#this time of year is always hard for me - university acceptances and graduations and exam results - but this year has hit really hard.

[bellaxgiornata]

All These Years [Part 5: "Graduation"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You met Matthew Murdock unexpectedly at Columbia University and you couldn't deny that there was an instant attraction–for you. But for Matt, you became as close of a friend to him as Foggy did. As the years pass by, your feelings only grow for your best friend, but all you can do is watch as he dates and sleeps with every other woman on campus and eventually in New York City but you.

Warnings/tags: 18+ for this series; contains emotional hurt with no comfort until the final installments, angst, pining, friends to lovers, slowburn, and eventually smut

Word Count: 4.2k

a/n: This one hurts a little differently than the others. But oh, the next installment will be interesting...and that one is tentatively titled "Jealous and Impolite," but the title may change a tad when I have it written out. And we're pretending Foggy and Matt briefly get an apartment together at the beginning of their internship but then have their own place shortly before they open their own firm (but it's not really important besides Matt's upcoming nighttime hobby). The list of installments for this series can be found here. And feedback is always appreciated!

Tag list: @acharliecoxedfan @theetherealbloom @rotscinema @magnumstyles @roseallisonparker @ofmusesandsecrets @readerhead @paracosmic-murdock @v4leoftears @why-always-me-gosh-please @redbircl @keepingitlokiii @yarrystyleeza @mattkinsella2 @ms-murdockswift

Weaving your way around the crowds of people milling about in different directions outside on the campus lawn, your hands nervously fidgeted with the powder blue cap held between them. Your robes swished around your bare calves as you navigated the uproar around you, the weight of them uncomfortable over your dress on this warmer late May afternoon. All the while your eyes searched for Matt and Foggy among the chaos as you maneuvered your way around group after group of people. 

Your graduation ceremony had finished just before theirs, but you'd stayed behind in order to watch the pair of them walk, just like you’d promised them you would. You hadn't had a chance to see either of them before graduation this morning though, having been too busy getting ready yourself while trying to refrain from vomiting from the nerves swirling in your stomach. And when Matt's name had finally been called out and you had seen him walk across that stage in his own powder blue cap and gown, your heart had nearly stopped in your chest at the sight. It was like time had slowed down to a drag, your eyes following his every movement. He looked so handsome and happy, a broad smile on his face as he accepted the diploma cover. It wasn't until he'd walked off the stage that you had realized you'd been holding your breath, a wide smile spread across your own mouth. 

After his breakup with Elektra, Matt’s motivation had significantly plummeted. He’d been a mess for weeks, barely ever wanting to leave his bed and attend classes. He often said it wasn’t because of her, trying to deny it everytime you or Foggy tried to comfort him over the situation, but you and Foggy knew better. Matt hadn’t been himself for a very long time after Elektra had broken his heart. He’d even almost missed an important exam that he needed to pass in order to graduate the other week. If it hadn’t been for Foggy forcing him to get out of bed and get dressed and then practically dragging him to the exam himself, Matt would surely have missed it and he wouldn’t have been walking across that stage today. 

And the thought of that killed you, knowing just how much it had meant to Matt to graduate with this degree. How hard he’d been working for years for it. He had always been so incredibly passionate about law and about wanting to help those who weren’t fortunate enough to be able to afford good legal representation in the future. He’d been like that since the day you’d first met him in the library. You had spent many a night over the past couple of years listening to him and Foggy debate different topics in their dorm room–ethics often being a big one between them. And the way Matt always spoke so eloquently and intensely about his love and desire to help others had only steadily grown your love for him in return over the years you’d come to know him. He had the most compassionate heart of anyone you’d ever met and he had the most brilliant mind to accompany it. So it only broke your own heart further seeing him giving up on his dreams ever since she had disappeared. Which had once again only given you further reason to hate Elektra–she’d come into his life in a whirlwind and left a mess of the man he’d once been in her wake. 

Though while she’d certainly crushed his spirit–withering it away to almost nothing–she hadn’t broken him completely. You and Foggy had spent plenty of time picking up the pieces and putting him slowly back together. Encouraging him to focus on his studies and to let her go. Eventually he’d done just that, and now him and Foggy were off to intern at a large law firm–Landman and Zack. The pair of them had even gotten an apartment together lined up. Meanwhile, you were still waiting to hear back about the position you’d interviewed for last week, hoping you would have the funds to continue to pay for the apartment you’d recently leased. You were waiting on that news to come some time today, though.

The sound of your name being called out from behind you drew you to a stop and pulled you straight from your thoughts. Your brows furrowed as you spun in a circle, searching for whoever it was that might have been calling for you. A few seconds later, your eyes scanning the throngs of people around you, you finally spotted Foggy and Matt emerging from the masses. Both men were grinning wide, Matt holding onto Foggy’s forearm as Foggy led the pair of them over towards you. They were clutching their diploma covers under an arm, the sight still surreal.

“I didn’t think I’d ever find you two!” you exclaimed, making your way towards them.

“It’s a goddamn madhouse here!” Foggy shouted back, the grin never leaving his mouth. “And don’t you look stunning in that baby blue potato sack!”

You laughed, shooting Foggy the finger before your eyes shifted to Matt. The pair of them came to a stop just before you and you felt your heart speed up in your chest as your eyes took in the sight of Matt in his cap and gown. His dark glasses were covering his eyes, but nothing could hide the glow of sheer happiness and excitement on his face as he beamed back at you. You tried hard to fight the ridiculous smile on your own face as you stared at him for a moment, but you noticed Foggy beside him had certainly caught the stupid, dopey smile you were aiming at Matt. Heat rose up to your cheeks as you glanced down in embarrassment, grateful Matt couldn’t see it himself.

“We fucking did it!” Foggy cried out. 

“I can’t believe it still,” you admitted, running a hand through your hair. “Like, I feel like I still have classes next week to attend. Projects to finish. More boring lectures to heavily caffeinate before so I don’t fall asleep.”

Matt chuckled, the sound warm and comforting to your nerves. He was always so comforting to you, though, you thought. And he never even realized it.

“It might be awhile before it sinks in, but you certainly don’t have all of that to worry about anymore,” he assured you.

“No,” Foggy cut in. “Now we just have to worry about getting jobs and paying bills.”

“Speaking of,” Matt began, his head tilting to the side as he focused in on you, “did you hear back from that company yet?”

Shaking your head a little solemnly, you replied with a soft, “No.”

“Ahh, well,” he said, the smile never leaving his face, “I’m sure you’ll hear back later today with good news. You’re amazing and they’d be morons not to hire you.”

“If only I could put that on my resume,” you joked.

Someone hit your elbow as they barreled past you from behind. You winced, rubbing your arm as you shot them a glare at their back. Beside Matt, Foggy sent you a sympathetic look.

“Why don’t we get out of this post-ceremony chaos?” he suggested. “Before the next one starts?”

Your eyes darted around, taking in the neverending streams of people. There was a sea of powder blue almost everywhere you looked.

“Yeah, I think that’s a great idea,” you agreed.

Matt quickly shifted his diploma cover to his hand, extending the arm he wasn’t hanging on to Foggy with out towards you. Your eyes dropped down to it, your brows drawing together in confusion.

“Here, you want to hold on to me?” Matt asked, his arm still offered towards you. “I don’t want to lose you out here. I know I can’t actually see the chaos ensuing, but I can certainly hear it. Sounds pretty bad.”

Switching your own diploma to the other hand, you reached out and looped your arm through Matt’s. He drew you in close to his side immediately after, taking you by surprise when your hip bumped up against his thigh under his graduation gown. Foggy peering around Matt completely cut off whatever reaction your body was about to have to that contact instantly.

“Hey, you want to come with us to grab lunch?” Foggy asked. “My family wanted to celebrate last minute and I know yours couldn’t be here today. You want to join us?”

The three of you began walking, Foggy and you navigating the group of you around the masses of people as Matt fell in step between you both. Your hip kept brushing up against Matt’s thigh though and it was taking every ounce of your focus to ignore it as you walked.

“Oh, lunch?” you asked, hip yet again bumping Matt’s solid thigh. 

“You’d make me feel less like the weird, adopted child,” Matt joked.

You laughed lightly, turning your body just at the last moment towards Matt to avoid bumping into a couple walking past you. You felt his arm tense around yours as your chest briefly pressed against him before you swiftly pulled back away. 

“I uh, I can’t,” you answered quickly, trying to ignore whatever weirdness you’d just caused. “I haven’t finished packing up my dorm fully. Sort of wanted to get it done before dinner tonight.”

Foggy peered around Matt again, catching your eye. “You’re still coming over to celebrate tonight at least, right?” he asked. “Because I’ll be mad at you if you don’t.”

You scoffed loudly, rolling your eyes. “Are you kidding me, Nelson? Of course I’m coming over to celebrate our last night in our dorms. Why the hell would I miss that?” you asked.

“Just making sure,” he said.

The three of you finally made it away from the ceremony location, coming to a stop just before one of the main paths on campus. People were still milling about, but it was at least vastly less populated here. You slipped your arm out from underneath Matt’s, his head snapping towards you at the loss of contact.

“This is where we part ways for now then, boys,” you said. “Enjoy your lunch and I’ll see you both later. I’ve got some packing to finish.”

“You’re missing out!” Foggy called after you.

You turned, heading the familiar path back to your residence hall, your heels clicking along the sidewalk as you went. 

“Don’t I know it,” you muttered to yourself, your mind already wandering back to Matt.

Legs crossed on the end of Matt’s bed, you were staring at Foggy across the room. He was passed out, lying half upright against the headboard of his own bed, his mouth hanging open as he snored lightly. The empty pizza box of the pizza the three of you had devoured a bit ago sat open on the end of his mattress.

“Told you he’d be the first to pass out,” Matt said behind you.

You rolled your eyes at his comment, your head turning back towards him. He was leaning against his headboard, one leg crossed over the other in his dark sweatpants. His arms were behind his head, a smile on his mouth. He looked the picture of relaxed as he lay there, his eyes fixed near you on the end of his bed. It never ceased to amaze you how unfairly attractive he was at all times.

“Foggy always passes out first,” you pointed out. “Not really anything new there, Murdock.”

He laughed lightly, nodding his head. “You have a point,” he agreed. “Suppose it wouldn’t be our last night here if it didn’t involve Foggy passing out early after a handful of beers.”

A heaviness hit you in the chest at Matt’s words, your eyes dropping down to your lap. Your fingers played with the hem of your jeans, a soft sigh leaving you. Matt’s foot gently nudged your knee, drawing your attention back up to his face. His dark brows were drawn together, a deep crease forming on his forehead. His head tilted to the side as he studied you with a slight frown.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Thought you’d be more excited. We just graduated. You got the job you wanted–which I mean, I already knew you would. But this is supposed to be a good night. Why the sullenness?”

Because I also won’t have nights like these ever again.

“I am excited,” you admitted slowly. “But I mean it’s–it’s a little bittersweet, isn't it? Hanging out with you and Foggy was my routine for a couple of years now. Coming over here and studying with you guys. Or just drinking and hanging out and ordering incredibly strange combinations of takeout.”

Matt broke into a laugh, the bright sound cutting you off. “Certainly some strange combinations. Foggy is a genius when it comes to ordering the right food when you’re drunk though,” he mused.

“Yeah, he is,” you agreed, a sad smile on your lips. “And that was our thing for years. But now?” You shrugged lightly. “I won't be able to just walk to the residence hall beside mine and hop on an elevator to reach your guys' place. There's no more sitting around eating pizza and drinking beer late at night after tonight.” You felt your eyes welling up with tears and you immediately focused back on your fidgeting hands. “Now we’re getting apartments and jobs. Becoming adults. Needing sleep because we work."

And I’m losing you.

Your heart twisted in your chest at the thought. Sure, you weren’t leaving New York City and neither were they–hell, you were all moving into Hell’s Kitchen. But how long before your lives went in separate directions? Before they settled down and became successful lawyers who ran in entirely different circles than you? When would your friendship suddenly fall away?

“Hey,” Matt said softly.

The tone of his voice caught your attention and you looked back up at him. You watched him scoot over on the bed, his left hand coming down and patting the space beside him. Your lip slipped between your teeth as you nervously chewed it.

“Come sit with me?” he asked.

Unable to ever refuse Matt, you uncrossed your legs and made your way gradually over to the top of his bed. Sitting down beside him, you leant your back against his headboard and settled in next to him. It took you by surprise when Matt easily slipped his left arm around your shoulders and drew you further into his side until your head inevitably rested along his shoulder. Your hands awkwardly clasped together in your lap, feeling unsure what to do with them. Matt had never really been this forthright with you before. 

“It is a little bittersweet,” he agreed gently. “You and Foggy have become like the family I never really had while I’ve been here. And you–you both mean a lot to me.” 

He blew out a breath slowly, your head falling with the movement of his shoulder. You noticed he smelled really good, as if he’d put on a faint bit of cologne today. Something you never really noticed him doing before. Your head turned just a bit in towards his neck as you tried to breathe in the scent of him a little more, committing it to memory.

“Things are changing, sure,” he continued, “but I still plan to be here as long as you are. I don’t think anything can separate the three of us.”

“You say that now,” you mumbled. “But you don’t know how the next few years are going to go.”

His arm lightly shook you, your name falling from his lips so softly. The sound of it drew the corners of your mouth up ever so slightly.

“You are one of my absolute best friends,” Matt admitted. “And as long as you want my dumb ass as your friend, I’ll always be here.”

You snorted in amusement, shaking your head against his shoulder and ignoring that dull ache that always hit you when Matt called you his friend. 

“You’re the furthest thing from being a dumbass,” you said. “Especially with your fancy new law degree now.”

He chuckled, the sound a pleasant, deep rumble in your ears. You smiled, eyes dropping closed as you leaned further into him. You wanted to memorize every detail of this moment with him, to commit it to memory in your mind forever, because you were certain you’d never have another moment like this again with Matt. Not after college. He'd certainly be bombarded with beautiful women left and right, especially as a successful lawyer. Eventually he’d find someone and settle down with them. And you would slowly fade from his life no matter what he said. 

Your eyes tightened a little harder, fighting back the threat of tears at that thought. You didn’t want to think about the day Matt was no longer a part of your life.

"We can still get together on the weekends," Matt told you. "Maybe Saturday nights? We can make it a thing, even."

"Fog said you guys were going to be insanely busy at that internship," you pointed out, fighting to keep your voice from cracking. "Working weekends even."

Matt shrugged in response, your head rising and falling with the movement yet again. You felt his hand begin to gently rub along your arm, the gesture confusing as much as it was comforting you. Matt had never touched you like this before, had never wanted you close to him like this. He must have been experiencing that same bittersweet nostalgic feeling you were with knowing both your lives were about to change drastically. 

"We'll figure it out," he promised you. "We're bound to take breaks at some point, right? We'll make it work. I'm not losing you."

Your hands balled into fists in your lap, your jaw tightening at what he’d said. Those last four words hung heavy in the air between the pair of you. The desire to suddenly spill forth your feelings to Matt was almost unbearable. Whether it was from the excitement of the day, the three beers you’d had tonight, the nervous fear of how things were about to change, or the way Matt’s hand was still soothingly gliding back and forth along your arm, you somehow found yourself wanting to tell him how you felt. You desperately wanted him to know how much you’d loved him for years. 

Your fingernails dug into your palms from where your hands were still balled up. The thought of having that weight lifted from your shoulders was so tempting. You just wanted to stop hiding it from him, to stop holding yourself back. You just wanted to say it, just once.

But you knew you couldn't ultimately say anything at all. Matt had said it himself multiple times tonight already–you were his friend. Like family to him. He wouldn’t want to hear you express your love for him in any way that wasn’t strictly familial and platonic.

“I wish my dad had been here today,” Matt whispered.

With a shaky exhale, your eyelids flew back open and you pushed your previous thoughts aside–as you'd done many times before. You focused on Matt instead. Shifting your head along his shoulder, you looked up at him beside you. His lips were pulled into a deep frown, the sorrow written plain as day in his eyes as he stared blankly across the room. The sight had your heart squeezing in your chest exactly like it had done that day you’d seen him after Elektra had smashed his heart.

You knew how much he loved his father and how much he missed him. He’d had a very deep conversation with you one night, a little over a year ago, spilling his heart to you about his father's death. He’d told you how it had affected him. He’d even confessed that he hadn’t ever told Foggy all of that before, that he’d only ever told you. And you had felt honored he would even open up that much to you, expressing such deep, personal feelings. Especially because Matt didn’t let people in easily.

“He was here in his own way today,” you assured him. “And he’d be proud of you, Matt. You graduated at the top of your class. From an Ivy League law school.”

"I just wish I could tell him," he whispered. "Hear what he'd say to me."

Hesitantly you tested his boundaries, lifting your arm and carefully wrapping it around his waist. When he didn't protest, you gently squeezed him in a hug, drawing yourself closer.

"He'd say you're still his smarty pants son, I'm sure," you answered.

A small, almost sad laugh fell out of Matt, his other hand coming up to cover yours. A warmth gradually felt like it filled you as Matt’s thumb lightly stroked the backs of your knuckles. You had no idea what it meant that the pair of you were cuddled up on his bed together like this, but you were just going to let yourself enjoy it tonight. You didn’t want to ruin this moment with reality.

"I can't believe you remembered that I told you he called me that," he whispered. 

"I remember everything you tell me, Matty," you replied. “Especially the important things.”

There was a moment of silence before both of Matt’s hands stopped their absent, almost affectionate movements against your arm and your hand. You frowned, wondering if he’d finally decided the pair of you had crossed some boundary too far out of friendship, especially with what you’d just said. But then his hand released yours, landing gently and almost hesitantly on your neck. You swallowed hard when his fingertips took a slow glide up the length of your throat until his palm could cup your cheek. Carefully he pulled you away from his shoulder, angling your face up towards his as he whispered your name. 

He was looking down at you with his brows slightly drawn together, something unexplainable hidden in his eyes. You couldn’t quite make sense of what it was, your own eyes narrowing back at him as they jumped back and forth between his. His face was so close to yours though, you quickly realized. The warm exhalations of his breath from his slightly parted lips falling against your own mouth each time.

Was he going to kiss you? Surely not…

“You are…absolutely amazing,” he whispered. “And I–I–”

Your heart sped up in your chest, that almost fight or flight reaction abruptly coursing through you. You were almost afraid as you sat there gazing back at Matt, terrified you were steadily letting yourself get your hopes up for something that wasn’t going to happen. You could feel it happening already, that desperate yearning for more only rapidly increasing your panic.

Matt’s gaze shifted from yours, darting across the room towards Foggy for a moment as he winced. His eyes closed briefly before he turned his focus back on you, his sightless eyes falling along your left cheekbone. He winced again–the action incredibly minute this time–before he spoke.

“And I don’t ever want to lose you as my friend,” he finished. “And I just–just want you to know that.”

Your heart sank to the floor at his words. You knew they were coming, you knew it, yet they still managed to hurt. That panicked feeling inside of you quickly dissipated, your body quickly trying to become numb to this moment. Of course he wasn’t about to kiss you and confess his feelings to you. How unrealistic would that have been.

But you realized he was still staring back at you, an expression on his face that further confused you as he clearly waited for you to respond. Pulling away from him, the moment entirely soured to you now, you forced a smile onto your face as his hand fell from your cheek.

“I uh, I don’t want to lose your friendship either, Matt,” you said, forcing to keep your voice even. “But it’s–it’s late. Maybe I should let you get some sleep. We’ve both got a big move tomorrow.”

“Right, yeah,” he said softly, nodding.

You slid away from Matt, making your way to the edge of the bed before climbing off of it. Awkwardly you turned back around towards him, your eyes taking in the sight of him on his dorm room bed for what would be the last time ever. A flood of emotions struck you all at once like a punch to the gut, the weight of this being the end of an era really hitting you in this moment. Things were changing.

“Don’t be a stranger, Matty,” you whispered.

He shot you a tense, sad smile. “I won’t,” he promised.

You spun on your heel, crossing your arms across your chest tight as you made your way out of their dorm room for the last time. It wasn’t until you’d finally made it back to your own building that the tears began to fall. 

Maybe, you thought, it was time for you to let Matt just be your friend. Maybe now it was time to crush that ridiculous lingering hope you’d had for there to ever be something more between you two once and for all.

Maybe you needed to move on.

[gg-neptune]

Three

So uh this is kinda rushed at the end but it was just hard for me to write honestly. And yes this is based off my AP tests score and how I reacted. And yes I am still upset. Yes I know I should be grateful but like. :( I hope you like it. <33

Warnings: academic over achiever, crying, age gap? (possibly I mean he's like a year older than them but he's also her teacher and no I do not care that this is not canons shut up leave me alone)

Waiting eagerly, you refreshed the page once more and it appeared. You could only see the top of it, your hands shook in fear at what you might see. This dumb test meant everything to you and now months after taking it you could finally see your score. It was finally time. You had studied for hours every night for 2 months leading up to it. You had an A in the class the entire year as well and had made a 4 on the mock exam. Countless tears and hours had gone into this and now you could finally see your score.

Some might say you were a bit of an academic overachiever. You had gone from making straight failing grades to A's in the matter of a year. You took your grades rather seriously, always being terrified they would drop back down to failing. Your hard work had landed yourself in an Advanced Placement class at Hogwarts. Now you were finally getting your score and you were terrified. 

With trembling hands you scrolled down a bit, looking at your score with great fear. What if you had failed? All your work for absolutely no profit. You wanted a 5. Now you knew this was asking a lot. However you thought you deserved it in a way. This year had been awful and you had gotten a high A in the class so why could you not at least get a 4? You were confident in your answers as well so why not stretch for a 5 as well?

3

You stare blankly at the screen for a moment. Your score is sinking in. A 3. You passed at least. At least there was that. However you were still thoroughly disappointed. You expected more of yourself.

How would you tell everyone? You knew everyone expected you to get at least a 4 or a 5. To get a 3 was almost humiliating. How would you face Severus? 

You and Severus had been dating for a few years. You were still in school as a seventh year while this was his first year as a professor. He had only graduated the year prior being only one year older than you. You two got some strange looks from the younger years but majority of the older kids knew him and you from when he was at Hogwarts as a student so it was not a big issue. 

He expected a lot from you. He taught you privately on his own time along with his lectures in class. He had also been expecting you to pass with a higher grade and you had only gotten a 3. Most of the universities you had been looking at did not even accept 3’s for credit. Most of them honestly only accepted 5’s. And you had pulled off a 3.

A knock sounded at your door. Somehow you knew automatically who it was. A sense of dread built up inside of you immediately. It seemed like a brick had been placed in your throat burning you from the inside out.

“Hey, can I come in,” his deep voice rang out from outside. You felt frozen in place feeling a panic overtake you. The thought of him knowing your score sends you further into your state of distress. It felt like your chest was collapsing in on you. Like your own body was capsizing and you were trapped inside.

The door opened anyway despite you not giving permission quickly after him looking around for a moment his eyes landed on you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice seemed blunt as he just stared at you confused. Not being very good at comforting others he simply stood there staring at you for a moment before thinking that might not be a good idea and taking a seat on your bed.

You attempt to choke out an answer but your throat does not allow you. The feeling of the brick being there still haunts you as you attempt to communicate with the man in front of you. You hadn’t realized before but tears had begun to roll down your cheeks as you stare at him scared out of your mind of what he will say to you.

“It’s… it’s alright whatever it is. Nothing is unfixable I mean like we can even bring dead people back it can’t be that bad just tell me what’s wrong. I can fix it.” Severus tried his best at comforting you he really does but this does nothing to soothe your distress. You can tell by the worried expression and tone of his voice he is concerned but you can not manage to spit out any words. This in fact can not be fixed. Your score is already set in stone. There is nothing you can do about it at all.

A sob suddenly breaks from your mouth as you break. Loud wailing breaks from you as you crumple in front of him. Your body slouched forward onto your knees, sobs wracking your body taking you down. Quickly Severus is leaning forward and gathering you into his arms. Cradling you like a little baby. Pressing your face into his chest allowing you to sob into him he attempts to soothe you again, “Shhh, I mean really it can’t be worth crying over hun what is it? Hmmm?” Putting on his comforting voice instead of his cold monotonous one. 

You reach over to your computer keeping your face still pressed into him, you drag it over to the both of you showing him your score wailing out, “I’m such a failure,” brokenly.

You can’t see his face as he looks but you can only imagine the rage and anger crossing it right now. All of the hard work he had out into you and passing you had failed him.

“I don’t get it? You did great, what's wrong?”

“I got a 3! How is that great,” your voice breaks multiple times as you cry this out. Still sobbing into his shirt you feel both of his arms wrap around you after he closes your computer putting it aside. One hand runs up and down your back soothingly while the other simply stays firmly wrapped around you keeping you close to him.

“Love, a 3 is passing that’s still good don’t be upset,” he whispers out rocking you back and forth trying to calm.

You don’t respond, instead just opting to cry into his shirt as your misery overtakes you. Now logically you knew that a 3 was not in fact terrible but it was not what you wanted. Or what you felt like was expected. However you weren’t quite thinking logically right now, so instead you let Severus just hold you. Letting him take your tears and soak them up.

Eventually your tears subside, having worn yourself out from sobbing so much. Severus slowly shifts you both into a lying position against your pillows, haphazardly pulling a blanket over you both. He keeps you close to him, not letting you get even an inch away from him as he continues his rubbing on your back.

“I am incredibly proud of you,” he whispered into your ear, “I want nothing more than for you to see yourself the same way I see you.”

He continues to wipe stray tears away as they fall. Neither of you say a word to another, you being too scared to speak and him not being sure what would be right to say.

Instead of breaking the silence you snuggle yourself closer to him seeking his comfort. Sniffling every now and again you use his arm as a pillow to try and make it easier to breathe. He presses gentle kisses to your face still whispering his sweet nothings of how proud he is of you and how good you did as you slip off into sleep.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Ten (Part 2)

I smile and shake my head, because I’m sure that I won’t be. Jude shuffles on the bed to readjust himself, and when he settles, his leg is resting against mine. It’s warm, mine feels cold. I notice it and wait for him to move but he doesn’t, so I just let our skin touch, and I get a shiver from my toes to the top of my head.

“When you go to Berlin,” I start. “Will you know anybody else there?”

He shakes his head. “No, I’m going on my own, which I’m kind of excited about.”

“Scared though?”

“Yeah, a little bit I suppose. More excited.”

“I think I’d be scared to leave and be away from everybody I know.”

“Yeah, I get that, but I wasn’t really thinking that way when I applied for university there, it was honestly more about the experience I’d have and what I’d learn from doing my degree there.” He shrugs “Plus when I applied I didn’t actually think I’d be going on my own.” 

“No?”

“My girlfriend at the time and I applied together, actually, but she didn’t get in. It was brutal, we got our letters on the same day. Art schools work like that sometimes, they send their offers out earlier than other courses because your Leaving Cert points aren’t important. I got accepted and she didn’t, so it was a bad day.”

“So you decided to go alone anyway?”

“Yeah it felt like the best choice for me, I just didn’t see myself being in Ireland anymore, I don’t want to waste my early twenties in this horrible recession, and I don’t want to graduate into it with no job prospects. I just need to get away from it.”

“and your girlfriend?”

“We broke up. We called it quits before our exams. I didn’t want to put her through the long distance thing, like, honestly I didn’t want to put myself through it, because I knew I couldn't handle that. I really just… I don't want any attachments when I go, like, no responsibilities towards anybody else. Having a relationship while trying to navigate the changes that are ahead of me,” He shakes his head. “It would be too hard.”

“Wow. How long were you together?”

“Almost a year.”

That seems like forever to me. Nobody I know has been in a relationship for that long. “It must have been a hard decision.”

“It was, she’s a great person.”

“Well you can always get back together at some point in the future, you know, like maybe someday when you graduate…” I don’t continue because he’s already shaking his head no. 

“I don’t think so – It’s just over, I can’t really see us picking up where we left off, like, nothing to do with her or the relationship per se. It’s just that I feel like I can’t ever go backwards, once it’s done, it’s done for me. I just don’t really hang on to other people in that way.”

I think about how I do. I’m a clinger and I always have been, so his philosophy on life is totally foreign to me, just like the idea of jetting off to some unknown city all on my own without speaking the language or knowing how a single thing in its society operates. I think that he’s much braver than I am for doing it, but I’m a little sad that he’s going. Maybe in a parallel universe he and I would have attended the same art college and been friends who hung around in Dublin together after our respective classes, sitting outside coffee shops in the city and talking about art and sculpture and our silly assignments, but none of that will happen. In a few weeks he’ll be gone forever and I will likely never get to see him again. 

I look down at our legs and move mine away from his. Perhaps it’s not a good idea for us to be touching after all. 

“You look a little sleepy.” He says to me gently, and I am. I’m more than sleepy. It’s so late now that I must be awake for almost forty hours straight, running purely on the last shreds of adrenaline from being with him, but as soon as he mentions sleep my eyelids feel so heavy, and even the hard, flat wall that my back rests against feels cosy. I’m certain I could doze off in this exact position. I admit it, “I am.”

“Then sleep. I’ll leave.”

“Okay.”

He makes a tiny movement towards me and then hesitates and begins to get up. “Okay Evie, I’ll see you again soon.” 

I reach out my weary arms for a hug goodbye and when he leans in to embrace me my face grazes his neck, and he’s warm and his arms are strong and I wonder what the consequences would be if I let myself fall asleep on him right there and then. Maybe he’d be forced to stay here with me all night.

“I’ll text you when I’m free to hang out again.” He says, letting me go.

“Mm”

I lay down to sleep on the bed. The blankets are so warm from where he was sitting. 

Before my eyes drift closed and I surrender to my exhaustion I glimpse him climbing nimbly out the window and hopping down onto the grass outside, disappearing into the darkness and leaving the gauzy curtains fluttering behind him. It’s like he was never even here. 

Prev // Next

[krikeymate]

You saying Sam wants Tara to focus on her studies made me THINK… so, what if Tara puts herself under so much pressure because studying is the only useful thing she’s doing. But it’s hard for her. She’s never been good in school and university isn’t much different… if anything, it’s harder because there are no teachers who care about you and want you to do good. Professors don’t even know your name usually. And in school, she only succeeded because of, well, because of Amber.

Amber was smart. Super smart. She basically gave Tara private lessons after school every day, helped her with her homework and all that stuff. After Amber… died, Tara was so lost in school again. She swears she only managed to graduate High School because the teachers took pity on her.

So naturally, she’s struggling in uni, too. She offers to get a job to help with the bills, but Sam is not open for compromises. Sam actually gets kind of mad, and then upset when Tara makes the offer. Basically begging Tara to let her do this. To let her be the one who worries about bills and all that stuff. To let her take care of Tara; something about making up for the missed years and stuff.

Tara has no choice but to agree. She dives head first into her studies but it’s SO HARD. She’s struggling to keep up and then Scream 6 happens. I don’t know how it works in the US, but where I live, you get three chances to pass an exam in university. If you fail for the third time, you get exmatriculated - no questions asked - and cannot continue that course of study (ever again). You can apply for a new course of study the next semester. So let’s just say it works like this at Tara’s university, too.

It’s a class Tara was already behind on. Then she misses the exam because of the GF attacks. She explains her situation to the professor and they agree to let her sign up for the second try. It’s only a few weeks later. Tara’s barely healed physically, and definitely not stable mentally. But she tries her best. It’s not enough.

There’s a bit of time between the second and the third try. Tara even gets over her fear of new people and asks one of her peers to tutor her. She doesn’t tell Sam she’s struggling. What would her sister think? Tara’s only job is to focus on her studies, and she can’t even do that right!

The day of the third try comes, and Tara IS well prepared, but it’s so much pressure! Knowing that you have to pass or you’ll be literally chucked out of university. She has a panic attack halfway through the exam. She did good up to that point, but in the end, it’s not enough.

She doesn’t tell Sam. She makes sure to intercept the letter of exmatriculation, still going to uni at her usual times. She takes a job at the cafeteria or the library on campus maybe. She doesn’t really know how to get the money to Sam without, you know, telling her. But how could she ever tell Sam? How is she supposed to admit to her perfect, and so, so hard-working big sister that she failed so badly? That she’s a fu**ing useless loser? She‘ll apply for something else next semester… if she manages to keep this from Sam until then, she can maybe convince her that she changed her path because she didn’t like the other one, not because she’s too dumb. (She doesn’t manage to! Sam finds out very quickly.)

Previous.

Oh the guilt she would feel. Sam is doing everything for her, running herself ragged, so that Tara can focus on her classes, and she can't even do that right.

Tara's not as smart as Sam seems to think she is. She's always known this. Her sister was so proud of her for graduating high school - something Sam never did - and then getting into college, how can Tara confess the truth? That she barely got by, that it was all down to Amber and pity, how she didn't pass her exams in the end, but they gave her extenuating circumstances to graduate her, to accept her, anyway. Tara cheated her way into this situation by being a victim, and she hates it. She hates that she can't be the person Sam wants her to be, she hates that she can't be the person she wants herself to be. She hates that her only achievement in life is being the girl who was nearly murdered by her best friend.

(Sam knows Tara struggles in school, she's so proud of her for trying, for sticking it out despite how hard it is for her. Sam didn't fail high school, she didn't even try. When she realises Tara's failed her classes and didn't tell her, she realises she was sending her the wrong message. She wishes she had told her sooner, that Tara didn't have to agonise herself like this.)

The truth comes out and Sam offers to pay for tutoring, offers to help her herself, she'll do anything to help, but Tara loses it because she's missing the point! Tara doesn't want help, she doesn't want to need help, and she doesn't want Sam to suffer to get her that help. Sam holds her close and reminds her that everyone needs help, that Tara helps Sam every day, that they help each other.

She tells her that she'll still be so proud of her even if Tara wants to drop out, that she'll never not be proud of the incredible woman she's become.

[chryblossomjjk]

I see you and other followers of yours talk about the stressors you face academically while going to college (or University, wherever they happen to be from). I went INTO my degree field immediately after high school graduation (take Dual Enrollment!! - I was able to get statistics, comp 1 and 2, biology, pre-calc, calc, trig, chem 1 and 2, anatomy and physiology, etc) with my AA in 2005 🫣 (I’m old #rip). I was used to group work, but the screeches I let out once I was with other college students… it made me want to rip my hair out. It drove me insane. I was lucky that most of my professors let us grade each other in the group - I did most of the work and was happy to throw some D’s on that b****. I see you all power through and I promise that as long as you all keep working hard, those group projects become easier as upperclassmen because others are serious about graduating with their degree. If you’re comfortable with others, take advantage of SI (supplementary instructions that TA’s usually lead!!) if your university has that service. I have a degree in Criminal Forensics and it only got easier the farther I got into my degree seeking program. You’ve all got this!! I believe in you all! I know it’s taxing mentally and physically, but just like you said, make sure to take care of yourselves. I always kept in mind that if I didn’t know it by 9 pm the night before an exam, I wasn’t going to know it at my 8 am Forensic Anthropology or Advanced Forensic Psychology exams. It helped me de-stress. I am very introverted and an independent learner… sometimes you have to accept that you’re not going to do “well”, but trying is really brave. Please don’t forget that! You’re intelligent!! And strong!!! 💖💖💖 XOXO

i love u so much whoever u are. this comforted my little broken struggling college student heart. thank you so much for sharing your experience!!

i vent about the llege (derogatory) a lot n im sorry if it gets annoying to anyone but maybe not bc then other people come into the inbox and share their experience and its kinda just nice to hear that other people are in the same boat as u. the boat has a huge hole in it and it was made w old decrepit wood that was literally used to build the fucking trojan horse shit looks like plank from ed edd n eddy but atleast we're going down together right ?! :') <3

and thank you so much for sharing the tips! pulling all nighters n still not grasping any of it is sooooooo real !!! and group projects are legit the worst but you're right, each year the groups get a lil better n easier to work with!! this ask legit just cured my eternal need for comfort like the words of encouragement are so sweet and thank you for taking the time to write this!! i love you lots and i hope you degree led you down the most fulfilling path ever bc you deserve it <3

[wanderingstethoscope]

2017, the Year I Nearly Gave Up but Didn’t

I have always wanted to start a blog about my life, but never really got round into doing it. I blame my “all-or-nothing” attitude. No doubt, this mindset has gotten me places in life, but at other times I find myself fighting an internal battle with my own thoughts. So, here I am, a newly graduated veterinarian, at the age of 25, using Tumblr for the very first time. Obviously, life as a vet student got too busy for me to even process my own thoughts and feelings, let alone starting a blog.  Although, perhaps I was “semi-avoiding” those thoughts, as I know, for a fact, that if I do indeed allow myself to dwel into the unknown, I might deterioriate. Besides the overwhelming amount of content that gets taught to us every single day, there was also a seemingly continuous pilling of random assignments, mini exams throughout the semester, dealing with friendships, minimal sleep, etc, and not to mention the pressure to actually perform well. I, unfortunately, gathered the habit of setting unrealistic expectations on myself. Obviously, my mental health was sacrificed, ignored even, that, unfortunately, affected my performace, relationships between family and peers, and also my own self-confidence. Don’t get me wrong, though; vet school is an extremely rewarding degree. On the good days, you get to see the smile on your clients’ faces, the wag of a puppy’s tail with paws too big for their size, purring kitties, the re-visiting old cat with hyperthyroidism that has been improving and still as sweet as ever, and not to mention the lovely teaching staff members and life-long friends that you make along the way. 

Thought I’d share my journey on how I got accepted into the degree; because veterinary science is something many would love to do, but, if you were anything like me, had this belief that this dream of mine was close to impossible.....since I was never naturally smart, and was FAR from being an A+ student. But I am here to tell you today that any dream is possible, you just need to be willing to put in the hard work and grind.  

I completed high school in Christchurch, New Zealand in the year of 2015. As a student, I always had an interest in science and animals; and so veterinary science had always been at the back of my mind ever since. The only problem was, that I never believed in myself. Regardless, I applied for the pre-veterinary programme at Massey University New Zealand, and basically “half-arsed” my way through the first semester. To no surprise, I was not accepted into the degree. I remember contacting the undergraduate staff to seek advice for re-application; and was told, that I was required to get at least ALL A’s for ALL papers for 4 more semesters. That was my wake-up call; that there was really nothing else I’d rather do with my life, so if I really wanted this, I had to put in the work. I remember my father sitting out by the deck at my old house in Christchurch, and me opening the window from my room, saying... 

“Hey dad, um, just so you know, there is a very likely chance that you will not see me for the next 2 whole years, as I will be too busy burying my face in books.”

That was when the grind started; I enrolled myself in other science-related papers such as Biochemistry, Genetics and Conservation. I was studying non-stop, round-the-clock; only making an appearance at meal times. Exam periods were extremely stressful; there was a time when I only had a day to revise a semester’s worth of a Genetics paper...and I was sitting on the floor of the dining room at 2am, bawling and feeling absolutely hopeless (embarrassing, I know, but to my surprise I did well for that paper, lol). I remember setting up unrealistic rules for myself, and my typical day went like this:

4:00 am : Wake up 

4:30 am: Begin study

and pretty much having my head in my books all the way until 10pm. 

Little things would trigger me; such as when I went 2 minutes overtime on a topic, or if my lunch order was late since I had to rush back to study. Not fun. 

2017; the year I finally got my grades up with a GPA competitive enough for vet school. I re-applied for vet in 2017 with a GPA of 8 out of a 9 point scale, with my latest semester grades of straight 4 A+’s. I remember the day that they released the selection outcomes; and the agonising wait that came with it. I was playing a movie on my laptop while spamming the “re-fresh” button on Yahoo! Mail. Results came 2 hours later than the expected time; and without opening the email, I peeked at the first sentence that popped up in the preview; 

“Kia ora Weiyin,” 

What? Why didn’t it start with a “Congratulations!”? 

I clicked open the email and to my utmost dissapointment, I was rejected. The heartache and dismay that came after was nothing like I’ve ever experienced. I gave absolutely everything, continously for 2 whole years, and was still rejected. I cried my heart out. 

As I am writing this, I just asked my beloved grandmother how many tears I cried when I got rejected, and she just answered me with “enough to make my heart break.” 

Why was I rejected? Because the school had implemented a new selection system; instead of the GPA comprising 80% of the overall ranking, it was lowered to just 50%, and the other 50% comprised of non-academic skills i.e. multiple-mini interviews (MMIs), situational judgement tests (SJTs), etc. This implied that not only I had to continue keeping my GPA up, but also to ace the non-academic part of the selection process. 

I felt hopeless at the time, and thought that, maybe, it was just not meant to be. 

Or maybe, just maybe, if I just gave one last try. 

And so I enrolled myself into “Toastmasters”, a public speaking club. There I learned to be comfortable speaking in front of an audience, practice active listening, and form creative ways to craft out a speech. It was such an experience, and it was amazing how easily you can turn nervousness into excitement when giving a speech. Every day, I would practice all kinds of scenarios that were likely to be tested in the MMI. I continued to do these until impromptu speeches felt almost natural to me. 

Year 2018 finally came. I remember it being about 4:00 am in the morning, on the 7th of July 2018, when I checked my email. That was the moment I received my acceptance letter. Of course, my family were all waiting anxiously for my results...

“Hey ma, pa, looks like I’ll be graduating soon...” At the time, I was almost done with completing my Biochemistry degree. They responded with a very saddened “Ohh...”. 

Then I continued, “in 5 years time” ;)

[sagaonline]

my old friend and now

The other day, an old friend of mine sent me a message. I haven’t spoken to her in three years, so seeing her name pop up not only in my messages but also in my Snapchat notifications was a shock. she said that she missed me, and that she really didn’t want to drift apart after we finished high school, but things sometimes take turns that we don’t want or expect.

I didn’t reply for a while. I worked a whole shift before I had the courage to say anything. Why was she messaging me now, after three years? I suspected it was because I’ve recently graduated from university, and I posted my excitement for the next chapter of my life on social media. Was that some sort of unknown invitation for members of my past to come back to it?

When I did reply, I said I missed her too. Honestly, I don’t know if I did. It’s always been hard for me to regulate emotions, the teetering line of feeling too much and not enough. Normally, when I fall out with friends, I push any thought of them as far away as I can, too desperate to not feel fear and upset at the fact that they aren’t in my life anymore. It’s the same with her, I hadn’t really thought about her since we last spoke. But the moment I wrote those words, they were real. That ache that comes with missing someone flooded my chest, that feeling of loss because I’ve missed such a great deal of our lives.

I don’t know what she’s like these days, and we used to be best friends in high school. That scares me. 

We had known each other all through high school, only really becoming super close in the last two years, and even more so in my senior year of high school. She was there for me when no one else was. We went to the mall together in our free periods and we sat together during our art classes, we hyped each other up for our major projects in Drama class, and she read all my essays with enthusiasm that even some teachers didn’t exhibit. I hosted tutoring sessions for classmates to help us through the final exams, and she attended every session, keen to learn things she already knew. 

She asks what I’m doing with my life, congratulates me with my recent graduation.

“What’s the next step for you?” she says, well, types. This is all over messages. She tells me she works as an ‘EA’ (or, ‘the office bitch’ as she dotingly refers to it) in the city, and she works full time and can’t meet until after the twenty-second. I’m happy for it, but I’m secretly jealous at how her life seems so put together at twenty-one, and I feel like I’ve tripped off a cliff and I haven’t stopped falling for even a second. 

“I’m going back for further study,” I reply. “I applied for my MA the other day, and I’m thinking of applying to work at our high school in the meantime. Full circle, and whatnot.”

“That’s so great! You’ve been talking about this for forever. I’m so happy and proud of you,” she replies. I don’t remember telling her about it when we spoke, but maybe I did. Another reason for me wanting to reconnect with her is because my memories of high school and elementary and everything in between are spotty. I guess, when I live in books and fictional worlds of the things I write, my own reality tumbles a bit. 

I remember, when I was first accepted into university, she was the first person I told. It wasn’t the degree I ended up doing, or at the university I ended up  going to, but it was something I was proud of and something I wanted to do at the time. I remember talking about that. It was for a school in the capital, working in forensic science majoring in chemistry and law. Crazy, comparing it to the degree I ended up studying (linguistics and language science). It felt like me, but I guess, linguistics is me now. 

We organize to meet up on a random Sunday, a date we will finalise more closer past the twenty-second, and we call it a night. I didn’t expect to hear from her again, but she pops up. She sends me a snapchat selfie of her at work, she texts me about whether I moved for uni like I’d always planned to and she asks what I do for work. 

“I actually have two jobs right now. I work in retail in plus size women’s fashion and I also edit novels and online publications and stuff,” I say. Compared to her fancy full time job, I feel a bit like a joke. Both my jobs are part time, and even though editing is something I love doing (hence, delving my life into reading and writing), it’s not good paying, and I work on one project every few months. Retail is a nightmare, as is any nightmare. It’s better than my last job, I tell myself with the intention of forcing myself to be happy for what I have. I used to work at a department store, and I had for five years before I left. 

I didn’t actually reply to her until a few days after about my work. I don’t know why, but I delayed it. Me and messaging people isn’t the best combination. Something about the tangibility and immediateness of it scares me, I think. It’s not uncommon for me to not reply to someone for hours, if not, days on end. There’s a video on Snapchat she sent me that I still haven’t opened, which is even more nerve wracking for me. 

When I did reply to her, it was in the early morning, and she replied a couple hours later asking if it was a store in our local mall. I replied that it was, and she said she was coming to say hello. 

I haven’t seen her in three years, and she’s coming to my workplace for a quick catch up chat. 

I get nervous when it comes to going to things I’ve known about for weeks, pre-prepared plans with my own family. Now, I’m meeting the girl I used to be friends with until we fell apart spontaneously, and I don’t feel a thing. I don’t feel nervous, or anxious, or nauseous like I usually do. I just feel like me, maybe a little bit excited. It’s not a feeling I’m used to. I walk around my small store for hours until she comes in. And when she does, I’m talking to my coworker who just started. And it’s not awkward. 

She tells me she’s moving into the city with her partner. She tells me her salary and her plans to move up in the company. She tells me how much money her company has spent on their Christmas party, and all I can do is swallow and stare at her. 

Her hair is different, shorter. Her face is different, like she’s grown into it, but it’s the same girl underneath. The same girl I had known for five years before we became inseparable in senior year. Her voice sounds the same, but she’s aged. She’s grown into this beautiful twenty-one year old and I look the same as I have since I was sixteen. It’s not that I feel jealous, I’m proud of her. It’s strange to see. 

When we were in high school, we used to joke that she would stay in this shitty town forever, without a partner, and still in the same shithole department store she worked in. She’s outgrown this town, and I can’t find it in me to hate her for it or be jealous that it’s not me. In high school, she played guitar and she sang and she would paint pictures in art class about what she was feeling like when she listened to music. Now, she’s flourished and she’s about to move out with her partner and start a life in the city, far away from the small town we grew up in. 

We haven’t had a chance to plan a proper-catch up just yet. Originally, when I thought she was still staying here in our town, I had recommended  a cafe we had visited many times before. Now, we’re talking about a shopping mall that’s local to her new place, with expensive bougie food that requires at least three pictures before fork can even be placed near the plate. 

And I find that I dont care. As long as I can spend time with her. We have a lot to catch up on. And I am nothing but excited. 

Saga.

[fucking-feelings-man]

Mental Health and Physical Illness

It’s the beginning of Suicide Prevention Awareness Month. It has hit me particularly hard this year. I am very open about my physical health and tend to be a lot more closed off about my mental health. I am slowly trying to change that as I work on accepting that my mental illness are also a part of my health journey. I think we still have a long way to go on education around mental illnesses. Hopefully, in the future, it will be easier for people to open up about their struggles with their mental health. 

There is a reason why I don’t share my mental health struggles. It is so easy for it to be weaponized against you. My mental illnesses have been used against me in my long journey to find my physical health diagnoses. And it prevented me from getting certain treatment options due to the stigma and poor educational training on mental illnesses in medicine. TW/CW, below, for talk of suicidal ideation, suicide, intrusive thoughts, anxiety attacks, etc. I am taking this as an opportunity to speak a bit more openly about my mental illnesses. Please, look after your own mental health right now. If this post is too much for you to engage with, that is ok.

I have dealt with suicidal ideation since I was 14. I initially received a diagnosis of OCD and 3 anxiety disorders. At the beginning, my suicidal ideation started due to untreated OCD and not knowing why I was having horrific intrusive thoughts. My compulsions were taking up most of my waking hours and I was emotionally, physically, and mentally exhausted. I wasn’t able to enter a classroom for 2 years. I was the weird mentally ill kid with a desk in the hallway. I would have panic attacks if I even set foot in a classroom. I thought that if someone looked at me during class, my loved ones would die. Or if someone heard my tummy rumble, it would be the end of the world. This lead to extreme anxiety responses and thinking ending my life was the only way to escape this torment. 

I started therapy after a particularly bad incident in high school that left me unable to even enter the school property for weeks. This was my first bout of active suicidal ideation. I was extremely lucky and found a psychologist that I clicked with and worked my but off for 2 years on ERP & CBT. By my graduating year I was back in the classroom (but always had to be seated by the door or on the end of a row). I was known by almost all of the teachers because I was allowed to exit during classes to go hang out in the hallway to do my work. But, I like to think by the end of it I had a better understanding of myself and my tolerance for in-class work got a heck of a lot better. 

That carried into university and I remember having to tell most of my professors that I needed a reserved seat on the end of a row, and/or a seat right near the exit. I remember having horrific panic attacks if I walked into class and my usual seat was taken. Those were usually the only times I missed lectures. I still can’t quite shake that and it’s ok because it’s a heck of a lot better than it used to be. However, the exam/test anxiety never really vanished so I would dress obnoxiously nice. If I looked put-together on the outside, it kind of tricked my brain into being semi put-together on the inside. That, or I was able to take exams in another location, which was 10x’s easier. 

I was doing pretty ok. My suicidal ideation was only reserved for those fleeting intrusive thoughts. I had gotten used to living with OCD at this point. My general anxiety levels were decent and I was coping pretty well. I was thriving in school and working so many odd jobs, looking back I can’t believe how I was doing it all. I was functioning at a level I never had before. I felt optimistic for the first time in my life.

Then the physical illnesses took over and my world started to shrink. The levels of chronic pain I was dealing with were unacceptable. The nausea/vomiting was debilitating. The fear of passing out every time I stood up consumed every waking moment. And it was all brushed off as anxiety. I was just stressed out. If I did some meditation it would be ok. 

Now, for someone that had been dealing with mental illnesses for 6 years at this point, I was so confused. I knew my anxiety triggers. I came to learn to live with my intrusive thoughts. The hours I spent on compulsions dwindled. And then to be told by health professionals these physical symptoms were just anxiety? I was left lost. How could my mind be doing these things to my body? I thought I knew what my brain was capable of. 

So, I tried to keep pushing. I dragged myself out of bed to make it to classes at the end of my undergrad and beginning of grad school. I tried to “mind over matter” the fuck out of everything. But I kept getting sicker and sicker. I started reaching out to my psychologist again because I felt so confused and defeated. I was then diagnosed with depression but my psychologist made sure to reiterate that this depression was secondary to a physical health condition. I was depressed because I was in pain and not receiving help. My anxiety was increasing because I was in pain and nobody was listening to me. 

Doctors continued to brush my symptoms off as anxiety because my mental health history was long. This left me angry and sad and I felt like giving up. This is when the suicidal ideation kicked back in. And it was severe this time. I went into my first case of active suicidal ideation in 6 years and I had to work really hard on returning to my safety plan and finding distractions. But, my body was so sick that most distractions took too much out of me. I was left in a sick and dying body and my brain latched onto that and figured it would be easier to end the suffering all together. 

I quite honestly don’t know how I made it through 2019/2020. I think it was guilt and spite that kept me going in my darkest moments. And the fact I had an amazing psychologist and a kick ass mum. And I still had forced connections through school to remind me that I wasn’t alone and that people cared about me. But, I kept returning to the thought of “is my brain so sick that it’s causing me to slowly starve to death and allowing my nervous system to shut down?”. Something just didn’t feel right about that and so with my psychologists help we pushed back. 

I had countless letters written detailing that if medical doctors continued to use my mental health history against me and didn’t follow through on more testing, my death would be on their hands. It quite literally was stated that way. I was at severe risk for suicide and my psychologist didn’t hold back. It was at this point that MAiD was introduced as a possibility for me. I didn’t know what to do with that information so for a brief time period I started looking into MAiD as a serious option. If I couldn’t find a diagnosis, I was set on making the decision to pursue MAiD. 

I held on for another year and that’s when I found the miracle doctor team who figured out why I was sick and gave me my diagnoses. The relief I felt was impossible to describe. I then spent the last year fighting as hard as I could to get the rest of my diagnoses and start the process of finding treatments and symptom management. I had come out on the other side and now have tools in place to treat some of my symptoms. 

However, in the past month, the realization that most of my conditions don’t have cures and don’t have treatments has hit me very hard. I am exhausted. I don’t want to fight anymore. Those dark moments came rushing back and I have spent the last few weeks returning to my safety plan. I have had to have almost round-the-clock supervision. I want to share this as having an incurable disease that rips every shred of your identity away from you is fucking terrifying. The only thing that has kept me going has been fleeting interactions with people. I haven’t been able to properly leave bed in 2 weeks. I have made it outside 3 times to see people and one of those times was to get sedatives to try and control the panic attacks that have riddled most of my days. 

Why am I sharing this? I guess the weight of suicide prevention awareness month really hit me as I realized it was September. I realized 2 more months have slipped away from me as I am in a haze of recovery from my hospital stay. I had to make some really hard decisions recently for my health that have hit me hard mentally. And when I get into these crash cycles where more things are ripped away, that’s when my suicidal ideation becomes active again. And it’s so exhausting to have to fight physically and mentally to survive. 

I also share because I am always told I seem so happy all of the time and have that bubbly energy. So, I am not the face of what you would assume to be someone at high risk of suicide. I always say that I try to make the most out of every situation I have because most of the time I feel like it could be one of the last. And now that I am physically sick, those fleeting moments mean even more to me. I want people to feel a little safer in sharing their stories and reaching out for help. 

I still am not able to directly reach out to people for help. I make vague posts because the thought of putting all of this onto someone else makes me feel even worse. I am lucky to have a support system and people who understand complex mental and physical illnesses. But, we have such a long way to go in ensuring people with mental illnesses are treated fairly in our health system and in our communities. Suicide sometimes feels like the only logical option to deal with the level of suffering we experience. And that is fucking grim because we shouldn’t feel like burdens or like we are drowning. We should have adequate access to resources and practical help. All the therapy in the world isn’t going to do much for me until we find treatments for some of my conditions. 

I have reached the end of the mental health resource line. I am still brainstorming with my psychologist but it’s terrifying that I have already exhausted every avenue that psychology can offer me. And I have had horrific side effects from medication due to my comorbid physical health conditions. I am running out of options to keep myself alive. The only things I have left to hold onto are guilt and spite and that is a terrifying place to be. 

I just hope that in my lifetime we are able to make things better for the next generation of people with post-infectious illnesses and mental illnesses. It’s not ok that people like me are left to die or are pushed towards MAiD. I always say that my life would be a lot easier if our healthcare system was in better shape and if our social systems were revamped so I never had to worry about how I’m going to afford my next round of experimental medications or have to fight with insurance to get mobility devices that will improve my quality of life. It shouldn’t be easier for me to access and be approved for MAiD than access resources and treatments to keep me alive. 

All of this to stay, check in on that friend that always seems really happy and put together. Check in on that person who has mental illnesses but you haven’t heard from in a while. Check in on your sick and disabled friends because I promise you we are not ok. It’s hard to exist in a world that constantly tells you it would be so much easier if you were just dead. And I am fighting so hard to just hold on an extra day. I keep reminding myself that no matter how horrible the day has been, it always ends the same. I get to go to bed. I get to let sleep take over, even if it’s only for a few minutes at a time. I get to experience a tiny reprieve from the hell it is to exist in this world as a mentally ill and physically ill person. And I am so grateful to be able to crawl back into my bed when things get tough. Because chances are, this won’t last forever. 

So, what can you do to prevent suicide? Support workers rights in your local community. Support local mental health networks and collectives that are doing the work to make mental health supports accessible. Support the push to keep our healthcare system public. Support local shelters. Support organizations that are fighting for universal basic income and a living wage. Support mutual aid projects. Support local disability coalitions. And speak up about the failings of our government and hold politicians accountable. Reach out to someone you haven’t heard from in a while. Talk about suicide. Learn a bit more about suicide and mental illnesses. And always check-in on that person that seems to be holding it together. We shouldn’t have to be resilient. We shouldn’t have to be strong.

[pi-zza]

My name is Karl, 04 liner. My hobbies are watching kdrama/anime I also read manga or manwha, I also like to play online games like fps or moba. I also like to listen to music, I'm a swiftie (folklore stan <33) because I can relate LOL. I'm also a big fan of kpop especially girlgroups like Twice, Blackpink, IVE, Newjeans, Lesserafim, Redvelvet etc.

I can't share anything about my hometown because I didn't grow up there, I only studied there until Grade 3. I'm from Quezon City where I went to high school and senior high school but, When I was a child in elementary school I lived in Oras Eastern Samar, so it's not that difficult for me to understand the Waray language but I'm not very good at speaking Waray yet.I don't remember much about my elementary life so what I will share is my HS and SHS life from Quezon City.

I also don't have much to share how I grew up in QC because all I always do is play online games on the computer LOL, so all I can share are the core memories that really stuck with me. My high school life was happy, I met a lot of friends, I liked someone when I was in Grade 10, I even tried to have a romantic relationship with her but unfortunately it didn't work. So I realized that I should focus on myself first, and that's when I became addicted to watching anime and kdrama. I always binge watch new anime and kdramas after my school and home chores. Then when I was in Senior high school, that was the time of the pandemic and it was a bit difficult to adjust because of the online class, but I was able to manage it and graduated with honors. That time is also the happiest era even though it's a pandemic, LOL because that's when play to earn games (crypto related games) are in vogue, my friend is the manager and he hired me as a scholar, I'll play the game and then we'll split the earnings so that time was happiest time because I was helping my family's needs and I was able to buy what I wanted. We also always eat out with my friends, wander around and then have coffee at aesthetic coffee shops around QC. We also went to the beach in Cavite to celebrate the birthday of our manager friend, it was really fun that time even though it only lasted half a year because the value of cryptocurrency had also decreased at that time. And another thing that struck me is that I was also scammed in crypto because I was a beginner when I invested in a game (Pegaxy) it is also a crypto game that you can earn but you need to invest in order to play, I was scammed by 12k worth and that's when I realized that I'm still really a beginner. I didn't get it back since it's hard to get it back, I just accepted it and learned from my mistake.

Last year I graduated, I tried to register in different state universities around Manila that have Engineering courses like EARIST and TUP, but unfortunately I didn't make it because the slot was full, because of that, I was late to take care of the my requirements I enrolled in an IT course at a semi-private school, but I didn't continue because of the hardships of life and I didn't really like the course I took. So this year I tried to take the exam again at QCU and I passed, Electronics Engineering and IT were my choices, but I didn't take it again since my choices were actually Civil or Electrical. So my grandmother offered me to study here at ESSU, at first I refused because it would be difficult for me to adjust because I'm more used to living in Manila, but later I accepted so I could take the course I wanted.

I hope you enjoy reading my blog post, I am also happy if you give your comments below. Thank you

[wri0thesley]

Hang in there, Nat. We’ve got your back. 💖

i've written and not posted about ten whining posts today since getting that anon. i'm struggling a lot. but it means a lot also, anon, to know that there are nice people reading my silly thoughts and maybe feeling a little bit happy reading something i've posted. <3

[erwinscrybaby]

𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠.

@seychellse, HI!! I'M YOUR CUPID! And i hope you like what i wrote, even though it's just the first part! too much plot, too much reader development STILL i hope you appreciate it!!! smut comes on the next part and it's gonna be YUMMY cause aizawa is YUMMY! happy valentine's day again and thanks for your patience with me!!

aizawa shouta x reader. too much plot, slight angst, parents divorcing, but also fluff, reader is kinda naïve and silly, aizawa probably ooc, forbidden relationship (student x professor).

6.826 words.

Mom and dad are getting divorced. After almost two years of homemade hell, not even you were able to be the glue keeping them together, at least, until you find your way out of this room as an independent woman.

The big serious conversation happened yesterday. Right after a fucking tiring class at the college, you got home only to find out that your efforts were in vain. Useless, thrown aside with no hesitation.

Years of wearing the mask of happiness and flawless child just to discover it changes nothing in the way your parents are not meant to be with each other.

You’ve never been as happy as people say around. Despite the light, carefree smile always on your shining lips, good grades, social interactions and nice days and night having fun with your friends, you’re not as content as the gossips say. You do look like having a perfect life; never complaining and never letting your real feeling to come up beneath the thick layer of good manners and behavior, even inside your own home.

It wasn’t like you had any other option, anyway.

You used to wonder what could possibly happen if you stopped being the perfect, wonderful, amazing daughter your parents talked about every chance they got. Not long ago, on your eighteenth birthday, their marriage started to fall apart and, not wanting to accept what your eyes were showing, you tried hard to be the best girl in order to keep them together.

You graduated from the high school with a rain of compliments coming of your teachers, pleased to have had you as their student. Entered the best university of the State to study what your father always said would be a good idea. Built a network, met important people and brought pride to your mother, so interested in what the contacts can bring to one. Got a part time job as the assistant of a great specialist in the area you wanted to research about. You even dated a guy your parents liked for a few months, wanting to make them happy.

But none of this was enough. Years after making yourself the question “what if they divorce one day?”, you’re feeling it on your skin, every cell of your body aching, fingers trembling, eyes squeezing—how can one handle such pain?

They weren’t joking about mother leaving the house in the same night. You’ve seen the bags with her clothes, a truck outside to help her carry all of her stuff to her new house, on the other side of the city. She had kissed your face with a guilty expression, but reassured she’d always be right there if you ever needed help, of even if you wanted to move in with her.

Though she was talking like a stranger; she possibly doesn’t want you to go with her to live with her new prettier, richer man. Her words were pity, manners only. It broke your heart; you’ve spent the night awake and trying to convince yourself it wasn’t happening.

However, when your clock alarm announced that it was time to go study, you went to the bathroom and stared your own face on the mirror, your red eyes said everything. She’s gone; she’s leaving you and her husband because of a man she have known for less than six months. Your orbs also ask God, the universe, even yourself what did you do to deserve this. Or, even better, what haven’t you done? Were you supposed to be even more perfect? If you haven’t failed that exam—receiving a B instead of an A—, would the universe agree with keeping your parent together for a few more years? You’d never know the answer.

So, instead of dwell into it, you decided to keep your act. Perhaps your life is going to be fixed if you don’t lose your mind; if you keep playing your familiar role. Makeup could do little for your reddish eyes, but your skin won’t show the cruel pattern your never-ending tears made on your face if you cover it well enough. Although you know how fast the gossips run, and your phone already is full of messages of friends asking what happened, going to your classes won’t make you sadder. It doesn’t work anymore; since the day you decided you’d be the happy student, content daughter and unwavering friend, little has you upset.

Having your heart broken doesn’t hurt as it used to do when you were sixteen; hearing comments about your appearance also doesn’t have you sad. What is this bullshit in comparison to the hell you used to see at least once a week—parents trying hard not to scream and report they’ve been fighting for hours, but then saying, whispers of regret, that they shouldn’t have had trusted themselves to raise a child.

Oh, the weight of hearing your mother saying it would be better if they never had you.

After this, what else can make you cry like a newborn, wanting to be dead instead of hearing those things?

The curious, unsubtle gazes people throw at you also don’t bother you at first. You meet your classmates, talk to them about silly, light subjects; pretend you’re not broken inside, and it goes very well the whole day. Like the role of flawless student always does, you’ve almost forgotten about what waits for you at home. But then the classes are done.

You sure can hear the whispers as you walk to the exit of the place, this time alone, but none of them hurt you as much as when you notice a guy staring at you. He’s blonde, his eyes are creepy, the devilish smirk on his lips is enough to have you disgusted and annoyed. His mouth is moving, he doesn’t bother to hide he’s talking about you to his much less interested friend.

“Said her mother’s a whore,” he laughs, shamelessly pointing at you. “Woman’s moving in to my house, bet it won’t take long ‘til I can fuck her, like my father did.”

You try to ignore, but suddenly you’ve lost the skill of walking. Your legs shake a little as you pass in front of him, now his words hitting your ears with a cruel remind of your family’s situation. It hurts. You wanted to talk back, tell whoever listened to his words that he’s just a fucking liar, a stupid weirdo, yet your tongue froze and you couldn’t do much more than feel them again. Warm tears, a sob leaving your lips as you looked at him with the most pitiful of the gazes.

The last time you’ve cried in public happened when you were fifteen, after a guy affirming he’d rather die instead of even holding hands with you. However the feeling is still familiar, the humiliation lump in your throat feeling bitter, like you’re about to puke the little you ate during the day. Your body burns in shame, so conscious about the way people stop on the hall just to see your crying face—not only the students, with their pity expressions, but also the professors, complacent but not surprised faces seemingly used to the young adults drama.

You finally manage to move your feet, walking towards the door, but the blonde guy opens his fucking mouth again. His voice is gross and, even without looking back, you know his smirk is also sick.

“Are you like this, too?” He inquires, but he answers himself with a creepy chuckle. “Of course you are; it must be genetic, mother’s a slut, daughter also is.”

Insults are nothing. It doesn’t matter if he’s calling you a slut. He’s an unknown, a guy you’ve never noticed before and probably will never see after finishing your studies. Although it still uncomfortable to hear a motherfucker like him talking about your mother. Not even your father, who was cheated on, didn’t call her names, why the little crap of this boy has to do it?

You know he wants you to answer. The usual behavior of a man trying to make himself a little fame. You’re tired, you’re sad, you’re feeling humiliated by the way your body betrayed you after so many years pretending to be the unshakeable girl—you don’t even have words in your mind other than fuck you, what you probably make him laugh. Still you turn around to face him and his red-haired friend.

“Quit it,” you hear your own voice, shaky and breathy, but also harsh. You feel anger, you feel sadness, you feel the urge to get closer to the guy and punch him, you feel the urge to cry an ocean and tell him to fuck off. Instead, you start walking again, this time decided to reach the exit. “If you’re so annoyed about my mother go cry for your father.”

“I won’t, unlike you, fucking crybaby. Just get over the fact your family is screwed now because of her,” he replies quickly, never stopping to smile, but it’s the last thing you pay attention to.

“Enough, Katsuki,” says a professor, approaching the both of you.

You recognize it is Yagi, but only because your friends can’t shut up about him. He’s not a professor on your department, so you barely know more than his name and the assumptions of him being rich and spoiling sugar babies around. You can also remember about your father saying they used to be close, back on master’s degree days, but that’s all. He’s never shown up on the reunions dad used to do to meet his friends, so you could only assume they don’t talk anymore.

You shake your head, bowing as you murmur apologies—not for the boy, but for the rest of the curious surrounding the high school-like scene. Your irises are shining, wet, tears threatening to fall again. Instead of waiting a minute more, you finally leave.

The heavy stares follow you until you’re inside your car, head on the driving wheel as you try not to let out a desperate scream and confirm you’re mentally unbalanced because of your parents’ divorce.

—

You don’t drive home. The Havana themed café inside the shopping mall is a place you’ve thinking about visiting for so long and, after a stressful moment, you think you can do this. Sit down, ask for your favorite beverage while the knot in your throat threats to untie in the warm, painful, familiar tears. At least in this part of the city the chances of any stupid guy seeing you are low, and you don’t have to struggle fighting against your feelings. On your own, yet in public, you can be a little more like yourself.

It’s small, really small, behind the glass door that rings a bell when you pull it. Only one of the six little yellow tables, each with two blue chairs, is taken. Because of the AC, the space smells like coffee, puff pastry and a man’s perfume, which you assume is fault of the one sitting down, sipping his cup and reading something on his tablet. You can only see the back of his head still, somehow stopping to think about the awful state of your life, you wonder if he’s pretty. He might be.

You shake your head. As you pull a chair and sit down, the waitress approach and gives you the also yellow menu and you analyze it briefly before asking for something different, this time. Life’s changing, isn’t it? It’s not the same as last week. Something catches your attention and you ask for one—strawberry frappe. Vanilla, milk, ice and strawberry jelly. You hope it tastes sweet.

Other than the workers of the place starting a conversation with each other once in a while, during the time you wait, the café is silent. You observe the details with an attention that makes no sense, so focused on trying to discover what the scenes on the wallpaper might be. Are scenarios of the Havana city, you know, but you let your brain go further. The more you think about bullshit, the less you think about your cell phone ringing on your bag, probably your father wanting to know if you’re coming to the afternoon tea.

It’s almost five, anyway.

The images are pretty. Behind the man writing on the tablet, the wallpaper shows colorful houses, an old car in front of them. Quite inconvenient, however your mind doesn’t fail to remind of the time your parents talked about their dreams of visiting a cliché scenario like Havana seem to be—you imagine a couple in front of the street, sharing a Cuba Libre as they flirt, the sensual air of the city involving both. Your eyes burn, a sob stuck in your throat, just when the man turns around to check something—maybe the clock on the wall behind you?

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you recognize a professor of your University. Aizawa. He’s pretty, you think, hiding a humorless smile. Also just saw you about to drown in tears whilst your frappe is being done, all because of a stupid thought that you shouldn’t have.

It’s ridiculous enough that you’ve been living your life for your parents, to keep them together, but this? You’re about to cry thinking about a love scene where you wouldn’t be the protagonist?

Epiphany hits you hard when you receive your pink-colored strawberry frappe and taste it. Sweet. Luckily. When had you stopped to be the protagonist of your own life? Your eyes widen, fill up with tears that you can’t control. In a matter of seconds, professor Aizawa sees you falling apart with a frown; the waitress comes closer to ask if you’re feeling good, if is there something wrong with the beverage.

Pathetic mumbles of sorry leaves your mouth. Along with them, the urge to stand up and go face your mother, ask her why? If it wasn’t for her and her stupid decisions, you wouldn’t be crying in public, suddenly finding out your life hasn’t been yours. You were, until the day they said they were getting a divorce, living your parents’ life.

“Sorry,” you manage to say, finally. Your eyes travel from the girl close to you to the man in front of you, who hasn’t stopped staring you. “I’m good, don’t worry about it.”

Exhaling, he stands up, nodding, and holds his stuff. Is he getting out sooner because of you? Guilt and shame hits you, fingers shaking awkwardly yet they’re still holding the mug tight. Too much humiliation for five minutes, you think.

Then he pulls the chair in front of you and places his coffee by your frappe’s side.

For you, his eyes are bored, like he’s doing something because he has to and it’s a pain in the ass. The tablet is the next to be on the table. Mr. Aizawa seems to keep there for a while, and you don’t understand why. You clean your eyes with your thumbs, careful not to smudge the eyeliner, and open up your prettiest smile, the happiest.

As if he hasn’t seen you sobbing a minute ago.

You’re a good pretender, aren’t you? Instead of giving up, you try to put yourself back together again, so no one has to worry about the pitiful state you are right now. You’re fucked up, you can’t say it softly—since your own experiences were standing by for more than half of your life, when it falls on your lap again it’s scary and probably keeping with the same attitudes as ever isn’t the best to deal with the unknown, still you can’t help. It’s like a part of you, already. Put on a fake smile and pretend you’re good.

You’ve been doing this for so long. Why would you hesitate?

Of course, your smile doesn’t last. Your lies don’t stand a chance against Aizawa’s attentive eyes. You’re too obvious. Too weak. When the professor keeps staring at you, lips in a rigid line like ever, arms crossed, you feel a little intimidated. No, not just a little. You instantly let your mask fall; your always so straight column curls forwards as you face the table, eyes down. Like you’re a joke, Havana’s cute streets laugh at you.

You take a long sip of your pink frappe, eyes locked on the beautiful city, waiting for him to say something. You wouldn’t say anything, if he doesn’t first. Childish, but you are not sure of the reasons he decided to sit close to you. Perhaps it’s pity, a small gesture for you not to feel that alone.

However, little could do to make you feel less like you’re this—alone. Absolutely alone.

“You’ve been crying too much for a tough girl,” Aizawa states, his sudden voice making you jump in your chair, as you look him in the eyes. Lazy eyes, still nice ones, though. “What’s going on?”

You’re surprised, to say the least. You don’t usually let your drama bother you at school. How does he know about this? Yes, you might have cried a little in the corners of the campus, but you’d make sure no one’s close. And, why does he pay attention to you? Many students cry around the corners, too overwhelmed by the awful feeling of being alive, you’re not special. Why had you caught his attention? Did he see you instead of the daughter of those rich ass parents? You try to start talking, but words don’t come, your voice doesn’t sound and the man takes it as a sign, sighing.

“Listen,” he tries once more. “It must be weird. But if you want to talk, we can pretend we’re just strangers.”

It’s an implied suggestion and you take it, nodding slowly after a quick “okay”. Yet it doesn’t work as easy, you need to talk. Having little to none friends has a great impact in the way you feel, and right now you need to vent, tell your worries. If he stays in front of you for time enough, you can even tell him about your stupid late epiphany. Maybe he has a good answer for what has your heart beating faster when you think you have been wasting your life for so long.

“You might have heard around the campus,” you start, but a detail has you shaking your head to begin all over again. “Why did you say I am crying too much?”

“I always drink coffee here,” he speaks as he points to the place you are. “Saw you passing by a couple times these days. Now I look like a stalker, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, not sure of what else to say. “It’s true, I’ve been crying a lot. You might have heard around the campus, people have no manners to—”

Aizawa cuts you before you can proceed, “I’m the stranger, remember?”

“Oh,” you murmur, face heating up. “Oh. So, my parents are getting divorced. My mom has already left home and… I’m kind of lost. Don’t want to hear advices of how to handle this,” you continue, after a sip on your frappe. “I just want to feel I’m not broken into pieces.”

That’s how you’re feeling since the day your mother said she was leaving. Leaving her daughter to live a luxury life with that rich man. Leaving her home, built with so much efforts of her and your father, her husband, for a teenager dream. She went and took away with her a part of you; the part you were gladly showing, the part of being the child every mom want to have. Left you with nothing but the little girl hidden deep inside, the one who hasn’t been in the real world since the day you found out what are the consequences of being the flawless kid.

And that little girl is also in pieces. Like a puzzle, you have to discover how to put yourself together, how to be the woman the years has taught you to be.

All the nights awake, insomnia making you think of many terrible things happening; the mornings spent in front of the mirror, putting on the makeup to pretend, once more, everything’s fine, you’re not drowning in your own suppressed feelings. It has to be useful, right? You did not suffer, you are not suffering it all for nothing. Where’s the maturity experiences were supposed to bring to you?

“I feel like I’m lost, too,” you conclude, your voice tone so hopeless that makes you cringe a tiny bit.

“And what are you doing to end up with this feeling?” The man asks, hands going to his hair, putting the locks in a messy bun. You feel your face hot again and look away. “Did you try to help this pain out in any way?”

You pout slightly, unconscious, nails hitting the wood of the table. You’ve been doing nothing more than pretending your life still the same. You’re living like the past months, changing the fact you don’t drink tea in family at five anymore. And that’s all. It must be the phase of negation. You let out a breathy chuckle, yet not happy at all. Everyone can see it.

“I don’t drink tea anymore,” you say, joking.

He doesn’t smile. Instead, harsh eyes meet yours once you’re looking up again.

“I bet you know this isn’t the answer I was expecting,” Aizawa sighs. “You understand what you’ve got to do, don’t you?”

“No,” you spill without missing a beat. “I don’t know the fuck I’m supposed to do now, that’s why I said I’m lost.”

You could have been softer on him, but it slipped out of your lips without a second warning. It’s the truth, after all, and the rare times people get to hear it from you it’s because you’ve given in to the primitive urge of saying whatever is inside your mind. You haven’t done this for so long, too much worried about what’s the correct to say, what’s the most nice to say, ignoring all of your feelings in the process.

“Sorry,” you apologize, feeling embarrassed. That’s why you don’t like those feelings; they cause you to be tough on others, just like yesterday, when you yelled at your father for a silly reason, hurt by the way he suggested that you should use mom’s jewels as yours. “Didn’t mean to be rude. But I still have to say that I don’t know what I should do.”

“Neither do I,” Aizawa finally shows you a hint of a smile that reaches his eyes. “However… Go home now, google something about self-knowledge. Find out who you are when you’re not being your parents’ daughter. It might help.”

Crappy advice. Everybody could have told you that. Somehow, you still take it like an order. And it hadn’t bothered you. You nod, drinking the last of your sweet frappe, and stand up. A trial of a smile creeps on your face. It might not be the prettiest, but at least is an honest one. The first one in days. You hope the professor can see it, too. You’re smiling because of the “stranger’s” words.

Self-knowledge. Sounds awful. You don’t even know how to start.

“Thank you, Sir,” you tell him, offering another smile, receiving one, way smaller than yours, back. Suddenly feeling brave, you reach out for him. “I hope we can see each other another day, stranger.”

A subtle flirt. You’ve never been that good with it, so it was a clumsy trial. Yet he accepts your hand, standing up to shake it. As he does, his eyes never leaves your orbs, and you feel proud of yourself of how you manage to stand until he blinks, glancing at your body.

Of course you’re going to meet again. Next semester, probably, inside a classroom, in a position of student-teacher that can’t be broken. Still he nods.

“Perhaps. Good luck, girl.”

You give him a last gaze. Havana behind him, Aizawa’s dark hair in a casual bun you’ve never seen; he looks like a man you could dream about drinking Cuba Libres with. When you leave the thematic café, your smile is wider, and your sadness has grown smaller.

This time, after buying your father a new record he’d like, you drive home, satisfied with your brief interaction with a man that hasn’t been introduced by your mother or a jerk trying to get into your panties. Better—you talked to him and felt like yourself, not the perfect-kid-role you’ve been for years. Your heart feels so light, so happy. You can’t wait to go home, tell your father it’s getting better! It’s getting better, father, you’d say. I can be myself for a couple minutes, if I need to!

You feel silly, so many good things coming from a weird meet with a man years older that has nothing to do with your life. You feel like you’re sixteen again, talking to a guy with flirty tones for the first time, on your own. But what can you do about it? Despite the lazy expression on his face, you felt like he was looking at you.

You, you, really you. He looked at your body and the creepy shining of perverts hasn’t shown up on his orbs; he seemed to be interested in what you were saying, not in what your flesh can do or anything else.

The felt was too good to be real. What a pity it wouldn’t happen ever again, because it’s against the rules and you have no reason to flirt even more with Aizawa Shouta, although it’s all you can think about when your enter your go downstairs hours later and see your father’s friends fraternizing.

And, amongst the men you’re used to see, your eyes fall onhis black hair, black shirt, low voice again.

Him.

Aizawa is quite sure the reason he decided to join a few friends and ex-colleagues is because one of them—your father—is going through a terrible time. It’s absolutely this. He might not be the most affective person, but he’d never decline a request made with so much pain in the voice. The way that ex-professor said “I need to have a pastime” as the excuse for a late planned dinner at his place was too painful for one not to notice it wasn’t the only intention. By inviting his old coworkers, Shouta bet he wanted to hide something deep inside his chest, too.

Yet the both men hadn’t talked for a few months, losing touch after a few months, Aizawa used to think about how he is doing from time to time. A year ago, your father decided to leave his job at the University and make himself comfortable by doing what he always said was his dream: writing a book, he could both enjoy the pleasure of writing and the companion of his lovely family. At least, he said this to the professors he used to work with, in his last day.

Now, after talking to you on the café, Aizawa couldn’t understand what was the real motivation to make your father, enthusiast literature teacher, leave his happy job. He knows divorces doesn’t happen out of nowhere—even if the end begins in one’s head, the other totally unaware, it is never quick. Starts with some flirt here and there, if one of them is leaned to cheating; or it can start with the unpleasure of being even by the partner’s side. Minimum details start to annoy; love doesn’t seem to be enough.

It's slow burn, but one day the relationship ends and leave girls like you lost like puppies, unsure of what else to do.

If Aizawa knew about this situation before seeing you falling apart in a corner, trying to put yourself together before a class, he would have found a way of talking to you, or make the psychologist talk to you, to find out what is happening. It isn’t like he has any special interest in messing with students’ business, yet he couldn’t stop noticing the way you’ve been growing sadder beneath the mask of happiness.

He also knows it happens to every single person in the world. Sometimes things just don’t get together, just don’t work. And it’s okay, he thinks, nothing stays like this forever. However, he started to hear from his colleagues that you, the bright, always so joyful, student of theirs, was looking down, unfocused, not even joining your friends after class to the casual dates they usually have. They didn’t know whether it was unconscious or not, but you were isolating yourself and, for such a popular person, it was strange, to say the least.

Took all of his self-control not to call your father like you were a kindergarten child and say you were acting strange, not like yourself. He’d ask “Is something happening at home?” and would also suggest “Have you ever offered her therapy?”

Of course, he couldn’t do this. Otherwise, he’d have to do it for the other hundred students that he noticed becoming even sadder during the semester. Wouldn’t be fair with the other people.

Anyway, Aizawa did the stupid thing of sitting in front of you in public, acting like he was an advisor for a young girl instead of your professor, explicitly forbidden of having any kind of extra-scholar relationship with any student. Yet he put his tablet, coffee and hands on your table and listened to your vent, pretending to be a stranger as if it would absolve him from the guilt.

Unfortunately for him, he’d do everything again—would even talk more, try to be of any real help. The man would honestly like to help you.

During the days your father were a professor with Shouta, he wouldn’t shut up to talk about his prodigious, perfect daughter. Proud filled up his eyes as he spoke about how you were going to study in this University too; praising you with no shame, so glad to have a chance to talk about his little girl, that was becoming a woman so gorgeous as her mother. In work fraternizations, he’d talk with his colleagues, especially the ones who had children, about how was it wonderful to have such a great kid as his successor.

At first, Aizawa didn’t want even to hear about you. Your father showing you off everywhere, endlessly commenting about your qualities and how he loved you and your mother. It was kind of annoying, mainly because he didn’t want to hear proud fathers early in the morning, and he thought to himself that all his talking must be bullshit.

Who talks too much, does too little. And the parents’ perspective over their own kid isn’t fair, most of the times.

So, when Shouta heard the gossips between Yagi and Hizashi—the girl’s finally coming—he thought with himself that it was the time (or the year) of the truth. You’d show who you truly are to the professors and they’d come to the conclusion that your father was being exaggerate.

Except he wasn’t.

Dedicated, smart, kind girl. Easy to captivated your classmates; interested in finding what you could do in the university to help the others, to enjoy the maximum you could about the college experience. Though, one thing Aizawa found out was better than what your father said.

Gorgeous wouldn’t be enough to describe the deity you are.

Oh, he felt so guilty when he discovered this. You’re so much prettier than the other girls around that he almost got down to his knees to be grateful he wouldn’t be your teacher this semester. You are too pretty for his own good and he hated having amazing students on his classes—they’d never keep still, the entire class wanting to spend some time around you, wanting to have a word with you despite no subject or no need at all to do this.

Aizawa would feel jealous of how it is good to be a classmate instead of a professor. If he wasn’t fifteen, sixteen years older than you, he’d himself find a way of ignoring his embarrassment to invite you to a café. In a perfect scenario, you’d meet in the Havana one, in a much less suspicious situation.

That being said, the reason of why he joined the reunion besides not being a big fan of meetings, became both the worry about his old colleague, for who he cares, and the idea of entering your house and seeing you.

Luckily, when he entered, the living room was free, as the kitchen. Except for the host, no one else of the family were there by the time all of his guests arrived. So the night started, snacks, talks about children as usual, conversations about jobs, commentaries about woman. Until your father decided to fill some glasses with honey whisky—at the same time, like a mocking move, the music player started to play any Lana del Rey melancholic song that he justified being from your playlist—and said what everybody already knew.

“I’m a divorced man, now,” he said, a joking tone that matched nothing in the way his eyes were sad, tired, dark bags under them. But his expression became even more sadder as he continued, saying now what Aizawa already knew. “And my daughter is devastated. I don’t know what to do, she goes study and comes back hours after the end of the classes, never tells me where she’s going or with who. And, fuck, she cries the whole night. Breaks my heart to see her like this, but…”

His voice died as he heard steps coming from the stairs. In a weird synchrony, the men drank of their glasses and started talking about lighter, happier stuff. Although it was clear the host needed to vent, none of them wanted to keep the conversation knowing his daughter was right behind, in the living room.

Aizawa looks away when you sneak into the kitchen after greeting your father and his friends. Just like when you flirtedwith him in the cafeteria, you smiled at him shortly, a smirk carried with an inside meaning, before opening the fridge to get yourself a snack before coming back to your room, just as fast as you’ve showed up.

Unlike the expected—seeing a student in her casual clothes, since she’s at home—, Shouta watches you with the same t-shirt you were wearing when the both of you met, now matched with thick fabric pants. Better than the expected, to be honest. Yet inside his brain he can think whatever he wants about you (nobody’s there to judge him other than his own conscious), it wouldn’t be quite nice to see you jumping the steps in pajamas, usually with a thin fabric that leave little to the imagination of those who watch.

Your father did raise you like a good girl, hm? No showing off in front of dad’s friends; always dressing composed clothing to go downstairs during his meetings.

It doesn’t stop Aizawa from wondering about what did you think when you first saw him. What did you think when you showed him your smile, the one your father used to show off, shaking your hands at him?

Are you going to think of him in your room too, just like he’s thinking of you—despite his trials to avoid it—whilst your father keeps talking about how it is hard to understand what’s going on inside your mind?

Glasses of whisky and many hours later, the men start to go home. One by one, they ask for their wives to come pick them, find and Uber to drive them home, the one who didn’t drink goes straight alone. Then Aizawa and your father remains, eating the last pizzas slices and listening to Swedish songs as they try hard to find any subject to talk about before leaving.

“See,” the man talks to Shouta, pointing at the big portrait of his family enjoying the last happy vacations on the clear waters of a paradisiacal beach. In it, your swimsuit had a flowered print, and your arms were up, face seeming genuinely happy. “I wish I could live forever to take care of her. Of her smile. She’s not smiling these days, after her mother left, not even talking to me properly. Man, you can bet I’d do anything for her to stop crying at night and saying in the morning she’s okay, she’s feeling better than yesterday.”

He stops, perhaps noticing he was talking too much, and sigh, sipping the last whisky of his glass.

“I know she isn’t,” he continues, and Aizawa nods, silent. “Because I’m getting worse every day. Anyway, if you ever see her down at school, of even if something happens, don’t hesitate to call me.”

“You’re too worried about her,” Aizawa states, softly, placing a hand on your father’s shoulder, who shakes his head. Sounds strange to say it after listening to you, knowing you’re feeling lost, unsure of what to do to ease the pain and scary feeling of being thrown into the world without any knowledge, but he doesn’t stop himself. “She can handle this. Let her be for a while, she’ll be fine.”

Your eyes shined when you gave him that kind of rude answer, apologizing after. Yet you’re still a little girl trying to find your way, you’ll be able to do it in a couple days. His crappy advice should work for something, and maybe, just maybe, if you show up to drink another strawberry frappe at the Havana café he’d say better things to help you.

“I suppose so,” the host finally accepts, opening a smile, after a couple minutes in silence, a comfortable one. “She’s tough. But still, keep an eye on her to me.”

“Don’t worry,” he affirms and stands up, walking towards the door. “I’m going now, Sir. Take care and have a good night.”

Shouta enters the Uber he called after a couple minutes—those spent staring at the window covered by the curtains, a silhouette passing by every now and then—and heads home, thinking about how the innocent request of your father could be the excuse for him to do awful things to you. Things he wants to do, to be honest, but aren’t that important for him to feel the crazy urge of creating plans. He can’t risk losing his job because you’re pretty even when you’re crying; he can’t risk losing his career for something like that flirt that might just have happened because of your current state of loneliness, clinginess, neediness.

Still, the alcohol on his brain making it hard to deny, he thinks of you when he’s taking a shower, dick hardening against his will, wondering why the hell the bittersweet taste of the risqué and forbidden things is always tastier than the sweet of the things did according to morals and rules.

His cock remains untouched during his shower, but only because he thinks you don’t deserve it. Him fucking his hand to the thought of your crying, the memory of your eyes getting slightly happier when you notice he has paid attention to you during your conversation, really trying to help you.

You want to be seen, to be heard, to be liked for ones not because your father said you’re amazing and not because your mother said you’ll be heading overseas in a couple years to study more and become a great professional. You want someone to forget you’re their daughter, their flawless kid, predicted to be the greatest woman of the family. Instead, you want to take off the mask and still have someone praising you, saying you’re a good girl because you are! You’re the best girl when you don’t need to play your constant role, too. You need to hear the praises, but this time for the person you’re really are.

Aizawa knows it. Your irises are clear, can be read like a book, and he noticed all of this is a couple minutes. A hurt girl finding out the life isn’t what parents want to be—after all, the one who stays with you until the day of your death is you, only you—, expecting to discover what else you should do to live the dream hidden deep inside your heart.

He understands you. And, unlike a gentleman, he’s not going to help you with that. You need to understand it by yourself. Then, when you’re ready to say what you need to him—a poor, pathetic dream, because he knows you can choose any other guy, especially younger ones—, Aizawa Shouta will give you whatever you want, and take away from you whatever he needs.

Right now, the sun rising on the still dark sky, he decides he needs you.

continues on part ii.

[queenshelby]

My Friend’s Father (Part 30)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Words: 824

Warning: Pregnancy, Age Gap

Please comment and interact which is what makes this story going …

Nine Months Later…

It was about noon that the doorbell rang and Denise walked inside with little Charlie who was, once again, besides himself.  He was crying and screaming, clearly unhappy about the fact that he had been woken up.

‘I honestly don’t know what I am doing wrong. He constantly cries’ Denise huffed out somewhat frustrated while Cillian took Charlie into his arms and began rocking him.

‘Are you giving your mummy a hard time?’ he chuckled, playing with his little hands while Denise got his bottle ready and handed it to Cillian. ‘You need to look after her you know’ Cillian then said playfully, eliciting a smile from his grandson.

Cillian was in awe of his grandson and loved it when Denise and Charlie came to visit after Denise had moved out almost five months ago.

About six months ago, Cillian had bought Denise a house which was only a short drive from his own house. He wanted her to be able to live independently from him and raise Charlie the way he deserved after her boyfriend ended it.  

You were still living with Cillian and in the middle of your final university exams before graduating from law school. Your relationship was strong but, unfortunately for you both, you received a lot of backlashes from Cillian’s family especially since Denise had shared the news of her pregnancy.

Whilst Cillian was shocked when he found out that night she took the test, he was nothing but supportive ever since.

Denise’s mother, on the other hand, was far from being supportive and blamed the situation on you and Cillian.

According to her, Cillian set the wrong examples for Denise and her argument was backed by Cillian’s brother’s wife who gave you a hard time every time you saw her.

You felt as though some of Cillian’s family didn’t accept you and you started to refuse to attend certain family events with Cillian. These events had always been tense and somewhat frustrating for you as you were bombarded with intrusive questions continuously.

Where do you see yourself in ten years? What are you going to do with your life? Will you get bored of this? What is when Cillian gets older? What about children? Cillian is too old to start another family…

To you, your relationship with Cillian was perfect and full of love and respect and yet it was frowned upon and you had been referred to as a gold digger by some members of his family.

But your family was no better and your father refused to talk to you. You hadn’t seen or spoken to him in nine months and the contact you had with your mother was limited to text messages.

Your grandmother, on the other hand, was rather involved and often came to visit you especially when Cillian was away and you felt a little lonely at times.

You also spent a lot of time with Denise and supported her throughout her pregnancy and the birth of her son, who was just adorable.

You and Cillian were smitten by him. He was beautiful, with light blonde hair and deep blue eyes and Denise had asked you to become his godmother, a position you which you gladly accepted.

***

‘I swear he looks a little bit like you…Grandpa’ you said to Cillian with chuckle as you watched him nurse his grandson with the bottle of milk Denise had prepared.

‘I swear, if you call me grandpa one more time you are in trouble’ Cillian joked while giving you a cheeky wink. He hated the fact that you occasionally referred to him as ‘grandpa’ but Denise thought that it was rather amusing and the truth was that he was incredible with his little grandson. He certainly was the best grandfather imaginable, whether he liked it or not.

It was almost like he knew exactly what to do, how to hold him and how to rock him to sleep. In addition, Cillian had no problem with changing Charlie’s nappies and getting him bathed, allowing Denise to have a break.

Cillian’s eyes widened whenever he was around his grandson and playing with him sent a smile to his face. He would never grow tired of him and watching Cillian with Charlie made your heart melt.

‘Are you okay babe?’ Cillian asked looking over towards you as you were in a trance, watching Cillian walk around the house while feeding Charlie.

‘Yes, of course…’ you responded, snapping out of your day dream and Denise couldn’t help but laugh.

‘He looks good with a baby in his arms, doesn’t he?’ she then joked and you raised your eyebrows.

‘What do you mean?’ you asked somewhat confused.

‘You know what I mean Y/N’ Denise said and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

     Tag List:

@lilymurphy03@deefigs @theflamecrystal @desperate-and-broken @weepingstudentfishhorse @livinginfantaxy @rosey1981 @atomicsoulcollecto @peakyboyslover @nerdy4itall@elenavampire21 @hanster1998@mariapaiva13 @fairypitou @harry-is-your-sunflower @zozeebo @lauren-raines-x @kasaikawa @littlewierdalien @sad-huffle-nerd @theflamecrystal @peakymalfoyscullymulder @themissthang@0ghostwriter0 @stylescanbeatmyback @1-800-peakyblinders @datewithgianni @momoneymolife @ntmynouis @lilymurphy03 @mcntsee@cloudofdisney@missymurphy1985 @peakymalfoyscullymulder @otterly-fey @janelongxox @uchihacumdump @basiclassy @being-worthy @chaotic-bean-of-smolness @margoo0 @chocolatehalo @vhscillian @ysmmsy @littlewierdalien @crazymar15  @stickyknightflowerbailiff @im-constantly-fangirling @goldensunflowe-r  @tellingyouastory  @captivatedbycillianmurphy​  @namelesslosers​  @littlewhiterose​  @ttzamara​  @ttzamara @cilleveryone  ​

@peaky-cillian

@severewobblerlightdragon​  @ysmmsy​ @kpopgirlbtssvt

[bethanydelleman]

Not Jane Austen related, but could you tell me about your career as a cognitive neuroscientist?

Sure! Now I will be clear, I don't have a PhD, I have an MA, but the definition of "scientist" doesn't include your degree level and it’s the easiest term to understand.

My MA is in cognitive neuroscience and I mainly studied how fear changes our ability to remember things. You can read my dissertation if you want. I also spent a lot of time working with seniors and I have taught courses on how memory changes as we age. My job title has mostly been “research assistant.” I mostly studied memory, but I had an interest in language development and OCD.

After I graduated, I taught brain function and research methods for two semesters at a small university as a sessional lecturer.

Then I got a job as a research assistant to family doctors. I really loved that job. The research I was doing was public health focused. We looked at offering free legal advice to our patients, helping seniors take their medications on time, helping family medicine residents study for their exams (two papers out of that one!), and the needs of family doctor training programs in low income countries. (Many of these are available free to read online)

Here I need to say something about research: it doesn’t matter what you are an expert in, it matters that you know the process. The doctors I worked with were the experts, but because I know the basic methods of research, I can apply these to any project I encounter.

Then I spent a year in a different department doing heart health research. This research was more qualitative (people's experiences) than quantitative (things I can do statistics on) so I didn't enjoy it as much. But I was between pregnancies and I needed a job.

I am planning to get back into research again soon, I took a break when my kids were both in daycare and I opened my own home daycare, which ended up being a very good move, because the pandemic hit right when I would have been heading back to work after maternity leave (I live in Canada, one year at 50% pay). That is what I am doing now but I keep involved in science by continuing to participate in the peer review process. Peer review is always done on a volunteer basis and on your own time.

Now if you are thinking of getting into science, I know some things have happened recently with the whole pandemic, but let me say: it's a tough field. Researchers like me are often only hired on temporary contracts because our pay is based on grant funding. Despite advanced degrees, many of us are not paid very well at all and because of the short contracts we don’t have job security.

I was actually enrolled in a PhD program but I realized I wanted to do more applied research, which my supervisor couldn't offer. I also became aware that in the job market, the PhD wouldn't give me that much of an edge because I didn't want to be a professor.

Why not a professor? I don't like all the parts of the job. It is constant grant applications, a lot of training grad students, teaching rabbles of undergrads, and a lot of paper writing and revisions. I like some of those things, like teaching and statistics, but not others. Also, as a Canadian, it's almost impossible to get a job without first moving to the United States or Europe and I didn't want to do that. I've been watching friends have marriages fall apart because they both have PhDs and it's very hard to get post-docs in the same province or country, let alone city...

Universities are also hiring less full professors and more sessional lecturers. SLs are paid almost nothing and you have to accept a very high course load to make a reasonable living. Also no research, you just teach.

Which is all to say, get a PhD if you really love the subject matter, but the career prospects afterwards are rough. I love doing it though, so I most likely will be returning. Right now I’m using all my extra brain power on Jane Austen analysis and writing JAFF.

And for fun!

Here is a picture of my actual brain, which I lay perfectly still in an MRI for 1.5 hours just to get (look at that beautiful cerebellum, those healthy white matter tracks... I’ll stop):

And me doing a traumatic brain injury study (I fell off a cliff once) in an EEG:

And me cutting up a sheep brain (best day ever!)

[papergirllife]

First Love

Lucas Wong / Yukhei

"They say first love is a special experience that one would always hold a special place in your heart. Wong Yukhei was your first love in high school, but along the way, you had to say goodbye to him in order for him to achieve his dream of becoming a star in Korea. Yet fate and destiny plays its role in paving the two of you an intersection once more, will the two of you and up together at the very end?"

Warnings : smut, unprotected sex, mild angst, a child (pregnancy not described), tooth rotting fluff (all in that order, kinda)

A/N : this is one of my most heavily devoted works I've ever written, so please, of you're comfortable, drop a feedback to tell me if you guys like this writing style, thank you!

Lucas Wong of NCT and most importantly his own fixed unit, Wayv, the man who garners attention and love wherever he goes, that dazzling smile is sure to be captured by numerous cameras of awaiting fans.

But to you, Lucas was never Lucas, to you he was Yukhei, and more significantly, your ex from high school. Yukhei was your first love, you remember when the two of you had first met in Year 9, Yukhei was known for being a class clown and more of a klutz, girls would always have a soft spot for him even if they didn't like him in that way.

Yukhei was your desk mate for Year 10, the thing got you on your nerves about him was that he never took group assignments seriously, and was never at school on time, his uniform was wrinkly from rushing out of his house to catch the bus and always had a stationary missing, which means he had to borrow yours.

You never hated him, hate is a strong word, things were very neutral with him, most times, he unintentionally annoys you, but he'd always make up to you by bringing you a small bottle of apple juice the next day. The only time the two of you really fought was when he had not spoken up when his friends snatched your book away from yours to copy you off, brushing it off as a small matter.

You were quite an immature person back then, and no one can blame you, you were just a teenager, and being said that, you had refused to lend Yukhei a ruler when the math teacher did a pop quiz, so he had to use the dust pan as no one, other than you that is, brings an extra ruler.

It's not your fault, you thought back then, he shouldn't have depended on you to bring his share of stationaries. The next day, you walked into class to see his group of friends waiting at your desk to apologize to you, and as for Yukhei, he had yet again brought you a bottle of apple juice, with the addition of your favourite bar of Cadbury.

It was only in Year 11 when Yukhei had confessed to you, saying that all those annoying things he did to you were just to catch your attention, of all the girls he could've liked, he chose the one who was the most unattainable, go figure.

The next year, when the two of you were looking to apply to the same college, Yukhei broke the news to you that he'd be packing his bags for Korea, that the audition he had joined just for fun accepted him as a trainee in a large entertainment company in Korea that everyone in Hong Kong knows, SM.

At first you didn't approve of his decision, that his education was important as well, that he had a life here, with you. But Yukhei had given very valid reasons to you, that he wouldn't have passed the college entrance exams if it weren't for your tuitions until late at night in the public library, that he didn't really have an interest in studying. His most valid reason was that he didn't want to take a toll on you when you’re in college, he can't have you sacrifice your sleep and attention for him just to have him attain passing grades.

So you let him go, saying your last farewell to him at the airport as his girlfriend and ex girlfriend.

That was the last time you saw him, choosing to not stay in contact with him as you poured your soul into university life, studying like your life depends on it, you had a few boyfriends here and there, nothing serious, nothing that made you felt like your first love. Maybe you had trouble moving on, or maybe it was just stress, you thought back then, shrugging the thought off casually before diverting your attention else where, this cycle carried on until you came out to work.

Fast forwarding to March of 2019, you had unintentionally came across of a news online that Yukhei had finally been placed in his own fixed unit that would be promoting and performing in Chinese, which isn’t surprising, even the Thai member, Ten, was of Chinese heritage. What made your eyes widen was the fact that they were coming to Hong Kong.

At the day of the fan meet, you had took the day off from your boring low paying job at the law firm, so much for studying your ass off for bar exams, you’re just filing on a daily basis.

Before the day of the fan meet, you had lived off of instant cup noodles for a few weeks just to buy the album and their light stick. When you first listened to the album, you were proud of Yukhei’s rapping skills, you still recall the days when he’d struggle with his mandarin oral tests, the teachers there must be much better than you for him to improve so much, smiling fondly at the old memories.

You waved the light stick and sang along just like the other fans beside you, mesmerised by the performance that the boys are putting up, but your eyes were mostly on Yukhei, you would’ve never thought the once clumsy giant like him would dance as fluidly, executing the moves just as well as the other smaller sized members.

You watch as Yukhei introduces himself and his non Cantonese members in his mother tongue, a feeling of familiarity settling into your mind.

You are quite a confident person, but queuing up to the long table where Yukhei sat at the corner was nerve wrecking to you, what would he say to you? Would he recognise you? It hasn't been that long, but the two of you had done some changes to your looks.

The other members had greeted you with a friendly smile and a few casual questions like have you eaten, but they seem a bit taken aback by the lack of fan girl attitude that most of the fans in front of you had.

When you had got to Yukhei, he had dropped his marker on the floor, his head ducked out of sight to retrieve it, but when he came up to apologise, the words were stuck in his throat, as his eyes opened as wide as saucers. He coughed to mask the surprise on his face.

“Hi, how are you?” He asked as he took your album into his hands, scribbling something down.

“Good, how have you been?” although his hair is coloured, his eyes had contacts, and he wasn't in his messy uniform, the smile on his face never changed.

“Great, it's nice to see you,” to other fans and the staff beside him, they might think it's just one of the standard answers, but you knew Yukhei like the back of your hand, registering the twinkle in his eyes.

Soon, he had placed the album back into your hands, your fingers grazing gently as tiny sparks flew up your tips, eyes never breaking contact until the staff tells you to leave.

When you had sat down at a nearby cafe to get a cup of coffee, you took out your album and flipped to the page where Lucas had written something.

‘Hilton hotel, 9pm,' and his number under it.

At nine sharp, you waited by the hotel’s sitting area, not many people at that time as usually stores in Hong Kong open rather late, patiently you waited for Yukhei. Just as you were scrolling through posts on Instagram, a tall figure approached you.

A call of your name rolled off his tongue naturally, a wave of nostalgia hitting the both of you.

“I bought you a little something before I got here,” you said as you stood up, letting him guide you to the elevators.

“What is it?” Yukhei lets out a flustered laugh, scratching the back of his nape when he realised he didn't get you anything in return.

“Roast goose and Cha Siew, are they still your favourite?” you asked, hoping his taste hasn’t changed over the years.

“Yeah, man, I remember how we'd always get quarter of both after school at Uncle Chan’s,” Yukhei said, remembering how the boss of the restaurant had hung a photo of two of you on the wall, deeming the two of you his most loyal lovebirds.

“This is from Uncle Chan’s,” you told him as you followed him into his room, looking around, expecting him to be rooming with someone.

“Don't worry, I told Yang Yang to sleep with Ten for the night,” Yukhei said when he saw you looking for someone.

“Oh, that's really nice of him,” you said as you set out the food, the smell of Hong Kong's famous delicacies wafting in the air.

“Man, I really missed this,” Yukhei said as he pulls the arm chair that was a few feet away close to the desk, directing you into it and situating himself in the not so comfortable wooden chair.

“I missed this too,” you said mindlessly, eyes avoiding his before you ate a piece of meat.

“I missed you too,” Lucas confessed, yes there are many pretty girls in his industry, and Korea itself, but no one would be able to replace you, you were his rock all his life, other than his family of course, it's hard to build a connection with someone just as strong when things between the two of you never really ended, in a way.

Leaving on too good terms and without much closure for both of you kept one another thinking of each other. The two of you know, that after tonight, things would go back to normal, Yukhei would be Wayv’s Lucas, and you’d remain as his past, there would never be an outcome from whatever happens tonight.

So when the two of you were recalling memories and troubles the two of you got in school on the oh so comfortable bed, you couldn't help it, hooking a leg over Yukhei’s waist, just like how it started at the night of the graduation party, the night where the two of you lost your virginities to each other.

“I’d be gone tomorrow, we shouldn’t, I shouldn't do this to you,” Yukhei said, a firm believer that it's always the girl that is on the losing side, like he's taking an advantage of you, ever the gentleman.

“I want this for myself, Yukhei, it's not like it's our first time,” you said, trying to convince him.

“I still feel guilty about our first time, I left a few months later after that night, and tomorrow would be the same, I'll be leaving you once more,” Yukhei said as his big hands caressed your cheeks, eyes wide like a puppy, pupils reflecting an image of you, a perfect representation of his universe, you.

“I don't care, I’ve moved on from you as your girlfriend all those years ago, moving on from you after tonight won't be a challenge for me,” you said in a firm tone, one that Yukhei knows all too well, he knows you won't give up when you sound like this.

He could possibly break two hearts if he chooses to act on his impulses, but he missed this, he missed you, and so he threw all caution out of the window when he smashed his lips desperately against yours, chewing on your bottom lip with little force, it was something that would easily get you worked up back then, and to his delight, it still worked, letting him dominate the kiss easily, he let his tongue slid in your mouth, tasting the beer the two of you had just now with a mixture of strawberry lip gloss, you were still using the Nivea one you used all those years ago, this only fuelled his desire for you, his hands leaving your cheeks to locate your waist, pulling you closer to him.

When you were out of air, you broke off the kiss, reaching the hem of your shirt to pull it off, then waiting a few seconds for Yukhei to admire the red lace on your skin before unclasping your bra, letting your blossoms free, all the while as Yukhei looks on, like he was in a trance.

“I missed these,” he commented before taking a mound into his mouth, sucking on your nipple diligently while his other hand comes up to roll it in between the pads of his fingers, the pleasure from the action making you throw your head back, a slip of his name in between your whimpers.

You let Yukhei push you back, letting you fall onto his bed, you felt his hands wander up your skirt, his huge hands around your thighs, squeezing the flesh in his palms, feeling you, but stopped when he reached the hem of your panties, detaching himself from your chest, looking at you for confirmation.

You nodded at him, putting your hand over his to guide him higher, stopping at the curve of your cheek, pushing his hand beneath the clothe, dangerously close to your core, heck he could even feel your arousal already, eyes rolling back at the thought of getting you so worked up.

“Take it off, but you can leave the skirt, for old time’s sake,” you said.

Yukhei looked at you, confused at what you’re trying to say, until he realised you were wearing a pleated checkered skirt, just like the ones you wore back in high school, memories of the two of you sneaking around, having a quickie with your skirt flipped up immediately made blood rush southwards at the thought.

“Fuck, you expected this to happen?” Yukhei asked, shaking his head in disbelief, he was always the troublemaker at school, but oh how the tables have turned now.

“Didn't you?” you asked before getting up to put yourself in a doggy position, shaking your butt, taunting him.

Yukhei chuckled to himself before doing as you say, taking off your panties to reveal your slick covered pussy, dripping wet for him on display.

Yukhei spreads you open by pulling your cheeks apart to lick a stripe up your slit, making you shudder at the warm muscle that was intruding but very much welcomed.

Yukhei allowed himself to fully stuff his face there, inserting his tongue into your core, thrusting the wet muscle at a moderate pace before adding a finger to the mix, then two, stretching you open to let his tongue delve deeper inside, he then adds a third finger, the fullness finally hitting you, soon he did a come hither movement once he had located your sweet spot, his tongue and fingers rubbing against the roof of your walls deliciously, you would’ve lost your balance if it weren't for his hand supporting you by your left hip.

The constant pleasure that Yukhei so willingly inflicted upon you would've soon come to an euphoric end if he hadn’t halted all movement, pulling out his tongue and his fingers, which made you whine his name pathetically, something you wouldn't have done if it weren't for the fact that your mind was reduced to a ball full of cotton.

“Chill, I worked you up so I wouldn't hurt you with my dick,” Yukhei said as he positions himself at your entrance, his hand coming up to your face to tilt your head to his direction, zeroing on your lust filled eyes and the plump of your lips, swollen because of him.

“Are you sure you want this?” Yukhei asks you one last time.

“Yes, please,” you said, pushing yourself back to lightly grind on his length, a little bit of your arousal getting onto his cock, his dick getting so hard it's starting to hurt.

“Ever so eager, aren't you?” Lucas said before biting his lip at the sight.

“Just put it in!” you whined, tired of his teasing.

“Okay, okay,” Yukhei said before bracing himself for your tight walls, he's never nervous when it comes to others, but you? You always held a special place in his heart.

Yukhei spreads your cheeks once more before aligning himself to slip in an inch, eyebrows furrowing at how tight you were, he could tell you were clenching up, just like you did the first time when you were nervous.

So he bends down to your back, placing gentle kisses along your right shoulder blade.

“Don’t tense up, there’s nothing to be nervous about, we did this before remember?” Yukhei said in his most gentle tone ever, you nodded your head at his words, adjusting yourself to let yourself lose in the comfort of his touch, reminding yourself that although it's been a long time since you had someone as big as him, you’ll be fine in his hands.

Once Yukhei felt yourself unclench, he pushes in furthermore, you felt yourself arching your back to allow him to fit himself easier, before he comes to a halt, you felt so full, you haven't felt this way in such a long time, it was somewhat overwhelming, but it's the most complete feeling ever, a feeling you've never felt with any other.

The initial stretch was slightly painful of course, but the pain soon turned into pleasure, and being the gentleman Yukhei is, waited for you despite the huge urge to move, waiting for your green light.

When you told him he could move, he felt like the gates of heaven just opened, pulling out slightly to give you a shallow thrust, just to test the waters.

Even with that experimental thrust, you felt like you had a taste of heaven, eager to drown yourself in this new found pleasure that you were once so familiar with.

Yukhei grasped his large hands onto your hips, setting a moderate pace, still restraining himself from snapping his hips, but from how much slick you were dripping, soon you'd be begging for more.

Once you felt yourself familiarise with his big cock, the pace that Yukhei had set wasn’t enough, you wanted him to let loose, you wanted him to rail you, be damned if you can’t walk tomorrow.

So in the midst of all the pleasure, you let out two desperate words breathlessly, “ruin me”.

Yukhei had to do a double take, pausing his movements entirely just to check if that was his mind messing with him or it was really you, but one look at your desperate face, revealed to him that was in fact your words.

Yukhei allowed the animalistic side of him to take over, holding onto your hips that would sure leave bruises the next day, but you didn’t mind, not when you felt a sudden surge of pleasure coursing through your body. He angled your body higher, arching your back for easier access, thrusting harder and faster.

You could only submit yourself to him as your toes curled and your fingers dig into the linen sheets, you’re sure if his members were next door, they'd be able to hear every single sound you make, the sound of your ass cheeks clapping against Yukhei’s hips and your high pitched moans were flowing freely, but you didn't care, not when this could be the last time you'd ever be with Yukhei.

Soon, you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge, your legs were trying their best not to fail you, and you could tell your arms were getting sore from propping yourself up as the cord in your abdomen threatened to snap, you panted out the word ‘close’, and Yukhei immediately understood, fucking into you at an inhuman pace, you could feel yourself losing your mind as spit drips from your mouth, sanity slowly slipping away from you as you felt your impending orgasm, it started from the tip of your toes, your body convulsing as you screamed his name, succumbing into the pleasure, your core bursting, the strongest orgasm you've ever felt, making your whole body sag in defeat as you let Yukhei help you ride out your orgasm.

Just when you thought it was all over, Yukhei gently flipped you over, and that’s when you realised he hasn’t cum, so you lifted your legs higher to let him enter you once again, he was using you like his personal doll, and you love it a little bit too much to be considered normal, you struggled to keep your eyes open as you fought through the slight pain from the overstimulation, hearing Yukhei’s mumble of appreciation and endearments.

“Can you give me one more, babe? Just one more,” Yukhei said before circling his fingers around your clit, making your eyes snap open when you realise he wants you to cum once more, your hands coming up to push his hand away, but his other hand grasped onto yours.

“Just one more, please,” Yukhei begged with those puppy eyes of his, and how could you say no?

So you stopped struggling, nodding your head at his request before he quickens the pace of his hips and the ministrations on your clit.

Soon, you could feel Yukhei’s cock swelling inside you before he let out a groan of your name, thrusting in one last hard thrust before he painted your walls white, his lips capturing yours to silent you as you came once more, your nails digging into his shoulders, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt Yukhei ride out both your highs.

Once he was done, Yukhei crashed onto the bed beside you, his arms wrapping around yours, kissing your lips to distract you as he pulled out, hopping into the attached bathroom to bring out two towels, taking off your skirt before he gently cleans you up, when he was done he wiped the juices you left on him, your eyes growing big when you knew it was from when you squirted on him.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise I squirted,” you mumbled behind the hands that you had covering your embarrassed face.

Yukhei laughed at the cute sight, throwing the towel aside before climbing into bed again, removing your hands away from your face, kissing you deeply before looking at you in the eye.

“I loved it,” he said before pulling you closer, and almost instantly, you were lulled to sleep by the beating of his heart.

When you woke up, Yukhei was still snoring beside you, sleeping like a baby, you gently removed his hand from your waist, stepping out of the bed before gathering your clothes, putting them on, smoothing out the creases of your skirt.

Walking to the door, you glanced around once more at the sight of him, your heavy heart begging you to stay, to talk, and so you walked over to the night stand, ripping a piece of paper of the note pad and grabbing the pen next to it.

‘Goodbye and thank you for everything.’

You placed the piece of paper beside him on his pillow before kissing his forehead as a parting gift, closing the door as softly as you could when you left.

You knew this was the right thing to do, you made this decision once when he left for Korea the first time, you can't be in his way this time around, not when he's this far into his career, you can’t be selfish, he belongs on this path, he deserves it and you’re not going to take it away from him, you've stood on the side-lines all this time, he shed the limelight on you for one night, and that's all you should have, he's better off without you.

Yukhei felt himself grow cold when he couldn't feel the warmth of your body, jerking up to check if you were in the bathroom, only to find the door wide open, the room empty.

That's when he had spotted the piece of paper with your goodbye message, his heart clenching in pain, crashing onto the bed once more.

He didn't know what to expect, you had sent him off once, and now you left him without saying goodbye. He thought he could at least say goodbye.

Pushing his thoughts away, he gathered his things, packing up to leave for Korea.

His members could tell something was terribly off, they thought he was just in it for a casual hook up, but his expression tells otherwise.

The usual cheerful Yukhei was nowhere to be found, which meant Yang Yang and Hendery had to keep the mood light throughout the journey home, everyone knew to not say anything, only speaking when crucial.

It took Yukhei quite a while for him to get back to his goofy self, but even then, Kun, being the most observant one, saw a tightness in his smile, a faraway look in his eyes, whoever he had seen that night must've meant a lot to him, but he dare not to press, he knows Yukhei would open up when he's ready.

It was a normal Tuesday night when he had received a request to face time from you, without thinking much of it, excited to hear from you, he accepted, your beautiful face coming into view as he got comfortable on his bed.

“Hey, this is unexpected,” Yukhei said, not knowing what else to say.

“Yukhei, there’s something I need to tell you,” you said, eyes avoiding his.

“Yeah, what's up?” he asked, rubbing his nape, a habit he does whenever he's nervous.

“I'm um, I’m pregnant,” you said, choosing to not beat around the bush.

You could see Yukhei's face pale when he processed your words. Is it his? It's definitely his, it's almost a month since the two of you slept together, unless you slept with someone else?

“It's mine?” a dumb question, but he needs to know for sure.

“Yeah,” you said before the two of you come to a piercing silence.

“You could get an abortion, maybe?” Yukhei suggested after contemplating in his head, there’s no way he could be in the child’s life, and that's the best option for your sake, raising a child in Hong Kong is the most expensive thing to do, equivalent to buying a house there.

“I decided to keep it, Yukhei,” you said, glancing up to see the disbelief on his face.

“You can’t, you know I can't be there for you and you’re still so new in your job, you can't risk your life for this!” Yukhei said, not comprehending on why you'd do this to yourself.

“I already decided, Yukhei, and I don't expect you to take responsibility, this is my choice,” you said as tears threatened to flow.

“That isn't fair, it's not fair for the child! A child needs its father! You don't know what you're doing! Being a single mum is next to impossible in Hong Kong! You're putting the child in a horrible situation just for your selfishness!” Yukhei said before pushing his hair back, the feeling of an impending headache forming.

“How dare you say that?! I’ll raise this child perfectly on my own, I was just calling you to inform you of it, but since you don't want anything to do with it or me, I guess this is goodbye and don't call me anymore, I won't change my mind,” you said before your face disappeared from his phone screen.

Yukhei tried calling you immediately after, a day later, several weeks later, but you never picked up. Then he started stressing about his career, what would happen if someone were to find out? But he knows you as a person, and being a tell-tale is not one of your characteristics, yeah, he can just act like nothing happened, like he had never received this call.

He knows he's running away from his problems, but what other choice does he have?

Fast forwarding to July of 2021, Yukhei is home after his filming of the popular Chinese reality show in China, Keep Running, he feels at ease when he sees his family, finally reuniting with them, but only for a short two weeks time, before he has to leave for Korea once more.

It was a Friday night when his friends from home took him out for a drink, he was not so familiar with the clubbing scene in Hong Kong, but with the knowledge he has of this area, he knows many rich and young people often here, just like the girl kissing up his neck now, her soft hands running up the expanse of his thigh, getting dangerously close to where he wants her to be.

Yet Yukhei doesn’t remember her name, was it Candy? Apple? Some sort of name that had to do with food, he just remembered that she told him that she was an up and coming model, or trying to be anyways.

Just as she suggested to go to some hotel, Yukhei suggested for a quickie in the bathroom first, and so here he is now, being pushed to the door of a stall, her hands trying to unbuckle his belt.

Yukhei reached the back of his pocket for his wallet, opening it, looking for the condom he had placed there, but cursed when he realised he must've dropped it when he paid for drinks.

He told her to go back out and wait for him to get some, leaving the club and the musky smoke filled place behind him, the summer breeze blowing his hair all over, he brings the hood of his jacket up as he scans for a nearby convenience store, locating one at the street across.

When he got in, the scent of curry immediately greeted him, it was your favourite food, everyday after school, no doubt you'll drag him into one of these shops, just to share a bowl of curry fish balls, one of the most famous snacks here in Hong Kong.

He pushed the thought away, trudging to the aisle that was on the most right, where the condoms were at, hidden away from children. He took a box and made his way to the counter, opening his wallet to take out a few notes.

The cashier turned her back from stocking the cigarette shelf, scanning the box wordlessly.

“That would be 30,” she said when she looked up, but her hand immediately dropped the box when she saw who it was, and that's when Yukhei truly opened his eyes to see who it was, at first he was just miffed not knowing why the cashier froze, then he sees you, in the worn out 7 Eleven uniform, was you, the last person he’d be expecting.

“Why are you here? What happened to your job at the law firm? Why...” Yukhei didn't know how to ask, he didn't know if he deserved the right to ask, yet there's so many questions he had swarming in his head. Where is his child? Did you abort it in the end? Did you give it up for adoption? Were you fired from your job because of it?

“It's my shift right now, and you seem to be getting lucky tonight,” you said stiffly, holding up the box for him to see, sliding it across the counter

“It's for my friend actually,” Yukhei said, eyes avoiding yours, but immediately looking at you straight in the eyes, remembering how you use to be able to see right through him whenever he didn't do the revision work you've given him.

“Right,” you said, resisting to roll your eyes.

“You haven't answered me, why are you working here instead of the law firm?” Yukhei pressed.

You sigh at his persistence, not knowing what to say to humour him, so you didn't say anything, getting back to rearranging the shelves.

Yukhei bit his lip, not knowing what to say to you, but a million questions in his head, desperate for answers.

“Please leave if you're done with your purchases,” you said, you had a long day, and the thought of entertaining him was not something you want to add on your plate.

Yukhei looked around the store once more, grabbing a bowl of instant noodles from the shelf before making his way once more to the cashier.

“I’d like to have this here,” Yukhei said before pulling out some spare change from just now.

“Yukhei, what are you trying to do?” you asked in an exasperated tone, there's no point making small talk when there's no way the two of you would ever cross in each other’s lives ever again.

“I'm hungry, I want to eat noodles,” which wasn’t really a lie, all the alcohol he drank before gave him an appetite.

You sighed, turning your back to him, soundlessly waited for the water to boil before pouring it into the cup, sealing the top for it to cook. As you worked, Yukhei was having déjà vu, this was an all too familiar sight, nights at the convenience store studying till late at night in groups, you'd always share noodles with him as you taught him some dumb math formula that no one uses in their life after school.

He takes his bowl of noodles, opting to sit at the place closest to the counter, just looking at you, eating as slow as humanly possible.

When it was around three, you received a call.

“Hello?”

“...”

“You think you have a stomach ache? Celine jia is asleep? Okay, mama’s coming home okay?” you said frantically before shutting off the stove of the food at the counter, running to the back for a pack of meds, depositing some money into the register. You looked at Yukhei, frozen at his seat, cursing at yourself for not going into the back room before picking up the call.

“You need to go, I have something to deal with,” you said as you grabbed your bag, turning off all the switches in one go, making the place pitch black other than the lights from the lamp posts outside.

“Is that my child?” Yukhei asked, he can't allow himself to act like it never happened before, he ran away once, it's time to man up and shoulder on his responsibilities.

“No I fucked another guy before you and it's his child,” you deadpanned.

You walked down the street to flag for a taxi that is always parked there to get their club goer customers, Yukhei hot on your heels, you turned back to look at him questioningly.

“This is none of your concern, don’t follow me,” you said in a rather seething tone, you didn't mean to sound like that, but if he's going to be in the way of your child, then he’s not a friend.

“That's my child too, I want to know how they are, I have a right to do so, you studied law, you should know,” Yukhei retorted in the most friendly way possible, he knows he's in the wrong, but he wants to ensure his child’s safety.

“For fuck’s sake,” you cursed aloud before stepping into the taxi, leaving the door open for him.

You told the driver your address, sitting back to think of what's the problem, the kindergarten shouldn't be the culprit, it's a school with a good reputation, which also burns a hole in your wallet, but you don't mind, and it's not like you have much of a choice, education is deadly expensive here.

About 20 minutes later, you've reached home.

“That'll be 150, miss,” the driver said.

“What?!”

“Fares are different after midnight, miss,” the driver reminded you.

Before you could check if you had enough money on you, Yukhei paid for it wordlessly.

You got out of the car, rushing into the building and running up the stairs as quick as you can, unlocking the door, jabbing the keys into the rusty lock.

Taking off your shoes before you made your way to your room, spotting your son crouched in the corner of your bed, hands around his stomach.

“Hey, mama's home, I'll get you a glass of water to take your medicine okay?” you said before hurrying out, Yukhei passing you a glass of water at the kitchen.

“Thanks,” you mumbled before making your way back inside.

You open the package and passed you son a tablet, but looking at the size, you knew he’d panic to swallow something this big, so you broke it in half, telling him to drink a big gulp of water to wash it down and it'll be fine.

All the while, Yukhei was watching with wonder leaning by the door frame, even in the dim lights and the fact that he's still quite young, he could still identify his eyes on his son, the strong genes in his family, his father and brother all had those eyes, this boy is most definitely his.

The boy diligently does as you told him, taking a big gulp of water, so obedient, and from the way the two of you communicate, very mature for his age, nothing like the usual three year old.

When he was done, he noticed Yukhei’s presence, tugging your sleeve to whisper into your ear, eyes trained on him.

“That's a friend of mine, love, be polite, say hi to Yukhei gogo,” you urged.

Yukhei took this as a sign to get closer to his son, squatting down to meet his eye.

“You’re a handsome boy, what's your name? I’m Yukhei and I’m 22 this year, how about you?” Yukhei asked as he reached out his hand for the little boy to shake.

“I’m Wenghei, 3 years old. Why have I never seen you before gogo?” the child asks, looking at him with curious eyes, he's met some of your friends, but he's definitely haven't met him before, most people aren't as tall here, or not in his mother's circle anyways.

“Get some rest, love,” you said, tucking him into bed.

“Okay,” he said, a yawn coming out from his mouth.

You closed the door behind you, directing Yukhei to the small living room area, serving him a glass of water.

You walked to the trash bin, opening the lid to check its contents, a scowl on your face when you saw the root of your son’s stomach ache when you spot the plastic container that contained the two day old pizza from the freezer. Your roommate, Celine, must’ve gave him some as dinner, usually you'd leave some money for Celine to buy him dinner, but she must've been tight on money again, trying to find ways to squeeze in some spare change, you've warned her of her spending habits, always splurging on albums of her favourite stars, which reminds you.

“You have to go, I’m living with a roommate and I'm sure she's going to recognise you,” you said, a hand gesturing at the door.

“Wait, did you find out why he had a stomach ache?” Yukhei asked.

“Yeah, he ate something he shouldn't have for dinner, you have to go, I need some rest for tomorrow,” you said, struggling to keep your eyes open.

“Do you have anything on tomorrow? Can I see you, perhaps?” Yukhei asked, he didn't know what he wanted to talk about, but he just had to see you again.

“I’m tutoring a student at a coffee shop tomorrow, you can come right after,” you said, thinking that he just wants to know more about his son.

“Okay, goodnight then,” Yukhei said awkwardly as he walks towards the door.

“Goodnight,” you said, feeling a weight on your chest, dreading tomorrow’s meeting.

When Yukhei arrived at the café, he could see you sitting at the way back, a teenage girl sitting in front of you, back facing him, he sipped on his latte, observing you silently.

Your hair is much longer than it had been in high school, the bag hung by your chair very much worn out, and your eye bags were heavier than on days where Yukhei would stay up to prepare for promotions.

Soon, the student was packing up, leaving the table, Yukhei took this as a sign to move to your table. You had stood up to greet him, and that's when he saw, you had lost lots of weight, and he's not meaning it in a fitness way, he recognised the jeans you are wearing, you had these even back then, they used to be a perfect fit for you, that's why they were your favourite, but now, you were wearing a belt to hold it together, and still he could see how loose it was.

“Hey, you didn't order anything?” Yukhei asked, noting that the cup of coffee he saw just now belonged to your student.

“I got a coffee in my flask, cheaper that way,” you said as you packed up your stationaries.

“What did you have for breakfast? How about I order you a piece of cake?” Yukhei suggested, looking back to see what they have today.

“It's alright, I'm not hungry, why don't we get straight to the point? What is it you want to ask about Wenghei?” you asked, noting the time on your watch, you have to leave around noon to fetch your son from pre school.

“I, how about you? Why did you leave the firm? And how’s your parents?” Yukhei started off.

“Well, they said I would’ve been an embarrassment to the firm, you know, pregnant and unmarried, so they told me to leave, it's not like filing could be done with a big weight in my stomach, so I did as they said. Now I tutor kids English and work the night shift at the convenience store, and as for my parents, they kicked me out,” you said, laying down the cards, no point avoiding his questions, especially not when you're in a hurry.

Yukhei nodded at your words, registering the fact that he had a fault in ruining your hot shot lawyer dreams and completely destroyed your sensitive relationship with your parents, how is he ever going to forgive himself?

“I’m sorry,” Yukhei said, he didn't know what else to say, how could he make it up to you and your son? Will you let him even if he could?

“Don't be, this is on the both of us, are you going to ask about the share custody stuff? If so, I don't think we should continue this conversation, Wenghei doesn’t know who you are, and maybe that's the best case scenario, what point would be made if he knew you were his father but you're not in our lives? It'll break his heart. You've seen him now, maybe you can reconnect with him when he's older, I think you should just say goodbye before you go, if you want,” you said, saying these harsh words aloud wasn’t easy, you’re not entirely a cold hearted bitch, but it's for the best that your son didn’t know about his father, no one wants to know the fact that their father abandoned them twice, some truths are better to be untold.

“Can I see him one last time, maybe tonight? For dinner? I'm leaving in two days,” Yukhei said in a defeated tone.

“Yeah, sure, I'll take the shift off tonight,” you said, eyes avoiding his, you could just tell he’d have those sad puppy eyes on his face right now, you don't need anymore guilt in your heart.

“Hey man, where were you?” Jackson asked Yukhei, who was waiting for him at the harbour, they were going to Macau for a day trip today, his friend isn't late for the boat, but they did schedule to meet 15 minutes earlier.

“Something came up, and I need to head back around 7, there’s some people I need to see,” Yukhei said as they boarded the boat.

“So that leaves us 5 hours, should be enough,” Jackson said, checking his watch.

“I’m sorry about this, man, it just came up suddenly,” Yukhei said as they took their seats, apologetic because they have been talking about this trip for a long time now.

“It's okay, dude, but what's up? You look really stressed,” Jackson asked, taking in Yukhei's clenched jaw and furrowed brows, a stark contrast from his usually carefree expression.

“It's a long story,” Yukhei said as he mindlessly watches the sea from the little window of his seat.

“Well, if you don't mind, this is a 45 minutes journey, maybe we'll be able to find a solution together, what are friends for am I right?” Jackson offered, he wouldn't press his friend if he didn't want to tell him about it, but the two of them have been close ever since going on knowing brothers, coming from the same home country and everything.

And so Yukhei, for the first time, told his friend his long love story.

“You know, I think I have a solution for you, but let me ask you one thing first, do you still love her?” Jackson asked as he ate his pork chop bun, Macau’s famous local snack.

Yukhei pondered over his friend’s question, yes the two of you agreed to break up, but all the girls he dated after you, all had similar features or personality traits to you, he had dismissed it as just a type, but now that he had seen you again, he realised that the hole in his heart was always emptied for you, you were the missing puzzle piece all along.

“You don't even have to answer me, your face tells all man,” Jackson said, an oily finger wagging at the direction of his face.

“Yeah, I think I do,” Yukhei said with a sigh, “but even if I still love her, that doesn’t mean she loves me back, and what if we do love each other? We're living oceans apart,” Yukhei said in a defeated tone.

“Now here comes my solution, so you said she got fired from her law firm and is now tutoring kids and doing the night shift at 7 E, and got kicked out by her shitty parents, so she really doesn't have anything else here for her other than her son, why don't you suggest get to move with you? To Korea? It'll be way easier for the two of you to raise your son, even if the two of you don't get back together, I mean, at least you'll be able to financially support them, that is what you're willing to do right?” Jackson asked, hoping that his friend would uptake his part of the child support.

“Yeah, of course I want that, I just don't know what she'll say, or if she'd be willing, she doesn't speak the language and it's an entirely different environment,” Yukhei said, thinking back the days where he had a tough time adjusting.

“From what you told me, she sounds like a tough nut, but of course, this is all up to you, but just so you know, I would really like to be his godfather, and as for your doubts of her love towards you, she did name him after you, isn't it the same Hei?” Jackson said with a hearty chuckle, he could just imagine the fun they'll have together, he was always fond of children.

“Yeah, I’ll persuade her on this,” Yukhei said, he could already feel himself getting nervous for tonight’s dinner, it can’t be that much of a coincidence that his son’s last name resembled his right? Or is he and Jackson just being delusional?

“Now that's my buddy, now come on, finish your food so that we’ll make it in time for the next batch of Portuguese egg tarts, I remember they have a fresh batch around 4,” Jackson said, mouth salivating at the thought of more food.

When you arrived at the restaurant, it was fancier than what you had expected, feeling underdressed among the rich elite of Hong Kong in your old dress that you wear for every special occasion.

You asked if there was a reservation under your name, since Yukhei said he had it booked under you, and almost immediately, since not that many people can afford places like these, the waiter led you in.

“Mama, what is this place? We've never ate here before,” your son asked you.

“It's a French cuisine restaurant, we’re meeting gogo here, remember him? Or were you too sick that day?” you said as you placed him on the baby chair you had requested for.

“Yeah, I remember,” your son said as he looks around in awe, registering the pretty chandeliers that look so sparkly.

When the waiter handed you a menu, someone had joined your table, his hoodie pulled up so no one would recognise him, pulling it down when he saw that there wasn't any other customers around.

“Sorry, am I late?” Yukhei asked with a sheepish smile, a hand lifting up to check the time.

“No, we’re just early, say hi to Yukhei gogo, love,” you directed the last part to your son, patting his little hand to get his attention, smiling immediately when he lands on the tall figure.

“Gogo, you're here,” your son said excitedly, making grabby hands at him, letting his father carry him with a large smile on his face.

“Hey, buddy, don't you look excited to see me?” Yukhei said before blowing raspberry at his neck, making the young boy giggle.

What you didn't expect was to see someone coming up behind Yukhei, a little bit shorter and smaller in built, but when he pulled his hoodie down, you instantly recognised who it was.

“Jackson Wang?” you asked, blinking your eyes a few times to see if you were hallucinating.

“Hey, it’s nice to finally meet you, you look lovely tonight, and you must be little Wenghei, aren't you adorable, how about Jackson gogo take you out to buy toys, huh? I saw a big toy store just across the street, but only if your ma says yes of course,” Jackson said, giving you a side eye to Yukhei.

“Yeah, sure,” you said, it's not like the Jackson Wang is going to kidnap your son right?

“Don’t worry, I’ll watch him with my life,” Jackson said as Yukhei passes his son over to him, leaving the restaurant with his hood up once more.

“Is there something you'd like to say?” you asked Yukhei after he had taken the seat across you his hands were shaking slightly as he holds up the menu.

“I... I still love you. And I know I must sound like a jerk to you, hell I’d go back in time just to hit myself for running away, I'm really sorry for that. What I did was inexcusable, my career just stabilised at that time, and I was under immense stress from SM, you have every right to be mad at me, but I want to be apart of your life again, apart of Wenghei’s life as well, if you could let me have this second chance, I'll do anything to make the both of you happy,” Yukhei said in one breath, reciting what he had practised over and over again with Jackson in the car.

“Yukhei, I,” you were lost for words, you thought you were saying goodbye once more, that Yukhei and you would always end up in goodbyes, but now here he is, saying he loves you.

“Yukhei, you can't just say you love me for the sake of our son, and neither would you need to take responsibility for him, I chose to have him, and as for love, we can never be together, you’re an international super star now, and you're living in Korea, I don't think I have the energy to be in a long distance relationship with you, that would take a toll on Wenghei too, how am I going to explain to him that his father is in another country? He’ll always question your love for him and I don't want that,” you said, trying to hold in the tears that had built up in your eyes, your throat closing up, the cold facade you built for yourself crumbling down before his eyes.

“You can move to Korea, both of you, we can be a family,” Yukhei pleaded, his hands reaching forward to hold yours, his eyes searching yours.

“We can’t, what if we break up? What if your so called love for me, is just something you feel as a result of our child? You can't uproot the two of us when there's so many uncertainties, especially our emotions,” you said, you don't want either of you to be stuck in a relationship for the sake of raising a child, no one would be happy in the end.

“Love, you don't understand, I've never had a serious relationship after you, I tried, I really did, but I’d always think of you instead, how badly I wanted you instead of someone who reminds me of you, the thing is, I’ve always loved you, and I think you still love me too, or you wouldn't have named our son after me, am I right?” Yukhei hoped, why else would you come up with that name right?

Damn it, you thought to yourself, he saw right through you, maybe you shouldn't have named your son after him.

You looked at him and looked away, darn those puppy eyes, you’re sure you’re crying now, and Yukhei reaching over to wipe away your tears just confirmed it.

“I love you, it's always been you, only you,” Yukhei confessed.

“I, I love you too, Yukhei, and I was never mad at you for running away from us, I know how tough that industry is, but what if your fans find out about us?” you asked, slightly worried that he might lose it like last time.

“Then so be it, true fans would stay,” he said in an affirmative tone, reassuring you.

“You promise?” you asked, holding out your pinky, it would’ve been a funny sight to see if anyone saw the two of you now, crying and smiling at the same time.

“I promise,” Yukhei said before hooking his own pinky to connect with yours.

“If you leave us, Wong Yukhei, I’ll murder you in your sleep,” you said as threatening as you could sound.

“I plan to see our son grow up, so I'll value my life,” Yukhei said in utmost sincerity before grabbing a napkin to wipe away all your tears, you’re glad that you didn't wear any mascara today.

Just when Yukhei wiped away the tears in his eyes, Jackson was back with your bubbly child, his arm had bags digging into his flesh.

“Oh my god, that's too much, Wenghei why did you get so many, this is Jackson gogo’s hard earned money,” you said, lecturing your son.

“It's okay, he's an angel, this was all on me, and I guess things went well?” Jackson asked, eyes darting to your connected hands.

“Yeah,” you said, the biggest smile you had on your face.

“That's great to hear, I always wanted to be an uncle, now if you’ll excuse me, I don't think I should crash this family reunion any longer,” Jackson said giving his best friend a hug before leaving.

“So... What do you like to eat Wenghei? How about we get crème brulé,” Yukhei asked, pointing at the menu with childlike eyes, reminding you of the days where he’d get ice cream with you, splitting it on half for you to share.

“Sounds delicious.”

You let Yukhei order everything, sharing between the three of you while the three of you talked, Yukhei mostly directed the questions at his child, asking about his interests, his favourites of everything, ranging from colour to ice cream, eager to make up for loss time.

“How about we talk about where you'll be staying?” Yukhei asked after ordering dessert.

“Oh, I don't know what I'll be able to afford, I'll probably get another convenience store job again, so the rent can't be too high,” you said, dreading the thought of needing to learn a new language quickly for a job.

“Hey, you don't need to work anymore, nor pay rent, I already looked it up, there's an empty unit in our condo, the soundproofing might be a bit lacking, but that wouldn't be a problem if you don't sing in the shower like Dejun, we had a few noise complaints because of him,” Yukhei said, laughing at the fond times he had at the dorms.

“Yukhei, I know housing is really expensive there, are you sure you want to do this?” you asked once more, you don't want him to resent the financial burden the two of you would add onto him.

“What did I say to you just now? I said what I meant, I want the two of you to be in my life, forever. And don't worry about money, I saved up plenty and there’s many more jobs coming up for me, and moving out of the dorms would be the next step of adulthood to me, and we’ll get to spend so much more time together, right Wenghei?” Yukhei asked, pinching your son’s chubby cheeks teasingly.

“We’ll be living together, Yukhei gogo?” your son asked, a confused expression on his face, he had his attention trained on some pink fong video, something about dinosaurs.

“Yeah, Wenghei, we’ll be moving out of our little room, are you excited? We're going to a new country. Remember the dramas I watched with you? Korea has that big outdoor theme park you said you always wanted to go, and snow, you'll get to make snowmen during the winter,” you persuaded, hoping he won’t fuss too much about the move.

“Really? There’s snow in Korea?” your son asked, excited about the winter scene he’ll get finally see in real life.

“Yeah, real snow, not the bubbles in Disney land, are you excited?”

“Yeah, is Jackson gogo going to stay with us too?” your son asked, eyes darting to his new goodies before looking at you expectantly.

“Well, Jackson gogo has his own house and we have ours, but we can always visit him,” Yukhei explained.

“Hehe, okay,” your son said before getting distracted by the crème brulé set in front of him, digging in immediately.

“When do you want us to make the move?” you asked, thinking of all the things you have to pack, which isn't a lot, but you might have to courier some of your clothes over first.

“Whenever you want, I'll get our home ready as soon as possible, is there anything you need in the house? Other than the basics of course,” Yukhei asked, uncertain of any needs you have as a woman or maybe for your son.

“Can we have a study room for Wenghei? With a desk and shelves? We love to read, and he'll need a proper desk when he's older,” you asked, hoping it wasn't too much.

“Yeah, sure, I'll be sure to get it done,” Yukhei said, noting it down into his phone.

“But it's no rush on the study room part, he's just three after all, before I go, I have to apply visas for both of us,” you said, dreading the thought of filling up paperwork, you haven't done much of that ever since you left the law firm.

“Call me if you need any help on that, I'm sure my manager knows how to,” Yukhei said.

“You’re going to tell your company about us?” you asked, knowing how strict Korean entertainment companies are.

“They can't let me go just because of having my own family, they didn't let Jongdae, my senior, go, so we’ll be fine, I promise,” Yukhei said, reaching a hand over to hold yours reassuringly, his eyes looking into yours, filled with love and adoration.

“Okay, now how about we walk around the complex until 10? Wenghei doesn't have school tomorrow,” you suggested.

“Yeah, sure, we could even stay out later if you want,” Yukhei said enthusiastically, getting up slightly to call for the bill.

“You have a flight to catch tomorrow,” you reminded him in your motherly voice, which you regretted almost instantly, cursing yourself, reminding yourself to act more like an actual 22 year old, but Yukhei didn't say anything about it, hiding his smile by nodding deeply, almost like a bow.

“Okay, I just wanted to spend more time with the two of you,” Yukhei said, stopping when he saw the waiter coming back with the credit card machine, paying with just a glance at the bill.

The three of you spent your remaining time shopping and at the arcade, playing games with your son, Yukhei had insisted on getting you a new pair of sneakers, but you shot him down when he wanted to buy more stuff, especially toys for Wenghei.

“You can buy him toys when we’re there, it'll cost even more to ship more stuff over, and there's a risk of damaging the toys as well,” you said.

But of course your son threw a fit at the shop, all for some legos.

“Hey, buddy, I'll buy you lots the next time I see you, okay? I'll buy you one that's even bigger than this,” Yukhei said, squatting down next to his son, and even then he wasn't eye level with him, sometimes you forget how tall Yukhei actually is until you see a scene like this, or when you stand really close to him.

When it was 10pm, painful goodbyes were exchanged with a promise of face timing everyday, your son cried, and held onto his father dearly, and you haven't even told him Yukhei was his dad, but their bond is evident.

Yukhei held onto you and your son until his taxi came, and you waved until you couldn't see the taillights.

It's been a month since that fateful reunion, and Yukhei has squeezed in face times, calls, and texts in between schedules, giving you and your son time despite his busy career.

His company wasn’t too happy about it of course, but was somewhat glad that you weren't one to babble your business to gossip outlets.

You're now packing your things, one last time, you've been to the post office multiple times before to courier out your stuff to Korea, and every time a box reached his address, Yukhei would take a photo of it, telling you the stuff arrived safely.

Progress on your new home was quick, since it was already a fully furnished unit, Yukhei only needed to buy some furniture and things that cater to your son’s needs, he even picked out a pre school that teaches mandarin, perfect for your son’s adjustment in such a foreign country.

Tomorrow you'd be flying to Korea, a new country, a new start, but there was something clouding your mind, something you've been dreading, but today is the day you’ll tell him.

“Wenghei, can you come to mama for a second?” you asked, soon hearing your son’s tiny footsteps nearing you.

“Yes, mama?” your son asked, a hand around his precious teddy.

“There's something I need to tell you,” you said holding him close to you, letting him sit onto your lap.

“Remember how you asked me why you didn't have a baba while all your other classmates did?” you asked, trying to word it as nicely as possible.

“You said my baba had a really big responsibility, that he couldn't see us because of it, that he'll come back when he's free,” your son answered you, struggling to remember more details.

“Yes, good job, Wenghei, your memorising skills are getting better. Well, your baba is actually Yukhei gogo, he’s back now, and we can finally be a family again,” you said before holding in a breath, not knowing how he’ll react.

“Baba is Yukhei gogo? That's why we’re going to Korea?” your son asked, confusion written on his face.

“Yeah, do you like that he's your baba?” you asked, this could be the most important question ever.

“Yeah, mama, do you love baba? Does baba love you as much as I do?” your son asked, which very much surprised you, but expecting this sort of maturity from him.

“Yes, we love each other, and both of us love you as much too,” you said with a pinch of his chubby cheeks.

“Do we ever have to be separated from baba again?” your son asked, scared of losing his newfound father.

“No, never again, and can you do me one favour, Wenghei? I think the next time when you see your baba, you should run up to him and say hi baba, he’ll be very happy to hear you call him that,” you suggested, imagining the look on Yukhei’s face.

Your son giggled at the thought of making his father happy, agreeing immediately.

“Okay, now go to sleep, it's going to be your first time flying tomorrow,” you said, ushering him onto the bed.

“Okay, goodnight, mama,” your son said to you, just like he did every other night, he seemed to have accepted it very easily, maybe it was due to his age, but some day he might ask his father about his departure personally when he understands more, but that’s a hardship that’s reserved for another day.

The flight was relatively short, though it was rather hard for Wenghei at the start because of the pressure he had experienced in his ears, the crying and whining got you plenty of dirty looks from passengers around you, but you paid no mind to it, you’ve been through worst so this is nothing that can faze you.

When you got there, you saw a lady holding up a plaque with your name on it, her phone in her hand, checking all the moms who came out of the same lane as you.

She had a friendly smile on her face when she saw you, introducing herself in mandarin, being one of Wayv’s staff, a trusted one, according to Yukhei.

She talked to you about Yukhei in general, even giving your son a bar of mini KitKat, praising him for being brave on the flight after she had asked you how was your flight.

Around half an hour later, you've reached your new home, a nice looking condominium that looked about a few years old.

Unloading took quite some time, even with the help of the staff, but what surprised you was the person who was waiting for you inside the lobby.

“You're here!” you said surprised at the sight of the giant.

“Yeah, I am, wanted to give you a surprise, sorry I couldn't be outside, some crazy fans camp outside, can’t let them bring you and Wenghei any harm,” Yukhei said as he carried Wenghei, spinning in a small circle, looking at him with full of love.

“I understand, don't worry, I'm not a teenager girl anymore,” you said as you checked out the place, the sitting area had a couch set and free WiFi, this is a 180 from the living conditions in Hong Kong.

“Baba, did you miss me?” your son asked when he had stopped giggling from his father’s spins, which instantly ceased to a halt, eyes growing as wide as saucers.

“What did you call me? Say it again,” Yukhei said with the biggest smile on his face, all of his teeth were showing.

“Mama said you were my Baba,” Wenghei said like it was as simple as two plus two.

“Yeah... I am your baba, and you're my son,” Yukhei said before holding his son even closer, you could even see the tears at the corner of his eyes.

“Why don't we go see our new home Wenghei?” you suggested, seeing that some people have came out from the lifts, typical going to work hours.

You walked a feet away from Yukhei, not wanting to draw attention, holding onto the lift for Yukhei to bring all your luggage in.

Once you were at your level, you started loosening up, noticing that no one was around.

“This is my members’ unit,” Yukhei said pointing at a door, “And this is ours,” Yukhei said before opening the door for you, welcoming you into a warmly decorated home, every piece of furniture was placed and chose to accommodate your child, all the corners were covered with this e rubber safety stickers.

He showed you into Wenghei's room where the bed had all his favourite characters in the form of a plushie, his bed was soft when you sat down on it, and the blanket he had picked out was a soft fleece material, perfect for the cold weather.

Your son was going around every corner, awing at everything his father had gotten him, especially the Lego sets that were on his desk.

“Thank you, it's beautiful, his room,” you said when Yukhei wrapped an arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him, god how much you've missed his warmth.

“Go take a look at your room,” Yukhei said before pulling your hand into the direction of the master bedroom, welcoming you into a room with a king size bed and silk linen sheets, an aesthetic looking vanity that you've always wanted as a teenager, now as well of course, and a little reading corner just for you by the window.

“It's all I've ever wanted,” you said in disbelief, not knowing how could Yukhei pull this off in such a short time.

“You like it? I got some help from my members, especially Kun for the kitchen, you should check it out afterwards, you always wanted a big kitchen area,” Yukhei said as you laid on the bed, giving your stiff body a rest from the journey.

“Lay down with me for a while, I’m a bit tired from the flight,” you said, making grabby hands at him.

“Nah, I shouldn’t, this is your bed,” Yukhei said, looking flustered.

“Wong Yukhei, I’ve had your child and now you're acting all innocent?” you asked in an accusing tone, playing with him, which made him lay down next to you immediately, he didn't like getting you angry, thinking back all those days when you had lectured him just like that when he forgot to do his homework.

“You want me to sleep here?” Yukhei asked carefully, observing your expressions.

“This is our bedroom, where else do you want to sleep?” you asked, but was promptly cut off by Yukhei's lips on yours, smiling as he kissed you, gentle but expressing all his love for you, a hand lingering on your back, guiding you closer than him.

Many mistakes that had to be made had guided you here, but you've never regretted, for if it wasn't for the hardships and the crossroads, you wouldn't have found a home with the man you'll cross oceans for.

The end.

[sayitaliano]

How do you call/address to your teachers in Italian?

What is the Italian word for "teacher"?

There are a few ways in which you can refer to a teacher.

1- Generally speaking, especially when we talk about the job, we use the word "insegnante" which is basically the literal translation of teacher= the one who teach (the noun "l'insegnante" has no clear genre as it's written is the same way both at the masculine and at the feminine: beware of the adjectives/pronouns/ etc you connect to it though).

Insegnante is, grammatically speaking, the participio presente of the verbo "insegnare". So it more accurately means "the one who is teaching/doing the teacher job now".

2- Another word we use is il/la docente = academic, instructor, teacher, lecturer. This one comes directly from Latin (docēre = insegnare = to teach). Docente too is, grammatically speaking, the participio presente of the Latin verb "docēre" (i.e.: docens, docentis) that we kept and adapted in Italian.

I feel that commonly, we may be unaware but use insegnante more often with teachers of mandatory school (i.e. from early stages to high school) while use a slightly more formal "docente" for University's teachers? Idk, honestly it doesn't have to be cause they're basically synonyms:

For example we say "il collegio docenti" = teaching body (basically when teachers meet to make a point about your class/give you grades at the end of the year), but also "il corpo insegnanti" which has the same meaning. Same as "personale docente" = teachers of a school = "personale insegnante" (but this last one is probably a little more uncommon). I'd say probably things that are school related, as in these last two examples, are a little more often defined with the word "docente".

3- A third noun is now used especially for kids' teachers (kindergarten and elementary school) but also for people who are having a hard time outside school (e.g. people with disabilities, detained, elders, people suffering from the abuse of drugs/alcohol...-but I'm gonna stick to the school enviroment): educatore/educatrice = educator (as they're the first ones educating kids outside family).

How students call their teachers:

Now, going more into detail, let's see how students generally call their teachers in school.

Il maestro/la maestra (male/female, and ofc there are the plurals too), is how a teacher of the kindergarten/elementary school is called. Kids call them as "Maestro!" "Maestra!" and, being little ones, they don't always use the polite/formal verbs (3rd singular person), but go with a more informal speech, especially in the first years of the kindergarten. A sentence as "Maestra, mi aiuti?" is accepted (it should be "Maestra, mi aiuta/mi può aiutare?" = Teacher can you help me?).

Teachers don't have to be too specialized or have a very high university degree* to teach in such schools (many times an high school degree in a teaching school was enough) hence the different name - also cause it's the first one teacing something important to kids and being their guide.

(*at least, in the past it was so: now you still need a full 5 years university degree and do some courses and exams too, as to teach in the other schools. Unless we talk about private schools but I have been mentioning this in my videos on youtube)

When we pass to middle school, we are more used to formal speech. Teachers take the name "professor" (il professore, la professoressa - and all the plurals), that comes from the past: they had to be graduated to teach. In fact, also those highly erudites in a specific field are called "professors", and they all teach in the higher levels of schools (esp. university but also many professional/high schools).

Anyway, back to the point: how students call these teachers?

It could be with the entire word "Professore!" or "Professoressa", but TBH in schools, especially, middle and high school, we just go with the shorten version "Prof" which works both for masculine and feminine. e.g. "Prof mi scusi, può ripetere?" ("Professor I'm sorry, can you say it again?") this is exactly how we talk in classrooms during lessons. We're polite, using the 3rd singular person and a kind of honorific speech, but we have to be fast (we're Italians) and so we shorten the name (and also, especially after a while, we create some kind of a familiar feeling with our professors so "prof" becomes also a kinda "affectionated" word? Not for everyone though, keep in mind).

I heard this shorten version in university as well, but it depends on the professor: some don't want to hear that, and you better call them "professore" / "professoressa" at least (some may like if you add their surname after it, so to be even more formal).

Now let's suppose we had to call a very erudite doctor (Medicine's graduated) giving a lecture somewhere: we'd be polite and address to them with the word "professore/essa" (and occasionally add their surname too), not with "prof" (unless they're a fun person and would accept that, especially from youngers who are there to listen to them speak).

"Prof." is also the abbreviation used on business card of such important people, js.

[neonovember]

Incorrect mail and an interrupting neighbour

bucky x black!reader

summary: you: a tired university professor, find yourself periodically returning mail to rightful receiver: a brooding brunette haired man, who always happens to be everywhere, or no where.

warning; hints of nsfw, slow burn (yes it’s a hazard people), bucky being bucky, mentions of exam season (yet another hazard!), tooth rotting fluff & an interrupting neighbour. pls tell me if i’ve missed anything!

notes: so..let’s not talk about me creeping back into my hole for a month. let’s instead talk about this slow burn of bucky that isn’t featuring a 20 year old, woohoo! wrote this on my phone in my notes app during my 10 minute work break, so let’s not get into the spelling or grammar. kind of the first installment of my series with bucky and well you, so buckle in people, this is gonna be a fun ride :)

Gliding down the lit corridor of your apartment, you tirelessly balance ungraded papers and books in one hand whilst gripping your burgundy satchel in the other.

You grimaced as you bent down, sore legs from countless hours on your feet amusing a room full of post graduates who for some reason took a class in archive history.

You reach for the cold metallic feel of your keys, but before you can grasp your saviour to a long day you notice a small box, wrapped in chestnut paper with a ribbon securing its sides. It was the third time this week you groaned, hastily picking it up and unsecurely balancing it on top of an already crumbling pile. Opening the door to your overly expensive apartment, you’re met with the sweet scents of your home, vanilla bean and hazelnut wafts from secular corners and the diffuser prepped on the foyer spurt out scents of eucalyptus. A gift from your mother after she’d gone on a wellness retreat, nothing cures stress then a corporate bought overly expensive mister.

Sighing you slowly put down the heaped piles in your hands, relief from the cramped position.

Slowly undressing yourself, from the crinkled button up and suit pants you swiftly jump into the warm heathen that is your shower. The scent of coconut and shea butter wafting into your bloodstreams, the practically scalding water working your kinks and knots. After glinting with droplets of water and wrapped in a rough towel (they work better..trust me) you quickly make work of shuffling into your cotton undergarments and apply your lotion. You loved applying the cold softness of your shea butter cream over your heat emitting skin, pressing into your crevices and folds and rubbing into the soft streaks that went down your inner thighs. You made sure to relax during this intimate moment with your body, a form of therapy to the tubules relationship that was intimacy and body acceptance.

Slipping into your worn checkered oversized top paired with the soft burns of your trusted pajama pants you feel only fully completed once you’ve finally put on your calf high fuzzy socks.

Almost as if you forget you finally noticed the imbalanced box on your table wall. It wasn’t the first time you’d gotten strange mail that most certainly not yours, always misplaced from your neighbor across.

Something about a ups error in their system, still not being fixed till this day despite the countless phone calls and emails sent, left you having to deal with finding the appropriate receiver yourself. You’ve got better things to do..you lie, you don’t.

You hesitate to pick up the misplaced postage, half because you couldn’t be bothered taking the damn mail across the hallway after just having a bit of leisure time, and half because of your neighbour himself. 6ft tall, muscle on muscle taut against whatever tshirt he knew was 2 sizes too small, with a face you can’t look to hard at or you’ll go blind.

He was an always ever brooding man, with dark features seperated only by his steel blue eyes, slanted and heavy, half lid as though even looking was too meticulous for him.

He moved in a few months after you had, and although you had taken the impression that he did not want to be bothered, something in you keened and itched to find out who he was. The insatiable need to just know him, whether simply aquantedly or something..more, grew from months of being surrounded by facts and knowledge. What more historic that investigating a practical fossil? (Redacted..I’m sorry lmao)

You had ferociously berated yourself after that thought, even IF it had been so long since you’ve left the dating world, you were not at all ready to be thrown back in. Enough nightmare first dates and ruined relationships told you that much. Yet, there was always an emptiness that resides in you when you came home to house that was empty. Something in you wanted a person, wanted someone to hold, someone to love.

It was hard, if you took a the time to be honest, to watch as family and friends moved into adulthood. Married, some with kids, some without, whilst you were still in the eager transition of single life. Hopeless in finding the one, if there even was one. You convinced yourself that your work was enough, and it was, for a while. You enjoyed, no loved, teaching. Walking into a lecture room filled with bright eyed college students who wanted to actually learn. But even then, the lie had seeped fast and quick. Long hours grading papers may take your mind of what a hopeless failure you were in love, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there.

What hurt worse was that you didn’t really give up, putting on a facade that you were happy single was tiring and was felt by everyone around you. Side glances when you talked about your job as if it was your husband steered you away from ever having that conversation again.

After everything, after you stripped of the makeup and tore off your heels, after you were in bed amongst the sheets, illuminated by the crescent moonlight, was when you were truly and utterly honest with yourself. It was then that you knew you still yearned for the heavy weight of someone else on the bed. The scent and weight of a man, a woman, someone. God you were pathetic. When the man moved in across from you, there was a flash of hope, that maybe he would be the one. Call it a fairytale or some wicked thing called fate, but it wasn’t soon that you where reminded your reality of dissapointment. You brushed of the hope, it disappearing as quickly as it came.

You were happy you did, because if the silent closeted expressions he always wore when he glanced to you told you anything, it was that he clearly wasn’t interested.

Reluctantly grabbing the postage you quietly marched over to his door. He’s macho exterior wasn’t going to stop you from being a model citizen, you’d decided it was final. Slowly wrapping a hand to knock the door suddenly opened swiftly.

Almost as if he knew you were coming, he stared down at your frame, as tall and as godlike as ever. A black henley stretched over the massive muscle that was his chest, rippled towards his abdomen outlining every single indentation that bore his skin. Black sweatpants hung low on his hips, the peek of skin giving way to the indentation that lead to his... god you were sick. Quickly looking away from the outline of his crotch you took notice of his sharped face.

His chestnut hair curled towards his sides was pushed behind his ears, reaching just below his ticked jaw. It wasn’t too long enough to characterise him as a hipster, no, the length was just right, exuding a sense of difference and ominous attraction. His lips were curved into a comfortable line, tethering on nonchalant and..happy? Stubble bore his jaw, grazing againts his flushed skin. Your fingers itched to scratch them, how would they feel? On your hands? Between your legs? Steering at the irrational thought you looked up to his steel blue slated eyes, assessing you descritely, almost in scrutiny.

The way he looked at you made you feel naked, his gaze like an X-ray, like he could see through everything. All the insecurities, all the thoughts, everything you hid that your body kept score of. Suddenly you felt insecure, something you never felt.

Here you were, cowering amongst a fucking god, while your hair was in a messy updo, frazzled curls framing your face. He quirked up an eyebrow, almost noticing your sudden discomfort reeling you back into his frame. Realizing why you were here in the first place you softly shook your head in disbelief, god you were practically drooling on this poor man’s front door step.

“Sorry to bother you, but your mail ended up at my place, atleast I think it’s your mail?” You said chirpy, sick with fake enthusiasm. You were tired.

He tore his eyes from your face and glanced at the package in your hands.

His face turned gleefully.

“Thank you! I was wondering were these went”

You keened at his expression, his voice, scruff like he was recovering from a cold, but smooth and silky, like a jazz record glinting bright against a speakeasy ceiling. His quirked expression was gorgeous, half sheepish and half giddy at the return of a supposedly awaiting package. You nodded smiling, handing him the package grasped between your hands.

He reached for it, fingertips brushing against your wrist, a ghost of affection you’ve gone far too long without. Suddenly squeaking at the touch, he pulles away swiftly, misunderstanding your sudden desire for uneasiness. You looked up at him through your lashes, eyes glinting with mischief and desire. You weren’t usually this upfront, this open to what you were wanted, but it’s been enough god damn time without. He looked down, eyes glinting in the same manner, turning dark with lust. Suddenly pulled from your transaction a neighbour, Holly..? Hope? Something called your name.

“Hey! I heard the university has been pulling you at your wits end! At least exams periods are over huh?” She smiled eyes gliding over yours and Bucky hands entangled.

“Oh, was I interrupting something?” She said, her grocieries in a bag, keys dangling in the keyhole

Bucky looked back towards you, eyebrows quirking up almost to ask “what next”?

Pulled back to the realm of adulthood, you slowly unlatched your fingers from Bucky’s, shaking slightly from just the touch.

Clearing your throat you replied swiftly

“No uh, just being a good neighbour” you said eyes travelling to Holly and back to Bucky who nodded slowly, biting back a grin that was oh so close to peeking out. You swallowed thickly, the remnants of the practically soft porn scene leaving a aftertaste in your mouth.

“Well see you, you too Bucky” she said smiling, looking towards Bucky, you turn towards him, half expecting him to be looking towards Holly. But he was already looking at you, whispering a bye to your neighbour not taking a moment to take his eyes off of you.

“Thank you, it’s not always that someone will do this, take time out of their day I mean” he says gingerly scratching the nape of his neck, his tousled auburn hair reaching to the point of unruly. He made it look good though, always.

“Yeah, uh no problem, it’s only civil duty” You smiled, you could feel it crinkle into the croons of your eyes.

His eyes crinkled at the comment, a chuckle reaching his throat but not quite fully escaping.

“Is it civic duty to open the door to such a beauty?” He whispered lowly, taking a moments to look down your frame, half nodding in what you hoped was appreciation

You blushed, the heat spilling into your cheeks, your bloodstream, your heart, everywhere. Compliments always made you cower, no matter how many you received it was always a surprise to catch the eye of a stranger, forever holding them to your heart.

Tucking a loose curl behind your ear, you tried to compose yourself before you turned into a heaping sweaty mess on the carpeted floor, not very neighbourly huh?

“Yes, well my parents taught me well, and anyways, I had to get a smile out of you somehow” You replied looking down as you said the last few words, shyness creeping into your frame.

At that he laughed, sharp canines peeking from redden lips as he threw his head back, gripping his chest in exhalation

“You got me there, I guess my cold exterior couldn’t last that long huh?”

“You bet it won’t” you replied smiling now along with him, it was infectious, his laugh, and you willed everything in your being to bring another one out of him.

“Seriously, thank you, I’ve been waiting for this for a long time”

You smiled, nodding your head.

“None of that, it’s fine really, we’re neighbours now yeah?

You smiled taking out your palm from inside your elbow, hanging in the air, awaiting his own.

“Of course, weren’t we always?”

He replied gripping his long manicured five inch acrylics fingers around my own. (I couldn’t resist)

“Yes, but not neighbours, you know?”

He chuckled, clearly understanding the obvious difference in pronounciation

“Well then neighbour, I hope to see you around” he replied eyes boring into my frame, seriousness taking over his eyes, away from the charming goofy glint of before

“Oh you’ll see me, but I’m not that convinced I’ll see you” you said in a pointed expression towards him.

“Oh no doll, for you, for you I’ll be around”. He replied softly, nodding in amusement as if it was a known fact.

He slowly stepped back into his emulsifying apartment, hints of toffee and apples wafting through the encrusted chestnut door. Slowly walking back, you don’t hear the click of the door until you’re in your apartment. He watched you, made sure you made your way back, you don’t know why but that lit up something in you, be it uncautionary hope for love, or just the depths of your desire begging for release.

I back myself against my door, whilst inside my apartment. The eucalyptus diffuser still spitting out puffs of air, the stack of stacked papers still left untouched and ungraded, everything is completely the same. Nothing, absolutely nothing, has shifted, you chant this to yourself like a mantra. So why do you feel like everything has?

You feel this unerving sensation of missing something, and it takes you until you’ve sat down for dinner at your oak blanched dining to realise, it’s him. You miss him. His tousled auburn hair, his crinkled slanted eyes, his high cheekbones dusted with the forgetfulness of shaving. Even his sarcastic comments and stoic stature was something you yearned to have within your space.

At heart, you were a romantic, and even through bundles of work and lectures from family friends who knew more, you realised nothing had changed. Your encounter with James has ruined any sense of accomplishment you thought you had, blown over like a pyramid of cards to the wind. You thought you’d be mad, thought you’d try and distance yourself from him to avoid the inevitable heartache that would come to a love dreamt, but whilst you were tucking into the cold pressed sheets of your king size bed, what was the expected regret, instead was content.

You were content with your glass box shattering, as long as James was the one throwing the axe.