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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

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Breakable Heaven (pt. III) - p.l. dubois

Part I II

Here’s part III! One more part after this, then we’re going to be finishing up our time with Laurel and Pierre-Luc. It’s seriously been so so much fun writing this over the past few weeks, and I’m excited to get to keep the story going. Many many thanks to @hockeyboysiguess for being a great sounding board for Breakable Heaven so far, my favorite response of hers to anything I’ve sent has got to be “that’s rude.” So, enjoy! Reblog if you enjoy it, come scream into my inbox, and I still read every tag!

Part III

July 10 (sat)

Laurel was exhausted. Two hours after the wedding, her and her meager bridal party had shown up to her house, piling everything she hadn’t yet brought over to Pierre’s apartment into her SUV and Madeline’s white sedan. She left her old apartment with the keys at the front office and one last wistful look into the place that had once been her own. She’d miss it, she thought, as she and Pierre drove down the Ville-Marie Expressway towards his apartment, her fingers still trying to get used to the feeling of having rings on it. She’d only lived in the space for a year, but it was in that building that she started her dream job, that space that she adopted her dog, that apartment where she met one of her best friends and that place where she got married.

They had spent a few hours half-heartedly unpacking her boxes; Laurel was excited to get settled in, but she was also the world’s worst procrastinator and even at 6 PM, all that she had managed to get done was folding some clothes and adding her book collection to the shelves in the living room. Pierre poked his head into the spare room — her room? — rolling his eyes when he saw her “progress.” “I was going to order in, what do you feel like?”

Laurel hung up a blazer in the closet. “Pizza?” she asked hopefully. “Though I’m really going to have to teach you to cook one of these days. We can’t survive off of take-out and pasta alone.”

“If that’s how you want to be,” he responded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that I can cook more than pasta, though.”

“Really?” Laurel asked, raising her eyebrows. “What’s the Chef Dubois specialty?”

“I make a mean salmon,” he replied, before returning to the living room. That was another thing she had to get used to quickly as soon as they started going through the marriage process: Québec didn’t allow for women to take their husbands’ names at marriage. It wasn’t something she’d ever thought too deeply about, but Laurel supposed she’d always assumed that she’d take her husband’s name when she got married. But then again, she always assumed she’d get married under normal circumstances. Her parents aside, Cloquet wasn’t an absurdly conservative town, but it was still certainly something of an anomaly for a married woman to still have her maiden name. Which is what she was now. A married woman. Oh God.

Pizza with white wine may not have been the most conventional choice, but it got the job done, Laurel thought as she lay in bed at half past midnight, the birds outside her door insisting on making her efforts to fall asleep as futile as her efforts to ignore them. She’d already been in bed for an hour; after dinner, her and Pierre watched a few episodes of Black Mirror — also probably not the best choice to do before bed, but oh well — before he wished her a good night’s sleep. She had taken a melatonin and drank a cup of tea before bed, put on a playlist full of rain noises, but nothing seemed to be working. Maybe it was because it was the first night in a new place, or the birds outside, or just the craziness and excitement of the day catching up to her.

Laurel felt like a child again as she padded over to Pierre’s room, like she was five and back in Minnesota, crawling into her parents’ bed after hearing a wolf howl somewhere on the property. But really, she didn’t really care what she had to do if it meant she could get a good night’s rest. She knocked lightly on his door, careful not to wake up the dogs, who had long since fallen asleep in a corner of the living room. “Mmm?” he answered. She turned the doorknob. God, I hope I didn’t wake him up. She didn’t, as it would turn out; Pierre was propped up on his headboard, scrolling through his phone as he moved his eyes from his screen to her figure in the doorway. “You good? Everything okay?”

Laurel shrugged, wiggling her hand. “I don’t know what it is, I tried everything but I’m just not able to get to sleep. I’d try and wait it out, but my sleep cycle will be thrown off for a week if I’m not able to get to bed tonight.”

He moved over from the middle, reaching over to the side of his bed and getting another pillow before throwing back the covers and patting the spot next to him. “C’mere.”

“Are you sure?” Laurel said, furrowing her brow, suddenly very aware of the fact that she was wearing an old t-shirt and panties, leaving very little to the imagination.

He nodded, putting his phone down on the nightstand, smiling softly at her. “Of course. What’s mine is yours, eh?” That was all it took for Laurel to climb into the right side, claiming it as her own, and throw the duvet over her body. She fell asleep almost instantly.

---

Laurel woke up to the unmistakable smell of bacon frying and the other side of the bed devoid of Pierre’s sleeping form. She straightened the bed before walking out, where she was greeted by two plates on the breakfast bar, a pot of coffee brewing, and her husband at the stove.

“I thought you said you couldn’t cook?” Laurel teased, leaning up against the granite countertop.

“Good morning to you too.” Pierre shrugged. “I hardly think being able to fry an egg and not burn toast qualifies as cooking, but I’ll take what I can get.”

Laurel stepped further into the kitchen, lightly dragging her fingers over his back in a silent thank you as she opened the cupboard. “Let me get the coffee, at least,” she said, grabbing two mugs off the shelf and the creamer out of the fridge. “How do you take yours?” Laurel asked, glancing at Pierre from the side as he buttered the toast.

“A little bit of cream, more sugar,” he replied, sliding the plates onto the bar as she handed him his mug. “Perfect,” he said, smiling. A few minutes into breakfast, with Laurel just about to crunch into her second piece of toast, he spoke again. “So, I was thinking…”

She nodded. “I should hope so?”

Pierre laughed, ducking his head. “I was going to post something about the wedding today, online and stuff, but wanted to check with you first.” They had spoken about it once or twice before the wedding, both of them knew that it wasn’t practical nor honest to think that they’d be able to keep the news from everyone over the entire duration of their temporary marriage. And part of the “sell,” part of what she needed to prove, was that their relationship was real. And real would mean posting about each other online, real would mean flying down a few times a month — thank God her schedule gave her a long weekend, and thank God the flight wasn’t too long — for games and galas and real would mean meeting his friends and him meeting her family and Laurel had to stop thinking about it all before her head exploded.

“Go for it,” she said. “I don’t like having to hide from it any more than you do, so it’ll be a relief to let everyone know, give a heads-up to the four people on my Instagram page who actually care about my life.

Pierre poked her arm. “Five, now.” He opened his phone, scrolling through the pictures Madeline had sent from yesterday. She had run a small side business doing photography in university, and insisted on taking their photos as a wedding present. “You deserve something beautiful to look back on,” she had said. The final book wouldn’t be done for a few weeks, but she had sent over the raw shots the night before. “What about this one?” He leaned over to show her. Their foreheads were touching, his arms wrapped around her waist as they stood in the middle of one of Vieux Port’s cobblestone side streets. Laurel’s fingers brushed the back of his neck, her other hand loosely holding her bouquet. If you didn’t know, they looked like a real couple. They looked like they were in love.

“It’s gorgeous,” Laurel murmured softly. “I knew Madeline was talented, but wow. She outdid herself.”

Pierre nodded in agreement. “She did. I know I already told you, but you really did look incredible.” Laurel’s cheeks burned; she raised her mug to her lips, hopeful the oversized ceramic would cover enough of her face that he couldn’t see the effect his words had had on her. Laurel opened her own phone, scrolling through to find the matching photo. A few minutes later, he handed her his phone and she passed hers, giving their captions one last once-over before giving up their secret. Her eyes flitted across the screen.

Yesterday, I had the incredible fortune of marrying @laurel.klerken, the best person I’ve ever had the fortune of loving. I know it might come as a shock, and that we’ve kept our relationship under wraps since realizing after years of being friends that friendship just wasn’t enough any more, but this wasn’t a decision that either of us made lightly. Laurel, you’re an amazing woman, and even though it’s only been a day, an amazing wife. Whether it’s for your patients, your friends, or me, you make everyone around you feel warm, safe, and cared for beyond measure. You have a sharp wit and an even sharper mind, and I have endless admiration for how committed you are for standing up for what’s right, even when it’s not popular and even if it’s gotten you in trouble once or twice. Marriage is a partnership and a journey, and I’ve never been so excited to start a new adventure.

Laurel sniffed, not even noticing the tears pricking her eyes until Pierre handed her a tissue. “Thanks,” she murmured. “You don’t think you’re laying it on a little thick, though?”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Not at all.” One tap later, and it was posted. Three minutes later, his phone rang as they were doing the breakfast dishes. Cap ❤️ flashed across the screen. Pierre grimaced. “It’s the captain. I should probably answer this one,” he said, pressing the speaker button as he dried his hands on a spare towel.

“You’re married,” Nick Foligno said, wasting no time. “Is this a fucking joke?” Laurel more than understood his apprehension, but the words still stung.

“Yes I am,” Pierre said slowly, “and no, it’s not a joke. Laurel and I are legally married in the province of Québec.”

She could hear a labored breath from the other line, followed by an airy laugh. “What the hell, man?”

Nick was ultimately happy for them, and after being introduced to Laurel after they switched the call over to FaceTime he apologized for his reaction, but Laurel waved him off. “You’re just looking out for your boy is all. I’d do the same.”

Nick nodded. “Take care of him for us, Laurel. Your address still the same?” He looked over towards Pierre, who hummed his assent. “Janelle and I will send you something. Something useful.”

---

July 28 (wed)

“Something useful” turned out to be a gorgeous set of Wüsthof knives and a stand mixer, the latter of which Laurel was nearly jumping out of her socks with excitement to try. Baking had long since been one of her favorite hobbies and her go-to method of stress relief; while she was grateful for the arm muscles her years of having to hand mix everything had given her, she wasn’t going to miss the extra effort. So Laurel Klerken was taking full advantage of her new toy. She had gone down to the Jean-Talon market in the morning, which was quickly becoming one of her favorite weekly activities. Especially with Pierre around to help her, she was learning to shift her speaking into the Québecois dialect, and her French was good enough to order from the vendors in their language and be understood. In her book, that was a win. The peak of summer meant it was berry season in Montréal, which meant it was time for Laurel to break out her nana’s blueberry oatmeal muffin recipe. And chocolate chip walnut cookies. And a French apple tart. Okay, so maybe she went a little bit overboard, but they had their desserts for the week and it made the kitchen smell so good.

Pierre opened the door just as Laurel was pulling out the last pan of cookies, walking around the corner into the kitchen and raising his eyebrows at the view. She looked over at him. “You going to complain about your wife’s baking when you’re the primary beneficiary?” she asked, challenging him with a playful smile on his face.

Pierre held his hands up in surrender, holding the mail between two fingers. “No.” He picked one of the cookies off of the cooling rack, taking a bite. “Definitely not.”

Laurel nodded towards the mail, walking over to the sink to wash her hands. “What came in the mail?”

“Nothing much,” he said, shrugging. “Just a little letter from IRCC.”

Her eyes lit up. “Immigration finally got back? Did they send my card?”

Pierre nodded, handing her the envelope. It barely took five seconds for her to rip it open. “You, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, are now officially a permanent resident of Canada. Congrats, babe.”

Laurel squeaked in excitement, dancing around in the kitchen , the holographic detailing on the card catching the glow of the late-afternoon light. She threw her arms around Pierre, giving him a kiss on the cheek that was just barely off to the side of his lips. “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t mention it.”

She pulled back, still smiling. “No, ‘don’t mention it’ is for when you bring home dinner without being asked, or take a drunk friend home from the bar. Not for things like this,” she said, wiggling her card. “This is everything to me, P. I get to stay in the city that I love, I get to stay at the job that I love. I get to —” She looked down, eyes widening. “I can finally get a health card!”

Pierre let out a laugh. “Out of everything, you’re most excited about that?” Being a dual citizen who lived in the U.S. for the better part of the year, Pierre understood the absolute chasm of accessibility that separated the American and Canadian health insurance systems better than most, but he still looked at his wife’s choice with incredulity.

“Of course it is,” Laurel said, as if it was the most obvious answer in the world. She still had insurance purchased through her work, but the fact that now it was so much easier and official and came out of her taxes instead of having to try and navigate the bureaucratic system of forms and checks and private insurance companies made it so much easier. “It’s just nice to finally be a part of a system that acknowledges healthcare as the human right it is. That’s another thing about how it works in the U.S., it’s tied to employment a lot of the time so it’s not always a guarantee.”

She gave a tense smile, leaning back against the counter. “I might seem a little worked up about it, but that’s because I am. Uh,” she paused, eyes flickering up towards the chrome-plated track lighting, “my dad lost his job when I was a kid. He was a foreman at a construction company, but then the recession hit in ‘08 and he was laid off. We lost our insurance. Maggie and I were able to get on MinnesotaCare, which is the state insurance for low-income families, but our parents didn’t get approved. Not enough money to go around, I guess,” she scoffed. “Unemployment wasn’t paying enough and mom’s job isn’t full-time, so she doesn’t get benefits. Apparently they think healthcare is a benefit.” Laurel took another pause. “And then Dad had a stroke. It wasn’t serious, thank God, but the bills...Maggie was almost graduating high school and headed off to college, and money was tight even before the layoffs. We were able to come up with the money, but only because the community really came together, in a way I had never seen before. I still haven’t seen anything like it since. Bake sales, church fundraisers, garage sales.” The tiniest of smiles played on Laurel’s lips as she looked back up at her husband. “Do you know how much pasta Minnesotans can eat at a spaghetti dinner?”

“A lot?”

“A whole hell of a lot,” Laurel confirmed. “But anyways. That’s when it became personal to me, and I think it’s why healthcare and access to quality care is still something that I’m still so passionate about and invested in. It’s why I became a nurse.”

Pierre walked over to her carefully, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb. “It makes absolute sense, Laurel. I know that probably wasn’t easy for you, so thank you for sharing. It means a lot to me that you’re willing to let me in like that.” Laurel wasn’t a cold person by any means; she was one of the kindest and most giving people Pierre had ever met, even in the few months that they’d known each other. But she was someone that could be guarded at times — for very good reason — and it meant the world to him that she was willing to let him chip away her hardened exterior little by little to see the brilliance that lay within.

She pressed against his side, her head resting on his arm. “You’re my husband. Why wouldn’t I?”

---

Laurel was in the ensuite of her and Pierre’s room, washing her face before going to bed, when she heard her phone vibrate with a text. After that first night, Laurel had made it a habit of sharing a bed; she’d never slept better in her life than the past two and a half weeks, and even though she may have been loath to admit it, waking up to an incredibly attractive man — who was shirtless half of the time — wasn’t something she was about to complain about. “Can you get that for me?” She was expecting a text from her mom, something about confirming her and her dad’s flight times for their visit next week.

“Laurel?” Pierre called cautiously.

She turned towards him, patting her face dry. “What? Did their gate get changed or something?”

He shook his head, walking towards her and holding the phone out like it was a bomb. “It’s Maggie.”

Laurel’s mouth immediately went dry. “M-Maggie?” She took the phone, staring at the screen, open to the text.

“Do you want to talk to her? You don’t have to if you’re not feeling up to it,” Pierre said, searching her face for any semblance of apprehension. As far as he knew, she hadn’t talked to her sister in years, and he didn’t know why that was suddenly about to change.

She shook her head. “No, it’s fine. I just...I have no idea what she wants. Why, after three years, is she finally deciding that she wants to be a part of my life again?” She looked down at her phone.

So, I had to hear it through the Cloquet grapevine that you got married?? What’s that about, L? Maggie wrote. Laurel pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing. The gossip train in her hometown was second to none; to be honest, she was a little bit surprised it even took her older sister this long to hear about it. She was already enough of an anomaly. Less than a quarter of her city had a college degree, even fewer left the state to do it, so her going to Toronto for university was practically unfathomable — even if it was closer than Texas, where her second-choice school was. So, needless to say, she was a frequent headline in the Cloquet rumor mill. She had heard it all. That she had run off to Canada to escape a high school sweetheart turned sour, that she had cut off all ties with her family, that she had shaved half of her head and dyed her eyebrows bright pink. The last one actually had some truth to it, but it was just the eyebrows and she was a drunk 20-year-old, and at least she didn’t get a tattoo of the Maple Leafs logo on her thigh like her friend Ethan.

But this one wasn’t a rumor, and if nothing else, Maggie deserved to know that much. Not much to say. It’s true, if that’s what you were wondering.

Why didn’t you tell me? Why did I have to find out third-hand?

Laurel rolled her eyes, sitting down with a huff on the edge of their bed. Not to be harsh, Maggie, but it’s not like you’ve wanted to be that invested in my life since you left home. How was I supposed to know if this was even your number any more? I don’t even know what country you’re in right now.

Her response was almost immediate. I’m working at a hostel in Tokyo. But seriously? I know we haven’t been super close the past few years, but I’m still your sister, and I would have thought you’d tell me about something like this. Getting married is big. You don’t think you’re still a little young? Have you even finished school yet?

I graduated last year, I’ve been working at a hospital in Montréal for over a year, Maggie. And I know it’s a little early, but Pierre-Luc and I are happy. I love him, and he’s a good man and respects the hell out of me. I don’t really need anything else.

It was a few minutes before her next text came through, this time in all caps. YOU MARRIED A FUCKING NHLER? Laurel grew up knowing hockey, obviously; you couldn’t really live in Minnesota and not, and she wasn’t even a half-bad skater herself, but Maggie had always been the more dedicated of the sisters. She’d been the one who was always begging their dad to make the two-hour drive to St. Paul for a Wild game. Even when money was tight, Doug always found a way to scrape up enough for the tickets as her birthday present in January.

Denise from church didn’t tell you?

All she said was that it was some hot French-Canadian guy, and mom said you moved to Quebec, so I thought it could be any number. Fair enough.

Denise seriously called him hot?

Laurel could imagine her sister rolling her eyes all the way in Japan. Okay, fine, she didn’t say hot. But like...am I wrong?

For the first time in a long time, her sister made her laugh. Yeah, okay. He’s hot. I’m very aware that my husband is a class-A babe.

“You think I’m hot?” Pierre said, peeking over her shoulder and wiggling his eyebrows.

Laurel’s cheeks heated. “Yes, okay. I think you’re very attractive. Happy?”

“Very,” he responded. “I’m glad my wife thinks I’m hot. The feeling’s mutual,” he said before walking into the bathroom to brush his teeth, leaving her even more flustered than before. She turned back to her conversation with Maggie. My shift is about to start, so I’ve got to go. But I’m happy for you, L. I really am. You’ve done exactly what you want with your life, and I couldn’t be more proud.

Laurel’s finger traced the words on the screen, a small smile on her face as Pierre came back into the room, throwing back the sheets. She plugged her phone into its charger, turning it face-down onto the nightstand. Things weren’t perfect between her and Maggie; far from it. One conversation over text wasn’t going to change that. But maybe, just maybe, there was still something there that was worth saving. After flicking off the lights, the last thing she remembered before falling asleep was the feeling of Pierre snaking his arm around her waist, pulling her to rest her back up against his chest. And Laurel let him.

August 17 (tues

It had been one of the worst days of Laurel’s life, and she wasn’t one for dramatics. Certainly the worst shift of her career. She knew when she chose to work in a pediatric intensive care unit, that it wasn’t going to be all sunshine and rainbows. If she wanted sunshine and rainbows, she would have gone with something less taxing. Something like dermatology, or working in a pediatrician’s office, or being a school nurse. God knows she could hand out ice packs and tampons. But no, she had to pick critical care, and critical care with children, one of the most emotionally and mentally taxing areas in the entire healthcare field. She saw the highest highs, the incredible moments when a three-year-old girl with a brain hemorrhage was able to get home, or a twelve-year-old boy finally got a kidney transplant after having been waiting for years. She saw the highest highs, but on days like today, she also saw the lowest lows.

Laurel carried her scrub top in one hand, her backpack slung over one shoulder, and tried desperately to regulate her breathing as she turned her key in the lock, pushing the door open. No matter how many times she had helped her patients breathe, she never seemed to be able to take her own advice.

Pierre stood in the kitchen, making a smoothie, but immediately turned off the blender when he saw her face. “What happened?” he asked, gently taking her bag from her and placing it on the floor.

Laurel collapsed into his arms almost instantly. “T-there was a little girl who c-came in yesterday from a car crash, and it was pretty b-bad, but she made it through the night and everyone thought she’d b-be fine,” she hiccuped, “but then right at the end of m-my shift she started coughing up b-blood and she was crashing, so I tried to do CPR until the t-team got there, but it didn’t work and we…” Laurel trailed off, sobbing, gripping the back of Pierre’s shirt like a lifeline. “We lost her, P. And the doctor on call was tied up with another patient, so I had to notify the family, and God, it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do. She was only seven.” She looked down at her scrub top. “I have to go throw this in the washing machine before the stain sets.”

Pierre pulled back slightly, gently taking the navy shirt from her, giving a kiss on her forehead. “I’ll do it. You need to rest. Take a shower, or a bath, get into some comfortable clothes. I’ll take care of dinner.”

It was almost forty-five minutes later when Laurel finally emerged from the bathroom, clad in high school sweats and a faded Blue Jackets t-shirt. “I hope you didn’t mind that I took this one,” she said, picking at a loose thread on the bottom hem, “I hadn’t gotten to laundry yet this week.”

“It’s fine, Laur,” Pierre said, plating chicken stir-fry and rice. Cooking together had become one of their things; Pierre certainly wasn’t as hopeless as some people she had met, and he was right that he made an excellent salmon. But they couldn’t eat fish every day of the week, so Laurel broke out one of her few cookbooks and they had been making their way through the recipes together. They had finished breakfast and were making their way through poultry. Hence, chicken stir-fry. “You look better in it anyways.”

They ate in silence, her half-heartedly picking up forkfuls of rice only to put them down again. She smiled weakly at Pierre. “The food’s good, I swear. I just don’t have much of an appetite tonight.”

“I get that,” he said. “How about I put this in away in the fridge and you can get a yogurt or something? You don’t have to have a full meal, but you should eat something. We can watch something after, or you can go to bed if you’re not feeling up to it. Your call.”

“TV sounds nice, do you still have the old Parks & Rec recorded?” Laurel needed something she didn’t need to pay attention to, something that could just be background noise as she tried to sift through the emotions of her day and try to make sense of it all.

He nodded. “Wouldn’t get rid of it before asking, I know how much you love it.”

They were curled up on the couch together a few minutes later, a striped blanket thrown over Laurel’s lap despite the weather outside still lingering in the mid 70s. It wasn’t for warmth, not really; it was for comfort. Pierre’s arm was slung over her back, his thumb absentmindedly moving across her upper arm. She leaned into his touch, hardly paying attention to the show. “Do you want to talk about it?” Pierre murmured, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. “You don’t have to, but it might help.” He wasn’t an expert by any means, but Pierre obviously knew that people died in hospitals, in intensive care units even more so. Which meant that there was an almost surefire chance that she had had people die on her watch, die on her shift. Had children die on her watch. And that didn’t mean she was a bad nurse or a bad person, but just that sometimes there were illnesses and injuries so severe that even the best medical care in the province couldn’t save them. So why was this one impacting her so intensely? Had she reacted this way before, with Madeline or her coworkers, and he just hadn’t seen it before? Or was there something different about this case, about that girl that made it hit closer to home for some reason?

Laurel took a shaky breath. “I know you’re right, that it’s not healthy to keep it all bottled up inside. But that’s what I’m used to, you know? I love my job, I do, but you have to compartmentalize sometimes. With this one, it’s just…” She searched for the right words. “It was so immediate, so in front of me, that I didn’t have any time to reach beyond trying to save her life. I didn’t think, I just went based on instinct and training. And she still died.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Laurel,” Pierre said firmly. “You did everything you could, you did everything right.”

“I know that,” she sniffed, “but it’s so hard to believe sometimes. That if I had gotten there a few seconds sooner, or if the crash team had been a little earlier, she might have survived. And I wouldn’t have had to tell a mother and father that their daughter was dead.” Pierre felt terrible, like there was nothing he could do, because there was nothing he could do, not apart from sit and listen. “I think it was different this time because I finally saw myself in their shoes, I obviously don’t have kids, not yet, but I imagined what it was like to have to be on the receiving end of that news, and it tore me apart, P.” Her voice cracked, and his heart broke. “Being the mom to a beautiful child and then all of the sudden having them all of the sudden stripped away? No longer living? I know that life’s not fair, but fuck, I thought I thought it would be a little better than this.”

Her voice went silent, and Pierre took the opportunity to speak. “It’s not fair, and I think part of what makes you so good at what you do is the fact that you recognize that. You’re so dedicated to giving everyone that comes through those doors the best care, because you genuinely believe that they deserve it. And that’s incredible. You don’t get complacent, you’re never satisfied with just doing things adequately and just enough to get by. You give everything 110%, and that’s how I know the kind of incredible person you are.” He paused. “And I think every parent worries about their kid getting sick, or getting hurt. I know mine did, and I’d be willing to bet yours were the same way. Worrying means you care. And you care the most deeply, the most genuinely, out of anyone I’ve ever met. And I know, when the time comes, that you’ll make an amazing mother. Whoever gets to do that with you will be a lucky man.”

“You really think so?”

Pierre slipped his hand into hers. “Positive.”

September 10 (fri)

Laurel’s fingers tapped nervously on the counter as she waited for Pierre to bring the last of his bags from the bedroom. He didn’t usually schlep a ton of things back-and-forth from Montréal to Columbus every time he needed to travel, but his ticket came with two free checked bags and if there was one thing Pierre-Luc Dubois was, it was efficient. It was the middle of September, and that meant training camps. That meant leaving Québec. That meant Ohio. That meant not seeing Pierre for weeks at a time, when the longest they had been apart since July was a two-day trip to Québec City Laurel took with her parents when they visited in August. Over the past two months, they had settled into a routine, and that routine was about to be broken. Grocery shopping, him washing the dishes while she dried, falling asleep together and waking up with legs tangled in the middle of the bed. She knew that he liked his coffee with a little bit of cream and more sugar, that Georgia got fussy if she wasn’t let out in the morning but Paul was more of a night owl, that dessert wasn’t supposed to be on his meal plan every day but that she could always get him to break for a slice of peach pie. He knew that she needed two Advil on the first day of her period because one just wouldn’t cut it, that her favorite Disney princess was Jasmine because of her independence, and that she liked to light lavender candles when she was stressed.

Pierre wheeled a bag out of the doorway. “That the last one?” Laurel asked, passing Phil’s leash to him as she held Georgia’s. He nodded. She spun her keys around on her finger. “Got both of your passports?”

Pierre patted his jacket pocket. “Right here.” It was easier for him; he could skip the wait in both countries. Exit Canada with the Canadian, enter the U.S. with the American.

It was 2 and his flight wasn’t until 4:15, but Laurel didn’t trust the traffic and she didn’t trust the wait times at the airport. “Guess we should get going then.”

“Guess we should.” Laurel grabbed one bag and he got the other, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and wheeling it out the door. It only took twenty minutes to get to the airport. Laurel pulled up next to the curb, double-checking the signs to make sure she wasn’t about to get fined for stopping, and put the car into park. Pierre was the first to open his door, grabbing both the dogs; Laurel followed suit a moment later.

“You’ve got to pop the trunk, babe,” Pierre murmured. He smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Oh, right,” she said, pressing the button on her key. It popped open with a telltale click; Pierre hefted out the black bag, she got the silver one. “Do you know how many people are going to have this exact bag? It’s going to be a nightmare at baggage claim, P” Laurel tried to joke. She always coped with humor.

Pierre laughed, this time a real one. “Fair enough. Guess I’ve got a lot riding on my luggage tags,” he said, flicking one of the offending objects around the handle of the bag, the black one. Laurel handed him the other handle, their fingers brushing as he gripped the metal. He put a finger under her chin, tilting her head to look up at him. He could see the apprehension in her eyes. There were a lot of things that Laurel Klerken did well, really well, but lying was never one of them. She was always an open book. “Hey, don’t look so down, Laur,” he said softly. “I know you’ll be missing your personal space heater and Piper will miss her siblings, but you’re coming to visit in two weeks and it’s going to be amazing. I’ll introduce you to the boys and the other wives, you’ll get to catch one of the preseason games, finally see my place in Columbus. It might be weird being alone for a while, but —” He cut himself off. “Scratch that, it will be weird for a while, for both of us, but we’ll get through it. You’re a great person, and not a terrible wife either. People have done long-distance relationships that were longer distances for more time, and they made it through just fine. You’ll be okay, Laur. We’ll be okay.”

Laurel took an unsteady breath, trying her best to put on a brave face. “Not a terrible wife, huh? Well, you’re not half a bad husband either.” As she spoke, she was thinking over his words. How normal they sounded, but how abnormal that was for them. They weren’t a normal couple, all they really were were friends who got married — right? So why was he saying those things, things that made him seem like a real husband talking to his real wife, things that were making her feel that maybe, just maybe, this marriage wasn’t as much of a hoax as the thought it was? And it was only because of that, only because she was either reading way too much into a situation that wasn’t even there or was the premier of reading people’s body language and being able to parse out their unsaid words, that she did what she did next. She threw her arms around her husband, and she kissed him.

#hockey imagine #hockey writing #pierre-luc dubois #hockey #hockey smut #hockey imagines #nhl imagine #nhl writing #nhl smut #nhl #nhl imagines #pierre luc dubois

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littlespoonevan · 5 years ago

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So like...if you’re feeling it I’d straight up kill for a drabble of your thoughts of what happens after the wedding before the end tag. Them getting to the hotel together? Going to sleep together as a married couple? Honestly peak and also don’t look at me I’m emo.

i got you, anon!!!! listen i still have those sentence prompts in my inbox so i’m sure i’ll probably write plenty more wedding related fics but for now, here’s a couple of hours after the wedding ends :’)))

Ian feels jittery behind the wheel, thankful theroads are quiet since he keeps looking away from the windscreen and grinning atMickey every five seconds.

Holy fuck, they’re married.

They did it. They made it.

And Ian’s never letting Mickey go ever again.

He can feel Mickey’s eyes on him, a mixture of affectionand something else that sets a fire burning in Ian’s stomach. And he wantsnothing more than to drive them straight to the hotel but he has to make a pitstop first.

“Weren’t you supposed to take the last right?” Mickeyasks when Ian keeps driving straight ahead.

Ian casts him a sidelong glance, mouth quirking atthe corners. “Just gotta make one quick stop first.”

Mickey raises an eyebrow but doesn’t question it,just drops his hand to cover Ian’s on the gearstick.

When they reach their destination Ian can’t hold backhis smile anymore, putting the car in park and turning his gaze to Mickey.Mickey’s stare goes from the sign above the door to Ian, a tiny wrinkle ofconfusion between his eyebrows. “The fuck we doing at a tattoo parlour?”

“S’your wedding present,” Ian tells him softly,squeezing Mickey’s hand before climbing out of the car.

“You’re gettin’ me a tattoo for a wedding present?”Mickey asks, quickly hopping out the car and following after him.

“Nope,” Ian says, throwing Mickey a wink over hisshoulder. “I’m getting a tattoo.”

Mickey scoffs. “And how exactly is that a present forme?”

“You’ll see,” Ian replies, grabbing Mickey’s hand anddragging him inside with him. He makes Mickey sit in the waiting area in thecorner while he talks to the girl behind the counter, making his way back overto him as she starts getting the station ready.

“Stay here,” Ian requests. “It’ll take like, fifteenminutes then you can see.”

Mickey shoots him a scrutinizing look like he’strying to figure out what the fuck Ian’s angle is but eventually, he nods. “Fine.But this better be worth it; you’re seriously cutting into our time in thehoneymoon suite.”

Ian ducks his head, biting back a grin. “It will be,”he promises.

True to his word, Ian is back in the waiting area fifteenminutes later, hands behind his back and staring down at Mickey with a mixtureof fear and anticipation.

“Well?” Mickey says, impatience finally getting thebetter of him.

Wordlessly, Ian holds out his left hand, palm sideup. He’s not wearing his rings and Mickey’s about to fucking kill him – again – when he notices the black ink atthe base of Ian’s ring finger. He grabs Ian’s hand and pulls it closer tohimself, touch gentling when he realises what he sees. Ian stares down at himwith wide eyes, watching Mickey’s tiny intake of breath as he turns Ian’s handover.

“I promise I’ll put the rings back on and I don’t planon taking them off again,” Ian tells him, voice only a breath above a whisper. “Butjust in case, I wanted to make sure I still always had it with me.”

Mickey’s eyes linger on the thin band of black ink onIan’s finger, his thumb hovering over the tiny m. m. interwoven in it just above where Ian’s finger meets hispalm, before he drags his eyes up to Ian’s face. Ian gazes back at him, heartin his mouth, as Mickey carefully turns his hand over once more and brushes akiss across Ian’s knuckles.

Ian lets out a trembling breath as soon as Mickey’slips make contact and Mickey’s eyes find his once again. He doesn’t know whichone of them moves first but he’s pulling Mickey up off the chair in the sameinstant that Mickey’s dragging him back out the door.

And if Ian presses a little harder on the acceleratoron the way to the hotel it has nothing to do with the way Mickey’s hand is gluedto his thigh under the steering wheel.

They burst through the door of the honeymoon suite ina rush, Ian stumbling backward as Mickey kisses every inch of his face he canreach. His fingers are clutching at Ian’s hair and Ian’s hands are fisted inhis tuxedo jacket and Mickey is too overwhelmed at the thought of knowing hegets to kiss Ian for the rest of his life to be able to handle any of this.

“’m so fucking in love with you,” Ian mutters againsthis lips, swallowing down Mickey’s groan and shoving at Mickey’s jacket to getit off his shoulders.

“You tryna fucking kill me today, Gallagher?” Mickeyhuffs, letting go of Ian for the least amount of time possible to kick the doorshut and throw his jacket behind him.

“No,” Ian murmurs, rolling his forehead againstMickey’s and smudging a kiss against the corner of Mickey’s mouth.

Mickey stifles a sigh, pushing forward to move Ianback towards the bed and trailing his lips along Ian’s jaw.

Ian falls onto the bed with a bounce, pulling Mickeydown with him and rolling them over. They pause, just for a moment, to catch theirbreath – though looking up at Ian, Mickey doesn’t think he’ll ever get hisbreath back.

They’re pressed together from their chests to theirtoes and there’s still far too many items of clothing between them but thismoment still feels more intense than anything they’ve shared before.

Because it ismore, he realises. They’re married. He’s inked on Ian’s skin and Ian’s inked onhis. This is it. Them. Now. Forever.

Swallowing down the lump of emotion in his throat,Mickey curls his hand around Ian’s jaw.

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

Ian’s eyes go impossibly soft and then he’s leaningdown – foreheads tipping together, noses bumping, and finally, lips. Catchinghim in a kiss that goes straight to Mickey’s toes.

It’s bliss.

Mickey is stretched out on the bed, half drapedacross Ian with the steady thrum of Ian’s heartbeat under his ear where Mickey’shead rests on his chest. “Turns out the afterglow’s better when you’re married,”he muses.

Ian huffs a laugh, chest vibrating under Mickey’scheek. “I think it’s just because there’s no fear of being interrupted foronce,” he says, sweeping a hand down Mickey’s back and resting it at the baseof Mickey’s spine.

“Mm, maybe,” Mickey allows drowsily, reaching out forIan’s left hand to inspect the tattoo again. His breath catches when he sees itup close, the same awe from earlier pouring through him as his eyes trace overthe band. Fucking hell, Ian Gallagher is gonna be the death of him. (He’s gonnabe his life first though.)

“I could probably put my rings back on now,” Ian saysafter a minute or two of Mickey playing with his hand. “Should be okay as longas I keep the tape on.”

Mickey nods, lifting up from Ian’s chest long enoughthat Ian can reach for his rings on the nightstand. A moment later they’re backin their original position and Ian gives his hand back to Mickey. The bottomsof the two m’s peek out beneath Ian’s ring and Mickey didn’t think it waspossible to feel more emotional rightnow.

“I fuckin’ love you,” he says quietly, words halfburied in Ian’s chest.

Ian wraps his arm around him, hand squeezing Mickey’sshoulder. “I love you too,” he whispers. And then, even more softly, “Thanksfor marrying me.”

Mickey smiles, letting his eyes fall shut. “Was alwaysgonna be you, Ian.”

It’s never even been a fucking question. He belongedwith Ian before he even knew what it meant to belong with someone.

“It was always you too, Mick.”

It’s them. Always.

#gallavich #ian x mickey #ian gallagher #mickey milkovich #shameless #shameless spoilers #sorry there's no smut askjh but me and smut do not get along meanwhile me and cuddles are old friends #so hopefully implied will be enough lol #my fics #Anon #asks

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rosesvioletshardy · 4 years ago

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life as we know it - b.h. - chapter 6

a/n: this is the shortest time i managed to write a chapter. there are some new characters introduced that will also be mentioned in future chapters. also there’s some drama in this that i think is going to be good. it’s a little shorter than what i originally had planned because i had to take some stuff out but i still hope it’s good

also thank you so much for 50 followers and the picture is what imagine ben wore in the beginning

masterlist

summary: when their two best friends die, it’s up to ben and y/n to take of their goddaughter and the challenges that come with it.

# of words: 3,608

warnings: a little angst, drama, fluff, a little language

taglist: @myfatbottomedgirls, @evemarie05

(message or inbox me if you want to be added to the taglist on this story)

------

a month has passed and so far everything has gone smoothly. ben and y/n have figured out how to work around their schedules. most of the time she had charlie because ben was filming but whenever he wasn’t, he was with her. they moved in and ben had brought frankie with him. at first they were a little hesitant about how she would act around charlie and vice versa but now frankie had become her protector. whenever charlie was napping, frankie would be with her. sean was another problem. he didn’t like the idea of y/n living with ben but he had managed to forget about it because he knew he had her wrapped around his finger by acting like the perfect gentleman and changing his attitude.

they had spent the next month planning the funeral and the only date they managed to get was one the 1 year anniversary of christian and lennon’s wedding or else they had to wait another few months until august and y/n didn’t want to wait that long because she didn’t know if ben would still be filming or if he were going to be taking break. ben advised her to go with it. she had never been more stressed in her life to the point where she falls asleep at random places. ben had noticed her behavior and advised her that she should go see a therapist. she didn’t want to. she didn’t want to talk to anyone about how she feels let alone a stranger, he understood where she was coming from but still encouraged her to go. he couldn’t say the same for him, he did have his bad days and did hide his emotions often.

now y/n was in her room putting finishing touches on charlie. they knew that taking a baby to see their own parents funeral wasn’t the best idea or the right one, but they had no choice. ben was in the bathroom fixing his tie, or at least trying to before getting frustrated and throwing it off and putting his hands on the sink counter. Knowing he needed to calm down, he went downstairs to get some water. on his way he saw her with charlie in her lap rocking her back and forth as charlie played with the ends of her dress. she felt someone staring at her and picked up her head to find ben staring at the both of them

“hey” he whispered

“hi”

ben walked into the room and sat on the bed with them. all three of them sat in complete silence with the occasional noise from charlie. she noticed that ben’s tie still wasn’t tied and decided to do it for him. she sensed that he got frustrated about it with what the day was about. rather than celebrating the marriage of two people, they were now honoring the dead. setting charlie on the bed, she went and stood in front of ben, grabbing his tie and started to tie it.

“why are you helping me?” he asked her looking up

“because i can tell you’re stressed about everything, especially today.” she told him

“it’s just not fair that they-” he started

“that they just had to die. if only they had left a few minutes later then- then we wouldn’t be here having to be going to a funeral. we would be here celebrating their marriage. i-i just-” ben said before he broke down again after y/n finished.

she bent down to his level and took his hands. tears were forming in her eyes and she wanted to cry but she needed to stay strong for all of them

“listen i know that today is hard but we need to stay strong for us, for lennon and christian, and most importantly for charlie. they loved her more than anything in this world. more than their jobs, we owe it to them to keep her with us and make sure she knows who her parents were. there’s a reason they picked us.” she told him tears starting to stream down her face before continuing

“i know today like any other day without them is hard, but we have to do it for her and for them.”

they were both sobbing in each other’s shoulders at his point and didn’t know if they were able to keep it together at the funeral. they invited some people that were friends with all of them, lennon’s parents, and christian’s relatives. they’ve done the viewing and no one could keep it together and now they would have to see the official funeral and bury them.

when they got married, christian and lennon had decided to reserve a spot next to where his parents were for the future but the future came too quick for them. they’ve managed to keep it all together throughout the burial service without crying but a few tears did slip from their eyes as they gave their speeches. y/n wanted to hold ben’s hand and he wanted to hold hers but the only thing that stood in their way was sean. what surprised them the most was charlie not fussing at all since she was being passed back and forth between the two. when it was all over, they went back to the house for the reception where there were a little bit more people including the neighbors and the babysitter.

the night before she had baked a storm to make sure everything was in order and that people felt comfortable. ben looked around and saw everyone giving them the pity eyes and most likely thinking how sad it was for charlie to grow up without parents not knowing that him and y/n were capable of taking care of her. he walked around listening in on their conversations to make sure they weren’t talking ill of them dead because that day wasn’t a day he didn’t want to punch someone.

“that was a beautiful service. i didn’t know that’s how they met.” one of their neighbors, mike said

“the story about paris, that’s when i started to cry.” mike’s wife, amber said as she drank some of the tea that they were serving

“what did happen with the baby? do you know?” she continued

“oh you didn’t hear, or well see?” rachel, another woman who lived near them

“No”

“they named one of their friends. the baker who’s dating christian’s partner from the law firm, and the actor from eastenders.”

“oh yeah, the super hot one that always like looks so good and sweaty. that one” robert said before his husband gave him a look

““good”?” mike said confusingly

“oh interesting. so he’ll be about”

“what do you mean, “good and sweaty?”” zachary, rachel’s husband asked

y/n was walking around to make sure everyone was comfortable and that they were alright before she spotted jack and melissa, lennon’s parents. jack was holding charlie who looked like she was about to pass out any moment now

“thank you guys for helping set up everything. i wouldn’t have been able to do it all without you. how are you guys’ holding up?” she asked them

“no problem sweetie, you were always like another daughter. and if we’re being honest, i think we’re getting better. it is a shock that our daughter is dead and i know we look like we should be crying but i feel like she would get mad at us for crying.” melissa said taking her hand

“how are you holding up? i know you and lennon were closer than anyone else, and putting all of this together and taking care of a child?” jack asked

“i could be better, but like you said lennon would be mad at us for crying. charlie is the best. it took a while but i think she’s used to everything now.” she told them

jack and melissa knew that y/n was struggling but they knew that she could take care of herself and know that they would do anything for her

“it doesn’t have to be this hard. if either you or ben ever feel overwhelmed by even the smallest of things, please don’t hesitate to call. you may be her guardians now but we’re still her grandparents and you’re still our daughter. it doesn’t matter if it’s night here and morning for us or morning here and night for us. we’ll always be there for you.” melissa said taking her other hand

“thank you. i owe you both my life for everything.” she tells them

“and we owe you ours for making sure lennon was always happy. now i think we should take this one for her nap.” jack said as they all looked at charlie slowly closing her eyes

“she has a bottle ready in the fridge and her room is upstairs on the first door on the left.”

“i’ll go with him to make sure he doesn’t mess things up like he did with lennon.” melissa said giving jack a side eye

“that was one time melissa! it was 26 years ago.” jack told her as the two left for the kitchen

while she was talking and making sure everyone was okay, ben was doing the same until he overheard something that he found was rather interesting to him

“well yeah. see if i marry her, i get her business and become an owner as well. which means i can technically do what i want with how she’s running it because she doesn’t want to expand it to more locations even though i told her she will get more income from it.” he heard sean say before continuing

“and plus my sister can profit over it and advertise it more. so, she advertises my sister's company, my sister and my family get more money. i mean it won’t be so hard to do it. i got her wrapped around my finger already by acting like the perfect gentleman” sean finished

“but what about that guy she lives with, the actor, ben?” ryan, another one of christian’s partners ask

“please, my family is worth more than him, my place is worth more than him. he thinks he can charm his way into her life and take her away because they’re taking care of some baby. she should be glad i’m giving her another chance after she practically cheated on me by sleeping with him. i spoil her endless and that’s how she repaid me. bitch. just hope she says yes before i decide to propose to amanda and break it off with her. sometimes i just want to do that but y/n could make me more rich.” sean whispered so that no one could hear him

ben desperately wanted to go punch him in the face but he didn’t want to cause a scene or tell social services that he’s unfit to be a guardian because of his short temper at times. he never understood how people could treat others like garbage and only use them for money. yeah money is great but it doesn’t automatically make you happy all time. money doesn’t exactly buy happiness. he decided to ignore what was going on and tell her when it was the right time and sat down in one of the chairs they had set out for the guests.

she started to walk away and saw ben sitting on one of the chairs with a beer in his hand. as soon as he saw her, he got and they started to walk

“there’s a lot of them.” she said thinking about who should take charlie if they can’t do it or melissa and jack can’t

“listen, we just need to find one and if we can’t, we’ll just give her to lennon’s parents” he told her

ben met one of christian’s cousins, peter, and saw that his kids were running up and down the stairs yelling and throwing things while y/n met with christian’s uncle

“alex-” peter yelled before getting cut off by his wife, patricia

“Mason”

“Mason! take a seat right now. let’s go. eight kids..” he told ben

“eight kids? you guys have eight kids.” ben stuttered out shocked

“nine dear.” patricia said

“nine. right.”

y/n was in the other room with christian’s uncle tom, on the couch seeing that he had an oxygen tank

“it’s really nice for charlie to know everyone and know how much she’s loved.” she tells him showing him a picture

“she looks just like christian.”

“yeah. so you have a house where in the countryside?” she asked

“ashwell, hertfordshire. lovely place and lovely people”

“yes, we were hoping seeing that if her grandparents from her mothers side weren’t to take her-” ben started to explain as he sat down until one of peter’s knocked the oxygen tank over and caused the hose to come off and tom to start coughing

“oh my god.” she started to freak out as ben picked the kid up and turned him around to go to the other side of the room

they managed to get the tank working again and helped tom to stop coughing

“i’m so sorry, he came out of nowhere. are you okay now? Good as new! yay!”

“Still breathing okay.” ben said as him and she started to awkwardly laugh

everyone had left and charlie was laying on ben’s chest playing with his undone tie as him and y/n sat on the corner sofa with their feet up, clearly tired

“well, we could go with the nine kids' family. they know how to keep a child alive.” ben said before talking

“the stripper seemed nice. and the uncle’s a definite no?” he finished

“we’re screwed.” she told him

neither one of them knew what to do at this point and it seemed like jack and melissa were they’re only option which meant charlie will move to a new country. y/n just let out a sigh and put her head on ben’s shoulder and he put his on top of her head.

the following weekend her and ben had their official court hearing which would grant them legal guardianship of charlie. jack and melissa told them before they left that they were making the right decision to take on a big responsibility and knew that they could do it and were going to be at their hearing for support. they got a got from jim telling them about when the court date was and what time it was going to happen. here they now sat in the courtroom listening to other cases before theirs was called. ben and y/n were dressed formally but in a casual way to make sure that they knew what the setting was and show that they are responsible.

“the next case, the matter of charlotte wakes, index number 05893-01.” they heard as jim told them to follow him

“alright. i’ve read your submissions, along with the will.” the judge began before continuing as ben and her began to sit down before jim told them to stay standing

“given that you were named as guardians, i see no reason to countermand the parents’ wishes. However, permit-” before charlie threw her toy on the ground and continued to fuss

“until that time, i hereby grant joint legal and physical custody of charlotte lucia wakes to y/n l/n and benjamin jones” she finished

“th-that’s it? You’re not going to ask us anything? how do you know we’re not drug dealers or pimps?” ben asked as jim began to escort them out

y/n gave out a worried and laugh nervously before the judge took her glasses off and asked them

“i’ve seen your work mr. jones and i’ve been to your bakery miss l/n, and i’m sure but are you drug dealers or pimps?”

“no, ma’am. no” y/n said as she gave a look to ben

as they left the room, jack and melissa gave a final hug to the two and charlie before leaving for their flight

“congratulations you’re parent’s now! i know this isn’t how you guys wanted it to be but it’s going to be fun. i guess we better head out now if we want to make it to the airport now. please don’t hesitate to call us with any questions about anything. we know you both can do this.” jack said, hugging the both of them before melissa came to give y/n a hug. as she hugged her she whispered something into her ear

“don’t let him go, this one. he seems like a really good guy and a keeper. good luck” she said giving her one hug

y/n and ben waved a goodbye to them and they walked off and jim started to talk

“well you guys did it. you are now the legal guardians. i have another case in an hour so i’ll see you guys soon and if you have any questions regarding any of this or lennon and christian, don’t be hesitant to call.” jim told them before leaving for another case

“well we’re officially parents now i guess.” ben said as they walked down the halls

“it’s official, now we have a lot to learn more than we already know.”

“yup”

they left and went back home and got charlie’s stroller and put her in it. they realized that the day was nice so they walked down to y/n’s bakery for lunch. what they didn’t know was paparazzi started to take pictures of the two from a distance showing off ben’s private life now. if the pictures decided to run, who knows what would happen. questions would start to be asked during press tours and if they found out who y/n was her shop would be crowded and as much as she wanted that, she preferred the way it is now. it would also be good for charlie’s safety.

when they entered it was a little more busy than usual but that’s how they liked it. they found a table and y/n went to grab one of the high chairs they provided. on her way back, tyler came out of the kitchen with a new tray of their lemon tarts before spotting her. he quickly put them in the display case and yelled her name

“Y/N!”

she set the chair down in between her and ben before turning around and seeing tyler and hugged him

“hey how are you? i’m sorry i haven’t been coming in so much and only calling in to check in.” she told him

“it’s fine. don’t worry you had a lot on your plate and personal things to deal with. come back at your own time. is this them?” he asked pointing to ben and charlie

“hi i’m tyler, the co-head baker here. y/n has told me a lot of about you.” he told ben shaking his hand

“let me guess, she complained to you about me? ’m ben, this is charlie, and this furry monster is frankie” ben told him scratching frankie’s ear

“yeah pretty much. i take it you guys got custody?” tyler asked

“yeah about an hour ago it became official.” y/n told him

“wow well i know you’ll guys be great at this.” he said before continuing

“well it was nice to see you again and meet you but i have to head back to the kitchen. i’ll bring you guys some stuff out. don’t worry”

“thanks tyler, it feels nice to be back here.” she said

“he’s nice. i like him. how’d you meet him here?” ben asked

“well he told me he was on vacation here but he decided he didn’t want to go back to delaware so he decided to stay here. i was just starting out after finishing university with lennon’s help, we got this place and got everything set up. tyler came here asking if we were hiring and the rest is practically history. i gave him his break here and he’s been like a brother to me.” she told him as tyler then came out with a tray full of desserts, sandwiches, some coffee, some mashed bananas for charlie, as well as their pet friendly treats for frankie

“tyler you really shouldn’t have.”

“no exceptions. you’ve done enough for me and now you both deserve some of the best food here.”

“fine, thank you.” she told him

“alright. i’ll see you guys later. bye”

“Bye”

“thanks mate”

y/n got out charlie’s bib and put it around her. she looked at ben to see what his reaction would be to one of their sandwiches. as soon as he bit into it, he felt like he was in a whole ‘nother world.

“wow. that is a good sandwich, holy fuck. shit, sorry.” he said as he saw y/n watching him

“it’s good isn't it?” she asked him giving charlie some of the bananas

“yeah it really is”

the three continued to eat and play before it was time for charlie’s nap. they put her back in the stroller and cleaned up the table before they left. she made a mental note to pay her employees extra for their help and dealing with all of it. when ben and y/ went home, they let frankie off her leash and she went to her bed. ben took charlie from and decided to put her to sleep for once. when he came back downstairs, he saw y/n sitting on the couch with a beer bottle in her hand and another one on the table. he went and picked it up and sat down next to her.

“well, to parenthood.” he said

“to parenthood” she said as they clinked bottles

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airi-p4 · 4 years ago

Text

Last chance - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 |

AO3

________________________________________

Luka’s POV

I always knew how Marinette was happy dating Adrien. It had been a while since they confessed to each other, and I was happy for her, for them. Hurt, but still happy. Even during the bad times, I was always happy to be there for her. I was happy to be there for her anytime she needed me. But at some point, that was not enough...

The more time I spent with her, the more I kept wishing she was MINE. I had to deprive myself constantly, trying not to hug, kiss or confess to her, while encouraging her happiness with someone else.

I was her second choice.

Always had been, always will be.

And with her relationship with her first choice going smoothly, I felt like I was not really needed anymore. She made her choice. And it wasn’t me.

Hearing all sorts of details of Marinette and Adrien’s relationship only deepened my pain. Knowing how they shared their first kiss or how she was sewing him something for his birthday or how much she struggled because of Adrien’s father… it was hard to endure.

Adrien coming to me for advice made things even harder, especially when he came to ask me for sex advice. I could have sabotaged their relationship many times, but I didn't. No matter how much tempted I was to. Marinette’s happiness was what mattered the most to me and I couldn’t stand seeing her unhappy or hurt face. But Marinette coming a week later, inadvertently spilling how good their first time sleeping together felt was too much for me.

I reached my limit.

I needed to escape.

Pain kept getting deeper every visit, sinking deeper, like heavy rocks accumulating at the bottom of the sea of my heart, where light could not reach.

Marinette was clueless about my feelings. But I didn’t want to be greedy. I had always known she loved Adrien anyway. It’s been like that since the beginning. Why should I interfere with their happiness? Sure, they fought quite a lot too, but it was always because of either trivial things or because of Adrien’s father.

At that time I thought it was a good thing I never had a father. But if I had known my father was Jagged Stone I would have never thought that. I regret that I used to think that now.

So these arguments were never a real threat for a ‘true love’ destiny based relationship. Nothing that could give me hope for a break-up or a future with Marinette.

That’s when I decided to leave.

I couldn't bear it anymore. I tried hard to watch over their happiness. To encourage them. To honestly wish for their love to continue forever… But I couldn’t. My heart couldn’t take it anymore: seeing her smile, hearing her laugh… all of it directed to someone who was not me.

I had to leave. But it was not easy.

I kept wishing to see her face, no matter how it hurt. I wanted to be beside her every day, forever…

But I had to move on.

I considered the idea of making her hate me. And I somehow decided it was a good idea. How could I let my broken heart take decisions?

Even if so, I never regretted it. The KISS. Our one and only kiss. Our first and last kiss. A kiss that was short and filled with sadness. Loneliness too, because it was one-sided from me. She didn’t respond to it. Not that I expected she would, but added another enormous rock to my heart’s sea collection. And it was heavy. Too heavy.

Just before the kiss, I had already my tickets to go to America with Jagged Stone, who I had no idea that he was my father at the moment. I didn’t have the courage to tell Marinette I was leaving. I knew she would beg for me to stay, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to deny her anything. Love is a strong source of will, but can also be a strong barrier to personal accomplishments.

That day, she was happily talking about how she liked my new song and how she was going to have dinner in Adrien’s house, with her parents too, for the first time soon. She sounded excited.

I don’t know what motivated me. But probably jealousy and an absolute devotion to the girl in front of me. Also, knowing that was going to be the last time we met probably played a final key point for my determination. And, even if I knew she was going to hate me after that, I had to take my last chance with her. I needed to be rejected in order to move on.

So I kissed her.

Marinette's lips were half open in surprise as I lightly brushed them with mine. Soft, kind, warm. They felt just like I expected them to feel, except the kiss was unreciprocated.

Her reaction after the kiss was also what I expected: confusion, hurt, anger and hate.

With that look on her face, I don’t think she understood the meaning of my kiss, maybe not even after I left.

‘I love you. Goodbye’

Would it have made a difference if I had told her out loud? Who knows. It’s all in the past now. And the past can’t be changed.

When she told me ‘I hate you’ my heart reached the bottom of my inner sea. I could only see black. I’ve never cried so much in my whole life. Her rejection hurt and broke my heart, but it gave me the chance to try to move on. To try to forget about my first love and stop my pining over her. Good thing about reaching the bottom is you can only go up, they say.

But it didn’t work.

How can I forget about the most beautiful and perfect girl in the world? How to forget her beautiful voice or her beautiful laugh, her shining smile and her starly freckles? Her silky dark hair or her stunning eyes? And her magical lips I could only taste once but I wish I could taste forever?

I can never move on from her.

A part of me kept waiting for her to contact me. I waited, but she never did.

I tried to avoid looking at the news, but Marinette and Adrien Agreste’s engagement was an announcement too big to be avoided. Of course she wouldn’t contact me when she’s getting married to someone else…

That’s when I decided to definitely move and stay in the US. After finding out about Jagged being my father, I got to meet my grandfather and he helped me feel better, teaching me some country songs I would have never expected to enjoy. Music was the only medicine that kept me for sinking deeper in my own darkness. Finally, a tiny ray of light could be seen.

It was some time later when I met Chloé Bourgeois. She followed her mother’s steps and became a stylist, living in America. At some point she became Jagged Stone’s stylist, and then mine when I debuted as a solo artist. She became my second chance after Marinette.

It stunned me how Chloé remembered me from when she was Miraculous Queen. “Good think I’m your stylist now so I can fix that utterly ridiculous clothes you are always wearing, snake boy” she had told me. After she confessed to me, I decided to try to do my best to love her back. I like her and had nothing to lose, anyway.

In truth, I was just hoping she could help me forget about Marinette and heal me from my pain. It didn’t take long until all the news about us dating were everywhere. I dislike the press, but I know Chloé loves to be the focus of media attention, so I endured it.

Dating Chloé isn’t easy. She is a stubborn lady who tries to sound confident when she is actually scared inside, begging to be loved. I thought it was adorable how she tried to hide her need for affection. But the more I spent time with her, the more I saw Marinette’s traits in her.

As I thought, a girl like Marinette could never be forgotten. My love for her can never fade out. But she’s taken, so there’s no point in having expectations with her.

When the engagement news was out, I couldn’t help but wonder if Marinette had seen them, or what she thought about it. But, even if I left my email account opened with only her contact for years, no message ever arrived into my inbox. She probably still hates me for kissing her like that. Or I disappointed her for not being able to contain my urge to kiss her. Or maybe she just thinks I’m a perv or something - Chloé’s fashion choices for me are kind of… showy. ‘Sexy and unique’, she would say.

And now that my Wedding Ceremony is coming in less than two months I wake up to an email inbox suddenly full of messages. Is it SPAM? Wow, 986 messages, that’s really something! I gasp when I see the name of the sender: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

Why now?

“What’s wrong? Go back to sleep, dear”

“Keep sleeping, honeybee, I’ll be right back”

“Hmph…”

It seems the email notification had woken Chloé up. No wonder since she is sleeping just beside me. I make sure I kiss her before going to the other bedroom of our house.

Sender name: Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

No doubt, I read it correctly. Dupain-Cheng. Shouldn’t it be Agreste? She kept her name? What’s with all those messages? If she wanted to congratulate me for my Wedding, one would have been enough. Is she doing this out of hate? There’s only one way to know. The most recent message… written today?

“Luka… I can’t take it anymore… I’m going to Tibet, to the Temple of the Miraculous… I need to restore my happiness… Wait for me in another timeline…”

What does this mean? She’s going to get her Miraculous back? What does she mean with ‘my happiness’? She sounds desperate for help. Another timeline…? Is she planning to use the Rabbit Miraculous? Or even worse: the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous together? What’s going on? And why is she telling me?

I need context. I’m going to read the oldest message… The oldest one, here it is… I gasp in astonishment when I notice the pattern of the mails, the date they were written as the 'subject': almost one for every day starting the day I left Paris - the day after I kissed her. The day I decided to move on.

I click on the oldest message.

“Luka, I can’t believe you just left without saying goodbye? What were you thinking? I thought we were friends! I rushed to the airport as soon as I knew you were leaving, but you had already left… Why didn’t you tell me? You are my friend, I thought you trusted me…”

No mention of the kiss. Well, at least she didn’t seem angry for the kiss? I was right not telling her I was leaving. I would have been very tempted to stay if she had begged me to… Let’s see the next one…

“Luka… I miss you… I’m not angry about the kiss anymore… I’m sorry for not considering your feelings… I’m stupid… You are my friend and I care about you… I wish you had said goodbye to me…”

Oh… great. I’m pitiful at her eyes. At least she wasn’t angry…? And she thought of me as a friend. ‘A friend’, huh. Marinette had been hurt by those words for a long time and now she shoves them at me. No, Marinette. You don’t understand.

I keep reading some more messages.

“Luka… I miss you a lot… I wish you would contact me, but you must hate me if you haven’t yet… It was a lie when I told ‘I hate you’ to you. I really care about you… I miss you a lot… Come back, please…”

“Luka... I wish I could tell you this in person… I miss you…”

“Luka… I’m sorry for being greedy… But I can’t take it anymore… come back… please… I need you…”

“Luka… it’s been three months since you left… I’ve seen you are doing well with Jagged Stone… You seem happier… I’m sorry for not considering your feelings… I wish you the best… even if I miss you deeply…”

“Luka… I wonder if you’ve seen the news? I’ve made my debut as a fashion designer! Seeing you fighting for your dreams made me try harder for mine. I wish you could be there for my first big event…”

I remember that day. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and her boyfriend Adrien Agreste smiling for the cameras. Gabriel Agreste had acknowledged Marinette as his successor, but she rejected the offer. I stopped watching her news after seeing that stupid photo of them together, happy, when I was swimming in despair for missing her. Maybe I should stop reading… But I guess I can’t stop my curiosity… Or maybe I’m some kind of a masochist? That would make a lot of sense, to be honest...

Well, next one.

“Luka… Adrien finally asked me to marry him, can you believe it? We still have no set date yet, but I’ll make sure Juleka receives an invitation for you, so you can join us too! I wish you would come… I miss you…”

Yeah… I should stop reading… yet, for some reason, my finger keeps moving on its own.

“Luka… things with Adrien aren’t as happy as I thought they would be… I thought he could fill in for you, but… I keep searching for you everyday, everywhere I go… I was fine that time I didn’t have Adrien by my side since you were there for me… but now that Adrien is by my side but you aren’t… I can’t find the happiness in me anymore…”

What?

“Luka… I’m so stupid… I should have noticed earlier… I took you for granted and now that you’re not here… I miss you more than anything… I… I don’t think I can live without you anymore… I love you… You were never my second chance… I wish I could have figured it out sooner…”

‘I love you’. Is… is this for real? Is this some kind of prank? Why are you sending all this now, Marinette? I’m getting married soon! You are married too! What are you up to? I know I’ll never be able to move on from you… don’t make things even more difficult… please…

“Luka… Today I cancelled my engagement with Adrien. I tried to love him more than I love you, but I can’t… I love you more than anything, more than anyone… I miss you so much…”

“Luka… I’ve broken up with Adrien now… Do you think I still have a chance with you…? I want to be with you… I love you…”

What? She cancelled her wedding? I check it on the Internet: ‘marinette adrien agreste wedding’ and search. ‘BREAKING NEWS: Fashion designer Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Model Adrien Agreste break up”. It can’t be… How could this pass me? When? When was this...? Oh… Vacation with Chloé… We spent a week in Thailand, turned our phones off and relaxed after my first solo tour was over… Of course it wouldn’t reach that far… Oh, it was just before Chloé’s and my dating news were out too… Such a bad timing...

“Luka… I’ve seen you are dating Chloé now… I hope you are happy… Is this how you felt with me when I was dating Adrien? Did it hurt this much for you too...? How could you stand this pain...? I wish for your happiness, I really do… But it hurts so much…”

No way…

“Luka… Adrien asked me out again. I had already told him I loved you before and after I broke our engagement, but, with last week’s news about you dating his childhood friend, he asked me out again… I considered going back to him to stop this pain… But I don’t think I can ever forget you… I wish I could still be the song in your head… I love you… I miss you so much...”

Marinette, she doesn’t understand, doesn’t she? She’s always been the song in my head. Since the first day we met, even today, my only true muse and inspiration has been her... How can she be so dense? Has she never listened to my songs? I thought it was obvious… Chloé is a good muse too, I must admit, but I wouldn’t be standing where am I without Marinette.

“Luka… I can’t bear to watch more of your happy photos with Chloé… I’m going to focus solely on my fashion career… I wish I still had a chance with you… But I can only give up, can’t I?”

“Luka… no matter how much I try I can’t forget about you… I miss you and I know I’ll never be able to love anybody the way I love you… I wish I could tell you my feelings, but you seem happy now and I don’t want to be in your way… It’s hard, but I have to let you go... Be happy on my behalf too, ok? I love you...”

“Luka… today Sabrina received yours and Chloé’s Wedding invitation. She tried to hide it from me so I wouldn’t be hurt, but I ended up finding out anyway. I wish I could congratulate you, but you must have forgotten about me already… I’m so silly… Of course you have moved on when you are getting married… Congratulations… I hope you two are happy...”

“Luka… I promise you I tried… but my heart can’t take it anymore. I’m drowning in darkness… You had been my light for so long… But now that I’ve lost you forever it feels like I’ve forgotten how to breath… I need you so bad… I don’t think I can live anymore…”

There are some blank days after this message? What happened? Marinette felt all this for years? Why didn’t she send me this earlier!? I would have run to her side in an instant. Why now? I need to know what happened until the newest message…

“It seems I passed out for some days… I’ve woken out today in a hospital room. I guess I forgot to eat or drink or even sleep… So Marinette, right? haha… Alya and Nino visited me with their newborn child. I wish we could have been a happy family like them… I don’t think I can bear to watch you forming a family with someone else… Am I too selfish? I guess I am… The doctor said I have depression. I already knew that. I guess I have nothing that makes me want to live anymore… without you I can’t even…”

This was the last message before the most recent one, dated a few days ago. Is Marinette trying to give up her life? Is she trying to use the Ladybug and the Black Cat Miraculous? She knows how dangerous that is! There’s a price to pay if you change the past! Marinette should know that! I need to re-read her most recent message.

“Luka… I can’t take it anymore… I’m going to Tibet, to the Temple of the Miraculous… I need to restore our happiness… Wait for me in another timeline…”

No doubt. She is trying to use the Ladybug and Chat Noir Miraculous to change reality: just like Hawk Moth wanted to. But why would she send me these messages then? Why would she let me know...?

Of course.

She thinks she has nothing left to lose. She is calling for help, desperately…

“Luka, what are you doing? It’s morning already, we’ll be late to the venue”

“What? Morning already? I’ll go have a shower real quick!”

“What’s wrong with you? You look like you haven’t slept at all!”

“I- I’ll tell you later!”

“Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Uhm? Oh, sure, honeybee. Morning kiss”

“Good. Now go or we’ll be late”

“I’ll be right back!”

What the hell am I doing… Going to prepare my wedding ceremony knowing Marinette is about to break the balance of the world? Knowing she is willing to sacrifice anything? To DIE, even. Just because I was stupid enough to never contact her? Like hell I can let her go! I should be going to Tibet not some stupid Wedding Venue! Shower finished. Hair… Nevermind, I’m in a rush.

“Chloé, listen-”

“Luka. What’s the meaning of this?”

My smartphone… Of course she knows my screen lock code… She must have seen all the messages by now… and most likely read a few of them.

“Marinette contacted you. Are you trying to ditch me now that you know she is interested in you?”

“No, Chloé, listen. I need to go stop her. You know the Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous should never be used together. I need to stop her”

“No”

“What?”

“You can’t go.”

“Chloé, our whole world will disappear if I don’t stop her! Can’t you understand!? No world, no wedding! She has to be stopped!”

“No! I haven’t worked this hard to get you to lose you just when we were so close to be forever together! I prefer the world ending than you dumping me to get back with her. I want to be your first choice for once!”

“What do you mean? How can you say that...? I thought Marinette was your friend...”

“My friend? No. I am Adrien’s friend. And she kept hurting him, until she broke his heart. You two broke his heart”

“You knew, didn’t you? You’ve known about Marinette’s feelings since the beginning and remained silent about the matter. Why would you do that? I guess you know about my feelings too”

“I just wanted to help Adrien and take revenge on you and Marinette for hurting him. But stupid me fell in love with you while trying to get them back together!”

“Tell me more”

“No. I don’t want to lose you”

“You’ve already lost me. Answer me if you want to keep some decency and respect from me. I’m never contacting you again otherwise”

“No, please! I love you… You know I do!”

“I know. And I know there’s kindness in your heart, Chloé. That’s why I know you’re going to tell me in what else you were involved with Marinette”

“I… I couldn’t take revenge on you… So I focused my revenge on Marinette, for hurting Adrien’s feelings... I hid their break up news or any other news you received from her friends. I knew she was still your first choice even when I tried so hard to get your full attention, and even if you proposed to me, I could see your eyes were not looking at me. You were looking at the Marinette you saw in me! And now that you know she loves you back… You’ll go back to her… and dump me… won't you?”

“Chloé… you did all that to hurt Marinette? I was willing to forget about her and have a happy marriage with you… I was serious about you. I wouldn’t dare to play around with something as serious as marriage. I thought you had changed… But it seems you’re the same girl that bullied my little sister when you were younger... But we’ll talk about this later. I need to go now. I need to stop Marinette before she does something stupid”

“Wait. I’m coming too. No secret intentions, I promise. I just thought… we could get our old team back to save Ladybug…”

“We don’t have time for that!”

“Of course we do! I’ve already sent them a message while you were at the shower. Who do you think I am? No one worth dumping! I’m telling you!”

I must say that surprised me - and in a good way. Getting the old team back is definitely going to help. The more allies the better to stop the end of the world. And who better fit than a team of superheroes? Chloé’s move makes me relieved and thankful.

“Chloé, you’re amazing”

Oh. OK… maybe I shouldn’t have kissed her now… I better warn her.

“Don’t take me for granted because of this. We’ll having a long talk when we save the world”

“O- Of course!”

Who am I kidding? Chloé is amazing too. Not Marinette, but still amazing. But damn it. Habits are hard to break. Especially with a wedding coming. But she really owned that kiss. I don’t want to stop holding her hand either. Well, not now, as we get moving, at least.

Maybe, and just maybe, I could have come to love her for real if I hadn’t met Marinette… But there’s no point in wondering about ‘what ifs’. We need to hurry.

Before leaving, another email arrives into my inbox.

“My job is done. Now it’s your time to make it right. You have 6 days left”

Alix. Of course. It made sense. I type a reply while Chloe closes the door of our house, before rushing to the airport.

“Leave it to us. The Miraculous Team is back”

#my fic #airipyon #airip4 #lukanette fic #fic: last chance

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springday-aus · 4 years ago

Text

BTS’s Namjoon: Plus Two || part one

—

Fic Piece Written by: Admin Grandma of @springday-aus

Moodboard Link: Created By Admin Grandpa

Character Pairing: Y/N and BTS’s Kim Namjoon (RM)

Other Characters: BTS [Hoseok, Taehyung, Yoongi (barista!yoongi), Seokjin - others are mentioned briefly], Hyerin (EXID), Suho (EXO OT12), Moonbyul (Mamamoo), Eric Nam, Tiffany (SNSD), Irene (Red Velvet), and Jackson (GOT7) - along with their respective group members, who are involved as planners, partakers, and guests

Genre: romance, comedy, officer worker!Namjoon, wedding date!au, friends to lovers!au

Type: series [two parts]

part one || part two

Word Count: approx. 21.6k

Plot Summary: getting older is never easy, especially with all the weddings Namjoon has been attending. Fortunately for him, a run in with an old friend of his, i.e. you, makes all these weddings a bit more bearable.

⤷ Alternatively: you and Namjoon keep running into each other, ultimately becoming unofficial wedding dates. Once it’s official, a couple of things start to change... such as the old flame that Namjoon thought he put out.

→ Inspired by: the movie called Plus One—hence the creation of Plus Two!

Warnings: lots of drinking involved and cursing

A/N: this accidentally became a slow burn fic, considering that I stretched out Namjoon’s pining to 21k words.

October 25th, 2019

Friday, 10AM

Lee Corporations

—

The clicks of computer keyboards fill the dead silence of the office floor. Everyone’s buried in their own paperwork and files, concerned about finishing their workload before the work day is over. Namjoon sits in his cubicle, reorganizing his spreadsheets and double checking the numbers. It’s taking longer than he originally wanted, but then again, computer games are designed for distractions. He checks his watch. It’s only been two hours and he’s already bored. Sure, he’s got enough work, but does he really want to do it?

No, not really.

He rubs his eyes, which he inwardly hopes might wake him up from this nightmare. Curse him for being practical and choosing to be a business major. Had he chosen a different path, he might have turned out happier—at least, he has a stable paycheck. By the end of the day, that’s all that really matters in this lifetime.

A chime from his phone interrupts his thoughts on his extinctial crisis. He grabs his phone from his desk counter, as he stands up from his seat. Might as well grab another cup of coffee. He heads to the break room and immediately navigates himself into the corner, where the coffee maker rests. After plugging it in, he unlocks his phone and clicks on the latest notification—an email sent to his personal inbox.

You’re invited to celebrate the union of Seo Hyerin and Yoon Jae Jung!

Date: November 16th

Time: 11:15am for the ceremony, 8pm for the reception

Location: Crossroads Cathedral and Sweet Dreams Event Hall

Please RSVP at XXX-XXX-XXXX or respond to the email! We hope to see you there!

Huh, he hadn’t heard from Hyerin for a while—last thing he remembered was that she was enjoying her job as a translator and she was in a wonderful relationship, which is now blossoming into marriage.

Good for her.

He doesn’t mean for it to sound as sarcastic as it does. It is good for her. As one of her close friends (close enough to get her wedding invitation at least), he’s glad she’s able to find someone who wants to share her life with.

But it’s also a reminder that Namjoon hasn’t managed to do the same. He shuts his eyes and lets out a long sigh. It’s going to be really sad that he’s going to be there without a date of some sort, while others are most likely going to be there with dates. It’ll be nice to catch up with some of his old friends, but it’s also going to be a pain to have all those pity looks and the ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone soon’ speeches.

By the time he realizes he’s lost himself within his thoughts once again, the coffee is reheated and his phone screen has turned black. He moves his mug and slowly pours the dark liquid in. Namjoon’s ringtone breaks the silence. The image of Hoseok’s dog, Micky, flashes on his screen with the words, Dancing King.

“What’s up, man?” Namjoon asks, as he pours a packet of sugar into his cup.

“Hey! How’s my favorite businessman?”

“Hoseok, I’m the only businessman you know.”

“No! Wonsik is also a businessman.”

“He’s a CEO of his own music company—while there is business associated, he’s still deemed as a musician in my book.”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can practically see Hoseok’s lips pulling back in disappointment.

“Same difference,” Hoseok says through the line. “Anyways, did you see the invitation yet?”

“Yeah, I saw it,” Namjoon says. “I just can’t believe Hyerin is already getting married.”

“I know. It’s almost like we’re adults or something.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes from Hoseok’s sarcastic comment, even though he can’t see it. “Are you bringing anyone?”

“It’s too soon to see, but I might try to find a date—it’s just another wedding.” There’s a pause, with some muffled shuffling. “If not though, would you do the honor of being my date?”

“You know, I might just take you up on that offer.”

“Bet,” Hoseok says. “Well, the others are starting to come back from break. I’ll talk to you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Only from 9 to 5.” There’s another laugh from him through the phone. “Alright, bye!”

“Bye.”

He sets his phone down, staring mindlessly into his coffee as he waits for the sugar to dissolve.

Well, on the bright side, he has a date to the wedding now. That one task marked off the list.

November 16th, 2019

Saturday, 9PM

Hyerin’s Reception

Sweet Dreams Event Hall

—

“I’ve known Hyerin for such a long time,” Hani says. “And I have seen so many sides of her. Even today, she continues to reveal new sides of her that are surprising to everyone. She’s smart; she’s classy; she’s fun-loving and she’s cute. Sure, everyone here might know her as the crazy one in this group. But that craziness is part of her charm—which I’m sure Jae Jung has experienced at least once or twice by now.”

The crowd laughs, as Hani tips her glass towards the couple. She gives another dazzling smile to them and continues. “Nevertheless, that craziness is what’s going to make life more entertaining for you. Some may say marriage doesn’t last, but I know you two will make it work. As one of Hyerin’s closest friends, I wish you two nothing more than a lifetime of happiness from one another. Congratulations, Hyerin and Jae Jung.”

There’s a light applause as Hani, the maid of honor, finishes her speech, which is followed by the taps of the guests’ champagne glasses. Hoseok and Namjoon’s glasses make a clink against the other, before they respectively clink their glasses with the other guests at their table.

“Cheers.”

After taking a sip, Namjoon turns his attention back to his plate, which is cleared of food.

“Hey,” he says with a nudge to Hoseok. “When did they say they were gonna cut the cake?”

“I think they’re gonna cut it after a couple more courses.”

“I’m so full.” Namjoon lightly pats his stomach. “I knew there was gonna be a lot of food, but I didn’t know it was going to be this much.”

Hoseok lets out a laugh. “Hyerin’s got a bottomless pit for a stomach—you should have known she was going to have a lot of food.”

Namjoon laughs with him. “Oh my God. How could I forget the buffet incident?”

Their conversation is interrupted by some feedback from the speakers. The crowd’s attention is turned back to the main table, where Hyerin stands with the microphone in hand and her new husband, Jae Jung, is trying to fix the veil that was caught on the back of her dress.

“Hello everyone! Thank you so much for coming and joining us for this evening. Also, if we could give another hand to Hani for helping me arrange the whole thing—she really is the best. This night has been the most incredible.” There’s some more applause and, at the end of the main table, Hani stands once more with a smile and bows to the guest tables.

Hyerin continues to talk once it dies down. “Um, we’re still coming around to the tables to properly greet and thank everyone for their support and gifts. The cake will be cut soon, but we still have two more courses left. Also, the bar remains open, if any adults need some more alcohol.” There’s a light laugh—Hoseok and Namjoon exchange looks of agreement to hit the bar after the meal.

“And after the cake is cut, everyone is welcome to the dance floor.” She hands the mic to Jae Jung.

“Hyerin and I will have our first dance and, after that, the party can officially start.” A guy in the back shouts a ‘woo’ and there’s scattered laughter. “Anyways, thank you again for coming in support of Hyerin and I. We hope you have a good time tonight.”

There’s more applause and the couple resume to make their rounds to each table. The informal conversations begin once again as the guests wait for the next course to be served. Namjoon turns his attention back to Hoseok, who’s already engaged in conversation with a couple of people at the table.

“So, how do you know the couple?” Minhyuk asks.

“Ah, Hyerin and I went to the same dance academy,” Hoseok says. “We’ve been friends for, like, 10 years now. We all still talk so…” He gives a light shrug with an eased smile.

Minhyuk looks over at Namjoon unexpectedly, who freezes for a bit from the eye contact, before answering. “Oh, I met Hyerin through Hoseok actually,” he says. “We had a couple of classes together and were in a couple of study groups together in college and…” He pauses. “Here we are. How do you know her?”

“I was friends with her back in high school,” Minhyuk says. “A lot of people thought we were dating, so it’s a whole inside joke between us—especially since I got invited to her wedding.”

“That’s funny,” Namjoon says. “But, wow. You kept in contact after high school?”

“Yeah, thanks to the creation of cell phones and, as you already know.” He pauses. “Hyerin is very sociable, so it’d be hard to not keep contact.”

“Speaking of which,” Hoseok says. “There’s a lot of people here. Their guest list is huge.”

“I have a feeling there’s more of Hyerin’s friends than Jae Jung,” Namjoon says with a small laugh.

“I’d place my bet on that,” Minhyuk says. His attention is diverted towards the servers that were coming out to serve the fifth course, making more conversation with the others at the table.

“That’s a safe bet,” Hoseok says to Namjoon. “I’ve seen nearly everyone from dance camp.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Hoseok takes another look around. “I saw Hyemi as we were coming in and Sanghyuk is just a couple of tables away.” He pokes his head up, sitting up straighter to get a more clear look around. “I should catch up with him in a bit.”

“Maybe you two can meet on the dance floor,” Namjoon says with a laugh. “That’d be an interesting scene.”

“Well, there is an open bar.”

Namjoon can only give Hoseok a warning look, to which he gets a mischievous one in return. He can only sigh in response, but he can’t help to chuckle. He’s known Hoseok for so long that he knows he can’t stop one of his shenanigans.

He resumes his attention back to his plate, where a small scoop of brightly colored sorbet sits in a little bowl.

“It’s cute,” Hoseok says. “We get ice cream before the cake.” He does a little dance with his shoulders, beaming with his pearly whites.

“First of all,” Namjoon says. “I think you’ve had enough sugar. I’m afraid of what’ll happen once the alcohol starts to take effect as well. Secondly, it’s sorbet and it’s supposed to refresh your palate.”

“Ah, Namjoon,” Hyerin says. “Smart as always.” The entire table centers their focus on the newlyweds, who’ve approached them from behind. Light cheers erupt from the other guests and Namjoon gives her a big, toothy grin.

“I was just wondering when you two were gonna get to our table,” Il Woo says from across the table.

Hyerin laughs. “I’m trying my best to get to all the tables, but, in hindsight, we do have too many friends.”

“To be honest,” Jae Jung says. “We had to cut down the list, like, twice.”

“Finding a venue to fit everyone was easier than cutting down the list. Who knew?” Hyerin makes a face, which Hoseok responds to with one of his. The two start to go around the table, individually catching up with others and filling the guest’s glasses as they chat—eventually getting to Hoseok and Namjoon.

“Are you two finally dating?” Hyerin teases.

“As much as I like Hoseok,” Namjoon says. “Seokjin is more of my type.” He looks over at Hoseok, who pouts.

Hoseok turns away with bitterness. “That’s fine, I like Yoongi better anyways.”

“It’s nice to see that you two haven’t changed,” Hyerin says. “Thank you for coming—the both of you.”

“It’s no problem,” Hoseok says. “We’re your friends.”

“We’re here to support you.” Namjoon says.

“You two are just as sweet as I remember,” she says with a bright smile. She taps her glass with theirs. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Hoseok and Namjoon take their respective sips, while Hyerin drowns hers down.

“Damn,” Hoseok says. “Your tolerance hasn’t changed since college.”

“We’ll see with how tonight goes,” Hyerin says. “I think the others’ have lowered, so watch out when they all head to the bar.”

“You mean like now?” Namjoon asks.

“What?”

Namjoon points a finger towards the wall where glass shelves hold many colorful bottles of wine, liquor, and juices to mix with the alcohol. A bartender mixes the drinks to the best of her abilities to fill the four glasses set on the counter. Hyerin’s bridesmaids lean on the countertop, shouting “shots” repeatedly.

“Oh dear God,” Hyerin says. She shuffles with her dress, grabbing as much of it as she can, and attempts to run over towards them. “Y’all!! Couldn’t you have waited until the elders left!?! Wait for me!”

Jae Jung hurriedly follows after her. “Honey! Be careful with the dress, you could trip!”

After they ran off, Hoseok and Namjoon could no longer hold in their laughter.

“That’s one way to exit a conversation,” Namjoon says with another sip of his champagne. “They really haven’t changed since college.” He lets out another laugh. “Who else do you think is here?”

“Honestly, knowing Hyerin,” Hoseok says. “I have no clue.”

They get back to their plates and converse with the others at the table. Hyerin has made many friends after graduating, Namjoon notes. Then again, she’s always been very friendly with others, which is how Namjoon was able to easily get along with her.

As the conversations go, the last course, along with the cake, is served and the dance floor is officially open. Once 10pm hit, Hyerin and Jae Jung led their first dance. Everyone slowly started to join in and then the songs were transitioning to a faster pace, in which the elderly started to take their leave. Good timing too because the alcohol started to set in and no one had any resistance left.

Hoseok has officially abandoned Namjoon to steal the leftover party favors on empty tables (at this point, he’s openly stealing rather than sneaking them into his pockets). Namjoon remains at the, now, empty table and empty plate—observing the other guests who have made a home for themselves on the dance floor.

Hyojin’s alcohol tolerance is officially met as she twerks on the dance floor. Hyerin and Hoseok’s dance friends, Hyemi and Sanghyuk, have officially engaged in a full-fledged dance battle. Meanwhile, one of the bridesmaids, Solji, has another, Junghwa, on one arm to pull her away from any physical object she could flirt with (to which Namjoon has been a victim) and, in the other arm, she holds a svedka bottle that’s already half empty. In another corner, from Namjoon’s table, Minhyuk has helped himself to the rest of the uncut cake with a serving spoon.

Amidst the chaos, Namjoon stays at the table, taking in the atmosphere with the disco lights and fast-paced radio hip-hop songs. He nods along with the music, mouthing along with the lyrics. As much as he would love to join the others, he knows he would most likely break something of his, or someone else’s.

He checks his watch and glances around, wondering as to how far Hoseok had gotten with the party favors. Just as he was about to start his search, Rihanna’s Umbrella starts to play and that’s when he hears Hoseok before he can see him.

“BITCH! THIS IS MY JAM!”

Namjoon has to close his eyes from embarrassment of being his date, but then something saves him.

“BITCH, ME TOO. MOVE!”

“HANNA AND (Y/N) IN THE BUILDING, EH EH EH.”

Well, nevermind.

The crowd parts like the red sea, allowing Hoseok and two familiar looking figures to meet in the middle—each person nodding along to the melody and waving their arms in the air. As if it was a karaoke meet, everyone sings aloud, along to the music.

“You have my heart. And we’ll never be worlds apart. Maybe in magazines… but you’ll still be my star…”

Namjoon smiles at the sight. Hoseok and Hanna are doing their own thing, ignoring the little bags that fall out from Hoseok’s pockets that were, technically, stolen from the other tables. You blend into the crowd, swaying to the melody with Hani on one arm.

“Because~ When the sun shines, we shine together. Told you I’ll be here forever. Said I’ll always be your friend. Took an oath, Imma stick it out to the end. Now that it's raining more than ever, know that we’ll have each other. You can stand under my umbrella… You can stand under my umbrella, ella, ella, eh, eh, eh…”

Namjoon makes eye contact with you. Your eyes widen, surprised from seeing him. With your free arm, you wave him over—to which he can only shake his head, passing up the opportunity of embarrassing himself in front of his old college friends.

You pull yourself away from the crowd and head towards his direction, eventually taking the empty seat next to him. Without a word, you reach over and grab a champagne glass from the other side, drowning it down in one shot.

“Ahh,” you breathe out. You point to his glass and the remaining alcohol that glistens from the disco lights. Without another word, Namjoon hands it over to you. He can only watch, as you drown down that glass as well.

“Well,” he says. “It’s nice to see you too, (Y/N).”

“Sorry,” you say. “That glass looked too appealing.”

He lets out another light laugh with a shake of his head. “Seriously though, it’s nice to see you.”

You hum. “How long has it been? Couple of years?”

“Yeah, it’s been a bit of time,” Namjoon says. “Glad to see you haven’t changed too much.”

“Glad to see you haven’t either.” You pause, looking back at his, now empty, glass. “Still have a low tolerance?”

“You already know the answer to that, so why bother asking?”

“Just ‘cause it’s fun to hear you admit you’re a little baby when it comes to drinking.”

“Ugh, this is just because you were able to build a tolerance from all that bar hopping.”

“We both did that bar hop.” You scan him with a glint in your eyes. “Something clearly went something wrong.”

You both laugh. With another nudge towards him, you speak up again. “How’ve you been? Still working at the office?”

“Yeah, I’m officially a manager.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“You still making music?”

“Every now and then,” he says. “Whenever I get the time, I do.”

You let out a little laugh, grabbing another glass of champagne. “I remember all those tracks you made. Shame that your mixtape never released.”

“Oh my God.” Namjoon has to close his eyes. “Please never bring that up again.”

“Why not? They were great.” You take a sip of the glass. “I still have your Soundcloud page bookmarked.”

Namjoon rubs his face with his face becoming more and more flushed, but he can’t hide his growing smile. “Oh my God, (Y/N).”

You give him another teasing one in return. “Remember when you used to try to promote yourself on the quad—”

“Oh my God, (Y/N)—”

You let out another laugh from his red face. Namjoon shuffles his feet and his eyes dart around, trying to find a drink for his, suddenly, dry throat. As if you read his mind, you tip your glass towards him—offering him the rest of your drink. He takes it and takes a small sip, clearing his throat afterwards.

“Anyways,” Namjoon says. “What have you been up to?”

“Oh, you know. Same old, same old.” You pause. “You act like you didn’t like my Instagram post two nights ago. You also DM me memes, dude.”

“Yeah, but that’s different from actually talking to you and catching up.” Namjoon rests a hand on his chest, in mock-hurt. “I’ve been sending those since college and you still don’t appreciate them?”

You roll your eyes but it’s with no malice. “For your information, more is not less. Less is less.”

“Is this your way of telling me to lessen the meme content in our messaging?”

“Yes.”

“Damn, that’s harsh.”

You let out another laugh as he pouts in his seat. “Sorry, Joonie.”

Your conversation is interrupted, as Hyemi shouts your name from across the room. “(Y/N)! I’M PUTTING ON BRITTNEY, BITCH.”

“AYY!” You immediately get up from your seat, dancing your way over back to the dance floor. As Hyemi pulls you away, you look back towards Namjoon and give him a little finger wave. “I’ll see you sometime, okay?”

He smiles back with a small nod, just quick enough for you to see, before you get pulled into the crowd once again.

December 3nd, 2019

Tuesday, 6PM

Shoreside Condos

—

Another chime comes from Namjoon’s email. He continuously types, re-organizing and triple checking the calculations of his spreadsheets.

He sits on the couch with multiple sheets of paper which lay on the unoccupied space of the table and couch, in some type of clean mess. In the background, his flat screen plays a film from some movie channel that he stopped paying attention to a while ago. His only company, Rapmon, lays on the carpet near Namjoon’s feet—practically blending himself into the white, soft texture. The keyboard clicks continue for a couple more minutes, before he decides to check his email.

Hello Mr. Kim,

How are you this evening? I am sending this email to let you know there are some adjustments that need to be made to the reports. Below, I have some attachments for you to check.

Please let me know once they are completed. Have a good evening. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.

Sincerely,

Bang Sihyuk

Head Manager of the Big Hit Management Team

Lee Corporations

Namjoon lets out a sigh. Guess it’s more work for him. Jokes on Bang though—he didn’t give him a deadline. Loopholes are a wonderful thing.

He shuffles with the papers on the table, trying to find the remote. Once it’s spotted, he lowers the volume. He looks at the overall mess, ultimately deciding it’s better to clean it up, somewhat. As he pushes some of them back into their manila folders, he hears a whine.

With a scratch behind Rapmon’s ears, Namjoon gives him a little kiss. “You hungry, baby?” Namjoon gives a small smile, as Rapmon pants. “I’ll get some food for my good boy.”

He lifts himself from the sofa, already abandoning his clean-up attempt. Rapmon bounces alongside with him and they head into the kitchen area. Opening one of the lower cabinets, he easily pulls out the dog food and puts it into the doggy bowl.

Leaning on the countertop, he looks down adoringly at his pupper. “I should probably get something to eat too.” He pats his stomach. “It’s been empty.”

He pushes himself off and shuffles over to the refrigerator. However, a white card, decorated with lace, catches his attention. He sighs, plucking the card off the refrigerator magnet.

Join us for the union of Minyoung and Junmyeon!

January 11th, 2020 @ 5PM

Location: Sowon Temple

—

Black tie dress.

Reception to follow!

See you there!

Namjoon lets out another sigh, but from the migraine that formed. He’s gonna have to text Taehyung—maybe they can go wedding gift shopping together. Considering how much Taehyung spends, Namjoon is sure to balance out that…. Taehyung-ness.

He grabs out his phone, sliding it open to his messages.

Namjoon: yo, did you get a present for Junmyeon yet?

The reply is nearly instant and comes all at once.

Tata: oh shit

Tata: i forgot

Tata: shall we go shopping soon ?

Namjoon: you read my mind

Tata: it’s like we’re soulmates

Tata: :)

Namjoon: …. okay

Tata: i love you :*

Namjoon: and you have now made it weird

Namjoon: but ily too

Tata: i’m screenshotting this for the groupchat

Namjoon: and goodbye

He shakes his head, silently laughing at Taehyung’s responses. He’ll make those plans later, once he’s got some more time. It’ll be fun to spend some more time with Tae. It’s been a couple of weeks since they’d hung out. While their time at the ice rink was fun, they spent more time struggling than skating together (well, at least Taehyung was the one struggling).

But, right now, he’s got more work dumped on him. And he’s hungry.

Rapmon looks up at him as Namjoon looks down at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Namjoon opens the fridge without breaking eye contact. “This is for me. You got your bowl, buddy.”

January 11th, 2020

Saturday, 7PM

Junmyeon’s Reception

Enchanted Evenings Restaurant

—

“Although I am the oldest of our group,” Minseok says. “Junmyeon has taken care of me ever since I became friends with him. I’m sure that everyone in this room, who knows Junmyeon, knows that he has this thing where he cares more for others rather than himself. He’s the mother figure that everyone wants in their lives and we were lucky enough to have him as ours. But now, he’ll finally have someone to care for him this time around, for the rest of his life.”

He turns to the main table and raises his glass. “I would like to dedicate this toast to Mi Young, on behalf of the exo boys. Thank you for putting up with all of us.” The crowd chuckles. “ And congratulations to the both of you, for finding someone who will faithfully look after you no matter what. Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Everyone respectfully clicks their glasses together, taking a sip and going back to their meals and their own little conversations. Namjoon looks up from his glass, seeing Taehyung across the table—chatting away with the other guests. Tae fits well with the others, despite looking out of place in his patterned suit (“It’s Gucci. I have taste,” Taehyung said, when he was picking up Namjoon).

Namjoon glances to the right… where you are seated. You happily drown your glass down, letting out an exhale from the refresher.

You turn to him. “Do you think I’m allowed to drink more?” you ask.

“(Y/N),” Namjoon says. “I think it’s better for everyone if you didn’t drink more.”

You pout.

Namjoon tries not to stare.

“You, my friend,” you say with a point of your finger, poking his chest. “Need to loosen up.” You shake your empty glass at him. “What better way than with alcohol?”

“Have you become an alcoholic? Is that what this is?”

“Haha, oh so funny as always, Joonie.”

“You know I try,” he says with a grin.

He sets down the glass, turning his attention back to his plate—on it lies a pile of chopped lobster topped with little scraps of gold, which is paired with fresh caviar and foie gras sauce on the side. Everything looks so good that it practically glistens in the chandelier light coming from above the table.

While there are many guests, the venue is actually very spacious. Each table has a good amount of space that the chairs don’t bump into one another when pushed out. And yet, there’s still a large amount of space dedicated to a multicolored dance floor (which has Baekhyun and Jongin written all over it, Namjoon notes).

Even without the tables, anyone could tell it’s decorated tastefully. Above each table, there’s various lights that provide a nice atmosphere for the guests. The ceiling itself is painted plain white, but if anyone looks close enough there’s little specks of gold that shine against the light. In contrast to the ceiling, the walls were covered with wallpaper. The wallpaper is also white with gold accents, but there are also pearls that popped out of the walls—quite literally popped out. The kids who came with their parents have been feeling up the wall for the past hour or two.

Namjoon knew the wedding would be boujee, since it is Junmyeon’s, but he’d almost forgotten about how loaded Junmyeon’s family actually is.

“Who knew my most expensive meal would come from a wedding?” Go Eun says, from your other side. You let out a laugh. “It’s the Kim family, what more did you expect?”

“I don’t know,” she says. “Maybe something corny.”

“Honey, we’re past corny when we walked through those balloon arches.”

Go Eun blinks, slowly nodding along as she comes to the realization. “Ah, I guess I never got over the whole senior-junior view I had of him in school.”

“He’s got that vibe; he seems like a chill mentor.”

“But realistically speaking,” Namjoon pitches in. “We know that’s far from the truth.”

“Considering how he dances to any Sistar song like (Y/N) to Hit Me Baby One More Time,” Go Eun pauses. “I think all of the guests here know that.”

“Damn,” you say. “You really had to attack me like that, huh?”

She gives you an innocent smile that feels not-so-innocent. “Hyerin’s reception videos circulated. What else was I supposed to do with their information?”

You give her a teasing one in return, before returning to your plate once more.

There’s a moment of silence at the table as everyone is starting to dive into their meals, except for the silverware that taps the plates and bowls. As the plates start to get cleared, the chatter picks up once more—especially as the newlywed couple makes their way around with Junmyeon holding the train of Minyoung’s dress. Taehyung stirs up the commotion as he sees them making their way over.

“Here comes the lucky couple!”

From the sudden, informal announcement, everyone cheers with their glasses—both empty and full—for the newlyweds.

Junmyeon tucks a strand of Minyoung’s hair back with one hand and, with the other, he holds a glass filled with champagne that’s already lost its bubbles. “Thank you for coming, everyone. We really appreciate your presence here.”

“It’s no problem,” Namjoon says. “We’re glad to be here.”

“We hope you like our presents!” Taehyung practically yells. “If you don’t, then deal with it because we lost the receipts.” He gives them one of his boxy smiles.

Everyone gives a light-hearted laugh at Junmyeon’s face.

“Is everyone okay?” Minyoung asks. She stands behind you and Namjoon, laying a hand on your shoulder. “Is the food good?”

“Minyoung, this one plate is about the equivalent of my first year tuition,” Yeri says, looking at her. “The food is more than just good.”

“Don’t worry,” you say, giving Minyoung’s hand a pat. “Everything is great.”

She lets out an exhale. “I was just a bit concerned because Junmyeon decided the meals without me.”

“Honey,” Junmyeon says. “The meals turned out great. (Y/N) agrees.” He turns to the rest of the table. “You guys are going to love the dessert.”

“What’s for dessert?” Yunho asks, from one side of the table.

“It’s a Golden Opulence Sundae,” Junmyeon says with a beam.

“It’s got edible diamonds and a sugar forged orchid,” Namjoon whispers to you. “It was super trendy a couple of years ago, but it doesn’t mean the price went down.”

Your eyes widen. “Goddamn,” you mouth to him.

“Yeah, he went a bit overboard,” Namjoon says.

Junmyeon pouts at Namjoon’s words and Minyoung pinches his cheek. Minho makes a gagging noise and Yunho has to hit him to get him to stop.

“Anyways,” Minyoung says, pouring another glass for you and Namjoon. “Let’s enjoy the evening with a drink—cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Around the table, everyone respectively tap their glasses against one another—Namjoon with you and Minho, you with Namjoon and Go Eun.

“We would love to stay, but we need to get to the other guests,” Junmyeon says.

“But,” Minyoung says. “Stay as long as you would like. Desert is coming and the cake will be cut soon after. So, please enjoy yourselves—at the table, on the dance floor, the pool out back—”

“There’s a pool?” Heechul asks from the other side of the table.

“Yeah, the doors will officially be open after thirty minutes or so,” Minyoung says. “Anyways, mingle and have fun. We’ll be around.”

“Enjoy yourselves, okay?” Junmyeon says with another smile. With his hand on her lower back, he guides her towards the other table behind yours.

“They’re so cute,” you say with a pout. “I’m glad to see Minyoung with someone good for her.”

“Same,” Namjoon says. “I haven’t seen Junmyeon this happy since…” He tries to think.

“Since Sehun paid that one time for dinner?”

Namjoon’s eyes light up. “Yeah!” He takes another sip of his glass. “I almost forgot about that.”

“I couldn’t,” you say. “You don’t ever forget it if Sehun pulls out his wallet for you.”

“Yeah, he only pulls out his wallet for Vivi,” Namjoon notes. “Big mood though.”

You laugh.

Everyone gets back to their plates, which now has the dessert and the reception goes on. The conversation flows, between all the guests—at their assigned tables, along with the other tables. Siwon visited Namjoon’s table on many occasions, just because of Yunho and Minho’s seats. Although, Namjoon will admit that their conversations are very impressive (many topics related around politics and social injustices in modern society, which was very impressive to be honest).

The time continues to pass, but it’s hard to tell with all the conversation going on. While Namjoon is more introverted, he has been very engaged in many conversations with others—especially with you. It had only been about a year or two since you two had actually talked, caught up and all that good stuff.

You two originally met in college, in one of your classes together—after all, the study group that suffers together, stays together. While Namjoon majored in business, you had actually studied what you wanted. Your drive and extrovertedness balanced with Namjoon’s realism and introvertedness, which created, what you believe to be, an iconic duo on campus (at least with your friends).

While it is inevitable for people to lose touch after college, you were easily able to keep the connections. With the help of social media, you reached out and managed to keep contact with your close knit group of friends—including Namjoon and many others from college (and probably high school).

Unfortunately for Namjoon, this also means reminders of the uni days—both good and bad (as previously mentioned: the mixtape promos on the quad)...

“Expensive Girl was a fucking bop and you know it,” you say, scooping another spoonful of your ice cream. “What did you do with all of those CDs anyways?”

Namjoon groans, wiping his face as if it’ll get rid of the embarrassment from the olden days. “Honestly, they’re probably in a box somewhere and collecting dust.”

“Come on,” you say. “You have to admit that those songs were actually really impressive.” You smile at him. “You were really creative. What happened?”

He sighs, setting down his, now empty, wine glass. “Nothing happened, (Y/N).” He pauses. “Real life just got into the way and… next thing I knew, I stopped making songs.”

The look in your eyes softens. “Namjoon, you’re one of the most creative people I know,” you say. You lay a hand on his that rests on the table.

His eyes land on yours. You continue. “You should do what you enjoy, while balancing out the realistic picture.” Your other hand pokes his chest once more. “You, of all people, should know that. Remember what happened sophomore year?”

Ah, sophomore year. From what Namjoon remembers, you originally came into college undecided. It wasn’t until the beginning of sophomore year that you figured out what you wanted to do. (“Seeing you so driven about your music makes me more driven towards what I want to do,” you said to him. “Even if I suffer to the destination, my happiness afterwards is the most important to me and my future.”)

Namjoon sighs once more, but it’s more of frustration towards himself rather than exhaustion. He can only say one thing. “Being an adult is hard.”

You laugh at his statement—your hand unmoving from his, another thing Namjoon tries not to focus on, but he can’t because of the warmth of your hand. Yes, while the two of you are friends, if he said he never had non-platonic feelings for you would definitely be a lie.

The tap of the mic interrupts his thoughts and the conversations start to simmer down once more. In the front, Junmyeon and Minyoung stand side by side. Minyoung is in a different wedding dress but it’s been shortened and paired with some white flats. Junmyeon’s jacket has been removed and his tie is loosened.

“Hello?” Minyoung says. “Can everyone hear me?” Her smile grows, as she meets everyone’s eyes and nods. “While people have been able to enter the pool area, it’s officially been thirty minutes since dessert was served.”

“With that,” Junmyeon says. “The pool is officially open, along with the dance floor. We’re allowing song requests, along with karaoke mics. So, go wild.”

“YEAH!” Chanyeol, Baekhyun and Jongdae simultaneously shout.

Junmyeon immediately retracts his statement. “Not too wild!” Despite that warning, everyone knows it’s already too late.

Jongin, Taemin, and Ten are the first ones to enter the dance floor as the music starts. Everyone easily joins in to circle around them and chaos starts to ensue, making space for the elderly to start to leave. As the other guests start to migrate towards the colorful tiles on the dance floor, the younger ones are more on the antisocial side—Yeri joins the table with Mark, Renjun, and her other university friends that were invited as well (considering that most of them can’t legally drink). Meanwhile, Yunho, Minho and Siwon continue their political conversations in another corner as their glasses are consistently refilled by the servers.

At some point, Sehun simply puts on his sunglasses and holds a bright yellow floatie in one arm (“Sehun, we’re indoors,” Luhan says. “Your point?” he retorts). He walks past your table, saying something about how he needed the hot tub and a bottle of bubbly after this chaotic week—although, the nearly empty strawberry flavored vodka in his hand said a lot more about his lack of current sobriety.

Meanwhile, you were long gone to the dance floor, being pulled in by Yuri and Hyoyeon. Go Eun was right; something just flips when Hit Me Baby One More Time plays. Namjoon remains at the table, watching the others continuously mingle and dance, as he engages in conversation with Jaebum and Taehyung.

“You two came together?” Jaebum asks.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says. “We went shopping together for Suho’s gift and he had no choice because he can’t drive,” Taehyung jabs a thumb towards Namjoon, who’s jaw drops.

The audacity.

“I suddenly miss Hoseok as my date,” Namjoon says.

“It’s nice you all kept in touch,” Jaebum says, ignoring Namjoon’s pettiness. “It’s hard to do that nowadays.”

“It really is,” Namjoon responds.

Jaebum and Taehyung nod alongside him in response. At this moment, Baekhyun, Chanyeol and Jongdae are walking past them with black buckets to which splashes could be heard with each movement.

“Hey guys!” Taehyung calls.

Baekhyun turns towards the table and the three make their way to Namjoon and them. “Hey, Tae! Long time no see,” he says. “Nice to see you two again, thanks for coming,” Baekhyun says to Namjoon and Jaebum. “Did anyone wanna come to the pool?”

Namjoon and Jaebum shake their heads. “I didn’t bring a swimsuit,” Namjoon says.

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I forgot about it.”

“Okay, good,” Chanyeol says. “Because you won’t want to swim in it later.”

“What?” Jaebum asks.

“We’re dying it pink,” Jongdae says. Their eyebrows raise in curiosity, but no one dares to ask. “Although, I think Kyungsoo has been catching on.” Jongdae’s eyes dart around, trying to catch sight of the short, but frightening man.

“I’m sorry,” Jaebum says. “Not to be that guy, but, where’s your wife?”

“She passed on the wedding invitation, so she’s at home with our daughter,” Jongdae says. His head tilts to the side and his eyes narrow. “Why?”

“Just trying to understand why you left the house without your impulse control,” Jaebum responds with a smile.

Jongdae pouts, but it’s ignored.

“Wanna join?” Baekhyun asks. He has an innocent smile on, but his eyes are full of mischievousness.

“I'll pass,” Namjon says with a raised hand. “But thanks for the offer.”

“Same,” Jaebum says. “I don’t plan on messing with Kyungsoo.”

“I’ll go with,” Taehyung says. “It’ll be interesting to see how all of this’ll unfold.”

He waves the other two goodbye and points to Namjoon. “Text me if you want to leave early, but I’ll be at the pool, okay?”

Namjoon nods. “Please be careful.”

“Always!”

Jaebum waits until they’re an earshot away. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

Namjoon can only shrug. “But can you stop them?”

“You got a point there.”

From the other side of the venue, there’s a crash, followed by a splash, coming from the pool area and a yell louder than the music (which could only be Kyungsoo).

“YOU BRATS!”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “They lasted longer than I thought.”

Jaebum checks his watch. “Two minutes?”

“Exactly.”

No one is really sure of what happened with the dye (except for those who were actually in the pool). But it’s hard to concentrate on that when, out of the pool area, Jinki and Kibum emerge from the door with pool noodles, attacking one another with them with unnatural, pink frosted tips. Kyuhyun and Johnny are attempting to separate them, but are seemingly failing to do so. Jinki’s pool noodle hits Johnny, knocking him into a vase—luckily, he manages to catch it before it falls.

… That is until Ten knocks into him as he shakes his ass along to Shakira’s Hips Don’t Lie.

“Oof,” Jaebum says. “That’s… that’s rough, bro.”

“Hopefully, no one notices?”

“Hopefully.”

Another server comes around, silently filling their glasses once more.

“Thank you.”

They clink their glasses together in a silent toast and take a sip. Jaebum sighs, leaning back to his (well, your) seat. He takes another glance at the dance floor, spotting Heechul and Momo dancing their asses off. You would think that as dates they would be dancing together, but it looks more like they’re competing. Eventually, he spots you with some of the others.

“I’m surprised you didn’t come here with (Y/N),” he says.

Namjoon’s eyebrows raise. “What? What’d you mean?”

“I just mean..” He pauses. “It’s not bad that you two are friends,” he starts. “But, I was betting you two would be together… or, at least, in college.”

Namjoon doesn’t know what to say, but Jaebum continues. “You two just had a lot of chemistry, and still do!” He pauses. “Not a lot of people can say that.”

He nods. “Yeah, you’re right.” Namjoon looks out, easily spotting you from the crowd. It’s hard not to notice you as you twirl and dance around with some other guests—especially since someone managed to get you into a duck floatie.

“I think it’s (Y/N) though,” he continues to say. “(Y/N)’s just sociable and… that outgoingness just makes people surround (Y/N).”

“Is that what led you to (Y/N)?”

From Jaebum’s question, Namjoon’s lips automatically pursed. “I-I guess it is.”

Before Jaebum could say anything else, Give It To Me by Sistar starts to play and there’s a shout.

“YES!”

Before anyone could stop him, Junmyeon shimmies his way past the guests and towards the center—loudly singing along and doing all the dance moves.

Without either one of the boys noticing, Minyoung stands behind them with another champagne flute that’s half empty.

“Why hello, Mrs. Kim,” Jaebum says, looking rather cheeky.

“Hello boys.”

“So, Mrs. Kim,” Namjoon says. “What are you going to do about that?” he asks, pointing to the monstrosity that’s happening underneath the multi-colored disco ball.

“Uh, I don’t know,” she says. She swirls her glass and drowns it down. “Because I suddenly don’t know him anymore.”

They laugh.

“Well, that’s your husband now,” Namjoon says. “That’s all on you.” With those words, he tilts his glass towards his mouth, emptying it out once more for the night.

January 27th, 2020

Monday, 8AM

The Roasted Bean

—

The sound of chatter and the smell of coffee fill the air as Namjoon steps into the familiar coffee shop. While some of his fellow co-workers sit at separate tables, typing away on their laptops and drinking from their espresso cups, they all collectively ignore his presence—too preoccupied with their own matters. His body automatically places himself in line; his head poking up every once in a while to get a glance of Yoongi behind the counter.

Since it is early and they are located in the business district of the city, Namjoon expected for the line to be fairly long. As the time continues to pass, Namjoon quietly hums along to the songs that play on the morning radio, occasionally nodding along with the beat. He gets closer and closer, eventually giving a smile at the frowning barista.

“How are you doing that?” Yoongi asks. “It’s, like, dawn.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Namjoon points out. “Not exactly dawn.”

He brushes the comment off. “You’re here earlier than usual. What happened to 9 to 5, Dolly Parton?”

“Nothing really,” he says with a shrug. “I just have some extra work to do and I should be able to leave an hour earlier.”

Yoongi makes a face with nothing short of disgust. “I still don’t understand how you’re able to just go to work like that.”

“You’re at work though.”

“Okay, but here, I get free coffee.”

“Isn’t that stealing?”

“Not if I mess up,” he says with a wink. “Speaking of messing up orders, how can I mess up yours?”

“The usual is fine,” Namjoon says. “Thanks, Yoongi.” He gets a grunt in response, so he takes that as his cue to head over to the side where the stirrers, creamers, and sugar lay. As he absentmindedly fiddles with the sugar packets, he goes back to humming along with the songs.

A tap on his shoulder interrupts his thoughts. A familiar grin greets him.

“I thought that was you,” you say.

His smile mirrors yours. “Hey, (Y/N). I almost didn’t recognize you in the daylight.”

“And I almost didn’t recognize you without alcohol in my system.”

Namjoon laughs. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re asking me what I’m doing in a coffee shop?”

He gives you a look. “You know what I mean.”

You let out a laugh of your own. “Well, I just was visiting my friend, who works down the street, and I heard this place has the best coffee.”

His eyebrows raise. “Well, consider me pleasantly surprised.”

“Thanks?” You let out another laugh, smiling as you move yourself towards him, along with the sugars and creamers.

You both end up fiddling with the little packets, nodding along to the music together silently. Namjoon glances towards you, eventually nudging you to get your attention again. You hum in response.

“You still prefer the french vanilla creamer?”

“Yes, sir,” you say. You pluck it from his hands with a twinkling look in your eyes.

He glances over again, catching your eye. He lets out an awkward chuckle. “What?”

“Nothing,” you sing. “I just can’t believe you still remembered that.”

“Considering how we spent most of our college years over-caffeinated,” he says. “It’s safe to say I remember it.”

“Over-caffeinated?” You think for a moment. “Sounds about right.” You pause for a moment. “Oh!”

Namjoon slightly jumps from your random shout, which you do apologize for.

“Sorry.” You put a hand on his arm with a not-so-innocent smile. “I just remembered: are you going to Moonbyul’s wedding?”

He thinks. It had been a while since he received the invitation, but he definitely remembers getting it. “Yeah,” he says, after a moment. “Yeah, Jin and I are planning on going together.”

“Still can’t drive?” you ask with a mischievous twinkle in your eyes.

“You know what,” he says. “I can’t and there’s no problem with me not having a license.”

“I didn’t say there was.” You sniffle your laughter, as he pouts.

“Don’t license-shame me.”

“Not a thing, Joonie.”

Before he can reply, he’s interrupted by Yoongi, who calls for him.

“Namjoon!”

You give him another smile, before heading back to the line. “I have to get back in the line. I’ll see ya. Thanks for the creamer.”

Before he heads back to the main counter, he gives you a little nod.

He tries to ignore Yoongi’s cheeky grin. “Don’t say anything.”

“Okay,” Yoongi says. “I’ll ask instead. Who was that and why do you look all slap-happy?”

Ah, semantics. They were going to get him some day. Namjoon sighs. “That was (Y/N).”

“From college (Y/N)?”

“College (Y/N).”

“Ahhhh.” He smirks.

“Can you not?” Namjoon groans.

“Didn’t you tell me you used to have a crush on (Y/N)?”

“Can we not?”

“Not what?”

“Elaborate.”

“Oh, okay. So,” Yoongi starts. “From your exact words: (Y/N) is technically your first love, but you never confessed out of fear—of both ruining your friendship and also rejection, which is only natural. You thought you had a chance at graduation, where you knew the ties could or could not be severed. And yet…. you still didn’t confess and, now that you’ve run into your old flame…” His eyebrows raise in question. “How are things, ‘Joonie’?”

Namjoon’s eyes narrow at him in speculation. “You remembered those details rather vividly.”

Yoongi shrugs. “My therapist says I have good listening skills.”

“You really have an answer for everything,” Namjoon mutters.

“And yet, I’m the one who’s a high school dropout.”

For once, Namjoon blanks, before deciding to change the subject. “I thought you said my order is ready.”

“It is.” Yoongi sets the large cup onto the counter and gives a bright smile that is filled with sarcasm. “Bone apple tea.”

“Thanks?”

“It’s lingo,” he says. “Keep up with the times, man. You’re younger than me.”

Namjoon groans, but he can’t suppress his grin. “Have fun with the morning rush. I’ll see you later, man.”

“See ya.”

On his way out, he gives you another wave goodbye, to which you wave back.

As he officially leaves the cafe shop, he makes his way back to the office. While his mornings are rather shitty, Yoongi does tend to make them brighter—but seeing you, on top of that, might have given him more energy than the coffee does.

February 14th, 2020

Friday, 8:30PM

Moonbyul’s Reception

Celebration Ceremonies Wedding Hall

—

“I think we can all agree that Moonbyul has a stronger image,” Hyejin says. “Despite the more masculine stereotype she’s categorized in, Moonbyul is a very loving, sweet, and tender person.” She pauses. “Although, Heewon probably already knows this.”

She turns to the rest of the guests. “People say that love is supposed to make you feel nervous—your heart will pound and the anxiety will make you sweat. But, I think, love means sharing yourself with another person and you’re willing to work together to build that life with one another. Byul is someone you can share anything with—she makes everything feel more comfortable. Rather than making you nervous, she makes you feel at ease.”

She pauses. “Heewon, you’re very lucky to have someone so dedicated and hardworking by your side. And, while I may not have known you for very long, I know you’ll take great care of her. Congrats to the MoonWon couple and may your marriage be blessed for all eternity.”

Light applause is given throughout the room and Hyejin makes her way back to her seat at the main table, with the other bridesmaids and immediate family members of the two brides.

Light conversations begin once again at each of the guest tables—Moonbyul and Heewon remain seated at their table, having greeted the guests earlier as they entered the reception hall. In the background, classical music plays softly (although, live music will continue to play after the cake has been cut).

It’s been calm so far, but who knows what will happen once the bar’s open.

Namjoon takes another sip from his water glass, listening as Seokjin rambles on about the perfect ramen. Next to Jin, there’s Hani and Yura, who look half confused and half-amazed at how much he knew about food. On the other side of Namjoon, Junghwan and Myungsoo are eating away at their plates, practically cleaning them with their utensils as they scrape the food off (despite that, Namjoon swears he heard both of them ask if doggy bags were doing to be given out).

“There’s this cute little shop that Namjoon and I used to go to all the time. Remember, Namjoon? It had that seafood theme with the cute decorations?”

Namjoon’s head turns from his name being mentioned. “Yeah?” He blinks, recalling the cute fish tanks they had along the wall. Granted, the restaurant also sold sushi and he always felt guilty whenever he ordered the sashimi platters. “We should go back there sometime. They really do have the best ramen there. You should give it a shot, if you get the chance.”

“I’m always up for food,” Hani says. “I’ll take the girls with me someday since you’re giving it such high praise.”

“Well,” Namjoon says. “Maybe when Hyerin gets back from her honeymoon.”

“Very true.”

“It does sound like a cute date spot,” Yura adds. “Maybe I’ll get lucky enough to find someone to go with here.”

“Ooh,” Seokjin says. “I’ll share the address with the newlyweds too. They can go on cute dates together!” Seokjin turns back to Namjoon with a pout. “We don’t go on any dates anymore.”

“I’m busy at work, you know this.”

“You can still try to make time like you do with Jimin, at least.”

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Hani says, glancing between them. “Have you been together long?”

Namjoon nearly chokes on his food from the laugh that escapes his throat.

“We’re not dating,” Seokjin answers. “Namjoon’s got his eye on someone else.�� Namjoon gives him a questionable look, which he ignores. “As a little birdie has told me.”

Damn Yoongi and his big mouth.

At that moment, there’s some microphone feedback coming from the front.

“Hello?” Yongsun and Jaehwan stand on the stage and Yongsun carefully taps the microphone in her hand. “Hello, everyone. Can you all hear me?”

“Yes!”

She smiles. “Well, I hope you’re all having a good time. We're just about to cut the cake, but, before that, Jaehwan and I have prepared a duet for the new couple for their first dance! I hope you all enjoy it and another congratulations to our brides.”

Jaehwan gives a thumbs up to the DJ in the corner, who gives another in return and starts to play a soft melody. The lights dim and, from Namjoon’s line of vision, he sees Moonbyul stand, bowing to her wife with a hand out to invite her to the dance floor. The two make their way to the middle and slowly start to sway together. Others start to join in too, listening to the soothing music provided by Yongsun and Jaehwan.

Namjoon nods along to the song, along with the many others who stayed at their tables. He takes a glance around, spotting some of the other guests and that’s when he sees you with Wheein and Eric. An automatic grin appears on his face as he sees you. The three of you are holding hands and slowly swaying to the beat with bright, proud smiles as you all look at the lovely couple.

He glances to the side, only to see Seokjin with a smug face. He feels the heat creeping back up his neck and towards his cheeks. Namjoon clears his throat, shifting in his seat from his friend’s eyes. “What?”

“I think you know what.”

“No, I don’t.” He clears his throat once more, feeling it dry up. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“Staring at you like what?”

“Like what?” Seokjin tilts his head in a mocking manner.

Namjoon sighs as he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” he says in a singsong tone with a higher pitch. “I don’t~” He gives another look to Namjoon, speaking up again, back in his normal tone. “That’s what you sound like right now. You can’t lie to me and you know it.”

Namjoon lets out another sigh. He does know it; he really can’t lie, especially to one of his best friends. Because of this though, he’s going to be teased endlessly. “Do you remember (Y/N)?”

“Of course I do,” he says. “How could I ever forget the person you pined over for the entirety of college and afterwards?”

“Can you please not mention that part?”

“How could I not, though?” Seokjin tilts his head with a little smile that’s nothing short of mischievous. “You never confessed too, so that just added onto the secondhand frustration I had whenever you two were together.”

“Oh my God,” he mutters. “I’m just gonna stop talking altogether.”

“No, no, no,” Seokjin whines. “Please continue, I’ll be quiet.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a sigh. “I may… or may not, have ran into (Y/N) a couple of times at some other weddings and the coffee shop—”

“Which is where I got my info—”

He gives him a look, which shuts him up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Proceed.”

“(Y/N) is also here—”

Seokjin squeals, clapping his hands together—unable to contain his excitement. “Where? Where? Where?”

“(Y/N)’s with Eric and Wheein right now.”

“So? Go join them; talk to them, chat ‘em up.”

“Dude, you’re a great hype man,” Namjoon says. “But, not that great. (Y/N) seems busy, I shouldn’t interfere with that.”

“What you lack, my friend, is the confidence.” He pauses. “Do you need some of mine? Because I’d be happy to rub some onto you.”

“No, thank—” Even though Namjoon (halfway) rejected him, Seokjin is already rubbing his hands onto Namjoon’s face and, at that, with a bright smile as he smushes his best friend’s face.

After a couple of seconds, Seokjin pats Namjoon’s face, admiring his ‘work’ for a second. “There. You are set.” He gives Namjoon a little push. “Now go.”

“Now?”

“Of course now; they’re starting to cut the cake and (Y/N)’s gonna be alone.” He makes a shoo-ing motion with his hands. While Namjoon would rather let his anxiety take over, Seokjin’s got a point. Yongsun and Jaehwan have finished their duet; Moonbyul and Heewon have already moved on to cutting the cake, which have taken most of the guests’ attention—even Hani and Yura have moved themselves towards the front (granted, anything with food will draw them in). Better now than never.

Namjoon stands up, straightening out his shirt and tightening his tie. Seokjin gives a thumbs-up and a pat on the butt, before Namjoon sets off towards your table.

He takes long strides with, little to some, confidence. By the time he gets near your table, he stops behind you and lightly taps your shoulder.

You turn around, greeting him with a bright grin. “I knew you’d be around somewhere!”

“You were looking for me?” He tries not to look too shocked.

“Considering how you said you were going to be here… Yeah, I kind of was.” You turn back to Eric and Wheein. “Scootch over, y’all. Namjoon’s got a seat next to me.”

“Don’t even worry about it,” Eric says. “We’ll be out of your hair in a second.”

“We’re gonna go get some cake and then we’re gonna go to the bouquet toss too,” Wheein says. “I also have to stop Hyerin from running into the kitchen to get more of the food. Don’t worry though, we’ll be back.”

They both get up, waving you both goodbye, and catch up with the rest of the crowd.

Meanwhile, you turn back to Namjoon. “So, what brought you over?” You lean your chin on your hand. “Was it my sparkling aura you felt the presence of?”

He laughs, responding with a teasing tone of his own. “What else could it have been otherwise?” He shifts in his seat. “Are you having fun?”

“You know me, Joonie,” you say with a laugh of your own. “I’ll find a way to have fun.” You eye him. “Are you having fun? Or are you planning on being anti-social again?”

“Again?” His eyebrows raise. “How dare you. I am an introvert, not anti-social. I came to you this time.”

“Uh-huh,” you say with crossed arms. “This time being the key phrase. Don’t you have other friends?”

“I have other friends.” He pouts. “I came here with Seokjin.”

You gasp. “I haven’t seen him in so long. I need to catch up with him; I miss him.” You poke your head around towards the dance floor, waving to Seokjin—who is currently doing his infamous traffic dance underneath the disco lights.

“Wow. Really feeling the love here, (Y/N).”

You turn back to him with a teasing smile and poke your finger into his dimple that he doesn’t even bother to try to swat away. “I’ve missed you too, Joonie.”

He quickly takes your hand off his face, hoping you didn’t feel the heat that rises to his face.

“We can make plans too,” you say with a nudge. “You know, instead of meeting at all these weddings.”

“Oh, yeah,” he says. “That’d be a lot easier.”

“Give me your phone.”

Namjoon reaches into his pocket, easily pulling out his phone and hands it over to you. He lets you tap around on it, until he realizes something. “Wait, what are you doing? I have your number.”

“I’m checking your schedule,” you say. “Makes things easier to plan.” You look up from the screen. “Especially since you’re an important businessman.”

He closes his eyes, in an attempt not to laugh at the ridiculous statement, but the grin on his face gives his emotions away.

You scroll through his calendar, before landing on a date. “I’m free for lunch on Wednesday.” You dangle the phone in front of him. “Think you can make some time for me?”

“(Y/N), I can always make time for you.” He really hopes that didn’t sound as desperate as it did.

However, he doesn’t think you care—as he spots the large grin on your face.

“Great,” you say. “It’s a date.”

Namjoon is unable to say anything, as he’s sabotaged by his own friend.

Seokjin dances his way over, pulling him onto the dance floor. “Need to borrow him, thanks! I’ll catch up with you later, (Y/N)!” He gives a light push to Namjoon, who’s trying to keep up with Seokjin’s dance moves. “How’d it go?”

“We set a date?” He tries to collect his thoughts, but he’s having issues with processing it. “I think?”

“See what happens when you have a little confidence?” He interrupts before Namjoon can answer. “You’re welcome.”

“Oh my God,” he mutters with disbelief. Sometimes, he really can’t believe the amount of confidence that this one man has.

“Now keep dancing, that’s how we’re gonna make our way closest to the bouquet. I’m catching that and no one can stop me.”

“Seokjin, why are you like this?”

“Oh hush, you love me.” Seokjin does a little body wave to skim past the other guests. “Y’all better watch out ‘cause the king is coming!”

February 19th, 2020

Wednesday, 12:30PM

Emerby Eateries

—

Namjoon’s fingers tap against the table, checking his watch for the time once again. He takes another sip of from his water glass, oddly feeling the anxiety hit. Does this count as a date? You did say it was a date, but… is this really a date?

Before he can linger too long on the thought, the seat in front of him is taken—by you. You’re slightly out of breath and, from the sight of your hair being slightly out of place, he can assume you did a small run on your way here before you were any more late than you already were.

“You’re late,” he says with a singsong tone. He picks up the menu, pretending to glance over the options. “You really haven’t changed since college.”

“Tsk, tsk, Joonie.” You brush off his statement with a wave of your hand. “You’re just too punctual. I was just a couple of minutes late.”

“More like ten minutes late.”

“Potato, potato.” You grab your menu, glancing through the appetizers. “Time’s an illusion anyways.”

He tries to stop his laughter, but one look at you and he breaks his fake anger.

“Did you order anything without me?” you ask.

“Of course not,” he says. “I figured you would want to share anyways, so you can decide on what you want.”

“And jack the bill up? I’m not that type of person.”

“Stand down,” he says. “Not what I meant.”

You chuckle. “I’m just pulling your leg. But, seriously, is there anything you’ve set your heart on ordering?”

“Well, the sandwiches look good.” His tongue clicks as he contemplates on his order. “I usually get those whenever I’m here, so I’ll probably get one. Do you know what you want?”

“Not really, I’ve been stuck on the appetizers. Did you want to split one?” You set your menu down, but your eyes don’t leave it. “They got fried pickles and I kind of want to try them. They also have those cheese balls that those mukbang youtubers eat.” You look up at him. “I kind of want to try those, not gonna lie.”

He smiles at the way your eyes sparkle at the thought. “I’m not stopping you, you know.”

“I know, but will you eat it with me? I’ll even pay for them.”

“Damn, (Y/N),” he says with a hand on his chest. “That’s how I know your love is real.”

You let out another laugh at his words and Namjoon couldn’t help but admire how carefree you look. While the two of you were a chaotic duo, the chaos was more drawn out from your side—not really chaos, it was more of your impulsiveness. But, it doesn’t mean he didn’t enjoy those memories with you. In fact, he cherishes them the most from his college memories.

He still can’t believe he let you convince him of breaking into the campus gym’s pool. There was also that time when you two were drunk and you told him you wanted to try rock climbing—at the end of the night, you took an hour to climb up to his top bunk, declared success, and passed out once your head hit his pillow. You also broke into a classroom with him, to explain your theories on how birds work for the bourgeoisie (while the theories were insane, he had to admit you had a really convincing argument, which was probably due to all those essays you had to write).

“Do you know what you would like?”

The server’s question makes him snap out of his thoughts. He looks at you expectantly and you do him the solid by answering first.

“We’re gonna need some more time for the entrees, but could I get a couple of appetizers first?”

“Of course, whenever you’re ready.”

“Okay, so we’re going to start with the fried cheese balls with some fire sauce on the side, along with some fries.”

“Anything to drink?”

“I’m good with water.” You look to Namjoon.

“Uh, me too. Water’s fine.”

You both thank your server before she leaves and turn back your menus when she’s out of sight. There’s a moment of silence as you both deliberate on what to get. Namjoon’s already figured he would just get what he usually does a while ago; his menu is shut and left on the side as he waits for you to figure out what you want. He can only shake his head; you’re still just as indecisive as before.

Light pop music plays in the background and his fingers tap along with the beat. He moves his focus to the window where people continue to pass by on the busy city street. It’s lunchtime, so he expected the foot traffic to pick up a bit (and it did)—which was why he wanted to go a bit earlier. After another moment, he turns back to you, only to see you already looking at him.

“Having fun?” you ask with a quirk of your lip.

“Always.” He leans back in his chair. “You figured out what you want?”

“Yeah, it took a bit but I figured it out.”

When the server comes over again, the appetizers are served and you both order the entrees. You and Namjoon split the appetizers, nearly finishing them until the entrees were ready. Between all this time, you two actually catch up. It’s more than just the casual conversations you’ve had at those weddings—you’re both taking more time to listen to one another (in a more sober conversation) and actually talk about the things you didn’t manage to get to. Next thing you knew, it’s already been nearly an hour.

“Can you believe that we’re actually adults living in this capitalistic society?” You set your glass down. “We’re doing things like paying for bills.”

“Yeah,” he says. “It’s called responsibilities.” He lets out another laugh at the face you make from his word choice.

“Ugh, that’s disgusting. Don’t make me choke.” You take another sip of your water. “You know one way of knowing there’s the transition from childhood to adulthood is attending more funerals than weddings.”

“It seems more like the opposite for us, don’t you think?”

“Oh my God,” you groan. “You’re so right though. The amount of weddings I’ve been attending…” You shake your head, as if to convince yourself the number is lower than it actually is. “It’s kind of ridiculous. Don’t get me wrong, I love all of my friends, but Jesus Christ, it’s like they all had a pact to get married around the same time and decided to leave me out.”

Namjoon sighs, playing with the leftover sauce on the side. “I’ve been to, like, five last year and I’m pretty sure it’s going to keep coming.”

“I really feel you, Joonie. I really do. I have a couple more I have to go to later.” You let out a sigh. “Curse me for being so friendly with others.”

“Haha, this is what you get for being popular.”

“I am not popular; I just happen to be a bit more extroverted than you.”

“More like a lot,” he says. “You definitely used to be a popular kid in high school.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. What’s wrong with a couple more friends?”

“No, no, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a compliment: people enjoy your company and that’s how you managed to keep the ties you still have…” He pauses. “Like me.”

You give him another teasing smile. “Glad to know you enjoy my company.”

“It’d be awkward if I didn’t, considering I decided to have lunch with you.”

“Oh, yeah, by the way, how long are your lunch breaks?”

“Since I’ve moved up to management, I get more time, so about an hour or so—give or take.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Wow, look at you.”

He tries to suppress the blush from the look you give him.

“And despite all of this,” you continue to say. “You still don’t have your license?”

“Why are you bringing this up again?” He groans.

“It came up organically when I was with Seokjin,” you say. “You know... After he managed to steal the bouquet from Sunmi’s hands.”

“So,” he says with a glint in his eye. “You did talk to Seokjin that night?”

“Yeah, I did. Found out a little bit about what you’ve been doing after college.”

“So you talked about me?”

For the first time today, the blush starts to creep up your face. Namjoon raises an eyebrow at the sight; for once, he seems to have the upper hand. You clear your throat, before taking another sip of your near-empty glass.

“Don’t try to change the subject,” you say. “You still don’t have your license.”

“I-I just never had the time and the office is close to my apartment…” He tries to find the words (excuses, if he’s really being honest). “All of my friends have their licenses, so I don’t see the appeal of getting one.”

“So, what I’m hearing is, you have a uncommitted chauffeurs.”

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” he says with a laugh. “I don’t have that much money yet.”

“Yet. That’s the word to focus on.”

You both laugh again.

“Well, I would love to be your chauffeur anytime,” you say with another grin. “That is if you pay me for gas money.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he says. “Thank you for the offer though.”

“It’s no problem.” You let out a sigh, but it’s more relaxed than tired. “I’m serious though. If you need a ride, you can always ask.”

“I know, I know,” he says. He swirls his glass, trying to distract himself before he lets out his next words. “I know I can count on you anytime.”

The sparkle in your eyes returns and Namjoon has to stop his heart from skipping a beat at the sight.

March 10th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM

Shoreside Condos

—

Hey! Just a friendly reminder to RSVP to our wedding!

We’d love for all of you to join!

See you then!

- Anna Young and Eric Nam

Namjoon squints at the email and its neat, curly font. If he didn’t have Eric’s email saved, he definitely would have thought it was some type of subscription he signed up for and completely forgot about from the words alone.

He makes a mental note to dry-clean his fancy suit before the time comes. Although, realistically speaking, he has more than enough time to do so. He can probably (and most likely will) procrastinate on it.

As he tries to make the mental arrangements, in the background, the television plays on another generic movie channel that doesn’t play anything remotely worth paying attention to (he might make an exception for The Hunger Games though). Rapmon sits on the couch, next to Namjoon, with his front paws and head laying on Namjoon’s legs. One hand pets Rapmon softly and the other hand hovers over his laptop’s keypad as he quickly RSVP’s for the wedding and reception.

Namjoon easily fills it out with one hand, humming along as he taps the individual keys. However, he realizes that there is a problem after submitting the form: he has no ride. From what he can recall, the others probably aren’t going, considering these were two separate friend groups—so there’s no point in asking anyone for a possible ride. Then again, he could always get an uber or carpool with someone else.

He sucks in a breath, praying someone he knew would be on the guest list. Going back to his email, he looks over those who were sent the same email.

While he is acquainted with over half of the people, there isn’t anyone close enough he could ask. Jackson’s most definitely going with his long-time partner and there is no way Namjoon wants to be between the two of them. On the other hand, Amber is probably going with a group of people and he’s not really up for a conversation with a bunch of people he’s unfamiliar with. On top of all that, Eric is very sociable, so there are bound to be guests from all sorts of places (considering the unknown names from the email).

Although....there is another option.

He quickly picks up his phone, scrolling through his contact list. His finger stops as he hovers over your contact. He taps on it, but can’t find the courage to hit any button. The contact photo of you, smiling with a bundle of puppies (from that time you wanted to pet a bunch of puppies at Petco), is what his eyes linger on the most.

While the rational side of his mind knows you would be ecstatic to go to Eric’s wedding with him, the irrational side tells him that he shouldn’t bother you. What if you think he’s just using you for rides? Are you just going to drop him off? Should he invite you as a date? But, most of all, what if you just flat out reject him?

Rapmon senses his master is upset and tilts his head up at Namjoon as his paws start to pat him—at least, his leg—to make him feel better. Namjoon can only smile, patting his head in response as a silent thanks for the attempt to comfort him. However, because of that…

“No!”

One of Rapmon’s paws hits the call button and Namjoon can feel ten years of his life being shaved off as the tone starts to ring.

“Ahhh!!!”

Out of panic, he drops the phone quicker than a hot potato. Luckily for him, it lands on the soft carpet below. He looks to Rapmon, who looks around, panting—without a care in the world, as if nothing was wrong.

But right now, everything is wrong.

Before Namjoon could even pick up the phone, nevertheless hang up, the ringing tone stops and there’s a soft response.

“Hello?”

He stumbles around, trying to grab the phone, but hitting the coffee table with his foot and falling on his ass. “Oh shi—”

“... Hello?”

“Sorry!” he shouts aloud. He quickly puts himself together, sitting back on the couch and leans down to grab his phone. He clears his throat, before speaking. “Hello?”

“Hey, Joonie.” He can hear your grin over the phone. What’s up?”

“Oh, nothing much..” He lets a small exhale, trying to calm himself from the embarrassing situation. “Um, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing really?” He hears some clutter as you are shifting the phone on your shoulder. “I’m just at home. You know, doing this and that.”

“Oh, oh. Uh, sorry. I didn’t mean to bother you—”

“Namjoon, you can never bother me,” you say. “What’s up though? Not that I mind you calling me a bit out of the blue.”

He opens his mouth, unable to really find the words. “So, uhm… This is kind of stupid.”

“More stupid than you cutting that onion?”

“That was one time.” His eyes close, trying to repress his laughter and the embarrassing memory. “Let it go!”

There’s a laugh on the other side of the line; your laugh is infectious, causing Namjoon to burst into a laughing fit as well.

“Um, okay,” he says. He lets out a sigh. “This is, like, way earlier than I originally intended.”

“Come on, Joonie. Spit it out; it’s just me.”

That’s the problem though: it’s you. But he can’t say that without it sounding weird. His lips twist to try to find the right words. “Do you remember Eric?”

“You mean the guy I met at Moonbyul’s wedding?”

“Yeah, him.”

“Yeah, I remember him. Why?”

“Well, he invited me to his wedding…”

“Oh, good for him.”

“Yeah.. but I was wondering…” Maybe he shouldn’t ask, but he does anyways. “If you could give me a ride?”

You let out a small laugh. “Of course I can give you a ride.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, when is it?”

“It’s in April, which is, like, a month away, but—”

“Considering how I can’t even plan the next day, I’m sure I’ll be able to give you a ride, like, a month later.”

“Well,” he says. He can feel his shoulders tense a bit. “It doesn’t just have to be a ride…” His fingers absentmindedly toy with a decorative button on his couch. “Did you… did you want to be my plus one?”

There’s a bit of silence and Namjoon can only swallow, feeling all the moisture in his mouth.

“... It depends.”

“On what?”

Your response is a bit softer from the original teasing tone you had before. “It depends if you really want me there.”

He relaxes, easily leaning back onto the couch. “Of course I want you there, consider it a trade deal.”

“A trade deal?”

“I get a ride and you get free food?”

You hum a bit into the phone. “I like that preposition, but could I refer to this as a favor?”

“Considering that it is a favor,” he says. “Sure—I owe you one.”

“I’m gonna hold onto that against you then.”

“I’m completely fine with that, (Y/N).”

“Okay, just keep in touch and text me the details when you get the time.”

Before you can hang up, he speaks up once more. “Hey, (Y/N)?”

There’s a bit more shuffling, but it stops. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Joonie. You can count on me anytime.”

He smiles into the phone for the nth time and looks down at his feet, feeling the blush return. “I know.” He pauses. “I’ll-I’ll text you.”

“You better, Joonie. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.”

“Bye!”

His phone screen turns black for a second, before returning back to your smiling contact image. His grin grows and he slumps back further into the couch, practically beaming once his body is bully molded with the couch. He turns back to his fluffy boy and plays with his fur, giving him thorough pets. “Such a good boy. I shall retrieve you a treat soon.”

Rapmon barks happily at his spot, continuing to pant as he moves his eyes on the television screen.

Meanwhile, Namjoon gets back to his spreadsheets, minimizing his personal email tab. He manages to do his tasks much happier now that he’s got something to look forward to.

April 3rd, 2020

Friday, 7:30PM

Eric’s Reception

Bright Rings Event Venue

—

“Anyone who knows Eric,” Eddie says. “Knows that he’s very easy-going. He’s able to get along with anyone, which is how he’s able to meet so many people and make so many friends. So, when I first introduced Eric to Anna, I thought this was nothing more than another just friends situation. Little did I know was that I would be standing here… as the best man for their wedding.”

He moves himself closer to the main table, where the bride and groom are seated. “As Eric’s brother—and manager—I did not think that he would be married before me.” The crowd laughs light-heartedly. “Don’t worry, I’m not bitter about it. I’m glad Eric has found someone who’s willing to spend their life with him, especially after getting to know him.” He lets out a small laugh as Eric pouts from his seat.

“Anyways, Anna—” He raises his glass. “This toast is for you. Consider this your official welcome to the Nam family.”

The guests click their glasses with the others, exchanging pleasantries along the way. Namjoon comfortably smiles at you, and vice versa, before drowning a mouthful of the bubbly champagne that you two had previously cheered with. The chatter picks up once again as Eddie sits down next to his date at the main table with the newlyweds. Everyone resumes their conversations, slowly building up to, nearly, maximum volume. Birds of a feather flock together—Eric’s loud personality attracts many other eccentric personalities.

Namjoon takes a look around, taking note of the other guests. There’s a wide variety of people; while some are from college, from what he could recall, most of them are unfamiliar faces and unrecognizable place settings. Although, he should thank Eric for his place setting—many of those at this table are faces he does know.

Jackson and his long-time girlfriend and recently engaged fiance, Hua Yi, were seated (luckily) on Namjoon’s left side and you were placed to his right. On your right, you sat next to Amy Lee and Amber—who were like Eric’s non-biological sisters. You were making easy conversation with the other guests, both familiar and non, as per usual. Maybe it’s due to your presence, but Namjoon has been able to easily converse with others as well.

Jaehyung, another close friend of Eric’s, is currently at the front of the stage to provide entertainment with his guitar. He sings a sweet melody, contributing to the light atmosphere—above all the chatter and light conversation happening.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to play the guitar,” you say, leaning closer to him. “Maybe I should’ve joined the band kids in high school to pick up a little something.”

“Well, I did band…. kind of.” His face contorts, remembering the piano lessons he was forced to participate in due to the school’s curriculum. “But, trust me when I say that it did nothing for me.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Nothing?” You lean in closer, with an elbow propped on your knee. “You almost became one of those famous soundcloud rappers. I think you should give yourself some more credit.”

“Yeah, well, I can only play chopsticks,” he says. “So, were those four years really worth it?”

“Is anything from high school really worth it though?”

You both chuckle as the old memories from high school started to occupy your minds. To think that Namjoon had really spent four years, not knowing what the hell he was doing—only to study for four more years to survive life and work a stable job with a stable paycheck... Time really does just fly.

“Oh my God,” he says. “High school was awful.”

“College was fun though.” You let out a relaxed sigh as you lean back and your eyes nearly sparkle from the fond memories you’d made way-back-when. “That’s the time period anyone would go back to.”

“I would prefer the experience without the debt though.”

“Thank God for scholarships.” You give him a little nudge. “Am I right, Mr. 148-IQ?”

Namjoon rolls his eyes at your words in a playful manner.

Before he can respond back, microphone feedback plays through the speakers, causing most to wince at the sound. Eric and Anna have entered the stage area, nearly blocking Jae—who simply waves at the crowd with his head poking out from behind the couple.

“Hello?” Eric says. “Can everyone hear me okay?”

There’s a collective murmur and he speaks up once more. “Okay, we’re good. Before anything, let’s give another round of applause for Jae!”

There’s a light round of applause for Jaehyung, who gives a big smile and wave. Eric continues to speak after it dies down a bit. “Thank you all for coming once again. We both really appreciate that you took the time to be here for us.”

“Right now, we’re going to have our first dance,” Anna says. “So, we’re gonna slow things down with the musical accompaniment of our very own Ailee!”

Next to you, Amy raises from her seat and makes her way to the stage. You, along with Namjoon, clap for her—cheering her on as she walks towards center stage. She chats a bit with Jaehyung as the two of them start to set up. After a bit, she does a bit of harmony with Jaehyung and, shortly after, the sweet, soft melody of the guitar starts to play.

Anna guides Eric towards the middle of the dance floor, who’s got a grin the size of the entree plates; she places his hands on her waist and hers on his shoulders, leaning into him as the song continues to play. Other guests slowly join them as well, including Jackson and Hua Yi.

In a couple of minutes, you and Namjoon are the only ones left at the table. You two continue to chat for the time being, even as the music changes and time continues to go by. The other guests come and go by your table (even Mark came by, but the thumbs-up he gives Namjoon made him quite flustered); some had left a bit sooner because of prior engagements they had arranged for the next day.

By this point, it’s past three hours—the cake has already been cut and the bar is officially open for the rest of the evening. The loud personalities had just gotten louder as the night got longer.

Yongsun’s alcohol tolerance has been hit as she swings on the stipper pole with a plate of cake in her hands. On the other hand, as the songs started to get more upbeat, Amy abandoned her post at the stage and headed towards the bar—where she’s been doing her own personal wine tasting (and karaoke session). Amber had briefly joined her, before deciding to lead an impromptu concert that may or may not have resulted with her currently crowd-surfing. Jackson is with Peniel… doing whatever they usually do (although, Namjoon definitely recalls Peniel holding very tightly onto a Naked smoothie bottle; something about getting naked at the reception).

The chaos goes on, even with the two of you in your own little bubble. The only difference though… is the alcohol intake as the time had passed. Considering how many glasses you had drowned, along with the ones Amy kept recommending to you and the ones brought by other servers, Namjoon is starting to remember how good your tolerance is. Despite that, you are definitely starting to feel it hit hard all at once. Meanwhile, he’s suffering silently from a mere three glasses.

You drown another glass of your white wine. “Ahh.” You lean back in your chair with closed eyes. “My guy, I definitely cannot drive for a while.”

A giggle spills from his lips as the alcohol starts to flow throughout his system. “I can’t drive at all.”

You laugh along with him; his giddiness is contagious. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope.” He pops the p, giving you a wide beam that showcases his perfect, shiny teeth.

You raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. You can’t focus on anything from seeing how red his face is. You can’t resist yourself and lightly tug on his ears—which are also a similar shade—to pull him a bit closer to you. “Joonie, you’re so cute when you’re drunk.”

He feels the blood rush more into his cheeks, but he can’t help his smile growing from the compliment. Even as you’re squishing his cheeks together, he doesn’t pull away from your touch.

“AYO!”

Both of your heads turn towards the stage. Anna’s clearly had her fill of alcohol too. Her hair is in loose curls from the tight updo she previously had. She currently stands on the stage, the mic in one hand and her bouquet in the other; her wedding dress was already ripped—but it looks as if it was chopped with some basic kitchen knife—to a shorter length.

“It’s time for the flower toss!” She waves it around, dangling it in front of the crowd. “Anyone who wants this can come and get it!”

A small group of people start to push their way towards the front as Anna turns her back towards them.

You divert your attention back to the man in your hands. “I’m gonna go.”

“Will you be back?”

“Very soon.” You look dead serious. “Swearies.”

He nods his head (to the best of his ability, considering his face is literally in your hands) and watches on as you head towards the crowd, easily fitting in with the others. He leans his chin into his palm, watching you engage with a bunch of people, who are literal strangers to you. It’s amazing how you can easily and naturally insert yourself into a group of people. He knows he probably looks like some type of idiot, but, right now, you are the only thing that matters.

Back at the stage, Anna counts, leaning back little by little with a swing of her hands. “3! 2!”

Just as she tosses the flowers over her head, Mike yells. “Yeet!”

“Mine!” Peniel calls.

But Matthew gets there first.

“Interception, bitch!”

He knocks the bouquet from its original path. It was almost like a high school basketball match from the way it happened.

Next thing you know, a couple of grown ass men were starting a brawl over an overpriced floral arrangement. Jamie interferes the two, squeezing herself in between the two idiots and easily whacking them, effectively getting them to stop.

“Not the tiddies!”

“Shut the fuck up!” she yells. “This isn’t about you!” With each word, she uses the flowers to hit each of them.

While everyone’s distracted, Jackson rips the flowers from Jamie’s hands. He makes his way over to Hua Yi, easily getting down on one knee. Before he says anything, Hua Yi rips the flowers out of his hands and yells. “We’re already engaged, you idiot!” There’s no harm in it, considering how wide her grin is and the blush that’s apparent on her cheeks.

Eric, eventually, takes over the stage once more—his tie loose and tossed carelessly over his shoulder. Despite it being his wedding, he looks like he’s seen some stuff happen. He stands next to Anna with the mic, which he definitely had to pry out of her hands, and simply sighs as he watches the chaos. “This is cancelled; y’all are banned—I’m calling the police.”

Of course, everyone ignores his empty threat and continues to brawl over the flowers.

Namjoon’s attention is taken away from the scene, as you move past the chaos, and head back towards him. You arrive back with a pout, immediately slouching back in your seat. He rests his chin on the table, inching closer to you with eyes that sparkle like an anime character.

“I didn’t get it,” you whine.

He pouts with you, feeling your pain. “I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh and proceed to take another shot. A drop spills from your lips, trailing down your neck and Namjoon’s eyes unconsciously follow it.

“Joonie,” you say.

His eyes go back to yours. “Yes.”

“I need ice cream.”

“Ice cream?” His eyebrows furrowed together in concentration and thought. “They only have cake.”

“Then we need to go to the ice cream, Joonie.”

His eyes widen in a comedic size reeling you’re correct. He snaps his fingers, lifting himself from the table, and pointing directly at you. “You are a genius.”

“I fucking know, bro.” You pause as you realize your predicament. “I can’t drive.”

“Neither can I.”

“Not like that,” you say. “I’ve had like…. more than five glasses.”

“Really?” His mouth gaps open. “I lost count after the tenth one.”

“Ten?!” You gasp. “Did I really drink that much?”

“I don’t know, (Y/N). I said I lost count.”

You blink at him, slowly coming to the realization of how much alcohol was actually in your system. “Oh my God.” Your pout returns. “But I want ice cream now.”

He hums, rocking a bit in his chair, like an old man out on the front porch, to find some way out of the complication. His eyes finally met yours. “I think I have a solution.”

Friday, 11:45PM

After Eric’s Reception

Midnight Munchies

—

Your giggle overlaps with the sound of the bell that rings as you two walk into the late-night dessert shop. The workers greet you cheerfully, which you both respond back to. You are looking at the glass that showcases all the different flavors, whereas Namjoon tries to read the menu to the best of his ability—but his squinting shows how bad his vision is at the moment.

Back at Bright Rings, after some common sense had slowly started to come back, you both searched up ice cream places nearby. Luckily, Namjoon found a place that served ice cream at this hour and it was close enough to walk to—resulting in an improvised, evening stroll which was just the two of you laughing at dumb jokes along the way (he may or may not have used some of Seokjin’s dad jokes along the way).

Due to the lesser amount of drinks in his system, he sobered up a bit… On the other hand, yours still remained. But nothing can’t be fixed with a little bit of ice cream (at least, that’s what you said).

“Do you know what you would like?”

Your attention has been turned to the server behind the counter. “Uh, not me.” Scooting closer to Namjoon, you give him a nudge. “Joonie, do you know what you want?”

“I’m not sure,” he says with a slight frown. “What’d you think I should get?”

You let out a small hum as you think, before pointing to the fruit flavors in the middle. “You like fruit flavored ice cream, and you definitely need to try something new, so I say you should get the melon.”

“Okay,” he says with a nod. “I trust you.” He turns to the worker. “Can I please get a scoop of the melon ice cream?”

“Would you like any toppings?”

“Uhh.” He turns to you. “Should I?”

“If you want some, then get some.”

He hesitates a bit. “Strawberries?”

The worker raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure?”

Turning back towards the counter, he answers. “Yes.”

He receives his ice cream, waiting as you order yours and pays when you’re done—despite your protests. You two thank the staff and add some change into the tip jar, before heading out to go back to the venue to sober up a bit more.

For a bit, you two are enjoying your ice cream in silence as you walk side by side. You both walk for about a block—his footsteps match yours and yours matches his.

You’re the one who speaks up first. “Thank you for the ice cream.”

“It’s just ice cream, (Y/N),” he says.

“Still,” you start to say. “Considering I practically pushed you into inviting me out—”

“You didn’t push me. I wanted to invite you.”

You look to him, simply giving him a small smile. “Thank you.”

The two of you continue your walk back to the venue, but you abruptly stop and tug on Namjoon’s sleeve.

“What’s up?”

You point to an open park and, with another hand, you lightly shake his arm like an excited child. “Let’s go in there.”

He smiles at the sight. “Okay, let’s go.”

Your eyes gleam at him and you’re practically wiggling with excitement, before you sprint over towards the park gates like a child.

He shakes his head with a chuckle as he follows behind you. By the time he’s caught up with you, you’re already settled underneath a nearby tree with a view of the lake. He heads towards you in long strides and silently seats himself next to you.

You’ve already finished your ice cream—its remains left on the side. Namjoon manages to finish his, which isn’t hard considering how it’s half melted and less cold. White noise plays as you two sit back and relax. There’s a couple of bikers, dog walkers, and other couples that occupy the public space. But, for most of the time, it’s just the two of you in silence.

It’s broken once you let out a loud breath and fall back onto the grass. You shift a bit, trying to make yourself comfortable, and tap the empty space behind him. “Come on, Joonie. It’s just me.”

“Okay, okay,” he says. “Just give me a sec.”

He leans back, feeling the prickly grass brush against his neck, and rests his hands behind his head. You frown from the distance, easily pulling his arm and resting your head on it, scooting closer to him.

His breath gets caught in his throat from your proximity, but he doesn’t move away—almost in a near frozen state as you continue to lean on him. Right now, all he hopes is that you can’t hear how hard his heart is anxiously beating in his chest.

Instead, he tries to focus on the clear evening sky. It would have been nice for the stars to be out, but this is just as fine (although, the view can be done without all the red helicopter lights that pass by).

You let out a sigh, feeling a lot more sober compared to before. “Time is weird, huh?”

“What’d you mean?”

“It’s just—” You pause. “One moment, we’re just college students messing around and now we’re adults, doing things like jobs and going to the post office or something.”

He chuckles. “The post office?”

“Ugh.” You lightly hit him to get him to stop laughing. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” he says with a sigh of his own. “I get it. It’s just… we’re grown ups—”

“Ew, please don’t say that.”

He chuckles again. “Look at us though. Could you have even imagined telling your younger self that the most eventful thing you’ve done this week is go to a wedding?”

“Weddings can be fun,” you try to defend. “There’s free food and good music.”

“Good music?”

“Better music than all those cringey ass middle school mixers.”

“You’re right about that,” he says. “I think I’ll die if I hear another remix of a top 40 hit song again.”

“You know which remix I hated the most?”

“Which one?”

“Love You Like A Love Song club remix.”

He lets out a hearty laugh from your answer. “I didn’t know that was a remix.”

“It is and it’s absolutely terrible. They did Selena so dirty.”

“Did they now?”

“Absolutely, Joonie. It’s a fucking monstrosity.”

You look dead serious, which is probably what makes him laugh even harder than before. His laugh dies down to a chuckle. There’s another moment of silence afterwards, the two of you focusing your attention on the calm atmosphere from the silence of the park and the calm waters that lightly splash from a safe distance.

The silence is interrupted as your phone goes off. Namjoon watches as you simply take the phone that was placed next to you. The light of the phone shines against your features briefly before you turn it back off.

You make eye contact with him and he has to turn away, clearing his throat from being caught. “What’s up?” he asks.

“Nothing really,” you say. “I just got a reminder for another wedding I have to go to.” You wave your phone, despite the blank, black scene. “I have to RSVP later… at some point.”

He hums, understanding the situation. Suddenly, you sit up as you shake him lightly, causing him to sit up as well.

“What?” he asks with apprehension.

There’s a glint in your eyes that Namjoon is unsure as to whether or not he likes.

“Remember that favor you owe me?”

“Yeah?”

“You wanna come to my friend’s wedding with me?”

He leans back with a hand on the grass, contemplating whether or not he should. Would this count as a date? Nevertheless, an unofficial third date?

He does owe you a favor too…

So, it makes sense for him to accompany you to return the favor.

He finally looks to you, whose head is tilted towards him in curiosity with a smile that shines brighter than the sun and eyes that sparkle more than any star in the sky.

“Come on, Joonie. It’ll be fun.”

“Count me in,” he says. “Consider it a favor being repaid.”

Your smile turns into a beam before you settle back onto the grass with your eyes closed. “Let’s stay here a little longer.” You sigh. “I’m going to keep you for a bit, before I have to share you again.”

He lets out a sigh of his own, but you don’t hear it.

He’s already yours for the taking.

April 18th, 2020

Saturday, 9PM

Tiffany’s Reception

Rosey Pink Palace

—

“I’ve known Tiffany for over ten years,” Jessica says. “I’ve lived with her, worked with her, and that meant learning a lot about her, as a person and a professional. She’s someone who finds the balance between idealistic and realistic. She has been looking forward to finding her Prince Charming and now she gets to have her fairytale ending. I have never seen Tiffany as happy as I’ve seen her with Kaun Yin.” She pauses, looking at the two. “So, let’s raise a glass to congratulate the Pink Princess for finding her Prince Charming.”

The other guests give a light round of applause for Jessica, who gives another wave and smile—before she takes back her seat at the main table. Conversation is sparked once again amongst the guests.

At your table, Namjoon makes small talk with some of the others at the table (mainly those who he’d previously met at Junmyeon’s wedding). Despite the fact that this is your friend’s wedding, which is filled with literal strangers and acquaintances, he’s managed to mingle fairly well without your guidance. But that’s also the reason why he’s been dragged into a conversation with another table—i.e., the table behind him.

“Tiffany and I went out for ice cream once and she basically shamed me for not getting sprinkles,” Evan says. “I’m betting her cake is going to be the most colorful thing in the venue.”

“The pinks aren’t colorful enough for you?” Nichkhun asks with a teasing smile.

Namjoon lets out a laugh. “It’s called the Pink Palace, what other color did you—could you have expected?”

“I thought maybe Kuan Yin would convince her to other colors,” Evan says. He lets out a sigh, swirling his wine glass. “I blame my optimism.”

“If you know anything about Tiffany,” Nichkhun says. “Then you would know that no one could convince her out of something once her mind is set.”

“How long have you known her?” Namjoon asks. “I bet it’s been some time now.”

The handsome man ponders for a bit. “Probably about half a decade now,” he says. “Another one of my friends knew her and… we’ve been friends ever since.”

“That’s a long time,” Evan says. “I’ve only known her for a couple of years. She helped me out with some of my Youtube videos.” He sips on his glass. “She did a makeover for me once.” He turns to Namjoon. “How long have you known her?”

“Oh, I’m just a….” He tries to think of the word. Technically, he’s a date, so he should say date…. right? Something inside stops him from saying so though. “I’m just a plus one.”

“Oh?” Nichkhun says with a tilt of his head. “Of who?”

At that moment, you take back your seat next to Namjoon. You easily settle back in, giving him a smile, before noticing the other two. “Sorry, there was a line at the bathroom. Did I interrupt something?”

“Not really,” Evan says. He points to Namjoon. “Is he with you?”

“Yeah,” you say with a smile. “He’s my date.”

He nearly chokes on his water at your words, but your smile just grows when you look at him. Before he can respond, the conversations come to a bit of a pause as the newlywed wife gets up from her spot, stealing the crowd’s attention.

Tiffany makes her way up the main stage with a bedazzled, pink microphone in one hand and her dress in the other; Kuan Yin follows behind her with a hand holding the rest of her train, making sure she doesn’t trip on her way up the stairs.

“Hello?” She taps on the microphone to double check. “Everyone, thank you so much for coming. We’re so glad you were able to make it. Let’s give one more round of applause for the maid of honor!”

There’s another round of applause for Jessica and, once it dies down, Kuan Yin speaks into the microphone that remains in Tiffany’s hands. “She’s done a lot for us this past month and we’d like to thank her again for her hard work.”

“Right now, we’re preparing for the cake cutting!” she says with a giggle. “Our wonderful servers are getting the cake ready and it will soon be out!”

More light applause breaks the silence once more and, in a second, the two servers emerge from the kitchen with a rolling cart.

On top of the cart is a three-tiered cake, various shades of pink are dotted around and smeared to look like a sophisticated art palette. Edible, at least what Namjoon thinks, glitter is decorated along the side and sparkles in the light. White frosting is decorated on the edges and sprinkles top them off.

Well, Evan was right about one thing; it is colorful.

You lean over towards Namjoon. “I’m betting there’s glitter inside the cake too.”

“I’m willing to get into that bet too,” Nichkhun says.

Namjoon and Evan laugh.

On the other hand, Tiffany and Kuan Yin are already cutting the cake and passing it to the servers, who are immediately placing it on trays to serve to the other guests. You let out a little cheer once yours arrives. Next to you, Bora takes pictures of the slice that sits on her plate, showing them to both you and Na Eun, who’s sitting at her other side.

“I’m glad she got the red velvet,” Bora says.

“Yeah, it fits the aesthetic,” Na Eun replies. “And it definitely screams Tiffany.”

You pick at yours a bit, splitting the cake to see the rest of the batter. “I totally called it. I knew there was gonna be glitter inside!”

Namjoon just shakes his head, before grabbing a hold of his fork and diving into his dessert.

As the cake is cut and distributed, the conversation builds up again and the sugar has started to hit. Your plate is cleared, but Namjoon can’t get past all the sprinkles (which is why they’ve been abandoned on the side of his plate and you took that chance to poke some fun out of him).

In the midst of all the chatter, the newlyweds return back to the stage, along with Jessica, after the cake-cutting—with Taeyeon behind them, who has begun to set up the stage.

“I would just like to thank all the guests, once more, who are here to support Tiffany and Kuan Yin,” Jessica says. “Right now, we have Taeyeon, another bridesmaid, who will be singing the song to their first dance!”

Another round of light applause is given as Taeyeon gives a smile and wave. Meanwhile, Tiffany and Kuan Yin have arrived in the middle of the dance floor, looking at one another with so much love. Namjoon couldn’t help but be a bit envious.

“Congratulations once more to the happy couple,” Taeyeon says. “This song is for you—I hope your happiness will carry on for the rest of your lives.”

The guitarist starts to strum to a soft melody and Taeyon’s soothing voice starts to move throughout the venue. Other guests start to make their way to the dance floor as well, joining the slow dance. Namjoon moves his head along to the calm tune, swaying to it with his eyes closed.

He hears your chair move and he peaks an eye open, only to see you standing with a hand out to him.

“Would you like to join me for a dance?”

“I thought we agreed I should never be dancing,” he jokes.

You pout, putting your hand down. “We’ve been to so many weddings and haven’t danced once.” You put your hand out once more, wiggling your fingers underneath his chin. “Is little Joonie afraid?”

“We both know I’m not the best dancer.”

Your pout deepens and you take your hand away again. He has to stop himself from leaning back to your touch.

“That’s your insecurity talking,” you say. “Besides you don’t know until you try.”

He lets out a sigh, hiding a smile, and wordlessly puts out his hand for you. “Okay, (Y/N). I trust you. Please lead the way.”

Your pout turns back to a smile, easily grabbing his hand and leading him towards the bright tiles where the other guests are dancing.

Taking the initiative, as per usual, you put his hands on your waist and lightly place your hands on his shoulders. He hopes you don’t notice how shaky his hands are, or how much more sweaty his palms have gotten. His heart pounds even harder in his chest from the close proximity.

He let out an exhale, trying to keep it under his breath to avoid hitting your face with his glittery cake breath. Despite being friends for the longest time, Namjoon can’t remember a time he’d been this close to you. There had been a couple of times when you would drunkenly cling to him or the time you asked for a piggyback ride… But he’s never seen you like this upclose.

Under the sparkling lights, he can make out your features. Your eyes shine with excitement and anticipation, but he can’t tell from what. The way the slope of your nose dips is pretty, he notes—he’s never noticed. Your lips… they practically mock him.

He can feel his throat feeling dry again. Where are the champagne flutes when he needs them?

Even as he tries to avoid eye contact, your eyes don’t leave his face. A teasing smile appears when you take notice of his darkening cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” you jib. “You’re doing good. Are you focusing all of your brain cells into your dancing?”

He rolls his eyes at you, but it’s without malice. “Haha,” he says. “You know I didn’t have that many to begin with.”

“You have 148 IQ.”

“Let it go, (Y/N).” He sighs. “Let it go.”

This time you roll your eyes at him, giving him a light shove. “You’re literally so smart. You need to embrace that more.”

“Don’t get too cocky on my behalf,” he says. “I think I got burnt out by the time we graduated.”

“Everyone gets burnt out,” you say. “Whether it’s emotionally, physically… Life has a way of doing that to you.” You lean a bit closer, settling your hands on the back of his neck. “What you choose to afterwards is how you decide its impact on you.”

He straightens up a bit, but doesn’t necessarily move away from you, putting himself in a more comfortable position. “You don’t ever seem burnt out,” he says. “I wish I had that endless energy. I might actually be able to do something productive with my life.”

“Hey,” you say. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“Downplaying your abilities.” You let out a sigh. “You did it, not even, two minutes ago. You haven’t even stepped on my foot; you’re going just fine.”

He feels the heat on the back of his neck, hoping you don’t say anything about it. “Not yet, at least. Have you forgotten that tango class I accidentally registered for?”

You grin from the memory. “Considering that we were able to grow closer from it and it was required, not accidental… I have not.” You tilt your head at him. “But did you forget?”

“Forget what?”

“How much you improved by the time the semester ended.”

“I don’t know, (Y/N),” he says. “I didn’t get worse and that was all I was aiming for.”

“Sure, you weren’t perfect, but you were pretty good by the end of it. Admit that, at least.”

“Fine, I was pretty good at it.” He looks directly at you. “Satisfied?”

“Not really, but I’ll take it.”

The two of you sway for a bit, listening to the music and enjoying each other’s company. At some point, you lean against him with closed eyes. He smiles to himself, subconsciously pulling you closer and breathing in the faint scent of your shampoo. Letting out another sigh, he can’t help but think of himself that he could get used to you in his arms.

April 28th, 2020

Tuesday, 4PM

The Roasted Bean

—

“Do you want to come to China with me?”

You choke on your tea. “Shit,” you manage to cough out with.

Namjoon scrambles to pass you the napkins and can only look at you with concern as you continue to cough. He waits for you patiently, expecting this kind of response from you.

When you had agreed to meet up with him for coffee, Namjoon said to himself he was going to plan what he would say to you… cut to the day of and he had planned nothing except, well, that.

Damn, procrastination really doesn’t stop.

“I’m sorry,” you say. You dab the corners of your mouth, trying to wipe off the remains of the tea that spilled from your lips. Your hands settle on the table as you look at him incredulously. “Did I hear that correctly?”

“In hindsight, maybe I should have provided some context.”

“A little would have been nice,” you say with a slight shrug.

He lets out a sigh, shifting in his seat. “I’m going to Jackson’s wedding,” he says. “... which is located in Hong Kong. I made the reservation awhile back, so I took a couple of vacation days to go to it and join them in the festivities. I even got Jungkook to dogsit RapMon, but, then again, that could easily go downhill. But, I thought, you know, since we’re, like, wedding buddies, you might want to go with me?”

“Wedding buddies?” you ask with a raise of your eyebrow. “I guess that’s one way of putting it.” You take another sip of your tea.

“It’ll be fun?” he says with an awkward smile. “Besides, you know Jackson.”

“I’ve met him a couple of times, yeah.” You take another sip from your cup. “I obviously wasn’t close enough to get an invite, but I know him.” You try to think, as if you were pondering the pros and cons. “I do know some people who were going to be in the wedding too.”

“You do?” He shouldn’t be surprised, but couldn’t help the curiosity.

“Yeah, there’s Mark. There’s also Jinyoung and Youngji.”

“Even if you didn’t know anyone,” he says. “It’s not like you won’t make new friends.”

You give him a shy, but proud smile in return. “I do adapt well.” Your eyebrows round from a realization. “Wait.” You give him a confused look. “You were originally planning on going to China…. by yourself?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks with a slight pout. “Is it a bad idea?”

“No,” you say. “Rather the opposite.”

“What do you mean?”

“How do I say it?” you mutter, more to yourself than aloud. “I guess—it might just be because I know what you’re like.”

“... Elaborate.”

“It’s not supposed to be a bad thing. It’s just that—I say this with affection, okay?” You clear your throat a little and lean back into your seat. “You don’t really leave your comfort zone, which isn’t a bad thing—it’s just a bit surprising that you are willing to leave the comforts of your home.” He doesn’t get the chance to respond; you continue to talk. “But, another thing I know is you’re fierce loyal, so it’s not necessarily that surprising. Even then, it’s a good surprise because this might be good for you.”

There’s a brief pause as he thinks to himself, absentmindedly swirling the remains of his coffee from his glass. You’re right (with both of your points). It’s not that he’s offended, or mad. It’s just that… you’re right. That’s it.

He knows he’s more of an introvert, which isn’t a bad thing—he just takes a bit longer to adjust to new surroundings and unfamiliar people. He’s very self-aware of it rather than self-conscious about it. To be honest, he really didn’t think things through all the way; he couldn’t say no to Jackson, especially considering how close they are with one another. The thought of brushing up on his Chinese also crossed his mind momentarily, but this trip is really more about supporting Jackson and Hua Yi.

“Namjoon?”

He freezes, snapping out of his thoughts. “Sorry, I just, like, spaced out.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just lost in thought.” He clears his throat. “What were you saying?”

“Nothing of that much importance, but—” You pause. “I just think this would be good for you, you know? You’d get some time off from work, get together with your friends, explore a new place, etc.”

“It’s just a week or so,” he says. “It’s not much, but… it’s something.”

“Yeah, but you never know.”

He hums, agreeing with you, as he taps his fingers lightly against the table. The tapping stops. “Wait, you never answered my question.”

“Wait, what was the question?”

He chuckles. “Did you want to accompany me to Jackson’s wedding in China?”

“Well,” you drag out, fiddling with your napkin. “I would need to see all the details, figure out a couple of things, but, overall…” You practically beam at him. “I’d love to.”

May 13th, 2020

Wednesday, 9AM

East Asian Airlines

Incheon International Airport

—

You nearly elbow him as you try to settle into your seat. Your neck pillow barely hangs on your shoulders, as you reach over to adjust the incline and decline with one hand and manage your downloaded playlist on your phone with the other.

“Whoa,” Namjoon says, trying to escape from your flailing arms. “You know this isn’t an overnight flight, right?”

You let out an exasperated exhale that’s far more dramatic than it needed to be. “Joonie, comfort is always a priority.”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with comfort,” he started to say. “I’m just saying it’s a bit much for a four hour flight that you’re 100% going to fall asleep on.”

Your jaw drops. “The audacity.”

“Am I wrong?”

Your jaw promptly closes at his words, your lips twisting to the side. “No,” you mutter.

He lets out a laugh, patting your head as some type of reconciliation—messing it up a bit. “Sorry, I only speak the truth.”

You grumble in your seat once more, playfully glaring at him with a petty look in your eyes. Without breaking eye contact, you lightly slap his hand away and start to fix the mess he created on your head. “Says the man who told Taehyung he looked handsome after his home haircut, but okay. Pop off.”

His eyes narrow at your sarcasm, but he doesn’t say another word.

While you fiddle with the light and air conditioning functions above, he plucks out an airline magazine from the seat in front of him—in an attempt to ignore the numbness of his long legs due to the small, cramped area he’s been provided.

Curse this capitalistic society and the stupid economy seats.

He flips open a page, glancing through. Most of the pages are promotions for products that no one really needs. There’s also an absurd amount of pillows that they were insisting to be sold. Who needs a pillow that can work as a lap-desk? Or a bendable neck pillow that can be twisted into a hugging pillow? There’s also a pillow that can be folded into a miniature pillow. These are all awful, he thinks.

As he inwardly questions and critiques each product, he fails to notice that you’ve finished settling in, tugging on his jacket to get his attention.

“What’s up?” he asks without looking up. “Finally settled?”

“Say all you want, Joonie, but when I’m napping like a champ, you’ll be restless in your spot like a chump.”

He stifles his laughter, raising his eyebrows from your words, flipping through the pages without actually looking through them. “Okay, (Y/N). Whatever you say.” In his peripheral vision, he can see you pouting from his lack of reaction.

You lean back in your seat, taking another deep breath. “You know, I think this is the first time we’re traveling together, isn’t it?”

“I think it is.” He looks at you. “This is our first trip together.”

“Well, first overseas trip.”

“First overseas trip,” he says with a hum. “You think there’ll be more?”

You smirk. “Only if this one is a success. But, for now, we’re just wedding buddies.”

“Wedding buddies?” He lays a hand on his heart in mock hurt. “We’ve known each other for years and this is what our relationship has come to?”

“You defined it first,” you say with a poke of his chest. “If anyone is to blame, it’s you.”

His lips are pulled back—half frustrated at himself and half disappointed. Before he can retort, the bell has been rung and the attendant’s voice comes on over the intercom.

“All passengers, please take your seats as we are taking off at 9AM sharp.”

Another bell rings and the seatbelt image flashes on. The attendants go around, checking the seatbelts and others begin to start the safety procedures. Namjoon tries to remember it all, but eventually finds himself accidentally tuning out the information. Sensing his panic, you remind him that it’s also in the same pocket he’d been grabbing magazines out of.

After a little while, the plane starts to ascend. Both you and Namjoon wordlessly look out the window, taking in the view as the buildings get smaller and smaller. Once the captain had announced that passengers are now allowed to roam about the cabin (with reason, of course), you lean back in your seat and plop in your other headphone.

“Wake me up when we’re descending?” you ask.

He nods, letting you play your music and close your eyes. About twenty minutes pass and you’re already asleep, But, your neck pillow is still barely hanging on your shoulders. He manages to adjust it comfortably for you, without waking you up—he’d call that a victory for his clumsy ass.

To pass some time, he goes through some more magazines, eventually getting bored of them. He should’ve downloaded a playlist or something; granted, you did nag him a bit to do so at the terminal gate because you didn’t want him being bored on the plane.

As usual, you were right.

He looks over at you once more, before deciding that he should nap too.

If he’s being honest, he was too nervous last night to get any sleep at the thought of spending, nearly, an entire week with you… in an unfamiliar country. He really didn’t think these things through. On one hand, it’s normal to invite long-time friends on trips and go to events together, platonically. On the other hand, he technically had feelings for you. But, he also thought those feelings had died down… until he actually started to talk to you again.

Deep down, he knows the feelings never really died but that’s a conversation he’s not ready to engage in. But, he’s also aware that he’s stupid and lacked the brain cells to even think of the possible cons that would come when he invited you to an overseas wedding...

Sleep, Namjoon thinks. Sleep is great for avoiding problems like these.

He lets out a long sigh, settling into his seat with a close of his eyes.

Yes, sleep is the best solution.

...

Ding. “Passengers, you will need to return to your seats soon as we are close to our destination.” Ding.

As Namjoon starts to regain consciousness, the light from his window that shines on his face stirs him awake. He lets out a sigh, lifting his head from yours as he rubs his eyes. You remain asleep on his shoulder with your headphones still intact, but your neck pillow sits uselessly in your lap.

He’s suddenly awake and aware of your current position. He unconsciously clears his throat, instantly feeling thirsty, causing you to shift a bit closer to him.

The intercom comes on once more. “Once again, passengers, if you could please return to your seats and fasten your seatbelts, we’re going to begin to descend soon.”

From the announcement, he lightly shakes you. “(Y/N),” he whispers.

When it doesn’t work, he shakes you a bit harder. “(Y/N).”

You let out a groan from being awoken. “Ten more minutes.”

He shakes you again with a bit of a laugh. “You don’t have ten minutes.”

“Give me ten minutes then.”

“No, wake up.”

“No.”

“(Y/N),” he whines. “Wake up.”

You let out another groan, reluctantly opening your eyes—immediately shutting them from the bright lights of the afternoon sky. “Are we there yet?”

“Nearly,” he says. “Why did you think I woke you up?”

“To torture me?”

“I wouldn’t do that to my precious wedding buddy.”

“Damn,” you say. “Your sass levels are up.”

He laughs in response.

Your conversation is interrupted as the bell rings once again, the attendant’s voice filling the air.

“All passengers, we are descending to our destination.”

You let a small squeal of excitement from the official announcement, leaning out towards the window to take in the new sights. He can’t help but smile at your childlike wonder, moving himself out of the way for you to take in the scenery as the clouds start to part.

“We apologize that there will be a bit of turbulence, so if you may all please fasten your seatbelts for your safety. Once again, we are starting our descent—passengers, we welcome you to Hong Kong. Thank you for choosing to fly with East Asian Airlines. We hope you’ve had a wonderful trip.”

A/N: Thank you for reading the first part of Plus Two! Please do not ask about updates—you can check the upcoming page to check on the status of the second half!

22 notes · View notes

holidaywishes · 5 years ago

Text

It Had To Be You XL

Chapter Forty: All Dressed in White

Summary: "I don’t know, guys. A custom dress is a lot,” you said but Jackie pressed. “He’s my son. My oldest child and I want the best for you two. A custom dress makes sure that happens.”

Warning: Short chapter but other than that nothing really, maybe a little bit of angst at the end...

Author’s Note: How’s everyone doing in their quarantine? Feel free to fill up my inbox with anything you’re feeling. I’m here for it, for you. Anyway, I’ve decided that this series is going to end at 50 so there will be 10 more, likely put out in the next week or so. After that, I’ll focus on finishing up my Gally series and then my Freddie series. That’s it. That’s the note! Enjoy the chapter!

P.S. I guess I have one other note. I described a dress in here and, if any of you have seen Love is Blind, I think I was picturing Giannina’s Dress because I loved the way it flowed but there was also this one but of course, you can imagine whatever dress you want and switch up the description to fit that!

Song Credit: All Dressed in White -- Benjamin Francis Leftwich

masterlist

the other masterlist

It’s not like you were discouraged when you couldn’t find a dress in Calgary but you did hope that your family could be there when you had that ‘I found my dress’ moment.

“We can fly them here,” Tyler said after you told him that you felt like they were missing out on things, “they’d probably love that!”

“Where would we put them all?”

“Here”

“It’s not that big of a space,” you admitted, “it’s not your Mom’s space.”

“Well, there’s always the Lake House...”

“Aww the Lake House!” you cooed, “we had our first ‘moment’ there.”

“I know. Isn’t it perfect?” he laughed, bringing you close to him, “It’s so perfect that we could even have the wedding there. What do you think?”

“Really?” you thought about it for a second, “I mean it would be great but would there be enough space? Your family? My family? Our friends?”

“I think so. I mean it’s not like we’re going to have 500 people there or something. It’ll be relatively small won’t it?”

“Not if Chris has any say in it,” you laughed, “besides, you have connections with the entire league so I’m sure we’ll have at least 100 people there on your side.”

“Whoa,” he said, putting his hands up to halt you, “that seems like a lot.”

“Does it? You’ve got a big family, that loves you, and a lot of friends who are shocked you’re engaged. How many people were you thinking?”

“Like maybe 100 in total...” he said and your mouth gaped. It was strange to you that he didn’t want to have a huge party but you didn’t want to push him

“I guess we’ll really have to sit down and discuss the list then...” You said, an unsure smile on your face and he pulled you into his side.

“By the way,” he interjected, “my Mom and Candace are coming in to help you pick out a dress”

“What?”

“Yeah, I really didn’t have a say in it. That’s why I said we could fly Chris and Karen and Lucy here”

“And Diana and Ethan and--”

“Yes, fly anyone you want here. My mom is insisting though, she thinks she can find you the perfect dress. When she heard that you didn’t find one back home, she knew this was her chance.”

“What about Cassidy?” you asked

“She’s got some internship that she can’t get away from but mom said she’ll Facetime her”

“When is this all supposed to be happening?”

“Well...” he started but was interrupted by the doorbell ringing

“WHERE IS SHE?” Jackie squealed, “ahh! the beautiful bride to be!”

“Ha-h-hi,” you scoffed, playfully, “I didn’t know you guys were coming!” Candace waved to her after hugging her brother and shrugging at Jackie’s enthusiasm

“SURPRISE!” she yelled, “Ty says you’re heading out to the Lake?” You glared at Tyler for a second, noticing him rub his neck.

“We are!” you replied, gritting your teeth, “yeah and Chris and Karen are on their way here with Lucy!”

“That’s awesome!” she hugged you, “Oh yay! That means they can come Dress shopping with us!”

“Dress shopping?” you asked, trying to hide your concern

“Yeah!”

“Don’t we need like an appointment for that?”

“Of course. Ty made one for us last week. Didn't he tell you?”

“No..” you said, turning your attention to Tyler, “it must have slipped his mind.”

“Oh, well..” she added, “we’re here now and the appointment is next week. So... we can discuss what you see yourself in. What you didn’t find last month when you went home..”

“Uhmm” you stammered, watching Tyler dial a number on his phone as he walked away

“Mom,” Candace laughed, “give her a second to welcome us in. Maybe we can go for lunch or something to talk about all of that but for right now, we have to settle in.” She rubbed your arm and directed her Mom into the guest room that the two would be sharing.

Getting everyone into the Lake house was a struggle, making everyone comfortable was nearly impossible, but eventually everyone was happy with where they were.

“Alright,” Jackie sighed, smiling as she looked at you and Tyler, “let’s talk wedding! Now that everyone’s here, we can make a game plan”

“Mom..” Tyler scoffed

“No, she’s right!” Karen interjected and Lucy looked over at you from beside Candace, “having us all together might help make the planning easier.“

“it is what you said you wanted when you came home last month” Lucy added and you tilted your head at her

“Okay,” you agreed, reluctantly, “but the final decisions are up to Ty and I. Got it?” You looked around to make sure the group was nodding in agreement. You talked about colours, themes, decor ideas, venues, and guest lists

“Alright... so an intimate wedding here?” Chris said, a little judgement in his tone

“Yeah,” Tyler answered, shifting forward in his seat, “we want to be surrounded by the people we love most.“ You noticed Chris exaggeratedly raise his eyebrows

“So what was it about the dresses that you looked at that wasn’t it,” Candace interrupted, diffusing any tension, “that made none of them the one.”

“Is it a cop out if I just say I didn’t have that feeling?”

“Yes,” Karen laughed, “but I understand. How about this? Imagine your perfect wedding dress, from the ones you’ve seen to the ones you wished existed. Put them all together. What does that perfect dress look like?”

“Oof,” you exhaled before smiling at the group, “Something flowy on the bottom but fitted and lacy up top. Classic lace, maybe a little bit of a vintage feel but not like Grandma’s doily. I want more lace than beading but a little bit of sparkle, just enough to make the dress seem like it’s glowing out in the sun, would be amazing. I think sleeves would annoy me, but I’m open to the idea...” You stopped, opening your eyes that you hadn’t realized you’d closed, and saw everyone staring at you.

“That sounds gorgeous!“ Jackie exclaimed

“Yeah but finding this gorgeous dress is another story...” you sighed

“Hey,” Tyler whispered, rubbing your back, “you’ll find it. I’ll pay. No budget! How does that sound?”

“I don’t know, Ty, I can get pretty carried away” You admitted, snickering at your own words

“(Y/N)” he started, “there’s no better time to get carried away than shopping for your wedding dress.”

“He’s right!” Lucy and Candace chimed in before you could argue

“Don’t let him change his mind” Candace urged and you laughed, reluctantly nodding and smiling at the group in front of you.

“What if...” Diana interrupted, “you got a custom dress?” The group gasped in agreement

“That’s perfect!” Candace exclaimed

“Totally! That way you’ll get exactly what you want!” Lucy added

“I think that’s a great idea,” Tyler added, “you’ll be sure to find this gorgeous dress of yours that way.” You smiled at him, giving him a peck on the cheek in thanks

“It’s settled then!” Jackie interjected before you could argue, “a custom dress is what you’ll have!” You would’ve liked to discuss it more but both Karen and Jackie were insistent that a custom dress was the right choice and the girls agreed that you deserved it. So, two days later, Jackie and Karen were waking you up at 6 AM to head to the bridal store to try on dresses

“We already know you’re getting a custom dress but we just want to see the shapes,” Jackie exclaimed, “to get a better idea.” Her smile was so big that you almost had a headache from looking at it

“Okay, just let me shower first” you yawned just as Candace, Diana and Lucy walked out of their rooms.

“The boys aren’t up yet?” Diana scolded and you rolled your eyes before closing the bathroom door. While you let the hot water pour over you, you tried to think about your wedding day and what it would look like. A small ceremony was what you had pictured when you were younger, because you didn’t have a big family, but Tyler’s life was so big that you thought he would’ve fought more to include everyone. It hurt you a little but you knew it would be a beautiful wedding no matter what. When Tyler and Chris woke up, they wandered into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee, mumbling to themselves as the group of girls puttered around the house.

“What if we come with you?” Tyler offered, making everyone face him in shock

“You want to go wedding dress shopping?” Chris added

“YOU CAN’T!” Jackie yelled, “IT’S BAD LUCK!”

“Oh come on, Mom,” he replied, “that’s such a dumb rule. I’m sure we’ll be fine... I want to help her pick out a dress.”

“It’s her dress, Ty,” Lucy chimed in, “it’s the one thing that she shouldn’t have to get your approval on.”

“I’m not saying she has to have my approval on anything. I just wanna... see.” You went straight from the shower to the bedroom to change, putting on a little bit of makeup and blow drying your hair before heading into the living room where everyone was.

“(Y/N)!” Tyler shouted as you came out

“Whoa!” you gasped, “what’s going on?”

“Do you think I should stay back?” He asked

“It’s bad luck for the groom to see the dress before the wedding?” Jackie interrupted

“I--” you tried but got interrupted

“Again. That’s a dumb rule, don’t you think babe?” Tyler continued

“Well I--” you started again

“I can always leave if you find one that you really like. Besides you said you were getting a custom dress right? So it’s not like either of us will know until y--”

“OKAY ENOUGH!” You finally yelled, taking a breath before continuing, “I think that some sort of traditionalism is nice. You can come for a bit, though I don’t really think you’ll enjoy yourself, but I do want Chris to be there...” Chris was silent for a moment before smiling

“Of course, (Y/N),” he said, “I wouldn’t miss it.” You let out a sigh of relief and the group apologized for stressing you out before following you out of the house.

“Hello there!” a woman greeted you and your group as you entered the bridal boutique

“Hi,” Tyler said, budging his way to the desk, “we have an appointment. Under (Y/L/N) or maybe I put it under mine, Seguin?”

“Ahh yes,” she replied, “(Y/N)?”

“That’s me,” you smiled, meeting Tyler at the front, “hi”

“Hi,” she smiled back, “follow me this way.” The woman directed to your group to an area with a beige couch and told you that your consultant would be there in a moment. About a minute later, a tall, slender woman introduces herself to the group with a bright smile on her face

“Who’s the bride to be?” she asked

“That would be me!” you smiled, grabbing Tyler’s hand for support

“Hi there!” she said before her eyes caught Tyler, “is this the groom?” You looked over at Tyler and smiled, noticing a small blush flood his cheeks

“Yes,” he replied, “I am the groom”

“Awesome!” her voice rose, “so who all do you have with you today?” You introduced everyone in the group to the consultant and they took turns shaking hands.

“It’s a bigger group than we expected” you laughed and the consultant smiled and waved it off

“The more the merrier!” she replied, “do you have an idea of what you’re looking for?” You described the details of the dress, followed by the details of the wedding including the theme that you’d picked and the consultant nodded along before taking you to the dressing room and pulling dresses for you. She pulled a lot of options

“Wow” was all you could say. The consultant began putting you in the dresses and you nixed a few of them before deciding on one to show everyone. The first dress you showed your group was a big, poofy, Cinderella ballgown that you imagined every girl wanted when they were growing up but you weren’t impressed with it on you and neither was the group; quickly throwing up signs with versions of ‘no’ on them and you quickly moved onto the next dress.

“I think we should try this one next” you pointed to one of the dresses and the consultant helped you into the dress

“So...” she started, “tell me about you hubby-to-be!” You smiled to yourself and tried to think of where to start

“His name is Tyler. We met about 9 years ago and we’ve been together about 5 years. He’s one of the dorkiest people I know and he makes me laugh all the time and he’s just one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met.”

“Aww that’s so sweet. What does he do for a living? He looks familiar...” she said, which you thought was a weird thing to ask but you answered anyway, “Oh my goodness! I thought that was him!”

“That’s him! That’s my dude...” you smiled

“That’s so cool! Congratulations!” she said, almost through gritted teeth, and aggressively did up the laces on the corset of the dress and directed you back out to your group. You stood in front of everyone, including the consultant, and got their feedback but you weren’t saying anything and Diana was the first to ask if something was wrong

“I agree I don’t like the dress,” Tyler said and the consultant giggled and you looked over at her quickly, “I really don’t think it’s you.” You laughed and nodded

“I don’t either,” you admitted but directed your attention to Diana, “can I talk to you in the room for a second?” She nodded and followed you and the consultant to the room, who you gave a look to that made her leave the room.

“What’s going on babe?” she sat down on one of the chairs in the room while you looked at yourself in the mirror, examining the dress

“Aside from the fact that I can’t breathe?” you laughed, “the consultant is really interested in Ty.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I told her about him, without mentioning his job, she said he looked familiar so when I finally said he played for the Stars she got very... I don’t know. She was like ‘congratulations!’ and like trapped me in this dress by pulling the corset so tight.. I don’t know I just feel weird about it.”

“Do you want to continue with her?”

“I wish she hadn’t said anything but yeah, I’ll continue with her,” you sighed, “can you just watch her for me?” Diana agreed immediately and she called the consultant back in, checking if you were okay for her to leave and you nodded.

“Alrighty!” the consultant exclaimed, “which one is next?” You pointed to one dress and showed it to the group who immediately dismissed it, so you tried on another which the group didn’t like either; you slumped back to the group, rubbing your forehead in frustration and the consultant left the room for a minute, only to come back with Tyler

“Ty..” you said in surprise, sitting in the silk robe the boutique provided, “what are you doing back here?”

“Thought you might need some help” he smiled

“Did you find the perfect dress?” you giggled and he shrugged his shoulder

“Try on this one“ he said, holding up a fairly plain dress and kissing your cheek. You tried on the dress and walked out to the group.

“I don’t know, guys,” you sighed, “these dresses just aren’t it...”

“What shape do you love?” Jackie asked

“I like the flowy-ness of this skirt,” you started, “but I liked the lace and the sparkle on the first one?”

“So why don’t we combine them?” she added

“Like a custom dress?” the consultant perked up at the thought, “that’s a great idea!” You imagined that she would get a great commission on a custom dress because the price would increase and you winced at the idea

"I don’t know, guys. A custom dress is a lot” you said but Jackie pressed.

“He’s my son. My oldest child and I want the best for you two. A custom dress makes sure that happens.” She stood up, smiling as she walked over to you, “you’re going to be part of our family now and I think this perfect dress will be amazing.” You looked in the mirror at the rest of the group, watching their reactions, noticing Chris wasn’t really showing anything

“Chris?” you asked, grabbing his attention

“Yes, love?”

“What do you think?”

“I think you’ll look beautiful in anything,” he cooed, and you cocked your head to the side, “but it doesn’t seem like you’re finding the dress you want. So, maybe, a custom dress is the best choice.” You bit the inside of your cheek, contemplating the option, before the consultant came back with the owner who offered to draw up an idea of a custom dress for you that you immediately fell in love with.

“That’s it,” you whispered and it was like an epiphany, “that’s the dress that I haven’t been able to find.” Everything about it was perfect, even though you couldn’t see it in person, you knew it was right for you. When tears started forming in your eyes, Karen came over and asked if that was the dress, “Yes,” you said, nodding emphatically as happy tears escaped your eyes, “that’s my dress.” The group let out in cheers and you laughed at their exclamations before hugging Candace and Lucy, looking to find Tyler to share in his embrace when you saw Diana’s eyes looking somewhere else. Following her stare, you found the very thing you feared would happen. That damn consultant was giving Tyler her number.

#tyler seguin #tyler seguin fic #tyler seguin imagine #tyler seguin series #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl series #dallas stars #dallas stars fic #dallas stars imagine #dallas stars series #masterlist #the other masterlist #it had to be you #it had to be you series

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missyslittlepet · 5 years ago

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((Finally done, not much to this one but again at least it's something. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy it! 💙))

A Different Kind Of Love

The chill of the wind seemed colder today than it had in a while. You gently tugged your coat tighter around your body and let out a sigh. You watched as the mist left your mouth and danced in front of your eyes before quickly dispersing into the nothing. When your vision focused again you found yourself taking in the view. Despite how many times you had seen it, it never failed to take your breath away.

The sun was brightly glistening off the mountain caps in the distance as you leant against the icy steel of the railing surrounding the balcony. You peered over the railing and through the mist below you could just make out the crude heart shaped crater. You didn't want to think about the tragedy that had taken place there.

"I thought you might like something to drink?" Heartman's voice was almost a whisper as he spoke.

You could hear him slowly approaching from behind you and soon enough he was by your side, two cups of fresh coffee in his hand. He offered one to you with a lopsided grin and you took it gratefully, savouring the warmth of the cup and the glorious smell that now permeated the crisp morning air.

"Thank you, but shouldn't I be making you the coffee not the other way around." You grinned, taking a sip. You closed your eyes again as the warmth ran down your throat. "Perfect. This couldn't have come at a better time."

"I agree wholeheartedly." Heartman smiled taking a drink from his own cup. "There really is nothing like a good cup of coffee to jumpstart your day."

You hummed in agreement and gave him a thumbs up. The blue heart hologram blinked for a few second before disappearing again. Heartman adjusted his glasses and chuckled. Slowly he leant against the railing awkwardly hitting his defibrillator off the metal with a clink. He let out a sigh and took another long sip.

"How was it?" You asked looking over at him.

"Still no sign of them." Sadness flickered behind his eyes for a moment before he smiled again. "However, data is data."

You placed your free hand over his and smiled at him sadly.

"We'll find them one day Heartman, just you wait." You squeezed his hand reassuringly causing him to smile He turn his hand upwards so his palm was against yours and held you hand tightly.

When Heartman had lost his wife and daughter in a void out he would have given anything to see them again. He would travel the beaches and follow the footprints hoping that it would lead him where he needed to go. Instead of seeing it as unsuccessful when he didn't find his family he started using his trips and knowledge to try and understand what was going on. Through his research he had met you.

After losing your husband in one of the attacks you had made it your mission to find him again and began researching BTs. Your speciality was experimenting on ways to capture and observe them in order to see if there was anyway to bring their consciousness back despite them not always having a body to return to. While you studied them you had began making to scale sculptures in your spare time. When a letter from Heartman had arrived in your inbox expressing how impressed he was by your studies and how he would be very interested in owning some of your artist impressions you were taken aback.

You had heard of him before but despite your stories being so similar you never would have thought that you would communicate with him.

The man who travelled to the beach every twenty one minutes seemed like he would have all the research he needed, not that you were going to question his judgment. Within seconds you were writing out a response and picking out a few of your best pieces for him. In the reply you explained that you were thankful for the opportunity to work along side him and that you would have a porter deliver some of your work to him as soon as possible.

He was thrilled when he got your response and even more so when he finally received your package. In his spare few minutes before going back to the beach he quickly got to work placing them around the lab. In his next time window he spent all of it taking in all of the detail he had missed beforehand.

After a few weeks of corresponding though the mail Heartman decided it would be more beneficial for you to move into his lab permanently. Not only would it give you more time to work together but it would also mean no more worrying over if packages would get lost before they made it to your respective laboratories.

After about a year of working together so closely one thing had lead to another and you found yourselves in a relationship of sorts. You both knew that feelings had started to blossom and you both agreed to act upon them. Your previous partners would want you to be happy even if you did continue to research and try to locate them in the meantime. Life was indeed too short after all, especially now.

The love between you and Heartman was unlike any other. You both deeply respected one another's past partners and understood that, while you both loved one another, the love for the families you had had did not disappear. You still kept your wedding ring around your neck on a silver chain and Heartman still had photographs around his lab of his wife and daughter. It worked for you both and that was what mattered. Holding onto the past all day everyday got lonely but sharing your life with someone who truly understood was precious.

As time went on your relationship had been put under a spotlight a few times, being so important in the science field meant that there was gossip. They would question your motives. After all, why find your deceased partners while also being in a new relationship? It made you both extremely uncomfortable but deep down the mutual understanding that you both had didn't need to be understood by anyone other than yourselves. You were both happy in your own little bubble far away in the mountains.

"How much longer do we have left?" You asked drinking what was left of your coffee.

Heartman looked down at the small screen of his AED and frowned.

"We have about twelve more minutes and then I must return to the beach." He too drank the remainder of his coffee and sighed again.

Despite wanting to find his family there were times, like this one, where he wished he could stay for a little bit longer. He wanted to be able to spend more time with you uninterrupted but alas, this was just how things were. As he had always said, most of lifes basic functions did fit rather easily into the twenty one minute cycle, it's a shame that love was not as basic. You made it work thought, hell, you even had a bit of a love life when you were both extremely lucky.

"We should probably head back inside then. I really don't want you to injure yourself... again." You laughed remembering a time before the padded flooring was installed and he spent the rest or the day with an ice pack pressed to his forehead. You lead him back inside not letting go of his hand.

The warmth from the crackling fire inside was a welcomed feeling. You placed the empty mugs on the counter and took a seat on the sofa. Heartman sat beside you and smiled pulling you closer to him.

"How about we watch a movie after I return?" Heartman asked still smiling. "We haven't watched Twenty Minutes of Love in a while."

"Honestly that sounds perfect. I think im due some time off from BT research." You laughed and kissed his jawline before resting your head against his chest.

"You see, I don't get time off but I'd be more than happy to spend all of my down time with you." He pressed his lips to your hairline as he spoke.

"5 minutes until cardiac arrest." Heartman's AED reminded him.

"Oh, shut up. I'm putting you on mute" Heartman's brows furrowed as he disabled the alerts on his machine.

"You know you really should keep that alert on." You laughed. "It's pretty important don't you agree?"

"And have it ruin our time together? What a silly thing to suggest." He pressed another kiss to you hairline causing you to look up at him.

His bright blue eyes observed you closely from behind his glasses and you felt your cheeks blush slightly.

"It's doesn't ruin our time together, it just reminds you when you need to start preparing for your... temporary death. I really do wish we had more time between the cycle. I know you're doing amazing and important work but I guess I'm selfish. I truly hope that this visit offers you more than your last one though. You deserve to be happy."

Heartman made a thumbs up and you heard the noise of a like fill the silence making you chuckle.

"I wish I had more time also. I love my family but I also love you. My cycle, although vital to my research, does stop me from enjoying moments in this plane of existence. I do cherish every moment we have together even more because of my departures, you know that (f/n). It's important that you remember I am happy, both researching and with you."

You smiled again and got comfortable against his chest.

His thumb rubbed small circles on your shoulder as you enjoyed what little time you had. When his hand went limp and the lighting of the room changed you knew it had started. You reached for his hourglass and tapped it against the table in order to rest it. You then unmuted the AED so that you wouldn't share the shock it would administer Heartman. The flat line noise echoed around the room as you quickly set up the movie so that you could enjoy it later without worrying about Heartman missing the end, even if you had watched it one hundred times already. When you had finally finished you sat next to him again on the sofa.

Despite him being dead he looked peaceful, his arm still around you. You didn't like this three minute wait at all. Not only did you not get to hear his voice but it was the not knowing that was painful. You wondered if today would be the day he found his family and you hoped for his sake he did.

You turned and stroked your fingers through his hair. When he was alive it was one of his favourite things you did. He would fall asleep in your lap while you did that if he could. Your hand slowly came to rest on his cheek and your thumb brushed over his cheekbone. That was one perk to his beach visits, you could take in every detail of his face without the fear of him catching you staring. That was one regret you had about your life before the Death Stranding. The world was so hectic with work and stress that you never took the time to appreciate what you had. Every passing day it was getting harder and to picture your husbands face. With no photographs you were left clinging to the memories the two of you had shared. All you had left of him was your wedding ring and you kept it close always.

You were determined not to make the same mistakes again. You took many photos of you and Heartman together and made sure to make copies. You took time out to appreciate all he was. His calming accent, the way his eyes brightened up when he was happy. You refused to miss a moment.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the AED

"Administering shock. Stand clear."

You jumped back just in time to avoid the shock. Heartman sat bolt upright and blinked the tears from his eyes with a gasp.

"Welcome back." You grinned.

He smiled and quickly logged his journey through his cuff. Once he was finished he looked at you once again.

"How did it go? Any sign of th-" You began.

Heartman held up his hand and chuckled

"Come here." Heartman's arms reached for you. You did as he asked and he pulled you close again. " There's time for all of that but right now I believe we have a movie to watch."

You grinned and snuggled closer to him. You were thankful he was putting the beach aside just for now.

Your relationship was like no other. Helping to find long lost families while simultaneously loving the bones of your research partner was a very strange concept. There was a lot of things in this world that didn't make sense but this, cuddled up watching movies as the fire crackled and the snow fell outside... it felt right. So long as it made sense to the two of you then what did the circumstances matter?

You had your work, Heartman and your little bubble in the mountains. To hell with everyone else.

#death stranding heartman #heartman fanfiction #heartman imagine #heartman x reader fanfiction #heartman x reader #heartman #heartman x reader fic

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bitchlyps · 5 years ago

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My Ex-Boyfriend’s New Girlfriend Is Lady Gaga

How do you compare yourself with one of the most famous women in the world?

I was eating bodega grapes at my desk on a recent Monday morning, gearing up to wrangle my inbox, when my phone started buzzing:

“Check Facebook.”

“Check Twitter.”

“Are you OK?”

It was an emergency: My ex-boyfriend, I learned, had a new girlfriend.

Lady Gaga.

“Lolol” if you want. (Everyone I know did.)

But it was true. While I’d been watching the Super Bowl on television in New York, they were snuggling in her private box at the Hard Rock Stadium at Miami Gardens. There were the paparazzi as he escorted her away, her pink hair flowing and sequins pasted around her eyes.

Page Six produced a deep dive into Lady Gaga’s new “mystery man.” Refinery29 announced that Gaga was “wearing 2020’s hottest new accessory: a normal boyfriend.” The story appeared in the Daily Mail, and Business Insider and People, where my mother read about the couple after checking the magazine out from our local library.

I dated this normal, mystery man for seven years. Our relationship lasted all of college, and then a few years more. (A popular song from back then described being “caught in a bad romance.”)

As you can guess from the fact that you’ve probably never heard of me, I’m not famous.

So suddenly it’s like I’m star-gawking by proxy (yes I know there’s another word for that). But there’s almost no way to avoid it.

Social media in 2020 is so ingrained that it’s no longer a supplement or even an addiction. It’s just an accelerated extension of the way humans have always behaved. We live in a culture of constant updates. You want to unsubscribe? Well, you can’t.

I don’t follow my ex on social media. We were “friends” on Facebook. Then we were “in a relationship” on Facebook. After we broke up, I noticed I was “blocked” on Facebook. And then we moved on. I hadn’t googled him in forever (I promise). But this month I knew everything about his new relationship status, within hours of when it was disclosed.

In some ways this is the natural, if absurd, arc of my generation’s entire adult life. In a vertical cascade of photos, I watch my friends’ ex-boyfriends nurturing the pregnancies of the nice-looking women they married instead. Sometimes I know the names of the resulting children, kids I will almost certainly never meet — but I will know whether they were princesses or pirates for Halloween anyway. I’ve seen their Christmas trees and sand castles and their tablescapes on special occasions. Sometimes they go dark for a period, the dinner parties disappear and they’re single again. I keep following, a passive but not unwilling audience.

We used to obsess about celebrities and then started obsessing about one another. Maybe a decade ago I would have subscribed to US Weekly. Today there’s no need: I have the parade of people in my phone. I mix “real” celebrities with people I know and I can curate it all however I want. Then I scrolled through Instagram and saw a post from Lady Gaga: she was sitting in her new boyfriend’s lap.

Friends from college liked it — along with nearly three million others.

If you’ve ever googled an ex’s new partner (be honest) you’ve probably played a certain game with yourself. You’re either just curious — which is healthy of you — or you want to know how you compare. Ideally the ex’s life didn’t improve too much without you? In this case, though, that’s all upended. How do you compare yourself with Lady Gaga?

Instead of thinking, “Why not me?” when I see them together, I think “That was me.” It pulls the illusion of celebrity down.

At first that was confounding. When one friend called me at my desk that morning to discuss, my voice actually shook. (Who wants to rehash an old relationship at work the day after the Super Bowl?) So I gave myself till noon. And then I thought again.

Lady Gaga is amazing. Comparing yourself with her is incredibly motivational, and I recommend you try it, regardless of how you relate to who’s dating her.

At least, that’s what I did.

For example: I was going to wear a black dress I’d gotten on sale years ago to an event that weekend, for probably the 27th time. But Lady Gaga would never do something like that. I’ve never owned anything that costs more than a week’s worth of groceries — whereas she is a woman who wears pieces of raw meat on the red carpet. I went to a nice store I’d never been inside before and I tried something on. The clerk asked me what the occasion was. I found out from Facebook that my ex-boyfriend was dating Lady Gaga, I told her, and she looked me up and down. “Huh,” she said. “Really?”

Yes.

The dress was too expensive, but I bought it anyway. Why should I accept less than Lady Gaga?

I went to a coffee shop. Did I want a large? Yes. For the event: Did I want my makeup done? I never had, but yes. And yes, I’ll get the lashes too. When I was emailed praise, did I forward it to my boss? Yes. Did I agree to do the work presentation I was anxious about? Yes. Yes, yes, yes.

(I haven’t figured out how to start a multimillion-dollar entertainment empire yet, or a major advocacy campaign, but yes to that, too.)

The point is, Lady Gaga is living the ambitious life that we keep saying women should embrace. A quote I remember reading from her, probably on Instagram, says, “Don’t you ever let a soul in the world tell you that you can’t be exactly who you are.” It’s so easy as you get older to find the best in who you’ve become, to make the most of it — and maybe even to get a little complacent about it. But if Lady Gaga can do what she wants, and even expand on what she wants, why not me, too? Why not let being “exactly who I am” mean trying to be the best I could be? Lady Gaga continues to challenge herself, to try new things, to thrive.

At least that’s what I gather from my phone, the place where we all converge.

Recently someone sent me a photo of my fiancé and me dancing at a wedding, and I posted it on Instagram. I saw Lady Gaga’s boyfriend in the views, and I realized we’re actually all the same: strangers, smiling on a screen.

Lindsay Crouse (@lindsaycrouse) is a senior staff editor in Opinion.

#lady gaga #lg6 #stupid love #gaga

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evak-fic-rec-turtleanon · 5 years ago

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Evak Fics - Reconciliation

Read the tags as a few might be open ending. And in some of these they were still together in the beginning. Man, this list is angsty! I’m already planning on rereading them.

This will be under a read more.

Light by bri_ness (885 words) - Open ending. Even lays a beach towel down on the small patch of grass beside his apartment building’s parking lot, right beside the dumpster. He knows romance can thrive in spite of its setting. He looks at the stars, and he remembers.

pull him back by hippopotamus (2k words) - “That’s my hoodie,” Isak says. “You left it at mine,” Even replies, as if Isak wasn’t fully aware of that. “And you didn’t ask for it back.”

Resolution by bri_ness (2k words) - Isak's residency has him questioning his decision to be a doctor. When he's home for the holidays, he runs into Even, who gives him a new perspective.

No One Knows Me Like You Do by obscurial (2.6k words) - He’s also shockingly sober, which only serves to remind him that fuck, he doesn’t even have an excuse for randomly messaging his ex-boyfriend of two years, out of the blue, at a socially unacceptable time to text your ex, if there even was one in the first place.

Still Unformed by colazitron (3k words) - Even and Isak broke up a few years ago when Even moved to Germany to attend film school. Now he's moved back to Oslo.

there's no one else I'd rather do this with by daddyhonkkk (3k words) - Even still has the extra Gabrielle ticket Isak got him for his birthday, but that was before they broke up.

Like Breathing by BraveKate (3k words) - Even invites Isak to the premiere of his first movie. Part of a series but could be read as a standalone.

left-handed by thekardemomme (3.5k words) - even always asks questions he doesn’t want to know the answers to.

If Only by Stria (Asia117) (3.6k words) - Chatting with a random stranger that turns out to be your ex trope.

o night divine by thekardemomme (4k words) - This is the first Christmas in nearly five years that he’s spending without Isak, and while he still decorated his apartment and bought eggnog and spent an excruciating amount of time wrapping all of his gifts perfectly, the hole in his heart hasn’t gone unnoticed.

Homesick by everything_else (4k words) - 5 times they take care of each other after the break up. +1

Waking up to Nothing by dropdeadfox (4.6k words) - It’s been six months since Even has seen that grumpy- but- adorable pout on the most perfect pair of lips imaginable to men (and women). It’s been six months since he has heard that voice, it’s been six months since he has seen the most perfect, emerald- green eyes, gazing back at him.

42 Seconds by thekardemomme (5k words) - Sunday is Isak’s ideal day. The day he looks forward to. This Sunday, Isak wakes up at 1pm, and the room is dark. The bed is empty and there’s no smell of breakfast. Even hasn’t slept next to him all week. The only thing that’s the same as every other Sunday for the past 23 months is the fact that Isak doesn’t want to get out of bed.

Inbox: (1) New Email by scritch (6k words) - A story about falling back in love, one tweet, instagram post and email at a time

the one where even says the wrong name by pansexuaIeven (6.5k words) - Even's getting married to Sonja, not Isak. The real question is: does he know that? Inspired by Friends.

Shatter Me by givemesumaurgravy (6.6k words) - Even’s crying, he has been since the words ‘I slept with someone else’ left his mouth. To be honest, he’s been crying for hours since he got home from Mikael’s. Isak just sits there stoically and he says, “I’m not going to yell or any of that. I’m just going to make this really fucking awkward and uncomfortable for you.” “I want you to tell me everything that happened,”

That look you give that guy by Lokkanel (7.4k words) - Isak and Even love each other in secret. It is almost thrilling at first, but when hiding and lying to their friends begin to take a toll on Even, Isak decides to end it all. He thinks he has taken the right decision, until Even eventually moves on with someone else.

Calleth You, Cometh I by Kollakolan (8.4k words) - “Isak!” Mikaels pipes up. “Didn´t you two have a thing?” he turns to Even. A thing, Even thinks to himself. Yes, Isak and him definitely had a thing. They actually had a low-key thing going for years, but it never really turned into something more. The timing was never right.

We Keep This Love in a Photograph by kapplebougher (8.7k words) - It's been four weeks since Isak and Even made the decision to call it off. Now, Isak's back in their apartment of seven years and he's supposed to be moving out, but then he stumbles upon some memories that makes doing that a little difficult.

Our Steady True North by verlore_poplap (orphan_account) (9k words) - Five times Isak and Even were amicable; plus one time they just weren't. Plus an epilogue

In Vino Veritas by Sabeley (9.9k words) - After seven years apart, Isak wakes up to find Even in his bed and a wedding ring on his finger.

What becomes of the broken hearted by Kikki1 (12k words) - Set many years after Skam ended. Isak is living the life he always dreamed of. He has a good job, amazing friends and a superhot boyfriend. But his heart is forever broken.

we still fuck by evak1isak (13k words) - Isak and Even had broken up. Period. But they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

Heal My Heart for Christmas by iwritetropesnottragedies (recklesslee) (13.5k words) - It’s been ten years since Isak left his small town for the big city of Oslo with his father. He hardly even thought of his time there anymore. Until he received a letter from his mother asking him to come home for Christmas for the first time since he had left.

in these deep solitudes and awful cells by hippopotamus (14k words) - it ends badly. so badly that they both wish they could forget about it. they meet again a few weeks later, and it’s hard to remember why it had to end.

If I Should Fall Behind by MinilocIsland (14k words) - The plan for tonight had been crystal clear. Stay close to his best friend, and steal her away if needed. Hold her hand through the ordeal of meeting Noora again for the first time in years. Then Even shows up – and suddenly, nothing goes the way it was supposed to.

The Good Side by lavenderlady by (15k words) - Isak got the good side of the break up.

And after that and after that by Teatrolley (18k words) - They’re friends, and roommates, and exes. Then Even becomes single again

you told me we were forever by Skamtrash (19k words) - they don’t exactly get back together. Isak finds out he's having a baby soon after Even breaks up with him so he makes the decision not to tell him. Except Even finds out on his own 3 years later.

I'll be right beside you by hannakin (20k words) - ”It’s ironic isn’t it? I broke your heart and now mine is not working,” Isak continued. “Isak…” Even fought against the lump in his throat and the tears that burned behind his eyes. see the sequel below

Don't Dream It's Over by hannakin (11k words) - WIP last update march 2019. A new chance at life for Isak and a new shot at love for them that Even is not going to waste. Not this time around.

Let Me In by milk_o_vich (20k words) - Even’s eyes were wide and a little unfocused, flitting over Isak nervously. He was quiet for a long time, rain hitting the pavement outside, and Isak became kind of aware that Even must be freezing in his thin, damp t-shirt. Even pressed his lips together, then said, voice hoarse and quiet, “Can I stay here tonight?”

Just give me a reason, just a little bit’s enough by Amfelia (21k words) - Even discovers life is not always shiny and bright, sometimes it is just really hard.

shred by Jules1398 (22k words) - There were two versions of Isak Valtersen. The first Isak was the one that his friends knew. The second Isak, the real Isak, was much more complicated. He was trans, gay, and then there was his five year-old son, Adrian. Keeping the two Isaks separate wasn't that difficult. At least, not until he saw Even again.

and you fight until the finish line carries you home by strangetowns (23k words) - “Did you love him?” Isak looked down at the glass in his hand, the wine he’d barely had any of. He shrugged, carefully noncommittal, and glanced at Even out of the corner of his eye, raising an eyebrow at his expression. “What, are you jealous?” “Hearing it makes me glad, actually.” “Why?” A beat of silence. Then - “You deserve all the chances at happiness you can get, Isak.”

We're Not Broken Just Bent by TotallyTinkerbell (26k words) - They had made a decision that didn’t fall easy on either of them. A decision that still kept Isak awake at night in his bed that was too big and in his kitchen that was too empty in the mornings. On the couch in front of his tv-cabinet which was void of Even’s film collection, and in his hallway which no longer had a dozen pairs of shoes in it.

Self Control by nofeartina (28k words) - “I never meant to hurt you, Isak.” Without any pause Isak replies, “Well, you did.” He looks him in the eyes, and continues. “You fucked me up, Even.”

Reflections by Laika_the_husband (30k words) - He started walking, listening to Even’s footsteps behind him. Fucking Even. Isak knew he didn’t do this on purpose, that it was just an episode, but he had just grown so tired of them. Every time Even relapsed Isak remembered how only a few years ago he had sworn to take care of him forever. How certain he had been, back then, that minute by minute would turn into day by day and week by week and year by year and then into forever.

Different, but same by Crazyheart (31k words) - Isak and Even had broken up almost a year ago, and Even was devastated. At Easter he tried to get over it and went on a ski holiday with Yousef and Elias. At the cabin he met a guy that looked like Isak, except his dark, buzz cut hair, well trained body and rough, charismatic personality. The fact that he called himself Markus Simensen was even more confusing

Scene Three, Take Two by folerdetdufoler (31k words) - Isak is 23, a student in the veterinary program at NMBU, and working an internship at a clinic in Kongsvinger. He hasn't seen Even in three years, but randomly bumps into him on the street when he's visiting his mom in Oslo.

No day without it by skambition (32k words) - And his lips. Those goddamn lips. They brought back memories that Even had tried to forget about for like 10 years now, memories of laughing, smiling, kissing.

and the whole world is empty by dreamer_of_dreams (45k words) - The conversations were always stilted and quiet and benignly untrue. The phone calls eventually petered out. So, Even did what he thought was right for Isak. On an ordinary Thursday, eating dinner next to each other on the couch, Even looked up from his bowl of noodles, glanced at the clock ticking 9.21 pm and said, “I think we should break up.”

Every Minute Gets Easier by CrochetingWords (50k words) - His life had turned out beyond his wildest dreams. It was amazing, and when it got bad from time to time, that was still fine, it was still worth it, because the bad times were just a glimpse in their epic story and the good times were just so good, so pure, so abundant, that he knew they would make it through every struggle. Together. Which is why Isak never imagined his current situation: Filing an application for separation.

Carry on by hannakin (52k words) - For a moment Even just looked at him. Beautiful, amazing Even who was the best thing that had ever happened to Isak. There were tears in his eyes too. When he shook his head sadly, one tear made its way down his cheek. “I think I want to break up” He finally whispered.

God Only Knows (What I'd Do Without You) by sundaymournin (52k words) - the break up that would never really happen, but imagine if it did. If Even moved to Trondheim for Uni and returned a little over two years later. Imagine what Isak would do, who he would be, and what could've happened but definitely never would've.

Love is a battlefield by Minutebyminute (56k words) - Love conquers all. Love defeats all. Sometimes love pulls you apart. Sometimes for a period in time, sometimes forever. And sometimes love is a battlefield.

I Feel It When You Don't Look At Me by photographer_of_thoughts (66k words) - A sequel. “I never wanted to leave without you, Even.” Isak whispered. “I know. But you did. And I let you go.”

The Boy Who Couldn't Hold His Breath Underwater by patrick_ (camille0078) (102k words) - Now, Even is ready to own up to his mistakes and asks Isak if he wants to get back together again. Isak has no doubt about getting back together, but everyone else believes that he's just asking for more trouble.

All Stories Are Echoes by sebastianL (felix_atticus) (123k words) - A love story. Because that's the kind of story it has to be. This is an Even who's grown up, who's had hard years since the last time we saw him, and who's trying to get his life back together on his own. This is about potential--realized or not--memory, bravery, movies, accidents, and the nature of stories. (I love this fic so much!)

WIP - I'm not sure if they all are getting back together

Dysecdysis (a tender history in skin) by unsungyellowraincoat (9k words) - last update Feb 2019. Isak and Even are ex-boyfriends, but S3 never happened, so this is completely au. Terje Valtersen is recovering from a hemorrhagic stroke and that plays a big role in this story.

We, who quietly bleed by howmanyisaksandevens (31k words) - last update May 2018. They break up, they get back together, they live happily ever after or so I choose to believe.

The One That Got Away by cami_soul (37k words) - last update Sept 2019. In this AU Even never reached out to Isak on December 9. Isak never left the Christmas concert to go find Even. Even rejected all of Isak’s attempts to reach out to him. Isak came to accept Sonja’s statement that Even never really loved him. It is ten years later and Isak has just moved back to Oslo to work at the University of Oslo’s, Department of Medical Genetics.

I swear that I will wake up next to you by dantetrieswriting (7k words) - last update July 2018. They were on-and-off for three years. Now two years have passed and Isak is 20 and in need of something exciting. An ad ropes him into booking a seat for a month long bus trip to Greece. It's new. It's interesting. It's cheap. Could it get any better? Yes it could. The ad didn't include the slight 6 foot blonde inconvenience going by the name of Even Bech Næsheim. And the fact that the inconvenience would be no more than five centimeters away from him at all times. Thirty days and 6 feet of sex on legs.

There's nowhere i'd rather be by JustALittleBitOfYou (4k words) - last update March 2019. It's been a year since Even Bech Næsheim and Isak Valtersen broke-up. Well, technically, it's been a year since Isak sent Even away without a real reason. As they both try to rebuild their life, the Bech Næsheim siblings decide to host a one-week party in Mia's and Even's new couple's honor. Isak attends the party, without knowing the identity of the hosts.

isak in the bathroom by sundaymournin (14k words) - 4/5 chapters posted. break-up fic where isak hides in the bathroom quite a bit, even is dating mikael, and everything is a bit off-center.

The Good Side by sundaymournin (12k words) - last update July 2018. The only thing Isak had in life was Even and the promise they’d made to each other when they were ten and twelve. Isak and Even used to date, broke up, but are still roommates.

#evak fic rec #skam fic rec #post-break up #getting back together #reconciliation #for anon #thanks for the request #i hope the list is satisfying #it sure broke my heart multiple times as i just had to read parts of the fics

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tofics · 6 years ago

Photo

Not You Again, Chapter 1

Pairing: Human!Elijah x Reader

Plot: Based on this prompt I got an idea for a two-chapter mini story in which Y/N is an event manager whose latest clients are the Mikaelsons. On the very night of an important event she suddenly runs into someone she didn’t expect at all...

Author’s note: I told you, I might end up writing, so here I am! Haha. Bare with me, I’m a bit rusty. Like I said, I plan for this to be two chapters in total, and chapter 2 is most likely going to be out very soon!

“I said a few inches to the left. Not to the right, not towards north, not towards south, but to the left. How hard can it be to follow a simple instruction?” The irritation with the incompetence incarnated into the two men in front of you clearly showed in your voice. They murmured their sorry’s and lifted the table again - only to put it down in the wrong spot, again.

“No no no no no, people, come on!” You pinched the bridge of your nose in frustration before pushing the men, both of which were apparently all muscle and no brain at all, to the side and tackling the table on your own. By some miracle (or just fueled by pure rage) you managed to push the gigantic piece of polished wood just into the right spot. Satisfied with your work, you clapped your hands together, then swirled back around to the two (not so) handymen.

“There. Was that so hard, gentlemen?” Without giving them a chance to reply, you gathered your clipboard and flipped through the lists pinned to it before giving them further instructions. “There should be five more tables just as this one waiting outside. I want them arranged just like this one. Don’t disappoint me or Bill will be hearing from me about your incapability to perform the simplest tasks. Are we clear?” The sweet smile you gave the two men was in stark contrast to the tone of your voice, which left no doubt that you were quite serious about getting them fired, should they mess up again.

The two muscle hunks hurried past you and you took the free minute to go over your checklist. Although you had at least half of the tasks ticked off, the number of things still left to do was almost impossibly long. “We can do this” you whispered to yourself. When you said we, you really meant yourself. You were a party planner, and one of the best there was in and around New Orleans, if not in all of Louisiana. You had your fair share of events under your belt and didn’t have a pristine reputation for no reason. You got shit done, no matter what it took, even if it meant that you had to be a Jack of all trades. It wasn’t uncommon to find you folding hundreds of napkins the night before a wedding or adding finishing touches to a place at 4am just to make sure that your client absolutely got what they envisioned.

This event was very important to you. The Mikaelsons were throwing a gala, which on its own wasn’t very special. They threw big events all the time, being the dramatic, extravagant and important-to-the-town family that they were, but this time, the guests in attendance would be coming in from all over the country, which meant an array of potentially new nation-wide clients. It was always important to you that you did a good job and got your clients through their important days and events without a hiccup, but this time, there was absolutely no room for fuck ups whatsoever. Tonight had to be perfect, even if you had to kill someone for it.

Which is why, when you saw the waiters stacking glasses carelessly onto the shiny shelves, leaving them standing in anything but a perfect row, you got ready to give them a piece of your mind. It was only 8am, there were roughly 150 things on your list waiting to be crossed off, and you sighed to yourself. “We can do this,” you whispered to yourself once more and hurried over to fix the glass order.

The rest of the day you hurried from one fiasco to the next, ticking off tasks one after one. The place slowly came together, presenting itself in a glowy and yet modest fashion. There was a lot of white, but not so much that you could get wedding vibes; there was a lot of dark wood and flecks of copper here and there, all of the colors nicely balancing each other out. Come dinner time, the hall would be flooded with golden light from the sun setting, turning the copper decoration pieces into a warm, rich golden color. It would be perfect, and you gave yourself an imaginary pat on the shoulder for having outdone yourself once more. The Mikaelsons were steady clients of yours and at this point only gave you a rough outline of what they wanted their events to look like; you were almost entirely free in your realization, especially when it came to color schemes and decorating. You snapped a picture of the hall and send it to Niklaus Mikaelson for confirmation. He was the one that had commissioned you to realize this gala, and within minutes, you had a response in your inbox.

Fantastic. Amazing work, like always.

You smiled to yourself about the praise and went over your list once more to see if everything was ready and in place. It was. The only thing left to do was to freshen up and get into your evening attire. It would be roughly an hour before Niklaus Mikaelson and his sister would arrive, which was plenty of time for you to get ready.

Ten minutes prior to the Mikaelson’s arrival you were ready. You had made it a habit to always be ready at least ten minutes before any of your clients arrived, and it was a habit that had never disappointed you. Those few that were early themselves appreciated it when you welcomed them, and if they were late (like most of her clients usually were), you had time to do one last round of check-ups. Waiting near the back entrance for your clients you watched the staff buzzing around, keeping an eye out for anything out of place, but nothing caught your eye. Satisfied, you glanced at your reflection in the mirrored hallway and couldn’t help but smile a little. You weren’t the type to be conceited, but there was no denying that you were really quite gorgeous. The green velvet hugged you in all the right places and when you moved your skin softly shimmered through the long slit in the fabric that went all the way up till shortly over your knee. Your Y/H/C hair hung in luscious waves over your shoulder and your sleek dark heels perfectly rounded off the look.

“Miss Y/L/N, they’re arriving.” One of the men of the staff, dressed in the snazzy suits that they had been assigned for tonight, winked at you before returning his attention back to his headset. “Tell the wardrobe guys to get ready. Guests will be arriving starting in 30 minutes.” He hurried out of sight and you straightened your gown down once more before the door to your right opened and in stepped the two Mikaelson siblings.

“Niklaus, so good to see you.” You kissed him hello on both cheeks, then did the same with Rebekah. If you looked gorgeous, then they looked like angels. He was dressed in an impeccable dark suit and she wore a black satin dress that made her look like the goddess of death herself. For the millionth time, you wondered if their beauty was in their genes or if their money had something to do with it, but either way, you had rarely seen a family that was just so... beautiful.

“Let me show you guys around. The place came together wonderfully. Follow me.” You smiled and led them towards the ceremony hall, the two siblings following close behind you.

The Mikaelsons knew how to party. And they knew how to party elegantly. That had asked you to hire Michael Buble for the night and he was putting on his best show on stage, presenting his latest album. Most of the guests were on the dancefloor, and the few that could resist Buble’s charming jazz were scattered around the hall sipping on drinks or feasting on some of the snacks that were still being brought out by the waiters. You wondered how some of them could be eating despite just having gone through a six-course menu, but then one of the waiters walked past you and you immediately understood. Just the sight of the small pastries made your mouth water and you stole one off the tray before the delicacies wandered out of your reach again.

“Enjoying yourself, love?” You hadn’t expected Niklaus Mikaelson behind you and his voice made you jump, causing half of the bite in your mouth to go down the wrong pipe. “Oh, now, careful love, we don’t want you to choke. Who else is going to put on such wonderful events for us if not you?” Niklaus laughed softly, patting you on the back while you coughed and gasped for air.

“I’m sorry sir... just had a... snack,” you wheezed until you finally felt your airway open up again.

“Not to worry dear, as always the buffet is open to you as well, but that is not why I’m here. My dear big brother just texted me telling me that he finally made it into town for our functions and informed me that he will be arriving shortly. He doesn’t enjoy the big cameras so he will be arriving as discreetly as we did. Would you be so kind and receive him?”

“Of course, sir. Right away.” Still red in the face - partly from choking, partly from being embarrassed about choking - you hurried through the corridors until you reached the back door. Niklaus and Rebekah had always mentioned that they had more siblings, all of which were somehow involved in the company, and from what you understood, the brother you were about to welcome was the one with the biggest say in the firm. Which was probably why you had never seen him before - he’d never come to any of the events you’d orchestrated for the Mikaelsons before, probably being too busy closing deals all over the world. You were a little nervous to be greeting this stranger, but also weirdly excited. You liked meeting new clients, and being the biggest fish at the corporation, he probably had some events, even if private, to throw on his own...

You were already down the deep end, caught in fantasies about throwing lavish events for this mysterious wealthy stranger when the door in front of you swung open and a handsome man stepped inside.

“Welcome, Mr Mikaelson, I’m so pleased to meet y-” Your voice hitched in your throat as you recognized his face. It was a face that you had last seen over a year ago, in a bar, shortly after your boyfriend had ditched you. That very handsome face had invited you to a drink, and you’d said yes, because what did you have to lose? And then one drink turned into three, and three turned into five, and before you knew it, you were in bed with that handsome face. That face had been between your legs. You had sat on that handsome face. Your face flushed red once more at the memory.

“What are you doing here?” You blurted out. Meanwhile, the man in front of you seized you up from head to toe, his eyes slowly wandering over your body. You could feel your skin burning where his eyes trailed along and you saw a smile spread on his face.

“Interesting, it seems I could ask you the same.” He leaned against the mirrored wall opposite you and resumed studying your appearance, his eyes roaming over you once more so shamelessly the redness in your face didn’t even get a chance to fade away.

“I’m managing this event. Care to tell me what you’re doing here, breaking in through the backdoor? This is a private event. In fact, I’m waiting for someone important. Now you either show me your invitation or I’ll have security escort you out.” You didn’t really have a reason to be so nippy, but then again, he had said he’d call you, and he never did. So there was that.

To your bewilderment, he just chuckled, amusement clearly showing on his face.

“Hello? Your invitation, please!” You held your hand out demonstratively, but he just crossed his arms, that same smug smile still on his lips.

“Alright then, have it your way.” You shook your head and started dialing the number for security on your phone when he snatched it out of your hand and smoothly slid it into his suit jacket. Before you could so much as protest, he opened his mouth to speak first.

“Remember my name, darling?”

He had some nerve. Breaking into a private function and then shamelessly flirting with you, even taking your phone away! Who did he think he was?

“I do, Elijah, but what’s that got to do with-” you started, but he interrupted you.

“I never did get to properly introduce myself that night, did I? How very rude of me. Pleased to meet you, Y/N, Elijah Mikaelson.”

He took your hand and pressed a kiss against it while the color drained from your face. Mikaelson? Did he just say Mikaelson?

“You’re - you’re Niklaus’ brother? You’re his older brother?” You stammered, suddenly feeling a hint of dread wash over you. So much for your policy of never sleeping with a client. 'But I didn’t know!’ you whined to yourself in your head. ‘Don’t matter. You fucked that one up, kiddo’ a snarky voice replied inside your brain.

“Indeed. I assume I’m the important guest you’ve been waiting for?” Elijah winked at you and you gulped.

“Hu. Yeah. You are. I had no idea that you...” you trailed off, unsure of where you were going with the sentence. Then you remembered how you had treated him so far, and that he was still, in this scenario, somehow your boss. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. Forgive me, Mr Mikaelson. It was very inappropriate of me to accuse you of breaking and entering.” Your eyes dropped to the floor in shame, but your voice was steady, having switched into auto-professional-mode.

“Don’t worry, Y/N, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Now, why don’t you show me to my brother’s party?”

Tag list: @idkhaylijah @rissyrapp20 @hides2000 @dolans-lover @neeadinghugs @roslea @captainshurley

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson fanfic #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson oneshot #the originals #the originals fanfic #the originals fic #the originals imagine

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slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years ago

Text

Breakable Heaven (pt. II) - p.l. dubois

Part I

Part two is here! Things start to heat up in this chapter, exciting stuff’s happening! I hope you guys like reading it as much as I’m loving writing - please slide into my inbox, let me know what you think! Reblogs are amazing too, it’s how we know people are liking what we’re putting out and helps to reach more people! (Plus it’s one of the joys of my life to read the tags. Seriously, so much fun.)

Part II (7.2k)

June 18 (fri)

“If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to sell it,” Laurel said, running a hand through her hair. “The fewer people who know the truth, the better.”

Pierre nodded. “Agreed.” He sat back in his chair. “What do you think your parents will say?”

Laurel laughed. “Uh, they think I’m seeing someone, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “it was easier to just say I had a boyfriend than deal with their endless pestering, you know?”

“So they’d buy it if you just told them you were getting married?”

She shrugged. “I think so. You know we’re not particularly close, they haven’t met any of my boyfriends since I was in high school. So if I told them I was engaged, I don’t think they’d bat an eye, if I’m honest.” Pierre could sense there was more to the story, more that she wasn’t telling him, but he didn’t want to press. “What about yours?” she asked.

“Well, we’ve got a couple options,” Pierre said, cracking a smile and leaning back into the cushions. “It was a drunken mistake.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Then they’d just tell us to get a divorce.”

“We fell in love after the first date.”

“Even less believable,” Laurel said, the corner of her lip twitching.

“Or…,” Pierre said, kicking his feet up on the ottoman, a wicked grin on his face, “I got you pregnant and want to do the right thing.”

Laurel snorted. “Little issue there.”

“What?”

“I’m not pregnant.”

Pierre ducked his head, blushing. “Right. There’s that.”

She nodded. “There’s that.” She tapped her fingers on the coffee table. “I’ve got it.” Pierre looked up. “We’ve been friends for a long time, couple years or something. Madeline went to York, so we met when you and Patrice came to visit. We realized we had feelings for each other a few months ago, everything moved super quickly since we already knew each other and had that foundation.”

“So we thought ‘why wait,’” Pierre finished.

“Exactly,” Laurel said. “Why wait, if we already knew.”

“It’s a classic friends-to-lovers story, a tale as old as time,” he sighed wistfully.

Laurel slapped his shoulder. “This is serious,” she said, but she was smiling all the same. “Okay, so we’ve at least got that worked out. Madeline and Patrice will obviously know, but other than that…” She trailed off.

He nodded, and an understanding passed between them. “It’s a need-to-know basis.”

“It is.” Laurel shifted her laptop on the coffee table, squeezing closer to Pierre so he could see the screen. “So, we have to go down to the courthouse for a meeting with the court clerk who will perform the ceremony, bring birth certificates and ID, and —”

He glanced over at Laurel, her tongue caught between her teeth. “And?”

“You have to publish a declaration of intent to marry twenty days before the wedding. Online. In public.”

Pierre looked oblivious. “So?”

Laurel rolled her eyes. “So, it has the date of the wedding and our full names and our whole entire addresses. And in case you’ve forgotten, you’re kind of a professional hockey player.”

He shrugged. “All due respect, Laurel, but,” he glanced at the website, “who actually checks these things?” He had a point there, she thought, but she wasn’t about to let him win.

“But your address, you’re not worried about that getting out there?”

“Maybe a little,” he admitted. “But my building’s got a receptionist and I’ve got locks on my doors. And plus,” Pierre added, “I’ve really never had much of a problem flying under the radar here. When I go back home, back to the suburbs, sure. And a little bit in Columbus, obviously. But there’s what, two million people in Montréal? I’m not on the Habs, so even the hockey fans here really couldn’t care less.”

She laughed. “Fair enough. Also, uh, living situation. We should probably talk about that.”

“You’re moving in with me?” He said it like a question, but not as if it was something that would surprise him, or something he was opposed to. He said it like it was something he already knew the answer to. “I’ve got three rooms, plenty of space, Phil and Georgia would love to have a new sister. You and Piper would fit right in,” he said, reaching down to scratch her behind the ears. “Plus it’s got a great gym in the lobby, you can cancel your membership to that seedy place downtown with that trainer who always stares at you when you do weights.” Laurel’s ears perked up; she was surprised he remembered. She did have a gym downtown that she tried to make it to a few times a week, and there was that one creepy trainer, but she had only mentioned it to him once in passing. “Plus it has hot yoga once a week, and I know you’ve been dying to try.” That much was true.

“At least let me help pay for rent,” she tried to bargain.

“Nope!” he said, wincing a second later. “I didn’t mean it in like a patronizing way, I know you’re perfectly capable of pulling your own weight. I meant like I bought it outright, so there’s no rent to be paid. I’ll let you pay the electricity bill if you want?”

Laurel grinned. “That would make me feel better, thank you.” After looking at her computer for a minute, she spoke again. “How long have you had the apartment for?”

Pierre scratched his chin. “Couple years? I bought it after signing the contract this year. Some guys buy a Lamborghini, I bought an apartment. I don’t own the place in Columbus though.”

“How come?” Laurel asked, though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

“Even with the contract, so much is up in the air. I could get traded in the middle of the season, or in the summer or whenever, and I don’t want to have just bought a house when I’ve got to move to Vancouver or wherever when the ink hasn’t even dried on the papers.”

This time, it was Laurel’s turn to leave with an unsaid question. “Is tomorrow good? To go down and get everything squared away at the courthouse?”

He bobbed his head. “Yeah, I’ve got some off-ice training in the morning, but any time after noon or so is good for me.”

Laurel nodded, making a few taps on her computer. “Okay, I’ve got us booked in at one, that good?”

“Yeah,” Pierre said, nodding in affirmation. “Now I’ve got to come up with an excuse to drive to my parents’ and get my birth certificate.”

---

It didn’t actually turn out to be all that difficult for Pierre; he made the drive back to Saint-Agathe-des-Monts later that afternoon, telling his parents he needed it to renew his health insurance card. He wasn’t sure they actually believed him, but his mom didn’t bat an eye before handing it over. Pierre spent the rest of the evening at home, cooking pasta, petting the dogs, and wondering what in the hell he had agreed to. He wasn’t second-guessing himself, not by a long-shot, but when she clicked that button to book their appointment, the gravity of the situation finally started to hit him. In less than a month, he was going to be getting married.

June 19 (sat)

Laurel met Pierre on the steps of the Montréal courthouse at a quarter to one the next day, clutching the straps of her tote like a lifeline. “Woah, Laurel, you’re holding that like you’ve got a bomb in there,” Pierre said.

She flashed him a nervous smile. “No bomb, just very official very legal documents. Don’t want to lose it.”

He held out his hand. “You ready?”

Laurel was surprised at the gesture. Not shocked that he was being kind, but that he was cognizant enough to recognize that she was nervous, and wanted to do something about it. She took his hand. “Ready.”

It only took a minute to find the office, and a few more before the receptionist called them back to the clerk’s office. She introduced herself as Juliette Bergeron, congratulated them on their engagement, and asked to see the paperwork. Passports and birth certificates were handed over, signatures were signed on dotted lines, and half an hour later, they walked out of the courthouse with an appointment for a wedding on July 10.

“Well, there’s that crossed off the checklist,” Laurel said, leaning up against the handrails as they stood on the courthouse steps. They had actually made a real checklist, a series of tasks on a shared Notes page of everything that needed to be completed before the wedding. Book the ceremony and post the public notice were done, but there were still a dozen-odd tasks left before they actually could get married. Starting with telling their parents. While they had developed as airtight a cover story as she supposed one could when they were committing what would charitably be referred to as citizenship fraud, they had agreed it was going to be far less messy to “come clean” as fiancés than after the wedding. Laurel had wanted to text them the news, or call so early they’d still be asleep and she could just avoid the conversation altogether, but Pierre had convinced her to FaceTime. “I know you guys aren’t super close, but I think they deserve that much, Laurel,” he had said, and he was right. Deep down, she knew he was right.

“Ready?” Pierre asked, rubbing her back soothingly.

Laurel flashed him a tight smile before pressing her mom’s contact. “As I’ll ever be.” Three agonizingly long rings later, her mom picked up.

“Laurel? What are you doing calling, honey? Is everything okay?”

She let out a nervous giggle. “Does something have to be wrong for me to call my parents?”

“No,” Cheryl clucked, “but to be fair, you don’t call often.”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck in discomfort. “That’s true. Uh, anyways, is dad there?”

“He’s in the kitchen,” her mom said, starting to catch onto the fact that maybe this wasn’t quite your run-of-the-mill check-in call. “What’s this all about, pumpkin?”

The old term of endearment, one she hadn’t heard in years, brought tears to the corners of her eyes. “Can you call him in? I’d rather tell you both at the same time.”

Cheryl nodded, worry crossing her brow. “Doug? Laurel’s on the phone, she’s got something to tell us. Sounds important.”

“Coming,” Laurel heard her dad say in the background. A moment later, he padded into view. “Hey, Laurel, Mom said you’ve got some news?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah, just something I thought you guys should know. It’s not bad, you’re just going to be surprised, so I need you to keep an open mind, okay?”

“Who is he?” Doug asked, rubbing his forehead with an exasperated expression.

She blanched. “He? Who’s he?” There’s no way he guessed...right?

“The jackass who got you pregnant, who else?”

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “Pregnant? Who said I’m pregnant? I’m not pregnant!”

Both of her parents let out an audible sigh of relief. “Well, Laurel, what conclusion did you expect us to jump to when you called us out of the blue and said you had important news?”

Laurel bit her lip; they had a point. “Fair. But, uh, rest assured, I’m not pregnant. I’m smarter than that.” She paused, steeling her nerves. “Remember that guy I told you I was seeing a few months ago?”

Her mom squinted like she was looking into the sun. “Vaguely? You didn’t really tell us much about him. Just that he was tall, nice, you met through friends.” It was a believable enough explanation back then, and Laurel was beyond grateful it dovetailed perfectly into the story she and Pierre had conjured up. “You didn’t even tell us his name.”

Laurel reached out her free hand, the one that wasn’t holding the phone, and made a grabby motion for his hand. He interlaced his fingers with hers. “Well, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois—”

Doug interrupted. “Very French.”

She grimaced. “I do live in Québec, Dad. But anyways, his name’s Pierre-Luc Dubois and we’re getting married.”

They sat still on the other end of the call, so still that if it weren’t for her mom’s rapid blinking she would have thought the call had been dropped. “Married?” her mom asked softly.

“Yes, married.”

“How long have you even been seeing each other?” Doug asked, dumbfounded.

“A little under six months. I know it’s not long, and I know it seems sudden, but we’ve known each other for a long time, you know? We met when I was still back in Toronto at university, Madeline introduced us.” Her parents nodded; Madeline, they knew. Madeline, they had met. Madeline, they trusted. “And we finally realized a little bit after New Year’s that we had feelings for each other, and it’s sort of been zero to a hundred ever since. We thought, if we knew we loved each other and we knew we were done looking, then what was the point of waiting for a year or two for it to be a ‘socially acceptable’ time to get married.” Laurel finished.

Cheryl wrapped her hands around her mug of tea, eyelids still shooting rapid-fire blinks at the screen. “But, Laurel, we haven’t even met this boy, we barely know anything about him!”

Pierre squeezed her hand. “Actually, he’s just off-camera. Want to say hi, P?”

He walked into view, waving politely at the screen. “Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Klerken, it’s so nice to finally meet you. Laurel’s had nothing but wonderful things to say.” A little flattery never hurt anybody, he thought.

“Lovely to meet you, Pierre-Luc,” Cheryl said. “Forgive us if we’re still a little shocked, Laurel’s not normally one to spring things on us like this.”

He laughed. “Perfectly fair. I’m sorry we haven’t had a chance to meet until now, but we’ve been trying to get used to the idea ourselves.”

Her dad leaned forward from his spot in the couch, giving Pierre as much of a once-over as he could from nearly 1500 miles away. “I’m not able to give you the normal talking-to I have with any of the other boys Laurel or Maggie have introduced us to, so this is going to have to do.” Maggie? Laurel had primed Pierre for the inevitable grilling, telling him that if it was anything like it had been in the past, it would be all bark and no bite. “So what do you do for work, Pierre-Luc?”

“I’m a professional hockey player in the NHL, I play for the Columbus Blue Jackets.”

Doug’s eyebrows went up. As much of a front as he tried to put up, he was still a middle-aged man from Minnesota, and there were few things that impressed middle-aged men from Minnesota more than their daughters being suddenly engaged to NHL players. “NHL, huh? That’s very impressive. So you’re from Québec, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Pierre answered. “My hometown’s a little outside of the city, but I live in Montréal now. My mom’s from Georgia, though, so I’ve got dual citizenship and some family still down there.”

Her parents didn’t take too kindly to the news that the wedding was in three weeks, since it was too tight a fit to be able to get time off, but promised to visit later in the summer to make a proper introduction to their new son-in-law. Her father continued to pepper him with questions about his hobbies, family, and how he takes his steak — according to the Doug Klerken rules, any man who orders anything above medium is not to be trusted — until Laurel mercifully cut him off, telling her parents they were late to meet up with some friends. “That wasn’t so bad,” Pierre said as Laurel slipped her phone into her purse, immediately plugging it into her portable charger as the FaceTime had drained all but 18% of her battery.

Laurel made a face. “They’re good people and they care about me, but…” She trailed off. “They never really understood why I’d want anything more than I was given. Anything more than the status quo. And it’s just caused a lot of friction between us.” Her eyes flashed as she remembered something. “One more thing.” Pierre’s ears perked up. “If and when you ever talk to my parents again, just...don’t bring up politics.” Laurel grimaced.

“Republicans?” he asked sympathetically.

She nodded. “Trump-supporting Republicans. It’s another one of the reasons we don’t talk much anymore. I’m liberal, I’d probably be NDP if I could vote here, and we just don’t share the same values on a lot of things.”

“That’s got to be pretty rough on you,” Pierre said.

“Yeah,” Laurel admitted. “Probably more than I want to let on, but I think it helps that I’m able to get some distance.”

Pierre took a deep breath in. “Your, uh, your dad mentioned something that I wanted to ask you about.”

Shit. Laurel had been able to avoid the conversation for long enough, but she was beginning to push her luck, and she couldn’t run forever. “Maggie?”

He nodded. “You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, but I thought I should ask.”

“Yeah, no, I get it,” Laurel said. “Um, long story short, Maggie’s my sister. It’s July, so…” she did the mental math in her head, “she’d be almost 31. Total free spirit. She left town pretty soon after she graduated, came back every so often but not nearly enough. Last I heard, she was an au pair in Italy.”

“And when was that?”

“Two years ago.” Pierre figured that was as good a time as any to drop the subject, so he did. They had decided that, while they were still downtown, it would be a good opportunity to get the ring shopping out of the way. Pierre looked up the highest-rated jewelry store on Yelp, and they set off on foot.

Pierre opened the door for her as they stepped inside, greeted by a slightly over-enthusiastic salesman. “You paid for the ceremony fee, so I’m paying for the rings, okay?”

Laurel scoffed. “Hardly a fair trade, don’t you think?”

“I’ll live,” he said, smirking.

Laurel had been wandering around by the solitaires for a few minutes when Pierre walked up behind her. “I know this isn’t going to be the wedding you’ve always dreamed of,” Pierre said, “but we’re going to make it the best we can.” He looked down at the cases, Laurel’s fingers dancing over the edge of the glass cover. “When you were in high school, or university, did you ever think about what kind of wedding you wanted?” Laurel gave a small nod. “And what kind of ring did you have?”

“I’ve always liked halo cuts,” she said softly.

Pierre inched his hand towards hers, wrapping his fingers around hers. They tensed for a second, but then relaxed into his grip. “Then let’s go get you that halo cut.”

There was no one else in the store aside from the salesman, so the couple was enveloped in a comfortable silence as they browsed. Her eyes stopped on a beautiful floral halo ring with an oval diamond. Pierre nodded to the salesman, who carefully took it off of its stand and handed it to Pierre, who carefully wiggled it onto Laurel’s fourth finger. If she closed her eyes, she was almost able to pretend that it was a proposal. Laurel brought her thumb to the ring, delicately running it over the pavé band with the ghost of a smile on her face. “What do you think?” Pierre asked, as if he couldn’t already tell her answer from the look on her face.

Laurel looked up at him. “I love it. It fits perfectly.”

“Like Cinderella’s slipper.” He turned to the salesman. “Combien ça coûte?” (How much does it cost?) Laurel heard a number that made her swallow hard, more than anything she’d ever have bought for herself, but Pierre insisted it was a non-issue as he handed his card over. “He said that they’ve got another sample one in the back, and you’re welcome to just wear that one out if it fits.”

“Sounds good.” The salesman handed over the bag with Pierre’s ring and her matching wedding band, thanking them for their purchase before opening the door back into the sunny Montréal afternoon. Laurel craned her neck to try and sneak a peek inside the bag. “Don’t I get to see yours?”

Pierre cracked a wry grin. “Gotta wait until the wedding, babe. Can’t a man have a little mystery?”

“Fair enough,” Laurel said, not missing his use of the pet name but brushing it off as simply a spur-of-the-moment choice. “Do you want to do the honors?” she asked, referring to the all-important checklist.

Pierre opened his phone with his spare hand, deftly navigating to the app and tapping twice. “Four down, seven to go. We’re on a roll.

June 24 (thurs)

Surprisingly, telling Pierre-Luc’s parents hadn’t been nearly as intimidating as breaking the news to her own, at least for Laurel. They were shocked — and confused, and had a lot of questions — but were welcoming nonetheless. Patrice was almost like a second son to them, and the fact that she already came with his stamp of approval went a long way into calming them down. “He’s always been quite the romantic, the type to wear his heart on his sleeve. And he cares deeply about the people in his life. That’s you, now,” his mom had said. They drove up to meet them that Sunday, having brunch in his childhood home. That was, in essence, their first real “test” as a couple. They had never had to sell their relationship to anyone before; even when going out with Madeline and Patrice after their “engagement,” nothing ever seemed like it had changed. This time was different. This time had to be different.

His mom fawned over her engagement ring, asking her to spare no details in retelling the story of the proposal. Lucky for her, however, Laurel was the former president of the University of Toronto improv club, and coming up with background stories with exactly zero minutes to prepare was something of a specialty for her. Laurel immediately gushed about how unexpected it was; she was just expecting an evening walk through downtown until they turned down one of the piers by the basilica, reached the end overlooking the river, and Pierre dropped down on one knee. “I think I knew that he was the one way sooner than that, but it’s nice to finally have it be official,” she had said.

Laurel shook herself out of her memories, turning the door into the locker room. She grabbed a pair of scrubs out of her shared locker — she had never met Alice, the other nurse who used it, but they had made a habit of leaving each other Post-it note greetings — and stripped off her t-shirt and jeans. Shimmying on her scrub pants, she tied them, leaning back into the locker to get her bag as the door shut behind her. She glanced over to the door, waving to Claire. Claire was sweet, a transplant from Vancouver who had lived in Québec as a child and decided to come back to work. She was sweet, having just started working at the beginning of the summer, but she was young, even younger than Laurel. And while her perky and energetic nature lent itself well to the dynamics of the floor, it was a lot for her to get used to. “Hey!” Laurel said, waving as she pulled a chain out of her purse, trying to discreetly unhook it.

“Hey!” Claire responded, perky as ever. “How has your week been?” She worked Mondays and Thursdays with Laurel, but had the Saturday night shift as well.

Laurel threw her hair up into a bun. “Good, good, busy. Met up with some friends yesterday, so that was nice, but not much. Took Piper to the dog park.” With my fiancé, she neglected to add. She twisted her ring off, trying to slip it onto the chain without Claire noticing. Like most of her married colleagues, Laurel had taken to wearing her engagement ring on a chain around her neck while at work instead of on her finger. It was under her scrubs most of the time, keeping at bay the questions she wasn’t yet ready to answer, and made it much easier to pull on and off gloves when the occasion called for it. But Claire was eagle-eyed, catching the sparkle of the diamond just as she slid it onto the chain.

She audibly gasped. “Is that an engagement ring?”

Laurel had to think fast; once again, her improv skills were called up to bat. “No? It’s, uh, it’s a family heirloom, it was my grandma’s. Guess I didn’t think too much about which finger I put it on.” She could tell Claire didn’t quite believe her side of the story, but thankfully, she didn’t press.

“If you say so,” she said, giving a not-so-subtle wink.

June 27 (sun)

Laurel was sat in her living room, her TV on in the background as she scrolled absent-mindedly through her phone, savoring her last few hours before she had to go to bed for her 5:30 wake-up call. On a whim, she opened her Twitter. It wasn’t an app she used all that often — mostly just to keep in contact with the handful of high school and college friends who didn’t use Instagram — and she was well aware that she’d probably have to limit her use for her own sanity when she and Pierre went “public” after the wedding, but she liked being able to keep up with everyone. She followed her friends, a handful of celebrities and a few journalists, but her timeline wasn’t flooded with updates. Then she saw the little blue alert on the bottom. One new message. Clicking to her inbox, Laurel saw that it had been sent by Madeline four minutes earlier, a link to a tweet that just had the caption: “you should probably see this.”

Chewing the inside of her cheek, Laurel pressed the link. What could be so important that Madeline would have sent a message with that kind of urgency? And why didn’t she just text it? God, I hate puckbunny blogs, Laurel thought as she read the handle. Her eyes raced across the screen. So I was looking up the address of my friend’s wedding earlier since I lost my invitation and didn’t want to tell her, and saw this under??? I know he can be a private guy, but tell me you guys don’t think this is for PLD. Her eyes froze as soon as she finished reading, praying that somehow they were talking about a different PLD, that they hadn’t been found out and their cover hadn’t been blown and she wasn’t about to have a panic attack for the first time since junior year — and then she saw the screenshot. Of their wedding announcement. Their public wedding announcement that not only had their full names and places of birth, but the location of the ceremony, the time, and their addresses. God, this is exactly what Laurel had been worried about. She immediately reported the tweet for exposing personal information, then made the poor decision to look at the comments section. Some people insisted it was legitimate, some convinced it was just photoshop, some were convinced that it couldn’t be Pierre-Luc even it looked like him, because he was training in Columbus for the summer, right? Thank God, it didn’t seem like anyone had done a deep enough dive to figure out who she was; there weren’t any screenshots of her accounts or photos of her in the comments section. It was eight minutes from the time she reported it to when it was taken down, and while Laurel was grateful for the quick response, she felt like she was on a cliffside, one foot off of the edge, until it had been deleted.

Her phone lit up with a text notification from Pierre. Funny thing happened today.

Oh God, Laurel thought. Had he seen it? He hadn’t.

My mom asked what you were planning to do about flowers and got very upset when I said we didn’t have any plans. She let out a tense breath. Flowers, she could do. She wanted to get your number to send over the names of a few florists she knows in the area, but I thought I should check with you first to make sure that’s okay.

Laurel smiled, her right hand draped over the side of the couch to scratch Piper behind the ears. That sounds great, P.

As promised, his mom texted Laurel soon after, coming armed with recommendations of Montréal florists. She echoed her son’s words almost identically; You deserve to have the wedding you’ve always dreamed of even if the circumstances are different, she had written. Her eyes pricked with tears as she fell asleep.

July 3 (sun)

It was a week before the wedding, and Laurel had started to pack up her apartment. It seemed much more practical to do it in stages then try to finish everything the weekend of the wedding. So she sat with Pierre on the floor of her bedroom, moving boxes between them as they packed away into the next season of her life. Some things, she obviously couldn’t put away yet — she still needed clothes and toothpaste, and they hadn’t been able to get all of her pots and pans down to the Goodwill yet. But books and keepsakes could be boxed up, and unless there was a snowstorm in July, she didn’t need her parka either.

“Oh, what’s this?” Pierre asked as he pulled a few more volumes off of her bookshelf. Laurel groaned when she saw what was in his hand.

“The 2013 Cloquet Senior High School yearbook. My sophomore year.”

He burst out laughing. “This, I’ve got to see.” He opened the cover. “Your mascot was the Lumberjacks?”

Laurel ducked her head, her cheeks heating. “Regrettably, yes. That’s what happens when your whole area used to be milling towns.”

Pierre’s brows furrowed. “I thought you said everything was about the mines, doesn’t your dad work in the mines?”

“He does,” Laurel said. “They had to figure out something to do after all of the trees had been cut down, you know?”

Pierre got the feeling it was really more of a rhetorical question. “What was your school like?”

She placed one of her old Harry Potter books into the box. “Small is the first word that comes to mind. My graduating class couldn’t have been much bigger than 150 or so? We’d get snow days a couple of times a year, most of the time if it wasn’t a blizzard everyone would end up going down to the school anyways, we’d all have big snowball fights on the football field. Actually,” she said, pulling out her phone from her back pocket, “I think I might still have a clip of one.” She pulled up her videos, scooting over to Pierre and leaning into his side so he could see the screen. Raucous laughter filtered through the speakers; the only things in sight were snow forts and the tiniest bits of beanies peeking over the top.

“THIS. IS. WAR!”

Laurel snickered. “I think that sounds like Nicholas, he was the varsity quarterback for a few years. Usually was the one leading the sieges.” She put her phone away a minute later after the clip ended. “But other than that? There were actually a lot of pretty interesting elective classes, I got to take photography, work in the preschool on campus, take a class on Anishinaabe studies.”

“Anishinaabe?” Pierre questioned.

“There’s a Native American reservation in town, the tribe’s Ojibwe so that’s the language family we studied. A lot of kids at the school, including one of my best friends Kristen, live on the reservation, so I think they wanted to not only have the class available for Native students who maybe wanted to learn more about their culture, but also for non-Native kids like me, so we’re able to gain a respect for whose land we’re living on,” Laurel explained.

“Makes sense,” he said, flipping through the pages. He snorted. “This photo might be the best thing I’ve ever seen.”

Laurel peeked over his shoulder, cringing at her school picture. “I really couldn’t have dressed any more 2012 if I tried, Pierre. Aggressively off-the-shoulder top, one of those godforsaken hair feathers, I bet you’d find dark wash skinny jeans if you could see from the waist down.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my fiancée like that,” Pierre said. “I like the look, I swear. You were such a cute kid, oh my God.”

She rolled her eyes. “I know. What happened to me, right?”

He looked at her from the side. “Nope.”

June 9 (fri)

It was the day before the wedding, and Laurel was trying to find a dress. She had been planning on wearing one — even if it was a courthouse wedding, she still wanted to look nice — but then she had spilled red wine onto the light blue one she had been thinking of wearing as she ironed it in the living room, and she didn’t want to put all of her eggs in one basket if the Oxiclean didn’t end up working. She called Madeline in a panic, who promised to be over as soon as she could with a few dresses of her own to see what she could do. There was a knock on the door, and Laurel practically flew across the room to fling it open, gathering Madeline in a hug even before she had crossed the threshold. Madeline patted her clumsily on the back. “There, there, Laur. It’s going to be okay, we’re going to fix it.”

Laurel ran one hand through her hair, her curls as frazzled as her mind. “It’s got to be. Half of my stuff’s already over at P’s place, what, do you want me to wear a,” she opened up her dresser, eyeing its meager contents, “bralette and lacy thong to my own wedding?”

Madeline shrugged. “I doubt Pierre would mind,” she said casually.

Laurel almost choked on her own spit. “What do you mean?”

“Men are visual creatures, and you’re hot as hell, Laurel,” she stated matter-of-factly.

“Still,” Laurel said, opening her closet and grabbing every single left over dress from its hanger, trying to distract herself from Madeline’s words, “I’d rather not be arrested for public indecency. I’m trying to stay in the country, remember?”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “I remember.” She thumbed through the dresses on Laurel’s bed. “You’re not wearing a black dress to get married,” she said pointedly.

“It’s pretty?” Laurel tried to reason.

“It is, but it’s a wedding, not a funeral.” She moved onto the next one. “Bright red bodycon is great for the club, but not sure coquettish seductress is the look you’re going for.” The next one was a striped sweater dress; it was the middle of summer, so according to Madeline, that meant it was out. There was a navy shift dress that “could work, but it’s a little too much work and not enough play,” her friend had said. Laurel tried on Madeline’s dresses, but seeing as how she had three inches on her, the hemlines weren’t exactly in her favor. Madeline pulled out the last of the stack, gasping softly. “This one’s beautiful, where’s it from?”

Madeline looked at it, a knee-length ivory lace dress, rolling her eyes good-naturedly at Madeline. “It was for Aurélie’s bachelorette party last year, probably explains. You were drunk off your ass that night.”

“I’m hurt by that characterization, but I don’t remember enough to correct you,” Madeline said. “It’s perfect though, why didn’t you choose this one in the first place?”

Laurel rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not sure?” Madeline gave her a look. “Fine, it just seems...It seems too much like an actual wedding dress. It’s white, or close enough, anyways,” she noted, fingering one of the delicate straps, “and gorgeous, and formal, and I’m worried if I wear it it’ll seem too real, and I’ll start thinking this is more than it is. Because all it is at the end of the day is a friend doing me a really, really big favor,” she finished, huffing and falling back onto her mattress.

“At the end of the day, it’s still a wedding,” Madeline corrected, laying down next to her. “And you’re still a bride and he’s still a groom and you deserve to feel beautiful and cherished and special on your wedding day, no matter its circumstances. And who knows? Maybe you two stay married, and fall in love, and you live happily ever after with your half-dozen dogs and 2.5 kids on some farm out in the suburbs.”

Laurel snorted. “As if.” But two hours later, long after Madeline had already left, she sat back on the bed, hand ghosting over the lace of her now-wedding dress, thinking that maybe, just maybe, Madeline had a point.

June 10 (sat)

It was the morning of the wedding, and Laurel was pacing her room in her sweatpants, Piper looking at her in confusion from the doorway. It was just past 7 and the appointment wasn’t until 10, but she still had to get dressed and do her hair and makeup and pick up the flowers and eat and — her internal monologue was interrupted by the doorbell. Still half-asleep, she ambled over to the door, pulling it open without even really checking to see who it was.

“Surprise!!” Patrice shouted, walking through the door, followed by Madeline and Pierre. “Madeline mentioned that you seemed a bit overwhelmed yesterday, so we thought we’d come over and get ready over here!”

Laurel shuffled out of the way as Piper jumped on Pierre, who laughed and calmed her down with a few scratches on her chin. She had really taken a liking to him and his two dogs, which had initially been a point of nervousness for Laurel. But they got along great, shared space well, and she seemed to love her new brother and sister. “That’s really nice of you guys, I appreciate it,” she said sincerely. “Um, I don’t have much food left because of the move, but I think there’s some cereal in the cupboard?”

“Silly you,” Pierre said, holding out a paper bag. “Did you think I’d leave my bride hungry on our wedding day? I got you sourdough french toast, should be on the top.” They had gone out to brunch once and she had ordered it, audibly moaning at how incredible it tasted. He remembered.

“And raspberry mochas!” Madeline said, presenting her with a cup.

Laurel took it, wrapping her spare arm around Madeline and kissing Pierre on the cheek. “This is incredible, guys. Really. I didn’t expect anything like this.”

“Exactly!” Madeline said, a perky expression on her face. “It’s a surprise!” She drifted into the kitchen, pulling out plates from Laurel’s cabinet and forks from her drawers. “Breakfast is served!”

Laurel let out a laugh as she grabbed the box with her french toast, taking a sip of her mocha. “I think the credit goes to the chefs at the restaurant, but whatever you say, Madi.”

Madeline rolled her eyes. “Yeah, but we ordered it.

By the time they had all inhaled their breakfasts and cleaned the kitchen — Laurel and Pierre tag-teamed the dishes — it was almost eight, and Madeline whisked her into her room to get ready. “There should be a couple beers in the fridge, help yourselves!” Laurel shouted out the door as Madeline tried to wrestle her into the ensuite. For the most part, Madeline was good at listening to Laurel’s pleas against a dramatic makeup look. Muted rose lipstick, filled in her eyebrows, delicately pulled back her hair into a twisted bun. “Where’s your setting spray?” Madeline asked, rooting through her makeup bag.

“Top drawer on the left. Are you finally going to let me see?”

Madeline pulled the drawer out, uncapping the bottle and spritzing it over Laurel’s face. “Go for it.”

Laurel turned around, catching a glimpse of herself in the mirror. “Oh my God,” she said, turning her head so the glimmer of her highlighter caught in the early-morning sun streaming through the open window. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

“Don’t say that until you’ve put the dress on,” Madeline said, pulling it off of its hanger and draping it across the chair. Sweats came off and the dress went on, Madeline carefully pulling up the back zipper and straightening out her hem. Laurel bent down to put on her shoes, threading the silver straps through the tiny metal clasp before giving her leg a good shake. Madeline looked at her sceptically.

“What?” Laurel asked innocently. “I don’t want it to fall off halfway down the aisle.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door, Patrice’s voice floating in from the other side. “It’s 9:20, you two about ready to head out?”

“Coming!” Madeline called back, pulling Laurel up from the bed. “You ready, Laur?” Laurel gave a nervous nod. “Let’s go get you married.”

She stepped out into the living room, reaching up to her neck and fingering the silver filigree of her grandma’s wedding necklace, one of the only things she had left to remember her by. If she wasn’t able to complete the whole rhyme, at least she’d have her something old. “Who’s driving?” she asked.

Pierre wheeled around, mouth gaping like a fish when he saw her. Laurel immediately looked down to her dress, wondering if she had spilled one of her pre-wedding mimosas. “What is it?” she asked frantically. “Is there something in my teeth?”

He shook his head, tugging at the sleeves of his navy blue suit. “No, there’s nothing in your teeth, it’s perfect. You look beautiful.” They were in the car five minutes later, picked up the bouquet from the florist five minutes after that, and were outside of the courthouse by 9:50. Laurel took a deep breath, looking up at the glass doors of the Palais de Justice. Pierre threaded his fingers between hers, giving a reassuring squeeze. “You good?”

Laurel nodded, nervous but determined, sure that she was making the right decision. “Ready.” She barely remembered signing in, barely remembered going back to the clerk’s office, barely remembered her reading the mandated articles of the civil code. She gripped Pierre’s hands, giving him as much of a reassuring smile as she could, as the vows were read.

“Pierre-Luc Dubois, do you take Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, here present, to be your wife?” Juliette asked.

“I do.”

“Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, do you take Pierre-Luc Dubois, here present, to be your husband?”

“I do,” Laurel said, voice steady.

Juliette continued. “By virtue of the powers vested in me by law, I now declare you, Pierre-Luc Dubois, and you, Laurel Elizabeth Klerken, united in the bonds of marriage.” Patrice passed over the rings; Laurel slid Pierre’s onto his ring finger, he gently twisted hers to rest on top of her engagement ring. “You are now legally married. Allow me, on my own behalf and on behalf of all those present, to offer you our best wishes for your happiness. You may now kiss the bride.”

Laurel panicked for a moment, before looking up and meeting Pierre’s eyes. In the span of a second, she communicated her unspoken agreement with the tiniest nod of her head, and his lips were on hers. His arms were against the small of her back, hers wrapped around his neck, and even enough it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds, it felt like hours. It felt like coming home.

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