#w/ all his friends telling him how valued and loved and not in this alone he is despite wanting to take every burden on by his lonesome????

[danzafila]

anyways. i finally finished ch 7 and i am having an emotion

[reiden]

i wanna hold the hand inside you | r.itoshi

You think of Itoshi Rin, your first love, often; the one who never was and the one who got away. Unexpectedly, you find yourself reuniting with the boy you once knew right in front of your apartment.

cw: f!reader, reader has a habit of skin-picking, soft angst w/ happy ending, suggestive, slight hand obsession?

— ✦

You always feel uglier after you pick at your skin. Which defeats the purpose because you do it to rid yourself of an imperfection you've stumbled upon. And yet, after all is said and done and the skin has grown irritated, all you can think about is how you've only gotten uglier.

You used to pick at your face, scratching at any bumps or texture you spot in the mirror, but you've gotten better about it now. You've stopped doing it on your face altogether. It was one too many people who thought they were close enough with you to inadvertently call you ugly. You're pretty sure the first to do it had been Itoshi Sae, your neighbour two houses down. Back then, when you were only eight, you hadn't cared that he thought your habit was unbecoming. It didn't matter what Sae thought — you had Rin.

One day, you realised you didn't really have Rin either.

Since then, you've moved onto your hands.

Your face is the important part, no one ever really looks at hands. You might think about it if you were to give a handshake, but when you think of that person from memory later that day, you'll think of their face. As long as your face is left alone, it doesn't matter what happens to the skin around your nails.

But you like looking at hands. They reveal so much about someone. Whether or not they clean their nails, if they paint them, if their hands are soft or calloused — all of these things are like clues that fit together to form the bigger picture of their life. Your own hands must give away the parts of you that you would prefer to stay hidden — like the fact that you pick at your skin. Itoshi Rin has beautiful hands. His hands were pretty enough that you were glad he played a sport that relied on his legs and feet instead. You never told him that you thought so; he probably would have called you strange should he have found out.

He never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.

You pull at your skin again, pushing it down with the edge of your nail just until you feel the sharp sting of it having gone too far. It's boring at your job, nothing much to do or see. You sit on an ergonomic moving chair behind a large wooden desk, adjusting calendars and making appointments. There isn't much mystique to your job, nothing to write home about, but it gets you through life just fine. Glancing over at the time, you decide to click through and answer a few more emails in time for lunch to roll around.

In junior high, you had wanted to be an artist. You joined the art club and begged your family to let you participate in painting and sketching classes. You kept sketchbook after sketchbook filled with doodles and things — mostly of hands. It's been a long running obsession of yours. You used to draw faces but ever since you stopped messing with your face, your drawings of them phased out too.

In senior high, a teacher told you that artists don't make money from drawing hands all day. It irked you enough that you let go of that dream. You wanted to become a nail technician, you decided. The day you changed your dream, you went to tell the only person you considered close enough to tell; you went to tell Rin. It was that day that you had to come to the startling realisation that your best friend didn't seem to consider you much of a friend anymore. You spent all of your lunch break looking for him, only to find him practising at the field behind your school. When you called out to him, he ignored you. He stopped answering your texts too. You discarded the sliver of hope you had kept safe within your chest — the very thing that made you believe you would get Rin back soon. Something had changed in him and you didn't know what because he never told you.

(Because he never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.)

You found other friends. Rin always seemed to be alone. He pulled out of school for a football program a week later, and you decided to give up on becoming a nail technician.

There's a soft beep that rings out from your phone — just one singular chime at the lowest volume you set on your first day on the job — when it's time for your lunch break. You always take it at the same tonkatsu shop seven minutes away from your place of work.

Today, it takes you ten minutes to get there because the heels you've chosen to wear are new ones; you haven't broken them in yet. You bought them for a date that you never ended up going to. Guilt over standing them up had consumed you but you just couldn't muster up the courage to go. You were all too aware of the fact that some pathetic part of you was still clinging onto a boy you haven't seen for a long time.

You remember the brush of the wind through his fringe, the sharp determined glint in his emerald eyes. You still hold onto the way his name once had a home at the tip of your tongue. Even as the years pass, Itoshi Rin digs his teeth into your skin and remains with you; parasitic and tormenting.

You ease yourself into the table in the corner and make your order, scrolling through your phone while you wait. Your feed is full of recent news, some things you understand and others you're not quite sure you get. Rin is there too, mixed in between all the posts about celebrities and new dramas. You were always bad at watching football. You were bad with most sports, they could never keep your interest for long, but you tried for Rin's sake. When the both of you were younger, you'd sit on the grass at the park and watch Rin run through the drills he'd seen his brother do earlier.

As you stare at the pictures of him standing on the pitch, stadium lights spilling down on him, you can't help but feel proud. Sweat glistens along his hairline, his hair still cut in the same way he used to have it when you knew him. The captain's armband is stretched tight around his bicep as his arm curls to hold up a trophy.

The swell in your chest comes with an ache you've never learned to get rid of. This ache that's ever-present, always there like a guest you can't seem to send home. It had only been a small sting when your friendship with Rin fully fell apart, but it grew tenfold when you realised you were in love with him. You pick at your skin again, the same place from earlier. Pain blooms at your fingertip but you choose to ignore it as you scroll past the pictures; your heart squeezes and shudders against your will, even after all these years.

The day inches past, sweat gathers along the nape of your neck. You leave the building at five precisely, stagger into the subway station at half past five, and sink into a navy blue seat at a quarter to six. The backs of your brand new heels dig into your ankles and you're certain there will be blisters when you yank them off at home.

Even still, your day has been a good one. Despite the fact that your mother had called and urged you to visit home; despite today marking the anniversary you first met Itoshi Rin; despite the way your heart always sinks at the realisation that you still remember the significance of what should be another meaningless day. Despite it all, it had been good and you stare at the passerby walking along the platform, head pressed against the cool window.

(You wonder about Rin once more, like you always do. You wonder if he's walking amongst a crowd this evening, perhaps something fried in his hand, keeping his palm warm. Maybe he's holding a drink instead — lukewarm green tea. In another world, it might have been your hand.)

The train shakes to a start, rocking you from side to side and it becomes impossible to keep yourself awake. You drift off to the memory of a boy you once knew.

-

You're sure you're bleeding. The skin around your index nail is irritated, throbbing with a dull pain. Similarly, there's a sting — a quick flash of something white hot up your left calf — whenever you take a step. Your blister must have turned into a cut.

Your soles scrape against the road, shoulders loose and hunched forward as you meander your way home. The sun has set, disappearing into the skyline in the distance as the sky grows darker and the wind picks up. Streetlights have flickered to life and you pass by a salon still packed with customers, women resting against soft cushions as they converse. You roll your neck from side to side, attempting to release some of the tension that has gathered along your muscles from staying seated almost all day, fingers loosely wrapped around the straps of your bag.

Eyes trained on the fading white marks beneath your feet, you turn the corner into the alleyway you apartment building sits in. There's a crunch of someone taking a step towards you, and then — the call of your name, familiar, wrapped up in the gravelly tone of a voice too rough to belong to the boy you once knew. But you know it's him, anyway.

"Rin?" you tilt your head to the side, scanning over his features as he stands against the sunlight, soft shadows marking his pale skin. He remains silent, almost stunned as he stands across from you, so you speak again, "It's been a while." 

He doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that suggests one. Rin is wearing a dark windbreaker, hands stuffed into its pockets. There's a loose thread hanging off the cuff around his wrist, a tiny rip of the outer fabric revealing the slight grey beneath. He clears his throat, "Yes, it has been." There's a pause then, neither of you willing to bridge the gap in conversation as the exhaust fans whir quietly. 

"How have you been?" Rin asks, taking a step towards you. You can smell him now, flowery and sweet; its lavender, which is what you had remembered him as. In a way, it comforts you — some things will stay the same and stand the test of time, no matter how many years have inched by.

“I’ve been good,” you hum. Truthfully, you haven’t quite been good in a long time. You’ve been alright, you’ve made it from day to day, you pay your bills on time and you see your friends every other weekend; but it’s not good — it's just alright. You don’t think Rin needs to hear that, not after how long it has been since you last heard his voice following after your own. 

It's strange to think about how his mother knows your name and your face, knows that you like lemonade with some raspberry in it; how Rin was there to witness the way you got every fading scar on your arms and legs. Standing before him now, you don't even know what his apartment might look like. Your lives, which were once so intricately intertwined, have unravelled and diverged to the point of obscurity.  

You've given him the room to say something, continue the conversation or choose to end it, but Rin is quiet as he takes you in. His brows are furrowed, just a shaky line above his dark eyes as watches you fidget and begin to grow uncomfortable under the weight of stare. 

This silence is far too heavy of a burden for you to shoulder, so you cut through with a question that seems a bit out of place now. "What are you doing here?" 

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was previously in, "I was out on a walk — wandering around, I guess." Rin shuffles even closer and the wind billows, rustling the fabric of his windbreaker. You watch his hair flutter and fall against his forehead.

"I would have thought that you'd be busy all the time, seeing as you're a celebrity now," you say with a soft laugh, twisting the ends of your coat between your fingers while your bag swings gently from side to side in your other hand. 

He doesn't seem to like that, gaze sharpening just a bit as his mouth curves into a frown. You chew on your bottom lip, feeling a bottomless pit open up inside of your stomach at the realisation that it's become so much harder to talk to the boy who used to be your best friend. (To talk to the boy who you used to love — who you are willing to love once again.) 

It's getting colder as the remaining tendrils of sun slowly disappear, hiding away to make room for the moon to shine. You nod at your apartment, "Would you...like to come inside?" You expect him to say no, after all, the two of you are no longer the people you remember each other to be. 

Surprisingly, Rin perks up at your question, firmly nodding once. He follows after you as you walk over to your front door, fishing around the front pocket of your bag for your keys. Rin stands a hair's width away from you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and goosebumps ripple down your arms. 

You watch him study your home, scrutinising your choice of decor — the small pictures framed on the walls, magazines and books strewn about — as he takes off his shoes. He seems to be drawn to the picture resting on one of your shelves: it's of you and him, years ago, standing next to each other with smiles full of missing teeth that look more like grimaces. You were hoping he wouldn't notice that one, one of the only pictures you've kept of and from your childhood, but you can't blame him for it either. Had it been you, that picture would have been the first one you noticed too.

"You kept this?" he's nearly whispering as he gently takes the ageing framed photo in his hands. 

You rest your bag on the floor, "Yeah. Mom gave it to me right before I moved out." He turns back to look at you and his next words are unspoken, but still so loud. 

You hadn't just kept it — you framed it, placed it in your living room for everyone to see. His expression crumbles momentarily, a quiet admission of guilt that settles in the short distance between you. Rin must not have kept much of you with him. He never says it outright, but you know better. Maybe that should leave you feeling bitter but it's somehow exactly what you expected of him. 

Has Itoshi Rin changed at all from the last time you saw him? Do you just know him too well? 

Dusting off your clothes, you take a deep breath, "It's getting late. Want dinner?"

Rin agrees. Like you were expecting him to.

-

You've never liked beer.

But you find yourself peering into a glass full of it as Rin settles in across from you. You're still in your work attire, the waistband of your skirt digging into your stomach after your full meal. Rin's left his windbreaker in a crumpled heap of fabric beside his chair, the tip of his finger drawing lines in the condensation forming on his glass. His nails are well-groomed, cut short and clean. They might be better than yours, but that’s because Rin doesn’t pick at his skin like you do. You stare until you think you shouldn’t anymore. 

He hasn't gotten up to leave. You haven't kicked him out. 

Resting your cheek against your fist, you push yourself forward, closer to him. Your slight movement draws his attention away from the glass, Rin looks up at you as his frown eases up. 

"It's strange seeing you," you admit, more open to honesty thanks to your slight state of inebriation. "Strange seeing you after so many years." 

"You have that picture," he scoffs, jerking his head in the vague direction of the picture of the two of you as kids. 

Scrunching up your nose, you lean back against the chair, "Yeah, but you don't look like that anymore. You're taller and you have too many teeth." You take a sip of your beer, feeling it fizz against your top lip, "And you're probably meaner now." 

He startles, looks offended when he throws back whatever's left in his glass. "I'm not mean." 

You raise a brow, "You were already pretty mean when you left me." You shock yourself at how easily the words slipped past your lips, how little hesitation there was. How you still sounded so hurt over it all despite having spent years convincing yourself that you didn't miss him. The treacherous muscle beating within your ribcage twists and shakes. It only takes a moment for understanding to soften the glare Rin is giving you. Reaching over, you grab the can of beer to refill his glass, cursing under your breath when you realise it's empty. "I'll get some more — just wait."

You dig around in your refrigerator and you can feel Rin watching. "You're bleeding," he says. 

"It's nothing," you wave him off, returning with another cold can. 

He shakes his head, "Do you have bandages?"

And so you find yourself with your chest pressed against the cushions of your couch, ankles hanging off the edge. You spare Rin a glance over your shoulder, awkwardness leaving you silent and rigid. He's kneeling beside you, holding two bandages he insisted he get for you from the years old first aid kit stashed away in your medicine cabinet. 

"You don't have to do this you know," you mumble, pinching at the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "I could have done it myself." 

Rin gently grabs your ankle, his fingers are cold enough to make you jolt. "It's fine," he brushes off your words with nothing more than a grumble. "This could get infected," he adds on as he places the band-aid over the cut. 

His hands are on you, fingers wrapped around your ankle almost completely. He skims them over your skin and you suppress a shiver. You think you should tell him that his hands are pretty — that they have always been pretty — but you bite your tongue. 

Your cuts don't hurt as much as they had earlier, and the blood surrounding them has dried down. You're sure nothing would have come of it being left uncovered, but Rin seems adamant on doing this simple task for you. You wonder if part of it has anything to do with being labelled as "mean." 

He shuffles over to your other ankle, jeans brushing against your rug, as does the same thing. It's been too long since you've been taken care of like this — the feeling has become wholly foreign and you struggle to sit still while Rin smooths out the band-aid over your skin. When he stands up, you twist around and slouch your back against the couch, facing him. 

Rin looms over you. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and sits down next to you. "I'm on a break — I'll be around a lot more."

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, "Around to see me?" 

And perhaps, you're imagining it, the way he moves closer so that his thigh is pushed up against it. Perhaps, you're imagining how he's leaned into you. Rin's temple makes contact with your shoulder and you exhale. 

"Yes," he whispers, looking up at you through his lashes." To see you." You can recognise the guilt swimming in his gaze, leftover from earlier in the evening.

You wish he would just say it — say sorry — but your heart yearns for him regardless of what he's said and what he should have said. It's ridiculous; it was years ago and you should have moved on. (And you know that the only reason it hurt as badly as it did was the fact that you had loved him twice as much when things soured.) You're motivated by the ache you've grown accustomed to when you bring your hand to his hair, digging your fingers in, scratching at his scalp. Much like a cat, Rin goes limp against you and you trace the side of his face with the pad of your thumb. 

You try to hide your other hand, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the way you’ve torn it up. Rin reaches for it without a second thought, lacing his fingers together with your own, oblivious to all the rough parts you’ve left behind with your habit. 

"What if I don't want to see you?" you question. You don't really mean it — you hope he knows. 

You can feel his breath, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he speaks, "I would wait until you said you wanted to." 

"Even if that took years?" You pause your movements, hand still in his hair. Rin draws a gasp out from you when he presses a fluttering kiss against your wrist — a nervous kiss, one that tests the waters. 

"Even then," he says. 

You don't know who leans in first, you want to say it's Rin but you, with your years of yearning, are not to be trusted either. His cold palms cup your face, lips parting against your own, his tongue meeting yours. He kisses you hungrily, eagerly, desperate to make up for years of lost time and memories that were meant to be shared by two but left to be held by just one instead. It almost hurts — when his teeth sink into your lip and you whimper, Rin snaps his eyes open. He licks over where he bit, fingers digging into your cheeks. 

You like the feeling of his hands on you. You want them everywhere, you decide. Rin tugs at your collar, unbuttons your shirt quickly, his hands splayed out over your sides and just grazing your bra. It's only then that you pull away, chest heaving as you stare up at him.

"Will you discard me again?" Your voice sounds almost meek in a way; you're afraid of what he might say and of what you might see. Too scared to see him hesitate, too scared to meet his eyes and not see yourself reflected in them.

But Rin's answer is instantaneous. His gaze has darkened some, lust-blown and riddled with the yearning that's been growing in your chest for years. His palm encircles your wrist, the other wraps around your waist chasing purchase. "Never," he says with a kind of conviction that leaves butterflies erupting at your fingertips. 

While his hand travels up your back, he kisses you again and this time it feels different. He moves up your wrist, intertwining your fingers once more. You know you have him in all the ways that he has you. 

[nichuuu]

Dried Things & Humanity

말린 것들과 인류

Word count: 13k+ SMUTLESS FIC

"The world, after all, was still a place of bottomless horror. It was by no means a place of childlike simplicity where everything could be settled by a simple then-and-there decision" ~Osamu Dazai

Dried flowers. 

They sat by your bedside, a constant reminder of how far you would go for love—A love that would never be anything more than a short-lived euphoria. They’d died some time ago, wilting rather quickly under a lack of care, but you kept them. The text that came when spring first rolled around saying hey let’s break up was not expected, neither was the part where she blocked you, nor was the part where you almost jumped off a bridge. Yet it all happened, a confusing, muddled, mish mash of events that went down over the span of a week. If it weren’t for your friends, you would be at the bottom of the river by now, joining your grandfather and maybe your family dog up in the clouds, or wherever it was that spirits wandered to. At the moment, getting out of this life didn’t seem like too bad of an idea.

You stupid child! Your mother had chided when she found out about what you almost did. What do you think you would’ve achieved with that? What good will it do? 

Then she hugged you, held you tight and sobbed as she thanked god for letting you live another day. Frankly, you didn’t know what was the appropriate response for your mother. You opted to hug her back, tearfully whispering your endless apologies to her. Even though you promised to never make another attempt on your life, the fear of losing her only boy still lingered in your mother’s mind. Your mother and father were always in the office. So, in fear that living alone would drive you to the worst possible option, she sent you to live with your uncle who ran a secondhand bookshop in a small town not too far from the city. She filled him in with what happened and pleaded for him to help you “recover”.

“Don’t worry little sis,” he assured your mother. He threw an arm around you, “I’ll take care of him like he’s my own son. We’ll get along, won’t we?”

Park Sang-hoon—the people living in the area called him “the librarian”—was your mother’s older brother. You hadn’t seen him since you graduated from middle school, and he’d certainly aged from the last time you saw him. The hair that was once jet black and slicked back was turning white and receding. The same friendly complexion remained however, the amiable smile that you remembered greeting you when he opened the door to his house. It was a stone's throw away from the bookstore.

The house and the business had been imparted upon him by your grandparents. It was relatively small, but there was enough room for the two of you to live with your own privacy (though that didn't really matter since he’d just come barging into the room you stayed in anyway.)

The door to your room flung open. “Hey kid! Rise and shine!”

You grumbled something incoherent and pulled the blanket over your head. 

“Up! Up! It’s time to get up!” your uncle bellowed in a sing-song tone, “there are so many things to see and do! Get up you lazy child!”

Your blanket was yanked off your entire body.

“Is this really necessary?” you snapped. Your uncle grinned.

“No. But it’s fun,” he beamed. You rolled your eyes and rolled onto your left side, you back facing him, 

“Leave me alone…” you muttered, “let me sleep…”

“I’ve been letting you do that for the past week,” your uncle huffed, “now your mother is calling me, demanding to know if you’d even emerged from this room. She said some mean things to me, you know?”

You sighed and turned onto your back. “I’ll go out tomorrow…”

Your uncle sighed. “Let me tell you something…”

Let me tell you something was the signal for you to tune out. “Let me tell you something”, “Let me tell you this”—your uncle always said these before he launched into a long rambling story that really added no value to what he was trying to say. It was either that or he’d leave you with a cryptic message to decipher yourself. You never understood why he did that, it was probably just an old people thing.

By the time he was done with his little storytime, you were still in bed. With another heavy sigh, your uncle said, “fine… If you’re not gonna go anywhere today, at least come and help me with the store.”

Your mind told you to stay in bed, but your body told you that you needed to get outside. You decided to listen to the latter party for once. 

The bookshop was old, one of those shophouses down a stretch of road that townsfolk usually walked past on the daily. Needless to say, the store wasn’t the most appealing from the outside. The inside however—That was something else.

You remembered visiting the bookstore with your mother once or twice. A stack of books nearly fell on you that time, and your uncle was berated rather viciously. He’d definitely made some improvements in the time you were away. The store was warm, cosy and relatively organised. The shelves were evidently a little worn from the years, but they still looked and felt sturdy to the touch.  It was a welcoming environment, the interior bearing a striking resemblance to a bookstore of the early 90s.

“I’ve kept up with the times!” your uncle boasted proudly, “nowadays everyone and their mothers are all into this retro aesthetic, so I made sure to keep as much of the hip and cool retro feel.”

Your uncle definitely did his research. You couldn’t help but look upon the shelves filled with books with awe. “This is…”

“Pretty lit, am I right?” your uncle grinned. You cringed.

Your uncle frowned. “What? Did I not use the phrase correctly?”

“N-No it’s just… Ah whatever,” you muttered.

“Damn… I swear I had the meaning for that one down,” your uncle muttered, “the slang of the youth… Such an odd thing.”

After giving you a little more time to admire the place, your uncle tossed you an apron and instructed you to put it on. 

“I’m alright with letting you stay with me for free,” your uncle told you as he helped you tie the strings of the apron behind your back, “but I won’t let you wallow in this post-breakup sadness all day.”

He spun you around, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. “You just graduated from highschool, no?”

You nodded. 

“Perfect, you’ll need some job experience then,” he grinned, “from now on. You’ll work for me till your stay here is over!”

And so it began. From that day onwards, you started filling shelves, dusting books, pasting on price tags and flipping through pages of books that had been sold to the store to assess the state of the book. It was far from enjoyable in the beginning. It felt akin to the life of Andy Dufrane in Shawshank redemption, the same old routine repeated day after day in what felt like an endless cycle. You were up early in the morning to open the shop with your uncle, the brown apron on your person by 7am in the morning and the door to the shop open by 9am after you were with the opening up preparations. You had to flip the plastic sign hanging on the door from “open” to “closed” every morning, and from “open” back to “closed” in the late evenings. Lunch was usually around 12pm, where your uncle would go out to one of the nearby restaurants to get lunch for the two of you. You’d sit opposite each other in the small break room that sat behind the counter, munching on whatever he bought. 

Handling customers was also another gruelling task. You admittedly didn’t have a voracious appetite for books, many authors sounding foreign to you. A good majority of the books that the store had on hand were classics from esteemed authors, varying in language, length and appeal. When customers asked you what you’d recommend, you could only shrug, earning yourself a nasty gare before they walked off. When they asked about the disparity between the prices of the same book, you could only stare blankly before calling to your uncle.The store had duplicates of some books, the only thing separating the copies being the cover art or the type of book cover. 

“Let me tell you something,” your uncle had told you one fine day, “hardcover books are much more valuable than the usual soft cover books. You want to know why?”

That last part wasn’t a question, rather more of a filler. Apparently, a hardcover was typically more durable, allowing it to better protect the pages within. This meant that the book would stay in better condition for longer. Ultimately, the process and materials needed for hardcover book printing were more expensive, hence this cost is passed on to readers. 

“Capitalism,” you muttered, placing the hardcover version of Greek Lessons by Han Kang on the shelf. 

As for the cover art—Some covers were objectively more appealing than the other, making the book more valuable. This was the case for Osamu Dazai’s No Longer Human. The two covers looked about the same to you. 

 On some days, you wondered how such an old secondhand bookstore could’ve lasted for so long. There were days where you only sold two books for little Won each, and those were typically on weekdays where some of the townsfolk—usually on the more elderly side—would come through the doors and browse through the books. But on the weekends, you were reminded just how hectic this place could get. The youth from the city loved to flood the shop over the weekends, making the commute from the heart of the country to this small shop in a small town to browse through the seemingly endless selection of books.The line to the counter often snaked out the door and onto the street on those days, and your fingers would be aching by the end of the day—A byproduct of gripping those handles of those paper bags while struggling to get them open.

After a week or two, you got used to the whole routine. It didn’t help to remove the monotony of your tasks however, and you often found yourself wondering how your uncle could run this place on his own for so long. With the memories of your ex still tormenting your mind, you found it hard to focus on your tasks at times. Sometimes, you just didn’t want to get up in the mornings. The dried flowers by your bedside were a constant reminder of the pain. You’d bought them for her on the day that text came, now you couldn’t let go of them.

One evening, your uncle decided to close up the shop a little earlier. It’d been a slow Wednesday, so there was no harm in resting up a little earlier than usual. 

“Come with me,” he told you after he’d locked the shutter in place, “I want to take you somewhere.”

You walked up the stretch with him, walking past the rows of shophouses that lined the street. You saw bookstores that looked similar to your uncle’s a couple of times, prompting you to wonder just how many people sold secondhand books on this stretch. 

He took you to a small bridge at the end of the road. It was one of those old, traditional Korean bridges with the stone tiling that arched over the water. He took you up to its apex and made you look out into the water. 

“What do you see?” he asked you.

“Is this one of those stupid lectures again?” you muttered.

“Just answer me.”

You sighed. “I see the water and some trees.”

“Good. What else?” he urged. 

“There’s nothing else,” you told him.

“Wrong. Look again.”

You rolled your eyes and set your sights a little further. “I see Cogongrass.”

“What else?”

You were certain that this was one of his stupid little talks again. “Just tell me what you want to say, uncle!”

“Always so impatient…” he chuckled.

Gently, he grabbed your chin and tipped it up. With his other hand, he pointed out into the distance—Past the trees, water, the cogon grass and the roofs of the shophouses. There, you saw the mountains and the roads that stretched for kilometres, the faint shape of those big blue signs that pointed you in the directions to different places.

“You limit yourself to what you see in this area,” he explained, “but you fail to see past this river and this small town.”

He turned you back to face him. You were a little taller than him, so he had to look up at you. He placed both his hands on your shoulders, holding them firmly. 

“You must learn to set your sights further, dear nephew,” he told you, “learn to see past the trees and the water in your mind. Then and only then, will you be able to live once more.” 

The cryptic message left you admittedly puzzled on the way home. It took you some thinking to read between the lines and understand what your uncle had told you—You had to look past the memories of your ex in order to move on with your life. 

“Excellent,” your uncle had praised when you knocked on his door to ask if your interpretation of his message was correct, “I hope that you can remember this. I hate to see you moping around my store. It scares my customers away too!”

Your first step in looking past the memories was to toss out the dried flowers from your bedside. Even though it was painful, you did it. You knew you needed to.

In its place by your bedside, you bought an alarm clock—one of those old ones that still used the hammers to knock the two small bells—And a framed photograph of the town. You bought both of them from one of the nice old ladies who ran a souvenir shop just down the road. 

It was the start of a new beginning. It felt like you were human once more.

***

Dried Persimmon.

That was what you were munching on when you were handed your first paycheck from your uncle.

“W-Why are you paying me?” you stammered, “I-I thought this was just something to occupy my time!”

“I may be cheap, but I won’t exploit my own nephew!” your uncle laughed, “now quit sneaking snacks on your shift and get back to work!” 

You knew that your uncle was generous, but you never expected him to be this generous. With a smile, you wiped the bits of the dried fruit from the corners of your lips before pocketing the envelope. 

“Thanks,” you beamed. You raised the small jar of dried persimmons and asked, “want one?”

“Tsk. I’m a professional, I don’t eat on my shift,” he sneered. 

“You sure?” you confirmed, “this is a fresh batch from Miss Cho’s…”

“From Miss Cho’s?” he gasped, “gimme some of that!”

You had become well acquainted with the townsfolk, especially with the ones that ran the stores on the same stretch as the bookstore. Sometimes, the sweet old ladies from down the road would come in to deliver some gifts to you and your uncle. Everyone seemed to be friends in this town. Miss Cho was one of the many townsfolk that specialised in dried goods. A sweet lady really, a little older than your mother but not as old as your uncle. Persimmons were seasonal fruits, so they were naturally high in demand in late spring. 

You let your uncle take one piece of the dried fruit before closing the lid and setting it atop the table in the break room. Your uncle stepped aside to let you exit, and you went to continue your shift. 

Surprisingly, it didn’t take too long to move on from your ex. Yes, you did share some fond memories with her, but you found these “core memories” made with her easy to forget. She no longer appeared in your dreams, neither did you think about her when you were going about your tasks. She’d become a distant pain, a pain that you never intend to revisit. 

Once, she did happen to come by the bookstore on a weekend. She walked into the crowded store, hand in hand with a brand new boyfriend while you were calculating somebody’s purchase. You caught yourself staring at her as she browsed through the books, her boyfriend lingering close by as he read over her shoulder. It was then that your uncle firmly grabbed you by the shoulder. He’d seen pictures of her. He could recognise her on sight

“Look past the trees and the water,” he reminded you, before going back to checking out books. You tore away your gaze from them and continued with your work.

When she came out to the counter to pay, the look of shock on her face almost made you want to double over in laughter. Swiftly and wordlessly, you took her books and packaged them neatly in a bag. 

“That will be forty-thousand Won ma’am,” you had smiled respectfully. She was still staring at you, her mouth open in the shape of an “o”.  Her boyfriend had to pay and take the goods from you before directing her out of the store. 

When they left, your uncle gave you a gentle pat on your hand. Well done was what he was trying to say. 

True to your uncle’s lesson, once you had gotten over her, you felt like you were alive. You found that you quickly took a liking to this new lifestyle, immersing yourself in the wide array of books that were at your disposal and even taking home a few to read. It felt like a fresh new chapter had begun in your life, and you were more than ready to welcome its start. The monotony was now welcomed in this slower-paced segment of your life.

“By the way,” your uncle called to you as you set down a box of books. He’d just bought them off a guy moving overseas. “I have a feeling that business will start to pick up soon!’

“Why’s that?” you asked.

“You’ll see…” he smiled. He popped another dried persimmon into his mouth. “Damn! This batch is bussin!”

You cringed. You could get used to life in this small town, but you knew that you’d never get used to your uncle throwing out the slang of your generation. You wondered if he had Tik Tok on his phone or if he’d seen one too many Instagram reels.

With your box cutter, you cut open the tape that sealed the cardboard box, the one that housed the goods. You opened the box. 

“The hell…” you muttered as you stared at the books within, “who did you get these off?”

“Some preschool principal. What’s up?” your uncle asked. 

You produced one of the many alarmingly thin books from the box. “Hate to break it to you but… These are all children’s books.”

Your uncle was never one to swear, but he made a rare exception for that moment. 

“Fuck!” he cussed rather loudly, “I should’ve asked what the contents were!”

You chuckled and placed the book back into the cardboard box. “Don’t worry uncle, we can always sell these to the daycare, can’t we?”

“Bourgeoisie scumbag! I paid a lot for that!” your uncle continued to ramble. You decided that it would be best to silently push the box into the storeroom while he let his frustrations out.

***

Dried leaves. 

That's what you were sweeping when a black van rolled into the stretch of street. The front doors opened and a man and a woman stepped out. It was early autumn. The leaves of those trees that grew next to the bookstore—Once beautiful and elegant in nature—became pesky as their leaves had begun to wither and fall. Your uncle saw the mess outside the store and immediately got you to start sweeping it up. He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

You halted your broom as the man and woman approached you. 

“Hello,” the woman greeted you, “is this Park’s second hand books?” 

You nodded and pointed at the sign above you. The woman grinned. She turned and told the man to get the gear out. 

You recognised the city accent in their voices. 

The man wrapped around the vehicle and opened the trunk. You tried to look into the van but found that the tinted windows didn’t let you see anything. The man came back around, a heavy video camera—those ones they used to film movies—on his shoulder. The woman approached the door of the van and pulled it open. 

Five girls got out of the van, selfie sticks with Gopros attached to the end in their hands as they filed out of the vehicle one by one. It took a moment for you to recognize the five of them, and another moment to realise that there were global superstars standing right before you. 

In a wordless panic, you dropped the broom and bolted into the store. Your uncle was behind the counter, counting the bills in the cash register when you called him.

“ITZY is in front of the store!” you exclaimed. Your uncle cocked his head.

“ITZY?” he inquired, “is that a new slang or something?”

“N-No! T-Their idols, uncle! There are idols outside the door!” 

It took a moment for your uncle to process what you’d said. Then, he simply smiled. 

“Right… I forgot to tell you about that,” he said. He placed the bills he had been counting back into the register and walked out from behind the counter. 

“Oooh… These girls are much prettier in person,” your uncle mused as he walked by. He opened the door to the store and stepped outside. You could hear his booming voice through the open door. “HELLO! WELCOME! WELCOME!” 

You could hear them exchanging greetings outside the store. Hurriedly, you scanned around the store, looking for any signs of mess. There were thankfully none.

“Come in! It’s rather cold out,” your uncle said, “it’s much warmer in here!”

You quickly stood up straighter, your hands by your sides as the five ITZY girls walked through the door of the store. 

“Welcome to the store!” your uncle grinned, “that over there is my nephew, he runs the place with me for now.”

The girls turned. The feeling of five pairs of eyes on you was nerve-wracking, and the two cameras that started to flank you on either side weren’t helping to ease your nerves. Where did the second camera come from? You couldn’t help but wonder.

You gulped, a tug of war between waving and bowing to the girls ensuing in your head as you stared blankly. 

“He’s uh… A little shy,” your uncle chuckled. Then he gave you a look, one that said hurry up and say hello you dense child.

There was no victor in the mental tug of war. In the end, you resorted to an awkward half wave, half bow. The girls sniggered at your greeting.

Then and there, you wanted to shrink down and hide in the shelf behind you. 

The woman from earlier started speaking to the girls. “This is the final place. Now, we will draw lots to see who goes where!”

She produced a handful of popsicle sticks. The girls started talking about how nervous they were, giggling amongst themselves as they started to draw the sticks one by one. Your uncle stood by the woman, a small smile on his face as he patiently awaited the result.

“Oh. Looks like I’ll be working here!” Shin Yuna smiled as she looked at her stick. You weren’t sure if it was excitement or disappointment that you heard in her voice. 

“Excellent!” your uncle beamed. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen going twenty, sir!” Yuna answered bubbly. 

“Ah! Looks like my nephew will have a friend of his age then!” your uncle laughed. 

“E-Eh?” you blurted, “w-what’s happening?”

Your uncle walked up next to you. He put an arm around your shoulder.

“I’ll explain later,” he whispered.

Yuna giggled and cleared the hair from her face. You made eye contact with her. 

She grinned. 

You felt a burning sensation on your face. 

***

Dried Pollack soup.

That was what you ate with your uncle as people came in to set up cameras around the store. Every corner, every angle, every millimetre was covered by at least one Gopro.

“They said in the email that it was for their Youtube,” your uncle told you, “they're gonna live in this town for a bit, work at some of the stores… Taking a break from their idol activities apparently.”

“B-But why the bookstore?” you inquired. Your uncle shrugged.

“I don’t know. They sent me a 30 page proposal that I didn’t bother to read. I figured that having idols in our store would help boost our business. Get people from other parts to come here—You know what I’m saying?” 

You did not know what he was saying. The whole situation was so overwhelming. An idol working at the bookstore? For how long? What did you need to do?

A knock came on the break room door. You turned and saw a man standing there, Gopro in hand.

“Sorry to disturb you, but can I put a camera in here?” he asked politely. 

Your uncle gave him a look and asked, “is that completely necessary?”

“I-I mean… If you guys are okay with it,” you replied. Your uncle sighed.

“Take the soup out,” he instructed you, “give them space to set up…”

***

A very, very dry mouth. 

That's what you had when Yuna walked into the store for her first day of work. 

She was tailed by one cameraman and another woman, both of them wearing the same shirt that read “JYP CREW”. You could feel the cold sweat on your palms as you handed her the apron that already had her name tag on it. With a rather apparent stutter, you welcomed her to her new job. She smiled, that radiant smile that you’d only seen on your phone screen now right before you. It sent a warm fuzz down your spine. 

Your uncle showed her around, breaking down the various jobs to her as you opened up a box of books—they weren’t children’s books this time—and got to filling the shelves. You could hear every word that came out from your uncle's mouth as you explained the tasks that the idol was to undertake, as well as the opening and closing timings of the store. He finished his run down just as you finished placing the last book from the box on the shelf.

“What should I do now?” you heard her ask. 

“Go help my nephew. I think he could use a hand,” your uncle replied.

“Right! On it!” came her bubbly reply. 

You could feel your heart beating faster as you felt her get closer and closer. 

A tap on your shoulder.

“Hello!’ she greeted you, “let’s work well together!”

You managed to sputter out something. She asked for instructions on what she should do. You blanked out for a second. Then tremulously, you reached into your apron and pulled out the second box cutter. 

“U-Um,” you began. “T-There’s a box of… B-Books in the store… Just… Just uh…”

Her gaze felt piercing even though it was gentle. It’d been awhile since you’d stood before a girl this gorgeous. Your nineteen-year-old hormones were getting to you, sweat beading your forehead as you struggled to give the idol instructions. 

Then suddenly, you ran away. You didn’t know why you ran, but you just ran out of the store and down the street. Getting away from the store was your main task, and you ran quite a good distance in the chilly autumn air before you finally ran out of breath. Clammy, tense and exhausted, you rested outside one of the shophouses along the stretch. 

“Fuck… What’s wrong with me?” you questioned yourself. It was like you’d never talked to a girl in your life. 

It only took a second or two for the adrenaline to fade. In its place came embarrassment as you buried your face in your hands. What are you doing you stupid idiot! Why did you run? You chided yourself, beating your cheek with your own palm. 

You heard someone call your name. You raised your head.

“Why are you slapping yourself in front of my store?” Miss Cho inquired. She was pushing a cart full of pears. They were probably freshly harvested. 

“Oh… Hey Miss Cho,” you greeted her, “I was just… I-I don’t know…”

You ended up pushing Miss Cho’s cart back up the street. 

“She’s a what now?” Miss Cho pressed.

“An idol Miss Cho,” you explained. You eventually got around to telling her the reason as to why you were beating yourself in front of her shop. The concept of someone singing and dancing for a living sounded completely foreign to Miss Cho—Someone who spent most of her life drying fruits and making snacks—So you had to explain it to her. 

“Ah… I remember my daughter saying something about it,” Miss Cho mused, “so… Why did you run away from her?”

“I… Don’t know,” you told her truthfully, “I guess I just freaked out.”

“Because she’s famous?” she pressed. You thought about it for a moment, then you nodded.

Miss Cho stopped addressing you for a moment to greet Mrs Han, the lady that ran one of the restaurants on the stretch with her husband. Miss Cho gave the restaurant owner a whole carton worth of pears, telling Mrs Han to make something tasty out of them before the two of you continued moving along.

“Why are you scared of an Idol?” she continued to question.

“I-I don’t know… I-I guess it’s because she’s popular and all, so I’m scared that I’ll make a fool of myself in front of her,” you reasoned. 

Miss Cho hummed and nodded. “I see…” 

She stopped once more, this time in front of the sweets store. You helped her pull out a crate of apples from the bottom of the stacks of pears and handed it to the store owner. Miss Cho requested for a batch of the sweets when they were ready before the two of you got to moving again. 

“So… Why does this girl being this idol make her any less normal than you?” she asked. 

“P-Pardon?” you stuttered, “I-I never… I never said that…”

Miss Cho chuckled, one of those nice Ahjumma laughs that could warm one’s heart. “You did not, but the way you spoke of her implied it.”

You let that sink in for a moment. Now that you thought of it, you’d made Yuna sound like some high and mighty god that could smite you with a snap of her fingers.

“Just because someone has millions of fans doesn't mean that they’re any less of a human than you and I,” Miss Cho told you, “just because someone is adored doesn't make them more superior. If that was the case, I’d be a warlord by now!”

The dried fruits specialist cackled at her own joke. She always had a tendency to do that.

“You see… The problem with fame is that everyone places you on a pedestal,” she continued, “a mistake could cost your whole reputation. A good choice could gain you more popularity. It’s a never ending game, dehumanising in the sense that these famous people can’t afford to live normal lives. Why? Because they’re not considered normal! That’s not right if you ask me…”

You were wondering where this knowledge was coming from. You made it a mental note to talk to Miss Cho a little more. Was it normal for all the old people in this town to be so wise?

The two of you finally stopped in front of the bookshop. Miss Cho instructed you to take in a crate of pears, assuring you that she could make the rest of the journey down the street herself. You waved goodbye to her and prepared to enter once more.

“Remember,” she called to you. You were just about to open the door. “That girl is human. Treat her the way you’d treat any other human.”

She left you with that nugget of wisdom before she bade you farewell and continued with her journey up the street. You sat on her words for a moment before you entered the bookstore once more. 

Yuna’s head snapped towards the door when she heard the chime of the door. You made eye contact with her. 

Human. 

With a smile, you carried the crate into the store and asked, “pears anyone?”

***

A dry wipe. 

That’s what you gave Yuna to clean the dust off the shelves. Two weeks had elapsed since she’d started working with you and your uncle. You never got used to the fact that there were always cameras around you, nor did you ever get used to the fact that the woman and the cameraman would pull you aside and ask for your opinions on Yuna as an employee every now and then. You would always try to be as honest as possible, excluding any embarrassing slip ups she made in an effort to not badmouth the girl.

Within her first week here, she’d already clocked in late once. She apologised furiously that day, working twice as hard to compensate for her mistake. Standing tall, she could reach for the things that customers couldn’t, making her a great help to the regulars. She learnt quickly, finding the most optimal way to replenish the shelves by her fourth day and figured out the best way to assess the state of the book on her fifth.

Weekends had become more packed because of her, the word that Shin Yuna from ITZY was working at the store getting out rather quickly within the first Saturday she worked here. The next day, you had a flock of Midzy’s in front of the store 3 hours before opening. You had to guide Yuna in through the back entrance to prevent her from being swarmed. While Yuna greeted her fans that came to see her in the store with a big smile, you couldn’t help but notice the hint of tiredness behind her eyes. It was like she didn’t really want to be there, but she had no other choice

Now, she was doing an excellent job getting the dust off the top shelves. 

“I think that’s good enough Yuna,” you told her. She turned to look at you.

“You sure? I think it still needs one more round,” she told you.

“I’ll take your word for it,” you told her, handing her another sheet of dry wipes while you took the blackened one from her hands.

“This is great,” she told you, beginning her final round of cleaning, “it makes me feel like I’m at home again. I feel like I’m a kid.”

Here’s the thing about Yuna—Her joy was contagious. When you saw that smile on her face, you couldn’t help but smile along with her. The silliest things could make her grin, and you’d end up grinning with her even though you didn’t find it amusing. You were convinced that it was a special skill of the sort. 

Yuna wiped up whatever dust she could find, leaving no stone unturned as she completed her task. It was almost closing time, a relatively slow day for the bookstore as usual. Yuna had been completing her shifts diligently, only ever disappearing for lunch and toilet breaks. 

Hell… If she wasn’t some bigshot idol, I’d have her employed full-time in a heartbeat! your uncle had told you over lunch one day. You couldn’t help but agree with him. 

“There! All clean!” Yuna exclaimed. 

“Could you show us the cloth, Yuna?” the lady producer asked her. 

For a moment, you saw a hint of annoyance behind her eyes. Then the usual, childlike wonder took its place and Yuna presented the cloth to the camera.

“Ta-da! All clean!” she beamed proudly. You politely clapped your hands in the background. The female producer gave Yuna a thumbs up before tapping the cameraman’s shoulder. “I think we can wrap up for the day.”

The two turned and walked out of the store. Yuna waited till both of them had exited before letting out a deep sigh. 

“Break from idol activities? Yea right…” she muttered, stepping off the step ladder. You stretched out your hand to take the dry wipe from Yuna. She suddenly seemed to remember that you were there, and that bright smile returned to her face. She handed you the dry wipe, all bubbly and smiley.

“I’m going to wash my hands in the bathroom, boss!” she told you. You nodded and let her go. She skipped off towards the back entrance. Your uncle walked out of the storeroom. He was drenched in sweat, his green shirt turning dark under the moisture.

“Hand me a towel would you?” he requested. You quickly walked behind the counter and tossed him his slightly moist towel. He caught it, smiled, then wiped his sweaty face.

“Who knew organising could take so much out of me?” he chuckled. He looked around. “Where’s Yuna?”

“Bathroom,” you explained. Your uncle gave you his Ah I see expression. Then he took a look at his watch. “Let’s get ready to close up shop.”

You nodded and walked over to the door. As you were about to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”, you saw Yuna walking back towards the shop. You raised an eyebrow.

Coming in from the back would’ve been much quicker…

As she got closer, you could make out the tired look on her face. Then you realised that the cameraman and the female producer were following her once more. So much for wrapping up you thought to yourself as you pushed the door open.

“Yuna!” you called to her, “come in! We’re gonna start closing up!”

The weary look disappeared in a flash. Yuna smiled from ear to ear and began jogging towards the store. You found that the cameraman and producer were far from wrapping up, following the idol back into the bookshop like chicks tailing their mother. 

“H-Hey um… Didn’t you guys say you were wrapping up?” you asked the producer. She turned and looked at you.

“We need as much content as we can get. Gotta keep going,” she told you. Then she left to catch up with the camera man. You were suddenly ill at ease. 

They continued to follow Yuna as she assisted you and your uncle in closing up the shop. They were like shadows, tailing the idol with every move she made. There was an unmistakable look of irritance on Yuna's face, but she only let it out when her back was turned to the camera. At the end of it all, the female producer made the idol shoot a thumbs up to the camera and exclaim, “Another job well done today!”. Only when they had gotten a perfect take of that did they truly cut the camera and start packing up for the day. 

“Try to be a little more energetic tomorrow,��� the producer told Yuna. You were all outside the store by then. The shutter was closed and locked. The final piece of equipment had been loaded into their van.

“Got it!” Yuna beamed. The producer nodded and wordlessly got into the van with the camera man. The van pulled away, leaving the three of you to breathe in its exhaust as it became smaller and smaller.

“This street was never built for cars…” your uncle grumbled. Then he turned to Yuna and told her, “good job today. We’ll see you tomorrow!”

Yuna smiled—this time a little less bright and more weary—and bowed. “Thank you for today! I’ll see you tomorrow!”

The idol turned on her heel and walked off towards the small house that she and her members stayed in for the time being. You couldn’t help but notice the way her shoulders seemed to slump. 

“Are we overworking her?” your uncle asked. He must’ve noticed too.

“I’m not sure,” you answered, “I feel like it’s not the work…”

Your uncle raised an eyebrow. “What else could wear her out today? She’s been cleaning and stacking all day!”

You pursed your lips. Then, you turned to your uncle and said, “go home without me. I need to do something.”

You set off after the idol. She hadn’t walked too far over the course of your conversation with your uncle. You caught up to her in a matter of seconds.

“Yuna!” you called her. She turned.

“Hm?” she hummed. 

You stopped before her. “Could I… Take you somewhere?”

You only realised how weird that sounded after the last syllable left your mouth. Inwardly, you cringed and hoped to god that she didn’t find that creepy. Thankfully, she gave you a smile and said, “sure!”

You took her to the bridge where your uncle had imparted his wisdom upon you. The walk there was filled with awkward silence, only broken erratically by your comments on the different shops. In the chilly Autumn air, you walked side by side with Yuna till you reached your destination.

“Wow…” Yuna muttered as you stopped at the apex of the bridge, “this is…”

“It’s prettier in Spring,” you told her.

“I can imagine that,” she whispered. 

She placed her hands on the railings and leaned her body weight against it. You silently stood next to her, letting her take in the breathtaking scenery without disturbance. You had a hunch—The fact that cameras were always on her had been taking a toll on the idol. You figured she needed some time away from the cameras, a moment where she didn’t have to live with the fact that she was perpetually in the frame of a lens that was recording her every move. 

You didn’t know what to do when the first teardrop came rolling down her face. When her body started to shake, you started to panic internally. That wasn’t part of the agenda. You awkwardly fumbled around, patting your pockets to see if you had any tissue to give her. By the time you had pulled out the small tissue packet from your pocket, the girl was already seated on the bridge, knees tucked in and arms locked around her legs as she bawled and bawled. Awkwardly, you sat down next to her. You maintained a distance from Yuna and silently slid your tissue over to her. The last thing you wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable in her moment of vulnerability. 

You gave her time. Breakdowns like hers would never be finished in a matter of minutes, you knew from experience. The sheer internal bedlam a human could experience under certain circumstances was no joke.

It took some time, but her shoulders eventually stopped heaving so violently, her breaths becoming more uniformed in nature. 

“I-I’m sorry… I-I just…” she started to apologise. 

“It’s… It’s alright,” you assured her, “it… It must be tough for you.”

You gestured to the packet of tissue next to her. She gratefully accepted it, pulling out a couple of pieces to dry her eyes. There were no more words spoken between the two of you, only an odd, comfortably awkward silence in the air as you both sat with your backs to the railing. Yuna sniffled intermittently, and you could hear her drawing tissues to blow her nose. 

You didn’t say anything to comfort her. But that day, you unwittingly made her start trusting you.

***

Dried apple slices. 

That’s what Yuna had bought to share with you. She’d gotten them from Miss Cho’s, and had asked to eat them with you on the bridge after your shifts had ended.

“These are so good!” she exclaimed.

“Miss Cho’s family spent lifetimes perfecting their formula. It’s gotta be good,” you told her.

Yuna squealed happily as she dug her hand into the container and pulled out yet another slice. You could pinpoint the exact moment where the flavour of Miss Cho’s apple slices burst forth in her mouth. Her wide-eyed silent glee was your indication. On the railing of the bridge you sat, side by side with the idol. There was an unexplained affinity between you two since that day she cried next to you. Your interactions in the bookstore had increased, becoming friendlier in nature. It was like something suddenly clicked between the two of you.

“Man… These things make me want to live here forever!” Yuna laughed, kicking her legs like a child as she dug her hand into the container for yet another slice. You smiled as you watched her. She seemed more carefree that day.

“You’re from the city, right?” she asked you, popping another slice into her mouth.

“Yep… I’m just staying here for a while,” you explained to her. 

“Don’t you have to search for a university?” 

You kicked your legs and sighed. “I do… But that can always wait.”

Your truth—You didn’t want to leave this town. Life was much simpler, slower. You’d originally come here to recover, hatred and bitterness brimming in your heart. Now that it had been purged from your being, you found a connection with this humble, small town. You knew that you’d eventually have to leave, go back into the hustle and bustle of the city when you got back to your life as a city boy. You dreaded the arrival of that day. 

You told this to her. A look of understanding crossed her face.

“How long have you been here?” she asked. 

“Since early Spring so… About a month now?” you replied. 

“Ah… And what’s this bitterness that you had?” she pressed. 

You took a dried apple slice and popped it into your mouth. You munched on it a little before replying, “I had to recover from a breakup.”

Yuna chuckled. “Ah… I suppose this place seems like a nice town to get back on your feet.”

You were glad she understood you. 

“You know… This spot is really something,” she told you, “it’s so beautiful and calming… I really gotta thank you for showing it to me.”

You waved it off. “No problem.”

Yuna folded one leg up. “I came here with the girls once after that evening. It was a good break.”

She sighed heavily. You wiped your hand on your jeans.

“It must be tiring,” you said.

“Hm?”

She turned to look at you intently. You stared at your sneakers. The once snow white shoes had been dirtied by gravel and all sorts of elements, but you didn’t really mind. 

“It must be tough living with no breaks… I imagine it can get pretty overwhelming,” you told her. Yuna stared off into the distance for a moment.

“When they told us that we would be coming here to take a break from our idol activities, I thought that we’d actually be able to rest…” she muttered, “then we saw the cameras and got handed those damn selfie sticks… That’s when I knew that we were just making more content while we’re supposedly ‘resting’.”

You could hear the spite in her voice. Your heart went out to her. 

“I hate this,” she continued, “I just want to have a moment where I’m not dancing, where I’m not singing, where I’m not being recorded by some stupid fucking camera while I keep some pretty smile on my face.”

Her truth—There were times where she wondered whether the idol life was meant for her. While they existed, she couldn’t recall the last moment where she was just Shin Yuna, a regular nineteen year old girl finding her way in life. She liked the bookstore, it made her feel human. While she was going about her tasks, the sheer monotony of it all brought some semblance of regularity into her life. For a rare moment, she wasn’t just some money making machine for a company, she was just a regular human, like you. It gave her an unexplainable joy, a joy that was quickly stripped away when she turned and saw a camera being pointed right at her.

She told you this in hew own words. You bit your bottom lip.

“But of course, I can’t let that show, can I?” she laughed bitterly, “gotta be pretty preppy princess Yuna. Can’t be angry, can’t be annoyed, allowed to cry only in concerts or in interviews… Fuck all this idol shit.”

Her life didn’t sound as great as you’d imagined. You admittedly thought that many idols lived in luxury, showered with love and attention from fans worldwide while earning big bucks doing what they always aspired to. In reality, their lives were the most cruel and unforgiving, an endless cycle of practice, classes and content. They were always being watched and monitored. They maintained a happy, cheerful image for their fans, but deep down they just want to take a break for some time before coming back to this life of theirs. It sucked. It sucked big time, but they all lived with it.

The harm that humans could bring upon each other was frightening, yet the world was as such. 

“I think you’re incredibly strong Yuna,” you voiced your sincere thoughts, “it takes a lot to be you. I don’t think many people can confidently look me in the eye and tell me that they’re fine with being watched twenty-four-seven, let alone pretend like everything is great with their life when it really isn’t.”

There was a moment of silence. 

“Thank you,” she whispered, “I… I think I really needed to hear that. You summed it up really well.”

She shot you a sincere smile. You chuckled softly and scratched the nape of your neck. There was a warm sensation on your face. 

“You’re… Welcome I guess?” you told her. She laughed at that.

“You’re funny,” she remarked, “I like your company.”

The warmth on your face was now more of a burning sensation. You looked down at your sneakers, feeling a grin plastered on your lips. Her smile was as contagious as her joy. 

“How… How long are you guys gonna be here for?” you asked her.

“I forgot... I only know that we’ll go back for Chuseok, then come back here for a few more weeks. We’ll be out of here by the middle of November if I recall correctly, then back to comeback preparation in early Winter,” she replied.

Time was a funny thing. It could go by so fast when you wanted it to be slow, but it could also drag on like a snail when you wanted it to be a rabbit. Time was a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

In your heart, you prayed that Yuna’s time in this town wouldn’t be fleeting. In your heart, you prayed that time could show mercy on this girl.

***

Dried anchovies. 

That’s what your uncle needed from Miss Lee, the general store owner, to cook the stew for that night's dinner.  You shrugged on your jacket that evening and headed down to go buy what was needed. Mrs Lee greeted you with the usual warm smile, though you could tell that the Gopro on the counter was making her ill at ease. 

The ITZY girls were there, talking amongst themselves as a camera man and a different lady producer stood behind them. You did your best to slip by undetected, snagging the bag of dried anchovies and a bottle of water without being spotted. You didn’t know that they’d follow them till this late. 

You paid for the good and exited quietly. On the way back, you felt a hand on your shoulder. You spun around to come face to face with Yuna. 

“Hey,” she beamed. She must’ve seen you. How did she get out?

“Oh. Hey,” you smiled back. 

“Can we meet at the bridge later? I’d like to get some fresh air after my dinner,” she requested.

You smiled and agreed. You set a time, then split off in your own separate ways to go about your evenings. You couldn’t really focus on your uncle’s rambling that night, you mind drifting to Yuna’s smile while your uncle said something about the stock market. 

9pm. That was the time you’d arranged to see her. On the pretext of taking a walk, you slipped out of your uncle's house and journeyed down the street towards the bridge. She was there by the time you’d gotten there, a bright smile that could light up the darkness gracing her features when she caught sight of you. She let you walk over to her before handing you something. It felt like a stick.

“What are these?” you asked. 

“Lanterns,” she answered, turning hers on, “Chuseok is coming up. The Chinese like to carry lanterns and take walks on that day. I thought we should do something while I’m still in this town, make some memories, you know?”

The lanterns she had purchased were from Mrs Lee’s general store. Mrs Lee had always been obsessed with Chinese culture, particularly in terms of decorations and practices. She sold those lanterns all year round, even though no one really bothered to buy them.

You and Yuna walked around the town with your lanterns, talking and laughing, laughing and talking… It was a night to be alive. It was nice to see Yuna in this light. You’d grown out of your 2 dimensional perception of her, discovering the multitudes she possessed. On the surface, she was simply Shin Yuna, ITZY’s maknae and visual. Beneath that, there was Shin Yuna, the nineteen year old girl who could easily make someone smile and blush. Then beneath that was Shin Yuna, a nineteen year old girl who craved regularity, a nineteen year old girl who wanted to be momentarily freed from the glitz and glam. You were happy that she trusted you enough to be comfortable around you, and you were more than happy to have that gut feeling that she was truly being herself with you. 

“This town is amazing…” she remarked as you found yourselves before the bridge once more. You’d walked a full round around the town by then, lost in conversation as you took turns down the roads on a whim. 

“Maybe you should just move here,” you joked. 

“Oh how I wish I could!” she sighed, “everything’s so nice here… I wish I could just stay here forever…”

I wish I could stay here forever. She always had a tendency to say that. While working in the bookstore, she’d let it slip. When you were talking with her on the bridge, she’d say it at least once. She struck you as someone who was vocal with their opinions, someone who would freely speak her mind if she could. You enjoyed listening to her long, rambling talks about her various life stories. Though you could never bear to listen to such rants from your uncle, you found hers enjoyable to listen to. There was a certain way she drew you in with her voice, your attention becoming captive to her tone and intonation while she went on and on… 

When you parted ways with her that night, you found that you wanted her to stay and talk with you a little longer. Of course, you never vocalised this desire. She’d already broken rules to come out and see you that night, the last thing you wanted was to get her in trouble. 

As you walked home with your lantern that night, you wondered what it would be like to date a girl like Yuna.

***

Drier air.

That’s what you felt had changed that late October morning when you stepped out of your uncle’s house. 

“Aish… Winter is coming already,” your uncle grumbled, “time passes so fast these days… I ought to keep a better track of it.”

It was Yuna’s final weekend in the town. She was due to leave by Tuesday next week. As expected, Midzys showed up in front of the door, prompting your uncle and you to wrap around to the back entrance, where Yuna was waiting. The female producer and the cameraman were right there with her, asking the idol some questions in front of the backdoor as you and your uncle approached. Her eyes seemed to light up upon the sight of you, the smile on her face growing wider as she waved to you. 

“Yuna, focus on the interview,” the producer reminded her sternly. She quickly set her gaze back on the camera. Your uncle waited patiently for them to wrap up with their questions before opening the backdoor to the bookshop. As you walked in, Yuna walked up to your right and whispered right into your ear.  “10pm. Bridge. Don’t be late.”

You’d never wanted a shift to end so badly.

That night, you met her at your usual haunt. Her smile—Usually brimming with joy—was noticeably sadder, dimmer under the moon’s beam. It felt hard to accept that her time in this town was running thin. You wished that there was a way to extend your fleeting time with this woman, find a way to make some more memories with her. Alas, time could only move forward at a rate unknown to you. Autumn was slowly becoming Winter, and Yuna would soon be gone from this town. Every moment was now more precious than ever.

The truth you kept to yourself—Though your heart fluttered around her, you knew that you and her could only remain in this stage of friendship. Progressing forward to a new stage of a relationship would be hard. You could only hold on to her as a friend, hoping that she wouldn’t forget you when she returned back to the big city. 

The two of you stayed out late that night, eating dried fruits from Miss Cho’s and drinking some Makgeolli that Yuna had bought and snuck out. 

“My last day as a human,” she told you that night while cracking open the bottle, “then it’s back to being a doll…”

Human… Why could she never seem to prove to everyone else that she was human as well? The fame, the shining lights, the pedestal that she’d been placed on… They all created a false image for her. It brought forth a notion—She was privileged, someone who could receive the attention of fans and brands alike. There was no room for blemishes, her body “perfect” and her personality flawless. She had to accept all that, live with it without a fuss or hassle. 

When she rambled about this, tears flowed freely from her eyes—Years of pent up anger, sentiments of unfairness and many other emotions coming forth in moonlit steaks that ran down her face. You poured her another glass of Makgeolli. She tossed it back to soothe the pain.

“You know… I always feel so comfortable with you,” she whispered, “it’s like I’m talking to an old friend… Someone who actually understands me.”

Under the stars that night, the two of you admittedly got a little tipsy on the bridge. Under the stars that night, Yuna had let slip her true feelings towards you. Under the stars that night, you two shared a kiss, one that would change the complexity of your relationship, spurred by the raw emotions of the night that had manifested through the catalyst that was alcohol. 

As your fingers ran through her hair and her hands held on to your waist, she leaned on your shoulder and whispered some words into your ear. They weren’t words that you wanted to hear, but you knew that you’d just have to accept them.

It pained the both of you to know that you could never truly love each other the way you wanted to. The expectations of her company and of society set a boundary, one that kept you two so far yet so close. While you saw her as a regular human, she still had to abide by the rules and regulations of the company that controlled her. Those rules defined her, the regulations moulding her into something no longer human. It made her life strict and unforgiving. 

She was like an unwilling puppet, trying in vain to resist the commands of those who had power over her. A sisyphean task it proved to be. 

To them, she was an idol. And according to them—Idols and humans were not to love each other.

***

Dried flowers

That was what you held behind your back that morning where you saw the ITZY girls off. You and your uncle waited outside the house they stayed in, dried flowers tucked away behind you. Then they came out. The five of them, rolling out their luggages, dressed warmly to combat the rapidly dropping temperature. She caught sight of you. A sad, warm, gentle smile crossed her face. The bosses of the shops that the girls had worked for respectively had all come to bid farewell to them, giving you some time to talk to her one last time. The goodbyes were tearful, full of hugs and “I’ll miss you”s. Yuna gave your uncle a hug, then she turned to you. Surprisingly, neither of you shed a tear as you stared at each other. 

You produced the dried flowers that you’d gotten from the florist and presented them to her. 

“They’re beautiful,” she whispered as she accepted them. 

“Glad you like them,” you replied, “try and keep them alive okay?”

She stared up at you for a moment. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her face, you didn’t hesitate to pull her into a hug. She cried into your chest, a million and one apologies bursting forth as she held you tight. It was as if it was her fault that the two of you could not start a proper relationship. It was as if you’d disappear if she didn’t hold you as tight as she could. 

When it was time to go, you dried her eyes to the best of your ability. She gripped the dried flowers tight, a grim look on her face as she said, “I’ll take some time to think about us… When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there.”

You smiled. “Alright then, I’ll wait.”

She fiddled with the wrapping of the dried flowers.

“Till then,” Yuna requested, “could I be selfish and ask you to hold on to these feelings?”

You smiled and assured her that you’d try to. When we meet again, I’ll let you decide if we should kiss or not, she told you. 

In the cold morning air, you made a then-and-there decision to share one last kiss with her, not caring about the fact that staff and her other members were present at the scene. As the van took her away from the town, your uncle placed a firm hand on your shoulder.

“Are you going to be okay?” he asked you. 

You wiped a tear from your eye and whispered, “I hope those dried flowers won’t die as quickly as they did last time.”

***

The cold snap hit when you came back to the town. A fresh, fluffy and thick sheet of snow covered the streets. Your boots made a satisfying crunch with each step you took, the frigid winter air biting your face as you hurried towards the bookstore. All around you, people walked up and down the street. City people—you recognised their accents. 

You found it hard to adjust back to life in the city. The roar of the traffic was jarring, making you yearn for the quiet of the town streets. The pavements were jam packed with people, making you long to return to the empty streets of your uncle's humble town. The subway was packed like sardines, making you think about the times where you could get to wherever you wanted on foot. It was safe to say that you had some forms of withdrawal symptoms, but you eventually got over it. Then university came. The workload was immense, the readings mountainous. It took you some time to figure out a way to efficiently cover all the content you needed to, but you eventually found your footing. You were in your last year now. Time was truly so fleeting, a wave, almost cruel in its relentlessness.

Now that you were back in this familiar place, a sense of comfort filled your being. Not much had changed over the course of your four year absence. Aside from the fresh coats of paint and increase in tourists, everything was just as they were when you left. 

The bookshop was teeming with life when you entered. You were pleasantly surprised. You remembered your uncle telling you about how good the winter crowds were, but you ever imagined it to be this good. You hurriedly removed your scarf and coat before approaching the counter. There, your uncle was busy packing book after book into paper bags. You hung your coat on the coat rack and grabbed an apron. 

“I’m back,” you said, taking your place next to your relative. Your uncle cast a glance towards you. 

“I’ll greet you later. Busy now,” he mumbled. You chuckled and tied the strings of your apron behind your back. 

It didn’t take long before you settled back into that old rhythm—Open, pack, take the bills. Open, pack, take the bills. It brought an odd sense of joy into your heart. You’d missed the monotony of this life. 

The bookstore closed a little later that day. You waited till the last customer had slipped out into the cold evening air to flip the sign from “open” to “closed”. Then you shut the door behind you.

“I should really employ a part timer,” your uncle mused. He beat his lower back with a clenched fist. “The crowds are only growing these days… I’ll need some help.”

Then he waddled over you. With a warm smile, your uncle pulled you into a warm embrace. 

“Welcome back, nephew. It’s good to see you again.”

You hugged him back. The usual old people's statements ensued—How have you been? You’ve grown taller! Jeez… You’ve gotten a little more plump! Have you been eating well? The same old questions were hurled at you. You were happy to answer them all. 

You helped your uncle close up shop for the day. To celebrate your return, he took you down to Mrs Han’s to have a barbeque. The restaurant owner greeted you with her wrinkly, warm smile and welcomed you back to town. The meat was fresh, well marbled and tender. Freshly imported Mrs Han had told you, they just came in today! You came back at the right time!

It was safe to say that your belly was filled that night. Mrs Han had kindly put the cost of the meal on the house, and your uncle hurried you out of the restaurant when you insisted on paying. 

“It’s rare for her to be this generous. Accept it while you can,” he told you. You rolled your eyes. He was as thrifty as always. 

Your uncle took you to the bridge that night. Proper lighting had been installed on it, small yet powerful lamps illuminating the path as you and your uncle stood side by side on the apex of the bridge. The river was frozen over, the trees around it bald and bare. 

“You should’ve came back in the spring,” he remarked, “there were more flowers this time. It was beautiful.”

“I can imagine that,” you replied. 

Your uncle sighed heavily, a sizable cloud forming before his face. “You know… She came back this spring.”

“Is that so?” you replied alarmingly calmly. Your voice betrayed your emotions. It felt like a small ball was caught in your throat. “How is she?”

“She seems alright, definitely grew a few centimetres,” he told you. 

“Is she healthy?” you pressed. 

“She definitely looked a little more plump in the face. She’s seemed a lot stronger,” your uncle replied.

Silence hung between the two of you. Then your uncle inquired, “You never managed to see her in the city, did you?”

You lowered your gaze to the frozen water. 

“No…” you grimaced, “I… I could never find a way to see her.”

The truth—It felt like fate was against you. You could never secure a ticket to any of her performances, nor could you ever get into any of her fanmeets—Online and physical. You never expected that you’d face such difficulty in trying to see Yuna, but you persevered nonetheless. When the university workload came in however, you found your free time had been stripped from you, tossed out to the wind as assignment after assignment plagued your days. Yuna couldn’t be your top priority no matter how much you wanted her to be. You didn’t know why the idea of getting her phone number never crossed your mind while she was with you. Then again, exchanging phone numbers could have landed her in trouble…

You told this to your uncle. He nodded silently.

“I guess we were never meant to be a thing,” you whispered dejectedly, “I was a fool to hold on to those memories”

Your uncle sighed and patted your shoulder. “Some memories never heal. Rather than fading with the passage of time, those memories become the only things that are left behind when all else is abraded…”

“Han Kang,” you muttered. It was one of the quotes from her book Human Acts. You had a paper on that book coming next term. Your time at the bookstore made you discover your love for books, hence you pursued a degree in Literature in university. 

“You remember,” your uncle chuckled. It was one of the first books that he’d made you read. “Your memory serves you well, nephew.”

The quote he’d recited could be interpreted in many ways. In the context of the book, the protagonist spoke of their memories in the bloody Gwangju massacre in 1981. The sights, sounds and horrors left them scarred for life, so scarred that they’d take them to the grave—hence the usage of heal in memories never heal. Healing meant forgetting.

For you, healing meant forgetting too. The only difference—You didn’t want to heal. You wanted to keep those memories carved into your brain, make them a permanent part of your being. You wanted to ingrain that smile in your vision, keep that voice playing on loop in your ears. You were more than willing to take those memories to your grave. 

“First a breakup, now this,” you muttered, “am I not built for love, uncle?”

“Everyone is built for love,” came his instant reply, “it’s just a matter of finding the right person to receive love from.”

The right person… 

Your parents were meant to follow you on this visit back to the town, but last minute work held them up in the city. They’d found an Airbnb house in the town for the three of you, but now you had it to yourself. As you laid down on the bed, you found that the silence was deafening.

Silently, you wondered what’d be like to date a girl like Yuna. She felt like the right person.

Maybe all of those emotions were just teen hormones. Maybe the feelings were just bright out in the heat of the moment. Maybe you didn’t actually love her, maybe it was more of an infatuation. It all sounded logical and reasonable to you. 

Yet when you saw her again, all of that no longer seemed to make sense. 

There she stood in the cold winter morning, scarf around her neck and a pair of earmuffs atop her head. In her gloved hands, a bright pink tote bag, a bouquet of flowers sticking out from the opening. She stood before the store, staring at the closed shutter, mouth parted ever so slightly. Her hair—Red when you first saw her—Had been returned to its natural colour. She was as beautiful as the day you said goodbye to her. 

You swore that your eyes were deceiving you. When she turned her head, you were convinced that her jaw dropped open as wide as yours when the two of you locked eyes.

Then in the next moment, she was in your arms. She had her ear pressed to the left side of your chest, as if she needed to hear your heartbeat to verify that you were truly there.

“Hey,” was all you could manage.

“Hi,” she whispered back, “it’s been awhile.”

Her eyes gleamed with the same childlike wonder. Her smile was as genuine as you’d remembered. You wanted to kiss her to see if her lips would feel the same, but…

When we meet again, I’ll tell you what you mean to me. We can go off from there…

She did give you the freedom of choice to kiss her when you reunited, but you decided against it.

Catchup was done in the warm respite of the bookstore. With aprons adorning your bodies, you filled each other in on what you’d missed in each other's lives. This was all done to the backdrop of filling in shelves and rearranging stacks of books. Lunch came and your uncle left the two of you on your own. You got some tteokbokki with her from Mrs Han’s—to go of course—and hit your old spot. 

“Even without the leaves, this place is still so stunning,” she mused, staring out at the frozen water.

“I still prefer it in Spring,” you told her, “I like it better when the trees are less… Bald.”

She laughed at that. 

When the sun started to set on the small town, your uncle made the executive decision to close up early. The sun may be gone, but the night is young he told you with a wink. You gave him a grateful smile and took off your apron. He let the two of you go off early that day.

Dinner that night was once again at Mrs Han’s, and she wasn’t so generous that night.  A walk around town was what she asked for afterwards, both of your footsteps seemingly synchronised to produce rhythmic crunches in the snow. At one point, she’d stopped walking to gather up a handful of snow, forming a hefty snowball to chuck at you. You didn’t hesitate to fight back. 

“University sounds tough,” she mused, munching on some grapes from Miss Cho’s.

“I think it’s just my course,” you remarked, “the rest of my batchmates seem to be having a relatively good time.”

“Literature is demanding,” she agreed, “but what do you wanna do with it in the future?”

You sighed and shoved your hands into the pockets of your jacket, “I’m still figuring that out…”

“Maybe you can become a writer,” she suggested, “write some screenplay… Make it different from the usual stuff.”

“I’d probably need to save up some money before I do that,” you chuckled, “I have a degree that guarantees a higher chance of living on the streets than living on someone’s couch.”

She laughed at that too. Then she said, “hey, maybe you should come work for my company when you’re done with university. That way, we can see each other more often too.”

You chuckled. “That’s a possibility… I’ll try and keep that in mind.”

“I’ll make sure to vouch for you,” she declared, “the big boss likes me enough to listen to me…”

You laughed and nodded. Silence hung between you two. 

Then it was time for the hard question. 

“So are you seeing anyone?” you asked her. Yuna licked a grape seed off her lips before answering.

“I’d like to think so…”

Your heart sank, but you still cocked your head in feigned curiosity, “oh? What do you mean?”

Yuna bit down on her lip. “I mean… I like him, but I’m not sure if he still likes me.”

“Ah,” you mused.

“Yea…” Yuna sighed. She looked up at you and asked, “what about you?”

You took a moment to formulate an answer. “I think… I’m just waiting for love as of now.”

“Ah,” Yuna parroted, “well… I wish you the best in that then.”

There was a sudden tension in the air. It was like your respective cryptic messages had conjured a rubber band of the mind, pulling it out to its maximum length as you continued your silent journey down the street.  Perhaps your hopes were set a little too high—You’d expected her to remember the love that existed four years ago, run back into your open arms so that you could shower her with kisses. But you’d forgotten—No… Chose to forget what she’d told you on the bridge that night. 

I love you. I know that it’s too late for this, but I love you. I’m sorry we can’t love in the same way others do, but do know that deep down, I wish to love you in the same manner that you love me. It’s confusing, I know… But my life doesn’t allow us to share the life we want to. I’m sorry.

It was a painful thing to hear, but you still kissed her right afterwards, and you still kissed her the morning after. You now realised that perchance, you’d gambled a little too much, gone all in with the chips of your heart only to lose. You didn’t understand why she couldn’t date freely, be with someone that truly made her happy. She was a human, a human deserved to give love and be loved.

She got a call a few minutes later. It’s my manager. I gotta go now. 

She gave you a small wave, handed you the last few grapes from the container. Then, with a it was nice seeing you again, Yuna turned on her heel and walked off. The grapes felt oddly heavy in your hands. Again, she was to disappear from your life. Like grains of stars in an infinitely expanding galaxy, she spilled through the gaps between your fingers once more. This felt like a scenario you’d read in books a thousand times over, and frankly, it sucked.

But happiness is being able to hope, however faintly, for happiness. So, at least, we must believe if we are to live in the world of today. 

Osamu Dazai had said that. You weren’t sure why you thought of it as you watched her back get smaller and smaller by the second. 

Hoping faintly for happiness? Is that what I’m meant to do? You asked yourself. She was getting further by the second. Hoping faintly for a chance that she’d turn back, you stood there. She never did.

Hoping faintly…

No. You wouldn’t settle for that. 

The grapes fell from your hands as you ran towards the girl that you’d so hoped to see again. Four long years you’d tried and failed. Now, with the opportunity right in your grasp, you were certain that you had to make something out of it. 

In three more bounds, you were right behind her. Yuna you called, grabbing her by the shoulder. You didn’t give her time to say anything before you turned her around and planted your lips on hers. She yelped, her body tensing as you held her cheeks in the cradle of your palms. 

A quiet smack resonated when your lips parted. Yuna trembled in your grasp, teary eyes gazing into yours. 

“I’ve been waiting for your love Yuna,” you admitted to her, “for four years, I tried to see you again but I just never could. We said that we wanted to sort out what we meant to each other when we met again, but we failed to do that today. Tell me Yuna—What am I to you?”

She let out a shuddery breath, the smell of grapes saturating the air. 

“I-I have to go,” she muttered.

You were tired of waiting.

“Yuna please,” you begged.

She looked away, as if contemplating if she should give you her answer.

“You… You are who I want to love,” she whispered, “I-I thought that… Maybe I was too selfish to ask you to keep loving me for all these years. I-I guess I didn’t expect this selfishness to be rewarded.”

“It isn’t selfish,” you corrected her, “it’s… It’s human Yuna. The desire to want someone to keep loving you, that’s human.”

Her lower lip trembled ever so slightly. “Right… I can only feel like a human when I’m with you.”

Suddenly, nothing else in the world seemed to matter. You pulled her in once more, holding her as tight as she did on the day she left your life. You kissed her, tender and passionate as she gripped the fabric of your jacket. Her perfume was sickly sweet, intoxicating and lulling you deeper into her body as she reciprocated the kiss. Her hair, cold and slightly damp from the snowball you threw at her, was silky, smooth to run your fingers through. The repeated dying of it had definitely affected its quality, but only in the slightest.

Her voice was strained when your lips parted, but you could clearly make out what she’d said. 

I don’t want to go back tonight. I want to be here with you. 

When the first teardrop rolled down her cheek, you didn’t hesitate to wipe it away. 

“You’d be breaking some rules won’t you?” you questioned.

“I’ve broken them before. I can always break them again,” she replied, “humans were made to break some rules after all…”

With a smile, you let your hand slip into hers. It was warm, just like any other human. In her eyes, there was a gleam that every other human could possess. In her smile, there was a sincerity and joy that any other human could show. Sure, the Dispatch article that posted the photo of you kissing Yuna did call it the unexpected relationship between a top idol and a civilian. 

But in your eyes, Yuna was as human as anyone could ever be.

Dried things and humanity—An unlikely combination for a love story, but it was certainly fit to start the first chapter of your story with Yuna.

_______________________

Hello! A rare, smutless Yuna fic has mad its way onto my blog. I know it'll disappoint a lot of you guys, but this is what I wanted to write, so here we are. Hope you guys enjoy this one. Take a break from the horny and have some simple love <;3.

~Lots of love, Nichuuu

[oddlittlestories]

Okay but actually if House and Wilson are having sex the whole time… it’s bleak.

- you fall in love with a man after his divorce. maybe he loves you too?

- he gets married to a woman. he doesn’t even like her. she knows about you two.

- you meet someone. she seems great, until she overrides your consent to save your life. it saves your life. it destroys your life. it ruins your ability to trust.

- you basically give up on looking for someone else. you can’t really be with your boy best friend, but at least he’s protective in a way you trust.

- wife # 2 comes and goes. wife #3 comes and goes. she’s never more important than you. except for being the wife.

- you think he’s stopped trying to find a long-term partner other than you. it only hurts a little when he finds stupid short-term flings.

- you offer to be a sperm donor for a friend / former flame trying IVF. she excitedly involves you in the process even if she doesn’t want your sperm. maybe this is how you get a family.

- she stops.

- your boy best friend starts seeing someone new. he actually likes her this time—because she actively reminds him of you. you can’t decide whether this is better or worse.

- you decide it’s better. you come to a “strange detente” with her. he’s happy. you’re mostly happy but you sabotage them a bit. lightheartedly. mostly.

- she gets in an accident because of you. your boy best friend is trying to protect you until you all realize it’s her.

- he asks you to risk your life to save her. you’ve always needed to go to extremes, in a desperate situation like this. he knows that. but he may also value her life over yours.

- you do it. it fails. he leaves.

- at least your old flame is there and you’re not completely alone.

- you’re bad at being vulnerable, but you ask him to stay. he leaves.

- you figure out that he is just scared. you make up.

- your old flame adopts a child, but you are not involved in any way.

- you begin to hallucinate. you fear this will result in losing your boy best friend. when you check into Mayfield, you believe that it has.

- but when you move out, you move in with him. you don’t really care if he has sex with the neighbor. you’ve been having sex with other people the whole time, and honestly the competition is kind of hot.

- you settle in. no more dating. he furnishes your apartment, and the one thing he picks? a way of saying he wants you.

- you don’t have a conversation about the relationship, but you’re pretty sure you’re essentially married now. you two have always felt that actions speak louder than words anyways.

- then he dates his ex-wife who used the hell out of him. you spiral, hostile and angry.

- he’s never going to see you and him as a real relationship. you’re never going to be good enough in that way. never never never

- your old flame is falling in love with someone else. you get jealous.

- she decides her feelings for you are greater. it’s your one last shot at a partnership. you can’t screw it up

- but deep down you know

- you know you’ll never be good enough

- she just hasn’t figured it out yet

- she figures it out

- you spiral, but this time it’s a free fall

- by this point, you know the dirty little secret of your life. your boy best friend will never be with you, but he’ll never leave you either. you tell him to do whatever he needs to do to get over it. he does.

- he has cancer. treatment doesn’t work.

- you’ve lived in pain, physical and emotional, for decades. he won’t live in pain for two years for you.

- you believe a miserable life is better than a miserable death. he believes a merciful death is better. you have never been able to reconcile this one fundamental difference between you.

- you never will

- the repetition becomes trite: you spiral

- it’s going to cost you everything. you should just give up.

- you find another way out. you fake your death to share his last five months with him.

- you run away together

- everyone will say you were selfish. an ass. they will say you never thought of anyone but yourself. they will say your boy best friend sacrificed and sacrificed. they will never see what you gave to him.

- story of your life

[goldenn-moments]

things I need in young royals s3:

• "I love you" "I love you too"

• MORE👏🏼GOLDEN👏🏼MOMENTS👏🏼

• wille in the eriksson house, at home and at ease w at least simon and linda (maybe even Malin included??👀👀)

• simon in the palace, learning the crooks and crannies of the spots of the castle that wille found comfort in as a child (plus an awkward dinner w the in laws, hopefully followed by a royal bedroom scene, if yknow what I mean)

• rosh and ayub seeing wille again and simon being like "guys he's it for me" and the whole reconciliation that I'm sure will have to happen etc etc

• maddie becoming friends w simon and henry and walter being friendlier to simon, including him more - BASICALLY people at hillerska actually valuing simon for once, omfgs

• on the note of hillerska people, felice and simon teaming up to tease wille AT LEAST once. at least. they have so much material it would literally be criminal for them to not tease wille until he's giggling and red in the face

• more hand holding (so much. an obscene amount, actually)

• as edvin said, wille and simon smiling together

• sara redemption, but I kinda want that to be left open ended bc I doubt simon will forgive her all that easily (he will, inevitably. it's who he is. but he's put her first so many times, I want him to pit himself first for once)

• SIMON FINALLY ALLOWING SOMEONE (aka wille) TO FULLY COMFORT HIM AS HE BREAKS DOWN (I just want my boy to have a nice cry and then get all the hugs from wille)

• wille and simon being together in public and not giving a fuck (I mean, obvi they'll care abt being in the public eye. but they won't have to hide, and they'll revel in that, and that's what matters)

• STELLA AND FREDRIKA CONFESSION SCENE + DRAMATIC KISS

• on that note, also wilmon dramatic kiss (in the rain, after something intense happened, or when they're just horny as fuck I DONT CARE. just give me intense wilmon kisses I can use for edits please and thank)

• more exploration into simons family life (which I think we'll get w the sara arc, however they take it), like giving linda more screen time and bc they're probably gonna bring micke back, someone defending simon from micke if he needs it

• wille telling simon abt erik (and maybe even flashbacks??)

• august getting what's fucking coming to him

• wille AND simon breaking the fourth wall (preferably in the beginning of the first ep, bc I kinda want it to end w them walking away from us. but I'd be so down for the series ending w them both smiling at us)

• a look into how the public is reacting - ngl I wanna see the social media comments, the articles, their friends dissing those who are slandering them and at the same time showing them all the public support (I know) they're getting

• far fetched, but maybe a scene where wille and simon are having a Moment (maybe with simon in the palace👀👀) and krissy accidentally sees it and starts to finally fucking understand that taking simon away/denying him is taking away/denying her only remaining son's happiness (I imagine this taking place after an awkward dinner w the in laws)

• a celebration/party scene where wilmon are together and don't have to stare at each other from across a room or hide somewhere in order to be together

• wille defending simon (against their fellow hillerska students, the royal court, hell even micke, idc)

• simon defending wille (against someone from bjärstad who's making assumptions, krissy, the royal court, any of those idc)

-- basically the boys fighting for each other always

• THEM👏🏼AGAINST👏🏼THE👏🏼WORLD👏🏼

• more protective wille bc wille while he's being Crown Prince Wilhelm??? godDAMN

• simon and wille happy under the sun

• kinda related, maybe simon looking like he has a halo through some trick of the light??? paralleling to his glowstick halo in s1???

• wille panicking and simon being there (wille no longer having to be alone when the world gets too much) (do not enter is written on the doorway, why can't everyone just go away? except you - you can stay)

• wille and simon goofing around and being silly, maybe like trying to cook or trying to study or trying to actually play a video game and constantly getting distracted by each other

• simon getting his daily dose of wille's scent, lmao

• SIMON AND WILLE DANCING. dancing alone in one of their rooms, giggling and tripping on each other and swaying back and forth, wille humming a song he wants simon to sing and simon giggling and singing for him. the kind of dance that isn't for anyone but themselves, where they're wrapped around each other and blissfully in love, unable to stop smiling as they twirl each other around (I also wouldn't say no to a formal dance, like a waltz, where they're dancing together in a ballroom or some shit but the whole world melts away until it's just them. or a party scene where they're w all their classmates but they only have eyes for each other. those would be nice too)

• casual touch. so much casual touch. casually holding hands while walking, one of them resting their chin on the other's shoulder as they talk to friends, an arm around the others waist as they stand, sitting in each other's laps while working in a public space, one laying their head in the other's lap, leaning against each other as other things are happening around them. just - wille and simon being casually physically affectionate and always having each other to lean on, in all ways (and ofc, them always being wrapped up around each other. I'm sure wille's need to be close to simon will help me get this)

• henry continuing his curse of being a cockblock (and someone calling him out on it, lmaoo)

• boris. I want more of boris. give me a whole episode w just boris talking to wille and simon, idc, he's amazing and I adore him

• also more of the choir teacher!!! she believes in simon and I want to see her support him more

• simon singing more and flourishing even more in that area (and wille being a love struck fool every time simon sings even one note)

• MORE THAN SIX EPISODES PLEASE AND THANK YOU

• simon and wille getting invited to a girls night

• simon!!! in!!! makeup!!!! (yes, I'm aware this will likely kill wille. both wille and I are prepared to make that sacrifice if it means seeing simon in at least some eyeliner)

• simon and wille pissing of jan-olof and getting the last laugh

• actually, I wanna see jan-olof just croak. just let him die. it's what he deserves😌

• wille and simon having a good support system

• wille's album for simon growing and being able to see the album that I KNOW simon has of wille on his phone

• wille getting his sweater back and teasing simon abt it

• in general, many pretty, cinematic shots of simon and wille just generally being in love

• random, but what happens to my boy rousseau, who didn't deserve all this drama when he's just a horse who wants to eat hay and run free😔

• simon and wille being regular teenagers and being a little stupid around each other hut that's okay bc they're in love

• a parallel to their first meeting, with simon speaking up abt a social issue that these rich kids have no real idea abt, but this time wille chimes in and adds his thoughts and simon just beams at him, and wille can't help but grin bc he's finally saying what he wants to say, tradition be damned

• kinda random but simon interacting w a kid and wille, despite not liking kids all that much, just melting (I will accept simon being cute in general in substitute)

• oh, so out of left field but more of simon's extended family??? like I saw a post on here abt what linda was saying on the phone in the background of one scene, and like she was talking abt a get together??? idk man, I just want simon talking more spanish

• to go off of that, simon teasing wille and spanish and one of two things happening: 1) wille combusts and dies bc simon is killing him w that, or 2) wille surprising simon and speaking back in spanish bc he had to learn it bc he's a royal and simon combusting instead. I would like either variation please and thank

• linda being wille's mom. ik she's not perfect but I just read a fic where he called linda mama and she hugged him and he said "I love you mama" and I kinda want something like that in canon now, ngl

• OH, on the note of linda - her realizing the pressure simon takes upon himself and trying to lighten his burden bc he's her child and should be carrying it all

• wille picking up simon. we know he can do it. so let him, let him pick up his boy whenever he feels like it

• wille and simon playing with each other's hair PLEASE

• I saw a post say that simon should take up fencing to get that extra credit, and now I NEED simon w any kinda sword. please. omar, do a photoshoot or smth, I'm not above begging

• more power walks from simon and wille

• simon and wille being a power couple in general (I'm thinking twin judgemental stares as they stand w each other, glaring and backing each other up, a team in every way possible)

• just,,,, them. against the world. no matter what comes their way

thank you so so much to @mirabel-on-a-bicycle @darktwistedgenderplural @tagalongifyoudare and @retrieve-the-kraken for encouraging me to post this <3 yall are amazing

[faithst]

CHANCES ༄ HYJ

synopsis yujin becomes jealous when reader hangs out with someone else but is too shy and scared to speak up about it

pairing yujin x socialbutterfly!reader

genre fluff, platonic

warnings mentions of food

wc about 1k

tags best friend yujin, yujin has a crush on reader, highschool setting cuz why not, yujin is jealous bcuz reader is spending alot of time w other guys, yujin is a bit insecure, accidental confession ?

notes hi !! thank you for liking my works and for requesting AND being patient as i delayed this for quite a bit ☹️ honestly, it’s a bit anticlimactic imo but regardless, i hope you enjoy this ! 💕

masterlist<3

you’ve always been an outgoing and sociable individual, that’s what yujin liked about you. he loved how you could always make an awkward situation into a pleasant one and that’s what many people enjoyed about you. maybe a bit too many.

yujin clearly knew you had many friends as you’re very much the social butterfly but he couldn’t help to feel a bit of envy when you’re spending more time with other people instead than him.

he was your best friend, that had a crush on you for as long as he could remember. he was in no position to tell you who you could be friends with or who you chose to use up your time with. though, he did wish that all of your time was spent with him.

“do you wanna hang out today?” he asked, taking a seat next to you. “oh, sorry yujin... i have to meet up with someone else today.” you responded, taking a break from the treacherous torture of writing notes. yujin pressed his lips into a thin line, expecting that response but he still couldn't help but feel slightly envious. he nodded, leaning back in his seat, enjoying the moment while he was still with you.

days after days, you became occupied with your social circle and yujin knew you valued it. you loved making new friends and such but if he could; he wanted to be greedy and take you all for himself.

from days of hanging out after school to meeting up for a study session together to just a wave across the hallway. yujin didn’t mind that you were with your other friends but what bothered him most was the fact you were hanging out with another guy. a guy that made him feel so small, so insecure.

knowing the amount of time you spent with him, yujin believed he stood no chance. wanting to avoid the confirmation at all costs; he began distancing himself. if the slim possibility that you started to gain feelings for this other guy came about, it wouldn’t make him feel any good but it will ease the heartbreak.

the regular waves through the halls were disregarded and avoided. it was odd to you. yujin was your best friend, you knew him like the back of your hand and to have him unexpectedly dismiss you? something was up. if something were to happen to yujin, you’d drop everything just to be there for him and vice versa. this was one of those moments.

for a week or so, you attempted to speak to him alone but you were continually pulled aside by your other friends inviting you to various other stuff. when you went to look for yujin again, he vanished into thin air before you could say anything. you couldn’t find him anywhere.

the week without any words exchanged with your best friend was dreading so you ultimately decided to stop him during lunch break. getting up from your chair as soon as the teacher dismissed you, rushing towards yujin who was getting ready to go out.

“yujin, wait up!” yujin felt his heart wrench hearing you finally talking to him. it took this long for you to come to say something and he had all the right to shun you but he didn’t. he turned his head around, barely making the sight of you from the corner of his eyes. “do you want to have lunch together?” you ask, smiling in hopes he’d accept, in which he did.

inhaling sharply as he grabs a seat next to your table in the classroom where you two were alone now. you took out a ziplock bag that contained your lunch, taking out one of the sandwiches, and offered it to yujin. he declined at first but you insisted, shoving the piece into his mouth where he had no choice but to chew. for a good 5 minutes, it was silent.

you two were just appreciating each other's company, avoiding eye contact as the awkward tension in the room built up. swallowing your last bite, you spoke up “hey..” catching the boy’s attention, his head turning towards you and hands politely placed onto his knees. “i know we haven’t talked that much recently and i’m sorry for that.” the apology made him feel mixed emotions; relieved that you were still thinking about his feelings and guilt for ignoring you on purpose. your manner made it apparent that his actions bothered you.

he shook his head, denying your comment “it’s my fault, i didn’t want to hold you back.” his fingers playing with the hem of his shirt, looking down as he didn’t know how to inform you how he felt. now you were feeling the guilt he was, you made him believe you didn’t like spending time with him.

as you were about to open your mouth to utter another word to break the silence, yujin spoke up again “i just, don’t know how to tell you that i’m jealous of that guy you usually spend time with.” not even daring to glance at you. “i know i’m not anyone but one of your friends, but that guy makes me feel like i have no chance with you” stopping to take a quick breath before starting again. “i like you so much that if you do happen to gain feelings for him, i don’t want to stop that and-”

“wait what?” yujin got cut off, a bit muddled about why you stopped him. furrowing your eyebrows, placing the pieces together “you.. like me?” yujin quirked an eyebrow, confused at your sudden conclusion when he realized he spewed out his feelings on the spot, glancing around to find the best way to run away from this crisis.

yujin started panicking, having no idea what you were going to think of him now. he was preparing to either run or to get rejected when you spoke up “so.. you like me too?” yujin nodded without much thought, only to come to the conclusion you two had mutual feelings. eyes widening, opening his mouth to ask questions for answers only to close it back due to shock.

“you’re telling me, i had a chance all along?!”

© keiwook | 2023

taglist @bruhiamistake @trashhdez @chxrrymxxnlight @haesunflower @big-uwu-stan

here, if you wanna join the taglist !

[luvscr]

price, ghost and alejandro reacting to m!reader's sh scars (hcs)

cw/tags: depression, sh, scars, hurt/comfort, angst, fluff fluff fluff, probably ooc characters but idc🫶

apologies for any grammatical erros!

long ass note:

so i got this request which i won't be showing in case it might trigger someone nor will i tag the person who requested this bc im not sure if he would be comfortable with it. i've never written about sh hurt comfort before, simply because i didn't feel like i could do justice for the comfort part but i tried my best and tried to make it not so triggering. your media consumption is your own responsibility, please proceed carefully and do not read if you're not in the right mindset. if you're struggling, i know it's hard but please reach out to a loved one or even me. you're not alone, you matter.

—

price:

it was purely on accident that he saw your scars. he wouldn't mention it to you but he would ask around, people you interact with if they've heard or seen anything. when they asked questions he would simply shut them down or use his rank and pull the "classified information" card. he wouldn't really know what to do, given he's your superior so it was kind of his responsibility, so he got in touch with kate to help him find a therapist. his first instinct is to get professional help if needed. he would invite you to his office so it's just the two of you and make you comfortable, even make you a cup of tea. he would approach the topic carefully and wouldn't force you to tell anything you didn't want to, reassure you that he's not upset, he just wants to help. if you refuse to get a therapist it's okay, he completely understands and will offer you to talk to him instead. he may come off as stern sometimes but it's just because he genuinely cares so much about you and is worried constantly, no matter how old the scars are. he would try to think of alternatives for you to put that energy into if you still struggle and would be there anytime to comfort you. he kinda acts like a dad (like w everyone bruh)

—

ghost:

oh sweet lord this man. he kind of had a feeling when he noticed that even in the hottest weather you only wore long sleeved clothes. he would notice them when your sleeve and the somewhat shorts you had on accidentally rolled up. you just ignored his eyes burning holes through you, given it was normal for him to just stare menacingly at anyone. (not on purpose tho he just looks mean by default) i wouldn't say it would trigger him, but it would definitely stir up some unpleasant feelings inside of him because of his past. he knows exactly how you feel and wants to help you, no matter if you're a friend or just some rando at the base. just like price he would approach the subject carefully, knowing well how hard it is to reach out for help and how it's even harder to open up and actually talk about it. he isn't the best at comforting but he's is a damn good listener and he'll let you know that if you need him don't hesitate to talk to him even if it feels useless. will crack those stupid jokes of his to make you feel better lol tbh i feel like he would be the best kind of person to open up to because he relates so much, he completely understands the feeling of being ashamed of self-destructive activities and would be the sweetest during a relapse. would caress gently the older scars on your body if you allow him to :(<3

he strikes me as a very straightforward person bc of the graves scene. my dude just straight up told the cabrón to stfu (as he should!!) so based on this i think as soon as he sees he's all up in your business. of course not with the intention to make you uncomfortable but he just wants to make sure you're okay and is absolutely willing to help whether it's finding a therapist or just giving a shoulder to lean on. he values every single person in his life and would literally do anything for them and obviously you're no exception. ngl it would be kind of uncomfortable and awkward as you're not used to so much attention especially surrounding your mental health, but he just wants to do good and he's willing to do anything to help and i mean anything. you need a break from work? done. a hug? you don't even have to ask. he will do everything for you if you feel too drained to do even basic things such as cooking meals, helping you shower if you're comfortable with that and etc. basically becomes a househusband for you!

—

alejandro:

[bird-inacage]

Love in the Air: Sky’s Selflessness is His Isolation

I’ve seen a number of people notice this too, but the overwhelming feeling I felt whilst watching episode 9 was Sky’s isolation. Sky’s friends don’t know what he is going through, and Sky doesn’t disclose the reality and severity of his struggles. It couldn’t be more apparent that Sky does not have anyone to lean on. Given the added fact that Rain is now often occupied with Payu, and that both his parents are also far away, Sky is by all intents and purposes - alone.

Despite this, he’s an incredibly considerate and selfless person. He puts everyone else before himself, and his responsibilities above himself. This inevitably leads to his exhaustion and collapse towards the end of the episode.

Due to how reliable of a person Sky is, everyone unconsciously leans on him for help, advice and support. Sometimes I think they do this without even thinking, because Sky always accommodates. The worst side effect of this is that you can easily be taken for granted - because the more reliable you are, the more people will rely on you, and the more difficult it becomes to say no.

When Sky is already starting to feel unwell, Sig admits that they do need his help with the orientation activities. This is the worst possible thing to say to someone who is always trying to be considerate of others, as they won’t want to let anyone down and will compromise their own wellbeing to help you. So in response Sky assures them he’ll get better, and has probably told himself that falling ill is not even an option because the others are relying on him.

Later, they all gather at Sky’s dorm to pull an all-nighter but fall asleep. Sky is the only one who continues working through the night alone. Though he has the option to wake them up, he chooses not to and allows them to rest.

The following morning, Sky is again the only one ready to head into university. Though Sig offers to go on first, he again admits that he won’t remember all the content by himself. So apart from Sig, Sky once again leaves Rain and Por to continue sleeping.

As soon as they get to campus, Som confronts Sky with a fairly harsh complaint. Sky doesn’t defend himself or make any attempt to correct him. He simply accepts the criticism wordlessly. At this point, Sky has probably been working solidly for almost a week (as this takes place whilst Prapai is on his business trip), has not slept all night and has gotten up early to continue his duties. All the while, Sky doesn’t ever complain and is quietly internalising all his stress.

When you then also factor in the fact that Sky is being frequently plagued by nightmares which must be affecting his sleep overall, and is still suffering from severe trauma - there is no wonder that Sky literally collapses from the strain.

Sky constantly downplays his troubles and his pain, so that he doesn’t cause anyone to worry. But this is also in an attempt to convince himself he’s doing fine. We see Sky frequently tell himself “It’s okay” which sounds like he’s desperately trying to believe it, despite all the signs indicating he’s clearly not.

Whenever Sky says “It’s okay”, it’s sounds to me like he’s actually saying, ‘It’s okay because I need to be okay (for x, y, z)’, ‘I can’t afford not to be okay because people need me’.

What is really unfortunate is that many will take him on face value and assume he is coping perfectly fine. And I don’t doubt that if Sky were honest and told people when he was struggling, I’m sure they would be there for him (Rain especially). However this is where Prapai is different. Prapai sees through him. Prapai knows Sky is not alright when he says he is. He’s not likely to fall for Sky’s assurances and attempts to brush off concern. Prapai is also very persistent, and isn’t the type to let things just slide.

Sky just isn’t someone who is going to think about himself first. His needs are often an afterthought. This is why Sky desperately needs a Prapai in his life. Someone who is going to consider his needs for him, and remind him to prioritise himself. With Prapai watching over him, Sky will no longer be completely isolated, because he’ll have someone he can finally lean and rely on. 

As Prapai says, “Remember that this wind’s watching over the sky.”

[tinysnailtales]

Thoughts from reading Yona of the Dawn Ch. 4

Ch.4 in summary: the symbolic end of childhood, the (Yona, Hak, Soo-Won) trio backstory, and the history of Yona's loneliness and circle of support

The child left behind.

"Please don't cry, father. Mother's gone, but I'm still here"

When one parent is lost, the burden can fall especially hard on the child as the surviving parent relies on them and/or grows absent. In a way, the loss of one parent is the loss of both.

"You're not alone" – a BIG THEME for the story.

"I need to stay cheerful so my father doesn't cry"

I usually do the The Apothecary Diaries connection, but surprise! Here I'm calling on Fruits Basket and Tohru with how Yona must be there and behave a certain way for her father's benefit like how Tohru did for her mother after her father died.

"You're not alone. And...I have Soo-Won with me" – Yona has Soo-Won as a friend and a support and she has Hak, which we are repeatedly shown but Yona never seems to address (at least not yet or when looking at the past). Could it be she's simply taking him for granted? Has him as such a staple that he isn't noteworthy or "special"? I take it she doesn't realize how important he is to her yet. These two, both in denial in some regard.

"That's amazing, Hak! You cheered Yona right up" – no notes, just genuinely hilarious. And shows off that Yona-Hak dynamic we've come to know. The teasing and comfort.

"Where's my father?" "His majesty is extremely busy. He only just ascended the throne, remember." – poor Yona :( She tries to be there for her father, but feels a bit abandoned by him.

But! If King Il only recently ascended the throne and his wife recently died...is it possible that Soo-Won's father is behind Yona's mother's death?

Even in this memory/flashback, all is not well and there's a lot happening in the background that young Yona probably doesn't understand. This is ultimately a feel-good memory, but Yona is missing the full picture as she focuses on her personal relationships and trauma (not that I blame her).

Yona, Soo-Won, and Hak really are a trio of best friends.

"Lately I've been holding Yona's hand while we sleep, so this is just like normal" "You do that? I think I should leave. I'm in the way." "What?! All three of us should hold hands!" – Hak is already feeling some jealousy and his "I'm in the way" is very much the outline of his future approach to the Yona and Soo-Won situation. And Soo-Won's obliviousness to the lines being drawn within their group is also very telling.

Soo-Won is doing all this and expects us to believe that the way he acted with Hak and Yona was all a lie. Look at those hearts. He is a lil bean excited by everything.

"I didn't know he was your grandfather." "I'm an orphan. Grandpa and I aren't actually related." – Soo-Won didn't know about Hak's connections and status, these things didn't really matter to these kids. Only Hak already feels like he isn't "really" the heir to the Wind Tribe. He feels unworthy and like an outsider.

"But...Mundok came to see you. He must really love you, huh?" – yes, you tell him Yona! She is of course hurting on the inside because her father hasn't come to see her, but this is also a sweet moment between her and Hak. Don't let him be such a grump resigned to feeling unworthy!

Soo-Won's love and admiration for his father just pours out of him. He also admires Mundok and his strength, showing what Soo-Won values in a person and what he will try to emulate.

"Uncle Yu-Hon...he's so tough and stern. He's nothing like Soo-Won at all" – or so it seems, for now.

"Yon-Hi was determined to come too...But in her condition, it would be dangerous for her to fall ill, so I made her stay home" – what's up with Soo-Won's mom? Is she pregnant? What happened to her? Soo-Won (in present day) seems like he doesn't really have anyone.

"You mustn't make your mother worry. I want you to slaughter this sickness as soon as possible" – strength is valued above all else by Soo-Won's father too. It seems he is probably hard on his son too, at least having high expectations of him.

"It hurts so much, father...Don't abandon me."

Little Yona is a reflection of current Yona (and vice-versa) – in moments of hurt, she retreats into herself, becoming distant and depressed. She doesn't eat or take care of herself, as if life (or her life specifically) is not worth living/doesn't matter.

"Yeah...I'm sorry. I'm, sorry for thinking I was all alone."

More emphasis on Yona having Hak and Soo-Won– they're her people (along with her father, but he is not there for her as much).

But King Il does say Yona gets lonely when Hak (and Soo-Won) aren't there, and it's true–what does she do when they're gone? Loneliness is still a big part of her life. I said she lives for snatches of moments with Soo-Won, but moments with Soo-Won and Hak light up her life and drive her forward (though infatuated Yona seems to forget about the Hak of it all).

I wonder how Yona's loneliness shifts when Hak becomes her personal guard and is a more permanent fixture.

"Your father is the king. He's doing his job even at a time like this. I admire that." – Hak's words are to cheer Yona up, but I think he also demonstrates true admiration for duty.

Yona joyfully eating the terrible food her father made her really exemplifies how much she values acts of care from other people.

I said back in chapter 1 that Yona hasn't really thought of the future much beyond wanting to be with Soo-Won– she's not really ambitious or caught up in who she could be or what she could do, she's happy living for those small moments and the people she loves. She wants to love and be loved in return. She knows she's the princess in terms of the lifestyle she's gotten used to, but she hasn't considered the implications of being a princess– at least she hadn't until her father brought up that her position might put the ones she loves in danger.

I love the look exchanged by Hak and Soo-Won, expressing their mutual care for Yona.

A stab to the heart!

"I wish we could all sleep next to each other forever and ever, even if it meant having that cold" – and this from Soo-Won! At this point, he too had simple desires.

"We don't have to be sick. Staying together...is pretty simple." "You're right. Soo-Won...Hak...let's play again tomorrow. Let's play forever and ever..." –I love Hak being the one to point out that they can just choose to stay together and here we basically get a promise of that, an expression of the intention to remain close forever. Ouch.

Now that childhood and that promise is forever tainted. Yona (and Soo-Won and Hak) will never get it back.

I wonder if his father's death is what tainted it for Soo-Won and changed his heart. And now with the death of her father, Yona is forced to experience the same.

Soo-Won threw all of this, the love and the friendship, away. And basically ruined it for all of them, but I feel it isn't just his fault. Whatever we're missing from the story of King Il and his brother will shed some light on this.

It's sad that now even happy memories must be viewed through this new lens. Yona can't think of Soo-Won or her father without feeling the weight of what happened.

The pain continues when Yona wakes from her memory-dream-nightmare to find Hak gone. Her facial expressions are such a journey! From panic to relief at seeing Hak to feeling the full weight of sadness and grief as reality sets in.

She had her father, Soo-Won, and Hak, but now Hak is all she has left.

"The three of us...always used to gaze up at the sky together. That sky is nowhere to be see now." 💔

What was and the future that could have been are gone. And Soo-Won isn't unaffected, even if he pretends to be. He remembers it all too.

The symbolic end of childhood.

Soo-Won lets Hak and Yona go. "You're going to let them live?"

"Now that they've left the palace, there's nothing they can do to us. Anyway...we've got more important things to do." – In spite of everything, Soo-Won still cares for them but hides his affection behind practical justifications.

Our broken trio. Three different expressions.

Soo-Won is angry and determined to follow the path he has set on. Yona is lost and sad. And interestingly, Hak still looks to the sky.

Does he think of Soo-Won?

[misc-obeyme]

Ooo human AU? Seems interesting… what is Barb doing in this human au? Y’know once upon a time I went to this little tea shop thing, do you think Barb would wanna work there? I don’t really know lmao-

I really really wanna like Mammon and I get that he’s a little tsun but it’s just kinda hard for me to like him- I need validation and knowing that the work that I put into a relationship is appreciated, and I feel like with Mammon I would feel insecure or like… does he think I’m annoying, does he just not care about that I wanna be friends? So yea-

I have a deep love for Solomon akdjdjs especially in NB?? I value emotional stability and just like. stability and domesticity in general in my relationships, and they fed us so well with that hehe :3

My sister keeps sending me angst </3 so I’m depressed now yay! But I like torturing myself lol (especially if it’s good angst)

I’ve been trying to learn some k-pop dances!! And. uh. I have never danced before (besides just like random flailing that has no choreo at all) so that’s fun! But hey, it’s not going too bad in my opinion!

Anyways sorry for bothering you with my rambling ^w^

- <3

Ahh, yes I have a few posts about my human!au ideas... they even inspired some amazing fanart! But I haven't gotten to Barb yet... I started with the brothers and I haven't finished them yet. And it was just random ideas, I haven't actually written anything out. You can find them under the tag #misc human au! But also here are some links: this is the first one about Beel, then Belphie & Satan, and lastly Asmo & Mammon.

HOWEVER I have been thinking about Barbatos because of course I have. I've actually thought about two different human!au situations for him. In relation to my general AU as linked above, I'm kinda back and forthing about what I think he'd be doing. This is because I'm not sure what Diavolo is doing in that AU and I think that would impact what Barb is doing. I don't really want him to just be Diavolo's butler but human style, you know? So I'm still ruminating on this one.

But aside from that, I've had an idea about human!AU tea shop Barbatos for ages! So yes, exactly what you're suggesting. I was thinking it would be interesting to explore a story where Barbatos is not in command of time and space, where he's just... a regular person. How would that change his dynamic with MC? What would that look like if they fell in love? How would Barbatos react in a situation where he doesn't have any obligations to a prince or magic or the world at large? He's just a man who runs a tea shop.

Because I think if he didn't have all those things and he was just a human, he would definitely run a tea shop. I like to think of it as a tea shop/bakery hybrid. And of course MC is a regular customer. It's a story I've been thinking about for a while... maybe I should write it lol.

ANYWAY I didn't mean to ramble about this, but as you can see I have many thoughts lol.

It's totally valid not to like Mammon. He has a lot of fans, but he's not for everyone! The trick with him, I think, is to remember that no matter what he says, he's definitely down bad for you. All you gotta do is flirt with him and you'll see - he'll blush like crazy. Or maybe you flirt with one of his brothers just to see him protest. But in the end, if you really need him to be honest with you, all you have to do is ask him when he's alone with you. Every time he's open and honest with MC about his feelings it's when they're alone. It's one of my favorite things about him, personally. I like to imagine MC just being really honest with him and asking him how he feels and when he tells them, he might still be blushing, but he's serious and he means it.

I also think the tsundere thing is more about before he's in a relationship with MC. He has a harder time with it until it's official and he's feeling more secure. Then I think he'd get real clingy real fast and you'd find him glued to your hip lol.

But that's just how I interpret his character! And it's okay not to like a character that a lot of other people do! That's just how it goes sometimes!

Ah, Solomon. I love him, too. I wonder what it'd be like if they gave all the characters this treatment - like, if each character lived alone with MC for a season it'd almost be like routes, you know? Because you'd get to have that domestic situation with each one of them separately.

That would be interesting, but you know it's never gonna happen lol.

I have to be in the right mood for angst... I think it's pretty obvious that I tend to lean toward fluff. I do like angst, though, especially when it's all wrapped up in complicated emotion relationships... ugh but it also makes me crazy lol!

Ohhh fun! K-pop dances are so fun to watch! I hope you're enjoying learning them! I don't think you need any prior dancing experience! Especially if you're just doing it for fun. Anyway you gotta start somewhere, right?

No worries, you are not bothering me. As you can see, I am something of a rambler myself so don't be sorry!

[carefulfears]

do you have a headcanon of when mulder caught feelings for scully? i’m on the same page w you that scully has had it bad since day one, but i can never make up my mind about mulder

yeah i’ve always said that i think he was aware of the connection between them since her abduction, but i think specifically 3.

ascension is very frantic, it’s rooted in so much trauma and desperation. very few moments are about scully, as a person, really. it’s about getting there in time. it’s about rewriting history. it’s about failure, and standing alone in the end.

in 3, he is surrounded in her absence. her badge. her file, marked with her name. her necklace, which he slips around his own neck, carries with him.

dana scully was farrrrr gone from day one, humming against him in the rain and telling her friends how cute he is, but mulder is more single-minded.

he’s so very fond of her, in the beginning. he knocks on her door to invite her on his run, when he knows she’s just supposed to be discrediting him. he lowers himself beneath her every time he has bad news or a vulnerable conversation. he says “dana,” softly, and checks in on how she’s doing. he believes she’ll be head of the bureau someday.

so much of that is just who he is (trusting, passionate, kind), and she’s the only person who has ever valued that, taken him seriously.

but he’s also internalizing who she is, the consistency and the curiosity and the quiet intensity.

that moment in the rain, before she laughs, before she asks where they’re going and follows: he says “you think i’m crazy,” and turns away. it’s the first time in the series (and remains rare) where you can see that there is a weight to it all. he plays into being “spooky mulder,” but part of him is really disappointed to think that this new partner won’t believe him either.

she thinks about what he said, and she meets him on his level. she questions it, she combats it, she adds to it.

when they both burst out laughing, it’s in pure joy and excitement. it’s the moment that spurs the rest of their lives.

that means a lot to him, to be listened to. to be held to a standard, not just dismissed.

but mulder only knows how to conceptualize love in absence, in the search, so when he’s left listening to her scream: he knows. it feels like the worst thing that could ever happen, because it feels like his closest person disappearing, and that’s the experience he’s most familiar with and enmeshed in.

i believe there’s a script note in ascension that mentions that he’s doubting if he had failed his “closest friend.” it’s the loss being so great, so unbearable, that makes it unavoidable.

(thinking of him smiling at diana, telling her, “i’ve done alright without you.”)

i see a lot of people describe msr as a “fell first/fell harder” trope, but i think most things just hit mulder harder. it’s their natures.

but by the time he hangs her cross around his neck, by the time he abandons the truth to sit and hold her hand, he knows.

[poliodeuces]

do you ever just think how gentaro's favourite food is watermelon, a large, expensive fruit, and one that is usually shared with someone else. do you ever think abt how, if scenario liar's lyrics have some sincerity in them, this is a luxury item when he was a child, but as an adult something he can buy as he pleases now w his own money. do you ever think abt how growing up he's never been truly alone bc he's got his brother to keep him company...eating watermelon in the short hokkaido summer...engaging in their favourite hobby of telling each other stories, making up ones abt the people they see...

more rambling abt the yumeno under the cut (it's long)

i'll get this out of the way first: it's a popular headcanon that gentaro's older brother is an identical twin, extrapolating from gentaro's novel summaries that we get a brief glimpse on in the first chapters of the fp+m manga, and last year, in the gendice duet, murder at the magic house. couple that with the ominous implication of him impersonating a known yumeno-sensei (who happens to be his brother), far removed from what gentaro used to be. i Love my possibly committing identity-theft, driven by vengeance blorbo. it would be very funny if kr pulls a fast one on us and theyre not identical at all, so let's enjoy the art and the speculation while nothing's confirmed yet wwww they already did that by revealing that gentaro's "friend in the hospital" is actually a family member

there's so little we know about gentaro's home life. there's tiny bits of it, like how much his clothes mean to him, how he would starve himself writing bc of deadlines, that there's a specific cafe he hangs out in, etc. but unlike rmd or dice, details abt his origins are p hazy...scenario liar is an entire backstory that gets shut down at the end by claiming it's all a lie. but who's believing this admission anyway

my headcanon is that the yumeno were born and lived in nowhere snowy mountain town, hokkaido (just to explain his birthdate being a wintry april 1st). they were orphaned and taken care of by their grandparents. theyre not well-off and p isolated. i like to think that w the aging of their grandparents, they depend more on eo as they get older. fast forward to some time in the future, their grandparents pass, and they both move out, maybe together, leaving behind their home mostly empty with nothing of sentimental value but the house itself. there's no one else known in line to keep or take care of the house, and it's left without the possibility of renovation. what's the point of that anyway?

i like to think this scenario of their childhood home, abandoned and dilapidated from years of neglect, having a sort of local legend surrounding it, that the house is haunted. someone goes in that house in indefinite times of the year. if you strain your ears enough you might hear faint footfalls from the inside, or a gentle voice carried by the wind. in reality it's just gentaro visiting for no particular reason. it's an empty childhood home.

last year i made a drawing w a similar lighting (and vague setting) to the one above, completely unintentional. he's all alone now....

i based it on one of the stuff gentaro said on hypradio: he likes to eat watermelon while sitting on the engawa, and he has spat so much watermelon seeds overtime that he's grown a garden of his own. he says it's a lie of course.

while there's no evidence to prove or disprove that gentaro now lives in a house with an engawa (in shibuya!), i get sad thinking abt him living in a space as large as that in the middle of a busy city, alone...

one of my favourite things abt gentaro is although he shares the then-nihilism of fp, that everything has no meaning or purpose, he's not Entirely self-destructive like ramuda or dice. gentaro doesn't seem to think he's disposable especially when he's got some avenging to do. in fact he tries so hard to be invulnerable.

the irony is that theres very little of his own personhood to destroy anyway. what's there to dispose? even confessing, although he says it's a lie, "i'm not yumeno gentaro." in a way he's done with the destruction, done with the death, and he's well in the middle of decay— and decaying is a process full of life, it is less about reducing the body into smaller and smaller pieces than it is about being nourishment...gentaro's desire is to keep telling stories that might bring joy, even if it meant he'll have to keep lying his whole life....

i feel that i have more to say abt gentaro and his brother but my grasp on the english language is getting slippery the more i type lol. he drives me insane <3

[mattraeax]

Stitched

Zoro x Reader [1/?]

WC - 1164

Warnings ↔ mentions abuse (work + additional notes), alcohol (work + additional notes), zoro kinda really sucks ass in this, OOC Luffy (? idk he's serious so to me that counts)

Notes ↔ i debated making this third or first pov but I said fuck it and did second bc it irritates my friend so badly AND bc it helps feedback putting yourself in a situation, excuse the shittiness of it im so out of touch w/ writing anything not genuinely disturbing LMFAO; additional notes/vent at the end I REALLY really need some advice 😭

IF YOU SEE THEY/THEIR WHERE YOU/YOUR IS SUPPOSED TO BE NO YOU DON'T 😁

story under "keep reading as to not clog/give you carpal tunnel <3

It was a cool night out in the Alabasta desert and Ace decided to make up games around the campfire to ease tensions about the war. Everyone was sitting around talking and enjoying themselves, occasionally breaking the peace was Ussop yelling at Luffy to "leave the fire to the fire man please" when he started to “cook his food over here so you all won't take it”. 

You were enjoying the chaos, speaking with Nami when they felt a hand on their shoulder. "hey I need to talk to you" Zoro said, practically dragging you behind a pair of boulders some ways away from, the crew. "Why don't you treat me like a priority?" Before you could even look up at the man, he began rapid-firing questions like an interrogation. The two of you had been together for what seemed like forever and he felt you didn't value them. "Why don't you talk to me as much as you talk to Nami or Ace or Ussop? How come you don't ask personal questions about me?" he continued on and on, pouring his heart out. You grabbed Zoro’s hand, leading him to sit on smaller rocks. 

"Zoro are you drunk? What's going on?" you asked, but you already knew. Zoro wasn’t a man of face to face confrontation if it didn’t involve violence unless he was at least buzzed. He knew you were concerned and somewhat appreciated it, but he was upset. He continued to stare, waiting for a response. You looked him in the eyes and squeezed his hands gently. "Zoro. My love, I am sincerely sorry I treat you the way I do to where you don't feel like a priority in my life. As you know I’m sick and am almost always asleep or on the verge of it, and barely have the energy to get out of bed, let alone come to find and spend time with you but that’s no excuse. You are truly the most important person in my life and I'm sorry I'm not making you feel as special to me as I know you are.” You sighed, leaning their elbows on their knees, and spoke as softly as possible to avoid further emotional strain. “I don't ask you questions because you tell me everything before I can even think of what to ask. I told you how I feel about you drinking so much. I know you have a lot going on in your head but I’d rather you just talk to me. I hate it when you drink so much Zoro." 

He squinted, seemingly trying to make sense of your words. “Y/N I get you're tired all the time but that's no excuse. I always still find time for you when I'm busy and I can't figure out why you won't do the same. I’m not saying all of this to make you feel bad but it's been for months now. I feel like I'm a side piece to you. I don't feel like this relationship is working, sometimes it feels like its all one sided because we barely interact. The way you treat me makes me feel abused by you. Emotionally physically and mentally I am being abused by you and your actions I feel like you just don't care.” Zoro continued on and on, repeating everything in different ways. You, however, were stunned. The love of your life has lost his mind. You blinked once, twice, and stood up. “Zoro. Im going to bed. Please keep your distance from me I need to think some things over.” At the mention of space, he stood up and raised his voice just enough to draw the crew's attention. “You will stay here while we finish our conversation Y/N L/N.” 

You turned around in shock at being shouted at, trying to calm yourself before making this any more painful. “Roronoa Zoro, it’s not much of a conversation when all you do is drone on and interrupt me when I answer whatever question you've asked for the nth time in a row. I hate when you don't listen yet demand I change my actions. It’s not my fault you choose to ignore me when I try to speak to you or go to bed not 10 minutes into our alone time everytime. I tell you every time when I don’t feel well enough to hold a regular conversation or when I’m exhausted beyond belief but you’re so dense you think I’m lying. You can’t figure out why I don’t communicate before you only think of yourself Zoro! You do not dictate what I do or when I speak with you. Leave me alone for now Zoro.” Everyone could have sworn the desert had never been quieter. Y/N was high on adrenaline, remembering why you loathe alcohol. In a heartbeat, Zoro was in their face, bent down at eye level. “You need to do better Y/N. I lov- well maybe not that word, that's too strong but I do like you a lot. I want to make this work with you. Get it together.” he gritted through his teeth. That was your last straw. Eerily calm, you backed up, muttered a very soft “okay” and walked back to the temporary base. Everyone looked extremely uncomfortable and sympathetic for them, as they had nosely listened to  overheard everything. You picked up your sleeping bag and a spare piece of wood, walking up to Ace. “Hey I'm sorry to bother you but can you light this? Don't wanna ruin your lovely blaze here.” you weakly chuckled, gesturing to the fire.

 He nodded, trying to make eye contact but failing as they looked away quickly. As they walked away from the group, Luffy approached them, slightly startling you. “Sorry didn't mean to scare you. Are you okay? Do you need anything?” he asked rather seriously, a rare but much-appreciated sight for them. You turned to your captain and the crew. “Please keep your swordsman away from me for a while. I may actually end up killing him if he’s anywhere around me.” Your tone set everyone on edge. Seeing everyone nod and affirm the favor, you slouched, finally relieved to be away from him. Between the flashbacks and the headrush of shouting, you finally felt safe. You felt your body grow weak and hit the sand. Luffy reached out to you but he was waved off. “I’m alright Luffy. Goodnight everyone, I'll be 56 paces this way when yall are ready to get going in the morning.” pointing over your shoulder, diagonal to where your “conversation” with Zoro took place for as much distance as possible. As you walked and set up for the night you couldn’t help but cry, remembering that any and every time alcohol was involved it was a disappointment. You wondered if you were the catalyst for everyone’s drinking habits as you finally got to sleep, absolutely dreading the morning.

↪

BASED ON A TRUE STORY (◎﹏◎) oh my god my partner (idek what to call him now I ain't spoke to him in bout a week n a half dog) called me drunk and called me all types of manipulative n abusive for not communicating enough (im chronically ill and the heat is NOT helping, he knows this) and called our relationship a situationship so that's always wonderful to hear. every line from zoro is either exactly or summed up what this mf said to me and oh my god I really just don't know what to do, I'm not sure if i wanna make it work or not

close friend said its manipulative as fuck n i need to get out bc every fight we've been in has been bc he forgot I said/told him something and he flipped it to me not communicating, I can see it but FUCK why is leaving so hard

[izukuisbaby]

hewwo my luvr <3 im so proud of on hitting 1.3k you deserve all of them n so so so much more ! ! ! !

for ur celebration can you pls match me up w any bnha character :D (even tho u know mostly everything about me 4 da sake of the celebration m gna tell anyways :3)

i can be extroverted at time, i enjoy goin' out but it depends on who im going with. i am very mean sometimes which is not a nice trait but lol. i cherish my friends so so much.

also my love language is physical touch and words of affirmation. i get insecure alot so i need reassurance quite often which isnt fun :((

that's all if i forgot anything just add wtv u like cause u do know me da best hehe~

again i love you so much mwah mwah congratulations <33

💌 FLORA'S MATCH-UP EVENT #1

・❥ to arya : hello love im so so proud of u too, u can't imagine ♡ u literally mean the world to me bro i love u so much

🏹 you've been matched with...

...BAKUBABE not a surprise i know but i just can't fathom u with someone else. from the first minute i met u, u were simping on bakugo so i just picture you with him AND NO ONE ELSE periodt

・❥ your song : let me be your superhero - smash into pieces (you'll get it with the lyrics bro, i remember seeing this as bakugo's song on tik tok last year and that's just how he feels about you)

・❥ what is your relationship like :

ღ bakugo always wants to be the best for you, he values your opinion the most and works hard to make you proud of him.

ღ as a fellow hard-worker, he tries his best to support you in whatever you do and shows you how proud he is of you -- not through words, but small displays of affection such as putting a hand on your shoulder and smiling at you proudly.

ღ his love language is acts of service, he will gladly help you with your homework, cook you dinner after you've had a long day or do the chores so you come home happy.

ღ he is extremely bad with words and practically never says i love you, he says it when he thinks it's necessary for you to hear it but he always means it.

ღ he would be extremely patient with your mood swings as he is someone who struggles with them too, he would leave you alone until you calm down but if all you need is cuddles and comfort he will put you in his lap, put your head on his shoulder with his hand on top of it and not say a word, just to give your brain a break.

ღ katsubabe is soooo picky with girls, you're the first person he fell in love with -- and probably the last since no one but you can bear with him -- so if he chose you as his partner, you're pure perfection to him. he won't let you get insecure EVER but in his own way

ღ "why the f*ck are you putting yourself down again bro, yeah your stomach isn't flat and what about it ? literally no one gives a shit especially not me, if that's what you're worried about", "look Y/N i couldn't care less about your butt size okay, tsk literally worrying for nothing motherf*cker", "GODDAMNIT Y/N WHEN WILL YOU UNDERSTAND THAT YOU ARE ABSOLUTELY F*CKING BREATHTAKING FOR F*CK'S SAKE"

・❥ random text w ur soulmate 😃

© izukuisbaby. do not copy, modify, translate, repost or take my ideas/concept without giving credits but comments, feedback, reblogs and asks are very much welcome ! 🏹💌

[mickmundy]

thread of some of my scout hcs, thoughts on his personality and little miscellaneous tidbits!

starting off strong by saying that i think he's very emotionally intelligent. knows when his loved ones are upset and will set about doing whatever he can to cheer them up. he defaults to trying to make you laugh since that's what he thinks he's best at, though!

cant always offer the Sagely Advice that one might get from spy, but he'll tell you whats on his mind and what he thinks of the situation. won't mince words; if he disagrees with you, he'll tell you Directly... but Gently. "Uhhh, dunno if i agree with that. think of it this way.."

maybe the last person you'd think to have a heart to heart with, but he might surprise you! he's a good listener and while he prefers to do things while talking (throwing a ball against a wall, pacing, etc), you've got 150% of his attention if the subject matter is serious!

competitive, but more likely to let others win than he is to Rub It In when He wins. battlefield smacktalk to the enemy is one thing, but Some People (not naming names) are VERY sore losers (sniper) so scout's content to botch a few billiards shots if it means that his friend is having fun! :)

cries. only when hes alone! feels like he has to have a good cry now and then to get everything out and to "emotionally reset". doesn't think crying is Girly/Weak or w/e, but he still doesn't like doing it around others. "okay, needed that. shake it off, scout, you're all good!"

VERY scrappy. resourceful through street smarts/intuition as opposed to technical know-how. tenacious and a total wildcard! that said, he won't be argumentative for no reason; he'll listen to any orders that engie or solly put down, but not without giving his input, asked for or not!

part of being a good scrapper is knowing when to fight and when to take a walk. when scout's truly mad, he prefers being alone, drawing or going on a run to get his thoughts clear. not afraid to ask for help and is always ready to "repay" friends for their kindnesses towards him.

growing up, he never wanted to trouble his mom with anything. scout was always the reliable one (although a complete hellion), often putting his own priorities to the side for his mom. places a lot of weight on his own shoulders to be good, or better, for her, and to be a son she can be proud of!

cannot drive. engineer has tried to teach him, sniper has tried, spy has tried, heavy has tried... but he just can't do it LOL. crashes into something every time and is always like CRAP!! SORRYSORRYSORRYSORRYSORRY!! it's not a big deal, though. plenty of the mercs enjoy driving after all!

he was always taught to share, even though he kind of hates it! always hated being forced to share with his brothers as a kid. in his adult life, he doesn't Mind, but he prefers being able to choose when he does share. if he's splitting something with you, its a BIG deal!!

easily hands out apologies and doesn't like long-standing conflict. "lets just hash this crap out and move on already!" good at putting you on ice, but only if he needs time to think or gather his thoughts. the longest grudge he'd ever held was against his Absent Father...... spy! but their relationship begins to get better after the events of the comics. i could sincerely write a whole thread on Just their dynamics together!

ultimately i think scout hated His Absent Father for so long because it was just "Easier" to. but now that spy is There and Trying, well, scout can't really Hate Him. theres still a lot of "repairing" to do, and they aren't the Perfect Father And Son, but scout appreciates spy's effort and the sincerity of his explanation (once he hears it from spy and not tom jones)!

will always value the truth over lies. he'd rather you tell him something Horrible if it was the truth than sugarcoat it with a lie. i think spy wanted to give scout what he wanted when he was dying (being comforted by his "dad"), but in retrospect when scout learns the truth, he wished spy would have just been honest with him, even if it did suck to know that his dad was someone like spy and not actually tom jones. regardless, he understood that spy just wanted to give scout what he thought scout wanted, but understands/respects scout's wishes going forward and promises to be a little more honest :) this is when they can really start repairing and Building on their relationship as father and son, in the ways that work for both spy and scout!

i don't think Dad Issues is the only facet of scout's personality nor do i think it even Dominates a lot of his thoughts BUT i just happen to have a lot of thoughts on it lmao

i don't think any of the other mercs Baby him (he's literally a Grown Man and imo being babied would piss him off), and i don't think any of them think he is "inferior" or "childish". i think all of the mercs are at least a little immature!

However i will say that i think a very interesting dynamic between scout and sniper is their views on their fathers and how it shaped them as people. while "jealousy" sounds a bit dramatic, i think they Lightly Envy one another; wouldn't ever take it out on each other but if they think about it for too long they kind of get Bummed Out. scout loves his family but sometimes wishes he'd been an only child with a Mom and a Dad that were around all the time. he doesnt know the Extent of snipers Complicated Feelings about his own family!

sniper loves his family too but sometimes thinks about how even though his own father was Present in his life, he'd been Very Hard on him and Basically rejected him. sniper was present while spy was comforting Dying Scout and took notice of how spy treated scout the way that he thought scout would want, disregarding his own feelings. sniper's dad, on the other hand, only told him he was proud of him after he'd technically died... ouch!

and No i Don't Think sniper wants spy to be his dad nor does he see/want to see spy as a/his own father figure in any capacity lol. i think this is just something that crosses both sniper and scout's minds every now and then and they're like "Huh. Wish I Had What He'd Had!"

i don't see scout struggling with internalized homphobia or anything like that, either. i think his mom, like scout (and spy!), says what they mean and mean what they say and when scout's mom says "i love you no matter what", she means it! scout never gives that kind of stuff a second thought; if he brings a Fella home for the holidays, it doesn't matter! scout's mom is still going to show his Date Of Choice all of the most embarrassing photos of scout she can find! x)

holds his liquor well; he came from a big cathoIic family after all! x) gets a little more Snarky and a little more Hostile if he gets Truly Drunk, but doesn't like to make himself go that far Often. he can always brawl with the mercs when he's sober! prefers to have some beers with demo, engie and sniper and play darts or billiards with them. doesn't like mixed drinks. freakin gross!

will break your balls over anything and everything (like spy and scout's mom!). you tripped on the field? hell tease you for a week! nothing ever mean-spirited and not about anything that he thinks would Upset you! if you ask him to stop, he will, and he'll apologize and mean it!

[quandaryqueen]

Any riddler's

Angst? Yes I very much like that

Spouse! reader having a terminal illness, they knew they had it the when time but just wanted to spend their last moments w their husband <33

Yes, their slowly getting weaker n weaker and that makes the riddlers instantly suspicion so they go to the hospital and he learns abt it

While in bed they're just happy they got to spend their time w him n shi :)

...

Pick your option

A. Riddler being smad that his spouse didn't tell him this? Resulting to reader dying alone in the hospital room (jk jk unless-)

B. Riddler holding his spouses hand as the light in their eyes slowly disappear (yes they died infront of him)

This was kinda bad, I ain't really used to requesting angst

All I want

BTAS Edward Nygma X Reader

This is, by far the heaviest thing I've been asked to write, but I'll try my best. So, I have to give out a content warning about death, read in your own discretion or do not read it at all if you're particularly unable to handle this certain topic.

Your husband was a busy man, but he always find ways to make time for you. As a man who values quality time, of course he'd love nothing more but to spend every passing moment with you. A moment away from you is an eternity pass, but with you he couldn't care less about time. Let everything happen, be it rain or shine, let the worst or the best happen, with you by his side he is a man who will stand through it all. He enjoys life with someone he struggled with, and he stands by it.

What he didn't expect was you'd be gone so soon.

Edward was almost afraid to open the door, even when the doctor's said that he's allowed to see you. He didn't noticed how his hands shook and clenched until he reached for the door, swallowing thickly and letting out a breath after he was made aware that he forgot how to breathe. The man had to gather every fortitude he has to even lay a hand on the door knob and twisting it open.

He wasn't prepared to see you on the bed.

In his head you were at home, waiting for him, perhaps humming along the old radio with your dulcet tones, finishing up a book or two, basking in the golden sheer which spilled from the window and the curtains. But you were here, in this grim room painted sterile white by the bereaved friends and families who have lost a loved one in it. Attached to tubes and a breathing apparatus, the beeping heart monitor which hummed and beep eerily slow.

His fortitude collapsed. God, why didn't he knew of this sooner? Why did you have to hide it from him? He claimed to have been the most observant man in the room and yet he didn't even notice you grow dull as days passed. Why didn't he check on you as much as possible? God this was his fault, he shouldn't have pursued this worthless line--

"Eddie?" Croaks a small voice. The sweet, lively voice that struck him lovesick at every call, every laugh, every endeared names, was now weak. Though it was weak, an ember of your personality shines from the depths of your vocals.

"My sweet," Edward found the strength to finally approach you, habitually lifting your hand and kissing the back of it. He caresses your cold hand within his, putting it up to cup his cheek, pressing kisses on your palm and wrist. "How are you feeling?"

He mentally kicked himself with that question.

Of course they're not okay, you moron, look at them!

"Hospital food sucks. I don't recommend it." There was a glimpse of his sunshine. Through the pain, you managed to muster up a smile and a joyful quip.

He mustered to give you a smile, though he couldn't maintain it the same way you can. His face flushed with a certain despair, you'd see tears welling in his emerald gaze. By this, your smile dropped as well.

"Why didn't you tell me?" His emotions came to a hundred. Edward thought he could hold his composure, again and again he had been face with situations in which ultimately cost his life, but he didn't falter as much as he is right now. Not a minute in, and his emotions were at full force.

The sight of him made you lose your mask you intended to keep in hopes of making it easy for him. It slipped off the moment you saw him break at your mere presence.

"I'm sorry--" you sobbed, shoulders shaking as you do. The heart monitor quickens at the background.

Edward frantically swipes his sleeve under his eyes and even if the tears didn't stop, he holds your face upon his palm and brushed the tears with his thumb. He leans his forehead against yours.

"No, no please... Don't cry..." His voice cracks with the strain in his throat. "It's okay, just please don't cry... Shh... I'm so sorry..."

"I feel so selfish for not telling you immediately-- I didn't want to tell you because I didn't want you to be sad--" your swallowed thickly and sniffled. "I don't want to hurt you this way, Eddie I'm so sorry for not telling,"

"No, no... It's okay... It's okay..."

He hated it. He hates how he can't tell you you're going to be okay. He hates that he can't do anything but to expect the inevitable. He fucking hates it that he wouldn't know what to do... He hates all of this, why did this have to happen?

"I want you to know that I love you with all of my being. And when I'm gone I want you to move on without me, that you don't have to feel like you're betraying me when you find someone new—"

He didn't thought that his tears would come out harder than it already it was. Edward found himself shutting his eyes, supressing the sob bubbling in his throat by tightening his jaw.

"— don't mourn for me in a way that hinders you to function healthily... You are not alone when I'm gone... You have friends to help you through, who loves and cares about you... I... Edward... I love you. I love you very much..."

Edward presses his lips upon your forehead, tears dripping down your face.

"I love you too..." He muster up.

He didn't register the heart monitor slowing, until the familiar rhythmic beat disappeared. And all he can do was to collapse, whilst nurses and doctors bolted in the room. He didn't have the strength to protest when he was escorted out the room.

~•~

His in-law had given him something after you had passed. A box wrapped in green with hand painted question marks and a purple bow. Inside it were myriads of small trinkets, a scrapbook. Neatly organised of your anniversaries when you weren't married, dates, hangouts, the proposal, engagement, wedding, the reception, honeymoon, wedding anniversaries, vacations, little moments. All with notes, small notes and thoughts and emotions and fun little commentaries. Photos of you and him, and the family that had accepted him as their own... Sentimental at best and Edward had yet to recover from the encounter from the hospital, his swelling eyes stung from crying.

Then, a letter.

To my Riddleman, my husband, my Edward

Hope you liked this little gift, (sibling name) helped me collect all these years of memories in ink and paper, but may our precious memories remain vividly fond within your mind. I hope it makes you remember all the times where you and I smiled not just because a camera is in front of our face, and behind that camera is the dejected third wheeler that is (sibling name). May it be a reminder that you should always be true to yourself.

I want you to live life at its fullest without your mind trailing off at the thought of me out of guilt. I love you. I always will. You made my life lively, I am the happiest person upon spending my life with you and I mean it when I say that I truly am grateful to be your spouse. You made my spirits lift, my smile bright. I cannot stress that I love you and you truly are the most special person in my life.

Keep doing what you love, my death will not stop me from always being there to cheer you on.

Your ever loving spouse, Y/N Nygma <3