#too much consumption without looking out to things around u will cause the smoke in ur eyes until its too late

[dkfile]

in fair verona

❛ love is a smoke made with the fume of sighs. ❜ ━romeo and juliet, william shakespeare

word count | 16.4k (16,416) genre | angst, fluff, college theatre kid au ━ ex!jeno, ex-friend!donghyuck

to prevent things from becoming more awkward than they already are between the two of you, jeno doesn’t audition to be the lead of the musical like he usually does. instead, he lets lee donghyuck be the one to sweep you off your feet—on stage, of course... until it seems that you’re falling for donghyuck more off stage than you are when you’re on.

★ warnings | reader plays juliet in their college’s rendition of romeo and juliet and is mentioned to have played sandy in grease, alcohol consumption, mutual pining, denial of feelings, the part titled the bro code is a flashback scene just to let u know bc i’m not sure if i made it obvious ☝️

act i, scene i.

This is nobody’s fault but his own.

When Jeno told the musical director he wouldn’t be auditioning for the male lead this year (“To focus on school,” he lied smoothly, praying to God that Taeyong wouldn’t see through him), he hadn’t expected things to end like this. Giving up being the Romeo to your Juliet was a little harder than he expected, but he thought it was because he likes the spotlight too much—not you.

He doesn’t love you, not anymore. That flame has long been extinguished, and no matter how many times Renjun believes otherwise, Jeno’s completely fine with that. He was the one that broke it off. He was the one that said loving you started to feel like a chore.

Whatever. If Jeno knew beforehand that the person beaming down at the casting team—which really only consists of Taeyong and Doyoung, since they don’t care about anybody else’s opinions but each other’s—would be auditioning to be Romeo, Jeno wouldn’t have dropped out. But his audition is done, and he doesn’t have the chance to take back everything he said without causing a scene.

Donghyuck has never, in the entire time he’s been friends with Jeno, ever voiced liking theatre, let alone being able to sing. Jeno thinks his jaw might drop to the floor.

His stomach churns when he sees Taeyong and Doyoung whisper amongst themselves before Doyoung’s lips quirk up ever so slightly.

They’ve decided.

Donghyuck’s going to be your Romeo.

Jeno turns to look over his shoulder, spotting you near the back sitting with a few of your friends, mesmerized at how his best friend practically shines onstage. Jeno’s pretty sure you used to look at him like that—no, he knows you did. He’s never seen you look at someone else like that before, and he’s not sure if he likes the feeling settling in his chest.

This is nobody’s fault but his own.

a friendship broken.

“I didn’t know you could sing.”

Donghyuck whips around in surprise, almost dropping his textbooks on the floor when he sees you standing in front of him. You haven’t spoken to him ever since you and Jeno broke it off, but you can’t say you’re surprised; it’s a law of the universe, choosing your best friend over his ex-girlfriend. You can’t blame Donghyuck for picking Jeno over you.

The smile he sends you is pitiful and awkward—something so uncharacteristic that the sight of it makes you grimace. You and Donghyuck were friends before everything, and the fact that he’s looking at you like it's the first day of freshman year again and the professor has started off class with a dreaded icebreaker, nearly sours your mood.

“Yeah, it’s…” Donghyuck starts, trailing off as he waves his arm in the air dismissively. His head tips down, as if he knows he’s about to receive a compliment, but still feels shy at the thought of it. “I don’t really sing much.”

You nod, not quite believing him. “I didn’t know you liked theatre either,” you say casually. You make sure to school your expression so you don’t wince while saying the next sentence, “I thought you only came to auditions and opening nights to support Jeno.”

Donghyuck’s head snaps back up at the mention of his friend, and he looks over your shoulder before meeting your eyes again. “Uh, yeah… I thought I’d give it a try, just for fun,” he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. “It’s not a big deal. Besides, I'm pretty sure I’ll only get the part if Jeno wasn’t lying about not trying out for Romeo.”

You freeze. “What?”

When Jeno got onstage earlier to audition for Mercutio, you assumed it was just for shits and giggles, to scare Taeyong into thinking the star of the show isn’t one for the spotlight anymore. Chenle, however, said he heard that Jeno’s apparently been falling behind in his classes and decided to not heave the weight of musical lead on his shoulders for one more year. You chose not to believe him, because the rumours Chenle hears are usually complete bullshit.

But this one isn’t, and you aren’t sure how you feel about acting alongside someone who isn’t Jeno. Pretending to love somebody isn’t as hard as you’d think if the feelings you have are already real. And since he’s backed out—a cowardly thing to do, you think bitterly, because who decides to pass on an opportunity just so they don’t have to pretend to love their ex? How hard does Jeno think that could possibly be, when he mastered the ability to feign his love for you in the last two months of your relationship?—the most obvious choice for Romeo is Donghyuck.

Hyuck is a friend. Or, at least, he used to be. And you wonder if loving him will be easier to pretend than acting like hearing Jeno’s name doesn’t hurt anymore.

“Yeah, he told me it was because Professor Lang’s been kicking his ass, but I think it’s actually because…” he gestures towards you sheepishly, and you purse your lips and try to ignore the pain in your chest. “No offence, it’s just—”

“Right,” you interject before he can add anything else. “No, I get it. Congratulations on getting the part, by the way.”

Donghyuck frowns. “They haven’t announced anything yet.”

“You’re Romeo,” you say with finality, like the idea itself is obvious. Donghyuck’s a shoe-in. Like how you always are—to the point where you don’t even deny it anymore. There’s nothing wrong with a slightly inflated ego—and how Jeno used to be. “So congrats. Sungchan will probably ask for your number later so he can create a groupchat with the main cast members.”

The main cast members including Jeno. There’s no way Taeyong and Doyoung won’t not cast him. The thought of him regularly appearing in your notifications again causes your heart to flutter and you almost scoff at how pathetic you are.

“Oh,” Donghyuck’s voice is soft. “Um, OK.”

“There you are!” you hear an all-too familiar voice behind you as they brush past your shoulders. You catch a whiff of cologne and your blood turns cold. “I didn’t know you sang! Or that you were auditioning, why didn’t you tell me— oh.”

You haven’t spoken to Jeno in three months, and you were hoping it would stay that way until you graduated. Saying it out loud makes you sound like a loser, and Chenle didn’t bother to sugarcoat anything when he said he thinks you’re too hung up on a boy who doesn’t think twice about you anymore. It’s an awful thing to say—an awful thing to think about—but you guess he’s right.

Jeno doesn’t care about you. Not like that.

Somehow managing to plaster a smile on your face, you say, “Hi, Jeno.”

He’s surprised you’re even acknowledging him and he doesn’t do a very good job of hiding it. “Hey,” he murmurs, almost breathlessly. “You did good up there.”

Your smile slowly starts to feel real, and you aren’t sure if you like it. “Thank you. You did, too.” There’s a beat of silence where Donghyuck, unsure, glances between the two of you but stays rooted to his spot. Mostly because Jeno has a hand on his shoulder and his grip is iron tight. “You’ll make a good Mercutio.”

He smiles and it takes your breath away just like it always has. “Thanks.” Your heartbeat quickens. “You’ll make a good Juliet.”

You know he means it—Jeno would never lie just to make you feel better about yourself (he’s only done it once, towards the end of your relationship, but you’re only a tiny bit bitter about that)—and if he means it, there’s a slight chance his smile isn’t as fake as yours might be.

There are a lot of things you hate. Like green tea Pocky, the high-pitched beeping sound your microwave makes five minutes after every use, days where snow has yet to be shovelled and some of it gets into your boots and dampens your socks.

But you also hate that your heart still warms in the presence of Lee Jeno. And what you hate most of all is that he still has an effect on you when you no longer have an effect on him.

You really need to move on.

bitter coffee, bitter love life.

“He’s avoiding you,” Lia concludes after Jisung is done recounting the events of the day. “If Chenle’s right and Jeno is falling behind on school, then he wouldn’t audition for Mercutio, he’d audition for like… I don’t know. The donkey.”

Jisung frowns. “Is there a donkey in Romeo and Juliet?”

“I don’t know,” Lia sighs exasperatedly. Her Social Psychology class has been putting her on edge lately and the last time she had a full eight hours of sleep was two months ago. Slowly, you push your coffee cup closer to her and without thinking, she reaches for it and takes a sip. “It’s set in the fourteenth century, why wouldn’t there be donkeys?”

Chenle steals a cookie from an unaware Jisung’s plate. “I don’t think you can even audition to be a donkey.”

“Maybe you could. Like, you could neigh or something.”

“Donkeys don’t neigh, Jisung.”

“Yes, they do! Quick, Y/N, Google it. Do donkeys neigh?”

Lia scowls at their bickering, mumbling something about how the both of you always end up having to babysit them before she turns, forcing a curious smile on her face, and asking you how you feel about kissing Donghyuck. Then, after a few beats where you fail to respond, she adds, “Wait. Don’t tell me you want to kiss Jeno.”

You’re quick to protest, shaking your head vigorously. “No, of course not!” you huff, trying your best to act appalled at the mention of it. “I’m just used to him, that’s all. It’s not that I’m mad about kissing Donghyuck, but it’s going to be different—”

“Professionals do these type of things all the time.”

“We’re broke college kids, Lia,” you grumble. “This isn’t Hollywood.”

Lia shrugs. “Then practice or something.”

“I’m not gonna practice kissing him.”

“You know what,” Lia throws her arms up in the air, huffing at your stubbornness. “I don’t know why I bother to help you. Honestly. At the end of the day you’re going to end up with a Romeo, whether it be Donghyuck or some other guy—but it’s not going to be Jeno.” She reaches for the coffee cup again. “You need to get over him.”

“Oh!” Chenle claps eagerly, reaching forward and making Lia immediately regret bringing this up in the first place. “We could set Y/N up, I know the perfect person! He’s in my Music Theory class and he’s really funny—you’ll love him—”

“I’m not gonna date Xiaojun.”

“Come on,” Chenle’s lips form into a childlike pout. “At least give him a chance.”

“No.”

“What about Mark Lee?” Jisung pipes up, opening his Instagram app and quickly typing a handle into the search bar. “He’s in one of your elective classes, right? And he’s the lighting guy, so you already know him, which means the date won’t be awkward and—”

Chenle shakes his head. “Nope. He just got out of a relationship.”

“Oh,” Jisung sharply inhales a breath before he shakes his head too, frantically hitting backspace before starting to scroll through the endless amount of users in his following. “Yeah. That won’t work. Oh, hey, Y/N, do you know Yangyang? He’s on the basketball team.”

Lia pinches her nose. “He’s already dating someone.”

“What? No way,” Chenle inches his chair closer to Jisung as they both curiously scroll through Yangyang’s Instagram page. Some of the other customers turn towards your table at the sound of Chenle’s exclamation and his chair screeching against the floor. You try your best to ignore the glares being sent in your direction. “How is Yangyang dating someone before all of you?”

You deadpan, “You’re single, too, Chenle.”

“That’s completely different.”

“The fuck? How?”

The door swings open and you look up to wave Sungchan over to your table, just in case he stands too long at the entrance and an unsuspecting customer accidentally bumps into him. It’s happened too many times to count.

The boy takes a free chair, pushing it in between you and Chenle before taking the last of Jisung’s cookie. He’s too absorbed in his phone to notice. “So, I just talked to Taeyong and he’s not completely sure yet, but,” he breaks off half the cookie and hands it to Lia when he sees her make grabbing gestures towards the treat in his hand, “Jeno’s Mercutio. You’re Juliet.”

“That was a given,” Jisung states, not looking up from the screen. “Why is he still unsure?”

“Because Taeyong still wants to cast Jeno as Romeo,” Sungchan explains, rolling his eyes at the musical director’s indecisiveness. “I don’t get why, since Jeno said he doesn’t want to, but whatever. He’s torn between him and Donghyuck.”

Chenle puts his chin on his palm. “You know what they should do? Create a whole other character so they can make a Jeno, Donghyuck and Y/N love triangle.”

You kick Chenle’s shin and he winces. “Not funny.”

“You’re my only sense of entertainment,” he quips through his grimace. “You should know that by now. I feel like if our lives were a sitcom, you would be the main character.”

Jisung quickly agrees. They look at each other as if this is something they’ve discussed beforehand. “I agree. Like, everyone’s life is in shambles, but yours is the worst. You make everyone feel better about themselves.”

You can’t help scowling at Jisung’s blatant rudeness. “Oh, fuck you.”

“Doyoung’s leaning towards Donghyuck, though,” Sungchan declares, smartly changing the subject before you, Chenle and Jisung end up in an argument that will only get your friend group kicked out of the coffee shop. “Which is good, right? Donghyuck is Romeo, Jeno dies halfway through the story…”

“And it’s not like your character interacts with Mercutio,” Lia says as she starts drawing imaginary hearts on the table’s surface. “I think. I don’t know, I haven’t read Romeo and Juliet.”

You purse your lips. “And there’s no chance of someone completely different getting the part?”

Sungchan’s eyes almost bulge out of his sockets. “Are you kidding? Did you see Donghyuck up there?”

“Right,” you sigh. “I was kidding.”

“You do not look like you were kidding.”

“I just—” you grumble helplessly, waving Sungchan off. “This is just—ugh. None of this would’ve happened if I just didn’t date Jeno.”

Chenle lets out an unamused scoff. “Right, like that wouldn’t have made you less miserable than you already are.”

Your eye twitches. “I’m going to kill you.”

“I’m serious,” he throws his hands up defensively. “You would’ve been horrible if you hadn’t confessed your feelings for him. You guys dated then broke up—whatever. Now it’s time for you to move on.”

“It’s not as easy as you make it sound.”

Jisung slides his phone towards you, and when you look down, you’re staring at a picture of Na Jaemin. Like your reflexes are still poisoned by your ex-boyfriend, attracted to anything and everything about him, your eyes land on the caption of Jaemin’s Instagram post—been studying my ass off while jeno’s been spending the past hour complaining about his love life SOS.

Your heart squeezes in your chest.

Jisung whispers softly, “He’s moving on. You should, too.”

You bite your tongue, staring at the selfie of Jaemin posing next to a boy clad in leather with his head rested on the table. A bracelet hangs around Jeno’s wrist, something eerily familiar to the one you requested for him to give back when he was at your apartment picking up his stuff, only for him to say he lost it. You think if you look closer, you’ll spot your initials engraved into the familiar beads, but the idea of staring at the picture any longer has your chest stinging.

You meet Chenle’s eyes, ignoring the faint glint of pity in them.

“Tell me more about Xiaojun.”

new notification from...

The official theatre department email glares up at you. It’s a long paragraph of Doyoung expressing his thanks to everybody who auditioned for the musical before he adds there were only so many roles he and Taeyong could fill. He encourages everyone to try again next year, then ends the email with an announcement that rehearsals start on Friday (then in parentheses, he writes: Before Jungwoo can complain about missing a frat party for this, I want him to know that this was Taeyong’s idea, not mine. Take it up with him. Or cry me a river. I don’t care). He also mentions that the attached PDF file has the official casting list.

You aren’t sure how long you stare at the email for, still unaware of who got what part until a notification of a new groupchat appears, and Sungchan greets everyone by congratulating them. A flood of messages come rushing in, some from unknown numbers introducing themselves and others from people you’ve worked with before, but you’re still waiting for the two people you’re anticipating to hear from the most to introduce themselves.

Instead, you get:

[12:15] danny zulko: hi guys i’m jungwoo [12:15] danny zulko: does anyone know if doyoung was actually serious about rehearsals starting on friday

[12:15] sungchan my beloved: yes . please don’t complain otherwise he’ll ask me to get u to shut up and i’m too tired to

[12:15] danny zulko: 🙄 fine whatever

[12:16] donghyuck: hi this is donghyuck

[12:16] danny zulko: hey hyuck!!! congrats on getting romeo i’m so proud of you 💕💕 [12:16] danny zulko: didn’t know you sang tho lol

[12:17] Lee Jeno: yeah he didn’t tell me either 🖕 some best friend

[12:17] donghyuck: I SAID SORRY ALRDY WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME

Then cue an annoyed text from Sungchan telling you to get your ass in the groupchat.

You sigh, lazily typing an introduction and replying to Jungwoo’s congratulations on getting juliet bff !!! message, as well as some other ones before making up an excuse that you have a class to go to. Sungchan texts you again, says something about you being a shitty liar, but you’re too exhausted to respond. Besides, you have bigger things to worry about.

For example: Donghyuck is Romeo.

You should be happy—you are. He’s the perfect fit; you knew it when you saw him onstage during his audition, you saw how brightly he shined, and you weren’t foolish enough to miss the way his eyes lit up when you told him he was probably going to get the part. You know Donghyuck will give it his all, and that’s how you’re sure this production will be a success.

But is it bad a part of you wishes it was Jeno?

Your phone dings, signalling another message and you grumble, grabbing it to put the groupchat on mute when you realize that the chat has long since died down. New acquaintances can only talk to each other for so long before it gets awkward.

[12:24] Lee Jeno: congrats on getting juliet :)

Thankful for the fact that your read receipts are off, you throw your phone onto the bed so it’s screen side down before you groan loudly into your pillow.

come on, come all.

“Y/N, my Sandy, my sweet angel, my—”

“Hi, Jungwoo,” you deadpan.

The boy throws his arms over your shoulder, dragging you towards the centre seats in the second row (his favourite seats in the entire theatre, God knows why) before they can be snatched by somebody else.

“Now,” he tuts. “That isn’t how you greet a friend.”

You and Jungwoo aren’t necessarily close, but he’s the oldest theatre friend you have. You share a couple of mutual friends and sometimes cross paths at parties, but the most you see him the most at musical rehearsals. In freshman year, he was the understudy for Danny Zulko in the Grease musical, and one day when Jeno was out sick, Jungwoo helped you practice. Except you hadn’t really gotten anything done, since the most both of you did was complain about the professors you shared and gossiped about frat boy drama.

“Sorry,” you murmur halfheartedly, settling into the seat as Jungwoo crosses one leg over the other. “Did you have any luck convincing Taeyong not to do icebreakers this year?”

“Didn’t have to, apparently Doyoung already did, thank God. If I had to find ten people I have something in common with again, I would’ve died.”

“It wouldn’t have been hard. You know more than ten people here.”

“Sometimes people I don’t know come up to me,” Jungwoo shakes his head in disgust. “And I always end up embarrassing myself. I’m flawless except for the fact that some people think I have a weird sense of humour.”

“God did that to humble you.”

He grins. “Of course. Can’t have me being too perfect.”

You hear a few loud exclamations on the other side of the doors before Sungchan comes barrelling in, his shirt drenched and his hair tousled. It doesn’t take long for him to spot where you and Jungwoo are, considering the latter’s laughter is booming through the room, and at the sound of it, Sungchan scowls as he stomps towards the second row and sits beside you.

Before you even have a chance to crack a smile, Sungchan grumbles, “Don’t ask.”

And it seems you don’t have to, since Doyoung comes tumbling through the doors not a moment later, his blazer hanging on his arm and pointing to the doe-eyed boy next to you. “You owe me another cup of coffee, Sungchan!”

“You bumped into me!”

Doyoung ignores him. “Do you know how expensive it is to go to the drycleaners? I don’t have the free time to just—”

Taeyong, who’s examining a manila file and scooting around his friend to get to the stage, says, “Or the car.” He looks up for a second to see Doyoung giving him a scathing glare. “It’s not like you know how to drive, either.”

Doyoung scoffs loudly, earning another loud laugh from Jungwoo and a couple chuckles from the others scattered around the theatre. The former whines about the disrespect people have for him before he walks up the stage with Taeyong, trying to wipe any bitterness from his expression. Doyoung is an entirely different person without any coffee in his system.

“Afternoon, guys,” Taeyong greets with a cheerful smile. “I think this is about everyone, yeah…?” He looks to his other half for confirmation, but when all Doyoung does is stare blankly at the audience, Taeyong sighs and glances over to Sungchan who scans the people around him. After an awkward beat of silence, he turns to face the front and gives Taeyong a stiff nod. “Alright, then! We’ll get st—”

Jungwoo’s hand shoots up in the air. Taeyong raises a brow. “Yes, Jungwoo?”

“Doyoung looks like he’s about to commit a felony, and personally, I feel unsafe,” he chirps with feigned innocence, which earns him a couple chuckles and your finger jabbing into his abdomen. “I can’t be the only one uncomfortable, right? Hyuck! You agree with me, don’t you?”

Jungwoo’s turned to look over his right shoulder so he can have a better view of Donghyuck. He’s sitting next to Renjun and in front of Jeno and Jaemin, and the same uneasiness in his eyes appears again when he sees you. It isn’t until he shifts his gaze to Jungwoo that he grins, the same mischievous one you haven’t seen in months.

“I wouldn’t want to be working in a dangerous environment, that’s for sure.”

A chorus of agreements echo. Expecting Doyoung to groan and petulantly whine about everyone turning against him, you’re surprised to see him whisper something into Taeyong’s ear before he sends everyone a smirk that has your stomach feeling uneasy.

“That’s enough,” Taeyong announces and everyone goes quiet. “Our time today is limited and we have a lot to get through, like details about protocol, when our upcoming practices are, and...” his eyes meet yours and Jungwoo’s, “icebreakers.”

Everyone collectively starts to protest. You and Jungwoo spring from your seats, voices overlapping, as you argue everyone already introduced themselves in the groupchat Sungchan made two days ago, and Jungwoo yells that Doyoung is breaking his promise.

Taeyong raises his hand, shrugs, and says, “That’s too bad, guys. Now find ten different people you have something in common with otherwise I won’t provide snacks and beverages during rehearsals.”

You scowl. “You’ve literally never done that before, anyway.”

“Well, I could start.”

At the mention of food, Sungchan is already on his feet and making his way to the freshmen sitting at the end of the row. His actions cause everyone else to reluctantly stand up, and it takes a few minutes for everyone to start moving after they’ve spoken to the people they’re near. Jungwoo quickly ditches you once you’ve stepped into the aisle, with him wanting to talk to Jeno’s quartet of friends and you wanting to stay as far away from them as possible.

You skip down the stairs, sliding into the chair front and centre before Taeyong has a chance to sit. He frowns at you.

“You can’t possibly be done already,” he states, eyes flitting to observe the other students. “Usually you’re the last one.”

“That’s not true.”

Doyoung makes himself comfortable beside you. “It is.”

You huff through your nose before asking, “If I ask you guys you’ll count as one of my ten people, right?”

“No,” Doyoung juts his chin in the air. “I have nothing in common with you.”

“You are such an ass.”

“Go scurry along and make some new friends, Y/N.”

“Actually, I have something to ask you,” Taeyong interjects, seating himself in the free chair and sandwiching you in between him and Doyoung. Suddenly you feel like you’re trapped. “It’s about Jeno.”

Immediately, you clasp your hands together and try not to show your discomfort. “Um… shouldn’t you be asking Jeno, then? Since this is a question for him.”

Doyoung waves a hand in the air dismissively. “C’mon, it’s not like we’re going to talk shit about him. But even if we were, you shouldn’t have a problem with that.”

Taeyong sends him a warning look. “Doyoung.”

“I was only joking!”

“We’re not talking shit about anyone. I just wanted to ask you if you knew why he was so insistent on not playing Romeo?”

“Uh…” you glance between the two of them. Doyoung looks uninterested and is watching Jungwoo stumble up the steps to talk to more people while Taeyong scribbles something into his folder. “I mean, isn’t it because he said he wanted to focus on school?”

Taeyong hums. “That’s what he said, but I thought there was something else. I figured you would know since you guys are still friends.”

You frown. “We’re not.”

“Oh,” Taeyong pauses. “He said you guys were.”

With no idea how to respond, you slump further down the chair, waiting for Taeyong or Doyoung to say something. Instead, they remain silent, and you start to feel your skin burning.

You and Jeno aren’t friends. You’ve barely talked. You haven’t even replied to the message he sent two days ago.

Someone steps in front of you and clears his throat. “Hi,” he squeaks, and you surprisingly relax when your eyes meet Donghyuck’s. “You finished the icebreaker activity already?”

“No,” Doyoung answers before you have a chance to. “They’ve been sitting here since we’ve started.”

Donghyuck notices the pleads etched into your irises and offers, “I’ll take them off your hands,” before he pulls you by the elbow and walks you up the steps before settling in the row he and his friends were sitting in before.

He drops your arm the moment he sits down and you follow suit, albeit hesitantly. A tension you can’t describe hangs in the air before he says, “You still like Paramore, right?”

“...Yeah.”

He beams. “Great! So that’s one down for you and me.”

You can’t help the small smile that appears on your face. “How many more people do you have left?”

“Only one. I’m waiting for Renjun to come back because the asshole walked away from me the moment I went to go ask him something. He’s been a little shit lately, I swear.”

“The influence of Lee Donghyuck,” you muse.

He clicks his tongue and tilts his head. As you examine the rest of the cast and crew, spotting Sungchan and Jungwoo having a heated conversation, and Jeno discussing something with Mark near the back, you feel Donghyuck’s gaze on your cheek. For as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been described as the sun, but you think his stares burn more than anything else.

His finger taps the back of your hand. “Are you doing anything after this?”

You wrack your brain of anything Lia or Chenle sent you earlier today, but the most you can think of is Chenle sending three texts to the groupchat about the party at the Kappa Sigma frat house. “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

“Do you wanna hangout?” he asks. When your head snaps quickly in his direction, almost giving you an unpleasant wave of whiplash, you spot the small flecks of hope strewn in his eyes. “To catch up. We haven’t talked in a while.”

You almost decline, fearing it’ll be too awkward for you to handle—but at the same time, it’s Donghyuck. You think being with him beats going to a frat party and dragging Lia’s wasted body up the flight of stairs in her apartment building. You make a mental note to send Jisung a text to make sure he looks after her tonight.

“OK,” you say softly. “That sounds good.”

“We can walk to the boba shop—you better have money, though. Just because we’re hanging out for the first time in months doesn’t mean I’ll pay for you,” he remarks, slouching against the back of his seat and giving you a lazy smile.

Something in your chest stutters.

a friendship repaired.

Donghyuck’s list of favourite things include (in no specific order): the smell of new books, the Melodrama album by Lorde, online window shopping, and you. Except you’re only on that list because he forgot he left his wallet at home—Mark’s been telling him to learn how to save money before he ends up buying a sports car he’ll never use at 40—and he desperately wants a cup of honeydew bubble tea.

He sips happily on the drink, cheeks puffed and eyes shining similarly to the tapioca pearls at the bottom of his cup. There’s a page in your notes app dedicated to him—the Hyuck Tab, you call it—a list of how much money he owes you. In all honesty, you’re lost track of the exact amount of cash he has yet to pay back, and in spite of you reminding him about it, you don’t care that much.

“Things taste so much better when I’m not the one paying for it,” Donghyuck sighs blissfully. “And before you say anything about me using you for money—don’t. I’ll pay you back, I promise.”

You snort. “You always say that.”

“I mean it this time! The moment I get my paycheck, I’ll give you all I owe. Actually, not all of it. I still have to pay rent and if I’m late again, Mark’s going to do that scary pouting thing he does whenever he gets pissed.”

“You say that a lot, too—paying me back the moment you get your paycheck.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “You don’t trust me at all and it’s hurtful.”

His finger and thumb curl around the straw as he moves it around, looking under his cup to see where the remainder of the tapioca pearls are. It’s been a while since you’ve been with Donghyuck like this, whining about papers due next week and the amount of times you’ve both been late to your eight a.m. lectures. On the walk here, he gave you a list of movies he’s watched in the past month that he knows for sure you’ll fall in love with and made you pinky promise to let him know what you think.

Being with him isn’t awkward. You both skirt around certain topics, sure, like Jeno and his collection of leather jackets you used to love borrowing without asking, but other than that, this feels close to perfect. You aren’t sure what it is about Donghyuck that makes you feel more carefree, more radiant, more relaxed, but you suppose that’s just how things are with him.

Your thoughts are interrupted when his phone starts to ring and he places his cup back down before giving you an apologetic look.

“Hello?” he says when he answers the phone. If you listen closely, you can hear the slight irritation laced into the vowels of the words he says next, “No, Jaemin, I’m not going t— are you shitfaced right now?”

You smile down amusedly as you take a sip of your boba and absentmindedly listen to Donghyuck and Jaemin’s conversation.

“Can you put someone else on the phone?” There’s a moment where Donghyuck looks up at you, nose scrunched up as he taps his fingers on the table, before relief floods him. “Hey, thank God, you’re sober, right? And Jaemin’s with you? ...No, I’m not at the party, I wasn’t planning on going. Um… I’m with Y/N right now.”

He winces, eyes staring at the painting on the wall instead of you. Worry starts to flood your stomach when Donghyuck is silent for too long, uncharacteristically quiet, and you tilt your head to meet his gaze. He only inhales sharply.

“I can come, though, I’ll bring Jaemin home,” he offers after what feels like an eternity. “No, it’s no problem. OK, yeah, I’ll be there soon. Bye, Jeno.”

Your hands stiffen around your cup.

“I’m sorry,” Donghyuck says when the call ends. The same troubled look he gave you earlier in the auditorium is back, and you internally beg to see his smile again. “Jaemin’s wasted and Jeno needs help bringing him home. I can walk you to the party, if you were gonna—”

“It’s fine,” you shake your head, not entirely loving the idea of seeing Jeno waiting with Jaemin on the front steps of the frat. “I’ll just call someone to pick me up.”

Donghyuck looks unsure but stands up to leave when you promise him again and again that you’ll call Sungchan to take you home. Just as he’s about to walk to the door, he turns around again, stammering over his words before a coherent, “I’ll talk to you later, though?” slips out.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Stay safe.”

You see a glimpse of his smile before he disappears.

i love him, i love him not.

You like writing notes into your script until the text is more than just dialogue and stage directions, and rather annotations scribbled in the margins of how you envision the scene. Words accompanied with a messily drawn star are pointers Taeyong and Doyoung have given you throughout rehearsals. The names of the actors are written beside the first of their character’s dialogue so you can remember who’s who.

Your note-taking methods are messy and people—Jeno especially—always found it hard to read what you wrote in between the lines. Jeno’s organized, with colourful dividers in his binder and post-it notes in the smallest pocket of his backpack. You, on the other hand, are the type to lose multiple papers only to rediscover them weeks later, sitting at the bottom of your desk drawer. He used to lend you pencils in lectures when you couldn’t find any of yours; the only one of his you haven’t lost still lies unused in your pencil case.

Your fist clenches, once, twice, before you sigh.

“Is this ugly?” Sungchan asks, snapping you out of your daze. You’re afraid he’s caught you daydreaming, no doubt about your ex-boyfriend since you bumped into him earlier and couldn’t form a coherent sentence (he looked at you worriedly while you stumbled over your words and Jungwoo had to forcefully drag you backstage). Thankfully, when you look up, you see he’s only talking to Renjun.

The blonde boy doesn’t even bother to think twice before nodding. “Yeah.”

Sungchan pouts before he places his tablet back on his lap as he scrolls through Pinterest. He and Renjun, both part of the costume design team, have been spending all their time scouring the internet looking at fourteenth century fashion. The only reason you’re here at the back with them is because you’re still suffering from humiliation and you have yet to finish highlighting your lines. Clearly, you’re not as productive as either of them, since you’ve been staring off into space for the past ten minutes.

Sungchan throws something at you, hitting you in the corner of your lip and causing you to startle. Renjun barely pays you any mind. “What the hell?”

“You were stuck in a trance,” Sungchan shrugs. “What is it about Jeno that has you completely… what’s the word… hopeless?”

So maybe you stand corrected and Sungchan has noticed you’ve gotten nothing done. “Are we just going to ignore the fact that you tried to kill me?”

“I threw an eraser at you.”

“And? Why’d you throw it so hard?”

Sungchan opens his mouth to retort, his eyebrows drawn together in an attempt to look threatening (news flash: he’s not), when someone clears their throat. His eyes flit up over your shoulder and he grumbles something under his breath about how you’re going to lose your mind again. Before you have a chance to respond—

“Hey, Jeno,” calls Renjun, not sparing a glance away from his phone. “Are you guys done with the scene already?”

The boy nods, although he’s not looking at his friend, but rather at you. You feel his stare on your back, and you shuffle to turn and face him. At this, the burn of his eyes softens. “Yeah, Taeyong is just talking to Jungwoo right now and he asked me to get Y/N,” he clears his throat. “Your scenes with Donghyuck are next.”

“Oh,” you say softly, standing up from your spot on the floor and brushing away anything that might’ve gotten on your jeans. “Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

As you start to walk to the front stage, you hear Sungchan murmur an unenthusiastic have fun behind you. The monotonous statement almost has you rolling your eyes, but stops you from doing so when Jeno starts to walk alongside you. Suddenly, your palms start to sweat.

“You’re OK, right?” Jeno wonders. “After I bumped into you, it seemed like you sort of, um… malfunctioned?”

“I’m fine,” you chuckle nervously, sounding like a middle schooler replying to their teacher’s weekly check-in after the weekend. It’s unnatural and forced, and it feels heavy even after it falls from your lips.

Jeno doesn’t like how robotic your voice sounds, and something pushes him to continue the conversation before it becomes more awkward than it already is. “Uh, did you go to the Kappa Sigma party last night? Donghyuck told me he was with you when he picked Jaemin up and I assumed you were going to be with him, but you weren’t…”

“Oh, I didn’t go,” you answer, thankful that you’ve managed to string along a response that’s more than two words. “I was tired. Hyuck made us walk to that boba place after the meeting and my legs hurt like hell.”

Jeno laughs airily. “So you guys are friends again?”

The question is straightforward and it causes you to stumble, tripping over your two feet. Jeno’s hand shoots out to steady you and the contact sets your skin on fire. When you flinch, his limbs fall back against his sides, swinging hopelessly.

“Yeah, I guess,” you say. Jeno tilts his head to try and look at your face, but you’ve forced yourself to stare forwards as you begin to walk again. “Why do you ask?”

Jeno’s silent, lips sewn shut. He nervously shoves his hands in his pockets. The tension squeezes the life out of his lungs and pieres his ribcage. Awkward situations will always be painful, but there’s something more difficult about awkward situations with you.

“Where’s Y/N?”

Relief engulfs you as Jeno tries to answer your question. Whether he’s thought of a reply or not, it’s too late because you’ve been saved by Taeyong’s irritation. Giving Jeno a feeble smile, you slip past the curtains and step out on stage where Donghyuck awaits, sitting cross-legged in the centre while he hastily goes over his lines. At the sound of your footsteps, he looks up and fixes you with a grin.

You finally allow yourself to exhale.

practice makes perfect.

A little birdie tells Taeyong one Monday night that Juliet has gone on a date with Xiaojun from Music Theory, and it’s the first thing he announces come Tuesday’s rehearsals. The statement comes out of nowhere, jolting you out of your tired trance while Jungwoo elbows your side as he complains about why he never knew you were dating again. Somewhere at the back, you think you hear Mark Lee whistle.

Sungchan whispers to you that Lia talked to Taeyong yesterday and must’ve accidentally let it slip. Backstabbed and betrayed by your own best friend, you scoff. While your love life is out on display for the public, she’s probably happily watching from the sidelines as everything falls apart.

But Donghyuck is the first one to actually bring it up with you, when you’re lying on his couch with your legs dangling over the armrest. He stares daggers into the coffee table, highlighter uncapped and lying forgotten next to his script while you look over yours. The silence is welcoming, you’ve gotten used to the slight buzzing of the faulty air-conditioning and the sound of pencil against paper until Donghyuck speaks up.

“You’re dating Xiaojun?”

You’re startled, your pencil flying across the page. “Um, we went out to the drive-in a few days ago,” you murmur, scraping the back end of your pencil against the script. The eraser barely removes any of the marks, instead leaving more than before. “Did you know he was a romcom guy? Never took him for one.”

“Yeah, neither did I. You had fun, though?”

“I guess?” You glance to your side to see Donghyuck already looking at you. “Why are you asking?”

He mulls over your words before putting the cap back on his highlighter. “No reason. I just never saw you and Xiaojun being a thing, that’s all.”

“OK? We both decided we’d be better off as friends, anyway,” you shrug. The way Donghyuck’s shoulders relax is an action that goes unnoticed as your eyes flicker back to the lines you’ve highlighted. “Enough about him, I thought you wanted to practice?”

“What? Oh— right!” he shuffles to quickly grab his script before he stands up from the seat. Clearing his throat, he says, “Taeyong said I’ve been acting, uh, stiff lately.”

“At what part?”

“...All of it,” he sighs. “I didn’t realize how hard acting was going to be—I thought all I had to do was lie really well and then I’d get to call it a day.”

“Well, we can work on some stuff now, just pick a scene and I’ll do it with you,” you kick your feet off the armrest and sit properly on the couch.

“OK… um,” he licks his lips, carefully flipping through the pages before he turns his script towards you. “Here. This scene.”

Donghyuck isn’t as bad as he thinks he is. He just gets into his head sometimes, lets the thoughts etch themselves into his brain until they’re all he can think about. And when he gets nervous, little details scream themselves to death in his mind until they’re ringing in his head. Things like If you don’t step to the left you’re going to jam your foot into the coffee table or Y/N smells like roses or Y/N looks pretty when they—

“Donghyuck.”

“What? Sorry.”

“It’s your line.”

“Oh, um,” he murmurs, finger grazing over the paper. He chokes out, “O then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. / They pray: grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.”

You frown at his ungraceful delivery. After all, Donghyuck is made of smart decisions and self-assurance. He weaves through obstacles and jumps over bumps in the road. He is ambition and confidence combined, filled to the brim with success. Donghyuck was born to be great.

So why has something lodged itself in his throat? Why can’t he deliver this line?

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“Then move—” his eyes catch the action that comes after his line, and he stops. Your eyes flicker up to meet him, frown deepening at his sudden hesitance. “Then, uh… sorry.” He clears his throat. “Then move not while my prayer’s effect I take.”

Your hands fall to your side, script dangling from your fingertips, but before you have a chance to say anything, someone barges through the apartment’s kitchenette and into the living room, voice booming off the walls. Familiar laughter rings in your ears, and you freeze in front of Donghyuck.

“Oh, hey!” Mark Lee greets warmly, his finger curling at the back of his sock before he pulls it off. “I didn’t know you were going to be here today! Jaemin! We have an extra guest for dinner!”

This elicits a loud groan from said boy as he turns the corner with grocery bags in hand. “And you guys couldn’t have told me this before I went to the st—oh,” he stops in his tracks, causing Renjun and Jeno to bump into him. “Hey, Y/N, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Yeah, I was just…” you try to explain, clenching your fist tighter around the screenplay. You keep your eyes trained on Jaemin, afraid of letting them stray anywhere else. “Me and Donghyuck were just going over lines.”

“Nice,” Mark says, tilting his head to look at you. “It’s going good, though, right? ‘Cause Donghyuck’s face is so red.”

“Yes.”

“It’s going fine.”

Mark ignores the fiery glare his roommate sends his way before Donghyuck instead tugs on your sleeve. Jaemin and Renjun have both turned to go back to the kitchenette to prepare dinner while Jeno announces loudly that he’ll start to set the table. “You’ll stay?” Donghyuck asks, the discomfort on his face before is long gone and replaced with genuine concern. “For dinner? Because you don’t have to, even if Mark said so…”

“I’m supposed to study with Lia at the library,” you lie easily. “So I have to go, she hates it when I’m late. But, um, are you okay? I noticed you hesitated while you were talking.”

He sighs. “I got nervous, sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you shake your head quickly, preventing him from muttering a dismissive comment about how much he thinks he sucks. “That’s fine, everyone’s jittery at first. But you don’t have to be nervous with me.”

He exhales shakily. “Yeah,” he nods weakly. “But you’ll help me practice more, right? I need all the help I can get.”

“Of course,” you move backwards and the feeling of him playing with the hem of your sleeves disappears. “Just text me whenever. I’ll see you. Bye, Mark.”

Mark whines loudly. “Dude, you’re not staying?”

“Lia needs me,” you state automatically. You slip past the other boys, muttering an uncomfortable goodbye to them before you put your shoes on and shut the door behind you.

Once you’re gone, Jeno is quick on his feet. He steps in front of Donghyuck and asks him a question about what scene the two of you were rehearsing that had his face burning scarlet. They stand in between the couch and the coffee table while Mark sits cross-legged on the sofa and cautiously watches the conversation. The only way for Donghyuck to move past Jeno is going around the couch, and by then, Jeno’s already waiting for him on the other side. Donghyuck’s trapped.

Jeno is quick on his feet.

“Can you guys stop being fucking lazy and help us out?”

But Renjun’s faster.

Mark stands and pushes Donghyuck past Jeno and into the kitchenette where Renjun and Jaemin are arguing over what setting to set the stove to. Jeno sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. Just as he’s about to play peacemaker and stop Jaemin and Renjun from ripping each other’s heads off, his eye catches the script Donghyuck has left on the coffee table.

More specifically: Jeno reads one specific line that almost has his heart dropping.

[ROMEO kisses JULIET]

a friendship repaired (reprise).

It reeks of body odour and cheap body spray.

The red liquid swimming at the bottom of your cup has long since gone tepid, warming up to the temperature of the crowded and boisterous atmosphere. The music has blended with the voices of the party’s attendants, so much so that you can’t tell the difference if the person walking by you is singing or talking.

You’re stuck with Lia for the evening, because despite her wishes of being designated driver, she doesn’t want to be alone. She also wants to make sure you don’t do anything stupid, because even while you’re sober you end up humiliating yourself. There’s no point denying it anymore.

Chenle, Jisung and Sungchan have all run off to the backyard after promising Lia they’ll stick together while you and her stumble along the crowd, trying to get to the kitchen for a bottle of water. Neither of you trust anything found inside a frat house, but Lia’s throat is killing her, and she supposes she can make an exception.

The kitchen is unusually packed and she has to shove past people to get to the fridge. Your hand in hers tightens as she leads the way and you apologize lamely to the people who turn to glare at your friend for pushing them to the side.

Lia opens the refrigerator door and triumphantly takes the last bottled water. “I’d hate to be the thirsty loser who opens this only to find nothing inside,” she says a little maliciously, but you smile nevertheless. Bringing the bottle down from her lips and screwing the cap at the top, she comments, “OK, c’mon, we’re going outside. The only screaming I’ve heard since we got here is regular college party screaming, no Chenle screaming.”

You purse your lips. “Isn’t that a good thing?”

“Maybe,” she twirls the bottle by her side. “But it’s suspicious.”

You let Lia lead you towards the back doors. There’s nothing you were planning to do here, anyway. You saw Jungwoo when you first came in, Jaehyun’s arm over his shoulders as he was dragged towards the stairs. You’re pretty sure Donghyuck didn’t come because he has work, and you saw Mark post on his Instagram story about his killer headache. There’s nobody to entertain you here except your friends—although describing them as entertaining is a bit of a stretch.

Because no matter what, no matter where you go and what you do, you always end up doing the same thing at the end of the night—babysitting Chenle, Jisung and Sungchan.

You slide past the open door and hear a loud shriek. Sungchan and Jisung have both fallen into the pool while Chenle, seated at the poolside, cackles as he swings his feet in the water.

You and Lia really should be getting paid for babysitting them.

“Jeno’s looking at you.”

You jump, your hand curling around your shirt as you clutch your chest. “Jesus Christ, Lia, why are you screaming?”

“Because,” she hisses as the both of you walk down the porch steps to get to Chenle, who’s having the time of his life while Sungchan and Jisung bicker. “Your ex-boyfriend is staring at you.”

“I don’t care,” you say. There’s no point blaming your stammering heart on alcohol because you haven’t had any. You internally scowl. “And also there’s no way he’s— I’m not having this conversation when Sungchan and Jisung are literally about to claw each other’s throats out.”

Lia pouts. “You’re no fun.”

In the corner of your eye, you see Jaemin scooting past people while running to you. “Hey!” he calls out, making you stop. Lia, on the other hand, rolls her eyes and continues walking over to Chenle. As Jaemin grins at you, the sound of your friend shouting at the two boys in the pool fades into the background. “We need someone for beer pong.”

“OK?” you frown. “How’s that my problem?”

“Will you play?”

“Oh. No thanks.”

Jaemin groans. “Come on, please? We need one more person.” Belatedly, he adds, “You don’t even have to be in the same team as Jeno.”

Because that was surely going to change your mind. Just the mention of him nearly has your heart beating out of your chest, which you think is pretty fucking pathetic.

“As tempting as that is,” you drawl, making sure not to look at Jaemin just in case he catches you off guard and starts staring at you with those cursed puppy dog eyes, “I have to make sure Sungchan and Jisung don’t end up pulling Lia into the pool with them.”

Jaemin whines. “Y/N.”

“Bye, Jaemin.”

Thankfully, he leaves you alone after you step to the side and make your way towards the pool. Lia, squatting so she can talk to Jisung but still far away enough so she’s out of arm’s reach, is wrinkling her nose to everything the younger boy is saying. Deciding to avoid that conversation, you fold your jeans and slip off your sandals before sitting next to Chenle and dipping your toes in the water.

He’s a little buzzed; there’s a faint scent of alcohol lingering on his tongue. “Did you come out here because Lia was telling the truth and you thought we were in trouble, or because you couldn’t find Jeno inside?”

You place your hands behind you. “Do we really have nothing else to talk about other than Jeno? All of our conversations have been about him recently.”

“‘M just making sure you aren’t going around falling in love with him again,” Chenle mutters lazily. If you weren’t sitting so close to him you wouldn’t have understood what he said. “But if you do, I don’t blame you, I guess, especially if you found out that Jisung was wrong about him moving on.”

Tingles come crawling up your spine. “What?”

“Yeah, talked to Renjun the other day. I asked about Jeno’s new relationship, and he only laughed and said something about— um... fuck, what was it again?” Chenle groans, tilting his head towards the sky. “Fuck, I don’t remember what he said. ‘Jeno’s not dating anyone or planning to anytime soon.’ Something along those lines.”

You can’t stop the desperate question from tumbling out of your lips, “How long have you known?”

“Eh,” Chenle shrugs, which means he knew for either two days or a lifetime, there’s no in between. “I was gonna tell you, I was really considering it. Then I decided not to because, I mean, come on, Y/N, it’s Jeno. Even if he ruined your life, you’d still go running back.”

You purse your lips. There’s a nagging feeling at the back of your head, wondering if what Chenle is saying is true—which is a stupid thing to wonder, because you know it is. No matter how many times you convince yourself you won’t go crawling back, you know you will if you’re given the chance.

“I’m going back inside,” you announce softly, to which Chenle repeats loudly to the rest of the uninterested partygoers.

Once you’re back on your feet, timidly walking towards the sliding glass door and trying to figure out how to move past a large group of people without having to ask them to move, you feel eyes on the nape of your neck. It becomes increasingly harder to ignore and by the time you’re standing at the top of the porch, you scowl and turn, only to see Jeno blinking up at you.

Immediately, you still. After what feels like several beats of eternity, you mutter a lame and weak, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he replies back, matching the frailty of your voice. “Can we talk?”

“Oh, uh… right now?”

“Yeah,” he nods. With the way his eyes have zeroed in on your face, it feels like he’s analyzing every movement you make. “But if you’re busy, it’s fine.”

You inhale sharply, looking over his shoulder to where Chenle shouts something loudly to Lia. The conversation you had barely two minutes ago echoes in your head, the insecurity of being a hung-up ex starts to eat away at your insides. But Jeno came here to seek you out, and knowing him, what he has to say must be important.

Besides, you aren’t weak. If you say it enough, maybe you’ll be able to convince yourself.

“Sure,” you say solemnly. “What did you want to talk about?”

You were hoping this conversation was going to be trivial. Something about theatre. A dance move he saw you do wrong during rehearsals that he wanted to tell you about. Maybe you were off-pitch the other day when you were singing with Donghyuck. But with the way Jeno pulls you to the corner of the porch, not away from people but far enough to prevent eavesdroppers, you know this conversation is more serious.

“Listen,” he starts, running a hand over his face, “I know we haven’t been on, um, speaking terms lately, but I meant what I said after our breakup. About us being friends.”

This is not how you saw this going.

You don’t know what you were expecting. A declaration of love? No, of course not. An invitation to hangout again outside of the theatre department? Maybe. A question as to why you’ve been blatantly trying to avoid him? Probably. But never something about your friendship.

The thing is, you and Jeno have always been more than just friends. You met on the stage, fell in love on the stage, and when the time came, he broke your heart on it, too (well, not really, he broke up with you in the lighting booth after you told him you loved him, but whatever). When he told you he’d rather the relationship he had with you to be platonic, it broke your heart, and you never reached out. Mainly because you were hurting, sure, but you came to realize after the split that the only thing you and Jeno have in common is theatre.

Theatre brought you together then split you apart. Funny.

“You were one of my favourite people,” Jeno starts again when you don’t reply. “And I miss you.”

You miss him too. But—

“Can we start over?” he asks. A question like this is anguished, hopeless and a little urgent. “Please? Just… you were one of my best friends.”

But…

“I still care about you.”

Your heart jumps up to your throat and spews out the word you’ve been forcing down.

“OK.”

“...OK?”

“We can start over and, um—” A loud screech startles both you and him, causing you to move and look over to the pool where Lia’s floating in the water before she starts splashing Sungchan and Jisung as they struggle to swim away and avoid her. You sigh. “Can we talk about this later? Sorry, I have to make sure Lia doesn’t end up screaming until she loses her voice again.”

“No, yeah, of course,” Jeno steps to the side to let you pass, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you see his eyes curve into crescent moons. “You’ll text me, though?”

You find yourself smiling. “Yeah, of course.”

It slowly disappears when you start walking to the poolside. God, your friends are gonna kill you.

act ii, scene i.

“I am not singing ABBA with you.”

“Sungchan, no offence, but you’re a fucking loser.”

Unaffected by Jungwoo’s comment, Sungchan shrugs and takes a sip of his cream soda.

Off-pitch singing bounces off the walls of the karaoke bar as most of the cast and crew celebrate reaching the midpoint of the theatre production. As opening night gets closer and closer, rehearsals are starting to become longer, and everyone wants to enjoy their last night of freedom before they’re swamped with memorizing lines, dance moves, song lyrics, as well as what’s on their upcoming exams.

Jungwoo’s managed to find a partner to sing with him onstage. He tugs on Mark’s hand (but not before blowing a raspberry at Sungchan’s uninterested expression) as they walk up to the small stage. Drunken cheers erupt from your table. Donghyuck, who’s sitting next to you, is immediately drained of energy once the shouting dies down, and he slumps against the chair before latching onto you.

He’s gotten clingier over the past few months. He didn’t used to be like this with you, at least you don’t recall him being so, but you don’t mind. You don’t mind the warmth of his cheek against your shoulder.

Jeno stands at the bar, eyes scanning the room casually as he waits for his drink. The sight of Jungwoo and Mark jumping around on stage makes him smile amusedly, and his expression stays euphoric until he spots you talking to Sungchan with Donghyuck’s head on your shoulder. Something in his stomach somersaults when you don’t move to push him off, and Jeno hates to admit that the first thing he thinks about is how you used to always push him away whenever he became too clingy.

He forces himself to snap out of it, because your rekindled month-long friendship is going well. You’ve stopped being uncomfortable around him, and the last thing Jeno needs is to ruin things all over again by getting jealous over Donghyuck. You two are friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Here you go, sir.” The bartender slides his drink over to him and Jeno’s hand clenches unnecessarily tight around the glass as he returns to his seat in front of you.

You give him a smile in greeting while Sungchan mutters something in your ear. The music is too loud for him to think.

Towards the end of the song, you shake Donghyuck off your shoulder and tell him to lean on Renjun instead (both parties argue against it, but you only shrug with nonchalance). Sungchan announces to the table that he’s only going up there to sing with you so he can piss Jungwoo off, and with a laugh, the two of you clumsily walk towards the stage.

Jeno’s eyes stay on you for far too long, but Donghyuck’s eyes linger longer. He isn’t quick enough to hide the fondness seeping into his irises, but he’s lucky Jeno’s a creature of denial and dismisses the close-to-lovesick look as a trick his mind is playing on him. Jeno’s sure the feelings he has for you are more romantic than he wants them to be, but there’s no way that Donghyuck’s are, too. The chances of Hyuck falling in love with you are slim to none.

Slim to none, he reminds himself as he takes a sip of his drink.

To the side of Donghyuck, Renjun frowns. He’s noticed the yearning looks before—he isn’t blind—but today he realizes how horrible the both of them are hiding it. Maybe this is just what happens; love drowns the insides so much to the point it becomes impossible to hide.

Jeno and Donghyuck have found themselves in a sticky web that will only end with one of them hurt.

Renjun sighs. He wonders if you know just how bad those two have it for you.

fish in the sea.

The sky is escaping through your fingertips. Clouds dissolve the moment they touch your skin. The only thing controlling your body is a strong wind, pushing you in every direction at every second while the blue engulfing you starts to pale. You can’t see where you’re going. All you know is that you’re slipping from the stars. You’re falling.

“Rise and shineeee!”

Until you aren’t.

The first thing you realize when your eyes slowly open is that the curtains have been drawn, causing the despicable and unbearable sunlight to pour through the window. The next thing you realize is your brain is pounding ruthlessly against your skull, and the more you shuffle to get a grasp of your surroundings, the more it worsens.

You vaguely recall a conversation from a few months ago on New Year’s Eve. A small gathering takes place in Jaemin and Renjun’s shared apartment, all of the attendants sacrificing their personal space to fit into the small living room and arguing over each other to figure out what movie to watch before the countdown begins. You and Donghyuck have managed to score seats on the couch, and he’s trying to convince you that Finding Nemo is the movie of movies.

It’s an argument that lasts too long, and when everyone begrudgingly agrees on something to watch, it’s too late. Big Hero 6 ends ten minutes past midnight and Jeno complains, with your fingers running through his hair, that he didn’t get his New Year’s kiss.

A Finding Nemo poster hangs on the wall across from the bed you lay in.

You scramble and rip the blanket off your body, effectively startling the honey-eyed boy standing at your bedside. The immediate action causes your head to screech in pain and you groan, slumping back until your head hits the pillow.

“Holy shit,” Donghyuck murmurs, placing a glass of water down on the nightstand and placing his hand on your arms. His touch is gentle, the kind where it transports you back into your dream where you’re falling and falling from the sky. Instead of alarm, there’s caution, and his voice drops to a whisper. “You need to get up and eat something.”

“I feel like I’m fucking dying,” you grouch, words blending together as you throw your arm over your eyes in an attempt to block out the sun. An acknowledging hum is all Donghyuck replies with as he squats down by the bed, hands drawing patterns on your skin. It tickles but you’re too scared to tell him to stop, because the feeling of his touch is slowly helping the obnoxious pain of your hangover subside. “Why am I in your room?”

“Texted Lia last night and she said she couldn’t pick you up because she was out of town,” he says. You nod, remembering the numerous messages she sent you the night before reminding you to text her if you got home safe. “I told her you were OK and I’d let you crash here until she got back today.”

“Fuck, OK. Where did you sleep?”

“Oh, on the couch.”

Your hand falls from your eyes and the sun glares at you, obviously waiting for the moment to catch you off guard and blind you. Pushing back the hiss climbing up your throat, you ask, “What?”

Donghyuck suddenly becomes aware of his fingers dancing across your arms and retracts his hand. He hopes you’re too busy cursing the pounding in your head to notice the uncharacteristic nervousness of his smile. “Well, I wasn’t going to let you sleep on the couch— what kind of host do you take me for?”

“Could’ve slept next to me, your bed is huge,” you grumble. Donghyuck freezes for a few seconds, taken aback by the way you wave your arm on the large space beside you. “Plus your couch is old and uncomfortable—wait, where’s Sungchan? Did he get home safe, too?”

“He’s with Jungwoo. They made up by the end of the night and spent the last fifteen minutes singing,” he presses his lips together in a thin-lipped smile before he pushes himself up. “Now, come on, you need to eat something.”

Disgruntled, you huff and slowly push yourself up so you’re sitting instead of lying down. “Alright, I’m getting up, I’m getting up. Why do you look fine, though?” you take the hand he offers you and wince when your bare feet make contact with the cold floor. “Do you not feel like shit after last night?”

He does, actually, but not because of alcohol. Towards the end of the evening when everyone was parting ways and Lia’s absence had been made aware to the group, Jeno offers to have you stay at his place. Donghyuck, too caught up in wondering how he’ll sleep after he spent every free moment latching onto you, doesn’t realize that Sungchan’s protested against it. His head is in the clouds by the time he realizes Jeno’s burning holes into his arm—that you’re clinging to—and he doesn’t even have time to ask questions because Renjun is ushering the both of you to the car.

Donghyuck is in the backseat, squished in between you and Mark while Renjun fumbles with the keys and Jeno gazes out the window in the passenger spot. Ten minutes into the car ride, everyone in the back is slowly lulling to sleep, and at the sight of your closed eyes and relaxed breathing, Renjun turns up the volume of the radio and confidently states something that cuts through the tension.

“You’re fucking stupid, you know that?”

The sound of Renjun’s firm voice causes Donghyuck to stir quietly. He’s about to comment on how he was just about to fall asleep when Jeno replies monotonously.

“I’m not having this conversation with you again, Renjun.”

“I don’t get it,” Renjun scoffs. Donghyuck frowns at the strange atmosphere. Renjun and Jeno’s conversations were never usually this serious—and even if they were, it would never have the both of them displaying blatant annoyance. “You’re a mess.”

“Renjun.”

Renjun stops the car when he approaches a red light. “You can’t just expect me to not confront you about this little crisis you’re having with Y/N.” At the sound of your name, Donghyuck casts a glance towards you in hopes you’re still asleep. Your breathing is steady and the rest of your body has loosened, “You’re lucky nobody’s noticed.”

Donghyuck stills. He shouldn’t be eavesdropping on a conversation he knows he isn’t meant to hear, but at this point he can’t fall back asleep. Suddenly, he feels something unpleasant in his chest. He once read somewhere that the body reacts similarly to physical and mental pain—but Donghyuck’s sure nothing hurts more than guilt.

He shouldn’t like you the way that he does.

The soft knocking on his door and Mark peeking his head in is enough to snap Donghyuck out of it. The older boy says he prepared breakfast (“And don’t look at me like that, it’s only cereal.”) before he leaves and Donghyuck hears the sound of the front door opening and shutting. You start to shuffle along the floor, making your way towards the small dining room.

You’ve settled yourself on the chair. “Did you sleep OK last night?”

Truthfully, he didn’t. “Yeah.”

You watch as he sits next to you, swirling the spoon in his own bowl suspiciously. “You shouldn’t have slept on the couch.”

Donghyuck had trouble sleeping because he’s having a crisis revolving around his love life, not because the sofa in the living room is extremely uncomfortable (although it didn’t help), but he lets you believe differently, anyway. “What’s done is done, Y/N, you don’t have to worry about it. All that matters is you slept well.”

“Right.” You bite your lip, eyebrows furrowing before you say, “I don’t think Lia is coming back until five, so we can hangout until then.”

His eyebrows rise. “Really?”

“Yeah,” you shrug, smiling softly despite the headache. “We can watch Finding Nemo or something.”

Donghyuck’s list of favourite things include (in no specific order): the smell of freshly brewed coffee, the Lemonade Mouth soundtrack, buying things he doesn’t need, and you. And maybe you’re only on that list because your smile is oh so very hypnotizing and Donghyuck is too far deep into his feelings.

Maybe you’ll be the death of him. Maybe he doesn’t mind.

Is this how Romeo felt?

the bro code.

Lee Donghyuck falls in love with you one fateful night in April, barely two months before your breakup with Jeno.

Beads of sweat slip down his skin as the night air clings to his arms, but the uncomfortable humidity is nothing compared to his stammering heart and his uneven breathing. With the alcohol in his system, it’s harder to keep himself steady. Donghyuck knows it was irresponsible to try and drink his worries away, to poison himself so he can forget about the emotions ringing in his skull.

All the liquor does is blur his vision and makes him lose control. And it doesn’t help that your breath is hot against his neck.

If he played his cards differently, perhaps he wouldn’t be sitting on the curb with your head on his shoulder, mumbling incoherent words to a soft melody he assumes is from one of the numbers in the musical. He knows he won’t be able to push you off despite the effect you have on him. He knows, at some point, everything he’s been bottling up since September will kill him until all he has left is the shattered pieces of his fragile heart, and guilt to eat him alive and spit him back out.

Maybe, if he played his cards differently, he wouldn’t have met you at all. Or maybe he would’ve met you before Jeno ever did. But in every alternate universe, he thinks he still ends up where he is right now—on a curb outside a bar, with you latching onto him as you wait for your boyfriend to wrap up his conversation with a group of his classmates he ran into during your night out.

This isn’t the first time you’ve clung to Donghyuck like this, and he’s sure it’s not the last. But he’s getting sick of it. He hates telling Jeno he’s going out to hang out with you and the last thing he hears before he walks out the door is ‘look after them, Hyuck!’ He hates listening to Mark talk about rehearsals with the knowledge that you and Jeno are bound to pop up in the conversation. He hates pretending.

He hates all of it, but he could never bring himself to hate you or Jeno.

“Are they asleep?”

Hyuck tenses at the sound of Jeno’s voice, soft like the gentle breeze. “Yeah,” he forces himself to relax. “Knocked out dead.”

You grumble against his shoulder, clearly not fully asleep yet, but he doesn’t understand the slurred words you’ve strung together. Apparently Jeno does, though, because he laughs and crouches down next to you. His eyes are full of love, full of admiration, full of a type of happiness Donghyuck can’t quite describe— like you are every content memory Jeno has ever had. The subject of his greatest desires.

Donghyuck could never take that away from his best friend.

“C’mon, let’s go,” Jeno chuckles under his breath, picking you up and throwing your arm over his shoulder so it’s easier for him to carry you to his car. “Hyuck, are you riding with us?”

It’d be less of a hassle to ride with Jeno since Donghyuck’s apartment is on the way to the former’s, but the thought of sitting at the back of a car while Jeno draws circles on your hand that’s resting in the space between his chair and yours, almost makes Donghyuck feel sick. He’s reached his limit for tonight.

“No,” he says unevenly, but Jeno assumes it must be from the liquor. “I’ll catch a ride with Jaemin.”

Jeno nods, and with you holding onto him, turns around to walk to his car. Before the both of you are out of earshot, Donghyuck hears you mumble, “Love you, Hyuck, g’night.”

You don’t mean the words the way he wants you to mean them, but he smiles weakly nevertheless and returns the sentiment. The only way he can have you is like this, and he needs to learn to accept it.

Lee Donghyuck falls in love with you again one fateful night in April, ten months after your breakup and it feels like the only thing that’s changed is the split.

Jeno is still in love and Donghyuck can’t have you.

The only thing that’s changed is the split.

But there’s something different about the way you look at him. “Hey,” you exhale, breathless from rehearsals. “Are you busy? We haven’t hung out in a while.”

Recently, he’s noticed something has changed that he isn’t used to. Your voice is tender, your smile is benevolent, and your eyes have flecks of glee glittered in them, holding some type of emotion he’s seen before but can’t quite place. But he doesn’t have time to worry about it.

“I’m not busy,” he smiles. “Let me just go get my stuff.”

Standing by the exit, Jeno waits for Jaemin to finish talking to Taeyong and Doyoung. He sees Donghyuck’s grin, spots the way he brightens at the sound of your voice. The next thing that catches his eye, however, almost tears him to pieces.

You are perfect in every sense of the word—but you stare at Donghyuck like he has everything. Like he’s Romeo and you’re Juliet and the only thing keeping you apart is the stars. Like he’s everything you could ever want.

The subject of your greatest desires.

these violent delights have violent ends.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Jeno taps Sungchan’s shoulder as the rest of the cast and crew disperse into the night. Exhausted conversations still linger in the air when Sungchan hums, glancing over at Jeno who looks slightly off-putting. “What do you think about Y/N and Donghyuck?”

Sungchan frowns at the sudden question but shrugs in spite of it. “Well, I think they’re both great? I can’t stand Donghyuck sometimes, though, because he’s a little shit, but it’s not like Y/N isn’t one either—”

Jeno shakes his head. “No, I mean—what do you think of Donghyuck and Y/N together?”

A soft breeze hits them both, tousling Sungchan’s hair more than Jeno’s because of the way he’s standing. The former is too busy trying to fix his hair to notice the slightly defensive stance the other boy has taken.

Absentmindedly, Sungchan says, “What kind of question is that? I don’t know what you want me— wait, do you know something? Are they on a fucking date right now, is that why Y/N blew me off?”

“What, no—at least… I don’t think so, I think they’re just hanging out.”

“...Like, romantically?”

“I don’t know!”

Sungchan frowns, mumbles something under his breath about how weird Jeno is being today. “Why are you asking me about them in the first place? You’re friends with both of them, why don’t you ask them yourself?”

He’s silent for far too long. It’s evident the wheels in Sungchan’s brain are turning as he puts the pieces of the puzzle together. Once Jeno has conjured up a half-assed excuse, it’s too late, seeing as Sungchan has already figured out why he’s so bothered in the first place.

Quiet engulfs them for a few beats, the only sound being the wind.

Eventually, Sungchan sputters, “Oh my God. Dude.”

Jeno feels the heat creep up his neck. “Don’t say anything, Sungchan.”

“I’m just—” Sungchan scoffs with a shake of his head, “you’re unbelievable.”

“We’re not talking about this.”

“No, we’re fucking talking about this.” They both stop near the streetlight, and Jeno starts to feel himself growing more defensive at the sight of Sungchan’s bewilderment. “You’re really something, you know that? You can’t have feelings for the person you led on.”

Jeno isn’t in the mood to be insulted. He’s already aware of how horrible this situation is.

“Can we not talk about this?”

Sungchan ignores him, his annoyance slowly seeping through. Stressfully, he rubs his cheeks. “For the love of God, you can’t like Y/N. I can’t stress this enough, Lee— it was shitty of you to pretend you loved them and it’d be shitty of you to tell them how you feel when they’re finally moving on.”

Jeno’s afraid someone might hear the conversation given how loud Sungchan’s voice is.

With a sigh, Sungchan adds, “What do you even see in them, Jeno? Name something you like other than their singing, dancing or acting.”

Jeno hesitates. “They’re… taste in music?”

“Jesus fucki—you really are something.”

Jeno runs a hand through his hair and pokes his tongue into the side of his cheek. “I don’t understand why you’re acting like this is the end of the world.”

“Because it is!” Sungchan exclaims. “On top of you leading them on in the last month of your relationship, you guys have nothing in common except theatre. You know that, right? It’s great you’re both passionate about the same things, but I know it was all you ever talked about. Don’t even try to deny it. Renjun told me you grew tired of it too.”

Jeno scoffs, unable to sputter out any words other than: “God, this is stupid.”

The streetlight flickers. “Do you like Y/N or do you just miss them?”

His incredulity makes way for displaced anger. Jeno’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m not fucking answering—”

“Do you like Y/N or do you just miss them?”

This time, when Jeno stills, a rush hits him. He isn’t quite sure what the difference is between liking you and missing you— he’s certain it’s the same thing. And because he’s so certain of it, he refuses to let Sungchan tell him how he feels.

“I like them.”

Sungchan scoffs again, with bitter amusement and aghast perplexity. “At least sound like you mean it.” Jeno clenches his jaw, and before Sungchan turns to walk home, he says, “I’m not gonna let history repeat itself, Jeno. I can’t have you hurting them again.”

space invaders.

Lee Jeno came tumbling into your life on the very first day of college. You were friendless, lost on campus, the only thing comforting you was the idea of a fresh new start—not like you ever needed it. There was just something about the idea of dorms, lectures, and parties that you’d fallen in love with. And, perhaps, you had romanticized the idea of college too much; you were bound to get bitten in the ass with the reality of it all, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

Because there was Lee Jeno—a leather jacket hugging his figure despite the sun setting everything ablaze—coming to you, asking if you knew where his dorm building was. When you told him you were a new freshman on campus with no idea where to go either, he laughed, curious eyes crinkling and blanketing you with an odd sort of comfort you weren’t used to. He apologized, said he assumed you were an upperclassman, and suggested that the both of you stumble around campus together.

Later on your first date, he said there was no denying you were new because of just how out of place you looked.

“I lied,” he shrugged, smiling at the pout forming on your lips, “I thought you were cute and it was the only way I could think of approaching you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you huffed. “We would’ve met eventually, since we saw each other at musical auditions.”

Mouth full of fries, Jeno mumbled, “And thank God for theatre! After you left, I really thought I wouldn’t see you again—and then I did! I don’t know about you, but I think that’s fate.”

“I didn’t think you believed in that kind of stuff.”

Jeno shrugged, a smug smirk tugging his lips upward. “I can make exceptions.”

Falling in love with Jeno was something you saw coming. You didn’t wake up one day and realized you loved him—you just knew. Because he was sharing secret smiles in lecture halls and tapping your knuckles whenever you talked. Loving him was easy, like reaching over to press the snooze button on your alarm or skipping rocks once you get the hang of it. It was predictable.

But loving Donghyuck is different.

Before, you couldn’t place it, unsure of what it is about him that had you feeling like the stars were pulling you up. At first, you assumed it’s because Donghyuck has always been the type of person to shift the mood and taint the air with his optimism. But then you start to notice how your heartbeat picks up and how much your stomach flips at the sight of him.

And it’s not like it’s scary—it just feels strange.

“Are you OK?”

Donghyuck’s car stops in front of your apartment building, and he reaches over to turn down the radio when you’re pulled out of your reverie. The music is so quiet he might as well have turned it off completely, especially since all you’ll be doing now is trying to catch the notes instead of paying attention to the conversation.

“Yeah,” you hum, tapping your fingers against the buttons on the dashboard before turning the radio off. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re quiet. Acting as if you haven’t just won me a giant teddy bear.”

You glance over your shoulder to look at the stuffed animal Donghyuck creatively (but lovingly) named Fluffy, strapped in the back as if it’s a child. Which it probably is, since Donghyuck wouldn’t stop babying it ever since it ended up in his arms.

“Right. I forgot about that,” you say tediously. Donghyuck quirks an eyebrow at the lack of your enthusiasm, causing you to smile sheepishly. “Sorry, I’m just really tired.”

Donghyuck scans your face for a moment before he narrows his eyes. “Are you sure?” At your silence, he continues, “I know opening night is coming up and you’ve been working hard during rehearsals, so if you ever need to talk…”

“Oh! It has nothing to do with that,” you wave your hand in the air dismissively. “I mean—it does, but I’ve just got something else on my mind.”

“Like what?”

“Like…” you unbuckle your seatbelt so you can fully face him, left leg tucked under your right. Donghyuck’s arm rests against the steering wheel and neither you nor him realize just how far he’s leaned over the centre console until your eyes meet his.

At the close proximity, he freezes, but he does nothing to move back. Instead, he whispers hesitantly, “Can I try something?”

You lick your lips. “Try what?”

“Well, you said you’d give me all the help I can get for the musical,” he stammers. “And I remembered the other day that we haven’t practiced the kissing scene yet.”

You catch yourself smiling as Donghyuck starts to ramble, breaking his gaze as he turns to face the front. Before he can continue talking a mile a minute until he’s out of breath, you grab his shoulder and spin him around to shut him up.

His kisses are soft. Lips of velvet are slanted over your own as his hands cup your cheeks like he’s gently holding something he doesn’t want to let go. He tastes of the fruity jelly beans he bought at the arcade, smells like cheap cologne and strawberry-coconut shampoo, and he feels electric—intoxicating, euphoric. He feels like love.

Loving Donghyuck never came easily, it’s like it never came at all—it’s unconscious, such as humming a song that’s been stuck in your head for ages or drumming your pencil against your desk.

Loving Donghyuck, you realize (as he smiles against your mouth and murmurs something you can’t decipher because you’re running on an adrenaline high), is muscle memory. You’re so used to doing it that you never noticed until you opened your eyes.

You love Donghyuck.

for never was a story of more woe,

Jeno isn’t quite sure if time is on his side.

He probably would’ve arrived at your apartment faster if it wasn’t for Sungchan’s words lingering in the back of his mind, but even if he did get there moments before, the only thing that would change about tonight was that he’d be foolishly waiting for you on your doorstep instead of watching the events unfold from his car.

The vehicle parked in front of the building looks familiar. Jeno has to squint his eyes and lean forward to get a good look at the license plate, and upon recognizing the array of numbers and letters, his back hits his seat. At least two songs from the Top 50s playlist fill the atmosphere of his car by the time you get out, face illuminated by the exterior lights. Even from where he’s parked, your smile is evident, and Jeno suddenly feels like intruding on a moment.

Maybe it was his late arrival that saved him from embarrassment and confessing his feelings for you after your night with Donghyuck. Maybe if he wasn’t overthinking, he would’ve gotten there in time to thwart a night you’ve enjoyed. Maybe if he wasn’t late, he wouldn’t have noticed your elation.

But one thing is for certain—it takes seeing the happiness on your face for Sungchan’s statement to finally register.

You’re finally moving on.

Jeno drums his fingers on his thigh before he puts the car in reverse and pulls out of the parking lot. When he’s on the road, he’s unsure of the feeling in his chest. To his surprise, he doesn’t have any tears to hold back, but something in him still stings. Perhaps, there is a difference between missing you and liking you, but Jeno thinks he’ll need time to figure it out.

curtain call.

Opening night frenzy has turned Donghyuck into a completely different person.

Granted, opening night has always taken a toll on people. With stress levels building up and the desire to make sure everything that happens tonight is perfect, it’s a given that everyone’s going to become a little more snappy. But this is his first show, and although it’s unlike him to get so nervous in front of people, he isn’t as experienced with theatre as everyone else backstage. The nerves are eating him up, and he’s terrified that he’s going to ruin the production.

You, ever his saving grace (he tells you so when you fix the buttons on his costume, seemingly losing the tension in his posture when you begin to murmur barely coherent sentences under your breath about how he’s still unashamedly flirty even when he’s nervous), have taken to calming him, something Jungwoo enjoyed commenting about. He’s not the only person in the theatre department that’s noticed you and Donghyuck have been attached to the hip more than usual lately, and it didn’t take them long to come to the conclusion that Donghyuck is your boyfriend.

Which he’s not. You two haven’t labelled your relationship yet, but Lia still insists on referring to him as the love of your life.

When Donghyuck finally steps foot onstage for his first scene, the spotlight temporarily blinding him, you notice (from your spot peeking through the curtains) that all of his anxiety slowly disappears. He says his lines with ease and pours so much emotion into every song that it leaves you mesmerized. During your scenes with him, you notice that he delivers his lines like they’re from the heart, and not from the script lying at the bottom of his bag.

It almost startles you how much love is in his eyes when he looks at you. Almost knocks you off your feet when he kisses you. It’s gentle and rough all at once, like he doesn’t want to remember the feeling of not having your skin under his fingertips, but he has to remind himself to be careful because he doesn’t want you to break.

The show is done too soon, and the moment before you’re pulled away from Donghyuck is barely anything special. His hand slips into yours when you both bow and the audience roars. The electricity shoots up your spine and you don’t want to let go.

“I think you were born to be onstage,” you say to him when the curtains are drawn and everyone starts to congratulate each other on a successful show. Your voice is smothered by shouts and exclamations, but Donghyuck seems to hear you just fine.

“I think I was born to kiss you,” he replies.

“Please don’t ever say that again.”

He shrugs, seemingly unbothered by the cheesy line, and dips his head down, his breath on your lips before a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back. Donghyuck whines, and Jungwoo screams at the top of his lungs that Donghyuck can have you all to himself after you’ve taken a picture with the group.

You’re only gone for a few moments when Jeno taps Donghyuck’s shoulder.

They haven’t had a proper conversation in two weeks, which they both suppose is understandable given the circumstances. Jeno knows he should steer clear for a while, only until you’re comfortable with him being around (although he isn’t quite sure if you aren’t and he’s a little afraid to ask), but he misses his best friend, truly, and Jeno admits that Donghyuck pulled off Romeo better than he ever could.

You once told him that it’s easier to act like you love someone if you truly did love them, and Jeno’s seen just how deep Donghyuck’s feelings for you are.

The nervousness from opening night is nothing compared to the dread in the pit of Donghyuck’s stomach. But Jeno sends him a genuine smile and says, “You did good up there, man.” And all of his worries disappear. “And I haven’t gotten a chance to say it but— I’m happy for you and Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh,” Donghyuck murmurs, smiling softly. “Thanks.”

Jeno hums before reaching into his pocket and dangling a bracelet on his finger. “Oh, I almost forgot, can you give this back to Y/N? They gave it to me while we were dating and I never got the chance to return it, so—” he drops the accessory into the palm of Donghyuck’s hand, “—no point keeping it. I think they’d want you to have it more, anyway.”

Donghyuck doesn’t know how to reply.

Jeno notices his awkwardness and continues, “I have to go. Renjun’s throwing a get-together at this apartment, are you coming?”

“I would. But, uh, me and Y/N were planning on getting ice cream.”

Jeno nods as he takes a step back. “OK, maybe next time. Have fun.”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck gives him a small grin. “You too.”

epilogue.

“Can we do that airport scene from Big Time Rush?”

“No.”

“Oh, come on, please? One more musical act for old time’s sake.”

“No.”

“You’re such a killjoy,” Chenle grumbles, mouth full of chocolate chip cookies. Renjun slaps a hand on his back to stop him from speaking with food in his mouth, but Chenle ignores it. “I practiced the lyrics and everything and now you’re saying you won’t let us do it? I was gonna be Kendall!”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Wait, why would you be Kendall? Shouldn’t Hyuck be Kendall?”

Your boyfriend throws you a look. “No, my favourite one is Logan, so I’m being—”

“That makes no sense, though,” you interrupt. Before Donghyuck and the rest of the boys can go into a debate about which Big Time Rush member suits them best, you shake your head. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m not getting you to sing for me like we just broke up. I’m visiting my family for a month, Donghyuck, this isn’t the end of a relationship.”

“He’s acting like it is, though,” Mark throws his arm over Renjun with a roll of his eyes. “Seriously, he wouldn’t shut the fuck up last night. I think he was crying under the covers.”

Donghyuck gasps. “Dude!”

You reach over to pinch his cheeks and Donghyuck swats your hand away. “Aw, you’re going to miss me, that’s so cute.”

“Alright, alright,” he murmurs in embarrassment. Everyone seems to enjoy the flustered state you’ve gotten him in; they just enjoy his misery. “Don’t you have a flight to catch?”

You smile at him, placing a peck on his pouting lips before glancing over his shoulder at your friends. “Yeah, I have it in— wait, where’s Jaemin and Jeno?”

“Getting coffee,” Lia answers.

Sungchan glances at the watch on his wrist. “They’ve been gone for ten minutes, though?”

“Maybe they’re lost,” Jisung offers.

“Wow,” Donghyuck scoffs, using his finger to turn your chin so you’re looking at him. “So on top of you leaving me by myself all alone for thirty days, I also have to look for my friends who’ve gotten themselves lost in an airport?”

“Hm, sucks for you.”

“God, I hate you,” he mumbles. But his actions make you believe differently, since he kisses you for the umpteenth time today, and he only pulls away when everyone protests behind him. You laugh against his mouth, causing him to smile. “OK, you really should go. I don’t want you missing your flight and your parents blaming it all on me.”

You squeeze his hand before dropping it and grabbing your luggage. “Don’t be ridiculous, my parents would never do that. They love you.”

“Can’t take any chances,” Donghyuck grins, kissing you on the cheek once more before adding, “Call me as soon as you land, OK?”

You hum, giving him a small, bittersweet smile before agreeing, “Of course.”

Before you’re out of earshot, you hear Donghyuck exclaim loudly, “I love you!” You’re about to reply, but a familiar Big Time Rush song starts playing, and when you glance over your shoulder, you see Chenle fumbling with a bluetooth speaker.

It’s safe to say that Jaemin and Jeno find the group just fine, cold coffee in their hands as Donghyuck, Chenle, Jisung and Mark start singing Worldwide to you while you grumble under your breath.

★ author’s note: im sooo sorry i didn’t know how i wanted to end this (my weak spot is 100% ending things i don’t know how people do it) but other than that i hope you guys enjoyed reading this !!!

© all rights reserved dkfile, 2021.

[bakubabes-tatakae]

Request by anon: I love ur writing!!!! Could u possibly do a dabi x reader where dabi checks the readers phone and sees their ex has texted them? :3

You got it nonny. I hope that you like it. 🥰

The Text || Dabi x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, alcohol consumption, nicotine use

Word Count: 1.1k

As he stared at the ceiling Dabi’s thoughts wandered. It was nights like this that he hated how hard it was for him to get to sleep. Melatonin did nothing for him and his last ditch resort was taking a break on the roof of the hideout with a beer and a cigarette. And it was beginning to feel like one of those nights. 

He looked over at you and watched your peaceful figure as you slept next to him. Oh, how he wished that his sleep came that easily. 

A small light lit up the pitch black of the bedroom and he glanced over toward you again, noticing that the glow had come from your side. Your phone screen was lit and he looked at the alarm clock on the dresser. Who in the world would be bothering you at two in the morning?

Dabi slowly reached over you, careful not to shake you as he took your phone in his hand. You had never been one to hide anything from him so he figured you wouldn’t mind him taking a peek. That’s when he saw the messages and the name on the screen that accompanied them. 

(Ex/N)

I know that I shouldn’t be texting you, but I wanted you to know that I miss you. 

And I’m sorry about what happened between us. I’d be willing to try to work things out. 

Only if you wanted to and felt the same way. 

And that’s when Dabi realized something. You had always had a better life when it came to him. He had been the one that was always there for you. He wasn’t a villain like Dabi was. You wouldn’t always be in danger if you went back to him. 

For a split second Dabi almost opened the messages, almost replied to them, almost told him that you wanted to meet up with him. 

Dabi clutched your phone in his hand tighter and placed it back on the nightstand, careful not to make too much noise as he did so. But that cigarette and beer were sounding better and better by the minute. 

The raven-haired man climbed out of bed and grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the stand beside him, grabbing a pair of sweatpants from the floor,  putting them on in case any of the other league members were awake. 

The halls were barely lit as he made his way to the kitchen, helping himself to the first beer that he could find in the fridge. As he climbed up the stairs to the roof and slowly climbed out the window, the crisp, fall air hit his face and he looked over the city. 

Even though it was two in the morning the city bustled below him, the lights causing the streets to glow as his attention was pulled toward it like an animal to something shiny. 

Dabi placed a cigarette between his lips and lit the tip of his finger, using it to light his smoke. He took a drag and leaned against the roof, letting the nicotine coat his throat as he felt his nerves already easing. 

He hadn’t even noticed that the window he had climbed out of had opened again, footsteps nearing him as he kept his eyes closed, drag after drag leaving his lips. You sat down beside him, his eyes opening at the feeling of body heat touching his arm and leg. 

Your soft voice filled his ears as you held a side of the blanket that you had wrapped around his shoulders out to him. “Are you okay?”

He took a side of the blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders, another sip of his beer flowing down his throat before he answered you. “I’m fine, why?”

His monotone voice gave him away as you nudged him with your shoulder. “I know you saw the messages on my phone, I felt you roll over and put it back down.” You grabbed the beer from his hand and took a sip yourself, handing it right back. “You know that you don’t have anything to worry about, right?”

Dabi’s sigh was louder than he had wanted it to be. “You say that, but you know that you’d be better off out of this life. Better off with someone who wasn’t a criminal.”

Your heart hurt as you listened to his words. He had always been one to think that he didn’t deserve the things that he really did deserve. You reached up and grasped his chin in your hand, forcing him to turn and look at you. “Stop it, Dabi. You know that’s not true.” You watched his expressionless face now turn to guilt. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, whether you think so or not. And you’re not a criminal, just because the majority doesn’t believe in what you’re doing, it doesn’t make it wrong.”

Dabi rubbed his cigarette on the roof tile and flicked it toward the gutter. “Why’s he even texting you?” He knew that he was overthinking, but he couldn’t stop the words before they left him.

You let go of his face and intertwined your fingers with his. “I don’t know Dabi, I haven’t spoken to him in months. I haven’t spoken to him since you helped me get the last of my stuff from his place.”

Dabi lifted your hand in his and gently placed a kiss to the top of it. “I know that I’m just being a jerk, but you know how my mind runs.”

You smiled weakly at him and leaned against his shoulder. “I know, that’s why I won’t hold it against you.” You felt his head lean against your own as he wrapped the blankets tighter around you both. “Dabi, I love you. I always will. I’ll block his number if it makes you feel better.”

Dabi chuckled at you. “No, you don’t have to do that. You know that I trust you. You’ve never given me reason not to.” He felt his eyes slowly closing as he spoke softly to you. “I love you too, Y/n.”

And that sleep that he had been searching for slowly creeped up on him. You gently shook him a second later, urging him to head to bed with you before that sleepy lull passed him by.

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman​ @kyu-pine​ @ellechanwrites @bonnisimpparker​ @impinthecloset​ @nikiniki743 @taliyahvermillion​ @maat-the-prescriptive​

©bakubabes-hatake’s original content, please do not repost/modify without my permission

[ecotone99]

[SP] The Great Easter Egg Crisis of 2020

The old woman sat at a high-rise bar, looking out over the sprawling city below. A fat cigar hung from her lips. She took a deep drag, the smart smoke working into her lungs, repairing damage from a lifetime of breathing polluted air.

Her unwanted companion stood silently. Just another rich kid. But one waiting expectantly for an answer.

“That was a long time ago, and I’ve done my time. How’d you track me down anyway?”

The kid skirted the question. “It’s a school project. I’m trying to put together a story. Something gritty yet intimate.”

She inhaled again. “It’s all in the archives somewhere. Go digging.”

The kid slowly shook his head. “Without the personal details, it’s just old history.”

She looked the kid over. Why not. If she could get something out of it, anyway.

“Buy me a drink. Top shelf.”

The kid nodded reluctantly.

May as well go all out. She gestured over a robot bartender and ordered the most expensive thing on the menu. The robot dispensed it on the spot, ice cold in a tall glass.

She savoured a mouthful. It was excellent. She could feel the virotherapy agents working almost immediately, massaging at decades of DNA damage. It wouldn’t last, but sure as hell felt good.

The kid looked at her expectantly.

She sighed. “You know about the outbreak in 2020? Covid-19. For some it was the end. For others, a new beginning. I saw it as a chance to make money. A lot of money.”

She took another drag on the cigar, and washed it down with more of the drink. “SARS. Swine Flu. Ebola. We’d heard it all before, and the threat of a pandemic seemed almost routine. Life was calm at first, but slowly the hysteria crept in. People hoarding food. Stockpiling toilet paper. Ridiculous stuff. Each little crisis fueled by social media. It’s different these days, but back then people didn’t understand the risks of living your life online. Mob mentality took over. It quickly became chaos.”

She paused, trying to remember the exact wording. “A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals.”

The kid looked at her, impassive. Too young to understand by about a century.

“It’s a quote. Look it up.” The kids eyes went a little dimmer as he accessed the ‘net in his head. She interrupted and the kid snapped back to reality. “Do it later.”

She continued on. “So we got an idea. I suppose I should say I got an idea, but it took a team of us to pull off. Most were in it for the money. Some just wanted to cause trouble. That was a thing, back then. Coronavirus was our tinder, and fear of missing out was our spark. Little ripples of panic were already in effect. Shortages would come and go, stock prices jumped up and down. But how could we make it work in our favour?”

She stared, waiting until the kid answered. “Easter Eggs. I know that bit.”

She growled back. “You really don’t. There’s nothing like it anymore. It was a cluster fuck of corporations bastardising ancient beliefs for profit. Pointless conspicuous consumption in chocolate form.”

The kid retreated into his head, looking for meaning in the unfamiliar words. “Consumer whores, right?”

The old woman laughed, and coughed, and laughed again. “Exactly.”

She took another swig of the drink, calming her throat. “The only thing more powerful than consumerism was fear. And the world was primed for it. Outbreaks in almost every city. Shortages, both real and imagined. And just a few weeks out from a holiday celebrated by half the world. You’ve never eaten an easter egg, I presume?”

The kid shrugged. “I tried to recreate one with the food printers. I don’t get the appeal.”

She nodded along. “Either do I kid. Always hated Easter. Maybe that’s why I didn’t feel bad about what we did. Those damn eggs. Churned out by the millions in China. Each one trapping a little breath of air inside. We weren't sure the plan would work, but in the end it was easy. A faked video of a sick worker coughing over an easter egg production line. And a single tweet.”

She shook her head, breathing out through her nose. “We thought we’d need to push to get it viral. But no. Society was ready to bubble over. The media ran with it - a precious holiday was under attack. People were angry at Asia, angry at the government, angry at corporations, angry at each other. And we were ready. We seeded counter campaigns supporting businesses of our choosing. ‘Buy safe, buy local’. Anything forgein was boycotted. People tried to stock up on Easter eggs, beating the rush. Production was increased, but prices quickly climbed out of control. The savvy ones looked ahead, wondering about chocolate futures and next year's eggs. They invested, and stock prices grew. As the rest of the market tanked, our stocks were a shining beacon of hope. The fear of missing out kicked in even harder and the prices doubled. Then tripled. Along the way, the supposedly contaminated eggs all tested clean, and the video was declared a fake. But it was too late.”

She smiled at a plan gone even better than expected. “By Easter, the chosen companies were trading at one hundred times our buy in. We’d leveraged every dollar we had on the shares and were filthy rich. We cashed out, ready to disappear before it all came crashing down. We’d defrauded the world, and thought we’d gotten away with it.”

The old woman clenched her jaw, wrinkles deepening. “What happened next was pure bad luck. We couldn’t have known and it sure as hell wasn’t our fault. The chocolate in the ‘safe’ eggs was contaminated. The incubation was slow, but the mortality rate high. They didn’t even know what it was at first. Panic fueled speculation spun a thousand stories. Toxins from manufacturers cutting corners to meet demand. A Coronavirus mutation. Some sinister and ghastly biological weapon. People even looked to the skies, thinking of extraterrestrial horrors.”

She took a deep breath before continuing. “It was the global pandemic everyone had been afraid of, and had a terrifying fatality rate. Containment was impossible, hospitals were overwhelmed, and nothing slowed the spread. The death toll rose staggeringly fast. One hundred thousand. Five hundred thousand. By July there was over a billion dead, with no end in sight. No treatment, no vaccine, no cure. The old and the sick succumbed more easily, but it took young and healthy too. By the time the outbreak worked its way around the globe, two and a half billion people had died.”

She blinked, pushing back tears as she relived the memories. “I know you’ve seen the pictures. Watched the videos. But you can’t understand what it was like. Two and half billion people dead. Everyone lost someone close to them. Everyone.”

She stopped to take a deep breath “Have you experienced death? In your happy, sheltered life, has anyone died?”

The kid looked uncomfortable. “No. I had an aunt who tried to stop her treatments once, but the family wouldn't allow that.”

She looked at the kid with dull envy. “There had never been a tragedy like this. So much fear, so much anger. The world was drawn together, and grieved and raged and howled for blood with one voice. Our little Easter Egg fraud was uncovered, and we were hunted down. We burnt through our fortunes trying to run, trying to hide. But the world was single minded and we had to pay."

She wiped at her cheek. “I don’t know how I was kept alive until the trial. None of my co-conspirators made it. Death was too good for me, it seems. I was at the center of it all. Five billion survivors, cursing my name, demanding I suffer. They called me Patient Zero. That’s almost funny now.”

She looked the kid in the eyes. “I was terrified I would be tortured. Kept alive to feel the world's pain. I prayed for death. In some way what happened next was a miracle. It’s kind of fitting, don’t you think? A God’s honest Easter resurrection.”

She took a long slow drag of her cigar, blowing the spent smoke towards the kid. “Some people called them Angels. Friends and family, returned to the living. Others saw them as demons. That fitted better. The walking undead, climbing out of the ground. We’d spent half our lives obsessing over zombies and here they were. The reality was brutal, and another billion people died before they were stopped. Entire countries fell apart. The world staggered, and it felt like nothing could ever be the same again.”

She looked down at her drink, not sure where to next. “But humans are resilient, and we recovered. It almost seems trivial now. Nearly half the world wiped out, but that only took the population back fifty years. Life continued on, damaged but not broken. What little authority remained kept me in prison, but that was as much for my protection as it was a punishment."

She took one last swig. “I know some people see it as a blessing. Heaven on Earth, they say. I know I wouldn’t be alive today without the medical advances cajoled out of corpses that refuse to stay dead. Eternal youth.” She scowled. “At least for those who can afford it.”

She put down her empty glass, looking into it. “That’s all the memories you get for one drink. What’s this gritty yet intimate story of yours going to be called, anyway?”

The kid was already retreating inside his own head, but focused back momentarily.

“The Great Easter Egg Crisis of 2020”

“Jesus, that’s horrifying.” She turned back to the window, not really seeing the world outside.

submitted by /u/sywofp [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2xIISJD

[unchartedterritoria]

Dangerous (Sam Drake x OC) - Chapter 3

If you don’t want to read it here, you can also read it on A03.

Dangerous - Chapter 3 A03 Link

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1, Chapter 2

Chapter Summary: Faith talks to Sully and just how Sam, Nate, and Rafe really ended up in a Panama jail.

Faith carefully ascended the stairs of the museum clad in a midnight blue evening gown and matching heels, wondering for the two hundred and eighty-sixth time today why she was doing this...

Three Days Ago

Faith knew The Cellar pretty well, the bar bordered on the line of shabby and shady. She was happy to see it was still leaning more towards the shabby side. It was your typical dive bar, complete with well-worn u-shaped bar and aging pool tables and dart boards. The smell of cigar smoke and stale beer perfumed the air. Faith made her way towards the back of the bar, to the only occupied table. Sully caught a glimpse of her walking towards him and stood, putting the paper he had been reading off to the side of his scotch glass.

“Victor?” Faith asked.

“Sully, please,” he said with a smile, extending his hand.

“Faith,” she replied, taking his outstretched hand in hers, giving it a simple shake. Between the genuine smile and the rough hands, Faith immediately felt comfortable to be in his presence, the build-up of nerves in her belly that had accumulated throughout the day dissipating quickly. Faith sat down at the table, ordering a Jim Beam and ginger ale from the bartender that had appeared with another two finger glass of scotch for Sully.

“Oh I know who you are sweetheart, I remember when you were a little thing running around when I used to visit your grandpa.”

“I wasn't sure if you'd remember.”

“There's a couple of those visits I don't remember, but it's hard to forget the little girl that stole cigars from me once for smokestacks for the factory in her LEGO town,” Sully said with a laugh.

“Oh god, I remember that,” Faith groaned and buried her reddening face in her arms on the table, the image of her overall-clad self at seven flashing to life in her head. She chuckled and raised her head, running a hand through her auburn hair, settling it back to normal. Sully stared at her.

“You're the spitting image of your mother,” he said.

Faith dropped her eyes, and her chuckle quickly disappeared.

“Aw shit honey, I'm sorry,” Sully said, realizing the raw nerve that he had touched within in her.

“It's alright,” Faith replied, taking a swallow of her drink that had appeared beside her. “Just still trying to get used to the way things are now. Speaking of things,-” she said, pivoting away from the subject of her mother awkwardly. She reached down to her purse on the sticky floor beside her chair. She opened the canvas bag and pulled out the Bible she had found, now wrapped in a blue hand towel instead of the massive tablecloth she had originally found it in. “I was wondering if you could help me with this,” she said, putting the wrapped book in front of him. Sully unfolded the towel and stared at the Bible with a furrowed brow. He picked it up gingerly, running his fingers over the cover and the gold medallion on the front.

He flicked at the spine, testing the binding. “Where did you find this?” Sully asked.

“Found it in my mom's hope chest. I thought maybe you could find out where it came from, Gramps said you used to deal in antiques.”

Sully's eyes drifted up from the book to look at Faith. “Yeah, I've dealt with an antique or two,” he said, hoping that she wouldn't ask for any references. Thieving artifacts and helping to destroy lost cities probably wouldn't go over well. Sully gently thumbed through the pages of the book, a folded piece of paper falling to the table from between the pages. Sully set the Bible aside, unfolding the paper delicately. He read the lines of handwritten script to himself.

“This looks like part of a speech. Slavery...Union...Definitely Civil War era,” He muttered to himself, looking over the page in front of him. As his eyes scanned the ramblings, they settled over an underlined sentence. His bushy eyebrows raised in surprise. He looked over at Faith.

“Did you read this?” He asked eagerly.

“Yup.” Faith drained the last of her drink.

“Well, I'm not 100% sure, but I think you might have something here,” he said refolding the paper and slipping it back into the Bible. He wrapped it back up in the towel as gently as possible. “I'm not too good with my American History, but I know someone who is,” Sully said. The cogs in Sully's head began to turn as he started to form a plan.

“Here's the deal sweetheart. You see, my friend is in town for this black tie thing. He donated a couple of items to an exhibit at the museum. Don't look that impressed, it's just a couple of broken pots,” he said, waving off the artifacts as nothings as Faith's eyes widened with fascination. “He's only gonna be in town for this little bit, and I'm pretty sure he would want to see this...” Suggestion lilted in Sully's gruff voice. Faith raised an eyebrow,  an exasperated look on her face as she began to get the drift that Sully was pushing in her direction.

“Black tie?” Faith asked in a small defeated voice.

“Bring the Bible and the paper with you, he can take a look at it then. C'mon, beautiful girl like you, I'm sure you got a dress makes you look like a surefire knockout,” Sully assured, Cheshire cat grin spread across his face as he looked at Faith. Faith smiled at Sully's charm. Her automatic response to things had always been no. Over the years, she had developed into a creature of comfort. She had taken care of her mother for almost the last 20 years, adventure was never possible. She had spent her teens and most of her twenties in the company of her mother. Of course, she had friends and boyfriends, but family had always come first, her mother above all. Now her mother was gone. It was time to live for herself.

“Please tell me it's open bar,” questioned Faith.

~*~  ~*~  ~*~  ~*~  ~*~

Sam!

Sam, what the hell are you doing?

He's down!

What's the matter with you?

Fucking animal.

Sam's hazel eyes sprang open, the woman's voice and the crazed melody of Rafe's maniacal laughter still lingering from the dream. His heart raced, his breathing short and ragged. His recurring nightmare. It had been over 15 years but the events of that night in Panama still played vividly while he slept. Sometimes he would wake still hearing Rafe's laughter, or sometimes even have the faintest smell of the bar still in his nostrils, but the one thing that was constant was the dark eyes of the woman. The eyes full of anger, anguish, and horror. Their stare bore deep holes within him then and continued to now in his dreams.

18 YEARS AGO

It was his idea. Rafe had made the arrangements for the three of them to be taken into custody and put in the general population of the Panamanian jail the next day. The boys had decided to have one last blast of fun before their freedom was temporarily taken for the sake of Avery's treasure. Nate had picked a typical tourist bar out of habit. Tourist-laden places meant easy marks for Sam and Nate to make some money. They grabbed a seat at the open-air bar. The bartender approached, and Rafe slapped an American one hundred dollar bill down on the bar.

“Ron Abuelo. Three glasses and leave the bottle,” Rafe said nonchalantly. Sam and Nate rolled their eyes. Rafe had never lived a day in his life without money at his disposal, and his actions had always reflected this. Sam had worked his whole life to keep a roof over his and Nathan's heads and food in his brother's belly, even if it meant him going hungry for a day or two. Watching Rafe throw money around always sat poorly with Sam, mostly with distaste but also just a touch of jealously.

The bartender plopped three glasses in front of them, filling each with three fingers of the amber liquid. Nate picked up a glass and gave the liquor a sniff, it's strong smell turning his stomach before the liquid could hit his lips. Rafe slid a glass down to Sam as he raised his own, slightly tipping it to the brothers.

“To treasure gentlemen,” Rafe said, emptying most of the contents of his glass without waiting for a return. Nate grabbed his glass and held it out to Sam.

“Sic Parvis Magna.”

Sam took his glass and clinked it gently against his brothers.

“Sic Parvis Magna little brother,” he said as they both took a hearty swallow.

“Jesus,” Nate muttered, staring at the strong liquor in front of him while Sam let out a small whistle under his breath. Rafe simply let out a chuckle and topped off each of their glasses.

“Might as well enjoy it boys, it's going to be a little while before we drink something other than toilet wine,” he said with distaste.

The rum continued to flow for Sam, Nathan, and Rafe through the evening and into the night. Nate poured over his notes and maps through his drunk eyes as he tried to concentrate on the pages in front of him. Rafe, an always loquacious drunk, decided to regale the bar with cursory details of his business dealings, antiquities he had recently bought, making sure it was known to everyone around him that he was educated and wealthy. Sam sat quietly, people watching, enjoying his last evening of freedom for a while. Soon, the booze flooded Sam's system, causing Rafe to become much more amusing and his cigarettes to disappear a lot quicker than he was used to. Couples and tourists watched the three at the bar curiously. As the night went on and the liquor continued to flow freely, curiosity turned to aggravation as the constant sound of Rafe's cocky voice, and Sam's increasing cigarette consumption made the rest of the bar's stares turn from amusing to disgruntled. While Nathan had remained quiet, head held up in one hand, Sam had joined in Rafe's revelry, now sitting on the sticky bar top, telling people how someday he and his brother would be rich, live up to their birthright.

“You might wanna reign him in a bit son,” A voice said in Nathan's ear. Nate looked up to his left with watery eyes to see a man, judging by his voice an American, at his elbow. He was a middle-aged fellow in a bright green Hawaiian shirt and tan cargo shorts. Probably there on a second honeymoon with his wife, thought Nathan, though at the moment she was nowhere to be seen.

“Huh?” Nate asked, blinking the man a little more into focus.

“I'm saying you might wanna get your brother under control,” The man replied simply. Nate continued to stare at him, the booze simply clouding his mind too much to comprehend a word that was being said to him. Sam's ears pricked up, hearing himself being talked about.

“Can I help you, pal?” Sam said loudly, jumping down from the bar, eyeing up the man talking to his brother.

“C'mon man, I don't want any trouble,” The man said, defeated tone seeping through his voice, knowing that nothing good was going to come of this.

“Yeah, but, here's the thing,” Sam said as he walked up to him. He stopped and leaned his face in close to the man. His eyes crinkled as a small, sadistic smile formed on his lips. As Sam kept his eye contact, his right hand reached up to the bar, stealthily grabbing a long empty bottle of rum around the neck.

“I kinda do,” Sam replied, bringing the bottle down directly on the man's head. The bottle came down hard and fast, shattering as it made contact with his skull. The man crumpled to the ground as three large men quickly stood and charged at Sam. Rafe, finding Sam's action very amusing, cackled with laughter and jumped to Sam's side and into the fray, ducking a right punch from one of the locals, while throwing one of his own that managed to connect. The sound of falling glass roused Nate from his drunken daze to an immediate stance of action.

“Sam! Sam, what the hell are you doing?” Nathan yelled, standing up from his bar stool.

“Might as well actually go to jail for something little brother!” Sam shouted back, slipping out of a headlock. Rafe found this absolutely hysterical, his high pitched drunken laughter filling the bar as he sent one of the guys to the ground with a firm kick to one of his knees. The simple bar fight quickly grew into an all-out brawl, tensions that had built in the bar over the evening finally bubbling over with Sam's sudden physical, violent action. Government police flooded into the bar, bringing the fight to a halt. Two uniformed men grabbed Sam and slammed him into the side of the bar, knocking the wind out of him. A large hand grabbed his head and pushed it down into the bar top. Blood drizzled from his eyebrow and the corner of his jaw where a lucky blow had landed and already began to turn an off colour yellow. Sam turned his head, letting the blood drip out of his eyes and onto the bar. On the floor, he saw the pandemonium he had caused. Rafe was pinned on the ground by three officers, still laughing. Glass shards covered the wooden floor, along with spilled beer and the intermittent drops of blood. Among the chaos, two paramedics knelt attentively over a body, they conversed quietly in Spanish to each other while a woman with dark hair held the hand of the man on the ground. Sam noticed the bright green shirt covered in spatters of blood, the guy he had smashed with the bottle. Metal handcuffs clicked tightly in place around Sam's wrists. The large cop behind Sam grabbed a handful of his dark hair, yanking him upright. The movement caused the woman's eyes to shoot up.

“What the hell is the matter with you? Que?” The cop said in a thick accent. The voice sounded hollow in Sam's ears as he continued to stare at the woman across the room, her gaze connecting with his. Tears seeped from the corners of her dark eyes, eyes full of hate and anguish stared deep into Sam's, the rum haze in his brain clearing, the unsettling stare causing a sobering clarity to wash through him. Sam saw the words form on her lips. Rafe's mad howling, Nathan's pleas in Spanish, the people talking excitedly about the fight, all these empty sounds fell away within Sam, and with perfect clarity, he heard the two words the woman said to him, full of anger, hate and despise.

“Fucking animal.”

Sam sat up and looked at the small alarm clock on the nightstand. 4:08PM glowed in bright red. Shit, he knew he should have set an alarm. He flipped the dull sheets off and swung his feet to the floor of the hotel room. He pulled his white t-shirt off, damp with nightmare fuelled sweat, and flung it across the room onto one of the simple wooden chairs that seemed to be in every cheap motel room. He rubbed his stubbly face with his hands and grabbed his open pack of cigarettes and lighter from next to the alarm clock. He popped a smoke between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag as he stood up. He stretched and gave a little groan. He walked across the room to the cheap wardrobe and removed the garment bag that had been hung there the night before. Sam's mouth twisted into a sour look.

He hated getting dressed up in these damn penguin suits, but his brother had asked him to come, and when Nathan was involved, Sam couldn't find it in him to say no. Exhibit openings were not something he enjoyed, he didn't even like going for recon purposes. Too much security taking notice of him taking notice of them. Nathan had even asked nicely, rich people made him uncomfortable, unless he was stealing from them of course. But now Nathan was officially retired, complete with above board salvage business and brand new baby. Elena normally went with him to these functions, but an infant made that difficult. So, Nate had agreed to go and rub elbows, make “connections,” and drink the watered down scotch at this thing, Sam along for moral support. Sam hadn't seen Nathan in over a year, it was time to catch up with his brother and get his mind off his spat with Victor. Both Sam and Victor agreed they both needed a little time on their own after the Oak Island debacle. Sam made a mental note to make sure all future information from Charlie Cutter came from a sober Charlie Cutter. Sam knew that Victor was in his own words, “Gettin' too goddamn tired and too goddamn old for this shit.” Sam knew that he wasn't. He felt a fire within him that still burned for a great find, a great discovery, a great payday. It was still out there, waiting for one Samuel Drake to find it.

Sam sighed and headed towards the shabby bathroom, turning on the shower. In the meantime, he thought, might as well check out the goods at this museum and enjoy the watered down scotch, and swung the bathroom door closed behind him.

[jollygolightly]

Marriage and Family Counseling Edmond

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You should try to always brush for two minutes. This will allow you enough time to get into all the areas where plaque may be located. Be sure you have time to brush your teeth when you can so that you don't have to deal with plaque that's building up.

Brushing your teeth two times a day is common practice to make sure your teeth remains healthy, but there may be times when it's best to brush more.

Try using dental cleaner that works on your teeth so they stay healthy. A few interdental cleaners available include: Oral-B's Interdental Brush and the Reach Stim-U-Dent.

You can keep your teeth from developing major problems if you see a dentist regularly. You will also find that you feel more comfortable around your dentist regularly and get to know him. This is important if you eventually need extensive work done.

There are toothpastes out there specially formulated for people who experience sensitivity to extreme temperatures. If you have pain whenever you're eating cold or hot foods, there is a chance that your teeth are sensitive.

Go see your dentist often. You need regular check-ups to ensure that you have no problems with your teeth inspected and cleaned at least twice a year. Your dentist is the only one that can determine the health of you some useful advice on how to improve your hygiene and treat any dental issue. If you don't go to the dentist, minor issues will get worse and cost you a lot of money.

Flossing once a day is something you should do for your oral hygiene. Flossing really makes a big difference. Carefully place the length of floss between your teeth. Use a motion that goes back and forth motion. Avoid forcing the floss down under your gums.

Do you refuse to spend 75 dollars on a $75 toothbrush is crazy? Many dentists claim that using a quality electric toothbrush on a regular basis is almost as good as a professional cleaning. While these devices may not remove 100 percent of debris beneath the gum line, these brushes are still far better than their cheaper counterparts. Pick a brush that has multiple heads as well as a good warranty.

You should make both brushing and flossing a daily basis. This is why it is important to follow up your brushing and flossing with using an anti-bacterial properties every time you brush.

Smoking is really horrible for your gums and your teeth. If you have not been smoking long, just look up some information and images about the damage smoking can do to your mouth, you should research just how much damage smoking can do. The wisest course of action is to stop as soon as you can. Your dentist can help you decide on the best method of quitting.

Avoid high levels of fruits juices and citrus fruits since they can harm tooth enamel. Brush your teeth immediately after you drink citrus foods and drinks. Doing this will help keep carbonic acids from eroding the enamel of your teeth.

You need to speak with a dentist if you have a lot of bleeding while brushing. 

These tablets will remove plaque and show you where your brushing is being neglected. Using these often can help you rid your mouth of excess plaque.

Make sure to visit your dentist consistently. The appropriate length of your appointments may vary from one person to the next. Some people have found visiting the dentist every three to six months is needed, but most are better off going every six months. Ask your dental professional what is best for you.

Wait for a while to brush your teeth if you had an acidic drink.Your tooth enamel softens after the consumption of acidic things. This will erode your teeth if they are brushed too soon.

Use some mouthwash prior to brushing. This helps soften plaque and any foods stuck on or between your mouth. Mouthwash can make brushing quicker.By doing this your teeth will see much whiter teeth.

Brush your teeth twice each week with baking soda biweekly. Baking soda will get rid of bacteria and make your teeth. It is quite simple to use; just put it on your teeth and brush with your finger.

Baking soda is good for stained teeth. Brushing with some baking soda every day can remove stains quicker than you might think. It's a cheap and smart way to whiten your teeth whitening kits you can get.

Wear appropriate mouth guards if you practice sports.A protective mouth guard is crucial to keeping your teeth safe when playing sports. Football should never be played without a proper mouth guard being worn. You should always pay attention to protecting your teeth are protected.

Plastic flossers are easy for children to use when learning proper dental care. However, the truth is that using floss the old-fashioned way, wrapping around the fingers and sliding between the teeth, provides extra pressure and removes more debris from your teeth.

Take your child with you to your next dentist appointment. This simple thing can help your child to the environment of the dental office. This will also helps them get to know the dentist and his staff before your child's first appointment.

Leaving it on too long can negatively affect your teeth. Follow all the instructions exactly. Stop if you notice any irritation in your gums after using the whitener.

You may be damaging your teeth if you tightly clench your jaws. This can put excess pressure on the teeth and it may cause them to possibly fracture. So learn to be aware of when you are clenching your jaw and try to refrain from doing so. http://www.newvisioncounseling.org/marriage-family-therapists-edmond/

This article should have helped you learn a lot about caring for your teeth. Now the ball is in your court, and you can run with it. You will have a great head start when you use what you have learned. It is you, after all, who is dedicated to having a winning smile, right?