#this was inspired by another post which i can't seem to find anymore

[underwhelmingalchemist]

So apparently the version of the "Isn't It Bromantic" interview that gets passed around isn't the full thing

So after seeing a tumblr post I can't find, about two and half hours of intensive internet digging, and one purchase from a sketchy second-hand site later (full story under the cut, I promise it's interesting, but also long), I got the physical magazine and scanned it

So here you go: the full "Isn't It Bromantic?" TV guide interview with Robert Sean Leonard and Hugh Laurie

Feel free to repost wherever you want- I want people to be able to find the full thing

SO, as for how I found it:

I saw this tumblr post forever ago that I can't find anymore because tumblr is just Like That with a cropped screenshot of an interview with Hugh Laurie and Robert Sean Leonard. In the interview, they're asked about the "bromance" between their two characters. Leonard makes an annoyed comment about how "everyone [is] obsessed with homosexuality", followed by the interview apologizing and Laurie immediately jumping in with, "No, no, let's talk about it. Wilson and House have an unusual relationship so you have to explore…" and the screenshot cuts off there. Cue funny comment from the OP about the interaction, roll credits.

Except, as these things tend to do, it ended up becoming a bit of a brain worm, and I wanted to find it again. But I couldn't find the tumblr post. I looked absolutely everywhere, and in the process of looking everywhere, I found what I thought was the original interview- a blog post with the full quote from the actor. I didn't think too much about it, I figured it was just a short quote given to a popular blog in 2008. There's a magazine cover above it, but I don't think too much about it, because I'm focusing on the quotes in the article instead of the rest of it.

So I send screenshots to a couple friends to make jokes, and it probably should have died there.

However, late at night I end up thinking about that interview again, because of course I did. I start to think about how it's weirdly formatted for, what I assumed at first reading, was just an entertainment news blog reaching out for comment and getting a response. So I pull up the screenshots of the article (because weirdly enough, the old-ass blog only loads on mobile) and look at it again.

This is when I realize that this isn't an original piece from a blog interviewing these two after reaching out for comment. This is a blog post quoting and commenting on a full interview from a magazine, which I had originally thought had just been the inspiration for the piece.

So naturally, I go looking for the magazine.

Luckily, the name of the magazine is displayed on the cover, and so is the title of its main piece. This should be easy to find, right?

Wrong.

This is an interview in a physical magazine. From 2008. October 13th, 2008, to be exact.

I know this exact date because searching the article title and magazine name leads me to an archive on the TV Guide website.

Of covers.

And nothing but covers.

I spend like forty-five minutes searching everywhere I can think of on the web. Internet Archive, the TV Guide website, any search result that comes up when I search any combination of the words "House" "Interview" "Bromantic" "Bromance" "TV Guide" "Archive" etc. Over and over, all that's coming up are that original blog post and the cover from the official gallery.

The only things I could find online were:

The cover and date of the issue on the TV Guide website

The original blog post that was screenshotted in the original tumblr post

Another blog post that had a much shorter version of the quote, references something Leonard says from later in the article, and makes a comment on the nature of his reaction to the term "bromance"

An entry on Leonard's IMDB page's "interview" list mentioning it in title only

And:

5. A single listing for the issue on what seemed to be a second-hand site that looked like it hadn't had its UI updated since the mid 2000's, with a listing with no date or additional information besides what issue it is.

This is the only listing anywhere. I checked every other second-hand site I could think of, and then some that only came up through google searches. There's not a single listing for that issue on any of them. There were plenty of listings of TV guide magazines, including one that seemed promising because it included issues from that year, but it was missing all of October.

It seemed like the only listing for this issue on the entire internet was this one copy on this one obscure website. For all I know, this was listed in 2008 and abandoned, and just never got marked inactive. It could also be a complete scam.

A few quick google searches show that that website seemed to be legit, albeit a bit loose on quality control (which makes sense, this website seemed like the kind of thing you'd have to use the Way Back Machine to access). It also had an option to pay via PayPal, which meant I could file a chargeback if need be.

It was $11.50 when you include shipping.

So at about half past midnight, I bought the listing.

Naturally, about an hour later, I manage to actually find a scan of the interview. I had to follow a link in the comments of a post on FanPop, taking me to an old wordpress blog, and I'm sitting in front of the damn interview at last.

But something doesn't make sense. Why would their cover story only be two pages of text that aren't even full pages, and why would it cut off so strangely? There was no concluding sentence or paragraph, even though it started with a fairly long lead-in. It also led right up to the edge of the page, which felt like there should be more to it. There were more images in the interview than text, and the fact that there are so many of them and they clearly did a whole photoshoot indicated that they had them on hand for a while. The silly string one, for instance, I imagine probably had to require a couple takes, which means cleaning off Wilson's hair and face, adjusting makeup, etc. for it. Meanwhile, the conversation itself seems like it could have taken ten minutes total. I could have been totally wrong and that was where the article ended, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be more.

So I hold tight. A couple days pass with no update, and then the PayPal purchase gets updated with a tracking number. Promising, but it could still be a scam. Whether or not I get the actual magazine becomes a source of anxiety for the next week.

Until today, when I get told it was delivered. And when I opened the envelope it was sent in: there it was.

When I tell you I was happy stimming in my bedroom just holding the damn issue in my own hands... And then opening it and finding out that I was right, there was a missing page... I was elated. I still am, just typing this.

So I spent half an hour getting my scanner to work, and I give you the above issues.

Like I said above, feel free to repost however and wherever you want. I want all this to mean something.

In the meantime, I have two more House-themed TV Guide magazines coming to try and get articles from.

[ghostyclay]

Since yall seem to like my other AUs/headcanons, I've decided to rant a bit about my 'main' one :3 (kept vague to avoid spoilers)

Small summary: (more indepth rant below)

it's a villan & hero hermitcraft / life series / empires au, focused on bad boys (at least during the first arc). Joel creates a bar as a cover for a fighting ring/information selling business, joined by pearl effo gem grian and jimmy. Grian refuses to participate in the criminal activities at first, but doesn't rat them out either. (inspired by his resisting the resistance thing in s9)

However, as u can probably guess, this doesn't last long and he slowly gets more n more involved, especially once random people mysteriously start getting "the red curse", which he recognizes from his past... (hehe watcher lore) Grian continues to pretend to stay uninvolved while trying to keep the Watchers at bay behind the scenes, even going as far as creating multiple alter egos / secret identities in order to hide his involvement.... (poultry man, cute guy, mother spore,...) Sadly, the Watchers think identity reveals are incredibly amusing and make it their mission to reveal Grians secrets... :)

Now, lil poll bc i wanna know yalls preference:

Im not a very experienced writer, so I can't guarantee the fics would be any good- while i def prefer comics, it would take a long ass time and I'm not sure whether its a good idea since i tend to loose interest in projects p fast wkdhakdj

Still debating what to name it, I think ill call it "Web of lies", "Wolau" for short LMFAO. Im not very good at naming things 😭 suggestions are welcome!!!

Some more background info:

Joel is a fairly new villain who has decided to start a business focused on fighting rings, selling information and just generally doing criminal stuff. (inspired by his secret fighting club in s10). He hires Gem and jimmy, two ex-vigilantes who became a bit more... Villainous. Their cover is a normal bar, which ofc means they also need normal employees who won't snitch. Jimmy suggests Grian toJoel, since he's a retired informant. He basically started out as an investigative journalist in another city, but got more n more involved with both villains and heroes (which is how he knows jimmy) before joining a cult (watcher lore watcher lore watcher lore-) and suddenly dissappearing.

Although he went missing a few years ago, they manage to track him down. He joins, but tells them he's not involved in the world of villains anymore and that he wants to stay out of everything (so hes basically working in the bar that they use as a cover as a 'normal' employee and turns a blind eye to anything criminal going on)

That's kind of the start of the story? Afterwards, Pearl, a villain who used to be a vigilante that worked with Scott (<-number one hero), then got betrayed by him and is now plotting his murder, joins in. Later on etho joins, who is originally sent by the hermits as a spy (<- p big villain&vigilante alliance in the city) but ends up deciding to side w/ them. (BOAT BOYS BOAT BOYS BOAT BOYS-)

(pearl & Scott's conflict is ofc a double life ref and etho is a mycelium resistance ref, he also ends up finding out about some of grians secrets and helping him behind the scenes)

Although its focused on the members of the bar, later on it focuses more on other hermits (since they get more involved w/ the villain group "hermits" which most of the hermits are a part of) but there's also some side stories that focus on other ppl (there's a whole side story about Ren and Doc getting to know each other after Ren gets infected by the curse, or martyn whole listener thing & how it's connected to renchanting/ren getting cursed and the Watchers showing up in the first place... But i dont wanna spoil too much :3)

Oh also! Hermits r mainly criminals(vigilantes, villains, big salmom mafia,...) and Empires members r usually heroes! But there is some exceptions to this rule. (jimmy n martyn for example)

ANY KIND OF QUESTIONS OR SUGGESTIONS R WELCOME!!! might not be able to answer everything bc of spoilers, but ill def try to do some foreshadowing instead :3

[lewkwoodnco]

omg hi you said you were opening requests for lockwood in general and not just songfics so i was wondering if you could write one where lockwood gets hurt in a mission trying to protect reader (they’re dating) and when they get back to portland row she gets mad at him and they have a really bad argument that ends up with the reader saying she doesn’t love him anymore (shes lying) and wants to leave lockwood and co !! (if it’s possible for you to end it on a happy note it would be amazing but if it’s hard to write there’s no pressure)

only love can hurt like this - Lockwood x Reader

Psst I now have a taglist! yippee!

A/N: okay SO I know the title is from a song but it’s nottt a song fic and gosh this made me realise what a crutch music has been in my writing 😭 if any of y’all have more non-songfic requests I would rlly appreciate it 🙏the beginning's a lil fluffy hehe, inspired by this post! P.S. condolences for shadow and bone </3, wc 4.7k She was in the kitchen when George and Lockwood returned from their case, dusty and exhausted, and fixed up some tea for them. George took his tea up to his room with a mumbled thanks and Lockwood pressed a distracted kiss to her temple as he pulled out the biscuit tin. She made a calculatedly casual remark about going down to the basement to help Lucy sort out their storage, at which he rolled his eyes and pulled her into the chair next to his.

But that was about an hour ago, and now she could hear the tired flipping of pages and stacking of files from the library, where he was buckling down to fight the growing pile of paperwork on his desk. He's facing away from her when she steps in, and from the looks of it, the paperwork seems to be winning.

"I know you wouldn't want to make a fuss..."

He stiffens, and when he turns there's an incredulous tilt to his eyebrows and the ghost of a smile tugging on his lips. She keeps a hand over the candle's flame as she walks in balancing a card and cupcake on her palm.

"How did you find out?"

"I badgered Barnes for your birth certificate. Took me months."

"That can't be legal."

"Don't think he minded much in the end. Anyway, the card was like a pound and the cupcake is a gift from Arif so you can't refuse either of them."

He smiles despite himself, glancing through the card with a bemused interest, red glitter coating his fingertips.

"Well, I didn't know I was your 'precious sweetheart.'"

"Oh, shut up. It was that or a condolences card."

"Hmm, this card really is the gift that keeps giving. 'To my dearest darling...'"

"Maybe I should have had a look through."

"...blah blah blah 'perfect day for my adorable sweetheart -'"

"What on earth kind of a shop is Arif keeping?"

"'Happy birthday handsome'?"

"I think we're done with the card!" She snatches it from him and stuffs it under the large stack of papers on his desk, face burning, but it still takes him a while to laugh it out of the system. It's an endearing sight to see him so carefree, if exhausted, and even after months of dating she watches him shyly through her eyelashes. His haggard face makes it easy to see him as far more than only a year older, but for now it's enough that he's laughing and alive.

"First and last time I trust Arif's judgement on birthday cards."

That sets him off again, though he has the decency to try and choke it down, but even his suppressed amusement is infectious enough to make her lips twitch. She hadn't realised what a stirring experience it would be to watch him celebrate another year alive. He looks like he wants to say something, but she's not sure she can bear it.

"Y/-"

"Shh, just blow the candle out. Wait! You have to make a wish."

He sighs dramatically, but acquiesces, briefly muttering invisible words under his breath with closed eyes before blowing out the candle. She tries to match the fluttering of his lips to words but nothing quite fits, and she half wonders if he's spouting incomprehensible gibberish just to appease her. It isn't until he pulls out the candle and jabs her with it that she realises she was staring.

"You want to know what I wished for?"

"It's killing me."

"I -"

"No! You can't tell me or it won't come true."

"Y/N, it's a candle in a cupcake."

"I'm not putting up with any of your cynicism on your birthday." She thinks about the overly zealous card, and the crumbling cupcake that would be gone in a few minutes. "Should have gotten you a gift. At least a small one."

"This is perfect. Really."

"Still. Could have scrounged up a keychain, or a mug."

"What, from the kitchen? My kitchen?"

"You know me so well."

"Well," he leans back in his chair, almost superficially nonchalant. "I suppose there is one gift you could give me."

"Anything."

"What's it going to take for you to read the card out loud?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

That day had a sluggish quality which made it feel like years had passed by the time they set out for their job at sprawling, if ancient, mansion on the outskirts of London. Looking up at the giant house that nearly completely blocked out the setting sun, relief over knowing where the haunting was centralised washed over her; she wasn't quite in the mood to be running up and down impractically ornate flights of stairs.

The neighbours had reported seeing a ghostly figure drifting aimlessly in one of the open-air courtyards, and occasionally it would appear on the balcony directly above the courtyard, climbing over the railing before vanishing into thin air. Lockwood and George were stationed at the courtyard, Lucy at the stairs, and she on the balcony.

She stepped onto the balcony hesitantly, eyeing a thin, jagged crack running through the stone. The house was too cavernous to be considered flimsy but some of the crumbling walls made her feel as though one good thump would bring the whole place crashing down. She started to unzip her duffel bag when an ear-splitting scream ran through the courtyard.

She jumped, her ear prickling unpleasantly. It was as though the visitor had been standing right next to her, but as her heart rate came down, she realised she wasn't even feeling chilly. She peered down, where George was squinting up at her, Lockwood already with one foot out of their chains. She shook her head, trying to muster a thumbs-up with her fumbling hands, but he was already walking towards the stairs briskly.

She wasn't sure how long it took him to reach her, but it definitely felt longer than it should have. The adrenaline from the scream had made her especially nervy, with a sickly fog of paranoia settling over her mind. Those trees seemed too lush, too dense, dark green leaves quivering under the whims of some invisible wind. She tried to think about the cupcake, and Lockwood's face when he first saw it, and it was enough to stop the balcony from dissolving under her fingertips.

But when he reached her, hair tousled, his grip on her shoulder just a little too strong to be entirely comfortable, she saw a very different version of Lockwood. His lips were moving but there was something rampant in his eyes, something that gave her pause. She glanced at the monstrous night sky, which seemed to threaten to swallow them whole, and then at the inky black heat in Lockwood’s eyes, and she suddenly felt overwhelmed by them both.

"Are you even listening to me?"

"Wha - hm?"

"Are you hurt?"

“No, I’m fine. You didn't need to come up here."

His hand slipped from her shoulder, sliding down to her hand, which he stared at as if he couldn't quite understand it.

"Are you okay?"

He looked up, the furrow in his brows dissolving, though he didn't seem ready to let go of her hand yet. “Hm? Oh, yes, I'm fine. It's just...I...I could have sworn..."

“Breathe, Lockwood. You look like you’re stretched thin.”

"I'm fine," he repeated, but it's somehow more hollow than the last. Part of him turned to leave, but something made him stop. He opened his mouth, then closed it again as if he thought better of whatever he was about to say. The burning in her chest grew.

"You feel it too, don't you?"

He exhaled wearily. "He's playing tricks on us. Maybe Luce should join you here -"

"No, it's best she stay halfway. It'll be fine; we can see each other."

He nodded stiffly, before finally walking away with considerable effort. The balcony somehow felt more alive as Lockwood left, the trees rustling louder than they should as the air around her seemed to contract. It unsettled her.

Eventually the visitor made his appearance, and though her Sight wasn't the best it helped calm her nerves to have something solid to watch out for. He was in the courtyard, dodging Lockwood's salt bombs while trying to fly at George, who was desperately looking for the source. There was only so much help she could give as any flares she threw from her height were only going to hit George or Lockwood rather than the visitor, so she focused on hunting for loose panels or hidden latches in the balcony and the walls of the house from which it protruded.

When she walked back to the railing, she felt a stab of panic at the blanket of grey mist that obscured her vision of the courtyard. She gripped the railing, trying to calm down. She could still hear them, but given what Lockwood had said about the visitor playing tricks, she wasn't sure how much faith she could place in any of her senses. A crash sounded, as if one of the weaker walls had caved in, making her wince. She put her hand on her rapier, steeling herself to make the trip downstairs.

Another crash sounded, but this one seemed to resonate through the mansion's skeleton. There was an awful grinding sound and she felt the floor beneath her feet tilt. She clutched what she could reach of the balcony's doorframe, hanging on by her fingertips, not daring to even breathe as she desperately tried to plant her slippery soles onto the marble floor. Her palms were sweating, and her grip was slipping. She closed her eyes, fed up with the hallucinations, and braced herself for the fall.

Instead of the swooping sensation of falling, she feels strong fingers closing around her wrist. She opened her eyes to the sight of Lockwood pulling her to the safety with a badly scratched cheek, but otherwise unhurt. It makes her want to sob with relief, but she settles for scrabbling for his palm with numb fingers. She leans against the doorframe, reveling in the solid wall pressing against her back, though her relief was short-lived.

The visitor shrieked much closer now, startling her as she turned to watch it hurtling towards them, obsessively staring at the chalice in Lockwood's hand. The growing pit in her stomach swells as she rifles through her belt with increasing agitation, panic stabbing her in the eye with every empty pocket. Lockwood twisted his hand out of her relaxed grip, and in that split second she realised what he was about to do. He took a final step onto what was left of the balcony, and the whole structure came crashing down.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Among the roar of the rubble, she picked out what she thought was the sickening crunch of bones, and it took everything in her to fly down the stairs instead of jumping after him. Lucy was already there with George talking on a phone nearby, and their faces paled when they only saw her coming down the stairs. The three of them frantically started shifting through the rubble, yanking at the larger pieces together. She couldn't see the visitor as the dust settled, which saved her the trouble of ripping it to shreds, limb by limb.

She heard a familiar cough coming from under one of the pieces, and with strength she hadn't known that she possessed, she pulls the piece away to reveal a dusty, battered Lockwood. George and Lucy aren't far behind, quickly freeing him from the mountain of debris. This time she does cry out in relief, pressing her fingers into the skull behind his ears insistently, shaking from the blessing that it was to see him alive and breathing. He winces, and her grip on his head tightens reflexively.

"What? What hurts?"

"Your screaming, right now."

As the DEPRAC vans pulled up, George filled out the necessary paperwork on behalf of Lockwood, who was impatiently letting the paramedics check only for broken bones. As the relief of finding him alive faded, all that was left was a smarting irritation. Lockwood would forever and always remain addicted to playing the hero, she knew that, but it didn't piss her off any less, especially when he put his life on the line for it.

Once Lockwood finally managed to shrug off the last exceptionally persistent paramedic, the four of them trudged over to one of the cabs DEPRAC had flagged down for them.

"Hang on - what about the source?"

George turned and she followed his gaze to the team of DEPRAC officers delicately draping an iron net over the rubble.

"Given that it was the balcony itself, I think it's been taken care of."

As they settle into the cab, Lockwood carefully scans her face which is still as inscrutable as it was ten minutes ago. She relents, but only a little, giving his hand a light squeeze. She closes her eyes and leans her head on his shoulder, whispering quietly.

"I wish you'd let them look over you properly."

"M'alright. I can deal with a few scrapes myself. Fractures, not so much."

George's tired voice floats from the front seat.

"You better not have a concussion, idiot."

She feels him still next to her, and suppresses the urge to roll her eyes. Why couldn't he let the paramedics do their job properly? Why did he have to be so stubborn?

She thinks about a night from long ago, before they were dating and before she learnt how to bully him into taking care of himself. They had just come home from a case, and he was sitting in his room in a curious manner: staring at the wall without even realising his door was ajar, or that he was still fully clothed. The patches of skin peeking out from under his clothes were littered with scratches and cuts, but nothing major enough to warrant first aid, save for the bruise on the side of his face. She paused at his door, watching him, and wondered if he knew she was even there.

“No library?”

“Not tonight.”

She didn’t like the way he was speaking. The response wasn’t immediate, as if it had taken him a while to detangle himself from his absorbing thoughts. The tone of his voice was as cordial as always, but there was some kind of agency missing, as if he were in a trance, and it unnerved her. And yet, something tethered her to him, some desire to protect him from some violence brewing close at hand.

“You should really get some ointment on that.”

“I know.”

But he made no movement to do so, and she felt awkward leaving him alone. That was how she ended up sitting next to Lockwood on his bed as the sun started to peek in. There was a misty tinge to the first strains of light, and Lockwood looked so pale she wondered if he was fully solid. She had watched his fragile and ambivalent spirit restlessly pace in the room for the past few hours, while his corporeal form withered lifelessly, but she didn’t understand him any better.

She slipped her fingers in his own, mildly frowning, as if trying to hold on to an increasingly amorphous Lockwood. His fingers reflexively tightened around hers before relaxing just as quickly, his first movement in hours, though his face remained impasssive. His hand remained relaxed, but when she didn't pull her hand away, he allowed his thumb to rest on hers. She had felt some kind of tension then, between the part of him that wanted to drift away and the part of her holding onto him for dear life. But now, the Lockwood sitting opposite her at the kitchen table was slipping through her fingers like sand.

"Y/N, about those conflicting jobs in Hackney - do you want to split up or should I cancel?"

"I don't know, Luce. Why don't you ask Lockwood? Since he seems to always know best."

Lockwood frowns, briefly looking away from the torch George was shining into his eyes.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

She ignores him, muttering under her breath.

"God forbid someone ask him to try to stay alive."

"Will you cut it out?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, which one of us has a head injury again?"

"I'm fine."

"How dare you lie to my face?"

George clicks the torch off, hastily moving to another corner of the kitchen, while Lucy's weary drifting slows down. Lockwood still looks peeved, but there's a hint of bewilderment on his face. She sighs irritably, pressing her eyelids.

"What I mean is...you don't look fine."

"It's only a bump. Not even a concussion - George checked."

"At least let me ice it for a bit."

"Don't fuss. I'm fine. Just sit and have your tea."

I’m begging you to let me help you, she wants to say. But she doesn't, because she's tired and angry and still very much scared, so she's in no mood for tea. He glances at her face when she continued to stand, and his jaw set when he sees she's in the mood to pick a fight.

"It's like you don't even think you did anything wrong." Do you know how much that terrifies me?

"I was only doing my job as your...employer, landlord, boyfriend...one of them."

"Why must everything be so complicated with you?”

"Fine. I'm sorry I didn't want to watch you break your neck."

And I didn't want to watch the life leave your eyes. "Oh, but yours is fair game?"

He doesn't respond, and it's almost as though she can see the invisible barriers he's putting up between them. She feels a brief stab of panic that she mistakes for anger.

Don't shut me out. "And now the silent treatment! God, you're such a child."

He stops drinking his tea entirely, and it doesn't give her the satisfaction she thought it would. Between the exhaustion from the case and the frustration over the brick wall that was Lockwood, her tongue gets the better of her and she sees red.

"Sometimes I wonder how I ever loved you."

The activity in the kitchen grinds to a halt for a few, terribly long seconds, before George walks out, Lucy not-so-subtlely following him with their tea. The anger on Lockwood's face evaporates, leaving an irritatingly smooth expression of mild surprise. She Silence suspends on the precariously thin string connecting them. He waits, but she doesn't backtrack. She turns away, unable to bear the look on his face.

"I'm...I'm sorry you feel that way."

"I've been thinking about leaving for a while."

"...leave...Portland Row? And go where?"

"I don't know. Anywhere's better than here." Anywhere I don't have to see you make stupid, reckless decisions because of me. Anywhere I don't have to look at you nursing fractures in barely-healed bones. Anywhere I don't have to watch you dither for peace you can never quite seem to reach.

He doesn't say anything, and she's not sure if there's anything he could say. She leaves the kitchen, dragging her feet up to their shared room. She empties the contents of her drawers and closet into a bag as if on autopilot, as she hid in some dark corner of her mind, waiting, begging for some force of God to tell her to stop. Her bags get packed, she gets undressed, and it is only after she turns out the light that she lets herself grieve the life she's leaving behind.

She's looking out of the window when the door swings open, warm light from the hallway spilling into the dark, illuminating her barren nightstand. He pauses at the threshold but she remains completely still, and after a moment or two he steps in, closing the door behind him. He shuffles about, getting ready for bed in the dark, and doesn't look at her face even when climbing into bed. She wants to tell him to try to get some sleep, but she isn't sure if it's her place, so the words remain unsaid.

He was so close she could just...extend her arm...brush her fingers on his back...clumsily soothe the unfettered demons which came out at night. There's a heady oppressiveness to the dark which weighs her down, not as cool and fluid as it normally is, waxing and waning around their shifting bodies and burning skin. The moonlight reflected on the pale patch of skin above the collar of his t-shirt, skin which looked like liquid glass. Close. She was so close to this delicate, temporal force which wrought a religious kind of faith from her hopelessly melancholic soul.

What a misery it was to love.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She wakes up to the sun streaming over the rumpled sheets of the empty bed. She sits up, the house significantly quieter than it usually is at this time of morning. In the kitchen, George is standing by the toaster and Lucy's pulling out the sugar bowl, making tea. Lockwood's sitting stiffly in his chair, and he looks much more whole in the daylight, though oddly fragile with the protection of his suit stripped away. Their eyes instinctively meet when she walks in, after which they avoid each other's gaze until much later.

She gently takes her mug from Lucy, brushing off her protests with a distracted pat on her hand. The emptiness from last night hasn't faded, and she puts together a cup of tea and collects 2 pieces of toast mechanically.

Without thinking, she swaps the mug Lucy's placed in front of Lockwood with her own, only realising what she's done when she feels three pairs of eyes on her, her own eyes fixed on the mug in front of him. She clears her throat awkwardly.

"Lockwood doesn't take sugar with his tea."

Lucy probably mumbles an apology, but she isn't entirely sure given how all she can think about is how close his fingers are to hers. She wills her hand to let go of the mug, and it takes a moment to reluctantly cooperate.

"Thank you."

Lucy takes advantage of her pause to place her mug next to his, so she hesitantly takes her seat next to him. She picks up a piece of toast and starts buttering it while Lockwood talks in an unfamiliar voice.

"So...any plans on where you're going?"

"I've got an aunt in Brixton. Might stay there for a while, until I sort out something more permanent."

He gives a half-nod, as if he hasn't bothered to listen to her words too closely. "Well, you're more than welcome to...stay, at least for a while. If you'd like."

"I...don't think that's a good idea."

"I see."

She can't bear the way his face falls before he attempts an unconvincing smile. It makes her heart ache. Even though they're sitting close enough to have their knees occasionally brush, here in this grimly-lit, transparent kitchen, she's never felt more disconnected from Lockwood. She wants to reach out, slip her fingers in his, btu all of a sudden she's paralysed by doubt and she doesn't know how. She slips the buttered toast into his plate. His lips quirk into a faint cursory smile, but it's gone as soon as he turns back to his plate, a vaguely miserable twist to his pallid lips. They eat in silence, and it's the hardest breakfast she's had to endure at Portland Row.

In another life I’m easier to love. I’m less complicated, less convoluted, less given to bursts of self-destructive/violent tendencies.

Afterwards, she gets dressed, but she cant bring herself to leave just yet, so she sits on the bed vacantly, looking up when he . He pauses at the door, looking at where his fingers delicately rest on the doorframe, the same way they always rested on her shoulder when he wanted to dip his head to whisper something into her ear, as if compelled by some unrecognised desire to hold her close. She steels her face but her eyes desperately drink him in, all of his rough edges and limp shadows, the hazy outline of his body. He holds out an envelope.

"What's this?"

"Your paycheck. The last one." He adds in the later bit almost as an afterthought, and it's almost enough to make her stay. She slips it into her bag, choosing not to point out how he had just given out their most recent paychecks just last week.

"I know I can't change your mind, so...thank you for...everything."

He glances at the birthday card on his nightstand, and any regret she had over buying the card instantly evaporates. At least she managed to somehow get out how she felt once upon a time.

"You'll get another next year."

"Don't think George shares my love for cheesy birthday cards quite like you do."

"Do you think I'm making a horrible mistake?"

"Y/N..."

She wants to feel the comforting weight of his hand in hers, wants to lean against him weakly and have him tell her everything would be alright. But her bags were packed, her dresser as bare as her heart, and she can't help but feel as though she would never be happy again.

"Humour me. Please."

He sighs, but relents.

"Up till yesterday I thought George didn't love me quite like you did, so, frankly...I don't know what to think."

"So...you want me to leave?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you want me to stay?"

"I didn't say that either."

"You make me…so scared, Lockwood. And...sometimes...I don’t think you realise it.”

He moves from where he's leaning against the doorway to sit next to her. She leans her head against his shoulder. He lets her.

"You and I both know I won't be around for long. I just want to keep you safe while I'm still here."

"You don't honestly believe that. Right?"

"It's...hard to say. Some days I feel normal. Mostly. Some days I feel like no amount of candles, eyelashes or wishbones can keep me from an early grave. I don't want you around to see it. I put you through so much, Y/N. I can't say you won't be better off without me."

"What about you?"

He smiles bittersweetly. "You're too...kind to see it now, but one day you'll realise that...it's what I deserve."

A silence fills the room, until she breaks it by violently chucking the envelope at his face.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He gasps and splutters incoherently, still in shock from her attemoted assault.

"It's 'what you deserve'? What you deserve is a good knock on the head!"

"Fine, I'm sorry!"

"Don't ever let me catch you thinking like that again!"

"I won't!"

"What's it going to take to get it into your thick skull? I love you!"

"Okay!"

"I mean it!"

"I get it."

"And don't you forget it!"

"I won't." He wraps his arms around her, and she squeezes his torso aggressively, muttering increasingly extreme threats darkly under her breath. It's a sobering moment to hold each other as a new day blooms outside their window. "I won't."

They pull apart, but she still leans against him, and in that moment it's a dream to be sitting there, pressed impossibly close together, listening to each other breathe.

"I want to take evening walks with you. I want to watch you iron your ties on sleepy Sunday afternoons. I want to lose to you in chess. I want to manhandle you into celebrating your birthdays. I want to rub away the crease between your eyebrows whenever you’re thinking too hard."

Her hand drops from his waist to his wrist.

"Damn it, Lockwood. I want to hold your hand. I want to love you."

He interlocks his fings into hers, distractedly running his thumb over hers.

“Let me help you. Please.”

”I don’t think I know how.”

She tightens her arms around him again, overwhelmed by the burdens stretching out in front of them. Nothing was easy, not even this. Not even him.

"Just...hold on."

"I'm holding on. I'm holding on...to you. I'm holding on...for you."

TAGLIST: @mitskiswift99 @dangelnleif

[lieslab]

To the future and beyond:

| °˖✧✿✧˖° | °˖✧✿✧˖° | °˖✧✿✧˖° |

Well, this is new. I keep sitting here staring blankly at my laptop screen, typing, deleting, typing, deleting, typing, and deleting again. I've been trying to figure out how to pour out my heart without coming across as selfish. I know my actions aren't selfish, but I'm afraid that it will come across that way and that's not my intention at all.

I used to update this account with new drabbles multiple times a week, but now I seem to struggle to upload once a week. Life is taking a toll again, but not necessarily in a bad way. It's more like, I'm growing up. I'm having more and more adult responsibilities that I never had before.

My work just added more hours for me to work. I'm trying to work through college classes. I've mentioned before that I have a younger sibling that I parent. Plus, I try to work in time to write and it's all just so much. Honestly, it's too much.

I get requests and I love them, but lately I feel bad because I can never seem to keep up. Because of that, unfortunately, this is the announcement that from now on requests will be closed. I've emptied out my inbox. To everyone who already requested something and I've responded to you, your drabbles are still coming. After they're posted, if you have another request, I won't be taking it at this time.

I know that sucks and I hate to do that, but it's not fair for either of us. It's not fair for you to have to wait a long time for something you want to read and enjoy. It's not fair for me to have to try and pull something together and half-ass it either.

After I finish all my requests, I'll probably still be here, just a bit quieter. I'd like to go back to posting stuff that I get inspiration for in the spur of the moment. I never post that stuff anymore because I feel guilty posting it when I have requests to do.

I want to start writing longer series and posting them for you to enjoy all at once. If you really like my writing and crave my stories, I still update full length fics five days a week. You can find the current one here.

I know it sucks, but I think it's a great way to give you higher quality writing, better stories, and who knows what I might add in the future. I think it'd be amazing to have some sort of interactive fic or create full-length trailers for each one, so you know what you're getting into.

This really is my passion and I love the band a lot. I don't want to entirely stop writing drabbles, just give you better ones. It's always been my goal to become a published author. Writing fanfic has made me better and believe it or not, it's actually opened up an amazing opportunity for me.

Because I spent so much time writing full-length fanfics, I qualified for a creator program which has a ton of resources to help grow my writing. It's the most amazing thing and it's such an honor and a privilege. I don't want it to slip through my fingers.

So while I study more resources, try to grow and expand my writing, all my old drabbles will still be here. My inbox will still be open, just not for requests. Please try not to be too hurt by this. There will probably be times in the future when I still open my requests, but for brief periods of time only.

I'm doing this to save myself stress and anxiety, to better my future, and to give you better content. I know you're strangers on the internet, but you really have become my safe space. You have no idea, but some of my drabbles are based upon my own struggles.

This is my haven and this truly does feel like home. More content will be coming your way soon, please just give it time. That's all I have and that's all I wanted to say. Thank you for reading and if you choose to stick around, thank you. I can't wait to see what this writing journey will bring and I can't wait to bring you with me.

<3 Lie

[thedaredevilsgirl]

Just Not Enough For You-Part 1

Warning: friends with benefits, angst (reader is insecure about her appearance and personality, jealous, comparison, drinking) this was inspired by the song Nada Contra by Clarissa (it's a Brazilian song, I know that most here speak English, but I still recommend listening to it, it's very good).

A/N: To be honest this idea seemed better in my head and didn't come out exactly as I wanted, but I still liked the final result so I decided to post it. Part two will probably be posted early next week. Hope you like it💗

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Your mind kept repeating the word as you went outside the Hard Deck with the excuse of getting some air, not that it was a lie, it was actually quite hard to breathe in the same environment as Jake and the miss perfect.

Of course you wanted him to be happy, that's why you broke the deal with Jake, to set him free so that he could find someone better to love, someone as perfect as he was, someone who certainly wasn't you.

Why were you so sad? It was all your fault, he was only with her because you let him go, so why are you so sad?

"I think this better be the last time" you say picking your clothes up quickly from the floor.

  "Wait, what?" Jake asked so confused, he thought everything was going so well, and it was true "I thought you liked this, what about our deal?"

   The damn deal, friends with benefits, how to continue with the deal when you had broken the biggest rule of it, no falling in love, just fuck, get something out of your system and enough is enough. Jake made it very clear he wasn't after a relationship, and you thought the same until that stupid smile captured your heart and you realized you were totally in love with him.

   "I like it, but we can't go through with it."

   "Why?" he asked still so confused as he watched you put on your clothes instead of his shirt and lay down to sleep next to him like you always did on the nights you had sex (and even on the ones you did nothing).

  "I...I just think that we should be sleeping with other people, I mean of course we should, meeting new people and not getting stuck in this bullshit" you say as if it doesn't hurt.

  "Are you sure this is what you want?"

  "Yes, I'm sure" big liar.

  You start to retreat from the room, ready to leave when you hear him calling your name, almost like a broken whisper.

   "We're still friends, right?" you could swear you saw pain flash through his eyes, but it should be something from your imagination.

   "Yes, friends" you smile and hope he doesn't realize it's fake, and finally walk away.

   This couldn't go on, not when you knew he didn't want anything serious, not with you, not when he can get something better, it was better to end it now and hope the pain was less.

But wasn't, was tearful.

It didn't even take a month before there was another girl in your place, the beautiful and gorgeous Jude, they were already on their third date and God she was pretty and a wonderful person which only made it even worse.

  You didn't want to compare yourself, but it was impossible to stop the negative thoughts about yourself when she was around.

  That's why you left the bar, not being able to take it anymore but still unable to avoid watching them from the window outside.

  You see Jake put his arm around her shoulders and whisper something in her ear that makes she laugh.

Why did they have to look so perfect together?

   The smile on his face slowly disappears as his gaze crosses yours on the other side of the window.

  "Shit" you say to yourself as you look away and take a long sip of your drink trying to erase the shame of being caught in the act.

  "Are you feeling okay?" Jake asks a few minutes later standing next to you.

   "Yeah, I just needed to take a breather, the bar seemed pretty crowded tonight" was a great excuse, Jake knew you hated crowds.

  The two of you stare at each other for a long minute, not knowing how to continue that conversation, drowning in those unspoken words and undisclosed feelings.

  "You look beautiful" he finally says and he sounded so sincere.

   You wondered if he noticed that that was his favorite dress, the same one he would always gently pull off your body, the one he said made you look like an angel.

  "My beautiful angel" was what he said before he kissed you for the first time that night on the beach.

"my angel" whispered between your thighs before finally making you his, Just his.

The silence hangs again, he couldn't look away, but he quickly shakes his head, drawing from it whatever thought was making him confused at that moment.

  "Well, I have to go, I promised to take Jude home so..." He leaves a soft kiss on your forehead.

   "Okay," is all you can say without bursting into tears.

   "I...take care and be well okay?"

  You nod and watch him leave with Jude at his side.

   It was their third date, you knew they would probably be doing more than kissing that night, the mere thought of him touching her made your stomach churn, giving her the pleasure that only a few weeks ago he was giving only to you.

  You get back inside the bar as quickly as possible.

  "Penny" you catch the attention of the woman behind the counter "Give me a glass of the strongest drink you have."

  "Are you sure dear?"

  "Yes, please."

  "Are you okay?" Phoenix asks sitting down next to you already knowing everything that had happened to you and Hangman.

  "Fine" you say before turning the entire shot over in one go once Penny has placed it on the counter "Everything is wonderfully fine, one more shot please."

━─┈✩☽🌑☾✩┈─━

Hello" Jake speaks with his voice still hoarse from sleep.

"Bangman" he hears your inebriated voice on the other end of the line and it is enough for him to wake up automatically getting worried about you "My favorite pilot, my Jake" you give a short chuckle.

"Are you okay? Where are you?" he quickly gets out of bed ready to pick you up no matter where you are.

"My Jake...but you're not mine are you? And it's all my fault" by the tone of your voice you make it clear that you were crying.

"Honey what are you talking about? Please tell me where you are."

"It's all my fault" you repeat "Jude is beautiful, you really did well to choose her, the two of you are perfect together, it even annoys me."

"I... What's going on angel, please, I'm getting worried" Jake says.

"Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against her, the truth is I wish I was in her place, the truth is I am dying of jealousy here" you laugh again, but there was no amusement there, just pain "I know I was the one who ended our arrangement, but the truth is I couldn't go on, I couldn't because I love you, I love you so much it hurts, I ended it all because I knew you would never love me back, why would you love me? I can spend hours here talking about all your qualities and I'm just me, you can have models, beautiful and funny girls, and I know I'm good enough to be a casual fuck but never good enough to be a girlfriend, I'm easy to forget, easy to replace, it wouldn't be any different this time right, that's why I let you go" Jake only realizes he was crying now, with the excruciating pain of hearing the woman he love talking so badly about herself.

"Angel, please listen to me, this is not true, none of this is..."

"My God, what are you doing? No calling guys when you're drunk" he hears Phoenix's voice on the other end of the line before can continue speaking "Jake, I'm sorry about that" he is a little more relieved to know you had someone with you.

"Natasha, where are you guys? I'm going to go get her right now."

"Nat, give me back my phone, I need to tell Jakey that I love him even if I am insufficient to him" you speak in the background.

"We are at The Hard Deck, I can take care of her, but Jake...she needs you."

[bidisasterevankinard]

Inspiration Saturday 🎸🎙️🎧

Tagged by my love @honestlydarkprincess who started it with really amazing Natalia/Lucy post💙💙💙💙

I was waiting months to find idea for enemies to lovers and FINALLY

Meet mood board for enemies to lovers singers buddie au + snippet

context Buck's ex outed him to public when Buck wasn't even thinking about coming out as bi

Drowning in sadness and in the feeling that his whole life is going downhill, Buck hears the doorbell ring and despite all his desires to fuck off the one who came, he still goes to the door. 

Maybe it's Bobby who came to say that Buck ruined his second chance and he doesn't want to see him on their label anymore. Buck will understand. Doesn't mean it won't finish him off now.

After open the door all the desire to say fuck off only increases exponentially when he sees who is standing behind the door. Meeting with brown eyes Buck wants to disappear underground

“Great. Like I need more problems now.”

Call him an asshole; he doesn't have any forces to be kind to Eddie despite their truce.

Eddie only raises his hands up in sight of surrender. In one hand he had a bottle. He has his trademark grin on his lips, which Buck wants to erase with his fist. Or his cock.

“I came with peace. And whiskey," Eddie shakes the bottle.

He is silent for a second, obviously choosing his words, and then his grin subsides and Buck sees in his eyes regret and something that can be described as sympathy and concern. 

"I'm sorry, Buck. Sincerely sorry. No one should have to go through this. You had to come out on your own terms when you were ready,” big browns look him right in the soul and Buck feels like he has new portions of tear ready to come. 

He refuses to cry in front of Eddie, so he clenches his fists so that his nails leave marks.

“Yeah, well, it's not like that anymore. And my career may be over.”

“Maybe yes, maybe no. Some people will certainly send negative messages, but I'm sure many will support you. I've already seen tweets that aren't very flattering about your ex. He may think he's done something cool, but he's just an asshole. And I have a suggestion.”

The smirk is back in big plush lips.

“Which one?” Buck frowns.

“Another song. About him. Where you lay out everything you think about this asshole. I'll add some. I already have a sketch. I wrote it when I saw the news," Eddie takes his notebook from jacket. "That's why I came late. I wanted to give you some time to cool down.”

“Hate song? Seriously?” 

Buck could expect many things from Eddie: came here to have fun about the fact that Buck's career is over, to point out that Buck always went to destroy himself, hell, Buck admits that he could even have expected real sympathy from Eddie, but not an offer to write a song about his ex.

“And why not? I'm sure you want to kick his ass, but shaming him for the whole world by telling your story and recording a song seems to me a worthy "reward" for him.”

For a second Buck lets himself imagine it and can't deny that the idea of using their talents and humiliating this asshole seems pleasant to him.

Remembering that they are still on the doorsteps, he lets Eddie come in and leads him into the living room.

“Let's have a drink and I'll think about it”

song which is inspired this scene and au

Tagging if they want to share :@911onabc @ebdaydreamer @alyxmastershipper @transbuck @cowboy-buddie @lover-of-mine @heartshapedvows @bekkachaos @panbuckley @rogerzsteven @the-likesofus @elvensorceress @shortsighted-owl @barbiediaz @buddierights @housewifebuck @thewolvesof1998 @wildlife4life @wikiangela @hippolotamus @transboybuckley @devirnis @heartbeatdiaz @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @spaceprincessem @userdisaster @caroandcats @mandzuking17 @sibylsleaves @translasso and anyone who wants to share

[awooghan]

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part one)

❄ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

❄ GENRE: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, christmas

❄ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, long as hell, i put the ‘slow’ in slowburn (in my defense this trope does not work without it), i’ve checked like 1922847473 times for inconsistencies but if there are any pls be nice it’s my first long fic ;w;

❄ WORD COUNT: 47.7k (part one: 25.9k; part two: 21.8k) i'm so sorry

❄ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but you had no idea how much those three little words would mean to you as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

❄ NOTES: IT’S FINALLY UP!! i’m so sorry for the wait, i really really wanted to get this right and it took me wayyy longer than i thought it would. but i love how it turned out and i'm so proud of it. i hope y’all enjoy :’)

i’ll include more to the note when i'm not in such a rush to get this posted but tysm to everyone who helped me in writing it! @crispy-chan jas thank you for beta reading (i’m so sorry it was so long) your comments were really sweet and really reassured me that i was doing okay <3 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to parker specifically, ty for all ur help and encouragement in the couple chapters i asked for help on :D i’m sorry it meant u had some of the fic spoiled for u tho ;w; lastly, @svtbabies hopie u have been my lifesaver from start to finish w this fic. thank u so so much for planning w me and for the multiple times u saved me from a huge writer’s block. i wouldn’t have been able to complete this without you, so ty for everything <33 also ty for the banner lol

➳ IMPORTANT!!! this fic is so long that i have to split it into two parts. i'd use the legacy editor but i can't toggle btwn the two anymore 😭 i did not intend for it to be this lengthy but anything for childhood friends to lovers i guess

[part one] | part two

network tags: @straykidsland

9 years old. (prologue)

“Come on, Y/N, you can’t cling onto my shirt forever,” your mother urges you with a small chuckle.

You stiffen up in your spot at the edge of the picnic bench, and your eyes bounce between the several children on and around the playground equipment. Mixtures of squeals and cheerful laughter ring above the Christmas song playing from the outdoor speaker your new neighbors, the Choi family, set up. You forgot if it was the one with the son older than you or the son your age, though—you didn’t exactly bother to learn their names when your mother introduced you.

“Go on, Y/N.” Her voice fills your ears again as she gently pushes you off the bench. Speak of the devil. 

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you kick the dust with your feet and you keep your gaze cast down on the ground. You didn’t want to socialize—why would you want to make new friends when you had perfectly good ones back in your old neighborhood? Why couldn’t you just go back there? Or just snatch your mother’s dingy old flip phone for a couple minutes to send them a message?

Besides, most of the children here don’t seem like ones you’d be particularly… compatible with. You shouldn’t be one to judge, but the majority of the ones doing laps on the playground equipment couldn’t have been older than five or six. At your big age of nine years old, there’s not much you would have in common with a literal kindergartener. Plus, it seems like they had all formed a friend group of their own, and you’re more than content just watching them chase each other around, gleeful, high-pitched squeals bubbling from their sticky mouths.

Turning your head slightly, you find a group of teenagers sitting around another bench several feet away from all the adults, two of which had their bottoms perched on top of the table as they faced their friends. You would approach them, but just like how you wouldn’t exactly favor befriending the five-year-olds with crayons up their noses, the teenagers likely thought the same of you. Closing your eyes in despair, you groan to yourself and resort to dragging your feet across the dirt.

Why did you even have to move?

As you let out a sigh, you perk up at the fact you could see it in the cold air. It sparks an insurmountable amount of joy for some reason. Perhaps it’s because of the timing of the puff of air with the line, ’Jack Frost nipping at your nose’ that rings from the speakers at the other end of the small neighborhood park, but it causes a giggle to slip past your lips. It’s almost like a new light under the already-dimming sky, the soft pinks and oranges slowly dissipating as the sun begins to dip behind the mountains and give way to the overcast above. 

However, you quickly get distracted by the sight of a boy your age—or at least, you assumed—and you hesitantly step closer.

And there he was.

He was short, upside down on the monkey bars, and wearing the most obnoxious shade of purple you had ever laid eyes on. You aren’t sure what hurts more: the sun in your eyes or staring at his sweater. 

Looking away from the light gray clouds that hung above the park, you let your gaze fall to the boy. He watches you quietly as he continues to hang upside down, and you notice the small smile that paints his slowly reddening face.

Here goes nothing, you guess.

“Um… hi.”

He stays silent, staring at you with his beady eyes. 

Gulping, you continue. “I’m Y/N.” 

He mumbles something back, but you can barely make out what he says and you tilt your head slightly in confusion.

“Huh?”

“My name is Jeongin,” he repeats, only the slightest bit louder. 

A smile of your own quickly forms on your face. You raise a hand up for him to shake, and he just stares at it for a second before moving one of his outstretched arms to meet you, his hand grasping yours at an awkward angle. You both can’t help but giggle as you give your best attempt at a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin,” you say, slowly pulling your hand away and letting his drop above, or rather, below his upside-down head. “I’m Y/N.”

“You said that already,” he says, and his bluntness makes you chuckle.

Slowly, Jeongin maneuvers himself so he’s sitting on top of the monkey bars instead of hanging upside down. Once he gets upright and steadies himself from the blood rushing down from his head, he stares back down at you. 

You stuff your hands into your pockets and heave out a sigh. “My mom says I need a friend,” you explain your current plight to Jeongin, and you find his soft gaze once again. It’s strange, really—you’ve only exchanged a few words with this boy, but you already feel comfortable enough to complain about your mother’s nagging to him.

You suppose that helps your next words spill out more easily.

“Want to be friends?” 

You watch Jeongin expectantly as he looks down, picking at a piece of lint on his hideous purple sweater. He ponders your question for a minute, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you when he finally nods in response. If your mom wanted you to have a friend so badly, there you go. You got one.

You stand there awkwardly, your eyes drifting back up to the sky for a moment. It occurs to you that you’ve never asked someone to be friends with you; it’s always just kind of happened.

And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next.

You let out another huff of air, another smile tickling your lips as you watch the faint, white puff form in front of your eyes. Then you look back up at the boy in the obnoxious purple sweater, who seems just as amused by the cold air as you as he lets out his own breath, exhaling like a small dragon.

A chuckle escapes your parted lips as you watch him, kicking his legs lightly as he stares up at the sky. After another minute, you speak again.

“Can I sit up there with you too?”

Nodding his head, he mumbles a small “yeah” and the corners of your mouth twitch up as you hurriedly climb your way up onto the monkey bars. You dangle your legs through the same section as Jeongin’s, and you shift your position slightly as you steady yourself.

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your puffy coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. Neither of you are tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but you figure you can use your imaginations to picture what lies beyond that. It’ll have to do.

You both remain silent for a while like this, allowing the chatter and Christmas music below to fill the air around you. It’s comfortable, it feels like a weighted blanket wrapped around your shoulders—which is funny to say because you’re sharing this moment with a kid you’ve barely known for ten minutes. You don’t mind, though. By the looks of it, and the friendly glances you exchange with each other, Jeongin doesn’t seem to, either.

Suddenly, a cold, wet spot falls onto your nose, causing you to gasp and look up.

“Is that…”

Jeongin tilts his head up as well, and he chuckles when another wet drop lands on his face. Meanwhile, you’re in awe. You let your mouth fall open, and your eyes swirl with pure wonderment as you watch the white crystals above you flutter down. It sends chills down your spine, but wraps you up in a cocoon of warmth at the same time. 

“Snow…” is all you manage to mumble. 

Jeongin turns to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Have you never seen snow before?”

You glance at him once, shake your head, and look back up at the sky. 

The boy’s jaw drops. It almost mirrors your dazed expression, except his features are twisted in surprise. But it’s true—snow was something you had only witnessed in movies. As far as you were concerned, the fluffy, white particles only ever graced the stop-motion characters on the old-timey Christmas cartoons you rewatched every year, or the main couple in whatever cheesy Hallmark movie your parents decided to indulge in.

That is, until now.

You didn’t know at that moment what type of future you had in store, but you know one thing: the snow is beautiful. And as you follow Jeongin down the monkey bars and to your first snowball fight, you have an inkling that you’ll be sticking with him for a while.

Maybe this move won’t be so bad after all.

10 years old.

You let out a huff of air, letting your chin bore into the palm of your hand. Unfortunately, though, the air inside a school classroom doesn’t allow you to watch it come to life. Sure, you had a heater and the bulky coat your mother gave you to thank for warmth, but at what cost?

No matter how hard you try to focus on the math test that was laid out in front of you, you just can’t. Not when the outside seemed to beckon you like a siren, begging you to come out and indulge in the ever-approaching Christmas atmosphere. 

It’s all tempting. So, so tempting. Everything else seemed to be falling into place—the air has started to get colder, Christmas music has been playing 24/7 in the stores since November, you’ve worn every ugly Christmas sweater you could get your hands on at least once in the last two weeks, and you’ve begged your mom for a cup of hot chocolate every chance you could get. 

Now you just need it to snow, and you need it badly. 

After you scribble a random answer for the question you’ve been stuck on for five minutes, you throw your pen onto the table and lean back in your hard, plastic chair in defeat. This was too much mental torture, espically when you could hear Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer faintly playing in another room. 

You can’t take it anymore. 

Hopelessly, you stare at Jeongin, who somehow sleeps peacefully next to you. You’re sure he’s been asleep since he sat down in his chair. His head lays on his arm, which is covered by his purple sleeve. You snicker at the sight and pray that one day he grows out of that abomination of a sweater. 

Your eyes drift back to your stupid math test, silently praying again that the torture won’t last for much longer. You were just one step away from greasy pizza and store-bought sugar cookies until your stomach hurt while The Polar Express filled the dim room. Well, one step away is technically two more questions, but it still feels so far.

You begrudgingly answer one of the questions then slump back into your seat, burying your head in your arms. You’re so close to freedom, but you still feel held captive by the test, like it’s shackled your arms and legs to your desk while Rudolph down the hall taunts you, dangling the coveted Christmas cheer over your head.

You don’t even care if you get the questions right anymore. You just scribble down some scratch work that seems somewhat coherent and circle whatever answer is closest then shove your test in your teacher’s hands, eager to get that nasty piece of paper away from you. Then you’re left to wait… and wait… and wait.

It’s unfair. You weren’t meant to be doing a math test the last day before winter break. You weren’t built to be suffering silently at your desk because some people didn’t know how to do long division. (Well, neither do you, but that’s besides the point.)

But nevertheless, you wait… and wait… and wait.

And then, finally, the last student turns in their paper.

The second the teacher plops the pile of tests on her desk, you practically spring up from your seat. You revel in the sweet, sweet freedom, but although your classmates seem just as relieved, they also seem painfully slow. That might also just be all the candy from your teacher’s goody bag pumping through your veins, but it made no difference to you.

Acting as self-appointed leader, you hastily motion for other kids in your class to move the tables to either side of the room, forming a sort of tetris with the desks, while others line trays of food across them. The pizzas are laid out next to different bowls of chips and festive little chocolates in the shapes of snowflakes and snowmen. Small Christmas-themed cups sit at the end of the table with giant bottles of bright, sugary drinks for you to choose from. Like, the ones that are bigger than your face. That’s how you know it’s good.

Hushed whispers of excitement make their way around the classroom as everyone settles down, wrapping themselves in the blankets they had brought to school for today. You take a seat next to Jeongin on the carpet right as the teacher switches the projector on, placing your paper plate filled to the brim with junk food in between you two as you get comfortable.

“How many cookies did you grab?!” Jeongin gawks, marveling at the sight. Whether it’s from amazement or concern is unclear.

You smile smugly at him. The light from the projector as your teacher sets up The Polar Express illuminates his baffled stare. “Not enough.”

He blinks once. “We’re not gonna split it?”

You giggle and push the plate closer to Jeongin, but not without swiping a Santa-shaped cookie from the pile. “I never said we weren’t.”

Jeongin just laughs at you and shakes his head, but the fact that he takes not one, not two, but three cookies from the plate tells you he’s just as excited as you. He attempts to remain nonchalant, though, as he wordlessly pushes a plate stacked with pizza towards you.

Grinning at him, you pick up a slice, the grease glinting in the low light. “Thanks,” you mumble as you take a bite. 

Rolling his eyes, he continues to laugh. “Don’t mention it.” 

There’s something about being next to Jeongin as you watch The Polar Express together, fluffy throw blankets draped around your outstretched legs that catch the crumbs from the snacks you two share, that brings you a sense of comfort. Excitement courses through your body, but somehow, you also feel oddly at peace.

It even seems to transport you to another world, and you forget you had even painstakingly suffered through a math test leading up to this in the first place. Eventually, your mind stops paying attention to the movie—it’s okay, though, because you practically know the story front to back. Instead, you find yourself daydreaming about being awoken in the middle of the night like the boy in the movie, and finding yourself on the fantastical train with Jeongin. A small smile decorates your face as you ponder, imagining all the chaos you could get yourselves into as you made the magical journey to the North Pole together.

However, when the other kids start to gasp and point towards the window, you’re brought back to the real world. Looking over to where they were pointing, you’re greeted with a powdery blanket covering the grass outside, and a grin instantly spreads across your face in delight. 

Finally. It’s snowing. 

You aren’t the only one to jump up from out of your seat in hopes of rushing outside to experience the first snowfall of winter. And you aren’t the first one out of the classroom door either. The calls from your teacher fade into the background like white noise as you scramble out from under your blanket and make a dash for the door as quickly as you can.

“Y/N,” Jeongin calls right before you can run outside, and you turn on your heel.

He speed-walks, then speeds up to an awkward half-jog to where you stand as he digs his hands through his pockets, and you can’t help but chuckle. It takes him until right after he stops in front of you to fish whatever this thing was out. Was it an early Christmas gift? The dreaded cheese touch? You are about to find out.

A crumpled piece of paper falls out of Jeongin’s coat, grazing his hand as he yanks it out of his pocket. He picks it up and unfolds it carefully, squinting at the note.

Leaning over, you peek over his shoulder and furrow your brows as you try to decipher the writing scrawled on. “’Ask Y/N about Christmas’?” You turn your head to the boy. “What about it?”

Jeongin eyes widen for a second as he tries to remember the context of the note. “My parents wanted me to ask if you wanted to…” 

You tilt your head. “Wanted to…?” You repeat.

“What was it that they said?” He mumbles to himself. He looks up, his eyebrows furrowed, and then something seems to click. “Was it… stay? Stay for Christmas?”

You blink, watching the boy with inquisitive eyes. “Stay for Christmas?” you question. 

“Yeah, stay for Christmas.” He hums, and his voice grows more confident as he continues. “Yeah, that’s what they said to ask!” He’s now grinning, and his movements become more animated. “Yeah! Stay with us for Christmas Eve! You have to come, Y/N, it’s a Christmas sleepover! It’ll be fun!”

You light up like a, well, Christmas tree at the idea. You could already picture the absolute blast you’re going to have. Chasing each other around in your pajamas as Christmas music rings in your ears? Eating the cookies his mom laid out for Santa until you're sick? Finding the jolly man himself? And imagine playing in the snow in the morning after ripping your presents open!

“That sounds so fun!” You squeal, beaming from ear to ear. “I'll have to ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll let me go!”

“Y/N, Jeongin,” your teacher interrupts your enthusiasm, her arm propping the door open. “You can’t stay inside by yourselves, come on!”

“Coming!” you two call back in unison, and then you glance at each other. You catch a mischievous glint in Jeongin’s eyes before he bolts for the door, outstretching his arm in front of you before you can react and outrun him.

“Race ya!”

“Hey!”

…

“Mommmm! Daddddd!” you drawl out, a frown stretched across your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. Your finger impatiently hovers over the doorbell, and if your parents took any longer to grab… whatever they brought for Jeongin’s parents, you would just mash the white button yourself. Or you’d teleport yourself inside; forget the doorbell entirely.

You follow their movements attentively, your fists balled around your backpack straps and teeth pressed against your tongue to keep yourself from complaining more. You had already gotten an earful in the car, not to mention some confused glances when you mentioned the long-anticipated sleepover you had stayed up until the ungodly hours of 10pm preparing your backpack for. If they thought that was late for a fourth-grader, imagine their horror if they knew of your and Jeongin’s plan to stay up all night and see Santa Claus! 

Regardless, you couldn’t pinpoint why your parents raised their eyebrows and snickered at the idea of you sleeping over at Jeongin’s house. Maybe it was the fact that you had your hair messily thrown up into a ponytail and that your light-up Christmas sweatshirt was maybe a size too big—I mean, say what you want, but you’re perfectly dressed for the occasion.

You were sure that was the reason. And certainly not the fact you were practically jumping out of your skin—maybe acting a little bit too excited—to get inside to see your best friend.

Your parents just didn’t understand that this was a pivotal moment. Plus, you’re getting cold. One can only stand outside for so long.

After what felt like hours of waiting, the door finally swings open to reveal Jeongin’s mother, welcoming you and your parents inside. You release your backpack straps from your grip and sprint past your mother, shouting a “Hi, Mrs. Yang!” as you rip your shoes from your feet.

Shaking your backpack off your shoulders, you make a beeline for Jeongin, who puts down his video game controller when you come into view.

“I made it, Jeongin!” you grin from ear to ear, tossing your backpack aside.

“Yay!” he breaks out into a grin and scoots over.

You plop down at the spot next to him, grabbing the spare controller as you watch the mustached man on screen walk right into a brown mushroom and die. And in World 1-1, you may add.

“Let me on! Let’s get this sleepover started!” you mash the ‘A’ button repeatedly, hoping it somehow speeds up Jeongin getting back to the main menu. Oh, were you ready to kick his sorry butt.

Suddenly, you hear bouts of laughter echo from the hallway. You tear your eyes off the screen, finding your and Jeongin’s parents entering the living room. If it weren’t for the wall that your father leaned against, he would have collapsed to the floor from how hard he was laughing.

“Jeongin, you told Y/N there was a sleepover?!” Jeongin’s mother exclaimed in between giggles.

Jeongin looks up from his game, his eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah?” He blinks, his voice laced with confusion. “That’s what you said to ask?”

His mom laughs even harder at his reply, her hand over her mouth. “Honey sweet, no!”

Jeongin‘s mouth twists into a frown. He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Mrs. Yang takes a minute to regain her composure before explaining to the boy, “I meant to ask her to stay for the evening, not the whole night.” She tries to keep a straight face, but another giggle slips out. “There’s no sleepover.”

Jeongin looks down, avoiding eye contact with the four adults laughing at his mix-up as heat rises to his cheeks. Dropping his game controller on his lap, he covers his face with his hands, and lets out a nervous chuckle as his face slowly turns red.

You would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t disappointed that you couldn’t try to see Santa with Jeongin, after all. Despite this loss, you try your best not to laugh at your friend, covering up your giggles with awkward coughs to save Jeongin from more embarrassment. You know both his and your parents will never let him live this down.

And frankly, neither will you.

11 years old.

“You son of a nutcracker!” You cry in unison with Buddy the Elf, your mouth stuffed with an audaciously big chunk of cookie. Maybe you got a bit carried away, but you couldn’t help it if someone was kind enough to bring a platter of fresh-baked cookies to the annual neighborhood Christmas party. It might have been the Choi family—the one with the son your age—which makes sense since they’re hosting the party this year.

Looking up from the gingerbread house he was carefully decorating, Jeongin stares at you with a disgusted frown as you struggle to break down the cookie. 

You look back at him innocently, trying not to laugh. “Hi,” you wave, your mouth still full.

Jeongin shakes his head at you. “I worry about you sometimes.”

“You should.” You swallow most of the bite, wincing as you feel it go down.

Gulping down the rest of the cookie, you prop your chin in the palm of your hand as you pull your attention away from the tv and watch Jeongin. He bites his bottom lip lightly, glancing back and forth between the gumdrops and peppermints around the island and the gingerbread house. He squeezes out some icing, poking his tongue out in concentration, and sticks a peppermint window to the food structure.

Smiling at his little creation in progress, you gently poke one of the small candy canes that stand around the house. Jeongin quickly pushes your hand away, letting out a small whine.

You chuckle at his reaction and do it again, and he swats your hand away once more. “Stop itttt~”

You giggle and hold your hands up. “Okayyy, okay.”

You silently follow his movements with your eyes before they flick down to his sweater. It’s hideous, as most holiday sweaters are. The cartoon reindeer with a head too big for its body taunts you, but at the same time it just screams Jeongin. But there is no trace of that obnoxious shade of purple, and you thank whatever deity is above you for it.

Jeongin studies the gingerbread house for a moment, gently turning the brown building around. He takes a yellow gumdrop in his hand and hovers it over a spot on the roof, squinting ever-so-slightly as he imagined how it would look in the final product, whatever he imagined it to be. You stay quiet and just let him go—you know better than to interrupt Jeongin’s creative process.

“What if you did rows of gumdrops on the roof?” 

Mrs. Choi, on the other hand, doesn’t know better. The one with the son your age, that is—he tagged along with you and Jeongin for lunch a couple times. What was his name again? Beomgyu, right? 

You notice the corners of Jeongin’s mouth twitching downward before he catches himself. “I don’t know,” he says, putting the gumdrop down. “I’ll figure it out.”

Mrs. Choi shrugs and just lingers around, mumbling something about how it reminds her of Hansel and Gretel. You thought she had a point… kind of. You had always heard of the tale of Hansel and Gretel and the house made of candy, but considering it wasn’t much of a Christmas story, you tended to ignore it. 

“Oh, that reminds me…” she says to herself after a minute, walking over to the dining table where all the parents sat around. You lean over in your seat and listen closely. 

“Beomgyu keeps bugging me about having a sleepover with Jeongin,” Mrs. Choi says as she approaches Jeongin’s mom, her voice carrying over the rest of the chatter enough for you to eavesdrop.

Mrs. Yang nods, a small smile playing at her lips. “That'd be fun for them, when can he come over?”

You blink. It’s… it’s that easy for him?

The two mothers begin talking about schedules or appointments or some other boring adult thing. Whatever it is, you tune it out and turn back to Jeongin, who has opted for an array of different colored gumdrops carefully spread across the roof. 

“You’re,” you hesitate, “You’re allowed to sleep over with Beomgyu?” 

“Yeah,” Jeongin hums. ”I’ve slept over at his place and he’s been begging to come to mine.”

He chuckles, gluing on another gumdrop, until his words sink in and he fully processes them. His eyes then widen in realization, and he lets the tube of frosting drop from his hand before marching over to his parents.

“Mom,” Jeongin taps on his mom’s shoulder until she turns to him. “Why does Beomgyu get to sleep over but Y/N doesn't?”

You lean over again, hoping to overhear an explanation from Mrs. Yang. All you hear is laughter.

Laughter? That’s it?

You squint as you lean further in their direction, as if squinting would increase the volume of the conversation. All you could observe was a confused look from Mrs. Choi, and a fit of giggles from Mrs. Yang. How helpful.

“Did I ever tell you what happened last year?!” your mom practically shouts to Mrs. Choi, proving your efforts unnecessary. 

“Oh my god, you have to hear this! It’s a good one, it’s so cute,” Mrs. Yang gushes, glancing at a flustered Jeongin. 

The boy frowns and buries his face in his hands, growing more frustrated. “Mommm!”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker between the now-insanely-embarrassed Jeongin, and his parents’ delight at retelling the account of ‘stay for Christmas’. As Mrs. Yang continued, Jeongin sinks deeper and deeper into himself, and you could practically see a little pinkish-red aura surrounding him. 

“And so he tells her…” Mrs. Yang's voice fades into the background when you look out the window and gasp.

Snow.

Before you can register it, your legs are already pushing yourself off the stool, and then you’re running and shoving past other partygoers as you make your way to Jeongin.

“Jeongin.” You tug on his sleeve as you try to get him to move his hands away from his face. However, he swats your hand away. 

“Shut up,” he whines. 

“No, look,” you try again, tugging more. “It’s snowing!” 

Hands instantly falling from his face, he looks out of the window you were motioning at and gasps as well. “Snow.” 

Quickly, you glance at Mrs. Yang, making sure she’s still in in-depth story mode before you grab onto Jeongin’s hand and pull him outside into the cold. You shiver lightly as the winter air nips at your nose, but welcome it nonetheless.

“Wanna make a snowman?” you suggest.

Jeongin shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

Humming to yourself, you squat down at an empty spot and begin to pile some snow together. A small smile decorates your face, perfectly pairing with your rosy cheeks.

I mean, how could you not be happy right now? It’s the first snow of winter. It may be your third first winter, but you swear each one gets more magical than the last. You know Jeongin would agree, no matter how cranky he may be right now.

“That’s like the fifth time my mom’s told that story this month,” the boy huffs after a minute, kicking at the snow in front of him. “It's not even funny anymore. I was a stupid ten-year-old.”

Looking up from the small base of the snowman, you let out a laugh. “I mean… you were ten last year.”

“Y/NNN,” Jeongin whines.

“And it was kinda funny—”

“Y/N!”

You feel a sudden blast of cold hit your side and you let out a yelp, shielding your face with your arms. Gasping, you look back up after a second to Jeongin preparing more ammunition. Suddenly, you’re in the mood to wipe the shi—sorry, poop-eating grin from your best friend’s face. One nice, cold wipe.

“You ass!” you shriek, gasping and covering your mouth once you realize what you had just said. Thank goodness your mom didn’t hear you or she would’ve brought out the bar of soap.

“That’s what you get!” Jeongin cackles back, hurling another snowball your way. This one also hits your coat, splattering into pieces once it collides with your stomach.

“Oh, it’s on!”

12 years old.

The final bell rings across the school to signal the start of winter break. Students of all types make their way out of the main entrance, leaving you and Jeongin in a rather quiet hallway with your locker still open. 

Whilst you clear it out, the fruitful voice of Jeongin’s new club buddy fills your ears.

“‘Sup, babies.”

You and Jeongin jump at not only the sudden voice, but also the feeling of an arm going around both your shoulders. A year older than you, Jisung, whom Jeongin had met through the middle school’s anime club, sports round glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose. His hair is a chestnut brown, split right down the middle to frame his face. 

Jeongin shrugs Jisung’s arm off of his shoulders, but his other arm stays around you. “How are my favorite underclassmen?” Jisung coos, reaching around to ruffle Jeongin’s hair.

Jeongin jerks his head away from Jisung’s hand, a groan escaping his lips. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope!” Jisung says, flashing the younger boy a dopey grin.

Chuckling, you duck under Jisung’s arm to grab your backpack as Jeongin scrambles to fix his messy hair. You aren’t sure when or why Jisung started referring to you two as ‘babies' when he was only a year older. He once said something about “taking Jeonginnie under his wing” when you first met him, but that’s the closest thing to an explanation that you got.

Once Jeongin manages to tame his hair, he looks at Jisung with a shimmer in his eye. “Did you pick what we’re going to watch next?” he asks, referring to the next club meeting. It wouldn’t be until after New Year’s, but you figured they’d want to plan ahead now while they’re technically still in school.

“Not yet, but I was thinking of going with a classic,” Jisung muses before turning to you. “You should really join us, Y/N.” 

You hum in response, pushing your lips into a line as you ponder it. Of course Jeongin had tried to get you to watch anime with him before, but it was just something you found difficult to get into. “Maybe,” is all you say, mostly to make Jisung happy. 

“Yeah! Anyway,” Jisung quickly moves the conversation along, slinging his arms around both your shoulders again and pulling you two closer to him. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? We should do something!” He gleams, glancing back and forth between you two. “With our parents’ permission, of course.” 

As Jisung gazes longingly at a dog passing by, yours moves to Jeongin and you giggle at the sight of his cheeks tinting pink. He says nothing, but when he looks up and notices you staring at him, he rolls his eyes.

At the silence, Jisung finally tears his eyes away from the dog, who stops at a street pole for a sniff, and looks between you and Jeongin again. “What's up with you two?” he gulps. “You’re acting weird.”

Jeongin makes a sour face. “You’re acting weird,” he tries to rebut, but he only proves Jisung’s point. 

Jisung stops suddenly on the sidewalk. He tilts his head at Jeongin and squints, searching the younger’s face. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jeongin deadpans, turning his heel to continue the walk home.

“Noooo.” The older boy pulls him back by the hoodie before he can walk away. He gets all up in Jeongin’s face, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows suspiciously. “There’s something going on, isn’t there?”

Nosily, you watch as Jeongin opens his mouth to speak before quickly closing it again. He seems to want to shrink into himself, and you both know why. To his dismay, you find it wholly amusing.

“Baby, come onnnn,” Jisung bounces in place as he chants, “Tell me, tell me, tell me…”

Deciding to ignore the boys’ shenanigans, you look up at the clouds and begin to think about your own plans for Christmas, a small smile forming on your lips.

You’ve always loved the holidays, but after settling into your new neighborhood, it grew on you and swept you off your feet like never before. It’s way more than just the snow—it’s the joy swirling in the air when Christmas music finally begins to play on the radio. It’s the sparkle in the night sky when the whole town shows off their colorful lights. Maybe it’s also the inhuman amount of hot chocolate and sugar cookies coursing through your veins. You’re not hyped up on sugar right now, but Jeongin would be hopelessly shaking his head at you if you were.

It’s way more than just beautiful snow, but it seemed to add a magical touch to Christmas that you never felt in your old neighborhood.

It came like clockwork, too, just like the Christmas party, and you’re eagerly counting the days until both come to life for the first time this season. Especially the Christmas party. Your and Jeongin’s schedules only matched up for lunch this year, and you’re in dire need of some quality time with your best friend.

“Y/N?” Jisung gently shakes your shoulder, interrupting your train of thought.

You blink a few times. “Huh? Yeah?”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”

You look back up at the sky, your lips curving upward again. “I’ll be with my family on Christmas. I'm not doing anything much for Christmas Eve, though,” you say with a giggle, emphasizing the ‘eve’. “It depends.” 

Jisung continues to look at you—and Jeongin—with an eyebrow raised. “On what?” 

You have to take a breath to try and compose yourself before you continue.

“On—” 

“Can’t you let it go?” Jeongin cuts you off with a whine. “It was basically two years ago!”

“‘Cause it was two years ago,” you continue to giggle. 

Jisung blinks, trying to figure out this inside joke you two are bickering over, but the poor boy is just as confused as when the conversation started. “What was two years ago?”

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Jeongin grumbles, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s failing miserably trying to hide a smile. You just flash your brows at him, and he slides out from under Jisung’s arm and heads straight for you. 

A teasing grin grazes your lips, and you gently push Jisung’s arm off of you so you can run away. 

“You do this every year!” Jeongin cries out, attempting to reach for your backpack.

“‘Cause it’s funny!” you shout back.

You can feel Jeongin’s fingers brush your shoulders every now and then as he chases after you. Giggles bubble from your throat as you try to make a break for it, tricking him by going the opposite way to where he is. However, he catches on to your attempt to escape and grabs you quickly. His arms wrap securely around you and pull you back as he hugs you, his laughter loud in your ears. 

You let out a surprised squeak as you try to wriggle your way out of Jeongin’s grip. “Jeongin, I was kidding, I was kidding!” you cry out in between giggles.

“You always do this!” he giggles too, refusing to let you go.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” you squeal. Tears start to prick your eyes from how hard you’re laughing. 

Jeongin lets his arms fall and his lip juts out into a pout. You turn to him and quickly match it. 

“Sure, you are,” he mutters, enhancing his frown. 

“I mean it, Jeonginnieee.” You lean closer and let your arms slip around him. “I'm sorry.” 

He stays stiff for a second before he wraps his arms back around you and smiles. “It's okay.” 

A high-pitched squeal from Jisung makes you both jump in surprise and let go of each other. You both stare back at Jisung, who wears a giddy grin stretching from ear to ear. His hands are balled up in tiny fists together, flying up to his mouth as he bounces a little in place.

You blink a few times, stunned to silence for a few seconds before finally speaking. “You okay, Jisung?” 

“Y-You… the…” Jisung stammers excitedly before trailing off.

He points between the two of you, then to the sky, and as you both follow his finger, a cold wet drop lands on your cheek, and another on your nose. Jeongin lets out a squeak at one hitting him in the eye, and he scrunches up his face at the impact.

You looked back at Jisung, gesturing upward. “The snow?” you finish his sentence.

The older boy nods eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, the snow!”

You want to smile, you really do—it is the first snow of winter, after all. But it seems like he has a different reason for his exuberance than you do.

You exchange a glance with Jeongin, and he seems just as lost as you are. At this point, you might as well just ask. “What about it?”

Was it because the snow was pretty as it dotted the earth below you? Was it because it marked the start of only the most beautiful time of the year? This could really go any direction.

“You know, like the movies?” He rambles. “When the boy and the girl witness the first snowfall together and…”

Oh no, no, no. Not that direction.

Briskly stepping away from each other, you both frantically shake your heads, the tips of your ears glowing red. Jeongin argues back with a string of flustered protests that you could only nod along to, as you were at a loss for words yourself.

You wonder what was in the snow that had fallen on Jisung to make him think this way. It was insane, he was insane. You and Jeongin? Jisung must’ve gone mad.

Jisung deflates a little, a pout pulling his lips downward. “Aww. That would’ve been cute though.”

You force out a chuckle before continuing your route home. Jisung parts ways somewhere halfway through, but an icky feeling persists in your stomach for the rest of the walk.

It truly baffles you how he saw you and Jeongin having an inside joke, you know, like best friends do, and somehow morphed it into some coupley thing all because of a little snow. The snow is beautiful, of course, but throwing that sappy stuff on top of it? Jisung’s watched way too many movies. And anime. An alarming amount of anime. 

“I’ll, um,” Jeongin clears his throat as you both approach your front door. “I’ll see you at the party next week.”

An awkward tension still hangs above you from earlier, but you manage to muster a small smile. “Yeah. See you then.”

He smiles back and gives you a little wave before he begins the five-minute walk to his house. But before you knock on your door…

“Wait!” you blurt and reach out for him. You wrap your fingers around Jeongin’s wrist, prompting him to turn around.

“Yeah?”

“That, um, that thing Jisung was saying,” you hesitate, stumbling over your words. You force out another chuckle in hopes to relieve the tension that’s making your stomach twist into knots. “That’s— that’s not gonna happen to us… right?”

Jeongin lets out a scoff, waving you off reassuringly. “Of course not, Jisung’s just being Jisung.” He smiles a little. “We’re best friends, remember?”

His words fill you with relief, and you smile back. “Yeah. The bestest of friends.”

“That’s not a word.”

“You know what I mean, Jeongin.” You chuckle genuinely this time as you roll your eyes, turning back to your front door. “I’ll see you at the party.”

It’s ridiculous that you have to even ask, but apparently it’s necessary. You’re just lucky Jisung listened to Jeongin in the end, or this whole shipping fiasco would’ve been much more difficult than it needed to be.

Especially since several of your classmates who witnessed the interaction in front of the school parking lot actually seemed to believe it. 

13 years old.

You nibble at your bottom lip and run one hand up and down your forearm. Jisung has been glaring rather unamused daggers at you for five minutes now, his round eyes perpetually locked on you as you try to focus on the TV. It makes you feel like there was something crawling all over you, and you have the overwhelming urge to itch every bit of exposed skin you had—which isn’t a lot, but still. 

Part of you was tempted to turn to Jisung just to try and poke his eyes out. You wouldn’t actually do it, but with his eyes boring into your head like this, it’s hard not to think about it. You just wanted to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas in peace.

“...Are you gonna talk to him? Like, at all?” Jisung speaks. 

A small pout plays at your lips and you cross your arms over your chest. “How can I?” you start. “He hasn’t spoken to me since the start of the year.” 

The older boy lets out a sigh. “Have you tried to speak to him?” 

You nod once. Finally, something he can’t get on your case for.

Jisung blinks. “…Besides at lunch back in April?”

You huff, looking down at your lap. Your knuckles turn white as you ball the fabric of your sweater in your fists. "Well, it was kinda hard to do when he’s always with Beomgyu.”

Jisung leans forward to get a better look at you, whilst he rests his chin on his palm. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous."

You can’t tell if you want to scoff or to laugh. Jealous? You? Of course not. You just wanted to be around your best friend again. To be able to hang out with your best friend of three years without some stupid kid in your grade teasing you about dating or about how ‘oOOoH, yOu’RE sO iN lOvE’. Ever since winter break ended, it was all you ever heard when you were around him.

"I’m not jealous." You raise your voice slightly, pushing him away without moving your gaze away from the cartoon. "He was my best friend first."

"Can you hear yourself when you speak?"

“Can you hear how annoying you are right now?”

Jisung blinks at you again. He pushes himself off the couch and stands in front of you, his gaze more gentle this time. “You know he asks me about you too, right?”

You sigh. It’s probably the fifth time this week that Jisung has reminded you of this. It’s not that you don’t want to believe him, but with the way Jeongin stared at you with hollow eyes the last time you tried to talk to him in the cafeteria eight months ago, you’re not sure if you can.

“Plus, he’s literally…” Jisung continues, spinning you around to where Jeongin sat in the kitchen with Beomgyu. Right where you two sat at the Christmas party two years ago. “…right there.”

“I know,” you huff.

Of course you knew that, and you knew he knew you knew. Jeongin was the first one you recognized when you stepped foot in the Choi house for the party. Sure, part of it was because Jisung frantically shook your arm and pointed him out, but even if he wasn’t there you would’ve spotted the top of his head from a mile away. You would’ve known he hadn’t left his gingerbread house in the kitchen all afternoon, whether or not the coconut-haired boy was there to pester you about it.

”Then gooo,” Jisung chides, pushing you to the kitchen island by the shoulders. “Talk. To him.”

Oddly enough, talking to him is the last thing you want to do. At least, not here. Not when there’s a bunch of adults that, frankly, are nosier than your typical middle schooler. Luckily, the only adult there when you approach the kitchen island only glances at you for a second before stepping past you. No one else is watching, but it still feels like a hundred pairs of eyes are piercing into your skull.

You suck in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Hey.”

Jeongin pushes his lips into a thin line when he looks up at you. “Hi.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Beomgyu raise his head and look at you both before going back to what he was doing. Rocking on the balls of your feet, you take another deep breath. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while.”

You’re not sure how long Jeongin goes quiet for, but every second of silence makes you feel like your insides are trying to escape from you. You purse your lips as your gaze casts down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye. Why did the friendship between you and Jeongin have to change? Why couldn’t people just keep their mouths shut?

“I’ve been okay,” he mumbles. “Just busy, you know?” 

You hum in response. He was right; this year had been a lot school-wise, especially when you counted how everyone watched you like hawks, ready to strike at the first opportunity for a ‘ship moment’, as some people had started to call it. 

“Yeah.” You try to laugh, but anyone can tell it’s fake. “Me too.”  

Jeongin stays silent again, just nodding at your words. You weren’t sure what heartbreak was and of course, you weren’t in love with him. He is—was—your best friend. But if you had to guess, heartbreak probably feels something close to what you’re feeling right now.

You gulp, and take one more shaky breath. Your bottom lip wavers as you try to get your next words out.

“I…” miss you. 

You want to say it so bad, but you stopped yourself as soon as you started. When Jeongin doesn’t turn his head, you feel your heart sink to your stomach, or whatever the equivalent of that was when your best friend completely ignores you, effectively declaring the end of your best-friendship. 

You hate this so much. Screw the other kids for getting in the way of your friendship, screw Jeongin for letting them, screw yourself for not doing more to stop it, and screw Jisung for pushing you over to talk to him. 

You don’t say anything more as you turn away and solemnly make your way back over to where Jisung is still standing. When you feel tears pool in your eyes, you make a sharp turn for the bathroom, and the older boy worriedly trails after you.

“Baby…” he calls as he follows, quickening his pace to catch up to you. “Surely it wasn’t that bad.” 

You stop in your tracks, suddenly causing Jisung to bump into you. He leans forward and around your shoulder before taking a step into your view, instantly frowning when he sees the sadness apparent on your face. “Baby…” 

“It’s over, Jisung.” You blink rapidly. “We’re never going to be friends again, not after this.” 

Furrowing his eyebrows together, Jisung sighs. He places his hands on your shoulders to try and get you to look at him. “Don’t say that, you guys will get past this. You guys are best friends for a reason.” 

“No, we won’t.” Your voice shakes as you speak. “You saw how awkward it was back there! There’s no way he wants to be friends anymore… let alone best friends.”

You continue to blink your tears away, but one manages to slide down your cheek. Your breathing becomes ragged as your world feels like it’s crashing down on you, and all you can do is helplessly step closer to Jisung as you hiccup.

“I just want my best friend back.” 

Pulling you in, Jisung wraps his arms around you in his attempt to comfort you. He sighs quietly, his own frown on his lips as you choke out a sob.

“I know you do.” 

14 years old.

Well, your last year of middle school was off to a surprisingly pleasant start.

After years of being told where in the classroom you could sit, your 1st period teacher nearly had you jumping for joy when she said you were free to pick your seat for the year. It was such a minute detail to be in control of, but it felt so freeing to your adolescent self.

The only problem: you don’t know anyone in this class. You vaguely recognize two or three faces from last school year, but even they had gravitated to other students in the class, clustering into their already-established friend groups. It’s like the galaxies in the night sky that you learned about last year, and you’re a lone star, floating around in the abyss called your new English classroom. 

Shrugging to yourself, you scoot past some students in the aisles and pick a seat in the middle of the room in between two other empty desks. You had counted ten or so desks that had yet to be filled, so you figured you should take your chances. You don’t know anyone… at least, for now. Maybe someone will show up later.

Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you plug your headphones into your ears and listen to music for the last few minutes of passing period to relax a little. It quickly feels pointless, though, as the chatter in the classroom overpowers the song blasting right by your eardrums. 

However, one voice seems to ring above all the others.

“Um… is this seat taken?”

You take an earbud out, lifting your head to find the source of the voice. Jeongin stands over the chair to your left, adorning a god-awful purple sweater that reminds you of the one he wore when you first met. It almost brings a smile to your face… almost. It probably would have if things had ended differently between you two.

This is the first time you have spoken to him since The Most Awkward Conversation Of Your Life™. Maybe you were being slightly dramatic, or at least that’s what Jisung had told you for weeks after the incident, but you still stood by what you felt. You weren't sure if you and Jeongin could ever get back to the way you were—not having spoken since that moment kind of proved to you that you couldn’t.

Yet here you are. You’re not sure if this will just be a one-off conversation or a second chance of sorts. But after a moment, you decide to take that chance.

“Go for it.” You gesture to the seat.

Jeongin smiles awkwardly, the tips of his ears pink as he sets his backpack down on the floor. He doesn’t move to get any of his things out of his bag, and just sits there with laser-focus on his hands that rest on top of his desk.

You’re not sure how long you two sat in silence, but thankfully, it feels nothing like the last time. It actually feels…. comfortable. Welcoming, even. Almost like when you first met him at the monkey bars.

Jeongin looks over at you after a few moments, still rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. “So… how are you?” he finally speaks.

It’s then that you notice just how much deeper Jeongin’s voice has gotten since the last time you spoke. You figure it would make sense; you hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and a lot can happen in said year. It’s still odd, however—seeing him change, but not being there to experience it with him.

You nod, looking down at your own hands, but you let a small smile slip out. “I’m okay.”

You are okay, really, at least for the moment. But now you knew you would be, for sure.

…

“Who wants the last cookie—” Mrs. Yang calls from the kitchen, but she’s quickly cut short.

“ME!”

You and Jeongin spring up from the couch at the same time, giggling as you push past each other and race to the kitchen. At the last second, Jeongin sticks his arm in front of you just as you come in reach of the cookie, barring you from the baked treat as he swipes it with his free hand.

“Hey!” You cross your arms, biting your lip to stifle more giggles from coming out. “You cheated!”

Jeongin doesn’t even try to hide the cocky smirk on his face. “Oh, you love me anyway.”

You narrow your eyes at the boy. “Do I? Do I really?”

Jeongin only stares back at you, blinking a few times before he bites into the cookie. Right. In. Front of you.

Your jaw drops in betrayal. What an asshole, he knew you loved those cookies more than life itself! If you had to choose, though, you highly preferred this over where you two were a year ago. He may be stealing your cookies like the pubescent raven-haired crook he is, but since it comes with being best friends again, you’ll learn to live with it.

You keep your eyes trained on him as you calculate your next move. You know exactly how to get him back for this, but is it worth it? Was waiting only a few months after recovering your friendship enough time?

Oh, who are you kidding—of course it was.

“Two can play that game,” you state, taking a piece of cookie from his hand.

The boy scoffs. “Oh, really?”

Your eyes widening ever-so-slightly, you bite into the cookie. You keep your gaze on him as you chew, not looking away even for a second, and you say the three magic words—even more magic than ‘please.’

“Stay for Christmas?”

His smirk immediately drops, and one of your own plays at your lips. You know you got him.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” he grumbles.

You just swipe another piece of cookie from his hand, still grinning triumphantly. “To be fair,” you swirl the cookie in your hand for emphasis, “you walked right into it.”

Jeongin sighs, watching you toss the last bit of the cookie into your mouth. “There's nothing I can do to make you forget it, huh?’

“Nope,” you say with your mouth full. “Not unless you do something more quote-worthy.”

“Fine, then stay.”

You freeze, your cheeks still full of chewed-up cookie. “What?”

“You heard me, Y/N.” Jeongin steps closer, not breaking eye contact. “Just stay for Christmas. It’d be fun, and at least then, you’d have nothing to try and tease me with.”

You swallow the dessert in your mouth and stare at him, speechless. All this time, you had been just playing along with the line as a joke. Was it actually possible to have a sleepover with him? You almost smile as you ponder it over in your head. Being all cooped up in his room and kicking his ass at Mario Kart, then scrambling to be in bed by midnight as if Santa would actually appear the second the clock strikes twelve? You don’t have to think twice.

“Honey sweet, you and Y/N are still on that?” Mrs. Yang says, turning her head to look at you two from the sink.

Jeongin groans. “Yeah, mom, and why do you still call me that?!”

His mother just chuckles and turns back to the dishes she’s rinsing. From what you could gather, she doesn’t seem opposed to you sleeping over. It wasn’t a yes, but it certainly wasn’t a resounding no, so you jump to make a beeline for your parents and beg them to let you stay overnight.

Unfortunately, your parents have a more straightforward answer for you. Not even the growing piles of snow outside could save you from going back home at the end of the night.

You also receive quite the lecture about “the dangers of staying over at boys’ houses” on the way home. Their words fly in one ear and the other for you. If this was anyone else, it’d be different, but this is your best friend that they’re talking about.

The only time Jeongin ever laid a hand on you was during the grand battle of Rainbow Road when you were eleven. In his defense, he didn’t mean to push you so hard that you fell off the bed and nearly dislocated your shoulder, but that’s what happens when two of the most competitive people you know go head-to-head in a battle of Mario Kart.

You huff. At least you know actually staying for Christmas might be an option one day.

15 years old.

You peek around the edge of your locker door every so often as you shove various notebooks into your bag. Even when you finished packing up, you busy yourself with pretending to wipe specks of dust off your binder, and checking that you chose the correct textbooks to bring home with you for the fifth time in three minutes.

Another minute or so passes and you check the clock on your phone, then you look past your locker door one more time, slowly leaning over until one eye peeps past the edge. You find Jeongin speaking to one of his teachers as they exited their classroom, waving goodbye as he heads closer to you. 

You smile to yourself, then scan the area around you one more time. The coast seems clear, but you decide to give it one more minute before going over to him, just to be safe.

“You’re doing that again?”

You jump and turn on your heel, nearly hitting your head against your locker door. Jisung stands behind you as he watches you incredulously, backpack slung over one shoulder as he leans against the wall of lockers. His arms are crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you, and his features are twisted into an odd mixture of concern and confusion.

You look back at the main hallway, then back at Jisung. “Um… yeah,” you state, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Is there a problem?”

Jisung just snickers at your confidence. “Babe, honey, sweetie,” he says. You roll your eyes at the endless string of nicknames. “You look ridiculous.”

“I do not!” you scoff defensively.

He leans closer to you, his wide eyes boring into yours. “Is this about a booooy?” he teases jokingly.

You grimace in his direction, delivering a flick to his forehead as you pretend to rummage through your locker again. “You know what it’s about, Ji,” you grumble.

He’s technically not wrong. It is about a boy, but it’s not about a boy. There’s a huge difference—especially when the boy in question was Jeongin.

“You still look ridiculous.” He props an arm against the locker wall. “It’s like you want people to think you’re dating.”

You sigh, slamming your locker shut. “You don’t get it, people will stare if we don’t do this. Plus, our system’s worked for almost a semester already.”

“Y/N, this almost looks more suspicious than if you two just acted normally.” Reaching out a hand, he turns you by the shoulders to face him. “Is this peeking thing really necessary?”

You let out an agitated huff at his constant questioning. The nearly-unreadable grimace makes a return to Jisung’s face, and you know it is there to stay until you explain yourself. It seems pretty simple to you, though. 

You see, once middle school came to a close, you saw a window for a fresh start in high school. Any indications of The Incident™ (the former name had become a mouthful for you to repeat every time) were to die with the remnants of your braces phase and short-lived obsession with rainbow loom bracelets and 5 Seconds of Summer, as far as you were concerned. So, accordingly, you and Jeongin had devised a plan to prevent those dreaded “ship moments” from repeating themselves in high school.

Since most of your time together at school wasn’t in actual classes, you and Jeongin agreed to sit separately for bus rides to and from school, sometimes even opposite ends of the bus if necessary. On the way to school in the mornings, you two figured it was safe to walk together to the bus most days. Your neighborhood was one of the first stops and the few kids on the bus when you get on are usually snoring in the back. As long as you and Jeongin sat across from each other near the front and didn’t wake them up, you figured you’d be fine.

However, after school, you had to be fast. Ideally, you’d meet up with Jeongin when the hallways were less crowded than right when the final bell sounds, but when enough students were still hanging around the corridors that it wouldn't raise eyebrows with the school staff. You’d meet, speed-walk to the buses together, and enter separately. Once you pulled up at your stop, you two would depart and walk separately—until your bus turned the corner, then you’d walk each other home. It sounded like a lot, yeah, but after a while you get used to it.

After months of practice, you found that the most optimal time to pull this off was around five to eight minutes after the bell. Eight minutes was pushing it, but as long as you and Jeongin made a run for it, you wouldn’t miss your ride home. You had it down to a science. Jisung had no reason to worry, but he always seemed to find one.

Despite this, you don’t want to bother explaining the system you and Jeongin had perfected over the semester, again—the last time you did, it only raised more questions. So this time, you simply wave a hand in dismissal. “Yes, it’s necessary,” you deadpan, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Jisung blinks, then lets out an exhausted sigh. “If you insist…”

The older boy trails off, just in time for the younger one to appear at your side. “Hey, guys,” Jeongin chirps, waving at you both.

You smile at him briefly before turning to Jisung. “Do you have any other questions before we go?” you ask, your voice dripping in (mostly) feigned annoyance.

“No, but I probably will later.” The older brunet waves at one of his friends from anime club before looking back at the two of you one more time. “You two should go catch your bus, get home safe, yeah?”

You both nod, giving him a thumbs up as he jogs over to his friend, and you and Jeongin make your own jog for the front doors of the school.

You’re immediately greeted with a gray cloudy sky and you instantly feel the cold swirl around you. There are crowds of people littered around each section, waiting for their own respective buses. It doesn’t faze you in the least, though.

You had months of practice under your belt—years, actually, if you included shoving past couples in the school hallways who seemed to walk like they were floating on the moon. To this day, you never understood the appeal of holding up foot traffic for your fifth kiss goodbye of the hour, but whatever. Just like how other teenagers always mysteriously seemed to stop right in front of you just as you were dashing full speed for math class, you always seemed to find a way through the crowd.

It was simple, really. Like, actually simple compared to your aforementioned plan. Just keep your eyes straight ahead, and somehow, people always seem to clear a path for you. Despite your current plight, you and Jeongin have yet to miss your bus since the start of high school.

And that’s what you do. You take the lead in pushing through the masse of students, most of which are chatting amongst their friends as they meander to their ride home. Normally, you and Jeongin would talk a bit on the way, too, but you had hit the eight-minute mark thanks to your encounter with Jisung, so you had to book it. 

You keep your gaze locked in front of you, only turning back occasionally to make sure you didn’t lose Jeongin in the crowd. As predicted, students who aren’t otherwise in a hurry move out of your way. You let out a small sigh of relief at this; it’s one less thing you needed to worry about as you got closer to your bus.

Next: enter separately.

By the time you and Jeongin navigate your way out of the crowd and to bus #143, you find a line of students waiting to board that stretches the length of the bus itself. You groan, but at least you wouldn’t be stranded at school, so you consider this a win.

But still, you keep your unwritten pact in mind and you gesture for Jeongin to line up. “You go first,” you mumble, gently pushing him to the end of the line and you step back to wait another minute.

Jeongin turns back to you. “Aren’t you gonna get in line too?”

You stuff your hands in your pockets and quickly scan the line. You recognize the girl in front of him from math class, and two kids from the group of boys that just got behind Jeongin used to tease you two in middle school. “Not yet,” you shake your head. “It’s not safe.”

He furrows his brows together, his lips pulling downward. “You’re shivering,” he deadpans.

Now that he mentioned it, you realize you’re jumping in place in an attempt to warm up. It’s cold outside and you’re eager to leave, but you don’t mind waiting a little longer.

After moments of hesitation, Jeongin removes a hand from his hoodie pocket and grabs your forearm, making sure your hands stay in your own pockets as he pulls you to him. “Just get in line, Y/N,” he mumbles, “the sooner you get in line, the sooner we can get out of the cold.”

With wide eyes, you immediately step back. “Are you crazy?!” you hiss. “People are gonna talk!”

“So? Let them.”

Jeongin’s words ring in your head as he pulls you back towards him one more time.

You let out a gasp when you feel your body collide with his. You blink a few times to recompose yourself and stare up at him, your mouth agape. “What’s gotten into you?” Jeongin makes a face to himself as he responds, “What’s gotten into you?” 

“You know what got into me.” You give him a dubious look. “The agreement, the one we both agreed on?” 

Jeongin hums, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks back over to watch the line. “Who cares?”

“I thought you did…” 

His gaze burning into your skin makes you want to shrink away. Only a few months ago, he was dead set on this agreement, but now? What changed and so suddenly, at that? 

“Why should we let them try to ruin our friendship?” Jeongin asks after a beat of silence. “They already tried once, and look what happened. We shouldn’t let them again.” 

You freeze yet again at his words, so much that the boy has to drag you onto the bus with him. His hand on your forearm is enough to snap you out of your haze, and for some reason, it’s all you can focus on. 

You feel him let your arm go after a minute, and you look over at him. He slings his backpack off his shoulders and places it by his feet as he settles into the window seat, then looks back at you. “Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he says in a similar tone as earlier, patting the empty spot next to him.

“Um…”

Jeongin looks at you expectantly. It was tempting. it really was. But you catch a familiar wisp of curly hair as the group of boys from behind you two turn the corner and strut down the aisle.

You hesitate, before sharply turning on your heel. “I’ll just sit a few rows back,” you mumble.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

Another surprised yelp leaves your lips as Jeongin pulls you out of the aisle. He tugs you by your hoodie sleeve this time, and when the group of boys walk past you, he lets his grip loosen and you feel his palm rest on your forearm again. It’s warm against your skin and you almost don’t want him to move it, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud.

The boy glances at the seat next to him, then back at you, his eyes almost weary. “Just sit, please.”

You peer over your shoulder as the group of boys collectively take their seats in the last two rows of the bus. Sighing, you supposed that it’s far enough that you would be safe, and allow yourself to plop on the torn blue leather.

“See, it’s not so bad, is it?” Jeongin smiles at you reassuringly. “No one’s gonna talk, we’ll be fine.”

He pats your forearm twice before bringing his hand back onto his lap. You almost frown at the move.

The last of the students file in after a couple more minutes and the bus slowly pulls onto the road. Jeongin leans his head against the dirty window as he plays Doodle Jump on his phone, and you mindlessly watch him try to beat his high score. 

You don’t know how much time passed when the bus abruptly stops, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. The two of you are thrown forward as the driver suddenly slams the brakes, and Jeongin instinctively grabs your arm to keep you from falling. You don’t, luckily, but you do bump into him.

“Ahh, sorry!” you exclaim.

Jeongin shakes his head, as if to say it’s okay. “Are you okay?”

He gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before letting go. You follow his hand as it falls back on his lap, before meeting his gaze and nodding slightly. “Yeah–” you hesitate for a second, looking down at his hand again then back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

You nod once, giving him a tight smile before settling down properly. That is, until you catch white flecks falling outside from the corner of your eye. It takes a second to click, but once it does, you turn to the window in a flash, eyes sparkling at the view outside.

“Jeongin,” you squeal, shaking him by the shoulder and you point to his right. “Look!”

The boy slides his phone in his pocket and a grin of his own appears as he looks out the window, seeing the snowflakes blanket the outside world for the first time this winter. Leaning past Jeongin to peer outside, your smile grows even more cheerful. All you need now is a mug of hot chocolate filled to the brim with whipped cream as you curl up on the couch and put on one of your beloved Christmas movies. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be home for a while, so this would have to do for now.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but,” Jeongin starts after a minute, a chuckle escaping his lips, “the snow always starts when we’re together.”

“Really?” you question. 

He nods, his eyes focused on what seemed to be the most interesting bush in the world to him, and he smiles. “Yeah.”

You’re not sure if it was instinct or the cold that made you want to sit closer to Jeongin. You try not to think about it. 

“It's just a coincidence,” you attempt to laugh. “You can’t really predict the weather.” 

“I don’t know,” Jeongin muses, clicking his tongue. “If Jisung was here right now, he’d be losing his mind.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “That boy lost his mind ages ago. We just spend a lot of time together, of course we’re gonna see the first snow together at least once.”

Jeongin shrugs his shoulders beside you, then it goes silent. You aren’t sure how long for, and you just quietly watch the white crystals of snow hit the glass window. 

You feel Jeongin lean into you slightly after another moment. “That reminds me…”

You hum, looking over at him.

His smile curls into a playful smirk. “Stay for Christmas?”

You gape at him with an amused grin. Jeongin? Saying the line himself, unprompted? Who was this boy in front of you? “I thought you hated that line.”

Jeongin shrugs again, a smile still playing on his lips. “Eh, it kinda grew on me.” He pauses for a moment then speaks again. “But seriously, do you want to?”

Your brain goes static for a second. “As in, stay for Christmas? Like, for real?” He nods, and you deflate, slumping in your seat. “You know they’ll just say no.”

The hopeful smile on Jeongin’s face also fades, recalling your failed attempt last year. “I know,” he said, “but maybe it’s worth another try?”

You press your lips into a thin line, keeping your gaze down as you shrug. “We can if you want.”

Once the bus pulls up at your stop, Jeongin walks you home, but not without going inside with you to find your parents. With a reassuring hand on your back, he helps you plead your case to your parents, but as you feared, they shut you down quicker than last time.

Jeongin sends you a sad smile as he heads home that day, leaving you to mentally prepare for the hell you’re about to receive from your mother the minute the door clicks shut behind him. 

16 years old.

“One, two…” your mother counts slowly as she tries her best to fit the both of you on her screen. “Get a bit closer together, guys,” she ushers you with one hand. 

You huff but follow her order, and step closer to the boy next to you. “Mom, don’t you have enough photos?”

A chuckle leaves your mom's lips as she continues to take more, now at different angles. “There’s never enough photos, sugarplum!”

Jisung snorts from beside you at the nickname and you send your elbow right into his ribs to get him to shut up.

“Y/N!” your mother scolds. “Don’t be so mean, he’s being nice and taking you! Heaven knows he didn’t need to.” 

“Mom!” you gasp in surprise.

“Yeah, sugarplum,” Jisung says mockingly, faking a pout as he looks down at you. 

You glare up at the older boy and silently hiss. You knew this would be a bad idea, but this is still better than what you were originally going to do: go to winter formal on your own. Especially since Jeongin had his own date. 

“Okay, okay,” your mother says as her gaze focuses back onto her phone. “Last ones.” 

“You have plenty,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

Your mother finally lowers her phone and slips it into her oversized cardigan pocket. “Bring her home by midnight, okay? No funny business!” She borderline-chastises Jisung, and you give her a look. She’s known Jisung for years at this point, it was almost as bad as if she lectured Jeongin himself.

Luckily for you, Jisung plays along, drawing two fingers to his brow and flicking his wrist to salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Okay,” you start quickly as you hastily grab Jisung’s wrist. “We gotta go, bye!” 

With that, you drag Jisung out of the door and to his car before your mother can get another word in.

“Whoa there, sugarplum, calm down,” Jisung sings, “we have all the time in the world.”

“Would you let that nickname go, please?” you groan. 

Jisung unlocks his car as he walks around to the driver's seat, laughing loudly. “Never, baby.” With the car open, he stares at you and taps his temple. “That puppy is locked into the memory banks for life.” 

You roll your eyes for the nth time, open the door, and let it slam behind you as you plop onto your seat with crossed arms, Jisung’s laughter filling your ears as he follows your actions. Igniting the engine, he turns the heaters to full blast and rubs his hands together to try and gain some heat. 

“You good?” you ask, watching him blow hot air onto his hands. 

He hums and nods his head, and turns the heaters down shortly after. “I like the car to be toasty, okay? I want to feel like a marshmallow.” 

“...A marshmallow?” 

Jisung nods again affirmingly. “A marshmallow.” 

“I don’t even want to know,” you shake your head in amazement and look away from him. 

“We’re picking Innie up first, right?” Jisung asks, his attention now on the road as he backs the car out of your driveway.

“Yeah,” you hum. “His date is meeting him there.” 

After that it goes silent, partly because Jisung needs his full attention to drive, but also because there just isn’t much to say. You’re surprised Jisung hasn’t taken this time alone with you to grill and interrogate you, but maybe he had turned over a new leaf, changed his ways.

It seems more likely, however, that you just thought too highly of him, especially when he asks you about it in the next moment.

“So, how do you feel about Jeongin having his own date?” 

You turn your head to look at him. “Don’t you have the road to focus on?”

“Don’t deflect, baby,” he hums. “You can’t answer a question with a question.” 

“You can’t answer a question with a question,” you mimic, tightening your arms around your chest. 

“Now you’re just being obnoxious,” he says, which causes you to whine and throw your head back.

“Why are you even asking me? It’s fine, so what if he has his own date? I don’t care.” 

“Kinda seems like you do,” Jisung sings. 

“I don’t,” you spit back a second too quickly. 

“Look at my face.” Jisung takes one hand, motions around his face, and sends a look towards you before focusing back on the road. “Does this face look like one that would believe your bullshit?” 

“Your face looks dumb and like you’d believe any type of bullshit,” you mutter, your arms still crossed. 

“Now, I know you’re only saying that because you’re annoyed at me for pointing out the obvious.” Jisung laughs. “It's okay, I forgive you and I know I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever laid your eyes on.” 

“You need to get your ego checked.”

Pulling up at the corner of Jeongin’s street, Jisung places the car in park. “The things I do for this friendship,” he sighs dramatically as he pulls out his phone to text Jeongin.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze out the window. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you misspelled the word ‘genius’, sugarplum.”

You side-eye the older boy, whose smug smile is illuminated by the light emitting from his phone. “I wasn’t spelling anything.”

“Misspoke, then.” Jisung locks his phone and looks at you innocently. “Same thing. Jeongin’s on his way.” 

“Not the same thing,” you mumble before you nod your head. “Okay, but how is he going to sneak out in a suit?” 

The sudden thought came to your mind. Jeongin had family come in from out of town for this large family party, which admittedly, he didn’t want to be there for. However, his family would definitely notice if he just walked out of the house in a tux. 

“That's where my genius comes in,” Jisung smirks and points to the back seat. “Emergency tux.” 

You look back and there is, in fact, a tuxedo folded neatly on the middle seat along with a belt to match, ready for Jeongin to wear for the formal. You stare at it for a moment too long before your gaze settles on Jisung. “What emergency is there where you need a tux?” 

The older boy shrugs and makes a face. “A fancy one?” 

You blink as you look at him, but you couldn’t stop the side of your lips turning up into a smile. “I really don’t get you sometimes.” 

His confident grin makes your own grow wider. He leans forward slightly and ruffles your hair with one hand, causing you to groan before flipping down the sun visor and looking in the tiny mirror on the back of it as you try to fix it.

Jisung laughs as he watches you. “It's okay, you can say how amazing I am and how much you love me, you don’t have to pretend.” 

Whilst fixing your hair in the mirror, your mouth twists into a disgusted frown and you send him a glare. “I repeat what I said earlier, you need your ego checked.” 

“You’ll admit it one day,” he jokes.

You close the visor back up. “Not gonna happen.” 

Before Jisung has the chance to say anything else, the right back door opens up. Jeongin throws himself in and sighs contentedly at the warmth that surrounds him. After a moment, he opens his eyes and smiles at the both of you sitting in the front. “Hey, guys!” 

“Hi,” you smile. 

Jisung smiles too and points to the suit behind him, which makes Jeongin clap his hands in delight. “Emergency tux?” he says.

Jisung clicks his tongue, sending a wink and a finger gun the younger boy’s way. “Emergency tux, baby.” 

With furrowed eyebrows, you blink at the boys. “What is it with you and emergency tuxes? Seriously, what would you even need an emergency tux for?” 

“A fancy emergency,” Jeongin answers matter-of-factly, which causes Jisung to point at him and nod.

“See, he gets it!” he agrees. “Hey, without that emergency tux, Innie would be going in sweats to the formal. Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” 

You roll your eyes and look away from them. “Guess not.” 

“See, Y/N?” Jisung reaches over to ruffle your hair again, and you successfully duck your head away this time. He chuckles and draws his hand back, shifting the gear to drive and bringing his attention back to the road. “There's a method to my madness.”

You just huff, slumping back in your seat in defeat as he turned the car around. 

“Wait,” Jeongin pipes up as Jisung straightens out the wheel, “how am I supposed to change?”

“As I said, there’s a method to my madness.,” Jisung says, perhaps a bit too confidently as he pulls out of the street. “Just give me a minute.”

You narrow your eyes at Jisung, who keeps a straight face as he drives. You almost hate it more than his smug smile from a few minutes ago. At least then, you had the slightest clue to what he was thinking. The fact that the car is silent, save for the quiet Christmas music on the radio, does nothing to calm your worries.

Unfortunately, it looks like your gut feeling was right as you realize Jisung is pulling into a stop just right outside your neighborhood. 

“Here you go,” Jisung announces proudly, placing the car in park again. “Changing time!”

Your eyes bulging out of your head, you snap your head to Jisung. “Are you insane?!” you hiss. “We’re in public!”

The older—but you were very hesitant to say wiser—boy shrugs. “He’s gotta do it somewhere! It’s either here or the school parking lot.”

“You didn’t think about a gas station?!”

“Guys, it’s fine,” Jeongin says, his voice wavering slightly as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Just... just don’t look, please.”

You cover the sides of your eyes as you keep your gaze out the window. Every now and then, you hear Jeongin hit something in the back, causing him to groan in pain and Jisung to holler at his misery. 

This goes on for almost a minute before you hear the gear shift click. Keeping your hands around the sides of your eyes, you glower at Jisung, who smirks deviously as he pulls the lever to drive. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you grumble.

“Oh, watch me,” Jisung snickers, tapping his foot on the gas.

“Hey! I’m not done yet!” Jeongin shouts as the car inches forward, sending Jisung into another fit of laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Jisung abruptly hits the brake, causing Jeongin to shriek as he thuds against the back of your seat. The older boy lets out another cackle at this, clapping his hands as he throws his head back. He glances at you in hopes that you’re just as amused, but you only glare at him.

He lets out a drawn-out but satisfied sigh, and puts the car in park again. “Ahhh, that was fun.” 

You stay silent, maintaining your pointed stare.

“Chillax, Y/N.” He nudges your shoulder, but remains overly cheerful even though you don't budge. “Ooh, look! Snow!“

You blink. As tempting as it is to take your eyes off of him, something in your gut begs you not to.

“I’m serious!” Jisung cries again, pointing fervently in front of him. 

You sigh and turn your head slightly. At least he wasn’t lying about the snow, although it does seem lighter this year. A few snowflakes trickle down here and there, but it’s nowhere near enough to obstruct the view outside. And it definitely isn’t enough to keep Jisung from starting and stopping the car one more time, sending Jeongin crashing into the back of your seat again and proving your worries correct.

“I’m gonna kill you,” the younger boy scowls, and you lean over to flick the older one on the forehead.

“Agh!” Jisung slaps your hand away, stifling a giggle. “Okay, okay! I'm done now!”

“You better be,” Jeongin grumbles. 

After a few minutes, he gasps. “Done,” he says, and you drop your hands from either side of your eyes. 

You look in the rearview mirror, Jeongin in full view as he adjusts his tie. Sure, the suit was a size too big, and the jacket almost slipped off the ends of his shoulders, but he somehow seemed to make it work. You couldn’t explain how, it just has this charm that perfectly complements the sweet but awkward boy you’ve grown so fond of. It’s so incredibly Jeongin, and it makes you smile like a dope.

But as he runs his hands through his hair, in desperate attempts to fix it, you feel your breath hitch in your throat. That… was new. And different. By now, one would look away, but for some reason, you can’t.

That is, however, when you notice Jisung’s eyes are locked on you, his eyebrows ever-so-slightly raised in amusement. You look down at your hands as you feel your cheeks get hot. Now that was another thing you’d have to explain to the older fool. Great.

Snow continues to fall from the sky as Jisung resumes the drive to school, but it never goes past a light sprinkle. It wasn’t even enough to coat the ground in that fluffy, white blanket you had grown accustomed to in the last few years. Every so often, the older boy glances over at you, catching you lingering at the rearview mirror as Jeongin uses his phone camera to fix his hair. It only makes you sink lower and lower into your chair, and you resort to keeping your eyes on your lap for the rest of the ride.

You don’t look up again until you feel the car stop and hear the gear shift click back into park.

“We’re here,” Jisung announces in a singsong voice.

“I can tell,” you grumble, recognizing the dimly lit courtyard in front of you.

“There she is!” Jeongin seems to have spotted his date and he squeaks, checking himself in the rearview mirror one last time. “Do I look okay?” he asks, a hopeful smile on his face.

You both turn back to look at him. You open your mouth to speak but can’t get anything out, and you find yourself stupidly staring at him again.

“You look great, Jeongin.” Jisung smiles over his shoulder. He glances at you for a second, flashing his eyebrows at you, and you turn back around in embarrassment. “Now gooo, she”s waiting!” He winks at the younger boy, ushering him out of the car.

Jeongin chuckles, smoothing out his oversized suit once more before he leaves. You keep your gaze out the windshield the whole time, staring at nothing in particular, but you notice that the snow stops entirely once Jeongin wraps his arms around his date and escorts her inside.

You feel your breath get caught in your throat again. “We–” you start, then pause to clear your throat. “Yeah, we should get going, too.” 

Keeping your eyes locked in place, you blindly reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. You’ve never felt more suffocated in a vehicle in your life and everything inside you was screaming at you to get out.

But Jisung, ever-persistent, seemed to be working against you all evening. He reaches over, gently grabbing your arm before you can touch the door handle. “Uh, uh, uh, you’re not going anywhere.”

You silently groan in your mind as you turn to face him with a sour look. “What do you want?” 

His mouth curls up into a smirk. “What was that just now?” 

“What was what just now?”

You tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowed with your lips pursed together. No matter how hard you try to keep a straight face, it only seems to egg him on more. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” Jisung nudges you repeatedly, his smirk growing wider. “That whole staring at Innie thing! It’s almost like you just realized how in love you are with him.” 

A scoff escapes your lips almost instantly. Seeing Jeongin in that suit was… an experience, to say the least, but to go as far as to say you were in love with him?

That said, it doesn’t surprise you that this all came from the guy who genuinely believed his crush would ask him out at midnight if he made a wish and forwarded a poorly-formatted copypasta to seventeen people. Bless his heart, but you’re smarter than that.

Really, you couldn’t pinpoint what sucked the breath out of your lungs when you laid eyes on Jeongin in the rearview mirror. All you could caulk it up to was some ill-timed coming-of-age epiphany: you two were sixteen now, and you could do things the sixteen-year-olds in movies do all the time. It’s a strange pill to swallow, but unlike Jeongin, it didn’t even occur to you that you could’ve asked someone out to winter formal. Everyone else your age seemed to jump at the chance, but a small part of you figured you and Jeongin would’ve gone together—as friends, of course.

Of course, you know Jisung wouldn’t buy that answer, so you had to think of something else. Something more his style.

“That’s— that’s not what happened.” You take a breath then wave him off with your hand as you continue. “It's just the tuxedo effect, it’ll be gone in the morning.”

You turn to get out of the car (again), hoping Jisung would leave it at that, but he leans over (again), grabbing your hand this time. 

“No, no, no, sugarplum, you aren’t getting away that easily.”

You want to scream. Praying for the earth to swallow you whole sounds good, too. Anything over facing Jisung, whose eyebrows are raised as he nosily rests his chin on his palm.

“Spill.” 

You lightly push him away from you as you sigh. “What is there to spill? It’s…” You pause, before continuing in a rushed mumble. “It's when you find someone attractive because of the fact that they’re wearing a suit.” 

Jisung blinks a number of times before he bursts into laughter.

“That’s so bullshit! Finding someone attractive just because they’re wearing a suit?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That's insane.” 

“Oh, so magical snow makes complete sense, but finding someone attractive because of a suit doesn’t?” 

“It’s not magical snow, it’s fate and romance all twisted into one!” 

“Whatever, you’re hopeless.” You throw your hands up in defeat. “My point still stands: it’ll be gone by tomorrow.” 

The main doors capture your attention and your eyes linger on it as multiple other students filter in and out of the formal. Your shoulders tighten and an unexplainable uneasy feeling makes a home for itself in your chest. 

“I thought this was what you wanted…” Jisung starts, his gaze following yours, “for people to not think you guys were dating.” 

“It’s not that,” you respond quietly. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, matching your tone.

“It’s just…” you begin. “It’s weird to think he’s at the age where he’s actually thinking about liking someone and dating people.” 

“But you know what that means?” Jisung asks, prompting you to break your staring contest with the school doors and look at him. “It also means you’re old enough to do the same thing: date and move on.” 

You scoff, open the car door, and put one foot out, ready to leave. “I don’t know what you’re on about, shut up.” You get up and let the door swing closed behind you. 

Jisung quickly follows suit and makes his way around the front of his car and over to you. He places one hand on one of your shoulders, as the other delicately moves some of the hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear. 

“I’ll stop bothering you about this, yeah?” he says, his voice more gentle than teasing this time. You could count the number of times he’s spoken to you like this on one hand. “At least, I’ll stop for now. And if Jeongin won’t tell you, then I will—you look absolutely beautiful.” 

Gently lifting your chin with two fingers, Jisung leans over and places a light kiss upon your forehead. You swear that for a minute, your heart stopped beating. Even with all of the overly sweet nicknames and the babying, Jisung had never gone so far as to do something so physically affectionate with you as this. However, you like it. You like it a lot more than you thought you would. 

His lips linger there for a moment longer before he pulls away with a smile. “You’re more than capable of going after what you want. But don’t let him cloud your judgment tonight. Have fun, make memories.”

The older boy steps back from you, but offers an arm for you to take. Once you do, he leans in slightly and chuckles. “And try not to let this so-called tuxedo effect get to you too much,” Jisung adds as an afterthought. “You might fall in love with me by the end of the night.”

Using the arm linked around his, you deliver a light smack to his chest.

“In your dreams, asshole.”

…

Spending the night with Jisung as your quote-unquote “date” was more of a blast than you thought it would be. From the flavorful fruit punch and the obviously bulk-bought snacks, it truly was a night to remember. 

You made sure to catch plenty of Jisung’s dad-dancing on your phone—for blackmail purposes, of course. And when it got to that normally awkward slow dance section of the night, Jisung did what he did best and made it anything but that. Sure, you stood on his toes once or twice, but he didn’t complain, at least verbally, and all-in-all, the night seemed to be a success.

From the few glances you stole during the night, Jeongin also seemed to enjoy his time with his date. The feverish look he had in his eyes when he hopped in the back of Jisung’s car paired with the hint of lipstick on his cheek confirmed it for you. You decide not to dwell too much on it, taking Jisung’s advice, and just hand Jeongin a makeup wipe before he could stroll home with crystal clear evidence on his face that he was ever gone.

The car might as well have been a fridge as you’re sitting there, hands rubbing together so quickly you could start a fire in your attempt to gain warmth. Jisung had started the car already, but his heaters are taking much longer to kick in compared to earlier. Jeongin, now laid out across the back seat, gushes about how the night was and how breathtaking his date seemed to be in her off-white dress. (You don’t know who would wear white to a school dance, but you try your best not to judge.) 

His rambles, however, are soon cut short by Jisung, who looks at him through his rearview mirror. “Sorry, buddy, but you need to change before you get home, remember?” 

Jeongin huffs as he pulls himself up into a sitting position and nods his head. He looks at you, to Jisung, back to you, then Jisung again. “You’re not going to do that stop-start thing again, are you?” 

“Nah.” Jisung waves him off with one hand. “Wouldn’t be as funny the second time. Plus, I feel like sugarplum here would kill me.” 

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow together slightly. “‘Sugarplum?’” 

“Don’t ask,” you say hollowly, and send Jisung a stern look to not answer Jeongin either. But in all honesty, if ‘sugarplum’ was the main thing the older boy took from tonight, you’d be completely fine with that.

“Just hurry up and change, nimrod,” Jisung says as he once again looks in the mirror.

You stare at him blankly. “What the heck is this? The eighties?” 

“Just say you’re jealous and go, okay, sugarplum?” Jisung makes a face, and you throw your hands up dismissively. 

“Did someone spike the punch?” Jeongin asks. “You’re both acting weird tonight.” Every now and then, you hear bumps and noises as he attempts to get back into his sweats in an orderly fashion. 

“We’re not being weird,” you respond flatly, your eyes locked on a shallow puddle on the sidewalk from the snowfall, if you could even call it that. You try your best to change the subject and keep Jeongin from questioning you more. “Are you done yet? Can we go?” 

With one last grunt, Jeongin succeeds in getting his head through the hole of his sweatshirt. “Yep, you can drive, Jisung.” 

That was enough for Jisung to pull the car into drive and to get on the way. 

You drum your fingers against the dashboard as Jisung drives, using everything in you to not pluck off the acrylic nails that took you an hour to stick on. You’re pleasantly surprised with how little this whole operation had gone wrong, and you could only hope that the rest of the trip would stay this way.

You don’t even allow yourself to relax into your chair until you three pull to the corner of Jeongin’s street for the second time. Jisung nearly laughs at you for this, but you quickly silence him with another smack to the chest.

“Owie! Looks like sugarplum’s feisty tonight,” Jisung cries, flashing you a fake frown.

You wince at the nickname and turn around, ignoring him. “Jeongin, do you have everything?”

Jeongin haphazardly tosses the bunched-up tuxedo on the seat beside him as he nods. He slides across the back seat and reaches for the door handle before you stop him in his tracks. 

“Wait.” You lean over the back seat and quickly wipe at his cheek, and he attempts to back away. “You missed a bit of lipstick, idiot,” you state flatly, ignoring the sudden heat you feel creeping up your neck. “You’re basically asking to get caught.” 

Jisung sits and stares as he watches you wipe away the little remnants of lipstick on Jeongin’s cheek, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way the tips of Jeongin’s ears turn a subtle pink color at your touch. 

“Ah,” Jeongin chuckles awkwardly, “thanks.”

It is when Jeongin exits the vehicle that you finally take a closer look at what he was wearing. He wasn’t just wearing any sweatshirt—it was purple. Suddenly you remember your plight from earlier and your breath catches in your throat for the third time tonight.

“Wait, Y/N.” You hear Jeongin knock on your window, snapping you out of your daze. 

You turn over and lower the glass, Jisung snickering under his breath all the while. “Yeah?”

A stupid grin comes over Jeongin’s face as he utters his next words.

“Stay for Christmas?”

You scoff and suppress a laugh. Maybe if he wasn’t still on a high from the formal, you would've considered asking your parents again this year. But what’s the point if they’ll just say no?

“Not a chance, now go home.”

After making sure Jeongin climbed into his bedroom window, Jisung turns the car around and takes you home. As he pulls into your driveway, you quickly notice how all of the lights are off in your house, minus the porch light. You let out a sigh of relief—your parents must be asleep. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to Jisung with a smile. “Thank you, Jisung,” you hum. “Tonight was fun.” 

“That's alright, sugarplum, glad to be of service,” he shoots you a toothy grin and salutes. 

You once again wince at the nickname, but decide to let it go this time. You quickly lean across the dashboard and place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek. “And thank you for what you said earlier, it meant a lot.” 

Jisung chuckles as you pull away. “You’re not falling for me, now, are you?” he quips.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You slap him on the arm, and pause for a moment before opening the car door. “Just, thank you for tonight, seriously.” 

“Y/N, it’s fine, I had fun too.” Jisung smiles. “Just make sure to get inside, it’s cold.” 

You smile back and hum once more. Shutting the car door behind you, you rush your way up to your front porch before turning back to Jisung with a final wave. Then, you’re met with warmth, welcoming you after a long trip away as you get ready for bed.

The next morning, however, you’re greeted by two very angry parents.

By the time you got home last night, both your parents were already asleep, so you thought you had successfully gotten away with everything. Even if they were awake, they had no way to know what you did. But it turns out Jeongin’s cousin, Jungwon, caught him sneaking in and immediately snitched to his parents, who, in turn, texted yours, and probably Jisung’s as well.

Let's just say that you are now grounded well into the new year. No going out for a whole month, except maybe the Christmas party next week, if your parents are feeling generous.

You know it’s going to suck being confined to your house for the entirety of winter break, but you suppose that’s the price you pay for being a loyal best friend. If anyone was going to help Jeongin sneak out to a school dance, it’s you—even if you wouldn’t be the one to go with him in the end.

You’d do it again in a heartbeat.

17 years old.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you whine.

“Nooo,” Jeongin drones from behind you, “just be patient. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

You sigh impatiently as he guides you by the shoulders to… somewhere. The December cold swirls around you, biting at your cheeks as you attempt to swivel your head and look around. You don’t know why you even bothered trying, though, as Jeongin had tied a black cloth over your eyes before he drove you off to this mystery location. 

Despite this, he still instructed you to keep your eyes shut. It felt excessive, but you obliged to make him happy.

“Fine, but do I really need the blindfold?” You bend your head up and over, looking to your best guess as to where Jeongin is. You can feel his hands on your shoulders, so wherever you’re staring couldn’t have been far off.

“Yes— well, not really.” Jeongin laughs sheepishly and he helps you onto what you assume is a crosswalk. “It was Jisung’s idea.”

You snort, shaking your head to yourself as you try your best to walk in a straight line. “Of course it was.”

Upbeat chatter and Christmas music dances around your ears as you near the still-unknown location. You can’t see a thing, but you can already feel the aura of holiday cheer everywhere around you, just waiting to sweep you off your feet. It is just a week shy of Christmas, after all.

Soon Jeongin comes to a stopping point, and you feel his hands leave your shoulders. “Can I take off the blindfold now?” you frown, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Yah, just wait!” Jeongin scolds, but you hear a light chuckle quickly follow. “Patience, Y/N.”

You feel his fingers gently graze your hair after a moment, finding its way to the knot on the back of your head. He gets it undone quickly, but holds the cloth around your head as he counts down.

“Three… two… one…” he says softly, slowly removing the blindfold from your eyes and unveiling the scene in front of you.

The glinting lights make you wince for a moment before your eyes get used to the new sudden brightness. You gasp at the sight in front of you, almost jumping out of your shoes in joy. Thousands of Christmas lights are hung up around trees, swirled around lamp posts, and hung overhead for people to walk under. It is breathtaking, truly breathtaking. 

You spin around to face Jeongin in an instant. His smile almost puts the lights out of business. “You brought me to the lights?” 

“No, I brought you to the desert.” The boy rolls his eyes, his words coated with sarcasm—but still, he smiles. “Yes, I brought you to the lights, dummy.” 

His warmth soon overtakes yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in close. He freezes for a moment, but soon lets his arms wrap around your waist. He squeezes you tight one final time before he pulls away, looking at you with a tender smile. 

“We should go, don’t want to miss out on the lights, do you?” 

You aren’t sure if he meant to grab your hand as he drags you away, but you don’t do anything to let go, either. You just stare down at your enjoined hands as you follow him, the background noise blurring away into nothing, overtaken by your heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Minutes seem to tick by before you can bring yourself to look up again. Your gaze lands on the back of Jeongin’s head, and it only seems to intensify when he swiftly turns his head. Something about the way his hair flowed with the quick action almost makes you dizzy, and you have to look back down to shake yourself out of it. 

You finally have the courage to let your eyes trail back up again a moment later. Immediately, something in the air feels different. Jeongin had turned back to check on you, and a cluster of yellow and white lights seemed to give him a halo-like ring above his head. The music and chatter blurs around you once again, fading into a quiet buzz as your body stiffens and you nearly lose your breath. It’s like you’re the main character of one of those animes Jeongin tried to get you to watch, like the one where the boy and the girl stumble upon a field of fireflies together in the middle of the night. Here you two are, a mere speck amongst the thousands of lights, yet the boy in front of you seems to shine brighter than them all.

It’s strange to think about. You are here for the Christmas lights—no, Jeongin brought you here for the Christmas lights—but all you can focus on is him.

“Are you okay?”

The three words and a light squeeze of your hand pull you back down to earth. You didn’t realize Jeongin stepped closer to you, and you feel yourself exhale shakily, your hand slowly slipping from his grasp.

You stare back with wide eyes, and something inside you compels you to step closer to him. “Y-Yeah,” is all you manage to get out.

The colorful lights seem to flicker as you look around. For a second, they do feel like little fireflies, floating around you as they emit their warmth. And when your gaze lands back on the boy in front of you, the warmth seems to encircle you even more. You nearly forget about the cold nipping at your cheeks, and a rosy glow fills them instead. 

“It’s just… I…”

As your eyes meet Jeongin’s once again, you can’t help but notice a slight redness in his cheeks as well.  His lips curve upward slightly, and he gently takes your hands in his.

“I know. It’s beautiful.”

You smile up at Jeongin and notice something moving behind him. You squint, looking past his ear, and find those all-too-familiar fluffy crystals fluttering down. Immediately, your jaw drops and your smile grows wider. 

“Jeongin, look!” You let go of one of his hands and point to the snow surrounding you. 

The scene unfolding around you leaves you awestruck. The colors from the lights bounce off the falling snowflakes, and the music seems to chime more vividly as the snow whisks around, making everything feel brighter and more alive. You feel like your head is spinning as you swivel around, sparkles in your eyes that could rival the spectacle in front of you.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you take one more step towards Jeongin. Your hands slowly find their way up his shoulders and around his neck, and you let his body heat swaddle you, wrapping you up in a wintry glow as you take it all in. It truly feels like you’re in a dream.

Jeongin follows your gaze and chuckles, a fond smile on his face as he gently pulls you closer. “Yes, Y/N, I know what snow is. Is snow bad?”

You look at him again, your wide, shimmering eyes meeting his warm ones. In that moment, nothing else mattered: just you, the snow, and the boy in front of you.

“It's perfect.”

And like the blonde girl in the firefly scene, you’d give anything for the moment to last forever.

…

“Where were you?”

Your mother’s words nearly make you jump out of your skin the second you step in the house, and you hiss to yourself. Your time with Jeongin at the light festival had swept you off your feet so much that you forgot you weren’t even supposed to be there.

After the events from last year, your parents had grounded you for a whole month, effectively barring you from even stepping foot outside of the house unless it was to school and back. Even worse, they grew so concerned about your so-called “excessive time with this boy” that they placed a strict curfew on you once your grounding sentence was lifted. No seeing friends—read: no seeing Jeongin—after 8pm, lest unspeakable things happen to you. It was ridiculous, not only because you’re seventeen, but because, somehow, your best friend since you were nine was now this supposed threat.

The only way you had been able to skirt around this was to lie, usually about studying at a coffee shop with an unnamed friend. You can’t remember what excuse you gave this time, but at this point, it didn’t matter much.

Your mother crosses her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features. “Where were you, really? And don’t say the school library this time.”

You curse to yourself, your mistake dawning on you. Why'd you pick a Saturday night to say you were meeting up with some friends at the school library? Did your excitement over Jeongin and his ‘mystery surprise’ really mess with your head that much? It couldn’t have been him… could it?

After a minute, you conclude that you just slipped up after exhausting your list of excuses over the course of the year. It was bound to happen.

“Well?” your mother says expectantly.

You just sigh, throwing up your hands in defeat. “I was with Jeongin.” 

Your eyes flick up, waiting for her next frustrated ramble about how you’ve been spending too much time with him. Instead, you get a throaty chuckle as she shakes her head at you, a smirk taking the place of her frown.

“Of course you were.”

Blinking, you stare at her in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It means nothing.” She turns around, busying herself with wiping some crumbs off the dining table. However, after closer inspection, you see that the table is spotless.

“No, it means something,” you protest. What happened to all her complaints about how much time you’ve spent with Jeongin? Why the sudden change of heart?

“I didn’t say anything, sweetheart,” your mom says. “But did he?”

“Did he what?”

“You know, the three words,” she looks up, sending you a wink and imitating Jeongin, “‘Stay for Christmas?’” 

Mortified, you feel heat rush up to your ears as your mother lets out another laugh. “Mom!”

You refuse to admit it to her, but you actually said it first this year.

It was just half an hour ago. Jeongin walked you to your car, a gentle hand on the small of your back as he followed you down his driveway. He wrapped you up in a strong embrace before you could even unlock your car, and you looped your arms around his neck in return, smiling into his shoulder.

The hug was sweet—Jeongin’s hugs, which seemed to increase in frequency lately, always were. But he held you for a second longer than normal in this one, and when you tried to let go, he let out a small whine and held you closer to him for one more moment. The move took you by surprise, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you melted into his hold, letting your head fall against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat could’ve lulled you to sleep if you let it, and the light snowfall twirling around you two certainly didn’t help matters. Gradually, you relaxed your arms, letting them hang loosely around his neck, and you let out a contented sigh. You truly never felt more at peace.

Maybe it was safe to say something in the air shifted while you were wrapped up in each other’s arms. Usually, he’d give you a fond chuckle and a curt pat on the back right before he pulled away and took off. But when the two of you finally let go, you opened your eyes to find him smiling down at you. Something akin to affection swam in his soft irises as he slowly pulled back, his hands gently resting on your waist. It was… different, for sure, especially coming from him. 

You smiled back warmly, linking your hands together behind his neck. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin nodded his head, an adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Just… got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Something seemed to swirl in his features that you couldn’t quite pick up. You registered the return of the light pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you stood under the streetlight together, but nothing else. It was probably just the cold that stirred this up, so you decided not to ask.

You could only stare back at him as you tried to think of something else to say. Something about the position you two were in—arms wrapped around each other under the moonlight—felt too close to lovers in the movies. You couldn’t explain why, but it made your brain go static. And in your attempt to relieve the tension, you gulped once and spat out the first stupid one-liner that came to mind.

“By any chance, are any of those things ‘Stay for Christmas’?”

Of course it had to be that.

Jeongin let out a light scoff, rolling his eyes playfully as he dropped his hands from your waist. You giggled at his disappointment, but you instantly missed the warmth that radiated from him. Luckily, you had half a mind not to say that out loud.

“Okay, moment over,” he mumbled, gently pushing you towards your car. “Get home safe, Y/N.”

“I’m just kidding!” your mother cries in exasperation, bringing your focus back to her. “I know I can’t stop you from seeing him. He is your,” she pauses to make air quotes, “‘best friend’, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “He’s my best friend. No air quotes needed.”

Your mother nods, clearly not believing you. “Right… for now.”

Feeling more blood rush to your face, you roll your eyes and unceremoniously march upstairs. “Goodnight, mom.”

She’s crazy, right? Absolutely. You know yourself and you know your friendships better than anyone. You and Jeongin are best friends for a reason—nothing more, and certainly nothing less. The way you felt like you were on cloud nine just hours ago? It was a one-time thing, you were just fascinated by the lights.

Jeongin had nothing to do with it.

18 years old.

Your scarf is wrapped tightly around your neck and face in attempts to shield yourself from the cold. You jump on the balls of your feet in place as you wait for one of the Yang family to open the door and invite you into the familiar warmth. It’s pretty much tradition at this point to spend at least part of Christmas Eve with the Yangs, but they’re hosting the Christmas party this year so it’s just another reason to stop by.

Shoving your hands into your coat pockets, your eyes brighten when you see movement through the front door window. Soon enough, Mrs Yang opens up the door with a smile of her own. 

"Y/N!" She sings, ushering you in before she pulls you into a hug. "I think Jeongin's still asleep, so you can do those honors?" She chuckles. 

You pull away, slip off your coat and scarf, and hang them up before you rush up the stairs. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Yang!" 

Once you’re up the top of the stairs, you creep down the hallway and knock on the door. When you get no response, you just let yourself in.

The scene in front of you is something you expect, but it brings a fond smile to your face nonetheless. Jeongin is spread out across his bed, his blanket bunched up around his chin. His hair is all fluffy from a good night’s sleep and his face looks peaceful as he snores lightly, like nothing in the world could ever hurt him. 

Going over to his bed, you let yourself fall onto it and your head rest on the pillow next to him. Examining his face, you notice how his eyelashes lay against his cheeks and how his lips part slightly as he breathes.

"I can feel you staring at me," Jeongin says, his eyes still closed.

You clutch your chest in surprise as you roll onto your back. "Oh my god, why do you have to scare me like that?” you cry, staring at the ceiling. "You could have said you were awake." 

"But then you wouldn't get your chance to admire me," he chuckles as he finally opens his eyes. 

"Shut up, no I wasn't!" 

"I don't know, your stare felt pretty heavy to me."

You glare at him, flying up and off of his bed before ripping the blanket off of him.

"Y/N! What the hell?!" Jeongin gasps, shooting up so he’s sitting. "What if I was naked?!" 

"I know you too well, you don't sleep naked." You bend down to stare at him. "You'd be too scared to sleep naked," you add as you throw his blanket back onto his bed. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, grabbing the blanket before he wraps it around himself like a burrito. "What are you doing here anyway?" he mumbles. He runs one hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, but all it really did was make it even more fluffy. Something about it makes your heart quicken its pace. 

"Don't you remember what day it is?"

Jeongin blinks slowly, his tiredness showing. "Friday?" 

You groan, sitting down on his bed again before quickly grabbing his pillow to hit him with it. "It's the Christmas," hit, "party,” another hit, “you idiot!"

You attempt to hit him again, but he catches the pillow with his hands and pulls it away from you. 

This only causes you to stumble into him, also making Jeongin fall back in the process. A gasp escapes your lips and you use your hand to stop yourself from head-butting the groggy boy. You blink quickly, his eyes gazing into your own. His nose brushes up against yours ever-so-slightly, and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushing. 

"This is your fault,” you attempt to joke. 

"Me?!" Jeongin scoffs. "You hit me first!" Mimicking his words silently, you roll your eyes. "Uh, but can you move, you're a bit heavy." 

Your eyes widen and you scoot away with lightning speed. "Sorry.” You blink, staring down to play with your fingers in your lap. 

"By the way," Jeongin says, "I didn't forget today was the Christmas party."

“Well, that’s why I’m here early, to help out,” you mutter, your face still down. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Jeongin gets off of his bed, goes over to his drawers and pulls out the first shirt he finds before pulling his pajama top over his head. You jump and turn in the opposite direction, your cheeks fully flushed.

“Jeongin!” you whine, holding the backs of your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. “You could have warned me or told me to leave.” 

“Aww, you blushing?” Jeongin snickers. “Never seen a boy undress before?” 

Without looking back at him, you try your best to chuck his pillow in his direction. You hear it thump against the wall instead.

“You missed~” Jeongin sings, which makes you scoff.

“And I wasn’t blushing, asshole, just didn’t want to get scarred for life.”

Of course you’re blushing. Especially when he nonchalantly stood and started to strip off his top. And of course you had seen men undress before… in the movies. But there’s no way you’d utter a word of it to Jeongin, not when it would send his already-soaring ego to new heights. 

“We both know that your life would actually be improved,” Jeongin chuckles to himself.

He walks across his room and when he comes into your peripheral, you instantly move to cover your eyes. It doesn’t help your reddening cheeks when the sound of Jeongin’s laughter rings out louder.

You feel his fingers wrap themselves around your wrists as you try to fight him from pulling them away from your face. “I’m dressed, idiot, stop being so shy.” 

“Stop making fun of me!” you cry and he guides your hands away from your face. 

Your eyes meet his and you notice the cheeky smile playing at his lips, which only turns yours into a pout. You only wish he’ll soon forget about this and move on to something different to make fun of you with. However, when you note the playful twinkle in his eyes, you know your prayers won’t be answered. 

“Look, you’re blushing so hard!” He continues to smirk. 

“I told you, I’m not blushing!” 

You attempt to hit him, but with his fingers still wrapped around your wrists, you fail to do so. His grin seems to only grow wider as you roll your eyes and try to pull your wrists from his grasp. 

“By the way, Jisung said he was going to stop by later for the party,” you mention.  Jeongin’s smile seems to drop slightly at the sound of the older boy’s name. 

“Why? He doesn’t live in the neighborhood.” 

You shrug as you look at Jeongin with a blank expression. “How am I meant to know how Jisung’s brain works? He's in a world of his own.” 

Jeongin hums, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

“But in all seriousness,” you start, “he said something about missing us, and that, like, his college just isn’t the same without us?” you suggest. “Also, there was something about this girl he really likes and magic snow and shit,” you add, which causes Jeongin to snort.

“Did he actually say this or you making it up?” 

“It’s more like reading between the lines, if you will,” you giggle. 

“So he didn’t say shit, you’re just making it up as you go along.”

Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at you, waiting for you to formulate your next response. But when the only one he gets is you playfully hitting his arm, he rolls his eyes for the nth time. 

“Don’t we have to help set up the party or something? Or a movie to watch?” 

“Right, yeah. We should do that.”

Jeongin laughs and as soon as he grabs your hand, flashbacks instantly flare up in your mind from the year before, of the Christmas lights he took you to see—of the way he seemed to shine under them all. You make sure to wish again that he won’t notice the new blush that presented itself as you thought of that time.

You keep quiet, not wanting to give yourself away as Jeongin gently pulls you out with him. You let your eyes gloss over his room once more. You’ve been in here a thousand times before and it seemed to grow with him over the years, and in a way, it grew with you, too. You remember the days when his bed was adorned with Toy Story bedsheets, Woody’s face front and center on his comforter (but you knew Rex was his favorite character). It had long since been traded in for sleek, black sheets—arguably more fitting for someone who is waiting for his first choice university, at the other side of the country, to respond with his admission decision.

And although you’ve been here a thousand times before, something new on his dresser catches your eye.

“Wait, is that…?”

Letting go of his hand, you make your way to the dresser, moving a crumpled up piece of paper out of the way to reveal a photo. It’s from when you were both ten years old; nearly a year after you had first met on the monkey bars, about two weeks before that classroom Christmas party. Mrs. Yang had taken Jeongin to a lights festival one December weekend, like the one you went to last year, and she happened to invite you and your parents along. You and Jeongin stood together in the center of the picture, and a giant Christmas tree towered behind your small frames. The mirthful glow of the tree enveloped the two of you as you posed for the photo, jolly smiles plastered on both of your faces.

Gasping in surprise, your lips part slightly as you take the photo in your hands. “No way…” you murmur softly, and you look up at Jeongin as he makes his way to you. “How… how did you find this?”

Jeongin peers over your shoulder. He gently holds the frame in one hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he smiles fondly. “My mom stumbled across it a couple months ago. She was digging through old photo albums and found this tucked in the back of one of them.” His thumb grazes over the glass. “She framed it and gave it to me, I guess she knew how important it was.”

You blink several times, hoping he doesn't catch the way your eyes briefly well with tears as you take in the details of the picture. You remember that night vividly and all the memories from it seem to come flooding back all at once. 

It was your first ever Christmas lights festival, and it was nothing short of magical. The vibrant holiday lights glistened all around you, rivaling the sparkles in your wide eyes. The bells in the soft Christmas music gently tinkled in your ears, as if Santa himself was reminding you he would be on his way soon. The gooey, fresh-baked (and rather expensive) chocolate chip cookie you had split with Jeongin, paired with the rich (and also questionably pricey) hot chocolate you had begged your mom to buy along with it, brought even more warmth pooling in your belly as you leaped down the lit-up aisles with your best friend. 

Looking back, perhaps that was what sparked your ongoing Christmas obsession. Sure, it didn’t snow that night, but seeing the bright bulbs all around you twinkling like stars in the sky captivated you wholly, wrapping little ten-year-old you in a warm, merry glow. It calmed the impatience for Christmas bubbling inside you by the day, but lit the fire inside you for the awaited day like never before. And best of all, your best friend was right by your side, being pulled into the evening’s embrace with you.

You notice one very important detail in the picture, though, that breaks your bubbling sentimentality, and instead makes you giggle.

“Oh my god, it’s the sweater.”

The fact that the picture was taken at night and the lights added a yellow glare to the photo made it difficult to spot. But one could take a closer look and see that, indeed, Jeongin was sporting that obnoxious purple sweater under his puffy blue coat.

Jeongin lets his hand drop, leaving the frame in yours as he frowns in offense. “Heyyy, it was comfy!”

You stifle another laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that it was ugly as hell.”

He sneers at you, “Oh please, like you didn’t wear hideous clothes when you were ten!”

You shrug as you pull the frame up to eye level and continue to giggle. “Maybe, but nothing will beat that sweater.” 

You lunge out of the way as Jeongin tries to wrap his arms around you and grab the photo from your grasp. However, a giggle escapes your lips as Jeongin’s fingers graze your side, which causes you to jump away from him. 

A knowing smirk appears on his face. Your eyes widen. 

“Don’t you even think about it.”

Jeongin doesn’t listen to you though, and his hands are already at your sides. Your grip on the photo tightens in an attempt to not drop it as your eyes prickle with tears. Jeongin’s fingers run up and down your sides as he tickles you, and causes a mix of gasps and laughter to escape your throat. 

“Jeongin!” You continue to laugh as you try to step away from him.

Jeongin thinks quicker. Instead of torturing you more, though, you’re surprised that he chooses to pull you closer to him instead, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I got you now!” His giggle rings in your ears as he wiggles you like a rag doll. You halfheartedly try to push him away, protesting in between your own giggles.

“Stop itttt, you asshole!”

He seems to listen to you this time, too, and lets you go. However, an evil grin lingers on his face.

You inch back cautiously, keeping a careful watch for his next move. He responds by slowly leaning closer, his smile stretching wider and wider. You slowly move your hands up to your sides to protect yourself from another tickle ambush, a nervous giggle slipping out.

He seems to inch closer and closer to you, and he stops right before your noses can touch, a shit-eating grin on his face. Then he mumbles, flashing his eyebrows:

“Stay for Christmas?”

You groan exasperatedly and lightly push the cheeky boy away from you.

“Oh my god, Jeongin!”

Jeongin breaks out into shy giggles as he steps closer to you, poking you playfully. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from doing the same whilst you try and swat his hands away.

“Come baaaack!” He chuckles after a moment, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around you again.

“Get me out!” You cry out as you try to break free. Your giggly demeanor completely breaks, however, when Jeongin just hugs you closer to him, taking you by surprise one more time.

“No,” you feel him hum through your shoulder, tucking his head in it when you try to step away. “Don’t move.” 

You fight and lose to the smile that appears on your face as you wrap your own arms around his shoulders. 

You can’t explain how in moments like this, he easily causes your heart to race by doing the littlest things. It makes you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat right now as you’re pressed up against him. If he can, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Ahem.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence hanging around you two. You both break away from the hug, keeping your gaze cast downwards as you turn to face Jisung. He had swung the door open at some point and was now leaning coolly against the doorframe as he watches you two.

Seeing you both cower under his gaze seems to amuse him greatly, and a smirk makes its way onto his face. “What was that?” he says, failing to hide the chuckle threatening to spill out.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as you sputter. “It– it’s not what it– we were just–“

“We were just reminiscing, Jisung,” Jeongin grumbles from beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks seem to burn red as Jisung grins wider.

You simply nod along with Jeongin. “Yeah, reminiscing. What he said,” you murmur.

“Oh, you keep telling yourself that, baby.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, which he had seemed to let grow out during his time away.

He lets out a satisfied sigh before he continues. “Ahh, I knew this would happen! It was snowing by the time I got here, so I figured you two were up here together,” he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, “alone. And you called me crazy!”

You want to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can only chuckle fondly. Sure, it seems like the now-college boy still believes in magic snow, but you have to admit: you did miss hearing him gush about it all the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “why’d you come up here anyway?” You seize the opportunity to wiggle your eyebrows back at him. “Did you miss us?”

It’s now Jisung’s turn to roll his eyes at you. “Mrs. Yang was looking for you two so she sent me up here,” he says, dodging your question.'' You know the party started already, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you and Jeongin flush in embarrassment again.

“Oh, right,” Jeongin mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he exits the room. “The party.”

You place the framed photo of you two on the foot of Jeongin’s bed before following him out. Jisung holds the door open for you two, his smirk getting cockier by the minute.

The older boy pokes both your and Jeongin’s cheeks as you step out of Jeongin’s room. “For the record, I did miss you two.”

You snort, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair before the three of you make your way downstairs. “I know.”

19 years old.

“You’re cheating!”

Hyunjin’s voice nearly makes your ears ring. He really has no need to be speaking so loud, as you’re literally right next to him.

You grip your controller tighter as he tries to swipe it from you with his hand, and you lean away from him. 

“Am not!” You yell back, your eyes focused on the tiny Nintendo Switch screen. “You just suck at this game.” 

At the same time as Hyunjin gasps, Felix and Seungmin burst into laughter at your response from the other end of Jisung’s bed. At the corner of your eye, you notice Felix fall to the ground amidst his fit of giggles.

“Just get better, Jinnie,” you quip, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.

Even with Hyunjin trying to swat you like a bug, you still manage to keep your eyes locked on the game. Your chosen character, Toad, remained in first place, and after getting a green shell from a lucky box, you send it backwards, causing Hyunjin’s Princess Daisy to spin out. 

He gets passed by multiple NPCs, landing him in 10th place with one lap to go. The way he grumbles and glares at the screen only increases yours and the other two boys’ laughter. 

You’ve successfully maintained your first place title as you raced around Moo Moo Meadows. That is, until halfway through the last lap, when a voice pulls your attention from the game. 

“Why are only two of you playing?” Jeongin says, entering the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. At the sound of his voice, you shoot up out of your seat and look at him with a smile. 

“Jisung only has two controllers and Felix was dumb and forgot his,” Seungmin snorts, which causes the blonde boy to pout. 

“Hey!” 

Hyunjin goes silent, his own eyes narrowed on his half of the screen as he slowly creeps up the positions. 

“About time you showed up,” you giggle, “thought you weren’t going to come.” 

Jeongin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, had a few things to do first, but I’m here now.” 

Gasps erupt from Seungmin and Felix, and Hyunjin cries in triumph as he throws his hands and the controller into the air. Your head snaps to the game and your mouth falls open as you find Princess Daisy listed as first place, dancing in her car as she continued around the track—whereas Toad, in your distracted state, had been passed by all of the NPCs and was in dead last, “DNF” flashing on your half of the screen and on your 12th place ranking in the middle. 

“You cheated!” You gasp at Hyunjin, throwing yourself back down onto the couch as you mash the ’A’ button. 

“Just get better Y/Nie,” Hyunjin remarks as he grins mockingly, using your own words against you. 

“You guys did this on purpose,” you huff, glaring at the boy who just ruined your five-game-win streak. “Rematch, now.” 

“But it was meant to be our go next!” Felix cries, his pout exaggerated. 

“Maybe Hyunjin shouldn’t have cheated!” 

“Maybe you should have stayed focused!” Hyunjin fights back. 

“Where's Jisung?” Jeongin asks out of the blue, and you motion to the door without saying a word. Jeongin snorts, nodding his head. “Thanks.” 

He leaves the four of you in the tiny dorm room to join Jisung wherever he was outside—you assumed the convenience store by the dorm lobby. Your attention gets caught once again when your phone lights up, a message notification greeting you on your lockscreen.

baby: outside :)

you: be right there :)

You chuck the controller to Felix, and he jumps in surprise. “You can play now, I need to go get someone,” you state simply, but the grin on your face seems to give you away.

A single “huh?” escapes Felix’s mouth as the other two boys watch you with curious eyes. Not letting their gaze disturb you, you head to Jisung’s front door. 

You open it swiftly to be met with your fairly new boyfriend, Heeseung. you met him after starting college this past semester through a mutual friend, and have been dating for around two months now. you don’t remember what drew you to him in the first place, but one thing is clear—he’s so damn cute.

Your cheeks heat up quickly at the sight of him. His fluffy brown hair was hidden underneath a hat and the bits of his fringe that did stick out fell against his forehead. 

“Hey.” you smile, taking a step towards him.

“Hi,” he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist which you reciprocate. “Sorry I’m late.”

“All good,” you hum into his shoulder. “All the boys are here. I’d say they’re not crazy, but I’d be lying.” 

You feel Heeseung’s chuckle vibrate through you. “It's fine, you’ve met my friends, how much worse can they be?” 

Pulling away slightly so you could look at him, you push your lips into a thin line and feign a concerned look. 

“Eh, they’re something, alright,” you drop the fake look, chuckling. 

“They finally have those snacks downstairs~!”

Jisung swings the door open, prompting you to turn around. He’s beaming and there’s a bounce in his step as a bag of chips sways in his hand, but it all dissipates into an inquisitive, perhaps even nosy, stance once he sees the boy whose arms are wrapped around you.

“Who's this?” The chestnut-haired boy tilts his head, his eyebrows drawn together.

You can’t help the smile that adorns your face. “Jisung, this is Heeseung, my boyfriend.”

You gesture one hand towards Heeseung himself, and you grin wider as he pulls you closer, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. When you settle your head against his chest, you look back at Jisung and his jaw is practically on the floor. 

“Boyfriend?!”

Oh boy.

Heeseung chuckles again, shyly this time. He glances down at you, unsure of what to say, and you take that as your cue to do most of the talking.

“Yeah?” you affirm with a nod, but your statement sounds more like a question. “Is… is that bad?”

Jisung, still in a shocked state, opens and closes his mouth like a fish. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “Oh, no, of course not! I’m happy that you’re happy, it’s just…”

Heeseung cocks an eyebrow at the older boy. “It’s just…?” He repeats, trailing off at the end like Jisung did.

You want so desperately to pretend you don’t know what Jisung meant by that last bit, but the fact that you catch three heads peeking from around Jisung’s bed only seems to prove your suspicions correct. Looks like Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned that “Jisung has told us so much about you!” when you met him and the others an hour ago. From the way Jisung glances fervently between you and the door, though, it’s safe to assume the majority of what he said involved Jeongin in some context.

Maybe you should’ve told them ahead of time the “plus one” you were bringing to the Christmas hangout was, in fact, your boyfriend. In hindsight, it was foolish of you to assume they’d get the memo from the mere mention of “plus one.” And by someone, you meant Jisung—the main man on the “Y/Ninnie train”, as he liked to call it. 

Funny enough, you were just following his advice from that winter formal back in high school: date and move on. Sure, it was three years too late, and there wasn’t anything in particular that you needed to move on from, but advice is advice.

Still, you send the flustered boy a stern glare. You were not getting Heeseung involved in his shenanigans if it’s the last thing you do.

But you notice Jeongin stumble in the room, bag of gummy bears in hand, and Jisung’s eyes grow wide. Your voice nearly strangles, but you quickly snap out of it before Heeseung can notice.

“And this is Jeongin,” you gesture to the hooded boy, “my best friend.”

You don’t notice the way Jeongin’s smile falls slightly as his eyes land on you, though your eyes trail after him as he wordlessly shuffles past you two and plops on Jisung’s bed. 

Jisung seems to recompose himself, and he steps closer to you and Heeseung, holding out a hand. “Heh, I’m sorry about that,” he laughs nervously, but Heeseung smiles curtly and shakes his hand. “Make yourself at home, we’re happy to have you here.”

“No worries, man.”

Jisung leaves you two alone, but you don’t miss the look he gives Jeongin. It’s full of concern, and you can’t pinpoint why.

Blinking, you shake off the sinking feeling in your chest, and take Heeseung’s hand as you two move to a spot on the floor by Seungmin’s feet, as the bed was all occupied.

Heeseung snakes his arm around your shoulders as you both focus on the tiny console screen. Felix and Hyunjin were on their last lap of Cheep Cheep Beach, neck-in-neck with each other, and you both chuckle at the boys’ chaotic screams as they pass each other back and forth.

You notice throughout the evening that Jeongin will occasionally meet your gaze when you glance his way. Each time, he opens his mouth to speak and there’s this look pooling in his eyes—some mix of longing but urgency that you can’t sense the reason behind. Regardless, your chest tightens at the sight.

You observe Jeongin whisper something to Jisung, ignoring and trying to filter out the screams of the other three boys as they argue over who gets to be Yoshi, but it’s no use.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks softly, the hand around your shoulders gently rubbing your arm.

You gulp but nod, not taking your eyes off of Jeongin but leaning into Heeseung’s side. “Yeah.”

An hour or so passes, and it seems like the awkward glances have only increased in frequency—not just from Jeongin, but between the other boys, too. It eats at you inside not knowing why. All you have gathered so far is that it definitely involves you and Jeongin.

“Hey, Heeseung, is it?'' Felix suddenly pipes up. Both you and Heeseung look up to his spot in the middle of Jisung’s bed, his legs criss-cross applesauce.

“What’s up?” Heeseung responds.

Felix smiles and hands Heeseung his Switch controller. “Wanna play a round? You haven’t had a turn yet.”

A smile of Heeseung’s own forms on his face as he takes the controller in his hands, slowly moving his arm from your shoulders as he hops on the bed. “Oh, bet!”

You’re happy to watch your boyfriend get along with Jisung’s friends as if they were your own—in a way, they kind of are. But one look at Jeongin and all that comes crashing down, seeing the longing look in his eyes.

You still don’t know what’s wrong. Is it because of Heeseung? Does he have some unspoken beef with him? If so, why were all his gazes targeted at you and not him?

Jeongin looks back at Jisung hopelessly, and you attempt to eavesdrop as they whisper amongst themselves. Again, the other boys in the room are too loud for you to get anything useful.

That is, until you glance back at the screen as Seungmin and Heeseung go head-to-head on Rainbow Road, and Jisung scolds Jeongin out of the blue—probably louder than he intended to.

“You need to tell Y/N. Now.”

Your head snaps their direction. Your gaze lands on Jisung for speaking so loud, but slowly shifts to Jeongin. The other boys seem to fall silent, too.

“Tell me what?”

You’re already driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. All you want is an answer.

Jeongin sighs and sits next to you on the floor. You carefully follow his movements with your eyes. He clasps his hands together, resting them on top of his knee. He opens his mouth to speak, and you nod expectantly.

And… nothing.

After a minute of strangled silence, Jeongin sighs in defeat and drags his feet as he shuffles back to Jisung. The older boy gives him a look you can’t quite read and quietly scolds him some more. The other boys just exchange glances with each other and continue to play Mario Kart quietly, making for the worst awkward silence of your life. So much for your first college hangout.

At least you’re able to pick up some information now. You can barely hear Jisung and Jeongin’s hushed whispers even though the room is largely silent, but you do hear the word “college” over and over.

You guess it makes sense. After months of patiently waiting during your senior year of high school, you remembered Jeongin’s dispirited form when he found out he had been waitlisted for his top choice school. Following that, he’s been going to the state university in your city with you, but he mentioned something offhand about re-applying for the spring semester. Maybe he’s stressed about that, but it seems like Jisung has it covered for now.

Still, they both look over at you with those concerned, longing stares, and it’s not hard to miss.

Even after you get another turn on the Switch, you’re still left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach by the end of the night. Yes, you won another cup and got your sweet, sweet revenge on Hyunjin for earlier, but it does nothing to tell you why Jeongin hasn’t spoken a word to you all night. Well, he tried to, but look how well that went.

It seemed like everyone around you knew except, well, you. You hate that feeling, but at least, whatever it was, Heeseung wasn’t involved. He doesn’t need to be thrown in whatever drama had concocted under your nose, especially not during his first time meeting them all.

By the time the boys start heading out, with Jeongin being the first to go, you’re practically squirming in your spot. You can’t take this anymore.

You give Heeseung a goodbye peck as he slips his coat on and leaves the dorm. “Thanks for inviting me, I had a great time.”

You smile. “I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Heeseung nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek once more before exiting the dorm. That left just you and Jisung, and you turn towards the wide-eyed boy the second the door clicks shut.

“Okay, what is going on?” You don’t mean to snap, but your pent-up emotions get the better of you as you storm toward Jisung. “You and Jeongin have been acting weird all night. Actually, all of you have! What the hell, Jisung!”

“Y/N—” Jisung tries to speak, but you cut him off quickly.

“Was it Heeseung? He didn’t even do anything wrong, he was the quietest one here besides Jeongin!”

“Y/N—”

“And you think I’m not gonna notice you and my best friend staring at me like you two just did?” You stop to take a breath, and you feel heat rush to your ears the more you think about this. “How do you think Heeseung felt?! Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Y/N, listen.”

Jisung’s soft voice makes you step back. It’s the same tone he gave you in the school parking lot when you were sixteen.

“Jeongin got into the school he wanted for spring semester. He’s been trying to tell you for weeks, he— he just didn’t know how. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

You freeze, and your heart sinks to your stomach. It’s like everything around you comes to a stand-still and the world goes deathly silent. All your attempts to speak go unheard as all you do is open and close your mouth, unable to formulate a sentence, let alone a single thought. 

A long list of questions fly through your mind at rapid speed. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t you push him to say something? Why did he not want to tell you when Heeseung was there? Why couldn’t you have just stayed with him instead?

“What?” 

You feel Jisung gently place a hand on your shoulder as he frowns. He pulls you in close and wraps his arms around your shoulders. That's when you notice tiny dots dampening his shirt and you finally realize you’re crying.

[go to part two HERE]

[ajokeformur-ray]

I love Arthur Fleck so fucking much it actually hurts sometimes. Every time I think I can't love him any more than I already do, I somehow manage to surprise myself.

Maybe I'm overly emotional right now because I'm stressed to the point of having literally no appetite so I haven't eaten all day or because it's 9.54pm and I should be asleep already because I wanna be up at 3am so I can study before work, but I just... Cannot and will not stop thinking about Arthur.

How hard he tries to be good - going to therapy, keeping a journal, taking actual notes on what comedy seems to be based on what makes people laugh the hardest in Pogo's Club, taking his medications, holding down a job, working inhuman hours and then going home to be his mother's carer - and he's so exhausted, you can see it.

But he keeps going. He tries day after day after day, head bowed and an asymptomatic limp and feet dragging and shoulders slumped because he's suffering but he knows what he needs to do and he's doing it as best as he can.

He's not an inherently good person, from the moment the film begins we see that he's already started to descend and he's doomed by the narrative; it was always gonna end the way it does. But right up until absolutely everything is taken away from him, by his hand or not, he is trying. To be kind, to take his medications, to care for Penny, to do what's expected, to do what he thinks is right because he cares so much that it burns him. He cares so much that it factors into his downfall, he's tragic and doomed from the start but like so many of my beloveds, he went down fighting until he couldn't anymore so then he gave in and everything went to shit.

But he TRIED. Every day. Until that choice was taken from him.

There's so much quiet strength and bravery to Arthur and so much to him that he doesn't show to the world, either because he doesn't want to or he can't, but what we do see... I find so, so tragically beautiful.

Arthur is, in so many ways, the reason why I am who I am today. He's the reason I'm doing a bachelor's with honours psychology with counselling degree; he inspired me so much that I realised I want to help people like him and I've spent the last four years working towards my degree, I have two more years to go and then after that, there's gonna be post-graduate certifications and training and work experience to work on etc. but Arthur has always inspired me to keep going, to keep trying, just like he did.

Step step step step...

One day after another.

Arthur inspired me to be kinder, and if I can't manage that, then just be nice or even if that's too much, don't say anything at all, just smile and move on. He inspired me to keep going, to be gentler to myself, to write down my thoughts, to take time at the end of a day which has so much work that I'm swaying on my feet to brush my teeth because I'm so tired, to watch something I love because it'll give me something to look forward to at work or when I'm dragging myself through a 3am study session. My bed is my favourite hello and my hardest goodbye. Arthur keeps me warm inside, he keeps me going, he gives me a reason to smile every day, and I'm so grateful to this character for everything he's taught me.

How can I quit on everything I work so hard at, a thought I'm ashamed to admit I have every day, when someone like Arthur inspired me? If I quit, it'll be a waste of the four years I've spent so hard working for, but also it'll be a waste of the love I have for Arthur, because I pour so much of it into my degree. I can't help Arthur, but I can help people like him. I pour my love for him into my degree, and I try to honour the lessons he taught me with it, too. How can I quit my degree not only so close to the end, but also because to quit would be like giving up on Arthur? I may be exhausted to my bones, we all know it, but like hell would I ever give up on Arthur. And therefore, no giving up on my degree. I'll be grateful I kept going one day. (Right?🥺)

I love Arthur, so much, and I'll carry him with me for the rest of my life. He's always there for me at the end of the day, safe in my phone, and curling up in bed with him cures all ills. I'll never love anyone the way I love Arthur, not just because he changed my life and saved it on the same day (4th October 2019) in so many ways it'd take me another twenty minutes to list them, but also because Arthur Fleck is Arthur Fleck, and that's the biggest reason of all to love him.❤️

I wish I could tell him all of this. I truly do.

[oh-austin]

i'm begging of you (austin butler)

summary: in which your boyfriend, timothee, is jealous of your newfound friendship with your co-star, austin.

ask / prompt: Hi! could u write a fic to the song 'Jolene' By Dolly Parton. One where y/n is a famous actress starring in Elvis, and we are dating Timothee Chalamet. Recently she's been getting really close to Austin, like really close, and like Timothee is Dolly and Austin is Jolene.

authors note / warnings: mentions of lack of trust in relationship, break-ups, infidelity! this was the most requested wip! taken inspiration from high infidelity by taylor swift for this one as well as jolene just because I can't write angst to save my life. I hope you all like it!

────── ∘◦❀◦∘

You could've sworn that he was keeping count, holding every little encounter you had with Austin against you. The first time you came home late after seeing him, you posting 'too much' with him at rehearsal and the accusation you were sleep-talking about him. You found it all a little childish. You had to remind yourself that Timothee came from a place of love and insecurity, that he just needed reassurance now that you were working so closely with Austin; but sometimes you couldn't find it in yourself.

Timothee knew he was turning into tortured soul in a loveless relationship. The three words now feeling empty when you spoke them to him. He wondered where you were on nights that you were home late and wouldn't mention anything. When he wasn't home, he barely received any text messages keeping him up to date with your comings and goings. He didn't want to be controlling and ask, but he also didn't want to have to seek it out from you. That wasn't the relationship he entered.

The shift between you both was recent, it was still fresh. Timothee knew when everything changed and you did too, because you didn't want to admit it, so you would say it softly in your head. It was when you first met Austin.

Table reads, rehearsing lines, time consuming and sleep-eating. You and Austin were spending majority of your time together pre-production, working together to create the chemistry that the audience would crave on the silver screen. You told yourself that you were dedicating yourself to Austin for the film and the film only. You were a dirty liar, you found solace in him.

Timothee knew that you were falling out of love. He could feel it. He was beginning to feel like you weren't loving him enough, that your focus was elsewhere- and he knew it was. It seemed to always be on Austin.

Part of him understood, his dirty blonde hair contrasted from his own dark locks so intensely. Austin was the sunshine, while he was a raincloud. He looked so intriguing, he had women flocking over him- that is the part he didn't understand. Austin could have any woman he wanted, why did he feel the need to siphon you from him.

He contemplated bringing it up with him, saying something that would make him stop. He couldn't find it in himself though. But Timothee knew that Austin would never understand what you meant to him. Austin would never understand the nights Timothee spent crying after he heard your lips utter another man's name in your sleep.

His heart slowly shattered as his chest was filled with insecurity, it was as if you had just recited a list of why he wasn't enough, and why Austin was.

You were home late again. Timothee knew your call-times, you were home two hours after you had wrapped for the day; and he knew exactly who you had been with. There was silence when you came through the front door. What once would've been calls of 'I'm home' and whispers of 'I love you', was simply nothing anymore.

"I need to ask you something," You knew it was coming, you knew for weeks now. It was only a matter of time before Timothee finally got sick of your shit and spoke up.

"Okay," You nodded, trying to remain as casual as you could, "What is it?" Maybe you could run now? Leave and never come back.

"You need to be honest with me," Timothee hadn't met your eyes yet, you knew why he hadn't, "I think I deserve that," He was right. He deserved that and so much more; more than you. You were a weak little girl who would decide which toy she wanted to play with in the morning.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Okay" You nodded.

"Are you cheating on me?"

There it was.

You let your thoughts scatter themselves around your brain. Ways to cover your own ass, ways to lie, ways to confess the truth to him. Tell him the truth. Sweet sweet Timmy. You didn't want to lie, but you couldn't break his heart the way you knew you would have to.

"What? No" You scoffed.

"Do you like Austin?" He shot back at you. He was being more upfront, maybe he would leave you before you could confess. You hoped he would.

"Timmy, we're just-"

He cut you off, "Friends? Colleagues?" He laughed, "Tell me please because I'm not sure anymore!"

"You're being silly" You tried to deescalate, you really tried. You knew it wasn't going to work.

"No, no I'm not," He finally looked over at you from his place across the room, "I'm losing my girlfriend to some guy I don't even know!" There were tears in his eyes. Threatening him with every word he spoke to fall. You couldn't see him cry, your mistakes would finally be real if he cried in front of you.

"Timothee please, you're not losing me," You whispered to him.

You were faced with his silence again. These days it was becoming more deafening. When he wasn't talking, you were left with the whispers of your actions. You hated what you had done, but you couldn't help yourself. Austin was intoxicating.

"You were talking about him again," His first tear fell. You were beginning to panic now.

"You have to stop making these things up just to find things to fight about," You tried to uselessly defend yourself, "I don't sleep-talk!" You do.

"Yes, yes you do!" Timothee stood up from the couch, not being able to contain himself anymore. He was fighting a losing battle and you both knew it. "You do it when you're stressed. You also fold the laundry messily and forget to drink water unless it's sitting in front of you. I know these things, he doesn't!"

"Oh my god, Timothee please," You sighed.

"No! This is serious, you're lying to me every day. I know you like him, I would just rather you come out and tell me instead of hiding it" He was yelling now, begging you for the truth. He came over to where you sat and got down on his knees in front of you. Grabbing your hands, he brought them to his lips as he whispered, "Y/N, Please".

As you took in his appearance, you saw just how much this had been tearing him apart. He looked tired, scared. You had done this to him. You never deserved him.

"He's just- He's just different," You whispered, taking his hands in yours. "I'm really sorry," You started to cry. Timothee took his hands away from your, letting them go.

"You don't really get to say you're sorry right now," He stood back up, sniffing away his tears.

"Timmy-"

"Please, don't!" He turned back around to face you, his entire being defeated. "Like, Y/N-" He sighed- "I know I can't compete with him, but I thought after everything that we've had you would at least tell me that you didn't want to be together anymore"

"I do!" You lied, standing up.

"No, no you don't" He walked over to you, "And the worst part is that I understand it," He nodded. "I understand why you would want to be with him. Austin, he's-" He shook his head, his brain flooding with images of his perfect smile and warm skin- "He's exciting and good looking. He's got a great voice and he's talented and he's the kinda guy that you want in life and I know that because I remember how you acted when you fell in love with me," He held your gaze, but there was no passion anymore. It was all gone. "I can see it, Y/N," He was finished.

"What do you want me to say?" You shrugged, "You wanna hear how I lied? How he makes me feel?" You were at a loss for words really, you couldn't stand listening to your own voice anymore.

"I want the truth, Y/N!" He cried.

"The truth is that Austin really makes me feel-" You sighed, searching for the right thing to say- "I don't know.. alive? That sounds so stupid and I'm sorry" You shook your head, you had failed this sweet boy.

"It's not stupid" He whispered, "I know that feeling, it's how you make me feel" He admitted. You closed your eyes, letting more tears stream down your face.

"Timmy, I'm sorry" You held his face in your hands, trying to tell him you knew you had messed up.

"I get it" He whispered, closing his eyes and letting you hold him one last time, "Really, I do. I can't compete with him, Y/N. I really can't," He shook his head. "He's great," Timothee opened his eyes and brought himself out of your hold, "Good luck with the rest of the movie, Y/N" He held your hand and put it back down at your side. "I don't know if I'll see it when you're done, but I'm sure you'll be great. You always are," He nodded, turning away and walking towards the front door.

"Don't go-" You cried.

"I have to, I have to go" He tried his best to turn back around to look at you.

"Can we please talk for a second?" You followed him, grabbing his hand softly. You let him pull away from you. You knew that there wasn't anything else you could say to him that would fix what you had done.

"There's not much more to say and I think you know that," He was right, you did. "I'll come get my stuff tomorrow while you're out and then I'm gonna go back to New York,"

"Okay," You nodded, "Are you sure you can't stay? Even for a little bit?" You already knew his answer.

"Completely sure" He opened the front door. Timothee didn't let himself turn back to look at you, for fear he would crumble and stay by your side. "Bye, Y/N" He whispered, closing the front door behind him.

There you stood, alone in your living room. You let yourself break apart from your own selfish actions. Nothing could excuse what you had done.

Timothee stood on the front step for a moment, letting the cruel reality set in. Austin had taken you, even after he had begged to keep you. He understood it though, he would never be Austin.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

What about the plans we made?

Based off the ideas in the tags to this post

(I will be writing more based on it, so everyone's contributions will be shown appreciation!!)

Thanks to @apho-sappho and @jiaoji for inspiring me to write this piece!

I've explored this au in three other pieces that you can find here, here and here

Lan Wangji is not an idiot. He is smart, he is perceptive. Observant. He may not look like he notices things, people - but he does. He pays attention. He pays attention to the people he cares about, the people he loves.

He has been paying much attention to Wei Ying ever since he returned from his three month absence. He has always paid attention to Wei Ying, of course - it was impossible for him not to. Wei Ying caught his eye from the very first moment they met, beautiful and cunning and free-spirited. So easy to be around and fall in love with. So easy to dream a future with.

They had been together for barely a year before it all went to shit.

The happiest year in Lan Wangji's life. The happiest year - "so far", Wei Ying used to say and kiss him so deeply after - but now, it's becoming more and more apparent it would be the happiest year in his life ever. There would be no other one, just as happy, or even happier.

Because Lan Wangji isn't an idiot and he notices things.

He notices how Wei Ying keeps his distance, how he hasn't allowed himself to be around Lan Wangji without at least another person in the room.

He notices how Wei Ying only addresses him formally and how they only talk about battles and strategies, how Wei Ying avoids any other topics.

He notices how Wei Ying barely even looks at him, how he hasn't even reached to hold his hand or give him a hug or show any form of affection - which he used to so freely do before.

He notices how Wei Ying doesn't love him anymore.

But Lan Wangji loves him still. He thinks that he can fix this, that there's something he can do to appease Wei Ying, that he can make Wei Ying fall in love again.

It's war, it's no place for grand romantic gestures.

And yet, Lan Wangji tries. He tries so fucking hard. He brings the best food and the best medical supplies to Wei Ying's tent personally. He finds wine and the sweets Wei Ying loves most and has them delivered with little notes. He makes sure he's around Wei Ying in battle and can protect him.

Nothing changes, no matter how hard Lan Wangji tries.

Maybe it's just wishful thinking. Maybe he's being ridiculous, unwilling to accept reality.

But he doesn't give up. He knows himself and he knows Wei Ying and he knows this isn't right. This isn't them.

He misses Wei Ying so much it hurts.

He's been playing their song so much he dreams it.

It's after yet another battle that Lan Wangji can't take it anymore, heartbroken and disillusioned. He was never good with hints, with subtleties - even if he notices them, he wants confirmation. He wants to hear it from Wei Ying, that it's all lost, that he's fighting a losing battle.

But as they've often been doing lately, their discussion turns into a fight.

"Wei Ying, I've done nothing but love and care for you, and-"

"I never asked you to love me!" He shouts, and thin wisps of resentment come to guard him.

"Love isn't something that's given to you just because or if you ask for it!" Lan Wangji shouts back, but it's so full of emotion, so desperate, that it comes out ever so choked up, filled with unshed tears. "Love is something that you're given because you're - because you're making people happy, because you're a good person, because you're you! So don't go telling me that you didn't ask me to love you when you've kept making it so easy for me to do it!"

Wei Ying falls silent. He still looks angry, eyebrows furrowed together and jaw tightly shut, but there is a whirlwind if emotion in his eyes that Lan Wangji can't read no matter how hard he tries. Wei Ying seems to be angry, resentful, regretful, hurt, lost and disappointed all at once, and it's as though he can't decide which he feels more.

"It's not my fault you've fallen in love with me. You should have known nothing would have come out of it." He says, at last, coating all his feelings over in the same icy distance he's been giving Lan Wangji for weeks now.

"Why, then...? Why did you promise me-"

"Because I was... foolish." Wei Ying interrupts, but he's looking away so Lan Wangji can't see whether he's lying or not.

"So all that we were... all of it was-"

"Foolish."

Wei Ying brushes past him and walks away, out of the tent and out of the military camp, deep into the woods.

Lan Wangji notices a little bunny charm on the furthest corner of the table - the black counterpart of the white one he's attached to Bichen's handle the day they went into town together as a couple for the first time. They bought the two as a promise - that they'll always be together, that they'll always be thinking of one another and loving one another.

(Wei Ying dies clutching that bunny charm so tightly in his fingers that it breaks).

[twistmusings]

i just finished reading all your character room analysis that have been posted so far and I gotta say- I know its obvious but I really admire the effort put into all of these- you're really really good with details and that's is amazing :D it takes a lot of focus to do that (at least for me :'^ )

oh and that part where you said Floyd's organization style reminds you of how ADHD people are that's so true! as someone with ADHD myself I can point out other things about this like the snack shelf over his bed: people with ADHD have frequent mood swings and suddenly want to do things so perhaps there are times that Floyd randomly wants a snack so he doesn't have to get up to get one or open up a container just to open another container to get his snack he can just sit up and get one from the shelf thing and get one which is why its just kept outside so its not too much of a hassle

or he could be bursting with energy and cant sleep so he could eat to make himself sleepy again

probably doesn't work because there's defo a lot of sugar in it which makes it even worse so he DEFO pesters Jade at 3 am- they defo brawl a lot in the middle of the night LOLLLL

and and the places where the snacks are kept look very quick to open like the cookie jar is so easy to open and the ones next to it are probably plastic bags that you can just fold over to close it so another thing to prevent the inconvenience

his hung up uniform could've probably done by him and since he has no trash around could also mean that he might have been in the mood to clean his room then gave up halfway to wander off and do something else or he got distracted

yaaa that's it I hope that wasn't too much yapping have a good day :'DD

Hey, this is a great addition to receive! While I'm in the process of being diagnosed, I suspect I am likely ADHD (or AuDHD, it's hard telling atp) and I can certainly say the hyperfixation helps when it comes to getting these posts out. Sometimes it's a blessing and sometimes it's a curse, as I'm sure most neurodiverse people can attest to.

That being said, I agree with pretty much all of this! I definitely go through fits of inspiration to clean but I rarely ever actually finish a project once I've started as my attention doesn't hold out that long. I have to actively remind myself of things as well as I go that I started and then stopped.

I also keep snacks close at hand when I can, so I can relate to Floyd with his midnight snacking. If he's anything like how I am, there are just straight up periods where I forget to eat for hours at a time and want to have something on hand once it gets bad enough that my funky brain worms decide it can't wait anymore.

Personally speaking, I think it's interesting because in the canon text, we seem to get hints that Jade may also be neurodiverse in a different way than Floyd. He certainly seems to have hyperfixations, even though those don't show up quite as much in his bedroom as much as they do in his actual canon text - largely only in his terrariums. (The fact that Jade can recognize obscure mushrooms from across the world in the Harveston event when he would normally live under the sea is something I find telling - this isn't a hobby that he does surface level studying in. Then you put him next to Idia and Sebek and like... listen that may well have just been the most Neurodiverse event we've ever gotten.) I may do another examination of the character down the line once this is done where I examine their Vignettes and their dialogue in events later down the line, as that's a lot of re-reading to dedicate myself to, so I suppose one step at a time. I definitely think that would be an interesting thing to tackle at some point, and so much of why Jade is one of my favorite characters actually comes from his dialogue. He's one of the few characters that we actually get so much of his characterization from his dialogue in random events that are easy to miss.

I love examining canon. Of course people with headcanon the twins however they may, but I think it's worth seeing how realistic of a portrayal some of these traits the characters have are wrt real-life neurodiverse people. I never want to say for certain that I think a character is 100% neurodiverse considering I'm not the original author of TWST, but I certainly do think there's a reason a lot of my Neurodiverse friends who also play latch onto certain characters and see themselves in certain characters too.

I'm definitely glad that you enjoyed my post! I love getting messages like this, it makes me feel so appreciated for the work I do put into considering these little details. Thank you!

[atlas-affogato]

What songs do you associate with Jca and the Enforcers? Im not sure why, but "A Sadness Runs Through Him" makes me think of Finn when I listen to the lyrics

((I can't seem to stop spoiling my fic before it even comes out))

This is such a great question because I love music so much.

I hadn't heard this song before, I just listened to it and I definitely see what you mean, that's a good song.

I have several playlists for them and my writing, for the most part whenever I hear a song I find one way or another to tie it back to the enforcers, so I have a playlist for songs that have inspired some scenes, a playlist for songs that make me think of Finn and Valmont’s messy relationship (it's not even a headcanon to me anymore, they are bitter exes) and then character mixtapes for Finn, Chow and Ratso, songs I think they'd listen to.

Most songs I listen to apply to a scene or relationship dynamic, but as for character specific songs I think "Gilded Lilies - Sped Up" by Cults, "PINCH ME" by young friend, and "All These Things That I've Done" by The Killers are Finn's SONGS. They belong to him. (All These Things That I've Done makes me cry thinking about him)

Marina belongs to Chow, every song from the Family Jewels album hits so hard for him. "Oh No!" "Are You Satisfied?" "Hermit the Frog" "Seventeen" and "The Family Jewels" all hit so goddamn hard for him and his complicated relationship with his family.

Ratso I have a harder time locking down his emotions because he's the most emotionally stable of any of them and he's got a good family so less opportunities for angst but "Family Lines" by Conan Gray hits so hard on the absent father beat. "How You Remind Me" by Nickelback and "Show Me How To Live" by Audioslave are my go-tos for him

Valmont I still do not know what music this man listens to, if he listens to music at all. He could be one of those people that only listen to audio books (the horror) any songs for him are applied to his relationship with Finn, for which I have "K." by Cigarettes After Sex, "Habits" by Genevieve Stokes, "Step On Me" by The Cardigans, "This Night Has Opened My Eyes" by The Smiths, "using you" by Mars Argo, "Christmas Kids" by Roar, and many others. Cigarettes After Sex has a very gentle vibe that meshes well with the quiet moments V and Finn share on occasion.

Its hard to explain how each song is relevant because they are each important to different parts or dynamics in my fic, my writing is very heavily inspired by and swayed by music, so when I hear a new song it unlocks a new part of the story I hadn't known what to do with yet, discovering new music is an active part of my creative process because of that.

I'll link my playlists below just be aware my writing playlist is a jumbled mess of songs that have inspired at some point or another, whether they are all still relevant is up for debate.

I also have a playlist on my Spotify account for my fic but I'm not going to link it here because it doesn't become relevant until far into my fic (its strange to talk about this fic when I haven't posted any of it yet but I SWEAR I am working on it all the time 😭)

[staceymcgillicuddy]

🌙, 🌝 + 🌈 for soul! I was intrigued by a comment you made about how the fic you're writing is different than what a lot of people are reading, so I'm curious about your thoughts on it.

THANKS PAL. I remember that comment and what it was about so hopefully I can elaborate in this, my addled state of mind.

🌙  What time of day do you prefer to write? Why?

First thing in the morning. If I let the day get in my head, then I find I can't focus, or get in the right headspace. I write with noise canceling headphones on, in fullscreen mode on Scrivener, with one of those binaural noise apps playing white noise in my ears. I'm capable of writing anywhere, but I prefer when I can focus and drown out the world and just grind out a couple thousand words in an hour.

🌝 Who is one character you haven’t yet written for that you would like to?

Robin! A long time ago, post season three I started a Robin/Tammy thing that never went anywhere, so I guess I can't say I've never written for her. But I've never written anything long, and I've never posted anything for her. I would like to, though. I like Ronance, and I think there's something there I could play with, but I also like the idea of giving her an OC love interest, or someone out of left field like not-dead-Barb or not-dead-Heather (so many not dead ladies), or Eden or Kali or another character that hasn't been super developed.

🌈 What inspired you to write to get my soul know again?

Ooh, ooh! Okay, so, one of my favorite things to do as a fic writer is write mundane AUs where I spin out the most realistic possibilities I can come up with for characters from supernatural shows or superhero shit or whatever. I don't know why, but it turns my crank. So after a brief (BRIEF) dip into the uh... other Eddie ship... (they don't know me and I don't go there anymore)... I decided I wanted to try my hand at Hellcheer. I'd been reading it since the show launched and my beta and I were like "HOLY SHIT THE CHEMISTRY" but hadn't actually tried writing anything.

So I did my usual "what's a logical future for these goobers?" brainstorming, and the idea of Eddie getting out of Hawkins with his CDL jumped out at me almost immediately. Chrissy was a little harder, but the part of me that was raised around a lot of guys like Jason wanted to lean into the darker, nastier sides and play with what happens when a guy like that finds out he's not special. Much like in the show, where Jason's nice guy veneer shattered when faced with Chrissy's death.

I mashed those two ideas together, and I got something where I knew I wanted to tell the story of Chrissy's recovery mingled with Eddie's figuring out who he wants to be as a man, and how he can emulate Wayne's steadiness while also remaining true to himself.

Going back to my comment, I think that a lot of times in stories about an abusive partner--many of which I've read and, well, enjoyed seems the wrong word, but appreciated--there's this constant threat of that abuser popping up and ruining things. Which, I think, a lot of people were expecting to have happen early on in Soul. Like, when is Jason going to pop out from behind the bushes with a gun? Is he going to steal Chrissy back? Is he stalking them? But I knew from the start that this wasn't about re-traumatizing Chrissy with Jason's bullshit. I want her to heal, with Eddie, on a road trip where she rediscovers the parts of herself she's been keeping locked away. Which, ultimately, makes it a different sort of story than what a lot of "running from my abusive spouse" narratives end up being. Which isn't to say that Jason won't be in the story--he will--but not in a way where he eclipses the narrative, or is allowed to cause significant damage to Chrissy's healing.

I hope that giant, intoxicated ramble made some semblance of sense!

[statementlou]

I feel the same as you when you say right now we can’t be sure if they are together or not. And if they are happy and not together anymore, than that’s ok, I really just want them to be happy (although I always end up thinking they are still together because they do something that reminds me of their relationship - like Louis singing 7 on his last show - but maybe he was just playing along with his crowd because he knows so many of us are larries but I also think they wouldn’t mess with this part of their lives because in spite of everything you can’t deny they were together at some point and that they were very protective of their relationship). But do you ever feel bad for feeling like this? Doubting if they are or aren’t together? It may be dumb but I like to believe they are going to be happily every after and that they made it against all odds. So I do feel sad when I think about the possibility of them not being an item anymore (again I don’t doubt they were together for years I just find myself questioning their status now)

It's very sad to think that such a beautiful fairy tale love could have simply ended, could have ended up being just as fragile and flawed as our own, so often disappointing, relationships. But even if it didn't end- the fantasy romance we made up from the public face of their relationship was never quite the real story and I think we all know that. Even the public documentation of it all includes plenty of evidence of fighting and hurting each other and both of them revealing ways in which they can be difficult to deal with it and all of the usual things that are part of any real relationship. So if they are still (or again) together, if they might have managed to find a way to love each other and stay together and commit for the long term DESPITE all of that, for me that inspiration that there are people willing to put in the hard work, who understand that staying together is worth TRYING really hard and struggling to be open and present for one another, is more beautiful than any hallmark movie ao3 fic fantasy love story version! And I think there is a lot to suggest that might be the case. But if not. Yeah. It's sad. Sometimes the world is just... sad and shitty and it's not what we look for when we turn to fandom and celebs and all of that, we want an escape from exactly that and so it feels especially bad to think that about them like you weren't supposed to be just like us- you were supposed to be better, to offer a vision of something different, to get the perfect happy ending! But they are both such smart, emotionally capable people- if it ended, maybe it was because that was the right thing to do for both of them, and more to the point, they are both so very happy seeming right now that if that's where they are post breakup, well. That's got to be worth something right? Is that not a happy ending? It's not an ending at all either way obviously, they're very young, but if they're happy isn't that the point? So you asked if I feel sad about it, if I look at old gifs and think about it yes I guess I do- but most of the time all I see is their happy beaming on top of the world faces on my dash living their best lives and I don't have time to feel sad! My heart is just so filled with pride and gladness for them! I will say also that like- we don't know if they're together, we can't know and we aren't likely to anytime soon so like... go ahead and choose to believe they are together. Without evidence either way you've got to pick one, why choose sadness?

anyway I almost didn't answer this because I couldn't do it without getting derailed (and being a wet blanket unnecessarily) about Louis playing 7 just now but I did want to answer the other part so I put that under the cut lol

Not that it really matters, we all have our own ideas of what means what, but for the record while I think Louis putting 7 on his set list in the first place was BONKERS and absolutely cannot be brushed off as coincidence or not being signaling, I don't actually think him playing it in NY just now says that much about anything to do with Harry or whatever. I mean I'm sure he enjoyed that it would also achieve that extra spike of freaking out from us, but like, I think the most relevant factor is that it's a song from LTWT that he could bring back that fits in with his current set in terms of SOUND (and being Cool) in a way that bringing back Defenseless or Only The Brave or whatever wouldn't have, they would have slowed down the tempo of the set (especially placed at the end there); he already had all the Walls songs that fit in with his current sound on the set list. I mean IDK but I personally suspect the messaging of it wasn't the primary reason for that choice

[sea-drifter]

A new ship? TELL ME ALL !!!!!

also I'm glad your day got better !

AND SO HERE IS YOUR DAILY KISS

MWAH!!!

I FINALLY GOT TIME TO POST SO HERE GOES- CANT BELIEVE IM NOT THE FIRST TO SHARE THIS SHIP BUT AT LEAST THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO SHARE THE VISION-

also this is a very late reply wow- ANYWAYS-

So i was just thinking one day y'know, like, what if i shipped my first genshin crush and my latest genshin crush, and it resulted to

"Diluc x Kaveh" I was like, "haha, they're perfect for each other" as a joke...but bro...I don't think it's a joke anymore... also for the shipname, i was either DilVeh that's kinda eh or KaLuc that u can misread as KaeLuc But then i decided to call it DiVe!! the first one still pronouncing their names a bit, this one is just straight up dive cuz i wanna dive into their overflowing potential of a ship- This is gonna be a long rant about how they met and headcanons [which I will post separately] so be prepared- TW: ooc, mentions of alcohol but only a bit pls still do enjoy and see if you'd ship them with me^^

Diluc being a head of the Dawn Winery just gets him bitches y'know. And the Ragnivindr clan being nobles in the past just adds to that, he's a- Anyways- How I think they'd meet: Let's say Kaveh has been traveling with traveler and paimon for a bit and he may have done some changes to the serenity pot as thanks for letting him sleep in a comfortable bed and not just outside of al haitham's house. And since other genshin characters visit there sometimes too, ofc word of The Light of Kshahrewar's works would spread out. And that's where Kaveh lands in Mondstadt, commissioned to build something there or perhaps just commissioned to make a Mondstadt-inspired home/building for someone. Ever since Kaveh got that commission, he knew he had to save a lot of money for the famous wine of Mondstadt. And as we know, Kaveh is a lover of wine, so The Angel's Share is a must-go visit for him on this search for inspiration! Plus, where's he gonna find inspiration without a bit of chillaxing first, right?

With his smarts and passion for the arts, he would clearly love Mondstadt. The poems and bards, the flowers and freedom, oh so different to Sumeru who even banned such wonderful performances! He definitely fell for Monstadt first. Being lucky enough to make reservations to an Inn, though not nearby,(let's pretend there's an Inn in Springvale since the goth grand hotel is occupied by the fatui.) He sets off to Angel's Share. With how pretty this man is, you can't deny eyes were on him. A foreigner from afar with a beautiful physique, his shirt showing his back and chest tells the patrons of the bar that he is very confident in his appearance. Though the redhead by the counter didn't seem to even stare a bit and only looked up to see who came in and started making another drink. Anyone would've been hurt or offended but Kaveh was too stunned to see the Diluc Ragnvindr in the flesh and merely stood in awe by the counter. Ahhhhhhhhh two hot people in the same place, the bar is practically melting, save for the drunk ones who are already beyond the comprehension of their surroundings.

"Ah, I'm truly in luck today." Kaveh chirped as he sat down.

"I'm so happy to taste the famous wine of Mond and have the head of the Dawn Winery as the bartender himself!" He praised more. "My pleasure dear guest." "Coming from all the way to Sumeru, I think the pleasure of meeting you shall be mine. After all, you're quite more of the star here tonight than I am." Yea yea, Diluc doesn't like idle chit-chat, but like, I can see Kaveh just throwing flowers at him with his vocabulary and making Diluc have to respond. Though of course the attention is thrown back to Kaveh as patrons start swirling around him asking questions about Sumeru and perhaps if he's single- Drink after drink, Kaveh has become drunk to the point where he'd gone and started complaining unlike how flowery with his words he was earlier. The other patrons have already gone home or passed out outside, but Diluc was still at the counter, listening to Kaveh complain about this "Al Haitham" person. "HE DOESN'T GET IT DOES HE-" "AND THEN HE CARRIED BOTH KEYS AGAIN-" "HE'S JUST SO AGHHHHHHHH-" Diluc has enough and tries to at least ask Kaveh if he's staying anywhere. Of course, he got ignored. So he went with plan B. Which is to bring him along to his house. I mean, he can't get information, and he's too tired to have some people check in on where he's staying so he could just bring him there. He could finally rest, and the drunk blonde won't have to be in danger if he ever stumbled into the wild in his drunken frenzy. "What the fuck happened last night." That was all Kaveh could think of as he suddenly sat up which he instantly regretted when he feels his head throb in pain. He was in an unfamiliar and large room. His clothes were different and from the feel and looks of them, it's expensive as fuck-

"AM I DEAD OR SOMETHING-" "Not at all, sir." Reassures the voice, to which Kaveh jumps, meeting eyes with the maid, who smiles at him. "Good morning sir, here is some tea to soothe your headache and some breakfast to fill your stomach." A tray of authentic Mondstadt food was placed on his lap, making him drool at the sight.

"I'll be off to tell the young master that you're awake so, please enjoy your meal as I call for him." Ever since he stepped into Mondstadt, everything was so fun and relaxing, and no annoying roommate to argue with all the time. He was truly in paradise- But his second day in Mond already started in chaos. I mean- HE'S IN SOMEONE'S HOUSE RIGHT NOW- WHERE IS HE- What more shall come to Kaveh? And what's this warm feeling building up when he meets him more often? couldn't decide how it goes to the point where they fall for each other so perhaps you can share your ideas hehe will post headcanons later in the day or when I get home

[notafraidofredyellowandblue]

Adieu mv - a few rammblings

a few thoughts about the Adieu mv, in particular the latter scenes, also based on captions by Specter Berlin and David Gesslbauer on their IG with shots of the new video and borrowing some quotes from various wiki pages.

Feuer Frei / religion

These are the parts i still don't really get the meaning, the crosses used in the video, like this one..

but is it a 'latin' cross, and if so, a baptismal cross?

or is it a tie-in with another Rammstein video, per this IG post

the video of 'Feuer Frei' was shot in a church also echoes the blasts of figure in the hall of 'Doppelgänger' in the Adieu video. Also, Feuer Frei shows Till with a mohawk (but he had that in more videos...if the Adieu mohawk referenced the Feuer Frei mohawk, i'm just glad Paul didn't go back to the tonsure 😊)

Death and immortality

While most hear just a 'goodbye' in Adieu, the video seems to go beyond that into the afterlife, both Specter and David have used the words 'immortals', 'live on forever' in posts. And taken like that (which i actually like a lot), it isn't 'the end' like many fear, but the continuation in the after life.

Titans

Hell / Tartarus

The scene in the 'dungeon' or 'hell' (Specter mentions 'hell of a fanbase' but also 'best fanbase ever', he doesn't mean the former as an insult 😊)

In one of the posts on IG one of them (that i can't find anymore) used the word 'Titans, and that gave me the idea that this isn't just any old hell, but Tartarus, the (Greek) mythological location where the Titans were confined after being overthrown by the Olympian gods.

The Titans were the twelve children of the primordial parents Uranus (Sky) and Gaia (Earth), with six male Titans (and six female Titans).

Originally, Tartarus was used only to confine dangers to the gods of Olympus. In later mythologies, Tartarus became a space dedicated to the imprisonment and torment of mortals who had sinned against the gods, and each punishment was unique to the condemned (best known for examples like Sisyphus who was forever forced to roll a large boulder up a hill for it to always roll back down or Tantalus who stood in a pool of water with a branch of fruit over his head but when he reached for the fruit or bent down for the water it would retract so he couldn't reach it).

That last bit imo is reflected in Rammstein imprisoned in a cage that seems like their small stage, or like the cell from the Mutter video, the band and the 'Damned' headbanging for all eternity.

Interestingly in some version of the christian Bible there is also a reference to the Greek reading Tartarus as a footnote: "For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but cast them into hell and committed them to chains of gloomy darkness to be kept until the judgment".

The Tartarus prisoners were guarded by the Hecatonchires or 'Hundred-handers', which in mythology were three monsters with 100 hands, but the 100 hands in this case might refer to the hands of the fans.

Valhalla

And what would immortality be without Valhalla (Norsk mythology)

This scene is inspired by a movie (afaik), but even if it wasn't it is very reminiscent of the idea of the Valkyries riding to select heroes to enter Valhalla. Odin would select only those fighting in battles "He should have no fear in fighting battles, his own or others, and in the process dying for the cause. It all comes down to his intentions and how he performs in his life. Another way a person can be fearless is that he would accept any circumstance and still go on. Whatever life throws at him, he will endure it and go forward."

The ceiling

Because of the mythological themes and trying to piece in something 'religious' i first thought the final image was of a religious celing painting, like Michelangelo's 'Creation of Adam', or that is was 'just a pretty picture', making use of a beautiful location. But when i looked up which painting it was, it actually makes even more sense. From the 'Grand Foyer' in the 'Palais Garnier' (also Opéra Garnier, where a lot of the video seems to have been shot) in Paris, the ceilings are illustrations to various pieces performed in the building. The rectangular painting in the center of the ceiling, that is the last shot of the video, is by artist Paul Baudry

...and is called "music" 😊

--

but i do hope we get a 'making of'...but i did hope that for 'Deutschland' as well 😊