#this was a very cute and joyous thing to see after coming back from surgery though

[nancywheeeler]

have already gotten two error messages trying to boop people. most functional website, with honors.

[asphora]

Marigolds | csc

wc: 5,569 | angst, hanahaki disease, seungcheol x reader, f!reader, non-idol!verse, cursing, character death, tw:sickness, tw:death

a/n: I’ve been in a slump and in a really bad place recently, but out of nowhere this came to me and somehow writing it made me feel better? idk. Also, I recommend listening to Yiruma’s Prelude in Gm. It’s such a beautiful piece. Anyway, thank you.

Love can often look like so many things that don’t seem like love.

The night the world stops spinning is the night you see her for the first time. You’d known of her existence long before you’d even had the misfortune of laying your eyes on her, from stories and various retellings enthusiastically recounted to you by your group of 13 male friends. Their words had made her something of a phantasmagoric collection of enchanting and enigmatic quirks and traits, something otherworldly; brave and spontaneous, fun but equally intelligent. But for all their praise, you figured their words were just that. 

Nodding along as Seungcheol prattled on about her ardently, you silently listened, finding some semblance of solace knowing that there was no person without flaws. To you, she seemed more like a Monet than anything; something beautiful to behold, but only from a distance. The closer anyone got, surely the more the cracks would start to show and for all her magic and mystery, you figured soon enough the boys, particularly Seungcheol, would soon realize the truth: that there was no such thing as magic. Only real people, with their flaws and undone seams, haphazardly strewn together.

That night the music blared in your ears, despite coming from the next room where Soonyoung was drunkenly DJing. Around you were throngs of people, a mix of strangers and friends alike, bodies danced intoxicatedly moving to the beat reverberating through the walls of the frat-house. 

When you see him, you can’t fight the smile that spreads on your lips. Your hand is already raised, ready to wave him down and wrap him in the embrace you two always shared.  You don’t know it yet, but that night is different from all the others; the beginning of the end. 

It only takes him few steps more for you to see that his hand, which is usually stuffed into his pockets, is prettily decorated by her dainty one; milky skin seemingly unmarred by the harsh yellow lighting in the crowded living room and her ring finger ornamented by a big bright rock you recalled seeing at Seungcheol’s apartment a week prior. 

Immediately your hand falls to your side and you take a step back, disappearing effortlessly into the crowd as your watchful eyes are trained on the couple. She with her red silk dress that seemed to accentuate and hug her body in the most complimentary way, and him in his usual all black ensemble that definitely did not betray the senses, showcasing his toned body through the fabric. They looked more like they belonged on the front of some expensive travel or style catalogue. 

You would have described the pair as one that stuck out like a sore thumb, but that wasn’t the case. As they waded through the waves of people—his arms wrapped gently around her, never faltering in their protective hold on her—they seemed to put everyone else to shame. It wasn’t that they didn’t belong at this party, it was that they made everyone else look like they shouldn't have been there. 

As you watch them laughing and dancing, whispering, faces always close to each other’s, you realize that she is not the mirage you had made her out to be in your head. She’s everything they said she was, and even more, she bore his heart. 

“Seungcheol!” the bellowing voices of 13 other boys pull you from your thoughts and suddenly, you go from a passive by-stander simply basking in the glow of the couple, to the forefront of all the excitement as Mingyu finds you in the crowd and pulls you by the arm to where Seungcheol and the others are standing. 

Dark chocolate irises that you’ve known all your life and have practically memorized at this point meet your own and that’s the last color you register along with the sounds of cheering and shouting of joyous congratulations, before everything becomes a blur of motion as your legs will you through the halls of the frat house you practically lived at. After that all you see is orange—bright, fiery, blazing orange. 

As you sink onto the floor of Jihoon’s bathroom, vision bleary from the pain, you press your cheek onto the tile taking whatever comfort you can from their soothing coolness. 

‘Marigolds,’ you chuckle at the irony of just how fitting it is, the sound coming out more of a garbled cough than a laugh due to the burning in your throat, 'in the language of flowers, it meant despair, grief and jealousy.'

As you shift in and out of consciousness, the alcohol in your system working too well with the pain in your chest and throat, forcing you under, you reach your hand out, fingers trying to grasp at the orange blossoms. You hadn’t even made it to the toilet. 

‘Sorry Woozi,’ you think in your last moments of consciousness, ‘promise I’ll clean it later. It just hurts too much right now.’

And that’s how the said male finds you. 

Once the party is done, Jihoon retreats to his quarters only slightly tipsy since he wasn’t much of a drinker anyway like the rest of the guys. There you are, passed out in the middle of his bathroom floor, lying in what at first glance seemed to be clouds of fire.

If he hadn’t know exactly what he was looking at, he would’ve thought the sight to be beautiful, immaculate even; your  limp form swimming in a sea of marigolds, hands outstretched and gripping some of the fresh blooms in your hands, dark hair splayed out across the flowers in stark contrast to the vibrant orange beneath, and your face though tearstained was adorned with loose petals sticking to your skin. 

His bathroom had never smelled so nice, he thought despite knowing you’d vomited these flowers. Never in his life had he seen Marigolds as vibrant as these, so alive and in full bloom, as though spring had come in the middle of winter to take up residence in his bathroom; the sight would put Demeter to shame. But he knew the truth of it; this sight was anything but that of life. You were dying. 

***

“You have to get the surgery, y/n.” Jihoon sighs the words onto the skin of your forearm where there are various tubes sticking out of you, seemingly the only things keeping you somewhat alive. 

You can tell by the way he says it that he’s beyond exhausted, that these are words that he’s tired of saying, that this is a plea he and all the other 11 boys from your friend group are tired of begging you for. You don’t say anything, and your silence only makes him more irked. 

“If you aren’t going to get the surgery, at least tell him the truth,” Jihoon attempts to reason with you, “he deserves to know the truth, or even just the chance to save his best friend. You can’t avoid him forever, and you sure as hell can’t just suddenly die and leave him wondering how the fuck that happened.” 

Jihoon’s crass words make you laugh, a breathy quiet chagrin that slips from your lips sounding more like a cough than mirth. He’s so fed up with you that he doesn’t even bother to choose his words wisely, not like how he was when this all started a month ago. 

“He hasn’t even tried to visit me.” At that he rolls his eyes.

“Because you won’t let him. You won’t even let us tell him that you’re in the hospital. As far as he knows your back home with your parents getting better, not here in Seoul, in a hospital, fucking dying.”

This time, it’s your turn to roll your eyes and admonish him, albeit weaker compared to his display. “I get it Woozi, I’m dying, I don’t have much longer to live. Tell me something the doctors haven’t, I get it—”

“No, you don’t!” His booming voice suddenly cuts you off. For the first time in your long friendship with him, he raises his voice at you. 

“You don’t get it,” you watch him as he shakes his head, “you say you get it, that you know you’re dying, but you don’t. You’re acting like this is a small thing, that it’ll go away sooner or later, but it isn’t. It’s either you get the surgery or you’re dead, done, gone forever. There won’t even be anything left of you to love that oblivious, unworthy asshole you call your best friend.

“A real best friend would be more worried about you, would be here, breaking down doors and begging me and the rest of the guys to let him see you, he’d at the very least, demand to be able to visit you and not be running around having fun with his whatever-she-is while you’re dying.” 

Tears fill Jihoon’s eyes as he paces, arms angrily flailing as he rants to and at you. That’s when Wonwoo, seemingly forgotten in the corner, ever the quiet spectator and your next closest friend after Jihoon and Seungcheol, steps in to place a calming hand on Jihoon’s heaving chest. 

“Jihoon,” Wonwoo’s thick baritone pierces through the sound of Jihoon’s angry breaths, “that’s enough. Look at her, she’s crying.” 

You hadn’t realized it until Wonwoo had pointed out, but your face was hot with moisture, and your patient’s gown was soaked down the front with the tears that had run off your face. Jihoon seeing this seems to snap out of his trance, his stance relaxing and his eyes growing soft. 

“Sorry, y/n, I-I didn’t mean, I—”

“It’s okay Jihoonie,” you hadn’t used that nickname in a long time, not since Seungcheol had practically thrown a fit, banning you from calling any of the others by cute nicknames, “it’s okay, don’t be sorry, I get it.” 

Giving him and Wonwoo the warmest smile you can muster in your weakened state, you open your arms out for them, their strong sturdy forms quick to bend to fill the tiny space of your arms, wrapping your frail form in their own warmth. 

“Don’t worry,” you whisper the words onto the tops of their heads, petting the hair there, “I get it, I do. You don’t have to be sorry. I’m scared too.” 

The admission of your own fear wracks a brand-new sob through your chest that you hadn’t known you were holding back, and immediately you’re crying a fresh batch of tears onto the fabric of their shirts. 

“I don’t want to die,” you wail despite the scratching of your throat as you clutch the fabric of their shirts into clenched fists, “but I can’t, I don’t want to—I can’t do it. If I get the surgery, I’ll forget, and I can’t— 

“I can’t live in a world where I don’t know Seungcheol, where I don’t know his smile or the sound of his voice and his laughter, where I don’t know that he’s a cry baby and that his favorite kind of movies are romcoms, even  though he’ll never admit it to anyone but me.

“I’m scared too, but it’s not just dying,” you sob, “what kind of life would it be if I stopped knowing him? If I couldn't even remember the only love I’ve ever known?”

***

Weeks pass in a blur of burning orange speckled with blotches of vibrant red; hospital bins filled to the brim with orange marigolds drenched in bile and blood; nurses carrying and disposing more and more beautiful bright bouquets of marigolds each passing day. 

“The marigolds are really pretty, at least.” Soonyoung absentmindedly remarks as he watches a nurse file out of the room, two trash bins in hand, brimming with freshly puked flowers. 

Seungkwan who stands beside him gives the hin a look of complete outrage, nudging Soonyoung’s side a little too harshly with his elbow, making the blonde yelp in pain. Jihoon who’s sitting at your bedside only rolls his eyes at the insensitivity, while the rest of the boys stand around awkwardly and apologetically. 

The tense sight of almost all your closest friends standing around as if they were at your funeral rather than just your hospital room only makes you laugh into the receptacle on your mouth, cursing the restraining contraption despite it being the only thing that’s managed to help you breathe throughout this whole ordeal. 

Shifting up weakly, you move to sit up in your hospital bed to get a better look at the boys.  Jihoon’s hands are quicker than your frail body though, as he tries to keep you lying down.

“C’mon, Hoonie, I’m dying, not losing my sense of humor,” you shrug his hands away and Mingyu’s takes their place to sit you up, “what Soonyoung said was funny.” 

“I’m not offended, it’s funny. I mean, they are pretty, right? It would suck if I was dying and the flowers exploding out my gut were fucking ugly as shit. Could you imagine puking roses? Ugh, how generic,” you chuckle, upping the dramatics and giving Soonyoung a wink along with a mirthful grin which he sheepishly returns. 

You glance at Seungkwan who’s trying to bite down his smile and you offer him your own wide one, “bet you never had a flower shop for a friend, huh?” And at that, the others who’d spent most of this time awkwardly standing around, the same way they did every week when they came to visit, finally let out their laughter. 

You laugh along with them as much as your lungs will allow and you shake Jihoon’s shoulder, as if the gesture will shake the frown off of his face as you whine, “C’mon, please don’t be mad, Jihoon. I’m dying, you’re not allowed to be mad at me.”

“She kinda has a point, Hyung.” Vernon, feeling more relaxed after your joke, takes a seat at the foot of your bed and shrugs at the older male.

“Dying friend trumps angry friend,” you shrug, smiling brightly at Vernon who just pets your leg affectionately. Despite his irritation, Jihoon watches the exchange and visibly softens, patting your head just as sweetly and giving you half a smile. “Whatever, you’re stupid.” 

“By the way, where’s Wonwoo?” Mingyu asks, changing the topic effectively, “isn’t he supposed to be here, too?” 

“He said he’s running late,” Jihoon checks the clock, noting that the male is never usually this late, “he said he had to pick up something before—” as if on cue, the male in question rushes through the doors of your hospital room, panting and sweaty. 

“What the heck, Woo? Did you run all the way here?” you laugh at his disheveled state, “don’t you have a car—” just as quickly as he makes it through the door, your words die on your tongue, finally seeing just what it was he had to pick up, rather who.

“Seungcheol.” The world seems to stop for a moment when your eyes meet his, and everyone in the room becomes as still as statues, the playful mood from earlier quickly dissolving into wordless tension. 

It feels like eons before someone breaks the palpable stiffness in the room, but it’s Wonwoo’s voice that slices through it and breaks the trance you and Seungcheol are locked in, “I’m sorry, y/n.” 

“What the actual fuck, Wonwoo!” This is the loudest your voice has ever managed to be since you arrived at the hospital and the strain burns your throat so much that you start coughing violently, gasping desperately for air as a fresh wave of nausea hits you and the rest of the boys can tell right away by the panicked look in your eyes. 

Vernon, who’s closest to the new trash bin is quick to grab it, placing it in front of you on your lap, while Mingyu’s hands efficiently remove the breathing receptacle from your face. Jihoon reacts like it’s his second nature to pull your hair out of your face and hold it behind you, while Wonwoo moves to your side to gently stroke your back, cooing soft encouraging whispers into your ear as bright orange starts to assault your senses, blurring your vision and filling the room with sickly sweet scent of marigolds along with the sounds of your violent retching. Soonyoung and Seokmin are quick to leave the room, saying they’ll call a nurse for an extra bin while the rest sit to the side, not even an inkling of panic on their faces. 

It all happens so fast, with such lighting precision and rehearsed accuracy that Seungcheol is sure that this isn’t the first time his closest friends have been through this. He realizes quickly that he’s the only one who hadn't known. 

Once you're done unloading your flowery guts into the bin, Minghao is already ready with a moist towelette to wipe away any dribble along your lips. Your weak gaze manages to meet Seungcheol’s confused but visibly enraged ones, but you don’t speak. Not for lack of ability to, but because there was nothing left to say. The jig was up, he knew. 

“What the fuck, y/n?” Seungcheol’s voice is booming and you almost laugh at how often you’d heard those words in the span of time you’d been in the hospital, but his next words cease any coherent thought you might have, “who is he? Tell me, y/n, who the fuck is he, I’ll kill him.”

Confused, your eyes dart from the angry eyes of the subject of your affections, to the bespectacled ones of your other best friend who was still standing beside you, hands unwaveringly rubbing gentle, soothing circles onto your back. 

“Woo?” 

“I thought you should be the one to tell him.” He explains, eyes apologetic. 

“I swear to god, y/n! Is this where you’ve been the past two months?” Seungcheol, ever the impulsive and quick to anger person he is, doesn’t even register the moment that passes between you and Wonwoo, “Why didn’t you tell me? I can’t believe you wouldn’t tell your best friend! We’ve been through everything together, and I would do anything for you but you were just going to go through all of this, all alone, without me?” 

You only laugh at how he was exactly the same Seungcheol you’d always remembered. Two torturous months had passed and while the time had seemed to trudge on slowly for you, the time feeling like eternities without him, it had flown by for him and he had emerged from the other end practically unscathed; you were dying, and in a way, he was literally killing you with heartbreak but all he could think about was how you could have the audacity to leave him out of your own illness and death. 

Classic Seungcheol. It might have seemed unbearably selfish of him, but this was also part of why you loved him so dearly. He was so innocent, so caught up in his own heart that he barely registered anyone else’s, but it also meant that once he treasured someone, he would do anything, sacrifice anything for them. His one-track mind and heart would never let him be or do anything less; if Seungcheol had to give you the world just so that you might live, he would die trying to get it. 

It was exactly why you had wanted to leave him out of it. You knew that he was too kind, too self-sacrificing to the point of selfishness, too caught up in his own emotions that he would never understand your choice to not have the surgery—to die. 

“Sorry, Cheolie,” you try to smile despite the sob that gets caught in your throat, “I just thought it would be better this way.” 

At your words, he immediately unclenches and finally all the anger that wracks his body seems to dissipate from him until all that’s left in his irises is confusion and hurt. "You don’t have to do this. You can just have the surgery,” he coaxes, walking over to your bedside where he takes your hand in his, gently rubbing the skin there with his thumb before gently pressing it to his lips, closing his eyes as he does so. 

“But I can’t, Cheolie, I can’t forget—” you almost slip up and say ‘you’, but you swallow it down and Seungcheol is quick to take the reigns of the conversation again. 

“You can! You can forget that bastard! Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve you, your love, or your death.” He pleads, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. 

“You don’t know that Seungcheol,” the first time in a long time you’d used his first name, “he doesn’t deserve me, he deserves better, you just don’t know—” 

“I don’t want to know! If he really loved you, he wouldn’t be letting you die here all alone—”

“But I’m not alone!” you try to argue, but Seungcheol isn’t having any of it, he’s too riled up again, too in his pain to let you explain anything to him.

“No, y/n! For fuck’s sake, listen to me! If he can’t love you when you’re fucking willing to die for him, then he’s not gonna love you even after you’re dead! And there’s no use dying just to remember someone who doesn’t love you!” he heaves, “isn’t it better to just be alive not remembering someone who could never love you?”

Everyone stood around you, eyes wide and tensely watching, awaiting your response with bated breath. His words hurt. More than anything, they felt like a death sentence, an indirect confirmation that Seungcheol could never and would never return your feelings. Fighting the marigolds bubbling in your chest threatening to spill out, you can only shake your head, smiling at him as tears finally spill from your eyes.

It takes everything in Jihoon not to punch the lights out of Seungcheol as everyone watches you cry, but Wonwoo’s firm grip on Jihoon’s arm is warning enough that you wouldn’t want them fighting with each other. 

“It’s okay,” you finally manage the words, and everyone but Seungcheol knows that the words are more for everyone else in the room, “I know you don’t understand, and I don’t expect you to.

“You’re not meant to; it’s not for you to understand. This is mine.” Seungcheol meets your eyes and in them he sees a finality that he has never seen before, a certainty unmarred by fear or sadness. “So, I don’t care if you’re mad at me, or if you don’t agree. You don’t have to, you just have to be my friend and sit this one out, okay?” 

Your eyes scan through the room, meeting the eyes of all your closest friends, asking for their silent agreement to both keep your secret but also to no longer question your decision. “Just be my friend and sit with me till—” 

“Till the end.” Wonwoo finishes when you’re unable to, voice shaky from overuse and the emotions. 

The night the world ends is the day your heart finally stops. For three days prior you’d been in a medically induced coma, the doctors explaining to Jihoon and all your friends that it would be too much, too painful to keep you awake while your body slowly failed; your lungs slowly filling with blood, fluid and marigolds, its roots constricting the far too weakened organ tighter and tighter until your system would eventually crash from the lack of oxygen. Ultimately suffering from a long and arduous suffocation.

When you go, it isn’t peaceful or serene like the books or the movies often say it is. Your body is a mess of convulsions and painful retching fits. Despite being sedated, you're gasping for air; your body seemingly clawing onto life and fighting to preserve itself despite your heart telling it to let go. As the last of your struggle and life dissipates from your body, you’re surrounded by the same friends who’d kept you company throughout this whole ordeal. 

Till the end, even on the days you could no longer talk, or wake up to even see them, they had stayed. Some talked to you, sometimes telling you stories, reading you your favorite books, and even saying their goodbyes one by one. Even Seungcheol, who despite his bursts of anger and frequent tantrums that had him walking out, always returned to keep his promise and just sit with you. 

That night, there were no marigolds like when Jihoon had first found you, it was not beautiful or immaculate. There was no portrait of you sprawled in a field of bright golden flowers. Instead, there were only bloodied, wilting petals scattered at your bedside and sticking to your skin and robes, the orange barely visible through the blood that stained them. Your frame was the smallest they’d ever seen it and you were completely pale, the only color on you was the blood that had caked and dried at your lips and wherever else it had splattered, along with the mess of withering petals.

When the flatline finally echoes through your tiny ICU room, with 13 cramped bodies, not including the doctors and nurses, no one says anything. Wonwoo is the first to crack, taking your limp hand in his, pressing the lifeless limb to his lips then falling to his knees and finally breaking down completely for the first time. Everyone else follows suit. 

Your distant relatives had settled the arrangements for the funeral, deciding to have it in Seoul where you would be surrounded by all your friends and most beloved ones. They are kind and understanding, despite not having been close with you and they thank everyone who attends graciously. All your friends attend, Seungcheol even brings his girlfriend for moral support and she does just that. You would’ve been happy that he had her shoulder to cry on, Jihoon thinks as he watches them.

The night Seungcheol’s world stops is a week after your passing. Jihoon invites Seungcheol to go out with him and Wonwoo. When he meets the pair at the park, sitting on a bench, all three of them almost laugh at how much of a similar state they’re all in; eyes puffy with dark circles underneath to match, and faces swollen from sleepless nights spent crying. 

“If y/n were here, she’d laugh at how bad we look,” Wonwoo laughs, the first to break the silence, “she’d never let us live it down.”

“I miss her.” Seungchol breathes out the words into a puff of cold exhalation. At the words, Jihoon feels his fists clench, a sudden rage washing over him, but Wonwoo is quick and takes it upon himself to perform the difficult task at hand instead of Jihoon. 

“You should know, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo sadly meets the gaze of his friend, forcing the words and choking down the tears in his throat, “it was you.”

“Y/n didn’t want us to tell you, she was kind that way,” Jihoon runs a hand through his locks, fighting the tears, “but we’re not as kind.”

“We thought you deserved to know.” Wonwoo clarifies, not letting Jihoon’s anger cloud their actual purpose. 

“She was in love with you, she always has been,” Jihoon sighs, recounting the conversation he had with you a few weeks prior to you being comatose. 

“There’s still time, y/n. I know I said I would drop it, I’m sorry, but you can’t blame a guy for trying to save his best friend, right?” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“It’s okay, Hoonie, I understand.” Till the very end, you were kind despite your pain.

“You know why marigolds?” your eyes look to Wonwoo sitting by Jihoon then trail off to the view outside your window. “When I first arrived in Seoul, he was my first friend. I met him in a field of marigolds. I’d fallen and scraped my knee. It was really bad actually, I had to get stitches after. I remember trying so hard not to cry, because I was a big girl and this was the big city and I just felt like there were no room for tears here, y’know?”

You laugh at the memory, “out of nowhere this big kid comes running at me asking if I’m okay. While I tried not to cry, telling him I was okay, he took one look at the gaping wound and all the blood on my skirt and he started crying so loudly.

He was so dramatic that it almost made me forget how much it hurt, and I could laugh even just a little at him. So overly emotional, that boy.” You shake your head. “Anyway, I ask him why he’s crying, and this obviously much older and taller boy bawls at me saying ‘it looks like it hurts, doesn’t it hurt? And you’re not crying so I’ll just cry for you’.”

“He cried so much that his parents eventually found him and me, and brought me to the hospital to get stitches. I’ve been with him ever since. We were so young back then. I’m sure he doesn’t even remember…”

Finally looking back at Jihoon who now sees the fresh tears in your eyes, “but I-I don’t want to forget, Jihoon. I don’t want to forget him or who he helped me become.”

“And I knew, you know?” chuckling mirthlessly, your eyes shift to Wonwoo’s sad eyes as they watch your sadder ones, “I knew he couldn’t feel that way about me, I knew he didn’t love me, but I adored him anyway. There were times I thought, maybe, maybe he’d finally see me...”

 Turning back to Jihoon, you could only shrug, “but we all know how that turned out.” 

“She always loved you, Seungcheol,” Wonwoo interjects, ending Jihoon’s retelling and watching as the older male’s eyes fill with tears.

“But why didn’t she—why couldn’t she just have told me? She could’ve just been honest.” 

“We all know that wasn’t an option,” it’s Jihoon’s turn to interrupt this time, “you were engaged, and she wasn’t going to ever let herself get in the way of that.” 

A silence passes between them at his words. It was true. No matter how Seungcheol looked at it and flipped it around in his head, you were far too selfless to do anything so cruel, and knowing you, the last thing you’d want was to make it any harder on him. You were no angel, but you were a good person, the best he knew, but he also knew you could be selfish to a certain extent. Instead of just going through with the surgery, you suffered painfully till the very end, and all to preserve memories of someone who he now knew didn’t even deserve to be remembered, all because he was too blind and too wrapped up in his own heart to see it, to see you. 

“I love you; I’m waiting for you unbearably.” Wonwoo’s eyes are closed as he whispers the words into the emptiness of the starless night sky. The two males stare at him wordlessly as if waiting for an explanation and after taking his time, letting the moment pass, he does. 

“It was a quote y/n really loved, from a book she recommended to me a while back.” He smiles fondly at the memory, “during her last days, sometimes she’d whisper it in her sleep.”

They sat there in silence for what seemed like hours, wordlessly comforting each other by just being there. As they stayed there, basking in the stillness and calm that seemed to envelope the rest of the universe; your death felt like the world had ended, but here it was, continuing to spin through the vastness of the cold October night sky; blissfully ignorant of your passing. Even in that emptiness, there was comfort and somehow, they could almost feel you; just there, sitting with them till the end. 

Seungcheol is the first to stand to leave, whispering a hoarse thank you to the two before turning to head to his car and driving off, home to his fiancé. Wonwoo and Jihoon don’t say anything more. It’s Jihoon who decides when it’s finally time to leave. He turns to Wonwoo, beckoning to the male with a nod. 

“Let’s go, Woo.” 

“Do you think it will hurt?” Jihoon doesn’t look at him as he drives, but quirks his brow, confused by his question. 

“What, the surgery?” 

It takes a moment before Wonwoo can respond. He’s perfectly calm, looking out the window at the streaks of passing light as he shakes his head, “no. Forgetting.”

The words take Jihoon by surprise, but he doesn’t show it, not wanting to worry him any further. Instead, he gives him a comforting smile, the first hint of sincere softness on his face since you had been admitted to the hospital, and shakes his head. 

“No, I don’t think so. I think it only hurts when you know you’re forgetting. But once you’ve forgotten, then there has to be some relief in that, right? To be able to be a blank slate. A new start, she would have wanted that for you.” 

Wonwoo only nods, closing his eyes as he takes in the younger’s words. 

“Don’t worry, Wonwoo,” Jihoon’s hand is a comforting warmth on his shoulder, “even when you can’t remember her anymore, I’ll remember her for the both of us.”

Fin.

[buckthegrump]

Where You Go - 14 (End)

After a run-in with some hitmen, you find yourself with a new protection detail.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: 2757

Warnings: A whole lot of angst, possible character death, maybe a little bit of fluff

A/n: I figured that I’d give you this before I fuck off to Hawaii for a week, for @sunmoonandbucky

Bucky hadn’t moved. He couldn’t. It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried to move or like his friends hadn’t tried to move him. Sam and Natasha had told him that not only did he need a shower but he also needed to eat. After a week of nothing they gave up on him taking a shower and delivered his food to him.

The Friday a few days after the mission Nat didn’t leave after bringing him his food. Instead, she took a seat next to him.

“She’ll wake up ya know,” Natasha said not sounding even the slightest bit convincing.

Y/n had been in a coma since after her surgery. She only barely made it back to the quinjet where she was hooked up to machines that would keep her alive until they could get Y/n back to the compound.

The doctors worked on Y/n for 17 hours before finally getting her stable enough to move to her own room. Bucky hadn’t left her side since.

“What if she doesn’t?” Bucky asked tearing his eyes away from Y/n to look at Natasha.

Natasha scratched the side of her face and sighed. “I don’t know.”

Bucky looked back to Y/n and chuckled. “It’s dumb ya know.”

“What is?”

“I have known her for only a few months and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with her. The first time I’ve ever really been in love and I’m going to lose her before I even get the chance to tell her.”

“You’re not going to lose her, the doctor said-”

“They said she should wake up in a few hours,” Bucky cut her off, “It’s been a week and nothing.”

Natasha watched Bucky as he watched Y/n. She wanted to tell him something that would give him his hope back but she was struggling to find it herself.

“You should eat,” Natasha said as she stood. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder before leaving the room.

~

For a while, Bucky was never alone with Y/n. There was always someone else there with him. Usually, it was Agent May, but then she was called away by her team, the only way she agreed to leave was if someone called her the moment Y/n woke up. Sam had put FRIDAY in charge of that so no one would forget.

Then it switched off between Sam and Natasha. Or if either of them was off doing something then it was Wanda or Sharon.

But for some reason, randomly, Bucky was alone with Y/n.

“You need to wake up so I can go tell the kids that you’re ok,” Bucky told her, “I’m using a lot of sick time to be here with you, it’s only been two weeks but still, and you’ve been out longer.”

Y/n continued to lay there.

“You’ve become a terrible conversationalist as of late,” he joked but Y/n didn’t stir. “There was a line of that song you were singing that got stuck in my head. The ‘I got lost in a world that was only a mile’ line, that’s the one you were singing when I found you.

“I looked it up. I waited for a few days before I did though, I was kind of hoping you would wake up and then I could ask you. But you and it was just that one line in my head and I was going crazy,” Bucky chuckled humorlessly. “This is going to sound stupid -”

He paused, was this really how he wanted to do this?

“I’m in love with you. I know we haven’t known each other long enough to know things like that but I do. I’m in love with you and I swear to god if you die on me I’m going to lose my fucking mind, Y/n. I still don’t know what you wanted to tell me before you passed out.

“So you have to wake up,” he leaned closer to her, grabbing her hand, “you have to wake up and tell me what you needed me to know.”

Y/n, once again, didn’t stir nor did her breathing change in the slightest and Bucky was starting to lose hope.

~

It was the middle of the night and the room was dark, Y/n could feel pressure on her right side and something holding on to her hand. She opened her eyes and looked over to find Bucky laying his head on her leg while holding her hand.

Y/n wiggled her hand out of Bucky’s grasp he groaned but he didn’t wake. 

“Bucky,” she said quietly as she poked his cheek, he flinched but didn’t wake up. “Bucky, wake up.”

“I’m sleeping,” he said.

“Yeah but you’re sleeping on me and you’re heavy,” Y/n told him.

“Please,” he pleaded, “I’m very tired.”

“You’re also very smelly, when’s the last time you showered?” Y/n scrunched up her nose at the stench that wafted from Bucky.

“Thanks, Nat,” he grumbled.

“Ok, you can take a shower in the morning,” Y/n told him. He hummed in response and Y/n ran her fingers through his hair. She started to softly sing the same song she had been to keep herself awake. 

It was then that Bucky finally opened his eyes and looked up at Y/n who was still looking at him.

“You’re awake,” he whispered with a shocked expression that soon turned to a joyous on.

“So it would seem.” 

Bucky stood and wrapped his arms around her shoulder his body shaking with laughter.

“FRIDAY -” Bucky started but couldn’t find the words.

“Already done, Sergeant,” FRIDAY answered.

Bucky pulled back cupping Y/n’s face with his hands, tears streaming down his face. Y/n reached up and wiped them away. 

“How long was I out?” She asked him.

He swallowed before he could answer. “A few weeks,” his voice broke as he spoke, “I really thought you were going to die on me.”

“Nope,” she smiled and put her hands on Bucky’s wrists, “Looks like you’re stuck with me for now.”

Bucky stroked her cheekbones with his thumbs. “Good.”

Y/n stared at Bucky as his eyes drifted down to her lips and she was sure he was going to kiss her and she wanted nothing more than for him to do it. But then the rest of the team came bursting into the room turning on the lights and hugging her.

Bucky had somehow gotten pushed to the edge of the room and as everyone hugged and spoke to Y/n, she would catch his eye and smile at him before turning her attention back to whoever was talking to her.

An hour after Y/n had woken up Melinda May stormed through the door. She ordered everyone out because she wanted to speak to her daughter alone. As everyone was shuffling out of the room Bucky took the tail end of the line.

“Wait no,” Y/n said stopping him and looked to May, “Bucky stays.”

“Y/n, it’s fine,” Bucky smiled at her. 

“No, Sergeant Barnes,” May said not looking away from her daughter, “It’s fine if you stay.”

“Really ma’am it’s ok,” he insisted, “I’ve been told recently that I need to shower so I was going to do that.” He looked at Y/n who was looking at him with wide eyes. “I’ll be right back.”

Y/n nodded at him as he walked out of the room. She turned to her mom who looked pissed.

“Mom -”

“You scared the shit outta me,” May said.

 “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.”

“It better not,” May said before smiling, “So Sergeant Barnes?”

“Mom,” Y/n groaned throwing her head back against her pillow.

“He’s very handsome and I can see how much he cares about you.”

“It’s not like that -”

“Don’t bullshit me, Y/n,” May cut her off, “I saw the look on his face when he found you lying there, then the relief when he realized you were still alive. And he wouldn’t leave your side while you were in your coma. So yeah, I think it is like that and I gotta say, I approve.”

Y/n smiled and looked down at her hands. “He is cute, huh?”

May opened her mouth to say something but then turned around and saw Bucky waiting in the hallway.

“Alright kiddo,” May placed a kiss to Y/n’s forehead, “I gotta go, but I'll be back, try not to give the poor guy any more heart attacks please.”

“I’ll do my best,” Y/n replied as May walked out of the room and Bucky walked in. She didn’t miss the wink her mother gave Bucky nor did she miss how Bucky blushed slightly at the gesture.

“How are you feeling?” Bucky asked as the door closed behind him.

“Fine,” she said then thought for a moment, “Hungry.”

“I thought as much,” Bucky lifted his hand to reveal the brown paper bag Y/n hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Is that for me?” She wiggled in her bed sitting up excitedly.

“Well, it’s for us to share,” Bucky said.

He sat down on the bed and emptied the bag onto her lap. 

“Were you planning on feeding a small village?” She teased as Bucky continued to pull out food. Bucky was about to respond when Y/n tore into the food and ate half of it in record time.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to find you,” Bucky whispered and Y/n froze mid-chew.

She swallowed before telling him, “But you found me and I’m alive. That’s all that matters right?”

“You almost died -”

“Yet, here I am alive and well,” Y/n joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“But you almost weren’t,” he said sternly. “Y/n, I almost lost you because I didn’t follow the one rule I made.”

“Bucky stop, I gave you the dumbest code on the face of the earth and yet you still figured it out. You found me. You saved me.” They sat there looking into each other’s eyes before Y/n spoke again, “I think I was injected with some version of the serum.”

“What?”

“My body feels different and I was a lot stronger than I’d ever been and was doing things I couldn’t normally do.”

“Ok, we’ll look into it,” Bucky said. He reached over and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. Y/n yawned and Bucky smiled at her. “You should get some rest.”

“I just spent the last few weeks sleeping,” Y/n whined.

“Just go to sleep,” Bucky rolled his eyes.

She gave in and settled back into bed. “You’ll stay right?”

“Always.” He got off the bed and sat back in the chair and watched as Y/n fell asleep.

~

Y/n had been right, Jeff and his henchmen had injected her with a version of the serum. It had been a few months since the kidnapping winter break and come and gone and Y/n was back at school teaching. As was Bucky.

There were times when Y/n knew she should tell him what she was going to say right before she passed out and she could see that he wanted to ask but was giving her time to come out with it herself.

“Ms. L/n when are you going to tell Mr. Barnes that you’re in love with him?” Andrew asked and Rachel snickered next to him.

“We’re riding this train again are we?” Y/n asked. The class hadn’t asked many questions when Y/n came back and she suspected Bucky had something to do with that.

“Oh c’mon!” Rachel groaned. “You two are clearly in love with each other and we’re all dying for you guys to just get together already.”

“Really Ms. L/n,” Ann said with the most dramatic sigh that Y/n had heard in a while, “It’s getting physically painful.”

The bell rang but no one moved from their seat.

“Y/n?” Everyone in the class turned around at the same time to look at Bucky who was standing in the doorway. “You realize the bell’s rung right?”

“When are you going to ask Y/n out?” Mary asked leaning back in her chair. “Like a real date, not that homecoming shit you pulled.”

Bucky smiled and leaned against the wall. “Did you not think it was cute?”

The entire class made an unsure noise. Y/n laughed under her breath and Bucky looked at them all a little hurt with his mouth wide open. He looked at Y/n. 

“I thought it was a cute idea,” he shrugged.

“Cute it may have been but a date ‘twas not,” Andrew announced.

“Why are you talking like you want to be in a Shakespeare play but didn’t make the cut?” Rachel asked him. Andrew poked her side and she stuck her tongue out at him. “Either way Mr. Barnes, you and Y/n are trying to dance but both of you are afraid to take the next step.”

“The bell rang like 30 minutes ago!” Y/n reminded her class, it had been closer to about a minute. “Go home! Go bother the adults you live with!”

The whole class laughed as they grabbed their stuff and rushed out the door.

Y/n didn’t notice that Bucky was still in her classroom until she turned to leave almost running into him.

“Oh, sorry,” Y/n apologized to his chest. His hands hovered over her hips.

“It’s ok.” Bucky didn’t make any move to back away. “They’re right you know?”

“Who is about what?” Y/n looked up finally meeting his eyes.

“The kids, homecoming was kind of lame -”

“I didn’t think so,” she cut him off, “I thought it was sweet and I liked having you as my first date to a dance.”

Bucky blushed and tried to fight a smile. 

“Before I went into my coma I tried to tell you something. And there’s probably a better place to tell you, but I find this fitting because I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you in this room,” Y/n said. Bucky opened his mouth but she continued, “Or at least this is where I realized it, it was during the attack on the school and Rachel was in the bathroom and you didn’t hesitate to run out and save her. When you walked out the door my heart stopped and I was so close to following you out there. Or maybe I realized when we were dancing in my kitchen, or at homecoming.”

“The rat,” was all he said.

“I just confessed my love to you and you’re talking about a rat?”

“No, the day you screamed bloody murder over a rat, that’s when I knew I was going to fall in love with you.”

“So it wasn’t when I saved your psychotic ass from your post and pans with my bottle cleaner?” She teased.

Bucky backed her up against the desk and she involuntarily let out a giggle.

“What?” Bucky asked.

“Umm,” Y/n pursed her lips then smiled, “when I was going in and out of consciousness at the HYDRA layer -”

“Layer?”

“I had a dream that we had sex -”

Bucky’s blush deepened and Y/n leaned in closer.

“On this desk,” she whispered.

“We can make that happen,” he whispered.

“There are children outside the door watching us if you were using your supersoldier hearing you would’ve known that.”

“Sorry,” he placed his forefinger under her chin with his thumb resting just under her lip, “I was too enthralled with the woman I love.”

“Would you like to go out on a date with me?” Y/n asked.

“Just one or can I have more?” He leaned closer almost completely closing the gap between them.

“Depends on how good of a kisser you are.”

Y/n wrapped her arms around his shoulders pulling him in to kiss him. Bucky cupped the back of her neck with one of his hands while the other slid down her side and lifted up her leg so it was almost hooked around him. The sound of cheers broke them out of their spell before either of them could deepen the kiss.

Y/n barely pulled away to yell, “GO HOME!” 

The crowd that had been gathered at the door dispersed.

“What about us? Should we go home?” Bucky asked.

“Where you go, I go,” Y/n answered with a smile.