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atlabeth · 4 days ago

Text

(please) spare me indignity

pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you and spencer spend more time together. it's bad, then it's good, then it's something else altogether.

a/n: continuing the gideon!reader series! a whole lot of this is arguing because they love each other fr. sorry this took so long, for some reason i had a really hard time finding my footing here but i hope you enjoy!! reader is a victim of the sassy man apocalypse bc this may be s1/2 spencer but he is not going to not be standing up for himself!! have this new banner that i made to try and help with my inspiration. title is from nothing new by rio romero

wc: 5k

warning(s): r and spence argue some more. angst, hurt w/o comfort, then hurt with comfort! idk theyre kinda sweet

You and Spencer spend the next six and a half hours watching movies.

You make it through Goodfellas and you only tell him to be quiet twelve times. You take a break to get water and make popcorn, which was so generously provided in your grocery supply, and while you’re doing it, Spencer insists on picking the next one. You end up watching Psycho, and you don’t think he lets a single scene go by without explaining the meaning behind it.

You choose Notting Hill after, and he knows just as much. He picks Halloween—it doesn’t really help your stalker anxieties, and Spencer apologizes profusely when you bring it up, but you still end up finishing it. Next you go for Pointe Grosse Blank, then Spencer picks Kolya, a Russian film that he specifically put into the box.

There are subtitles, but he spends half the time translating for you anyway—apparently there are nuances to the script that an English translation doesn’t get compared to the original Russian, and that would be a tragedy.

He’s in the middle of his third rant going on seven minutes when you finally break.

“Okay,” you say as you reach for the remote, “I can’t do this anymore.”

You do a double take when your hand meets another instead of hard plastic, and you see Spencer beat you to it. You pull your hand away as soon as possible, feeling your face heat from annoyance.

“What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” he echoes. “The movie’s not over yet.”

“I can’t take any more of your rambling,” you say. “I’m cutting you off.”

He frowns. “We have to finish the movie first.”

“What are you, a broken record?”

“I couldn’t be a broken record because I said two different things,” he protests. “Besides, what else are you going to do?”

“Unpack my things? Read a book? Sit in silence staring at the wall in my room?” You shrug as you stand up and walk over to the kitchen. “I’ve got a lot of options.”

“Gideon told me not to let you out of my sight,” Spencer says, standing up as well.

“You can see me pretty well from there,” you say. “You don’t have to invade every bit of my privacy.”

“I— I kind of do,” he says. “The whole point of a safe house is to keep you safe. If you’re off doing your own thing, it’s not really safe.”

“It’s not like I’m leaving!” You throw up your hands in exasperation. “What, are you going to sleep with me too? Make sure I don’t go anywhere in the middle of the night?”

It’s almost funny how fast his face flushes bright red. You’ve got a feeling he doesn’t have a lot of experience with this sort of thing.

“That’s what I thought,” you say. “Keep watching your movie if you want. Just leave me alone.”

You feel his eyes on your back as you storm off to your room. The childish part of you wants to slam the door, but you decide to throw Spencer the smallest bone and leave it open.

It’s not his fault that you hate him, and that just makes you hate him even more. He gets to come out of this the bigger person, a saint for putting up with your various deficiencies while keeping you safe from a stalker. You’re just the difficult, ungrateful, estranged bastard daughter of the most deified man in the Behavioral Analysis Unit who can’t set her personal grudges aside for her own good.

You shove your duffel bag into the bed with a little too much force. You unzip it, deciding to try and occupy yourself with unpacking. You’re here for the indefinite future, so you might as well make yourself at home.

You can’t help the dry laugh that comes at the thought. You don’t know if you’ve ever felt at home anywhere.

This might be the worst thing about this whole situation. You’ve got a stalker out there, and it’s making you do all this bullshit introspection against your will. It’s got you thinking about your dad and your relationship with him, and thinking about Spencer Reid and how he’s replaced you in your father’s life without even really knowing about it because he didn’t know about you until he walked into your dad’s office a month ago.

Ten minutes pass in a blur before you’re knocked out of it by a rapping on your door. You turn to see Spencer standing in the doorway, expression unreadable.

“What?” you ask.

“You’ve been quiet,” he says. “I’m just checking in.”

“I’m still alive,” you say. “Nothing exciting happened in the five seconds I was gone.”

“It was ten minutes and thirty two seconds, actually,” he says. “But— but good.”

Again, more silence passes between you. You look up at him from your pile of clothes after thirty seconds.

“Are you just going to stand there?”

“I— I don’t know what else to do,” he stammers.

“Didn’t you say you did something like this before?” you ask. “Guarded some girl from her stalker?”

Spencer nods. “She was a lot easier to get along with.”

You roll your eyes. “Somebody out there wants to kill me to get back at my dad. Sorry that I’m not the pinnacle of happiness.” You make a point to avoid his gaze. “But what I’m trying to say is that you’ve done this all before. You should have some kind of idea of what to do besides bothering me.”

“How am I bothering you?” Spencer asks in exasperation. “I’ve said three sentences to you!”

“Everything you do bothers me, boy genius,” you say. “I thought you would have figured that out by now.”

“I—” He looks like he wants to say more, but instead he just clamps his mouth shut and shakes his head before he walks away.

You stare down at your pile of clothes, largely unfolded and scattered around the bed. The silence doesn’t give you the satisfaction you thought it would.

It only lasts for all of thirty seconds though, and you don’t have time to linger in the discomfort—you hear footsteps, heavier ones this time, and you look up to see Spencer round the corner once again.

“What is your problem with me?” he blurts out.

You frown. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Spencer nods. “You hate your dad, fine— but he’s not here for you to fight with, so you’re taking it out on me. It’s classic displacement, and you don’t get to take it out on me.”

“Why not?” you ask.

“Because it— it’s not fair!” he sputters. “I didn’t do anything to you— I didn’t even know you existed until a month ago!”

“Well, gosh, boy genius,” you say, “I’m sure you’re smart enough to figure it out yourself.”

“Stop calling me boy genius!” he exclaims. “We’re the same age!”

“Then stop acting like one,” you retort. “I know you’ve got a psychology degree, but you don’t need to use them on me whenever you can.”

He frowns, his mouth opening for a second before he closes it.

“Were you going to ask how I knew that before you realized the obvious answer?” you ask.

“No,” he says.

“Yes, you were.” You continue folding your clothes. “You went to Caltech, MIT, and Yale, even though it was your safety school. You’ve got three PhDs, two BAs, and you’re working on a philosophy degree, but you’re not done with it yet.” You shrug. “A little difficult to make it to classes with all the FBI stuff.”

“…Does he really talk about me that much?” Spencer’s voice is quieter than it was before.

“Oh, yeah,” you say. You set a finished pair of jeans to the side then look at him. “I graduated from college too. Granted, it was a couple years ago, not when I was 17, but I think it still warrants a little support.”

“You went to George Mason,” Spencer says.

Your movements stutter. You weren’t expecting him to actually know.

“Yeah,” you say. Your heart skips a beat. “How do you know?”

Has he talked about you to the team before? Sure, they didn’t know you existed before you showed up out of the blue, but maybe he showed them a picture after it happened. Your mom carries one of you in your cap and gown in her wallet—maybe he got a hold of one and Spencer caught a glimpse of that. Maybe you just missed it and he does have a picture of you on his desk. Maybe—

“You have a sweatshirt for it,” he says with a gesture. You look where his finger is pointing, and sure enough, your GMU sweatshirt is tangled up with a couple of other crewnecks.

“…Of course,” you say. You don’t know why you even dared to hope. “Because it’s more likely that you’d notice something like that than it is for my dad to talk about me.”

Spencer says your name, and you hate the sympathy in it.

“No.” You cut him off before he can get any further. “Don’t try to defend him. You know,” you huff a cold, humorless laugh, “he missed my graduation, too. Two separate dates for commencement and my actual school’s ceremony, one 45 minute car ride, and he couldn’t make it to either one.”

“You don’t know how busy we are,” Spencer tries again. “We work weekends and holidays and around the clock— sometimes we get called in at 3am to stay in some random town for weeks at a time, and there’s nothing we can do about it! I— I mean, we’ve had three days off in the past 47 days and—”

“That’s why I have a problem with you!” you cry out, throwing the shirt in your hand onto your bed as you turn to face him. “Because I’m twenty-four years old, and I’ve lived an hour away from my dad for the past six years, but his team that he spends all his time with didn’t even know I existed until I showed up at your office.” You take a step forward, anger resurging inside of you. “Because I threw away a chance at an Ivy to get to see him more, just to deal with the same bullshit as usual. Because I worry about him dying every single day he’s in the field, and he can’t even give me a phone call at the end of it all—” another step forward— “and even in the middle of this shitshow, you think you have a right to defend him— to- to tell me how to feel about him!”

You move even closer, close enough to see his wrinkled button-up is partially untucked, his lips are slightly parted, and his stupid doe eyes—that haven’t left yours—with his stupid dilated pupils, and you jab your finger in his chest.

“Because all I ever wanted is my father’s affection,” your voice breaks, and you hate the way it makes you feel, “and he’d rather build an entirely new life with an entirely new kid than give it to me.”

You push your way past him, making sure to shoulder-check him on your way out. You don’t look back as you forge your way to the bathroom (that you unfortunately have to share), even though his gaze burns into your back.

You close and lock the door. It’s childish, you know, but you need to be alone right now. You can’t stand to be around him.

Spencer just— he irritates you in a way that no one else ever has. He’s your age and more accomplished than you could ever dream to be, with almost six times the degrees and a much better job, and probably a family that loves him. Who wouldn’t love him with everything he’s done?

You, apparently.

You plant your hands on the countertop as you stare into the mirror. Your usual dark circles have become more pronounced over the past month, and you can’t help a wry laugh at the thought. All that trouble sleeping and it was for the wrong damn reason.

If you knew someone was watching you, you would have moved out of Virginia months ago. But maybe this bastard would have found you anyway. If Spencer’s profiling is right and he’s going after you because of your dad, you don’t think much could really dissuade him.

Tears pool at your waterline, and you wipe them away with a rough hand before they can manifest into something more. You slump back against the opposing wall as you continue to stare at yourself.

You’re pathetic and you can’t even find it in yourself to care.

You hear the sound of footsteps once more and you wrap your arms around your midsection. This chill won’t go away.

“…Are you still alive?” a hesitant voice calls.

You bite back a remark. “I’m fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“No.” You don’t know what makes you answer honestly.

A beat of silence passes. You really do feel like a kid. You’re talking to him through the door because you just yelled at him and Spencer is still being the bigger person.

“Can I help at all?”

This answer comes a little quicker. “No.”

Again, more silence.

“Okay.” Spencer pauses, and the footsteps start again. His voice is a little closer the next time he speaks. “Just… let me know when you’re turning in. So I know you’re still alive.”

You huff. He can’t even stick to his guns and hate you like you hate him for ten minutes. “I don’t think I’ll be dying anytime soon.”

“You never know,” he says. “Spontaneous human combustion might not be proven beyond pseudoscientific concepts, but there’s a first time for everything.”

The laugh that comes out of you is unexpected, both in its lightness and occurrence at all. “Keep an ear out for the smoke alarm, then.”

“If you smell anything burning, stop, drop and roll,” he says. “Make sure you don’t run. All it’ll do is add to the oxygen and feed the fire.”

“Okay,” you say. “…I still don’t like you.”

You swear you can hear the smile in his words. “I know.”

You wake up when the smoke alarm goes off.

It’s a very rude awakening. It jolts you out of your very uneasy sleep to unfamiliar surroundings—in your disoriented state, you almost forget where you are.

Right. You’re in a safe house in the middle of nowhere because someone is stalking you. How could you possibly forget?

You stumble out of bed, rubbing your eyes to try and assuage some of your exhaustion as you leave your room.

“Is the place on fire?” you ask through a yawn.

“No!” Spencer exclaims, sounding more panicked than usual. That straightens your back and speeds your pace. “No, everything’s fine—”

You smell smoke, and as you come around the corner, you see him waving his hands overtop the toaster trying to dispel said smoke. You can’t help but laugh, and you actually smile when he gives you the most helpless look.

“I’m so good at so many other things.”

“What are you trying to do?” you ask wryly. “Burn this house down to try and get a better one?”

“This wouldn’t have started a fire,” Spencer says. “Toaster fires usually spread because they’re below wooden cupboards, which catch easily and spread everywhere else.” He gestures at the toaster, which he has plugged in to an outlet on the side of the island. “No cupboards, no house fire.”

“You started this because you were making toast?” you ask.

He flushes. “I’m used to the toaster I have at home. I have the settings worked out perfectly there. This one is all wrong.”

You sigh and shake your head. “Just… hit the reset button, and open the door. It’ll be fine.”

“I can’t open the door,” he says. “It goes against the safety thing.”

“Then open a window.”

“Making it easier to get in here in any way goes against the safety thing,” he says.

“So we have to just deal with the smoke?” you ask in exasperation.

Spencer hits the vent button on the microwave, and the fan whirs into action. “No?”

You shake your head in disbelief as he then reaches up to hit the button on the smoke alarm. His t-shirt lifts with the movement—your eyes drift to the bare strip of skin, and you immediately look away when you realize.

“Where’s the coffee in here?” you ask, clearing your throat as you start sifting through drawers. “I’ll be even worse to deal with if I don’t have caffeine.”

“I already brewed a fresh pot,” Spencer says, gesturing with his head. “Half and half is in the fridge, and sugar is in the cabinet.”

“Oh,” you say. You stop what you’re doing, your hands lingering above the drawer handle. “You didn’t have to do that.”

You see him shrug out of your peripherals. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Because I was a total asshole to you last night, you want to say. Because I’ve been awful to you since I met you and you refuse to fight back and give me a better reason to hate you.

“Because you didn’t need to,” you finally say. Good one.

“I did. So you’re going to have to deal with it.” Spencer takes the burnt toast out and throws them in the trash can, talking while he does it. “You know, it’s actually a rumor that burnt toast contains carcinogens and can increase the chance of cancer. Acrylamide forms when you burn food, but researchers haven’t found a link between starchy foods with high amounts of acrylamide and cancer.”

You hum in some form of acknowledgement as you take a mug out of the cabinet and fill it from the pot. You take a sip and grimace—it’s not the best, but it’s caffeinated. After three years of shitty gas station coffee throughout college, you can deal with it.

“How did you sleep?” Spencer asks.

“Fine,” you say.

He frowns. “Really?”

“Yes,” you say, a little rougher. “The dark circles come with the model.”

“There are a lot of causes other than sleep deprivation,�� Spencer says. “Contact dermatitis, hyperpigmentation, dehydration, alcoholism, stress—”

“Got plenty of that,” you interrupt.

“Even genetics can play a part in it,” he says.

You huff. “I think this is one thing I can’t blame my dad for. I haven’t slept since the nineties.”

“Well, you should try,” Spencer says. “The blood vessels around your eyes don’t constrict like they should when you’re sleep deprived, which means your blood vessels dilate, which increases blood in the area, and that gives you dark circles.”

“Wow,” you say wryly. “I really look that bad with them?”

“I— that—” Spencer’s face flushes red as he stutters, and you hide the slightest smile with your mug— “that’s not what I mean! I’m just trying to give advice to help—”

“I know.” You set your mug back down, not able to fully bite back your amusement. “I was joking, Spencer.”

“Oh,” he says. “That’s… new.”

“Am I not allowed to joke?”

“It just doesn’t seem like you,” Spencer says. “Especially after last night.”

“I’m too tired to fight with you right now,” you sigh. “Enjoy your break.”

He clears his throat as he takes two fresh pieces of bread out, then looks at your mug. “You drink it black?”

“It’s not coffee if you don’t,” you say. “It— it’s a sugary mess.”

“It is not!” he exclaims. “It still has the same amount of caffeine, and it’s still coffee—”

“No it isn’t!” you laugh, and you nod at his mug. “How much sugar did you put in there?”

“A couple spoonfuls but—”

“Spoonfuls?”

“But it’s how I like it!” Spencer defends.

“Don’t you have some facts about how harmful excessive sugar consumption is?” you ask.

“Of course I do,” he says. “I also have some about the benefits of black coffee, but I’m not going to tell you now.”

“Wow,” you say. “I’m so hurt.”

He shakes his head as he slots two more pieces of bread into the toaster. “And to think, I was trying to make breakfast for you.”

Again, that gives you pause. Why does he keep trying to do nice things for you?”

“Don’t bother.” You pick up your mug and go into the living room. “I don’t really eat breakfast anyways.”

“That’s not healthy,” he calls after you.

“Most things I do aren’t,” you respond. “What’s on the agenda today?”

“Skipping breakfast puts you at a higher chance of heart disease,” he says.

“Then I guess we won’t have to worry about the spontaneous combustion, will we?” You look back at him. “What’s on the agenda?”

Spencer sighs. He’s given up momentarily, it seems. “Gideon’s going to call me in thirty-two minutes for an update. The whole team has been focusing solely on your case.”

You perk up. The coffee warms your hands through the mug but it doesn’t fully assuage the chill down your spine.

“Do they have any leads?”

“I don’t know,” Spencer says. “Gideon hasn’t called me yet.”

You roll your eyes. “Do you think they have any leads?”

“Maybe.” The toaster pops and he pulls the bread out, then starts buttering it—or trying to. His brow knots in annoyance at the stick of butter, still hard, and he pushes his glasses up with his free hand. You have to look away. “Like I said, Gideon helped start the BAU. He’s solved more cases than anyone else, and,” you feel his eyes on you, “it’s personal this time. He’s probably working around the clock.”

“Just have to hope they get somewhere,” you murmur. Your coffee tastes even more bitter than usual, but you drink it anyway.

“They will,” Spencer says. “I promise.”

“Y’know, people keep making promises they can’t keep,” you say. “I’m getting real tired of it.”

“Well, I’m not leaving your side until they do,” he says. “And I’m going to keep you safe. So consider that promise kept.”

“Great,” you say. “I’m stuck with you until I die or this is solved.”

“You’re not going to die.”

“You don’t have to take everything I say so seriously.”

“Then don’t say everything so seriously.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. Spencer comes over with his plate of messily buttered toast—not very easy with fully solid sticks of butter—and sits down across from you. He holds the plate out.

“Want one?”

“I told you, I don’t eat breakfast.”

“You should.”

“Because one piece of toast will make so much of a difference,” you mock.

“It will,” he says. “Maybe it’ll even make you happier.”

You roll your eyes and drink more of your coffee. “Are you going to bother me all day like this?”

Spencer took a bite of toast then shrugged. “If you’re this blase about everything relating to your health, then yes.”

You groan as you stand up. “It’s too early to deal with you. See you in a few hours.”

“And good morning to you too,” Spencer says wryly. You make a parting gesture with your hand in response.

It’s been a day and a half, and not only have you argued with him twice, but he still refuses to give you anything to work with, still insists on trying to be there for you. It’s as infuriating as it is gratingly admirable. Anyone else probably would have tried to kill you by now.

Well, you’ve already got a stalker trying to do that.

You sigh and down half your coffee. You’ve got a long day ahead of you.

Spencer doesn’t know why you not liking him bothers him so much.

It’s illogical, but it makes sense for you. Your dad spends more time with him than he does with you, and you’re projecting your hatred for Gideon onto Spencer. Whatever.

But it’s not just whatever, and that irks him.

This is an assignment, simple as that. Gideon trusted him enough to put you under his protection, even if it’s for your mental health more so than your physical. It should be a point of pride, being chosen for something like this by someone like Gideon.

Spencer presses his fingers against his temple. You’re a lot, there’s no way around it. But you also claim to hate him, and he knows that’s not true.

Yes, you argue with him. Yes, you’re short with him. Yes, he lost his temper momentarily because not even Spencer is capable of endless grace.

But he also sees your moments of lightness throughout it all. Your brief smiles, the quips that lean towards jokes more than insults—and he notices your eyes, and the brightness that breaks through on occasion.

He always notices your eyes.

Spencer’s phone rings in his pocket, jolting him out of whatever reverie he found himself in. He pulls it out and flips it open, then presses it to his ear. “Gideon?”

“Reid,” he greets. “How are you doing?”

“Fine,” he says. “You’re calling twenty-four minutes early.”

“We just finished a briefing,” Gideon says. “I wanted to get word to you as soon as possible.”

Spencer sits up. “What is it?”

“Morgan, Hotch, and Garcia have been working together to comb through my past cases and see what they’re up to now. They finally found a potential unsub,” he says. “Someone I put away a decade ago was released last year, and recent records indicate he’s back in the area.”

“Who is it?” he asks.

“Adam Hernandez. Also known as—”

“The Stafford Strangler,” Spencer finishes. “He killed three people in two weeks in the 90s—classic spree killer. You caught him with David Rossi’s help.”

“Released on good behavior, despite the victims’ families campaigning against it,” Gideon says. “You know it?”

“Obviously,” he says. “I’ve read all of your old case files.”

Gideon chuckles, and he can almost imagine him shaking his head. “Of course you have.”

“Do you think Hernandez is your guy?” Spencer asks.

“I’m not sure yet,” Gideon says. “We applied for a warrant—as soon as we get it, Morgan and Elle are heading his way to ask a few questions.”

“You think he’d do something like this?” Spencer shifts his position as he frowns. “Hernandez got fired, lost his house, then went off the deep end. He killed because he didn’t see any other solution. The guy going after your daughter is a lot more emotional about all this, and—” his throat feels dry all of a sudden— “and it’s like he’s got some kind of attraction to her.”

“You don’t need to remind me,” Gideon says roughly. “We’re going for leads where we can, and we’re still working every other angle. It doesn’t end with Hernandez.”

“...Good,” Spencer says. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help from here.”

“You’re already doing everything I need you to do.” Gideon pauses, and he hears the creak of the chair in his office as he adjusts how he’s sitting. “How is my daughter doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly. “Her mood changes with the wind. One second she’s trying to start a fight with me, the next she’s trying to joke around with me. It— it’s a lot, I won’t lie.”

“But how is she handling all of this?” he asks. “Staying in the safe house, dealing with a stalker, feeling like a sitting duck.”

“Very cynically,” Spencer says. “She keeps talking about dying or getting killed.”

Gideon sighs. “That sounds like her.”

“She’s… she’s mad at you, mostly.” Spencer picks at a hangnail, ignoring the sharp, temporary pain. “Every time I bring you up, it lights a fuse. You’re the one thing she hates to talk about.”

There’s nothing but silence on the other end.

“Gideon?” he asks. “Did I lose—”

“I’m here,” he interrupts. “Just… thinking.”

“It’s not your fault,” Spencer says. “She’s—”

“It is my fault,” Gideon interrupts again. “Has she told you much about her younger life?”

“...Some,” Spencer says.

“Like?”

Spencer doesn’t really know what to say. He doesn’t want to just tell Gideon that you’ve told him he’s been an awful dad. That it’s really all you’ve told him.

“You can say it, Reid,” Gideon says. “I won’t get mad.”

“...She says you’ve missed out on her whole life,” Spencer finally says, notably quieter. “Her high school graduation, her college graduation— most of the stuff that happened in college, actually.”

Gideon lets out a rough sigh. “I’ll always regret it.”

“So it’s true?” Spencer asks. He’s surprised at the sharpness of his voice.

“I don’t get to control when cases come in,” he says.

“We’re a whole team of qualified agents,” Spencer says. “We— we always have been. Especially when you and Rossi were together. It was like the golden age of profilers.”

“Spencer—”

“You made it to my graduation!” he interrupts. “You were there for my chemistry PhD, and you said you would be there when I get my philosophy degree, but you couldn’t make it for your only child’s high school and college graduations?”

“I already told you I regret it,” Gideon says. His voice is as calm as ever, and for some reason, that irks Spencer even more. “What more can I say? It’s in the past now. I can’t change what I did.”

Spencer stares at the wall. He doesn’t know why this is such a damning thing to him.

His own dad has missed all of his graduations. He’s missed almost every part of his life. But his dad walked out—he wanted nothing to do with Spencer or his mom.

Your dad is right here. Gideon is still around, working every day to save lives and change the world and take down monsters—but he’s still not there for you.

He’s so close and yet he always steps out of your reach.

“Spencer.” Gideon’s voice is tinny through the speaker, and he presses his phone back against his ear.

“Call me back the second you get another lead,” Spencer mutters.

He hangs up without another word.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #gideon!reader #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes #and yes. reader heard spencer's whole side of the convo<3

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fallingfor-fics · 6 months ago

Text

Meetings in Secret- Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Pairing: Step-Aunt Melissa x Step-Niece Reader (not blood relatives!!)

Word count: 11.6k DAMN this a whole book, if it does well i may make a part two

Warnings: fooling around with your step-moms sister, mild smut, fingering, grinding, some angst, drug and alcohol usage

Summary: You are 21 in college and meet Melissa at a family party and continue to run into her. You fall into a loop with her and she keeps dissapearing.

this was def not based on true events

Friday nights were always your favorite since you started college, and now you are freshly twenty-one meaning you prepare yourself all week for Friday nights. You and your friends would go out, have a blast, come home, and crash. Then you would do it again the next weekend. They were almost sacred nights now. So when you got a call from your step-mom saying her son's graduation party was on friday, you held in a displeased groan. Of course you said you would be there and dreaded the event. You did your hair and makeup, leaving your hair down and light makeup since it was mainly outdoors. You wore a simple skirt with a nice tank top and headed home just as it was about to hit seven.

When you arrived you took a deep breath and grabbed the card you got for your step-brother then headed inside. You could hear the music as soon as you got out of your car and your eyes went wide. There were a ton of cars parked in the front of the house and you heard the roar of chatter. Wafts of barbeque and beer came your way as you walked into the kitchen.

“Oh Y/n! I'm so glad you made it!” Your step-mom, Mary, said with a smile and came to give you a hug. “Your father is outside on the grill and Jude is outside with his friends.” she went back to cooking and you nodded.

“It smells great in here, what time did everyone get here? Sorry I'm a little late.”

“Oh it's fine people started arriving at five but they’ll be here all night.” she laughed. You looked out the window to see tables set up under canopies, with lights dangling all around, a balloon arch graced a window, and there was a large speaker playing music. Your jaw opened slightly, they didn't even go this big for your high school graduation. You turned back to Mary with a smile.

“That's a lot of people.”

“Yeah so we are trying to keep the inside off limits, unless it's for the restrooms.” she quipped in response as she bounced around the kitchen. You went outside and said hi to your dad before going to congratulate Jude.

“I got this card for you, Congratulations!” You said with a smile and he gave you a hug.

“Thanks Y/n.”

“Your mom really went all out.” you laughed and he nodded.

“Yeah I don't even remember some of these people, but hey mom’s letting me have a few beers so I can't complain.” You laughed before heading back inside to see if Mary needed any help.

After a couple more hours, people were dancing and mingling like crazy, drinks were flowing and people were either gossiping at tables or dancing by the speaker. You had to admit you were having a pretty good time, you had been hanging around your dad or just chilling by yourself for most of the night, but you were enjoying the people watching, and the juicy rumors people were chatting up. Your step mom called everyone in for a shot and your head started to hurt from the thought of that many people in the kitchen. You had also managed to avoid any introductions and didn't want that to change. You felt better with the drinks you had in your system and had already done a shot or two with Jude when no one was looking. Only the people that actually wanted a shot came inside, thank god, and you stood outside of the circle of people around the kitchen island where your stepmom was pouring the shots in these tiny plastic cups. Your dad yelled a salud to Jude and everyone cheered as they downed their shots. After that most people went back outside but a few hung around for another. When most cleared out of the way, through slightly fuzzy vision you saw a woman standing at the counter, red hair draped across her shoulders in smooth curls, and eyes that sparkled in the dim lighting. An angel- you thought to yourself. You looked away when you realized you had been staring and went to pour yourself another shot.

‘Oh do you want a glass of wine or a cocktail instead?” Mary asked from the sink and you shook your head.

“Nah thats okay im good with this and the beer selection isn't bad.” you said politely and she laughed, clearly more tickled due to her wine buzz she had going on. You took another shot and figured that was enough for now and went to the bathroom. As you were coming out you ran into your other step-brother, Anthony, who was older than you by a few years.

“Oh hey how’s it going?” you asked and he nodded.

“Not bad just got here. I was actually looking for you, you know I owe you for that time we smoked here fourth of july so I brought some stuff if you wanna come to my car?” he asked in a hushed tone and you looked around.

“Your mom still doesn't know you smoke? I don't think she will care. I mean Jude is shitfaced right now.” you said surprised and he shrugged.

“I guess. Come on I dont wanna risk it with the nosey neighbors and we are already being hella loud.” he pleaded and you nodded. You walked to his car, his cousin joining as well. He was parked under a tree and you got in the passenger seat, grabbing the lighter from the door and handing it to him. He gave you the joint to start up and you did, passing it to him as you looked out the window.

“So what happened with you and that girl you were seeing? The crazy one with the boyfriend?” you asked Anthony as his cousin nodded and handed you the joint from the back seat.

“Yeah, you're still seeing that girl?” she asked, leaning forward and he shook his head.

“Nah I ended that, I didnt wanna mess with that situation anymore.” he replied and you took a drag before handing it to him.

“What about you Y/n? You got a man?” his cousin, Ariel, spoke from the back and you laughed,

“No, I'm focusing on school right now.” you smiled and they nodded. You stayed and talked with them a while longer before you guys decided to head back to the party. You sprayed yourself with perfume and washed your hands when you got inside and paused to look at your reflection. You had a good crossfade going and started laughing as you thought of the fact you were going to have to spend the night now. You rolled your eyes before heading back to the kitchen.

Soon it was just you, Mary, another woman that was rather gorgeous but slightly older than Mary, and Ariel.

You smiled as you sipped on some water and talked with Ariel, your back to the patio door. You heard it open and didn't think anything of it until you felt someone come and stand next to you, her arm pushing into yours as she rested her hands on the counter.

“Hey Mary, can you make me another drink?” she asked with a cute smile that made your heart stop for a second. Okay maybe it was also the substances in your system but you caught your breath and turned back to Ariel.

“It's the angel.” you whispered to yourself.

“Hey Melissa, can you make it yourself?” she chirped and you raised your eyebrows. Mary saw and laughed, causing Melissa to turn and look at you. Her smile softened at the sight of you and she stood up straight, looking over your appearance.

“And who is this beautiful young woman?” Melissa asked and you hesitated to speak, the wave of nerves almost suffocating you.

“That's Y/n, Christopher's daughter. You met at the wedding but Y/n is always away at school for any of the parties we have here.” Mary answered as she started to make Melissa’s drink. “Y/n this is my younger sister, Melissa.” you nodded now vaguely remembering her. Your dad and Mary got married right before you left for college so you didn't see much of her family.

“Oh I didn't even recognize you, you have changed so much.” Melissa said with a smile and you weren't quite sure if that was a good thing or not.

“Well I grew my hair longer and stopped dying it. I also cooled it with heavy makeup.” You rambled, the drinks in you allowing your tongue to roll words right off it at a rather impressive speed, for your current state at least.

“I see. You have such beautiful hair sweetheart.” she said with excitement in her voice clearly a result from some drinks. She moved her hand to run her fingers through the ends, her fingers grazing your back through it. You felt a chill travel up your spine and your cheeks grew hot.

“Thank you, but you have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen.” you said softly and she smiled.

“Awe thanks hon.” she rubbed your back then grabbed her drink from Mary. “Are you coming with us girls to go shopping tomorrow?” she asked and Mary looked up with a smile.

“Oh yeah Y/n I wanted to ask you but I got so busy cooking. We would love to have you. We are just going to hit up some shops in town.” Your step mom said sincerely as she took a sip of her wine. You felt Melissa looking at you and you met her glance for a second. Her eyes were firm yet dazzling. You felt as if she was challenging you, but not threatening, rather observing your response and demeanor. You nodded with a smile and Mary cheered and Melissa's satin lips curved into a cocky smile.

The next day you got up early to shower and get dressed, you wore denim shorts and a baby tee with sneakers and did some light makeup. You had slept in your room that was right across from the guest room, which you learned Melissa was staying in and you struggled to sleep with that fact circling in your head. This encourages you to wake up and get ready though. Because now you had a reason to get put together before you were seen by her in your pajamas with your hair a mess.

You step out of your room and see Melissa sitting in the kitchen, her back to you and Mary sat next to her with a cup of coffee. You took a breath and walked up to them with a smile.

“Good morning.” You said to them as you got a cup of water.

“Morning sweetie.” Mary chirped, Melissa looked up at you with a smile and muttered a greeting before going back to her phone.

It wasn't until you all went to load into the car that you realized you were a seat short. You offered to ride in the trunk but Mary refused.

“I think we can all fit if we squeeze.” Ariel muttered and you sighed. Melissa turned to you with a smile.

“You can sit on my lap if you need to hon.” she said casually in her rough and seductive voice. Your cheeks grew hot and it took every muscle of restraint to decline the offer. I mean you had to give yourself a pat on the fucking back at the willpower you had to say no to this. You knew it wasn't right to say yes since she was just offering to be nice and you respected her too much. You shook your head and laughed.

“Um I'll just take my car, and follow you up.” you said moving to grab your keys.

“Oh ok thanks for doing that.” Mary said and you nodded, “Go with her, Melissa, so she's not alone and so we all fit comfortably.” Mary ordered, gesturing to Melissa to walk to your car.

“Is that okay with you?” she asked and you nodded in shock. She walked up to you and grabbed the keys from your hand. You allowed her, not saying anything and just smiling. “I'll drive if that's ok.”

“Go right ahead.” you said and you walked to the passenger side. The car ride went fast, Melissa asking you about school, and you asking her about work. You learned she taught at an elementary school and that thought only fueled the butterflies. She said what you were studying was cool and that also made you blush a bit. You knew you couldn't keep thinking this, but it was hard. She was very affectionate, I mean they all were, but she would alway place hands on your arm or back and she always held eye contact. You were confused from all the signals getting crossed. Of course you knew she was just being nice, but you couldn't help the way your mind wandered about her every time you would lock eyes.

You split off to go shopping with Ariel and met back up with the others for lunch. Melissa sat next to you and you smiled up at her, she had her hair down but was wearing a casual yet very flattering sundress that had thin straps. You didn't notice any bra straps which made you think she either wasn't wearing one or had a strapless one on. As if she was reading your mind, she let out a sigh and her hands went to the fabric on her chest.

“I got one of these stupid sticky bras and the damn thing is falling off.” she muttered to the table and you all laughed. Your step-mom went on to share her own experience with those heinous creations and Melissa continued to mess around and you once again turned your focus away from her.

“Oh my god, should I just take it off.” she laughed turning to you and you laughed along.

“Just go to the bathroom and fix it.” you suggested, her knee was pressed to yours and you couldn't help your eyes accidentally glancing to her chest for a second.

“I mean look at that.” she said, holding the top of her dress out for you to see her dilemma. You felt your chest tighten and you panicked inside. The Schemmentis were all very open and close with each other, and you loved to be able to be a part of it all, but this moment had you wanting to drift away in a gust of wind to never be seen again. You couldn't help it and you looked down quickly before nodding and looking away.

“Yup yeah that sucks.” you said as you took a sip of your water. By the time you all got home you were ready to go back to campus and see your friends. You said goodbye to everyone and drove an hour back to school. Before you left Melissa gave you a hug and you felt her soft hands around your back, one resting on the exposed skin of your waist from your cropped shirt. Her hands were warm along with her skin which was silky soft and radiant. You cleared your head and quickly got into your car to leave. You only had a few more weeks of school, and wanted to hang out with your friends as much as possible.

The next Friday you and your friends took a trip to Philly a few hours away to visit another friend that you hadnt seen in awhile. They had mentioned this popular gay club you and your friends wanted to check out so of course you agreed to go with.

“Yeah I guess it's owned by a famous drag queen, it's in Milwaukee though it's just so far and not worth checking out ya know?” Your friend said to you in the uber on the way to the club, no one wanted to be sober tonight so the Uber was necessary. Your hair was down and you were wearing a little black body con dress with sequins on it and some cute black heels. Currently you were reapplying your lipgloss since the pregaming rubbed some off and you needed to look good tonight. You arrived at the place and you and your friends all cheered when you got inside. The place was two stories, with the second floor being balconies that looked down onto the first that had a large dance floor and of course the bar.

“Follow me!” your friend said and you all grabbed hands as you moved through people. You noticed the crowd was full of all kinds of people. Some were younger, some were older, but everyone seemed to be having a good time. You were led upstairs where you found another bar, and then booths and high tables placed around under the colorful lighting. You all went to the bar and ordered some drinks, you noticed all the tables up here were full and your friend suggested you go dance. You all agreed and finished your drinks before going back downstairs. You took a second to have another shot and as you were walking to catch up to your friends you saw through the tables of people, on the other side of the room, flaming hair and a glowing smile that erupted with laughter sitting in a booth. You realized who it was and your heart stopped as you admired her. You wondered if you should say hi or just sneak away, as you pondered, one of your friends came up to you.

“Come on, Y/n” she said and you turned to look at her muttering an apology. You looked back up at Melissa and she was sipping her drink, she must have felt your relentless stare because she looked up and before her eyes landed on you, you were walking downstairs with your friend. Melissa caught a glimpse of you walking away and saw the shine of your hair and furrowed her brows. She assured herself it was just someone else but she couldn't get the image of you out of her head. She walked over to the bar and got a beer, taking it over to the balcony. She leaned over it looking down at the mass of people dancing and her eyes darted through the group. There were so many people squished together she felt her eyes sting as she focused looking through them, searching for your smile. Finally she smiled when she saw you and your friends pulling each other to the dance floor, thankful she wasn't crazy after all. The lights swirled around your face and you danced freely but with elegance to the music. Things slowed down as drinks started to flow and you smiled at the feeling. Time slowed for Melissa as well while she watched you dancing in the haze of smoke and music, your friend moved up behind you and you pressed against her, grinding to the beat and laughing as you did so. Melissa felt her breath catch and her smile grew. She admired your beauty and confidence mixed with your overall humble attitude. The innocence you wore underneath all of that was pulling Melissa in and she took a sip of her beer when she felt her throat going dry. When she looked back down, your friends were coming back from the bar down below, empty shot glasses left in your place at the counter. You kept dancing with your friends and Melissa felt a twitch of jealousy in her. Her brow raised slightly and she sucked her teeth with a smirk. She couldnt peel her eyes away from you, your hips, your face, the way you moved up against your friends, it all enchanted her.

You smiled and laughed while your friend put her hands on your hips and you both moved along to the music. It was already hot in the room with the amount of people there, but you felt your face heat up even more all of the sudden and you opened your eyes fully and slowed your dancing a bit. You felt eyes on you and something drew you to look upstairs. Immediately bright green eyes were locked on yours. Your hips didnt stop moving as you stared up at the woman, She was smirking at you and you hesitated in reacting. You were fairly tipsy by this point and you had all smoked before coming so when your eyes landed on her you were rather stunned. You couldn't help but smile at her, a sheepish and regretfully seductive smile that caused her to smile back in return. Your friend turned to push her back against you and you instinctively did so, your hips once again moving in sync. Melissa watched in envy from above and sipped her beer, giving you one last glance before walking away.

You snapped out of your haze and stopped dancing, casually enough to not raise concern, and then said you were going to the bathroom. Your friends nodded and you went upstairs. Fueled by alcohol-induced confidence and of course delusion, you looked for Melissa in the large circle of people. You spotted her table from earlier and you saw her sitting with three other women. From a distance you watched, observing to see if any of these women could be with her. That's when you realized… Melissa was at a gay bar. Which meant one of two things, her queer friends invited her, or Melissa didn't just like men. You knew she had been married and divorced to one but didn't think anything of it. Your heart started to beat faster and you let out a breath, now unsure about going up to her. What good could that do? While you pondered Melissa had seen you standing over by the bar alone and made her way over to you.

“You really shouldn't be alone hon.” a raspy voice chirped from behind you and your head snapped to look at her.

“I was just up here looking for the bathroom.” you said and she nodded, gesturing you to follow her. By how quickly she took you to the bathroom your senses pointed towards option two of your possibilities for Melissa being here and you sighed to yourself. Melissa held your hand as she led you and you smiled as you kept up with her. When you got out of the bathroom Melissa was waiting outside it, leaning up against the wall of the hallway that was semi-secluded from the rest of the loud music and voices. You smiled at her when you got out and you took advantage of your current situation and looked at her with a grin. She raised a brow and you sighed.

“So.” you paused looking up at her, “What are you doing in a place like this?” The words dragged out of your mouth but somehow managed to be quick enough that you couldn't properly phrase the question and you made a face at your choice of words. She scoffed with a smile and crossed her arms casually.

“I could ask you the same thing.” she said softly and you nodded.

“I'm just here with my friends for the weekend.” you said shrugging and she pushed herself off the wall to step closer to you. You looked in her eyes and she tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Why are you really here Y/n?” she said with confidence and you felt your knees go weak.

“I told you, my friends brought me.” you replied and she shook her head.

“Come on. Be a good girl and tell me what I want to hear.” she said getting serious and you almost melted right there. You wouldn't believe what just came from her mouth. This woman you had met twice, and oh yeah, who was also your step..aunt? You swallowed and she smirked.

“My dad didn't tell you I like girls… well, women.” you slurred out a bit with a sly smirk and she tilted her head at you.

“I get the feeling you didn't tell him.” you looked at her plainly and laughed, shrugging it off and she stepped closer once again. You felt your back hit the other wall and you couldn't help a small grin.

“My family doesn't know, I'm very private. I'm not currently seeing anyone. I am as clean as a whistle. I like all women but have a soft spot for redheads.” you rambled out, your eyes softening at the last part as you winked. You would be the first to admit you were fairly drunk at this point.

“Anything else you wanna know? Oh, I'm wearing black lace panties.” you muttered as you teased her and you went pale when you realized what you said. Embarrassment took over and Melissa just smiled at you with a cocky and mysterious smile. You didn't say a word and just turned to walk away, but she grabbed your arm and pulled you into her, her hands cupped your face and she kissed you softly but with a desire so strong it made your stomach flip. You kissed her back, running your hands through her hair and pulled away with a sigh to catch your breath. Your eyes widened when you realized and you looked down shaking your head.

“I'm so sorry.” was all you said before walking away to find your friends.

“Damn did you throw up or something?” One said from their spot at the bar. You laughed and shook your head.

“No, I ran into a friend.”

Your friends were growing tired and you were all about ready to head back. As you were closing out your tab your friends ordered the Uber and used the restroom. You signed the check and thanked the bartender, putting your card back into your purse. The Uber came and you left with your friends.

That was the last time you saw Melissa for months.

It took a couple days but after your kiss with Melissa you were able to eventually shove it away in the deep dark depths of your brain. You were currently at a work event for the organization you were interning at, and the event was at a nice history museum in Philly. It was a more formal event and you decided to just stay the night in a hotel instead of driving back. You were wearing a very simple yet elegant dress and some smaller heels. Due to your anxiousness you arrived early and decided to drop your stuff at the hotel first. The office made the reservation and covered the hotel expenses, so your room was rather fancy. It was on the top floor of the hotel and had a large king bed and a chaise lounge that sat in front of a large window that overlooked the city. You gasped at the sight and held in a scream at how gorgeous and amazing this was. You looked at your watch and saw it was almost time to head out so you fixed yourself in the bathroom mirror, and then grabbed your phone and purse before heading out.

You got there fifteen minutes early, and walked up the steps of the museum looking around at all the dimly lit architecture that graced the outside walls. You gawked at how magnificent and intricate it was and continued to do so as you made your way in. There were signs pointing you where you needed to go and eventually you saw some of your coworkers. You mingled with them for a bit and grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waitress as you waited for your boss to arrive.

“Oh Y/n, you see that group of people over there? Those are the investors we are trying to impress tonight.” one of the other interns whispered to you and you looked over in the direction she pointed. You saw a bunch of people in suits that definitely looked the part and raised your brows.

“Wow, they are the real deal. Too bad we can't talk to them.” You laughed.

“Who says you can't?” you heard your boss chime in from beside you and you looked at her with a smile.

“No one really, just myself.” you replied and she nudged your arm.

“It's all about networking darling, and anyone can network.” she smiled and then walked to the front of the crowd.

Did you want to fuck your boss? Yes of course you did. She was brilliant. However at this point in time you knew better, and you needed this job. That didn't stop her from flirting with you, and she actually did flirt, it wasn't in your head. Only reason you know that is because even your friends at work thought so.

After her speech was over you were free to walk the museum, you decided to go checkout the best exhibit they had-- the planetarium. This was always your favorite part of museums and with how fancy this one was you knew it had to be pretty astounding. You decided to go to the bathroom before you went to the exhibit, and as you stopped to read the map on the wall to see where the closest one was, you saw people out of the corner of your eye. Naturally you glanced at them before looking back at the map. However, you recognized a face and you felt your cheeks grow warm, you slowly looked back over out of fear you could be right, and your eyes went wide when you saw the familiar glow of red hair. You watched as Melissa walked slowly, looking at some boring historic artifacts, arm hooked in the arm of… a man. You held back the disapproving glare that tugged to appear on your face and you decided to just turn back around. You decided to stare at the map until they had walked by. Eventually you lost track of how long you had been there, checking your phone to see it was definitely not longer than three minutes. You exhaled and before you could go to turn around you felt a hand on your back, stroking your hair.

“Hey Y/n.” you heard a velvety voice mutter your name and you felt a ping in your chest. Turning to face her with a smile, you fidget with your watch and look around for the man that was accompanying her.

“Hi.” you let out, your eyes locking with hers. You looked over her and your chest grew numb as your eyes traced over her curves that were gracefully accentuated by her dress.

“What brings you to a place like this?” she asked with a grin and you laughed at her mocking question.

“I could ask you the same thing. We have got to stop meeting like this.” you joke with a light blush on your cheeks as you smile. Trying your best to play your role as a perfectly normal college kid who did not kiss a step relative at a gay club.

“Looking for the bathroom I presume?” she asked and you nodded, slightly embarrassed. “It's that way.” she said and you nodded in realization. Soon the man she was with came from one of the staff only doors and came to stand next to her, a hand on her back.

“Hey, thanks for waiting.” He said to her before looking over at you with a small smile.

“No, problem I was just catching up with Y/n here she is my sister's stepdaughter.” she said with haste, “Y/n this is Clint he works here at the museum.” she said and you nodded.

“Nice to meet you. Clint.” you said enunciating the ‘t’ as you looked at Melissa.

“To clarify I actually own part of the museum not just a regular employee,” he said casually and You saw Melissa's eyes flicker to yours, she was reading your face for a reaction and her eyes softened as she listened to this preppy douche talk about himself, she felt embarrassment creep up on her as she watched you watching him. How could she stand here in front of an intelligent and beautiful girl like you with her arm linked to a man that was barely in Melissa's league and even she knew that for certain. “What brings you here?” he finally asked.

“I'm here for a work event.” you nodded and he had an “ah-ha” look on his face.

“Ahh yes, you’re with Smith Archives right?” he asked and your lips flattened.

“Yup, I'm interning there.” you replied politely and Melissa furrowed her brows.

“Wow hon that's a long drive home.” she asked with more concern laced in her voice than she intended and you just looked down.

“I'm staying the night, they put me up in a hotel a few blocks from here.” Her face relaxed and you saw a mischievous twinkle in her eyes for a second before you cleared your throat to break the silence.

“Well it was nice seeing you but I have to get going. Good to meet you, Clin-t.” You said quickly before smiling and turning to head in the direction of the bathroom. The slight sting of jealousy trickled in your head and you rolled your eyes at your own reactions to everything.

The exhibit was beautiful as you expected. The giant dome was lit up with the night sky and you sat in one of the seats, staring up at them as the soft sound of a narrator explained the astronomy facts. No one else was in there so you got to enjoy it in peace. Amongst the stars you zoned out, thinking of Melissa and convincing yourself this will all pass just like last time. You felt your head hurt from the stress and you took a deep breath. You sat there for at least two rounds of the little speech and were debating on staying for one more before you flinched slightly at a voice from behind you.

“Magnificent isn't it?” you turned to see your boss, Vivian, standing with her arms crossed as she looked around. You stood up and leaned on the backs of the seats.

“Yeah it is, I'm surprised we are the only ones here.” you muttered as you looked over her frame. Vivian was gorgeous, but her mind, it was her mind that was so brilliant it never failed to reel you in, the way she spoke, and carried herself often left you in a haze. She was so humble and reserved yet gave you just enough to leave you on your toes. She had long dark gray hair with white sprinkled through it, despite only being forty-eight. She had strong cheekbones and piercing brown eyes that were so inviting yet intimidating.

“Yeah well everyone is at the Dinosaur exhibit.” she laughed and you let out a soft giggle.

“That makes perfect sense. Did we have any luck with the investors?” you asked and she didn't answer she just turned to look at you with a smile.

“I want to ask you something Y/n.” she said softly as she walked past you to stand closer to the front of the dome, her head looking around at the stars in front of her.

“Yeah what's up?” you asked, trying to appear normal. She turned to look at you and you smiled.

“You know, you are very good at your job,” she paused and you felt your heart stop- oh god were you getting fired right now? “And I really value having you here but there is just one small issue. It is hard for me to help you get the most out of this position when you look at me like you want to fuck me.” Your eyes went wide and your jaw dropped.

“What?” was all you could croak out and she smiled, a soft laugh leaving her lips.

“Its okay Y/n, I know you don't mean to, and I can't blame you,” she said, gesturing to herself and you laughed awkwardly, “but this brings me to my question.” she started and you nodded for her to continue, you were unsure if this situation could get any crazier so why not.

“Are you able to get over this little infatuation or do I have to fulfill your fantasy in order for you to move on?” The words left her lips all too quickly and you felt your knees buckle as you leaned on the seats, she walked over to stand in front of you and you smiled up at her. If this was really happening you knew you had to take the opportunity. She stood over you and raised a hand to tuck hair behind your ear. The gesture made your heart ache and you were suddenly reminded of Melissa. You knew nothing could ever come from either of these situations, but your cons were longer for hooking up with Melissa than they were with Vivian. Melissa was never going to do the things you wanted her to and you had accepted that in this moment and allowed yourself to give in to pleasure. Vivian leaned down and hummed waiting for a response.

“No one will know?” you asked with a smile and half lidded eyes as you looked at her, standing to meet her face to face.

“Where’s the fun in telling?” she scoffed and you smirked, she moved a hand to brush a thumb over your lips and her other moved to rest on your waist. Just as she was about to lean in to kiss you, you saw movement behind her and you backed away, she did the same. Standing away from you nonchalantly. She relaxed when she saw it wasn't a coworker but you tensed up further when you saw Melissa standing there with a face full of confusion and shock. She didn't know how to feel and could only identify the jealousy she felt burning in her chest.

“Sorry to interrupt.” she laughed bitterly, before turning and walking out. You watched as she left the dome and you looked down.

“Did you know her?” Vivian asked and you nodded, “Hmm, ex?” she asked and you shook your head.

“No, it's complicated.” was all you said. Though you were surprised, that's what Vivian's first guess was.

“Well whoever she is, the way she was looking at you really reminded me of the way you look at me.” she laughed and your eyes snapped up to hers.

“Really?” you asked and she nodded. You looked at your watch and saw that the event was technically over. “I have to go Vivian.” you said with a shaky voice from the anxiety coursing through you.

“Go ahead Y/n. we can always pick up where we left off another time.” she winked and you ignored the small flutter in your stomach as you said goodnight, placing a kiss to her cheek, and then leaving the exhibit. You practically jogged down the hall, you looked all over and couldn't find her, the last place you looked being the front of the museum. You slowed when you saw her standing on the curb. You walked over and took a breath before coming to stand beside her. You didn't say anything and she looked at you.

“Was that your boss?” she asked and you nodded which earned a scoff from Melissa and you rolled your eyes. “I see you do have a type, though she looked a little too old for you.” she joked with a slight sting behind her words that fueled your own jealousy.

“Where is your date, Flint?” you asked with a smile and she sighed.

“Clint, and he is pulling the car up.”

“Where did you, uh, meet him?” you asked and she crossed her arms, both of you not looking at one another.

“I met him on a field trip here, this is only our second date.” she spoke softly and it set off a signal in your brain. She seemed more mellow than usual, she seemed unhappy and all out of pep. You thought maybe she was just tired but didn't want to ask. You decided to bite your tongue and not make any more remarks about the topic. Soon you saw a car in the distance pulling around and knew you didn't have much time.

“Melissa.” you said and she looked at you.

“Yeah hon?”

"Who were you with at the club that one night?” the simple question came out rather judgemental and you looked down.

“My friends from work. Why do you ask sweetie?” she said and you felt your heart swell at the pet name. You felt your cheeks grow hot and she sensed your nerves. She knew you wanted to ask her something else and just couldn't find the push you needed. “I date whoever I want, hon.” she said casually, leaning closer to your ear and you furrowed your brows. She gestured around and you realized what she was alluding to and you nodded.

“What did you really want to ask me?” she said and you looked down.

“I can't, not now, as much as I want to.” you said softly. You both turned to look at one another and Melissa smiled.

“What’s there to lose?” she said and your eyes met hers, she could see the desire lit within your gaze, she knew exactly what you wanted. Now it was up to her to decide, she had you at her fingertips and she wasn't going to let this chance pass by.

“Who says anything has to happen sweetheart?” she said assertively and you just smiled. Clint came pulling up and you looked at Melissa. Clint got out of the car to open her door and she put her arm around your waist gently and looked at him with sympathy.

‘Hey Clint, I'm actually going to take Y/n back to her hotel room. She isn't feeling too well and I want to make sure she gets there okay.” You didn't say anything and just hid the smile that crept at the corners of your lips.

“Oh ok I can follow and take you back to your place after?” he offered and she shook her head.

“No, that's okay, i'll take a taxi. Have a good night thanks.” She looked at you with a smile and you grabbed your purse.

“I'm driving this time.” you chirped and she laughed, grabbing your hand and walking to your car. The ride to the hotel was so tense you thought you wouldn't make it there without the car breaking down from the sheer weight of it. Your legs were spread slightly and your dress was riding up. Melissa tried to keep her gaze under control but you eventually caught her looking and smiled. Your cheeks flushed and you looked out the window. The wind coming in from the cracks of the windows chilled your face and made your cheeks grow rosy. The slight humidity in the air was comforting and you couldn't help but smile as you looked out at the streets. Soon you were arriving at the Hotel and you felt your chest tighten as you got out of the car.

“This is a very nice hotel.” she said as you followed her in and you laughed. As you walked through the lobby you spotted the bar and looked at Melissa.

“Are you tired?” you asked and she shook her head.

“Want to get a drink?" you said, gesturing to the bar.

“Always.”

After two hours of talking and nursing a few beers as well as two cocktails and a shot, you and Melissa moved to just drinking water, and went to sit on the patio. You sat facing each other on the couch, your knees tucked up and your elbow resting on the back of the sofa. You and Melissa were talking about all kinds of things, getting to know each other, and joking around together. It was one of the best nights you’d had in a while, where you were truly having fun and getting to just exist in the moment.

“Ugh do we have to go to bed? I could sit here talking all night” you stated simply and she smirked. As if she did it herself, you felt your throat dry up and you went to grab your water, taking large sips you felt a drop trickle down from the corner of your mouth and down your chin. Melissa let out a shaky breath and you set the glass down looking at her. She raised her hand to your face slowly, not taking her eyes from yours.

“What do you want to do sweetie?” she said as her thumb wiped the water off your chin and you felt your chest go hot and your breathing grew shallow. You decided there was no going back now and you smiled. The drinks were flowing and you felt fuzzy, the kind of tipsy you usually only got from wine.

“What I want to do isn’t appropriate.” you muttered with a grin, tearing your eyes from her and looking down into your water glass.

“If you are gonna say things like that Y/n, say them with confidence.” she quipped and you looked up at her with big eyes that soon turned hazy.

“Why were you on a date with Clint?” you asked as you were told to, your back straight, and your voice clear.

“I have needs. I know he was an idiot.” she said simply.

“How many women have you been with?” you said swiftly and she looked down and then sucked her teeth.

“I don't think you want to know.” she shrugged and you furrowed your brows.

“I've never been with one.” you said looking at her with a shy gaze and her smile softened. She knew from the moment she first saw you that there was a sweetness in you and she could tell by your body language and the way that her words affected you that you were inexperienced and searching for the right woman's touch.

“I know hon.” she nodded and you felt your cheeks heat up again at how easily she saw right through you. The air grew thick as you admired each other and you looked over her face in awe.

“Why did you kiss me that night?” The question left your lips softly but with speed, you didn't regret asking it though.

“Do I need a reason?” she said with humor and you moved to sit closer, your knees touching hers.

“Why won’t you kiss me now?” you said with confidence, and you held the same challenging look on your face that Melissa had months ago. She smiled and looked you up and down slowly, your skin melting under her fiery gaze. Your core tightened and your eyes darted between hers.

“Do you want me to, baby?” she said softly with a teasing tone and you felt your heart swell. Her hand moved to play with your hair as she looked in your eyes. Her eyes searched yours for the answer and you felt the weight of her gaze cause the rise of tension and lust to float in the air. You could feel your cheeks tingle like pricks of a needle on your soft skin. You nodded and she raised a brow, waiting for more.

“Yes, I want you to kiss me.” you practically shouted with a laugh and she didn't hesitate to grab your waist and pull you in, her lips devouring yours as a hand moved to grasp your jaw. You moaned into the kiss and pushed your chest against hers as she moved her other hand from your hip to grab your ass. Her hand then slid under your thigh to hook under your knee and lift it to her hip, causing your core to press against her as you moved to straddle her. You felt a fire erupt in your core at the action and you swear her skilled mouth caused you to almost climax there and then. The heat between the both of you was so strong with one strong gust of wind you would have set the whole hotel ablaze. You moaned and she pulled away from the kiss, admiring your glossy eyes and puffy lips with her own lips being slightly pink around the edges.

“What else do you want me to do?” she said out of breath and you just pulled her back in for a kiss, you let her tongue roam your mouth and find a pattern with your own. Your stomach grew hot and you felt your core tighten around nothing. You answered her question by grabbing her hand and moving it between your legs and she groaned into your mouth, causing a wave of arousal to wash over you.

“God honey you are soaked for me huh?” she muttered between kisses and you nodded, she kissed along your neck as her hand moved your dress up and slid her hand into your panties. You moaned as she moved her fingers over your clit and pleased you with precision you weren't surprised by.

“Fuck Melissa- I want you so bad.” you whined out and she pulled away, removing her hand and grabbing yours.

“Come on baby.” she said as you stood up and walked back inside, you headed to your room and the moment you got in the elevator Melissa was pushing you against the wall, her hands roaming your body as you tangled your hands in her hair, and moaned against her lips. The sounds you made echoed in the small area and only spurred Melissa on. The ding chimed loudly to alert you of your arrival and you broke away from her, digging in your purse for your key as you stepped out. Melissa kept an arm around your waist as you walked to your room, which you couldn't unlock due to the nerves and drinks in your system causing you to miss the slot. Melissa grabbed it from you and did it with ease and you smiled at her.

“Thank you.” You opened the door and led Melissa inside, shutting the door behind you and locking it.

“Holy shit this is a nice room.” she said looking around and you nodded. When she turned to face you again, you were taking off your heels and pulling your dress off over your head. Her eyes grew heavy with lust and she walked over to you, cupping your face and pulling you in for a kiss, she backed you up to the bed and she pushed you back. You climbed up and sat against some pillows, your legs spread. She watched and bit her lip as she admired your frame. She took her own shoes off and hesitated.

“Fuck you are gorgeous. You sure you want this baby? Once I fuck you, we can't go back.” she said firmly and you nodded eagerly. She slipped her own dress off and you felt your breath hitch at the sight of her. Her body was gorgeous, absolutely perfect. You wanted to feel her skin under your fingertips and trace her curves for the rest of your life.

“I want you more than anything I've ever wanted.” you said with a lovestruck voice and she smiled.

She came up and straddled you, immediately kissing you again with force, her teeth sinking into your bottom lip earning a surprised and throaty gasp from you. She looked down at you and moved her hand to cup your center. You admired her as she rubbed circles on your sensitive core. Her eyes were sparkling, and her lips were turned up at the corners in a smirk. You moaned into her kiss as she continued to move her hand. Her thighs laid over yours and the warmth of hers around you felt like heaven. She pulled away to breath and you looked each other in the eyes, her hand came out of your panties and to your lips, she brushed her thumb over your lip and you looked at her with doe eyes. Your hands rested on her ass, and she looked down at you with a smile.

“Open.” she said softly and you didn't hesitate to open your mouth and allow her to slip two fingers in. You sucked on them not tearing your eyes from hers as your tongue did circles around them. Melissa pulled them out of your mouth slowly before allowing them to return to their spot on your clit, your warm saliva touching your slit caused you to groan and Melissa kissed your open mouth, her tongue diving in and swirling around yours, finding a rhythm as you kissed back, you rocked your hips into her hand, causing her arm to press against her own center. Your hands squeezed her ass and nudged her towards you gently, she arched into you, her chest against yours as she continued to kiss you roughly. Without warning she slid her fingers into you and you let out a loud moan into the kiss and she smiled, pulling away to hover just above your mouth, your lips almost touching as she curled her fingers inside you, deep and rough. Your brows furrowed and your mouth opened as you rocked against her fingers.

“You liked that baby?” she whispered in her deep voice and your stomach fluttered. You nod with a smile.

“Don't stop please.” you whine and she giggles.

“I wouldn't dream of it.” she pushes into you harder and faster and you feel the heat in your core grow hotter, a tight feeling forming in your sensitive and deprived cunt. She stayed hovering a mere inch above you as she moved her hips slowly and her fingers moved hard and fast. You rocked your hips into her faster and she looked down at you with a devious smile. She watched as your face contorted with pleasure and your eyes went glossy as you grew closer to your release. You moaned as you felt your legs press together and your back arched into Melissa.

“Fuck, im going to cum.” you moaned into her and she smiled, finally kissing you again, this time slowly and tender. Her soft lips wrapping around yours gently and her fingers shoved into you caused quite the contrast and you felt your chest flutter from the contradicting emotions. Your brows furrowed and you squeezed around her.

“Cum for me baby, be a good girl and let it all out.” she said softly and your eyes snapped shut as you came around her fingers. You let out a loud moan as your legs tingle and you twitch under her slightly. You rode it out on her fingers and she pulled them out of you, bringing them to her mouth with a smile. You watched in amazement as her plump lips wrapped around her fingers coated in your flavor.

“Fuck you are,” you paused looking up at her, the dim lighting around her caused her to glow, her hair cascading around her face that was dewy from the things she had just done to you. Her lips were pink and her eyes were full of mischief and lust. She looked stunning, she was stunning. How could you put into words how incredible she was. She raised a brow waiting for you to finish with a smile on her face. “Ethereal.” you finally said and she looked at you with a more serious gaze, trying to detect any underlying emotions you may have been disguising.

“Well you aren't so bad yourself babe.” she laughed and you shook your head gently, still in your hypnotic state as you stared at her.

“No, I'm serious Melissa. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on.” you said with a serious tone and her smile faded as she looked at you. After a moment she looked down and sighed.

“Thank you, hon.” she said as she moved off you and got off the bed, you watched her with confusion and your eyebrows scrunched together when she reached for her dress.

“Woah hey, did I do something wrong?” you asked getting up to walk over to her and she quickly shook her head.

“No, not at all. You’re a wonderful girl Y/n, but we can't be doing this, I want you but you are young, and I don't want you to..” she paused, her hand going to her forehead and you looked down as you realized.

“Fall in love with you?” the words left your lips quietly and she looked at you up and down with sympathy.

“I'm sorry I didn't think any of this through. I'm going to go, before anything else happens.” she said looking for her shoes and you shook your head, walking to stand between her and the hall to the door.

“I know I'm young but I'm not some high school virgin that's gonna fall in love with you because we sleep together.” You scoffed and she shook her head.

“No you’re not, but you have never been with a woman or been in a serious relationship with one, and I cant have this be your first.” she said, grabbing her purse. You stepped closer to her and she used all her strength to keep her eyes on yours.

“Is this not what you wanted though?” you asked sharply, gesturing between you and she looked down. “You didn't want to see me naked, on display for you?” you asked as you moved to take off your bra.

“Y/n-” she started, not looking at your body and you laughed as you slid your panties to the ground while you looked her in the eyes.

“Tell me this isn't what you wanted. Tell me that you weren't dreaming about me after we kissed that night, that I didn't cross your mind while you touched yourself, that you didnt want to fuck me in that museum while my boss watches. That you don't want to touch me right now.” you said stepping closer, now only a foot from her, she looked into your eyes and let out a sigh.

“I-” she couldn't get the words out. Melissa was usually so quick-witted and good with words, but with you it was hard, and in this moment it felt impossible. You looked at her with a smirk, reaching to grab her hand, you placed it on your chest and she kept her eyes on yours. Slowly and effortlessly, you slid her hand over your breasts and down your stomach. Her breath hitched in her throat as she looked at you.

“Fuck me.” she muttered under her breath, deciding to say fuck it and bringing her other hand to your waist, pulling you into her and kissing you with heat and aggression, she dominated the kiss and her nails dug into your hips as she kissed you with a desire strong enough to cause you to slam against the wall behind you, you moaned from the feeling, and she pulled away.

“Lay back on the bed baby.” she ordered and you nodded, moving to the bed once again. After many orgasms later you both eventually fell asleep, naked and tangled in the sheets, Melissa's warm body pressed against yours all night.

A loud ringing song woke you from one of the best sleeps you have had in a long time. Annoyed and groggy you lifted your head to see what it was, you saw Melissa reaching for her phone and the noise stopped, but she brought it to her ear as she moved to get up out of bed. You watched her frame move gently around the room and she gathered her clothes from the floor and chaise.

“Yeah I’m fine.” she said in a soft tone and you tried your best to hear who was on the other side. You heard a lower voice but couldn't quite make it out. “Mhm. Oh um, I can't go to brunch today but lets rain check.” You furrowed your brows as you turned to lay on your side and propped your head up on your hand, your naked body lay exposed aside from the sheet barely covering your cunt and one of your breasts. Melissa turned and saw you were awake and smiled at you as she looked for her shoes once again. “Oh dinner? Look Clint I have a busy day maybe next weekend? Ok yeah, bye.” She hung up and you raised your brow with a smile. “I'm gonna shower.” was all she said as she put her hair in a bun and took her undergarments into the bathroom with her.

Your lips flattened into a disappointed expression and you looked around the hotel room at the mess you two made. Sheets were scattered around along with your own clothes. You got up and looked in the mirror, you had a bruise on your hip and you smiled at it. Thankfully she avoided leaving hickeys. You walked over to the bathroom and gently moved the handle to see if it was locked, it moved down and opened and you smirked. You shut it behind you and looked over at the shower. It was a large walk-in shower with glass walls and a built-in shower bench. A towel was thrown over the panel of the door, just barely blocking your view of Melissa's wet and naked body. As you put your hair into a bun, you walked over and opened the door, stepping in and coming up behind her, your arms coming to rest on her hips as your lips placed kisses on her shoulder.

“You sleep okay?” you asked and she hummed as she turned to face you, turning you towards the water so you were wet too.

“You did so good last night baby.” she praised you with a velvety voice as her hands roamed your body, she grabbed the body wash and put some in her hands, lathering it and placing her hand on you once again. She went over your arms and shoulders, turning you around to get your back as you washed your face, her hands moved over your hips and that's when she saw the bruise.

“Oh hon, did I hurt you.” she said with a sympathetic yet teasing tone, her fingers moving to trace it gently, sending a chill up your back. You looked over your shoulder at her, placing a kiss to her soft lips and smiled.

“No, I had a wonderful time.” you answered and she moved her hands to trail up your stomach and over your breasts. You turned to face her and cupped your hands to her cheeks and pulled her in for a kiss, you felt her wet breasts press against your chest and you moaned into her mouth, she took control, pushing you against the shower wall as her tongue moved around your mouth. You groaned and your hands moved to squeeze her ass and pull her into it, her knee came to sit between your legs and you pressed your core into it. Melissa pulled away swiftly and you opened your eyes, she was stepping out and grabbing her towel with a sinister smile.

“Finish up baby, I'll be here when you get out.” she reassured you and then grabbed her things and walked out of the bathroom. You stood in shock, hot and bothered as the water grew colder on your skin. You did as you were told and washed your hair as you tried your best to hurry. When you got out of the bathroom, Melissa was dressed and fixing her hair into a ponytail, perfectly curled pieces falling to frame her face.

“You know my boss said I could use the hotel for another night if I wanted.” you quipped looking at her seductively as you walked to your suitcase and got out a change of clothes. Melissa didn't say anything, she just got up and walked over to you.

“I had a great night, and you are.. Amazing.” she started and your lips turned down slightly.

“But?” you said with a scoff and her brows pushed together.

“But it was a one time thing.” she said and you shook your head, you dropped your towel and started to put your clothes on as you argued back.

“Oh fuck off with that Melissa, there is no reason two adults cant have sex every now and then. Guess what we fucked last night and im not in love with you.” not yet at least your subconscious chirped and you rolled your eyes.

“I know, but like I said last night it's wrong of me to let this happen. I’ll see you around.” she said before grabbing her purse and heading out of the door. You stood in disbelief and put your shoes on, grabbing your phone and purse and heading out after her. You caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

“Let me drive you home.” You said and she looked at you for a moment.

“Fine, but I'm driving.” she said and you walked to your car giving her your keys. You sat in silence before grabbing your phone and texting your boss. You told her you wanted to stay another night and she liked the message before sending a witty response that made you smile. Melissa saw but didnt say anything and just kept her eyes on the road. She lived close so the drive was short and you walked her to her door.

“Come see me tonight while I'm still in town.” You said as she opened the door. She turned to look at you and you smiled.

“I cant.”

“You absolutely can.” you quipped and she tilted her head.

“I shouldn't.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason.” your tone was light, but your eyes didn't leave hers as she looked at you.

“Your dad is married to my sister. That's my best reason, I'm sorry hon. Get back safe.” she said before shutting the door and leaving you on her porch. You felt your cheeks grow hot in frustration and heading back to your car, driving out of her neighborhood. You didn't know where to go so you just drove around, looking at the beautiful architecture of the city, you found a cinema and decided to go see a movie.

By the time the movie ended the sun had just started to set and you looked for a place to get dinner. An idea popped into your head and you smiled, pulling out your phone. You texted Melissa asking her to go to dinner with you since you were alone in the city. However you felt your chest sink when she read the message and never answered. You scoffed and chewed on your lip. You didn't understand why Melissa even slept with you in the first place if she didn't really have to desire to. I mean were you bad? Screw this, you headed back to your hotel and decided to drive home.

The truth was Melissa was the one afraid of falling in love with you. She loved your personality and she felt butterflies all night while you two talked, fooled around, and slept together. However she was terrified of someone finding out and her sister, or your dad finding out and being uncomfortable. She figured she would just cut it off now and she wouldn't go to any parties if she knew you were going to be there. She wouldn't go back to the museum, and she would sit at the club every weekend, sifting through every crowd, looking for your smile.

She did that for months. Just like when she kissed you, she created an unforgettable memory with you, then disappeared. Leaving you to get over the experience and pretend it didn't happen.

This time it took a couple months to fully get over your night with Melissa. You would dream of it constantly. If you closed your eyes in the shower you would see her. If you went out you would look around the bars for her. You even stopped masturbating because you could only ever finish if you thought of Melissa. Eventually, with time you rarely thought of her. Some rare and rough nights she would plague your dreams, kissing you, fucking you, saying she loves you. Those nights you would wake yourself up and not go back to sleep. On the more lonely nights though, you would stay asleep, stay in the perfect illusion your mind created and wake up in a funk that would last a week.

You were home for winter now and knew you were going to see Melissa at least once. You started mentally preparing ahead of time, and just hoped you would be able to be normal, but when you heard she was coming to stay for a few days you almost decided to just leave. Having no place else to go did pose a challenge, but you were worried about what those days would bring. She was coming to stay over for new years and you knew this setting was going to teach you a great lesson on self-control. You only hoped things wouldnt be awkward forever, and you hoped that your heart wouldn't fall out of your chest and into her hands upon your first glance.

#lisa ann walter #melissa x reader #abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x y/n #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti smut #melissa schemmenti x reader smut #step mom melissa schemmenti x reader

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vivwritesfics · 10 months ago

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Hooked On A Feeling

Aus Grand Prix Special

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE REST OF THE SERIES, READ AT OWN RISK

1.8K

Series Masterlist

AUS GP, 2025 (two years after the beginning of the story):

You don't you stress until you've tried to wrangle two hyperactive seven year olds into a car. "Liv, c'mon. We're going to see you dad."

For the fifth time, Olivia climbed out of the car. She ran back towards the house for something she definitely didn't need. "Muuuuum," Milo called from the back seat. "Can we go now?"

"One second, Milo," Y/N called as she put their things in the trunk of the car. As soon as she shut the door of the trunk she was back in the house, calling for Olivia. "Liv, let's go!" She called up the stairs.

"But I need my hat!"

When Y/N arrived at Olivia's bedroom she was searching through her drawers. "What hat, Livvy?" She asked as she searched through the top of her wardrobe, where Olivia couldn't reach.

"The one uncle Lando got me for Christmas," she said.

Y/N knew exactly what hat Olivia was looking for. It was custom made bucket hat, made to match Daniels helmet with a 3 on the top. Olivia had worn it for every race they had attended, had almost lost it in the wind at Bahrain.

Y/N knew exactly where the hat was. Olivia had taken it in for show and tell at school and it was still in her bag. She pulled it out of the flower decorated bag and handed it to Olivia. "Ready to go now?"

She nodded and followed her future step-mom down to the car. While Y/N locked the front door, Olivia climbed into the back of the car beside Milo. Y/N climbed into the drivers seat and the three of them set off.

The year before the four of them had travelled to the Grand Prix together. Daniel had driven, singing along to the music Y/N had put on. It was one of her favourite memories. This year he had driven up with Scotty James. She couldn't be mad, she had seen the videos of them having so much fun posted all over social media.

As they drove along, the music stopped and her phone started ringing through the hands free system in the car. Y/N used the button on her steering wheel to answer and Daniels voice came through. "Hi honey, are you guys on your way?" He asked.

"We're about half an hour away, Danny," she called. From the back of the car the kids let out a chorus of 'hi's'. "Are we meeting you at the Red Bull hospitality?"

"Yeah, hun. Max and I are waiting."

There was a quiet hi, from someone Y/N could only assume was Max. "Tell him we all say hello," she said to her fiancé, who quickly passed on the message.

"Baby, I've got to go," he said. "Love you guys!"

"Love you too!" The three of them replied before the call ended.

Just as she had said, they arrived at the hotel half an hour later. They could have stayed home and watched the live coverage, but they wanted to give Daniel as much support as they could, so Daniel got himself booked into a hotel room with enough space for all of them.

He had been there since Wednesday, due to media duties and such. Y/N stayed back to work and get the kids to and from school. But they had all taken the Friday off to watch the first of the practices from the Red Bull garage.

They checked themselves into the hotel room, getting the key Daniel had left by the front desk, and headed to the track. There was no point in driving, and it was close enough that they could walk.

Milo and Olivia led the way to the track. Y/N made sure they all stayed together as they walked. It was incredibly busy as they pushed their way through towards the paddock.

Actually, it was Scotty that spotted them. He waved Y/N over and she moved the kids through the crowd, towards him. With Scotty's help, they got into the paddock. "You have much traffic on the way up here?" Scotty asked as he led the three of them over to the Red Bull Garage.

She shook her head. "Not until this point," she said, keeping one eye on the kids as they led the way once again. They were just too excited, there was no point containing them. "How is he feeling?"

It was Daniel's second year back in the Red Bull, and everybody knew he was nervous. He had seen just how quickly Red Bull had tossed their other drivers to the side. He'd managed to secure a contract for another year, but that could all change with the snap of someone's fingers.

They got to the hospitality unit, where Daniel was waiting outside. He took pictures for fans and signed the things that were shoved in his face. Staff parted the fans like the red sea to allow Y/N, Scotty and the kids through.

Olivia immediately ran to her father. "Badger!" He called as he hugged her.

He held his other arm out for Milo, who joined the hug. "Hi dad," he said, grinning.

Milo didn't realise what he had said, not right away. And Daniel sure wasn't going to make a big deal out of it. It was Olivia who giggled at her future brother. "You just called him dad," she laughed, and Milo's face scrunched up in embarrassment.

"No I didn't," he insisted.

"Yes you did! Yes you did!"

But Milo went running to his mother. Olivia let go of her dad and went inside of the hospitality unit to find her Uncle Max. Daniel turned his attention to his bride to be. "My lady," he said as she stepped towards him.

"Danny." She was aware of the cameras on the two of them as she stepped towards him. Flashes went off, videos were recorded on fans phones as she pressed her lips against his and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The two of them never had much a chance at privacy. There very first kiss all those years ago was televised. They'd tried, to give her and the kids a normal life, but their attempts were futile. They'd given up.

With his hand on the small of her back, Daniel let her and Milo into the hospitality unit. "Are you hungry?" He asked, immediately going to fix her and Milo something to eat. He would have gotten Olivia something, but she was eating a muffin as she spoke to her uncle Max, no doubt about karting.

The family of four spent what time they could together before Daniel jumped in the number 3 Red Bull car for the first practice session. This one wasn't about speed, Y/N had come to learn. It was about testing different set ups, not about setting the fastest time.

FP2 that afternoon was about showing what you could do. And Danny did. Y/N, Olivia and Milo watched on as Daniel set the fastest time in FP2 over and over again. He and Max raced each other. Not in the literal sense, but it was a competition between the two of who could get the fastest lap.

After FP2 they were free to head back to the hotel. Daniel drove them back to the hotel. While Milo and Olivia took turns in showering and getting changed for dinner, Y/N and Daniel laid together. He sat on the bed and she laid against him, her hand against his racing heart. "How are you feeling about tomorrow?" She asked quietly.

Daniel sucked in a breath. The smile that played on his face wasn't a smile at all. It was more of a grimace as he looked up at the ceiling. "Nervous, definitely. But I'm glad you guys are gonna be there to support," he said and leaned down to kiss her.

They had a lovely dinner that night. It wasn't often that all four of them got to go out and do things like this, not with Daniels racing schedule. They had a wonderful time. The kids ordered whatever they wanted, which meant the biggest deserts in the place. Daniel was a lot stricter with what he was eating, considering it was a race weekend.

After their dinner, the four of them headed back to the hotel. Bellies full and incredibly happy, they quickly fell asleep. Daniel held Y/N through the night. He missed her on race weekends like this.

She woke up first. Bile rose in her throat and she struggled out of Daniels grip. As she had every morning since Wednesday, she got up and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

In the close quarters of the hotel room, everybody could hear what was happening in the bathroom. They all woke up to the sounds of Y/N throwing up into the toilet. Daniel was up and out of bed in an instant. He raced to her and immediately held her hair out of her face, rubbing her back soothingly as she heaved.

"Baby," Daniel said softly as she sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth. Tears touched her eyelashes, as they always did when she threw up.

Daniel opened his arms, but she didn't throw herself into them. Instead she washed her face and cleaned her teeth, just as she had every other morning. "C'mon, Y/N, speak to me," he said softly.

She shut her eyes, steadying herself against the sink. "I think I'm just sick," she said and turned to walked out of the bathroom.

But Daniel stopped her. He grabbed her arm softly and pulled her into his embrace, his hand moving up and down her back. "You'd tell me if... right?"

She nodded her head, letting herself rest against him.

They didn't see the two little heads peaking into the bathroom. "Mum?" Milo called, somewhat timidly. Daniel hadn't heard him speak like this in years.

Y/N and Daniel pulled away from each other. They looked at the kids as they walked into the bathroom. "Is everything okay?" Olivia asked, eyes holding concern.

Both she and Daniel nodded. "It's nothing to worry about, guys. I promise." she said.

They all stayed in the bathroom just a minute longer. Y/N was the first to leave. They all followed her out and crawled back into their beds.

But Y/N and Daniel didn't sleep. They laid there, waiting for the kids to fall asleep before Y/N turned towards him. "I think I should go and get a pregnancy test," she whispered, snuggling close to his chest.

Daniel couldn't hide the way his face lit up.

Taglist (CLOSED): @biancathecool @rewmuslupin @prettiest-at-the-party @hellowgoodbye @cassie0sstuff @spideybv28 @andydrysdalerogers @aundercover @lou-bean28 @landossainz @purplephantomwolf @ggaslyp1 @layazul @phantomxoxo @minkyungseokie @gills-lounge @hollie911 @annispamz @lily-ann-b @cixrosie @notyouraveragemochii @charli123456789 @amalialeclerc @teamnovalak @tallrock35 @teenwolf01 @chiliwhore @darleneslane @sava207 @thatsusbitch @formulaal @leptitlu @angiesw0rld @yunakynn @landosgirlxoxo @msolbesg @cherry-piee @catmouseggy @bathedinheat @chanshintien @ilove-tswizzle @woozarts @evie-119 @trouble-sistar @mysticalnightenthusiast @lewisvinga @spilled-coffee-cup @starkeyellow @fxrmuladaydreams @viennakarma @radiator101 @lightdragonrayne @angelxxrose @millinorrizz @xemiefx @ellies-world61 @the-depressed-fellow

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo fluff #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo x reader smut #daniel ricciardo x you #dr3 #dr3 imagine #dr3 x reader #f1 #formula one #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine

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reiderwriter · 1 year ago

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🌞 Just Hanging Out 🌞

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Genre: Fluff, suggestive MINORS DNI 18+

WC: 3k

Summary: To kick off your vacation, you find yourself at Rossi's mansion with your team for a big summer barbeque. A hammock in the garden catches your eye, and you enlist Reid to help you have some fun in the sun.

Warnings: reader is a tease, shy Spencer, sexual arousal (M and F) no physical smut (god I wish we still used the citrus system).

A/N: Here's my second entry to @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge! Thanks to everyone who helped my pick the plot for this one :) I was also intending for this to be a reply to one of my requests for more BAU reader, but unfortunately tumblr deleted that request so 🤡 I'm tagging the account below anyways, and I have three more BAU reader fics coming in the next two weeks-ish, including my new series That's What You Get, so I hope you like this fic and be sure to look out for the others! Enjoy~

Here's my masterlist and my requests are open!

It was mid-August, and thankfully, the serial killers of America had given up crime for one week of the year to allow you to enjoy some much needed vacation time. The entire team had been put on annual leave, and you were determined to enjoy it to the absolute capacity of your ability.

Despite being together year-round, you actually enjoyed the company of your coworkers, so when Rossi announced he was planning a summer barbeque at his place to kick off your vacation time, you were ecstatic. If Rossi’s barbecuing skills were anything like his pasta making skills, you were expecting to eat yourself into a food coma and not wake up for the next seven days.

“Not a single one of you will touch this grill, stand within a 1 foot radius of this grill or even dare to look at this grill, so help me God, are we understood?” Rossi announced as soon as you arrived, the last of the BAU team to gather in his self-proclaimed mansion. The gardens were beautiful, and the kids were already running riot on the slip and slide that he had set up for them, screaming and giggling in delight.

“Trust me, you’re not getting me near that thing today, Rossi,” you laugh as you pour yourself a glass of wine from the refreshments table. “Last time I was anywhere near a grill I almost died.”

“I don’t remember encountering any unsubs who used grills as their weapon of choice,” JJ laughed at you as she held out her own glass and you gladly filled it for her.

“That’s because it wasn’t on a case, it was a family barbeque when I was 17 and my grandfather thought I should learn some ‘practical skills,’” you shot a grin at her as she rolled her eyes at you and walked away.

You grabbed your glass and looked for somewhere to perch yourself while you took in the sun. Morgan and Prentiss had already grabbed the two sun-loungers on the patio and were both sitting shirtless (with a bikini top on in Prentiss’s case) taking in as much sun as they could. Garcia was similarly sprawled on the deck sofa, and JJ joined her their after grabbing her refreshment, Will stood by the edge of the deck watching over the kids. Hotch had the amazing foresight to bring his own camping chair, and was set up similarly with one eye on Jack and the other on a book in his hand.

And just where you were expecting him, Spencer Reid was stood awkwardly at the edge of the house, in the only spot of shade he could find, leaning slightly against the door, and squinting into the sun.

“Rossi, you got any other chairs I can grab for me and Reid?” you called out to your host.

“There should be some over by the shed, they might need a bit of a dusting down though.”

“Come on pretty boy, you can’t just be standing all day, you’re going to make me feel tired just watching you,” you laughed up at him and caught the flush of his cheeks as he finally caught that you meant him to follow you.

“I’m really fine here over in the shade, I don’t do too great in the sun, anyways. More of an autumnal person, really…”

“I’d feel bad seeing you stand all day, and besides, what if I need a big, strong man to help me carry my chair over?” As he gaped his mouth open and closed looking for a retort, you felt the small flash of victory spread warm your chest. It wasn’t that you liked messing with Reid, it’s that he was an easy target and actually you loved it.

Having joined the team only the year prior, you’d quickly found the genius incredibly endearing, loving to listen to his little monologues about whatever topic had popped into his head that day, often earning groans from your other colleagues as you encouraged him to keep going.

You’d discovered your love of making him squirm a few months into the job, when you had to interrogate a submissive partner of an unsub together. After theorising that the submissive personality had a thing for women who looked like you, especially ones that were pretty dominant and controlling, you’d decided to give him what he wanted. You’d popped the top button, walked into the room and given him your best shot before having to re-strategize.

“What if we send Reid in there with her?” Morgan was the one to suggest, “Have him act a bit touchy, show him something he’s missing out on. We already tried giving him what he wanted, let’s see how he reacts to someone he doesn’t view as a threat getting everything he thinks he’s entitled to.”

It was a good guess, and it worked. You’d walked into the room, and let Reid start asking the questions. He’d gently laid a hand on your thigh, just high enough for the suspect to notice, and you’d done nothing but quietly whisper directly into his ear, watching the entire time to see how the man in front of you would react. He’d cracked in ten minutes and started spewing misogynistic drivel, so angry that he accidentally confessed to the crime and gave away his partner’s location.

It seemed Reid had cracked just a bit too. He’d avoided eye-contact with you for an entire week after that, and whenever he talked to you in that time, it was like his brain short-circuited. You’d bought a genius with an IQ of 187 and an eidetic memory to his knees with a few whispers in his ear, and you loved the rush of power you felt remembering it. The memory of his strong hand on your thigh did nothing to quell your growing attraction towards the man.

“If you wanted someone big and strong, you should’ve asked Morgan,” Reid snapped you out of your thoughts as he diligently followed you in the direction Rossi had pointed. It was a pretty secluded spot in the garden, a little bit away from the action and you were glad to be out of earshot so you could begin your teasing of the Good Doctor.

“I’m sure you’re big and strong in certain places, Spencer,” you smiled at him, and began looking at the chairs.

You spotted it in the corner, then, the perfect tool for your torment. It seemed relatively new, barely used but still pretty sturdy, and you knew this was it.

“Hey, Rossi, what about this hammock in the corner, can I set this up, too?” you shouted back over to the group and grinned up at Reid.

“Do you have a death wish? Because if so, go ahead and tangle with that devil.” Rossi shouted back, not even looking up from the miriad of sausages and burgers he was working on.

“That sounds like a challenge to me, Doc.” You say and you start pulling it out into the sunlight, Reid steps behind you sighing in defeat. He knew that once you had your mind set on something, you were pretty stubborn about completing it.

“Okay, can you give me a boost?” The bed of the hammock fell to about your chest height, and whilst you knew you were probably able to climb in by yourself, you were wearing a particularly short sundress, and as much as you teased Reid, you didn’t exactly want to give the rest of your team and their families an eyeful.

“You want me to try to lift you into this thing?” Reid squeaked out, a look of confusion passing over his features.

“Yeah, just grab my hips and give me a boost and I’ll swing my legs over and straddle it. Then we can see what’s it's like.” He moved cautiously up behind you, letting his hands graze your waist.

“Reid, you’re going to have to hold me a bit tighter than that if we’re actually going to get anywhere.” You placed your hands over his and pushed his grip down stronger; you could practically hear him gulp from behind you. He pushed you up, and you almost had it, but you couldn’t quite pull yourself up and into it.

After a few attempts, you realised it wasn’t going to work. Reluctantly pulling yourself out of Reid’s grip, you turned to face him.

“New plan, you get in first and pull me up.”

“What? I don’t want to go anywhere near that thing, didn’t you hear what Rossi said?”

“Come on Reid, just this once, for me? We have to try at least!” you pouted up at him now with pleading eyes, hoping that you wouldn’t have to resort to batting your eyelashes at him to get him to agree.

“One attempt, and then I’m grabbing a normal chair and leaving, okay?” He negotiated, but you didn’t care and excitedly wrapped your arms around his neck pulling him in for a hug.

“Yay, thank you! I love you, Reid, you know that?” you pulled back slightly to deliver that last line, your arms still around his neck, watching the redness spread upto his cheeks.

He mumbled a quick whatever and pulled away to begin his attempts.

Perhaps it was his few extra inches of height or spindly frame, but Reid managed to climb up quite easily, not even rocking the hammock that much in his ascent.

He sat up pretty steadily, and you lifted your arms to him, and that’s when it all started going wrong. You’re combined weight wasn’t enough to break the hammock, but it was enough to set it off into an unsteady rocking that made your stomach lurch slightly. You swung your leg as best you could over Reid’s, already in the hammock, and as soon as you found some purchase there, he lowered one hand to pull your lower body up as well.

It was just unfortunate that the place his hand landed was directly over your ass, and you let out a sharp gasp as he grabbed it tightly and hauled you up to sit directly over him, chest to chest, practically straddling his entire body in the cramped space of the hammock bed.

“Shit, I’m sorry, I meant to grab your hip.” He tried to let go of you and push his hands up where you could see them, but the sudden movement made the hammock lurch dangerously so you snapped your hand over his and forced them back to their previous position.

“No sudden movements, Spencer, I don’t particularly want to be the butt of all jokes for the next year if we fall out of this thing.” You panicked slightly and squirmed a little in your position, trying to explore your range of movement.

“How are we going to get out of this if we can’t move?” he shot back at you, a look of mild discomfort on his face, and an I-told-you-so begging to escape his lips.

“If you just give me a minute to explore our options, maybe I would be able to figure that out.”

“If you keep squirming like that we’re going to have more problems than just how to get down,” he huffed under his breath, but he was so close that it was impossible for you to miss it.

It was your turn to blush now, as you caught his insinuation. With his hand firmly on your ass, and your legs either side of his, you could feel the entire length of his body below you. Each squirm you made the dampness between your legs pool a little bit more and then you in-turn squirmed even more in a vicious cycle.

After a few minutes, there was no denying that the thing prodding your core was Spencer’s sizable… appendage.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m sorry, it’s just a natural reaction,” he groaned out from below you when he realised you could feel it too, and you’d never heard anything so beautiful as the moans he was accidentally vocalising.

“It’s my fault, I’m sorry for being so stubborn about this. Let me see if I can figure something else out,” you cautiously slid your hands up his chest, and he screwed his eyes shut. Pushing against his shoulders, you slowly pulled yourself up to a seated position, doing your best to not rock the hammock too much. The new position did nothing to dampen the friction the two of you were feeling, and you knew that you were a few seconds away from a point of no return. Your hips bucked slightly against him against your will, and you really hoped he hadn’t noticed that was totally not to the benefit of you getting out of the hammock.

You looked down to the ground so you could see how far the descent would be, and if you’d have to call for backup anytime soon. Luckily you thought you’d be able to make it if you just swung your legs over the side and got out as quickly as possible, but fate had other plans.

“Spencer, Y/N what are you two doing over here?” came Emily’s voice from behind you. Spencer’s eyes shot open and he pulled his head up slightly to look at her. However, his movement had rocked the hammock a little bit harder than before, so he had to grab your hip to steady the two of you, pushing you further down into him. You did your best to stifle the moan, biting down hard on your tongue as you did so.

“Oh you know, just hanging out,” he managed to get out in reply, his voice notably higher than it usually was.

“You sure you guys don’t need any help? That doesn’t look like the safest of chairs.” Emily’s questioning stare never lifted and you knew that if she caught wind of what was actually going on, you wouldn’t be able to look her in the eye for an entire year. You couldn’t accept the help.

“Yeah, we were just going to climb down in a second, we’re just checking to see how… sturdy it is right now.”

“Sturdy. Right. Well, Rossi said the food would be ready to start serving in a few minutes and asked me to call you guys over.”

“We’ll be right there, thanks Emily.” You smiled at her and she made to walk away, a suspicious look still on her face.

“What do you mean we’ll be right there, I can’t go over there like this!” Spencer whisper yelled into your ears.

“What else was I supposed to say to get her to go away,” you whisper yelled back. You ran a free hand through your hair, and shifted again, your legs beginning to cramp up a little in the awkward position.

“Okay you get down, I’ll make a break for the bathroom, say all this moving around made me need to pee or something, and then we meet up again on the patio and pretend this never happened?” he said and you nodded quickly.

You began to lift your body weight up and remove your legs from the tangle you were stuck in, and that’s when the hammock reared it’s ugly head for the final time. As you lifted your leg slowly, you accidedntally got your foot stuck in the side of the fabric, and pinned there but still moving, the hammock toppled and spat both of you out unceremoniously.

Reid landed ontop of you with a hard thud. You let out a sweet curse, just as Reid pushed his body weight onto his hands, taking some of the pressure off of you after the fall. You stared up into his eyes as you realised you’d found yourself in yet another compromising situation and you deepeded to a scarlet red as you realised your sundress had blown up completely in your descent, and he was now neatly nestled in between your legs, with your damp underwear on display for him.

Looking down at you, he took a beat too long to react, and you squirmed under his gaze, feeling appropriately trapped, before he sprung up and offered you a hand up.

You took his hand and rearranged your dress, thankful that the smell of the food had distracted everyone from your embarrassing fall.

“Okay, we’re out.” You were flustered and you didn’t know what else to say.

“Yep, that was certainly one way to do it,” Reid replied, as you avoided his gaze. You wrapped your arms around yourself, and he made to do so similarly, trying his best to rearrange himself so the bulge in his pants wasn’t so noticeable.

“You should get to the bathroom.”

“You should get to the food.” He retorted and you finally made to move, but stopped yourself turning around quickly to face the man again.

“Before I go,” you said and you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss into his mouth, feeling as giddy as a teenager braving her first kiss. You turned away just as fast and made your way back to the party, leaving a flustered and spluttering Reid behind as you made a beeline for the food.

“So, what’d you think of the hammock?” Rossi asked you as you began loading your plate up. You put on your best poker face and begged noone had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“You were right. That thing is dangerous,” was your only response, and you retreated into the corner to finish your food. You sat there waiting eagerly for Reid to return, not just so you could be in his presence again and see how he was reacting to your kiss, but also so you could get the image of him dealing with his situation out of your mind.

It seemed that being a tease and working him up hadn’t quite ended so well for you that day.

You blamed the hammock.

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bikananjarrus · 4 months ago

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i have a few thoughts about how the lost hero actually sets up the darker tone for HoO really well and then. well. there was never any follow through.

now some of my hindsight about TLH is probably fueled by nostalgia (i actually am really fond of tlh and also i was 14 when i read. impressionable on my teen brain). i’ve reread it several times, but i have really strong memories of the first time i read the book too, and i just remember it having a very gloomy, dark vibe to it. (the way that TTC is set in winter and definitely feels like a winter book, this is the HoO equivalent for me.)

looking at the actual contents of the book, the book starting off with jason's pov, who has no idea who he is, so immediately the feeling is 'oh shit. something happened to this guy. and it's not good.' and then almost immediately after that, getting sucker punched with the “she's been looking for one of our campers, who’s been missing three days…her boyfriend. A guy named percy jackson.” percy??? thee percy jackson. MISSING???? (look, that put 14 year old me flat on the floor. it still hits. but in 2010 when we had no idea percy was going to even be in these books….you kinda just had to be there okay.)

alongside jason, we have piper, whose dad got kidnapped by a giant and she'd being blackmailed! all before she finds out she's a demigod!! like she's already having a ROUGH time. we find out leo was manipulated by gaea to use his flame powers, which resulted in the fire that killed his mom (genuinely wtf).

their quest starting the lead up to the second great prophecy, which is happening so soon after percy's great prophecy (like they JUST finished fighting a war. give them a chance to breathe dammit. but also implying that some major things stirred with the defeat of kronos. But how could there be something more horrifying than kronos?).

their quest taking them to all these abandoned and/or cold places (the run down wolf house, they're hiding in the sewers at one point, the cyclops lair in that abandoned warehouse, the cave where they shelter from the cold and where the hunters of artemis find them, boreas’s house being in canada, even the mall where they meet medea being empty iirc). jason being abandoned by his mother. piper feeling abandoned by a father who doesn't have enough time for her. leo being alone too (not his mom's fault she died; not his fault for the fire; but he's alone nonetheless). even their primary mode of transportation being flying on festus feels strange and out of the place, bc for so long, we were seeing through percy's eyes and he had to stay on the ground.

and then to end the book with jason dying, however briefly. literally a dead man walking from the very beginning.

the tone was something different and darker, and combined with percy, hazel, and frank going to alaska, the land beyond the gods, in SoN, we were really venturing into unknown territory. it felt like our heroes would be tested. that gaea truly was something to be feared, even more so than kronos, and that it would take the generation's seven greatest demigods to defeat her.

and then it never followed through with that set up.

#i really love tlh actually and it’s crazyyyy (to me) seeing it as people’s least fave out of the hoo books #like it’s probably the nostalgia. but i really do have such vivid memories of this book (and SoN). they’re just so dear to me #pjo #the lost hero #heroes of olympus #hoo

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clarisse0o · 5 months ago

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Camp Wiegman-Part 33

Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Alternative Universe : Military School

Words : 5k

Masterlist

———————————————————————

Saturday, January 9th; 9:15 AM - At Lucy's Place.

I gently hug the pillow against me, letting out a long sigh from between my lips. Negative thoughts immediately flood my mind, even though I've only just woken up. Sometimes, I wonder why I'm still alive. My life is so miserable that I doubt I'd be missed by many. I tell myself that the only thing that has saved me is my new life. I blink in this unfamiliar room, where I realize I'm alone in a large bed and a room that isn't mine. The events of last night come rushing back, reminding me where I am. I understand my earlier thoughts even better now. A muffled groan escapes my mouth as I realize that Lucy knew about my night terrors and that it’s not something new. Although she seemed calm last night, she must be upset with me for hiding things she didn't want hidden. I’ll have to face the consequences now. She must have held back last night because of my state, but I doubt it'll be the same this morning. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s waiting for me in the living room to discuss it. I check the time before forcing myself out of bed. Hiding from life by staying in bed is cowardly. That’s what my dad used to tell me when I was feeling down in Barcelona. I discreetly leave Lucy’s room and head down the hallway. Not seeing her around, I continue towards the living room. I smile when I find her standing with her back to me behind the counter. As I approach, I notice that she’s swapped her pajamas for jogging pants and a black t-shirt. When she turns around, she must be surprised to see me because she stops for a moment before finally smiling at me.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.”

“Hey,” I say timidly, blushing at the nickname.

“I didn’t expect to see you up this early.”

“I don’t sleep as long anymore…” I admit.

“That’s true,” she smiles. “I made breakfast. I hope you’re hungry.”

I relax for a moment, relieved that she doesn’t immediately bring up what happened last night.

“I’d never say no to breakfast,” I reply with a bit more confidence.

“Good. Sit down. What would you like to drink? Tea, hot chocolate? I imagine I don’t need to ask if you want coffee.”

“Hot chocolate, please.”

“Alright, I’ll make that for you. Sit down, everything’s ready.”

I nod gently and turn towards the dining table. Everything is indeed set out. It looks like she had time to prepare a real feast. I sit down, fidgeting in my chair. I’m not particularly comfortable, knowing what’s likely to be discussed soon around this table. Lucy joins me, placing my cup in front of me before sitting across from me with her own.

“Have you been up long?” I continue the conversation.

“Since seven-thirty. I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a run.”

“Oh! You’re brave…”

I distract myself by looking at the table. I don’t know where to look because there’s so much. She thought of everything. There are as many fruits as there are pastries and bread. She must have picked them up this morning. There’s also butter, jam, and even Nutella to go with it.

“Help yourself, that’s what it’s there for,” she invites.

I bite my lip and nod. I can’t bring myself to look at her, especially now that I remember we ended the night in the same bed… In her arms. Damn. Just thinking about it makes me even more uncomfortable.

“Ona,” she calls me, a touch of amusement in her voice.

I finally dare to lift my head and find her looking at me with her head tilted. I get the feeling she can read me like a book right now.

“I think it’s best we talk about it now, huh? I sense you’re going to go crazy before the end of the meal if we don’t.”

I blush, suddenly feeling really foolish. I can feel my heart racing with stress. Still, I nod to confirm what she’s saying. It’s best to talk about it now, to get it over with, even if it means she’ll chew me out properly. What surprises me is that Lucy is more relaxed than I expected. She almost seems to be teasing me. I take a deep breath before starting.

“I’m sorry for waking you up last night…”

My response makes her raise an eyebrow. It’s like she wasn’t expecting me to say that.

“Oh, so that’s all that’s bothering you?”

“Of course not,” I mumble.

“Relax. I’m not going to eat you, you know. Since when are you like this with me?”

Since I don’t want to disappoint you. That answer sticks in my throat. She doesn’t need to know that. Instead, I decide to be honest.

“I feel bad for hiding my episodes from you… Especially since it seems you already knew…”

“I did, yes. I was just waiting for you to come talk to me about it yourself,” she admits.

“Are you mad at me…?”

“A little. I think that if you hadn’t come here, who knows how long I would’ve had to wait for you to tell me.”

“I didn’t want to bother you with something so minor. You already do so much for me, and I was managing on my own until now. It frustrates me to have to turn to you every time something goes wrong with me,” I finish, averting my eyes.

My thoughts are so jumbled. I consider her a friend, but I don’t always feel like she sees me the same way. Sometimes, I feel more like her student and nothing more. It’s ridiculous because if that were the case, I wouldn’t even be here. She places her hand on mine, prompting me to look up.

“Stop thinking like that, it’s not true. I’m doing this as a friend, okay? Wiegman doesn’t ask me to solve your problems. I do it of my own free will because I care about you, and I feel the need to help.”

“It’s fine, I assure you… Everything’s okay for now.”

“Stop lying to me.”

“I’m not lying to you, it’s true. Since you came into my life, so much has gotten better! You have no idea how much you’ve helped me.”

She sighs, running a hand through her hair. She doesn’t seem to realize how deep of a hole she pulled me out of. The change is obvious.

“If what you’re saying is true, then you shouldn’t have any trouble confiding in me when you have a problem. That’s what helps you get better.”

“I do! I came to you when I didn’t know what major to choose. The same when I needed help studying.”

“I’m talking about real problems, Ona. Like your drug issue or your insomnia… See?”

“I do talk to you,” I sigh. “I told you about my problems with my mom and with Feli. You can’t deny that!”

“Maybe, but you’re always hesitant, and you often do it too late.”

“But put yourself in my shoes, damn it! You’ve never lived through what I’ve been through! It’s hard to open up when you’re not sure the person will still be there at the end!”

I freeze, realizing what I just let slip. I hate how easily she gets me to talk. I look up to see her expression soften.

“What are you talking about…?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. Now that I’ve started talking, she won’t let it go until she gets answers.

“How do I know we’ll stay in touch once all this is over, huh? I’m already scared you’ll drop me the day I don’t have any more problems to solve…”

“Where do you get these ideas?” she frowns. “I’d always be happy to talk to you, Ona.”

“They’re not just ideas. It’s already happening. You ignore me when I behave all week. If this keeps up, I’ll be tempted to mess up just to get your attention.”

“No, come on. I forbid you from doing that! I’m not ignoring you.”

“Yes, you are. Can you tell me how many times we’ve seen each other these past few days?”

“Ona,” she sighs. “Camp Wiegman is my job. I’m sorry if you feel like I’m ignoring you, but it’s not intentional. I have other things to worry about besides you, though I wish I could avoid them.”

“Sorry… It’s just that… Everyone I’ve ever trusted has a tendency to let me down or disappear… You’ve become the person who knows me the best, and… I really don’t want to lose you too.”

Her sympathetic smile makes me turn away. I don’t like being pitied, even though she rarely does it. A long silence follows. When I look back at her, I find her with a little playful look that makes me frown.

“This isn’t funny, I’m opening up to you here.”

“I never said it was funny. I just find it cute, that’s all,” she says with amusement.

“It’s anything but cute to be abandoned.”

“I would never abandon you, silly! Stop thinking that. If you want to spend time with me at school, nothing’s stopping you from coming to my office during your free time.”

“Really?”

“Of course. If I hadn’t suggested it before, it’s because I thought you preferred spending time with your friends.”

I sink into my chair, suddenly feeling deeply ashamed and foolish. I should have considered other alternatives before revealing my innermost thoughts to her. Now, she knows that she means something to me, even though I didn't necessarily want it to be that way. I feel weak and like I'm giving her the chance to hurt me.

"Hey," she pulls me out of my thoughts. "Everything's okay, alright? I'll always be here for you, no matter what. Never forget that. And if you need to come to me, don’t hesitate, okay?"

I sigh and nod. I wish I could believe it, but it's hard. She gives me a small smile that I struggle to return.

"Well... Can we talk about your nights now? I’d like to know when your first episode happened."

"The first one was the night between Wednesday and Thursday," I confess. "I'm sorry that the second one happened with you."

"Don’t apologize for that. I wanted to be informed so I could keep track of your condition. I was really disappointed to hear it from Alexia."

"You should know that I don’t like to bother people, which is why I didn’t say anything. You don’t need to keep track of this."

"Well, actually, I will be. I want to be notified during your episodes, and I will be, even if it’s not through you."

I sigh and cross my arms, showing my displeasure.

"We’ll find a solution, okay?"

"Okay..." I mumble. "Oh, and, um... Thanks again for letting me sleep with you last night."

"Was it okay for you?" she asks. "I offered it on a whim, but I forgot that you usually sleep only with Mapi or your brother."

My eyes fixate on the cup I had been fiddling with. I realize I hadn’t even had the chance to think about it for a single second, and that’s frightening. I've come to trust her blindly without realizing it. I actually care for her more than I thought. I shake my head slightly to regain my composure and clear my throat before responding.

"Uh, yeah... Everything was fine..."

"Good," she smiles gently. "It looks like you’re starting to improve, huh?"

I awkwardly return her smile and nod. She doesn’t seem to understand that this is all thanks to her.

"Well, now that we’ve talked, we’d better get ready. We have a busy schedule ahead."

I nod enthusiastically. This news delights me. I appreciate that she has planned something specifically for me. This afternoon will be a good way to clear my mind.

"I hope you’re going to show me your version of the city. I don’t want the tourist version. The monuments and all that stuff don’t interest me."

"Don’t worry about that, you can trust me. I’ll take a shower while you finish up. See you later."

She tousles my hair as she passes by to put her cup in the dishwasher, then winks at me before disappearing behind the sliding doors. The bathroom door slams shortly after. I finish my breakfast quietly, appreciating all these small gestures. Once done, I try to tidy up what I can and gather the rest so she doesn’t have to do it all. I then return to my assigned room. I open my suitcase, which has remained in place, to choose my clothes. I opt for a casual outfit with jeans and a shirt. I then make my bed and Lucy’s, thinking it’s the least I can do for her welcoming me so well into her home. It’s also the only way to show my gratitude. When I turn around to leave her room, I jump, not expecting to see her behind me. A wave of heat washes over me when my eyes fall on her body covered by nothing but a towel. Holy shit! I blush even more when I lift my eyes to meet hers. I turn my gaze away to try to hide, even though it’s probably too late for that.

"Sorry, I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you’d be in the living room."

"Sorry. I... I had some time... I took the opportunity to... To make the beds and... And then..."

"No problem," she laughs at my embarrassment. "Can I get dressed now?"

"Y-yeah, of course. Sorry again."

I quickly leave her room, doing my best not to look at her again. I blush once more when I hear that small voice that sounds remarkably like Mapi saying, "See, I told you." It’s complete nonsense. I’m not interested in Lucy. And even if I were, it’s not meant to be. It’s a lost cause. To clear my mind, I head to the bathroom to get ready... Or maybe not. The steam Lucy left in the room reminds me of what I just saw. Once again, I think about the unhealthy ideas Mapi must be having on my behalf. What if she’s right? I shake my head vigorously at that thought. No, she’s not right, and I should probably strangle her for making me think such things. I’m not interested in Lucy, and I’m even less infatuated with her as she suggests. She’s just a friend... A friend I particularly care about. I splash water on my face to shake off this unpleasant theory. I then dry myself with a towel, which I find is already damp. I groan, imagining Lucy using it before me, and grab a new one. I then take my toiletries to brush my teeth, my hair, and finish with makeup. I’ve always kept it simple: foundation with cream, a line of eyeliner, and mascara. I pack everything up, making sure to take my bag with me as I leave.

"BOO!"

"AAAH! What the hell!" I shout at Lucy for scaring me.

I hit her on the shoulder, intensifying her budding laughter. I regret letting Lucy Bronze into my life so much. Her laughter is the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, and I hate myself for thinking such a thing.

"Oh come on, it was just a joke."

"You’re really mean," I pout, pretending to be upset.

"No, I’m not," she laughs. "Why are you bringing that?" she finally asks, noticing my bag.

"I was going to put it back in my suitcase."

- Why don’t you just leave it here? It’s ridiculous to have to search for it every time. Look, you can leave it here.

Before I can counter her suggestion, she takes my toiletry bag and places it on the counter next to the sink.

- See, I’m organized enough to find a place for you, she teases.

- Thanks.

- Don’t mention it, she says as she pulls out her makeup. I should be the one thanking you for making the beds and tidying up the kitchen.

- Oh, it’s nothing... It was the least I could do.

- Are you ready?

- Yes, yes, I was waiting for you. What are we starting with?

- Don’t be so curious. You’ll find out soon enough.

The frustration and impatience grow within me knowing that I’ll have to wait to find out. On top of that, she announces that we’ll be driving a lot. Long car rides don’t usually bother me, but they might today.

- Okay, I’m ready, she says as she finishes with her mascara. We can leave. Do you think you’ll be warm enough? We’ll be walking a lot and it might be windy.

- Are you telling me I need to change? I ask, looking at myself.

- Don’t you have a big sweater?

- I have one, but not very thick ones. I spend my days in a fully heated classroom, remember?

- Take off your shirt, I’ll be right back.

I grumble but follow her instructions and take off my shirt. She returns shortly with a navy blue sweater, which must be hers. I put it on over my tank top as she advises.

- Is this better?

- Perfect, she smiles. We can go now. Also, take a big scarf.

- Are you taking me to the North Pole? I tease.

- Believe me, you’ll thank me tonight.

I stick my tongue out at her, which seems to amuse her. I put on my shoes, coat, and scarf in my room, then join her in the living room. She takes the time to examine me from head to toe. It seems that my outfit satisfies her, as she finds nothing else to criticize. She then opens the front door, and we use the elevator to reach her car in the basement. Before getting in, we remove our coats and scarves and place them in the back to be more comfortable for the trip. Once done, we leave the building to the sounds of Lana Del Rey. I’m starting to enjoy this CD from hearing it so much. The basement darkness is replaced by the white snow continuing to fall from the sky. The weather here no longer surprises me. I comment on this to Lucy, who has decided to be playful today.

- Is it because you’re humming that it’s snowing? she retorts.

- It’s not likely to be your fault since you never sing.

- Is that a challenge? she raises an eyebrow.

- Maybe. I’m still trying to figure out if you’re a stuck-up girl or not.

- You think I’m stuck-up? she huffs. Well, thanks, that’s nice.

- Well, you’re always so serious at camp. It makes you wonder.

- Stop calling it a camp. It’s a school!

- And you stop dodging the subject. Besides, I’ll call it a camp if I want to, I provoke.

- I’m not dodging, she giggles. Camp Wiegman is my workplace, so it’s normal that I stay serious, right?

- Yeah, maybe too serious for my taste. Especially with the rules, I grimace. Rules are meant to be broken.

- Oh yes, sure. I respect rules so much that you’re in my car right now, she says sarcastically. Maybe I should drop you by the roadside.

- You wouldn’t dare.

- Want to try and see? she challenges with a sly smile.

- Of course, I mock. You wouldn’t be able to anyway.

It’s well known that challenging someone in jest is a risky move, but I’m sure she’d never leave me by the roadside. At least, that’s what I thought until I notice where we are. To put it mildly, nowhere. We’re far from civilization, and we haven’t been driving for long. I start to panic when she surprises me by stopping by the side of the road.

- Get out of the car.

- Seriously? I was just joking!

- Can you trust me for once in your life? she laughs. Come on, get out.

I feel completely disoriented. Still, I unbuckle my seatbelt without thinking and get out of the car as she turns off the engine. Without saying anything, she climbs over the gear shift to take my place. I have a moment of reflection before she gives me the message by tapping the driver’s seat.

- You’re letting me drive? I ask with wide eyes.

- Yeah. You better not make me regret letting you drive my baby.

A beaming smile spreads across my lips. I quickly walk around the car before she changes her mind. I settle into the driver’s seat, not knowing where to put my eyes.

- Adjust the mirrors and the seat if needed, she commands.

I move the seat forward slightly when I realize the pedals are too far. I then adjust the mirrors under Lucy’s watchful eye. I smile as I caress the steering wheel and look at the dashboard.

- Are you comfortable?

- You’re really letting me drive? Aren’t you afraid I’ll mess up?

- I just hope you still know how to drive, she laughs.

- It should be fine...

I buckle up and wait for her permission to start the car. I feel nervous under her scrutiny. It feels like I’m reliving my early driving lessons. It’s been so long since I last drove, and now I’m behind the wheel of an Audi. Lucy’s Audi, no less. When I turn the key, I stall immediately, not noticing that she had left it in gear.

- It’s off to a great start, Lucy chuckles. Are you sure you have a license? Do you even have it with you? she realizes with concern.

- Yeah, I laugh at her reaction. You can check my wallet if you want.

- Hmm, that’s exactly what I’m going to do, she says as she leans toward the back seat.

She rummages through my bag to find my wallet. She seems relieved to find my license and gives me the green light to start. I do as she asks and, fortunately for me, I don’t stall again. I then merge onto the road, making sure there’s no one around. I glance briefly at Lucy, who still has my license in her hands.

- Watch the road, she scolds.

- Oh, come on, I’m managing.

- Obviously, she snickers.

- Where am I going?

- Go straight and at the next intersection, turn right to do a U-turn. There shouldn’t be much traffic here. Do you think you can handle it?

- Normally.

- Hmm, hmm, she smiles. Slow down, will you?

- Are you done yet? I scoff. I feel like I’m hearing my mom when I was learning to drive.

- Hey! I’m far from being your mother, she replies, tapping my thigh.

I mock her while following her instructions. I make the U-turn without any problems, which seems to reassure her. I was lucky there were no other cars. I think she deliberately took this route to give me back the reins. She has me take the previous road to reach a more attractive road. She directs me to the right, introducing me into traffic. I’m proud of my driving, even though I sense that Lucy is not too comfortable beside me. She winces in advance at each possible mistake I might make.

- How did you learn to drive? she asks.

- My dad taught me one summer when I was fifteen. My mom never knew. The day I started driving with her, I had to pretend not to know, I giggle.

- Were you already on bad terms with her back then?

- Yeah. It was a real disaster. At my slightest mistakes, she’d yell at me, which made me mad. We never finished a trip without it ending in a fight.

- I see. Take this way.

Excitement hits me when I see we’re driving along a beach. It’s far from as beautiful as Barcelona’s, but at least there is one. Lucy reminds me to focus on the road. It’s funny how she’s so concerned about her car.

- Do you want to make a stop?

- Can we?

- I had something else planned, but it’s just nearby, so we can park and walk a bit.

- Cool! I’d like that.

I stop at the first parking lot we find and choose a spot where no other cars are around to make sure I don’t hit a mirror. I engage the handbrake and turn off the car with a big smile.

- Happy to finally drive an Audi?

- Thanks for letting me drive at all. I missed it.

I unbuckle and throw myself into her arms, catching her by surprise. She accepts my hug after getting over her initial shock. She then retrieves her keys from the dashboard before we get out. I understand why she asked me to dress warmly the moment I feel the cold air hitting me harshly. It’s even colder than in downtown. I quickly put on my coat and scarf. Lucy puts our bags in the trunk so we don’t have to carry them and lock.

- It's freezing here, I said, pulling up the zipper of my jacket all the way.

- I warned you, she laughed. Follow me. I want to show you something now that we're here.

- Do you come here often?

- Occasionally, when I want to clear my head.

- What do you want to show me?

- Don’t be impatient, princess.

I smile at the nickname she hasn't used in a while. Everyone thinks Leah is the one who started it, but Lucy called me that from my first day. We walk a bit more until she stops in front of a rock formation that is more imposing than the others. I grimace, realizing her intentions.

- Don’t tell me we’re going to climb up there?

- Yes.

Without waiting for my response, she starts climbing. I sigh and try to follow her at a certain height.

- Remember that I’m afraid of heights, right?

- Don’t be a wuss. I promise it’s worth it. Come on, give me your hand.

Since she doesn’t seem to change her mind, I take her hand and she pulls me up to her level before continuing higher. I eventually reach the top without falling. She finds a flat spot where we can sit. It wasn’t so complicated after all. I look out at the horizon thoughtfully. She was right; it was worth it. The view from up here is magnificent. The breeze whistles in my ears, but the place is so soothing that I don’t mind. To think I almost missed this spot. We can see everything from here, but no one can see us thanks to the rocks in front of us that hide us.

- This is where I come most of the time when I need to be alone.

I tear my eyes away from the sea to look at her. She gazes out admiringly. I appreciate that she’s sharing something personal with me. She promised she would this weekend, and it seems she still keeps her promises.

- Tell me about yourself. I want to get to know you better... You know, the real Lucy. Not the camp instructor.

- What do you want to know?

- I don’t know. Tell me about your family, your friends, what you like... Everything.

- Everything? she chuckles. Am I tormenting you that much?

- Totally.

A smile forms on her lips, but she still doesn’t look at me. I turn my attention back to the waves crashing on the rocks below us. I can already imagine this scene in my sketchbook. She takes a deep breath that prompts me to meet her gaze.

- Alright. One thing you can know now. Where do you want to start?

- I already know a few of your friends... So why not talk about your family? If you don’t mind, of course.

- Alright, but only if you tell me about yours in return.

I grimace but agree anyway. It’s the only way to learn things after all.

- Very well, she says, taking a deep breath. To be honest, I’ve never known my real parents.

I don’t hide my surprise. I expected many things, but certainly not this revelation.

- I was adopted at birth, she continues. My parents were clear with me as soon as I was old enough to understand. I never worried about who my real parents were. To me, I already knew them and didn’t need anyone else.

- Wow... I wasn’t expecting that, I admit.

- I know, she smiles. It didn’t stop me from living a normal life, quite the opposite.

- Are you close to them?

- Quite, yes.

- It didn’t stop you from leaving them to come here.

- It was only for studies; otherwise, I would have never left, she tells me with a small smile. I don’t really have much more to add, she chuckles, shrugging. My life can’t be as exciting as you might imagine.

- Don’t you have any siblings?

No, I’m an only child. My mother couldn’t have children, which is why they adopted me. However, I consider Jenni like a sister. We’ve known each other since childhood and grew up together.

- I see... So, you’ve never had any conflicts with your parents or anything like that?

- Not really, she giggles. They’ve always let me live my life. Well, let’s move on to you. What are you still hiding from me? she asks curiously.

- Well, I have divorced parents, a blended family... I’m now waiting for my mother to announce that she’s getting remarried.

- Do you think that will happen?

- I suppose. It would be logical, I shrug.

- And... And your father? she asks delicately.

I could have sworn she’d bring him up. It’s one of the few things she doesn’t know about my family yet. I look at her for a moment, noticing no insistence in her expression. If I wanted to, she’d let me dodge it, but that’s not the most courageous decision. I look ahead as I begin to answer her.

- There’s not much to say, I murmur.

- Sorry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.

- If there’s not much to say, it’s because he’s no longer here.

I spoke before my mind could torment me too much. I didn’t want to backtrack now that I was decided to tell her.

- He’s dead, Luce. He’s just dead.

A heavy silence surrounds us at this news. Saying it out loud still hurts just as much. Tears burn my eyes, but I quickly wipe them away with the back of my hand.

- H-He died on a mission when I was eighteen. He was a soldier. H-His death caused my breakdown after high school...

If I look at her now, I won’t be able to hold back the tears that threaten to fall for good. Without saying anything, she puts her arm around my shoulders to pull me closer to her. I don’t think twice about snuggling against her desperately.

- Don’t hold back. You have the right to be devastated...

These simple words release my tears. She squeezes my shoulder and kisses the top of my head.

- It must be hard, but know that you will never be alone again. I’m here now, and I don’t intend to leave you. Okay?

I nod, unable to respond any other way. My throat is too tight, and I might break into uncontrolled sobs.

- D-Do you promise? I ask with a broken voice.

- I promise.

She holds me a little tighter, giving me all the comfort I need. The words are finally out. Someone other than my family or Mapi now knows. I’ve wanted to manage to do this for a long time, and I’ve finally succeeded.

- I’m glad I met you...

- Me too, Ona.

She gives me the time I need to recover. Long minutes pass while I start to feel better and slowly straighten up.

- I think we have a plan waiting for us, don’t we? I ask with my slightly hoarse voice.

- That’s right, and it’s quite packed. Do you feel up to continuing?

- Yeah, I want to enjoy what you’ve planned for us.

- Good, she smiles. So let me suggest we start with the fairground over there, she says, pointing to the place I saw earlier.

- That sounds perfect.

And I mean it. I wanted to go there the moment I saw it, and now she’s offering it to me on a silver platter. She helps me up and down the rocks. She mocks me when I close my eyes on the way down, but it was the only way to manage it. She suggests we head back to the car to get to our next destination faster. I didn’t say no, feeling my feet freezing. It was definitely the best choice.

Saturday, January 9; 3:30 PM - Downtown Manchester.

Our late morning at the fairground was perfect. Lucy is amazing. She managed to make me forget our conversation from this morning. It’s the first time I’ve seen her as anything other than my boss. We’ve just left the restaurant we went to after having fun. She’s taken the wheel for the drive back to downtown. I was happy she let me drive her Audi at least once. It’s the only one that has trusted me so much, and I enjoyed it immensely. The little restaurant she took me to was cool. She once again paid for everything, despite my protests. I ended up abandoning the argument.

- Are you ready to walk?

- Yeah, it doesn’t bother me.

She smiles at me before we stroll through the streets. I don’t know where we’re going, but I trust her. Well, that was until she stopped in front of a dilapidated building. I remain skeptical as she pushes open the door.

- What are you doing...?

- Are you being a wuss?

She challenges me with a mischievous smile, raising her eyebrows. I hate it when she does that. She knows I can’t say no to her. She gives me a nod to go into the creepy building, and I do. She goes ahead to climb the stairs without seeming bothered by the environment.

- Are you okay? she asks, glancing at me.

- Uh-huh...

She chuckles before turning around and climbing at a faster pace. She doesn’t seem to notice that I’m already struggling to keep up.

- What are we doing in this creepy stairwell?

- Patience, you’re too curious. Remind me to ban horror movies for you if you can’t handle places like this.

- I’m not scared! I mutter.

- Have you seen your face? she giggles. You look like you’re going to have a heart attack at the slightest noise. The building is abandoned; there’s no one here.

- You can’t be sure!

- There’s no one here, I’m telling you, she laughs.

I’m relieved when we finally reach the top. She forces open a heavy metal door that eventually creaks open. I cautiously step in behind her. My eyes close as the daylight dazzles me. She props the door open with a slab she found on the ground. I realize we’re on the roof of the building. I slowly move beside her, taking in the surrounding buildings.

- Wow...

I look at Lucy, who’s smiling at me. I momentarily pause on her outstretched hand.

- I know you’re afraid of heights, but you need to see this.

I take her hand without thinking. She carefully pulls me to the edge, which is protected by a safety railing. I hold onto the railing as she positions herself behind me to let me take in the new view.

- Look down...

I take a deep breath before looking. I’m momentarily overwhelmed by vertigo, but Lucy places her hands on my shoulders to ground me. I smile, appreciating what I see. It’s breathtaking. She’s showing me Manchester from above, and it’s a real spectacle. The streets are crowded with as many pedestrians as cars. Everyone continues their lives, unaware that we’re watching them. Walking across the city is so much more effective.

- Visiting in your style, huh?

- Absolutely, she smiles. Not so bad, this haunted building, huh?

- Shut up, I chuckle. Admit it’s scary!

- It’s true I was hesitant the first time I came here, she laughs. But it’s worth it, right?

- Yes! You can’t imagine the number of drawing ideas that have come to mind since this morning with everything you’ve shown me.

- Hey! Copyright then. These are my private spots.

- Is this the first time you’ve brought someone here? I ask curiously.

- Yes and no. Let’s say someone showed me these places, and... I’m showing them to you now.

She leans over the railing beside me to see the city. She looks at me for a moment, a smile forming on her lips.

- These are my personal places that I’m sharing with you. Make sure not to divulge them.

- I won’t say a word, as long as you tell me about the person who showed you these places.

She raises an eyebrow but smiles at the seriousness of my request. It’s a chance to learn more about her.

- It was my first girlfriend... My first love, I’d say. Her name was Kiera.

- What happened...? I ask softly.

Her eyes remain fixed on the city below us. She doesn’t say anything for now. Maybe my question was a mistake. I was about to speak, but she beats me to it.

- She was the first person we met here with Jenni. Let’s say she was a bit like you... She had drug problems she was trying to overcome. I helped her through a detox.

- Oh... I understand better now why you reacted so well with me...

- Yeah, it’s thanks to her, she laughs nervously. I had helped her get out of that. Or so I thought. Everything went wrong in a day. One of her friends called me in a panic. He said she wasn’t responding and he didn’t understand what was happening. My first reaction was to grab my keys and go to her. When I arrived, I just found my girlfriend’s body... She had overdosed.

A strange feeling washes over me. She told the story without any apparent emotion. There it is, her dark memory that she had kept hidden. I try to meet her green eyes, but to no avail. Her reprimands and worries about me become so much clearer. She doesn’t want me to become like her. She’s afraid of losing me like she lost her. It’s my turn to put my arm around her shoulders. She surprises me by resting her head on my shoulder.

- Please don’t fall back into that.

- I won’t. And if I’m feeling down, I’ll talk to you about it.

She ruffles my hair before kissing my cheek. It’s the first time she’s shown such an affectionate gesture towards me.

- Alright, we’ve had enough gloom for today. Do you have any particular desires for this afternoon?

- I thought you already had a full schedule?

- I do, but I prefer to ask you first.

- We’ll stick to your plan, just because I love what you organize.

- Alright, she says, standing up. We can go to Old Trafford if you want. Otherwise, I also saw there’s a street art exhibit nearby if you’re interested.

My eyes light up at the mention of her second suggestion. Her smile is amused.

- The exhibit, I suppose?

- Obviously!

- Good. However, it doesn’t start for another hour, she tells me, checking her watch. But we can take a walk in the park first if you like.

- Good idea, so we can do both.

I’ve always loved nature anyway, and it seems she does too. We head back to the car to reach the park, as it’s too far to walk from here according to Lucy. In any case, she’s truly gone above and beyond to make me happy until the end.

#woso #lucy bronze #woso community #barca femeni #ona batlle #woso soccer #lionesses #sefutbol fem #ona batlle x lucy bronze

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riewritten · 7 days ago

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34 DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST (BONUS)

DUSK IN THE BRIGHTEST | chapter directory

erwin smith/fem!reader, erwin smith/you | slow burn, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff & smut, mutual pining, canon AU, college/univ AU, professor erwin smith, commander erwin smith, non-linear narrative, manga spoilers

Plot: It was always the nightmares, really. Entrapped with walls, human-eating giants, fighting through metal strings and swords – utterly violent, dreary, recurrent. But behind the blurry faces was a man with menacing blue eyes and vivid features; eventually appearing before you as your new reputable professor, Erwin Smith. Since then, the disaster had slipped beyond your subconscious. AO3

Author's note: Happy new year! Here's the long-standing bonus chapter of this dear fanfic, events set post-epilogue and based upon the lovely requests my readers had back when this story was still ongoing.

In your little brother’s dream, you and he were still mere kids of convicted serial killers. A military police officer took you both in good faith—at least until the chaos that changed your lives for good.

As you two waddled your little feet amid the dreary daybreak of Mitras, your little brother did his best to hold onto you despite the frostbite lurking on his skin like a plague. You gripped his hand just the same, desperate to feel his skin and not the other that tormented you, to be reminded that despite what had just transpired, you still had something to calm you down from the turmoil of your wrath.

“I’m hungry,” your poor brother whispered; it wasn't until he heard your stomach grumble after his remark that he retracted. “No, never mind.” Then his voice tipped into a tiny, meek apology. “I’m sorry.” Albeit the remorse in his voice was louder than ever.

“No worries! We’ll find food soon. Don’t worry.”

He explains your assuring smile and buoyant voice as something extremely out of place. In the narration he had given to Erwin, he described it as something immensely worrying—horrifying, even. He also said that a normal person might perceive you as one trying to be strong despite what just happened to you, but your brother could, in fact, see the sheer emptiness in your eyes that day; he could see the wrath that’s been trying to hold itself all thanks to the warmth of his frostbitten hand.

But then again, with a shaky voice and eyes down the ground, he told Erwin that despite the shivers running down his spine, he opted to hold your hand tighter instead. He had chosen to gulp his lamentations and fury down his throat. This is, after all, the first time in his life that he has felt scared of you.

The soft hiss of the kettle fills his office along with your exasperated sigh. That's when Erwin notices that you’ve finished reading your brother’s narrative, which Erwin helped to write.

“What a strange thing this is,” Erwin muses. “Unlike us two—who only got to have a vivid recollection of the most important events in that world—your brother seems to have been reliving his day-to-day life back there, as if sleeping here means waking up on his bed at Paradis.”

The scent of chamomile then wraps the whole room, his old books, and ink-stained papers included, which almost triggers a nostalgic bliss on your end. After all, a session like this in Erwin’s office brings you back to the days when he helped you deal with your nightmares in this same manner.

It’s just that you can’t seem to be giddy right now, not when you two are dealing with your brother’s nightmares this time around.

A boy merely the age of seven who can barely go to school because of how dreadful it is to cope with the memories of another world all the while dealing with this new one you had made—nothing but his tiny body and naivety at hand. How poor. This is not the life you had promised him the first time you met each other in this world.

“Is this approach working?” You inquire in worry. “Aren’t we just putting a strain on him by making him write all this?"

“Too early to judge, if I’d be honest,” Erwin replies. But his voice, resembling the Commander ruminating about his strategies, becomes none when he holds your hand. “Don’t worry too much. We’re doing all that we can for him. And he seems to be responding to the psychologist you referred to just well.” And just like that, he's back to being your fiance, helping you get through the hurdles of the burden you carry in this world, just as he always does and will.

You let out another sigh, but more of relief than exasperation. Just a few minutes ago, the sound of the brewing tea felt out of place; the clock ticked in an offbeat rhythm that irked you so much; and amid the supposed calm of the chamomile is a breath held too long in a paper where your brother's worries have festered.

How calming it is when you finally look up at this man, your beloved Erwin, with his gentle blue eyes staring at you with devotion and reverence?

Your hands cup his cheeks; his eyes soften further. Your thumb glides on the expanse of his cheeks, soft and familiar to your loving touch.

“What's on your mind?”

“I need to tell you something. But I would like to apologize first. I thought keeping it to myself would be for the better.”

“Then that's on me,” Erwin returns the gesture. He cups your cheeks, squeezes them with his broad hands, and then he adds, “What have I done wrong that you start keeping things from me, huh?” And yet his tone is still light, non-accusatory, almost teaseful even.

It makes you more guilty.

“I told you before that... his school doesn't like his continued absences, right?”

“Hm, and?”

“And, uh, I went to meet the principal personally a few months ago... to personally talk to him and settle stuff..." Oh god, how can you even start this talk?

“Is the principal someone we know from the other world...?" ”

“It's that man.”

Quickly, Erwin's face falters. Still, he tries to recon, “By that man, you mean...”

"M-Murdoch... that damned-in-the-head soldier who took us in back in that world—the same old man you helped me kill.”

Erwin's face darkens. One blink and you'd perceive him as the dreadful Commander again. But when he asks, “How did that make you feel?”With his thumb gliding ever so softly to your cheek, you almost have the urge to cry.

How easy it is for Erwin to just melt your mask away, indeed?

“Oh, oh no,” Erwin's worried face as he starts wiping your tears away has made you crumble even more. “Tell me how you feel, darling.”

“I feel disgusted,” you sob. "I-I'm starting to think that even in worlds beyond, the mark he had imprinted on me and my brother persists just the same. That I'm meant to be tormented by him because I chose to exist, and... And..."

“And that's not true,” Erwin cuts you off, the talk of whether or not you deserve to exist still a non-negotiable matter on his end. “I refuse to have that man define your existence. You know the lengths I have gone in Paradis to ensure that.”

Oh, yes. Yes, you do.

No need to fret too much; this man will do everything in his power for you, for your loved ones, and for your very existence to persist the way it deserves to be—to not be once again held by the shackles of specific people who had made you feel horrible, in this world and beyond.

“You know it, right?”

You let out your last sniffle before sternly adding, “Don't kill him.”

And there, Erwin's serious face swiftly turns light again. He laughs and shakes his head, suddenly endeared by your command.

“That solely depends on him, if I'd be honest.”

“Erwin.”

“Shh, I won't, I won't.” He kisses your forehead, marking his assurance. “Now, be a dear and tell me everything that had happened the day you two talked.”

Since that confession, the three of you followed a nightmare protocol that takes place every breakfast—a time when dreams are still fresh and you have to debrief otherwise it ruins the day.

The routine is grounding yourselves first thing as soon as you wake up (faster if someone’s already awake to help). Once rational enough, the three of you can have two options: write it all down on your designated notebooks located at the bedside table or talk it out during breakfast—which in this case, the listener would be the one to jot it down on your behalf.

There are key points to be answered during the debriefing: the sensory descriptions of the nightmare, your thoughts, your feelings, and most important of all:

How is it different that dream was from the world you're living in right now?

Because then, once the three of you discern that very aspect, you'd be able to face the day with relief regardless of how bad the nightmare is.

It's not linear, though. Take, for example…

"Eight-meter class… mhm…" you mumble, "...from the east."

"Eight-meter class of what?"

You frown at the questioning Commander. "Y-you piece of—” to ask such a question during a crisis is just— “you should've just killed me… ugh, kill me now."

Then suddenly, a futon pops out of thin air. How comical, even more so when you snuggle into it just quick. You hear Erwin's weak chuckle from behind.

"Are you the Commander she's talking about?" your brother asks from behind—a child version of him, rather. "She's always saying 'Commander' every sleep talk beside me."

"Really? What more does she say?"

"Many things. She sounds like a mother berating a reckless child."

You stand confused at the conversation unfolding before you. Note that there's still an eight-meter class titan running towards you as the three of you speak.

Erwin then asks your brother, "Is it causing you disturbance?"

"Yeah, she's quite noisy and always frowning," the kid sighed. "Sleep is supposed to relax you but it does the opposite to her. Not that I don't understand, though…”

“Yeah, you behave the same and your sister's the one to calm you down, no?” Erwin then dearly ruffles the kid's hair.

Oh, okay.

This is all a dream. The eight-meter class titan soon dissipates and your vision turns black. Slowly but surely, you gather the needed reflex to barely open your eyes. Your boys continue to talk, not noticing you at all.

Erwin interposes, "But then again, if you're that bothered then bring her back to me already. She's been sleeping in your room for a month now."

"Are you jealous?"

"You're just pretending to be afraid of the dark.”

"I am afraid of the dark!”

"Oh? Then the only way to rule fear is by confronting it, don't you think so?”

"You don't say that to my sister regarding utensils!”

"And don't dare tell her that,” Erwin cuts the young boy off as if he just uttered a cuss word. “She's an exception to the rule and yet still doing so well.”

When Erwin's loving gaze lays upon you again, you quickly close your eyes and feign asleep. You love moments like this, after all. Catching these two talking about you while you're out of it makes you feel adored. Absolutely adored.

"See? You're spoiling her! Why would I give my sister to someone who's spoiling her?"

Erwin, in a small retaliation, flicks the kid's forehead. "You can't give something you don't own," then his broad hands land on the crown of your head. He caresses it out of habit. "She's the one supposed to own things in this world—the one who owns us. She’s the reason we exist in this world."

Much to how genuinely endeared Erwin is in that remark, it does more than draw you in. It doesn't take long for the uninvited memories to kick in and blur your senses. Your eyebrows crease, your breathing deepens as you hear your mother's words.

“But I hate this world. I loathe it. And having to see those conversations, picking up the clues, and realizing you're the reason this happened—just right after I tried to get along with you again."

You try to open your eyes but to no avail, confused why when you were just pretending to be asleep a few minutes ago. The confusion then turns to annoyance. It annoys you, really, because regardless of how random the exchange is, if your brain decides that it reminds you of that day, it really will make you relieve every single thing.

"Is that why my brother never got to be born?” The realization daunted you. You’re the reason he’s gone again. “Is there a way I could change it?"

Your pained expression is what snapped the two from their daily bantering. Apparently, you whispered some of your mother's words weakly. Just as if you’re there again, just as if your mother is holding a knife at you again.

"She hadn't done that in two months," your brother's breath hitches, "and now that I think of it, her sleep talking became more frequent during the past weeks. I wonder if something is stressing her out."

Erwin attempts to rationalize it inside his head. He wouldn’t have known that; you’re always sleeping with your brother. But why? Why would your nightmares about that day recur again?

It is until the lightbulb in Erwin’s head finally lights up. Of course. How could he brush that off?

Amid the struggle with your little brother, the two of you have also been trying to find leads on that tree only to no avail. In hindsight, Erwin has taken that as an opportunity to rest and savor the peaceful time in its wake.

And if he'd be more honest? Despite a very unlikely attitude for someone as earnest as him, his desire to give you every possible peace in this world led him to actually avoid the matter at hand.

He might've done it the wrong way, he realizes just now in guilt.

"Well, this calls for my dibs then. She's staying in my room tonight." Erwin wraps you up with the futon and then carries you in his arms; your brother sighs in defeat.

"Just so you know, I still don't favor you for my sister."

Erwin stays still; his back facing your brother—unreadable for the sulking boy.

“That I know.”

"She's too good for you."

"I know,” his voice is weaker this time around.

Erwin knows—he knows it too well, he fears. Your brother might've been so fond of him way back in Paradis, but unlike you, who thought he was too naive, the Commander had discerned how sharp he actually was. Your brother was smart enough to separate his admiration for him from the want to protect you with all his heart; he was smart enough to recognize that if there's someone who can take care of his sister and vice versa, that would and must never be the ruthless Commander.

"Your sister's happiness happens to be divided into two. Perhaps we could ally instead."

Now riddled with guilt at Erwin's sudden poignancy after his sulking, your brother then stays silent.

"Don't worry," Erwin faces him briefly, "I know how undeserving I am for the role, more than anyone could.”

All set and wrapped, he buries your head in his neck then starts walking to the room without a word.

The heat of the futon and Erwin’s soft scent on the mattress eventually eases the nightmare away.

You are awoken with his fingers gliding over your cheeks, a learned habit and perhaps a gesture for you to be aware that you've been crying and groaning while asleep. Despite the lack of a smile, the solace of his touches dissipated the dread of whatever you've been dreaming about.

"What's up?" you groggily hum, cup his cheeks, and give him a short kiss—or supposed to.

Because Erwin immediately draws you further to deepen the kiss. He glides his lips alongside yours, tongue eventually in, all for fitful sake to tip the intensity and feel you more.

"Sleep with me tonight," he implores as soon as he's out of your mouth.

"But my brother—"

"He agreed," despite the subtlety, you can see that he's desperate for it. "Sleep with me."

His arm lay draped over your waist, a quiet assurance on his end despite the dread.

After a while of staying silent, you whisper to Erwin. “As long as you want, my love.”

Erwin's face stays unchanged, but you can see it. In his half-closed eyes, you can see the dread dissipating just a tiny bit.

And so you try more, "You'll feel better soon enough, though. It's Sunday tomorrow, we can go to the library you talked about yesterday, and we can eat at the restaurant downtown with—"

His chuckles cut you off, “Bold of you to comfort me when it's you who just had a nightmare.”

“Oh, come on. Indulge me!”

“Okay…” He raises his brows, then, not long when he dips in character. "What if I don't feel better even then?"

"Then we try it again the day after. And the day after that,” you kiss his cheeks. “In fact, we just say it again and again until it really does become better.”

“Ah… my pretty soldier, such a smart problem solver,” he teases.

You giggle in return, “Your love has softened me.”

Days pass, and it really does become better. The nightmare protocol persisted until it bore fruits. The fruits of your labor eventually pave the way to preparing your actual wedding.

It's just that Hange and the others want to meet you before indulging in the wedding preparations.

You've met them in Paradis, why are you shuddering at the thought of it? You're lucky Erwin knows you head to toe, your jitters included, hence he stayed with you all throughout the flight. And after ringing Hange's doorbell, he squeezes your hand assuringly and kisses your cheek.

You thought what would daunt you upon opening the door was the dreary Scout barracks. But when Hange's grin flashes behind the door, you're suddenly stunned to speak. They all look too… normal? Happy?

Erwin takes your silence as a chance to introduce you to them, “She’s the one I'm talking about.”

Erwin is about to say more but Hange engulfs you in a hug, “So she’s the pretty girl that made Erwin a mawkish smiling bastard? Oh dear!” When they withdraw from the hug, they hold onto your shoulders. “You’re way cuter in person! Levi was such a bad picture taker and we only managed to get stolen shots from you, usually with Erwin smiling creepily beside!”

You then glare at Levi who's already inside the door, "Hey, you take pictures of me without asking permission?"

Instead of answering, Levi pushes Hange away from you and places a cold beer can on their forehead, “You forgot the baseline human decency of introducing yourself first by muttering your name and shaking hands with her.”

“Oh!” Hange sheepishly chuckles. “Sorry, I was just too thrilled seeing you! I’m—“

“Hange, yes. I know.” You then shake their hand.

“They told you about me?”

No, actually not. Erwin never explicitly mentioned their name to you, at least in this world.

Still, you lie. “Yeah, Levi told me how you annoy him every single time.”

Levi shoots you a glare, Erwin lets out an almost inaudible snort, and Hange believes it just well.

Oh, only if you knew you'd enjoy their company so much to the point of inebriation. Levi's almost horrified, and Erwin never thought you could be more adorable than he already thought you were.

"You better produce a commendable result at your science experiment this time, Hange!" your voice cracks midway, "I'm not sweating blood and tears kissing nobilities' asses only for you to slack off!"

"Thank you, thank you! Gosh, I don't know what to do without you!"

Hange has no idea what you're talking about, but the alcohol helps in believing whatever you're on.

They engulf you in a hug and add, "But oh, you silly goof, asses are dirty. Do you wash your mouth afterward?"

"I don't. The Commander gives me a lot of tasks that I can't even fix my hair anymore," you chug another bottle out of resentment.

"Commander who?"

"Where is he…" you dart your eyes all over the place and when you see the man in question at the kitchen counter—a hand on his forehead and holding a laugh, you beam. "There you go! Having fun at my suffering again, I see!"

Levi, who's standing just beside him, empties his glass then grabs his phone. "I must have another material to plaster on this woman's hall of shame."

"Hey, Commander Erwin!" Hange shouts along with you. "She's too pretty to be treated like this! What an asshole!"

"She is. I apologize."

Your head plops down the floor carpet. After wiggling your head a bit to settle yourself, you tap Hange. "You won't believe me when I say the Commander called me the most beautiful then kissed my forehead—god I can't believe he only went for my forehead—then slept next to me. We didn't do anything, though. Heh." You let out weak giggles before adding, "I got to sleep with the Commander. How's that."

"Okay, that's it," Erwin quickly rescues you from saying more. "I didn't know you were that disappointed with the forehead kiss. Let's put you to bed now."

Hange's inebriated mind has a completely different scene playing in mind, though. "You seem to have lots of fling during college, Erwin. Do you only kiss them on the forehead when sleeping on the same bed?"

Both of your eyes widen—yours with utter shock and his with confusion.

"I don't sleep on the bed with them. And I don't think they're a lot."

"How many?" you press on Hange.

"Uh, lemme count… One, two, uh…" Every finger Hange raises just subjects you to further shock, "I don't know. It's a common college joke that 'if you haven't got a crush on Erwin yet then are you even a student here?' or something."

"He slept with everyone?!”

Hange looks like nodding, really, until Erwin accidentally nudges the bottle beside him and spills it all over the carpet.

Hange screams in despair, "I just got this from the laundry!"

"Sorry, sorry," Erwin finally managed to make you stand. "I'll clean that up later. This lady is having her head drift to another dimension already. Gotta get her back here."

Indeed, it says a lot about how your eyes were fluttering already.

"You're not sorry, Erwin! You nudged on it intentionally! You should've just told me the talk about your flaming romances must be kept confidential!"

Levi settles on the couch before hitting Hange with a pillow. "Look around you. You had everyone waste themselves out in the living room. I'm quite surprised your big head didn't see carpet stains coming."

As Hange continues their loud blabbering with Levi barely keeping up with it, Erwin settles you on the balcony chair.

He crouches down so you'd be on the same level, then he taps your cheeks, "Still here?"

"Commander, you didn't tell me you slept with everyone." Okay, not here yet. "Clarifying that to the girl you claimed to fancy for years should be the baseline human decency before fucking her."

"I barely slept with anyone, love."

"Bullshit," you let your flailing head land on his shoulder before adding, "you look so good to not do that."

You can feel the heave of his chuckle as well as the vibration of his voice; there, you realize that you can sleep with this alone.

"Are you jealous?" You don't answer, which makes it a yes so Erwin laughs again.

He trails his hand to your fingers and taps on the ring you're wearing as if to make a point.

Your breath hitches at the realization.

"Still jealous, hm?" then he clasps your hands together.

"Holy shit.”

Erwin almost thinks you're back with that. Until you add, "When I told you to live with me inside the walls, I didn't know we'd have it this quick." Okay, still not back. "I don't want children yet, okay?"

And so, he just decides to play along. "But you look good carrying Marie's child. How about ours?"

You shoot your eyes open and exclaim, "That was so hot.” That's what will take you back?! "Say that again. I'll say no but still—say it again."

He had already established that you're the only one to decide on that matter, hence he'd never coax you. Also, the predicament of those people tied to both of you by blood due to your power isn't something to take lightly. What surprises Erwin is that you actually have a hidden pleasure in playing around with the matter at hand.

"So you find it hot to have me begging you for a child?"

"Sort of," you cup his face and grinned. "Want me to bear your children, hm?"

He hitches a breath then, albeit you're unsure if it's out of surprise or just a strained cackle, "Don't say that here."

"Here? Then what about other places?" you feigned surprise. "What if as soon as we get home, I—"

For some reason, he's having a hard time holding back the laughs. Maybe because he realized something as well.

"Okay, you can stop that one. Let's pretend on it once we get home."

"Oooh, I see, you find it hot to have me begging you for a child?" you repeat his question with a mock.

"Having too much fun, huh?”

"Yeah, too much." You land a chaste peck on his lips before wrapping your arms around him. You nuzzle your nose to his neck, a deep sigh out as he holds onto your waist. "I'm not afraid of disappearing after this life. Not anymore. I never thought I'd be this happy."

"Well, I'm still as greedy," he raises your head by cupping your cheeks. "See, if you're not drunk, we'll be making love right now."

"I'm not drunk. Let's do it."

"No."

"I'm feeling hot right now." You attempt to remove your clothes and he stops you amusingly.

"We're not doing it in someone's house."

“Yeah, please don’t do it inside anybody else’s home,” Levi interjects blankly.

“Indeed, Levi interrupting a good talk at the balcony, how familiar,” you scorn. If not for the alcohol you'd be a flustered mess right now.

“Are you drunk?”

"Mhm… no I'm not!” You are. “Are you, Levi? That'd be a waste. I was planning to talk to you about something important tonight.”

"No, not yet," he ponders. "But intoxicated enough to believe whatever bullshit you're about to spur right now as long as you two get your asses inside. The night's getting colder. I don't want you both spreading cold during your wedding.”

"Perfect." You laugh and sigh. Not long after, the smile on your face disappears. You intended to tell Levi the possibility as well.

Levi asks you two to usher those who have passed out to Hange's bedroom. He forces Erwin to clean the carpet he intentionally sullied. And when the living room is back to its original state, Levi finally lets you talk.

The three of you sit beside each other, with your backs on the edge of the sofa and Hange's glass wall paving for moonlight to pass through. Thanks to that, Levi can register the dreadful revelation about your existence while taking in the gloom in your face. After all, this is something you cannot fathom to tell Isabel, Furlan, and Historia. You trust Levi to be the only one who'd take it stoically.

However, much to your surprise, Levi’s grip on the glass tightens while you talk. The faintest crack eventually spiders across its surface. He has to set it down carefully before turning to face you, his gray eyes unreadable.

“Levi…”

“So that’s it?” His voice is quiet, and yet it carries a weight that successfully presses against your chest. “You just… disappear?”

You nod, not trusting your throat to form words. The confession hangs heavily in the air between the three of you. You expect Levi to take it as usual, so when he presses his lips into a thin line and exhales sharply, you almost get the urge to cry like a guilty girl caught redhanded.

“All this time,” he says, almost to himself. “You know how this will end, and you didn’t say a damn thing? To me, no less?” His tone however, lacks disdain. You don't even see this as him scolding you. You can't even put it into words.

But sure enough, is the first time in a while you've seen him speak this way.

“I didn’t want to burden you,” you whisper faintly, a lack of confidence evident in your voice.

“Burden me? Of all people?” he blankly retorts, but the way he ran a hand through his hair says otherwise. Levi is frustrated. “Do you really think any of this would mean a damn thing without you?”

“I know… I've seen a world like this but without me. I know how sad it's gonna end up. That's why I'm grateful, you see! But then…” you bite your lip. “Erwin and I have been trying for ages, but we still can't find leads on the tree. Worse comes to worst, the tree might not even exist in this world anymore.”

And there, the whole room is wrapped into silence.

"Thank you," is what Levi manages to say after a long while.

Levi rarely says thank you.

You remove the arm atop your eyes and look at him. His eyes are not on you but on the nightscape by the glass wall, and you can see the subtle but sheer lament on his face. "No one could thank you enough for doing that for us."

"Ever since I got conscious enough in this world, I knew I would do everything for you," you chuckle, thankful at the alcohol before having this talk; if not for that, you'd cringe at how sappy the mood is. “I wouldn’t be alive had Kuchel minded her own business and stayed away from my mother’s affairs.”

On Levi's end, had it not been for the alcohol, he wouldn’t realize he actually misses the days when all of you were still young—the childish sleepovers where Isabel would ask Levi to sit on the carpet so both of you could lay your heads on his lap. Isabel would make your nightmares as the reason. And Levi, albeit repulsed at the favor, would end up agreeing. He would caress your and Isabel’s heads until you sleep. Hell, sometimes he even ends up sleeping the night away with you two along the way.

Levi refills his glass, hoping to fill his tongue with the taste of the wine instead of the bittersweet memory.

"I don't mind if I cease to exist. I couldn't wish for anything more," you absentmindedly whisper at the two when you feel like you’re minutes away from drifting to sleep.

"Told you, Levi, she tends to say that."

"You will not disappear on us, though. Not anytime soon. Not in any world."

"Not like you will remember me in another world, Levi. Don't mind it too much."

Levi flicked your forehead, which earned a frustrated ow from you.

The venue was alive with a soft hum of anticipation, the warm light from the stained-glass windows bathing everyone in vibrant hues. On the other side of the room, there goes Isabel crying with a handkerchief that's not hers. Surprisingly, it is Historia’s gentle hand on her shoulder, offering a consolation that the two are yet to get used to.

“I didn’t think you’d cry this much."

“Shut up,” Isabel sniffles, half-laughing through her tears. “I didn’t think you’d… you know, be here.”

That Historia understands way too well. “We’ve been through too much to let things stay as they were. I’m glad we’re here now.” She hesitates before adding, “She... she said you like going outdoors now. Would you join me on a hike next week? It’s been a while since I’ve had company.”

Isabel nods quickly, much to her surprise. The rekindling bond brings a fresh wave of tears to spill. “Only if I can bring cookies.”

Historia laughs. How childish, she thinks. Only if it wasn't too adorable on her end. “Deal. Mind if I bring my girlfriend?”

On the other side of the room, there's you and a crying Furlan, whom all this time had always seemed so composed. He dabs at his eyes with a trembling hand before pulling you into a tight hug.

“You’ve come so far,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you.”

You giggle lightly, then eyes dart to Levi who lingers in the corner; his gaze fixed somewhere beyond the room. You approach him tentatively, steps hesitant until his eyes meet yours.

Without a word, he reaches out to deftly smoothen a crease in your dress.

“Your hair is all tousled, Levi. Did you not have enough time to fix yourself?”

“Dunno. Maybe I'll behave the same way once Isabel gets married.” He only shrugs then flatly looks at you before adding, “Let me do what I can do and stop asking for more.”

His words, uncharacteristic yet brimming with sincerity, have wrapped around your heart like a protective shield.

It gave you the needed courage to walk down the aisle without crying, especially when you finally see Erwin waiting at you in front with a smile so soft it makes you want to crumble then and there. His hair is parted on the side, cheeks slightly pink but eyes brimming with adoration.

His face no longer resembles a commander who carries thousands of corpses on his back. This day is the brightest he has ever been. Today, he's just the love of your life whom you crossed the world for. The way he's looking at you right now shows how aware he is of it, of how he will do the same for you if given the chance.

You both know a lot of things are still yet to happen after this momentous event in your lives. Once your brother is able to cope with his fair share of nightmares, you will proceed to embark on the mission to have your existence persist in all universes.

More, and more, and more.

You are perhaps way too aware that this will never be a linear happily ever after.

But you will not waver, not when the love of your life who shined like a morning sun amid the dusk is here with you.

previous chapter (explicit ver) OR (clean ver) | afterword

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boyfhee · 2 years ago

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› HOW TO GET BACK WITH YOUR EX : five do's and don'ts

SYNOPSIS · You were all in for a new start; a new city, new apartment, new department and new colleagues— though, not under the best circumstances— you tried to make it through your early thirties while lost between whether to give up or go on, and then you meet Heeseung, who happens to be on the other end of the same street.

WC · 26.2K ( guys pls give this a chance )

GENRE · melodrama, angst, slice of life, romance, exes to ?

WARNINGS · lots of drinking, marriage talks, mentions of failed relationship and breakups; implications of sexual activity, very existential, mentions of suicidal thoughts, blood, lot's of tense changes ( since this transits between past and present a lot ) please read at your own discretion.

NOTE · i know i'm on hiatus but this was almost done and i had a sudden burst of motivation so here we are. my longest fic till date, i'm so proud of how this turned out. experimented a little with my writing style here, overall a fun experience. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i did, happy reading. ps the quote below is actually by john mark green, but let's assume it's written by hee for the sake of this fic. okay, good bye again, see you guys soon :›

playlist : tune in for better experience hehe

“ And if love may be madness, may I never find sanity again, ”

— Lee Heeseung, Red Wine

I. Regret and Remorse

You don’t think you’ll ever become someone who’d look forward to the working experience that comes with job transfer. In fact, you don’t think you’d ever become someone who’d grow a liking to job transfer in the first place.

Autumn of 2022 was supposed to be filled with vacation plans and a self-sobriety program in one of the many remote towns of Gangwon, away from the internet and daily complaints of your employer and family members. To put it simply— you’re tired of the life you’ve been living so far. Looking back, when you were a fresh graduate from one of the best universities of Incheon, life seemed to offer more opportunities than it does now. Your goals weren't any different from other people in the same age group as you, which majorly consisted of getting a job that pays well, maintaining financial security, getting into a good relationship, and perhaps visiting a few places on your travel list that you made in your first year of university. The idea of ‘ideal workplace’ leaves your mind the moment you step into the industry. Over time, you’ve realised that there’s no such thing as a job that fits to your liking and pays well, along with a hundred other benefits ranging from covering medical expenses to providing paid leaves. While that may apply to some, most of the crowd isn’t lucky enough to experience the luxuries of their dream job or workplace. Unfortunately, you happen to be just another person of that kind.

You wake up, it’s the same old Monday morning— and no matter what day it is, it always feels like a Monday morning. You look through your same seven sets of office attires in your closet and pick one for the day; you go to the kitchen and find the same dish you had last night. You heat it up and eat the same for breakfast. Albeit, you find yourself at a cafe downstreet if you’re hoping for a change of scenery. You go to work, review the same old files, look at your same old colleagues and the same old boss who makes your blood boil. You aren’t the most sociable person and prefer to have lunch at the canteen, and coincidently, it’s the same old menu from four days ago. The day proceeds in the same old direction and you arrive at your apartment by six in the evening if your team leader doesn’t make you work overtime. You make dinner, sleep on the same old bed in the same old room with the same old feeling of dissatisfaction stuffing your stomach, and the same old cycle continues.

Intellectually, there has been no progress— you've read scarcely half a dozen books, haven't made one new, exciting friend, haven't had a starling or unusual thought. Economically, things are no better— same old bills to pay, same old pay that hasn't been increased over years now. You get your paycheck and half of it goes into buying necessities. It's the same old job, same old routine of nine-to-five workdays, the cheese and ham salad for lunch, same dreary ride home. No change, nothing but routine, sameness, monotony— it's as if you're vegetating.

If you could go back in time and meet yourself when you were still a college freshman with high hopes and even higher aspirations, you would tell yourself to stop. Now that you’ve seen how the world works and have experienced the stagnancy of life, you wouldn’t want your young and carefree self to go through the pain of disappointment after encountering it yourself. You would instead tell yourself to switch fields since finance doesn’t seem to have a lot to offer. Instead, you would push your past self to go for liberal arts when you suddenly wanted to switch majors in the second year. Perhaps, in that case, your life would’ve been a tad bit better.

Well, better than what it is now, at least, because currently, you’re sitting in the living room of your new apartment with a beer can in hand and tons of unpacked boxes around you. You’ve been thinking of unpacking for over an hour now, but every time your eyes land upon another beer, you’re back on the floor, chugging the drink down and regretting your life choices. Things would’ve been better if you had turned in your resignation instead of waiting till the last week of July for your pay; because now it’s August, and you’re in a new city with a new apartment, and the only thing you remember is the way to the nearest seven-eleven store from your apartment. You don’t want to think of this negatively, really, since you’ve been asking for a change, after all; and nothing is better than starting anew in a completely new location. However, you don’t want to work in the sales department when all you’ve ever worked about is finance. You don’t want to go through the pain of getting lost in the streets and chased by some dog, for you’re hitting thirty and you feel your bones cracking. You wanted a new start, however not in this field. A new start, for you, meant going on a vacation, detoxifying your mind off all the stress and tension, picking up a hobby, focusing on self-care— just anything that would help you change your views about life.

Your silent remorseful session is interrupted by a knock on the door, and you’re certain you heard a doorbell, however you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol playing with your mind or whether someone is actually waiting at your doorstep. Forcing yourself to stand up, you stumble towards the door, the sudden decrease in blood pressure leaves a hint of dizziness as you step forward. Since you’ve just moved in, expecting anyone besides mails and landlord is pointless. While you remember having a friend living in the same city, you never told her your address so it’s unlikely for her to visit you either. You stand before the door, fixing your hair before moving down to the creases on your shirt as you unlock the door with a forced smile; and the time ceases to exist.

“Hi,” Heeseung mumbles.

You step aside to let him in, involuntarily— “Hi,” you breathe out before stressing your mind to come up with a reason for letting him inside. Could it be that you’re so lonely that now, you’re treating your ex as just someone you’ve been expecting to see? Maybe not, maybe it’s because you just moved in and despite the notes that you both ended on, it would be disrespectful to shut the door on someone who came with seemingly all good intentions.

His steps are laced with hesitation. There’s a Château Margaux in his hands as you notice his fingers nervously tighten around the bottle before he turns around, albeit you avoid his gaze actively. “I heard someone moved in so I came to meet,” A pause, and then: “Didn’t know it was you.”

He puts emphasis on the word as if it’s a bad thing. As if you’re an outsider trying to invade his peaceful life yet again, only to cause mayhem. However, the question is, had you known that Heeseung lives here, would you have moved in? Or, would you continue to live knowing Heeseung is your neighbour and that you would possibly see him for the rest of your life? You don’t know the answer to that one— not sure if you even want to find one, in fact. The last thing you need is to worry about bumping into an ex. You gesture at him to take a seat and to your surprise, he sits on the floor, exactly where you were having your drinking session before he came along. You grab the wine glasses from the kitchen before making your way back to the living room and sitting opposite to him. There’s a heavy tension in the air, one that is suffocating both of you, though you’re sure a major part of it is arising from you. After all, you let him inside as if he was an old friend, one that you were hoping to see, as if he isn’t your ex.

Heeseung and you got together in your second year of university. You met him through a mutual friend on their birthday when they invited a few people from another department. You didn’t plan to go initially, you had presentations to make, but something inside of you prompted you to give in and had it not been for that day, you would’ve never come across Lee Heeseung in your life. The first time you met him at the bar, Heeseung seemed to be a heavy drinker— droopy eyes, messed up hair, a few things written on the palm of his hands— he didn’t even come across as someone who paid attention during lessons. However, much to your surprise, he excused himself early, sitting outside with a can of cold coffee he got from the vending machine in his hand while reading what seemed like economics notes compiled in pdf format. Perhaps, Heeseung knew he came off as a showoff when you found him chugging down his drink in an attempt to erase whatever effect alcohol could have on him.

You sat next to him and all of a sudden, he started explaining how he doesn’t usually dip in the middle of gatherings with friends and step out to study. He simply happens to have a test the next day and his friends dragged him along. Simultaneously, you learnt that it was his first time drinking despite and he swore not to drink anything that wasn’t caffeine. It was nice, really; while Heeseung was busy worrying that you might dislike him for being such a show off, you were enjoying your time with him because in the end, you weren’t a big fan of drinking with your friends either. The two of you talked about wasted matters, complained about subjects and teachers, shared social media handles. It was fantastical, almost unreal, because you don’t remember the last time you clicked with someone so quickly. You didn’t have impressive social skills to initiate conversations, which consequently resulted in you being left out most of the time. It didn’t really matter since relationships and all were secondary at that time, for you had a set goal to work towards. You had always believed that people can make friends and fall in love anytime. However, life gives you just once chance to achieve your dreams. Disconnecting from the public didn't have any effect since you got your work done. While your friends wasted their nights at clubs, you spent it studying and completing assignments. You never felt the lack of friends and interactions eating you slowly. The loneliness didn’t hit you until you graduated with hands full of bills to pay and responsibilities to handle.

After that night, you started seeing Heeseung more than usual. Despite being in different majors and completely different schedules, you saw him at the campus more often than you used to. It was as if he was always there, waiting for you to find him. Despite changing Twitter and Instagram handles, the two of you barely talked. There was no communication except interacting with each others’ posts, leaving a comment every now and then, tagging each other in stories. You would mutter a soft hello every time you’d bump into him and if fate allowed, you’d have a small conversation. There was no progress in your relationship until a few months after your first meeting, at one of the fests hosted by the Art Department. You had no one to visit with and Heeseung wasn’t interested until you came across him in the library, taking down notes of the lectures he had missed. He asked if you wanted to visit the fest, much to your surprise, and that was the first time you had hung out with Heeseung after knowing him for five months.

“You seem excited for work,” It’s a question that leaves you confused until your eyes land upon the stacks of files and documents lying stray on the kitchen counter. The next thing you notice is that Heeseung’s voice has gotten a lot deeper, possessing all the necessary qualities of a voice a hiring manager would want to hear in interviews.

“Do I?” You offer a rhetorical response, not knowing exactly what to say. For a brief second, you considered pouring yourself more drink and going off about your lethargic and unfruitful lifestyle. A chuckle falls off your lips as you stir the wine in its glass, feeling the weight shift from left to right before chugging the remaining liquid down. “I hate my job,”

You pour yourself another glass. Heeseung’s fingers flinch watching your hands reach for the bottle but he didn’t dare interrupt your actions. Another second passes in silence, another sip of wine hits your system. You feel fatigue fill your sinuses as you fight off sleep for another hit— another line of thoughts.

You can go on for days, complaining about your job, despite knowing that looking down on your work and throwing shade on your boss isn’t going to get you anywhere in life. But at the end of the day, you have nothing else to talk about either. While your colleagues spent weekends drinking, going on dates, and watching movies, you worked your ass off to finish off a project and get a promotion; because promotions come with an increase in pay, and the thing you need the most at the moment is money. Even in school and universities, you used to spend your days and nights studying hard because in the end, the employers from big companies always look for candidates from the top universities, students who graduated with high honours and those who have a lot to offer to the market. Graduating from one of the best universities in Korea in your department should’ve helped you get a high paying job with several benefits. You didn’t lack knowledge, nor did you lack the brains to tackle the problems in finance. You graduated on top of your class so your educational qualifications weren’t below the bar either. If it comes down to experience, one can not expect a fresh graduate to have work experience. In the end, you’re left with the lack of information once again, not knowing why your life turned out this way when every step you took ensured success.

“Then, why don’t you try doing something that you like?” Heeseung suggests, twirling the glass in his hand, unknowingly mirroring your actions. While he thinks he’s doing a good job at keeping the conversation going, Heeseung knows his advice isn’t worth a penny. Imagine telling a full-time employee to quit their job and do what they like! He thinks to himself, almost ready to take his words back, because he can’t even imagine himself doing the same thing for the sake of a better life.

“You can’t depend on your likes and dislikes to make a living,” You chuckle yet again, voice laced with bitterness. Failure and disappointment were something you never had tasted until now. You remember the dissatisfaction you felt when your mother gave you sliced apples when you told her you were hungry. You refused to eat, but your mother said that when you’re starving, you don’t look for food that suits your taste. You just eat whatever you get; and thinking about it now, you think it applies to practical life as well. Survival in this world isn’t possible if you depend upon your preferences. Humans have the ability to adapt to various situations, and the key to adaptation is working under different circumstances, often that don’t suit your preferences. That is how you secure your position in the world. If things revolved around one’s likes and dislikes, you sure would’ve been a billionaire for you love to stay on your couch all day and dislike capsicums.

“What about you?” You counter with the same question. “You look even more tired than how you were in university.” Now, your attention is on his dark circles and weary eyes. The Heeseung you remember from university was phenomenal, having an urge to do anything and everything. His eyes searched for opportunities, hands aching to work on something new. His never ending passion and a desire to know more made him an ideal figure for the juniors as well as someone who the seniors used to envy. However, the eyes of the Heeseung sitting in front of you are telling a whole nother story. They’re talking about the good times while his hands look tired from having a lot on his plate with no time for himself.

“Work load,” Heeseung sighs, eyes fixed on his drink as he continues to twirl it around. Your gaze shifts to the corner of his lips, watching them curl into a faint smile. “Do you remember how we used to spent weekends hunting for part time—”

And then a pause. Your eyes avert to his’, meeting him in the line of contact; they resonate with just two emotions— regret and respect. You fail to decipher the meaning behind his gaze, you lost the ability to do so years ago. He presses his lips into a thin line, pressing his fingers against the glass in an attempt to suppress his emotions before looking away from you. The comforting silence suddenly weighs upon your shoulders with its hands around your neck, suffocating you to the point of breathlessness; and then you ask yourself— what am I doing? The clock strikes seven and it didn’t hit you how quickly the time flowed until everything dawned upon you. Once again, you’re left questioning your whats and whys about life, for after all, you didn’t expect to spend your evening drinking with your ex. You notice splatters of rain against your window pane as they blur the golden glow of the city scape behind. The rain falls louder, the room fills with the sound of clouds rumbling, you take another sip of wine— it takes you back to your days with Heeseung.

You don’t know if it’s alcohol blurring your paths down the memory lane, but a part of job hunting with Heeseung also included applying for the same part-jobs and competing so see who gets hired. Although, both of you ended up receiving a polite rejection most of the time, it didn’t affect your relationship. Actually, you don’t think anything regarding job interviews or grades affected your relationship with him. It was a good, healthy race, one that allowed both of you to grow as individuals, for yourselves and for each other. There were days when you came home with the news about getting hired, only to know how his application was rejected or he was fired, and vice-versa. You both took your turns comforting each other— it didn’t feel like your life was any different from his. In fact, every second with Heeseung felt as if you both were living the same life. Watching him go through the exact same thing you went through a few weeks ago, or finding yourself in the same situation you found him merely a few nights ago; it was like watching just another version of yourself.

Seconds catapult before you. Heeseung gets up and makes his way towards the door. No words are shared, the world is spinning too quickly, it gets harder and harder for you to retrace your steps to figure out how you ended up here. His name falls off your lips— it’s not louder than a soft whisper. You don’t know why you stopped him in his tracks. Is it intentional? Is it involuntary? Or is it because you were hoping for something else? You would never know, at least not now. Months expanded into years and the time when you dated Heeseung still feels like yesterday. It’s as if you woke up— there is his face next to you, the sunlight offering a soft golden glow to his eyes as they light up your whole words. His lips meet yours, a smile emerges under the tender kiss, Heeseung tells you he loves you and you couldn’t be happier. The day rolls by, your steps follow him everywhere he goes, breaths mingling into each other in secluded corners of streets, hidden from the world because it’s a love to be harboured in secrecy. Your hands intertwine with his. It’s two souls living as one, two hearts beating in synchrony. The night rolls by and you’re back in his arms, a little closer to heart, deeper into his mind. The moon sighs in admiration, night slips through his feather light touches as he traces every inch of your skin with love. The sun comes up— and suddenly you’re exes. You never had enough time to process his departure from your life, just the way you failed to process his impromptu arrival this evening. Heeseung is in front of you like the way he used to be. However, just like the first time, the universe agreed but the stars never aligned, and Heeseung is leaving once again as you fail to hold onto him one more time.

“Why don’t you resign if you don’t like your job?” Heeseung stops by his door, and you realise the words that leave his mouth are the same ones that people throw at you whenever they hear you complain about your work life.

“I was about to, but was transferred here. Thought I should give it a try before quitting.” While that doesn’t sound like the most convincing reason, it sure is a plausible one. You had been looking for a change— any change— and throwing away the chance to have one while it had been in your hand would be a bad decision, no matter how unfavourable it sounds at the moment.

“Doesn’t that sound familiar? When I confessed, you said you weren’t sure about your feelings but would give it a try,” There’s a faint smile on his face, albeit you aren’t able to perceive the meaning behind his words. “I’m sure it’ll turn out better,”

You take a step towards the door before shutting it completely. You don’t know why he said that, nor do you think you’ll ever get the chance to ask him. Perhaps you wouldn’t ask him willingly in the first place. You turn around, leaning against the door as a sigh escapes your lips. Heeseung has his own life, and so, his own views on different things. If he resents you, you’re in no position to try and change that for him. You don’t think you’re in a position to interfere with his life when you decided to walk out of it in the first place.

If regret was his part to play, then remorse was yours.

II. Don’t be a ‘know it all’

Drinking with Heeseung feels like yesterday, when in fact, you haven’t seen him in four days.

Life is busy, and it’s even busier for someone like Heeseung who works as a chartered accountant if your memories from last evening aren’t defying you. You can’t imagine yourself in that position, not like you want to in the first place. Excel sheets and tons of documents about taxes are all you could think of when you hear anything along the lines of accountancy, which is intolerable to you, given that you’ve majored in finance, ironically.

A lot of things in your life are contradicting, actually. You don’t like to cook but cooking for close friends is something you’ve always loved. Examples follow, and at one point you realised that your life barely makes sense. Expectations from friends and relatives made you a try hard, so much that anything less than a perfect score made you feel suffocated. People had desires and interest in certain things, but you needed to be good at everything, and saying that it was for yourself would be a lie, because you had to set an example of an ideal person in front of your younger siblings. Your parents were strict to you and it didn’t feel unfair. You were ten when you saw your mother cry because of all the financial burden, but she had to be the perfect mother for her children, so you never saw her complain ever again. Fifteen year old you didn’t have a goal in mind but she knew that there’s a path ahead of her that leads her siblings on the right track, towards a better future, and so she took it— no aims and dreams of herself, just whatever she could’ve done for her brothers. It was hard at first but the formula to success was easy— hardwork and determination, and all you had to do was avoid distractions. Again, the reality didn’t hit you until you met Heeseung.

It was as if you were both her two sides of the same coin. Persistence flowed in both of your veins, but every time you looked at him, you realised that he enjoyed everything he was doing. Heeseung enjoyed waking up at four, going out for a jog, attending classes, job hunting, staying up till two or simply not sleeping on some nights. Even on the darkest of the days and coldest of the nights, you would see Heeseung looking at you with a warm smile. He always managed to find a reason to smile, or make a situation humorous enough to make others smile as well. You don’t know how he did that, you never had the chance to ask, but you’re certain that even if he told you, you wouldn’t understand. Heeseung’s principles of living were beyond your comprehension— staying up late yet waking up right when dawn breaks, buying books but never really reading them, researching articles on topics that don’t concern your subjects even marginally— but that’s just his curiosity getting the best of him.

Often, he’d find himself amidst a financial conflict like any other college student, but it never had an impact on his desires, and he used to say, ‘A sale wouldn’t wait for me to pay my bills so that I can buy my favourite shirt with the money left,’ as if his rent was going to pay itself. If someone asks about the biggest difference between him and you, it’s about desires. You suppress yours while Heeseung lives them like it’s the last time he could ever wish for something. You believe in the cause, while Heeseung did in curiosity, and that’s where it creates a line. Though lately, you’ve been hearing other things about him, new things, if you must say.

The landlord told you about the Heeseung who’s quiet, who doesn’t leave his house until it’s about work, who eats the same menu for days until his system demands something new, who now has been prescribed actual specs because of his family history of hypermetropia. You find yourself smiling about it because back in university, Heeseung used to brag about his perfect vision, and you would say, ‘family health history is no joke. you take that shit down to your grave,’ and now when it has actually happened, you wonder what he has to say. Hearing stories about him made you realise that a lot of things changed, but Heeseung didn’t. Maybe, the situation demands him to live vegetatively, or maybe he’s saving up for a bigger plan.

“They say you’re a loner,” You had said one time when you bumped into him on the lift. “That you never leave your apartment except for work,”

Much to Heeseung’s surprise, a lot of things changed after he entered his thirties, the most prominent being his back pain, which may or may not have arisen from the lack of workout and constantly sitting in front of his desk for hours. He would smile at plants or sit by the balcony, watching the city being ever so lively and yet so monotonous. Afternoon naps became mandatory to continue proficiently for the rest of the day and before he realised, Heeseung became the old man of every highschool student’s imagination. Truthfully, he spent his first few months after graduation in his room, amidst sketching pencils and loose sheets. While other fresh graduates hunted for jobs or ways to fill their resume to fit the companies’ requirements, he spent his early months as an unemployed lad who graduated with top honours from one of the best universities in Korea. For the first time in life, he found himself looking at his ceiling and wondering, what’s next. Heeseung, who always had a plan for something despite seeming reckless, was about to step into adulthood with no plans to follow.

“I guess I’ll be that,”

He was back in your apartment, same wine in his hand, same old complaints. It’s been quite a few weeks since you’ve moved in and Heeseung always finds himself in your living room at noons when he doesn’t sleep, making small talk about topics that usually stir a little interest. You haven’t had the time to go out with your colleagues and make new friends or explore the city, which gives you a perfect excuse to see Heeseung and call it socialising. Not to mention, you’ve been introducing him to your previous workmates as the ‘new friend’ you’ve made in the new place.

“We both know you’re not that,” You continue, recalling all the reasons why Heeseung isn’t how people around describe him to be.

“No one is the same after actually getting a life,” He replies while going through his emails, scrolling down with one hand before placing the wine glass by his side and proceeding to type something. “Look at yourself, for example,”

You don’t know whether it’s a compliment or an insult. Perhaps the latter, albeit the chances of him noticing a good difference in you are low but never zero. Your eyes fix on his fingers, following them as he types something before clearing it all, and then typing all over again while mumbling the exact same words with an expression ranging from confusion to worry. You reconsider his words, he isn’t half wrong.

Adulthood is climacteric. You think you’re an adult the moment you turn eighteen but in reality, you aren’t one until you’re in a position to make it through life profoundly, and ironically enough, you don’t think most people get a taste of adulthood until they hit their late twenties or enter their thirties. Your mind traces back to what he said— ‘yourself, for example,’ and suddenly, you become conscious of every single thing that has changed about you. You learnt piano but now your fingers don’t flow smoothly over the keys as they used to, given you haven’t played piano in years. You were a part of the science club in highschool and the student council president in your senior year. You wanted to go into aeronautics but seasons changed and one day, you looked in the mirror and saw the version of yourself who was about to graduate with honours in finance. Even after graduation you had a chance to switch fields but you didn’t, or rather, couldn’t. You were hired in the same year, which gave you even more reasons to continue since it would relieve your dad of the financial burden looming on his shoulders. Maybe, that’s what adulthood is supposed to do to you. You find yourself working in a field you have no interest or experience in and by the time you gain experience, you’re too old to grow an interest.

Statistically, your school life was much better than college and onwards. You had, although little, but knowledge about all the subjects, a desire to know more, time to yield interest and a will to keep going on. To think, almost everyone in high school grows up under the same circumstances. They either have the opportunity or are given one to pursue what they want, taking it or not is up to them. For you, it was the former. You were given the chance to participate in the maths olympiad which you didn’t because of school exams. You were recommended to the best science institute in the country but you dropped out in just two months. Your music teacher offered you a chance to learn music professionally in Vienna but you never reached out to her on that again. You were given multiple chances to live how you wanted to but you simply discarded them and went with what proved to be the easiest way.

That moment on a comparatively warm august afternoon, sitting next to him with wine, you went all the way back to all the instances and decisions that lead you to where you were right now.

On the other hand, you shift your attention back to Heeseung, and even though you never got to know about his childhood or parents properly, you certainly knew that the way he experienced both of them was better than yours. Growing up as a single child gave him absolute control of things that he did and did not want. His decisions were not influenced by his parents, which could be classified as some sort of independence in regards to making his own choices from an early age, but neither did he have any siblings to set an example for. All his life, Heeseung has only lived for himself, and it reflects in his personality, if one tries hard enough to notice. While you had to give up one thing or other for your siblings, Heeseung got a taste of everything he wanted. He knows how it feels to not sleep all night but you never had the chance until much later because you were always thought to sleep on time and wake up early, whether or not you had anything to do. There may have been someone guiding him all along but most of the time, his experience gave him a clear insight and freedom to choose what he wants to do.

To sum it up, you might be more qualified in terms of academics but Heeseung has more experience when it comes to diverse situations, and experience is all employers want these days in their employees.

“Well, you still are the ideal candidate for marriage,” You chuckle, remembering what the lady told you a few days ago. You notice him marking a few emails before closing the app, picking the wine glass back up once again. It’s not a surprise to see someone like Heeseung being approached with several martial arrangements. He, despite being described as a loner by a few residents in the apartment, is still the guy with whom you would want to marry your daughter off. He works nine-to-five like any other family guy, is disciplined, comes from a good family and education background, and his looks work as cherry on top.

“All they want is a guy with a stable job and salary,” He spat with a smile, chugging down the drink in his glass all at once. “That’s not who I want to be,”

“Who do you want to be, Heeseung?” You ask above the silence lingering in the room, just loud enough to pique his interest. His phone screen lights up with a mail, but his eyes never leave your sight, not even for a second.

People usually wouldn’t recommend talking to your ex, let alone sharing a deep, therapeutic session about life and self-development. If you say you’re starting as friends again, they would say it’s impossible because the bare minimum requirement to classify as a friend— the lack of romantic emotions— has already been violated. Even if you claim to be over Heeseung and treat him as just another one of your exes, you know there are unsaid feelings blooming in the air. You wouldn’t call Heeseung a friend, he never was one, actually. Heeseung was never there when you actually needed a friend but you never noticed his absence as your colleague, or as your boyfriend. Heeseung is terrible at being friends because he confessed to you the day he introduced you as ‘just a friend,’ to his friends. You wouldn’t consider being friends with your ex, yet you don’t think you could be anything more with him either. You started talking to him as a stranger but Heeseung has always been way too familiar to identity as a stranger. Too familiar for a stranger, too strange to be familiar, it’s another one of the things your life could be contradicting about.

He looks at you, directing your question back to you as if you’re a better candidate to consult. ‘Who do I want to be?’ All your life, you’ve never done something that counts for yourself. Even your perfect sleeping schedule was meant to set an example for your brothers. Your achievements were never yours to begin with. You were good at piano, but that’s because your teacher taught you. You never composed a piece and simply played what has already been played. Even at work, you do what you’ve been told, and not what you want to. There’s no innovation, just flow of ideas from one level to the other, and it keeps being passed down to a level beyond which, it’s no longer fruitful. ‘Who do I want to be?’ You ask yourself over and over again, but it’s a question you don’t know how to approach. Rather, you would like to know, ‘Who am I right now?’

Just like that, October passes amidst wines and visits from Heeseung every other afternoon or evenings on weekends that weren’t swamped with work. For some reasons, workload increases as December approaches with his cold and calloused hands, which could be the reason why you’ve been seeing less of him lately. Occasionally, you would pour two glasses of wine and sit in the living room, but it would end up with you drinking yours in silence while his’ rests untouched. On nights you stay up till twelve or so, you could hear him unlock his doors in a hurry and shut it just as quickly. Maybe, that’s how a busy lifestyle is supposed to be. Consequently, you stopped waiting for him, coming in terms with reality once again. For a brief while, you considered flying back to your hometown and living with your family for a while, but the idea was dismissed as soon as the announcements about promotions emerged in your department. Once again, you found yourself working day and night with eyes set on no one but Heeseung to spend your upcoming Christmas with.

Usually, you’re someone who prioritises family over work but a promotion is what you need the most at the moment. Time and patience, they say, but you have neither of those. You don’t have time to sit and rethink or start all over again, time to start from scratch, and patience was never one of your positive traits. At times, you would consider resigning and moving to a whole other country but it was too late to do that. You were no longer a stranger to society, you knew how things work and you had to make things work, with no time to try anything new. At thirty-two, no one wants to see you resign and fly to Maldives for a vacation, to live like you have no worries to worry about, not even yourself. See, that’s the pain of growing up. Parents would tell their children that they have their whole life to do what they like and just a few years to study and make something out of themselves, and it’s nothing but a lie. The truth is, you only have time when you’re young and, as you grow up, time starts slipping out of your hand. A kid is expected to be able to walk by the time they’re eighteen months old, or two years at most. Beyond that, it’s a problem and you have to consult a paediatrician, even if you don’t want to. A student is expected to graduate by the time they turn eighteen, people are expected to have a job by twenty-seven, you’re supposed to be in a relationship before thirty and married by thirty-five. As you grow old, the time to do something runs out and by the time you’re seventy or so, you realise you’re too old to do what you want.

“I actually wanted to go back this time but, mom’s trying to convince me into getting married,” He said when you accidentally bumped into him this morning, signing off a delivery. Heeseung, in college, came off as someone who would be rather interested in marriages, someone who’d commit to a serious relationship in university and end up marrying them. You wanted to ask the reason but chose not to, maybe because you remind yourself that you’re exes and there are boundaries that should be maintained.

“So, you just don’t want to get married,” It’s supposed to be a question, albeit it comes off as a statement. You lean against your doorframe, watching him carry his parcel inside and placing it next to his couch. Usually, you’d lend him a hand but today, you simply crossed your arms and waited for him to respond.

“I don’t want to get married right now,” He replies between huffs. “I can barely take care of myself,” There’s a faint bit of fascination in his voice, a smile evident on his face that leaves you wondering if the slight humour was necessary or whether it’s supposed to be a facade for his rather unsatisfactory lifestyle.

“Well, you are doing much better than me,” You counter with the same fascination, shifting your weight on both your feet equally in hopes to engage in a full fledged conversation instead of a small talk. “Besides, marriage is a two way street. Being the husband doesn’t mean you have to earn and be responsible for the whole family, or being the wife doesn’t mean she has to cook, there are no roles to play. Marriage is just, sharing what you do, good or bad, right or wrong, and helping each other become a better version of ourselves.” A string of silence follows, you notice his chest rise in an attempt to reply, but words never leave his mouth. You wonder if you said something wrong, but part of you knows you didn’t. Marriage is not as horrific and most of the people make it to be. We all need someone to hold onto, someone who you know will be there when the world isn’t— it’s similar to dating, except you’re committing to just one person, which is better than breaking up and living in vain for months before falling for someone and living the whole process all over again.

“You seem to know a lot,” But Heeseung never replies and shuts the door, and it’s just you and the silence once again.

You spend the next few weeks locked in your bedroom, in front of your laptop, making a presentation while living off noodles and beer. You sleep schedule has been in shambles, you’ve grown prominent dark circles, living the vicious cycle of working your ass off with little or no sleep to suffice for your constant workload. This is the most productive you’ve been in a while, especially after your transfer. You wouldn’t say your job pleases you and better, but being aware that this project could really end up with you getting a promotion and thus, a salary increase, is enough to keep you going.

You were back where you had started a few years ago, reading reports and watching your laptop overheat from all the tabs and applications running at once. You knew what you were doing but everything felt so foreign. The excel sheets spread open with the pointer blinking for you to add an input but your fingers no longer dance above the keyboard like they used to in the first few months of your job. You consulted your seniors, talked to your team leader, watched conferences of qualified professors of your field, took notes, but it all led you to the same thing— deleting and rewriting the whole thing, or simply a blank document that would light up your room on nights you chose not to sleep. You even considered talking to Heeseung at some point but after recalling the way he dismissed you the morning he was receiving the parcel, you choose not to. While most people wouldn’t mind taking ten minutes to offer a word of advice, you simply choose not to involve Heeseung with your personal issues.

Taking half days from work using it as an excuse to work on your presentation gave you an opportunity to watch Heeseung leave and arrive at his apartment everyday. You’d sit on your balcony with beer, or tea, rarely, and your laptop on your lap, scrolling through emails and numerous files, and around seven every evening, you’d see him step out of the cab that drops him off right in front of the apartment. On mornings, you usually see him walk up to the intersection which you think is to compensate for the lack of exercise in his routine. Often, you find yourself peeking down from your railing to catch a glimpse of him as soon as the minute hand crosses seven twenty. When he doesn’t arrive by eight, you grab another can of beer and take rounds from your door to the balcony with a pacing that increases with every second that passes. One time, he came home at nine and you rushed to open your door before realising that you can’t tell him you’ve been waiting for him for the past two hours. Good thing is that you had your phone and continued on your way to the apartment garden, telling him that you have to make an important call.

You met him as his ex and now you find yourself dropping everything and waiting for him as if he’s your first priority. That’s when you realised you needed to create a line, but for now, you don’t mind hanging out in the neighbourhood with Heeseung as his friend, according to how he now introduces you to people he knows.

“You’re telling me you never went out and explored this place?” His mouth was agape, too shocked to say anything. There were days when your antics spilled out relentlessly, but living in a city for over almost four months and not knowing any of the routes besides the one to your workplace has to be the worst one of those. Even back in university, you preferred to spend weekends in your dorms instead of at some club or bar, like your friends did. It would be a stretch if Heeseung said you are a hopeless case because he was no better, but he wasn’t as bad either, in several ways.

“Hm, well, work gave me a perfect excuse to not go out,” You say with your eyes glued to the data sheet on your phone and it reminds him of the day you saw him studying Economics outside the bar. These are a few of the similarities that Heeseung noticed between him and you, similarities that he likes to see but is too scared to address in words. “Besides, it would be a waste of time and fuel when you can get the exact same things at your doorsteps.”

“Is that why you never went out in college either?” He asks finally after a long drawn silence, albeit it never hits you since you’ve been too busy going through the documents on your phone. “Hey,”

“Maybe, but that was more because of academic reasons,” A poke on your shoulder manages to draw a response out of you, but it doesn’t take Heeseung to realise that you’re no longer interested in his questions. “Should we get more beer?”

Heeseung stares at you, wondering if you still want a response because you’re already picking up cans from the shelves and walking towards the counter for billing. Gradually, he realises that you don’t even remember asking him for his input because you’re simply paying the bills and thanking the woman for her service. Instead of a question, your words resonate more like a statement. As if, you are no longer asking for a third-party input, you don’t need it, you’re simply letting them know your next decision, disguising it as an action of. . . kindness? Soliticion? He doesn’t know.

Now that the sun is approaching the horizon, offering a purple hue to the ever so beautiful sky, Heeseung finally comes to terms with what he thinks about you. His mind traces back to the day you told him that he’s not who people make him out to be and for a brief second, he questions the credibility of your words. You claim to know him, but do you know that he has been living by the edge all this time, or that he has been fired thrice before getting a job in the bank he’s working right now, or that he tried to call you after you broke up with him, that he has been diagnosed with some sort of congenital heart condition? You didn’t lie when you said one’s family health history will follow them down to their grave. And just like you, he doesn’t know much about you either. Even though you’ve told him most of the things, ranging from your family to your current situation, Heeseung doesn’t know who you are. There’s an unfamiliar familiarity, or a familiar unfamiliarity, either works, he doesn’t have a better phrase to describe it. To think, while you consider yourself in a position to classify people’s thoughts on Heeseung as right or wrong, he doesn’t even consider himself in a position to pay for your food, and it’s probably because how you’ve been taking slow steps away from him, eyes still glued to your phone while you keep talking to him as if he’s right next to you, when actually, he’s twenty steps behind. The sun that has disappeared, leaving behind a sombre glow over the whole city, taught him something— that no matter how long you’ve known someone, you never know them enough. There are pieces of you that separate you from them, actions that tell you that no two people are mirrors for each other’s soul, for one’s body and mind knows how to differentiate between self and non self, and no one’s a ‘know it all,’ after all.

“You’ve changed,” He mentions abruptly, and that’s when you finally look up in his direction, soaking in the awareness that Heeseung is no longer standing next to you.

For some reason, the evening led you to a local restaurant and while you were busy on your phone again, Heeseung took his time reading the menu card. As he took his time ordering the drinks, your attention shifted to the view of busy streets on the other side of the glass window pane. You watched as the high schoolers had the time of their lives next to a vending machine, following the actions of the book store owner as he reopened his shop for the evening. You swear you heard Heeseung call out your name a couple of times, albeit it felt like a fever dream and you didn’t respond.

Change, as he described you, you wonder what could’ve changed inside you. You don’t think there’s a lot. You still work like a maniac and refuse to go out. Your complaining nature never changed, but you still don’t voice your problems where you should. You still get terrible headaches and take a pill for every little inconvenience. In the end, you don’t think you’re very different from how you were when you met Heeseung. Except that your hard work barely pays off these days, you think you’re still the same, monotonic version of yourself that he fell in love with, the same you that dumped him on the day of graduation ceremony four years ago.

“You said I changed,” By the time your drinks had arrived, you were knee deep in the simulations that could’ve made Heeseung feel like you’ve changed. “In what aspects, if I may ask,”

“Like, in general,” He replies with a nod. “I can’t point it out but something about you has changed— well, of course, your age aside,” Liar, he thinks. Heeseung, in fact, knows what has changed, but he doesn’t know how to put it in words. Well, I can’t say you’re no longer looking forward to my opinions on something. Because even though you met as neighbours, even though you’re in a restaurant with him, having a meal and sharing bits of your life’s stories with each other, even though Heeseung looks forward to seeing you everyday— he needs to remember that you started as exes.

You manage to draw a long hum out of you, nodding cautiously as you take his every word into consideration. They don’t offer much insight about what he’s actually thinking, but again, you never know exactly what is going on inside someone’s head. However, you take your chance to try and get something out of him. “A good change or a bad change?”

“That’s for you to figure out,” He says softly, tying his words with a long, silent pause that follows closely after. He shoots you a cheeky smile before digging in and you take your time examining his features under the yellow lights of the restaurant, noticing the way he cuts his steak, or the way his eyebrows perk up as soon as his phone rings. You watch him turn to his side as he picks up the call, putting hand on his mouth to minimise the sound, though it was loud enough for you to decipher it clearly.

You read the slight changes in his expression and gradual curve of his lips swifting upwards. Amidst all, your phone rings as well, interrupting the decorum of the restaurant. You pick it up quickly when Heeseung sends you a displeasing look, though you believe it wasn’t intentional. You didn’t check the caller ID but the voice tells you that it’s your team leader and for some reason, you’re expecting something good. Call it a hunch or the change in scenery tonight but something tells you that there must be good news waiting for you in a secluded corner. While you try your best to focus on what is being informed to you from the other side of the line, you’re too busy analysing Heeseung’s grimace that now you’re mirroring the same smile that’s dancing on his face. He glances at you and his smile grows wider, making you do the same in return. You really hope your call isn’t about the presentation due tomorrow because if yes, then you’re going to mess up, for your attention is nowhere near your call. You’re so lost taking note of every single change in Heeseung’s expression that now, everything your team leader is telling you from the other side of the phone is a blur. It’s as if you’re in a crowded room and the only thing you’re able to perceive is him. You’re so busy indulging in his actions that the only thing you’re able to hear clearly from the phone is that you’ve been removed from the project.

‘I know that you’ve been working hard but the Chairman thinks you’re not skilled enough to collaborate with us on this project,’ You start paying attention to the conversation now, letting everything else around dissolve in the yellow glow of the restaurant. ‘To make sure your efforts aren’t wasted, you’re free to give us a brief view on what you had in mind and if we decide to include it, I’ll put in a word or two for you to the Chairman.’

‘Promotion,’ he mouths the word with a cheeky smile when your eyes focus back on him before getting back to his phone once again. You don’t put down your phone and pretend to be on a call to avoid hearing about his good news, or share the bad one from your side. You try to respond with the same smile but your lips feel like they’re frozen. No movements— you don’t know what to say, how to smile; numbness is all you could comprehend. For the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, a slight hint of envy intoxicates the air between you and Heeseung. You should be happy for him— you’ve always been. You’ve always been a part of his success despite falling to the rock bottom on your part. On days Heeseung called you to inform you about the awards he received in a particular competition, you’d invite him over for a celebratory drink even if you, yourself, lost terribly. It was a long drawn process of mutual development and self-care. What people thought of as a relationship written in the stars, was a selfish way of ensuring your well being in the most selfless ways ever. You stayed with Heeseung because he was the only person down to hang out with you in your apartment instead of forcing you to go out. You enjoyed his company because he motivated you to do better, to test your potential and go beyond your limits; and somewhere inside, you knew you were worth the same for Heeseung too. Watching him do well, isn’t that what you wanted? You should be happy for him— but you’re not.

Heeseung excuses him outside the restaurant once his phone starts blowing up with texts and calls, giving you a chance to drop your facade and let the whole situation sink in. You lean back on your chair, phone on the table as its screen lights up with a message from your team leader, informing the team that you’ve decided to step down from the project— which is a lie but you assume it’s been told to save you for further embarrassment. You sniff, a chuckle falls off your lips, there’s no use of it at all, what’s done is done. On the other side of the glass pane, you could see Heeseung talking on his phone with a triumphant smile, making invincible patterns on the pavestone with the tip of his converses. It feels as if he’s shining against the busy streets behind him, as if he’s the centre of attention at the moment. It takes you exactly back to your graduation day— he was just as happy sharing the news about his graduation with his family. You were sitting inside a cafe and watched him talk for what felt like hours. Your heart was full of the same dissatisfaction, but now that you think about it, perhaps it was just jealousy back then too. While Heeseung was born smart, brimming with passion, you had to fight to get what you wanted. And despite being one of the brightest students in his class, Heeseung’s achievements never had a chance next to yours. You stood in the first three ranks of your school, first five all your college life, been recommended to prestigious schools, were given more opportunities, you were better than Heeseung in all the possible ways.

You watch Heeseung come inside and pick up his fork, only to put it down and get back to typing once again. There’s a smile on his face and it tells you that you’re equally deserving of the happiness he’s experiencing, perhaps even more than him because life was way harder for you than anyone else you’ve known till date. For the first time in years, you think life is unfair to you because even after giving your best in everything, you’re met with nothing but failure and discontent. No matter how hard you try, your efforts never pay off and people start treating you like a pushover, thinking you would do everything they’d say because you need to put up a good image of yourself in your workplace. You walk hand in hand with failure and watch people succeed with their bare minimum effort. You look at him once again and think, why must it always be you who suffers the pain of failure and shame.

Why me, why not him?

III. Remember why you broke up

By the time winters arrived and marked their peak, you barely got a view of your neighbour. A part of it could be because of his even busier work life that comes in with promotions. You took the weekend off, saying you have an annual health checkup scheduled at the City Hospital, even though it was a white lie and you never had an appointment with your physician to begin with. Those two days felt longer than usual with the four walls of your apartment making you feel suffocated in your own house. You paced around for hours on empty, rearranging things, cleaning rooms, cooking meals, moving furniture— just anything that would make you feel useful. Truthfully, being depressed over a promotion makes you feel even more stupid about yourself. It’s a part of life, something you involuntarily signed up for when you applied for your job and you can’t run away from it no matter how much you try. Being in the workforce comes with disappointment and pleasure, failures and success; it’s not your first time losing but it still feels like the burden of failure is occupying every little space in your room, making it harder and harder for you to breathe.

You thought things would be better once you get back to work but everything starts caving in when you hear the team leader discuss details about the project. Initially, they would let you in their meeting, offering you a chance to share your ideas to see if they can cultivate anything better but it didn’t last long either. You started learning about their meetings after work from other colleagues and they started leaving you out of their discussions. On some days, you would sit by an empty table in the canteen and go back to every move you made, trying to track down the mistakes you could’ve made for them to push you away. You didn’t expect them to keep you updated on everything since you’re no longer on the project team, but it would’ve been better if they had simply said that you’re not needed anymore instead of watching you run around cluelessly before you caught a hint. Everything would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t have to drag yourself around to survive and make a living. On days like these, you would imagine Heeseung in his cabin with a complacent smile, laughing with his friends and receiving compliments. You don’t know why but at one point in time, you started picturing yourself in his shoes while idly resting in your apartment.

Occasionally, you would hear his footsteps outside your door and stop everything you’d be doing to hear him unlock his door and walk in. Having Heeseung with you was slightly better than living alone and drowning in your overbearing thoughts, but you decided to maintain your distance. Heeseung— apart from being your ex— was someone capable of doing something, anything. You’ve known Heeseung for years and the once carefree young adult found a purpose in life. He had goals to achieve, perhaps a to-do list to complete; you didn’t want to disturb his decorum with your lethargic lifestyle. On some days, he would knock on your door and you’d pretend to be asleep. He would stand for a minute longer and knock again, you would focus on the sound of him tapping his shoes until they faded behind his doors. You started with leaving him on seen and stopped reading his texts altogether. For a few days, it felt refreshing— as if he was never a part of your life to begin with— but the loneliness didn’t hit you until he stopped dropping by your door. And you realised— you were never able to get him out of your life properly. After you broke up, you moved away, blocking all means of contact, but met him at a reunion, and something inside of you prompted to get his number, and so you did. Even though you never talked, you found yourself staring at his number with your fingers hovering over his caller ID.

It took you years, but you think you’re coming to terms with the truth, that you can never get Heeseung out of your life, and it’s not because you can’t, but instead it’s because you don’t want to. Life without Heeseung felt like a maze, but with him it’s as if you’ve found a way, and you would never admit but having him next to you was so much better than living alone with alcohol.

When his absence overwhelmed you, you would try burying yourself into stuff as a distraction. It started with books, then painting, followed by poetry, before you would slump on your couch again with no motivation to do anything. Job wasn’t any better or busier. People had little expectations from you and you had even less. At times, you would pace in your living room, trying to complete a presentation or prepare an excel sheet. The deja vu caved in when you’d hear Heeseung’s cab stop by the apartment entrance, except you no longer ran to your balcony to catch a glimpse. You no longer sat on the balcony with tea, waiting for him to arrive. As time passed, you stopped paying attention to the sound of him unlocking his door. His footsteps dissolved in the heavy silence, too miscible for you to perceive. Occasionally, you’d find yourself thinking about him in the shower or before bed, but the thought of him never lasted long enough for it to dawn upon you. Before you knew it, Heeseung became just another neighbour you had, another resident living in the fourteen floored apartment.

One evening, you bumped into a woman who was standing in front of Heeseung’s apartment. You didn’t see her face, for you were standing behind her with grocery bags, but you could picture what she looked like. Your eyes settled upon her chiffon shirt and the way it complimented figure, her stilettos, a handbag from Lana Marks, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her. The thoughts about her knowing or being related to Heeseung didn’t cross your mind until a few minutes later. She, despite being someone you never met, was the exact image of how your younger self had imagined herself in future.

“Excuse me, does Lee Heeseung live on this floor? I just want to confirm,” And her voice is just as captivating. You find yourself staring at her face longer than you should, losing the sense of reality because of all the questions hurdling inside your mind.

Who even are you?

“He does, but he’s at work right now,” You reply with a bitter smile.

Who are you to him?

“I see,” It seems like she’s about to say something, and you’re not up for a small talk with a stranger, or Heeseung’s girlfriend, or his ex-girlfriend, your ex’s other ex girlfriend, whichever fits the scenario better. Actually, you’re not half against the idea of him dating someone else, not like your refusal will mean anything either. Truthfully, the idea never crossed your mind. You spent your days working days and nights to get the degree you’ve been aiming for, apply for jobs, fueling your hunger for having more and more.

Maybe, that’s why college is supposed to include one of the most youthful years because after all, it is the only time when you’re free from most of the worries. You didn’t have stress about attending classes regularly or having proper notes like you did in highschool, nor did you have to worry about fitting into the workforce and numerous interviews. College, for you, was the time you could see yourself falling in love, and you did, and now that you stand in your marginally empty living room with your gaze reaching up to the farthest of the buildings touching the sky line, you realise that you don’t see yourself falling for someone the way you did for Heeseung. Perhaps that’s why your conscience refused to imagine him with someone else. Maybe because he had such an impact on you that you don’t see yourself with someone else, you sort of hoped that the time he spent with you had half, if not the same, impact on him as well.

The evening passed by with you sitting in front of your laptop, scrolling through the document your boss sent you the same noon. The beer cans lie stray on the tiles, right next to you as you shiver under your beige cardigan. You’ve been wanting to close the balcony for a while now, except you don’t want to get up from the cushion that has warmed up with you sitting on it for two hours now, especially in this cold weather. You’re not busy, but you’ve been trying to indulge yourself into little work here and there. Even if it’s just moving your furniture from one corner to another, or going through a file that you’ve already reviewed the previous evening, anything that could make you feel less lonely is welcomed.

These are the moments when you zone out involuntarily, thinking about Heeseung, or more precisely, his work life. You picture him in his cabin with a cup of coffee, skipping lunch because he has files stacking up on his desk. You imagine him amidst his colleagues at a local bar after working hours, having his drink of relief that hits his system with a wave of satisfaction after a long and busy day. You think about him a little too often for someone who’s trying to forget him. Usually, the thoughts are laced with traces of envy. Today, they’re drowning in something between regret and jealousy. You take a sip from the can in your hand, and suddenly, the image of Heeseung with the lady from earlier pops inside your mind. You’re not sure if they dated, or if they are dating, but you do know that they’re more than friends. Perhaps, it’s just a hunch, an intuition that’s terribly wrong and is driving you to insanity because of all the stuff you’re thinking about. You know you should stop but you can’t help but picture them together.

Now, you’re thinking about their life together as a couple, the stuff they’d do, the things they’d say. You feel like an intruder peeping into their lifestyles, someone who’s uninvited in their story, a third person. You think about them doing everything you and Heeseung did together, but again, neither of you had a lot of things in your hands to begin with. You had your problems, he had his part-time job, a sorry excuse of a college major that both of you found interesting, along with each other’s shoulders to cry on when needed. While your stories started off as any other tale of love with paths decorated with flowers, it was far from how they portrayed love life in universities in the media. In reality, you barely have time for each other and if somehow you do, you know in the back of your head that you’re missing out on other things. College is, actually, just a bunch of things to do with limited time, and the time is running out of your hands while you sit on your bed and contemplate life decisions, crushing over some person from one of your classes, thinking about the bartender from that cafe downstreet, making up for everything you didn’t get to do during highschool.

You and Heeseung didn’t have a lot of time to offer each other. Texts were shared, he’d face time with you every morning and you’d call him if you couldn’t see him after classes. Hugs shared in hallways reduced to apologies at your shared apartments, you both went from making out in club rooms to barely getting a glimpse of each other on weekdays. Initially, when he would get back after extra classes, you would be at the door, waiting with your arms open. After sometime, you’d be in your room, busy with your work while he would be lost in his own world of things to tend to. At first, Heeseung’s presence made you feel better about yourself but later on, it didn’t matter if he was there or not. It all felt the same, and the worst part, neither of you tried to work on it. Both you and Heeseung started to get used to the lack of each other.

Your fingers tighten around the can, your mind goes back to thinking about the lady. Maybe, the lack of affinity in your relationship gave Heeseung a reason to give up and move on. Perhaps, she was everything to him that you couldn’t be, maybe she keeps standing at her doorstep to welcome him after he returns from work, that the two of them seek for each other instead of getting used to whatever has been offered by the circumstances. Could be that every kiss meant as a thank you for being in each other’s life instead of a sorry for not being able to see each other for days and more. Maybe, he is happy with her and you have no right to be jealous because in the end, you gave him every reason to try to forget you.

Another shot of beer down your throat, another can added to the emptied stacks, your senses start fading into nothing when you hear distant clicking of doors, or perhaps it’s the hangover blanketing the sound for you. With the last bits of energy and soberness left in your system, you get up and open your door.

“Didn’t expect you to remember me after all this time that you’ve been ignoring me,” Heeseung snaps at you playfully, or maybe, with a hidden sense of disappointment. You have the answer to his question if he asks why you suddenly opened the door when he didn’t even ring the doorbell, or why you’re here standing at your doorstep with nothing but a thin cardigan in this chilling weather. You’re just hoping he won't ask you for the reason you refused to see him until now, because you don’t have an answer to that.

“Someone came, looking for you,” You say, and meanwhile, in the back of your head, you think of reasons why you actually ran to see him the moment he arrived from work. You don’t want to admit it’s because of the woman from earlier today, you don’t think she’s the reason behind the sudden changes in your mannerisms in the first place. “Some lady,”

A pause, you notice realisation seeping through the cracks of his skin. A second passes, and then another, his eyes tell you that he knows who it could be. “Right,”

And, Heeseung steps inside your apartment as if it’s yours, and you step aside, letting him in, as if he has always belonged there, and it feels as if the walls have started to fade out the moment he takes a seat on the couch, taking a sip from the bear can you offer him with eyes ever so indulged in him, as if he has returned home after months. Heeseung exhales deeply before letting the words fall off his lips. “We dated for a while,”

You expected that much, judging from her mannerism and the way she took your name. You had expected them to be in a relationship, or had pictured them as exes who are planning to get back together, a luxury you could never afford. Consequently, you bury those thoughts deep inside, taking a seat next to him, and for some reason, you feel breathless in your own house, on your own couch, with your own bear intoxicating your systems. It’s something Heeseung has always done to you; making you feel out of place.

You want to yell at him.

Looking at Heeseung, you don’t know what exactly made you fall for him in the first place. For example, say, you can claim that he dislikes drinking out late with friends and is the type to study even during gatherings based on just one incident. You can sit back and claim to be almost, if not just as, similar to him, pointing out the similarities while completely ignoring the differences, crossing them out of your list of reasons why. But considering everything now, Heeseung has always been different, and a better different. He received good grades even after spending empty hours at your apartment, watching you study. You complained about having day long picnics with him, saying the two of you could use that time more efficiently. As a result, there were nights you could cry yourself to sleep because you were unable to look at your relationship from his point of view. You would kiss him but it’s an apology for the upcoming week that you wouldn’t be able to see him, and you would cancel dates just to study another chapter beforehand. Every single second spent next to him reminded you of all the sacrifices he made for you and every thing you did to disregard his efforts. No, you weren’t a bad partner, his timing was wrong, but saying that would be just another excuse to soothe your aching heart. Looking at him now, it takes you back to all the days you’ve spent together in pain and pleasure, between yes and no’s, do’s and don’ts, a choice between leaving and staying for a little bit longer; the memories are bittersweet like your favourite wine, or rather, they resemble a cold autumn breeze that makes you shut your doors and windows, keeping you from enjoying your favourite season. Time spent with him was short, though nice, but thinking of him makes you blue. You said you wouldn’t see him again but you’re still here, next to him, stuck in the past, still young, still making mistakes, still growing, not knowing if you’ll ever learn.

“So, how was work today?” You ask, partially because you don’t want to think about him and partially because of the slight curiosity you have regarding his work life, about how it feels to do something he likes, something that doesn’t feel like a chore.

“You’re not going to ask why we broke up?” He questions back.

“I figured that it’s your private matter,”

“She said I didn’t love her,” He says it factually, as if it’s something you’re supposed to know. “That I used her to pass time while waiting for someone else,” His words are unclear, insinuating towards something that you dare not assume, but his eyes are telling you that it’s your fault.

And for once after you broke up with you, you wonder if Heeseung resents you for calling off your relationship. The thought of him hating you has never crossed your mind, be it your pride or habits to avoid taking the blame. You don’t resent him, he can’t either. You loved each other, you got over it, you broke up, that’s life. That’s the flow of the universe, to meet people and leave him to meet someone else and to keep meeting a new person until you find the one you could stay with. If he thinks you’re the reason why he hasn’t been able to move on, then he’s no different from you, for the thought of him dating someone else has been bugging you ever since the two of you had a drink together on the night you moved in.

To you, love was inordinate. I love you, Heeseung would say, and you’d ask, how much— he wouldn’t find the words to answer you then. You can go on, pretending none of this ever happened, draping sheets over all the memories about everything you and Heeseung were, in the back of your mind, and fall in love with him all over again, living as all the things you could’ve been. You’ve put too much faith in your love for him, knowing that even after spending the sunsets alone, your mornings will always commence in his arms. There’s fear lurking around, you chose to ignore it. So resentment, in your relationship, was a bliss neither of you could have. For every day that you stood him up, Heeseung paid you back multiple folds. Every moment spent in his arms struck you back with arguments that seemed to get bigger, and none of you were ready to work things out. The pain was mutual, you both hurt each other, then why does it seem like only you’re in the wrong?

“Turns out, I never gave you a congratulatory gift for your promotion. I should be having a bottle of wine if I’m not wrong,” You get up from your couch; a subtle attempt to change the topic and drive the atmosphere in any other direction except the one it was flowing into.

Silence takes over, you’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, he’s on the couch, the sound of water dripping down your kitchen sink hits your ears as you get conscious of the periodic sounds of the clock ticking. Maybe, wine is just an excuse to get away from Heeseung and everything that his presence takes you back to. It feels like university all over again, where you could spend hours in silence next to each other, though this time, you’re apart, but still, under the same roof. The sense of something being terribly wrong looms in the air, but none of you could bring yourselves to say something, because you both need a shoulder to lean on. There are heavy untold words housing the back of your mind, unasked questions that haunt Heeseung in his sleep, suppressed emotions both of you know couldn’t be expressed so easily this time ‘round.

There’s no wine at your place, but you put water to boil while preparing hangover soups for both of you. His exhausted grimace tells you he needs it, and you need it even more than him. You’re taken back to the days when either of you would have a run down to the nearest convenience store to the university to get beer and then spend the night before the test amidst alcohol and sheer stress weighing your shoulders. You would refuse to waste your time instead of studying but one look at Heeseung and you’d lose your composure. Blurred words about how both of you should be studying for exams would escape your lips between sips from your cans and, Heeseung would simply laugh at your failed efforts to pull yourself together. On days, you think about the possibility of you and him and you could’ve been if time had allowed, wondering if you could’ve made things right by attending the reunion last year instead of making excuses to pass just because Heeseung was going to be there. You consider every single scenario where he and you could’ve been together if time had allowed, and if either of you had taken a step towards making things right, then again, a voice from the back of your mind would tell you to give up.

You hear Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh. “I resigned,”

“What?” And it feels like your lungs have collapsed. “I mean, you’ve been promoted then, why?” You don’t get it. Resigning from a job that had everything to offer seemed too incomprehensible in your knowledge. Had it been you— had it been anyone else— would think the same.

You’ve spent months in despair, searching for a purpose in the way you make money, a reason to keep going on between oceans of failure with pieces of your shattering will staying afloat. You’ve spent nights staying up, working on a presentation and giving it your everything to secure a better position in your department. Not a day has passed when you didn’t feel like you’ve lost the purpose of everything and yet, kept going with the flow of life to see if something good lies at the other end. And Heeseung would say, who cares about the standards of normal people, but recruiting managers don’t look for something out of the ordinary. They’re not looking for someone who would operate things based on whether it fits their sense of satisfaction, someone who would resign after getting a promotion when other employees struggle to get one. You would consider having a long talk about the choices he made and one he should’ve gone with, but instead, you sit in front of him on the cold winter tiles.

“Promotions can make you feel good for a while, but they can’t satisfy you in the long run,” He says it easily, a little too carelessly for your comfort. “I just want to do something I like,” And once again, you come to the conclusion that these are the reasons why you and Heeseung wouldn’t have made it even if you had tried.

He’s too different.

Heeseung has nothing to lose, never had to begin with. When you saw yourself for a whole month, doing everything in the same way, he was out enjoying his life. Now that you’ve managed to pull yourself together and learnt to handle your emotions, though not by a long shot, he shows up and tells you that he has resigned from his perfect job, or rather, a job that would’ve been perfect for you, at least. You would’ve been a better employee, you’re efficient, you don’t make decisions impulsively, have excellent qualifications, know how to separate work and private life, how to separate likes and dislikes from needs and necessities. You wouldn’t have resigned because if you did, you would’ve lost your only source of income, your last straw, something that has been keeping you from returning back to your stagnant lifestyle. You would’ve been a much better employee than Heeseung.

You’ve seen him living like he has no worries. You’ve seen him switch clubs, change hobbies, drop subjects until he settled with something that satisfies him. Heeseung is about kissing his lovers between paintings at an art museum, promising forever, but he’s so quick to change his heart. Heeseung knows what’s important and what’s not a little too much, he knows what he needs and things that have no use for him anymore. Perhaps, it’s a sense of fearlessness that you acquire growing up the way he did, exquisitely happy and desperately carefree. You think it’s just a waste of time and resources for people like Heeseung because they don’t understand the value of certain things just because they’ve received it too easily. You wouldn’t disregard his efforts because you’ve seen him work hard to make ends in university. Even though things were a tad bit easier for him compared to you, you know it was the hardest time he had during university. You admire Heeseung for his consistency and passion, but you despise him for throwing away something you’ve seen people cry for; something that you’ve cried for, over a hundred times. While you may come to respect his choices when you wake up the next day, but right now, you wish that he was in your shoes, living life the way you’ve been living, suffering, struggling, suppressing.

“People just don’t get by through society with their likes and dislikes,” There’s a touch of envy in your words, you hope it wouldn’t get past him. You grew up doing everything that would result in a secure future instead of something that satisfies you, to put it straight. The managers at interviews don’t look for candidates with most unique or extraordinary likes and hobbies, but rather they’re in search of someone with experience, ironically, and someone who can adapt to different circumstances without diminution of their efficiency.

And you think, the childhood people have, or the way they grow up, what they go through and the circumstances they lived in, it really shapes their future selves. Growing up in a financially suboptimal family made you believe that money is everything, and people can try convincing you otherwise but their views wouldn’t alter the truth. Even if you wake up and try to think that money isn’t the most important thing, you would learn to believe otherwise the moment you open your empty refrigerator by the end of this month. You didn’t waste time having highschool romances and university love stories. You’ve had your fair share in having crushes and one night stands until you met Heeseung, and thinking about it now, a part of you knows it was a better decision to stay with him instead of hoping you had someone by your side on days when you didn’t feel like yourself. Perhaps, you did use him like a part of your conscience claims. Maybe at the end of day, away from all the concepts of love and lust, that’s what he was to you, a band aid that needed to be replaced before it infects the very wound it was healing.

“You’re going to regret it,” It’s a breathy confession, a bitter truth. “Decisions made impulsively, they always leave heavy regrets,” You’ve been walking hand in hand with regrets. You’ve made decisions, many of which you thought would offer great results but instead, left with heavy regrets. You know better than giving up on the perfect job in search of something you’d enjoy doing, or walking in another direction knowing it’s the longer way home. Life has given you your fair share of events to think back to whenever you sit back, planning to do something new. Sometimes, you wonder why all of this only happens with you, and as an answer, you think that maybe, you’re the only one who would take life for its lessons and losses and still keep on going as if nothing ever happened.

“Then, did you ever regret breaking up with me?” You see, Heeseung was never successful in comprehending the whole logic behind love. He was told it’s warm, but he knows love is the loneliest place a person could ever find themself in; he read that it’s kind, but Heeseung has spent nights spilling tears on his pillow, all because of love. It’s self contradicting; love is supposed to make you feel happy, but it stings. It gets under his skin, makes him unsteady, makes him question everything he has ever believed about love. He didn’t see it coming. Truthfully, Heeseung didn’t see you coming into his life. You were a boon and a blessing, the one who made him feel reckless and out of control; the one he is infuriatingly and inexplicably drawn to. Ironically enough, you’re not the one who tucks him in bed, but instead the reason why he cannot sleep at night. So, Heeseung needs to know if his presence made you feel the same way, or if he was really just another passerby in your melancholy.

His question is the words you’ve been avoiding to notice ever since you called off your relationship with him. It has been hiding in the back of your head, popping up every once in a while when your heart aches for love and when your arms feel emptier than the streets after midnight. And amidst your heavy heart and cold tiles, your hands find their way to his. A faint apology falls off his lips, whispered in your ears. The moon watches you slip his shirt off his shoulders, your lips tracing along his neck while his hands find solace in your curves as if you’re the home they’ve been yearning for; an old spark ignites again, a beginning of something tragic.

As the night dwells further into the darkness, the two of you are pulled back into the old cycle of healing and hurting, the give and take where both of you would be standing with your hands stained with losses by the time it ends. Your steps are heading towards actions you couldn’t reverse, and the very reason you broke up flashes in front of your eyes, though faded enough to have you ignore it. Guilt trickles through your fingertips, seeping through the cracks of his skin, his eyes gleam of remorse, and the moment your lips meet his’, fate decides to play into the hands of your history once again.

IV. One step at a time

It didn’t feel right watching Heeseung being so busy even after resigning from his job. You always see him on his laptop, typing or reading something. Morning to evening, from noon to night, you’d see the lights in his apartment switched on, faint rumblings of furniture and numerous phone calls filtering through his walls and entering yours. He was busy, he was planning something huge, and you didn’t like the sound of it.

You’ve come to a point in life where you can finally accept your pettiness and slash or, your jealousy. Maybe, it’s one of the few emotions you’ve been feeling over the past week, and now, you finally know the reason why. Waking up this morning, you imagined yourself in his shoes once again— without a job, without a secure financial flow, without a purpose or strong sense on what to do next, just as someone in the workforce who’s contributing to nothing. The furthest your imagination took you was to your terrace, you don’t know how you would live through a life like that.

Some things about Heeseung have never made sense to you. While he might come off as someone who has plans prior to everything, you always see him as someone who lives his life based on a hit and trial concept. He does one thing, and if it doesn’t fit to his liking, he switches to other, and then other, and then he has a never ending cycle in his hands. You weren’t there when he got a job but you know how Heeseung looks when he is passionate about something. The evidence lies all the way back to university, or during the few months that you’ve witnessed him go to work before quitting abruptly. You’ve spent evenings trying to deduce a conclusion as to why he resigned, and every possibility leads you to the answer that it was a decision made in spur of the moment. A part of you thought about asking him for a reason if he ever had one, but you ultimately realised that a person like him doesn’t need a reason to choose something that he likes; no one does, except you. People don’t put a second thought when it comes to choosing what they like and what they don’t. They date their crushes, eat their favourite food, watch their favourite movies, attend concerts of their favourite artists; favourite, it’s a word that tends to solve most of the trivial problems that arise throughout one’s life. Perhaps, that’s another reason why you decided not to ask Heeseung about the night from two days ago. Even though you made the move, the most he can say about complying and giving in to your acts would be because he wanted to do so; no reason, no plans, nothing.

Maybe, it was your fault. You could’ve taken one step at a time, starting from dinner, then something else— you don’t know what people do to get back with their exes. You’ve never done that, would have never if it wasn’t for Heeseung, because something about him has you gravitating in his direction. That’s why, you sit on his couch, the TV remote in your hands as a random show plays on the screen. Your eyes are rather focused on Heeseung, who sits by the kitchen counter, typing something on his laptop for the past hour. He has been busy with that lately. You pictured unemployment as lying on your bed all day, or pacing around your apartment uselessly, having the days feel longer and watching the time pass because you have nothing better to do. But, Heeseung is way too busy for someone who has recently resigned, he’s even busier than how he used to be. You asked him about it once, and he said it’s something he has been wanting to do for a while now. Heeseung never gave you the context, but you know he is putting his time into writing drafts for his book.

Occasionally, you anticipate a small talk with him, but with no signs of Heeseung being interested in anything except his drafts, your eyes instead run all over his living room, taking a note of every single detail that exhibits his taste in interior decor that has changed over time. The wine coloured curtains are a little too vibrant to fit his choices of decors and furniture. You remember him planning out the living room layouts with you back in university when you were still together, when life was beautiful and you were impossibly happy.

You find it amusing how quickly things change. It’s been years but if you’re being honest, it feels like just yesterday, you were accepted in the university you’ve been aiming for, as if just yesterday, you earned the scholarship, and just yesterday, you had met Heeseung. Your heart still picks up a pace at the sight of him.You’ve spent months thinking about the time you spent with him, regretting every move that led you to the decision to break up with him. You’ve had your fingers just centimetres above his caller ID, just impulses away from making a call, seconds away from asking him to get together back again, heartbeats away from giving into your desires. It started with your falling for him first, and you kept falling harder and harder until you realised that you were at the bottom of the pit and it was getting hard to breathe. You spent years trying to make your way up, step by step, and when you were finally by the edge, he came back and pushed you back to where you had started. You would say you hate him but a part of you wants to believe this could lead to something better than how it was last time, because things have started to feel a lot like love, and you’d like to take a chance with your broken fate yet again.

“Heeseung,” You call once, voice low and quiet like a whisper, one that dissolves between the sound of television. You expect him to hear, but your words fly by his ears as if they’re of little to no importance. “Heeseung,” You say again, this time a little louder, eyes fixed in his direction, watching the seconds pass and waiting for a reply. For a second, you wonder if he’s pretending to not hear you deliberately, but you push yourself to sit up straight, hoping he’d hear you this time. “Hee,”

And he whips his head in your direction. It was for a brief second, but you could see a hint of surprise in his eyes. You would’ve said you have accomplished something if Heeseung had spared you a little more attention, but his eyes go back to his laptop and before you know it, his fingers start dancing above the keys yet again.

“What are we?” You ask, half hopeful, half defeated. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you are even asking it. Your heart isn’t hoping for a happily ever after romance, your mind isn’t looking for a redemption arc. You’re not hoping for a good response, you’ve learnt to keep your expectations low after everything that has unfolded in the past. You’re not hoping, you tell yourself, but your soul knows otherwise.

A second passes, then another, your mind starts coming up with answers to your own questions. What could you be? To strangers, you’re neighbours; to your friends, you’re exes; to yourselves, it’s a broad question. You could tell your mind that you’re in a friends-with-benefit relationship that has a terrible lack of communication and get away with it, but your heart knows it was supposed to be something wrong.

“You tell me,” A soft laugh falls off his lips, it makes him sound like he’s lost as well, just like you. You take it as a good enough response but Heeseung stands up from his chair, making way towards his bedroom as if you aren’t even there, as if your question holds no meaning. You would’ve assumed his response meant that even if you both are without labels at the moment, you could be something in the future. Maybe, your actions from two nights ago would’ve lead to something good if he was less busier, but for now, all they do is guide you to the answer to your own question:

A temporary fix.

That’s what you both are. It’s exactly how it was back in university, a sense of mutualism with no sense of responsibilities. Things were obligatory, dates were barely a show to the world for your sorry excuse of a relationship. It started off like a fairytale, as if you both were supposed to meet, meant to fall in love, made for each other. In the first few weeks or even months, having Heeseung next to you felt like a blessing. A luxury to come home to someone, to have someone you can vent to about that one professor who kept dismissing your essays, someone who you can talk about your endless project and seminar ideas and they would reply with the same enthusiasm, someone who could make you feel like you’re seeing the world just by staying within the four walls of your messy apartment. Dating Heeseung had you believing in all the romance tropes you’ve ever come across, so much that you forgot that you’ve been living in a painful reality.

You tried not to ponder over it so much. You went back to work once the weekends passed, back to your old excel sheets and same old job. Occasionally, you would wish he stayed next to you until you finished your work just like he did back while you were still dating, but you knew it was too much to even hope for. You would say, you’re going crazy. Perhaps, you shouldn’t think so much about the one-night-stand sort of thing you had with your ex, your neighbour. You both are adults, one without a job and other without the will to do the job, both brimming with unsaid feelings, tied to loose ends, holding onto unasked questions for answers, troubled by old memories and the future that was about to come. He deserved an explanation, you had an excuse to share. Whatever happened, was bound to happen.

Sometimes, you wonder if Heeseung thinks about it as much as you do. Memories from that night haunt your mind like spirits, making it hard for you to focus on anything and everything else, yearning to feel his touch one last time. There are evenings when you’d come home in hopes of having a conversation about what would happen to the two of you in near future, but then you’d see his eyes glued to his laptop screen the moment you enter his apartment and you’d realise that it has only been you all along. Watching Heeseung do well even after giving up his job no longer induces anger or jealousy. Instead, a sense of inferiority floods inside of you whenever your eyes fall upon his figure leaning over his laptop, typing relentlessly with a content smile on his face. And the reason, once again, lies in the concepts of too many similarities and even more differences.

Months ago, when you were still in Incheon, still bound to your old apartment and old lifestyle, there was a point when you had seen yourself at your lowest. You used to drag yourself to work, force yourself to smile, push yourself to make it through everyday. You struggled to do the bare minimum that was necessary to survive. You wouldn’t say your situation was any better than Heeseung only because you still have a job while he doesn’t, because inside the four walls of his apartment, he’s doing better than any other unemployed person out there. He’s doing better than you while you still had your job, while you still had money in your hands to spend on useless things. You spent months pulling yourself through just to make sure you don’t lose your job, and Heeseung resigns from his’ a little too easily. You feared every second that passed because you didn’t know what the future would hold, and if you still had a future, but Heeseung is sitting on his couch and writing as if he has nothing to worry about. You saw yourself for months, doing the same thing, in the same way, and Heeseung is living every minute as if it offers him something amusing.

Life was always easier for Heeseung, and you wonder if this is the reason why you’re standing by his door with your nails digging into the palm of your hands. Maybe, if this is why you don’t try to strike a conversation and instead, walk out of the door as if you accidentally walked into the wrong apartment and now that you’ve realised your mistake, you would make sure you don’t repeat it and end up in the same place ever again.

The next few days pass by rather slowly.

You’ve been trying to keep yourself busy with work. Though it’s a bit hard to focus when everything else is plaguing your mind, things have started to get into place once again. Additionally, you’ve also been busy trying to grow a liking for your job after getting an earful from your boss. The truth is, you don’t exactly hate your work life. Materialistically, it’s perfect— a good environment, impressive benefits, a considerably loaded paycheck— it’s wonderful, but intellectually, you feel you’re at the same place where you started from. You haven’t gotten a new project in a while ( was kicked off the one that kept you motivated ) not a single new thing about work except reviewing documents and passing them on for signatures. One could tell you to quit and look for something you prefer to do, but resigning and pursuing something that you like, unlike Heeseung, is a luxury you never had on your side.

Before you realised, it had already been a week since what happened between you and Heeseung. You wanted to talk about it, hoped to, but he’s harder to see than the most. You could see him through your kitchen that faces his bedroom. You would see his shadow roaming behind the curtains, a notebook in his hand, or a laptop, rarely. Heeseung likes to scribble his thoughts on a paper before settling with one, it’s something you’ve noticed back in the university when he spent nights working on his projects while you sat still at the corner of your bed. You can still watch him on and on for hours, sitting on his couch and imagining him walking up and down his living room while working on his drafts.

Watching Heeseung is one thing you will never get tired of. It’s a little discovery on its own. Every step he takes and every move he makes tells you something new, something you hadn’t known before. You remember sitting next to him in libraries late at night and watching him study. It was supposed to be a simple observation, perhaps an intention to catch onto his tricks and tips to study, and suddenly you see him biting his nails as if his pores are dripping with nervousness. It made you feel better knowing that someone like him has his moments where he’s nervous, even scared, maybe more. Watching Heeseung was something you had on your daily checklist because those moments reminded you that he’s not all strange, that there are similarities, and that he also falls weak, just like you. Watching him felt like watching yourself, as if he’s more you than you are. It felt like taking a look into the mirror and realising that whatever souls are made of, yours and his are the same.

But mirrors for each other's soul has a cost: by the time they part from each other, the individuals have become indistinguishable. Before their merger, they each yearned for the other; as they part, they part from self. Maybe, that’s why leaving him felt like leaving pieces of yourself and meeting him again felt like you could breathe once again.

You can hate him for all the reasons why he is better than you and for all justifications you could offer to prove otherwise. You can spend hours explaining why life has been unfair to both of you, yet still he gets to have the better end while you always fall back to the start even after all the times you’ve tried. You can go out and tell the world your tales of misery and braveness, how you didn’t give up even after life dragged you beyond what could possibly be the worst, and you can complain your heart out about how Heeseung, despite having everything you could ever ask for, gave up all because it didn’t fit to his liking. You can call him a coward in front of eight billion people and would still find yourself in front of his doorsteps at the end of the day, just like now, because after all, he’s the only person who would welcome you with open arms.

“Have you ever tried painting?” You ask while taking a look at all the loose sheets lying around on the centre table in his living room. It comes off a surprise when you find that what he has been scribbling behind his beige curtains were sketches of characters of his novel, rough and messy, some drawn seemingly in love while others had patches of pain in their eyes.

“As a kid, yeah. My parents made me try almost everything out there,” He replies on his way from the kitchen with two coffee mugs in his hands; and amusingly enough, it would be the first time you’d be having coffee with him ever since you moved, because every other conversation was accompanied with alcohol or wine. “But paint brushes aren’t my forte, really,” You take one of the cups, nodding in the process. Your childhood wasn’t any different, despite the financial shortcomings. You remember taking extracurricular classes at least four days a week, all for different fields, art being one of those. You wouldn’t say your painting skills are worth exhibiting, but they are better than his. Maybe, that’s why you briefly consider pointing out his mistakes, telling him that he could try fixing the body proportions to make the figures look more presentable but again, you refrain yourself from doing so.

Instead, you take your time observing Heeseung, again.

A sip of coffee hits your system, you sit on the couch, watching him arrange the sheets into one place. Earlier, it seemed as if Heeseung didn’t care about you seeing his living room in such a mess, as if it’s something you’re allowed to see because it’s you. You notice the way he’s holding onto the coffee mug, you’ve always loved how his fingers wrap around its perimeter completely. It’s one of the things about him that you find attractive. He sits on the opposite end of the couch and you’re sent thinking about the last time you both sat like this, having coffee over silent smiles. One second, you’re thinking about all the good times you’ve had and the next, your mind drifts back into the thoughts from a few nights ago.

The coffee started tasting bitter or maybe, it’s just your thoughts. From thinking about his hands in yours to the smile that used to warm up your evening, nothing seems to cross your mind except the way you felt when his lips captured yours for the first time in years; nothing compares to that, not even close. You thought it’d be fine this time ‘round, people don’t make the same mistakes over and over again. Meeting Heeseung again was like falling back into the hole you’ve been climbing up, but hitting the bottom never hurt. You thought things would work out just fine because you’ve grown up. You’ve learnt things, you know what you did wrong back then and you know exactly what to do to make things right. All these things, they ran an imaginary conversation inside your head where everything went back to normal. There was a point where you couldn’t distinguish between daydreams and reality, and the truth didn’t hit you until you were sitting on the floor of your shower, hyperventilating his name into your hands; and you asked yourself— is it so bad for people to just use one another?

Because friends with benefits is also a relationship based on convenience, you don’t get why loving someone the same way is deemed toxic or simply unacceptable. If things had worked that way, you wouldn’t have ever ended up on this turn of life. You and Heeseung would kiss but won’t be in love, sleep next to each other but won’t be a couple, share your secrets but won’t be friends. He would be someone you would’ve seeked on evenings you couldn’t stop crying and you would be someone he could hold onto on days that made him feel like he couldn’t go further. Not lovers, but not friends, just something, someone you could use and not feel guilty about, someone who could walk away a hundred times without hurting you, someone you didn’t feel obliged to focus on. You both could’ve been someone who didn’t feel like a chore to each other. If people could just use each other, perhaps, you and Heeseung would have lasted longer.

Commitments are hard. Loving is hard, because a day comes where you run out of all the reasons to love. You become selfish, starting thinking about the give and receive, the shortfalls, the absence. The part of your lover that you fell for becomes the very reason why you fall out of love. Instead of appreciating the times spent together, you start complaining about all the minutes that went in waste, all the days they weren’t by your side. You take a step away from the commitment you swore upon and then one day, you start walking away before you even realise. So, loving is hard, and it’s even harder to fall in love again when you’ve walked away once and you’re afraid to do it again, not because you don’t want to hurt the person you love, but because you want to save yourself from hurting all over again.

“How are you doing?” You ask above the silence, voice no louder than a whisper. You’re hoping for a conversation none other than about what happened that night. It’s not because you want him to take responsibility because you’re just as responsible for it, perhaps more. You simply hate how you’re the only one still hung over it, you hate how he can go on with his life without worrying about the things he did that have shifted the ground beneath you.

“Good,” He replies, just as quietly. A pause follows, you feel his eyes on your while yours are still fixed on the mug, fingertips running circles along its rim. “Great,” And, you find another reason for why you’ve been acting lately. The worst part about walking away isn’t the realisation that you have to leave everything that once made you happy, but instead, it’s the hope that follows you everywhere you go. You hope that they’ll run after you, that they’ll stop you and tell you not to leave, that they’ll beg you to say and tell you they need you, but they never do, Heeseung never did.

You look at him after much consideration, there’s a certain look of inevitability in his eyes. It’s not welcoming but it’s not pushing you away either. It’s like he’s telling you there would be a moment when you would look at him in a certain way, and you both would cross the threshold from friendship into something so much more. Perhaps, it’s just the mood of time or your imagination that has you seeing things, but you feel a certain innuendo in his gaze and the way it traces every patch of your skin, from your eyes to down your hands, threatening to transverse further down below. It could be an innocent play of eyes, a harmless action that doesn’t mean anything more than. . . something.

It’s how you begin, your mouth against his, and his fingers tracing along the back of your neck. It feels euphoric and equally sinful, the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. Heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. He’s pushing you back into the couch, your mind plays all the moments with him like a short film, it feels like a warning sign, but you’re far in too deep to pay attention to anything else except him. Every swivel of his head sends you down a spiral of pain and pleasure, you’re somewhere between pushing away and pulling in. You’re so lost, it feels like you’re on an island and Heeseung is the water. If you’re drawing, he’s the oxygen, if you’re falling, he’s gravity— his presence in your life is contradictory. He’s the reason you’re hurting, and the very reason you like every second of it. Heeseung pulls back, a gaze full of love, he whispers a sweet confession.

“Date me,” he says. You don’t remember responding, and the next time those words flood back inside your mind is two days after the incident, when you’re laying on your living room floor with beer once again.

You’re counting now, the amount of times you’ve ended up on the floor with beer, thinking about all your past actions and regretting. It kind of sounds funny to think about it, to think an adult can’t pull their life together and resorts to alcohol even at minute inconveniences. His words haunt your mind day and night, in sleep and when you’re awake, in happiness and in sorrow. It seems like you’re back to stage one, where all he ever did was look at you and all you ever could do was think about him for as long as possible. Focusing on work doesn’t help. You tried shifting your furniture from one corner to the other, avoided Heeseung for three days before he was at your door with the electricity bill that was accidentally given to him. Consequently, your alcohol intake has increased again, not that it ever went down, but frequent meetings at work gave you a reason to stay sober. As for now, you’ve been spending each day the same way, vegetatively, ever so stagnant, like water in an infected pond that is born to numerous parasitic diseases. Your refrigerator is getting emptier day by day, you feel too exhausted to buy groceries. Days transform into weeks, Heeseung leaves for Busan for a week. He didn’t tell you. You overheard it from the ladies in the elevator. Now, there’s a closed door in front of you everytime you open the door to your house. A door with letters and envelopes piling up, a plant that is drying up day by day because looking at it, you assume Heeseung had forgotten about it. When the energy to cook leaves your body, you resort to ordering takeouts. Missed calls from work are the only thing preventing your apartment from drowning in silence. When the last of your hope dies, you resign from work.

You think you’re going crazy, because you get back to the cycles of standing in the balcony around the time Heeseung used to return from work. A part of you knows he doesn’t work anymore, heck, he isn’t even in the city, but you spend most of your day thinking about him. At times, you wonder the point of all this. You wake up, check your phone for any texts from Heeseung or simply anyone. Fifteen minutes pass and you drag yourself out of the bed, eat ramyeon, watch television, sit on the balcony with bear, watch the people come and go, eat ramyeon for lunch again, sleep, ramyeon for dinner— you needed someone else, something that would break you out of this vicious cycle. There are days when your own skin suffocates you, when the image in the mirror doesn’t feel like yourself but rather, a faceless person. You’ve spent hours sitting in the shower and letting the water prune your fingers. You let your tears wet the bed sheets. For some reason, it feels like you’re coming to terms with reality.

As days pass by without Heeseung, you’re starting to realise your feelings, able to sort out things you want and don’t. You thought your dream was to live an average, normal life. Looking at it now, you don’t think it’s what you wanted, maybe you didn’t have a choice to begin with. You studied in a prestigious university, you had scholarships to support your tuition fee, you had a job that paid you well enough, you had everything any other person your age would desire, you had those things because you wanted to set an example. You lived for your siblings, you lived for your parents, you lived for the expectations that came with your intelligence and skills. Sitting in the bathtub as your mind revisits every decision you’ve ever made in life, not one was for yourself. Or maybe there was— loving Heeseung.

Perhaps, at the end of the day, you wanted someone who would love you, someone who would watch you be selfish and slowly clap at the back of the theatre because you’re doing a good job, you’re choosing yourself above everyone else. Heeseung was the person, it’s the only thing you’re so sure about in your life. He was like a saviour in the apocalypse. He’d tell you to blather about your insecure mind that kept nagging you regarding all the things you couldn't do and, he’d explicate how exquisitely it told you lies that you believed. You thought you could reciprocate, but every moment spent next to him reminded you of things he was and things you could never be. You were scared he’d notice your insecurities, the voices tell you that you’re only worth abandoning. You guessed it wouldn’t be hard, you just had to hide your feelings, and years later, your decisions prove you wrong once again. You’re struggling to breathe under your skin, your heart desires for him, you’re falling in deep again, and you’re about to pack your bags. That’s how your life has always been, to avoid getting hurt, you hurt the people you love.

Maybe, you need him after all. Heeseung was one thing you were certain of in your life— still is— but you had your pride ruling your life, and he had stars to reach.

At some point during Heeseung’s trip, you pick up a paint brush. It’s a sudden decision, an impulsive move. You wake up one morning and your senses crave the smell of oil paints and brushes. You never had a talent for painting, not by a long shot. You attended classes back in middle school but had to drop out because of your family’s financial conditions. You think you’re trying to copy Heeseung. You both have unsaid words in the back of your mind, both need to convey their feelings one way or another. Heeseung picked a pen, you chose a paintbrush. It’s supposed to be therapeutic, you have heard about art therapy. There is no set subject, you draw whatever comes to your mind. Your first piece exhibits your kitchen. There are unwashed dishes, you used yellow to add a light glow except, you used a little too much of the colour. The second one, an apple from your fruit basket. Third, your ceiling— white, blank, empty, you’ve named it ‘My head’s ceiling,’ as lame as it sounds. Your fourth is the cat that roams the neighbourhood on most nights. You don’t know about anatomy, but you sure do see slight improvements with colouring. Your fifth and the last one is Heeseung from the night you met him for the first time after moving in, and then he finally arrives from his trip.

“Did you miss me?” He asks you when you show up at his doors in a thin cardigan and a bottle of wine in your hands. Weather was never a problem, any place with Heeseung tends to feel warmer. You walk inside, eyes on the loose sheets lying all over his kitchen counter. You wonder how he will react after hearing about your resignation.

“I missed drinking with you,” You may or may not have a motive behind your words, maybe you wanted to feel him against you once again, maybe the wine ends up being an excuse again, but the night doesn’t flow in that direction. You tell him about your resignation, he finds it funny after the ‘pep-talk’ you gave him when he resigned. You tell him about your newly found interest in art, he tells you to practise since you have plenty of time. His responses are short and specific, not a word more or less from what’s necessary. His eyes make their way to you once in a few minutes and the rest of the time, they’re on his laptop screen. There are so many things you want to talk about, you have so much to share, so much to do. You had plans for tonight, but all he offers you is a short talk. It’s as if you’re not important anymore, as if you’re the third person between him and his drafts, and he’s doing you a favour by not sending you back to your apartment. He’s being distant, it doesn’t surprise you anymore. Half of it is because of his drafts, the other half, his interest. Heeseung is passionate about what he does. Whatever he does, he sacrifices all of him, it’s about catching his interest. You pour yourself another glass, Heeseung asks you a few questions about his work in progress. You realise he’s losing interest in you, little by little.

You sort of expected yourself to be better after his return, it turns out to be false. You’re still on your living room floor, hands and clothes having stains of reds and blues. You painted the wine bottle from last night. You haven’t got any sleep, the image of Heeseung pops up everytime you close your eyes. It feels like the world is giving you what you had given him long ago— all the pain and insufferable longing, all the reasons that made him believe that he deserved to be abandoned. When you got busy with studies and a job in your last year of university, ignoring Heeseung seemed to be the only way out of your hectic schedules. You had exams, a job to cater too, money was already a problem so you couldn’t afford giving him gifts on all the days they have made for couples. Heeseung used to show up with something new every single day and no matter how pretty it was, a part of you despised him because it made you feel inferior. Leaving Heeseung wasn’t an option, it was your only choice. He was the only thing you had that you could throw away.

“Can we talk?” Heeseung shows up at your door on a Thursday morning with words that brushed away any traces of sleep in your eyes. It’s eleven, you woke up barely fifteen minutes ago, and you find him at your door; hands empty, no traces of his laptop or notepad. You think you’ve finally become one of his priorities, after all.

“About what?”

“Us,” He responded quickly, he came prepared. “I want to talk about us,” And there it is, confrontation knocking at your door. You’ve been waiting for this moment for a while now, for weeks and more, perhaps, and now that it’s in front of you, waiting for you to hold it’s hand and guide it inside, your body freezes under his gaze. It’s a game of push and pull, like a pendulum oscillating between two extremes. You want him to tell someone about you. The thought of you vanishing completely from his world is unbearable. You can’t stand the thought of being a silent tomb in his heart, you don’t want to be an inscription on the first page of his book. You want him to tell the world about you and promise you a forever, but a part of your heart gently reminds you of the impossibility of the kind of love you’re wishing for. It’s not Heeseung who you can’t trust, rather, it’s yourself. You’re scared of your demons. When things get happier, you get anxious because you might ruin it once again.

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” And here you are again on your couch with mugs and words you’re busy burying inside. The situation feels oddly familiar, your eyes travel to him. There’s a look of dejection in his eyes.

You join a wellness club a week after, and Heeseung is the first person to know about it. You saw the advertisement when you went to buy fruits two days ago. It didn’t interest you until you walked back home and found yourself in front of your mirror, thinking of what you were and what you’ve become. Your dark circles have grown prominent, your joints ache from the lack of movement. Walks with Heeseung after dinner are the only reason why you wake up everyday and eat your meals. You have your paint brush and wine, you have every reason to not live any longer. If it wasn't for him, you don’t think you would have been breathing at all. You look up the fitness club on Naver, take your time reading through the programmes they’re offering and the pricing. Maybe, this is the change you needed in your life. Not Heeseung, not money, not a job, but some time for yourself. A place to think about yourself and how you are doing, a place to be selfish without being ashamed of it.

The first few days were nice, you met new people, saw new faces. One new thing in your life, apart from painting. The sessions mainly focus on meditations, you were never the most patient person in the crowd. Some sort of yoga follows before a break, and that is usually the worst part. You would sit on the wooden floor and watch others talk, their laughter and murmurs filling in the hall. It makes you feel like how you used to be in the university— in silence, by yourself. You had conversations with your mind, with your heart. You looked around and saw eyes looking at you. Every second felt like they were talking about you when in reality, the thought of you never crossed their mind. You were no one, despite being popular, it’s ironic, and you hate how the exact same thing started happening in the club. It would have hardly taken you five sessions to give up and get back to your routine of painting, drinking, and sleeping. When Heeseung asked, you excused it as boredom and unsatisfactory. Actually, you have started feeling better ever since Heeseung returned from his impromptu trip. With him next to you most of the day, you feel functional and sane. You feel like you could think again, you decide to get back to cooking your own food instead of ordering take outs or simply sleeping after drinking. You didn’t see the need to attend the wellness classes anymore until a few days before, when they texted about a trip in the groupchat. You tell Heeseung about it, he locks himself in his apartment for the following days to come.

You don’t know how or why he made that decision. You spend hours everyday thinking about all the probable reasons, only to end up with nothing. After three days of consideration, you land onto the conclusion that you take too much of his time. It makes sense, of course, he’s busy, he’s working, he has a job, even if it’s basically sitting into his room all day and typing. You, on the other hand, don’t have anything. You have your issues that you project onto people, you have problems you try to ignore, you have indecisiveness and can’t decide what you actually want. You spend too much of your time thinking about if onlys and begging God for last chances. Days pass by without him, alcohol becomes your only solace. The voices in your head remind you of the consequences of your actions. They scream about the mistakes you make, laugh at your actions. They recite tales of how you tend to ruin the person you like, how you’re a parasite and Heeseung is a host, and how you feed on his blood to keep yourself alive. You wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, you feel like wanting to scratch off your skin. At times, you want to run to Heeseung and profess your love to him, tell him how much you want him, how much you need him. You have always been aware of your feelings, of what you wanted, but deep down, you’re afraid that you might be a worthless person after all. And now, you are the worthless person who is trapped in their own empty life.

You want to try living your life as a different person. A life where you’re not you, and all the things you have now aren’t yours, good or bad. An alternate reality where Heeseung isn’t someone you meet at your lowest, where he isn’t just a use and throw to you. You want to go to a place where nobody knows you and live as if you have no history at all, you want to know how it feels to live without having people expect something from you. A life where running away isn’t the only thing you’re good at. You haven’t talked to Heeseung in five days and you're already on the way to his apartment from the supermarket after getting some fruits. Perhaps, you just want to live a life where his presence and absence wouldn’t mean so much to you, where it wouldn’t cost you your life and pride.

When Heeseung opens his door and invites you inside without asking any questions, you realise he has been expecting you anyway. Heeseung gets back to writing, you’re left alone in silence yet again. You envy Heeseung. As a writer, he has an inclination to step inside someone else’s shoes, to get under their skin and see the world through their eyes. It’s a blessing, you think, to be able to live as a thousand different characters and experience a thousand different emotions, to be able to express them so beautifully in words and actions. If you were him, you’d live as a different person everyday, in a skin that makes you feel comfortable. You could be a pianist pretending to be nervous, or a ballerina with her broken shoes. When Heeseung doesn’t say anything for the next few minutes, you pick up an apple from the grocery bag in your hand and enter his kitchen to grab a peeler. It’s an old tradition between you two, to say things with actions instead of words, to hug each other when sad, to offer fruits when you’re in pain, to sit in silence when you are sorry.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” You say abruptly, letting words fall off your lips without control. Heeseung’s hands stop in the midst of typing, hovering over his laptop. When the sound of keys stops, the air starts feeling emptier and heavier than ever, sending a wave of shiver down your spine.

“What?” A soft gasp, a voice of disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me any time sooner?”

“Well, I am telling you now,”

“The night before you’re leaving,”

“I would’ve told you sooner if you could take a break from whatever you’re writing,” A pause. You look at him, his shifts ghosts your sight and falls upon the apple in your hand. You’re looking at the document displaying on the screen, your eyes fall back on the fruit in your hand just a few seconds later. You wish for Heeseung to be more open with you, to yearn for you the way you do for him, to want so much that every moment without you feels like death’s hands around his throat. Maybe, he already does, maybe he wants to but couldn’t because the fear of you leaving yet again is eating him from inside. You have given him all the reasons to doubt himself and you as well, every reason to think thrice before knocking your door. Writing is an escape, you know he has his own problems, after all, how many times did someone pick and pen or and paint brush when they couldn’t pull the trigger?

“When will you return?” He asks, a little unsure of the question, if he should even ask you.

“One month,” And you respond, peeling the apples between your words. “It’s a paid trip from the wellness club I joined, some sort of detox, so I don’t think we’d get to talk much either,” Your thoughts aren’t sane, they’re all over the place, everywhere. It’s hard to walk, harder to crawl, it feels like you’re standing in a deep pit, the way out is in front of you but you don’t know how to reach up there. Calling it a detox sounds stupid, but you know you need it, it’s for you, for him, and for whatever the two of you are becoming.

“It’s alright,” Liar. “It’s just one month,”

Before you know it, you’re in his arms and you’re hugging him back. Perhaps, you missed the embrace, the warmth of loving and being loved. “Just one month,”

“I love you,” He smiles against your ear, arms pulling you closer. You’re stepping into happiness for the first time in months, you’re reminded of its previous betrayal. And you realise that the person you’ve been yearning for is the one you should step away from.

V. Should you get back with your ex?

It’s been five years since Heeseung has heard from you. He has been waiting, but he doesn’t have time to sit back in his apartment while putting everything aside. He has been keeping himself busy with drafts and publishing, lost amidst plots and characters he created, living in a whole another universe as an escape from reality. It all makes him sound crazy, or rather, like someone who has been through severe grief. But, Heeseung has been busy thinking about all the new genres he can try and every single thing that he can include in his writing because no one can stop him, and his imagination means no bounds. After all, Lee Heeseung, after five years of waiting and working, has finally published his most awaited work.

Heeseung isn’t used to distances. They drift people apart, as they once did the two of you, but he didn’t mind anything when it came to you. You were going to return within a month either way, and thus, he found solace in texts and calls while waiting for the days to pass. You’d send him pictures of the city while he’d forward you an image file of another blank document. For days, you both texted restlessly, between meetings, during meals, while taking a walk, before and after bed, it was as if you had returned all the way back to how your life was in university. On days you couldn’t make time to call him due to your busy schedule, he would leave voice notes regarding every single thing he has been up to. It was a small step towards forgetting the past since neither of you tried to talk about it. It was more of an attempt at ignoring your past mistakes and moving on, taking a mental note to not repeat them again. While the need to talk things out bugged both of you every night, you were just fine with whatever the two of you had at the moment.

Things had started off good, but the two of you started hearing less of each other. His busy schedule or your lack of internet could be blamed. You really needed some time to yourself and it seemed to be the perfect excuse to not text him first, or even back. Days morphed into weeks, weeks into months, Heeseung was finished with the first draft for his next book. That was for you but Heeseung, again, isn’t used to distances. You would see his texts on the top of your notification bar, holding onto a fragile ray of hope that he’ll hear from you anytime soon. You’d see his missed calls, voice notes, emails, direct messages on social media, even a letter he sent once. You could feel guilt pool inside of you, realising that once again, you’re being the one to draw a line, to create distance and while you promised that they wouldn’t affect you both this time ‘round, you’re the very reason why they keep on increasing. But, Heeseung is good at these things, hoping, holding, waiting; he’s good at sad things. Perhaps, it’s just another thing he has come to learn because of you.

When you didn’t contact him for another two months, he started reaching out to your friends and family. He called your friends and his friends, his family, even. It was like he was in a forest with a lantern, looking for treasure, and the flame went out.

He used to think he could go a day without your presence. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back. Then, a day arrived when he found himself struggling to feel your presence but the next was harder. He knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and it wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time.

Losing you wasn’t an occasion or an event. It didn’t happen once and instead, happened over and over again. Heeseung loses you every time he picks up your favourite coffee mug, whenever that one song plays on the radio, when he unconsciously scrolls all the down to the bottom of his messaging app, coming across your contact. He loses you every time he thinks of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. He goes to bed and loses you, when he wishes he could tell you about his day and everything that he has planned for the future; and in the morning, when he wakes up and reaches for the empty space across the sheets— Heeseung begins to lose you all over again.

“What inspired you to write this book?” And now, he’s sitting at his book launch event, a faint smile on his face, a good of pride gleaming in his eyes. Through the years, Heeseung has released short stories and poems; poems that he wrote while looking out of his window at every flight that flies by, hoping you’d arrive one day, while sitting outside next to your apartment late at night, while drinking your favourite wine knowing you would’ve had the whole bottle to yourself if you were to join him. Heeseung would sit on the cold tiles of his living room and let his mind paint a picture of you. The image of you in his mind is blurry, but he feels every emotion you gave him to this day.

“A friend, my neighbour,” His smile grows wider, a little more filled with sorrow, yearing oozing through the cracks of his skin. “My ex-girlfriend,” Calling you his ex doesn’t seem right since the two of you never broke up. You need to be in a relationship to break up, and Heeseung and you weren’t anything.

His first poetry work, ‘Red Wine,’ was written in the first few weeks after you stopped contacting him. Those were some of Heeseung’s worst days of life, days he felt like doing nothing except lying down and staying still until his systems gave up due to the lack of movement. He has written about you drinking red wine on the floor just like you do, and on the other side it’s him, cold and bleeding. You’re looking at him— he pictures you as such, and you continue to sip on your wine, watching him bleed. Is there a possibility of you and I? Heeseung wouldn’t know, for you enjoyed your red wine while his blood pooled around your legs, and you wouldn’t flinch because you wouldn’t know if it’s blood or wine unless you taste it, and you wouldn’t know if he’s hurting for you’re too busy dwelling in your own mind.

“Did you get back with her? Is that why the book is named ‘How to get back with your ex’?” Heeseung thinks the question is rhetoric. Anyone can tell if he and you are together or not after reading the book. Few seconds pass in silence, it’s not the question he’s running from, but the answer that lies around. Heeseung doesn’t know if there was ever a point when you considered taking him back into your life with labels, just as how it used to be back in university. You waited for him at odd hours but never admitted to missing him. He confessed, you never gave an answer, but you kissed him as if he was a part of you that went missing centuries ago. Your touch bled with yearning, love rolled down your cheeks, and you never accepted your feelings. You’re not his lover, he likes to keep you as his favourite incomplete fish.

“No, actually, we’re not in touch anymore,” Heeseung isn’t familiar with loss. He doesn't have a lot to offer, not at all. Lee Heeseung, in fact, doesn't have anything to give or lose, his hands are empty. He has a mediocre job that he resigned from over a mediocre reason, and a mediocre life, a mediocre apartment with some mediocre flowers in the mediocre vase a friend gave him as a congratulatory gift on graduation day. He has the same mediocre thoughts and books, tropes and genres, no new thought in a while; Heeseung, actually, has more to accept than to lose.

To think, he has always been on the receiving end of life.

The first month was the hardest. He started hearing less of you, and then none. Losing you, it was like experiencing withdrawal symptoms. Heeseung would pace around, hours on empty, looking obsessively at his phone to catch a hint of you, just one text, one missed call, anything. His editor continued to call him, even show up at his place, telling him to write, to do his job, but words don’t flow when you’re not around, and the thought of you pains his heart inexplicably. He knows he’s always talking about second chances, how there is always a second shot at things that slipped out of your hands. The day you cut off all contact with him, Heeseung realised that it was probably his last chance with you. He cried the first time the news of Bus M4107 crash on its way back to Incheon. He ran back to his apartment, avoiding getting hit by a lorry only by a few minutes, vision getting blurry as his mind started coming up with all the worst scenarios possible. Heeseung went through all his contacts, looking for names familiar to the two of you and begged them to try to get in touch with you. He spent hours looking at his phone, his eyes were like a searchlight. How they looked at the sky with such longing, how they always turned towards the door hoping you’d walk in any moment. Heeseung doesn’t care if you’re with him, he doesn’t mind seeing you across the street while pretending to be strangers. He doesn’t mind not being able to hold you. Even after all these years, even when he’s Korea’s bestselling author, even when he has everything he has ever dreamt for, his life has voids that remind him of you, but it’s fine. Things were fine, you left him one Sunday morning with his cup half empty. It was supposed to be just a month, but five years later, Heeseung pads around his apartment following your presence that still lingers around. Outside, the rain is already falling, there are still pieces of you behind every door, he can live just fine. He can live knowing you’re here, in this world with him, amidst the eight billion people. It’s better than accepting the fact that you’ve left him alone, forever.

Fifth month was a little easier, Heeseung published his first short story. He was doing good, and had work to stop himself from thinking of you. Friends and family kept him busy, book signing events occupied most of his days. You didn’t leave his mind, you just started residing less. He thought of it as a routine— every morning, you’d leave his mind as his schedules began. He pictures you floating over the city, over the busy markets and sublime lakesides. You visit sometime in between, when he’s resting on his bed or enjoying his tea. You walk back in and tell him about everything you’ve seen. You talk about the balloons stuck in the tree, about the girl running behind her school bus, and then you leave again and he sits to write. You walk down the streets through the sunset, the fragrance of sea-food spinning in the air. There’s a couple on their first date, a group of friends taking pictures outside a hotpot restaurant, a wife waiting for her husband, a mother picking up her son, a family going shopping, and then you’d come back right before he’s going to bed. You’d tell Heeseung about them, your voice ringing in his ears. You kiss him goodnight, he goes to sleep, your thoughts are like a lullaby. And the next morning, the cycle repeats again.

Around the twelfth month, Heeseung found himself at his lowest. It had been a year since you left, a year since you disappeared off the face of earth with no trace of you even after investigation. The case was closed, Heeseung felt the ghost of you leaving his mind bit by bit. Your empty apartment had been sold off to a woman in her forties, he didn’t like the idea of someone else occupying the place that had once belonged to you. In his mind, you still live there, and you still spend your days lying on the living room floor with wine. The renovation began soon after, Heeseung found himself standing in the living room of your apartment. With every inch of wall painted, the absence of you caved in on him closer. Every inch of brush stroke on the wall covered the evidence of your existence, painting white over the pieces of you that you left behind the closed doors. It felt like a sign to move on, as if the world was forgetting you and so, Heeseung was supposed to do the same. It boils his blood to this day, his heart aches inexplicably. The universe knows you as someone who disappeared off the face of Earth, it doesn’t know you like Heeseung does. It doesn’t know the impact you have on his life, it’s unaware of the little things you did that changed his view about things. People are moving on, the media forgot about all the people who died in the accident. He doesn’t understand how everyone continued with their lives as if nothing ever happened. Twelfth month was the hardest for Heeseung. Disappearing memories of you from his mind froze his mind, he wanted to die, if it meant he could see you again.

You see, getting back your ex isn’t always about the romantic feelings you had for each other. You can be friends with your ex, or neighbours, co-workers, and it would still mean you got back with them, because getting back together means putting the past behind and working together to help each other become a better version of themselves. Isn’t that what we do even when we start dating our exes; being better than how you were with them in the past, not repeating the mistakes that drifted you apart in the first place? Heeseung doesn’t mind getting back with you even if you’re a stranger he sees at the supermarket. It’s fine even if you’re someone he sees once a week at the subway. If there is even a little chance that you’re here, Heeseung is okay living with just a glimpse of you. He has waited five years, he will wait for fifty more.

“Do you still love her?” A journalist raises the question, and Heeseung could ask himself the same thing over and over again, always ending up with the same answer: he doesn’t know. Saying that he does would be an overstatement because Heeseung doesn’t know where his heart lies, and denying it would be a blatant lie. So, instead, he likes to think of you as just someone who came into his life and lost her way out of it.

Just someone who he met one night by the bar, someone he warmed up to so quickly that every single neuron in his body went off with alarms, alerting him of all the possible consequences about how this would take a tragic turn. It happened like this : he met you, and for some reason, he felt more connected to a stranger than anyone else— closer to you than his closest family. Someone who taught him what loneliness is because before you, Heeseung was used to doing things alone, on his own. Someone who made him rethink every life decision, someone who, he knew, would turn his life upside down, and still he let you do it. You were someone he spent his happiest days crying about and saddest moments reminiscing over. Heeseung gave you love, and in return, you gave him an insight on life, an important lesson, and an answer to all his whys and hows. Your love was soft and tacit with all hands and lips and hearts in tandem. It was like a storm and he was walking into it straight. Heeseung is an explorer, you were a traveller. You both met at the intersection, the lights went red, the world stopped for a brief second. He saw love in your smile, he wishes he could see more of it. But you had a plane to catch and Heeseung, he was already home.

Dedicated to my ex-girlfriend, the one I didn’t expect to meet after years of trying to move on, one who left and came back as if nothing ever happened and turned my life upside down. I think it was obvious that this was about you anyway. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. I hope you’re still here. Thank you for being someone I could rely upon, for being my muse, for being my one and only love.

—

Thank you for reading, ‘How to get back with your ex’.

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youknowwho-mustnotbenamed · 2 months ago

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November 20 - Transfiguration Classroom | word count: 562 | @wolfstarmicrofic

Today, we are going to be talking about animagi.” Professor McGonagall announces from the front of the classroom. It’s amazing how much power she wields. She doesn’t even have to call for silence, she simply speaks, and everybody stops and listens. It’s the kind of power his mother would both admire and despise. Sirius loves it. “Who can tell me anything about it?”

A moment of silence before Lily is raising her hand. “An animagus is a witch or wizard with the ability to transform into an animal at will.” As Lily speaks, the chalk—which had previously been hovering in the air before the chalkboard—starts writing almost verbatim of what Lily said.

“Thank you, Miss Evans. It should also be noted that becoming an animagus is a difficult task that very few magical folk accomplish. It requires both a depth of magic, as well as the precision to wield it as you need. Can anybody think of a wizard who is a known animagus?” She hardly waits before continuing. “You cannot. Because even should they accomplish animagus status, they chose to keep such talents hidden. You might very well come across an animagus in your lifetime, and never know it.

Now, if everybody can please break into groups and discuss the properties of an animagus, and how it both differs and relates to traditional transfiguration. Hopefully everybody has done the reading.” The last sentence, is directed toward their corner of the room.

James and Peter spin their chairs around to face Remus and him, eyes bright as they talk about the prospects of being an animagus and pranking. James is already coming up with plans as though they will become animagus tomorrow. They are hardly fourteen so they hardly have access, let alone control, of their magic. Besides, Sirius has seen books about this before, the process is long and arduous, it takes months if not years to be able to transform successfully.

Speaking of which, the last time he had thought of becoming an animagus, he was six, maybe seven, barely understanding the scope of magic. He had mentioned wanting to become a bird and fly to the stars he was named after. Mother had scolded him and refused him dinner that night. Apparently, it wasn’t ‘dignified’ to ‘consort with animals’.

Years later, he brought up the wishful thinking with Reggie. Where they both turned into birds and flew away from Grimmauld. The fantasy was enough to comfort them for the long and lonely nights spent apart, but soon fell flat as their relationship began to strain.

Now, he thinks about it again. But not becoming a bird this time. No, this time he will be a wolf. He will be a wolf and he and Remus will play under the full moon. He knows from his research that werewolves aren’t set off by animals, so if he were to effectively become an animal, Remus wouldn’t be blood thirsty. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? Both of them running through the Forbidden Forest, free as the wolves, no fear to burden them. And even better, Remus wouldn’t have to hurt himself anymore.

All he has to do is find the book that he knows is in his father’s study. It details the whole process, everything he needs to be closer to Remus. Everything he needs to become part of his pack.

#wolfstar #wolfstar microfic #sirius black #remus lupin #marauders era

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tgmsunmontue · 4 months ago

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Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 8/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN

EIGHT

When they go back downstairs Admiral Kazansky and Captain Mitchell are both standing at the opposite ends of the kitchen, looking angry. He chances a quick look with Bradley who simply rolls his eyes. Definitely weird.

“Dinner should be here in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you.”

“Yeah. Thanks,” Bradley adds and Jake knows he considers these two men some type of parents but his whole attitude screams disrespect and Jake wonders when Bradley might get over himself. He doesn’t want to risk disciplinary action by association. Although, he supposes, Admiral Kazansky can definitely tell that it’s all on Bradley, which is a blessing. The silence is definitely awkward, and he doesn’t know what he can possibly talk about when every subject is a potential minefield, so silence seems like the best choice for now. Admiral Kazansky does offer drinks, of which only Captain Mitchell accepts, asking for a beer and for some reason there is huffs and eye rolling and Jake has no idea what is going on.

Weird.

The food finally arrives and they eat and make polite conversation, none of it of any substance. Jake desperately wants to ask how long Admiral Kazansky has known about Transformers. He also wants to ask Captain Mitchell what he’s worked on in the past, because he suspects he’s going to get to learn all about the mechanical workings and help build Jetfire. That’s something that has him buzzing, something he’s wanted to do since he was a kid and not been able to do and now being given even the chance has him excited.

Dustdrift and Ninja are in the garage and he can tell that Captain Mitchell is itching to get out there. There are definitely more silent conversations happening around the table than there are actual spoken ones and he’s certain he feels almost glancing blows as either Admiral Kazansky or Captain Mitchell kick each other under the table. Or maybe Bradley is the one doing the kicking. Regardless, he draws his ankles under his chair where they’ll be safe from roaming kicks.

When they’re finished Captain Mitchell automatically starts clearing the trash and stacking the used plates into the dishwasher, clearly comfortable in the Admiral’s house and a pleased smile breaks out on his face when Bradley goes to help him.

“Oh…” Ice says, voice soft and Jake is fairly certain he hadn’t meant to make a sound. He looks at the domestic scene and wonders what it’s about. Before he can think about it too much Admiral Kazansky is pushing his chair back and inclining his head, clearly intending for Jake to follow him. He enters a study, large desk taking up a large portion of the room, there are photos, maps, books and knick-knacks he’d love to go and study but he stands there, very mindful that this is clearly a conversation Admiral Kazansky wishes to have in private. Or maybe to give Bradley and Captain Mitchell some privacy. Then Admiral Kazansky is reaching behind the door and handing Jake a set of khakis.

“Here. They’re not up to current regulations but they’re still a step up from civvies.” Jake takes the coat hanger and looks, sees the Kazansky nameplate and his eyebrows shoot up. “They’re old, I was keeping them for sentimental reasons. And I would like them back, however we can make some exceptions given the current… situation.”

“Thank you, sir. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t speak too soon Lieutenant, we need to have a talk.”

“Sir?”

“Please, this is an informal talk. Very informal. I’m about to trust you with something that only a handful of people know.”

Jake doesn’t know if he’s ready for state secrets, it’s bad enough knowing that his new knowledge of the Transformers is going to no doubt have a considerable impact on his career, and he doesn’t know if it will be positive of negative yet.

“Do you have to tell me sir?”

“Well, I have been informed it would be best for you to know, so that you are not caught by surprise should a… situation arise.”

Jake has no fucking clue what sort of situation he could be referring to. They’ve already got fucking transforming robots, what else could there be? If it’s informal as it is?

“Now generally this is very much a case of don’t ask –”

�� His stomach plummets, skin instantly clammy and then his stomach is rushing back up and he swallows against the urge to throw up.

“Did Bradley say something?”

“What?”

Jake snaps his mouth shut, mind racing back over the conversation he’d had earlier with Bradley. That they knew that Bradley was… not straight. That they were fine with it. Sort of. Fuck. What does any of that even mean?

“Sorry sir. You were saying?”

Admiral Kazansky’s eyes have narrowed and Jake swallows.

“I’m gay and have been in a relationship with Captain Mitchell for twenty years. Give or take.”

Jake’s sure his jaw hits the floor. Of all the things he was expecting, that was not it. Likewise the relief that floods through him makes his knees feel a little wobbly and he locks them tight. Bradley’s cryptic as fuck comments make way more sense now in hindsight.

“Holy shit. Me too.” Admiral Kazansky’s eyebrows go up, and Jake is pretty sure his lips are twitching with amusement and he replays what he just said. “Uh. Just the gay part, not the relationship part…”

“Yes. I gathered as much. Well. Pete thought it prudent that you were made aware it was a fact so that you could… avoid revealing said fact, even accidentally.”

“Of course sir. Distract, deflect and divert right?”

“I like your thinking lieutenant.”

… … …

“Did you remember to tell him that he could have the other guest room?”

“Shit. No. I forgot.”

“So, we’ve just put two young men in a room with one bed, despite there being a perfectly empty second bedroom.”

“Two young men who aren’t straight.”

“Really? Huh. Well, it is possible they’re just…”

“They met for the first time today. Bradley may have changed, but I don’t think he’d…”

“I would have. Ha. I did.”

“Jesus Mav, you aren’t reassuring me.”

“Okay, how’s this for being reassuring. The guest bedroom they’re in is on the opposite side of the house and we won’t hear anything.”

“Still not helping!”

“He’s twenty-four – ”

“Six.”

“What?”

“He’s twenty-six.”

“No. I know… oh my god. You’re right. He’s twenty-six.”

Pete’s voice breaks a little and Tom wraps his arms around him and holds him tight. He knows they’ll start building back their relationship from before, but it will be different and it will have scars and tender patches with bruises that will hurt for years, especially if either of them press too hard. They’re both a little too hot-headed and volatile sometimes and he can only hope that Seresin is calm and collected under pressure, because he’s fairly certain that their futures are all now intrinsically twisted together.

… … …

“Holy shit, Admiral Kazansky is gay and in a relationship with Captain Mitchell.”

“Uh. Did you figure that out, or are you asking me?” Bradley asks him, and he’s changed into a sleeveless undershirt and boxers, clearly getting ready for bed. Even used to communal living like he is it feels a lot more intimate with them in a room with a single large bed.

“No. He just flat out told me. Said he was trusting me. Holy shit.”

“Oh. Thank fuck.”

“You knew,” Jake states, even though he already suspected that was the case.

“Yeah, of course I did. Mav is my godfather and Ice is… Ice. Uncle Ice.”

“Right. Makes sense that you’d know. Except you weren’t talking to them for the last few years because of the secret that your Bronco decided to spill… Weird coincidence that we’ve got a bunch of Transformers and naval aviators and none of the naval aviators are… straight,” Jake says. Because Bradley still hasn’t specified exactly how he identifies, and that’s fine, he might be a little curious, but he doesn’t have to know. It’s enough to know that he’s not actually alone in that respect either, not that he thought he was, but suspecting and knowing are two very distinct things and it’s making him feel quite buoyant.

“Yeah, you’re right. Although if what Dustdrift said then they came to my dad first, and he was very much… actually. I’m assuming he was straight because he was married to my mom, but he could have been bisexual I guess.”

“You’ve taken this whole thing really… calmly,” Jake states.

“Well, I always suspected something was up, so today has just been the confirmation that I’m not actually going crazy and imagining the fact that I haven’t ever paid for gas…”

“Well, I’ve got a horse truck that needs filling up if you want that life experience…”

Bradley laughs and Jake finds himself smiling at the sound, because it’s somewhat of a relief that even after everything something as mundane as putting gas in a truck can somehow be funny. Also Bradley looks good, all happy and relaxed, his arms are nicely defined with muscle and yeah, he’s got long legs and Jake should probably stop staring. Not that Bradley seems to have noticed at all, which is a relief.

“So, now that you know Mav isn’t using the other guest room, you’re welcome to it. We don’t have to share.”

Jake blinks, a little taken aback, because that logistic hadn’t occurred to him. Of course Captain Mitchell is comfortable here, he likely spends a large chunk of time here, no wonder he simply started clearing the trash and packing the dishwasher, will be sleeping in Admiral Kazansky’s bedroom. Huh.

“I’m the actual guest, surely you should go to the other room?”

“Bullshit. I’m just as much a guest as you are. I’ve never lived here. Haven’t called any house of Mav’s or Ice’s home since I was eighteen.”

“Yeah, and how long has that been then?”

“Eight years.”

“Oh. Huh.”

“Just make up your mind. I don’t care. Less loads of washing if we share though.”

“Yeah… yeah okay,” Jake agrees, because it’s a flimsy excuse but it’s still better than admitting he struggles to fall asleep when he’s not in a room with several other people, his time at USNA and now in bunks or racks meaning he needs the sound of other’s breathing to lull him to sleep.

NINE

#Caring Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide #hangster #Top Gun Maverick #AU #TF and TGM crossover

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pluviophiles · 5 months ago

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umbrella academy season 4 ending - rewritten (PART 1)

since we were absolutely robbed this season, i felt the need to publish my own little version of the tua s4 ending. im sure it's riddled with plot holes, but it does give me a bit of satisfaction after watching whatever the tom fuckery happened in the last season.

warnings : tua s4 spoilers, wordbuilding, unpolished writing

... as luther, diego, allison, klaus, five, viktor, and lila are slowly engulfed by the monstrous blob, there is a blinding flash of gold. the scene cuts to black. [after a short pause] hard cut to BEN sitting on the subway - the very same scene we saw in s3 post-credits. it plays out the same way we've seen before, yet continues even after ben looks up from the book in hand. the train slowly comes to a stop, presumably having arrived at a station. cut to the subway door, which slowly opens. enter KLAUS, and then DAVE. the two of them converse, cheerily, hand-in-hand. klaus walks straight past ben, and the audience realizes that, in this timeline, the umbrella siblings are complete strangers. the two of them sit down several feet away from ben. as klaus reaches for dave, the audience can see a newly-inked tattoo on his forearm - a marigold. the camera pans back to ben, zoomed further in. now, the audience can see that, on the side of his glasses, there is a small, bedazzled marigold design. a flash of recognition can be seen in ben's eyes. he scrunches his eyebrows together, as if trying to piece together two foreign pieces of information. the camera pans again, revealing JENNIFER in the seat across from ben. JENNIFER ben… is everything alright? ben shakes his head slightly, unsure of himself. BEN it's nothing. [he clears his throat, and with more conviction, repeats, ] it's nothing. jennifer is clearly unconvinced, but decides to drop the subject for now. cut to the subway door once more, and the rest of the umbrellas file in, one-by-one. first, ALLISON, with CLAIRE and RAY. the three of them sit down in one far corner of the car; a happy family. as the light shifts, allison's necklace glints and shimmers. (design? a marigold.) then, DIEGO and LILA with their three kids. as they sit down, GRACE shyly pulls out a marigold flower, handing it to her parents. GRACE [incoherent] ...for you. diego takes it with a huge grin on his face and tucks it behind lila's ear. the latter bends down to plant a kiss on her daughter's forehead. after them came LUTHER. he was by his lonesome, but sat down near a beautiful woman - SLOANE. clumsily, he brushes up against her, and quickly offers awkward apologies. they fall into a comfortable conversation. the audience can see that here, he has a watch similar to the one reginald originally gifted him, with a marigold in its center. VIKTOR comes in, trailing behind SISSY and HARLAN. the two of them are now married, with matching stones set on their fingers. viktor is donning dark blue jean jacket, an embroidered marigold at the top. the last one to the party is FIVE. however, here, he is no longer a teenager. instead, he has gotten to live his life like the rest of his family, and is now at the ripe age of 35. he sits down with his partner, who the audience recognizes as DELORES. hazily, he wraps his arm around her. he's wearing a suit as per usual, with the addition of a marigold brooch. each of the seven siblings seem to be in their own bubbles, suggesting that they finally reached contentment. still, they are connected together by the marigold, even if it is no longer inside of them. in this timeline, the umbrellas were almost the opposite of dysfunctional. perhaps the problem was never them, but reginald. for, here, the seven of them flourished.

(PART 2 SOON TO COME)

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julieee404 · 3 months ago

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Kinktober day seven!!

Trying something new

❥ Fucking Machine, Bondage, Blindfold ❥ Tom Riddle

POV: You and your boyfriend Tom have always said, 'try everything once'. Now currently you've read a book in which the MMC blindfolded and tied up the FMC while she was being fucked by a machine. Now you just have to try it out.

Trigger warnings: Tied up, Rope, Swear words, Dildo's, D in V, Sex Machine.

Three weeks ago

"Tommy?" I asked while sitting on his bed. He looked up from his desk and looked at me questioningly. "Can we try something new in well you know bed?"

That piqued his interest. He stood up and walked over to me sitting down on the edge of his bed "What do you want to try doll?" He asked me. I blushed and toyed with my book.

"Well I read a scene yesterday and in it, the male main character tied up the female main character and let her be fucked by a sex machine," I said while looking at my book.

Tom raised an eyebrow "You want me to tie you up and get a sex machine to fuck you?" He asked not in a judging way but more with a confused undertone to his voice.

I nodded in response "Yeah I do." He lifted my chin so I'd look into his eyes "And what is wrong with my cock huh?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

My eyes widened in surprise and I stammered "What no no no that's not what I meant, nothing is wrong I just-, Nevermind" I said with a soft sigh.

Tom stayed quiet observing me before nodding, going back to his school work. I kept reading until I fell asleep.

Present time

"Doll come here for a second" Tom said from his dorm room. I walked into his room to see a large box standing before the foot of his bed on the ground. "What did you get?" I asked him curiously.

He smirked at me "I read the scene from which you had the idea to be tied up and fucked with a machine" He said with slight distaste before continuing "And although I think I can fuck you way better, we can try it."

My eyes widened as I looked at him and smiled brightly "Really? You got us a sex machine?" I was almost bouncing on the balls of my feet. His expression softened and he nodded "Yeah I wanted to make sure you got the best of the best doll, so I ordered the most expensive one."

That was incredibly sweet. "Thank you Tommy" I kissed his cheek in appreciation. "Get undressed love I'll get it ready."

Tom took the machine out of the box and put it together quickly with some use of magic, putting a smaller-sized dildo on the machine and taking the remote.

In the meantime, I got undressed and laid myself on his bed in seastar position.

He waved his wand and before I could blink I was tight up to his bedframe. "You remember our safe words right?" He asked. I nodded "Yeah; they are green, orange and red." He smiled slightly, the corner of his mouth edging up. "Very well love."

Tom walked over to me and put a blindfold around my eyes. "Tom?" I asked confused since this did not happen in the scene we're now reenacting.

"Trust me doll, it'll make it even better"

I relaxed, trusting him 100 per cent certain. I felt his cold hands ghosting over my clit, roughly rubbing it. My hips bucked and a moan left my body.

He chuckled a low chuckle "Are you ready love?" I nodded quickly. He slapped my thigh warningly "Yes!" I yelled, remembering I always had to use my words.

Tom moved the machine to stand between my legs, gently guiding the dildo into my entrance a bit making me gasp at the cold sensation.

He turned the machine on on a lower level letting me get used to it.

It was really weird not being able to see anything but hearing the machine while it fucked into me slowly. I moaned softly at the sensation but wanted it to go faster. "Tom please" I begged making him smirk.

He turned the setting up immediately skipping some levels making me scream since the machine started pounding into me.

The dildo reached deep into my cunt but not deep enough, Tom was bigger. It did drag deliciously against my walls and G-spot making me moan on repeat.

As soon as I felt Tom's cold hands rubbing my clit I felt my high approach. Causing me to clench on the dildo, which in return made my high approach even faster.

It didn't take long before I was cumming all over the machine.

Tom stopped it and pulled it out. I heard some sounds of things moving and some clicking having no clue what he was currently doing.

A few minutes later I felt the Dildo being moved against my entrance again before being pushed in. Only now did I realise what Tom had done. He had exchanged the smaller Dildo for a bigger one.

He turned on the machine again making the larger didle pump in and out of me. I moaned in response, this one making me feel much more pleasure. It hit my cervix perfectly.

"Oh shit Tom!" I moaned loudly, writhing from the pleasure. Just as before Tom started to rub circles onto my clit roughly making me scream in response.

My high was approaching again quickly. Still sensitive from my past one. Tom chuckled darkly into my ear "Come for me doll."

I crashed over the edge for a second time.

When I returned from my high I expected Tom to turn the machine off. He didn't, on the contrary, he set the setting higher and started to rub my clit faster making me scream and writhe with pleasure and overstimulation.

"Color?"Tom asked me quickly not letting up on his rubbing "G green" I managed to get out in between my moans. He turned the machine up even higher making the dildo thrust into my cunt over and over again, at least two times a second.

It felt insane and since it was a machine the pushing pace didn't relent, keeping the same furious, animalistic pace.

Obviously, it didn't take long for me to come all over the machine, writhing in pleasure. Tom turned the machine down letting it slowly fuck out my high.

After I got back from my high he turned the machine off and took it away, with a wave of his wand my binds and blindfold disappeared.

I was still breathing heavily and Tom used magic to clean up the machine and put it away before going to clean me up.

"So did it live up to your expectations?" He asked me. I nodded still out of breath. "It was perfect," I said breathlessly.

"Better than me?" Tom asked in a growl. I quickly shook my head no "No no no no never. You're better by a mile but this is a close second."

He gave a huff in agreement before giving me his jumper and laying on the bed. I cuddled up to him closely, completely exhausted from my orgasms.

"I love you Tommy I said snuggling into him. "I love you too doll" He said quietly giving my head a kiss.

It made me smile brightly since he rarely showed me any affection.

Kinktober masterlist 2024

#kinktober #slytherin boys smut #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #smut #slytherinboys #hp smut #tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle smut

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pascaloverx · 7 months ago

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Sweet Love

Summary: You're an up-and-coming writer, congratulations. To protect your beloved job, you're willing to do anything. Even strike a deal with the devil, better known as your sister's neighbor. You and Dean Winchester don't really see eye to eye, but in a moment of desperation, you agree to collaborate with him for a greater good.

Author's Notes: Many characters do not belong to me but to the Supernatural Universe (2005-2020). I hope you enjoy the fanfic's story. The fanfic will contain strong language and adult content. Dear readers, I'm here to let you know that if you enjoy this fic, please engage with it. Comments and likes are welcome. I appreciate everyone who follows this fanfic. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

chapter six chapter eight

CHAPTER SEVEN

The following month felt almost like a dream. You and Dean officially together, without having to pretend to casually bump into each other as good neighbors. Sam seems to be adjusting to your relationship. But he seems to enjoy the time he spends alone when Dean is with you at your sister's apartment. The good news is that you'll be moving soon. Your new book is going to be released, and with the money you've already earned, you'll be able to buy your own apartment.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye to the comfort of being able to see you without much effort. Maybe you should come live with me. I can kick Sam out with just one command from you," Dean says while still cuddling with you. You spent the night together yesterday and decided to sleep snuggled up.

"I don't want to start our relationship by making your brother angry with me. Not to mention that I'll still be close by. My sister lives here," you say, turning slightly and giving Winchester a kiss on the cheek. You don't even finish saying this when you hear a noise at the door. It can only mean one thing: your sister is back.

"Is anyone home?" your sister yells, and you immediately get out of bed, running to find your missing clothes and Dean's. It's not that you won't admit you're with him, you just don't want to admit it like this.

"I'm in the bedroom, just give me a moment to greet you," you shout back, finishing getting dressed. As you're about to leave the room and reach for Dean's hand, he pulls back. You look at him, puzzled.

"I'd better hide here and leave later. Trust me, you don't want to tell your sister about us like this," Dean says, stepping away, which you find suspicious. It's one thing that they don't get along, but acting as if he's ashamed to be seen as your boyfriend makes you uncomfortable.

"I thought us dating meant we were going to make it official to everyone. Including my sister. Unless there's something different about telling my sister that we're together," you say a little irritated. Your sister calls your name and you feel you should go. Dean seems like he has something to say to you but you just close the door and go to where your sister is.

"My little sister! I've missed you so much. I'm dying to hear all the news, what happened while I was working away. I want to know everything," your sister says, hugging you tightly after setting down her bags.

"I should have come back earlier. You didn't even tell me you were coming. Such an ungrateful sister," you say as you hug your sister.

"My boss allowed me to come home for a few days, but I have to go back soon. There's an investigative story in Bulgaria that they'll need me for. And how's it been staying here without me? Dealing with Winchester up front been keeping you up at night?" She speaks and you widen your eyes in surprise at the question. Maybe she suspects something, but you don't want to give anything away.

"Actually, he's been much calmer. Almost like a changed man. Sam's even visiting him. Maybe later we can all meet up," you say, deflecting the conversation while hinting at Dean possibly changing. However, by pretending he's not in your room and omitting that you're dating, you're starting to feel like Dean's little dirty secret—which might suggest he hasn't changed after all.

"My sweet sister, always believing in the best of people. From my own experience, believe me, he's unlikely to change. Although when he was dating Castiel, it seemed like he had changed. I think maybe Castiel was the love of his life," your sister says, and you feel the weight of her words almost immediately. Firstly, what does she mean by "from my own experience"? And the fact that she thinks Castiel might have been Dean's great love confirms your worst fear—that you might be Dean's second choice because he can no longer have Castiel.

"By 'from my own experience,' do you mean because you've witnessed several of Dean's relationships?" you ask, trying not to show how a wrong answer could make this one of the weirdest mornings of your life.

"I never mentioned it to you? Dean and I had a brief relationship. That's why I always insisted you stay away from him. Actually, it was a bit before you came to live with me and he got involved with Castiel. It was fun, but he would never have taken me seriously. I always thought it made sense that he dumped me because he'd found the love of his life. But maybe it was never meant to be me and him. Or him and Castiel. Who knows, right? So, want to eat out? I'm starving." Your sister says this, and you look at her, almost crying. But you have to pretend you're not feeling anything. How could she never have told you? And him? What kind of messed-up morning is this?

"I'll grab my bag and a coat. Meet you downstairs?" you say, trying to hold back the tears.

"Alright. I'll wait for you downstairs. I'll be the girl almost dying of hunger," your sister says, giving you a kiss on the cheek before leaving.

"You can come out now," you say loudly so Dean can hear. Fortunately, your sister is a good reporter, but when she's hungry, she can't think straight. Otherwise, she would have noticed that my coat and bag are in the living room.

"I can explain," he says, appearing quickly in front of you. Obviously, he had been listening to your conversation.

"Just like you could have explained before I found out from my sister. Is that why you didn't want her to know about us? Because you slept with my sister before meeting the supposed love of your life?" Your voice rises, a mix of anger and sadness. A blend of disillusionment with the feeling that you shouldn't be reacting this way.

"It's not fair for you to be mad about the comment on Castiel being the love of my life. I didn't make it. But I understand it's fair for you to be angry that I didn't tell you. At first, I thought it was irrelevant, and then we were already into each other; how could I tell you that I'd been with your sister?" Dean says, and you have no reaction. It's like you can't process what he's saying.

"Don't worry, Dean. I don't blame you for any of this. The fault is mine, the illusion is mine. Now, please go." You speak in a low voice. Dean seems to understand that you really don't want to discuss this now.

"Are you breaking up with me?" Dean asks, approaching you. Looking at him seems to make you even sadder.

"I'm asking for some time; please respect that if you can. If not, you can consider it a breakup. Whatever makes you feel better," you say, looking at him with teary eyes. Dean looks sad, maybe even disappointed.

"I may be an idiot, but I'm not giving up on you," he says, looking into your eyes. Then he leaves, leaving a kind of emptiness in you. But now isn't the time to dwell on it, as your sister will soon become suspicious. You compose yourself, grab your bag and coat, and leave.

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vcstasy · 9 days ago

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⠀maybe it’s been a long time coming.

INCLUDING◞⠀kil jiyeol. (&) duan jalen, mae ilwoo, na yeseul, qiao yijun, JG staff. TIMESTAMP◞⠀OCTOBER 2016—JANUARY 2024. WARNINGS◞⠀non-chronological, implied sex, mentioned smoking. WORD COUNT◞⠀5.3K NOTE◞⠀this is important to ME! and maybe me only. oh well

scribbled on a calendar in bright pink biro that wasn’t his own, under JUNE 27, 2023: LUNCH WITH JALEN

“I want to leave.”

Jalen looked at him from over the top of his menu, slowly setting it down onto the tabletop. Idle conversation from the tables around them filtered into one ear and out of the other while the singer stared at him.

“Here? We just sat down.”

Jiyeol rolled his eyes. Jalen was difficult on the best of days.

“No, idiot. We waited half an hour for this table, I’m not wasting time finding somewhere else to eat. I.. I want to leave the company.”

He sat back in his chair after he’d explained himself, expecting a reaction out of the younger man. A gasp, maybe. A look of shock. Anything at all, really.

What he got instead was a bored shrug. Jalen picked the menu back up and returned to his thorough exploration of the starter options. “Do it, then.”

Jiyeol leaned back over the table to rip the menu from Jalen’s hands, ignoring the irritated noise in response. “That’s it? What the fuck! At least pretend to be surprised.”

The singer snatched the laminated piece of paper back out of the older rapper’s grip and pulled a face, holding it out of reach when he tried to make a grab for it again. “Why should I? It’s all you’ve been complaining about for months, hyung. I’d be more surprised if you stayed.”

“Everyone complains about their company. You do it, too. Are you leaving with me?”

Jalen’s eyes strayed downwards, back to the list of meals sat before him. His shoulders seemed to draw in on themselves, as if he was trying to make himself smaller, arms tucked into his sides. “No. There’s—you know. The group.”

Jiyeol’s nose wrinkled, eyeing up his dongsaeng for a moment while he pretended to ponder over what he wanted to eat. The mysterious act couldn’t have been a more obviously fake persona, because Jalen was easier to read than any book he could’ve picked up off of the shelves. It surprised him that more people hadn’t come to notice. Maybe it was just Jiyeol who was of that opinion. Maybe it was just how they worked.

“The group. Right.” He was more certain it was mostly one person in particular, but he’d overlook it for now. Excuse the lie. His lock screen was a picture of the seven of them, after all, so it might’ve contained one lick of truth. “How’s Yijun?”

Jalen’s head raised to give Jiyeol a look of contempt, followed by a short eye roll. “Yijun is Yijun. I have no idea how he is. It fluctuates.”

The rapper held a hand up in a mock surrender, sitting back in his seat once more. “Alright, I was only asking. And hand that menu over, you’ve hogged it long enough.”

Jalen played at shielding it from him, throwing an arm over the top and lowering his head so far his nose almost touched the smooth surface of the table. “I’m not done.”

Difficult.

Jiyeol sighed and acquiesced, attempting to bite back the small smile that rose to his face when the menu was quietly slid over to him a few moments later.

For a place they’d waited that long to get into, the options that were to his taste were few and far between. He supposed it was his own fault for not looking online before he let Jalen book a spot. Silence fell between them for a while, Jiyeol making faces down at all the food listed and Jalen drumming his fingers on the tabletop in a random rhythm, feet following the same beat. He could tell something was coming, and so looked up just in time for a question to be sprung at him.

“What are you gonna do afterwards?”

Jiyeol’s mouth opened, but the words didn’t come. He was expecting the question, of course, but not this soon. Had thought Jalen would wait until they’d eaten, at least. His hand went from running through his hair, to tugging at one of his earrings, to finally joining the other folded in his lap, as an answer finally came to him. The one he’d been juggling around in his head for a long time, the one he’d been up late researching and looking into more and more over the months that had passed. The one he decided he was finally ready to say out loud, instead of dismissing it as a pipe dream.

“I want to start my own label. Or—try to, at least. I don’t know if it’ll work out.”

As far as he knew, it would take a lot of paperwork. Enthusiasm, the drive to actually make it work. Critical thinking, planning, an inside-and-out understanding of the industry and what made it tick. And an ego, of course, but Jiyeol was sure he had that down already. He felt a little.. Nervous, of all things, as he faced Jalen after his declaration, unsure of how his dongsaeng would react.

The man in question was wide-eyed, not quite dramatic enough in character to be open-mouthed, but still visibly surprised. They stared at one another for a few moments, neither saying a word. A waitress approached their table, pad in hand and biro tucked into the pocket of her apron, which she retrieved as she came to a stop before the pair of them.

“Hi! Can I get you anything, or do you need a little more time?”

She sounded like she was smiling, but Jiyeol didn’t really know. He was still looking at Jalen, who was looking straight back at him. Silence fell over their table, idle chatter from others sounding that much louder in comparison to how quiet it was. Shoes shifted uneasily from where the woman was standing, the nib of her pen retreating in and then being pushed out again with a click. He probably should’ve said something, but he didn’t. Just.. Kept on staring. Click. There was a question in Jalen’s eyes that he wouldn’t know how to answer if they both just stayed silent—which was looking like the likely scenario. Click. Jiyeol’s eyes were starting to water from the impromptu staring competition they’d entered, and the waitress coughed uncomfortably, turning to leave again.

“I’ll just, uh, come back in a sec.”

She retreated, and yet they still stayed silent. He was starting to regret saying anything at all. He was about to make an attempt to change the subject, or maybe to escape to the bathroom to douse himself in cold tap water and clear his head, or maybe outside for a smoke break to take the edge off, or maybe outside to catch a cab away from here and away from Jalen’s prying eyes—until everything came rushing out of the younger’s mouth like the floodgates had burst.

“Your—your own label. For real? With who? A label, hyung? Like.. Like Jaguar? Is it even for music? Are you going into clothes? Are you sure?”

He looked frantic—nothing like the calm, composed Jalen he was known as to everyone else, known as even to him until two minutes ago—and more than a little out of breath by the end of it. Jiyeol wished the waitress had stayed, because Jalen could’ve probably used some water after that performance. He stopped himself from staring into his desperate, searching gaze for just a few seconds by breaking away and looking over the rest of the tables inside the restaurant instead. A few eyes met his, likely alerted by the outburst that Jalen hadn’t bothered to try and lower the volume of, but they turned their heads as soon as it happened. Once the silence had stretched on for a minute or two again, Jiyeol turned back to the man on the other side of the table.

“Jae.”

He cringed at his own choice of words, of nickname, and decided to start again, sitting up more in his chair and meeting Jalen’s still-wide, endless eyes head on.

“Jieyang.”

The use of his birth name only made him look more nervous, if anything, shoulders drawing in on themselves as they had earlier. Dyed hair fell into his face, and a hand reached up to push it back out of his eyes. Jiyeol carried on, contemplating his words as he went along—trying to find the best way to explain something he himself hadn’t fully thought out yet.

“Yes, my own label—and yes, for music. Why would I want to start making clothes, what the fuck? I.. I don’t really know who with, yet. Or where. Or.. How, I guess. Well, I do know how, I’ve been researching. But I know it’ll take a while. I want to do it anyway.”

He ended with a smile. He hoped it looked like a smile, at least. Comfort in any shape or form had never been his strong suit, and would likely continue to not be in the future. They were back to staring at one another, not a word said. The itching feeling of wanting to make a break for it returned, left him shifting uncomfortably in his chair, but he resisted the feeling. It could wait until after Jalen had responded.

The frantic look in his eyes had calmed, leaving behind the sea of dark brown they usually were. His hands fidgeted from where they were tangled together on the tabletop between them, separating so he could pull at the corner of the long-forgotten menu. Jiyeol almost wanted to kick him under the table, to provoke him into saying something so they could brush past his own wants and desires as if he’d never shared them at all. But before his foot could move, Jalen finally spoke up.

“Okay. Okay. That’s.. That’s really cool. I think you can pull it off, hyung. I’m—I’ll always be here if you need me. You know. Just in case.”

Despite himself, a smile broke across his face, and he feigned looking at something over his shoulder to smother it. His chest felt a little warmer, a feeling somewhat like comfort settling where humiliation had been beginning to fester. His ankles hooked around the legs of his chair, and he pulled himself closer, looking back to meet Jalen’s eyes and watching as his grin widened when their gazes met. Unabashed support was all he could see in the pools of brown, and he coughed and broke eye contact once more, pretending he couldn’t feel heat prickling at the nape of his neck.

“Well. Thanks. Stop looking at me like that, though, creep. Let’s just order. You’re paying, Yang-ah.”

Jiyeol ignored Jalen’s indignant protests with a smirk and turned to catch the eye of the waitress, waving her over. If he felt a little lighter, a little freer, a little happier after the reassurance, even as he asked for a plate of something that didn’t even sound all that nice, he kept it to himself. Jalen didn’t need any bigger of a head.

calendar dates had never been a thing with them. following texts sent on APRIL 21, 2023:

Ilwoo had known first. Because of course he had. Jiyeol had sent him a text, exactly the same thing he’d told Jalen—I want to leave. Then, before the first could even be read, I want to start over.

He’d only sent back one word in reply. Alright. They both knew there was more to say, but Jiyeol had always hated doing it over the phone. Ilwoo was easier to read when he was right in front of him.

And even easier like this. Even if all the lights in Ilwoo’s apartment were off, only the cityscape to illuminate them through his too-wide bedroom window, and only his old R&B playlist to just barely cover the sounds of their laboured breathing. He knew every stretch of skin like the back of his hand, could map out every vein and find every mole with his eyes closed. He preferred them open, though, so he could lock eyes with the man above him through the dark and reach up to take his face into his palms, smoothing a thumb over the line of his cheekbone with one hand and pushing back sweat-laden strands of hair out of his view with the other.

“Come on, out with it.”

Ilwoo came to a halt for a moment, a bemused smile flitting at his lips when Jiyeol shifted his hips in an attempt to spur him on again. “Now? Really?”

He wasn’t finding it nearly as funny as the younger man was seeming to, wanting to squirm under the amused attention but holding firm to continue on.

“Yes, really, spill it. Better to be vulnerable all at once. Or something. I don’t know if that’s a quote.”

When Ilwoo’s shoulders started to shake with laughter, Jiyeol let go of his face to pinch the bare skin in retaliation, smirking to himself at the yelp of pain it evoked. They traded insults and pokes and play-punches until the younger jolted and in response Jiyeol did too, brought back to what they were doing all too suddenly.

“Shit. Just—tell me. I’m not going to beg.”

The pout that pulled at Ilwoo’s lips was predictable, familiar. Sleaze was creeping into the edges of the words he leaned closer to whinge into his ear. “Not even a little?”

Normally he’d fake-gag, push the joke a little further, indulge him a little more. But tonight Jiyeol was toeing the line of irritation, and so a blank look was all he gave him, mouth set in a flat line. Ilwoo crumbled not long afterwards, hanging his head.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s just.. You’re definitely doing this for yourself, right?”

Silence. His face contorted, brow furrowing. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Ilwoo faltered again, for a moment, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth, faint reflections of outside billboards and street lights and neon projecting signs lighting up his eyes when he raised his head to meet Jiyeol’s.

“Alright. Okay. I was just—asking. Wanted to check you weren’t still hung up on.. I don’t know. A few years back.”

His palms curled into fists where they were still resting on the younger man’s back, before he forced them to relax, and—he almost wanted to laugh, a little bit. Hung up? He’d felt like the rug had been yanked from underneath his feet, left stranded in a place he hated yet was scared to leave, scared to fade into another face in the crowd if he’d turned his back on it. But that was then. That was coming up on four years ago. He’d grown up. He’d gotten over it. Jiyeol could never hold a grudge—he was doing too much at any one moment for things like that to linger, and he said as much; brow still raised, eyes still blank.

The laugh he got in response sounded emptier than earlier, far from amusement. Still, Ilwoo leaned in ever closer, soft puffs of air ghosting over his cheeks as they stared at one another again. A grin even tugged at his lips, just as it had before. The tense air between them had dissipated as if it were never there in the first place.

“Well, like I said, I was only checking. Maybe that’s on me, though. Who am I to judge you, hyung, hm?”

Jiyeol had always been told he had an ugly laugh, face too scrunched up and odd little hiccups springing forth every once in a while, but for once he couldn’t stop it from bursting out of his chest from the tease, granting Ilwoo’s bare skin another lighthearted slap and then pulling him closer with a scoff they both knew he didn’t mean when the younger man whined for him to soothe the pain.

“Just shut up and get back to it.”

His smile stretched wider. Gleaming eyes in the half-dark, white teeth on display, one hand verging on too warm from where it rested heavy on his hip. Ilwoo did as told.

nothing but a memory of OCTOBER 14, 2016.

Before anything else, he’d been the first in the know. Before he’d ever step foot on a stage, before he’d ever held a microphone in his hands. Before they’d been put together and then tossed aside again, on the way to being fully forgotten.

He couldn’t quite remember how he’d ended up on one of the balconies, standing next to Na Yeseul while she touched up her makeup. Maybe he was looking for Hyeonmin. He’d been holing himself up in practice rooms and redoing the same mindless routines until his legs were shaking and his chest was heaving, too tired to explain himself when he was found. Jiyeol was trying to stop it before it became a habit, before it became something that hurt more to stop than it did to carry on. He’d cared more, back then. But that was exactly when it was—then.

So he’d gone looking for one and found another, led astray by a vague comment saying they thought they’d seen Hyeonmin head outside. He wasn’t even sure Yeseul had noticed him at first, was tempted to turn on his heel and leave her to it, but maybe she’d caught his figure in the reflection of her mirror compact, her voice ringing out through the silence.

“Jiyeol.”

He tipped his head to her out of obligation, hands fidgeting in his pockets. “Sunbae.”

She scoffed, the sound abrasive, and gestured to the empty space next to her. “Since when have you called me that? Come here, keep me company.”

Jiyeol did what was ordered of him, forearms bracing themselves against the railing that lined the ledge overlooking the streets of central Gangnam. He could hazard a guess as to why she was here already, without even having to ask. He asked anyway.

“Are you and hyung in a fight again?”

His gaze drifted sideways, and he watched as she answered him without ever saying a word. Watched as her eyes rolled and she fished around in her tiny clutch purse for a tube of lipstick, the cap of which was tugged off far too forcefully.

They said nothing for a while, as Yeseul reapplied the deep nectarine shade she’d grown to favour on her lips and Jiyeol followed the motion, wondering how bad it’d been this time.

“I’m thinking of leaving.”

Really bad, then. Awful. Irreparable. Wait, what?

“Leaving?” His voice sounded airy. Panicked. Yeseul shrugged, sending dark waves tumbling off of her shoulders as she did so. It was only when she shifted in his direction and saw the look on his face that she decided to explain herself.

“I really can’t.. I don’t know. I’m just done, simple as that. Insu is too.” A humourless laugh left her purple-stained lips, eyes not quite meeting Jiyeol’s. “And besides, it’s not like we’d be lasting too much longer anyway. I’m nearly thirty, you know. People don’t stick around to watch.. That.”

He wanted to lean over the edge of the balcony and throw up, dry heave until his eyes stung. He wanted to pry, and pry, and shove his way in for more details. He wanted to protest. He wanted to stop them.

Instead, Jiyeol just nodded. Attempted to accept it. He turned his eyes back to the city, and tried to imagine Na Yeseul and Choi Insu living lives of retired stardom within it. The thought almost made him laugh.

“When are you..”

She didn’t let him finish his sentence. Maybe saying it out loud would make her reconsider, make her change her mind. Make it feel more real. Too real.

“Tomorrow.”

Another laugh rang out too loud, bouncing off of the walls that closed in on either side of them and hurting Jiyeol’s ears. Yeseul was snapping her mirror closed and prying it open again, lipstick discarded back into the clutch. “That’s what I’m going to say when I get in there. ‘I’m thinking of leaving.’ With no hello or anything else.”

Despite himself, Jiyeol smiled at the idea. The panic was still there, but so was Yeseul. He could put it off for now. “Youngshik-hyung’s gonna cry. Like a baby. And Yoonhae-hyung is gonna throw something at you.”

A hand reached over to shove at his shoulder lightly, and he let himself topple forward enough to rest his chin in his palms.

“I’m leaving, not dying. I’ll call them. Maybe I’ll even let them take me to dinner every once in a while, too.”

He nodded in understanding. They fell quiet again. The sudden feeling of a warm palm landing on the top of his head made him start, hand flying to his chest as Yeseul messed up his (admittedly already a little wild) hair.

“Should I call you too? What kind of noona would I be if I didn’t take my favourite dongsaeng out for a drink, hm?”

With all the wicked mirth in her voice, and teasing smirk on purple-lined lips, she reminded Jiyeol of Ilwoo. Or he supposed it was the other way around. He leaned over and nudged her with his shoulder in return, the comforting weight of her arm draping over the both of them coming not long after. The way he was leaning into her was awkward, tilting to match her height, but he could withstand the discomfort. They watched cars race by and people flit in and out of restaurants, bars, noraebangs; in their twos or threes or more, and on occasion less, without another word shared between them. Nothing more needed to be said.

The moment wouldn’t last forever, and there wouldn’t be another one like it. Jiyeol found he didn’t quite mind as much as he first thought he would. He just—took it all in now. Made the most of the silence and the warmth and the memory of lipstick the colour of ripe nectarines.

it’s far past midnight, and the date on his phone while he dials a number he hasn’t touched in years reads DECEMBER 19, 2023.

His phone screen had a large crack running straight down the centre, and Jiyeol ran an idle fingertip down the line as it rang. The number displayed on the screen: Yijun’s.

He wasn’t expecting him to answer. Jiyeol wasn’t stupid, he’d spent most of his teen and younger adult life with the boy, practically knew him inside and out.

Well. Perhaps not anymore—perhaps not in a while, even, not since that early December evening.

“Are you gonna let them do that? Shove some.. Some rookie actor kid in with us? After how long we’ve all trained?”

No, he wanted to say, to the sudden apparition of seventeen-year-old-Yijun standing before him, eyes bloodshot, hair a mess, words of the past echoing in his ears. He wished he could go back and tell him honestly; now that they were how they were, now that his hindsight was crystal clear. No, I’m not. I’ll fight for this. I’ll speak up.

But he couldn’t, obviously. So he was here, instead. Sat on a lone bench by the river, as the hour crept later and later, watching his phone ring and half-wishing he hadn’t dialled at all.

Jiyeol wished he had a cigarette. He wished he’d brought a jacket, he wished he was at Ilwoo’s apartment, he wished Yijun would pick up. He wished he didn’t. He didn’t really know, anymore.

Just as he was anticipating, the phone rang to voicemail. He hung up before the automated voice waiting for him on the other end could drone out its usual message, and stared at the screen afterwards. Stared at his own face looking back up at him. Ran a finger down the crack once more, felt the serrated glass edge against his skin. Then, after another moment, he picked it back up, and called Yijun’s number again.

Why? It was a question he didn’t know how to answer. Jiyeol was never usually one to pester—once he had the answer he wanted, or lack of one, even, he just backed off. Picking fights wasn’t something he enjoyed, much unlike the person he was currently trying to reach, who seemed like it was all he knew how to do. But he’d gone and called him again anyway, maybe just to really hammer home the realisation that they were practically strangers, now.

Jiyeol almost hung up before the voicemail tone would get the chance to signal the end for him, and then his eyes blew wide after his next glance at the screen.

The call—connected. He checked the contact name again. 宜君. Exactly the same as the day he’d entered it into his phone for the first time. Seconds ticked by, silence from them both, before he snapped back into himself and pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yijun. You—you answered.” It sounded desperate, sounded pathetic, but he let it slide. It was the shock, he told himself.

A noncommittal hum from the other end. “I guess. What do you want?”

There was no point dragging it out. He wasn’t one for wasting time, after all.

“I need to tell you something.”

More silence. Yijun scoffed as if the next steps were obvious, as if their usual rhythm hadn’t been unused and nonexistent for years now, broken with a crack clean down the centre. “Tell me, then. And hurry up, I’m meant to be.. Ah, whatever, it doesn’t matter. Speak, hyung.”

His mind stuck on one part of the sentence. ‘I’m meant to be.. Ah, whatever.’ Jiyeol knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew he shouldn’t bring it back up. He did, anyway.

“Are you going out with Hyeonminnie? Is that it?”

A switch flicked, the edge sharpened. Yijun’s voice was ice when he next replied.

“Don’t call him that. It’s none of your business, anyway. Just tell me already, or I’m really gonna hang up.”

A pause. As if to make it seem he was saying it of his volition, and not because he was practically ordered to. The words then fell from his lips in a rush, almost unintelligible.

“I’m—I’m leaving. The company. Jaguar. All of it.”

Absolute quiet between them. Jiyeol couldn’t even hear Yijun breathing. He felt a sudden flash of déjà vu—to months before, the day he’d sat before Jalen at the restaurant that neither of them had ended up liking and told him the exact thing he was relaying now, over the phone.

“Finally.”

In hindsight, he should’ve really been expecting something of that nature. They weren’t friends, hadn’t been for years. Not a civil word had been exchanged between them since before the start of the end. But it still shook a bitter scoff out of him, eyes regarding his phone screen with disgust.

“As charming as ever, Yijun-ah.”

The remark was met quickly, coldly. “I don’t know what else you were expecting from me, hyung.” And—Yijun had only said what Jiyeol himself was thinking, but it still felt like a hit.

“Well.” He stood from the bench, wishing he hadn’t left his pack at Ilwoo’s, wishing he hadn’t called Yijun against his better judgement. “You got me there, I guess that one’s on me. It won’t happen again, though. Say hi to Hyeonmin-ah for me, will you?”

The only response he was given was the disconnect tone.

i guess it’s happening. the early morning of JANUARY 6, 2024:

In his dress shirt, smart slacks, and carefully pressed hair, Jiyeol sort of felt like Jaehee—on the day when he was first introduced to their once-four in particular, looking as if he was split between wanting to bolt and throwing up all over his dress shoes. The passing thought made him want to throw up also, and so he banished it from his mind as quickly as he could, flitting from topic to topic in an attempt to distract himself from it.

He’d almost forgotten the view from the uppermost floor, having not seen it for a good few months now—it was where most of the more central members to the company resided, after all, as well as where meetings were held. Like the meeting he himself had called, and would be walking into.. Soon. They hadn’t given him a time, but on the other hand they hadn’t said he could waltz in and say whatever it was he wanted to say whenever he pleased, either. Seungdae had just assured him with oblivious cheer that Hyojoo would just ‘pop her head out and wave her arms akimbo’ until he got the message and followed her in. So in the meantime Jiyeol was staring rather listlessly out of the window, half focusing on the view and half running back over what he planned to say when he was inside, again and again and again.

He hadn’t written anything down. Nor prepared a speech, of any kind. Jiyeol was planning to enter with grace, maintain his composure, say his piece in a way that hopefully didn’t sound like he’d been rehearsing it for weeks, and walk back out again. Or maybe he’d allow a couple minutes or so for the questions the table sitting before him would surely have. Hyojoo, the most. Jitae close behind. Seungdae—Jiyeol hadn’t a clue in the world. And that was what annoyed him most about it all.

He knew most CEO’s, most people at the top lording over their subjects below, strived to keep an air of mystery about them—to construct yet another barrier between them and those beneath them, to keep them firmly in their places at the bottom, knowing they’d never be able to surpass someone they didn’t even fully know—but Ae Seungdae was something of a special case. It was less mystery, and more unpredictability; and the most irritating kind, at that. He crawled inside the mind and stayed there, a parasite lying in wait to find whatever was being most rooted for when someone came before him, and then took the wheel to drive them in the complete opposite direction; so quickly that one might think it was out of spite. But no. It was pure, unadulterated (although sickening) luck. He got it right every time, knew exactly how to pull strings in a way that would push buttons, raise tensions, start a fight.

You would think any good CEO would strive to move in the opposite direction, seeing as that seemed like the surefire way to fail. But it was as if Seungdae enjoyed his own misfortune. He was writing his own tragedy, giving himself all the flaws in the book, and stringing the rest along as the background characters in a play that, if it ever came to light—in another universe, a different timeline—probably no one would show up to.

Before he could continue to entertain himself with imaginings of Ae Seungdae’s failed career as a playwright, movement came from down the corridor. A manicured hand around the door frame, teal-painted nails as always, and brunette hair falling around her shoulders—shorter than he last remembered seeing it. Sim Hyojoo gave him her customary thin smile, and the hand raised as if to wave before it morphed into a quick, aborted motion; a beckoning gesture. Leading him to his death. Or maybe not. She didn’t know why he’d called this meeting, after all. None of them did.

Jiyeol straightened his tie and set off the short distance down the hallway, inclining his head in silent thanks as the door was held open for him but not making any move to sit down once he’d entered and Hyojoo had returned to her seat to the left of Seungdae. Jitae aimed a grin at him, one that he did not return.

“Jiyeol,” he was greeted, Seungdae rising to exchange a handshake. “How’ve you been? I’ve been up all night wondering what it is you’d like to speak to us about.”

“I’ve been well, thank you.” He paused to wait until Seungdae had sat again, and took a final deep breath. Flashes of the past few months raced behind his eyelids as he stole one more moment of silence. The raw earnestness in Jalen’s eyes. I’m always here if you need me. Ilwoo’s bedroom, shrouded in darkness and the sounds of their mingled breath. Who am I to judge you? Purple lipstick, a final fight. I’m nearly thirty, you know. Yijun’s bored voice, new salt on old wounds. Finally.

Jiyeol opened his eyes. His hands were steady by his sides, shirt pressed, hair styled. He was fighting a smile away from his lips as he opened his mouth to begin his proposal. He hoped his words gave them déjá vu.

“I’m thinking of leaving.”

#⠀⊹%˚⠀⠀KiSSALUDE⠀⠀⸻⠀⠀writing.⠀#kpop oc #fictional kpop group #fictional idol community #idol oc #fictional idol group

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