#what a beautiful devastating heartbreaking show

[hanaasbananas]

9 of your favourite tv shows

tagged by @queer-cosette

tagging @thesamestarlight @2manyfandoms2count @omnishamblegreg and anyone else who wants a go

[echoesofcamelot]

This shot takes my breath away.

It’s… I don’t know how to explain it.

It’s the discarded sword, forgotten because there’s no longer any fight.

It’s the wound, dark and fatal, clearly visible on Arthur’s side.

It’s Merlin’s leg, pressing tightly against Arthur’s.

It’s his left hand, clinging to him desperately.

It’s his right arm wrapped protectively around him, his right hand cupping his head tenderly, his fingers tangled in his hair.

It’s the way Merlin is holding Arthur, as if trying to merge with him and become one.

Or maybe it’s just the way this image alone tells a story, or at least the end of it. The way you can tell it was a good one, epic and tragic and filled with love and loss and all those things that make a story worth telling.

Yeah, that must be it...

Love and devastation and everything in between, all condensed into this very moment and captured forever in a single frame of a TV show.

[subskz]

…i lost the tag limit war

the reader changing the subject the instant she feels seen by minho is such a subtle but valuable hint that i think says a lot abt the type of person she is, that moment really stood out to me! i know i literally just said this but right down to every minute detail, you've characterized both lino and the reader so masterfully it has to be the most enjoyable aspect of this story for me...and on top of that i just love how you write their conversations so much, they’re both such lil nerds…my intellectually stimulating smarties debating w each other even now 🥰 it all feels so comfortable and natural and draws me into their relationship w such ease!

their discussion abt colors is hands down one of my favorite scenes in all of invisible thread!! it's such an oddly heartwarming conversation and that perfect, out-of-the-box way of thinking that’s just so undeniably minho...it almost reminds me of synesthesia how he describes feelings through color! "the very essence of our humanity" "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean" the way you embodied each colors through emotions/experiences was so wonderfully done, i understood each one instantly like it was a picture being visualized before my eyes. it makes it even more touching that minho and the reader come to understand each other on a whole new level through that way of communicating their moods <3 and for some reason when he gives the example "i feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to" that really tugged at my heartstrings ㅠ it almost feels like he isnt just giving a hypothetical there, like he's giving a small glimpse into his true feelings without saying it outright. maybe he feels invisible deep down, too

them falling asleep together on facetime was so soft and tender ㅠㅠ leave it to lino to ramble abt sous-vide as a bedtime story and complain abt getting SCAMMED lmao the way that is actually smth he would say 😭 "he closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on" this line got me so good ): it seems at first that he's bringing the reader peace but she's bringing him peace in her own way as well...her feelings abt his eyes changing from fear to longing is such a lovely detail and HER COMPLIMENTING THEM!!! HIS STUNNED REACTION </3 "this is the first genuine compliment he's ever received" oh my god does my moss green theory actually have any merit.....does he really feel invisible to the world too...do not do this to me sahar ㅠㅠ but the way he thinks such lovely, adoring things abt the reader in that moment but instead of voicing them he whines abt being hungry....so endearing and so HIM i cant get enough of how youve written minho here ur singlehandedly reminding me why he is allegedly the love of my life

the kintsugi mention made my heart leap in my chest!!! "when you look at that vase, you know it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty" please...that sentence in itself is so moving when you apply it to the context of what the reader has been through her whole life, not just a single crack but repeated breakages. and for it to come from someone like minho; it feels like exactly what the reader needs to hear to truly begin to heal herself...he doesn't coddle her but is still so gentle, putting things into perspective like nobody else can w his unique worldview and mental strength ㅠㅠ and i think i just lost my mind realizing that this scene loops right back to the clay comparison you drew at the beginning of the story oh my GOD....the reader is like a clay pot molded by her mother, broken in places and repaired over and over to create smth still damaged but just as valuable...and lino is the gold filling in the cracks....sahar you are INSANE for this one im kissing ur brain and tucking it gently into bed

the scene w minho in the rain 😞 i was not prepared to see my meow meow upset...but i love the way you wrote it so much. how oddly quiet he is, even to the point where he's not commenting in class or teasing her, and that's the key detail that lets the reader know smth's off w him...i also love that nothing in particular caused his low mood. it's such a human quality, and he allows himself to be human and feel his feelings until they pass. "he knew his emotions would regulate themselves" i cant explain why this line stood out to me so much i really love it, i think it's just such a shining example of minho's mindset...not necessarily optimistic, but practical enough to not be completely swamped by the darkness either. it creates such an interesting contrast to the reader's personality to see how they both handle their emotions, w her pushing hers away and him letting them run their course. but the fact that he typically tries to retreat into himself until he feels better, yet strangely enough, he doesn't mind it as much as he'd expect when the reader catches him in a vulnerable state...my babies ㅠ i also really loved the part where he uses her shower and thinks abt the scent of her soap as he washes up, it's so so sweet n intimate i'm such a sucker for things like that ): there are so many small things minho notices abt her like it's the most natural thing in the world, they're both so attentive of one another

"you were both just trying to make it through the day" and "he knew he wasn't invisible. at least not to you" were critical hits to my heart...it feels like a breakthrough in their relationship—the first time the reader truly truly sees minho, all sides of him, and she accepts them all without question <3

the gradual progression of their friendship is so gratifying to read bc of how organically you made it all flow together!! i adore the entire sequence that shows us how they start to care for each other more and more…the casual intimacy of the reader applying her lip tint to his lips (and him not studying for his quiz on purpose 😭💗 come ON) lino worrying abt her eating enough, the reader tying his bangs out of his eyes, complimenting him so matter-of-factly, and him BLUSHING ALL OVER THE PLACE it’s so over for me x2 they are so tender in their actions even when they tease each other nonstop. it all leads up so perfectly to the point in the story where minho finds himself being drawn to her apartment without even realizing it when he doesn't feel well. the subtle shift from him initially trying to shut her out bc he's so used to managing his bad days on his own, to him eventually leaning in to her kindness and seeking her company instead...and the way she just understands what he needs immediately, allows him to sit in silence and simply exist in peace next to her. describing his mood as "too much of every color" really struck a chord w me as well...i'm just so so in love w the running theme of colors you included throughout this story, it's such a brilliant way to put emotions into words <3

the lil parallels here n there from the beginning of their relationship until now are so cute as well; how lino makes breakfast for her the first time and leaves before she wakes up, but this time, he promises to stay and eat with her...to not be invisible ㅠㅠ i think what's making me craziest of all is how they're both so hyperaware of each other's touch. like when their shoulders brushed while sharing the reader's umbrella, how the reader suddenly finds it difficult to concentrate on her book when lino holds her wrist as she shields him from the sunlight...and little does she know it's the exact same for him too, like when she rested her head on his thigh and all he could focus on was the sensation of her hair tickling him 😭 they are so enamored w each other and have become so tangled up in each other little by little...they don't even fully realize it yet but they've made a permanent place in each other's lives now

"you were already on the other side, you realize. his eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey" oh my GOD!!! ㅠㅠㅠㅠ her feelings abt minho's eyes changing from fear, to longing, to at last the comfort of getting to see the other side of those black holes...this line hit me like a truck it might be my favorite from the entire fic ㅠ i have a feeling i'll be saying that abt many more lines to come when you verbalize things in the most poetic ways imaginable heheh but this one truly got me so good, the delicacy in which you describe minho makes the reader's growing affection for him all the more heart-fluttering~

minho hesitating to wipe her tears )): the way he's so careful abt touching her in any unwarranted way bc he can sense that she shies away from skinship is so devastatingly sweet...and then him pinching her right after to make her stop crying NEVERMIND I CANT STAND HIM ACTUALLY. but the way he consoles her is so endearing and so so minho...very simple and sincere, he knows her well enough to immediately figure out the best way to take her mind off of the issue instead of dwelling on it. "you didn't care what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it" i've already pointed out so many lines oh my god i'm so sorry but each one is like another arrow through my heart ㅠㅠ i feel like this sentence is such a perfect testament to the reader and lino's relationship; they've both seen each other at their best and worst and it doesn't change anything abt their feelings, they care for each other unconditionally 😞 also the reader being afraid of physical touch bc she craves it is SO heartbreaking but so raw...i think it aligns so well w her past bc she's so used to either being invisible, or only being perceived negatively when she is perceived. it makes perfect sense how terrifying she'd find it to bare herself to minho when her whole life she's been deprived of genuine affection...you've really done such a phenomenal job of characterizing both her and lino i cant say it enough!

now...the entire final scene...where do i even begin...i had a feeling the climax of the story was going to hurt but not like this ㅠㅠ the reader's inner turmoil as she debates reaching out to her mother again, that conflicting mix of hating her yet somehow still missing her...it's such an inexplicable and confusing feeling for ppl who have experienced that kind of neglect but so so real and you captured it so candidly. it really added a whole new layer to the reader's humanity, for her to be unable to completely let go of their relationship no matter how painful it is to hold on to...for her to cling to the hope that maybe she could be worth smth to her mother if she did everything right ): i genuinely had the exact same reaction as her when you revealed that her mother had deleted her phone number...it felt precisely like a bucket of ice cold water to the head. the reader trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time where her mother stopped loving her was what really crushed me most...what a heart-wrenching sentence ㅠㅠ the fact that she's tried to hard to find solace in other places and people and tried to grow into her own person after entering university, but even so, those marks left from her childhood are still there...a vase full of cracks 💔 as much as it hurts to read, i love that you included this bump in the road of her healing journey and made a point to highlight that healing isn't linear

and minho 😭😭😭😭😭 the way he handled the reader's outburst is so touching...the way he's immediately able to recognize that her feelings are misplaced and smth much deeper is going on beyond what he sees on the surface...using that astuteness to put his own feelings to the side in the moment is so minho. this entire scene is just blossoming with powerful lines i can't forget, but i was especially affected by the reader saying "i'd need you and i can't afford to need someone else." it's such a tragic summarization of her in my opinion...how she went her whole life being unable to rely on anyone but herself, so the moment she's faced w minho, all her instincts say to reject it no matter how badly she craves that intimacy ㅠㅠ and lino saying "i'll be by your side for as long as you'll have me" is such a beautiful declaration of love...it's so selfless and unconditional, and it fits so seamlessly w how their relationship progressed throughout the story, how they were by each other's sides at their best and worst moments.

"the world doesn't stop because we need it to" "we'll make it stop" and then describing their kiss as like "seeing color for the first time"...i'm going to melt into an inconsolable puddle over all these callbacks to their first date together don't think i didn't catch the ways you weaved those in throughout this final scene..you made it feel so complete, like things have come full circle. i already mentioned how much i loved their conversation abt describing colors to the blind, so for their first kiss to be written that way, like the reader was blind to the true color of the world until she met minho....i am going to be ill that is so intensely romantic sahar ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

"he was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together." another heartaching line ): what a way to personify the quiet love minho provides...it may be invisible to everyone else, but not to her

i'm so sorry for my horrifically long comment haha but i'm just thrilled i was finally able to read this beautiful fic 😞 just as i'd predicted, you're a phenomenal writer!! the amount of love and effort you poured into it went above and beyond, i hope you're so proud of yourself for creating such a stunning work!! it's very clear to me how every interaction you wrote between minho and the reader was so carefully thought out and so meaningful to the overarching theme of the story, it's all done with care and purpose and there's smth special to be found in each line of dialogue! it's like you carefully stacked more and more on to the foundation of their bond until before we know it, there's an entire home there that they built steadily together. that kind of subtle progression is my absolute favorite thing. i'm also so blown away by how the reader's mother, though never actually making an appearance until the final scene, has such an heavy impact over the narrative. it's like she's a ghost haunting the reader's every action, every decision, every inner thought...i find it so impressive how you were able to incorporate that effect into the story without us even needing to meet the mother! and i must've mentioned countless lines that stuck w me throughout the fic, but just know that there are countless more i could've pointed out as well...you truly write so so beautifully. so poetic and emotive, but also not so flowery that it becomes hard to follow, i'm truly floored by your ability to achieve that perfect balance! on top of the story being so immersive in itself, your writing style made invisible thread such a genuine delight to read <3

this feels like the kind of story i'll be thinking abt for a long time after finishing it, the kind to revisit over n over bc i'm sure there are so many lil easter eggs you included that i may have missed! i'm positive i'll come back to it many times in the future hehe...but i can't wait to read more of your writing as well! ^_^

Invisible thread- one

pairing : minho x reader

genre : university au, academic rivals to lovers (rivals not enemies because they respect each other), slow burn, fluff, angst.

warnings : reader has a very bad relationship with her mother, insecurities, talk about murder but as a joke, mention of alcohol, reader has she/her pronouns.

summary : Your studies were your lifeline for as long as you can remember. What happens when Minho comes into your life and rips it away from you?

word count : 20k

Author's note : I've been working on this fic on and off for the past two months, so if you do enjoy reading, please let me know. asks, comments, reblogs i read them all and they truly make me the happiest <3 (also i based this off my own college experience, where we study two terms and there is one person on top of the class every semester)

part two

You have always been first in your class.

Not because you particularly enjoyed studying. You simply felt that your worth was solely tied to the marks on your papers.

You never wanted to crumble under the pressure of studies, to hole yourself up in your room for an assignment you won’t remember in a month. But achieving good grades was the only way for you to feel seen; to make someone stop in their tracks and acknowledge you. 

A simple “good job” that you preserved inside your mind, as a reminder that you did exist to other people. Considering that the majority of your life was spent in silence. 

Your mom put a roof above your head and food on your table, but she never asked about your day, nor did she seem to care. You felt as though you were no more important to her than the tapestry hanging on your wall.

At times, you imagined that if you stood close enough to that tapestry, you could merge with it as one. The intricate embroidery would wrap around you and draw you in. And your mother wouldn’t notice. She would regard you with the same indifference she showed towards that textile- a mere decoration, at times a nuisance when she had to dust it.

You always ate your dinner alone. When you scraped your knee, you tended to the wound by yourself. No one attended your childhood musicals, and you patted your back when you cracked an egg without dropping a shell into the bowl. 

You’ve come to learn since your young age that all your milestones, both small and significant, would be celebrated alone. 

On the rare times your mother would acknowledge your presence, she’d unleash a flurry of criticism your way as if she was eagerly awaiting the opportunity to strike you down. She'd toss crude comments over her shoulder as easily as a casual hello, leaving you feeling battered and bruised in her wake. 

You felt as if you were shoreline rocks, and your mother was the ocean. You never knew if she would be like a gentle tide, barely brushing against you, or an enraged storm, mercilessly crashing down on your being. And you weren't sure which one was worse: to be invisible or to be seen and despised.  

That’s why you grew up plagued with self-doubt. You made friends throughout your school years but you never allowed them to get close enough to really see you -you feared that they might glimpse the very thing your mother seemed to despise in you. 

Throughout your childhood, you were like soft clay in your mother's hands- pliable, and easy to mold. And she indented you, everywhere, carved in edges and dips where they should not have been ones. Handled you roughly when you should have been treated with care. And as the years went by, you hardened- much like clay, but her touch remained imprinted upon you. It was difficult at times to discern who you were and who she made you to be.

You tried to start anew when you went away to university; to rewire your brain into believing that you were enough- you exist and you shouldn't prove to anyone that you deserved to be alive. But her words haunted you, they were like skeletons in your closet- but the closet was you. You could never part from them.

So, you fell back into the same pattern of seeking good grades and congratulatory words from your professors. Every A+ you got infused you with a momentary sense of worthiness.

But unlike in high school, you weren't always the best. Your competition came in the form of a single man named Minho, who seemed to excel in every class you shared.

Minho was mostly quiet, but whenever he spoke, you found that his words carried weight. Your professors consistently agreed with his points, and you envied the confidence he exuded. You wondered what it must feel like to be so sure of oneself.

It wasn't until a month into the year that you had your first interaction with Minho. You were in your Constitutional Law class when your professor Kim brought up the notion of ‘Separation of Powers’. You were arguing that judges shouldn’t be included in the writings of law when you heard a scoff from the row behind you. You turned around, raising a brow at the culprit, "Is there something you’d like to say?" you asked.

And in response, Minho smiled lazily, an air of smugness surrounding him, "I just don’t agree." The professor urged him to explain himself, so he leaned back into his chair, eyeing you. "Judges are the ones who practice the law every day, and sometimes they find that none of the written texts fit their case. If they get involved in lawmaking, they can help address those gaps or uncertainties." 

"Who's to say that those judges aren’t biased or politically motivated? They’ll end up writing laws to fit their own preferences," you pointed out, raising an eyebrow at him. "We elect judges to interpret and apply laws, not make them. If they start writing laws too, we'll be violating the separation of powers between the legislative and judicial branches. That's what keeps our entire system from crumbling."

Minho rested his chin on his hand, tapping his cheek thoughtfully with his index finger. "Aren’t legislators prone to biases too? Your point doesn’t stand then," he challenged, tilting his head to the side, "and judges can participate without going overboard. They can provide input on proposed laws without actually drafting them. That way, we ensure that the laws are crafted with a clear understanding of how they'll be put into practice." 

"If your main concern is to ensure that the laws are impartial, we have people who work as consulting experts whose job is exactly that," you flashed him an innocent smile, firing back. "Also, wouldn’t these overstepping branches put the judges in a position to be perceived in a bad light? Is that what you want?"

Before Minho could respond, Mr. Kim intervened, putting an end to your debate, "Let's save this energy for your essays and see who can convince me more."

You gave a quick nod, swiveling in your seat without a backward glance. However, you could sense Minho’s gaze penetrating through your back- as if he was trying to read your most intimate thoughts. 

That was the first thing you noticed about Minho when he walked over to you. His eyes were brown, not a special color by any means. But they held a certain depth to them that seemed to draw you in like a black hole. You weren't sure what you would find on the other side, nor did you have any desire to find out.

He outstretched his hands towards you, stopping you in your tracks. "Minho," he introduced and your hand met his in a firm grip. The second thing you noticed about him was the coldness of his hand, as it wrapped tightly around your palm. 

Suddenly you were taken back to when you built a snowman for the first and last time. You were just seven and the ice was freezing, numbing your fingers as you worked. Your mother never told you that you should’ve worn mittens, or a thick jacket to fight off the cold when she saw you walking out of the house. The memory of your cold hands and the horrible illness that followed still left a bitter taste in your mouth, like an unripe fruit. With a jolt you dropped his hand, forcefully pulling yourself away from that memory. 

"Yn," you said back, and he smiled to himself, repeating your name slowly, each syllable dripping from his tongue.  

"We'll see who'll write the best essay, right?" he asked, clearly challenging you. There was a gleam of excitement in his eyes that reminded you of a child gazing up at cotton candy. 

That was the third thing you noticed about Minho; how expressive his eyes were. They moved with his every word, punctuating them. 

He was infuriating but also amusing. You've never had a clear competitor in your life. Or maybe you had, but you didn't notice them. You were always so reclined on yourself, trying to survive the day, you didn't pay enough attention to your surroundings.

"You want to compete with me?" You asked, and he smirked, leaning against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. "What? Scared you’d lose?"

"Please." You rolled your eyes at his taunting, "Don’t come crying when I win."

"We’ll see about that!" He shouted after you as you walked ahead, leaving him behind.

This essay was insignificant. A simple way for your professor to assess your knowledge and work approach. And yet, you found yourself staying up all night to complete it. There was no way you were going to let Minho take this one thing from you.

Who were you if not the best in your studies? You were deathly afraid to find out. 

Later on that week, the professor handed you your grade back, 98%. You turned around to show Minho your mark, and so did he. You surpassed him, only by mere percents. "I told you so," you smiled cheekily and he pouted, holding a hand to his heart as if your grade wounded him.

"I'll beat you next time", he mouthed and you chuckled, "Whatever helps you sleep at night."

✹✹✹

The first time you studied with Minho was in a cat café near campus, called Limbo, about two weeks after your initial interaction. You stumbled upon it serendipitously while strolling through your university town. You couldn’t study at home, since you were easily distracted in there, and the eerie silence of libraries often left you unsettled.

Limbo, however, offered the perfect middle-ground: it was calm, not overly crowded, and the buzzing of the coffee machine blended harmoniously with the occasional mewls of cats, which helped you concentrate better. 

You were sitting in a secluded corner table at the café's back, a sleeping black cat comfortably nestled in your lap when you sensed a shadow loom over you. You glanced up quickly to find Minho. He was clad in a grey hoodie sporting a bunny holding up its middle finger. You had to bite your cheek to suppress a grin at his clothing attire.

"What are you doing here?" He asked. 

"You know for someone smart you sure ask stupid questions," you remarked, already looking down at the papers scattered in front of you.

He huffed, taking a seat at the table right next to yours, "I can’t believe that of all places you’ve found this café to study in."

"My apologies, am I disturbing you, your highness?" You asked sarcastically, and in retort, Minho mimicked your words in a high-pitched tone. You threw the pillow right next to you at his head, and Minho swiftly ducked, easily avoiding it. He chuckled loudly while you glared at his laughing figure. That was the end of your conversation that day. 

From that moment forward, it became a routine for the two of you to study at Limbo, every Saturday, without fault. You didn’t explicitly plan on it, but it seemed that both of you found it comforting to work there. And you could also tell that, unlike you, it wasn’t Minho’s first time coming to Limbo. He was friends with the owner, a sweet middle-aged man who offered you pastries whenever you stayed there until closing. The cats seemed to know him too, they mewled at his feet whenever he entered and he always greeted them with a soft smile on his face. 

You didn’t talk much in those unofficial study sessions, the both of you were consumed by your own work. But you’d steal quick glances at him every now and then, the sight of him so concentrated only fueled you to work harder.

Admittedly, your competition left you feeling anxious for days on end at first. Each time Minho came out on top, you’d found yourself losing your grip. Your studies have been the one anchor keeping you afloat your entire life, and now, Minho was ripping it carelessly away from you. So, you resented him- you were human after all.

But then, you realized that Minho’s taunting wasn’t malicious. He wasn’t competing with you to hurt you, he was doing it for amusement only.

You've slowly started to learn that despite his relentless teasing, Minho had a gentle aura surrounding him. Glimpses of which occasionally emerged like rays of sunshine piercing through a thick cloud cover.

True, he chuckled when you accidentally bumped your head on the table while retrieving a fallen pen. Yet, you also noticed how he began to cover the table's corners with his hand whenever you bent down. He swiftly retracted his hand, seemingly believing you didn't notice, but you did.

During class presentations, he deliberately prepared challenging questions for you, urging you to study twice as hard to ensure no stone was left unturned. Yet, whenever the professor praised your performance, Minho offered a subtle thumbs-up as a gesture of support. He winked at you each time he got the right answer and you didn’t. However, when he noticed you struggling with a particular subject, he scooted closer and patiently explained it to you. He got up before you could thank him, swatting his arm in the air as if he didn’t do anything of significance. 

To show your appreciation, you bought him a drink that day he helped you—a simple gesture that sparked an ongoing game of "win a bet, get free food". You bet on who would receive the first mark on an assignment or who would finish an essay first- anything to further deepen the competition between you.

That's how you came to know that he loved puddings, among other things.

Curiously, as the months went by, your mind began to retain these little details about him. How his eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings when he blinked repeatedly during your conversations. How he glanced at the ceiling when lost in deep thought as if he was waiting for the answers to descend from the sky. Or how his lips take on the shape of an "o" while thinking of his response during one of your many debates. But you supposed that it was natural to take notice of such things when you spend countless Saturday afternoons with the same person.

You were still studying for someone else, in the sense that each time you stayed up working, it was solely to prove your worth to Minho. But at least unlike your mother, Minho's words never haunted you at night.

✹✹✹

Just like that, four months have gone by since you joined your university as a law major. It was nearing finals week and you were preparing it at Limbo. Minho was naturally present too, at his usual table right next to yours.

On the last weekend before the beginning of your finals, you were head-deep into your Criminal Law documents when Minho abruptly got up from his seat and settled in the chair in front of you.

"Yn," he whispers and you glance at him, "What?" 

"I have an idea."

"Keep it to yourself," you grin sarcastically, only for him to pick up your spoon and move it around in a threatening manner.

"Are you trying to scare me with a spoon?" you chuckle in disbelief.

 "Anything can be a weapon if you use enough force."

"Okay… that was creepy. What do you want?"

"The end of the first term is coming up. So, to celebrate our little rivalry-"

"It's not a rivalry if I’m always winning," you cut him off.

"Yeah, that’s why I have a fridge full of pudding."

"But-"

"Anyways, how about the top of the class takes the other out for dinner? A fancy one." He suggests, his gaze fixed on you.

"No, thank you. I already see you enough in classes."

"Didn’t think you wouldn’t up for a bet. Guess I was wrong," he remarks, a cheeky smile drawn on his lips. He knows you couldn’t possibly say no now.  

"Fine," you roll your eyes at his proud expression. "Prepare your wallet." 

"Mm, sure," he responds, before rising from his seat once more.

That day, you both lost track of time as you studied in Limbo until it closed down. When you finally stepped outside, stretching your tired limbs, you were met with the sight of falling snowflakes.

"Nooo, go away. I don't want to watch the first snow with you," Minho whines, referring to the superstition that watching the first snowfall with someone could spark love between the two of you. 

"As if I could ever love you," you laugh at the ridiculous idea, "that’d just be signing a death warrant."

You resume walking towards your apartment when suddenly something freezing and hard hits your back with enough force to make you stagger. Turning around slowly, you find Minho erupting in laughter, his body filled with uncontainable joy. He’s jumping and clapping excitedly, and for a fleeting moment, you can’t decide if your shock was from the impact or from how beautiful happiness looks on him. 

Snapping out of your daze, you swiftly retaliate by scooping up a handful of snow and hurling it at him. "Now you are cold too!" you shout, while he’s still laughing uncontrollably. 

Thus begins an impromptu snowball fight between the two of you. Unsurprisingly, you’re being competitive in this too, trying your best to strike each other before the other could recover. But Minho draws nearer to you, and in your desperation to win, you fall to the ground when he throws a snowball at your chest, gasping as if you’re in pain.

"Shit, did I hurt you?" Minho quickly kneels in front of you, concern evident in his voice. It surprises you for a moment- how worried he seems at the prospect of causing you pain.

But you shake that thought off and push him down to the ground, a proud smile on your face. In his fall, Minho instinctively reaches for you to steady himself, which ends up with you landing on top of him. Your faces are mere inches apart, and a soft gasp escapes your mouth at your sudden proximity.

Minho has a mole on his nose. You’ve never noticed that before. 

You quickly push yourself off of him, not enjoying being this close to somebody. "Why did you drag me down with you?" you grumble, shaking off the snow from your hair.

"Play stupid games, win stupid prizes," he cheekily stuck out his tongue, and you respond with the same childlike gesture before the both of you burst into loud laughter. The sound reverberates through your entire being, and it echoes in your mind long after the two of you go your separate ways.  

As you lay in bed that night, ready to drift off to sleep, a quiet realization dawns on you. This was the first time you've touched snow in since your childhood incident.

That unpleasant memory didn't cross your mind once. Instead, all you thought about was Minho’s infectious laughter, and the surprising warmth it stirred within you.

✹✹✹

You came first in your grade this semester.

True to his words, Minho texted you the name of the restaurant where you’d both meet to celebrate your win. As you got ready for your outing, you couldn’t help the nerves creeping up on you. Studying in silence next to Minho was something, going to a friendly dinner with him was another. You feared it would be too awkward and Minho would regret ever proposing such a thing.

So, as you sit in the refined BBQ restaurant waiting for him, you fidget with your hands, counting down to three in your head in an attempt to steady your breathing.

You were clearly not accustomed to existing with Minho outside of the confines of your studies.

"Did you wait long?" Minho asks as he finally pulls the chair in front of you and you shake your head no.

"Are you nervous?" he chuckles at your lack of words, and you frown, suddenly feeling defensive. "Why would I be nervous? This isn't a date."

"Who said anything about a date?" he smirks and you grab your fork threateningly, pointing it at him, "Don't say anything stupid or I will walk out."

"And stand me up on our first date? That's too mean.” He pouts, a hand on his heart and you can’t help but giggle at his antics. You were ridiculous for being nervous. This was Minho, the one person you’ve talked to the most since the start of this year. 

"What will you have?" he asks and you smile mischievously.

 "Most expensive thing on the menu."

"So you are only here for the food." 

"Well, it's certainly not for your company," you wink and he chuckles, his bunny teeth on full display. 

"And here I thought we were going to be civil with each other."

"When are we ever not?" you gasp dramatically and Minho swats your hand with the menu. "Just order whatever," you finally answer," I trust your food judgment."

"I could poison you, you know?" He smiles proudly and you roll your eyes at him, "Can’t you be normal, for once?"

Minho calls over the waiter and places your orders. The food is quick to arrive and Minho starts to grill up the meat, while you cut the Kimchi into smaller pieces. 

"Here," he puts the perfectly cooked rib onto your plate first and you smile at him, "Thank you."

"Eat up, don’t wait for me," he tells you and you nod, tasting the flavorful meat.

"Wow this is really good," you compliment and he smirks proudly at your words, "I know."

Minho places four other ribs for you, without eating one himself. You start to feel bad, so you grab his chopsticks, pick up the meat, and move it toward his mouth, "Open up."

"What?" He asks confused and you wave the food in front of his face, "Come on, you haven’t eaten anything."

Minho parts his lips slowly, and you feed the tender meat to him, before eating one yourself. You notice how his cheeks are slightly tinted pink now, and you account it to the intense heat of the grill.

"Oh, let's not talk about studies, my brain can't take another debate with you," you tell Minho in between bites and he grins at you, a gleam of excitement in his eyes. "If you were to dispose of a body, how would you do it?"

"I think our next celebration will be in an asylum." you smile too sweetly at him and he stares at you pointedly, "Please, I know you've already thought about it."

"Fine. Probably in a deserted land. What about you?"

"I'd cut their bodies and then bury each part in a different forest. In a different city."

His answer came too quickly, and you pause in your tracks, "Should I be worried?"

"You are too cute to kill." His tone is sarcastic and you make a show of gushing at his compliment, clasping both of your hands in front of your heart, "Growing soft on me, Minho?" 

"Yeah, I’m basically sooo in love with you," he replies with a smirk and you roll your eyes at him, an amused smile tugging at the corners of your mouth.

"What's your favorite color?" you finally ask, changing the subject.

"Purple."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"You'll buy me purple flowers?" He coos at you and you shake your head as you grab the utensil from his hand, to grill the meat your turn. 

"No. I'll paint your tombstone purple," you grin and he laughs loudly, eyes squinted close, and you can't find it in you to care that the people next to you are staring. 

"What's yours?" he asks when he calms down and you shrug, "Navy blue, I think."

"You do remind me of navy blue."

"And why is that?"

"When you look at it, at first glance, it looks like black. But the more you stare at it, the more layers you uncover. Just like you. There’s more to you than what meets the eye."

You grab your glass of water, gulping it down to hide the way your eyes just glossed over. You suddenly felt bare in front of Minho. How did he know?

You clear your throat, racking your brain for a way to move on from that question. "If you were to describe colors to a blind person, how would you do it?"

"Mm," he looks up at the ceiling as he mulls over your question, "I’d say that yellow is the feeling of eating ice cream on a sunny day, in an amusement park. Your fingers are sticky but your cheeks ache from how much you smiled that day."

"Yellow is carefree and happy."

"Exact. Now your turn, red."

"I’d say that... Red is the thrill that rushes through your veins when you do something you are passionate about, you know? It’s what makes our blood boil and our heart race. The very essence of our humanity."

Minho smiles softly at your words, seemingly agreeing with your description. "Don’t you think it would be easier if we simply asked, what color are you feeling today, instead of a 'How are you'?" He questions and you tilt your head to the side, "What do you mean?"

"Well, you could say, I feel like that moss green that no one seems to pay attention to. Or, I feel bright yellow as if the world's energy is stored inside me."

"And right now, how do you feel?"

"I feel orange, not the ugly orange." He precises and you chuckle, "the orange that paints the sky when the sun is about to dip into the ocean."

"A bittersweet orange, an ending that instantly strings along a new beginning. And you don't have time to rest."

Minho places his chin on his palm, eyeing you curiously, "Is that what you want? To rest?"

"Yeah." You admit quietly, "Don't you sometimes wish that the world would just stop, for a few seconds? Just like in a song, right before the beat drops. That silence, I wish I could live inside of it."

"I do too."

You both hold each other’s gaze for a while after that. You felt as if he was keeping you captive with his brown eyes, and he was slowly peeling each of your layers, in silence, as you were peeling his. For the first time, you think that you and he are similar, more than on a studies level. There was a part of his soul that understood yours perfectly. And it felt good, to be understood, for once.

"If you lived in this silence, what would you be doing?" he asks, breaking the serene quiet that surrounded you.

"I’d open a café that had books. And there'd be a little space, where people could paint. Or do pottery. And I’d have cats in there too." You reply excitedly, hands moving around in the air, you end up missing the way Minho gazes fondly at you before his smile morphs into a smirk.

"Please tell me you won't be cooking."

"Shut up. What about you?"

"I’d be a dancer."

"You dance?!" you whisper-shout and he frowns at the surprised look on your face. 

"Yeah. Why are you looking at me like this?"

"I just never expected it. Can I-"

"No." he cuts you off immediately and you pout. 

"I didn't even finish."

"I knew what you were going to say."

"Please, I won't make a sound I’d just watch. Pinky promise.” He grabs your now outstretched pinky with the tip of his index and thumb, lowering it down. 

"I’d only grant you this wish when you’re on your deathbed."

"Bold of you to assume you'd still be around."

"Death might be around the corner."

"Stop it."

"Close your door tonight."

"You are deranged."

Minho chuckles at the crestfallen look on your face, "I’ll think about it."

Just like that, three hours of talking have gone by, the conversation flowing easily between the two of you. And when you finally leave the restaurant, Minho grabs you a cab and you wave him off with a smile. You couldn't lie to yourself, you had a really good time with him. You liked to think that Minho was no longer just a rival, but a possible friend.

But now that you were laying in your bed, you couldn’t help but curse Minho in your brain. His repetitive talk about murder made you paranoid, and now every creak in your apartment made you feel as if death was really right around the corner. 

You decide to text him, figuring that if you couldn’t sleep because of him, you could at least disturb him for a bit. 

Yn : I hate you I'm paranoid from your murder talk

Minho : Poor baby

Yn : Is that you at my door?

Suddenly your phone rings, the shrill sound echoing around your apartment. It was a Facetime call from Minho. You panic for a few seconds, before remembering that you just spent your entire night with him. A call can’t be more daunting than a real-life meeting. 

"See, I’m in my home," he tells you as soon as you pick up and you laugh.

"It's pitch black, I can't see."

"Just say you miss my face." You can’t see him but you can clearly hear the proud grin in his voice. 

"What's there to miss?"

"Are you actually scared?" Minho asks gently and you clear your throat, feeling ridiculous all of the sudden. 

"There is a tree right outside my window and it keeps rustling from the wind," you grumble and Minho laughs at you. 

"Trees can't hurt you."

"No shit Sherlock."

"Close your eyes.” He instructs and you frown at his words. 

"Why?"

"I’ll tell you a story."

"Fine.” You close your eyes tentatively. It’s quiet for a few seconds and you feel yourself relax slightly. 

"So, I bought a sous-vide machine and-"

"Is your bedtime story going to be about meat?"

"Yes?” He replies as if it’s an evidence, “Now be quiet." You pretend to zip your mouth and Minho faintly giggles, before resuming his story. "So, I was saying. I bought one and I wanted to experience different kinds of meats. So, I bought a 30-day aged one and a 58-day aged one and I cooked them both."

"What did you use?" you ask quietly. 

"Just garlic, and thyme, I didn't want to overpower the taste of meat. Anyways I cooked them, but I didn't have plastic bags so I had to go out and buy them."

"Mm," you hum in acknowledgment. You could feel your nerves slowly dissipate with Minho's every word. His story might be ridiculous but his honey-coated voice compensated for it, wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. 

"And I found pudding there so I had to buy it."

"Obviously," you whisper. Sleep was knocking on your door, but paradoxically you tried to fight it off. You wanted to hear the rest of Minho’s story. 

"And I went back home and I cooked it, then I plated it nicely with vegetables that I sauteed with butter and garlic. Just mushrooms and potatoes, nothing too fancy. Again, my main focus was the meat. But there wasn't a difference between the two. They tasted the same for me, for some reason. And I didn't like this because the aged one was very expensive. Maybe I was scammed. Honestly, that butcher looked kind of suspicio..."

Your quiet snores make Minho pause in his tracks, and he laughs quietly. You did end up falling asleep. He can't see your face clearly, but he can see its outline and he stares at you for a while. You look peaceful.

He goes to hang up but his finger hovers over the 'end call' button. You aren't talking, but your hums are quiet enough that they fill up the space around him. It calms him down, and he lets his head fall on the pillow, his phone lying beside him.

He closes his eyes, thinking that maybe he just found the silence you talked about earlier on. 

You just made his world stop.

✹✹✹

The second semester had just started and with it the return of frat parties. You were excited at the prospect of going to one with your new friend Mina. You met her in the library when you both went to grab the same book. You quickly apologized but she waved you off, handing you the book with a huge smile on her face. She was bubbly, like a human serotonin boost, and she started gushing about how much she loved the author. You saw her again in the campus cafeteria, and she skipped towards you as if you've both known each other your entire life. That was the start of your friendship.

You walk into the frat house, both your arms encircling each other. The flashing lights of the party blind you for a moment, and it takes you a while to adjust to the loud music bouncing off of the walls. But you like it, it was like a shield from the outside world and its problems. 

You feel yourself letting loose in the crowd, swaying your hips to the music. Mina spins you around and you laugh, dancing with no care in the world. It was just the both of you in that instant. 

Mina spots Jeongin in the crowd, a friend of hers that she had an immense crush on. You couldn’t blame her- he was very attractive; his easy smirk and his blonde tousled hair earned him lots of appreciative looks from the people around him. But when his eyes locked with Mina’s, you found that his face morphed into a beautiful smile, that made his dimples look on full display, as if it was only reserved for her.

“Go get your man!” You shout in her ears, so she’d be able to hear you. 

“What are you talking about?” She yells back, but you could see the nervous smile on her face.

“He likes you! Go talk to him!”

“I don’t want to leave you alone. We came together!” She clasps your hand in hers and you smile touched by her kind spirit.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll go to the kitchen to get some drinks. Go have fun!”

“You are sure?” She asks, her eyes darting between you and Jeongin, who was still looking at her, and her only. 

“Yes! Go!” You say, gently pushing her away. Mina jogs up to Jeongin who greets her with a side hug. He quickly glances at you and you shoot him a thumbs-up, to which he grins. You loved playing Cupid.

With that, you decide to head to the kitchen to grab a drink. You pick a beer from the fridge, double-checking if the can is closed before opening it. 

You lean on the countertop, sipping on your drink while you watch the crowd, humming along each time a song you knew played. You enjoyed watching people dance freely from afar, with no apparent care in the world.

You feel someone stand next to you and you brace yourself, getting ready to tell the person off if they decide to bother you. You didn’t have the energy for mindless flirting. But then, you smell the cologne that has lingered around you for the past term- Minho. You haven't seen him since your dinner. That was a month ago.

"Fancy seeing you here," he greets as he leans on the counter right next to you, his eyes fixated on the mingling bodies.

You turn around to face him, faking an outraged gasp, "Are you following me?"

"Mmm. You look nice", he compliments and you smile cheekily, "I know."

"Won't tell me I look nice too?" he smirks, leaning closer to your face. "Someone didn’t get enough compliments tonight?" You pout, placing a hand on your heart in mock concern.

"I did, but I want to hear it from you. You’re the only sensible person in this room."

"You look nice. Now leave me alone."

"Come on, I know you can do better than that", he jokes and you roll your eyes, muttering “You’re annoying”, under your breath.

Still, you comply, placing your arms on top of the counter and leaning your head on them to get a better look at him. He does the same, smiling, and you both stare at each other for a while after that.

The strobing lights dance on Minho’s face, casting enticing shadows on him. You've always known he was a beautiful man; you've looked into his eyes far too many times in your heated conversations. But this time was different, there was no cheeky smirk on his face nor a furrow in his eyebrows. He was simply looking at you, and it made a pool of warmth huddle in your belly. You feel yourself relax under his gaze, everything around you seemingly melts away.

You weren’t wrong when you thought that his eyes were like a black hole, pulling you in. But this time, you realize that you didn’t mind knowing what was on the other side. On the contrary, you longed for it. 

"I like your eyes right now. They remind me of the night sky. Black, with tiny little stars littered in them," you finally say.

Minho is taken aback by your words, he wasn't expecting you to compliment him, let alone to tell him something so special. He can feel his cheeks burn red at your words, feel his heart hammering in his chest. He's afraid you can hear it too.

He doesn't know what to say, so instead he clears his throat, plastering a smirk on his face, "I heard better." He hasn't. This is the first genuine compliment he's ever gotten.

"Oh, fuck off," you laugh and he joins you. The music was loud and yet the only sound his ear seemed to pick up was your laugh.

"Are you here alone?" He asks, and you shake your head no, "Came with my friend Mina."

"Did she leave you by yourself?" He frowns and you feel yourself warm up at his worried tone. "I told her to go talk to Jeongin."

"Next time, don’t stay alone."

“Fine, Dad.” You chastise and he stares pointedly at you, "I’m serious, yn."

You take another swing of the beer before turning your body fully towards Minho. After a few beats of silence, you finally ask a question that has been on your mind for a while. "Why do you say my name this way?"

"What way?" He questions and you shrug, "Slowly. People used to always rush it but you don’t."

"Well, it’s a pretty name. It deserves to be pronounced as a whole."

You beam at his words; you smile so brightly it makes his heart skip a beat. This is the first time you’ve grinned this widely at him, no hand in front of your mouth as if to hide it. He did notice how you were a reserved person outside of class, as if you were afraid of taking up too much place. But he could tell you were slowly unraveling, growing bolder with each passing month. He wanted to tell you that if people like you spoke more, the world would be a far better place. 

But he couldn't bring himself to say all of this, so he forced those bubbling words down his throat. "I’m hungry," he whines instead and you laugh at his pout. "I'm kind of craving a greasy pizza."

"Should we go buy it? You can tell Mina to come so we can walk her back."

"I’ll ask her."

You shoot Mina a text, asking her where she was and telling her about your plan. She replies that she’s with Jeongin who just offered to take her home, so you could leave without her.

"We can go." You tell him and he nods. Minho shrugs his leather jacket off, gently placing it on your shoulders. His warmth engulfs you and you sink further into it. His arm hovers around your shoulder not touching you as he leads you out of the party. He has never touched your body, you note, it's like he was everywhere and nowhere at once.

You both walk to an open parlor near the frat house, and you order a Margarita pizza to share. You sit down on a nearby bench to eat it- the night breeze too liberating to pass up on.

As you both finish eating, a cat with white and orange stripes all over her body approaches the both of you cautiously, and you pat her head softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever?" you coo and Minho chuckles as he scratches the cat’s chin. She purrs at his touch appreciatively, and you smile at the soft look on his face. 

"Never knew you to be this gentle", you giggle and Minho shushes you, "Let's not do this in front of the cat."

"Why are you acting as if we are a divorced couple and she’s our child."

"Easy, yn. You make it sound as if you want me to marry you."

"Now you're just projecting," you chastise and he laughs, eliciting giggles from you. He had a melodic laugh, you noticed, and you always felt a surge of pride whenever you made him close his eyes and tip his head from laughter. You felt as if it's a sight only you can see.

"I have three cats", he says softly and you gasp, "Really? We spent all of our Sundays in a cat café and this is when you tell me?"

"I only tell my friends."

"So we're friends now?" You gush and he rolls his eyes at you, "I take it back."

"What’s their names?" You ask curiously and his eyes soften at your question- you could easily tell he loved them dearly.

"Soongie, Doongie, and Dori. They are rescues."

"That’s very sweet of you Minho."

"Most of my scars come from them though," he chuckles but you sober up at his words, quietly scratching the cat's ears.

"What’s on your mind?" He asks and you glance at him. It was scary how well he’s starting to know you. But it was also nice; to be known is to exist, after all.

"I just... Sometimes I wish that memories would leave physical scars on you. Because at least then, you could treat them, put a band-aid on, and watch them fade away day by day. Because when the scars are emotional, you can’t treat them, you know? And someday someone brings up a name or a place, or you smell a certain scent, and suddenly they reopen as if no time has gone by at all.”

Minho stays silent for a while, mulling over your words. You don't mind, you weren't expecting him to comfort you. You just needed to free those words from the mental prison you've held them in for so long.

"Do you know Kintsugi?" he finally asks and you shake your head no.

"It's a Japanese art. They put back together broken vases with molten gold. It represents strength despite our flaws."

"That sounds nice," you sigh wistfully and he nods. 

"It is. When you look at that vase, you know that it was once broken, but it doesn't take away from its beauty, on the contrary, it adds to it. Scars, whether they are emotional or physical are there for a reason. They remind us of how we pushed through whatever life threw at us."

"Am I supposed to be grateful I survived this?" You chuckle lowly, as your hand scratches the cat’s ear. Your fingers brush against Minho’s and you hesitate for a few seconds before moving them away.

"I wouldn't say grateful for what you went through," he speaks once again, "but grateful to yourself. At the end of the day, the reason why you're still here is you. You put yourself back together," he then bumps his elbow into your side softly, "and hey, even if your scars reopen there will come a time when they wouldn’t anymore. Sometimes, it takes a while to be okay again."

This was Minho’s way of telling you that someday it wouldn’t hurt anymore. That someday you’d be okay. And you needed to hear that. You needed to hear someone else other than yourself tell you that.

"Thank you, Minho, I needed that", you smile at him and he grins back at you before his smile turns to a smirk. "I charge 15 dollars for the hour by the way."

"Oh, come on! You didn't even say something revolutionary." You are lying. Minho's words will echo in your mind long after this night- a beacon of light to hold onto.

"Oh, so now it’s no longer ‘I needed that’. Tsk," he jokes a smirk still plastered on his face.

"Okay, Mr. Therapist. I’ll pay for your coffee tomorrow, sounds good?"

"I should have you as my client more often," he winks and you laugh, head tipped back. You were grateful more than ever for his teasing, loving how it wasn’t awkward between you after your discussion.

"You are a good listener." You tell him as you stand up, dusting your pants.

"I’m good at everything," he grins cheekily at you and you roll your eyes playfully, "And here I thought we were having a moment."

You both start walking side by side toward your home when Minho speaks again. His tone is quiet as if he wasn’t sure he wanted you to hear him. "About earlier, your compliment, I mean. I suppose I didn't thank you. So, thank you," he scratches the tip of his ears and you shrug nonchalantly. "It's the truth. You might get on my ass but that doesn't change the fact you are a pretty man."

He doesn’t respond and you tug at the sleeve of his shirt playfully, "You won't tell me I’m pretty too?"

"But then I’d be lying."

"Asshole."

"Pretty," he replies without missing a beat.

You laugh loudly, hand tightly clutching your stomach and he joins you. There is a newfound lightness in your steps now. Unbeknownst to him, Minho just managed to lift a small weight off your shoulders, allowing you a brief moment of respite.

"This is me," you say when you arrive in front of your apartment block, "Thank you for walking me home."

"Of course. Don't dream of me."

"Idiot," you laugh waving him off and he does the same. "Oh, and text me when you get home safely!" you shout before heading inside.

For the second time this night, Minho is blushing profusely at your words. He sighs to himself, waiting patiently until a light turns on in your place to leave.

✹✹✹

It’s been two months since the start of the new term. You still went to Limbo, every Saturday with Minho- even when you didn’t need to study. 

Sometimes you’d just grab a book and you’d both read, a cat lazily lounging at your feet. You started sitting at the same table too; you figured it was easier since one of you always pays for the other. When you have a bet, but also randomly, when you notice that the other person is feeling down and you want to cheer them up without saying anything.

That's why you bought three bubble teas for Minho in a row. He was quieter these days, you noticed. He didn’t talk to you nor did he retort back in class. It was the first time you’ve seen him this way. As if he was a simple shell of the person he usually is. 

You were walking out of your Communications Strategies class, which Minho weirdly didn’t come to when you realized that it was pouring rain. You smile lightly to yourself, grateful since you thought about picking up an umbrella this morning. 

As you walk through campus, everyone around you running to take shelter, you spot someone sitting on a bench, completely drenched from the rain. Their head is hung low and you frown to yourself. They would surely get a cold if they stay there.

But then the person raises their head and you quickly realize it's Minho. You jog up to him instinctively, standing in front of him and shielding him from the rain with your umbrella.

He looks up at you and you feel your heart clench. His eyes are void of emotion and he stares blankly at you. "Are you okay?" you ask and he blinks at your words, as if his brain hadn't yet registered that you were there.

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it", you tilt your head to the side and he looks down again. You have to strain to hear his next words, muffled by the rain and his mumbling, "I don't want to talk, yn."

You decide to put away your umbrella and sit down next to him on the bench. The rain falls rapidly on both of you, and you feel yourself grow cold from it. 

"What are you doing?" He questions, turning to the side to look at you.

"Enjoying the rain. It is kind of stupid that we have umbrellas, right?"

"You'll catch a cold."

"I mean we always complain about the drought and then when it rains, we hide from it. But it's really beautiful."          

"Stop, I don't want you to get sick."

"Well, neither do I. Let's go eat some soup. My treat."

"Yn, I don’t-"

"I thought you were smart enough to know I won't take no for an answer."

"But I-" you cut him off again. "Also, I’m doing this for me because when you order for two, they give you a lot of side dishes. Now come on."

You stand up and he looks doubtfully at you, before following suit. You open up the umbrella again and hold it over both of your heads. He has to huddle close to you, and your shoulders brush against each other. Once, twice. Not that you're keeping count. But your body is always hyper-aware of Minho’s proximity. You also notice how he silently moves from your right to your left, this way he's the one walking right next to the speeding cars. Your hold on the umbrella tightens. You were still not used to those small attentions of his. 

You arrive in front of your apartment block and he hesitates. "Come up, I won't murder you I promise." You joke and he smiles lightly back at your words. Progress.

He enters your dorm and you can see him eying his surroundings. You know that if it was another time, he would have teased you about something- anything. But he stays quiet, and you find yourself missing the sound of his voice.

"Would you like to shower?" You offer and he nods, "Please."

You lead him to your bathroom and show him where the washing machine is. "Put your clothes in there for a quick wash and dry. You can shower meanwhile."

He nods again as you hand him a towel. "I'll be outside."

You quickly leave the bathroom to place the soup orders, and Minho discards his wet clothes, walking into your shower. The water is piping hot, and he leans his forehead on the cold tiles. He doesn’t move for the first ten minutes, too tired at the prospect of lifting his limbs.

Nothing particular happened. But he’d go through days when he’d quiet down because everything around him was too much. The feel of his clothes against his skin, and the sun streaming through his curtains. But it always passes. Minho was a realistic man and he knew that his emotions would regulate themselves. That’s why he didn’t like appearing vulnerable in front of other people.

But for some reason, he didn’t mind lowering his guard with you. He knew you wouldn’t judge.

He sighs, grabbing your cherry-scented shampoo and pouring it into his hands. He can clearly smell you now. The scent of your hair that always tickles his nose, whenever you are sitting close to him. Your body wash is next and he wonders if this is how your skin smells, like vanilla and jasmine, and something entirely you. 

Forty minutes later, Minho finally steps out of the shower. His clothes are clean and he quickly puts them on. He dries his hair with the towel as he walks out of your bathroom towards the living room. 

He finds you sitting on the ground, in front of a heater that looks close to giving up. He makes a mental note of giving you the one he has since he doesn't really use it. You changed out of your clothes too, and you are now wearing a pair of pajamas with little bunnies sewn into it. The sight almost manages to make him smile. 

"Still cold?" you question when you notice him standing behind you, unmoving, and he shakes his head no.

"Good, the soup is here." You say cheerfully, pointing at the steaming bowls sitting on your table. Minho hums in reply and you stand up, grabbing the towel from his hands to place it on the drying rack.

You come back, a soft green blanket in your hands. You sit on the couch and pat the spot beside you. Minho sits next to you, and you lay the blanket on both of your laps, before handing him his soup.

You start the show you’ve been last watching, as you both eat in silence, your legs crisscrossed. You make some comments throughout the episodes. You figured that it was a safe territory, to talk about something as mundane as this. He didn't reply but you didn't mind. You weren't here to have a conversation with him. You just wanted to distract him.

You realize at that moment that Minho always looked so put together to you. But he had problems of his own too. That much was obvious. It made you feel closer to him, in a sense. You were both just trying to make it through the day.

Two hours later, you get up to grab a book, handing Minho the remote to put on a show of his own. You curl in a ball in the corner, reading where you left off last night.

"Can you... Can you read out loud?" Minho speaks for the first time in a while and you look at him. His eyes are closed, his head resting against your couch.

"Sure."

You start to read, and Minho further sinks into the couch. He feels at home here. Because the blanket is soft and the light is dim enough to not hurt his eyes. Or it could be that he smells like you, a scent so comforting he wants to bury himself in it. Or maybe it's your voice that floats through the air, slowly clouding Minho’s every sense. He feels as if he could see the words you were pronouncing dancing in front of his eyes. You enunciated each syllable clearly, making sure that no sound was forgotten.

As Minho gently drifted to sleep, he felt as if he was part of the words you read out loud. He felt as if you were treating him with the same care, making sure that he knew he wasn't invisible. At least not to you.

When you wake up the next morning, Minho is gone. And his place beside you on the couch is empty. He made you breakfast, scrambled eggs, and freshly pressed orange juice. And right next to it you find a note, "Thank you for reading to me."

✹✹✹

Minho didn't believe in having a lot of friends. He was content with the two people he had, Chan and Changbin. The latter was his high school friend, he skipped a year and ended up being in the same class as Minho. They didn't talk at first until the day Changbin dropped a book on Minho's foot. The brooding man started apologizing profusely, and that was the start of their friendship. They've kept in touch since.

Chan was his roommate at university. It's not that he particularly wanted to befriend him, but Chan was a social butterfly and he quickly managed to pull Minho into his friendly trap. He annoys Minho the most, but in an endearing way. And although Chan is older, Minho still strangely developed a soft spot for him. 

And he supposes he has you too now. At first, you weren’t friends, rivals at most. He enjoyed reeling you up and having you frown at his words in your heated debates. He also liked talking to you, because your ideas were interesting and you always gave him a new fresh perceptive to see things.

That’s how he strictly saw you as, an intelligent human who he liked to debate with.

But then he started to look forward to meeting up with you at Limbo. He no longer minded the fact that you took his self-assigned table, from his high school days. And he laughed more freely with you, enjoying how you always had a witty retort sitting at the tip of your tongue. 

That’s how he started to notice things that friends most definitely notice. How you have a charm bracelet you always fidget with whenever you are nervous. How you stray away from physical touch. How you scratch your eyebrow when you are deep in thought.

But also, how you seem to have an obsession with cherries. Your cherry pendant, your cherry-scented shampoo, and your cherry-tainted lips. A friend would most certainly think that your lips are like red wine-stained glass.

He remembers one of the many times when you were at Limbo, and he saw you reapply your lip tint, or so you called it. You caught him looking and he swiftly averted his gaze, but it wasn't quick enough. Suddenly you were in front of him, a tiny red bottle in hand.

"Let me apply it to you," you smiled and he pushed your head away with his pointer finger. "No."

"Please," you pouted and he couldn't help but find you adorable. You sometimes reminded him of a small kitten. But he didn’t dare to call you by that nickname. 

"Never."

"If I score more than you in our environmental assignment then I will do it."

"Fine." he huffed so that you'd leave him alone.

Minho didn't study for that assignment. He blamed it on a headache, not that it's ever stopped him before. And two weeks later you were in front of him, eyebrows scrunched in concentration. You applied the lip tint gently on his plump lips, carefully tracing over his cupid bow. 

Your face was mere inches away from his and he noticed how you were wearing a gloss today, for change. It was shimmering under the lights and he usually didn't like glittery things, but he couldn't take his eyes off your lips. 

"All done!" you clapped excitedly, snapping him out of his haze. You then shove your phone camera into his face so he'd look at the results.

"You should be a model. Your face is perfectly sculpted," you comment nonchalantly, before sitting back in your seat. 

“I know.” He replies confidently, but his hand kept fiddling with the tip of his now pink ears. He couldn't concentrate for the rest of the night.

You were his friend because he always worried if you were eating enough. That’s why he urged you to grab a bite in the convenience store near Limbo, whenever you finished up your studying late.

This was one of the many times you sat on the minuscule table outside, hot ramen bowls in front of the both of you. Minho huffed in annoyance between each bite, his bangs were getting longer, disturbing him when he leaned down to slurp his noodles. 

“Here,” you stand up from your place, a hair tie in your hands. 

“What are you doing?” He questions as you stand behind him. You don’t reply, silently grabbing his hair and putting it up in a tiny ponytail, this way it wouldn’t get in his eyes anymore.

“Voila,” you sit back down, resuming your eating. Minho was grateful for the dimly lit street because his entire face was burning up. Your fingers in his hair were gentle and he wondered how it would feel if you ran your fingers through it. 

This was something friends think about, right? 

"I’ll cut my hair tomorrow," he clears his throat. He didn't know why he told you. You certainly weren't interested in his hair endeavors.

"What?!" you yell, "Don't. Your hair is beautiful why would you cut it?"

"Because it's getting longer."

"But it suits you."

Minho also noticed how you always threw compliments his way. Not in a flirtatious way, but in a genuine one. He couldn't help but wonder what made you this way. Did you so freely give love to others because you knew how it felt to not receive it?

"I’ll still cut it."

Minho returned home; his hair still clipped back in a ponytail. Chan eyed him weirdly but he shut him off with a glare. The elastic remained at his bedside since.

He didn't cut his hair.

The moment Minho started to consider you a close friend, was when you invited him over to watch your show. You didn’t force him to open up that night, and he appreciated it, more than he let on.

That's how a week later, he finds himself walking towards your dorm again. The thoughts in his head got too much, and Chan was immersed in his makeshift studio, which meant he won't be free for the next four hours, minimum.

He didn't plan on going to you. It was late at night and you were probably asleep, but his feet naturally led him to the direction of your place.

He knocks softly on your door. He wasn't even sure if he wanted you to open. What would you think of him showing up at eleven pm? He should have thought this thro-

"Minho?" you call out, and he startles a bit, his feet already inching away from the door.

"This was a bad idea, I'm sorry," he starts to retract back but you grab the hem of his jacket to stop him. "Do you... Do you want to watch my show with me?" you ask, a soft smile on your face and he nods tentatively.

"Okay, come in," you open the door wider and Minho follows you inside. The look in his eyes reminds you of the day you found him sitting under the rain. You didn't like it, you wanted him to find his spark back, his usual demeanor. He wasn't deserving of anything but happiness.

"I’ve started a new show, this one's a bit more romantic, so don't go around imagining me as the main character," you tease and he scoffs at your words, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He doesn't reply, but you don't mind. There was this secret agreement between the two of you, you would talk and he would listen. He needed the distraction, and you needed the company. Sometimes the line between alone and lonely blurs, and on days like these, Minho’s presence fills the void inside.

You comment on the scenes and Minho hums in reply, you watch three episodes in a row, and your eyes are getting drowsy, so you close them.

"Minho," you call out gently and he turns his head towards you.

"Yeah?"

"What color are you feeling tonight?" You ask, referencing to what he told you on your dinner celebration. That felt like an eternity ago.

"Black." You stay silent and Minho fidgets with his hands before speaking once again. "I feel a lot at the same time, too much of every color. That's why- that's why I said black."

"How can I help you feel yellow?"

"You already do." His admission came softly and it made your breath hitch in your throat. You wanted to open your eyes and look at him, but you figured it will only make him close off even more.

“Okay. Will you stay for breakfast?”, you whisper. You were very sleepy, the soft chatter of the TV and your hushed conversation were like a lullaby to you. 

"You want me to?" he asks, and he sounds so vulnerable you can't find it in you to say anything but the truth.

"I do," you admit, and that's the last thing you remember before sleeping.

Your head falls near Minho’s lap on the couch, your hair tickling his exposed thigh. Minho shouldn’t feel this way, he thinks. He’s sitting on the leather couch and his feet are touching the cold floor and yet all he can feel is three strands of your hair tickling him.

He glances at you, at your now parted lips and your relaxed eyebrows. His hand hovers over your hair, but then he curls it into a tight fist. What is he doing? He thinks to himself as he drags an angry hand through his face. He sighs, before standing up and grabbing the blanket you had on the opposing chair. He gently lays it on your body before sitting next to you once again. 

You told him to stay for breakfast. He’ll stay.

✹✹✹

2 months later

"Yn!" Minho shouts in your ear as he plops down next to you. You startle, dropping the book you were reading. 

"I hate you," you grumble, picking up your book and he smiles cheekily at you, "No you don't."

You were laying on the grass of your campus garden, in between two classes, trying to kill the time. It was April so the weather was perfect for lying under the warm sunrays. You loved spring, it always held within it the promise of a better time. 

"What are you doing?"

"I was reading before you got here and started to annoy me." 

"Don't mind me. Do your thing." 

"And what are you doing?"

"Enjoying the sun."

"You couldn't find any other place to do so?"

"Nope."

"You're annoying" You try to sound mad but the smile on your face betrays you. You started looking forward to any moment Minho randomly shows up throughout your day. Sometimes it's late at night when he's suddenly craving sushi and he drags you with him because if he's not studying then you shouldn't be too. 

Sometimes it's during the day, when he takes you to a new garden where he found the quote "cutest cats in existence". Not as cute as his cats, of course. 

Sometimes it's late afternoon when he just knocks on your door, and he's there with Chan-his roommate who sometimes joins your study sessions- snacks in their hands. You've learned that what Minho doesn't say in words, he compensates by spending time with you. And you didn't tell him but waiting for these moments has been the joy of your life for the past few weeks.

It made you feel excited- like a child waiting up for Christmas morning to discover what gifts they are receiving. 

So, you resume reading, as Minho is lying next to you. You could smell his pinewood cologne and you wished you could pour his essence into a bottle and carry it with you everywhere. 

You notice how the sun is hitting Minho’s eyes directly, and how his eyebrows are scrunched up at the aggression. So, you grab your book with your left hand, and hover your right one over his eyes, shielding him from the sun. Minho's breath tickles your hand and you can feel goosebumps rising through your skin. 

It's as if every physical proximity with Minho made you feel hyperaware of every part of your body, and how he can lighten it with a simple breath from his part. It made you wonder what it would feel to have his hands on your skin.

As if Minho heard your thoughts, he gently wraps his thumb and index finger around your wrist, steadying your hand in place so it wouldn't strain your arm. You suddenly don't know what page you are in, too overwhelmed by the feeling of his hands on you. 

His touch is very featherlight and you are afraid to move, to break the bubble you are suddenly pulled into. 

"Read to me," he tells you and you gulp. You never understood why Minho enjoyed it when you read to him. 

"Like my voice that much?" you tease, in an attempt to hide how affected you are. You were so close to him; it would be easy to slide down and lay your head on his chest. You wondered how his heartbeat would sound. Was it steady, or racing just like your own? 

"Yeah, it's calming," he replies sincerely, catching you off guard. You didn't expect him to compliment you, and now you are racking your brain for a retort, anything to make you breathe again. 

"Growing soft on me Minho?" you say, the same question you asked on your first dinner out. The first time you truly saw him, the first time you felt as if you were two pieces of the same puzzle, just waiting for someone to connect the both of you. 

He doesn't reply. And you sit there, patiently waiting. His first answer came so easily, so naturally, because he was being sarcastic, "I’m basically in love with you", he told you back then. So why can't he say it again?

"Yes, I am." He finally replies and you feel your breath catch in your throat. You try to account it for your brain misguiding you. It wasn't Minho speaking, it was the rustling of the leaves and the singing of the birds that you just heard. But it was him, and now his eyes are open and he's looking at you. Your hand is still shielding his eyes and his fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. And you are suddenly feeling. You are feeling too much. You don't know what to do with those feelings cursing through your veins and you can't face them. Because they are scaring you.

"I'll just... Yeah, I’ll just read," you say quietly, too flustered by his intense gaze. You were already on the other side, you realize. His eyes pulled you in and you were stuck in there, swimming in a pool of honey. 

"Out loud," he says and you chuckle, "Fine, Min." The nickname slips out of your tongue naturally and you quickly snap your head towards Minho to see if he noticed. 

His eyes are closed, and there is a slight smile on his face, and you can swear that he just repeated the nickname to himself softly. 

✹✹✹

You've been so sick these past days, you barely managed to go to class. Your head throbbed with pain and your entire body felt as if someone thoroughly boxed it. 

You were grateful that Minho reeled down his teasing because you had no energy to retort back. He may have noticed how sick you felt and truthfully it would be hard not to. You stayed silent throughout the day, and you looked so pale, you avoided looking at the mirror altogether.

Though Minho didn't talk to you, he still silently placed water bottles and some of your favorite snacks on your desk. You'd down the water, grateful for the relief it brought your sore throat. And when you didn't touch the food, he'd immediately text you 'Eat up', followed by a simple 'Please'. Having someone else care for your well-being felt weird, but it warmed your heart beyond what words could describe. 

You only came today to pass your Criminal Law mid-term, but your head hurt so badly that you weren't even sure what you wrote on your paper. The words blurred in front of your eyes and you almost slept in the middle of your exam, exhaustion threatening to take over your body. 

You fucked up, badly. You haven't screwed up this much in years.

You thought that you were slowly getting better since Minho surpassing you no longer sparked an unworthy feeling within you. But apparently, you were wrong to believe so. Self-doubt crept up within you once again, and the ugly feelings it stirred slowly clawed at your throat, making it hard for you to breathe.

It was one test, and yet it reeled you back ages ago. 

Tears threaten to spill out of your eyes as you hurriedly walk out of your class. You make a beeline for the library, figuring that it will be mostly empty by now. 

You pull out a chair and sit on it, lowering your head down so no one will see you. Your tears are falling rapidly and you hit your thigh repeatedly.  You hated how weak you felt in that instant. 

"Yn?", someone calls out and you curse internally. You don't have to look up to see who it is, Minho's voice has become a part of you- you could easily recognize it between a thousand mingling sounds. 

You don't want him to see you, especially not like this, weak and vulnerable and on the verge of breaking down. So you quickly slip a pair of sunglasses on your eyes, before raising your head to look at him. "Hm?"

"Are you okay?" he asks, his tone so soft it makes you want to cry ten times fold. You hated it, hated how attentive he was to you. You didn't deserve it. 

"Yeah, yeah. I'm just here to pick a book," you lie, abruptly standing up and heading toward the rows behind you. You desperately needed to get away from him. 

You pause in front of a random shelf and then you feel Minho standing behind you. You grab a random book and he peeks above your shoulder to see it, "Economics? You hate this subject."

"Why are you following me?" you turn around attempting your best to sound mad. When in reality, your heart was brimming with hurt. You wished you could get away from your body and seep into someone's soul to feel what it's like to love yourself.

"You aren't okay," he asserts and you hate it. You hate that he sounds so sure of himself. Was it that noticeable? Were you not fooling anyone?

"I am," your voice is shaking but you are adamant about contradicting him. You couldn't let him see you. What if he runs?

"Then..." he steps forward and you take a step back until your back is against the shelf. His left arm cages your body, but his right one stays by his side. He is leaving you an opening, you realize, an outing in case you feel uncomfortable. Against all odds, you don't.

 "Why are you hiding from me?" he asks, gently taking your sunglasses off your face, and placing them on the top of your head.

You don't look up at him, and he hooks his finger underneath your chin, gently raising your head. When your tear-stained eyes meet his, he frowns deeply, "Why are you crying?"

"it's nothing."

"Yn..."

"I fucked up, okay?! That was the worst test I’ve ever given in years." The tears start to flow at your words and you wipe them away aggressively. You despised crying in front of people. 

Minho raises his hand to wipe the tears away for you but he quickly retracts it- you probably wouldn't want him to touch your face. It was enough that he had grabbed your wrist a couple of weeks before this. He quickly racks his brain for something to do, because the sight of your tears is making his heart ache in a way he hasn't felt before. It's as if he's feeling your emotions deep within him.

In desperation, Minho pinches your arm and you yelp, startled. "What was that for?" you whisper-shout and he raises his hands in defense, "I didn't know what else to do."

"So, you thought about pinching me?" you chuckle in bewilderment and he scratches the top of his hair sheepishly. 

"I mean, it worked. Look, you stopped crying," he points out raising his brows at you proudly and you shake your head at him.

"Remind me to never cry in front of you again." 

Minho grins at you before his face turns serious once again. "Look, you are the smartest person I know," he pauses, adding with a cheeky smirk, "After me of course." Which makes you giggle against your will. 

"Shut up", you lightly punch his chest and he smiles. "One test doesn't define you. You always work very hard. I wouldn't lie to you."

"Mm," you hum and he frowns at your lack of enthusiasm, but still, he doesn't comment. 

"No more crying," he wiggles his finger in front of your face and you roll your eyes, wiping the rest of your tears away. "Fine. Pretend as if this never happened."

"What are you talking about?" he asks as if confused, and you can't help the smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. It's as if Minho knows exactly what to say to cheer you up. 

"Come with me," he tells you, gently pulling you by the sleeve of your hoodie. 

"Where to?"

"I’m craving ice cream."

"And why do you need me?"

"You're craving ice cream too," he says in a matter-of-a-fact tone. 

"Only if you're paying," you add with a giggle and he whines loudly, "I feel so so used around you." 

True to his words, Minho takes you to the nearest ice cream parlor. It's a 20 minutes walk away and you are grateful for the distance because it helps you clear your head a bit.

Minho lets you pick whatever flavors you want, and when you hesitate between two of them, he tells the cashier to put them both into your cup. This is how you end up with a container of 5 scoops of ice cream. You insisted you'd share, and Minho begrudgingly agreed when you threatened to walk out and leave him.

You then walk to a deserted alley and sit on the sidewalk. You didn't want to be around people right now, and thankfully, Minho understood without you having to say a word.  

You munch silently on your ice cream and Minho does the same, the both of you lost in your thoughts. You naturally take turns holding the freezing container, so it wouldn't numb the fingers of one of you.

When you're done, Minho stands up to throw it away in a nearby trashcan before sitting back again next to you. 

Suddenly you feel him gently tapping your hand. You look down to find that you've curled your fingers into a tight fist, so much that there are crescent indents visible on your palm now. 

"Let's play thumb war," he tells you and you giggle at his words. You never knew what to expect from him. 

Still, as your fingers hold each other, and your thumb circles one another, you feel yourself calm down slightly. You play a couple of rounds, and you know he's going easy on you, allowing you to quickly trap his thumb down. 

No one has gone to such lengths to cheer you up, and you suddenly feel so grateful for Minho’s presence in your life. You didn't care in what shape he was in, you just needed him to be in it. Which in turn makes you think how bad it'd hurt if he ever leaves. 

You don't want Minho to leave. You've gotten so attached to him that the thought of not talking to him again makes your heart race in panic. 

Minho notices the change in your expression, suddenly melancholic once again. Your hand has gone limp in his, the thumb war long forgotten by you. 

He curses under his breath, before looking at you. "If I dance for you, will you quit being so sad?"

"Dance for me?" you repeat incredulously and he nods, "Yes. I’ll show you an upcoming choreography just... Please smile?" 

"Okay," you giggle, plastering a wide grin on your face. 

"Not like that you look scary."

"Get to dancing!" you clap excitedly and he rolls his eyes, standing up and looking through his phone for a particular music. 

"Oh and no comment!" he looks pointedly at you, and you nod, pretending to zip your mouth and throwing away the key. 

'Finesse' by Bruno Mars starts playing and you are left mesmerized by the way Minho dances. It's short but it leaves you yearning to see more. His body moves smoothly, hitting each beat effortlessly. He made it look as if dancing was second nature to him, that it came as easily to him as breathing. 

You were speechless, rightfully so. You wished you could build a world where all Minho did was dance. 

"That was-" you start when he stops the music but he cuts you off instantly, "I said no comment."

"But--" Minho places his finger on your mouth to silence you, seemingly not thinking too much of it. But the feel of his finger on your lips makes you dizzy. Minho quickly takes off his hand, a blush evidently creeping up his neck. 

"Let's just go home," he sighs in defeat and you laugh despite the intense feelings cursing through you.

You don't know if you are imagining it but you swear that your pinkies brush against each other on your walk back. As if there was this magnetic force pulling them together. You wondered what would happen if you just linked your pinky with his. Would he grab you by the hand or will he let go of you entirely?

You were too much of a coward to find out. You were scared of messing up anything with him. So, you'd settle for this. Stolen glances and random outings. You just need him in your life. 

"Thank you for today," you tell Minho once you arrive and he shrugs, as what he did wasn't a big deal.

"No, I mean it. Thank you," you repeat, trying your best to convey how sincere you were being. You take in a deep breath, before grabbing his hand and squeezing it, for a fleeting second, before dropping it again. 

Minho is sure that your hand will now be imprinted into his, that the lines tracing over your palm will merge with his as one. Your touch was barely there but it had electrocuted him. He wondered to himself if his body would be able to handle more from you. But he'd gladly burn in your fires for the sake of holding you. And he'd wait, unwaveringly, as time stretches alongside the two of you. He'd wait as long as it takes for you. 

"Yn, I..." he stammers, taking a step closer to you. His scent engulfs you and you shamefully close your eyes, inhaling it. When you open them again, you find Minho glancing down at your lips. You gulp, dazzled by his proximity. 

"You have a mole on your nose," you suddenly speak up and his eyes snap back to yours, an adorable confusion drawn on his features. 

"I like that mole," you continue and you wish you could dig yourself a hole and bury yourself in it. 

"Thank you," he chuckles and you nod vigorously, "You're welcome." 

"Can I ask you something?" he says and your breath hitches in your throat. "Sure."

"You don't like it when people touch you, right?" 

"Yeah."

"Can I ask why?" 

You want to confide in him, to tell him that it’s because you long for it, you crave it so badly. That this need has woven itself into the very fabric of your being. An ache so raw that it scares you at times. You’ve never known what it feels like to be held- it was uncharted territory to you. 

"Isn't everyone scared of the unknown?" you settle on saying, and he nods in understanding. Of course, he understood. No one knows you as well as him. 

"It's okay. I just wanted to know if I ever overstepped my boundaries."

"You didn't," you reply instantly. 

"Good. You'll tell me if I ever do, right?"

"I will." 

"Okay." 

"Um. I'll get going," you point behind you and Minho smiles at you, waving you off.

You walk for a few steps before coming back again quickly. You then grab Minho’s hand, gently squeezing it like before, "You are an amazing dancer." 

And then you drop it, running back towards your apartment block without waiting for a reply. 

Minho stays frozen in his place. You think he's an amazing dancer. And you held his hand for five seconds. 

That's four seconds more than the first time. 

Progress.        

✹✹✹

You haven't gotten out of your house for the past three days. 

Everything crashed around you rapidly, it made you realize that the ground you once stood on was only an illusion, elusive and fleeting. 

You were doing well; you were getting better. But then Monday came and you went out for a walk in the park near you. As you sat there, you saw a little girl playing on the swings, delightful joy dancing across her features. But then she fell to the ground and you instinctively stood up to help her, only to notice her mother running to her. 

The world stilled around you as you clearly saw it- how the little girl clung to her mother's embrace, her embodiment of hope and love. You never had that. You don’t even know what perfume your mother used because she never allowed you to get that close to her. 

You stood up abruptly, quickly heading back to your apartment block. As you ran up the stairs, you ended up bumping into one of your neighbors. You were quick to apologize but they ignored you, and the feeling of being invisible came back to haunt you ten times fold. 

You knew you shouldn’t have done it, you knew you should have deleted your mother’s number when she sent you away to university without a backward glance, relieved at the thought of you getting a full-ride scholarship and not needing her anymore. But you didn’t, you kept her number in the hopes that she’d call. On your birthday, on holidays, on a random Thursday to tell you that she did remember who you are. 

With trembling hands, tears welling in your eyes, you dialed your mother’s number for the first time in a year. You didn’t know what you were expecting. Maybe she regrets it. Maybe she misses you. Maybe she didn’t find the courage to mend her wrongdoings and that's why she never called. 

"Hello?" her voice rang through your apartment. Goosebumps erupted on your arms and your hold on the phone tightened. Her voice took you back to memories you thought you had buried. How you spent countless nights yearning to hear the sound of her voice, how you regretted it once she spoke to attack you.

You hate her. You miss her. You want to hang up. You need to ask if she's doing okay. 

“Who is this?” Her voice was devoid of recognition, freezing you in your tracks. You felt as if a bucket of ice was thrown over your head, dousing the flame of hope that flickered in your heart. 

She deleted your number.

You quickly hung up, placing your phone down on the table. The tears refused to fall. It was as if your body had long anticipated this outcome, leaving only your wounded soul to bear the pain. 

Healing isn't linear, you've read about it in books and heard it in shows and movies. One step back doesn't mean that your entire progress is gone. You know this, you've memorized those sentences. So why do you not believe them? Why does it feel as if you can never be free from the past? Why does it feel as if you’ll always seek something out of her? 

Those questions roamed your mind for the past three days, making you too tired at the prospect of lifting your limbs, let alone leaving your apartment. You sent your two friends a text, telling them that you're sick so they wouldn't worry. Not that you believed they would. Nothing made sense to you anymore.

You laid on your bed in utter silence- a tense quiet that was disrupted on the third day by someone knocking on your door. You didn't know who was there; you just hoped that they'd leave you alone.

To your surprise, you open the door to find Minho, some notes in his right hand and a coffee in his left. He sends an easy smile your way. You don't smile back.

"What do you want?" your voice is cold, but Minho doesn't bristle. A cheeky smile settles on his lips as he leans on your doorway.

"You didn't come to class for the past three days, so I brought you the notes. So, you wouldn't think our competition is unfair."

"Competition," you chuckle coldly, heading inside your apartment, and he follows suit. You start to pace around furiously, and Minho looks at you worriedly. "Competition?" you repeat, the word dripping off your tongue like venom. You turn around, marching towards Minho and standing a few inches from him. "You know what? Fuck you and your competition!"

"Yn-"

"Did it ever occur to you that I never wanted a part in this competition? That all I wanted was to be left alone?" you say, growing louder as you jab your finger into his chest repeatedly. "I never wanted any of this! Do you understand? I never wanted to be this way," you shout angrily in his face.

The worried look in Minho’s eyes snaps you out of your haze. You realize that you are being utterly ridiculous lashing out at Minho, when the one person you are mad at is yourself. 

Your anger quickly deflates, leaving in its trail an agonizing sadness. It's so sudden that it knocks the breath out of you, and you clutch your chest as if it could soothe the burn in your heart. Suddenly you are twelve years old again, crying in your room because you feel like no one has ever loved you.

But this time you aren't alone. Minho is in front of you, and his eyebrows are so furrowed you want to lean forward to ease the tension between them. His eyebrows, you liked his eyebrows, they were arched, and they framed his eyes nicely, and his eyes are brown and so big, and they always look at you softly and why is it getting so hard to breathe-

"Did I do something to you? Whatever it is I’m sorry," Minho panics, cutting off your frantic train of thought. But now, the weight of guilt adds to your overwhelming emotions. You shouldn't have lashed out at him, he brought you coffee and you yelled at him. Maybe your mom was right after all.

You shake your head left and right furiously, your words coming out in hiccups. Since when did you start crying? "It isn't- it isn't you."

"Then let me help you-", he steps forward, hand outstretched, but you take three hurried steps back and wrap your hands around yourself protectively. "Don’t. Please, don't."

"Why are you pushing me away?" his tone isn't accusatory. You've learned time and time again that Minho wouldn't do anything that made you feel uncomfortable.

"You won't understand."

"Then make me."

"Because I’m afraid!" the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. "I’m afraid if you ever hug me, I wouldn't be able to go back to hugging myself. I'd need you and I can't afford to need someone else."

You regret the words as soon as they fleet away from your mouth. He would look at you differently, he would find you pathetic and then he’d leave. And you wanted him to leave. But you also wanted him to stay. It was all so confusing. 

You felt as if your being was torn between two great forces, each one of them trying to win the war raging inside you. You wished someone else would make the decisions in your place, for once.

Minho places the coffee and notes on the ground before approaching you, his palms facing up in a gesture of surrender. "I won't leave you," he says softly. "I’ll be by your side for as long as you'll have me."

"Minho..." your voice catches in your throat as you utter his name- like a broken prayer. He stands before you, his eyes shimmering like the reflection of a river on a sunny day.

"Please, let me make it better." 

You nod tentatively and Minho comes even closer to you. He was treating you like one would with a wounded animal, giving you a chance to ultimately back out. But for once, you listen to what your heart has been yearning for. Your bones are aching to be held, to feel the warmth of a body against your own, to feel safe and secure. 

Minho embraces you, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and bringing you to him. You slowly bring your arms up and lace them around his waist. You are afraid, deathly afraid. His grip is loose, and you almost can't feel him around you, but when you lay your head on his chest, he tightens his hold on you and you instinctively let out a sob. 

He's hugging adult you, the woman whose heart was once again broken by her mom. But he's also hugging little you, the girl who was craving affection from everyone around her. In that instant, Minho is hugging every single version of you that ever needed a hug. 

You were right to be scared because you don't want to let go, you want to stay in his arms because they feel safe, like a shield protecting you. You can't go back to not hugging Minho. 

The sensation is overwhelming and your knees buckle underneath you. But instead of holding you up, Minho falls to the ground with you, as if you are two inseparable pieces of one puzzle. He isn’t here to fix you, he’s here to break down with you and help you pick up the scattered pieces.

You think back to that night in the park when Minho told you about Japanese vases. At this moment, it dawns on you that Minho has found a way to become a part of you. He was the molten gold binding your broken parts together. He was the invisible thread stitching your wounds back together.

Who were you fooling? It was him; it was him all along. 

Minho rocks you gently as you cry and cry and cry. His hand finds your hair and he plays with it as you sob. He tells you you'll be okay, you'll feel better and you try to believe him, his words wrap around your bruises like a healing balm. 

"There, there, love. You are okay", he murmurs, tenderly patting your head. A fresh set of tears wells up in your eyes. Love.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry," you apologize as you pull away from his embrace. 

"Why are you apologizing? Is it because you wet my shirt? I don't mind," he reassures you with a smile and you shake your head. 

 "I was mean to you and you didn’t deserve it," you explain through hiccups.

"It's okay, you weren't mad at me, were you?" he asks, wiping your tears away so gently with his thumbs, careful not to irritate the sensitive skin.

"No. Still, it isn't okay and I’m sorry. I'm so sorry." 

"Shh, don't apologize. It's okay." you look at him doubtfully and he rolls his eyes playfully, "Here I’ll even do your silly pinky promise, okay?" he laces his pinky with yours, but then he suddenly leans forward and places a chaste kiss on your thumb pad. "There, sealed forever."

You giggle faintly as a blush dusts your cheeks, "That's not how it works."

"I know."

Your giggle was far different from the ones Minho was accustomed to. It was small, and it didn't brighten up your face like usual. But he was grateful for it nonetheless. He realized how much he missed your laugh, and how all the other sounds in the world pale in comparison to it.

In that moment Minho thinks to himself that he'd do anything to make you smile again. He'd make a fool out of himself if it meant making you happy. He'd settle for a simple tug at the corners of your mouth, anything but the sadness that seemed etched in your face, as if it was blended into the colors that drew you.

You tentatively move around, before laying your head on his lap. Minho's hand instinctively finds your hair and he starts to gently play with it. It feels as if you've done this a million times before, when in fact it was the first. 

There was something wildly intimate about laying on the floor with the man who just comforted you. It made you want to spill all your secrets to him, one by one, and have him hug you through them.

"Did you mean it? When you said you'll stay?" you felt so vulnerable in his hold, as if he could twist you whoever he liked. But you trusted him. You trusted yourself with Minho.

"I did. Your walls are always up. It's hard to peek behind them. But I don't want to tear them down. I want you to slowly unbuild them. I want you to do it for yourself."

To do it for yourself, it's hard to even know who you are anymore. 

"I want to tell you."

"You don't need to."

"I know, but I want to."

"Okay. Take your time, kitten." he pats your head gently, and you try to sync your breathing to the rhythm of his touch. You were grateful that you were lying on his lap since you couldn't see his face. It made talking feel a little less daunting.

"On my 9th birthday... I was very excited. I'd been on my best behavior that month, trying to please my mom in the hope that, for once, we'd celebrate my birthday. Like a normal little family," you smile sadly, you were so hopeful back then.

"My birthday came, I woke up, excited. My mom was still asleep, nothing out of the ordinary. So, I made my breakfast and walked to my school. I wore my prettiest dress and put on pigtails with hair clips. It was my birthday after all," Minho smiles softly at your words, his hand now resting on your own.

"I got back home and waited for my mom to come back. She remembered my birthday, I thought. And then, she came but she didn't talk to me. So, I thought, oh a surprise party!" you chuckle, but this time the smile on Minho’s face is gone.

"It was then 11 pm, and the hope had slowly died in me. So, in my stupid innocent self, I went to my mom, and asked her "Did you forget my birthday?". And I remember... I remember the way she laughed. Cruelly. Like I had told her the funniest joke in the world. And then. Then she looked me dead in the eye and said 'I hate the fact that you are born. Why would I celebrate that?'"

Minho sucks in a deep breath at your words, and you exhale one right out. It felt comforting, to have someone else stomach the hurt for you. To take the weight off your shoulders, allowing you a few moments to breathe.

"I confronted her about it one day, but she said she doesn't remember saying that. It's funny how it was a random Thursday for her, but for me, it shaped my life." you smile bitterly, "I remember how jealous I was of the way the other kids talked about their mothers. They said the word so lightly. It must have reminded them of sunshine and ice cream and rainbows. But for me, it held an uncharacteristic heaviness to it. I grew to hate the word."

"I drove myself crazy, Min", you whisper and he brings you closer to his body, "was it me or was it her? When did it start? Was it because I was too loud as a child or maybe too quiet? Did I not cater to her fantasies of a kid? I wanted to remember every single thing that happened throughout my childhood, thread through every single memory. I tried to pinpoint the exact moment my mom stopped loving me."

Minho squeezes your hand tightly in his, and you feel as if he was pulling you away from the memory that had long trapped you. You were now watching it unfold from outside of the window, your hand in his, safe from the hurt it had inflicted on you.

"It's not you. It could never be you. Some people are simply not fit to be parents. It's never their kid's fault."

Minho tries his best to keep his touch soothing, to make his voice sound as soft as possible. But he was angry, he was so angry at the world for not taking care of you when you were younger. His heart broke, thinking of 9-year-old you being told such cruel words.

He wanted to turn back time and tell you that you were enough. He wanted to make the pain that seemed so anchored in you float back to the surface, and dissipate like sea foam meeting the shore.

But he couldn't do that. All he could do is comfort present you.

Minho gently pulls you up from his lap, making you sit upright. He crisscrosses his legs and you do the same. Your knees brush against each other and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You didn't know that even knees could emanate such warmth.

"Yn, look at me. The world wouldn't be the same without you in it," he cradles your face between his hands, "You hear me yn? I’m so thankful you exist."

His doe brown eyes are sincere, and it made you want to believe him badly. That's a good start, right?

"I’ll be back," he tells you, letting go of your face and standing up.

You hear Minho rummaging through the kitchen and you take the time to calm yourself down. Sharing those parts of you with Minho felt therapeutic. As if you were healing parts of your inner child. You have never talked about this with anyone before, maybe this is why it still hurt as badly.

Minho comes back five minutes later, his hands behind his back. You raise a brow at him inquisitively and he just smiles secretly at you. "Close your eyes," he tells you and you giggle, doing as he says. He crouches in front of you, and you hear him shuffle in his place for a bit.

Then, "Open your eyes yn," and you find him, in front of you, a cupcake you had stored in your fridge in his hands, and a makeshift candle lit up. "Happy 9th birthday, love. You did well."

You stare at him in utter bewilderment. You couldn't believe your eyes. How could this man be so thoughtful? He was wishing you a belated birthday, to compensate for the 9th birthday you didn't celebrate.

You panic, at the look in his eyes. You've never seen it, never dared to dream of it, of someone caring for you unconditionally. So, you try to scare him, to push him away. You didn't want him to regret knowing you.

"There are things I need you to know um", you chuckle nervously, "When I... When I throw up, I hold my hair, and when I’m sick I nurse myself back to health, and when I have a nightmare I- I hold my hand in the dark. It will be hard for me to hold yours instead."

"We'll start a finger at a time, yeah?"

"It will take time."

"I have time," he speaks easily, as if loving you was effortless and not a strenuous task. You couldn't fathom it.

"You are too busy-", he cuts you off instantly, "Not for you." 

"The world doesn't stop because we need it to." Your voice is quiet; this is your very last try. You are tired of fighting. You are putting down your armor and waving a white flag.

"We'll make it stop. Here, the two of us. On this floor. We'll take as long as we need to."

"I never deemed you as an optimist", you smile a little, a hint of teasing in your tone.

"I’m not," he pauses, gazing down at the cupcake between his hands and then at you. "But I feel that we deserve a bit of happiness together, don't we?"

"We do."

"Then make a wish."

You close your eyes for a few seconds, before blowing on the candle.

"What did you wish for?" he asks a fond smile on his face.

The answer came naturally to you, you didn't even need to think about it. "I wished for you."

Minho's lips come crashing down on yours, and you imagine that this is what it feels like to see colors for the first time. To discover a new world beyond the one you've always known.

The kiss isn't urgent nor feverish, it is one of comfort. Your lips spilling the words you have not yet said to each other. "I love you," he kisses you, "I love you too," you kiss him back. "I need you to stay," you swipe your tongue across his bottom lip, "I’m never leaving you," he opens his mouth allowing you entrance.

As you kiss him, you remember a fact you once learned in high school. The human body possesses seven trillion nerves. And for the first time in your life, you feel as if each of these nerves is alive. You feel that even the smallest atom is electrocuted with Minho’s love and it’s all you know within you.  

You feel as if the pain, the hurt, and the ache you've been through are slowly unraveled, and in their place, a timid happiness is starting to bloom. You imagine that when Minho’s lips met your own, the seven trillion nerves inside you exhaled in relief 'We've made it', they said, 'we'll finally be okay.'

Epilogue

You've always thought that epilogues were useless. How can you resume the rest of your life in one sentence, boil down the rest of your existence in mere pages? Because life doesn't stop at the epilogue, and a new book can start once again, right where you left it off.  

But with Minho, you didn't mind an epilogue. On the contrary, you longed for a soft one. You wanted to rest on this last page, you wanted to lay your worries on the words and tuck them into the syllables. And you wanted to wake up anew.

And this wasn't the end of your story with Minho. A lot happened after it. But it didn't worry you, because epilogues are about the one thing that doesn't change throughout the long march of time. And luckily for you, that constant was Minho’s love for you. From that day he held you, he has never let go.

It took time, for his warmth to seep through your bones. It took time, for your heart to forget the cold. But you wanted to do it. With him. You wanted to love and be loved.

The sound of cats mewling fills your apartment, pudding can always be found in your fridge and you haven't felt invisible in years.

[twig-tea]

What I'm left with after episodes 1 & 2 of Love in the Big City is a visceral reminder of the yawning loneliness of isolation that comes from otherness, finding a kindred spirit, and then the betrayal and heartbreak at knowing you're no longer each other's most important person, and how society expects that to happen but somehow you (I) got blindsided by it anyway.

This show is beautiful, bitingly funny, and quietly devastating. And it is so, so gay. The way Young describes the relief of returning to the loud music and lights and packed dancefloor of the club is the same feeling that washed over me watching this show; even with these sad themes around the loneliness of our 20s , the familiarity is ironically a warm and comforting reminder that we're not alone.

[austinswife]

A BITTER HARVEST — Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen

REQUESTED BY @reemoony

SYNOPSIS — You are Lady Y/N of House Veturis, a highborn noblewoman whose family allied with the Harkonnens. Your relationship with Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen, a man known for cruelty and ambition, has grown into something that neither of you expected—something that felt like love. You believed you were changing him, but his uncle, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, saw you as a threat. Manipulating Feyd’s insecurities, the Baron poisoned his mind against you, leading Feyd to say things so cruel and devastating that they shattered you completely. You fled Giedi Prime, heartbroken, leaving Feyd behind. When Feyd realizes his mistake, he follows you to Veturis, ready to beg for forgiveness—desperate, broken, and filled with regret. Will you be able to forgive him after everything he’s done?

WARNING(S) — Emotional manipulation, hurtful language, heavy angst and heartbreak, emotional turmoil, mention of betrayal.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The halls of Giedi Prime seemed colder than usual. The oppressive gloom of the planet seeped into every corner, making it impossible to escape the weight of it. But somehow, in your presence, the suffocating atmosphere had less of a hold on Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. You were like a reprieve from the cruelty and manipulation that surrounded him, a breath of something real in the toxic world he had grown up in.

Sitting together in one of the many dimly lit chambers of the Harkonnen estate, you had been speaking softly about your home, Veturis, recounting the beauty of its landscapes, so different from the harshness of Giedi Prime. Feyd’s sharp eyes were fixed on you, listening intently, though he rarely admitted how much he cherished these moments with you.

“You’d like it there,” you said with a soft smile. “It’s nothing like this place. The air is clean, and the sea stretches out endlessly.”

“Clean air and endless seas,” Feyd repeated with a hint of amusement. “You make it sound like a dream.”

“It could be,” you replied, leaning a little closer. “It could be for both of us.”

For a moment, there was something almost vulnerable in Feyd’s eyes, a flicker of longing for a life different from the one he’d always known. But the world you were imagining together was nothing like the one his uncle had planned for him. And as if on cue, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen stepped into the room.

His shadow fell over you both, and Feyd immediately stiffened, his body language changing from relaxed to guarded in an instant. The softness he showed you vanished, replaced by the cold, calculating façade he wore around his uncle.

“Ah, nephew,” the Baron purred, his voice dripping with false warmth. “I see you’ve been keeping yourself… entertained.”

Feyd stood quickly, his hand slipping away from yours. “Uncle,” he greeted, his tone clipped. He always seemed uncomfortable when the Baron was around you, though you couldn’t quite understand why.

The Baron’s eyes flicked to you, and his lip curled in disgust. He had never hidden his disdain for you. You were the thorn in his side, the one person who seemed to have some control over Feyd that he couldn’t understand or manipulate.

“I need a word with you, Feyd,” the Baron said, his voice suddenly sharp. “Alone.”

You glanced at Feyd, trying to catch his eye, but he was already moving toward the door, his jaw set tight. He didn’t look back at you as he followed his uncle out of the room, leaving you alone with a growing sense of unease.

The Baron wasted no time. As soon as they were alone, he turned on Feyd, his expression twisted with disgust.

“You’re a fool, Feyd,” the Baron spat, his voice low and venomous. “A complete fool.”

Feyd’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

“That woman,” the Baron hissed, gesturing dismissively in the direction you had gone. “She’s making you weak. I’ve seen the way you’ve changed. You’ve gone soft.”

Feyd’s fists clenched at his sides, but he remained silent. The Baron took that as an invitation to continue.

“You used to be ruthless, focused. A true Harkonnen,” the Baron went on, his voice dripping with disdain. “But now? Now you sit around listening to her ridiculous stories about some paradise planet. She’s distracted you from your purpose. From what we’ve been working toward for years.”

Feyd’s jaw tightened. “I’m still focused.”

“No,” the Baron snapped. “You’re not. And do you know why? Because she’s gotten into your head. You think she cares about you, Feyd? She’s using you.”

Feyd’s stomach twisted, doubt creeping in. “That’s not true.”

“Isn’t it?” the Baron sneered. “Think about it. She’s a highborn noble from a lesser house. Do you really think she’s with you because of some romantic notion? She’s manipulating you. Her family stands to gain from your success. She’s softening you, making you weak so she can control you.”

Feyd’s thoughts spun, confusion mixing with anger. He had never doubted you before, but now, the Baron’s words wormed their way into his mind. Could it be true? Was this all a game for you, just another move in the endless power struggles of the nobility?

“You’re letting her cloud your judgment,” the Baron pressed, his voice dropping to a whisper. “She’s pulling you away from your destiny. Don’t let a woman stand in your way, Feyd. You’re better than that.”

Feyd stood in silence, his mind a storm of conflicting emotions. When he finally spoke, his voice was hard. “I won’t let anyone stand in my way.”

Later that evening, you were sitting in your chambers when the door slammed open. You jumped, startled by the sound, and looked up to see Feyd standing in the doorway. But the man standing before you now wasn’t the same Feyd who had sat with you earlier, listening to your stories of Veturis. His face was twisted with anger, his eyes cold and distant.

“Feyd?” you asked, concern lacing your voice. “What’s wrong?”

He stormed toward you, his movements sharp and aggressive. “How long have you been playing me?” he demanded, his voice harsh.

You blinked, utterly confused. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t lie to me!” he shouted, his voice echoing in the room. “My uncle warned me about you. You’ve been using me this whole time, haven’t you? Pretending to care, pretending to love me, all for your own gain.”

Your heart dropped. The sudden change in him, the accusation in his voice—it cut deeper than you thought possible. “I… I don’t understand. I’ve never lied to you, Feyd. I’ve only ever cared about you.”

“Cared about me?” he spat, his face inches from yours now. “You’re just like everyone else. You’ve been making me weak. You’re trying to manipulate me for your own purposes, for your family.”

Tears welled in your eyes, but you forced yourself to stay calm. “Feyd, I don’t know what your uncle has told you, but it’s not true. I’ve never wanted to manipulate you. I love you.”

“Love?” He laughed bitterly, the sound filled with venom. “You think I believe that? A Harkonnen doesn’t love. We don’t feel. We take.”

You stared at him, your heart breaking with every word that came out of his mouth. The Feyd you had come to know, the Feyd who had softened around you, was gone, replaced by the cold, vicious man shaped by his uncle.

“If that’s what you think of me,” you whispered, your voice barely holding together, “then I have no reason to stay.”

Feyd’s eyes flashed with something—regret, maybe—but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. He didn’t say a word as you turned and walked out of the room, out of his life.

You fled Giedi Prime that very night, returning to Veturis with a shattered heart. Every word Feyd had said played over and over in your mind, cutting deeper each time. You had believed in him. You had thought he was different, that he could change. But in the end, it seemed his uncle’s influence was too strong.

On Veturis, you tried to rebuild your life, surrounding yourself with the familiar sights and sounds of home. But no matter how far you went, the ache in your chest remained. The Feyd you had loved was gone, and the emptiness he left behind was unbearable.

Meanwhile, back on Giedi Prime, Feyd was unraveling. At first, he tried to convince himself that he had done the right thing, that pushing you away was necessary. But as the days turned into weeks, that certainty began to erode. The silence in his chambers became suffocating, and the more he thought about it, the more he realized the truth.

The Baron had manipulated him, twisted his thoughts, and he had fallen for it. You hadn’t been using him. You had loved him, and he had thrown that love away. The weight of his mistake pressed down on him until he couldn’t stand it any longer.

Weeks later, Feyd stood at the gates of your family’s estate on Veturis. The usually fearless man now felt a knot of dread tightening in his chest. This was different than anything he had ever faced before. This wasn’t a battle he could win through violence or cunning. This was something else entirely.

When you appeared, walking through the garden, Feyd felt his breath catch in his throat. You were still beautiful, still everything he had ever wanted. But there was a hardness in your eyes now, a barrier that hadn’t been there before.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He stepped forward, his heart racing. “I was wrong.”

You crossed your arms, your expression unreadable. “What are you doing here, Feyd?”

“I—I came to apologize,” he said, his voice shaking. “I know I don’t deserve to be here. I know what I said to you—was unforgivable. But please, just… listen to me.”

You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue.

“I let my uncle manipulate me,” Feyd said, his voice thick with regret. “He made me doubt you, made me doubt everything. And I— I was too weak to see it. I was too afraid. But I know now that he was wrong. I was wrong.”

You stood there, staring at him, and for the first time in his life, Feyd felt truly powerless. “Y/N, I can’t live without you,” he whispered, stepping closer. “I need you. Please. Please, just give me another chance.”

You shook your head, the pain in your eyes clear. “You don’t get to come here and beg for forgiveness after everything you said to me. You don’t get to just erase the damage you caused.”

“I know,” Feyd said, his voice breaking. “I know I can’t undo what I’ve done, but I’ll do anything—anything—to make it right. I’ll prove to you that I’ve changed. I’ll show you that I’m not the man I was. Just… please, don’t leave me.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let him see how much he still affected you. “Feyd, you broke me.”

“I know,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with emotion. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if that’s what it takes. I’ll beg, I’ll crawl, I’ll do whatever you want. Just don’t turn your back on me.”

You stared at him, your heart aching. The man standing before you now wasn’t the Feyd who had pushed you away in anger. This Feyd was vulnerable, desperate, and full of regret. But could you trust him again? Could you open yourself up to that kind of hurt?

Finally, you sighed, your shoulders sagging under the weight of your emotions. “One chance, Feyd. That’s all you get. Don’t waste it.”

Relief flooded his features as he stepped forward, gently taking your hands in his. “I won’t. I swear.”

[r3medialch8os]

devastating trobed quotes (a list)

does thinking of troy and abed ever make you inexplicably upset? well, it's all in the text! aside from troy and abed serving as frequent comedic buffers, they are given some weighty emotional scenes throughout community's run. just look at the meat of these lines!

we just won't get masking tape (what a beautiful, simplistic way to portray how troy is able to think around abed's systematic manner of viewing their friendship in its beginning stages as well as an illustration of how he deals with conflict)

i love you (pure honesty in a moment of intense distress)

i know (both a reference, because it's easy, and the truth)

you don't like people who tell you what to do, and i don't wanna be one of those people (one of the more heartbreaking things said between the two of them, with troy knowing exactly abed's qualms and negative experiences with being controlled, not wanting to add to it, and still having to fall into the pattern for the sake of keeping him safe, fearing he's risking their friendship by doing so)

you weren't supposed to think those things (you of all people, the person i trust most in this whole world)

this is going to be the last thing we ever do together, we can't stop (what the actual fuck)

i know you hate when people do this in movies (whispered quietly to abed by troy, without anyone else hearing, one of the most romantic, intimate lines in the whole show, argue with the wall)

you're gonna have to trust that you're gonna have to trust me (said to someone with severe trust issues, and for good reasons, just an incredible invocation of the bond they have)

for the first time in my long history of being locked inside things, i knew someone would come (as someone who was bullied in high school, this line hits so fucking hard, aren't we all waiting on this moment?)

you were out there somewhere, and you weren't looking for me? (devastating in a way where i simply cannot believe they throw words like these around casually)

the floor can't be lava forever, the game's gotta end (troy, perpetually insistent on indulging abed, on letting him do his thing, on enjoying his imagination, has to be the one to bring him back to reality this time, and even if he tries to do it as gentle as possible, it will never not rip my fucking heart out)

it's not a game for me troy. i'm seeing real lava because you're leaving, it's embarrassing. i don't wanna be crazy but i am crazy so i made a game that made you and everyone else see what i see. i don't want it to be there either, i swear. i want you to be able to leave but i don't think the lava goes away until you stop leaving (fuck it, i'm putting the whole thing, not a lot makes me cry but abed so clearly experiencing disillusion and trying to assuage troy while also communicating to him how hard it is to accept him leaving all with an air of embarrassment and hopelessness and desperation will do it for me, thank you very much)

i'm not leaving, okay? i promise. the floor's not lava now, just give me your hand (all i can say is that i bet it tore abed to pieces hearing these words)

i think i might be able to let troy go now (the way he says it too)

when i cloned you i had to patch some missing parts of your dna with genes from a homing pigeon. you may notice side effects like a compulsion to come back (in other words, i am in love with you and i never found the right time to say it)

[builtbybrokenbells]

Melodic Memories | JTK | Prologue

In a tattered old box shoved deep down in the corner of an overfilled closet, a lifetimes worth of memories lie dormant at the bottom waiting to be rediscovered.

Masterlist

Playlist: Apple Music | Spotify

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: breakups, feelings of sadness, crying, high school relationships, angst, fluff, sorry if i miss any!

welcome to the show, everyone 😁 glad to be back with another Jake fic. as always, enjoy, be kind, and don’t mind any grammar mistakes! (this has been sitting in my drafts for SO long)

August, 2014

“Eight songs, Y/N. I sat there for hours, listening to as much music as I could. I sorted through my dad’s old vinyl records, and all of the CD’s Josh and I could find in the house. I searched for lyrics on the internet, I even asked my mom if she had any ideas.” Jake explained, taking a step closer to you. There was a small plastic case in one of his hands, a bushel of hand picked wildflowers in his other, and a look in his eyes that made your heart ache with all of the pain you had been holding back. “This is it; eight songs that tell you exactly how I feel about you. Four that tell you how much I love you, and four that tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about you leaving.”

“Jake,” you whispered, your lips pressed together tightly as the corners of your mouth dipped down into a frown. Your eyes were shining under the warm yellow hue of the ceiling light, the threat of unshed tears growing more imminent with each second that passed. The walls of your childhood bedroom were familiar, but completely different all at the same time. Years worth of cherished memories flashed before your eyes as the boy stood before you amongst half-filled boxes and your torn-apart closet.

“No,” he cut you off, shaking his head so you could not speak any further.

His hair was long, moving against his skin with each turn of his head. It reached the middle of his neck now, and it would only get longer as he continued to grow it out. You couldn’t help but feel that the long hair suited him best, that it brought out the beauty of his face even more than it already did on its own. He’d been talking about it for so long that you could already picture what it would look like on him. You were sad that you would not be able to see it when his mission was complete and the ends of his hair tickled the underside of his shoulder blades.

No, you were sad that you would miss any stage of Jake’s life, devastated that there would be any version of him you were unfamiliar with.

The sweatshirt he was wearing was heartbreaking all on its own; you bought it for him months prior on your three day trip to tour the university you were now preparing to attend. There were bags under his eyes, showing his exhaustion and discomfort with the current arrangement the two of you found yourselves in. His eyes themselves were bloodshot, and worse than that, they were sad. You hated seeing anything less than joy written in his features, because he was a boy deserving of things that were only ever good.

Right now, you knew that what you were doing to him was anything but good, and it was fucking killing you.

You only ever wanted to be the reason for the smile on his face, and now you were the source of his misery; you loved him so utterly and deeply that you turned into the very thing that hurt him.

“You said you didn’t want to make this harder than it needed to be, but it’s going to fucking suck no matter how we do things. I can’t let you leave without telling you—“ he cut himself off, clearing his throat as his gaze flickered to the floor. There were tears glistening in his eyes, too, but he was much more afraid to show them than you were. “I can’t let you go unless I know that you know how much you mean to me.”

“It is hard, Jake. This is the hardest thing I have ever done.” You confessed, sniffling away your sadness as you tried to cement the memory of his face in your brain forever. He was beautiful, and he always had been. His warm eyes spoke love without him ever opening his mouth, and his smile was the only thing that could brighten the darkest of days.

“The whole distance thing is stupid, and I don’t like it. We’ve been together for three years, and I can’t sit at home and act like you don’t mean anything to me.” His words were equal to a stab in the stomach.

You did not intend to hurt him when you suggested taking some time away from each other. You thought it would be easier, that it would make your departure less painful as you both came to terms with the fact you would be leaving him behind, but so far it had been nothing but horrendous. You stayed up every night, staring at the ceiling as you remembered what it felt like to lay next to him. You listened to new music, hoping it would make you feel something other than sadness, but the emotion that plagued you grew tenfold when you realized you had no one to share it with. You checked your phone constantly, hoping to see his name grace your screen, only to find that he was too good at respecting your wishes.

Jake was your boyfriend, and it had been that way for a long time, but he was so much more than just that. He was your best friend, your confidant and the very thing you knew you could lean on in times that were tougher than usual. He was your light in darkness, and he was everything you ever needed all at once. Jake was the whole world, and in that moment, he was yours. As of late, you felt more stupid than ever before, unable to forgive yourself for letting him go. He loved you through the awkwardness of growing into a teenager, and he loved you through the usual triumphs and disasters of high school. He loved you when you thought no one else could, and he did it so well that you had no idea what to expect now that he was not going to be yours anymore.

He stood before you, freshly eighteen with a new found freedom in life. You were just shy of the same age, but the freedom you found did not feel very special at all. You expected your high school graduation to be sweet, exciting and fun, but so far it brought you nothing but turmoil. You scored top of your class and had people throwing scholarships in your face. As much as you wanted to enjoy it, you couldn’t seem to find any joy in the experience. You tried to blame it on your nerves as you spent the summer preparing to drive states away to attend a university that you had only visited once, but you knew it had nothing to do with that. You were thrilled to continue your studies, to pursue something that you had spent your life dreaming about. You were excited to meet people, to grow into the person you were always meant to be.

It was not the school that made your stomach twist with nerves, but the knowledge Jake would not be coming with you. It was the knowledge that after three years, you would have to learn to live without him by your side, and worst of all, you had to digest the fact that he would move on. In due time, his heart and the love he once gave to you would be someone else’s, and he would be happy again, without ever having a second thought about you.

No matter where Jake went, you knew he would flourish, that he would find someone that would love him just as much, if not more, than you loved him.

That thought was comforting as much as it was gut wrenching. Jake deserved to be loved, but you wished you were the person who could love him the way he deserved.

What hurt just a little worse than that was the passing thought that you would never find someone who would love you the way Jake loved you.

You had done everything with him up until two weeks prior, when you pleaded with him to give you some space so you could grieve the fact your relationship would be coming to an end. You did not cut off contact completely, and in that time, you had called him almost daily and payed short visits to his house every now and again. You wanted it to make you feel better, but all it did was make the ache of missing him grow even larger despite him still being there when you needed him. You knew that when you got in your car the next morning, it would be the definite end of the two of you, but it did not mean you were happy, and you were certainly not okay with it.

If missing him while he was still beside you hurt achingly bad, you could not imagine the pain that would come as you drove away from the only thing you ever wanted to have.

The two of you discussed the topic heavily over the last few months, finding yourselves in a great debate of whether long distance would work for the two of you. Eventually, after many tears and lots of sad, sleepless nights, the two of you decided that it would be best to let the loving relationship you had created remain a memory. He didn’t want you worrying about him while you were focusing on your studies, and you didn’t want to tie him down while he tried to make his own life at home.

Although the two of you agreed on the terms, it hurt like a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Jake.” You whispered, your bottom lip quivering as you tried to express your remorse. “I didn’t know how else to deal with it.”

“Just listen to what I have to say, and then you can deal with it however you want.” He tried again, still staying strong despite the pain growing larger in his heart.

“Okay.” You whispered, giving a slight nod as you stepped back and took a seat on the edge of your bed. He followed suit, stopping by your dresser to place the sparse bushel of wildflowers down as he approached you.

He took a seat beside you, extending his arm for you to take the CD. Slowly, you grabbed it from his hands, a slight shake to your fingers as they clasped around the cool, hard plastic. You looked down at the white surface through the clear cover, feeling the first tear fall from your eye. In the familiar, scribbled handwriting, a love note more romantic than any other littered the surface of the CD.

‘I can’t tell you how I feel, so I’ll let the songs say it instead. All my love, Jake ᥫ᭡’

“Wild Horses, Rolling Stones.” He started, watching your face as he spoke. “You told me when we started dating that your dad used to sing it to your mom, and you thought it was the most romantic song in the world until they got divorced. You said that you hated it, and you would never be able to listen to it again, and I could tell that you were so sad about it. So, I sang it to you. I wanted to turn it back into a good memory. I learned the chords and I used my dads old acoustic guitar, and I was fucking terrified, Y/N. It was the first song I ever played for you, and you told me that nobody had ever done anything so nice for you before.”

“‘Cause nobody ever had.” You said, the sentiment still remaining true to this day.

“Wonderful Tonight, by Eric Clapton.” He continued, knowing his time was running short. The evening was darkening into night, and he wasn’t keen on spending your last bit of time together solely talking. “We slow danced in the kitchen to that song, ‘cause I told you I didn’t know how to dance and I didn’t want to embarrass myself at prom. You let me pick the song and then you taught me how, and I think of you every time I hear it.”

The memory was as beautiful as the song was, and you felt another tear fall at the explanation. You had no idea how you were going to let him go, and no desire to do it, anyway, even if you knew it was for the best.

“I need you, Lynyrd Skynyrd. Pretty self explanatory.” He let out a small chuckle, which you joined in on. “The Air That I Breathe, The Hollies.” He jumped straight to the next track. “Listen to the words, and you’ll get it.”

“Jake, this is too much.” You took in a shaky breath, swiping tears away from your cheeks.

“No, Y/N. It’s not enough.” He corrected. “You deserve the whole world, and I wish I could give it to you.”

“You’re not making this any easier.” You forced a smile on your face, your cheeks damp with your own misery. He reached out, swiping away the tears as they fell, hoping that by some stroke of luck, he would still be yours even long after you had gone.

“It was never going to be easy, beautiful.” He finally said the words he’d been holding back the whole time. He had tried his hardest to convince you that it would be okay, hoping that in turn, he would convince himself, too. Now that he was sitting beside you, still just as sad, he knew easy was subject, and only time would heal the wounds that were created that night. “If You Gotta Go, Go Now, by Dylan.”

“Or Else You Gotta Stay All Night.” Your lips turned upwards into a small smile. It wouldn’t be from Jake had there not been at least one Dylan song on the track.

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Ain’t No Sunshine by Bill Withers, cause I know it’s gonna be pretty dark for a while after you leave, Sunshine.”

“Don’t say that.” You said, feeling your stomach twist with remorse.

“It’s true.” He argued. “Romeo and Juliet by Dire Straits, ‘cause maybe it’s just the time that’s not right for us.” His voice was quiet, cracking as he forced the words out, like he was fearful to get an unwanted answer to his rhetoric. “Maybe in the future, the time will be right, and we can try again.”

“God, I hope so.” You confessed, the tears making a rapid return. The more he spoke, the more real the entire thing felt. For years, you had brushed the topic off, forcing yourself to believe that senior year and university was so far away, but now that it was staring you in the face, making it impossible to see past it, you realized the time had flew by like nothing at all. You didn’t want to leave him, because he was the only thing you ever wanted. The idea of having him again in the future made the ache ease ever so slightly, but knowing that the whole middle part would suck made the relief insignificant.

“And the last one is We’ve Got Tonight by Bob Segar, ‘cause we do, sunshine. We have one more night to love each other, and I’ll be damned if I waste it. So here I am, with eight songs and some flowers that I found in my backyard, asking you if you’ll let me love you until you leave tomorrow. It doesn’t have to hurt right now, and we don’t have to let it hurt worse than it has to.”

“Okay,” you breathed, little argument left in you. If he wanted to love you, you weren’t stupid enough to turn him away. Tomorrow, when the sun rose in the sky, illuminating the mistakes you made and highlighting your successes, you would deal with the inevitable disappointment that came along with losing him, but you didn’t have to start yet. At that moment, you still had him, and you wanted to savour the feeling of Jake Kiszka being yours for as long as you could.

“Okay?” He asked, almost shocked at your lack of rebuttal.

“Okay, Jake. We’ve got tonight, so let’s make it last.”

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

this is to answer the anon who sent in an ask about the latest ep — tumblr is being weird and my reply wasn't showing up on the tags. so here it is:

beauty can often be bleak — entirely without mercy in the way it swallows us whole, holds us hostage with its exquisite ache — loveliness can cut; and that's exactly what this episode did. i cried watching sunjae die for the umpteenth time — how he waited to see the police arrive before he let go of the murderer's hand, ensuring sol's safety with his last act on this earth. "thank you for being born," he'd told her earlier. "i'll fight till my very last breath to make sure you keep living," his eyes said as he fell off that cliff. and he did — sunjae SMILED at her during the final seconds of his life: because the sight of sol still brought him sweetness. even then. even still. even after everything.  the parallel of him descending into water, just like his death in the very first timeline — was a clever, if deeply painful touch. sol's decision to go back in time and erase their first meeting was gut-wrenching to witness. as a viewer — it was devastating beyond belief to see the dissolution of a love story that went against time and fate to exist. as a fellow writer, it was a stroke of narrative brilliance — in every timeline so far, sunjae has spent fifteen years loving sol alone. to turn that around, and have sol love him in secret for fifteen years, while sunjae hasn't even met her — it's a perfect circle of symmetry. it's one thing to lose your memories — an entirely different heartbreak to never have had the chance to make them in the first place. sol made a cruel decision — but it was the only one she could have made to keep sunjae alive. he would have gone to her, and died for her in every universe — that was the inevitability of his love. so she had to make him not love her anymore. and the only way to do that was to make sure they never met. this is the tragic beauty of her sacrifice — sol gives up their shared past, in order to protect sunjae's future. to make sure it's still possible. this girl literally gave up the love of her life, the boy she crossed space and time for — just so he could live. 'sonaki' might not exist in this timeline — but sol's movie about sunjae and their relationship does. whichever universe they find themselves in, these two will always turn each other into art. because that's what true love does — it becomes eternal. it takes on a life of its own.  sunjae will love sol in this new future, too. how could he not — they're tied by the red string of fate. some threads just can't be broken — no matter what you do.

[wanderlust-in-my-soul]

Currently Watching - October

aka The Masterlist

Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊

Regularly updated during the month, latest update 29.10.2024

A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙

gif-requests are open, but you'll need to have some patience🌼

Here you can find all of my gifs.

At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in October with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).

This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!

1. Bad Guy My Boss 🇹🇭 (6/12)

I must admit, I have no clue what I am watching here. What is their problem? Why can't they just talk to each other? What is their past relationship? And why is the bad boss so mean? Why is he always angry? What are those dreams? And do I think bad boss is attractive? I don't know. Every time he doesn't speak, doesn't really act and just sits there and looks at something without anger in his face, I think that is such a beautiful young man. Every time he acts as the boss and talks or stares angry into the void, I think there is something off. Questions. I have questions... One thing from this week's episode I can say is, James looks like a good kisser. He puts effort in those scenes. Wish he had a more comfortable partner...

2. Every You, Every Me 🇹🇭 (4/8)

I am so in love with this series. It tingles all the right spots of the romantic parts of my brain. The concept is so great. Every week we can see those two fall in love with each other. I love seeing people fall in love with each other. And we don't have to wait for weeks for them to admit their feelings. This weeks (and with that last weeks, too) story was a weaker one for me. I knew he was going to die, so the emotional impact was not really there for me. But we got a really beautiful love scene, which was nice. And I hope next week's episode is a little bit lighter.

3. Jack & Joker: U steal my heart! 🇹🇭 (8/12)

I loooove this series so much! We finally get some comfort! But don't get yourself fooled! This episode is heartbreaking! Jack is drifting more and more towards the dark side while he still tries to help everyone, but himself. He willingly offers himself to the devil just so everyone else around him is safe. And Joke... his dad... out of personal reasons this scene hit really hard! It made me sob uncontrollably. But in the end they played the truth game and grandma won and those two were finally cuddling! They are finally back on the same page! I love them. And I love the grandma. She is their biggest fan and I am hers!

4. Kidnap 🇹🇭 (8/12)

I don't know what this episode was. It was so messy. It felt so incoherent and rushed. Like a filler episode to provide that people keep watching, because we finally got some sexy time. I am honest, that wasn't the greatest sexy time. But they are back together and happy. We are on episode 8, so there are four more episodes for drama. Next week some jealousy and I guess with end of episode 10/episode 11 shit will hit the fan. So I am not that mad we got this honeymoon phase now. But it felt really off.

5. Let Free The Curse Of Taekwondo 🇰🇷 (4/8)

I am devastated... This show knows how to hurt me. Our boys got like five minutes peace and happiness until everything went to shit. And they are so happy together and it looks so good on them! And I know want to know what happend in the past twelve years! And I want them to talk and to find closure. At this point I wouldn't mind them not getting back together, but just give each other peace and closure! Until then I am living in this scene!

6. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)

Do you still believe I'll come back to this one? It is a really good series, but I can't motivate myself to dive into it right now 🙈

Finished in October

Series

I Saw You In My Dream 🇹🇭

This series was cute. It was just a slice of their lifes with a bit of a fantasy element to it. I really liked the relationships. Not just the main couple, but the friendship and the family bond. All were nice and lovely. The dreams were an interesting element to build the series around. I liked the idea. But mostly, I really enjoyed our main couple. They were friends and so their relationship based on that. It was a very healthy relationship and the series just showed them as a fresh couple, who couldn't keep their hands from each other. That was refreshing. The acting was not the best, but it was okay for me. I give it a 8 out of 10.

First Note of Love 🇹🇼

I don't know. I never really got a feeling for this series. There was no real chemistry between the mains. It felt more like brothers to me. That is my personal feeling. The story was okay, but not that special to me. The acting was good. So for me this is a series I won't come back to in the future, but I think people might really like it, because it is cute and quiet. Just a 6 out of 10 for me.

Love In The Big City 🇰🇷

I really needed some time to think about this series. It is not a bl series. It is a queer drama about queer people living queer lifes. We accompany Ko Yeong while he stumble through life and affairs. We witness his happy times, his heartbreaks and his darkest times. His friend group is so splendid and I love and miss them. They are there when he needs them the most and that is so important for me. It is a very realistic story, told in a beautiful, cautious way, acted with so much talent and passion. As a consumer of a bunch of different queer media, I have seen almost every ending in history of queer drama. This one is not a sad one. It is a hopeful one. Our beloved Ko Yeong finally understood what he wants, what his heart wishes for. He is still heartbroken, but he seeks love and in the future there is hope he will find this love again. He started a new chapter of his life and is only at the beginning of his self-love-journey. There is so much more to come for him. This series really touched me deeply and I can't stop thinking about it. A clear and strong 10 out of 10 for me.

Movie

As Long as We Both Shall Live 🇯🇵

I loved this one. I didn't understand what exactly was going on in the end, but the story and the romance was so good. A little bit of Cinderella in there and I love a good old fairy tale. And this really felt like one. The love between them was so pure and it developed so naturally. And the magic system was interesting, but I really wish we had more insight in what was going on. Or I am just not capable of getting it... A really strong 9 out 10 for me.

Short Film

Dropped in October

Uncle Unknown 🇹🇼 (3/12)

Yeah... no. This is juts bad. I won't keep watching this. I don't want to give this series any more of my time. I watched low budget productions and I am really fine with most of them, because there is a story that wants to be told. But this here is just a mess. I have no clue what is going on or who these people are and at this point I really don't care anymore. So, yeah, dropped...

Looking forward to in October

Heartstopper - Trailer (Oct 3rd)

Fourever You - Trailer (Oct 3rd)

Uncle Unknown - Trailer (Oct 4th)

Every You, Every Me - Trailer (Oct 6th)

Eccentric Romance - Trailer (Oct 10th)

High School Frenemy - Trailer (Oct 14th)

Taming The Bad Guy (Oct 15th)

Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo - Trailer (Oct 17th)

Pluto - Trailer (Oct 19th)

Love in the Big City - Trailer (Oct 21st)

See Your Love - Trailer (Oct 23rd)

See You (Oct 25th)

Blue Canvas of Youthful Days - Trailer (Oct 26th)

Perfect 10 Liners - Trailer (Oct 27th)

Stealing from my CEO - Trailer

[tashiberrie]

✮ HEARTWORM ✮  tashi duncan x fem!reader 

⋆💌⋆ TAGS - written with fem reader in mind, toxic relationship, reader is a lit student, angst, stanford era, no mention of tashi’s injury

wc- 763

masterlist

You two had met during a tennis tournament in 2004. After a long and intense match between the two of you, Tashi Duncan had come out on top.

You were drawn to each other instantly, like two moths to a flame, each recognising the shadows in the other's eyes.

From the start, your relationship was a tempest. You were addicted to the intensity of your connection, the way you could read each other's minds with a glance, and the way your souls seemed to intertwine in a dance of passion and pain. Your love was all-consuming, burning brightly but always on the verge of destruction.

Tashi was volatile, her moods swinging wildly from euphoric highs to devastating lows. She played furiously, the swings of her racket reflecting the chaos within her. You found inspiration in her unpredictability, your writing becoming darker, more profound, as you delved into the depths of your tumultuous love.

But your passion often turned into rage. Fights erupted over trivial matters, your words cutting deep, leaving scars that never fully healed.

You would argue until dawn, your voices echoing through the dorm room, throwing accusations and regrets like daggers. But in the quiet moments after the storm, you would cling to each other desperately, unable to let go despite the pain. You were addicted to the drama, the heartbreak, and the brief moments of bliss that followed your reconciliations.

You tried to leave once, packing your bags and walking out the door, determined to escape the cycle of hurt. But you couldn't stay away. You found yourself drawn back to Tashi, unable to resist the magnetic pull of your love. She was your muse, your torment, your everything. And so, you returned, your heart heavy with the knowledge that your love was both your salvation and your destruction.

Tashi, too, tried to move on. She sought solace in her tennis, pouring her pain onto the court, hoping to exorcise the demons that haunted her. But every swing of her racket reminded her of you, of the way you looked at her as if she were the only person in the world. She was lost without you, adrift in a sea of loneliness and longing. And so, she called you, her voice trembling with desperation, begging you to come back.

You reunions were always bittersweet, filled with tears and whispered apologies. You would cling to each other, promising to change, to be better, but the cycle would inevitably repeat. Your love was a battlefield, each skirmish leaving you more battered and bruised, but neither of you could surrender. You were trapped in a toxic dance, unable to break free yet unable to truly be together.

As the years passed, the toll of your relationship began to show. Your once bright eyes grew dull with fatigue, and Tashi's vibrant spirit became shadowed with sorrow. You were like two stars on a collision course, destined to burn out in a blaze of tragic beauty. But even as you destroyed each other, you couldn't imagine life apart. Your love was a prison, but it was also the only thing that made you feel alive.

One night, Tashi and you found yourselves back at the tennis court where your had first met. The atmosphere was hauntingly familiar, the rackets’ mournful wail echoing the ache in your hearts. You played in silence, your souls intertwined, lost in your own thoughts.

Tashi broke the silence, her voice barely a whisper. "Do you ever wonder what it would be like if we had never met?"

You looked at her, your eyes filled with a mixture of love and pain. "Every day," you admitted. "But then I remember that even if it's killing me, I can't imagine my life without you."

Tears welled in Tashi's eyes, and she squeezed the handle of her racket tighter. "I don't know how to let you go," she confessed, her voice breaking.

You walked over to her and pulled her into your arms, holding her as if you could keep the world at bay. "Maybe we don't have to," you murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Maybe this is just who we are."

As you held each other, rain started to fall, a fitting soundtrack to your story. You were two souls entwined in a love that was as beautiful as it was destructive, unable to break free yet unable to truly be whole together. And so, you remained, locked in a tragic embrace, bound by a love that would forever be your greatest joy and your deepest sorrow.

[the-silence-in-between]

When I sift through my heartbreak about the Agatha All Along finale, the thing I keep coming back to is what a terrible choice it was to make The Road a con.

Now, I've seen folks theorizing (with evidence) that Billy subconsciously created The Road for weeks now, so I'm not going to say that the twist came out of nowhere. The hints were there.

But thematically, episodes 1-7, were about womanhood, sisterhood, and community. We saw Agatha deeply long to be part of a coven, even though she didn't trust anyone and felt so obviously, deeply uncomfortable sitting around that campfire in episode 4.

Episode 8 seemed like it would be continuing that same theme, but once we get to The Twist, episode 9 necessarily has to be all about Explaining The Twist. And so, even though the flashback scenes in episode 9 are truly beautiful, they feel like they belong to another show.

Agatha's Character Development

Think back to everything that episode 1 set up. We've been teased with Agatha and Rio's relationship since the very beginning, but we get nothing about how they met and virtually no backstory for Rio. I had zero illusions that we were going to get some sort of happily ever after for them as a couple, or that the show would be all about them. But this was a seminal relationship in Agatha's life, and given how much the actors were talking things up, I really expected more.

Episode 1 also seemed to set up so much more with regards to Agatha's backstory. There was so much about the Darkhold (and it came back up again in episodes 2 and 3, too), but we never found out how or when Agatha attained it. At one point in episode 1, Agnes tells Rio that every case is always about the specific small town and the secrets buried beneath it, but we don't find out anything new about Agatha's life in Salem or why she was nearly executed, nor do we learn why Evanora thought Agatha was born evil.

In fact, when we look at all nine episodes, Agatha really doesn't have a character arc. Once she breaks out of Wanda's hex, she doesn't grow or change. She doesn't make peace with Rio, or with what happened to Nicky -- she literally chooses to become a ghost because she's too afraid to face him in the afterlife. She clearly longs for sisterhood, but Sharon, Alice, and Lilia are dead, and despite Agatha and Jennifer being incredibly similar as characters, they never make peace with each other. Episode 8 presents Agatha choosing to sacrifice herself for Billy at the last minute as "growth," but she literally drank poison for him way back in episode 3. This was already something we expected her to do.

So we end episode 9 with Agatha in the same position she was in in episode 1, only translucent and filmed through a thick layer of Vaseline. Yes, I know she forms a "coven two" with Billy, but after all the earlier focus on sisterhood, the fact that it's just Billy feels really insufficient. And yes, I know that Agatha will likely return in other MCU titles, but this was her show, damn it, and it felt like a miracle that we even got a show starring a queer character played by a woman over 40. And if Agatha can't even get a character arc in her own show, how am I to believe that she'll get one as a side character?

(On a personal note, I think I have always loved seeing a villain do a heel-face turn because I find something so hopeful about seeing a character overcome and grow beyond behaviors and characteristics that only harm them. I've identified really strongly with Agatha's desire for sisterhood and difficulty opening up and trusting others, and for this show to essentially end with "the only change Agatha is capable of making is dying" is just ... honestly devastating on a truly embarrassing level.)

Breaking the Spell Cast by The Ballad

But beyond the way the need to explain The Twist short-changed Agatha's development, it also retroactively cheapens the ~magic~ of The Road and The Ballad. The Road was presented as a journey that sisters in the craft would embark upon together -- the comics have a really moving storyline where Wanda actually meets her biological mother on The Road -- and in singing along with the ballad, it felt like we the audience were part of that sisterhood, that journey. But now knowing that The Road never existed, and only exists now because of a teenage boy who can't control his magic, it feels like the spell Jac Schaeffer spoke about casting on the audience with The Ballad has been broken. It's no longer something I can sing to make me feel like I'm a powerful witch -- it's something darker and less than what we were promised.

Two Halves That Don't Fit

Because of the shift that had to happen once The Road was revealed to be Billy's creation, so much foreshadowing and character development that were begun in the first seven episodes really seemed to just seemed to have no resolution by episode 9.

Maybe this is the story that the writers set out to tell, with The Twist firmly in place from the beginning. But it just feels like at the 11th hour, someone was like "OMG what if The Road is another hex?" and they shoved it in, sprinkling some breadcrumbs backwards so eagle-eyed fans could spot the clues, but not stopping to make sure that the themes they laid out in the early episodes came to a resolution by the end.

And hey, maybe they originally did that, and Marvel/Disney execs came in and removed stuff at the end to fit better with other MCU properties. (Though if that is what happened, I have very little hope for anyone trying to tell an interesting story within this universe.)

This was obscenely long, and I've begun to ramble. There were parts that I liked about both episodes 8 and 9, but over all I just felt so let down after six weeks of falling in love with this show and the story they told us they were telling. They came so close to perfection and really just dropped the ball at the end.

[mirohlayo]

AND YOU'LL ALWAYS REMAIN

AS THE MOST PERFECT BOY

( Sometimes it was like that. Logan thought too much, but you gave him hope and love. )

warning : fluff, heartbreaking (especially with the current situation in f1)

word count : 836

Sometimes it was like that. It was night, the stars were shining in the sky and Logan, alone, looked up to the sky. He admired the different constellations, the stars that were emerging before his eyes. The moon danced in his eyes, and perhaps it reflected him a little too well.

The moon was imposing. Alone, different among the many other stars that sometimes overshadowed her. Logan found himself strangely in her. The moon was a bit like him. In the world of F1, he was alone. He was different from the others, few people seemed to want to approach him or give him recognition. And these stars, these other talented drivers, robbed him of all the glory of shining a little on the circuit.

He was perhaps a little less talented than the others. He even wondered about it. Certainly, he often crashed his car, and his positions on the grid rarely exceeded fifteen. But after all, if he was there, it was for a good reason. Some will say that he was integrated too quickly into this extraordinary and very devastating world. But if he was lucky enough to get a seat, it's because he deserved it.

He was talented in other people's eyes, and he had potential to join Williams. He may not have been the best but he had his chance to prove himself in the industry. So even if everything ends up stopping, he will have fully deserved it. No matter what people say, Logan will always remain a part of F1, and his journey will never be erased because it is proof of the strength and determination that the young driver had.

Sometimes it was like that. You joined him, you sat discreetly next to him. You intertwined your hand in his and imitated him. You stared at the sky, the stars, and especially the moon. The moon that reminded you so much of your boyfriend. You couldn't take your eyes off this star, just like you couldn't take your eyes off Logan. This boy who is so shy and reserved, and yet hides so much beauty and light.

“Have I ever told you how just…amazing you are?” Your playful look and smirk made him smile softly, almost on the verge of laughing. He closed his eyes before slowly pressing his lips to your forehead. "No, never. Well yes, I think you tell me about three times a day but I'm not sure." His sarcasm made you giggle softly and, oh. He dreamed of being able to hear your laugh every minute, every second. Like a sweet melody.

“Seriously…Logan you’re just…” Words failed you, and you still found yourself unable to describe how this boy was simply the most beautiful. The most talented. You sighed weakly, before returning your gaze to the moon. "You're beautiful. I mean, you're a boy who deserves all the happiness in the world. You deserve so many things and yet no one wants to give them to you."

You took a deep breath, holding back your emotions from exploding. "So, as your girlfriend. I want to be the person who shows you every day how talented you are. How you are a rare gem and that even the most beautiful star doesn't shine as brightly next you. I have never met a boy so pure and unique, so kind and attentive. No one seems to be there to remind you, even though there is no one more generous and gentle than you.

Tears were already streaming down your cheeks, and your voice was knotted with sadness. Logan looked at you so tenderly that you thought you would melt under his gaze. “S-So Logan… I just want you to know that-” You held back sobs, breathing hard. "You deserve all the love in the world, because you are a magnificent person. You will remain forever in my heart and above all, above all, you'll always remain as the most perfect boy" You were crying so much that Logan didn't know how to soothe you.

He wrapped his arms around you, crushing you against his chest so you could take refuge there. You cried tears as he stroked your hair, tears falling down his own cheeks. He has never met a girl as beautiful and wonderful as you. A girl who gives him strength and courage even in the worst moments, a girl who always believed in him regardless of the incessant criticism from others. He felt so, so grateful and lucky.

Sometimes it was like that. He had finished leaving thousands of kisses all over your face. Your eyes met, repeating secrets and words of love. He looked at you like the most precious pearl in the world. His lips crashed onto yours, in a kiss so soft and so pleasant. It was like a dream, like touching paradise. It was just nice, like loving you.

So, one last time, he wanted to say it.

Thank you for everything, and thank you for all the love.

note : I had the idea to write this at the beginning of July, but following the latest news about Logan my heart literally broke writing this today. I adapted it a bit to the current situation, that's why I hope the end sentence makes sense. I wish the best for Logan and good luck for his future ᡣ𐭩

[effieandtim]

during my rewatch of ep 6 today i realised so many things that make a lot of sense after watching the 1957 storyline

like the fact that tim was always pushing hawk away to go be with his family or watching them from afar - it made sense when the ep came out but the added context and complexity makes those moments all the more beautiful and heartbreaking

he had decided once he saw jackson (the representation of everything he could not have with hawk) that he would keep his distance and he always acted on it thereafter. it was always hawk who approached him in 1968, 1979 and 1986 and its now clear why

but those scenes with jackson where he couldnt help but be attached to him in some way were some of my favourite in the show

another thing i loved to see and which also broke my heart was tim not knowing that lucy had burnt hawk’s letter where tim had confessed his feelings. so up until that point tim thought hawk knew he loved him and i think that was partly why he was so devastated in 1957 when hawk reported him

it continued in 1968 when tim said that ‘in the past i held two truths - my love for you and my love for god’. he thought hawk already knew of his feelings and had still hurt him, which is also possibly why he called it a fantasy

so at the end when he discovered what lucy had done, there werent any words left to say but it all probably clicked in his head and you could see it so clearly. but eleven years had passed and there wasnt anything else to be done - he probably didnt think it mattered anyway

[madeholyy]

you & i ; leon kennedy / reader

and i'm not normally the jealous, jealous type. but if we're picking favorites than i am yours. [jealousy, requited unrequited love]

He wouldn’t admit it, but you could see it clear as day in his eyes. Or at least you think you could. Leon was quiet and focused, repeatedly checking on his hand gun like he didn’t believe it was perfectly fine. You fiddle with your combat knife between your fingers while stealing glances at him. No matter how many times you asked if he was alright he always gave the same excuse: It’s just Ashley. But it wasn’t. He was worried, but his mind was occupied with something else— someone else. It wasn’t any of your business, but the haunted look swirling about the solid blue in his eyes was your ghost as well. She might as well wrap her gloved hands around the column of your neck and squeeze the air from your lungs with the aftershocks she sent through you both. An appearance from an echo of another time, another place.

And the silence was the worst part of all.

It gnawed on the marrow of your bones and made a home in your chest. He barely acknowledged any attempt you made at a conversation. You wanted the sky to open up and swallow you whole; break every bone in your body and tear you so finely apart you were nothing more than stardust. Maybe you’d come back as a hurricane or an earthquake. Maybe you’d unleash your anguish and heartbreak in a fury of raging winds and seismic waves. You didn’t care what you’d leave behind in the wake of your destruction, everyone else be damned. What mattered was the aftermath. The peace beyond satisfaction as you wither into nothingness. But you weren’t a devastating storm, you were just devastating. And it hurt to feel so small with someone who made you feel so warm. Leon never talked about her much, but he confided in you enough for you to know whatever you guys were was in jeopardy if not already damaged beyond repair. His demeanor only solidified the fear.

Then he stood up and you watched his every movement right down to the way his shoulders rose and fell in rhythm with his breathing. He holstered his gun. You faced the knife blade down between your thighs and dug it into the wooden chair beneath you. He avoided eye contact. Your knuckles turned white from the sheer force of your anger-turned-suppressed-sadness. Did you even exist to him right now?

“Let’s get goin’.” His voice held firm, but you felt anything but. Standing up after him, you slide the knife back into its sheath wrapped against your thigh. You figure a small hum in response would suffice. Before walking out behind him, you glance back at the window that is wide open and clench your jaw. Then you swiftly turn away.

You suppose you should have realized Leon wasn’t serious about you two. All those flirty exchanges and nothing to show for them. You had thought this was just the usual talking stage, but perhaps he never planned for it to go past that. Of course, why would he? With a woman as beautiful as her it would be no competition. You follow him through a hallway in disarray with only a single room at the end of it. Chairs, tables, and other furnishing items were shoved up against the walls with no regard. Inside the small room was nothing special, but you looked around regardless. The fireplace was lit and wood burned and crackled within. There was a table with books and cups strewn across it with chairs around it. You stepped forward, placing your hand on the book that rests at the end of the table. Your eyes scanned over the pages and you barely noticed Leon attempting to press on.

“You could let me get a good look around before you rush me.” You narrowed your eyes at him, your voice dull of emotion. He seems a bit taken aback by it, but his expression melts away into something more his speed; neutral.

“We have more important things to do than read.” Leon holds your gaze and you roll your eyes only to abide by his pace in the end.

His hand reaches out for you. You look up at him from the ground, cautious and hesitant, but accept his help. You didn’t realize how badly you had been smacked into the stone wall until he examined you from behind.

“That’s gonna make a nasty ass bruise.” He scoffs, his demeanor different all of a sudden. You’re quiet, studying his face for a sign. Your lack of reaction causes him to stare back with something almost unreadable then his gaze drops to your lips and back up to your eyes. There’s something soft, but you’re so scared of his soft. Quickly looking away, you roll your shoulder back a few times and groan.

“They pack a punch in here… I hope Ashley is okay. I know they wouldn’t—“ You pause, inhale, then exhale, “Let’s just fine her.”

Leon keeps his eyes trained on you and you alone. He makes you feel naked under his stare; vulnerable and exposed. There’s a beat then he’s matching your steps down the path before you. It’s so painfully awkward, but you only have yourself to thank for that. It would’ve been easier to play the stupid, oblivious second choice as you assumed he’d want you to. But you didn’t want to. You wanted to be selfish in a job that forced you to be only selfless. You wanted him in every possible way and so painfully wholeheartedly it made you want to cry. So badly it felt too heavy on your chest and you struggled to breath against the weight of your wants. What did you have to do to be enough? The pain rushed through you in quick succession. You were thankful Leon was behind you or he’d see the way your lip quivered as you fought back tears the welling in your eyes. 

Leon never promised a future together. He never even let you get your hopes too high. It always hurt knowing he wasn’t all in like you were, but you accepted it nonetheless. Now you feel foolish. You couldn’t convince someone to love you.

Ashley was elated to reunite with you both after Leon comforted her. You stayed back guarding the door, unable to look her in the eyes. She would know something wasn’t quite right with a glance. It was a talent you weren’t anticipating dealing with. Ever since you had both located and saved her, Ashley was keen on asking you questions about your relationship with Leon. You wouldn’t give clear cut answers, but the way your cheeks dusted pink and you tried to hide a smile, Ashley knew. She would be able to spot it a mile away. The older sister-younger sister dynamic came easily between you two as you were relatively close in age to begin with. It was sweet, but also terrifying how she could pinpoint your thoughts with accuracy. Maybe that was your downfall. You wore your heart on your sleeve and Leon kept every little thought and emotion locked up tightly. He wasn’t stoic by any means; capable of laughing, smiling, and joking. He was just…guarded. Way better at it than you were. If she couldn’t get answers from him she could get them from you. It was easy to tell yourself that talking about how you felt made it somewhat better, but then you’d have to admit what you avoided. You’d have to tell Ashley she was right all along. These were words you weren’t sure you could say.

There was a knock on the double door behind you. A signal that he and Ashley were finished talking. Once you had walked in, Ashley ran up and hugged you with all her might (which was surprisingly a lot). Her head easily rested against your shoulder due to you both being very similar heights. You, of course, embraced her back and the lump in your throat came back. Warm, comforting…it was what you needed most with your conflicting thoughts and emotions.

The moment was broken by Luis on Leon’s earpiece. You and Ashley slowly pulled away from each other as you watched. From what you both could hear it sounded as if Luis was in quite a predicament. You frowned, but there was a hint of amusement in your eyes at their interaction. The transmission is cut short and Leon’s face is contorted in annoyance.

“Can’t believe that guy.” He scoffs, doing one last sweep of the room for anything remotely useful before your journey continues.

“He’s in trouble. We can’t just leave him, right?” Ashley was not fully separated from you, concern glistening in her eyes. She was sweet, but Leon looked exasperated having to come to Luis’s aid. He was an interesting guy despite his past dealings and you couldn’t lie about feeling distrusting of him, but he made you laugh and it was hard to not like someone who did that. You join him in taking a quick look around before he pushes the door open to reveal a hedge maze below. You lean against the railing, pulling your rifle off your pack and situated in your hands. You peered through the scope. A lone Colmillo stalked a pathway across from your group.

“Fifteen?” You asked.

“This isn’t even a fair bet.” Leon huffed a small laugh, crossing his arms as he watched your target. You hummed, taking aim and watching for a moment to catch the creature off guard. The second he stood still your finger squeezed the trigger and a loud shot rang out across the maze. His body fell limp to the floor. You leaned back and Leon whistled, ruffling your hair. For just a minute you forgot why you were even upset and welcomed his gentle touch.

“Alright, write it down. I owe you fifteen bucks.” He playfully rolled his eyes at you. When his back turned, you watched him saunter off down the steps with his handgun ready. Ashley glanced at you.

“Did he do something?” Her voice was soft and gentle as if you were a cornered animal. You hardly realized the frown on your lips and the way your eyebrows creased together. His retreating form made you feel empty. Loneliness thrived.

“Let's not fall behind.” You smiled in her direction, but it never reached your eyes. Now it was Ashley’s turn to frown, but she complied.

Your knuckles turned pearly white as you gripped the golden bars of your cage. Your eyes were focused on the balcony above you where Ashley had been taken. Leon hurried to unlock a door, but was interrupted by another call on his ear piece.

“Ada?” His voice speaking her name caused your stomach to plummet far, far down— or at least that’s how it felt. Every nerve in your body trembled as you bow your head against the bars. The conversation seemed brief as not a minute later he was calling out her name frantically then sighed. You couldn’t even stand the thought of looking at him. It seems that’s all you have felt this last hour; unable to confront the one person you should be able to trust the most.

“C’mon— Hey, are you alright?” His hand barely grazed your shoulder before you whipped around and stared at him with wide eyes. He seemed stunned himself, holding his hand in the air, mouth agape. You couldn’t think, couldn’t move. The ache in your heart and the burning in your lungs. Your chest feels heavy and constricted and you could only watch as he lowered his hand and waited on your cue. But there wasn’t a cue. You wanted to scream at him, but you also wanted to run off alone and scream until your throat was raw and bloodied. Attracting the attention of the castle's inhabitant did not matter, but thinking rationally wasn’t on your agenda currently. You bit the inside of your cheek and inhaled a trembling breath.

“...I’m sorry. I just…” But you couldn’t finish your thought or rather your excuse as none came readily to mind. It should’ve been easy to blame the things you endured, but that wasn’t it. And even if you were to voice the real reason you would feel idiotic. Leon was in mission mode and didn’t need a lovesick girl making a scene while the President’s daughter was snatched from their hands.

“You haven’t been acting like yourself. One moment you’re talking to me like normal and the next you’re— You seem so angry.” Of course he would pick the worst time to wrangle the truth from you. His eyes were so sincere, but his features weren’t soft. There was determination dancing in his tone as he spoke.

“It’s just this whole mission.” You were quick to excuse yourself, but Leon followed.

“Is that really it?” He brushed his fingers on your elbow, but you refused to look back at him. You’d kill for one of those Zealots to interrupt this moment, but God wasn’t so kind.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but everything is so fucked up. I’m just not doing so well.” It absolutely murdered you to seem so weak and vulnerable to something you both had been groomed for, but it was easier to use that as an excuse than confess to being head over heels for your partner. Of course, it wasn’t like Leon hadn’t already blurred that line. He proved it in the way he stepped around you to stand face to face once more. You didn’t need to look up to know exactly how he was watching you. In fact, it was better you didn’t. One look into those mesmerizing blue eyes and your anger and sadness would waver. It was so easy to forget when he looked at you like that. Leon cautiously raised a hand and wrapped it very gently around your elbow, caressing the material of your black long sleeve. The fabric had already been snared by a close call with a Zealot and his crossbow. He could make out the vibrant blue and purple painting the soft skin of your arm. You were littered in battle wounds and deep bruises.

“We’ll handle this the same way we always have. Together.” He was soft spoken and reassuring. It only made you want to cry. How could he be so kind when breaking your heart?

“Yeah…yeah. Let’s go find Ashley.” You finally matched his gaze with a meek smile. He was hurting you and didn’t even notice. Leon was ever the oblivious type unless you made it apparent. He looked over you with confliction as if something was stuck in his throat and he didn’t know how to say it. His hand fell down your arm, fingertips bumping against yours as if he was attempting to muster up the courage to hold it. You could feel your heart rate speed up at his simple gesture. You quickly cover the lower half of your face with your hand and turn away from him.

“I said let’s go find Ashley!” You sped walked over to the room that opened up beside you guys earlier.

“As you wish.” He huffed a laugh and you could just hear the smile. He knew he had gotten to you.

The mineshaft was damp, musty, and smelled heavily of rockdust. You sat next to Leon as he flexed his arms, watching the limb very carefully for any protruding veins. Luis proudly leaned against a structure. You wished you could finally breathe a sigh of relief that the suppressant worked, but Leon was a ticking time bomb. Any moment the infection could regain control and the symptoms would resurface. How long did he have until then? What measures could you both take to hold it at bay? You were overthinking and thinking overall was bad, you knew that. If you thought for too long you would eventually break away piece by piece until nothing was left of you but brittle bones and teeth. Your heart was shattering for a man who would not give you his eternity.

So you did the next best thing: walk away from the problem— literally. Feigned the desire to strategize while he recovered and hid away between wooden crates and empty drums. It wasn’t home, but you could breathe. The ache in your chest and lungs subsided as you drew your knees to your chest and wrapped your weary arms around them. Held them as close as you wanted to hold him but he longed for the embrace of another; a woman dressed in red and confidence. An image of her face flashed through your exhaustion riddled mind and you simpered. You were a kettle ready to shriek from the pressure that built deep within. Only your shrieking would be a spectacle. It would be tables turning, glass shattering. You would not go with grace for that was admitting a defeat only you knew of. Was letting go even possible? Leon left a scar on you that would never fade and every fall you’d see him in the fog like a phantom of the past. He was inescapable. And you wanted to be selfish anyways, hold onto him like he’d dissolve into ash if you let go.

“You look…stressed.” A familiar voice startled you out of your thoughts. Eyes wide like a deer in headlights, staring up at Luis as he held your attention with his signature smirk. You scoffed, stretching your legs out while he took a seat beside you.

“That’s an understatement. All this Plagas bullshit is getting on my nerves.” You fibbed through pearly white teeth. The words felt bitter on your tongue and you were unable to hold his gaze.

“Is it really that?” He asked. You froze. Your expression remained neutral, but Luis could feel the confliction radiating off of you like body heat.

“Is that answer not good enough? I know I’m bad at lying, but have some sympathy.” Your words spilled from your lips with a tremble. Your voice cracked into a whisper as if you strained to maintain composure and perhaps that was precisely the struggle. A question. It was simple and you could have lied again. But you were weak and he was honest.

Luis sighed, smiling softly to himself while looking at the ground, “I’ve spent my whole life mastering that and you can’t fool a professional.”

Now you were fraying at the seams. Every emotion bloated in size and threatened to burst. Heavy was the weight you burdened yourself with. Droplets fell like pearls on the floor of the mineshaft, collecting dirt on its spherical surface until it popped and soaked in. You looked up for a brief moment wondering if the ceiling was leaking only to discover you had begun to cry. Ducking your head down again, you pulled the hem of your sleeve up your palm and used it to dab the tears streaming down your face.

“That was kind of corny.” You sputtered a laugh and sniffled.

“Corny? I think you’re just embarrassed and don’t want to admit it.” He was right, but you refrained from answering. Instead, you inhaled deep breaths as you patted down your damp cheeks.

“I guess you can know, but it’s a secret between us.” It was meant to come across as humorous, but you sounded pathetic, “It hurts. Ya’know, being in love with someone who belongs to someone else.”

Luis didn’t interrupt. He also didn’t belittle you for how you felt. He sat there, listening attentively, and occasionally nodding along so you knew he was still listening. It meant the world and more to you. Had Ashley been here you knew you’d have broken down the same way in front of her, but she was so far away and you were so fragile. Luis was a shoulder to cry on; something you needed for a long while. 

“I don’t really know the specifics, but…maybe you’re not looking at it from the right angle.” Luis merely suggested and you could hear the struggle in his words as he chose what to say very carefully. It made you laugh again.

“Hey, we ready to go?” This time, Luis was startled as well, but he hid it quickly behind a cheshire grin. You looked up to see Leon a few feet away. In the dim lantern light, he appeared holy. If you were to believe in something, you’d believe in his divinity. Something godly walked among men and you weren’t the religious type, but you didn’t need to be. Shaking your head gently, you stumbled onto your feet. Leon watched you cautiously. You knew your eyes were red and puffy, but you merely walked past him to the path forward. It took awhile for you to realize they had fallen behind, but the further away you were from him, the more at ease you felt. 

If looks could kill, yours would be lethal. In fact, you spent the entire boat ride avoiding absolutely any eye contact with Ada. It was awkward and Leon was tense. You expected him to make his move here, but that was more so your imagination. As soon as Ada had left and the boat stilled at shore, you leapt forward to grab his arm. You don’t know what came over you. It was almost on instinct you attached yourself to him. Leon looked down at you, eyes filled with bewilderment. The waves crashed against the rocks below you both, filling the silence with ambient sounds. When he fully turned to face you, you pushed yourself off him and heaved a shaky breath. 

“Leon—”

“This is about Ada, isn’t it?” You paused, snapping your head up to meet his eyes. It was like he gave you permission to combust, word vomit everything you had been thinking and feeling the entire time.

“I don’t want to do this anymore.” It came out close to a whisper, but you tested the waters with it.

“Hey now—” But he was effectively cut off as you picked up a rock and threw it at the boat with all your might. Now he was just confused. This didn’t stop him taking a step back as you found more ammo to unleash on the one thing that did absolutely nothing to you. You pelted it with stone after stone, grunting at the force with which you launched them. It was the same cycle of scour and attack until you became noticeably feeble with your hurling.

“I hate—” The rock hit the very front and left a noticeable dent, “—her so much! I hate that you love her!”

Then you crumbled, meekly tossing the rocks now with no strength behind them. It was cathartic at first, but quickly became meaningless in the face of heartbreak. You were now a shell of your red-hot anger; a bright flame dwindling in the rain until the glowing embers were burnt out. For the first time since this feeling settled on your stomach, you sobbed inconsolably. You covered your mouth with your palms and leaned forward to curl into yourself and released a scream muffled against your skin. It hurt. Everything hurt and you wanted to puke so hard your intestines fell out of your mouth. You wanted to be gruesome and unsightly. You wanted to be swallowed whole by absolutely anything at this point. Unrequited love was too much to bear. Ashley was gone. Luis was dead. You had no one to lean on while you wept so hard you began to choke and gag. The arms that wrapped around your trembling form were so warm and, even if it was Leon’s, you were desperate for comfort.

“Please, please don’t pick her over me. I can’t live with that. You’re not allowed to break my heart like that. You’re supposed to fall for me.” Your hands came up to grip the material of his black shirt, “I want you, Leon. More than anything and if you pick her, then you pick wrong.”

Your conviction was solid. It had to be you and no one else because who better to understand exactly what he was going through than you? The world could end tomorrow, but all that would matter was that he wanted you more than he ever thought of her. You both could fail this mission, you could become parasitic with the rest of them, but you would know he loved you more. It was a simple choice. You or her and you hoped to god he would choose you any day in any lifetime. 

Leon was silent, however. His grip never wavered, but he was in deep thought. Then he pulled back from you and you lifted your head. He leveled his gaze with you. There was something unreadable on his face. His touch was ever so gentle and you swore you would melt if he were any softer. One of his hands reached up to caress your cheek with calloused fingertips. You shuddered, leaning into his touch. As you closed your eyes, you pictured spring and flowers and his smile belonging to you. It was perfect and so were the lip brushing against yours as your eyes fluttered open. There was no time to react; you could only accept his lips pressing against your own in a gentle kiss. There were no sparks, no fireworks, only something akin to the gentle warmth of a fireplace. After what felt like eternity, he pulled away.

“It wasn’t like you gave me a choice anyhow. The moment I looked in your eyes for the very first time, I was fucked.” He chuckled, thumb brushing against your supple cheek as he leaned his forward against your own. You could hardly contain the tears of joy that flooded you now. It felt almost too good to be true, but sometimes that is just the way it goes.

“Good because I was prepared to give a whole speech about it.”

“Powerpoint, too?”

[amozon28]

ok while i do think the game version of the reunion hits harder, and ive listened to the podcast and totally understand why they did change it, and ive already addressed that in previous post, here i want to make a post where i talk about the aspects of the scene that i really really do like because they are different.

-the way the ellie just screams in absolute terror when Joel grabs her, she has reached her limit, she has relied on her anger to keep her focused during this entire episode and here after what happened with David she is completely shaken and she just cant, so she screams and screams in fear and its heartbreaking

- how because of the brightly lit scene and how the camera focuses on both ellie and joel you see how the moment ellie starts screaming joels face changes, everything happens a bit fast so i missed it on the first watch but on the second watch you can see pedros face go from relief to terror because he knows something’s wrong as she screams for him to get off her.

-gosh how incredible GENTLE joels voice is, its quiet and soft and so so so comforting, how as soon and he gets her to turn around he gently gently gently cups her face, ugh.

-Craig and Neil said this and i agree the stark contrast of the pure white snow against ellies 14 yearold child face absolutely covered in blood thats not hers, just cementing her innocence being ripped from her.

-how ellie cant even string a sentence together, how she doesnt even cry into joels shoulder, how instead of crying she whimpers, how you can almost feel her shaking in his arms? im devastated

-how joel immediately gives her his coat

-how after the hug ellie she doesnt cry in relief instead she looks completely shell shocked, her stare is blank and distant, after fighting and fighting and fighting to stay alive she doesnt have to anymore and so she shuts down because everything she just went through is too much.

while the game version actually makes me tear up and i do wish the show version had let the hug go on a little longer i do really like a lot about this scene, it is beautiful and amazing but it doesnt make me cry. its still incredibly beautiful in its own right tho

[emeryhiro]

My Thoughts on The Book Of Carol Episode 1

-Spoiler Edition-

Firstly, I wanna say I absolutely LOVE this episode. What a mind-blowing way to start a season and what a beautiful start for Carol's journey to finding Daryl and, in the process, dealing with and healing from so much of her past trauma.

If this episode is any indication of how the rest of the season will go in terms of pace, then we're in for what could potentially be the best story ever told in twd history (at least for me).

If you'd rather avoid the spoilers, I have posted a spoiler-free version of my thoughts on the episode, which you can find [here]

!!Spoiler Warning for episode 1 of The Book of Carol!!

Carols mindset

From the very first scene with Carol, we see that she's in survival mode. She has shifted her focus onto her one and only goal: to find Daryl.

I absolutely adored the way she stood up to the men at the gas station, followed by her standing on the beach looking out toward the ocean that's separating her from Daryl. This was especially true of the way it mirrored Daryl's looking out toward the ocean that's separating him from Carol at the end of season 1.

Connection between Daryl and Carol

We know that throughout the seasons, Daryl and Carol and have helped each other heal and taught each other sooo much, and one of the things that I absolutely adored is how, in several instances throughout the episode, they showed how Carol was utilising so many little things that Daryl had taught her in the past in order to help her on her journey to finding him, like tracking Daryl, riding his bike, using his crossbow, finding the traps that Ash set and knowing how to get around them.

Yes, Carol is separated from Daryl, but he's still with her in all these little ways, making her stronger and braver.

Carols Growth

I love the way Carol stood her ground, apologised, and took responsibility for what happened to Ash's greenhouse after she broke in and accidentally led all those walkers in, destroying much of what was in there.

This showed a huge change and growth from the Carol we saw in season 10, where she would internalise all her guilt and allow it to consume her.

Introduction to Ash

It's only been one episode, but I already adore this character. It almost seems too good to be true that someone like this could have survived alone for so long. Don't get me wrong; he's clearly very intelligent and capable of protecting himself if needed, but he's also kind, forgiving, trusting, and innocent. We know from many seasons of this show that the world they've been living in has a tendency to break people like that in the most devastating ways.

The flashbacks and the music box

The two flashbacks we saw in this episode, the first one of Sofia at the barn and the second of Daryl giving Carol the Cherokee rose, I think are perfect memories to pull from to give us a glimpse of Carol's mindset.

They show us the people who mean the most to Carol, the events that led her to where she is and who she is right now, what brought her on this journey to find Daryl, and why she's willing to fight and do anything to save him.

One of the most heartbreaking scenes in the episode was when Carol found the music box on Avi's grave. The box played the melody of the song 'You are my sunshine', which Carol sang along to as her voice broke and tears fell down her face. All I could think of at that moment was how this song was almost like a plea from Carol, how she's already lost Sofia and how she is terrified of losing Daryl as well, the one that represents the sunshine that's left in her life. The person who held her when she she lost her children. The person who knows her better than she knows herself. The person who stood by her even when she lost herself. The person who she bound to by one soul.

Carol and Ash's relationship

This was, BY FAR, my favourite part of the episode. The layers. The parallels. The Tragedy. This duo's storyline is literal GOLD.

And fair warning because I have so much to say about them.

In the beginning when Carol gets herself "trapped" in one of Ash's traps, we can see her putting on her act, the innocent damsel in distress act which we love and have seen her do so many times before.

But when she started to speak to Ash, asking him for help, and he agreed to help her and believed her when she said she was alone, I could see the slight hesitation in her behaviour because she probably expected more resistance from Ash.

As they spend more time together, Carol starts to feel for Ash. She very quickly drops her act and begins to see how much they actually have in common, how much pain they've shared. Especially the loss of a child, a child that they each had to raise alone, blaming themselves for letting their child wander off and not being able to protect them the way a parent should.

However, despite dropping the damsel in distress act, Carol still lies to Ash. She tells him the story that she thinks he needs to hear to manipulate him into empathising with her and taking her to France.

But there's something incredibly important to note here. Carol may be intentionally manipulating Ash for her own ends, but it's clear that she's absolutely torn because of it. Yes, Carol has manipulated many people in the past (fair game), but she has never done it to someone she knew didn't deserve it. After seeing who Ash really is, it obviously becomes painful for her to keep up the lie, but in the end, she internalises that pain and guilt because of how much she loves Daryl.

Because even if taking advantage of this genuinely kind stranger makes her the villain, then that's what she's willing to become to save Daryl.

Carol & Ash's future and an important Parallel

Going forward, I expect Carol to grow to care for Ash even more and start to see a true friendship between them. There may be conflict between the two when Ash finds out that Carol lied to him, but I think that he's too pure-hearted to stay angry with her for long and will come to understand and forgive her. I also expect Carol to become very protective of Ash, firstly because of everything he's doing and giving up for her, and secondly because she'd feel responsible for his life, considering that her lie was the reason he ended up in this situation and that if anything were to happen to him, it be her fault.

I also see a clear parallel between Daryl/Connie and Carol/Ash's friendships.

Both Daryl and Carol have found someone in Connie and Ash who has somehow remained pure and kind despite the world they live in.

Both Connie and Ash are intelligent, brave, kind, forgiving, and heroic, and rare remenant of the goodness that's left in their world. Making both Daryl and Carol, who see themselves as realists, feel a sense of responsibility to protect them.

I could also see a potential parallel storyline here where there's tension between Caryl, as Carol gets frustrated with Daryl for butting their lives (including Ash's) in danger as he's chasing after revenge in France, just like how Daryl was with Carol and Connie.

The Nest and Daryl's storyline

I won't go into details about this again, as I talked about it in my initial S2EP1 thoughts post from Tribeca [HERE]. But to summarise, overall, it was clear to me that Daryl isn't happy at the Nest and doesn't think he could ever be. Yes, he's grown to care for Isabelle and Laurent, but they don't mean the same to him as the people he left behind.

Isabelle will never fill Carol's place in his heart, the person he's bound to by one soul, and Laurent will never replace Judith, the child he held in his arms, loved, and fought to protect from the day she was born.

Additional thoughts and details that I loved:

When Ash and Carol are sitting in the plane and ready to take off, Ash takes one last look at the greenhouse where his son is buried, then looks at Carol, reminding himself of who he's doing it for. This was such a poetic and heartbreaking moment to witness because, as the viewer, I was happy that he was finally moving forward and doing something that he believed would make his son proud, but I was also heartbroken knowing that it was all a lie.

The way Ash comforts Carol, who's feeling claustrophobic as they're taking off in the plane.

Genet's staredown with Daryl was such a powerful moment and honestly had my heart racing. I can't wait to get more of her story!

Losang and his crew at the Nest are look shifty af to me. There's something seriously sinister going on behind doors.

Conclusion and final thoughts

I'm going to repeat some of what I said in my first post from June because it's still accurate to how I feel after watching it again.

I now know beyond a doubt that Melissa has the talent and Carol has the depth to be a brilliant leading character. Her storyline can fill an entire episode, and there would not be a dull moment; on the contrary, during the episode, I constantly had chills because of the absolute power of Melissa's performance, and I'm dying to see more.

Episode one has planted seeds to potentially resolve many of Caryl/Daryl's storylines that were left unresolved in the main series in a way that's true to who Carol and Daryl are and how even we, as viewers, envisioned it should be. And if the current pace is continued, then I genuinely believe that we'll find Carol and Daryl finally on the same page again after so long, only this time, they will have dealt with a lot of the pain and trauma that has kept them apart. ♡♡♡

~~~~

Thank you for stick with me and reading through this post! I would love to hear what you guys though of the episode aswell.

There are just so many amazing things for us to look forward to, and I'm honestly over the moon with officially having Carol back on the show. I'm already counting down the days till next week ♡♡♡