ he grins, and my eyes widen in surprise.

‘Don’t chicken out on me now, babe,’ he taunts, and I roll my eyes, my own competitive streak appearing. ‘I’m no chicken, but it’s unfair on me. You’re wearing way more than I am,’ I pout, and he’s silent for a moment, obviously working it out. ‘No, we’ve got the same. I’ve got socks, boxers, trousers and shirt. You’ve got dress, bra, pants and my jacket,’ he lists off, and I bite my lip, feeling awkward about having to tell him he’s overestimating what I’ve got on. ‘I’m not wearing a bra. Or pants,’ I say quietly, his mouth falling open for a moment.

‘Nothing under your dress?’ ‘Nope.’ ‘Right. I guess that’s not as simple then,’ he says, clearly trying not to laugh, and I don’t reply for a moment, debating whether or not I’m bold enough for this. And then I decide, fuck it. ‘It’s still simple in my eyes. I told you, Mount. I’m not a chicken,’ I murmur, his eyes darkening as he grins. ‘You’re sure?’ 100%.’ ‘Let’s do it, then,’ he says, unable to wipe the smile off his face.

We start the most competitive game of Guess Who? ever, both of us aggressively tapping down the tiles on our boards. I win the first round, downing half of my wine in celebration as he pulls his socks off. He throws one at me, my scream as I bat it away making him burst into laughter. He wins the next round, and I reluctantly take off his jacket, resting it on the sofa as he gives me a greasy grin, bursting into laughter again when I lean over to swat at him.

‘You’d better pray you don’t lose the next round,’ he says, sitting up with his shoulders in a competitive stance, and I smile confidently. ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to,’ I promise, and I’m right. I win the next round, managing to guess correctly when I still have six people left to guess from, and his mouth falls open at how lucky I am.

‘What shall I take off then?’ ‘You’re letting me choose?’ I ask, the boy nodding, lips quirked up in amusement. ‘Shirt. Obviously,’ I say, the boy laughing as his hands lift to undo the buttons on his shirt. Our eyes are locked together as he shrugs his shirt off, but once he’s shirtless, I can’t resist the temptation to let my gaze slide over his bare torso, muscles and tan skin and tattoos galore. Desire settles low in my stomach as he watches me admire him, a darkly satisfied look on his face. His light-hearted and jokey side is slowly melting away, leaving a very intimidating side in its wake.

‘When you’re finished… I’m ready to beat you again,’ he says in a low tone laced with mirth, and I roll my eyes. ‘Don’t bet on it, babe. I’m winning this round as well,’ I say with conviction, and I’m right again. It comes down to the wire this time, pretty much anyone’s game, but I manage to scrape the win at the last second, the boy looking outraged that he didn’t.

He stands up as I sip victoriously on the last of my wine, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers before pushing them down his strong legs and kicking them aside. I feel my pulse quickening as I look up at him standing there in nothing but his Calvins, a noticeable tent in them already. He grins at me as he sits back down, and I avoid his amused gaze, resetting my Guess Who? board.

‘Last round,’ he reminds me, and I take a deep breath to calm my nerves, knowing what’s coming right after this round. He doesn’t seem to be trying very hard to win, but my nervousness distract me from concentrating, and by the time he makes his guess, I’ve still got half my board up. I can’t even muster up the disappointment at losing, too on edge about the fact that I’m about to strip off my dress to leave myself naked in Mason Mount’s living room.

‘Why do you look like you’re about to vomit?’ he asks amusedly, stretching out his legs and leaning back on his elbows. ‘Too much to drink,’ I say weakly, the boy sighing. ‘y/n, if you’ve changed your mind, you can say so. Don’t worry ab-’ ‘No, it’s not that. I’m just… I haven’t slept with anyone other than my ex in the last three years. And almost every time we slept together, it was boring and never felt special. It was just a really dull part of our routine. This is different. I feel nervous,’ I admit, Mason chuckling softly.

‘Come here,’ he says softly as he pushes the Guess Who? boards aside, speaking in a tone that no-one would ever be able to say no to, and I crawl across the carpet towards him. When I reach him, he slides an arm around my waist, effortlessly lifting me to straddle him, his bulge pressing directly onto my core.

‘There’s nothing to be nervous about, y/n. We’ll take this as slowly as you want to, and we don’t have to do it at all if you decide you don’t want to. There’s only one thing I want you to feel tonight, and that isn’t anxiety,’ he murmurs, one of his hands resting on my back as he lifts the other hand to brush a lock of hair back from my face, butterflies exploding in my stomach.

‘We can play another game if you want? Or I can get you another glass of wine before you start getting withdrawal shakes?’ he jokes lightly, and I can’t hold back my giggle, the boy smiling at the sound. ‘I’m okay,’ I say, lifting my hands to rest on his bare chest, his skin hot against my palms. ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I don’t want games, or wine. All I want is you,’ I say shyly, his grin growing. ‘That works out well then.’ ‘Yeah?’ ‘Yeah. I’m already yours, babe,’ he murmurs, sliding his hand up to the back of my neck and pulling me closer.

My eyes slide shut as he kisses me, his lips pushing mine apart and his tongue sliding into my mouth. The kiss is sweet wine and bitter tequila, my head going light at the taste of him on my mouth while his hands roam up and down my sides. I slide my hands up his chest to the back of his neck, using my grip on him to press my torso against his, accidently rocking forward against his bulge. The friction makes me whimper into his mouth, and he groans at the noise, gripping my waist to press me down again, stealing the breath from each other’s mouths as though the only air that works for either of us comes from each other’s lungs.

The kiss escalates quickly, my hands gripping onto his hair as his fingers press into my waist tightly enough to leave bruises, controlling my movements so I’m grinding down onto him, both of us moaning into each other’s mouths. His skin is so hot against mine, and I realise I want to touch every inch of it, my hands sliding down from his hair to explore the curves and ridges of his strong body.

‘Can I?’ he asks against my lips as his hands slip down to my thighs, tips of his fingers playing with the hem of my dress. I hum into the kiss as response, his hands instantly disappearing under my dress and sliding over my bare skin, pulling the material up with them. We break apart briefly so he can pull it over my head, throwing it over his shoulder as he reconnects our lips, my boobs smushed against his chest. His hands explore my completely naked body as I continue grinding down onto him, unclothed core dripping arousal all over his underwear.

‘Fuck, you’re so wet. I need to…’ he breathes into my mouth, lying back and bringing my body down on top of his before rolling us over, the soft carpet against my skin as he hovers over me. ‘Can I touch you?’ ‘Please,’ I whisper, his hand instantly moving down to push my legs apart, two fingers lightly swiping across my folds to collect up my arousal. He lifts his hand to his mouth, tasting me on his skin, and he lets out an appreciative noise.

‘You taste so good, babe,’ he praises, slipping the two fingers between my lips, and I suck on them gently, able to taste myself. He takes his hand from my mouth, replacing it with his own mouth and capturing my lips in a kiss, absorbing the moan I let out when he pushes those two fingers into me. He remains still for a few moments to let me adjust, distracting me from the stretch with a messy kiss, tongues and teeth clashing.

He breaks away from me when he starts moving his fingers, slowing sliding them in and out of me, my walls fluttering around them as I bite down on my lip to hold back any noises. His eyes are trained on my face, watching intently for my reactions as he presses his thumb down on my clit, my back arching up from the floor as my breath catches in my throat.

He curls his fingers inside me, a pathetic whimper escaping my lips, and he fails at trying to hold back his satisfaction at the sound. ‘I know, baby, I know,’ he murmurs, half-soothingly and half-patronisingly, his tone making me gush around his fingers. He’s trying his best to take it slow but he can’t resist increasing his pace, rocking his hand against me so his palm rubs my clit whilst his fingers move inside me, little moans falling from my lips every few seconds.

‘That’s it, babe, good girl. Let me hear how good it feels,’ he prompts with a small grin, replacing his palm with his thumb and rubbing hard and slow circles on my clit, forcing a desperate whimper out of me. I look up at him, stomach turning when I realise he’s still watching me, eyes studying my face as his fingers work their magic, and I can barely maintain his eye contact, hearing him chuckle when my back arches up again, a gentle moan escaping my lips.

‘Fuck, you sound so pretty,’ he mutters, fingers curling inside me again, and I can’t help but clamp my thighs together, overwhelmed at the sensation. ‘Want me to stop?’ he asks, hand stopping its movements, and I shake my head desperately, needing him to stop but needing him to carry on even more. He grins amusedly as he pulls one of my legs up so it bends at the knee between our bodies, allowing his fingers to go even deeper inside me. ‘Fuck, Mason,’ I breathe out when his fingers brush against that spot inside me, and he curses under his breath at hearing his name on my lips.

I clutch at the carpet as his fingers continue to thrust into me at a ever-quickening pace, an obscene squelching filling the room. ‘God, you’re so wet. Soaking my carpet, dirty girl,’ he chuckles, and I let out whine after whimper as he starts to bring me to the edge. ‘You’re doing all the work now, y/n. Feels good, baby?’ he asks softly, tone laced with cockiness, and I only realise after he says it that I’m grinding down onto his hand, each movement sending gentle waves of pleasure through me.

My body squirms beneath his, walls clenching around him, and he knows that I’m close, his pace quickening as he whispers honeyed filth into my ear. ‘Close, babe?’ he asks, and all I can do is nod, letting out a loud moan. ‘Fuck, bet my neighbours are gonna come knocking soon with a noise complaint. But how could anyone complain about your pretty noises, babe?’ he grins, the thought of being heard only prompting a fresh wave of arousal that soaks his skin.

‘Fuck, Mason, I’m gonna…’ I trail off, feeling myself get closer with every brush of his thumb at my clit and every curl of his fingers inside me. ‘Gonna cum, babe? You wanna cum on my fingers?’ he whispers against my ear, and I just let out a moan in response, teetering at the edge. I’m so close, and then he takes his fingers out of me, my orgasm disappearing within seconds, and I whine, eyes filling with tears of frustration and desperation.

‘Don’t complain, babe. I’m not done,’ he murmurs soothingly as he moves down my body, pressing kisses my skin. He briefly sucks one of my nipples into his mouth, making me sigh in pleasure, before continuing down my body, pushing my legs apart so he can settle between them.

He doesn’t waste any time, immediately burying his head between my inner thighs and sucking my clit into his mouth. I let out a moan of his name, fingers tangling into his hair as he alternates between flicking his tongue over my clit and slurping at my folds noisily like a man starved. It doesn’t take long for my orgasm to build up again, and I fall over the edge when he pushes his tongue inside me, his nose pressing against my clit.

My vision goes blurry as I moan out loudly, fingers gripping onto his soft locks for any form of stability as the pleasure crashes through my body in strong waves, my limbs tense and tight. As my orgasm subsides, my body goes slack beneath him, and he takes it upon himself to continue eating me out. I whine at the overstimulation, body squirming as he sucks and flicks my clit whilst thrusting one finger into me.

‘Mase, I can’t. It’s too much,’ I whimper between moans, tears steadily running down my face, and when he finally gives me reprieve, I let out a long sigh of relief, a dark grin on his face as he sits up on his knees. ‘You’re not done already, are you, babe? Haven’t even let me fuck you yet,’ he murmurs, slipping a hand into his Calvins and touching himself, my core flooding with arousal at the sight.

I sit up, pulling his underwear down just enough to free his cock, mouth-watering at the sight of it. I can’t resist from leaning down and sucking the head between my lips, his salty pre-cum coating my tongue. ‘As much as I’d love to feel your mouth right now, babe, I’d love to be inside you even more. Gonna let me fuck you?’ he asks as I sit up, and I nod shyly, his grin growing.

‘Let me grab a condom from ups-’ ‘No, don’t. I’m on birth control, and I’m clean,’ I say, his eyes darkening. ‘Are you sure?’ ‘Are you clean?’ ‘Yeah.’ ‘Then, yeah, I’m sure. I wanna feel you raw,’ I breathe out, his pupils blown out completely with lust. ‘Fuck. Yeah. Okay, then. How d’you want it?’ he asks, and I think it over for a moment. Missionary’s always been my favourite – I’m a simple girl – but for a one-night stand with a friend of a friend, it feels a bit too intimate. The last thing I need is to stare into his pretty eyes while he fucks me. I’ll end up falling in love.

‘From behind,’ I murmur quietly, a flicker of disappointment in his eyes before he grins, making me question if I’m imagining it. ‘Get on your hands and knees for me, babe,’ he prompts, and I do as he says, anticipating his touch on me. And then he smacks my ass harshly, making me let out a pained yelp, before he rubs the area soothingly.

‘This is fucking perfect,’ he mutters, groping my ass cheeks like a horny teenage boy, and I push back into him, needing him to fuck me. ‘Okay, okay, I get the hint,’ he laughs, his hands disappearing from my ass a moment later. I let out a moan the second I feel him running the head of his cock down my folds, another escaping my lips when he begins pushing into me.

‘Good girl. That’s a good girl,’ he says, voice soft and soothing as he slowly sinks into me, the slightly painful stretch tearing a sob from my throat, and he rubs my back soothingly as he bottoms out. ‘Feels so big,’ I whimper, and he chuckles lightly, his ego obviously inflated. ‘You’re taking it so well, babe,’ he praises as he stays still inside me, allowing me to adjust. ‘Please, Mason, move,’ I plead, and his hands stop rubbing, gripping my waist instead. ‘Sure?’ he asks, though I can feel that he’s practically itching to fuck me. ‘Yes, need you,’ I breathe out, and he doesn’t hesitate any longer.

He pulls out before slamming back in, winding me. He’s ruthless, pounding into me so hard that his balls slap against my thighs, hands digging into my waist, both our skin damp with sweat. My head falls forward, and he leans over to grab my hair in one hand, tugging it to hold my head up, the pull only slightly painful. He fucks into me, hard, with no restraint, my head bent back at an uncomfortable angle, my moans projecting around the room. ‘Does my pretty baby like being fucked like this?’ he asks, the pet name making me gush, and my moans seem to be answer enough for him, a strained chuckle falling from his lips.

He props one foot up on the floor, allowing him to hammer into me at a bruising pace, cock filling me up completely, having me completely blissed out. ‘You take it so well, babe. So well. You take it like such a good little slut,’ he breathes out between grunts, and it’s heart-stopping, toe-curling, tear-inducing, the way he’s fucking me, so good I can’t think of anything but him, and how fucking amazing this feels.

My arms give way before I can realise how much they’re aching, and I fall face first into the carpet. ‘Shit, baby, I’m sorry. Are you tired?’ he asks gently, his cock stilling inside me, and I try to lift myself back up, desperate to feel him again. He slips an arm around my stomach and, at first, I think he’s just trying to help me back into position but, instead, he pulls me all the way up so my back is pressed to his front, my body weight resting partially on my knees but mainly on him.

He continues fucking into me in this new position, but at an agonisingly slow pace. He rocks into me, cock dragging against my walls leisurely, and I can feel it even more like this, can feel every inch filling me up and stretching me out. I let out a loud moan of his name and he slips two fingers into my mouth to shut me up.

‘You’re so loud, babe. Gonna have the neighbours knocking on the door, but I don’t wanna rush. Wanna take my time with you. Isn’t that what you want, baby? Want me to fuck you nice and slow?’ he murmurs against my ear, and I let out a garbled moan around his fingers, my wetness dripping down my own thighs.

He takes the sound as a yes, grinning against my neck as he fucks me deep, and I whimper and whine around his fingers as he lets out sinfully soft grunts and groans against my skin. He brings a hand to rest at the base of my neck, fingers still in my mouth. ‘Feels good?’ he asks, and I just about manage to nod as my eyes roll back, a little laugh falling from his lips.

His hand around my neck tightens, cutting off my airways slightly, and I let out an unintelligible string of curses around his fingers, my breathing quickly becoming laboured. I clench around him sporadically, quickly feeling my high approaching, and he can feel it too, keeping his torturous pace with a smirk pressed to the side of my throat.

He releases my neck after a few moments and I gasp for air, my inhale cut off when he puts a hand on my forehead and pulls my head back far enough for us to make eye contact, his face just as handsome upside down. His eyes are dark, skin flushed, and hair pasted down to his forehead with sweat.

‘Fuck, you’re so pretty, babe. This body is so perfect. So beautiful, and so good for me, with your pretty noises. My pretty baby,’ he murmurs, my body weakening and my heart skipping beats at all the praise. I’m so close, but I just need more – his pace is mind-blowing, and the dirty talk has butterflies going wild in my stomach, but it’s not enough to push me over the edge.

‘Faster, Mase,’ I mumble around his fingers, and he shakes his head amusedly. ‘You’re crying, babe. You can’t even handle this, and you want it faster?’ he chuckles before complying, pounding into me hard enough that the sound of skin slapping against skin echoes around the room, filling my ears along with the sounds escaping my lips. He slips his fingers out of my mouth, reaching down to rub at my clit in circles fast enough to match his thrusts, and I’m hurtling towards my orgasm.

‘Close, babe? Gonna cum for me? Come on, baby, it’s gonna feel so good,’ he breathes against my ear, one hand groping my boobs whilst the other keeps a steady pace at my clit, and the mixture of all the different sensations whilst he whispers filth in my ear makes me hit my high, my mouth falling open in a silent scream before letting out a moan of his name.

My walls clamp down around him so tightly that he can’t even move, so he keeps rubbing my clit to get me through my orgasm, murmuring praise and encouragement in my ear before pressing soft kisses to my skin. When I start coming down from my high and my walls loosen around him, he pushes me down so I’m resting on my elbows, his hands gripping onto my waist. He pounds into me, chasing his own orgasm, and it washes over him within a few seconds, the sexiest moan of my name falling from his lips as he fills me up with his cum.

For a long few seconds, the quiet music and our heavy breathing are the only noises in the room, and I take a while to try and compose myself with my head resting on the carpet. ‘You okay, babe?’ Mason asks breathlessly as he pulls out, leaving me feeling empty, and I turn over to look up at him, nodding with a small smile. He grins at me, pushing my legs apart to watch his cum drip out of me, eyes trained on my face as he collects it up with two fingers and pushes It back into me. I try to say his name reprimandingly, but it comes out as a moan, and he chuckles as I push his hand away.

‘Come on. Let’s… get you cleaned up,’ he says, easily lifting me up into his arms and carrying me out of the room bridal-style. He takes me up the stairs and into one of the bedrooms, putting me down gently on the bed. He puts on a lamp and disappears into what probably is an en suite bathroom, coming back with a damp towel a few seconds later.

‘Your house… really is lovely,’ I say through a yawn as he cleans me up with the towel, wiping up all the sweat on my skin, the saliva around my mouth and the cum between my legs. ‘After what just happened, you’re thinking about my décor?’ he laughs, and I roll my eyes. ‘I mean, to be fair, my head was in your carpet, and it was very soft, so…’ I say, trying to keep a straight face but unable to hold back my giggle when he bursts out laughing.

‘Do you want some clothes? A t-shirt or a hoodie? And you can borrow some of my boxers if you want underwear,’ he offers, and I laugh. ‘I’ll sleep like this. If you don’t mind,’ I add afterwards, though the look on his face clearly shows that he really doesn’t mind at all. ‘Yeah, that’s fine,’ he grins, getting up from the bed and going into the bathroom again. I stare at the ceiling, already getting flashbacks about what just happened, feeling myself getting wet again. I’m praying he doesn’t have training early tomorrow because I need him again in the morning.

I listen to what he’s doing, hearing the tap running and then shutting off a little while later before he comes back into the room. I listen to him leave, his footsteps going down the stairs, light switches being flicked and the music being turned off before his footsteps come back up and he steps into the room. I look over, the boy grinning at me. He’s wearing new underwear and looking fresher, like he’s splashed water on his face and combed his hair. He climbs into the bed beside me, sitting with his head resting against the headboard, back on the pillow. I move to lie in the circle of his arm, my head on his chest, and I can hear his heart beating through his skin.

‘So… gonna let me take you on a date?’ he asks suddenly, and I don’t react for a few seconds. ‘Um… no way.’ ‘No?’ he asks, sounding surprised, and I sigh. ‘Nope. I told you, I’m not looking for a relationship anytime soon,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘A date doesn’t equal a relationship, y/n,’ he says, and I lift my head to look up at him, arms resting across his chest.

‘Yeah, but one date with me is all it would take for you to fall in love,’ I say as though it’s obvious, and he nods amusedly. ‘And that’s a bad thing?’ ‘Yes. I don’t have the time, patience or energy to deal with someone being in love with right now,’ I say dramatically, though we both know I’m speaking the truth, and he just nods thoughtfully.

‘Okay. If you don’t want me to love you, then at least let me… love you,’ he grins, making me laugh. ‘You mean physically instead of emotionally, right?’ I ask, and he nods. ‘Yeah. Let’s turn this into a thing. No strings attached and all of that,’ he says, and I raise an amused eyebrow. ‘What makes you think I’d wanna do this again?’ I ask jokingly, and he clutches his chest like he’s hurt. ‘Your moans and your crying made me think you’d wanna do it again,’ he says, and I cover my face in embarrassment, the boy laughing.

‘Okay, yeah. We can turn this into a thing. You just have to promise me that you’re happy with this not being serious, that you won’t let any feelings get involved.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise me you won’t sleep with anyone else while we’re doing this.’ ‘I promise.’ ‘And promise m-’ ‘y/n!’ he laughs, ‘we’re gonna be friends-with-benefits. Nothing more. I promise. Okay?’ he says, and I nod amusedly, putting my head back down on his chest. He strokes my hair gently as I trace lines over his abs and, before I know it, I’m drifting off, the steady beat of his heart lulling me into sleep.

#mason mount #mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount smut #mason mount fluff #mason mount imagine #chelsea fc

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sickficideas · 6 months ago

Note

Hello it’s me Rui again! You’ve been so good to me recently for absolutely no reason at all but your own kindness. But I’m here to share some sickfics with you and the wonderful lurking community that looks at your page.

In my opinion, I think that finding good bsd sickfics is actually really hard. So many of them are too short, not enough buildup, emit enough suffering… you get the idea. I tend to find that sickfics are best (in my opinion) when there is good buildup and absolute suffering that then elicits care :]

I have 411 (mainly soukoku) bookmarks, that vary between hurt/comfort and sickfics. (Most are hurt/comfort because sickfics that I like are hard to find). I’ve spent an unholy amount of time going through thousands of bsd fics to find satisfactory sickfics, and I thought I’d share them here for anyone else who struggles finding them <3

Mainly focusing on emeto fics for this blog because that’s what the central topic here is lol. I hope you enjoy some of my stash! If you end up liking it, maybe I can share my larger stash of hurt/comfort. I wish this category wasn’t so sparse.

» Nothing || Fraink5 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/11365941

A sadder fic with a bit less emeto. TW for major character death. I know it’s not exactly emeto, but it has its moments, and I find that this short little fic provides some of the same things that standard emeto fics do. Definitively worth the read if you’re in the right headspace for character death.

» Nebulous || way1203 - https://archiveofourown.org/works/37985296

Beautiful Chuuya sickfic oneshot. It’s about the aftermath of corruption. There’s a lot of delirium, sometimes it is hard to suspend my disbelief, but I still enjoy this one a lot.

» You’re a Canary, I’m a Coal Mine || PlayRough - https://archiveofourown.org/works/37985296

One of the more popular bsd sickfics writers, but I found myself needed to include this fic. It is quite long, but it’s basically just Dazai suffering from sickness and Chuuya assisting him. I’m ashamed to say this has become one of my bedtime stories.

» surely i’ll go bite the dirty dust || lizzielovessharks - https://archiveofourown.org/works/36533236

I can confidently proclaim this as one of the most criminally underrated bsd sickfics I’ve ever had the honour of discovering. Chuuya and Dazai are severely injured after a mission, Chuuya can hardly walk, and he’s sick. They just get so tormented but there’s so much comfort in this short and sweet fic. The ending always makes me smile, and I find myself coming back to this one very often.

» In Sickness and In Heath || TheShortestAlchemist - https://archiveofourown.org/works/48006802

Chuuya taking care of Dazai :]

Less emeto but still provides much comfort for the soul.

» I’ll Take Care of You || Anonymous - https://archiveofourown.org/works/49949443

Sorry this one isn’t emeto either… but it’s chuuya being torment by Arahabaki so much that he gets a migraine that renders him unable to do anything. Still fulfills many sickfics desires.

» Poisoned Valentine || Wolf___Spirit - https://archiveofourown.org/works/53768785

Someone tries to send Chuuya home with poisoned chocolates with the intent to kill. However Dazai ends up eating them first, thus causing him to endure a lot of pain. (Read this honestly it’s wonderful)

» Burning Out || Trinity_of_Madness - https://archiveofourown.org/works/18899161

Long term corruption side effects… that’s all I’m gonna say. Take it or leave it as you see fit :] (it’s very fluffy, however it is quite bittersweet in case that’s not what you’re looking for)

» crimson headache, aching blush || kaiunkaiku - https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344119

More post corruption. Chuuya really needs a hug. He gets one. (Recommend reading lol)

» Underwater || TheGreatCatsby - https://archiveofourown.org/works/24344119

I’m so sorry. Not as much of a sickfic, but gosh it has to be one of my favourite comfort oneshots to ever exist. Chuuya does have a small emeto moment though. Ahhhh I’m so sorry for getting off track in these recommendations, I just have so many 🪦

» A Joyless Ride || calmlb - https://archiveofourown.org/works/55224694

This one is beautiful. I personally love the motion sickness Dazai headcannon. And this does a perfect job at demonstrating it. Dazai and Chuuya are on a mission, but they have to escape via Chuuya’s motorcycle. Dazai gets motion sickness that Chuuya had not considered.

» on standby for you || lonelydoctors - https://archiveofourown.org/works/48558496

Chuuya is hit with a virus ability and Dazai has to take care of him while he suffers. I really enjoyed this one.

» Flashover || affectropia - https://archiveofourown.org/works/35640841

Bittersweet concept that is the reason behind this fic being a sickfic. However, it has a fluffy ending, and is only the care taking half of it.

» beating drums and piping flutes - as they play the rain will fall || saanoir

This fic has to be another criminally underrated one. It’s the insomniac Dazai headcannon, except he starts feeling badly. All alone, he remembers a promise him and Chuuya made years ago. Hurt, even more comfort.

» I Think I’ll Just Collapse Right Here, Thanks || huntersserenity - https://archiveofourown.org/works/27219268

Chuuya has a drink poisoned. He is disoriented and not very functioning, but Dazai is there to assist him like he always is. (Very good, underrated, highly highly recommend)

Andd that’s all I got for now! Aside from another wonderful writers works that I didn’t include. Their username is ringingmaybelles and they make very very quality sickfics. Definitely read their work if you want the best there is to offer.

I’m sorry for the long list, I hope it is helpful/enjoyable. Sorry to come back and bother you with this essay. Thank you for letting me share these for the fellow sickfic enjoyers 😭😭😭

(Apologies in advance for the links not working I’m sorry ahh, you’d have to put it into your browser qwq)

RUI!!! You have no idea how much I appreciate you doing this for us 💖💖💖 hehehe...you're so sweet🙈🙈

I know a lot of people on this blog loooove SKK as well, and you've included many sick Chuuya fics here which I find more difficult to come across...this hand selected list is so beautiful and I really appreciate all of the effort you went through to give this to us 🥺💖

It took me a little bit to get to this ask chronologically between all the asks in my inbox but here are clickable links compiled for everyone's ease, since tumblr asks took yours away hahaha!!

I've included short summaries from the fic's original summaries along with Rui's descriptions, but please head the warnings and tags on the fics themselves!

Enjoy and share with fellow SKK sickfic enjoyers :))) I haven't read many of these and I'm so excited to dive in 🙏 let me know if any of the links are wrong so I can fix them, and if any of these authors see this and want to be tagged on tumblr ;)

Nothing by Fraink5

"Chuuya wakes up with a terrible fever--except he can't stay awake. Dazai is determined to keep Chuuya from losing consciousness, but how long will it last?"

Nebulous by way1203

"Chuuya struggles with the aftermath of using Corruption too many times and Dazai helps him through it."

You're a Canary, I'm a Coal Mine by PlayRough

"Super self indulgent Dazai sickfic."

surely i'll go bite the dirty dust by lizzielovessharks

" "Come on Chuuya," He muttered quietly as they felt themself having to pull Chuuya harder and harder to keep up, "Just a little bit further." -- or more Chuuya angst :) "

In Sickness and In Health by TheShortestAlchemist

"Dazai is sick and Chuuya takes care of him like the loving bf he is~"

I'll Take Care of You by toucheslikethesun

"Dazai walks into the ADA to find a desperate and distressed Chuuya looking for him, haunted by Arahabaki and having been unable to sleep for a long time."

Poisoned Valentine by Wolf__Spirit

"On Valentine's Day, Dazai steals and eats some chocolates that were given to Chuuya in the mafia. Turns out they were poisoned chocolates."

Burning Out by Trinity_of_Madness

" “Chuuya… We have to go…” Dazai whispered and pulled him up unwillingly. -- Chuuya held his hand, followed his guide with his usual smile on his face. Dazai’s chest tightened painfully at the sight, and he couldn’t stop himself from pulling him into a tight embrace."

crimson headache by kaiunkaiku

"the aftermath of corruption is its own kind of hell."

Underwater by TheGreatCatsby

"Chuuya has never liked water, but he never thought about why."

A Joyless Ride by calmlb

"Dazai hates motorcycles but right now he doesn’t have a choice. It does not go well"

on standby for you by lonelydoctors

"Chuuya gets hit by a virus ability and Dazai has to take care of him"

Flashover by affetropia

"Dazai tried again. Now, he gotta to deal with the pain, and Chuuya is there. He always is there when he needs."

beating drums and piping flutes - as they play the rain will fall by saanoir

"Dazai, in the midst of suffering another bout of insomnia, remembers a promise he made to Chuuya a long time ago -- to go to him when he's feeling bad."

I Think I'll Just Collaspe Right Here, Thanks by huntersserenity

" ‘ ‘Samu,’ Chuuya groaned. ‘Wanna take a nap.’ -- ‘You can’t nap right now, darling,’ Dazai said." "

The end 🏁 Enjoy!!

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genderqueerdykes · 4 months ago

Note

Hello, I’ve got a long winded request for advise that I’d like to ask from you (if you’ll give me a year in advance to ramble lol).

Would just like to state first off that this was something I spent half an hour on cycling between the thoughts of “this is horribly offensive” and “who better to ask” due to some of your posts and because I commonly enjoy and trust your opinions to be at least honest. I know you aren’t obligated to answer this ask but I’d really appreciate it even if it’s simply just a “AITA?” “YTH” situation.

I’ve had an issue recently where I am being ridiculed for making choices for my body and its appearance. The choice is losing weight. I’ve lived my entire life so far as a fat person, for the last 13 or so years I was well above the “class 3 obesity” threshold, right now I’m sitting in the low end of the first class. I don’t really like it, but when I was in the overweight category (I haven’t been an average weight since I was 5, a little more on that later) I got told that by losing weight I was being inherently fatphobic and making other fat people uncomfortable.

I know dieting and the likes can be an uncomfortable topic in general but I never brought it up except for rare mentions of my weight loss, mostly because I was proud of my progress. I’m not wanting to be “thin, “skinny,” whatever etc etc, I would just like to be in the middle of the average category with some visible muscle mass. I was shamed so much that I put myself back up into the obese category, and I’m all for body positivity but it’s not working for me when I know what I want my body to look like. I’m neutral on my body and its functions in general but I’m uncomfortable with the gain I didn’t want and the knowledge that I was on my way to a point of comfort.

As I said before, I haven’t been an average weight since I was 5. That’s because I developed severe binge eating disorder due to trauma. My weight gain was uncontrollable and made me uncomfortable for over a decade. Now that I have some control and a sense of body neutrality, I would like to lose what I gained from my disorder. Not all of it ofc, I’m an adult now and I want a healthy adult body, but I want to be able to make the choices and changes to put my body back into the average weight that I feel was “stolen” from me.

I suppose those thoughts could be considered fatphobic from a certain viewpoint but to me my binge eating disorder and obesity are/were things that I feel the need to heal from. I don’t have these thoughts about anyone else. I don’t want anyone to lose weight if they don’t want to. I love fat bodies. I just want to have the choice to lose weight myself without being considered a bad person.

Do these thoughts and feelings make me a bad/fatphobic person? Does losing weight make me a bad/fatphobic person? I genuinely just want what I believe is best for my body.

Thank you for your time. Stay well.

i have a lot of feelings on this sort of topic, so i appreciate you sending an ask like this, because it's one of the most nuanced, complicated discussions i've tried to have with people recently and a lot of people do not understand the distinction. i'm going to try to break this down to have it make sense to as many people as possible

first of all, people have the right to choose what weight they want their body to be at, so long as it's not causing genuine harm, especially permanent harm. losing weight is not inherently evil, the thing is, a lot of people either need to lose weight or choose to do so for good reasons. i was very heavy at one point, 360 lbs, and i was starting to get new pain i hadn't experienced before. it was hard to stand for any period of time. i couldn't walk much.

after i started walking around the neighborhood and losing that extra weight, that pain went away. i feel a lot better having less of that weight on me. i gained weight in a very unhealthy manner during this time, mostly by not eating well for my dietary needs, sleeping excessively, no exercise, and so on. the thing is that we have to take care of our total health and not everyone who is fat is unhealthy, but some people can and do put on weight that impairs their functioning or health and it's not good to ignore that this is a thing that can and does happen

you're allowed to decide what you feel your body should look like especially if you are not taking this to extremes. i like to keep my weight below a certain range, myself. i keep a close eye on it. fortunately it's easy to stay around a certain healthy range for my body because i cook a lot of meals at home and i mostly eat vegetarian food and fish due to allergies and digestive issues. i'm still about 311 lbs but it's in a much healthier configuration for my body

weight is a complex conversation. both thin and fat bodies are stigmatized. we need to drop our obsession with body image and let people be the arbiters of their own weight, at least, letting people express what they want and helping them reduce harm and find ways to achieve that goal realistically in a healthy manner. shaming people doesn't work. we've proven this decade after decade. shaming skinny people doesn't work. shaming fat people doesn't work. shaming anyone doesn't work

dieting is a very specific thing. everyone's diet is 100% unique to their body. your digestive system works different than the person next to you's. you may not metabolize nutrients as well as someone else. you may process fats and proteins differently. you may need a lot of electrolytes. you may not be able to digest fiber. you may struggle with fructose, glucose and other sugars. you may not be able to eat any meats at all. you may need lots of fruits. it will depend greatly on who you are

it's best to work with your body than against it. you are allowed to decide what weight range you want to be within. best thing you can do is attempt an elimination diet to see if there are foods that just don't do your body any favors, these can and should be done very slowly with one food at a time. but i'm not a health professional, so that's just a suggestion.

either way good luck, i don't like when people try to boil this down to "this is good" or "This is bad". there are good and bad things to all of this. it's worth discussing both sides of that. i hope this helped you in any way

#asks #answers #fat lib #fat liberation #body image #body autonomy #bodily autonomy #weight #health

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chilschuck · 9 months ago

Note

Can I maybe get a platonic thing where reader is dating one of Chilchucks daughters (probably flertom) but is also an adventurer themselves and join the party hoping to get their girlfriends dad to like them?

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ hi anon!!! ofc you can! <33 i hope this turned out okay, i wrote it in between clients at work, LOL. it’s short but sweet, and i had fun imagining chil being protective!

— CHILCHUCK (& FLERTOM): platonic!chil x gn!reader hcs.

꒰ warnings: ꒱ none! sfw + chil being protective dad, lol.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 627

✦ going insane bc tumblr deleted it right as i was about to post it. sobs. but i hope you enjoy it!! (;;w;;)

✦ When you first joined the party, it was under the guise that you just needed a group to help you get to the lower levels. Laios being who he is, was more than happy to get your help with the rest of the members.

✦ You had an ulterior motive, one you wouldn’t be revealing so soon: the goal to get your girlfriend’s dad to approve of you. Flertom had told you before that it was totally fine, and that you shouldn’t worry yourself too much over it. She loved you, and that’s all that should matter. Yet, you found yourself unhappy to know that not only did he not know of your existence in her life, but that he hadn’t given you his blessing.

✦ Making sure not to let too much slip, you did your absolute best to get the man to like you. Whether it be staying out of his way while he worked or by showing your own worth, you worked extremely hard to get on his good side.

✦ Occasionally you’d talk about your girlfriend, mainly how much you adored her and that she made you really content. Chilchuck would hum, mulling over everything you said. It never occurred to him that you’d be talking about his daughter of all people, but he’d give you advice once in a while about certain things.

✦ Chilchuck thought you were a good asset. You stayed in your own lane yet brought about your own skills, something he valued. Your interest in his work made him a little happy as well, and it was nice to have someone around his daughters’ age in the party. It made him miss his own kids a lot.

✦ It had been a good while of you being in the party, and you felt it was finally time to show your true motive. You waited until Chilchuck was relaxed, enjoying a drink as everyone made camp.

“You know, there’s something I haven’t told you about myself,” you began, a tinge of nervousness in your voice. You had worked so hard to build up the reputation you had with him, and didn’t want to tear it all down in one sitting.

Chilchuck raised an eyebrow at you, taking a sip of his drink. His silence was a push to keep talking.

“I’m… My girlfriend is Flertom.” The words weren’t rushed, in fact they left you in an exhale of relief that they finally were spoken. Meanwhile, you felt the fear return to your chest when Chilchuck choked on his drink.

After his coughing fit, the half-foot banged on his chest, turning to look at you incredulously. “My daughter is your girlfriend? This whole time, it’s been her?!”

✦ After that talk, he didn’t speak to you for a little while. It was discouraging, but you tried your best to give him the space he needed. When you seemed down more than usual one day, he turned his attention to you and sighed.

✦ “You know, I’ve been thinking… I guess if you’re the one with her, it’s not too bad… You’re an okay kid.” You immediately perked up at his words, before he stuck out an accusatory finger at you.

✦ “But! If you hurt her, or break her heart, or anything like that, you’re gonna have to go through me. Got it?” His voice came out in a tone that had you glued to the floor, but you nodded as quickly as you could. You’ll definitely keep that in mind.

✦ Chilchuck thought back to the letter he had received, with how happy Fler had seemed with you. Well… He guesses that if it stays the way it is now… He’d be fine with it.

✦ For now.

#⟡ lilia writes! 🌿#not sure what to tag this #dunmeshi x reader #delicious in dungeon x reader #dungeon meshi x reader #uhmmmmm #I’ll leave it at that!

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randomyuu · 9 months ago

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so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness) [1/4]

Ah, yes. The fic that made me realise I’m in desperate need of Cursed Spirit Gojou in my ever-growing favourite GoYuu tropes.

Content Warning!

Major Character Death. Other characters are disrespectful to the corpse.

I highly suggest you read the fic first, or just the fic, since I don’t think I was properly able to adapt it into drawings. While I managed to use roughly two weeks of on-and-off planning, researching, and storyboarding, I only had a full week to finish it. You can read more of my thoughts below the comic if you’re curious.

Title: so hold my hand (consign me not to darkness)

Author: qalb_al_louz

It’s ongoing, and as of this drawing, the fic is in its third chapter. While this is (sexually) SFW, always be mindful of the tags! Please keep yourself safe and sound.

Please read from right to left, and enjoy!

You can only upload 30 images in one post, huh Damn, I gotta divide it into parts

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Alrighty, I'll put my watered down unhinged thoughts below. No extra drawings down there if you're curious haha (unless you want to see the storyboard and the characters' full body character sheet, lemme know). You can skip the stuff underneath the Keep Reading for all parts.

This fic had me grinning from ear to ear every time I read this. The atmosphere, how it goes from POV to POV—of pure fear and panic—and the peak excitement I got when Yuuji properly meets Gojou, like brooooo 😭

Gosh I cannot emphasise how much I love this fic. I’ve always been wanting to make a whole comic out of it, especially since it was 2 chapters and it doesn’t look like the author will update it, but it just… kind of forgotten ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

But then the author posted a new chapter and I told myself this is a sign I should really start.

also goddamn I was so naive to think I can tackle 2 chapters as comic—no I was in fact cannot

The moment I laid my eyes on the first paragraph, things were portrayed very vividly in my mind. The panel, the angle, Gojou's head rolling down... I was like, hell yeah. Then I continued reading and I finally succumbed to my desire to draw this out.

At first I want to adapt this into a vertical format like those manhwas. However the longer I try to learn and storyboard it... I am simply not yet comfortable with it, especially for such a big project. Even the 1st storyboard starts vaguely vertical before the panels quickly crammed into that B4-B5 format lol. The first sketch estimated 69 (heh) pages for 90% of chapter 1. I said "no" for my own sanity and fully focused on the usual manga format and it was narrowed down to 60. Still a lot though, quantity and time-wise. So with a heavy heart, I can only do the majority of chapter 1 :”) I really really want to draw Sukuna talks back to Gojou—do you have any idea how good that scene was??? Gojou tried so hard to restrain himself, he’s so other I love him 😭

Due to the sheer length of this comic (I'm still in disbelief), I have limit lots of things, and that includes the drawing. If you've seen my other JJK fanarts, they are more rendered than this one. Well, this one is purely sketched with the help of the eraser to tidy up some lines. This is also the first fanart that I did purely on Photoshop, so I can control the typesets and drawings in one place. Usually, I use Photoshop for panels and typesetting and Krita for drawing.

I don't really like Photoshop's brush, but it did really well in curbing my perfectionist tendencies, so that's good.

It's also been quite a while since I draw in general (sobs) so... yeah, you might find differences, or not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ But I hope you enjoy it nonetheless!

I know setting is important, but maaan I genuinely won't miss rereading chapter 83-93 with a heavy focus on background and character locations. I just want to read the action and dialogue😭 However continuity is really important. But my spatial intelligence is almost non-existent even GPS sometimes can't help me. All I'm saying is that if you find some silly drawing mistakes, do forgive me ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿I only drew all this in a week because otherwise I won't have another chance to complete this.

Well, lots of things I won't miss from this project, but haha let's talk about the characters instead because holy shit what was I thinking, starting this year drawing this many characters in the same project??? I have never drawn anyone here except for Yuuji, Gojou, Nanami and Megumi. I don't think I've ever drawn older Getou before. I already forgot how to draw my boy Yuuji and I gotta draw all these people???

This is what you call making a bad decision, kids. Don't do your "drawing warmup" after months of not drawing and tackling a project of a scale way bigger than you've ever tackled before.

Thank you for reading this far! I hope you find my complaint entertaining! But make no mistake, I genuinely still love the fic. Drawing this, even with all the headaches it gave me, only makes me adore this fic even more.

Thank you very much to each one of you who follows and leaves comments and tags on my silly art—it never failed to make my day :D And I sincerely wish this one also made your day or even made your minute! I'll see you in the next part!

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-ship #五悠 #goyuu #goyu #5u #gojou x yuuji #shibuya arc #shibuya arc canon divergence #lots of characters on this one #kenjaku #chousou #mahito #jogo jjk #gojo satoru

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chifuyudck · 9 months ago

Text

lucifer comforting a mc who is hard on themselves.

obey me lucifer x gn!mc COMFORT

summary: mc has been unmotivated to do anything recently, all because their mind is focused on studying. after studying for so long and trying so hard they figure out that they’re in need of a break.

a/n: hi my dear readers! i’m so sorry and please forgive me for not writing recently. i’ve been very busy recently (and unmotivated lol). i know i continue saying this at every author note but i REALLY really want to write more! sorry for any grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. please enjoy! (while writing this i kind of realised it’s a reflection of myself…)

————————————————————————

you have been sitting at your desk for hours now, trying to finish your school work. you tried multiple different methods to help you out, but NOTHING is working and it’s driving you crazy. after continuously tapping your pen on your desk with one hand, while your other hand is all tangled up in your hair. you let out a sigh, it’s getting late and all you want to do is lay down in your bed and forget about the existence of school. but you can’t.

you’ve never really been extraordinarily talented at anything, so you feel pressured to show the world you can do something, and that’s being good at school. but the thing is, after years of doing this you’re snapping, and realising you aren’t that great at school either. it might be harder to accept some things than others, that’s why you’re still hunched over your desk, and refusing to give up.

tears roll over your cheeks and now you’re silently sobbing. even though you continuously wipe your tears, more leave your eyes and eventually start staining your notes. “just study!” you yell at yourself, but being so hard to yourself makes you sob even harder.

it isn’t until a few moments later you hear two knocks on your bedroom door. your tears come to an abrupt halt and you quickly fix yourself, hoping you’ll go unnoticed. the person enters your room and to no surprise it’s lucifer, he’d be the only person up at this time. “mc, mind explaining why you’re up at this hour?” he asks, and you burst out into tears from just getting acknowledged by him.

he closes the door behind him and pulls a chair besides you. though he’s surprised by the sudden outburst, he caresses your shoulder softly which unconsciously makes you lean in. “i can’t…” you manage to mutter out while sobbing. “you can’t what, mc?” lucifer wonders, still caressing your shoulder, and now stuffing your hair behind your ear.

“i can’t study anymore.” you say with a shaky voice. his eyes soften and he pulls you closer, now caressing your spine which makes you shiver in his hold. he patiently waits and continues to comfort you until you manage to calm down. when you manage to, he suddenly heists you up into his arms and stands up, carrying you to your bed.

he puts you in bed, but when you try to sit back up, he firmly pushes you back down. “i still haven’t finished my work!” you tell him, though you might’ve had an outburst you still want to finish your work, you need to. “none of that mc, you can continue first thing in the morning. your health is far more important than your grades.” lucifer says with a stern voice.

“but my grades are important… i.. i can’t get a low grade!” you sputter back, trying to sit up once more, but failing to, once again. “your grades do not define who you are mc.” his words echo through your mind, causing your lips form into thin line. “i’ll still love you unconditionally, even if you get a grade you don’t wish to have.” he says with a softer voice.

his words have silenced you, and you lay back down. his hold releases from you and he pulls the comforters over you. “sleep now, and stop worrying with that mind of yours.” he says, smiling softly at you. he places a kiss on your forehead, and turns off your desk lamp. then he makes his way to your door but comes to a sudden halt when he hears your voice. “you’re a hypocrite, luci.” you mumble with good intentions. “sleep well, mc.” he whispers back softly, then shuts the door behind him.

he makes his way to his office, and when he sits down behind his own desk, he sighs. “truly a hypocrite, lucifer.” he says to himself while continuing his work. sometimes it’s easier to give advice, rather than following advice, even if it’s your own.

#obey me #obey me x mc #gender neutral y/n #om! mc #lucifer #gender neutral reader #obey me lucifer #comfort

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voltstone · 10 months ago

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ERICSON'S WALLFLOWER

or bpd as a twdg fandom essay, & violet's analysis

[Mar.26-29.2024 | 27,991]

Throughout my time spent within the TWDG fandom—since late 2019, early 2020—, Violet as not merely a love interest but a character exists as the fandom’s staunch polarization. And the funny thing?

I get it. A lot.

Much of what I’ve read into this character has been extrapolated from my own experiences, and those experiences speak to an inherent, polarizing chaos. It’s something that’s quite honestly a purgatory to try and articulate—I have tried—, and another bane to hope that people will get it. At least, enough to not just sweep my words under the rug. This essay is ultimately a trial to see if I’ve done enough work with myself, both emotionally and in writing, to be able to explain this to those none the wiser, or to the some who feel the same things, but have yet to hear it spoken with absolute clarity.

Through a fandom essay, no less. Specifically about a video game character who grows on people—Louis promises so.

Borderline Personality Disorder.

Nobody really likes to talk about it. Too many times in my life, I’ve had people sweep it under the rug because it is not a pretty thing, in times where I was pleading for help; often, in presence of the wrong crowd, it feels like a target nailed to my back.

It’s intrenched within stigma. And what’s difficult about that is…, yeah. I get why. There’s no mystery to it.

…yet there is so much people do not understand because not talking about it is so much easier, and the joke is, talk therapy is quite literally BPD’s primary treatment.

And so let’s talk about it. Allow me to pull away the confusion this disorder brings, and lay it out—as best I can—in a more digestible manner, through a deconstruction of Violet. I’ll have a little fun with it. However, if this essay reads in a more…straightforward tone compared to the couple others I’ve written now, it should. I’ve attempted to write this in a more lighthearted language before, but it didn’t really get the message across well, I would slip to this anyway, so. Yeah. I will still be conversational, just less so.

With that, however, this is another long essay. I hope you enjoy. :)

[Given the subject matter & the inclusion of my own experiences, take heed. This discussion is sensitive. W/ my experiences, I assure you I'm fine. I speak from a place where I’ve worked through my experiences.]

[Also, to stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale: I reference Louis and one of your essays about him, hence the @. But this thing's real long and about Violet, and stuff. Lol.]

[Briefly, but Exhaustively, to Clarify]

Before any discussion of BPD, then Violet’s deconstruction, a few things.

One. No, I’m not outright diagnosing Violet with BPD. She isn’t diagnosed in the game. I’ve not heard anything by Telltale or anyone associated remark BPD either. None of the schoolkids, for the matter, are diagnosed because it’s not that kind of story. The most we’re given is a narrative that explores their patterns in behavior, and then one…“diagnosis” with Willy. That being the, uh, chronic masturbation. (No, I did not think masturbation would be included in this discussion, but here we are. Thanks, you bug-eyed child.) Even then, however, that was likely a symptom of a larger issue with Willy.

Instead, I like this character. I see a lot of myself in this character, recognize the patterns she exhibits, and I’m hardly the first to associate Violet with BPD—since though she’s not diagnosed…, she is a little bit textbook. I’ve also seen a lot of the fandom misinterpret, preemptively judge, Violet for the things she does.

And I don’t mean the confusion and betrayal players feel should they save Louis over Violet. That reaction is normal. Yes, feel confused and betrayed. Because that’s the intention. What I take issue with, and part of why I’ve wanted to write this for a long while, is the…undertones beneath what is generally said. The opinions, too, that go along with it. All of which, ultimately, feed into the stigma that BPD is so intrenched within. The ignorance, and the refusal to understand both why and how.

So I do this through Violet because I adore TWDG, I’m in a TWDG mood, and, she is actually a phenomenal example to use for discussions around BPD. No, she’s not canonically diagnosed, but, it is better to explain a character by using a researched concept, just as much as it’s easier to explain said concept through a fictional example.

…and myself.

This essay will have a lot of commentary based around my experiences. A lot of this disorder’s stigmatization makes it difficult to find good information to understand what it does—specifically from the perspective of the borderline personality, not observers—, because…it’s just not the same as ADHD or depression, which have been big talking points within the recent years. I also have ADHD—runs in the family. That said, conversations in mental health has its fair share of stigma regardless, it’s just that BPD…does not help itself, largely due to the concepts I’ll be going over.

Also, I am very similar to Violet, down to how we dress, but also in personality. We’re not the same, but there’s enough where I feel like I can explain a lot of this character in relation to BPD. Because it’s a personality disorder. In similar personalities, the disorder will—more often than not—present itself the same way.

This does lead me to a third: as much as I’d like to say that this discussion will be the absolute, universal truth, the reality is no, this discussion will likely have blind-spots. It won’t be universal. For a myriad of reasons.

BPD is, again, a personality disorder. Its expression is entirely dependent on the personality, and the experiences established. So anyone who is not an indifferent/apathetic person, who is more extroverted and not the marginal recluse that I am, there will be aspects of this that won’t align. The rudimentary concepts may apply, but the expressions and emotional processings behind these concepts may not.

This also bleeds into the fact that BPD overlaps with many conditions, and traits of the disorder can be found elsewhere. Which, quite frankly, is fairly standard for most disorders, because it’s about the expression and amalgamation of the traits, not the traits themselves. So, as I discuss BPD, you’ll likely find yourself relating to certain points.

Do not take this to mean that you yourself have borderline.

Well, okay. You might. There’s nothing wrong with doing research, and to evaluate all of your resources. Keep in mind, however, there is a difference between one condition relating to another, and one BPD relating to a likewise diagnosis.

BPD overlaps with many conditions (like ADHD); it shares many traits in others.

The reasons for it includes how BPD is developed, where the development will be alongside other conditions—like, say, PTSD—, or other conditions may predispose the condition—ADHD—, or, or, both.

And then, some of this relatability is due to language. There are limitations in the words I choose, especially when this essay is intended for a wider audience. When I say, I go from 0 to 100, you may know precisely what I’m putting down, or, your 0 to 100 is my 0 to 10. And there will be that barrier in understanding because…we’re different people, with different experiences, living alongside different conditions.

Some of you reading will just never understand what it means to get whiplashed by your emotions at the drop of a dime, where you’re perfectly fine one minute, and then you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack the next because someone said something, and you don’t understand why it hurt you the way it did, but it did, and you’ve already lost your shit, but you don’t want to do anything, but you can’t trust that you won’t… All…with the guilt that it is happening again, and you should have known better, and it’s all your fault…

Yeah. It’s okay if you don’t understand what that’s like. And to be quite blunt, if you don’t, be grateful. BPD isn’t fun for anyone. There are slight blessings, but those are gravely overshadowed.

Given that I do expect a lot of people reading this won’t understand, this essay will be exhaustive. I don’t really want to cut corners, even though certain aspects of my experiences will be kept to myself, and not everything about this disorder can be related to a video game character.

I do want to give it its due. The drafts before fell into the trap of not articulating precisely what I wanted, with the transparency I needed.

…hence why it’s long, but with that, let’s start with understanding BPD at its core.

[BPD, in Experience, as an Introduction]

So. Borderline Personality Disorder.

Boiled down, it is purely the complete lack of, or, the severe impairment of emotional regulation.

That’s it.

That is literally all it is. And in understanding that, it explains (in part) how and why many of you may relate to certain aspects throughout this essay—emotions, and the (dys)regulation thereof, are integral to each and every one of us.

However, BPD is distinct, and I will comb through the how and why in this section. It is quite simplistic when boiled down, but this synopsis implicates everything about a person.

It is also. Not. Bipolar Disorder.

(Yeah, let me just kick this out of the way.)

Bipolar Disorder is about the brain chemistry, and is defined by manic and depressive swings.

Borderline Personality Disorder is a disorder of the personality. It’s systemic to the person. Could someone with BPD also have bipolar? Well, yes, which doesn’t help in the confusion, but to be the least bit informative, those instances often imply a specific BPD type (comorbid).

[Further resources will be linked at the end, for the BPD types, relationship with bipolar, and additional elements to come. For the sake of the essay, I won’t delve into this in-depth.]

This nuance—comorbid-BPD and bipolar—illustrates how complicated of a conversation BPD is. Again, it’s why this essay will be exhaustive, but also selective in what it covers.

Including, but not limited to, this kind of nuance.

To embark what a severe impairment/lack of emotional regulation means, it’s important first to establish the working definition of what emotions are—the definition, at least, which this essay utilizes.

Emotions are the reactionary senses of the body. Where sight, smell, touch, taste and hearing are the immediate feedback from the environment to the body, the emotions are the immediate responses to the stimuli, to prompt our actions thereafter.

Our relationship to our emotions is a very complicated one, because…we physically feel our emotions, which can be conflated with the feedback from our environment. Comprehension is also required to understand what, exactly, these emotions are signaling to us, because an environment isn’t just physical. Social, cultural, and psychological environments are included.

If you ever wonder what, exactly, a dog with the intelligence of a 3-year-old actually means, it’s their comprehension level of their emotions. These dogs are feeling the same emotions as a 3-year-old, and a 30-year-old. But there’s a catch: dogs don’t do the whole language acquisition thing like we do. Language acquisition being the learning process we undergo in our youth, because we are wired to speak and derive meaning through vocal, then visual, patterns.

I say this because a lot of emotions are, physically, perceived the same way, but we use language to distinguish one from another because contexts do matter. And they matter a lot.

Like, what’s the difference between lust and common excitement? They both feel similar, don’t they? But, lust is specific to a defined context.

And in this way, language absolutely contributes to the complexity of emotions.

But ultimately, emotions are just there to tell you what comforts you, and what doesn’t. It establishes what kind of environment you feel safe within, or at risk; the gradient within that establishes what you prefer, what you can tolerate. So the places you go to. The people you surround yourself with. Your interests. Activities. How you want to present yourself. Your morals, and ambitions. Identity and sense of self.

All of it is prompted by emotion, and your comprehension of that—ultimately through language—establishes how you respond.

How we actually navigate this is through regulation. Or rather, the process of self-comprehension, where an individual has to evaluate a situation, their internal reaction to such stimuli (both in thought and feelings), and the appropriate behavioral response. Dysregulation, then, is where that process is faulty.

So as we mature into adulthood, and our learned behaviors are set in stone (more or less; old dog, new trick or something), we’ve ideally learned how to comprehend these emotions, how to use language to articulate them and relay them to others, and find what is comfortable and what isn’t.

People get in the way of themselves, however.

For some fucking reason, we think we’re so fucking smart because we can talk, and we got thumbs, and we, like, stand on two feet. Or if we don’t got two fucking feet, we can build a wheely chair to sit our asses down.

And? We like to convince ourselves that we know better than our emotions, to the point where they’re disregarded. Of course, social contexts, understanding how your actions may impact others—those are all nuances which, yes, our emotions may not respect, but we do.

In regards to when people refuse to acknowledge emotions for what they are…

Piece of advice, from someone with BPD, emotions run like rivers. You do not decide what that river’s water is, how much there will be, and when it will flood. What you can decide is what canals to dig to retroactively contain that river, when to do that, and to establish how to treat the different flooding waters. You will drown if you think you can just ignore them.

Because the funny thing about water? If you fall high enough, land the wrong way, you might as well have hit stone.

In this way, emotions are devastating, and the mind and body has many mechanisms to deploy should an individual be constantly bombarded, and there is a need to prioritize our primary senses—touch, smell, sight… To prioritize a survival.

Take DID, for instance, where often it’s the mind “divorcing” itself into several identities in order to protect and shield the host from further trauma. There are many, many disorders like this where the brain deploys its failsafe, but that failsafe comes at a price.

BPD is, effectively, what happens when one of these mechanisms deploy, but the cost cripples an integral function to the human experience. It cripples the capability to dig those canals, redirect those rivers, and it can even imply a blindness to what kind of water is flooding.

…in many respects, this implies that BPD is, inherently, a disorder rooted in other conditions, just set to the absolute extreme. But when I say “absolute extreme” to someone who has never experienced emotional turmoil, the wrong impression may be impressed. Again, much of what I say may relate to your own experiences, and it’s why I have to take great care in articulating precisely what I mean because…it can be easily misinterpreted. Everybody has had moments where they are not in control of what they feel, and they do things. However, while the instances may look the same, the mechanisms, patterns and history behind them…are not.

Hence why BPD and bipolar are so often confused, because at the height of those disorders, it can very well look the same. I have had manic episodes that look identical to someone in a bipolar episode within one moment. But the differences are the mechanisms, patterns, and history. For these two disorders, it’s what’s actually going on in the brain, what stimuli we’re actually reacting to, and then timeframe. Mania in bipolar can last months; in me, I plummet into mania for minutes, or hours, or days—a week at most. And I can rocket right back out of it, back to an indifference, or into some other extreme.

And those mechanisms, and patterns, and histories are what make BPD, well, BPD.

We now get to how BPD happens. And though there is some debate, BPD is a developmental disorder. It’s created.

Through a number of factors. Genetics (like a family history), accompanying conditions (such as ADHD, autism, due to the predisposition to emotional dysregulation), past experiences of trauma, and, the environment.

And that’s the footnote version. Because this disorder, while there are strong patterns observed across diagnosed individuals, again has its nuances. Going into what causes BPD will lead you down a steep rabbit hole—in part because it’s dependent on the person, history, and environment, and in part because…, well, there is stigma, and there’s a lot of unknowns. Borderline, as a name, is not telling of what the disorder is. There’s a long misogynistic history to the disorder’s criteria, despite the fact that there’s a lot of men out there that have stunted their emotions, will fly off the handle when their egos are slightly bruised, call themselves alphas, are vehemently loyal to that alpha identity…

Hm.

That’s a discussion for another day. Point being, I cannot indulge this essay into every kind of way a person can land themselves with the disorder. It’s never ending. I have other priorities to indulge. Such as:

What kind of abuse is commonly attributed to BPD?

The answer? For such a volatile personality?

Neglect.

Funny, isn’t it? How neglect—the absence of—is what often causes BPD, of all things. Most would likely scoff, because our world has groomed the idea that the other kinds are worse, and are what creates monsters. Because it doesn’t make good tv, does it? Like the times where I was sat in time-out for…some reason or another, on a bench beside a chalkboard. Upwards to 10 hours of the day—which is a long time at three years old. That doesn’t make for interesting scenes, does it?

No. And because it doesn’t, and stories like their spectacle, media relies on the other kinds. To the point now where it’s necessary for our idled attention spans.

To be clear, this isn’t to demote abuse types outside of neglect, nor is it to insinuate that they cannot coexist within one circumstance. The fact of the matter is, different traumas with different people in different environments will lead to different conditions. There is no worth in proving to each other which trauma is worse or better, because it’s entirely dependent on the people and environment(s) involved.

What I will demote is the common, ignorant insinuation that neglect doesn’t destroy a person.

It’s why it is ironic, how BPD—an explosive thing—is often born from neglect.

How it does such a thing is…complicated. Lucky for this essay, I’ve lived it.

Within the first handful of years in my life, there were many things like sitting on that stupid bench in my room, for hours upon hours. My parents, at the time, were young themselves and fresh from college. My dad was in the military, so he had been deployed, leaving my mom alone with me, and…her BPD. I suspect postpartum made things worse.

Before you assume, it isn’t that she didn’t love me. Quite the opposite, but it was only through the divorce a few years later was she diagnosed. So, she didn’t have the resources for such a disorder at the time. Which made things worse, because part of treating BPD is being aware you have it.

The thing about these kinds of abuse is that…they come from the people you least want to admit, and for me, it had been my own mother.

And, the thing about neglect, especially mine, is that it’s hard to explain how no…, she was home. It wasn’t like she’d leave me like that. But, even so, I couldn’t tell you what the fuck she was doing when she wasn’t in the same room.

I was left to my own devices. I told myself stories with my stuffed animals to pass the time. I was often hungry too, and there are two accounts from family where, upon visiting, they saw this little toddler know how to work the baby-gate to the kitchen, and start to prepare food—sandwiches for me, and I’d pour food for the dog.

I seldom spoke, was borderline mute. Didn’t really converse until four. But I knew what people were saying before that. I did also pick-up behaviors from my dog as well; I would pant whenever I was happy, and whimper instead of cry.

By the tail-end, as I was getting into kindergarten, my brother was born, the divorce was in motion, and my dad would thankfully win full custody, and my mom, visitation.

You see, through those initial years, those mechanisms deployed.

I had to swallow down the instinct that the parent would be the one to nurture, and I had to find ways to feed myself, then my best friend and true guardian—the dog. Had to learn how to work things like a baby-gate. I also had to be vigilant of her, and know what mood she was in.

It’s these two things, working together, which utterly fractured me emotionally. The feeling of being hungry, truly hungry, is not something I wish for anyone. The realization that it’s not because you’re out of food—not until the separation began, and the weekends with my mom were marked by this hunger—, but because you don’t know how to get that food, and the bigger person is not getting the food, so you try to learn but you are still a small child… It’s even worse. It does something to you. Then, having to sacrifice your own emotional nourishment in order to keep an eye on an adult’s volatility is that final nail.

That was the first stage of my neglect. And it was bad. It was a really, really bad situation. My brother only lived with my mom for a couple years before Dad’s full custody. In that time, from when our mother was the only one to take care of us with my dad helpless in a different country, then to switching every week, he developed OCD tendencies, which are still present.

Twenty years later now, it’s been remarked that I was…kinda the best candidate to survive this out of not just my brother and I, but our cousins as well. And I agree. I’m naturally reserved, and even as a kid, I would push back against my mom. It would ignite her, but the fact that I was confrontation said enough. Meanwhile…, I do not know how the fuck my brother would be mentally if he’d been the one stuck alone with her for those three, four years. I don’t know what my dad would’ve come back to whenever he was allowed to be with his family.

And I would not trade places if given the chance. Because even if I’m a black sheep, my mechanisms allowed me to get away as well-adjusted as I could be.

But… Still. Beneath those remarks…, there is a misunderstanding. When my family says I was the best candidate, it’s because they look at me and see a person who isn’t sick. When I say I was, I mean…my brother would have been worse off.

Granted, now that I’m out of school, it’s slowly dawned on them that…yeah no. There is something wrong.

…as I aged through childhood, I didn’t quite understand what the costs of the mechanisms deployed were, but I knew there was something very, very wrong even back then. And I would tell my family. Every now and again, throughout years, I’d raise alarm because I realized I reminded myself of my mom.

Only to be told that I wasn’t my mother, and that I was overreacting. Told me that, “People like her don’t know there’s something wrong—that’s the disorder.”

Come a mere few years ago, and I am told about times where my mother, as an adult not long before having me, would break down because she didn’t want to be like my grandmother.

There was a family history. My mother knew it. However, she was also diagnosed through the divorce, because she couldn’t take care of my brother and I. Highly doubt admitting her BPD was the reason was because “she didn’t know there was something wrong.”

I was told there was nothing wrong. Meanwhile, I would do things I didn’t understand, and experience the world in a way people around me didn’t, …as it turns out.

For one, which is still true now, I cannot cook for myself, in a kitchen, when it’s dark out. I also cannot cook when someone else is nearby, or already in the kitchen itself. I will wait, because should I cook in those times, there’s a feeling. And I can’t stand it. The feeling of—

Oh. No, the feeling isn’t being watched.

It’s the feeling where someone may be lurking, and I’m about to get caught. This is likely a remnant of times when I was very, very young, and I tried to feed myself, and I…was caught. And she blew up.

There are other behaviors like that, specific to me. Because the body remembers before you yourself.

In the years after my mom, I found myself in the second phase of neglect—the one, I argue, is what actually creates BPD.

And again. For another time. It came from the people I least want to admit.

The neglect, the denial, in every alarm I raised did something to me. Another thing, though given my experiences, it also did feel similar to the first phase. My family loves me, I understand, and I get why they denied. Because they knew about what was happening to me, then my brother, but circumstances had them trapped in watching from afar. A sort of…they didn’t get to me in time.

My mom was also a nightmare for my dad. So…, to see that resemblance is not something anybody wants to admit.

But still. I was in therapy (to socialize me), but that didn’t last forever, and people kinda just shrugged and thought it was good. The therapy did its job. Without noticing what was happening.

The mechanism that deployed was still there, never to be acknowledged. So it festered. It scarred my trauma over, and now, there’s a great blemish on my mental health.

And that blemish has a name, and it’s BPD—the disorder cultivated by the neglect of an aftermath. Where trauma struck, and there was no chance given to process it effectively, and to heal.

All of the nuances I’ve discussed before remain to be true. From what I understand, however, is that the primary reason why Borderline Personality Disorder can look so differently on so, so many people, through a range of traumas is…it’s consequence. BPD has its characteristics, the ones that distinguish, because ignoring the recovery after significant trauma presents itself the same.

Now, I’ll indulge in one of these characteristics.

It wasn’t until recent, as I embarked my adulthood, where I realized the core mechanism I had inadvertently deployed, the one that came with a price:

Alexithymia.

Or, emotional blindness.

This in itself is not considered a disorder, largely because (and for the sake of this essay) it is an associated symptom, a mechanism, of many, many conditions. Depression, PTSD, eating disorders, ADHD and autism (again), schizophrenia, and I can go on, and on, and on.

BPD is included, of course.

There are many ways to be blind. Take visual blindness, where it can be an absolute void, a severe impairment, some colors recognized but not all, or, there’s too much feedback at once, and the light becomes illegible. Being devoid of emotions, or apathetic, is the standard; some people may feel a perpetual onslaught that cannot be deciphered, and others could find themselves in between.

Whatever it may be, alexithymia is characterized as the impaired awareness, explicit identification, and/or articulation of one’s feelings. So, as long as the shoe fits, and the person can’t decipher, convey/express their emotions… That shoe’s not on the wrong foot.

In my case, I fall into the standard.

When I was young, I likely stifled my own emotions in exchange for vigilance. It never left, however. If anything, it got worse the more I neglected recovery. Now, I don’t feel much, day to day. I know I experience emotion, and react to my environment, and have thoughts… Yet, the environment is almost dreamlike. It doesn’t quite register, and the people in my life feel like figments unless I’m right there with them, in the same room. I’m indifferent to most. Memories are a lot like this too—not like I don’t remember anything at all, but in the moment, I kinda just exist. I can think and plan about the future too, but it’s that I’ve realized I have to, not that I feel any kind of urgency.

Because I don’t care. At all.

Or, I do, but there’s nothing in here to tell me that. Because my body, also, is quite null. It doesn’t tell me what I feel. I couldn’t tell you in the moment, so I’ll usually resort to, “I’m fine.” And inside this head of mine? Not much. Kinda like static—the tv is on, there’s a lot of channels going, but it’s just…not there. Beyond static.

So as I write this, and write any of my works, it's less of spilling all the crazy thoughts inside my head, organizing them, and more of me spilling an open wound I don't know how to close, figured I don't really want to close it, because I kinda just like watching it spill across the page and see what I'm thinking, and what I can create.

To be quite honest, being a writer in this way does legitimately feel like I'm a blind sculptor.

If all this sounds like a depressing experience, I'm fine. Genuinely. I am. This is actually quite comfortable for me, and it's also me at my most rational. Plus, it helps that I've developed a fairly strong coping means—this writing thing—that serves to be a therapy in emotional comprehension. Another mechanism, really, that is derivative of what I did as a toddler.

I'm also a hermit. I'm content with being reclusive, and to myself.

And again, I’ve already processed all of this. I wouldn’t be writing this essay otherwise.

So how does alexithymia relate to BPD? In what way is being apathetic mean I can fly off the handle?

What does alexithymia mean for an episode?

BPD episodes vary. Depends on the person, and a trigger, and the environment.

In the traditional a switch is flipped, and the person just loses it, it’s via said trigger. A legitimate trigger, not whatever TikTok is blabbering. Trigger as in to a gun, and it just takes one pull, and you’ve been set off.

When this happens—BPD or not—, it effectively shuts down the reasoning part of the individual’s brain, and sends them straight into fight-or-flight. They are in a very primal state, and will react on emotion alone.

In BPD, our brains are wired to do that in (potentially) a very, very short period of time. Can be literally a blink and you miss it. There’s a look in the eye. If you know, you know. It happens enough times to establish a history of this within the person. Forces people to walk on egg shells to avoid this. Because it’s scary. It can get scary.

Here’s the thing:

It’s scary for us too.

Not too long ago, a lot of changes happened in my life, and on my birthday, I was driving, and I wanted, so badly, to just swerve off the road and down into the woodland—the ditches would’ve been steep enough. Woke up that day wanting to. Didn’t understand why, but I also wasn’t asking because that reasoning part of my brain was switched off. That day, the episode wasn’t explosive, but had I brushed upon a trigger, or someone accidentally said/did something, it would likely have been the case.

I was in an agitated state—straying down the line between stability, and not, where at first glance I’m fine, but…the more you look, there’s something quite wrong.

I was also craving McDonald’s. So I went. I sat myself down on my own, and ate my food.

And suddenly… Literally nothing was wrong. Well, no. I was still mildly stressed from moving from college, but, nothing was wrong that day. I was just hungry, not suicidal. Yet…it felt like I was. Had me believe it for a hot minute.

Had I not had the burger, fries, and McFlurry… I don’t know. Had I had access to something swifter than a car. I really don’t know.

This is what the disorder does. This is why it’s scary for the people around, and terrifying for us.

And in those like me, where everything is null, until it isn’t, it’s terrifying in a specific way. Goes from 0 to 100. Can get to the point where I have pain shooting down my arms, like I’m about to have a heart attack, because everything comes down upon me at once. Or, in episodes like the one I just mentioned, it creeps up on you—that agitated state. To the point where I don’t realize I’m in it, just that I’m suddenly hyperaware of everything, and there is something wrong, but I am not asking why because I can’t. So I just do. Quite blindly. And eat because driving off a road is too much effort.

So it gets scary. In those like me, where emotions just aren’t registering, I can’t tell you what I’m feeling until after the fact, or after considerable thought. Which is also fucking difficult because I don’t rightly know what I’m thinking. But given the situation, that could be too fucking late. And if the situation has me alone, to myself?

With BPD, there are triggers we know to avoid because they are related to traumas. There are things that wouldn’t normally trigger, but somehow did because they were the straw that broke the camel’s back, and we didn’t even know we had a fucking camel. And then. Sometimes. We don’t even know what the fuck the trigger was, and will never know.

The last is very common when we’re unaware of our BPD, but…it also just happens sometimes as well. The world’s big. The shit life yeets is limitless. I dunno.

There’s also a humiliation to an episode. I don't know what's going on. I can't reason like I should, and I don't want you to look at me. I want you gone, especially if I have deemed you the trigger. I want to be left alone. Things will escalate, and escalate, and escalate until that is achieved.

And, there’s a guilt as well. Especially when you know you have BPD, because by then, you should know better, but apparently, you don’t.

This all sounds quite helpless, I realize. However, there’s a reason why talk therapy is the central form of treatment for BPD. Knowing how to communicate does wonders. For those with borderline, learning how to comprehend and articulate emotions, and knowing what triggers to avoid, is a long, arduous process, but it helps. In regulating emotions as best we can, and in explaining to people beforehand what to do—or after the fact, where it’s to explain it wasn’t their fault.

And for those without BPD? Being able to recognize the warning signs on a person is detrimental. Because, believe it or not, there are warning signs. Sometimes they could be the split-second before, however, if there is someone in an agitated state, knowing what that looks like means you know how to avoid an episode, and it gives room to be able to console the person beforehand.

As said. There’s a look in the eyes. I know, because that’s what I spent my first few years of life figuring out.

The arduous process also unveils the…ambiguous sides to BPD. The stuff that people don’t really talk as much, whenever BPD is brought to the table at all.

For this essay, I will spare a glance at identity. No, identity doesn’t have much to do with Violet. However, acknowledging this ambiguous side to BPD establishes just how far this disorder goes, and it tends to crop up when least expected. (It will do so in this essay.)

A disorder of emotional regulation implicates everything, and sense of self is guided by emotion.

So what happens to one’s identity if there’s no guide to that sense of self?

It’s bleak. Or there’s a turbulence. Either way, it’s hard to decipher what exactly you want out of life, and for yourself, because there’s just no good way to tell what makes you comfortable, and what doesn’t. But you still strive to find stability. So you mirror those around you. To blend in and be accepted. By chance, it can extend beyond humans; me mimicking my dog—panting when I’m happy, whimpering when I’m sad—, it was probably so that my dog would console me when my mom wasn’t around. Because my dog (a lovely boxer) was very attuned to me.

The conversation with identity is…just another complicated thing. And this one is harder to articulate, in part because it’s not really discussed by people who don’t have the disorder. As opposed to the mood swings.

All that to say, when it comes to this analysis, the truth is, there’s not a feasible way to explore the nuances such as Violet’s relationship with identity, or alexithymia, because they aren’t spoken aloud to give us enough insight, and by proxy, these aspects of BPD are not what Violet represents. But acknowledging such nuances provides a better understanding in what this disorder means.

Regardless, Violet is a representation BPD in relationships, and the dysfunction of those bonds. How it’s exacerbated within an apocalypse, and then the self-treatment of.

Or, or, Violet has…a tendency to be a wallflower. More or less.

[Ericson's Resident Wallflower]

The Final Season (TFS) is particular when it comes to Violet. It will be evident throughout this essay, the care that the game and the team behind it devoted for her. From the dialogue to her actions, Telltale did well in illustrating this character. I will argue, however, that the quiet intensity in nuance laid throughout is what evoked the need to write this essay.

Because Violet represents something quite thoughtful in regards to mental health—the reality of what a disorder is, and what it can do.

So TFS is particular, and it begins with her introduction, where there’s this need to recontextualize her. Not once, but twice.

Clementine is first introduced to her silently. She follows Marlon out into the courtyard, and Tenn whistles at the wall.

Because on the school’s wall is a girl, and she rises from her lounging at its height. There’s a glance shared between Clementine and Violet, before Clementine speaks more with Marlon. After that, another glance, where Violet turns away—not before the player can spy a bit of intrigue in her face.

Clementine reunites with A.J, meets Louis, before a recontextualization, where Violet (she does talk) snarks about the crashed car, and the walkers that the accident brought to their door.

And it takes Louis to pry a proper greeting from her:

“Ahem. ‘Hello, Clementine. I’m Violet. Nice to meet you.’” “What he said.” [. . .] “Don’t mind Violet. She, uh…, grows on you. I promise.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | School Gate]

Good job, Violet. Way to be sociable.

Sarcasm aside, yeah, it’s a little rough. Violet is overall dismissive of Clementine, save for the comments. To the point where she has Louis introduce her ass.

Now Louis…is a quiet presence throughout this essay, though he is all the more integral to her character. There will be fewer words compared to other relationships, but those words signify a unique dichotomy between him and Violet, one that the other schoolkids—Minnie and Brody included—do not have with her.

And it starts immediately. That dichotomy. Louis is the one who tells Clementine Violet’s name. He is the one who formally introduces the two. Because he knows how Violet is. Ensures to lingers so that he tell Clementine—promise her—how Violet is worth sticking around for.

It’s just that the girl is troubled. So.

Thereafter, his banter is teasing, and Violet is still sardonic. But, she ultimately does play along. In her own way. When in the woods, and the schoolkids are focused on clearing walkers to have Aasim, Brody and Mitch make a safe return, Louis strikes the conversation, Violet scoffs, but can relent depending on the player’s dialogue choice(s). It is important to note that Violet scoffing doesn’t necessarily equate to her being mean; it’s clear through the card game later that…this is her way of banter, with Louis especially. She takes jabs at him. He retorts. Does the same. It’s on equal footing.

The next true recontextualization presents a taste of what Louis means. After clearing the walkers, and A.J socks Marlon, Clementine is left to acquaint herself with the other schoolkids. Mitch and Willy, Omar and Louis, Aasim, Ruby (where A.J apologizes for biting), and Tenn, right alongside Violet.

And those two are tending to the school’s makeshift cemetery. It brief, but Violet explains they lost the twins, and for the hour, they’re paying their respects.

From the wall, then the gate, then here, at their burial ground, it’s as though TFS wanted to scatter Violet’s introduction across her nuances. First it’s a silent couple glances, with her overlooking the courtyard at a perch, then it’s her being a little prick at the gate, a lightheartedness when mowing down walkers, and then it’s…this, a staunch vulnerability to and for her people. In context to the graves, her people being the twins.

All the moments that night thereafter feed into this. The card game goes back to an apathetic, yet also teasing, demeanor. Her shared conversation with Clementine, as A.J becomes an artist draws, it’s again a vulnerability, this time rattled by the fact that the dorm was once the twins’.

Throughout this first episode, Violet’s standing with the rest is shown to be quite reflective of this almost inconsistent preamble.

Marlon is the most succinct when he remarks, in the rain, after Clementine chooses to ask for Violet’s support:

“Violet being difficult. Why am I not surprised?” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Courtyard]

It’s such a blunt statement, intended to dig at her.

Though, there is truth to it. Violet’s introduction overall says as much. She admits it herself when in the dorm, and she finds that Clementine is housed where the twins were.

“Honestly, I just miss having someone around to talk to. [. . .] And I’m not, exactly, like…a people person. You know? I know I sometimes have a habit… Have a habit of being a little bit too harsh.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

Violet is not sociable, so naturally, she struggles to find someone to talk to. But, she is also sardonic—that much we got from the gate, even if it was followed by Louis’ banter which she reciprocates.

But ultimately, it’s Brody who gives the best context to Violet, and really voices what Louis is getting at.

When Clementine goes fishing, Brody begins a conversation, and within that, she can reveal based off the prompts:

[She’s…intense.] “She’s always been a little bit like that. But after the twins died, she really closed up.” [It wasn’t your fault.] “Still, I was the one that had to break the news to her. And ever since I did, she’s become distant.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

There’s two key things here, starting with the unsociability that Violet’s demeanor and Marlon’s slight reference.

Then, the revelation that Violet has closed herself off. She’s become distant within the past year.

…it implies that the Violet first introduced to us is not truly Violet, in a sense. It presents to the player thatmuch of her arc with Clementine will be about uncovering her, and really bringing Violet from this depressive spiral. Romantically or platonically so. And these lines are intended to both explain the character, and to incite enough intrigue for the player to follow Violet down her route.

But it’s rather unfortunate that so much of this character is hidden away from the start, because there's the chance that people glance over her, take this initial Violet as Violet, and decide to spend more time with Louis and follow down his route. Because, for the sake of this essay, it's damn near impossible to really appreciate this character when you don't go with her route.

Same can be said for Louis, of course. But, respectfully...

It ain't about him. So. Moving on.

Playing leader.

When Marlon is shot, Violet immediately jumps into action to protect Clementine and A.J from getting jumped by the rest, and she assumes the leadership role. Regardless of player choice. There is an curious point with her being a leader, though that will be set aside to explore later.

Instead, I’ll side-step, and bring about a piece of conversation upon Clementine and A.J’s return. In this, we gather a very telling side of Violet, one that speaks volumes to her character.

[Clementine] “You’re sitting in Marlon’s chair, aren’t you? You’re their leader now. They’ll listen to you.” [Violet] “They don’t, though. They only listen when they want to.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]

Again, we’re side-stepping from the playing leader thing. Violet says that they don’t listen to her—says it like it wasn’t a really a surprise, just a point of frustration. Because, of course, Violet’s difficult. The last leader said so. But also, none of them have stepped up to fill that role. They take issue with her, but none of the schoolkids have really challenged her to take the mantel for themselves.

The silent nuance here is…why is it that she’s the leader? Violet made it seem like she really didn’t want to be at the boarding school—what with the contention between most, then the fact that she’s still in mourning. Tenn appeared like he was the only one keeping her there, but by stepping up in this way, not necessarily.

His presence and her need to protect him is a huge factor. Absolutely. Just not the only one.

We return again to Louis, the one schoolkid with the shared dichotomy. He is the other love interest. Him and Violet are often on opposite sides—especially in regards to everything Marlon.

And yet…, the way they speak about each other when one is taken away says everything about such a dichotomy.

To start, we’ll look at Louis:

“I know I’m always teasing her. Trying to get her to do that one eye roll she does—you know the one. Where it’s like, ‘you’re such a dumbass,’ she has to do a full-body eye roll. I do it because, when I actually do manage to make her laugh, it’s worth it. If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

He brings context as to why their banter is so dogged to tease. Louis does it because it’s reciprocated once he gets under his skin, and she retorts back with the signature full-body eye roll, but also, because he’s striving to reach another side of her, one where she laughs.

Because Louis is a big entertainer. He craves to draw that out from people, so when he has someone like Violet where it’s not easy to do that, it means that much more when she does, because it tells Louis how despite everything, she is there, listening.

Then there’s Violet, and her words for him:

“You know, when I first got here, I hated him. He was so…much. You know? He walks into a room, and it’s like, ‘Look at me! Watch me perform!’ It’s so stupid. But then I realized, under all that, he… He really cares about people, and he doesn’t just feel it, he says it. He’ll tell you every goddamn day how much you mean to him. Shit, he’ll probably sing about it. [. . .] We’ve got to get him back.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

She nods to Louis being this big entertainer. Says that she hated it, and that it’s stupid. And yet, Violet thinks fondly of how genuine of a guy he is.

And between these two quotes, there’s a mastery in storytelling, because there’s an active dialogue between Louis and Violet. Doesn’t matter if one is on the boat, and they’re not. Their words parallel. Had they been in the room together, this would’ve been a back-and-forth.

Louis says that he teases her. Tries to get underneath her skin. Violet says that hated it, and hated him, for his antics. Yet, she then admits that…there’s a genuine nature there, because Louis does care, and he will say and sing it so. That genuine nature is the fact that he just really wants Violet to laugh, and to find that side of her.

Because Violet’s his friend. He values Violet as his protector, because Louis knows that she will be there whenever he desperately needed her.

And Louis is Violet’s friend. Which is why, without a word from Clementine, she states, firmly, that they need to get Louis back. Because in that hour, he was in peril, and he desperately needed Violet’s cleaver at hand.

It’s a tragedy, really, for both. When the other is taken, the one thing that each praise of the other is what’s stolen. For Louis, his knight is blinded; he has to be the one to protect her. For Violet, a comfort goes mute; she can sing in his place.

After spending a few moments with Clementine in the dorm, there’s Ruby’s hootenanny, and through that hootenanny, Violet can tell Clementine what brought her to Ericson��s:

“I spent a lot of time at my grandma’s house growing up, what with my dad being a drunk and my mom working three jobs. But after my grandpa died, Grandma just kinda…shut down. Spent all day and night rocking in her little chair in the den. I’d sit there at her feet as we both watched tv, mostly cartoons, since she never seemed to care. Sometimes I could hear her crying, but I didn’t look back. I’d just feel really weird and turn up the volume, you know? “Anyway, one day she left the den and came back with another chair, and a .22 rifle. Set the rifle butt on top of that chair, holding the barrel back to her chest. So, you know…, she had trouble reaching the trigger this way, but she must have known it would happen… Because she took out this really tacky wooden backscratcher—the real long kind with the one end shaped like a hand—and used that to push the trigger in. So…yeah. Bang, right? Her body folded up and just…kept rocking. “My mom came to get me five hours later. I hadn’t moved. She asked why I didn’t call the police or an ambulance or anything. I just shrugged and told her it wasn’t like Grandma was going anywhere…, and besides, I just wanted to finish my cartoons. She shipped me off to Ericson the next day. I was eleven.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Piano Room]

Through all of what Violet tells Clementine, there is still that flare to make the story more interesting for, you know, a video game. It’s a violent kind of neglect she shares.

But it is neglect all the same.

Violet was born to an alcoholic and a mom who stretched herself thin to compensate, yet even so, she later can admit that their home was a trailer—so the income of three jobs, all her time spent away from her mom, wasn’t enough. Perhaps there were financial troubles. The money might’ve been all drained away by cans of beer, or bottles. Violet did have an escape through her grandparents, though that didn’t last, and she was trapped to the same neglect. This time, with a better house. Probably.

Until her grandmother went and shot herself.

…with Violet in the room. Right behind the child.

And? There was no consolation; she was sent straight to Ericson’s, where the apocalypse then struck, the adults left, and Violet…was the difficult one, designated as this wallflower, or buzzkill. There were the twins, Minnie especially. Yet, even then… That relationship likely wasn’t reciprocated.

The flare that TFS adds to why Violet found her place in troubled youth—the violence, which could’ve dashed the screen she watched for those five hours—, it hides much of what went wrong with her, but simultaneously, it defines the gravity of her childhood.

It describes a mechanism of hers. One undoubtedly developed from her times alone with a drunk, whenever her grandparents and mother weren’t there. A sense of apathy, and with it, a broken moral compass. To not mind yourself, and not get in the way. To let it happen, and just get it over with, in whatever way that could imply.

And, with the sheer gravity, it begs the question…, how far did that neglect go? All of the abuse, if it wasn’t the only kind. Children aren’t born to sit in one place for hours, with fresh gore rocking in a chair behind.

The question wasn’t answered, of course. She was sent away instead. Then there were the adults. And then, other schoolkids. Violet isn’t…a people person, you know, so it’s only natural for her to be the difficult one as Marlon says.

Still, however, with Clementine as they watch the stars together, Violet denotes for the bird constellation,

“A bird is free. It could go anywhere it wanted to. Up and up and up, and never come back. Go south, east, west, doesn’t matter. You could fly straight into a sunset. And see where it ends.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

And to that,

[Clementine] “You wish it was you, don’t you?” [Violet] “Sometimes, when it all feels so heavy down here, I can’t help but wonder what it would be like to be weightless.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet has struggled to belong, and yet, she remains. Yes, there’s the apocalypse. However, in all the years at the school, she could have left just as well. There’s a version of her, lost in development, where Violet does leave had she not been saved.

So why didn’t she?

The answer to that, quite simply, is one Louis may admit to Clementine, should that version keep his tongue, and the silent nuance behind her playing leader:

Violet is too loyal to her people to leave.

It’s why Louis teases her, to try and find that laugh, and why he knows that if he needs her, she will be there to protect him. Violently, with a meat cleaver.

It’s why she takes charge, because Violet knows none of the others wanted to, but they needed someone to lead. Whether or not they appreciated that it was her.

And, it’s why she acts without thought to stand her ground against Marlon. If she’s asked, the camera doesn’t leave her because it is no surprise that she will stand beside Clementine, as opposed to Louis, where he decides with uncertainty, and the camera has him shuffle to frame; for Violet, the change in her face is immediate. The camera doesn’t have the time to idle in tension. What Louis says is dead-on:

“If I needed her, she’d be there. Meat cleaver in hand, ready to chop someone in half if it meant protecting me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

Even if she isn’t asked, Violet will then stand her ground once Marlon is shot. She vouches for the outsiders, in the name of reason, and for the twins and Brody.

She doesn’t think when Clementine is in danger—didn’t matter that her and A.J are just exiled. Violet will do as told, trust Clementine—to shoot, or to run.

Takes the helm after Marlon. Backs Clementine every step of the way.

Cannot let Minnie go until she has to, and Violet has seen that the person she clung after is gone.

Violet is too loyal to her people to leave, for her loyalty unbridled.

It’s her strongest quality. It is, also, what marks Violet with borderline.

[Emotional Anchorage]

We slip back to describe BPD at large, beyond this essay and character. However, everything of this section has its place with Violet.

And it begins with emotional anchorage.

Emotional anchors are not inherent to BPD. It’s not unique to the disorder because, instead, I’d argue it is a universal experience. These anchors are anything which triggers an emotional response. These can be specific objects—like an old stuffed bear, a photograph, a house—, or stimuli—like a scent, a song. Tangible things like these are indicative of our nature. Humans like things. We like to collect, and tinker, and destroy. It helps if it’s shiny. It really helps when there’s fire or light involved.

Here's another thing about anchors:

They can be people.

They commonly are. It’s how we distinguish strangers from significant relationships—friends, family, partners. Anchorage is present despite the nuances between friends (just a friend vs BFF), and family (siblings vs parents vs offspring). And, partners—emotional anchorage explains how queerplatonic relationships come to be, because the fundamental element of a partner (being an emotional anchor) is present, it’s just the romantic and/or sexual implications are ambiguous.

Emotional anchoring is the process in establishing the anchor, leaving anchorage as this essay’s way to articulate the concept itself.

Borderline Personality Disorder will naturally encourage these attachments.

Within the community, BPD has a term: favorite person (or FP). It is as it reads. There is a designated favorite for us, and this favorite person can be a friend, a family member, or a partner—anybody, really. With FP, we begin to fall down the well in emotional anchoring as it pertains to the disorder.

Because, ultimately, a FP is either the strongest, or the only, emotional anchor an individual with BPD has. (For the sake of this essay, I will replace FP with primary/prime emotional anchor going forth, to be more consistent in word choice.) And the anchoring of this person is generally not intended. It just happens, where there’s a strike of intrigue, and everything follows thereafter.

The moment I anchor a person, it is a stark change from the indifference/apathy I display to I want to spend all my time with you, and I will literally die for you without a second thought. I will remember everything you value better than I remember my own, and I will present those nice things to you, at every opportunity. Tell me your favorite color once, and I will remember it for decades to come. Tell me to break my nose, and I may very well do it on the spot.

Which. Yes. Is intense.

Understanding the disorder behind it, however, allows me to take the precautions to…warn people beforehand. And to tell them upfront, if ever I am encroaching on boundaries, just say knock it the fuck off, Volt. In exchange…, I don’t take it personally. Because, uh, yeah. I can get intense. I understand. I may feel a type of way in the moment where boundaries are made, but that’s the BPD talking in my ear.

But also, I know I value someone being upfront with me more than a passive rejection. Frustration is what sets me off—the not knowing why—, not the rejection in itself. Because if I don’t know why, that’s how I interpret things as abandonment.

I have been rejected many times in life by people I’ve deemed emotional anchors. And it stung. A lot. Far beyond what I could ever articulate, but if I had to try, they are wounds carved to the bone, or with one, where my heart was quite utterly eviscerated.

There’s a deeper conversation there, with an anchor changing before my eyes. And, yes, it’s ultimately this which the essay will discuss in great detail. Through Violet.

Yet, before that, emotional anchorage is one of the few things that borderline has the chance to gift a person, because it’s not all bad. If you’re like me—where everything is null, and blurry, and static—, having a person suddenly there to awaken my body to speak, sharpen the world, and bring chaos inside my head… It’s a lot. It’s demonstrably a devastating thing, but in a very raw and beautiful way.

Demiromanticism, no doubt, is a reflection of how I express BPD. So to realize my demi ass has feelings, whenever it happens, is nice. …it also means I then have to determine whether it’s that, or a crush. And there is a difference between genuine feelings and a crush, and yeah, I prefer one over the other.

But. (And this can be platonic or romantic.) Having someone be that anchor grounds me, and while the relationship will have turbulence—because the boat I sail is on a river I can’t build canals for—, there brings such a confusing clarity to the world. I have a purpose where I didn’t think I did before.

It’s a high. A borderline addiction.

To not a thing, not a habit, but a person.

When it’s healthy, it’s everything, and I can brave all storms. When it’s not, it’s obsession and mania, it’s my boat trapped in a whirlpool with the anchor at the center of it all; I may break away, violently, or I will sink, and it will be the death of me.

…and when there’s no anchor there at all, I and my boat are to the whim of the river—because there are no canals, I have to rely on my boat to guide me and find an anchor. This can be where people turn to destructive behaviors. Substance abuse. Eating disorders. Everything alike.

Why though?

Why is it this way? Why do people like me sink their teeth and set anchorage like this?

This is where identity creeps its way back.

Because though anybody can develop emotional attachments, to the point of anchorage, BPD again does this to an absolute extreme. My personal anecdote may speak to it without debate. Understanding how identity gets itself involved further speaks to that extreme. BPD isn’t necessarily about the traits themselves, right? So rather, it’s how they manifest, and fester, and the mechanisms behind it all.

With identity, it hinges on what you find comfortable, and what you don’t. It’s guided by your feelings on things, and your comprehensive response thereafter. Passions turn into aspirations. Self-perception feeds into expression. And on and on.

So, if someone does not have a stable sense of self, there is a disturbance in identity. There’s no coherence to the person. Few consistencies, if any at all.

The identity is as stable as your regulation of emotions allow, and if it’s dysregulated, so will your identity.

A broken sense of self fractures a person. So we scour for stability. We do so in people. But with that broken sense, it’s easier to just swap out characteristics and emulate the environment, should there be a promise of stability. When this happens, it can be recognized as masking—because, debatably, it is—, but it can also go so far that people confuse this borderline trait with something like DID.

To those none the wiser, yeah, it might as well be DID. Because, like…, they just change so quickly. And if it’s a matter of mirroring different people, it can also imply that the BPD encourages the person to alter their personality depending on who they’re with at the time. Which. Yes. Has the capacity to resemble switching between split personalities from an observer’s perspective.

However. I have outlined (in quite the broad stroke) what DID is: a split in identities, in order to protect and shield the individual from further trauma. It’s dissociative in nature, where the distinct, established personalities will operate the individual at different times—given the nuances which come with DID.

BPD does come with dissociation as well—my personal experience with how I live day to day is indicative of, for simplicity, derealization and depersonalization. However, it’s not a split. What’s happening is this one identity does not have a stable, set personality. With the incapability to regulate emotions, it indicates a level of alexithymia. So how are we supposed to understand what we want, and don’t want, in everything from interests to moral standing? Things that a personality is grown from?

This copycat behavior is in itself a mechanism that BPD deploys. It’s kinda masking, not to purely to hide from and integrate into social norms, but also to find a sense of self through a very, very desperate act of scavenging.

In BPD, the best candidates to copy are the people who make us feel good—get a high from—, and that we want to be around, and whom we fixate upon—to a manic point:

Those emotional anchors.

As we go back to Violet, keep this in mind. Again, no, there’s no feasible way to remark for certain what her relationship with identity is like, so the implications that emotional anchoring has on identity can’t really be applied. But the intensity—the level of fixation—can.

Because Violet struggles in her bonds with other people. There’s an idealization present to those bonds, and a devaluation. Both this good and bad, the highs and lows, are via anchorages.

So we’ll start with Minnie.

[Emotional Anchorage: An Obsessive Good Memory]

“Sophie was a good friend. And Minnie… Uh… We were close, me and her.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

When we meet Violet, amongst her introductions, Clementine learns about the twins from the two who still tend to their graves—Violet, and Tennessee. Not long after, there’s a card game, and not long after that, Violet finds Clementine and A.J in their dorm.

The one which was home to the twins.

“Huh. I see you’re, um…, settling in.” “Yeah. Is that okay?” “Sure. I guess. I always liked this room. Sophie had, like, paintings and shit on the walls. Lots of color. And Minerva…, she was really musical. [. . .] She had the most amazing voice. Real bluesy. [. . .] That was a long time ago. After they… Afterwards, Brody and Tenn took down all the paintings. And that was the end of it. I shouldn’t have even brought it up. It’s not a good memory. Guess I just lost my train of thought.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Dorm]

The way she speaks of Minnie, there’s an adoration, and a nostalgia made bitter by the perceived tragedy.

Of course, those twins (…okay, well—) aren’t dead, they were traded. So even though Violet has yet to see Minnie, she is now a presence to her mind that isn’t nearly as bitter. She focuses on getting the school prepared for a fight, alongside Clementine, but through it all, yeah, Minnie is still there.

And when looking at the stars with Clementine, if Clementine remains quiet for the fish constellation, Violet comments,

“Bright, pretty, good with other people. Always moving, tons of energy. Sounds like anyone we know? The energy one is easy. Good with people, not so much. [. . .] Y’know, it… Well, maybe this is weird to bring up, but it reminds me of Minnie.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Minnie is a big part of her, despite their time and distance from each other. They grew up together. They got closer.

Another thing:

Violet never says girlfriend.

The only time where it’s “proclaimed” by the season that Minnie and Violet were girlfriends is through Clementine, where whenever A.J sees the carving in the fishing cabin’s wall, she can say,

“It means they were a couple. [. . .] Violet was Minnie’s girlfriend.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Is it fair to assume that? Yeah. That’s…what carving a heart or potato with initials is supposed to symbolize.

But like.

Let’s be for real. What the ✨fuck✨ does Clementine know? Sure, she’s somehow not concussed after hauling ass in the sky, with a car. But she doesn’t know these people. Point blank.

We don’t know when this heart was carved. Just that it’s V + M (suggesting Violet did it, given the order), it’s out of the way from the school and in the fishing cabin, and it’s just shy from a bed (and alcohol).

Again, Violet herself never says girlfriend.

The heart could’ve been carved with Minnie there with her. Or, Violet was deep in mourning, and decided to brand the cabin—likely because it holds a significant memory.

…and Imma be honest, the cabin has a bed, and it is covered in bottles. Everywhere on the table. Some scattered around. So I will give the benefit of the doubt. Considering the…subtext around the fishing cabin, doing some quick math with my gamer instincts, yeah, if you leave youth (troubled or otherwise) alone, you might get Lord of the Flies, or…exploration. I guess.

It is clear that there was something. There is validity to “[w]e were close, me and her.”

The question then becomes why the ambiguity? Had TFS been made in a different time, and James didn’t have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine couldn’t be a couple, yes, it would’ve been Telltale beating around the bush.

Except even in this moment, Clementine outright says girlfriend in reference to a sapphic dynamic.

Because TFS was not made in a different time, James did have a boyfriend, and Violet and Clementine can kiss and hold hands.

The ambiguity indicates something else. That ambiguity is heightened the more Violet talks about Minnie pre-Broken Toys (saved Violet route). Because she speaks so fondly of her, with almost this conviction.

Yet…she still does not say girlfriend.

This is textbook. Given the essay, and what I’ve already exhausted over, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but it is quite plain:

What Clementine stumbles upon isn’t a mourning over a lover; it’s instead, at its core, a lasting idealization.

With BPD, idealization is as follows:

“[A] way of coping with anxiety in which an object or person of ambivalence is viewed as perfect, or as having exaggerated positive qualities.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

This tracks.

Violet speaks so fondly of Minerva, with almost this conviction, yet she does not say girlfriend. Ever. Because the conviction is the intimacy, but Violet is a pragmatic individual. Though there’s idealization present, referring to Minnie as her girlfriend (for whatever reason) is too far for even her mental state.

Like she mourned Minnie for a year. She gushed about her to Clementine every chance she got. So…why not say it?

With this all established, TFS then allows us to witness how idealization in borderline often corrodes into devaluation—the inverse of idealization, its absolute antithesis.

“Used when a person characterizes themselves, an object, or another person as completely flawed, worthless, or as having exaggerated negative qualities [. . .] because there is often no middle ground for a person with BPD. Feeling challenged, threatened, or disappointed can quickly cause them to devalue the people they formally idealized. Rather than cope with the stress of ambivalence, devaluing functions to minimize the anxiety caused by ambiguity.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

This corrosion has a name. It is splitting.

Like with the previous definitions, I will allow my resource to explain this concept, because of everything this essay has to offer, it is this that the everything hinges on.

“Splitting involves an inability to hold two opposing thoughts, beliefs, or feelings. People who have BPD tend to view others in all-or-nothing [. . .] terms. “This self-protective defense mechanism aims to help people with BPD protect themselves from getting hurt in relationships. By labeling people as ‘good,’ they are able to engage in relationships despite the emotional risks. If they feel threatened, they can then quickly discard the individual or the relationship by labeling them as ‘bad.’ “Like most defense mechanisms, someone with BPD may not be aware that they are engaging devaluation and idealization. Splitting is a subconscious way to protect themselves from perceived stress[, and] reflects the challenges associated with maintain an integrated view of the good and bad in a person under stress. Some researchers suggest that some of the difficulty is rooted in the way the brain, particularly the amygdala and prefrontal lobe, activates in these experiences for people with BPD.” [Verywell Mind | Idealization and Devaluation in BPD]

…again, this essay has to break away from Violet and TFS to provide an insight, a discussion, of what this means for BPD.

I will start by clarifying that splitting from one end to the other is a bitch to deal with. The catch is not every person with BPD is incapable of reading the world beyond black-and-white. I’m one who can, …when I’m not in the midst of an episode. Day to day, I’m apathetic/indifferent—take your pick—, and because of that, I don’t give enough of a shit to really fixate on what is “good” and what is “bad” to me. I take everything as they go.

Because I really, really do not give a flying fuck.

The moment there is any seed of emotional attachment, or anchorage, it changes things. For me, it’s generally that I really adore this person, but they did something that hurt, and it confused me, so I shut down and close myself off. Namely so that I can have the time and space to breathe and process. Because I feel a lot for these people. I’ve gone over how intense that feeling is. And the last thing I want to do is hurt them.

So the moment I get confused, it boils into frustration, but frustration means ire with me. And that’s terrifying, because I don’t know what I can and will do if I’m backed into a corner. Because I know my brain shuts itself off.

The other thing to this as well is…it’s not always such a violent shift between idealization and devaluation. It really depends on how confused I am, the person, and then the time and distance laid between me and them. If there’s minimal distance between me and them, and minimal time between then and now, then yes, it will be explosive. If, say, a year has passed, and I have not seen this person within that time, then the splitting will look very different—largely because I don’t perceive it as an immediate danger, so my brain never shuts off, and I can process in the moment with reason. There’s still significant emotions there, of course, and given it’s still splitting, I do have that shift between the extremes. Difference is,I am able to regulate myself better.

Take note of this nuance, because it is absolutely present in Violet.

And we resume her relationship with Minnie, where we witness the corrosion from idealization, inching towards its antithesis. The process is best explored if Violet is saved, where it doesn’t taken an age, nor a day. It takes mere morning hours.

When spying upon the boat to get their bearings, and formulate a plan, they find Minnie chopping wood. Or, Clementine does, pulls a knife on her, before Violet intervenes. They embrace. Clementine has opinions off to the side.

Then.

They talk. And Minnie… Um. Well. If Delta was inspired by the New Frontier, Minnie would’ve had a fat branding right on her forehead.

Immediately, it becomes evident that Minerva has no interest in going back to the school. Her loyalty lies with the Delta. And given the prompt, she will have this to say:

[Violet’s in charge.] “Really? The Violet I knew could barely stand to talk to people, let alone play class president. You’re the one who convinced the school to fight back. From where I’m standing, that puts you in charge. Your ‘leadership’ is going to get my little brother killed.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Forest]

Huh.

Not only does what she say about Violet directly contradict what Clementine sees from her, Minnie is also blatant in steamrolling right through the testament, and tells Clementine that no, you’re the leader, and you’re bad at it because you are a threat to my brother.

It’s a little jarring. Because, one, ouch. That’s mean. Mitch died because he ran into a knife, and it was not Clementine’s.

But two, what?! Violet, whose first line to Clementine is snark about her driving, could barely stand to talk to people? Violet. Who stood up to Marlon, cleaver at hand? The one who Louis says (given the other route) will do just that to any threat?

Our Violet, who Clementine gets to know. The one who immediately took the role after Marlon because nobody else did? Despite the fact that, yes, she realizes there’s no promise that the schoolkids will actually listen?

Violet…is openly sardonic, is she not? Does she not confront people with a weapon?

It’s a little jarring, then it’s…dissonant the more you pick it apart. Because what is Minnie talking about?

I will say, for sure, Violet changed within that year apart. But not to the degree that Minnie implies to us. We have Louis’ words for Violet, and then Violet herself—constantly brings up protecting the twins. And she’s shown she will. Violet will shoot Lilly if told. And Violet, after Marlon’s death, brandishes her cleaver to shield Clementine and A.J from the other schoolkids.

Maybe part of the change was that she vowed to herself that she’d do better after losing the twins. Wouldn’t be surprised.

…but Minnie didn’t like killing walkers, though. Which implies that, yes, Violet probably filled a protector role for her, in regards to the dead.

It’s baffling. I can go on and on and on.

Just as Violet did, between seeing Minnie after so long, and finding Clementine in her dorm.

“The thing is, seeing Minnie… I feel like it should’ve scared me. But it didn’t. The person we ran into in the woods, that wasn’t Minnie. Not really. The way she sounded, and acted… The way she talked about Sophie, and Lilly… I’m…confused, I guess.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

She voices the same sentiment.

But upon various dialogue prompts, the corrosion inches its way to Violet:

[She’s one of them now.] “It sucks, but…I don’t know what else I expected.” [It’s not Minnie’s fault.] “I never said it was. But it doesn’t change anything.” [We can save Minnie.] “You saw how she reacted when Lilly showed up. Those are her people now. And we are not.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

I do think it’s interesting that, even if Clementine says to Violet that Minnie could be saved, she says otherwise. Because Violet is pragmatic. Minerva coming back from the Delta is just not realistic.

So through time and distance, and the wake-up call in the woods, Violet expresses an acceptance of this. The fact that Minnie won’t come back. It’s not quite splitting, because…this isn’t a true devaluation here; it’s the idealization ebbing away.

“Minnie…, the real Minnie…, she’s gone. She’s been gone this whole time, and I…have to stop mourning her. I won’t let her take you or A.J. Or anyone else I care about.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

And she admits it to Clementine aloud. Promises her that she, and A.J, along with everyone else, will be protected from the Delta—from Minnie, if need be.

Not only that, if Violet is romanced, she makes a request:

“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

I’ve always taken this line to signal how nervous, and how new Violet is to this kind of relationship. Because it is new to her. This is the first time where her feelings were reciprocated. She always wanted to try dancing with someone, but for whatever reason, never had with Minnie. And she’s nervous because…she wants it to be reciprocated, and Violet here is gaging a reaction, testing the waters.

In writing this essay, another thought occurred:

This is Violet moving on.

She’s nervous because there is a lot of weight to this request. She’s gaging what Clementine says, because Violet is invested now. All-in. 100%.

It’s not about Minerva—doesn’t even outright say that she never had a dance with Minnie.

Because by this point, through this dance, Violet’s realized just how unreciprocated her feelings were, because now, she has the chance to dance with someone who does reciprocate. And not just in the dance. Clementine’s loyalty extends further than that.

Another detail that I noticed is perpetuated throughout every interaction with Minnie is who she always prioritizes, and how it contrasts Clementine. With Clementine, of course A.J is first priority, and Violet understands that. And she goes out of her way to help with him. Conversely, Clementine helps with Tenn, and the school, and the other Ericson kids. All of which are who Violet also prioritizes.

Meanwhile, the same can’t be said for the other side of that contrast. Because it’s always what about Sophie and Minnie? from Violet, and never what about Tenn and Violet? from Minerva. It’s only ever Tennessee for her.

With the initial encounter, yes. She wouldn’t be asking about Violet because… Violet’s right there. She’s talking to her. However, we overhear Minnie talking to Dorian, asking to have Tenn join her. Not Violet. Then, further into the night, where suddenly she’s singing her own boss music and a red bar just takes up the whole screen, Minnie goes out of her way to claim Tenn.

And then, for good measure, axe Clementine.

But not because of Violet. Clementine gets axed regardless of who she saves, because Minnie…is far, far more pissed that Clementine put Tennessee in danger than anyone else. Including Violet.

The Delta changed Minerva. Yes.

Yet, Lilly never was able to remove her loyalty to her people. Her people being Tenn.

It’s telling, how (in)significant Violet was to her because all I read is…, it is nowhere close to the significance Minnie had on Violet. Because Minnie had other priorities.

She just happened to be Violet’s primary emotional anchor. And with that comes everything Violet could feasibly offer a person.

Here’s the thing to understand with this essay, and what I’m getting at with Minnie and Violet’s past relationship:

Violet anchoring Minnie is not Minnie’s fault. It’s not Violet’s either; a kid isn’t going to understand why they’re feeling a certain type of way, but when it feels nice, they will follow. Especially when the adults responsible for troubled youth are just…gone.

But what this does bring to light is a nesting place for borderline’s stigma.

Emotional anchors, splitting between idealization and devaluation—these concepts are the source for much of the fear against people with BPD. When gathering articles to reference at the end, some articles I pull from r/BPD on Reddit because having resources that are from people with experience asking and answering questions is incredibly valuable. Many discussions in r/BPD related to this (exchange primary emotional anchor with FP) are frustrating. For myself to read, because several are people not with BPD venting, but, I imagine it was frustrating to type out because…they’re venting for a reason.

Depending on the discussion, however, what is said is ignorant to all of what I know of my disorder. I know where it comes from. I know that the emotions behind all of what I do with anchorage are genuine. But then there’s people who vent, or there’s others who prompt a question because they are nervous that their friend (with BPD) is not genuine.

Of course, I can’t promise how other people with BPD are like. BPD is dependent on the personality, and if you have a shit personality. Um. Yeah. You’re not a fun person to be around. Sorry?

Not really, but, you know.

Stigma aside, it is true. I understand the insecurities, and the need to vent. Being someone’s anchor because of borderline is a lot of fucking pressure, and truth be told, it’s like that because…what if you just can’t reciprocate the intensity? After that honeymoon phase, people without the underlying disorder tend to get exhausted emotionally, meanwhile…, there is no cease from the other.

So people tend to draw away. They either do so quietly, in attempt to not hurt feelings, or, they’ll be direct and antagonize because of they stress they’re under. Either way, if the condition has gone untreated, the confusion this brings will then ignite the individual’s borderline. This is where you get insecurities born within the relationship, which the person can then go further and self-sabotage because there is no regulating themselves. You get constant bombardment whenever they feel neglected. They’re overbearing. You feel that their claws are dug deep, and it’s far deeper than you could’ve ever imagined.

Because there’s an anchorage.

If this is what happened, and Minnie entertained Violet, but never reciprocated the magnitude of devotion Violet brings with her… I can’t blame the girl. And given that Minnie was a troubled youth just as much as Violet was, she had her fair share of issues.

Because frankly, I don’t care if she was brainwashed or what, Minnie still killed her twin sister. You know, the one that has been in the same situations, the same environments, throughout Minnie’s life, yet when she saw the Delta, Sophie did not fold. Sophie actively fought against the Delta, whereas Minnie…complied.

Even before they were caught on the raft that Sophie planned to steal.

“One of the girls saw that this was a place worth fighting for, and her tears dried. But the other twin, she could never forget her old home. She rejected every gift, every opportunity. Stirred up trouble every chance she got. She convinced her sister to help her steal a raft and leave on the river. Of course, they didn't get far. What happened then, Minerva?” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

This Parable of Twins is, of course, by Lilly’s word, and yes, she did brainwash Minnie. So naturally, there will be an element here where the details are lost. I buy that Minnie did accept her place in the Delta where Sophie never did, but I don’t really believe that it was just because she saw it was a place worth fighting for.

The reality of Minerva is she’s a very conflicted person, and she’s passive by nature. She’s a good head taller than Violet, yet, when Violet talks about her (and Sophie), it’s always about protecting her. Because Minnie didn’t like killing walkers.

I also wonder if the reason why she’s so passive is because Sophie…might’ve been the one that got her and Tenn into trouble right with her, if she was more combative. As for the confliction, Minerva may have been caught in between—because there’s a combative twin, and then there’s a younger brother to protect, one who’s passive to a fault.

It’s this confliction and passiveness that has Minnie primed for manipulation. She will seek stability through, well, passive means. With the Delta, do as they say.

…and with Violet, it’s let the girl have her infatuation, maybe entertain it, but don’t cross too far into romantic territory because the girl’s a little too intense.

(Of course, Minnie is also the one who was practically dead herself while leading a herd by voice alone, to kill her brother and maybe do a little slashing. So like, she is just as intense, just…in less of a loyal kind of way, and more in fucking unhinged way. Because she also might’ve been the one to instill Tenn’s beliefs.)

Once it’s revealed what happened to Sophie, Violet snaps. She yells at Minerva.

But even still, there’s a slip of that anchorage:

“Who are you?! Fuck survival! Look at what you’re doing! Minnie, please, I just want to talk to you for a second! I’m sorry we never searched for you, for Sophie… I’m sorry we trusted that fucker, Marlon. If I ever thought there was a chance—” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

Following this, time ticks away with a bomb in a boiler, so Clementine lunges for an escape—to get A.J back to her side. And Minnie tries to stop her.

With a knife near-identical to Jane’s in S2. And it manages to gouge a near-identical scar in Clementine’s sternum. A stark parallel to S2’s ending. Except, Violet doesn’t hesitate. The moment she is out of the cell, she disappears into the backdrop, then an arrow finds its place in Minerva’s shoulder not long thereafter.

She does stay at her side, for when the schoolkids leave. Perhaps for closure, if the previous dialogue gives any indication.

Because even though Violet shot Minnie, moved on from her with a dance, and realized that she wasn’t going to return, that anchor is still there. Minnie was, after all, still a significant part of her, and that…doesn’t really ever just go away. The idealization may have drained, but the feelings themselves do remain.

We then look to another Violet, who was taken rather than saved.

“At least here I have Minnie… [. . .] Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

And another aspect of BPD, and anchorage, becomes clear:

Borderline primes people for manipulation, much in the same way that a passive and conflicted nature primed Minnie.

There’s a flipside to emotional anchoring in BPD, and it has everything to do with how the disorder forces people to become reliant on their anchors. People who cannot discern nor regulate their own emotions, and people with a bleak, instable sense of identity.

Which is a problem because there are people who’re able to take a person’s emotions, and weaponize them as a puppeteer. They manipulate through any means necessary.

Most, in an effort to avoid being manipulated themselves, try to hide their emotions and keep them out of reach. They suppress them, because suppressing your emotions is how you get the most control, and nobody else.

Right?

Coming from experience, do not do this. Suppressing your emotions is the last thing you want to do.

Especially if you want to avoid getting yourself manipulated.

I felt that I had to suppress not just as a child, but before that, because I was in a fucked situation. And it did this to me.I have no control. Life is a writhing storm at sea, and I just fucking hope I can find an anchor within the storm’s eye—but I know there’ll never be a calm to this storm.

And the wrong people know this. The ones who prey and manipulate to abuse the loyalty I am so desperate to offer, and can pull it from me with ease, should idealization blind me from the warning signs.

When Violet is saved, she sees through Minnie quickly. Because it’s in how Minnie talks. And it’s weird, because Violet also includes how she talked about Sophie, when the most Minnie said was “she died protecting the Delta. A hero” once prompted by Violet’s concern. That shouldn’t have raised alarm, yet…something about it did. To Violet.

So she’s able to let go. Violet still holds the memory of Minnie quite dear to her heart—the one in her head—, but after this, it was more about closure, not bringing her back. And all it took was that one interaction.

But here, back to a Violet taken away, it takes longer. She’s not told what actually happened to Sophie; instead, both Minerva and Lilly feed into a broken trust with Clementine, and condemns Violet back to the girl who sat with Grandma’s body rocking behind her.

Her loyalty blinds her to what Minnie has devolved into, so she goes and tries to stop the bomb, save the boat, and secure a future with her because Minnie is all she knows and trusts.

Yet.

It’s broken when Violet does. Because Violet has her face marred by the bomb. She’s left to defend herself—blindly—as she clambers out of the water with a walker snagged at the leg. She asks for Minnie at first, is led by Louis, and then…it becomes clear what happened when they hear gunshots, clearing away the walkers.

Minnie. Is left. Unscathed.

Well, okay. She does, like, panic and stuff, and then gets bit. So, that explosion had been her death sentence.

But Minnie is not burned. Not like Violet.

Which…implies something. However it happened, Violet was the one closest to the bomb, and Violet was further down the beach, towards the boat, whereas when Clementine, A.J and Louis reach her, Minnie is away, towards the woodland. Getting her ass bit. A bunch.

She either got off the boat at a different (earlier) time, or, she just…abandoned Violet. To defend the last of the boat and her crew. And, probably, to look for Tenn.

Leaving Violet to realize something, and as she struggles to see the world, she begins to try and apologize. To Clementine. Who didn’t lie to her about the fucking bomb on the boat, and given that, it also kinda explains why Clementine didn’t take her sweet time consoling Violet from her episode because. Um. The bomb.

Whatever it was that happened, it’s enough to rattle Violet to reason. And to snap her out of it.

Within one interaction. (…explosion.)

It’s…the little things like this—the ones that go unsaid—, which indicate Minnie’s sense of priorities, and how even when Violet actively worked to help save the boat, those priorities never were Violet. Before this, she manipulated and lied to her, and (via the alternative path) she never…danced with Violet, despite Minnie being the musical twin. Instead, Violet never danced, but she does sing now.

Which again has me wonder, was it Minnie entertaining Violet, and/or, if the subtext found in the fishing cabin does indicate this, was it never romantic like how Violet wanted? Just physical?

I’m kinda losing my mind over here?!

There was always an imbalance. Violet always prioritized Minnie, and her sister, and her brother. She prioritized the latter two because of Minnie, and then prioritized Tenn after the sisters were traded off. Prioritized Minnie’s interests—singing, and took it on herself—, and left her own—like the dancing—to…wane in self-doubt.

And then…, we have Minnie who killed her twin, and then went after Tenn to also kill him. The killing part is, well, the brainwashing and trauma, and stuff, but point being… Violet is still not in the equation. She’s an afterthought to Minnie.

This isn’t to say that Violet and Minnie’s relationship was downright toxic, or abusive, or anything along those lines. All we have is Violet’s word. But given Violet clearly glorified Minnie to herself, her word is unreliable.

What this is all to say is…, it was no mistake on Telltale’s part to have Violet physically blind, or then speak about how she had been blinded figuratively—before reality set in. Down one route, this was done by having the wool pulled from her eyes; down the other, it was the blinding in itself that brought her clarity.

It’s what I mean when I say that Violet’s unbridled loyalty is also her bane. She establishes strong and intense emotional anchors, to the point where should that anchor be lost, she will refuse to let go. And not because she wants to trap herself to that anchor, but because that’s…how BPD is. Attachments like this are really hard to shake off. But also, Violet didn’t know who else to turn to.

There’s Tenn, sure, but she’s his protector, not the other way around. There’s some of the others—Mitch, Willy, Ruby, Aasim—who we don’t get enough time to really see how Violet is with them. Marlon she tolerates, but there’s a clear strain between them.

Louis— God, there’s Louis, and he’s the one that she is vehement about getting back—indicating that he is yet another anchor for her. Thing is, he was also Marlon’s best friend, and they are…opposites. A lot of conflict comes from that.

…this essay really doesn’t have much to say with Louis and Violet. In part because, frankly, I didn’t really know where I could put him with the points I strive to make. There is absolutely space for him, yet, another thing:

Their words for each other, when the other is taken, are enough. Louis and Violet say everything themselves.

I did give commentary to the dialogue quotes, but it was sparse for this precise reason. I don’t need to get into how quietly powerful their friendship is. Louis is the one who introduces Violet by name. He’s the one that promises Clementine that it’s just her way, because he knows her. If blinded, he’s also the one that she relies on to guide her. And despite Marlon, and perhaps despite even Clementine given the different routes, there is never a malice between them.

Which I adore TFS for doing, because it would’ve been easy to have them be rivals and fight over each other. Especially for Clementine.

But that’s also juvenile, and while those storylines have their place, it is not here.

Never has. Never will.

So there’s Louis. He’s an anchor. Yet, because he is the one grounded anchor Violet has of the schoolkids, not fazed by idealization nor devaluation… That is their dichotomy. It is unique of all other relationships Violet has before Clementine—after Clementine as well, should he be the one saved.

We have Brody. Who does represent a point of devaluation for Violet. The lowest to a volatile relationship.

[Emotional Anchorage: Walking Triggers]

Truth be told, in this most recent endeavor to write Violet’s deconstruction, Brody was who reignited the compulsion. Because there is a deep-seated complexity to what happened between her and Violet, and why it happened. …only for me to find yet another post somewhere that was made by a glanced judgement.

Its criticism wasn’t in any way toxic, which was nice because this fandom…has a mean streak. But it did harken back to borderline’s stigma regardless.

Devaluation is a very ugly mark on someone with BPD. Worse than idealization, in the eyes of many. It in itself is toxic,and this coping mechanism is one of the reasons why BPD a disorder with the stigma it portrays. There’s a dysfunction in the order within our behavior.

That dysfunction, and the subsequent behavior, provokes a defensive ignorance.

Violet is wrong to do this. This is an antagonistic trait of hers, and Brody gets the brunt of it. She had to live with this for a year.

However, making blanket assumptions is reductive, especially in a discussion where it’s about understanding the how and why. There’s a reason why Violet devalues Brody. The path to how it happened in the first place is actually quite apparent. If you know how to read the signs, you can see this happen a mile away. So through understanding the how and why, it’s easier to 1) avoid it entirely, and 2) navigate devaluation if/when it does transpire.

Both Brody and Violet together make one mistake, and the fix is straightforward. Not easy, but straightforward.

Before that, though, we first shall establish a few things.

For one, Violet is…a lot. Don’t let her apathetic demeanor fool you. Just look to the previous section—that alone is enough to prove otherwise.

Along with the apathy, Violet is sardonic. She’s aloof to people when she doesn’t have strong attachments, but, she likewise shows to be pragmatic and reasonable. Which like, same. I wear belts and layer my jackets with vests too.

…and I also know what this kind of character implies: Violet is a little bully. She absolutely has the capacity to be cruel.This is also confirmed later, where at Ruby’s hootenanny, there’s mention of an Erin with braces that Violet would make fun of. (Probably because braces are hard to take off; they are a little goofy in an apocalypse, but also…really unfortunate the more it puts stress on the mouth and dental structure.) Violet then comments that she didn’t know why she did.

I wear belts and layer my jackets too; upon reflection, I did the same thing as a kid. So I have some insight to this which may explain the why here. Given how Violet speaks of this schoolkid, I’m willing to bet that Erin wasn’t someone who Violet had strong emotions for, one way or the other. She likely was pretty indifferent to Erin.

So, if that is true, Violet being a bully here comes from a place of 1) being apathetic, and not reading social cues like she should’ve, and/or 2) Erin was an outlet, but not a personal one.

Snide comments, and other slighted behaviors like this, they do not register.

Nothing clicks up here, behind my eyes. The comments are too brief to. So where this lashing out is coming from, it happens so swiftly that, by the time it leaves the mouth, I don’t know where it came from. There’s not much feeling to it. It was an impulse. So I just continue on my way, and never consider why.

In this way, there’s no malicious intent, it’s just cold. But outwardly, cruel.

A lot of times, to me, it was just play.

This is how a play with you. I make fun of you; you make fun of me. If you get hurt by it? Well. That sucks. Anyway—

Which, yes, is toxic, and I’ve realized, and I’m an adult now and I…don’t do that. Kind of. Social cues are a thing now, and I’ve gotten myself more aware of people. But I still do like poking fun, with the full expectation that it’s dished back.

Granted, I don’t know just how much of this applies to Violet. She has her insecurities, and is nervous when bringing herself to the table. And I am definitely not that—it’s not a confidence; I don’t care enough to be confident, I just do my thing.

But. This does establish a pattern with Violet, and with BPD, the disorder reflects the personality. There are common traits to BPD, but the expression of those traits varies depending on the person. For someone like Violet, who is already rather cold, this means any trait of BPD which stems from a cold demeanor will be present, and elevated. To borderline’s extreme.

Or, because Violet already can be cold to people, where devaluation is concerned, her personality makes it ten times worse. It doesn’t end. She makes comments—except, now, because there is significant emotion behind the comments (to Brody), it is to sting. It is cruel.

But…, it’s also complicated.

The bond between Brody and Violet is first made to be antagonistic, and Violet’s the one who perpetuates. Unlike the night before, where she with Clementine had a nice banter going in the dorm (if a tad guarded), Violet on the way to the cabin is hostile. Her words aren’t aggressive, but they’re instead dismissive at best, scathing at worst.

Brody does push back a little, and tries to brush it off, but it’s quite plain on her face that this does get to her.

In the cabin and away from Violet, Brody gives the context. It’s not just the words themselves hurt, it’s the fact that there’s a history there.

“Hey…, about Vi… I’m sorry she’s being a little mean. It’s my fault. [. . .] I was there when those walkers killed Sophie and Minnie. They were really close with Vi, and…I think she blames me for what happened to them. I mean, how do you even apologize for something that fucked up? I don’t know. Maybe I deserve it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

Violet is hurt. Brody’s guilty.

Then, there’s a second, damning piece of history that explains why Brody, of all the schoolkids, gives the most insight to Violet’s mental health, and why this is happening.

“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

In the same way where it was textbook idealization for Minnie, this is textbook devaluation.

It’s made complicated because they were friends—good ones, considering they’ve been stuck in the same place since the outbreak—, but now there’s a negative connotation. That being the twins.

And remember, devaluation is an avoidant mechanism. Ambivalence is confusing, and that agitates a borderline personality.

Brody can then explain more, depending on the prompted dialogue:

Once again, Violet is distant where she wasn’t before.

But we also get a further confirmation that Brody is the one with the negative connotation, and it’s because she was the one who had to tell her. …which in itself is an interesting choice of words, but we can assume Marlon pressured her once the conspiracy is revealed.

Then another confirmation, to the fact that opening a conversation has not been feasible.

Turn to Violet, and she first says this:

“God. Sometimes she just gets on my last nerve, you know? [. . .] I mean, it’s— It’s not like I hate her… I just… ‘I wish we could all go on a road trip together.’ God, she’s so…ugh. You know? [. . .] I don’t know what the problem is between us. With Brody…, I don’t know why it’s like this. Why is it so weird? I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

All of this is telling. Violet is very animated here, both in how she says it, her shifting tone, and what she’s saying. First it’s a comment. Second it’s admission. Then there’s that sardonic tongue, an ask to gage whether or not Clementine understands, before it all breaks and she goes back to admission.

The last couple lines say something crucial to know when understanding the dynamic here. And if a player is impatient with dialogue, they will miss these.

I can never relax around her. It just keeps getting worse.

So Brody is a walking trigger.

Within the bounds of splitting to devaluation, this happens when an emotional anchor develops a level of ambivalence, but because anchors do not just go, the anchorage is instead insecure, rather than the source of stability once relied upon.

Yes. Brody is another of Violet’s anchors—just not the primary one.

And what it means to be a walking trigger is…devastating. Not just for Brody, but for Violet as well. She doesn’t have the support Brody gives her anymore. Can’t trust it. Because every time Brody walks in the same room, Violet cannot relax. She is agitated.

Don’t take this to mean in a figurative way.

It is literal.

Triggers rise from people an emotional response. In BPD, this often means that the brain will shut its reasoning off, and prioritize this “survival” instinct. Fight-or-flight.

So when Violet says, I can never relax around her, this isn’t a oh I’m nervous, I don’t know what to do. This is I cannot function when she’s in the same room as me. Maybe she’s hypervigilant around Brody. To the point where Violet cannot stand Brody anywhere near her…

So she sabotages. She’s cruel to Brody in the comments she makes. She does not allow Brody to get close, because it is too much. Rather than a calm, reasonable state of mind, Violet feels things. A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing—Brody’s there.

And the easiest way to stop it is to push Brody away.

And, and, initially, blame the girl.

[Because you blame her.] “Well, that’s what I used to think. I just keep thinking that things might have ended differently if I was there. Maybe I could’ve protected Soph. And Minnie…” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

There’s a confliction here. Violet did blame Brody, until she realized it wasn’t that. Instead, she blamed herself.

It’s the following prompt, however, that gives the best clarity to Brody and Violet. The prompt,

[Because she never said sorry.]

where Violet tells Clementine exactly what the trigger is—because by this point, a year later, she’s figured out how to articulate what it is:

[Violet] “She tell you that?” [Clementine] “More or less. She wants to talk about it, you know.” [Violet] “I just… I feel guilty about the whole thing.” [Clementine] “Why?” [Violet] “I was supposed to be out with the twins that day. I wanted to work in the greenhouse, so I asked Brody to cover for me. But then… I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I… I wanted to talk to Brody, to tell her I didn’t blame her for what happened. But every time I tried, I was reminded of who we lost. It was easier to just not talk about it.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

If BPD isn’t a lonely experience, or a humiliating one, it can be a guilty life to live.

Violet expresses why losing the twins hurt as much as it did: there was never closure, and she blamed herself. Hence why, earlier, I suspected that seeking closure was what kept Violet at Minnie’s side after shooting her.

She was finally saying that goodbye, regardless of how the interaction itself went.

But it’s what she says about Brody.

Violet wants to talk. She has wanted to. But Brody’s a walking trigger. Every. Single. Time that Violet tried to talk, the same turbulence arose. In BPD, without that regulation, it is unbelievably difficult to talk when…your body’s actively flipping the fuck out.

A cold pit in her stomach. A dwelling ache in her chest, or a knot in her throat. Can’t focus on what she’s doing.

Of course she found it easier to just not talk about it. That is an instinct ingrained by borderline.

BPD is a lonely experience every time you lose an anchor this way. The disorder is humiliating because you do not want people to see you like this, when you’re in the midst of an episode, and you have no fucking control over your body, so you yourself are flipping the fuck out.

And it’s guilty. Because when you’re in Violet’s position, where you know the reason why, you know what you want to do, but your body works against you at every turn…

It devastates a person.

Because it is your fault. You did this yourself. Reap what you sow. You’ve done it again, it’s humiliating, and you are very, very alone because you just cannot stop burning bridges.

…in the apocalypse, being chained to a boarding school does not help. There is no way to give the time and space someone like Violet needs to think, and to process, and to let those emotions relax. Brody kicks up those emotions whenever she’s around, and the dust just never settles.

Violet trapped herself in a cycle. By the hour, or by the day, for a year, it would’ve been a ceaseless agony.

One that did scar over. Violet probably got used to it, and found a routine to the snide comments. It wasn’t like Brody was leaving anytime soon.

Until she does, and she suffers a disorientating last few moments.

I’d like to think they made amends and had a full conversation. I don’t know, however. But, at least Violet does take the first step when walking from the cabin, and she entertains Brody’s fantasies about a road trip, and that she would’ve had her sights on the Grand Canyon.

Because the one mistake they made was they never talked. It wasn’t going to be an easy thing, but it is that straightforward. So when they did, or began to, the devaluation began to ebb away.

Then, a tragic irony.

Brody’s guilt was never just I’m not Minnie, so she hates me, and it’s my fault. Rather, Brody’s guilt was warranted, and quite honestly, yeah. She should’ve be guilty, because it’s I watched as my leader gave this girl’s world away, and did nothing, lied to her, to her face, for a year.

Violet didn’t know this at the time. So for her, Brody was a point of devaluation because it’s her mental health actively jeopardizing things, not the truth and circumstance. The deception, in the conversation of that mental health, instead plays itself like salt to a wound, and then a tragic irony once Brody was murdered for it.

Because Brody knew they had to tell people. If the path to mending their relationship was encouraged, then it could be read that it gave her the inch to confront Marlon. If otherwise, Brody wanted to tell everyone because she needed to, despite what turmoil the truth would’ve caused Violet.

By the time Violet does know, and there’s a funeral, she says this about Brody:

“Brody, she was… She was real sweet. She had big dreams. And we all knew they wouldn’t come true, but we didn’t care. And we didn’t care because when she was talking, whatever she said seemed possible. [. . .] I don’t know if she found the place she dreamed about, but I’m gonna miss her.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]

There’s forgiveness. With Brody died that devaluation.

Not a moment thereafter, however,

“Marlon was… I can’t. Not for Marlon. After what he did to the twins and Brody, I—” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Courtyard]

The cycle continues.

Now with Marlon.

If Violet devalued Brody, she absolutely vilified Marlon. Because not only was it about the twins, there’s also Brody.

So of course she didn’t give him any peace after the fact. Why would she? Marlon had his own complexities, yes, but those complexities hurt. They brought another ambivalence.

As the essay rattles from the schoolkids, we’ll discuss another relationship now. A new, fresh one. Clementine, through who we see all of it—the emotional anchorage, the idealization, and devaluation. The splitting between. How intense Violet can be, and how volatile.

We have Clementine, who is given the chance to witness what Louis means for this wallflower, and that she grows on you (he promises so).

[VIOLENTINE: The Ship, and its Anchorage]

Platonic or romanced—the difference doesn’t matter in this essay. The shift of context between friend and more than that is just that: a shift in context. Distinguishing the two will have its moment, but it is hardly integral to the fact of the matter:

Violet anchored Clementine, and she did it swiftly. (In record time, dare I say.)

In regards to the arguments against romancing Violet, there’s a lot of people who look to Minnie, then back to Violet, and point to Clementine’s “girlfriend” dialogue. “Violet’s not over Minnie,” is a common one, right alongside, “Clementine’s just a rebound.”

Now. I’ve spent 5.5k words tearing those arguments to shreds in one section, and I still have with me another few things to say about Minnie and Violet’s relationship up my sleeve. In light of Clementine and Violet’s relationship.

Because even though I do buy that they were closer than friends arguably would be, they weren’t girlfriends. It’s why Violet was insecure within their relationship, and why that insecurity devolved into a strong case of idealization. Violet genuinely did love Minnie. Her bond with the twin will honestly forever be there, but that bond wasn’t unconditional. The conditions were at the cost of Violet’s mental health.

Then there’s the rebounding, and I will use this as a jumping off point regardless of relational status.

Rebound relationships are defined by a partner still with a previous relationship’s baggage. They’re not done healing. They haven’t quite let go. It gets in the way for committed relationships where the expectation is that both are in it 100%, and that person just…can’t. Because they’re still fixated on the last partner.

…which yes, does sound like Violet. Cuz it kinda, sorta, frankly is.

However. For one thing, this dynamic doesn’t just apply to a Violet route opted for romance. The rebound applies to a platonic dynamic, in part because I don’t frankly believe Minnie was a true girlfriend, and in part because idealization is not specific to partners. Especially in what we see in TFS, Violet needed to let go of Minnie regardless.

Then there’s the fact that being a rebound isn’t always bad. To rebound, which is where the term “rebound relationship” derives from, means for something/someone to bounce back. Or, it can mean a kind of backfire. Both uses of the word can be applied to relationships like this, which, yes, is why they’re fickle, and why people do their best to avoid.

Here’s the thing: Violet needed a new relationship to pull her out of the old one. Because Clementine is a catalyst for Violet, and she was anchored so quickly because whether Violet herself realized, she did want to move on. She couldn’t, but through Clementine, she got the chance.

And I do confidently say that she did want to, because by one interaction in the woods, Violet is disillusioned from Minerva immediately. She’s snapped out of what image she had of her, and is the one that remains realistic where Clementine can offer supporting words—along the lines of we can get her back.

It’s why Brody, through the cabin’s conversation, observes the same.

“We all used to be friends. Guess I kinda just missed that. But when you showed up… I don’t know, I just haven’t seen her warm up to someone in a long time.” [Ep.1 | Done Running | Fishing Cabin]

I find it interesting that Brody picks up on Violet taking to Clementine so quickly, and is able to read enough into this to try and see if it’s enough of a push for Violet to start healing. She’s right, it is enough, and Violet does take a first step in mending their relationship, and breaking away from the devaluation that was arguably heightened by her idealization of Minnie.

…granted, it’s dependent on player choice. There are Violets running around out there having fished with Clementine, but never did reconcile with Brody.

In any case, I am going to argue against Minnie being Violet’s ex because 1) who the fuck cares, I’m not concerned over purity over here, and 2) it’s likely they weren’t exes at all.

However, I won’t fight against this being a rebound. It is. But, Violet’s arc is about learning how to let the fuck go, she has a problem with letting go, so of course the relationship would be a rebound by proxy. A healthy rebound, at that.

By the time she is forced to let go of Clementine, after two newcomers are voted out, her attachment is made quite plain the moment Clementine is in danger within— What, five minutes, and Clementine is at gunpoint?

Regardless, Violet is there, bow at hand, with Louis behind her. She is ready to shoot, and it is no bluff. Violet will if prompted. Or, she will run should Clementine prioritize getting the two out of it.

Because Clementine’s already anchored. Violet trusts her to make the call, and she will follow without hesitation. Later on, after a weary night with A.J shot, then a morning of crawling back for medicine, Violet calls for Clementine to talk in the office. And in there, the anchorage is confirmed further:

“What happened out in the woods… I saw they had you pinned, and I… Shit, I got so crazy. “I know you think I didn’t do enough for you and A.J, but when I saw you were in danger, I had to do something.” / “When I heard you call for help, I didn’t even think.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Office]

The second line is dependent on whether or not Clementine blamed Violet before, as her and Louis walked the exiled to…exile. And stuff.

But, her account as to why she ran right for Clementine, and pulled an arrow on Lilly says everything I got so crazy, I didn’t even think, I had to do something. Clementine roused a trigger.

This time, in a very good way. Well, as good as the circumstances. In any case, this does count as a trigger because it’s inciting an emotional response, and given Violet’s wording, a fight-or-flight. (I realize triggers are specific for negatives; for the sake of brevity, I don’t care. I still say it counts.) It’s the reason why, before, when I detailed how I personally get with my anchors, I do similar things. No, not literally pull an arrow on someone, but I act on impulse without care, because I just want to satisfy their needs to the absolute fullest. It’s genuine, but it’s also triggering—under a positive connotation.

After this, of course, we push into Violet leading the school as they prep for an attack, with Clementine right alongside her. Whatever happens during this time is unknown, just that the school built-up the walls, laid their defenses, and focused on instruments to help, such as traps and explosives. Shortly after the time-skip, of course, we get the belltower sequence.

Starting with an inquiry:

“I know you came back for medicine, for A.J, but after that, you could’ve just left. Avoided all the bullshit with the raiders. Why didn’t you? Sorry, I know that puts you on the spot. You don’t have to answer. We’ve all got our reasons.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet asks something that has likely been on her mind for a while, but then… Not backtracks, but she does relinquish the pressure for that answer.

As their time at the belltower continues, it’s clear where the question came from.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to just…talk so much. It’s just, I’ve watched people leave before. Family, friends. They never come back. But you did. And now I can’t imagine what it would be like if you weren’t here. Um. Shit, that sounds so much dumber when I say it out loud. You know what I mean.” [Ep.2 | Suffer the Children | Belltower]

Violet’s hesitancy to speak her mind, be vulnerable, is interesting, particularly because it’s about doing so too much. It’s a very specific one, with ambiguous implications. This could be an anxiety she put on herself, or, this was something that she took after a mention that she was talking too much, getting too personal, one way or another. Then there’s also another thing, where it sounds dumber than she intended. As though when speaking her mind, Violet has an idea of what to say, but she doesn’t know quite how to articulate it.

This is a really good line of dialogue, so that latter insecurity is just that: an insecurity.

Nevertheless, this speaks volumes because it’s the first verbal admittance to an issue with abandonment. All the adults left her life, and never returned. Those include her parents, who never tried to get back to the school. Her grandfather died, so not his fault, but her grandmother shot herself right behind Violet. Which is abandonment, and really fucked to do. The teachers of Ericson’s…

Then fellow students. Most probably died, including Brody. And the twins were taken away.

Abandonment is a huge thing.

So we turn to the route where Violet is taken. And it’s not good. Violet reacts as predictably as this essay has outlined.

[Clementine] “Vi? What happened? Are you okay? Violet, talk to me… We’re here to take you home.” [Violet] “I looked for you. When they grabbed me, I saw…you let them take me. I’m just supposed to forget that because you’re here now?” [Violet, if platonic] “Some fucking friend you are.” [Violet, if romanced] “Some fucking feelings you had for me.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

Here we have now a fresh faultline within her and Clementine’s relationship. It brings ambivalence. Upon seeing Clementine, she’s plunged into an episode.

And Violet splits. Her image of Clementine is distorted, so she falls back to the same pattern she did with Brody, and she is hostile.

[Clementine] “What’s wrong with you, Vi? Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.” [Violet] “No, Clem. I’m done. This whole situation is so fucked! At least here I have Minnie…” [Clementine] “You mean the Minnie that betrayed us?” [Violet] “Don’t act like you know her. She tried to escape. Her and Sophie. They said if I fight back, they’d kill Minnie. Or one of you. All you’ve done is get us hurt or killed. If you fuck this up worse, I’ll stop you myself. And don’t think I won’t. I’m not losing her again, or anyone else.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

We also have Violet manipulated on top of that, led instead by Lilly and Minnie’s word, not Clementine. Because BPD primes people to manipulation, especially in times when they’re at their most vulnerable. But, throughout these interactions, we do see Clementine attempt to console her, and talk.

Violet, however, is not open to. She is not in the right state of mind. This is a BPD episode, so Clementine is not able to get through to her here. Violet does not trust her—too much ambivalence. Mitch’s death is fresh on her mind, she’s been lied to by Minnie about what happened to Sophie, and with that lie, she was told that more people would die if they did not listen.

And of course, the more time is spent, Clementine starts to get frantic as everything escalates because there’s a fucking bomb ticking away in the deck down below. So there comes about an urgency, and she can’t spend that valuable time consoling Violet.

So she starts chipping away at the door.

“What the fuck are you doing?! You’re gonna get us all killed!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

And Violet does precisely what she said she would do, and she attempts to stop Clementine herself. Because there’s Minnie again, but she also doesn’t want anyone else to die either.

Lucky for Clementine, she is stronger, and she is able to overpower Violet within a minute. However, in trying to get the cells unlatched, then to find her way to A.J, she herself is overpowered by Minerva. The urgency and stress associated backs Clementine to a corner. She still doesn’t want to see Violet hurt, so, she explains,

[Clementine] “We planted a bomb on the boat!” [Violet] “Fuck you, there’s a bomb! Mitch is dead! You just… Fucking go!” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Brig]

…and again, Violet does not trust her. Mitch’s death is still fresh on her mind. Everything that Lilly and Minnie fed to her is still present.

Then, the bomb goes, and it takes Violet’s sight with it. Even on the beach, she asks for Minnie, amidst confusion because, somewhere down the line, they got separated. Louis has to be the one to support her. By this point, and some beats after, it feels like this is another Brody. Like there’s no turning back, not until a long, long year where Clementine would be in the same shoes.

Minnie makes herself known, though. She’s off in the woodland, with her people.

And that is when this Violet has the wool pulled from her blinded eyes, because she realizes what happened.

The moment is brief. It’s very easy to miss. Yet, the attempts Clementine gave on that boat to console her, before the urgency really began to set in, was not fruitless.

Violet tries to apologize:

“Clementine? The stuff I said on the boat, in the cell, I, uh…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Beach]

It’s not the right time for it. The schoolkids need to get off that beach, but this brief moment is huge.

The thing about episodes is, yes, in the moment, the individual is not consolable. There’s no reasoning with someone who is shut down. However, the attempts to try and console, and/or any verbal promises to leave the door open for when they’ve calmed down, the effort can be recognized and appreciated.

Once Violet snaps out of it, that’s precisely what it was. She understands that Clementine was never trying to hurt her, nor did she come to her disingenuous. Clementine was there to bring her back, because the situation was exactly as Violet herself said—fucked.

But still… Clementine was there to bring her back.

Either way, Clementine proved herself to Violet, because down this route, she left twice, and came back both times.

Of course, the night does not end there. Clementine loses a leg. Another schoolkid is gone.

So through the weeks thereafter, Violet gave herself the time, and then, she tries again with the apology:

[Violet] “I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Clementine] “It’s okay. You went through hell in that boat, and I let that happen.” [Clementine, if platonic] “I’m just glad we got you out of there.” [Clementine, if romanced] “I’m just glad I got you back. I was so worried I’d lost you.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

In this apology, Violet articulates the position she was in, and admits the kind of influence Minnie was to her—not a good one. And in turn, Clementine acknowledges her. She doesn’t demean Violet for what she did. On top of that, she expresses how she’s just happy that Violet is there in the moment.

This route is bittersweet. We have the beginning, where Violet is guarded, then she warms up to Clementine, finds an anchoring point, and acts upon a fierce loyalty. Which then is hurt when Clementine chooses to save Louis instead. The time on the boat is very bitter because…the truth about borderline is, yeah no, it does not care who the person is to the mentally ill. The disorder is a disorder for a reason. It will hurt, and it will put a strain and test a relationship.

Then you just have the big fuck you axe where Minnie…effectively was the one who managed to wound Clementine, have her get bit, and then lose the leg. Which isn’t really how an eye for an eye goes, but that’s what this route goes with.

But then…, it’s sweet. Because Clementine did the right things, with what stress she was under.

She tried to talk to Violet, and in doing so, she left a door open for Violet to crawl back through when the time was ready. It was sooner rather than later for her, since Minnie… Whatever. However, it’s an apocalypse; a boat was just blown the fuck up. So while it was the time for Violet, it was not the time for literally anyone else. Ergo, a second attempt, to which there was resolve.

Clementine and Violet did not make the same mistake that Brody and Violet did.

And that’s what saves the relationship.

Now, let’s waltz all the way back and save Violet, just to show what Clementine and her do right to build a healthy connection, whereas her and Minnie went wrong. To do this, taking a brief visit to the romantic will help in dissecting an evolution found as the episodes progress.

After the bits of dialogue in the beginning of this section, Clementine can choose to confess her feelings for Violet. It can be solidified by a kiss, or a question for a relationship, or…a meek silence, to which Violet is able to read and feel the same. Clementine can also express confusion, in that she needs the time, but express the interest all the same.

There’s a sweet moment here, and with the kiss, it can also be a touch awkward because…

Okay, they kind of flounder. Violet more so. Which is interesting to note, because Violet “supposedly” was in a relationship before. Sure, the moment on its own doesn’t mean an experienced person wouldn’t be any less awkward, but with the following steps in their relationship, it does support the suspicion this essay has in that she never had a reciprocated, romantic relationship with Minnie.

The moment where Violet asks Clementine to dance, and is nervous to do so, is one of those steps in the relationship:

“When you told me you have feelings for me, I was shocked. Then I started thinking. There’s something I’ve always wanted to try with someone I cared about. And I never have. [. . .] Have you ever danced with anyone before? [. . .] Do you…wanna? Just us. No one else around. I mean, I know it’s kind of weird, but it’s something I’ve always wanted to try.” [Ep.3 | Broken Toys | Dorm]

It’s a step in way of romance (Clementine even remarks after how they’re getting better), but it’s also a step in Violet’s confidence in being vulnerable with someone. She’s still clearly anxious here. Violet still has some of that self-deprecation, and it comes back if Clementine rejects the offer because the idea was stupid, or something along those lines.

But she still does ask. And it’s a big ask, because this is important to Violet. So if Clementine reciprocates the dance, it’s yet another sweet moment, and it builds the confidence within for this relationship further.

Before the night, Violet can tell Clementine how she got to Ericson’s. Then, through the night itself, she backs Clementine every step of the way. Shoots Minnie. Escapes with the schoolkids, only to come back and find her with Tenn and A.J, safe and sound.

During their walk, Violet opens up again. This time, there is none of that self-deprecation, and Violet even gets choked up—but she’s not really ashamed for it, she just continues and says her piece.

“While we were looking for you guys, and I… I thought you might be…gone for good…, um, shit. I was trying to figure out what I’d do if you were gone, and I realized how goddamn stupid I was. About Minnie. For a whole fucking year. I was so wrapped up in losing her and Sophie, I pushed away everyone who tried to care about me. Marlon, Brody, Louis. Even you and A.J. I tried my damnedest not to care about either of you. And I still couldn’t tell you why.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]

She admits everything. Is so very open to Clementine, and tells her what is on her mind. There’s Minnie. There’s what she regrets.

[You were afraid] “I was a goddamn coward. I’m not a coward anymore.” [I’ve done the same thing.] “And then you wonder why you fight so hard to stay alive. I don’t wonder anymore.” [You cared about me.] (Platonic) “I didn’t expect to find a friend like you, not ever again. But I’m really glad I did.” / (Romantic) “Yeah, I did. Way more than I meant to. I’m still kind of amazed we found each other, you know?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | Forest]

By this point in the story, Violet has undergone her arc.

She is a changed person because of Clementine’s influence, and she sees what she either didn’t see before, or did but had forgotten. Through a rebound, because Violet just needed a second chance to redeem herself.

Now…, she didn’t expect to find a friend like Clementine ever again? It’s interesting that Violet indicates Clementine was a second chance with the platonic route, not the romantic. Is this her quietly admitting that Minnie was never beyond a friend, actually? Or is this in reference to Brody and Sophie instead?

I dunno. Just found that interesting, since she could have said an equivalent for the romantic dialogue. In any case…

There is something so profound with how this relationship contrasts the ones which came before. As a friend or partner, Clementine never gets to the point of Minnie’s idealization, nor Brody’s devaluation. Both are antithetical to each other because they balance on the same scale—that being insecurity. Violet cared for Minnie and Brody deeply, and those emotions are genuine.

However.

Minnie was put on a pedestal because there were faultlines to that relationship which Violet did not want to face. Brody, instead, was degraded because rather than faults, it was easier to ignore the good sides to Brody. And the good sides were a really, really sweet girl who dreamed of a better life—something that Violet could never see for herself after the twins.

Then there’s Clementine.

Even at their worst moment, where Violet’s trust in Clementine waned, she still did trust her. Clementine told her there was a bomb. Violet snapped because Mitch was the one who knew explosives, and he was dead. And yet, she got herself blinded because she knew Clementine wasn’t lying to her. She trusted her enough to know…

Well yeah. There’s a bomb.

Beyond that, however, Violet decides to do some arts and crafts, even though she says they’re stupid. Or Violet’ll ask for a dance that she’s desperately yearned for. She’ll talk to Clementine, a lot, even if she didn’t mean to do it “so much.”

Clementine as an anchor never truly corrodes. It’s tested down one of the routes, yet by the end of it, the relationship is maintained.

…there’s a final note which taps into this.

We come back again to identity one last time. For a brief anecdote—nestled within the shadows of what exhaustion this essay has gone over with Minnie and Brody, and now Clementine—, but an important one. Violet’s sense of identity will remain to be untold because we don’t have that perspective. She never talks about herself like that, so there’s no true insight for Clementine to gather.

Yet there are scant traces of identity diffusion, or an incoherent identity, ceaselessly disturbed by external influences.

This calls back to a copycat nature where borderline personalities will imitate in order to find stability. Ambitions, beliefs, interests—these all go right along with it, because they very well can change, and do so radically. Impulsions in way of severe life choices are made on the foundation this nature provides.

And that foundation is not strong.

There is no way to truly understand and deconstruct Violet’s sense of identity, yet, her behavior and choices made throughout the season can give us something to chew on.

Between the two routes, Violet is…a hair shy from being an entirely different person. The Violet Clementine brings onto the boat is not the same as the Violet she meets there. By contrast, Louis remains consistent; bring him on the boat, and he acts as expected—same with when we find him…without a tongue.

One is Clementine’s Violet. The other is Minerva’s Violet.

In both routes, Violet’s impulsion changes her life’s trajectory. She either shoots Minnie, or, she goes after the bomb and blinds herself. In one route, she’s outspoken, combative to the Delta, and fiercely loyal to the school; in the other, she does behave like how Minnie described her—never could talk to people, never to be class president. The Violet in that second route is withdrawn and quiet…

But she does confront Clementine.

She mimics Minerva’s newfound bellicosity that she dawned from the Delta, and it’s pitted against Clementine by following both her and Lilly’s word.

Going back to the first episode, where Brody tells Clementine that Violet withdrew herself from everyone, a lot of that was depression. Violet also actively told herself to push everyone away (…except Tenn, a remnant of the twins). However, there is a read here that she withdrew herself because there was no one left for Violet to mirror. She reverted herself back to the girl who sat in front of the television, with her grandmother’s fresh corpse just behind her.

Not to say that Violet doesn’t have a personality on her own. No, she still does. Having a weak sense of identity doesn’t automatically mean that there’s no identity at all. It can just mean the self-perception of identity is weak, but given that it is a self-perception, what is Violet going to draw from if she doesn’t…know how to read herself?

So Clementine meets Violet in the midst of this. She’s sarcastic and grates for a minute about the car. She keeps up a wall between her and Clementine. But by the end of the episode, and the start of the second, here Violet is cleaver at hand, about to lead the school.

Marlon scathes when she stands toe-to-toe. Talks about her being difficult again—but that in itself is ambiguous, because does this mean she’s gone toe-to-toe before, or does this mean Violet has a tendency to be inconsistent? And was that night another inconsistency?

But then… Louis. He admires the fact that Violet is like his white knight. He relies on her to protect him, because he knows that there is no doubt—she will.

Then being a leader. That comes as a surprise to presumably everyone. There’s a few points of dialogue that suggest it, others that blatantly say it, and then more few beats where we see the contention between Violet’s leadership and the schoolkids.

There’s conflict here. Violet is inconsistent in who she wants to be.

And it’s just that, isn’t it?

The TWDG community has long since decided that Violet’s arc is about letting go of Minnie (for those who see past the “rebound” thing), and self-discovery. Which is still true, but through the lens of BPD, there’s another layer to this. It’s about learning to let go despite disorder. And then, it’s learning what she wants from people, and who she wants to emulate, again, despite disorder.

What kind of person does Violet want to be?

And this is distinct from Louis, because with Louis, it is also a self-discovery. He is care-free, live in the moment, to a detriment. To be quite frank, the only reason why he got that far into the apocalypse was because he relied on his community. Not because he couldn’t contribute, but because he has his fair share of self-depreciation.

But there is no question. He knows who he is, and he knows the kind of man he wants to be. It’s why Louis does talk about his sense of self as much as he does.

Whereas Violet really doesn’t, perhaps because she can’t. All of what she confines in Clementine is the fact that things get overwhelming, and she gets confused. Quite frequently. But also, her relationships. Everything external for her, because… Again, she struggles to articulate what’s going on internally, because of that confusion. It takes time for that articulation to be feasible.

Violet has a patchwork identity. She’s kept traits of others—such as the singing. Granted, everybody does this. However, there’s her own within patchwork, but those have gone largely unexplored in the past.

Then here’s Clementine, the catalyst to this arc.

Which begs the question, why? What about Clementine has this impact on Violet?

Something about her draws Violet in.

At first, yeah. Clementine’s new. There’s an air of mystery around a girl who totals a car at Ericson’s front lawn, with a kid in tow. But that mystery alone doesn’t equate to a cleaver pulled, guarding the new people from the rest—her own people.

The answer is rather simple: Violet is mirroring Clementine, so all there is to do is look at that reflection. And we find a leader. We find someone who is compassionate, and does everything to fight for their own. Actually fight. Tooth-and-nail. Someone who does whatever it takes to survive, even if that means rubbing the good ol’ walker jelly, or, taking risks to secure a bag of food.

Clementine’s compassion for people is evident once she wakes up, and she has A.J by her side. Her skills in leadership, her drive to fight, to survive—those are all made very clear at the train station, with both Louis and Violet following her lead.

So Violet mimicked. She found the same traits within herself, then elevated them. Brought them to the surface.

As the relationship continues to build—platonic or romantic—, Violet finds reciprocation. She’s not just emulating what Clementine would like to see. After all, she was sat in the headmaster’s chair while Clementine and A.J were still exiled. That indicates how Violet found, if not a comfort, a consolation in that part of herself.

The reciprocation continues whenever Clementine responds to her, and she validates Violet, she shows interest in what Violet says, and what Violet wants to do. Violet can ramble on and on as long as she wants, and Clementine would still listen. Violet (if romanced) can ask for a dance, and Clementine would oblige. Either way, Violet gives Clementine a pin. Clementine puts it on.

It's that compassion, and it cascades authenticity off Clementine to the people she surrounds herself with. She’s also someone who feels strongly. This character is a very empathetic person. Throughout S1, Clementine was perceptive of the people around her, and she cared. Deeply so. S2, the same thing, even if her morality began to grey. The start to closing herself off to protect herself was present. S3 as well, especially in her drive to find A.J once she learned he was still alive, out there somewhere.

Throughout the seasons, there are also plenty of moments where her empathy shows. Clementine does genuinely feel what the people around her express. Like with Louis, when his tongue is cut. You can hear in her voice how pained she is, regardless of the relationship itself. She’s pained because Louis is.

And given what she’s lived through on top of that? Clementine would absolutely put 100% in a relationship, enough to match someone like Violet.

There is another reason to this why, and the thought struck me when I was reminded of an easter egg during Violet and Clementine’s scene up on the belltower. A constellation, which Clementine can draw for herself, and he’ll wink right back at her:

Kenny.

This connection is an interesting one to make for a scene with Violet. It’s cheeky first and foremost.

Regardless, there’s a parallel drawn here. Violet and Kenny are very similar, in that…Kenny likely had BPD. TWDGhas two seasons, then a couple flashbacks, where we can read it so. That man was volatile himself. Fiercely loyal, but could absolutely flip on a dime if his perception of the people around did not align with what he desired—it’s why he’s so fickle with Lee, to the point the gameplay reflects it, and then Clementine as well, because this behavior was the ultimate antagonist. His spiral down mental health escalated, and escalated, and escalated.

And he’s guilty. Tells Clementine that to leave him, or to shoot him, is the right choice to make.

But should the two survive together, with dreams of driving down to Florida, we find that he…is okay. He’s stable. His anchorage with Clementine and A.J is strong, without ambivalence. In this storyline, she sees that with people like him, sticking around through the bullshit can be worth the trouble.

Of course, it’s also a testament whether or not it is worth it. Some people, including myself, left Kenny in S2. Because the turmoil through the season was just that significant.

He genuinely cares, but like my mom, Kenny still hurts. Especially in S2. Because despite himself, he just could never seem to get past what he felt, and his impulses.

Clementine’s relationship with Kenny varies across different choices made, and the interpretations thereof. My personal interpretation of Kenny will contrast wildly to another. And that’s okay.

But whatever the interpretation is, and the choices made, Clementine has experience with people like Violet. She’s lived through the type of behavior conditions BPD and alike bring. She knows how to navigate them, and find healthy grounds.

Clementine keeps an open line of communication with Violet. Expresses interest, and accepts what Violet herself has to offer. But she also has her boundaries. For one, A.J. He is her priority. Two, when Violet fights her, Clementine fights back because it’s not okay—do not lay a hand on me. Now, whether or not she would’ve fought like she did if there was no bomb, and A.J was still in the cell…

I don’t know. I assume it would’ve been one of those major choices of the game. Either talk her down, or fight.

…similar to what Lee has with Kenny, up in the attic after the house in Savannah is swarmed, or on the train before that.

Bringing Kenny into the conversation is…funny, in a way. At least to me. I write all this, because TWDG secured its place in my heart by being the very thing I needed through a really, really bad year where my mental health (BPD) reared its ugly head. TWDG as a whole, but S2 especially. I realize why so many people have issues with the season, and I get it. It’s only natural for that to happen when every season has its distinctive personality—not everyone will gel with its voice. That, and it does have its fair share of flaws.

But if it was not for S2, I would not be in the fandom. Because that season was 2019 boiled down to the pure chaos I inadvertently put myself through, and it did so by having me play a character who when she was taken seriously, she just could not do it right, then…, when she wasn’t, it was out of neglect, where the adults put themselves first. Every. Time. And…one of those adults was a blunt reflection of it all.

Up until the final moment. The breaking point.

It’s how I felt inside my head. And still do, sometimes. When I’m stuck inside a season rooted in instability—a winter—, things just keep happening, and there is no end, even though I try to maintain the fantasy of peace in those slow moments. But…there’s just no end. There’s only escalation.

It was something I needed to experience in isolation, where I understood that it’s just a game, and it’s within the scope of 7.5 hours.

Swiftly thereafter, I started writing. Because again, it’s what I’ve always done. So AYDF came to be, where Clementine’s an alcoholic, but not because she’s legitimately an alcoholic in the gameplay. I get she’s not; my Clementine is an alcoholic because…it’s an obscure remark of borderline, and an exploration wherein I thought to use an entirely different disorder to express such a thing. In part because I’d yet to really (re)consider BPD (it wasn’t until some time later that I understood), but also…I’m a storyteller. Having alcoholism represent BPD is interesting.

It’s all why I adore TWDG, and my Clementine, and ADYF. Together, they’re an anchor of mine.

Clementine and Violet’s relationship included, because I did not expect to find Violet. I knew about their relationship before playing—heard it whilst I did light research on which games to buy. But I didn’t expect to find a character who…also emulates what S2 did for me. Just, in a more matured light than who I was in 2019. Also didn’t expect the relationship to provide growth for my Clementine in regards to these personalities, because mine did absolutely struggle the first time—with Kenny, and the devastating choice she made.

Cuz like.

Oops. A.J’s still alive. Um. Whelp.

(…for context—because I know the assumption—, no, Jane was not there. I left S2 with both her and Kenny dead. Clementine just shot the last adult who could’ve helped A.J.)

To see the chances where Clementine is the person Violet needed—to treat her well—, and take those chances, I didn’t expect to find Violentine as this embodiment of a healthy relationship despite borderline. It’s not perfect—obviously it’s not—, but all things considered, it is healthy by the end, no matter the route.

It’s regardless of whether or not Violet actually has BPD. She’s not diagnosed, and I don’t intend to have her be diagnosed. But at the same time…, this essay kinda makes it clear that Violet is a textbook example anyway. A good one to me.

And a good one to A.J.

[A.J, & Serving an Example]

Throughout this essay, the priority has been clarifying BPD, and unveiling what it feels like. A mechanism that may lead to the disorder, then the mechanisms that the disorder itself deploys. How it effects the person, in their identity or, most notably with Violet, relationships.

And the way Violet articulates herself, through the several dialogue lines within this post, it is evident that she’s aware. There’s a self-deprecation to it, but, Violet knows her issues and what it does, whether or not she knows its name—BPD, or something else entirely. Given the ambiguity that the game allows, it is still left unsaid.

But that’s the first thing: she does talk about it. Violet knows herself well enough to.

Not only that, she demonstrates a responsibility in her disorder.

With this essay, there hasn’t been much in the way of responsibility. Because it isn’t until A.J enters the discussion do we truly see this come to light.

I will be the first to say that, while I can sympathize with other people of the diagnosis—even empathize—, I am rather critical when it comes to being responsible of our actions. From knowing a trigger but being around it anyway, to refusing to communicate when a hand reaches out—there’s issues I take. Because there are things that needs to be done with BPD, and those are not it.

The fact of the matter is, sorry, it fucking sucks. But also, it is your disorder, as it is mine. It isn’t your fault that it happened, but it did, and you’re kinda just stuck living with it. It’s not the responsibility of anyone else to fix and manage every aspect of BPD.

Finding people like Clementine, or a support system like the schoolkids, will do wonders because, yes, they can help. But Clementine, and the schoolkids, also have their fair share of shit. To expect them to drop everything is unfair, the same way that being expected to just drop your BPD for someone else’s sake is unfair.

It’s a give and take. There will be a ceaseless line of dialogue in the name of boundaries, and clarification, and everything in between.

So we return to Violet’s apology to Clementine.

“I wanted to wait ‘til you were up and about, but how I behaved on the boat… It was really unfair. My head was so messed up—by Lilly, and… And Minnie. I was so wrapped up in my own shit…” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

She doesn’t excuse it. Violet gives reason—and that reason is, more or less, she was not in a right mind—, and she articulates what position she was in, but there is no excuse.

Because the difference between an excuse, and an apology, is that one is done with the intention to be forgiven, the other is done with the intention to resolve—the forgiveness is a hope, not the reward.

Being able to do such a thing, unprompted, speaks volumes to Violet’s maturity, and her understanding of her own mental health. For people with BPD, more often than not, it’s easier to blame someone else because…looking inward, and realizing you royally fucked up again is not easy. Or, it’s easier to use apologies to seek a reward—like forgiveness—, and to indulge in a brief gratification that may ensure a person stays.

Well, okay. The same can really be said for everyone. BPD, however, does has its way in amplification.

Nevertheless, A.J is able to witness this moment, take it in. It’s a lesson in itself.

But given Violet is saved, and Louis is mute, there is another moment which not only speaks volumes, but it serves to A.J clarity.

After the last meal shared in the game series, and Violet with Clementine deliberates over a caravan, A.J can ask Violet one thing:

“Aren’t you still mad I killed Tenn?” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

It’s a fresh wound for her. The pain of it is laid clear across Violet’s face. However, in response,

“The thing you said on the bridge…, that he was messing up all the time. It wasn’t something new, you know. Tenn got himself or other people into trouble all the time, long before you guys got here. He was always so lost. He lived in a world that just…isn’t there, you know? And that’s why I tried to look after him. But when I was pulling him away from the walkers, and Minnie, I could also see…he just wasn’t there anymore.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

Or, it’s complicated, but she understands why. Violet is able to acknowledge where A.J comes from. She does, and she sets aside her emotions. There is no corrosion here. Violet doesn’t devalue A.J for this, even though the gravity of his choice would’ve provided a validity. A warped and intense validity, but one all the same.

They trade more words, and amongst them, Violet asks a damning question, and A.J accepts:

[A.J] “So you’re mad, but sad.” [Violet] “Can I be that for a while?” [A.J] “Yeah, it’s okay.” [Ep.4 | Take Us Back | School]

A.J acknowledges her. She asks for further acknowledgement—the time to heal.

And he understands, and he allows her the room.

…the thing about Violet and A.J, in contrast to Louis and A.J, is that A.J looks up to these characters for very different reasons. Louis is a great guy. I want A.J to be like him, or better yet, a matured version of Louis. He’s charming, charismatic, good-natured, and through the game, we do see that he begins to donate an effort to do better.

Really, it’s not a mystery as to why A.J grew attached so quickly.

Violet, meanwhile, is confusing. She’s not that great with people, is instead a bit of a pill to swallow, and with her trauma comes a volatility.

Sure, she was the one who stood-up for Clementine and A.J when Louis didn’t, but in playing this season, I’ve always gotten the implication that A.J—at least initially—does have a preference for Louis. And I say implication because it’s never said outright, but there are some dialogues and reactions of his that had me wonder. I also don’t mean he doesn’t like Violet, no, but more that he doesn’t necessarily understand what Clementine sees in her.

At least, that isn’t until time passes, and more is spent with Violet, does she start to grow on him as well.

Louis models a more…digestible person. He has his problems, but they are easy to explain and understand. He was a spoiled brat. He sabotaged a marriage over something so very petty. And now, where his upbringing still rears its head through his immature work ethic, he struggles with deep insecurities.

There is a complexity here. One that does deserve its own essay, though I’m not really the right person for that. (Here’s an essay, by @stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale. Pretty good. And they gots a lot of essays like it. …but also, again, sorry for tagging; I know this is absurdly long. Lol.)

Violet, meanwhile, comes with a confusion because her issues are so steeped in stigma. Which is to be expected in conditions like BPD, where…yeah, there’s the chance she will lash out, do things she doesn’t mean, because a switch was flipped.

Where Louis is someone that A.J would like to aspire to, Violet seem to stand as a figure A.J can grow to appreciate. Having her as a model gives A.J the chance to understand that with people like Violet, you give them space and time. Work with them, and if they are genuine people, they will prove themselves worth the effort.

It does take effort, however, and the time spent with them.

And if there is no effort given, and no time spent…

Yeah. Violet will be that wallflower.

[Conclusion]

There’s nothing else this essay really has to say at its core. BPD is a very, very confusing disorder. Both internally, and externally. Stigma doesn’t help. It is, after all, a huge reason why I wrote this.

Because the stigma is quite honestly the worst thing about BPD. In many resources—whether they’re linked below, or you find them on your own—, you’ll find that a BPD diagnosis often comes with others right along with it. Addictions, eating disorders, depression…

To those who don’t know better (or maybe they do), that’s just…natural. It’s how it is.

But I remember going to my family, telling them that there is something wrong, only…to be assured otherwise. Not for my sake, but for theirs. Because BPD isn’t greatly understood, and when it is, realizing that none of them got to save me from my mother in time has its way in denial. What my mother did wasn’t right, however, I could’ve ended up like her.

Just not through those initial traumas.

Rather, I could’ve, had I made the same mistakes she did with the silent traumas thereafter—decades, now, where the people around me refuse to acknowledge my words, and listen to me, because I know the look in the eye, and I sometimes find it in the mirror. Those initial traumas may have been the first lashing, but it’s the time after which seals BPD within a person. Because the condition goes unchecked. It ferments. People tell you one thing, but you feel another, and as a child, you decide to trust their word, not your own body. Which breaks you. Gets to a point where there’s no real return, because people like me weren’t allowed to learn otherwise.

Understanding what happened to me was a very lonely experience, despite the sheer amount of people I had around me.

…and it hurts, somewhere deep in the recesses of my alexithymia, that my abuse never came from people who hated me. My mother didn’t, not in those initial years. None of my family did, in the decades into adulthood. But still, they hurt. The abuse came from the people I least want to admit, in ways that media would deem too boring for our idled attention spans.

I proclaimed that BPD is when a mechanism deploys, and the cost means a sacrifice of one integral function. It is still true—the mechanism, alongside the personality, and that specific initial trauma will influence how that BPD is expressed.

Yet, Borderline Personality Disorder happens when a mechanism deploys at a great cost, and that sacrifice is never restored. It is the neglect of the individual’s emotional turmoil after catastrophe that does it, where the same mechanism festers until it is there to stay as an ugly, depraved scar.

It is the disorder where a person was never allowed to heal, despite the mind and body screaming that they need to.

So when I hear BPD and the diagnoses alongside, I hear yet another time where someone likely knew there was something wrong, but they chose to find stability by other means, because it wasn’t found in the people around. Addictions bring those dopamine hits that BPD elevates. Eating disorders, where maybe…they can find something about themselves to control. Because there is none day to day, nor in relationships. And depression? Honestly, it speaks for itself; if a person manages to find themselves with a tumultuous anchor, or no anchor at all, it’s easy to slip into.

Or, if the diagnoses are born conditions, like ADHD or autism, or others, like schizophrenia, those speak to a concern where those conditions were left unchecked, and they festered as BPD, they were what predisposed it…

Yet, when I hear a story like Violet’s, it is a true reassurance.

Sure she’s not diagnosed. But still. The game doesn’t hide anything. It doesn’t “assure” the player that Violet isn’t this type of person, that she isn’t literally sick in the head.

TFS shows her issues quite plainly. And it’s because it does, and refuses to lie to make anyone feel better, does the game promise something that is so, so desperately yearned for in those with borderline.

It’s acknowledgement.

To tell someone that, yes, you’re not confused that you feel confused amid a chaos. You are. But there are ways to work with it, and around it. You can, actually, have strong relationships with people, and in those like Clementine, even if/when you fail, they will stay, because they understand.

To tell someone all of that is a first step towards understanding BPD, a disorder so shrouded because of stigma, and little else.

And so you have a character who still has her struggles with it, but she has a support system, and she’s taught herself enough to manage—did it well, considering the circumstances. She was left to her own devices. Sure, she had her grandparents to escape from home, but…, well. Yeah. After her grandma, Violet was then sent straight to the boarding school. The apocalypse struck. The adults left. And though her community still cherishes her, Violet…was designated as their wallflower.

So it’s funny, to have found this character this way, because Louis was right.

Violet does grow on you. If you let her, anyway. She can be suffocating.

Anyway. Hope you enjoyed.

Volt out.

Volt's Library (my writing) Clem Comic Essay #1 (canon stuff) Clem Comic Essay #2 (language)

Links: to start your own research

BPD (General) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (4 types); 4 (quiet BPD)

BPD (Stigma) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 (r/BPD)

BPD (Anchors/FP) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)

BPD vs Bipolar | 1 ; 2 ; 3 (comorbid BPD & Bipolar)

BPD (Identity Disturbance) | 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 (r/BPD)

BPD (in Relationships) | 1 ; 2 ; 3

#volt's library #twdg essay #fandom essay #essay #long essay #TW: this is intended to explore BPD; so with that comes the sensitive topics as mentioned in the introduction #twdg #twdg violet #twdg clementine #violentine #twdg louis #louis & violet 🥺🥺🥺#twdg minnie #twdg minerva #twdg aj #twdg brody #twdg 4 #the walking dead game #bpd #borderline personality disorder #the amount of times i looked something up and saw myself staring back at me is…too many times #like okAY GOOGLE i GET IT i have bpd #i know #LET ME WRITE ABOUT TWDG IN PEACE #thank you #and also thank the wiki transcripts my gOD #and and gotta love reminding myself that violet's dad was canonically an alcoholic #which is concerning for aydf since…well…gotta love alcoholic clementine #also also i do intend to edit/polish this later but what i wanted to say is here anyway so #im gonna nap now

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familyvideostevie · 9 months ago

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hey.

okay. hello! i'm back. :)

maybe you noticed, maybe not, but i have been away for a while.

i wish i could say i've been out living my life, so caught up in happiness and joy and loving each day that i've just not had time for tumblr. but....that is not true. i have been having a tough time! being away has been good, as i've had time to do other things that i like and to put energy into my own well-being, but it hasn't been the best time, I'll tell you that.

i peeked on the dash every now and then to keep my queue full and reblogged soothing things to my main blog and tried my best not to feel guilty about it all (i was also booping on April 1 lol). i just...I really needed a break. i've really enjoyed being here the last six or so months as i've changed my blog and entered the pedro/tlou space but i've also felt so, so alone.

and i know that it doesn't really matter!! like, we should all take breaks and go outside and all that stuff. and I know plenty of people are not very active, but this blog has been such a vital part of my life and happiness since I started it almost two years ago, so any lapse in activity feels like a loss. I've met lifelong friends and flexed my writing muscles and learned a hell of a lot. the fact that I have started to feel isolated and alone on here is a sort of personal betrayal, and there is no one to blame but myself.

So, I’m pulling back.

it means a few things — i don’t know how much writing I’ll be doing from now on. For Joel, especially — it’s been wonderful to meet folks in that community but it has also been really detrimental to my passion for both the game and writing. I’d like to return to some other characters on my masterlist, but we’ll see. I’ve got endless personal projects away from tumblr that I want to pour love and time into (my non-reader fics, my newsletter, a romance novel, a sci-fi novel, poetry, etc). I need to fall in love with my own work again.

it's a me problem, I want to stress that. i'm working on it! irl stuff has been kicking my ass. I've had a really, really hard winter and my mental health has suffered probably more than ever before. i let things I love -- like this blog -- fester and become negative and no longer being me joy. writing became stressful and difficult and I was focused on notes and interaction and looking around me and seeing success and then looking at myself and only seeing lack.

but that's why I took a break! i am getting help and support irl, i am putting in the time and effort to feel better about being alive and to be a better friend and person all around. And I want to tell you all about it because I am so grateful for your time and attention and support, even if we’re just strangers on the internet. i know this probably seems silly -- who cares about a fanfic blog? well, i care! i care a lot! it matters to me and therefore it matters!

anyway. on to the important stuff. here I am! and here's what's going to happen on this blog:

I am working on replying to asks and reblogs and comments I missed. Thank you for being patient with me! I don't know if I'll get to them all but know I see them and I am honored every single time.

I made a totally separate ao3 account with this blog url. I'm working on uploading everything I've posted here onto there and hopefully will continue to crosspost. It is going to take a long, long time, so please be patient! (you can follow my other ao3 here for my non x-reader fanfic).

I posted this fic! Jackson!Joel pulled me back into his world. It’s the first thing I’ve written in ages, so let me know what you think. as of now it's the last planned fic for that series, but who knows!

I hit a milestone while i was away that I am absolutely blown away by. I'm planning a celebration around it sometime this spring (hopefully) and I’d love to see you participate :)

lastly, thank you so much to my friends for letting me complain, whine, winge, etc. I am so sorry for missing all of your work, your celebrations, your bright energies, and all the rest. i am so sorry if it seemed like i was ignoring you. you are my guiding lights, my silver linings, my touchstones. you make me want to be here. i will try to make it up to you!

I want to be online less but make sure I’m connecting more in the moments that i am here. I want to pressure myself to write less and not feel bad that I’m not engaged all the time. I want this blog to once again feel like a place that nourishes me and not sucks me dry. i want to stop feeling like shit about all of it!!!!

so. come hang out in my inbox, my dms, let me know what you've been up to. I am really sorry for missing so much. thank you for sticking around. <3

#personal #this is very long but please read it maybe?#emma rambles #I will reblog it a few times probably

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notsoattractivearenti · 1 year ago

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Goodbye, Summer (Christian Pulisic x Reader)

Song Inspo: Summer Love - One Direction (listening to the song while reading is highly recommended!)

WC: 2.7K

Warnings: cursing, angst

A/N: after a few months i finally finished this fic!!! this is my first christian angst it felt kinda strange to write one for him lol and just so y'all know i haven't been able to write angst with a happy ending so, be aware. and the start of the ‘summer love’ is a lot different than usual hopefully not too weird for your liking tho. also this wasn't proofread, sorry if this turns out to be shit. anw hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any grammatical errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

–

“Cause you were mine for the summer

Now we know it's nearly over

Feels like snow in September

But I always will remember”

—

Summer has come to an end. Well, technically summer hasn’t ended yet – but Christian had to move to Italy and this move wasn’t exactly planned but quite expected – so yeah, to me, summer is about to end. And the moment Christian hops on the plane, there goes my summer of love. It was fun while it lasted – though I wish it would never end.

Christian told me he was leaving just a few days prior. He had been back to the States two days after the end of the Premier League season and ever since we had been spending the summer together. I knew this was coming as we agreed we would only be together for the summer but I didn’t think it would be this hard.

—

I met him through a mutual friend last year when he was briefly in Florida to visit his family and friends for Christmas. I still had a boyfriend at the time – even though my relationship ended the very next day, it was already broken to begin with – so we became strictly friends and I had no intentions on dating him. Jokes on me, because I had caught feelings for him but I was so wounded by the heartbreak I wasn’t even aware of it. He did catch feelings too, though he thought I needed time to process the breakup so confessing his feelings wouldn’t be appropriate.

I didn’t want a serious relationship for a while – or so I thought – therefore I didn’t even think of dating since my last one. Christian and I would sometimes text each other, but it wasn’t a constant thing. We hadn’t really seen each other in person since because of the distance, but I watched every match he played and usually texted him to give my support before the match.

One night within the second week of May, he told me by text that he was going back to Florida for summer break and looking forward to spending the rest of the summer with me. I thought to myself: why would he spend his short break with me? I responded to him by asking why just me and not his friends and family, hoping he would say something funny and odd like he always does and instead he said something I didn’t see coming.

“Because I like you and I want to be with you.”

My heart stopped the second I saw that text. Christian… Likes me? My goodness, what an oblivious idiot I had been. I was deeply wounded by my past I didn’t see what was going on in front of me the whole time. I didn’t know what else to say and I accidentally left his text on read that night.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Did I say something wrong?”

“I’ve freaked you out haven’t I? Fuck I’m sorry!!!”

Oh shit. I woke up to those unread messages from Christian – I just remembered I hadn’t texted him back last night. I immediately tried to reply but as my thumbs touched the screen to type, no words came to mind. I honestly didn’t know how to react, if I tell him I’m not looking for a relationship would it hurt him?

“I…”

“Christian…”

“If you want a relationship, I don’t know if I’m the right person for you…”

I locked my phone screen right after I sent those messages. I hoped I wasn’t being too harsh to him, but being put in this position was so overwhelming and I didn’t know what else to say. I just… I wasn’t ready. And I couldn’t tell when I would be. Not to mention he lives thousands of miles away from me and I didn’t think I could handle the distance.

An hour later, I finally heard back from Christian.

“I get it and I respect that.”

“What if we just… Be together for the summer?”

“We don’t have to think about what’s gonna happen after. Just be in the moment… You and me.”

I gave that idea of his a thought – a not-so-long thought because I was assuming I didn’t have enough time. I’d admit, while I found it interesting, I couldn’t help but wonder: would it be worth it? Would someone get hurt at the end?

Before the day ended, I finally made up my mind.

“Okay. I’m in…”

“But just for the summer.”

“And only if nobody is gonna get hurt.”

—

When he arrived, I was the one who picked him up at the airport. We absolutely spent our summer together everyday – there wasn’t a day that went by without him by my side and vice versa. He invited me to spend some time with his family and friends on their boats, and I had him spending time with mine on either the beach or my family’s home.

We were well aware we only had each other for the summer, thus we made sure every moment counts no matter how little or big it might be. We knew once this summer ends it also marks the end of our time together and go back to live our own separate lives. I didn’t want to think about what will happen next – I just want to live in the moment.

The more I spend my time with him, the stronger my feelings grow. It’s been messing up my mind, but I couldn’t let it ruin my summer. This was the best summer I’ve ever had in a long time, and I would not take it for granted. The memories we were creating throughout will forever live on in my head.

—

In the middle of our “summer of love”, Christian came to an agreement with AC Milan, and by that his time in Chelsea had come to an end and he had to relocate to Italy. And the club wanted him to join them for preseason, meaning his summer break had to be cut off sooner than he planned.

When he broke the news, I was stunned – not that I wasn’t happy about his move to Milan, I just needed time to process it. I also wasn’t ready for our summer to be over, but the circumstances forced us to cut our time short. It was pretty saddening for us that we unfortunately had to burst our little bubble.

“So… That’s it for us then?” I carefully asked.

“Let’s just not talk about it.” He refused.

I didn’t want to cause a fight at the time, so I agreed to let it go.

The entire time, I felt like I had to walk on eggshells around him. But eventually I couldn’t do that forever. You can't escape the reality no matter how much you want to.

—

Christian was packing his bags as he had a flight to catch the next morning. Yes, I couldn’t emphasize enough that we know our whatever-you-called-ship is coming to an end. In every hello there is a goodbye, right? But why does this feel so hard?

We have tried really hard not to mention anything about the fact that our summer love will be over soon but it is an inevitable topic. There is no way we can escape the conversation, especially on our very last day together. And I have to be the one to bring this up because Christian clearly didn’t want to – he might be the one who suggested the idea, but he is the one who is more in denial.

“Chris, you know we both have to say something, don’t you?” I tried to start the conversation.

“Can we not? Please.” He whimpered.

“We have to.” I insisted.

He kept packing in silence, not wanting to talk about the painful reality. I was sitting on the corner of his bed while he was standing across from me, avoiding eye contact since I started talking. He was looking down all the time – organizing his belongings – and not once he took even a little glance at me. I looked closely at his face, paying attention to every little detail I could. His face was red, eyes were puffy and watery, lips were tight – it was obvious to me he was trying so hard not to cry.

“So are you just going to freeze me out the entire time or?” Still no answer from him.

I went and sat a lot closer to him and he tried to look away.

“Stop it, please! At least just look at my fucking eyes if you don’t want to fucking speak!”

And suddenly I saw tears running down on his face. He couldn’t hold them back anymore – his heart was completely shattered and it was obvious he was nowhere near ready to face the harsh reality.

“Chris… Listen…”

“Why can’t you change your mind?”

He asked a question that got me startled.

“What is it about me and the time that we had that made you certain you still don’t want a relationship?” His voice was trembling.

It took me a while to even say one fucking word to him. I felt like the worst person on earth for breaking the sweetest man’s heart. And to be honest, I broke my own heart too – and I was really trying my hardest to conceal it from him.

“Chris, you were the one who said, and I quote, “just be together for the summer”! I was being so clear I didn’t want a relationship yet you still offered me that. There’s nothing wrong with you, it’s just… I’m not ready. And I don’t know when I will be again.” I desperately tried to explain myself to him but I seemed to upset him even more.

“Yeah, right.” He shook his head and smacked his lips. “Whatever you say.”

I sighed.

“Chris… Please, why won’t you believe me?” I asked him quietly.

“I don’t buy your bullshit anymore.” He replied coldly, while wiping his tears.

Now done packing, he grabbed the car keys and put most of his belongings in the trunk.

I still wanted to have more conversation – about us, specifically – but after he was done with his stuff, he refused.

“I’m tired and I have an early flight to catch tomorrow. I think I should just go to sleep right now.” He said as he walked into his room.

“Yeah, of course...” I responded.

I tried to softly grab his hand but he swung his arm further away from me.

“See you tomorrow, Chris. Goo-”

He slammed the door on my face before I got to tell him goodnight. At the moment, I thought to myself: oh no, he really hates me.

—

The next morning I drove Christian to the airport. He was going to Milan with his dad and he was meeting him at the airport. On the way there, we didn’t really talk much. There was so much silence – and somehow it made everything even more painful.

I couldn’t handle the tension any longer, so I tried to break the ice.

“Hey, thank you for spending the summer with me. It was the best I’ve ever had.”

He only nodded.

“Umm, I’m sorry this only lasted for a short while...”

He looked down, he sniffed and rubbed his nose and sighed.

“Well, have fun in Milan! You needed a fresh start and you’re about to get one… Christian, I am proud of you.”

I tried to be supportive and not say anything that could be perceived as “something wrong” because I knew he was in a fragile state at the moment, though it seemed like he wasn’t going to respond the way I hoped he would. I was genuinely proud of him by the way – always have and always will.

He looked up but still avoiding eye contact, let out a slight smile and chuckled a little bit.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“And uh… Maybe you’d forget about me with all the girls you’re going to meet there...”

I immediately regretted what I just said. Shit. What the fuck did I just say?

He finally looked directly into my eyes – a look full of disbelief and disappointment. There was a moment of silence between us. This time, I was the one who couldn’t see him in the eyes.

“Chris, I’m so, so sorry I didn’t m-”

“How could you say that, Y/N?” He cut me off before I finished talking, by the tone of his voice I could tell he was mad at me.

I froze for a minute. I knew I had fucked up but I never thought it would be so much worse – at the moment I was really, really fucking shit up.

“Do you think my feelings for you aren't real enough so other girls can easily make it go away? Do you really think I can forget you just like that? Are you implying that what we had all summer will not stick in your memories?”

“Wha- no, Chris, that’s not what I mean!”

What a mess I had made... And before I knew it, tears started to fill my eyes.

“Well to me it sounded like that. I’m appalled to know you don’t see whatever we were as something real and meaningful. Maybe it was a mistake to even ask you to give us a chance in the first place.” He sounded like he was truly aching and filled with regrets.

I glanced at him for a bit and I saw him biting his lip and his face was already all red. I never wanted our goodbye to be this heartbreaking but well… In this situation it’s bound to happen, isn’t it? Because I didn’t want to escalate our situation any further, I decided to shut my mouth and stop talking altogether. I was aware that whatever I said might hurt him deeper. Fuck, why can’t things be easier?

—

After what felt like a very long ride, we finally got to the airport. We met Christian’s dad, Mark, at the front gate as I helped Christian with his belongings. Mark greeted me and gave me a hug.

“Hey, Y/N! Thanks for dropping Christian off, if only you could come with us to Italy!” Mark excitedly thanked me, not knowing what happened between Christian and I.

I shook my head and slightly laughed to cover my discomfort. Then I saw Christian looking at his watch, and whispered to his dad: “let’s go.”

I took it as my cue to leave, so I said my farewell to both of them.

“Well, have a safe flight, Mr. Pulisic.” I smiled and nodded at Mark.

Then I turned to Christian. He was still visibly upset – I didn’t have the heart to say anything, really. I had caused him a lot of pain, and I was afraid to open my mouth. But at the moment I knew I had to, since I didn’t know if we would ever see each other again.

“You too, Chris. Good luck over there.” I softly tapped his arm.

I waved at them and was ready to walk away when I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I turned around and it was Christian. He pulled me in for a hug – a very, very tight hug, like he wouldn’t let me go. He rested his head on my shoulder and I rubbed his back the whole time. It was a long hug – probably the longest ever for both of us – and we could no longer keep our overflowing emotions inside anymore.

“I’m sorry…” I whimpered.

“I know.” He whispered.

He stroked my head and kissed me in the forehead. His lips stayed there for a while.

“Y/N, I have to go...”

It was the hardest thing to do but I pulled away from the hug. Before he went inside, he took my hands and looked me in the eyes.

“Y/N, you will always be my greatest summer love… I will never forget you.” He said under his breath.

And the moment he walked through the gate, that was the last time I saw him in person. What we had might be short, but I will forever be thankful Christian made my summer unforgettable.

—

“You were my summer love

You always will be my summer love”

–

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic angst #footballer fic #footballer fanfic #footballer imagines #footballer angst

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bvidzsoo · 1 year ago

Text

Nowhere we won’t go

Author: bvidzsoo

Warning: violence, murder, blood, some swearing

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x female reader

Word count: 27, 401

Summary: Life had mysterious ways of working, and it took you off guard when you lost your best friend to a ruthless criminal. No one knew who did it, the whole town was in terror. However, it didn’t stop there, more people were dying and your suspicions of the murderer started raising. Could it really be your boyfriend?

A/N: Hiii lovelies! I’m back from the dead lol. College always takes a tool on me, so I barely have inspiration to write nowadays. I watched Scream lol and this oneshot came into fruition. Ofc it’s heavily inspired by the movie so don’t come at me, but I tried to be original still. I might be a little rusty crusty dusty, but I hope it’s not that noticeable. Please leave feedback, you know I love it and I hope everyone enjoys this! Happy reading!

This morning wasn’t any different compared to other mornings. The sun was slowly rising, beaming down on our little borough and letting its rays spread some well needed warmth as autumn has approached, coating the town in a grey fog as a result of daily rain. I missed the summer days, when the temperatures were high and I was carefree and able to spend my time doing what I liked. School takes up a large amount of effort and energy, and sometimes, I’m drained by the end of the day. I am conscious that going to school is crucial as it’s supposed to educate us and develop us into mature and smart young adults, ready to pursue our dreams and goals once we’re out of high-school, but most of times it’s just a buzzkill. The teachers are always dull and mean to us, as if they hate us for being in their classes, and most things we learn seem useless once we have stepped out into the real world. I like studying, but I am not desperate, and find myself spending my time doing something else quite often. This has always been an issue with my mom, as she’s a hardworking nurse and stern woman, only expecting and accepting perfection. But we got past our differences a few years ago and now, if I get good grades, she allows me to do whatever I like on the weekends. When I was young, I was supposed to attend various activities which my mother enjoyed while she was young, like: swimming and ballet classes. I have always hated ballet; it gave me bad ankle and toe aches making me unable to get out of bed on some lamentable days. But my mother wouldn’t accept my whining and forced me to continue ballet, only allowing me to stop when I told her I had no interest in being a ballerina. That was three years ago. Mom was quite disappointed but when I told her I wanted to take up some drawing and painting classes, reluctantly, but at last she agreed. Now, I can see myself being an artist, attending a prestige arts college. I only have to convince my mother at this point to oblige to my wish. I don’t know how I’m going to do that, but I’ve still got two years to come up with a good solution. Perhaps if Wonwoo and I can go to the same college she’ll let me be. Wonwoo, my boyfriend, is someone who my mother adores. She’s loved him from the very first moment they have met. He’s soft spoken and kind, a little withdrawn, but nonetheless friendly once he opens up to you. We’ve known each other since we were kids as we’ve been living on the same street for our whole lives, but our romance only began in high-school, last year. It took us some time to mature and notice each other finally, but when it happened, I couldn’t have been happier. He was so attentive to me, always listening closely to what I had to say. He made me laugh and smile, sometimes even without trying to, and filled my heart with warmth I didn’t know was even possible. I found a confidant and friend in him, someone whom I could love freely and carelessly, never doubtful or uncertain of his intentions. Wonwoo was direct and honest from the get go and it made me like him even more. We had our ups and downs, just as any couple, but managed to work them out and move forward as a stronger couple. He had moments when I couldn’t understand him, questioning whether I was imagining his lack of empathy or he really lacked of it, but never thought too hard about it. After all, both of us were enamored with each other, living under our pink cloud as any newly formed couple.

I had dressed up after waking up, realizing I needed to hurry up if I wanted to catch the bus, mom had a nightshift and wouldn’t be driving me to school today. I could smell bacon and eggs wafting through the downstairs as I descended the stairs, headed for the kitchen. My mother was still in her nurse uniform, her blonde hair pulled in a tight bun as she placed the fried bacon on a plate next to the already done eggs.

“Good morning, mom.” I greeted her with a smile and she turned around, dark bags under her eyes as she returned a smile.

“Good morning, slept well?” She asked as she handed me the plate which I took eagerly. I didn’t have dinner last night as I was too lazy to cook something and my stomach was screaming at me right now to fill it with something.

“Yes, although the storm did wake me up…” I trailed off as mom hummed, sipping some orange juice as she sat down opposite of me.

“It was quite bad; the wind tore a few trees out around the hospital.” She said and I hummed in surprise, not having thought the storm was actually that bad. My mom looked behind me with furrowed eyebrows as she quickly went to grab the remote control. I was just chewing on my breakfast as she turned the volume up of the TV behind me, making me turn around to see what has caused such interest in my mom suddenly. However, the words of the reporter made me drop my fork.

“Breaking News.” Her voice was loud and clear, eyebrows furrowed as she stood in front of a white house, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Trees getting torn out of the ground during last night’s storm wasn’t the only unfortunate thing to happen. It has come to our attention, that a beloved citizen of our serene city has been murdered in cold blood last night during the storm. Her name is Myoi Mina and she was a student at Primrose High-School. Not much is known as of now about her death, the police are still investigating the crime scene, however, I managed to find out before going live, that she’d been stabbed in the chest three times and suffered a fatal trauma to her head. I offer my sincere condolences to everyone who knew her. Stay tuned for more news about the terrific death of Myoi Mina, a bright girl who will never be forgotten. I am Park Sooyoung and you’ve been watching Prime News.”

For a second the world went quiet around me as I continued staring at the TV with my mouth open in shock. If it weren’t for my mother calling out my name, I probably would have stayed longer in that trance.

“Honey!” Her voice rose an octave and suddenly I felt her gripping my hand, eyes searching mine.

“Mom—” I managed to whisper as she pulled me into a hug, offering me support. I couldn’t believe what I had just heard. Mina…dead? How is that possible? Who would do that to her? We weren’t friends, but as we go to the same high-school we’ve known each other. She was always bright, and friendly, just as the reporter has said. Who would want to take away her life? When she was so innocent—oh, poor Wonwoo. If I was this affected by the news, I couldn’t imagine what he was going through. They had been exes and despite a tumultuous relationship, they managed to figure things out and stay somewhat friendly with each other after their breakup. Still, she was a person he once had loved and I would totally understand if he needed time to sort his thoughts out.

“Honey, are you alright?” My mom whispered and I lightly nodded, pulling away from the hug. I wasn’t very alright, confusion and fear meshing together, but I needed to stay strong. For Wonwoo, probably.

“Yes, just very…shocked.” I answered mom and she nodded; eyebrows downturned as she understood my feelings.

“It’s going to be fine. The one responsible for this will be found and held responsible for their actions, don’t be afraid.” Mom tried to cheer me up and offer some security, but it didn’t do much. However, I did appreciate her attempt.

“You’re right.” I tried to give her a smile, but I wasn’t able to.

“Let me drive you to school today—”

“No, don’t worry! I am fine, really. You look very tired, just go get some sleep. The bus is coming in five minutes.” I reassured her and got up from my seat, appetite gone as I quickly filled my water bottle with some orange juice.

“You’re sure?” Mom raised her eyebrows and I nodded, going up to her and kissing her cheek.

“Go rest, mom.” She hummed and patted my head before I hurried into the hallway to pull on my shoes and take on my coat. I opened the front door and took my keys, locking it once I was out of the house. Just as I walked down my porch the bus approached and I got on it, noticing the silence and somber faces of the rest of the students on it. Today was a grey day and nobody could deny it.

My first task after getting off the bus was to find Wonwoo and check up on him. I kept biting my lip nervously as I looked around the halls, even going up to his locker. He was nowhere to be found and it made me even more nervous. I walked up to his classroom and peeked inside, but his usual seat was empty, not even his bag was there yet. Classes would start in ten minutes and I was panicking, about to grab my phone to call him, when I realized I hadn’t checked one place yet. The spot designated for the students to park their bikes and motorbikes. Of course he’d be there, why hadn’t I thought about that earlier?!

I ran down the hallways and finally exited the school, beelining it for the parking lot. Nobody was laughing this morning, people whispering amongst them, some even crying. Mina’s closest friends weren’t even seen at school, I understood why. I greeted a classmate of mine in a rush as I passed by him, he had just gotten out of his car and was taken aback by my presence, but by the time he greeted me back I was already facing the motorbikes parked in the corner. And there he was, Wonwoo, dressed in all black, his helmet in his hands as he got off his bike. His black hair was badly ruffled as he hadn’t run his fingers through his hair yet, and I suddenly took off, running towards my boyfriend. He had placed the helmet where he was sitting just seconds ago when I crashed into his back, hugging him from behind. I rested my cheek against his shoulder as I squeezed my arms tightly around his middle, making Wonwoo let out a surprised gasp.

“Hey, there, sugar.” He chuckled and my eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Just as I pulled my head away from his shoulder he turned around in my embrace and hugged me back, just as strongly as I had hugged him. He was crushing me, but I didn’t care.

“Wonwoo—” I managed to mutter out as I wiggled out of his embrace, torso aching in certain spots, “Are you alright?”

Wonwoo’s eyebrows furrowed as he ran his fingers through my short hair, resting his hand on my nape, “Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

I became even more confused at Wonwoo’s words, searching his face for some sort of tell, but there was none, “Well…did you not hear?”

I decided to feel around, scared that I had to be the one to tell him. It would break me seeing him in pain.

“Hear what?” Wonwoo asked confused, his thumb rubbing my jugular, it was slightly distracting.

“Oh, well—” I cleared my throat and licked my lips, “Mina—”

“Oh, that.” Wonwoo muttered and looked down, his grip slightly tightening on my nape, but I said nothing as I watched his expression. He seemed unphased almost, like he wanted to look sad but it wasn’t working. My eyebrows furrowed when Wonwoo sniffed, yet there were no tears in his eyes. He clearly wasn’t alright, and I felt horrible for even reminding him of her death.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Why are you sorry, did you kill her?” He suddenly looked up and his sharp eyes were piercing into mine, and I suddenly stuttered before shutting my lips. What? He looked so…cold. As if he didn’t care at all.

“No, I just—”

“Y/N,” He grabbed both of my cheeks with his hands and pulled me into him, our foreheads almost touching, “You are the love of my life and whatever happened to Mina…she had it coming.”

I couldn’t believe my ears, and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked at Wonwoo with even more confusion. He didn’t actually mean that, right? How could he…he cared for her once.

“She was murdered, Wonwoo.” I whispered; my voice almost trembling. Wonwoo sighed and swiftly kissed my forehead, but it didn’t reassure me like it usually did, no, it made a chill run down my spine.

“I know, but she cheated on me multiple times, sugar, I do not care what has happened to her.” Wonwoo’s voice was sinister, almost gloating if I hadn’t known him better, “But she deserves it.”

My mouth opened in a gasp as I shook my head, refusing to comprehend the words which were leaving his lips, but also shocked and trying to process what he could really mean by saying that. But before I could voice my thoughts, his warm lips were pressing against mine softly, our noses touching. His was cold as it was really windy outside and I pulled back from the kiss, opening my eyes to gaze into his. I couldn’t read what he was feeling, his face expressionless and somehow so cold.

“I love you.” Wonwoo muttered before he let go of me and stepped back, grabbing his helmet off his motorbike. I watched him as he grabbed his backpack as well, trying to go over what has happened in the last few minutes, realizing this was just probably Wonwoo’s way of processing the traumatic news of last night’s happening. I knew deep down he was feeling miserable, he just didn’t want to show it in order to not worry me even more. I felt sympathetic for him and as he looked at me, it shocked me how much hatred was behind his irises, but it was gone just as quickly as it came, and it made me wonder if I had started seeing things. The news must be affecting me real bad if I couldn’t decide anymore what my boyfriend’s reactions meant.

Today was grim. Everyone’s mood was bad and students almost whispered to each other despite it being our long break. Myoi Mina’s death has affected all of us, it was obvious. Everyone seemed to hold some sadness in their eyes and somehow they seemed to be more sympathetic towards fellow students. Even the teachers tried to be nicer to us. An hour ago we held a memorial for Myoi Mina at the football field of our high-school and once we were dismissed we quickly hurried back to our classrooms as the wind started picking up once again. The weather seemed to worsen as we reached noon and currently we were bundled up in the cafeteria, trying to enjoy our lunches. However, I found it rather hard to swallow the mashed potatoes as I overheard the girls next to our table talking about Mina’s brutal murder. I found the topic insensible and rude to talk about, especially since they seemed to be giggling about it from time to time, wondering whether the criminal looked hot or not. Kim Yerim, my best friend, seemed to have had enough as well as she slammed her fork down against the table, the loud sound catching those girls’ attention.

“Listen here, insensible cunts, if you want to gossip about that poor girl’s terrible death and fantasize about a murderer, go do it in your bedrooms and not in the cafeteria where everyone can hear you and realize just how fucking stupid you are!” Yerim’s words were harsh, always having been a brutally honest person, and it caught the attention of a few more students around us who seemed to be agreeing with her as they shot nasty glares at the gossiping girls. They seemed to be offended and one even gasped as she stood up, causing an unnecessary scene.

“How dare you call us—insensible cunts?!” Her voice rose and Yeri scoffed, giving her an amused grin.

“I was merely telling the truth, sweetheart.” Yerim answered back and I turned my head to look at the girl who was very pathetically gasping for air.

“I think everyone around us knows by now that you just want your five-minute fame, so settle down before you embarrass yourself furthermore.” I spoke up, trying to ease up the tension, but I figured I only did worse by saying that. The girl’s friend gasped loudly and both were standing up now, looking down at Yerim and I as if we were some monsters.

“Look who’s talking about fame, Y/N.” The second friend, who was blonde and had a pixie cut, looked at me maliciously, “Aren’t you the one dating Myoi Mina’s ex?”

Yerim and I glanced at each other, not understanding the correlation here, “I am, and so what about that?”

“Ah, look at her talk about fame,” The first one who caused this scene mocked, she had jet black eyes, “You’re acting as if you’re an angel when it’s because of you Wonwoo and Mina broke up. Did you know he cheated on her with you?”

I gulped, feeling the eyes of many students on me. This information was wrong, merely a gossip Mina spread around after she found out Wonwoo started going out with me out of jealousy. It didn’t last for long, the gossip, because a week later Mina and I talked and cleared things up. I held no harsh feelings against her and she apologized, realizing how foolish she was, and promised to make things right.

“That’s not true.” I said as I glared at the two girls, “Mina spread that rumor around out of jealousy—”

“Are you seriously bad-mouthing a dead person right now?!” The blonde one exclaimed in outrage and I couldn’t believe my ears. Suddenly I was the bad guy when I just wanted to protect someone who couldn’t do it anymore themselves. I could hear my ears ringing and my jaw clenched as I glared at the two. Yerim was just as appealed as I was and she slowly stood up, expression menacing.

“Look who’s playing the victim now.” Yerim chuckled and went around her chair, oh no, this was going to be bad. I stood up and grabbed my friend’s arm, knowing she’d get physical if no one was there to restrict her. Yerim always struggled with her anger issues, but when someone was disrespected she couldn’t help it, she saw red. I glanced around and gulped nervously, too many people were watching us now. And they were whispering too. I didn’t want this. Today out of all days this was so unnecessary.

“Yerim—” I spoke up, but before any of us could say anything else, Wonwoo and Soonyoung, his best friend, approached our table, each holding a tray full with food.

“What’s your problem, Hyuna?” Wonwoo snapped, blazing eyes glaring at the girl with the pixie cut, “Are you letting out your frustration on Y/N now that Mina’s gone? What? Are you going to beg me soon to leave Y/N for you?! Just like you did when I was dating Mina?”

My mouth fell open as Yerim and I looked at each other shocked, and even the students who were fully watching the commotion now, seemed surprised. The blonde one, Hyuna, turned red in the face and she gasped, looking at Wonwoo with her mouth gaping.

“That’s—that’s not—” She stuttered, shrinking under Wonwoo’s harsh glare, “That’s not what I was doing!”

“But you were speaking poorly of a dead girl.” Wonwoo said nonchalantly and Hyuna gulped as her friend took her hand and started pulling her away. I think they realized they have embarrassed themselves enough. Soonyoung started cackling as everyone watched the two girls basically run out of the cafeteria and he had the audacity to shout after them, “Look, Hyuna! I’m still available!”

His words elicited laughter from many students as they called Hyuna pathetic and everyone slowly went back to their lunch, Yerim and I long forgotten as we both sat down with Wonwoo and Soonyoung now having joined us. Wonwoo sat next to me and he kissed my cheek as I offered him a small smile, checking his face for any reaction. Perhaps a change of heart since the morning. But he still looked…fine, uncaring. Sooyoung, to Yerim’s dismay, sat next to her and she quietly sighed when he leaned close to her and whispered something, making her push his face away. Sooyoung giggled and I glanced at him, observing his attitude too. He looked like himself, as if Mina didn’t die, as if Mina and him didn’t even know each other.

“How are you feeling, Soonyoung?” I found myself asking my boyfriend’s best friend, curious.

Soonyoung looked up just as he stuffed his face with a chicken wing and grinned, “Quite well, thank you!”

Wonwoo cleared his throat next to me and I glanced at him briefly, but he was staring at Soonyoung quite coldly, “Oh—I mean, quite well despite the shocking news…I mean, how terrible, isn’t it?”

Yerim glanced at Wonwoo before she looked at Soonyoung and her eyes narrowed at the blonde, “At least you could try sounding more genuine next time, Soonyoung.” She emphasized his name as she gave him a glare. Yerim has never been fond of Soonyoung, she found him obnoxious, loud, dumb and overbearing. Despite Soonyoung’s efforts to get her to like him, she refused to spend any time with him if Wonwoo and I weren’t there.

“Yeah, you knew her quite well…” I found myself mumbling to no one in particular as I ate my lunch, but it seemed like everyone from our table heard me. Yerim nodded along. It was weird seeing the two boys so uncaring towards Myoi Mina’s death, after all, Soonyoung was the one who introduced Mina to Wonwoo.

“Oh, come on.” Soonyoung scoffed and leaned back in his seat, an irritated smirk crossing his lips, “That bitch whined all the time if something didn’t go her way. She didn’t let anyone breathe around her unless they first pleased her and my God—if Wonwoo wasn’t with her it was the end of the world, and if Wonwoo was there—why was he showing her no affection?!”

Wonwoo placed his fork down and placed his elbows on the table, leaning forward and placing his chin on his knuckles, “Thank you for you input, Soonyoung, although I’d like to enjoy my lunch without hearing about my ex-girlfriend’s death…again.”

It was the most emotion Wonwoo had shown all day and I grabbed his hand, squeezing it and offering him a small smile. He looked at me, seemingly still pissed off at Soonyoung, but offered me a small smile back. Yerim was silent as she watched the two boys before shaking her head and taking a sip from her glass of water. I knew how she felt about them, she never liked them too much, but they were good boys. A bit odd, but well-intended.

“Fine,” Soonyoung muttered displeased as he took another chicken wing, eyeing Yerim from the corner of his eyes, “but the bitch deserved it.”

“Excuse me?!” It was Yerim who was appealed this time, her reaction being the same as mine when Wonwoo said it. She just reacted stronger than I had. I was quite speechless, she rarely was.

“Nothing.” Soonyoung smiled sweetly at my best friend and I could feel my heartbeat pick up when Wonwoo’s tongue poked his cheek from the inside of his mouth, a clear sign he was getting angry. I looked at him, but he was glaring daggers at Soonyoung. Thinking quickly, I looked down at his plate and touched his thigh, trying to get his attention.

“You don’t like chicken wings,” I said with a smile as I pointed at my plate, “You can take my fried cheese.”

Wonwoo’s attention was back on me and his eyebrows furrowed, “You don’t look chicken wings either—”

“Don’t worry, I’m full already.” I smiled, I wasn’t full, in fact. But they were probably out of fried cheese and Wonwoo was quite particular about what he ate. I didn’t want him to be hungry until we got home.

“How sweet,” Soonyoung cooed from the other end of the table and both Wonwoo and I glanced at him, “She’s so caring, Won, don’t you just love her?”

He sounded quite mocking and I sighed, starting to get fed up with Soonyoung. I had no idea what his problem was today, but I didn’t enjoy being around him anymore. Wonwoo sensed my discomfort and shook his head at Soonyoung.

“Yes, I love her.” Soonyoung grinned widely and chuckled, shaking his head. He looked at Yerim and reached out for her hand, but she quickly took it off the table and gave him a glare.

“Don’t you want us to be sweet like them?” Soonyoung blinked cutely at Yerim, leaning closer to her, “How about—we go out on a date tonight?”

“Soonyoung,” Yerim scoffed and leaned closer, smirking at him, “For the nth time—no. I don’t like you and I will never date you. Stop being so fucking obnoxious all the time, thanks.”

Soonyoung tsked and shook his head, “You’re gonna get killed one day for talking like that to me.”

His words were barely audible but both Yerim and I caught it. Our heads whipped in his direction and he looked up innocently, blinking at us confusedly, “What?”

“Soonyoung, come to the wending machine.” Wonwoo abruptly stood up and smiled at his friend, however it didn’t reach his eyes, “Now.”

Wonwoo became demanding once Soonyoung made no sign of wanting to move and the blonde just sighed before getting up slowly, winking at Yerim before walking up to Wonwoo. Wonwoo swiftly grabbed his nape and pulled him away from us, making Soonyoung exclaim in annoyance. Yerim turned to look at me and I sighed, eating some more of my mashed potatoes.

“What is wrong with them?!” She whisper snapped as she watched me. I shrugged and ignored my friend, not wanting to think too deeply of what’s happened the past few minutes. Wonwoo was weird all day, but he’s been even weirder ever since they sat down to have lunch with us. Soonyoung’s words were even more unsettling and my head was a mess currently, I didn’t want Yerim questioning everything as well.

“Nothing.” I muttered back, head lowered as I tried to eat some more. Wonwoo took the fried cheese I gave him and I pushed the chicken wings to the side of my plate, I really hated them.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, Y/N.” Yerim snapped and grabbed my elbow, making me look at her, “Something is very wrong with Soonyoung and we both know it. He’s giving me the creeps now more than ever before. Did you hear the things he was saying about Mina? How is that alright? How could he even think them and then say them—”

“I don’t know.” I snapped, getting pissed, “And I don’t want to know. This whole situation scares me and I’m not taking it well, okay? Everyone is talking about it and it’s making me lose my mind. I’m scared, okay? Can you at least, please, just drop it?!”

Yerim looked down and released my elbow, feeling bad for bringing this up again. I had already told her in the morning how scared I was of this whole ordeal, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you more. I just noticed things and wanted to tell you, because Wonwoo’s been weird too. He has always been, but today out of all days…he’s too quiet.”

“Wonwoo’s always quiet.” I chuckled and Yerim rolled her eyes.

“Not like this, you know what I mean…” She deadpanned and I huffed, turning back towards my plate.

“Whatever, you’re just being paranoid.”

“I’d rather be paranoid than dead.” Yerim muttered and I groaned, nudging her leg with mine underneath the desk. She giggled and started stealing the chicken wings off my plate as she glanced back, “I’ll take these before Soonyoung gets back and asks for them.”

I giggled and nodded at her, offering her my whole plate. I wasn’t full, but my appetite was long gone. I just wanted to be close to Wonwoo right now.

I pulled the curtain to the side as I peeked out the window, eyebrows furrowing at the strike of lightning. The weather was horrible once again. It’s been raining almost the whole week. Mina’s murder was still fresh in everyone’s minds and people were cautious. It’s been three days only, after all. Today was her funeral and it was really sad. Many people showed up, although I preferred to stand towards the back, Wonwoo went ahead and offered his condolences to her parents who burst out in tears once they saw him. It made me realize how well liked Wonwoo was by the parents and elders in our town. He truly had a good soul and it was hard not to love him. My mother was working the night shift again tonight and as I didn’t feel comfortable staying home alone yet, Yerim and I agreed to have a sleepover tonight, however, she was still at the pool. She was a professional swimmer and she’s been training hard for the past half year for the upcoming national competition her team was to attend. I watched as the lighting struck again and waited for Yerim to pick up as my phone continued ringing. There was a chance she was still in the water, but I was hoping she wasn’t. We were supposed to meet half an hour ago, but she was running late.

“Hi!” Suddenly Yerim picked up and I smiled, closing the curtain, “Sorry, coach extended today’s training.”

She sounded breathless, “I figured, don’t worry. I still have some things to pack; do you want me to pick up pizza on my way to you?”

“Oh, pizza!” Yerim giggled and I heard someone shouting in the background for her, “One second coach—I’m supposed to be on a diet, Y/N, but sure.”

“Okay, one pepperoni pizza it is, then.” We both giggled.

“Wait—wasn’t I supposed to pick you up though?” Yerim asked and I went to my closet to take out my pajamas.

“You were, but since you’re running late I’ll drive myself, don’t worry.” The pool was a bit further from my house and I knew she was usually tired after practices; I didn’t want to burden her more.

“Thank you! See you!” I greeted her back before Yerim hung up and I finished packing the essentials before dressing up in my comfy sweater. It was actually Wonwoo’s but he gave it to me after I told him I liked the fabric of it. His cologne still lingered on it and I smiled as I nuzzled my nose against the collar of the black sweater. When he’d come over, every once in a while, he’d bring his cologne with him and spray it on the sweaters which were once his, so that I could feel him close to me even if he wasn’t here. It was a sweet gesture and it still brought butterflies to my stomach. There was another lightning strike and the thunder followed instantly, making me yelp at the loud rumble of it. My cat meowed loudly from the hallway and I opened my door, beckoning her over with a pout. She hated storms just as much as I did.

“Come, Byeol, this weather is driving me crazy.” She meowed back as if she understood me and jumped into my arms once I kneeled down to hold her. She nuzzled her head against my chin and I giggled, starting to pet her. She was a black cat with light green eyes which sparkled like stars, hence her name, Byeol. Mom bought her for me five years ago when I started complaining about being scared when she’d have her night shifts. I hated staying home alone at night until I got Byeol. She brought a sense of security with her and it made me appreciate her even more.

“I’m sorry for leaving you alone tonight, Byeol, you won’t be too mad at me, right?” I whispered at my cat as I played with her ears, she was purring loudly, “Mom will be back by five in the morning, so you won’t be staying alone for too long.”

Byeol meowed loudly and I chuckled kissing her head before placing her down on the floor gently and standing up to grab the charger of my phone, which I almost forgot to pack. I looked around the room and mentally checked off everything from my imaginary list of what I had to bring with myself to Yerim’s and picked up my backpack, making kissy faces at Byeol. She followed after me as I turned off the light in my room and walked down the hallway, headed for the stairs, when my phone suddenly started ringing. I looked down at the caller and saw Yerim was calling me, maybe she changed her mind about that peperoni pizza.

“Hi, Yerim—”

“Y/N!” Her voice was panicked and I stopped in my tracks, right at the top of the stairs, “Someone’s—following me!”

My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, this was out of character for Yerim, “What? I don’t understand—what’s happening?!”

“I’m at the pool—” There was a loud crash and Yerim gasped, “I’m scared—a masked man—they are following me—”

“Yerim, are you being serious?!” My heart picked up as I raced down the stairs, backpack long forgotten as Byeol looked at me confused.

“Yes!” She exclaimed and she started whimpering, making my hands tremble, “They have a knife, Y/N!”

I could barely pull on my tennis shoes when I heard her words, “Hide!”

“I’m in the locker room but I couldn’t find the keys—” There was a loud bang and a sob left Yerim’s lips, bringing tears to my eyes.

“I’m on my way, I’m calling the police—”

“Don’t hang up, please!” Yerim was crying and I was shaking so badly that I could barely grab my keys.

“Yerim, I have to—” I was cut off by Yerim’s scream.

“No! No, stop! Please!”

“Yerim!” I screamed as I slammed the front door shut and struggled to lock it. I sprinted towards my car, ignoring the cold raindrops crashing against the pavement and myself, “Yerim, are you there—”

But another scream cut me off and I started crying, feeling helpless as I listened to my friend’s painful sobs. Just as I reached my car and unlocked it, the line went dead and I panicked even more, hands trembling so hard I could barely dial 112.

“112 what’s your emergency—”

“Please, I think someone’s murdering my friend! She’s at the pool on Wellington’s street, nr. 18. Please! Help her!”

“Ma’am, calm down, can you tell us your name?” The woman on the other side of the phone tried to calm me down, but I couldn’t hear her words. I had to get to Yerim before it was too late. I had already started my car and was pulling out of the garage as I started rambling mindlessly about where Yerim was and that they had to get to her right now.

“Ma’am, calm down and tell us your name.” The woman tried again and I wiped my tears away as I speed down the streets.

“My name is not important! Get to my friend! Her name is Kim Yerim for fucks sake!” I screamed as I rushed past a red light, barely avoiding getting hit. I didn’t care what happened, I only had Yerim in mind, I had to get to her. No, this couldn’t be happening. She’s playing a sick prank on me, she must be. Otherwise…no. No. No. It’s not the murdered. No. They aren’t targeting her, she’s probably just playing around—I slammed on the brakes when I saw someone crossing the road, screaming at them to get the hell away as I started driving again.

“Ma’am, where are you right now?” Suddenly, I heard the woman’s voice through my phone, forgetting I hadn’t hung up.

“In the car, I have to get to my friend.”

“You can’t drive in the state you are—”

“What do you know about that!” I snapped and took a harsh left turn, realizing I was just two blocks away.

“Ma’am, officers are already at the scene, your friend is safe.” The woman tried to calm me down but I shook my head.

“I’ll believe that when I see her with my own eyes.” I reached over and hung up, pulling up to the building as the flashing lights of police cars blinded me for a second. I parked the car and got out without turning the engine off, uncaring of the rain which drenched me in seconds, as I ran towards two officers who were just getting out of their cars.

“My friend—where is she?!” I asked breathless, but they just looked at each other and I didn’t wait for their answers, I pushed past them and ran inside the building. There were more police officers and I saw the entrance to the pool being tapped off, and I instantly knew. Something inside my stomach dropped. I heard nothing and I saw nothing. I had to know. I couldn’t just stand there and wait for the news to be delivered to me. So when three police officers noticed me and demandingly told me I had to leave, I pushed past them and sprinted to the doors leading inside the pool. They were already opened, and I could see everything. The blood. All over the floor, coloring the water. And I could see her. Face down. Floating in the water. Her black hair sprawled out around her. Her favorite swimming suit still on. My ears were ringing and my heart was thumping so fast I started seeing black. I couldn’t hear anything. I felt cold hands gripping my arms, but I couldn’t move. It’s like I was there, but I wasn’t. My hearing only came back when I found myself screaming her name and trashing around in the firm hold of the officers, who were pulling me away from the scene.

“No! Stop!” I screamed, sobbing loudly as I tried to fight them off still, “That’s my best friend! I need to see her! I need to be there for her! Don’t you understand?!”

“Bring her to the ambulance, give her a sedative.” I heard one officer say and I started shaking my head as my body went slack and I could only cry.

“But Yerim—” Suddenly I felt myself being lifted in someone’s arms and I curled into the person, crying loudly.

“It will be alright, miss, cry as much as you need.” A man, with a comforting voice, said reassuringly as I was outside again, the rain still pouring hard. I felt us running until the rain wasn’t hitting me anymore and I was sat inside an ambulance.

“Please—” I whispered, grabbing the officer’s hand as he went to pull away, “Save her.”

I saw sorrow in his eyes, as if he knew something I didn’t, as if he understood something I refused to believe in, “We will try our best, miss. Can you promise me you’ll stay here?”

I nodded and wiped my tears away, but new ones came rushing down my cheeks. I was cold. My body was shaking. I hugged myself and curled up into a ball as I tried to comfort myself, but nothing could bring comfort right now. I started mumbling, it was okay. Everything was okay. That wasn’t Yerim. Yerim was playing a prank on me. Yerim was hiding in the locker room and laughing her ass off, because she loved drama and attention. Yes, that is what was happening.

“Miss—miss—” I jumped when someone touched me and I grumbled at them to stay away from me, “Can you tell me your name?”

I didn’t want to talk, but when they asked me again, I snapped at them, “Kang Y/N!”

“Thank you,” The lady had a very calm voice and I felt her touch me again but I pulled my arm away, once again, “Can you tell me how old you are?”

“Why are you asking me all these questions?!” I snapped again, raising my voice, “You’re supposed to help my friend! Go help her!”

“I’m supposed to help you, Miss Kang—”

“No, because I’m fine—”

“Y/N?!” A familiar voice asked from behind the doctor lady and my eyebrows furrowed when I looked past her and came to see Soonyoung. Why was he here? What was he doing here?

“What?” I whispered confused, glancing back at the doctor who was preparing an injection and I started shaking again, “What are you doing with that?!”

The doctor said nothing as she sighed and walked closer, making Soonyoung protest as well, “Young man, stay out of this unless you want to be sedated as well.”

“Sedated?!” I exclaimed and went to stand up, but suddenly someone from behind held me down and I just realized I wasn’t sitting alone in the ambulance. I started trashing around, trying to free myself as the doctor was now standing right in front of me and I started crying once again when she started feeling around for my vein.

“Please go help my friend—” The doctor shushed me and I whimpered when the needle entered my skin, the doctor injecting the sedative inside my body.

“She’s in shock,” I heard her say as my muscles slowly started to loosen, as if they weren’t listening to me anymore, “She started calming down but you triggered her again, I’m asking you to step back and let her be.”

I realized she was talking to Soonyoung as I was laid down on the stretcher inside the ambulance and the doctor checked my eyes before nodding at someone. I was covered by a blanket and I sniffed as I continued crying quietly, my body feeling numb all of a sudden.

“You should rest now; everything will be alright.” I heard someone saying to me as I felt my eyelids get heavy and I tried shaking my head and telling them that I needed to be next to Yerim, but my mouth wouldn’t move.

“Can you let me stay with her? I’m her friend, I also knew Yerim.” I heard Soonyoung saying before he climbed inside the ambulance. Knew Yerim? Why in past tense? Yerim was fine, what was he talking about? Why is he here?

“It’ll be fine, Y/N.” I felt a hand patting my wet hair as my mind was slowly losing consciousness, “Yerim was a strong girl, but too stubborn for her own good. I just couldn’t help it…”

Before my brain could comprehend Soonyoung’s words, everything became black and I fell into a state of unconsciousness. Did I lose my best friend?

It was all so blurry. The past two weeks. Everything went by quickly, Yerim disappeared so suddenly. She was here, next to me, laughing and being excited about her up-coming tournament one moment, and the next…I watched her coffin being lowered into the cold, wet ground. I had no tears left to cry at her funeral, I could only watch with a blank stare as her coffin was slowly getting covered by the dirt, swallowing her forever, robbing her from me. I felt nothing. My skin was cold, I was shaking. It was a sunny day and everyone wore short sleeves, but I was wearing a long sleeve and a coat. I could hear the priest saying a prayer, Yerim’s mother weeping next to me and her husband gasping for air, but I couldn’t actually hear them. It was as if I was underwater. Yerim’s smiling framed picture, which I was clutching, was the only thing reminding me that I was at the funeral, present physically, but so far away mentally. Someone held my shoulder, but I couldn’t be bothered to check who it was, I just shook their touch off and stared blankly at Yerim’s tombstone. I read her name, her year of birth and day of death, and I broke. The priest had just finished talking, ceremony ended, when my body started shaking violently, sobs raking my whole being. My legs were weak, and my feet hurt from the high heels I only wore because Yerim loved them and complained I never wore them. The sun was suddenly so hot, the coat and long sleeve were suffocating me, I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t do this. I just couldn’t. Why did they kill her? What did she do? Why her? Why not me?! I knew my sobs turned into wailing and my feet gave up and suddenly, I was on my knees, clutching the framed picture to my chest and trying to find my breath, but my sobs wouldn’t let me. It hurt so much, my chest was in pain, it felt as if someone was trying to rip my heart out. Suddenly, I felt strong hands gripping me by the elbows as I was lifted up. My body was limp so I did not fight back when the person turned me around and cupped my cheeks. My mind was far gone from the present, from what was happening, but I’d recognize his hands anywhere, anytime. They were big, warm, and soft. Wonwoo’s thumb started rubbing my cheek reassuringly and I found strength to open my eyes, still sobbing. His face was emotionless, but his eyes were soft and I knew he felt powerless for not being able to support me. But I appreciated his presence here, he calmed me, the aching wasn’t as bad as before. I tried taking deep breaths, my sobbing coming to silently crying as I hoarsely apologized to Yerim’s parents for creating a scene right at the end of the funeral. They shook their heads and brushed it off, engulfing me in a big hug as Wonwoo stepped back, and they tried to cheer me up with reassuring words, but they only broke me more. They were so supportive and loving, they always let Yerim follow her dreams and encouraged her to become her better self. They did not deserve to lose their brilliant daughter in such an ill manner. When her parents let me go I bowed deeply to them and handed them her framed picture, making her mother cry again. Her father took it from me and then they turned their backs and slowly started walking away. I turned towards my mom and Wonwoo and nodded at them, ready to leave as well. I didn’t want to go yet, but I had to. I had to learn to live without my best friend. Without my other half. As we started walking away, my eyes fell on a figure dressed in all black, head hanging low. His blond hair made it easy to recognize him, it was Soonyoung. He was gazing absent mindedly at Yerim’s grave and my eyebrows furrowed as I watched him. He looked emotionless, something foreign to Soonyoung. His eyes seemed to be red, but he wasn’t crying. Suddenly, he took off towards the grave and before I could follow him with my eyes, Wonwoo squeezed my hand and asked me if I wanted to have some lunch his mother cooked. I wasn’t hungry, but I didn’t want to refuse. I hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s lunch time. And my mother seemed to cheer up a little bit at the idea of seeing Mrs. Jeon, so I agreed to that lunch. And as my mother opened the door for me before going to the driver’s seat, I glanced back at Yerim’s grave and furrowed my eyebrows. We were far from it, but not so far that I couldn’t see Soonyoung’s face. And he was smiling. I felt goosebumps erupting on my skin as I quickly got inside the car, his words from when he sat with me in the ambulance as I was falling unconscious ringing through my mind, ‘I just couldn’t help it…’.

Everything was hard after the funeral. Time really went by fast and I found myself doing nothing but staring out of my head, reminiscing about all the memories I had with Yerim. We’ve been best friends since primary school. I had no other friends, nobody that could live up to her or to our bond. I had no one to talk to suddenly, no one to annoy and no one to listen to as they told their ridiculous stories. It was so hard. I couldn’t eat, some nights I couldn’t sleep, and I couldn’t focus in school or when I had to study. Wonwoo tried to help and studied with me for a hard test, but it did nothing as I failed it. The teachers were understanding and they weren’t pushing me too hard, but for how long would I have their pity? How long until they start calling me out and telling me to get a grip and move on? Sometimes, in the hallways, I would see Myoi Mina’s best friend and I understood. I understood the sorrow in her eyes, the way she wouldn’t even look at anyone else but the ground. How she’d jump at the tiniest sound and how she’d brush off anyone who tried to talk to her. I was like that too, although I was trying hard not to be, it just wasn’t working. A girl who knew Yerim tried to take her seat yesterday and I flipped and screamed at her horrendous things for trying to do so. I felt horrible after that, but it didn’t matter, I was sent to our school’s therapist. He didn’t do much, just gave me some tips on how to grieve, told me to contact him if I started feeling worse, and then sent me on my merry way. I was already feeling the worst, could this get any worse? Wonwoo was understanding, but I could see he was growing restless. He’d snap at me when I’d refuse hanging out with him for the fourth time that week, but he’d instantly apologize saying he understood and he was also dealing with grief. Yerim and him weren’t very close, but they spent a lot of time together because of me, of course he was grieving too. However, Soonyoung was nowhere to be found. Some say his parents took him away on a retreat after he snapped at his younger sister at home, Wonwoo wouldn’t talk about him when asked. It was strange. Their behavior. Wonwoo would become tense when anyone mentioned the killer but when I’d ask if everything was alright he’d become defensive and say he was just stressed.

Tonight was one of those nights when I was restless and couldn’t stay at home anymore, so I went for a walk. My mom was cooking dinner and after playing with Byeol, I grabbed my coat and told my mom I’d be taking a walk in the neighborhood. She asked me to be home in half an hour as it was getting dark and rainy clouds started gathering on the sky. I missed Yerim a lot, and I couldn’t help but think about how excited she’d get whenever it rained. One summer we went down to the lake and it started raining hard, but despite that, Yerim still went and swum in the lake, splashing me repeatedly, making me go in with her despite being scared. Without meaning to, I found myself walking by Yerim’s house. I glanced up at her window, but of course the light wasn’t on. Of course it wouldn’t be on, why would it be? Yerim wasn’t there studying. I wished she was so that I could convince her to hang out with me and Byeol, but she wasn’t here with us anymore. The front door to their house opened and I smiled when I saw her father walking down the porch stairs. He looked up and spotted me, waving at me, as he was headed towards me.

“Good evening, Mr. Kim.” I greeted him and he smiled, opening the gate for me.

“Hello there, Y/N. What brings you here?” His eyes had always reminded me of Yerim’s, and their laughter was the same.

“I was taking a walk in the neighborhood, and found myself wandering here…” Yerim’s father’s face seemed to lose the little happiness he displayed and he sighed, glancing back, up at Yerim’s window.

“I understand, sometimes I find myself walking up to her room in the mornings, wanting to wake her up…” I bit my lower lip and Mr. Kim sighed before looking back at me, “Would you like to come inside? My wife baked those muffins you two girls really like.”

I found myself smiling, Mrs. Kim’s chocolate muffins were the best, whenever she baked them, Yerim and I would devour them in an hour, “If I’m not bothering too much…”

“Non-sense, child.” Mr. Kim laughed and stepped aside, allowing me inside their property. I bowed my head a little at him and walked through the gate, “I’m headed to the supermarket, want anything?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Kim!” He nodded and patted my head before he left through the gate, walking down the street, headed for the closest supermarket. Mr. Kim had always been the father figure I never had. He had also always treated me as his daughter. He was the one who taught me how to swim and how to ride a bicycle as my mother was too busy at the hospital. My parents divorced when I was really young and my father disappeared after that despite promising to come by sometimes and pay for the allowance. I shook my head at the thought of my absent father and walked up to the front door, knocking on it before walking inside. There was some jazz music playing quietly in the background as the delicious muffin smell wafted through the air. I took off my shoes and coat, and walked towards the kitchen, knocking on the door, realizing Mrs. Kim didn’t hear me entering.

“Oh, you’re back—Y/N!” A wide smile spread on Mrs. Kim’s face when she saw me and she rushed up to me, hugging me tightly, “How lovely you stepped by! We haven’t seen you since—”

Since the funeral, “Right, I was out for a walk and found myself passing by. Mr. Kim and I just happened to run into each other, he invited me inside.”

“How smart of him,” Mrs. Kim chuckled; however you could see she wasn’t feeling as giddy as she was acting, “I just happened to bake your favorite chocolate muffins.”

And Yerim’s. I smiled gratefully at Mrs. Kim as she handed me two chocolate muffins, which were still warm, “Thank you.”

“I will pack some for you to take home. I baked too much either way, my husband and I don’t have a sweet tooth, I just missed the smell of it. Your mother loves them too, she’ll be happy for the small gift.” Yerim might’ve looked like his father, but she talked just as much as her mother. When you’d sit down with the two of them and listen to their stories, time would fly by and you wouldn’t even notice. They had a very captivating way of speaking, conversing with them never felt awkward or boring.

“Thank you, she will probably give you a call when she gets them.” I said with a chuckle and Mrs. Kim smiled.

“As she should, we haven’t talked in a while…” Since Yerim’s funeral, but she didn’t want to say it. I didn’t want to say it either. It felt nice being in their home after two weeks. I always felt so welcomed here. The house was bright and homey, Yerim and Mrs. Kim having decorated it in an eccentric way, which would sometimes give Mr. Kim a headache. I looked behind me and glanced at the stair leading upstairs as Mrs. Kim placed some muffins in a smaller bag. She turned back and noticed me staring back at the stairs.

“You can go up, if you want to—Yerim wouldn’t mind it, I know.” Mrs. Kim spoke up and I nodded at her gratefully, placing the muffins I was holding on the table, before hurrying up the stairs and beelining it for her room. I hesitated for a second before opening the door, preparing myself for her absence, but it still hit me hard when I opened the door to darkness. I gulped and turned on the light, blinking away the tears which suddenly sprung to my eyes. Her room was the same, messy but not exactly. Her closet door was slightly opened and I could see her pink hoodie spilling out and I chuckled as I walked over and grabbed it. I always told her to just hang her hoodies up, but she never listened to me. As I held it in my hands, Yerim’s sweet scent hit my nose and I bit my lower lip, taking a deep breath. I placed her hoodie on the bed and pulled my long sleeve over my head before pulling her hoodie on and closing my eyes. My skin got covered in goosebumps as I imagined Yerim sitting in her chair and complaining about me wearing her favorite hoodie, but secretly not being bothered by it at all. We always shared our clothes when we’d have sleepovers, even tried them on and did a fake fashion show or acted as if had to sell them to each other at ridiculous prices. The hoodie’s fabric slowly warmed up and I opened my eyes, looking around her room. Her parents haven’t touched anything and I was reluctant to do so too, so I sat down on her bed and started playing with my fingers. The book I recommended to her to read was on her desk, bookmark somewhere at the middle of the book. She never got to read the mind-blowing plot twist, it made me sad, she would’ve loved it so much. Feeling a bit stuffy, I stood up and opened the window before going back to her bed and jumping on it, sprawling out on it. Yerim’s bed was always so comfortable, her blanket puffy, and bed covered in stuffed animals. I turned onto my stomach and started humming my favorite song as I stared up at the pictures above her bed, smiling as most were with the two of us. Our favorite pictures or just really silly ones. Yerim had big dreams compared to me, I was still struggling to decide what to do after high-school. My eyes went to her nightstand and I grinned when I noticed her favorite strawberry candy laying in her jar. It was the last one. I would always steal it, so I did just that. Hopefully, wherever Yerim was, she could see me right now and she’d be frowning and shaking her head at me. I loved annoying her like that. I unwrapped the candy and slowly ate it, chuckling at myself and how silly I must look. As I threw the wrapper on the nightstand, my eyes widened when I noticed her phone next to her lamp. Her parents must’ve placed it there. It surprised me for some reason, and as I reached for it and grabbed it, a twig snapped outside Yerim’s window and something hit the window. I gasped loudly and turned around, coming face to face with Soonyoung, as he had just climbed inside. I quickly placed Yerim’s phone in the hoodie’s pocket, something told me to hide it from Soonyoung.

“What are you doing here?!” I asked alarmed, heart beating fast from the scare. Soonyoung looked around before leaning against Yerim’s desk.

“I was running and saw light coming from her room—”

“So you just climb inside?!” I asked accusingly and Soonyoung shook his head.

“No, I didn’t meant to, but I saw it was you and—” He cleared his throat and looked down at the floor, “I don’t know…I just felt the need to talk to you.”

It made me realize this was the first time seeing him since Yerim’s funeral. And based on rumors, he wasn’t even supposed to be home.

“Are you okay? I haven’t seen you in school and Wonwoo wouldn’t talk about you.” I asked and Soonyoung looked up with a cold gaze, he looked tired.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I was visiting my grandparents for a week, and I didn’t feel like going to school this week, so yeah.” Soonyoung explained and I nodded, taking in his posture. His shoulders were slumped and his forehead sweaty. He was out running, after all.

“And you?” Soonyoung cleared his throat, “Are you good?”

I sighed and looked up at the ceiling, thinking through my answer, “On some days I’m good, on some days I can’t eat nor sleep. I’m feeling content at the moment, but maybe that’s because we’re standing in Yerim’s room and I’m wearing her hoodie and I can just trick myself into believing that she’s downstairs with her mom or taking a shower…”

Soonyoung nodded and crossed his arms in front of his chest, looking at the hoodie I was wearing, “That was her favorite.” I hummed and he licked his lips, starting to shake his head suddenly.

“You know—if only—” He scoffed and his eyebrows furrowed, “If only she wasn’t so stubborn. She just—she always refused to go out with me, never even gave me a chance. I tried to convince her so many times, you know, I was patient and nice, but—”

I watched as Soonyoung grew agitated and started walking up and down, “But I just couldn’t do it anymore, you know? It’s like, my brain just clicked and I snapped and—”

I was growing confused as I listened to Soonyoung rambling, what did he mean? Snapped and what?, “You snapped and what, Soonyoung?”

“I didn’t want to do it, I swear.” His voice grew low and when he stopped and faced me, he looked different. His expression was dark and his mouth was in a sneer. I gulped and stood up, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. Soonyoung didn’t seem to notice my discomfort as he hung his head low and sighed loudly.

“I just couldn’t help it…” I gasped. Those words again. What did he mean by them? He didn’t…no. This is Soonyoung, it’s impossible. He couldn’t have…no. He’s my boyfriend’s best friend, he’d never—he’s not a criminal!

“We should go.” I found my voice as I shook my head, growing afraid all of a sudden. Soonyoung was acting weird and I had to go home now. My words seemed to snap him out of his mumbling and he suddenly looked at me, face void of the previous darkness.

“You’re right…” He nodded and patted my shoulder, offering me a small smile, “Don’t tell her parents I climbed in though, I don’t want them to believe I did this often.”

I forced out a chuckle and watched as he climbed out the window and then jumped down, sneaking away from the Kim’s property. My heart was beating like crazy as I closed Yerim’s window and I clutched her phone firmly in my hand as I turned the light off and closed the door behind me. I always refused to listen to what Yerim has always told me, but maybe, just perhaps, there was something very wrong with Soonyoung.

Today the sun seemed to finally come out, no rain clouds seemed to appear anytime soon. It was warm for an October day and I found myself sitting in the courtyard, drawing in my notebook to pass time. I wasn’t hungry, so it was useless to go to the Cafeteria. I didn’t feel like talking to anyone, so when this morning Wonwoo approached me and suggested going on a date after classes, I declined and told him I had to do some catching up in Biology class as I skipped the last two classes having felt unwell. He got moody and stormed off without a word, making me sigh. I was pushing away everyone from myself, but I didn’t know how else to cope with the loss of my best friend. It was the only thing that made me feel content. I drew some harsh lines, trying to create the skyline in my drawing, when I saw someone approaching from the corner of my eyes. I didn’t look up, thinking it was either Wonwoo or Soonyoung, but the girly scent which hit my nose once the person sat next to me on the bench made me turn my head and look at them. It came as a surprise to see Minatozaki Sana sitting next to me, Mina’s best friend. Her blonde hair was tied in a ponytail and she wore a sleeveless turtleneck underneath her cardigan. She looked better than on most days, but her eyes were quite empty. She was staring at me too and I blinked at her in confusion. We never really talked to each other; she was in an entirely different grade than I was.

“Hello.” She broke the silence and I cleared my throat.

“Hi.” I greeted back and looked down at her hand curiously as she extended it towards me.

“My name is Sana; we’ve never been formally introduced to each other.” She seemed like a very straightforward person. I nodded and shook her hand.

“Indeed, my name is Y/N.” Sana hummed and we let go of each other’s hands, “I’m sorry for you loss.”

“I’m sorry for your loss too.” Sana was quick to return my words and I chuckled humorlessly, bringing a sarcastic smile on her lips. She nodded at me and then turned away, gazing at the trees on the other side of the courtyard. I continued watching her, thinking she’d say something else, but she remained silent, even ignored me. Realizing our conversation ended here I shrugged and looked down at my drawing, continuing to draw those harsh lines. And like that, we sat in silence next to each other. Sana proceeded to take out a book and read, and in a weird way, it brought comfort to have someone sitting next to me. But it was weird, if it were Wonwoo or Soonyoung, they would’ve irritated me. Sana’s presence was relaxing, understanding. Words didn’t need to be exchanged, we understood. Our silence was louder than our words could’ve been. I found myself smiling, something I haven’t done in the past four weeks. I glanced at Sana from the corner of my eyes and she was smiling too, sneaking glances at me. Before we could say anything, we both started giggling and it felt so nice. It was so relieving, as if I released all the pent-up stress I had in my muscles.

“We must look so odd to someone if they have been watching us for the past fifteen minutes.” Sana said through her giggles and I shrugged my shoulders.

“That’s the nicest thing someone could be thinking about us at the moment.” I said and Sana nodded, our giggles coming to a stop. Neither of us had to say it, but after Mina’s death there were whispers about Sana. How she killed her best friend because she was jealous of Mina’s success as she was the cheerleading captain and just wanted her position. How they weren’t even friends and kept a façade because their families were friends. Some rumors spread about Sana being in love with Mina, who didn’t reciprocate her feelings, so Sana killed her in a fit of rage. They were awful. And as the students were gossiping about Mina, they were gossiping about me too. I heard the jealousy version too, the need for attention version too, and even the version where Yerim was in love with Wonwoo and I killed her because I couldn’t stand the thought. They were hilarious, but they still got to you after a while. Just last week, Wonwoo almost got into a fight because of a guy who dared to ask me how it felt plunging that knife into Yerim. If Wonwoo wouldn’t have punched the living daylight out of him, I would’ve definitely.

“Don’t let the gossips get to you, they are ridiculous.” Sana said with a roll of her eyes and I nodded, agreeing.

“I know, but they still get bothersome after a while…” I muttered and closed my notebook as the bell rang, signaling our break was over. Sana looked up at the sky for a second and then closed her book, placing it in her backpack.

“You could always just slap them, you know.” She said with a mischievous smile and I chuckled.

“Have you slapped anyone so far?” I asked and Sana pursed her lips.

“Of course, I have,” She stood up, “Johnny thought it was funny talking about my dead friend’s figure and how pitiful it was that he couldn’t sleep with her before she died.”

I didn’t know who this Johnny was, but he deserved that slap, “How disgusting.”

“Indeed.” Sana hummed and waited for me to pack my belongings and get up from the bench. We took off, headed to the side entrance to the school, when suddenly, the intercom went off and our principal’s voice came through.

“This is the principal speaking. I ask everyone to pack their belongings and head straight to the main entrance. All students have fifteen minutes to leave the premises, a dead body was found in the men’s bathroom on the third floor. I instruct everyone to leave right now, and do not try and approach said bathroom or there will be repercussions!” Sana and I stopped dead in our tracks and looked at each other before hurrying inside the school, you could only leave through the main entrance. The halls were full of students rushing to get out, it was chaotic. Everyone was pushing everyone around and I found myself reaching for Sana’s hand, keeping her close to me as a bigger guy almost ran into her. She thanked me quietly and we continued making our way towards the main entrance. My heart was racing and suddenly I was feeling sick. Another victim. Another crime. Who was it this time? And just as that thought crossed my mind, I suddenly felt my legs turn weak. Wonwoo. Where was Wonwoo? Soonyoung? Where were they? Were they fine? I couldn’t do this again. I felt like I was walking through water again, the entrance was just there, but it felt so far away. I felt Sana tugging on my hand and I followed her, trying to control my rigged breathing.

“Hey, look at me.” She said once we were outside and she pulled me to the side of the steps, “Breathe, Y/N, you’re turning red.”

I nodded and tried to take a deep breath, but my muscles were tense and I felt tears gather in my eyes, “Where’s Wonwoo?”

An understanding look crossed Sana’s face and she started looking around, “I am sure he is alright; he’s probably looking for you right now, just as scared. You need to breathe, Y/N.”

I nodded and closed my eyes, feeling Sana’s grip tightening on my hand, and I tried to breathe. It was hard at the beginning, my lungs seemed to refuse to listen, but at last I was able to take little breaths here and there. Before I could react to the disappearance of Sana’s grip, I was engulfed into a bear hug, held tightly to someone’s chest. I gasped and opened my eyes, my arms going around Wonwoo’s neck.

“Oh my God, you’re okay.” I whispered, a tear rolling down my cheek. Wonwoo’s breathing was shaky as well and he nodded, his hold crushing me.

“Yes, yes.” He whispered and kissed my head, “Are you hurt?”

“No.” I muttered and shook my head, pulling a bit back. Wonwoo’s eyebrows were furrowed and he was breathing hard, his hair fell into his eyes. I pushed it back and smiled at him, grateful that nothing happened to him. I really wouldn’t have been able to deal with losing him too in such a sort time after Yerim’s death. I leaned up and pressed a short kiss against his lips and I could feel Wonwoo’s muscles relaxing, his hold not tight anymore.

“Where have you been? I’ve been looking for you all break.” Wonwoo muttered, pushing my hair behind my ear.

“In the courtyard, I wasn’t hungry.” I answered and then looked down, “Sorry, I should’ve told you.”

Wonwoo shook his head and kissed my forehead swiftly, “No, it’s alright.”

I realized Sana was with me seconds ago and looked around, spotting her to our right, “Thank you.”

She smiled and nodded her head before she placed her backpack around her shoulders and started walking away. Wonwoo nodded at her and Sana greeted him back before disappearing in the crowd of people.

“You know her?” He asked quietly, almost sounding irritated.

“Not really, we talked for the first time today. But I knew who she was.” I explained and he nodded, looking off in the distance.

“You shouldn’t be friends with her.” Wonwoo sounded serious as his expression hardened and I stepped out of his hold, confused.

“Why?” But before he could answer me, Soonyoung came running up to us. His hair was disheveled and he was panting, a duffel bag in his hands. My eyebrows furrowed and I stepped back when he stopped next to me a little bit too close for my liking. I’ve been avoiding him since we met in Yerim’s room, scared of his sudden changes of mood. Soonyoung had a crazed look in his eyes and he was grinning from ear to ear as he looked at Wonwoo.

“Did you hear? The murderer killed someone again.” He sounded excited and my eyebrows furrowed when I saw Wonwoo’s lips twitching.

“Who was it this time?” Wonwoo asked, voice uncaring, but I didn’t miss the hint of smirk on his lips. I gulped, curious too, but a bit taken aback by the boys attitudes.

“Boo Seungkwan.” I gasped and took a step back again, eyes widening. I knew him. The two boys looked at me with raised eyebrows. I gulped and avoided their eyes, feeling uncomfortable.

“Are you sure?” I asked quietly, feeling a lump in my throat.

“One hundred percent, Y/N,” Soonyoung chuckled and he went and slung his arm around Wonwoo’s shoulders, “I was the one who found him.”

My head snapped up and I watched the two boys in front of me as they looked at each other and chuckled, and then my eyes fell on the duffle bag. It was zipped closed, but…it looked as if there was a darker spot on it. I squinted as I tried focusing on it, but Wonwoo’s voice caught my attention.

“Didn’t you know him, sugar?” He asked sweetly and I nodded, eyebrows furrowing.

“Yeah, I did, he—” I cleared my throat and scratched my arm in discomfort, “He’s been bullying me since kindergarten.”

“He must’ve had a crush on you, right, Wonwoo?” Soonyoung asked with a laugh and I grimaced, weirded out by their behavior and feeling bad for talking like that about a dead person.

“Well, he’s been put out of his misery, so, I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.” Wonwoo’s voice was smug and my eyebrows furrowed as I looked at my boyfriend, who seemed amused by the whole situation. What was happening? Why were they reacting like this? Wasn’t Soonyoung supposed to be shaken up after finding a dead body? I shuddered, and Wonwoo noticed because his demeanor changed instantly and he shook Soonyoung off him and took a step toward me.

“Y/N, I’m—”

“I have to go.” I cut him off and hurried away before he could grab me and convince me to stay with the two of them. I glanced back when I was a good distance away from them and saw Soonyoung making some slashing motions with his hand while laughing and Wonwoo smirking at him as he dug his hands inside his pockets. There was something very wrong with Soonyoung, and I was getting more and more scared of him.

Despite the sun being out throughout the day, by the evening some dark clouds started gathering on the sky, lightning flashing in the distance. I sighed as I drew my curtains to the side and opened the window, letting some fresh air in before the rain could start. I figured we’d have another stormy night, great, my mom had the night shift again, I hated being home alone during storms. I could hear Byeol running up and down the hallway as I sat on my bed and I chuckled, she had the zoomies again. I was holding Yerim’s phone in my hands and I figured I couldn’t do much damage if I looked through her gallery. Before leaving the Kim’s house I asked if it was alright if I borrowed her phone for a while, and they said it was okay as long as I returned it. So, pulling my hair to the side I unlocked her phone and went to her gallery. She was very organized, even when it came to pictures. There were different folders for different themes, all labeled accordingly. I clicked on the one with our nicknames for each other and giggled at the first photo. It was taken when Yerim and I went to the movies and I accidentally got stuck in the bathroom as the lock was faulty. You could see my hands from above the stall and I remembered how loudly I was screaming as I had left my phone with Yerim. It was hilarious, but I prefer not repeating the incident. Then the next one was with her neighbor’s dog; she took a selfie as we both were petting it. Then there were a bunch of hilarious and cute selfies from our latest sleepover, a few pictures of Byeol, and our favorite picture which we took while hiking one day. I sighed and looked out the window, just in time to see the lightning strike again. The thunder followed almost immediately, but it wasn’t as loud as I expected it to be. I looked back down at Yerim’s phone and excited her camera roll, about to place her phone to the side, when Byeol came zooming inside my room, scaring the living daylight out of me. I yelped and watched as she stopped underneath my window before she jumped up on the sill, looking at me innocently. I grimaced at her and looked back down at the phone, having accidentally opened the call log. My eyes ran over the familiar names of people, mine being the last one. I was the last person Yerim called before she died. A lump formed in my throat and I gulped, noticing the unknown number underneath mine. Who could that have been? Maybe a scammer or a guy she newly met, however I doubted that was the case, she always saved the numbers she was talking to. Biting my lower lip, I debated calling the unknown number, but after all, I had nothing to lose. And curiosity was eating my alive. So, I clicked on the number and dialed it, waiting patiently for the person on the other side to pick up. However, a ringing sound not too far away from my window suddenly caught my attention and I knew I wasn’t hallucinating as Byeol’s ears perked up at the sound too. But before I could think more of it, my call was picked up, but there was only silence on the other end. My eyebrows furrowed as I stood from my bed and walked towards Byeol, lightly petting her head as I looked out my window.

“Hello?” I asked quietly, getting a strange feeling of being watched, so I closed the window and locked it quickly.

“Hi there, beautiful.” I jumped at the distorted voice. It sounded like a robot speaking, the voice was low but almost glitchy. I looked out the window, wondering who was this and why had they called Yerim?

“Who are you?” I asked curiously, figuring it was just someone playing a prank on me.

“Wouldn’t it be boring if I told you that?” The voice almost took a playful tone and I chuckled.

“Perhaps, it would ruin your fun too soon, right?” I decided to play along and the person chuckled.

“Smart girl, indeed, it would ruin my fun too soon.” There was a pause before they continued, “And I’m not done having fun yet.”

I hummed and started petting Byeol’s head again as she was staring out the window, “Why did you call Yerim?”

“I was just about to ask; how do you have your dead friend’s phone?” I paused for a second, eyebrows furrowing. So this person seems to know us well. First, they probably called Yerim and were pranking her and now they are playing with me. It’s probably one of our classmates then, Mark likes goofing around.

“You must know us well if you have her number.” I decided to feel around and try and find out who this was.

“Oh,” The person chuckled and it sent a chill down my spine, “I happen to know you very well, Y/N.”

I licked my lips and looked down at Byeol as she pulled her head away, having had enough of my petting, “Really? How?”

The person chuckled again and I watched as Byeol jumped down from the window sill and walked out of my room, “I can’t tell you all of my secrets just yet, beautiful, it’s our first time talking.”

“I don’t think it is,” I chuckled, “Mark.”

There was a pause before the person sighed, “Who’s Mark, beautiful?”

I rolled my eyes, amused, “Ha-ha, very funny. My classmate, obvious. You really like playing pranks on people, don’t you? I thought last week’s detention was enough for a lifetime.”

“What if I’m not Mark?” The voice sounded very serious all of a sudden and I bit my lower lip, tracing a rain drop on my window as it started lightly raining.

“Then who could you possibly be?” There was another lightning and I turned around when Byeol started meowing loudly in my doorway. She was hungry, again, “I’m bored of this game—”

I turned to face the window again but instead of finishing my sentence, I cut myself off with a loud scream. A masked person was standing outside my window, and I started shaking as I froze for a second. It was…a Ghostface.

“Auch, beautiful, that was loud.” The Ghostface whined and I quickly drew the curtains closed, pulling down the blinds too, “What are you doing? Let me see you—”

“Who are you?!” I cut the person off, almost screaming as I ran out of my room, Byeol following agitatedly behind me. I checked the front door quickly, making sure it was locked before I went to check the door in the living room as well.

“Just a Ghostface, beautiful.” The person answered nonchalantly and my heart started beating fast as I hid behind the sofa, pulling Byeol into my chest. She made no sound as she gazed at me with her big green eyes.

“Stop calling me beautiful!” I snapped and tried to take deep breaths, debating on calling the police from my own phone. Who was this? What did they want? Were they…were they here to hurt me? What if…what if they were the killer? I felt dread flush over my whole being and I swallowed my tears and blinked my eyes continuously. I had to stay focused, if I was in danger, I had to save myself somehow.

“Did I scare you, beau—”

“Did you kill Kim Yerim?” I cut the Ghostface off, voice shaky as I waited for an answer. The person’s laughter made me shudder and Byeol wrestled herself out of my arms and meowed loudly at me for holding her so tightly. I felt sorry, but I was scared, and I was trying to hold her close to myself in case we needed to escape.

“Maybe I did.” There was a pause and I gasped, “Maybe I didn’t.”

I sprung up to my feet, acting out of pure terror, as I ran up to my room and grabbed my phone. I was too scared to look out of my window to see if the person was still there. There was a loud thunder and I screamed as the line went dead, leaving me shaking. Was the Ghostface gone? Shakily, I placed Yerim’s phone on my desk and slowly raised the blinds, scared of seeing the Ghostface outside of my window still. But nobody was there. I was scared, shaking, and on the verge of crying. Byeol was downstairs and the rain started falling harder. I couldn’t stay alone tonight; it would kill my nerves. So I quickly unlocked my phone and dialed my boyfriend’s number, pacing up and down in my room as I waited for him to pick up. Something rustled outside of my window and I froze when I faintly heard Wonwoo’s familiar ringtone, but the thunder swallowing the sound was louder and it made me feel stupid. Why would Wonwoo be right outside my window unannounced either way? What was he? A burglar? Wonwoo picked up on the third ring.

“Hi—”

“Can you sleepover tonight?” I cut him off, words hurried as I fixed my eyes on my window, starting to shake again.

“Are you alright?” Wonwoo sounded concerned and I heard rustling on the other end.

“No, are you coming over?”

“I’m on my way.” Wonwoo said before hanging up and I took a deep breath, trying to calm down. This was good. I wouldn’t be alone. Wonwoo would come by and sleep here. I took deep breaths as I paced around my room, Byeol sat in the doorway and watched me with a confused look on her face. I chuckled when I looked at her and tried not to think about the Ghostface and our conversation. It freaked me out. Who was behind the mask? And why would they want to prank anyone in this kind of way? It was distasteful and creepy, I was scared. Just as Byeol meowed she reminded that I forgot to feed her, the doorbell rang. I paused and looked at Byeol, my heart suddenly racing again. Who was that? Wonwoo lived twenty minutes away from me and it wasn’t even five minutes since I had called him, it couldn’t have been him. Was it…the person wearing that Ghostface mask? My heart started beating fast again and I glanced at Byeol as she started meowing loudly and took off towards the front door. The doorbell rang again and I hurried after my cat, calling out her name quietly.

“Stop!” I whisper-shouted, motioning at her to come to me, but she was ignoring me. Her meows were loud and I cursed quietly as I creeped towards the front door, convinced that it wasn’t Wonwoo, but that masked person. I should call the police. Suddenly there was loud knocking on the front door and I jumped as Byeol glanced at me.

“Y/N?!” Wonwoo’s deep voice made me sigh in relief as I quickly unlocked the front door and opened it for him. His hair was drenched and his jacket and jeans were wet too, it was pouring outside now. Byeol started meowing as Wonwoo stepped inside and he smiled at her, kneeling down to muzzle his face against her head. Byeol loved Wonwoo and they always played together a lot when Wonwoo came over. But…how did he get here so fast?

“Wonwoo—you’re drenched.” I muttered suspiciously as I helped him out of his jacket. He suddenly looked at me with a wide smile, ruffling his hair.

“Yeah, I was on my way here when the rain started.” He said with a shrug and I hung his jacket on the hanger.

“But you got here really fast…” I trailed off and watched him take off his shoes before he gave Byeol a swift kiss.

“Oh, yeah, I was already on my way—”

“Why?” I asked accusingly, eyebrows furrowed, and arms crossed in front of my chest. There were too many weird things happening today, I was freaked out. I couldn’t decide if my thoughts were real or I was being delusional. Could I seriously not trust my own boyfriend anymore? But he gave me no reasons…

Wonwoo looked taken aback by my tone and words, “Uhm…I just wanted to surprise you? You told me your mom was working the nightshift and I know you hate storms…”

He was right, I was overreacting, “Yeah, I know, I’m sorry—it’s just, lately I’m so jumpy.”

Wonwoo smiled and approached me, cupping my cheeks, “I noticed, but it’s fine. Things will get better eventually.”

I nodded and kissed his lips, their warmth bringing a sense of tranquility as I stepped closer to him. Wonwoo’s grip got firmer and our lips started moving against each other as I circled my arms around his neck, his wet hair tingling my wrists. One of his hand’s gripped my waist, and I hummed when his familiar scent hit my nose. It felt nice kissing him, I’ve been keeping my distance from Wonwoo, feeling uncomfortable lately with any physical contact besides a brief hug. And this felt nice now. His familiar lips, and firm grip, musky scent, I realized I had missed them. Byeol’s loud meowing broke us apart and I chuckled as I pressed another kiss against Wonwoo’s lips.

“Poor cat, she’s hungry…can you feed her while I bring you a towel?” I asked and Wonwoo nodded with a smile, releasing me from his hold as I turned and headed to the bathroom. Byeol followed Wonwoo as they headed into the kitchen and I could hear him pouring the cat food into her little bowl. I got a clean towel and then walked to the kitchen, handing it to Wonwoo.

“Do you want tea or hot chocolate?” I asked with a grin as I grabbed two mugs. Wonwoo pursed his lips and pulled out his glasses from the pocket of his hoodie.

“It’s a hot chocolate kind of night.”

“Right?!” I asked with a chuckle and he nodded at me amused.

“Do you still have my spare clothes?’ Wonwoo asked and I chuckled as I glanced back at him.

“What do you think?” He smirked at me and pushed up his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, “They are in the laundry room.”

Wonwoo thanked me and then walked away, leaving me with Byeol in the kitchen. While she quietly ate her food I prepared the hot chocolate for Wonwoo and I. He took his time to change out of his wet clothes and dried his hair with the towel as best as he could. When he joined us in the kitchen again, the hot chocolate were already ready and Byeol was somewhere off in the house, probably sleeping as she had just eaten. I handed Wonwoo a mug as he approached me and he thanked me with his signature gummy smile. I had always loved his smile, it made him look so cute. It was a nice contrast compared to his usual poker face. Wonwoo wasn’t very expressive usually, but when it was just the two of us, he could be very cute. He interlaced our fingers as we drank our hot chocolate and I giggled, raising my eyebrows at him.

“I missed you.” He whispered, looking down at his mug. I bit my lower lip and felt bad for pushing him away for so long, but I needed the space. I still do, but it’s not as bad as after the funeral.

“I’m sorry, I just felt uncomfortable around people after…” I trailed off and sighed, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. Wonwoo squeezed my hand.

“I understand you, and I’m not pressuring you in any way. It must hurt like hell losing your best friend.” I gulped a bit harder and glanced at Wonwoo briefly, noticing the change in his behavior. There it was again, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. It was confusing.

“Yeah, it hurts a lot. I hope the criminal is caught soon so that I can face them—”

“And what would you do?” Wonwoo sounded curious as he turned his body to face mine. I raised an eyebrow at him as I shrugged.

“That they are a piece of shit and I hope they rot away in prison until they get to root in hell.” Despite me being dead serious, Wonwoo started laughing and I pulled my hand out of his, slightly irritated.

“You’re hot when you get fired up, sugar.” Normally his compliments would leave me feeling giddy, but we were talking about the murderer of my best friend right now, there was nothing hot about it.

I shot Wonwoo a glare before walking to the sink to wash my mug, “I thought we were having a serious conversation, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo sighed and approached me, still sipping his hot chocolate, “Come on, I was just joking—”

“Well it’s not funny!” I snapped, looking at him, “Yerim was murdered and you’re telling me I’m hot when I talk about her murderer?!”

“No, that’s not hot, I was just saying you are—nevermind, I’m not in the mood to fight. You’ve been ignoring me for three weeks and when we finally get to spend some time together you’re just getting angry at me.” Wonwoo sounded accusing as he placed the mug forcefully in the sink and I rolled my eyes.

“What did you expect me to do? Jump in your arms the day after my friend’s funeral—”

“You didn’t have to push me away!” His voice raised and I turned to wash his mug too, hating it when he started getting loud while arguing, “I get that you don’t let me touch you, but you wouldn’t even speak to me, Y/N! If I knew you’d be like this I wouldn’t have let Soonyoung—”

I paused, turning to look at Wonwoo. He seemed speechless as he stared at me wide eyed, shaking his head. I turned off the water and faced him.

“What the hell are you even saying?” I asked confused, trying to comprehend his words but I didn’t understand what he was talking about. What had Soonyoung to do with our argument right now? What did he do?

“Nothing, I’m just—” Wonwoo shrugged and took a deep breath, composing himself, “I just missed you, that’s it. I hate arguing with you, you know that.”

“Yeah, well,” I scoffed and dried my hands in a towel, “I wouldn’t be arguing with you if you tried to understand my feelings—”

“I do understand.” He cut me off and my jaw clenched as I gave him a glare.

“I don’t feel it, but whatever, do you want to watch a movie or what?” Honestly, I wasn’t in the mood to watch anything, I just wanted to go to sleep, but I knew Wonwoo would bother me until I wasn’t grumpy.

“Do you want to watch one?” Wonwoo asked with a sigh, knowing that our previous conversation was over.

“No.” I muttered and he looked up at the ceiling, taking a deep breath.

“Do you want to go to sleep?” I nodded wordlessly and he pulled me into a hug, making me roll my eyes. I didn’t want to be hugged right now, but I didn’t push him away, just didn’t reciprocate the hug, “It’s still early to go to sleep.”

It wasn’t that early, but he was right, I would wake up during the night, probably, “Whatever, I want to go to bed.”

He groaned and suddenly I felt his hands gripping my thighs as I was hauled up, I yelped and grabbed onto him, “What are you doing?!”

Wonwoo said nothing as he took off and headed up the stairs, towards my room. He pushed the door open with his foot and walked towards my bed, before I could ask him to let me down, he fell forward, crushing me against the bed with his weight. I groaned as my bed’s mattress wasn’t soft.

“Wonwoo…” I muttered with a glare, grabbing his shoulders to push him off. He whined and didn’t move as he nuzzled his head in my neck, “You’re too heavy.”

“And you’re too grumpy.” He muttered and I slapped his shoulder, making him chuckle. I wanted him off, but he wasn’t budging. Before I could interject, he started pressing kisses against my neck, knowing well I was ticklish there, but I tried to keep my laughter in as I tried wrestling out from underneath him. Wonwoo was having the time of his life as he started laughing and tickling my sides too, making me cry out in despair as I hated being tickled.

“Stop! Wonwoo!” I tried to push his hands away, but it was futile. Wonwoo was giggling and quickly kissed my lips before he finally stopped tickling me, smiling at me mischievously. I glared at him and as I went to smack his arm, Byeol decided to join us as she jumped up on Wonwoo’s back. I started laughing as Wonwoo hissed, Byeol’s nails dug into his back, he deserved it after torturing me here.

“Hey, Byeol!” Wonwoo started shaking his back, trying to get my cat off of him, but it wasn’t working, so I started poking her, trying to get her off his back. And it worked, because Byeol jumped off and Wonwoo finally got off of me as well to start playing with my cat. He got on the floor and started pushing her lightly around, making Byeol land on her side as she started turning around, attacking Wonwoo’s fingers and jumping on his hand. I chuckled and left the two to play as I went to the bathroom to change into my pajamas and brush my teeth. I was too tired to shower, so I tried to be quick and when I walked back inside my room, Wonwoo and Byeol were still playing. I poked Byeol to rile her up more and she lunged for Wonwoo’s hand, making him hiss as I plugged in my phone. I looked at him and Wonwoo was glaring at Byeol.

“Did she scratch you?” I asked as Wonwoo got up and sat on my bed.

“Yeah.” He nodded and showed me his hand, two long, red, scratches decorating his hand. I pouted at him mockingly and kissed the scratches before laying down in my bed and pulling the blanket over my body.

“Don’t worry, soldier, those scratches won’t kill you for now.” I said mockingly and Wonwoo rolled his eyes, pulling the blanket over my head, but I managed to punch his bicep, making him groan. I giggled and pulled the blanket off, sticking my tongue out at him, “Are you coming to bed?”

“Nah,” Wonwoo stood and walked to my computer, “I want to play COD before I go to sleep.”

“Fine,” I muttered and closed my eyes, “but don’t stay up until late and check if we locked the front door before you come to bed.”

“Okay, mom.” Wonwoo muttered and I rolled my eyes, “Good night.”

“I love you.” I whispered and sighed, getting comfortable as Wonwoo turned off all the lights in my room and only left on the one at my desk. I heard Byeol moving around, no doubt she went to sleep in Wonwoo’s lap as he started playing Call of Duty.

After Wonwoo left I had a whole three days to think about everything that’s been happening lately and they way Soonyoung and him were acting from time to time. It was getting quite obvious that there was something wrong with Soonyoung and it seems like only Yerim had noticed until now. The boy gets upset at the smallest of things and he’s always saying some fucked up shit about the people he doesn’t like, and it almost always involves a comment about how the Earth would be better off without them and that he could slay them in their sleep. I never paid attention to these comments because I thought he was just joking as he has always had a dark sense of humor. But it didn’t make sense why he was at the pool on the day Yerim died. I was the last person she called and somehow Soonyoung knew about her death. Was he perhaps nearby? But why would he be? Yerim refused to go on a date that evening, so there was no reason for Soonyoung to show up there. He was tough to deal with, but if he was told no, he wouldn’t bother you for a while. And his words kept bothering me still, ‘I just couldn’t help it’, what did he mean by them? What has he done? Wonwoo’s slip up about how he wouldn’t have let Soonyoung do whatever also didn’t sit right with me. I wished there was someone I could talk to about these crazy thoughts, but I knew how it would sound. Was I accusing Soonyoung of killing Yerim? Not exactly, but it started sounding like that. Was I suspecting my boyfriend’s best friend about being a murderer? I tried not to, but it was becoming difficult. So I decided to try and talk to him, sort things out with Soonyoung without accusing him of anything, just ask him all of the questions I desperately needed an answer to and everything would be alright. But Soonyoung started avoiding me, he wouldn’t talk to me if it was unnecessary and he’d only sit with me if Wonwoo was with us, and even then, he remained quiet. It was weird, Soonyoung talked a lot. I brought it up to Wonwoo and he said not to think too much about it as it was Soonyoung and his talkativeness depended a lot on his mood. I tried to explain to Wonwoo that I didn’t care about that, that it was his attitude which changed and that I wasn’t able to talk to him because he was avoiding me or ignoring me, but Wonwoo just shrugged it off and said that he didn’t notice anything weird with him. I knew it was futile to press the matter more, so I let it go and focused on other things. Sana and I started hanging out in the long breaks and it felt nice to have a girl to talk to again. However, one day, she freaked me out a bit.

“Did you notice how every murdered person has something to do with you so far?” She had asked as she took a bite of her sandwich. I had choked on my smoothie upon hearing her words.

“No? What are you talking about?” I had asked confused, goosebumps erupting on my skin.

“Well,” She had started saying as she gazed up at the sky, “Yerim was your best friend, you’ve known Seungkwan since you were little and well…you sort of knew Mina too, she was Wonwoo’s ex.”

Yes, I had known all these people, but I couldn’t follow Sana’s train of thought, “Yeah, but…it’s not like I’m the only one who knew them…”

“True,” Sana had hummed and then had looked at me, “Whatever, ignore what I said. I’ve just been thinking about it.”

So, we moved on with our conversation after that, however, her words made me think hard about what she had said. Somehow, she wasn’t wrong. I had known all three people, even if not from very close, they did have a significance in my life at some point, it made me shudder again. I thought about bringing it up to Wonwoo when we were hanging out after class, but I was scared he’d think I was going crazy. I was just desperate to find out who murdered and why my best friend, and all these other people. And what if I was the serial killer’s next target? Nobody was safe.

Time flies by so fast you don’t even notice it. It feels like Yerim’s funeral was yesterday yet it’s Halloween already. Almost two months have had passed since losing her, and I was still getting used to it. I couldn’t say it was easier, but I was doing slightly better. Today was a particularly hard day as Halloween was Yerim and I’s favorite holiday. We’d always dress up in our favorite character at the moment and throw a small house party for our close friends. The rules were that we’d go trick or treating to each other and before midnight we’d gather at a bonfire and tell scary stories which have happened to us. It was a lot of fun each year and we couldn’t wait for it; however, it was my first Halloween without Yerim and it didn’t feel right. I was feeling nauseous all day long and quite moody as the weather had gotten colder too. Sana noticed my grumpiness and once I told her what the issue was she left me alone. Wonwoo wasn’t so understanding as we had talked about going to a Haunted House for fun months ago. He said he understood yet he was pressuring me in going with them. He promised it would be fun and that I shouldn’t stay at home and sulk all night long. I wasn’t sulking, I was trying to cope with the absence of my best friend, but it seemed like he didn’t understand that. So, very reluctantly, I agreed to go with him to the Haunted House. A few of his friends would be joining us, so I figured asking Sana if she’d like to come wouldn’t hurt anyone. She seemed quite excited once I told her and she promised to pick me up at around nine as Wonwoo wanted to go out beforehand with his friends. That was fine with me, I wasn’t in the mood to hang out with drunk teenage guys either way. They would get loud and pushy; I knew someone would bring up Yerim and it was the last thing I needed tonight. Mom was happy to see me going out and even encouraged me when I asked her to braid my hair. I wasn’t in the mood to go shopping for a costume, so I dressed in last year’s witch outfit. Nobody would care either way. Only Yerim actually cared, and she wasn’t here. Last year I was the one hosting the small party and I figured since I had a black cat I should dress up as a witch, it was a total success. Everyone loved the look and the vibes.

As nine o’clock approached, Sana texted me that she was right outside my house and after mom kissed my cheek and told me to have fun I left the house and jogged up to Sana’s extravagant car. They were quite rich and despite her being humble, her things screamed rich girl vibes.

“Hi!” She greeted me excited and I waved at her as I sat inside the car, “How are you?”

I sighed and closed the door, “Well, I had better days.”

“You look amazing though,” She patted my thigh and I nodded wordlessly, “If at any point you feel uncomfortable and want to come home, don’t feel hesitant to tell me. I’ll drive you.”

I felt my heart warming at her comment and gave her a genuine thankful smile, “Thank you.”

Sana wasn’t Yerim, and she’d never be, but it felt nice to have someone who was so understanding and kind. She’s shown me nothing but kindness since we started talking and it was refreshing. Sana was soft spoken and quiet usually, she didn’t speak unasked and often times we’d just sit in silence next to each other, enjoying each other’s presence. She was the total opposite of Yerim, yet we seemed to get along well. Sana made me feel seen and understood when nobody else could, perhaps that’s why I felt a little attached to her. I could only hope that she felt the same about me and didn’t think I was cold to her.

Once we got to the Haunted House the place was buzzing with people, everyone was excited for the new addition of the Amusement Park. It was a Halloween special and it was the first year they had opened a Haunted House for Halloween. Yerim would’ve loved coming here, we’ve discussed our outfits for tonight quite often and how much fun we’d have at the Haunted House, but now I had to do all of that alone. I owed it to her at least. Finding Wonwoo wasn’t hard as he and his friends had come with their bikes and they were gathered at the entrance of the Park, being loud and annoying. Sana followed after me as I was headed their way. I spotted Wonwoo next to his motorbike and walked towards him, catching his attention when I got nearby. He grinned at me and opened his arms once I was next to him, pulling me in a big hug.

“Hello, beautiful.” I smiled and pulled back, kissing his cheek. His friends got quiet and I faced them, waving at everyone. They greeted me back and I glanced at Sana before clearing my throat.

“This is Sana,” I introduced her to everyone, and starting from our left started introducing the boys, “That’s Minghao, Vernon, Soonyoung and Jeonghan.”

“Nice to meet you!” Sana smiled and the boys quickly greeted her, Minghao shaking her hand and introducing himself individually too. I chuckled and looked at Wonwoo who was smirking. Minghao wasn’t very interested in girls, but when he was, he made it quite obvious and Sana was a gorgeous girl. Jeonghan was smirking to our right as he watched me and I noticed, so I raised my eyebrows at him.

“Looking quite ravishing, Y/N.” Jeonghan said in a flirty tone and I felt Wonwoo’s arm tightening around my shoulders. Jeonghan was quite flirty, even with me. I used to think he was annoying, but after getting to know him better, I realized he flirted even with his guy friends, I figured it’s just the way he was. Besides, he was no threat when it came to Wonwoo, I was too in love with my boyfriend to find any other guy interesting enough. Sometimes I wished Wonwoo understood that too and stopped being jealous, but I figured he was just the possessive type.

“Thank you, interesting choice of outfit, Jeonghan.” I commented, making Soonyoung laugh as he pushed off his bike. I glanced at him but he was avoiding eye contact, still.

“Who dresses up as a cat, Jeonghan?” Soonyoung teased but Jeonghan just shrugged and pushed his long hair behind his shoulders.

“I do, why? Are you falling in love with me?” Jeonghan started leaning towards Soonyoung who flicked him off and grabbed his backpack off his bike.

“Yeah, right.” He muttered sarcastically and Minghao smiled, speaking up.

“Are we going in then?”

“Yes, let’s go!” Vernon said with excitement lacing his voice and I nodded, sighing quietly. Wonwoo noticed and looked down at me.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly as we took off towards the ticket booth. I nodded and pressed a kiss against his lips, bringing a smile on his face. He bopped our noses together before we joined the others in line, waiting to buy our tickets too.

The night seemed to be going well, everyone was having fun. Sana and Vernon seemed to be hitting it off quite well, much to Minghao’s disappointment. Jeonghan kept giggling as Minghao continued sulking while we watched Sana and Vernon play a shooting game in order to win a pink teddy bear. Sana really wanted it, but after missing almost all targets she walked away sulkily and that’s all it took Vernon to try his luck, and he seemed to be doing really well.

“Does our little Vernon have a new crush?” It was the first time in a while Soonyoung addressed me directly and I looked at him surprised. Was he done ignoring me and avoiding me?

“Who knows, but I don’t blame him.” I said with a shrug and Soonyoung looked at me.

“Good for him, she never liked me.” Soonyoung sounded a little bitter and it made me remember that Wonwoo and Mina once were together, of course Soonyoung and Sana knew each other. But I didn’t know he was into her…much like he was into Yerim as well. Interesting pattern, I thought to myself as my eyebrows lightly furrowed. Soonyoung seemed to notice and he cleared his throat, looking off in the distance.

“Do you want some cotton candy?” He asked as he took out his wallet.

“No, thank you, Wonwoo is buying some caramel popcorn for us.” I declined nicely and Soonyoung nodded.

“I’ll be right back.” He said before walking off to the cotton candy booth, buying one for himself. I continued watching Vernon and Sana as they both laughed, trying their luck for another plushie, this time it was a blue shark. Wonwoo was buying popcorn not far away and Jeonghan and Minghao decided to ride a very scary looking roller-coaster. They didn’t want to come to the Haunted House with us so we agreed to meet in an hour at the Ferris-wheel as we had to wait a little for our tour at the Haunted House. They only let in around ten people at every half an hour. Chuckling at Vernon’s dramatic fail at hitting the last target, I noticed someone in my peripheral vision. The person seemed to be approaching me and as I turned my head a wide smile erupted on my lips. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I hadn’t seen him in ages. It was Seonghwa, my ex-boyfriend. He was my first serious boyfriend and I only had fond memories of him. We parted on friendly terms and have been civil with each other ever since. He moved away two years ago, so it was a surprise to see him here.

“Seonghwa!” I exclaimed as I ran up to him and engulfed him in a hug. He giggled and hugged me back just as tightly. He had gotten taller since the last time we saw each other. He still had that bubble gum scent, it made me giddy.

“Y/N, I would’ve never thought we’d meet here of all places!” He said with a laugh as we let go of each other and took a small step back.

“Right?!” I chuckled as we smiled widely at each other, “I didn’t even know you were back in town!”

“Yeah, it’s a brief visit, so I didn’t tell anyone.” He scratched his nape awkwardly, “I wasn’t even supposed to be here, but San and Wooyoung dragged me here because of the Haunted House.”

“Oh, yeah, it’s a hot topic at the moment. I wasn’t in the mood to come, but I promised Wonwoo we’d go so…” I trailed off with a sigh and Seonghwa nodded.

“How is he?” He asked with a polite smile and I shrugged, looking around for him.

“He’s fine, just the usual.” I answered and Seonghwa nodded.

“I, uh—” He cleared his throat, “I heard what happened to Yerim. I’m very sorry for your loss. She didn’t deserve that.”

I looked away and gulped, hating that she was the topic, but I knew Seonghwa didn’t mean bad, “Thank you, she really didn’t. She was taken from us so early…”

Seonghwa gave my shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “I’m always here for you, I hope you know that.”

“I do.” His words brought a smile to my face, even after breaking up, Seonghwa was always there to support me and cheer me up until he had to move away. He was a kind soul always looking out for others, “How’s your grandma?”

“She’s the reason I’m visiting, actually, she’s not doing so well.” Seonghwa’s voice lowered and he looked down, it was my turn to offer him a reassuring pat.

“I’m sad to hear that, I hope she gets better.” Seonghwa nodded and I could hear them before seeing them. Wooyoung was almost screaming as he was telling San to let him go to the teddy bear booth. He wanted to get the blue shark Vernon lost, but San wasn’t letting him as he had spent too much money already. Seonghwa and I looked at each other before we burst out laughing.

He shook his head and sighed tiredly, “I better go and do some damage control before we get kicked out.”

I laughed and nodded, ushering him away, “When are you going to the Haunted House?”

Seonghwa glanced at his wrist watch, “In about ten minutes.”

“Oh, that’s great! Us too!” Seonghwa had an excited smile on his face as he waved at me and quickly ran up to San and Wooyoung, who were full on arguing by now. I chuckled and shook my head, but quickly jumped when someone gripped my arm.

“Who was that?” Wonwoo’s deep voice whispered in my ear and I turned to face him with a grin.

“Seonghwa!” I answered him and Wonwoo hummed as he released me and looked after Seonghwa who was now standing in between San and Wooyoung, talking and making exaggerated hand gestures. I had to laugh as I watched them. Wonwoo had known about Seonghwa, but he’s never seen him in person. Wonwoo and I started dating a few days after Seonghwa moved away.

“And those two idiots are his best friends, San and Wooyoung.” I explained to Wonwoo as he started eating our popcorn, “They are very loud, argue almost all the time and like to cause trouble. Poor Seonghwa…sometimes I pity him for having left him alone with those two devils.”

Wonwoo gave me a quick glance before he interlaced our fingers and pulled me away, walking us towards the Haunted House, “Well you’re not their mother, so I’m glad I stole you away.”

I rolled my eyes and gave Wonwoo a look, “You didn’t steal me away, dumbass, Seonghwa and I had broken up a year before I started dating you. The only thing you stole is my heart.”

My last comment brought a smug grin on Wonwoo’s lips and he kissed me before acting like nothing happened, “I love you.”

I laughed and leaned closer to him, “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

Wonwoo looked at me from the corner of his eyes, “You did.”

“No, I didn’t.” I shook my head and pouted at him.

“Yes, you did.”

“How could I, everyone is so loud and you were speaking so quietly.”

“I love you.” Wonwoo said with a groan, louder this time, and I giggled as I punched his stomach playfully and grabbed some popcorn into my hands. He rolled his eyes and rested his arm around my shoulders as we spotted the others in front of the Haunted House staying in line and joined them.

The Haunted House was a twenty-minute walk and it was quite well done. I got a good scare right as we started the tour, a killer doctor jumped in front of Wonwoo and I, and I screamed the loudest, scaring Sana and Vernon who were behind us. Wooyoung and San, who were at the front with Seonghwa, started laughing at me and I stuck my tongue out at Wooyoung. However, he got his payback when a black fake spider was dropped on his head and he almost passed out from screaming so loud, making the whole group erupt in loud laughter. Vernon seemed to like their vibes as he dragged Sana to the front to be with them and I chuckled as I looked at Wonwoo.

“San and Wooyoung can be fun people, but they tire you out very quickly.” I told my boyfriend as we walked through a very dark zone, ghostly voices coming from the speakers. I was holding his hand tightly and I could feel his shoulder grazing mine lightly.

“Did you spend a lot of time with them?” He asked curiously.

“I did,” I chuckled, remembering all the fun I used to have with them and Seonghwa, “On Friday’s we’d go to the diner and after we’d go karting, it was a lot of fun. It was a tradition of ours which was started by Wooyoung.”

“Sounds nice,” Wonwoo muttered and then I felt him squeezing my hand when we heard footsteps running behind us, “Why don’t we have something similar?”

His question made me think. I didn’t exactly know, maybe because Wonwoo didn’t invite me to hang out with his friends quite often, so I wasn’t very close to them besides Soonyoung, “I don’t know, I figured you don’t like it when I hang out with you and your friends.”

“That’s not true,” Wonwoo scoffed as a marionette was hung in front of us, dangling limply and I flinched, “I don’t mind you hanging out with us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I told him as we were partially blinded by green neon lights, “You never told me that though. And you never invited me out with you guys either…”

Wonwoo was silent as he glanced at me and stepped in front of me when a man dressed in Frankenstein ran towards us. I could hear Sana giggling in the next room and I pulled Wonwoo after me, entering the room just in time to see Wooyoung threateningly throwing punches at a skeleton and cussing at it. San was laughing loudly and Seonghwa was apologizing to the masked man as he clutched his shoulder. Sana and Vernon were watching it unfold with amusement, and I chuckled as Wonwoo and I approached them.

“What did he do this time?” I asked Seonghwa while pointing at Wooyoung, but it was San who answered me.

“The vampire jumped out of its coffin and Wooyoung punched it.” It made me laugh too as Seonghwa dragged his friend away from the skeleton before bowing at the vampire guy again. The guy just told us to go on and went back inside his coffin.

“Ah, Y/N, finally!” Wooyoung exclaimed once he saw me talking to San and ran up to me, throwing his arm around my shoulders as he pulled me with himself to the front. I glanced back at Wonwoo, but he just smiled and nodded, joining Vernon and Sana at the back of the group. Soonyoung and the other three people who came with us seemed to be much more ahead of us, so our little group stuck together.

“I hear you’ve been causing problems all night long, Wooyoung.” I narrowed my eyes at my friend and he chuckled, placing a hand on his chest.

“Non-sense, was it Seonghwa who told you that? You know he’s always lying and overreacting!” I chuckled as Seonghwa slapped the back of Wooyoung’s head and San glanced back at us with a grin before he opened the next door. The room was pitch black and I gulped, a bit nervous about entering it. I knew Wooyoung wouldn’t release me, he knew I hated the dark, but I still preferred being with Wonwoo right now.

“It’s good that our gang is back together.” It was San who was talking and I lightly ran into him as he stopped to wait for us. He seemed unbothered by the whole tour and was just laughing at everything and making fun of Wooyoung any chance he got.

“Yeah, I missed you.” Wooyoung said and squeezed my shoulder as I lightly held onto his hoodie, scared a bit. I knew Seonghwa was next to me, on my left, and San in front of me and the others behind, but I still felt uneasy.

“I missed you too, although you’re being a pain in the ass—”

“Am not!” Wooyoung exclaimed and soon screamed as a strong light was flashed in our faces and fake bats came flying towards us. I screamed too and ducked as I held onto my head, scared they’d get entangled into my braided hair. San was laughing as he caught one and started antagonizing Wooyoung with it, running after him as they ran into the next room. Seonghwa was quick to approach me and help me stand, but Wonwoo was by my side instantly, and the two looked at each other as each held my arm. I chuckled awkwardly and shook off their grips, standing up on my own.

“Sorry, I hate bats.” I muttered embarrassed as Vernon and Sana walked by us.

“I know.” Both boys said at the same time and I felt awkward as they looked at each other before Wonwoo cleared his throat and Seonghwa scratched his nape.

“Uhm, let’s go?” I proposed and they both nodded as we took off, Seonghwa going in front of us as I intertwined my fingers with Wonwoo, who was glaring at the back of my ex-boyfriend’s head.

“Stop it.” I whispered at Wonwoo and his jaw clenched, “Wonwoo, you know he means no harm.”

“I don’t like it when other guys touch you, Y/N.” Wonwoo snapped at me and I sighed, side eyeing him.

“Jesus, he just tried to help me up—”

“I was there already; he didn’t have to.” Wonwoo’s voice raised lightly and I stopped walking and faced him as I was sure Seonghwa could hear it all and I didn’t want to make him feel more uncomfortable.

“Can you stop acting like this? Have I given you any reason to be jealous, Wonwoo?” I called out my boyfriend and he rolled his eyes, releasing my hand.

“You have no trouble being so friendly with him.”

“Maybe because we remained friends?!” I exclaimed and Wonwoo just sighed, walking by me, “Seriously?”

“What? I’m curious what’s in the next room.” He muttered and I rolled my eyes as I followed after him. What a way to ruin the little fun I started having. I just sighed as I followed behind Wonwoo, not even interested anymore in the Haunted House and all of the different masked people jumping out in front of me, trying to scare me. Seonghwa was back at the front, San and Wooyoung pulling him in all kinds of directions as he didn’t turn around anymore, keeping his distance. I felt bad for him and reminded myself to apologize for Wonwoo’s behavior, reassuring him that he did nothing wrong and Wonwoo sometimes overreacted. There were flashing lights in the room we were in currently and ghosts hung from the ceiling as people were screaming through the speakers. I sighed and shielded my eyes, the lights hurting them as I hurried towards the last door. The others were outside already and I was left behind, I didn’t notice that everyone walked out while I was getting lost in my thoughts. Just as I was about to touch the doorknob, a dressed up person jumped in front of me, blocking my way. I gasped and jumped back, eyes widening when I came face to face with a Ghostface. The person wore a black gown and a real looking knife was in its hand. My heart started racing and I started backing away from the person, getting flashbacks from the night they had shown up at my house.

“What—what are you—” The Ghostface chuckled and slowly approached me.

“I’m a Ghostface.” The voice was still as glitchy, but lower than the one I had talked to on the phone, “Hello, beautiful.”

I shuddered at the words and gulped, “Who are you?”

The person behind the mask chuckled and twirled around, “An actor? Hired by the Haunted House?”

My heart was racing, but their words seemed to calm me down a little bit. Of course, we were at the Haunted House and this person was an actor hired to scare people. And they did a good job at scaring me.

“Right, sorry—” I chuckled, “You gave me a good scare.”

“That’s my job.” The Ghostface bowed and I smiled, “Did you enjoy the tour?”

“Are you this nice and talkative with everyone?” I raised my eyebrows as I held my hands behind my back. The Ghostface started circling me, making me turn my head to see them.

“Only with the beautiful ones.” They answered and I rolled my eyes, not into cheesy flirting.

“How cheesy.” I muttered and the Ghostface seemed to laugh as they came to a stop in front of me. It looked as they looked down before raising their head back up and I saw the knife glinting in the dim light as it lightly touched my chin and they raised my head with it. The air caught in my throat a little as I felt the sturdiness of the knife. It was either a very real looking and feeling prop or it was a real knife.

“And tell me…do you like bad guys?” The Ghostface asked smugly and I laughed nervously.

“Not really.”

“Isn’t your boyfriend a bad boy?” Well, that’s not how I’d describe Wonwoo if someone asked me. He looked like a bad boy, but he was actually a very nice and loving guy.

“Not really,” I chuckled and quietly let out a sigh when the person lowered the knife from my chin, “He’s well raised and really nice.”

“And do you love him?” Wasn’t this Ghostface a little too curious?

“Of course I do.” I said matter of factly and the Ghostface hummed just as the door opened. Light poured in from the outside and I squinted until the door was closed again. I instantly recognized the person once my eyes adjusted to the light again, it was Seonghwa.

“Y/N, are you alright?” He asked worriedly as he walked up to me, “I saw you weren’t with the group and nobody knew where you were.”

I smiled at him sweetly and nodded, “Yeah, I’m fine. I just fell behind accidentally and Ghostface over there seemed to be quite interested.”

Seonghwa looked over to where the Ghostface stood and his eyebrows furrowed, “Oh? They didn’t show up when we walked through this room.”

I turned to look at the Ghostface as well and I gulped as dread washed over me, slowly realizing what was happening, “Seonghwa—” But before I could scream at him to run, the Ghostface charged at us and I yelped as they pushed me to the ground and pinned Seonghwa to the wall. I watched wide eyed as Seonghwa struggled against them and as I got to my feet, I saw the Ghostface raise their knife. My heart stopped for a second and I didn’t even realize I had screamed as the knife slashed Seonghwa’s abdomen. He cried out in pain and the Ghostface stepped back a bit as he angled their knife at Seonghwa’s stomach. I was shaking, but I couldn’t just sit on the ground and watch as they murder my ex-boyfriend.

“Y/N, run!” Seonghwa exclaimed as the Ghostface poked his stomach, but I was fast enough and got up in time and ran over, knocking the Ghostface aside. They gasped in surprise and I could feel their gaze burning into me through the mask. I turned to face Seonghwa and with shaky hands caught him as he slid down the wall.

“No, Seonghwa!” I exclaimed, hand getting bloody as I pressed it against his smaller wound, momentarily not knowing what to do.

“Get out!” Seonghwa whispered as he grimaced in pain, pulling out his phone. I turned around and came face to face with the Ghostface, gasping at the proximity. I didn’t know who was behind the mask, but I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. I punched their shoulder and took the knife out of their hand, throwing it on the ground as I started punching their abdomen. The Ghostface groaned and tried catching my hands, struggling to do so until they had me pinned against the wall. I tried fighting myself out of their hold, but they were stronger.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” The Ghostface said breathlessly and I glared at them, kneeling them, making them double over.

“You shouldn’t have hurt my friends!” I screamed and kneeled them in the stomach this time, sending the person onto the ground. I ran back to Seonghwa and saw him trying to call the cops, but there was no signal inside.

“Let’s go.” I whispered and tried to control my shaking as I attempted to help Seonghwa stand, but just as he warned me, I was tackled to the ground. I screamed again, and suddenly, a hand was muffling my screams. A bare hand. Long fingers, warm, soft palm. My heart was beating like crazy and I felt a tear run down my cheeks when I noticed the Ghostface holding the knife again. Was I about to die too? But they didn’t move, we were just staring at each other. The hold on my mouth seemed to loosen and I glanced down at it, heart jumping in my throat when I noticed two long, red scratches on the person’s hand. Why did they look like cat scratches? Why did their hand feel like Wonwoo’s? A groan to our right got both of our attention and I saw Seonghwa approaching us, almost stumbling, but as the Ghostface got off of me, Seonghwa swung his fist at the person’s jaw, sending them stumbling into the wall. I got up and grabbed Seonghwa, placing his arm around my shoulders as I held his hip and we made a run for the exit. He was groaning in pain but still remained strong as we could hear the Ghostface shuffling around and catching up with us, but just as I felt them gripping onto Seonghwa’s shoulder, I kicked the door open, light flooding the room. Everyone was standing there, waiting for us probably, and when they saw the blood coating Seonghwa’s torso and my hands, chaos erupted. Wooyoung ran up to us in despair and started shouting things, asking what happened as I yelled out for them to call an ambulance. Vernon rushed up to us and helped Wooyoung as they took Seonghwa’s weight off of me and carefully placed him on a nearby bench as San called for an ambulance. Sana was by my side instantly and I realized my whole body was shaking as I looked around for familiar faces. She was talking to me, but I was searching for one person. Jeonghan and Minghao looked shocked as they stood helplessly by the bench, watching Seonghwa struggling to stay awake. Wooyoung was freaking out and San was holding onto him tightly as they talked to Seonghwa, trying to divert his attention from the pain. Vernon was trying to stop the bleeding as his father is a doctor and he knows this and that. Soonyoung was off to the side, looking almost sick yet unimpressed as he talked on the phone with someone. And Sana was hugging me tightly, saying reassuring things to me which I was unable to hear due to my ears ringing. Wonwoo. Wonwoo wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I gulped and hugged Sana back, hearing the ambulance sirens in the distance. Wonwoo wasn’t here with us.

My mother was reluctant to let me go to school the next day, understandably so. I barely got any sleep after last night’s incident. As Seonghwa was placed inside the ambulance and driven to a hospital, two detectives approached the rest of us and started their questioning. We were brought to the side separately and asked to retell our whole night. Of course, I was the one they questioned first as they knew I was inside with Seonghwa when the attack happened. I was shaken up and on the verge of crying, but surprisingly, Wooyoung and San stood by my side and tried to cheer me up until my mother got to us. After finishing my retelling of story, I walked to the side and sat down, curling into a ball as I felt arms holding me. It was Sana and she remained quiet as she tried to offer me some support. I appreciated her gesture, but I would’ve preferred being left alone at the moment. My mind was swirling with questions and I was frightened out of my mind. Wonwoo was nowhere to be seen and I couldn’t help but think he was the one behind the mask. Could it really be my boyfriend? The killer? I bit my lower lip at the thought and my head whipped up as I heard Wonwoo’s deep voice, laced with terror and panic as he was asking around for me. Just as we made eye contact, the two detectives stepped in front of him and brought him aside to question him as well. I could feel his gaze on me, but my mother had arrived and she was by my side in an instant, helping me up and she gave me tightest hug ever. I started crying when I felt her arms around me and she quietly shushed me, thanking Sana for sitting with me. She noticed San and Wooyoung too, nodding at them as a small greeting before she walked me towards her car. I didn’t talk to Wonwoo that night, but perhaps it was good, because I had no idea what I could’ve said to him.

Mom insisted on driving me to school this morning and I didn’t object; I wasn’t in the mood to ride the bus and act as if I didn’t feel my classmates burning gazes. I knew everyone would whisper about me again. I hated this all. I hated the killer. I hated that Yerim wasn’t here. And I hated the fact that I was helpless and couldn’t help a person who once was so dear to me. Thankfully, Seonghwa got to the hospital in time as he was losing blood fast and since he was stabilized quite quickly, he’d survive. I asked my mother to stop by his ward from time to time, to check up on him. She complied happily and told me she’d update me; I was really thankful. Before getting out of her car, I kissed my mother’s cheek, making her smile sadly at me. I had dark bags underneath my eyes and despite tying my hair up, it looked like a mess. I felt miserable, and I looked miserable. The baggy clothes weren’t helping much to offer me comfort, all I could do was sigh and pull the hood of my hoodie over my head and walk to my classroom. Everyone seemed to have eagle eyes, because as soon as I opened the entrance door, people noticed me. Some started instantly whispering, there were a few who were ignoring me or stepping out of my way as if I would hurt them, some would stop conversing and stare at me like I was some sort of freak. I hung my head low and walked up to my locker, opening it to place my backpack inside it. I sighed as I got my science book and two notebooks out, off to walk to my classroom. Sana texted me that she wasn’t feeling well and she wouldn’t attend school today, apologizing for leaving me alone. I didn’t text her back, but I appreciated her letting me know. Surprisingly it was San and Wooyoung who approached me as I was walking up the stairs.

“Couldn’t sleep?” I heard San asking me and I raised my head, eyes wide.

“Oh, I didn’t see you—” Wooyoung had a warm smile on his lips and I looked back down at the ground, “Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”

“Us neither.” Wooyoung muttered and San cleared his throat, “We visited Seonghwa before coming to school.”

“How is he?” I asked quickly, looking back up at the two boys.

“He’s in pain, but he’s doing good despite that huge cut—” San elbowed Wooyoung and I gulped, averting my eyes from them, “I mean, he’s fine, don’t worry. He asked us to tell you that he’s grateful you saved him and he hopes you’ll visit him when you feel ready.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded at the two boys wordlessly, “Thank you.”

“No problem, you know where to find us.” San smiled and bumped his shoulder with mine lightly as we got to my floor, they had to go up one more flight of stairs. I nodded at them and they waved as they took off. I sighed and took off too, headed towards my classroom, the hallway not as packed as downstairs. A few students glanced at me but seemed to ignore me mostly, it made me feel slightly better. Not too good, but at least they weren’t staring or whispering. As I looked up, I suddenly froze. Wonwoo. He was standing next to my classroom’s door, leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets as he was biting his lip, looking anxious. I gulped and slowly approached him, wary still. His head turned and when he noticed me he pushed off the wall and approached me, instantly pulling me into a hug. I felt tears in my eyes as I buried my head in his chest and Wonwoo rubbed my back up and down. I grabbed his jacket and tried to keep silent as I started crying, scared and confused. How could I think it was Wonwoo? My loving boyfriend. I was so scared something happened to him. But why was he not outside when everybody else was?

“I’m so glad—” Wonwoo’s voice was low and raspy, as if he had been screaming all night long, “I’m so glad you’re alright. I was so scared—I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you from that criminal, I—”

“Where were you?” I found myself whispering, desperately needing an answer to this one question only.

Wonwoo remained silent before he sighed, “I caught up with Soonyoung and then I went to the bathroom, when I got back everything had already happened—”

“Okay,” I whispered and sniffed, pulling my head back to look at him, “Don’t blame yourself. I’m fine and Seonghwa will recover.”

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched and as I was looking up at him, my eyes fell on his jawline. There was a small bruise forming, slightly greenish already. My eyebrows furrowed and I felt my heart starting to beat fast. Seonghwa—he punched the Ghostface in the jaw, same exact location, before we ran out. I gulped, hands slightly shaking, as I took Wonwoo’s right hand and interlaced our fingers, bringing it up to my eye level. Wonwoo watched me wordlessly, eyebrows slightly furrowed. I maintained eye contact as I brought his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss against it. And just before lowering it, I glanced down, and my blood ran cold. There. On his hand. Red scratches which Byeol left on him when they were playing. His hand, bare. Long fingers, warm, soft palm. I shivered and stepped back, releasing his hand as I tried to act nonchalant. Wonwoo watched me confused as I stumbled over my words.

“I—I have to go—” I opened the classroom door, avoiding eye contact, “I’m late.”

“Y/N—” But I stepped inside the classroom and slammed the door shut, biting my lower lip, whole body shaking as I approached my desk and sat down. It was Wonwoo last night. Right? Was it really him? What do I do?

My mother tried to switch her shifts with a nurse she was friends with, but she couldn’t make it. She didn’t want to take the night shift tonight, worried to leave me home alone, but I reassured her I would be fine. In fact, I felt like shit and didn’t want to be alone, but remained silent and decided to have a Harry Potter marathon, that way I wouldn’t fall asleep and could wait for my mother to return home in the morning. It was a Friday, so it would work out. I desperately needed a good sleep, but I could deal with that later. I cooked some dinner for myself and played with Byeol, but after she got bored and went to sleep in my room, I decided to take a shower and start the movie marathon. I definitely lost track of time while showering, because my phone kept ringing, but I didn’t feel like answering. My mother would never call me while working, so I knew it was Wonwoo. But I didn’t want to talk to him. My mind was a mess and I didn’t know what to believe anymore. He couldn’t be the killer, but some signs were pointing at him and it was eating me up alive. I was scared and confused. My gut told me to sleep on it and ask him tomorrow, but for some reason staying away from him felt most comforting. Getting out of the shower I got dressed in sweatpants and Yerim’s favorite pink hoodie, eyeing Wonwoo’s sweater resting on my chair. He left it here when he slept over and told me to keep it until he’d sleep over again. Brushing my fingers against it as I towel dried my hair with one hand, I shivered. Its scent once brought comfort, but now I felt uncomfortable. Byeol was sitting on my bed and for once it wasn’t storming outside, I was thankful. Just as I placed my towel on my desk, my phone rang again. I sighed and walked up to it as it was charging on my nightstand, and despite expecting it to be Wonwoo calling, it was an unknown number. My eyebrows furrowed and my heart started racing as I remembered the time when I spoke with the Ghostface on Yerim’s phone. I took my phone and walked to the window, looking through the curtain.

“Hello?” I asked as I picked up the call, chewing on my lip. There was some heavy breathing on the other side, freaking me out.

“Hi.” I froze for a second as the Ghostface’s robotic voice came through the phone. What did they want? Were they here to kill me? The thought sent panic through my body and I quickly made sure my window was locked before pulling down the blinds as well.

“What do you want?” I demanded, voice shaking but still harsh.

The Ghostface chuckled, “You gone.”

I shuddered as tears suddenly sprung into my eyes, “You killed Yerim, didn’t you?”

“I did.” Was their answer and I sniffed, wiping away a tear as I raced down the stairs, to make sure all doors were locked.

“Why?”

“Multiple reasons,” The Ghostface sighed as I checked the front door, “One, she was always rude to me. Two, she never gave me a chance and the list just goes on, Y/N.”

“So you killed her.” I said accusingly, checking the door in the living room as well. It wasn’t locked, but I locked it now and pulled the curtains closed as well.

“Well she pissed me off to my last nerve, didn’t have much off a choice—”

“You don’t kill someone because they piss you off!” I screamed into the phone, shaking and fuming. How could they?! Kill someone because they pissed them off?! This is not how life works.

“I do.” The Ghostface laughed and I felt like screaming.

“What do you want?” I repeated, body shaking from anger and fear too.

“To kill you, honestly, I’ve had enough of you too.” I gulped and turned by back to the door, walking back outside in the hallway.

“I won’t go down easy.” I muttered and the Ghostface just laughed.

“A fragile girl can’t do much damage to me, sweetheart.” They said and I chuckled sarcastically.

“You’ll have to wait for another night then, you can’t come in if the doors and windows are all locked.”

“They are locked, now.” I froze, heart thumping fast, “But they weren’t until you locked the one in the living room just minutes ago.”

The voice now didn’t come through the phone only, they were here. Inside. Close. Too close. Shakingly, I slowly turned towards the kitchen entrance, and screamed. The same person from the Haunted House was standing in the doorway of my kitchen. Black gown and a Ghostface mask, glows, and a sharp knife in their hand. The Ghostface laughed, dropping the phone as it took off towards me and I panicked, showing the phone in the hoodie’s pocket as I started running, headed for the laundry room. I quickly entered and locked the door, whimpering when the person started pounding on it. Why did they want to kill me? What did I do? Who was behind the mask? As I reached for my phone to call the police, the pounding stopped, the sudden silence making me jump. Did they leave already?

“If you don’t come out, I’ll start with Byeol.” I whimpered and covered my lips, tears streaming down my cheeks at the thought of the person killing my cat. How did they know her name? I couldn’t let them kill her, she was my everything, “I’m headed to find her—”

“Stop!” I screamed and gripped the doorknob, “I’ll come out, just don’t hurt her.”

The Ghostface laughed and I heard them grumbling, “Stupid people with love for their stupid animals.”

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, readying myself to face the criminal on the other side of the door. If I had to die tonight, then I would. But I wouldn’t go down without a fight. I was feeling extremely hot in the hoodie, but it was Yerim’s, and all of a sudden, a wave of bravery washed over me as if Yerim was telling me that I could do it, that I could survive. If she believed in me, then I could believe in myself too. Wiping my stray tears away, I unlocked the door. The click of it seemed to be so loud in the silence, and with shaking hands, I pushed open the door. It opened very slowly and I held onto the doorknob tightly. There it was. The Ghostface, leaning against the wall. I couldn’t see their face, but I could swear they were smirking. I was glaring at them, breathing hard as I released the doorknob.

“There you are.” They said in a sing song voice, suddenly raising their knife. It was my cue to run off. And so I did just that, I took off, and ran towards the kitchen. The only problem was that it had no doors and two entrances. My goal was to get the Ghostface to follow me outside, far away from my cat and close enough to other people to see and call the cops for me. Their loud thumping made it obvious enough that they were following me and I stopped in front of the sink, the counter putting distance between us. Nobody said anything, we just stared each other down. My muscles were tense and I felt the adrenaline kicking in, making my shaking even worse. Before the Ghostface could react, I took off again, running for the door. I barely got in the doorway, when a hand gripped my hair and I was hauled back. I cried out in pain and quickly groaned as I was thrown on the floor.

“Yerim screamed a lot more than you, you know?” The Ghostface taunted and I sneered at them as I got up, getting backed into the wall. What could I do? Take their knife would be an option. The Ghostface raised the knife and lightly grazed it against my neck, making me gasp. I was breathing through my mouth, barely able to think of my next move. They raised their other hand and gripped my neck, pulling our faces close to each other.

“But you both seem to be just as dumb—” And just like that I headbutted them. I didn’t wait for them to finish the sentence or plunge the knife in my stomach. The person stumbled backwards and dropped their knife in shock. What a dumb move. I reacted faster and picked it up in a flash, pointing it at them.

“How does it feel to have your own weapon pointed at you?” I hissed and the Ghostface groaned, starting to stomp their feet. Were they seriously throwing a tantrum right now? I watched confused, but stayed alert.

“You’re not ruining my fun tonight, Y/N!” They screamed and charged at me. The smart thing to do would’ve been running away and out of the house, but I froze. If I had the knife, could they still kill me? Of course, there were many ways to do that, but my brain went blank. And just last second, I dropped the knife, scared to stab anyone. I wasn’t a killer; I couldn’t do it. The Ghostface grabbed my neck and started squeezing it, but I was fighting back. I wasn’t about to die. I tried pushing him backwards, and it was working. The Ghostface was muttering things I couldn’t understand, but I stumbled and stepped on their long gown. The person tripped over my leg and before I knew it, their hands were gone from my neck and they were falling backwards. I gasped and watched as the person hit their head on the edge of the counter and fell to the floor limply. I stood shocked, not knowing what to do. They weren’t moving anymore, I carefully pushed their leg with my foot, but they didn’t react. I approached them, heart racing and forehead sweaty as I leaned down and touched the mask. I had to know. I had to know who killed my best friend, Mina, Seungkwan and tried to kill Seonghwa and now me. So, without thinking for another second, I ripped the mask off. I felt my body going numb at the sight, ears ringing as I stared down at the blond laying unconsciously on my kitchen floor. My lips started trembling and my body started shaking more violently as I clutched the mask tightly, hand hurting from the force. Kwon Soonyoung lay unconscious in front of me. Blood was slowly seeping from underneath his head. How could it be him? I started crying loudly and threw the Ghostface mask on the floor, stomping on it and screaming. How could he kill Yerim?! How could he! In all the ruckus and screaming, Byeol woke up and her loud meows were the ones which brought me back to reality. She was staying away, gazing at me with her big eyes, meowing loudly. I was sobbing and started walking towards her, when the doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Thrice. Knocking. Panicked screaming. Asking to be let inside. The voice of my boyfriend. Jeon Wonwoo. My boyfriend. Acting without much thinking, I ran up to the door and unlocked it, throwing it open. Wonwoo was panting and he gasped when he saw me. I flung myself into his body, hugging him tightly and crying loudly. He hesitated for a second before wrapping his arms around me and slowly walking me inside the house, closing the door behind us. I was crying, I couldn’t do anything else. Soonyoung killed my best friend because she didn’t like him back. Because she didn’t want to date him. Who kills for a reason like that! I couldn’t hear Byeol meowing anymore, Wonwoo was caressing my head and kissing it softly, muttering words to calm me down. I found my breath again and pulled away, finding comfort in his arms. He was here. He was here to witness it all. He was here to take Byeol and I away from this nightmare.

“He—he did—it.” I stuttered out, body shaking, “Soonyoung. He killed—everyone.”

Wonwoo’s face went blank as he looked towards the kitchen entrance, but the only thing he could see from here was the destroyed Ghostface mask on the floor. His grip seemed to loosen around me as he looked back at me.

“Soonyoung killed Yerim, Wonwoo.” I whispered as I wiped my tears away, “He killed Mina and—”

“He didn’t kill Mina.” Wonwoo’s voice was void of any emotion. I shivered, “He didn’t try to kill Seonghwa either.”

I shook my head, eyebrows furrowed in confusion, “What—what are you saying? He’s the criminal, he—” I winced when Wonwoo’s grip suddenly turned painful on my arms, and I stepped back. His bruise on his jaw was now a dark blue, it looked like it hurt a lot. The cat scratches on his hand were still red.

“You—” I gasped and slapped his hands away, taking a step back, “You killed—Mina and Seonghwa—”

“I failed to kill that bastard, but it’s not too late yet.” I started shaking my head, feeling like my whole world was ending.

“What are you saying, Wonwoo—” Suddenly he was all up in my face, holding my chin roughly as he made me look him in the eyes. His expression scared me. His eyes were almost black and manic as he stared into mine. His lips were curled into an amused sneer and all warmth had disappeared from his aura. This wasn’t Wonwoo. This wasn’t my boyfriend. This was someone else. Someone I didn’t know and was scared off.

“I killed Mina. I tried to kill Seonghwa and now—” His pause made me gulp, his voice was quiet when he continued, “I have to kill you too.”

I whimpered and started shaking my head, gripping his wrist, “No, Wonwoo—Listen to me, you’re not like this, I can—”

“How would you know what I am like when I never allowed you to see the real me?” His words felt like someone dropped a cold ice bucket on me, numbness washed over my whole body. Was it all fake? All this time? Everything between us?

“Did you ever love me?” I found myself whispering, it was the least important thing to know right now, but I had to know.

“I love you more than I have ever loved anyone.” I sniffled, heart breaking and head spinning. Before I could react in any way, Wonwoo’s lips crashed against mine. I was disgusted, I didn’t want to be kissing him. But I couldn’t help myself. I still loved him despite his terrible confession. Despite him saying he wanted to kill me, I still loved him. So I kissed him back with the same fire he was kissing me, our lips crashing against each other’s messily, painfully. Maybe it was our last goodbye, maybe it wasn’t. I didn’t know what this kiss meant, until I felt Wonwoo’s hands around my neck and my eyes flew open. He was squeezing me, not allowing an ounce of air into my lungs. I tried pulling my head back, but he wasn’t letting me. He was still kissing me, but I couldn’t do the same. I clawed at his arms, gripping his wrists and yanking on them but he wasn’t budging. I started seeing black and I felt like throwing up, finally, Wonwoo’s lips left mine and I tried gasping for air but it wasn’t working. I tried talking, but it wasn’t working. I was going to die. In Yerim’s favorite hoodie, by the hands of my once lover. My grip fell from Wonwoo’s wrists and I felt my legs giving out, body limp. I didn’t want to die, I really didn’t. Not like this. I had no power, yet something so strong, as if someone knocked the last gust of wind out of my lungs, gave me the power to raise my knee and kneel Wonwoo in the groins. It might’ve been weak, but Wonwoo yelped loudly and released me, my body falling to the ground. I started coughing and gasping, holding my burning neck as my head hung low. My lungs were on fire and my eyes filled with tears as I filled my lungs desperately with air. Wonwoo was doubled over, groaning and hissing in pain. Perhaps I could escape him. Walk around him and out the door. So I tried, I got up from the ground, legs almost buckling, but I tried. I started walking, catching Wonwoo’s attention as his head whipped up and he reached for me, but I stepped back. He was starting to straighten up, still groaning, realizing I was getting better. I barely had any power, but I was starting to breathe again. He lunged for me and I realized walking in the kitchen was my best escape right now. So, I entered and my eyes fell on an unconscious Soonyoung, making me shudder again. I tried to run, but my legs felt heavy. I went to walk around the counter and grab a knife, but Wonwoo grabbed my shoulder and turned me around. The knife Soonyoung was holding was in his hands now. I shook my head at him and begged him to let me go. We couldn’t figure this out, but he had to let me go. If he loved me, he would’ve done that. But he didn’t want to. The knife was angled at my stomach and I took a deep breath, turning my hand into a fist. I had no power left in me anymore, this was my last shot at life. So, as Wonwoo raised the knife to stab me, I punched his jaw, just where Seonghwa had punched him yesterday, and grabbed the knife with my other hand out of his. He groaned loudly and looked at me with an animalistic look in his eyes. The knife was pointed at him and one move sealed the deal. I guess he didn’t notice I pointed the knife at him as he ran straight into it. We gasped at the same time and stared at each other wide eyed. I didn’t want to do this, but he gave me no other choice. I released the knife and watched as Wonwoo fell to his knees, starting to cry. He was begging me for forgiveness and asking me to love him, but I couldn’t hear him. My ears were ringing.

“Byeol! Byeol!” I was screaming at the top of my lungs, throat scratchy from getting chocked. I heard a faint meow coming from the living room and ran inside, looking for my cat, “Byeol, please come here!”

And she showed up, she crawled out from underneath the sofa and ran up to me, coming into my arms as I picked her up. I shushed her and ran towards the front door, not sparing another glance inside the kitchen as I grabbed my phone from Yerim’s hoodie’s pocket. I stumbled off the stairs on the porch as I started getting light headed, but I managed to dial the police.

“112, what’s your emergency?”

Masterlist

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