#when artists get too successful people hesitate to change or critique their work causing them to put out overly flawed unedited work

[messofcontradictions01]

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

fine line - a close reading

gonna cry bc i’m at the end, gonna cry bc it’s fine line.

(x x x)

want to give the same disclaimer as with lights up: this song is so layered, so multi-faceted, that i could never hope to give an exhaustive analysis. due to its vagueness and openness for interpretation, i assume that everyone, just like me, has their own ideas about it and has attached importance to it in ways that no one else’s words can or should alter. this song means the world to me for reasons that aren’t necessarily in this post, and that’s how it is with art that touches us deeply. i’ve tried my best to pull it apart, lay it bare, spread it open, if you will, so it’s almost as free as it can be for you all to form your own opinion on it. in the synthesis i will make my own conclusions, but feel free to ignore that if yours are totally different. i’m just one set of brain and heart taking in fine line and projecting whatever i think is right onto it. alright, let’s go

fine line, track 12

sung in falsetto

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

live version at the form: first verse not sung in falsetto - after first chorus goes into falsetto - like “thinking of her” has summoned her

Put a price on emotion

pouring emotions into the art you create: how much is genuine / how much do you show - line between being authentic to your audience and giving away too much, wanting to keep things to yourself and not feeling truthful with what you’ve written

exploits of the industry: lay your soul bare - or the exact opposite, some pretend emotion - to score that hit

I'm looking for something to buy

cynical. emotions aren’t genuine, right? where can i go buy some?

～ lights up themes. fake life, industry, being a sell-out

You've got my devotion

But man, I can hate you sometimes

“you” = career, music, Harry Styles™. devoted to the craft, to the job, all the ups and downs of it, despite the hardships it brings 

“man” is deliberate: can be seen as an offhand interjection, like “man, that’s rough”, but nothing is casually placed in this song. “man” is: The Man, the heads in the industry, the people pulling the strings. The man in Harry, the man he’s been in the media all these years, the part he’s played/had to play, the man that’s in him

⟶ “hate you”: hate for industry shit, self-hate created by having to play pretend (～ only angel analysis, the persona of the Bukowski womaniser)

“sometimes” - it’s not fucked up all the time

“you” could also be a lover, but the sudden “hate” there then would be for that person, which is absent in any other song about them, doesn’t make any sense

I don't want to fight you

And I don't want to sleep in the dirt

like there’s a choice to me made, but he doesn’t want to make it: either I fight this “you” or I sleep in the dirt

“you” as the industry: if he doesn’t fight them, he might end up being a beggar, lose all his self-worth bc he gave in to everything they asked/told him to do

“you” as himself: fight your instincts, part of who you are/the persona. if he doesn’t fight to figure himself out, though, he fears he’ll also lose

“sleep in the dirt” as a sense of rejection, as well

We'll get the drinks in

So I'll get to thinking of her

drinks to cope - falling, only angel, from the dining table - or to be braver and confront emotions better - tbsl

who is “we���? who is “her”?

narrative of “you” as “lover” further disproven: if “I” and the lover get together over drinks and “I” starts thinking of “her”?

⟷ “her” could be the lover, but then who is “you”? the industry? some other person, besides that lover, harry is devoted to? multiple lovers, all of a sudden? no.

⟶ “I” and “you” are all harry, that get to thinking of “her” because she is in daydreams with him. the narrative that harry is fighting a part of him, the persona he has (had) to play bc of industry limits, makes most sense. that persona is within him now, and part of his work, but all of him, “we”, is begging to come into the light - of which she is a huge part

We'll be a fine line

balancing act. let everything coexist but pay attention that those lines don’t get crossed the wrong way. what we are, what i am, is a fine line between what makes us go under and what lets us thrive

we will be: determination to fulfil this prophecy, statement of fact “we always will be”

“we’ll be a fine line”: other way of interpreting it is that on both sides of that line is what entails “we”, all that is harry. what merges on that fine line is where it’s just right, when harry is fully himself in every way

“fine line” can also be an echo of criticism, bigotry, in the style of: it’s a fine line between being simply flamboyant and queer, between dressing like that and people thinking you’re a transvestite or summat (cause we wouldn’t want that, now, would we) - “we’ll be a fine line” could be owning all of it. putting himself in the middle of all those messy lines, as someone queer without a category

Test of my patience

patience with himself - kindness to self - took a long time to figure shit out and it was a challenge

waiting for change: industry and its allowances/openness

There's things that we'll never know

my favorite line

“we” = harry / harry and company / us in general, all of us listening 

～ tpwk “i don’t need all the answers”: deep sense of acceptance

peace to be found in accepting this!!

You sunshine, you temptress

“sunshine” - as in all the love songs (blue skies, sunflowers, summer days…): lover - possible that there are multiple “you”s in this song?

sunshine could ofc also be directed at the temptress, still

female “temptress” - “i’ll get to thinking of her” - she - it’s tempting for harry to think of her all the time, to lose himself in the “her” in him

other interpretation for “temptress”: woman he knows with negative influence in his life - resemblance to woman “you flower, you feast”, so echo of Bukowski ～ only angel, kiwi (my sunshine, my love, who is involved with this temptress…)

My hand’s at risk, I fold

⟷ tpwk “dropping into the deep end”

not showing his cards just yet / forfeits

anxious to show all of him, to take the chance, with all the risks and consequences involved

Crisp trepidation

I’ll try to shake this soon

nervousness, anxiety - about (not) taking (enough) chances, (not) laying himself bare (release of the album that reveals much more than before)

“crisp” fresh, this feeling is unfamiliar - change is coming “soon”

sense of agency: I can get rid of this feeling by my own volition and make these changes - hesitant, insecure: “try”

wants to be braver. he’s not going back, but still needs to calmly coax himself further and further into the light, out into the open (“we’ll be alright”)

Spreading you open

Is the only way of knowing you

(can anyone else hear “spread thin” like a whisper under “spreading”? or am i imagining things.)

“you” is back - the only way of knowing “you” is to spread them open - the physical

to spread someone open - very literal, don’t need to paint the picture, or to lay bare, to lay it all out 

⟶ “you” as himself - the only way of knowing who i am is by doing this: writing this album, performing these songs, letting others listen in and form their own interpretations, let this world grow where i’m laid bare and OPEN and exist as this person who has issues, who is angry, who doesn’t know who he is a lot of the time, but is still so happy to be here - let it spread and let it all circle back to me so i can grow deeper into myself

We'll be a fine line

We'll be alright

“we” = h & self, h & lover, h & fans

collectiveness from tpwk

(notes on a piano sounding like drops, like he’s emerged from the water and dripping dry)

SYNTHESIS

Everything about this song is plural. Personal pronouns are all over the place. I, you, her, we. The sound is incredibly layered, with Harry’s own voice echoing through its verses like he’s singing to himself in an empty cave. Meanings can be attached to every word like it’s a wax tablet used too many times. What Harry has said in interviews for once holds pretty true to the actual meaning, in my opinion. 

“It felt like it described to me the process of making it and how the album felt in terms of the different kinds of songs on it.” (Capital FM)

This can mean a lot of things, and I think it means all of the things, of course. It means Fine Line is a summary of all of his emotions he visited on the album, of the things he’s laid bare. And it means that the actual process was also described, as one that can be frustrating and challenging, with added industry shit. 

Harry has expressed straightforward gratefulness to his label for "leaving (him) alone” while making the album and that speaks volumes. This time, he had the chance to make his art without the constant interference of a label, which meant he could weave in criticism as well. “Put a price on emotion” is first and foremost a critique on the industry. It’s the first line of the song, setting the tone for the interpretation of this song is about the risks I took while making this album. It involves criticism on an industry that creates such an atmosphere that only a certain type of music and artist breaks through or can be successful, that limits people in their personal expression. Convinces them that it’s better that way. That it’s better to hide who they love because the general public won’t accept them. That it’s better to create a song about a fake emotion than be honest. Harry loves writing songs and being on stage, but it’s taken a while for him to be fully comfortable there as a solo artist and bloom into the person that could make Fine Line. He loves his career, but it’s also limited his freedom in ways beyond our comprehension, and it’s exploited him to the point where he didn’t know who he was, in ways that have clearly taken a toll on his mental wellbeing. To a point where he finishes this album reassuring himself, most of all, that everything will be alright.

That process of making Fine Line obviously includes Harry confronting emotions he hadn’t before. He has stated that he experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows while making it. There are things he hates, he was fighting but doesn’t want to (anymore), uncertainties he was trying to figure out but had to accept he couldn’t, risks he still doesn’t know he can take without shaking. At the centre of it all is this sense of “knowing you.” The different personal pronouns in the song paint a fractured picture, which is ultimately deliberate. That the “you” Harry is devoted to and can hate sometimes doesn’t line up with “her,” that the end focus does seem to be this “you” that is mentioned in the same breath as “man” and “temptress,” forming the “we” together with “I”. 

After having songs like Lights Up, She, Falling and even TPWK, one of the central themes on the album has undoubtedly been self-discovery, in all its pain and glory. There are no female pronouns on the album besides, obviously, in She, and then here, in Fine Line. She is about a man living with a woman “just in his head”, who “sleeps in his bed while he plays pretend.” It is very clearly a trans narrative, the story of someone struggling to put into words what they’re experiencing in terms of gender. To a point that they fantasise about running away. Fine Line brings the ideas of knowing what it all means, which Lights Up kicks off (“do you know who you are?”), Falling deepens (“what am I now?”) and Treat People With Kindness turns on its head (“I don’t need all the answers”), together. Harry is still doubtful, and the questions asked earlier in the album haven’t disappeared, but he has accepted that “some things we’ll never know.” His aim, however, is still “knowing you.” 

To have Fine Line, as the summary of these emotions of self-growth and self-discovery, echo that one female pronoun, speaks volumes. It is a direct reference to She, to that story about gender. “Her” in this song refers to “she (who) lives in daydreams with (him).” The one who still only fully comes out when they’ve had a drink. The one he’s still working to include in who he is, as he tries to figure out who he is, all of it. The song where he sings in falsetto, just like on Fine Line. Of which he sang the first verse an octave lower live at the forum, switching between those voices, those perspectives. That’s also why “you” in this song is also Harry to me. We get this fractured sense of self, this “I” and “you” conversing over a drink, this “you” Harry is devoted to and wants to figure out. “You” and “I” form “we” and all of them are Harry. The lines are blurry on purpose, there is no way to figure out where “you” ends and “I” begins. 

“You sunshine, you temptress” is the most enigmatic line in that respect, and to me blurs those lines even more between the pronouns. “You” is suddenly also identified by a female noun. And no this isn’t about some kind of love triangle. “Sunshine” aligns with all the odes to his lover in the rest of the album. So what does that mean? That there are multiple “you”s in this song, meaning that Harry is addressing both his lover and a temptress? So “her” he’ll get to thinking of, the only other female pronoun used in the song, is identified as a temptress, but tempting to do what? To take risks? And no I won’t forget the “man, I can hate you sometimes,” where "man” is not a casual interjection but an identifier of “you.” 

Or is it an echo of “the light” from Golden’s “bring me back to the light” and Light’s Up’s “step into the light”? So that the “sunshine” symbolises being in the clear, being out of the darkness running through his heart, the darkness caused by not knowing who you are. “You sunshine,” you beacon of light. “You temptress,” risk-taker and source of anxiety. You, one I need to spread open to figure out, to know about, source of happiness and despair, one I’m devoted to but also hate. You, man, you, temptress. You there, in the mirror looking back at me. 

All of you, and myself included, we’ll be a fine line. And we’ll be alright.

This song is about all of that. The self in art, the self on its own, the other, the journey, the chances, the fears, the passion. Hope. Reassurance. Confidence. And, most importantly, that everything will be alright in the end.

x

read all my lyric analyses here

[husheduphistory]

“All the World's a Stage”: The Revolutionary Repertoire of Ira Aldridge

The work of William Shakespeare is deeply woven into our world. We know the stories, we know the quotes, and if nothing else we know of the countless modern adaptations. The words of Shakespeare were launched into the hearts and minds of people from the stage with performers delivering dialog and introducing characters that remained with the viewers long after departing the theater. In the 19th century the actors and actresses that took on these roles could elevate themselves to performing arts royalty earning enormous amounts of money, being knighted, and indulging in lifestyles that equate them to today’s Hollywood elite. One master of the Shakespearean stage was Ira Aldridge, a man who not only gave stunning performances, but also shattered the glass ceiling for people of color in theater.

Ira Frederick Aldridge was born in New York City on July 24th 1807, the son of free parents in a state where slavery was legal. His father Daniel was a preacher and as a child he was given a classical education at the African Free School where his studies included English grammar, writing, mathematics, geography, and astronomy. His parents may have wanted him to follow in his father’s footsteps and become a preacher, but while still in school the young Aldridge was introduced to the performing arts and it instantly took hold of him. By the time Aldridge was a teenager he was already well acquainted with many of New York City’s most prominent African American actors. They saw his talents and encouraged him to move onto the stage of the African Grove Theater.

Founded by William Alexander Brown as a casual get together where Black actors would gather to perform short skits and readings, the African Grove Theater would grow in the hands of Brown and James Hewlett to become the first African American theater group in the United States, attended by “all types of black New Yorkers - free and slave, middle-class and working-class.” In the early 1820s the company was young, and so was Aldridge, who gained his first experience in theater at age fifteen as an apprentice under Hewlett, the first African American Shakespearean actor.

 Aldridge made his African Grove debut in 1822 playing the role of Rolla in Pizarro and then Romeo in Romeo and Juliet. Shakespeare had a special place in the young actor’s heart and he would often see productions of his work in the Park Theater before the stories were brought to his own stage. The productions at the African Grove were well attended and the performances highly praised, but there were continuous problems from the community surrounding them. At the time slavery was not yet abolished and segregation was firmly in place making the theater company, its actors, and its audiences targets for racist attacks and prejudice. White people were permitted to attend performances at the African Grove, but their often disruptive behavior eventually led to an area in the back of the theater being sectioned off specifically for them. When it was not audience members causing problems it was fellow theater companies. When the Park Theater and the African Grove were both hosting performances of Richard III the owner of the Park, Stephen Price, contacted the police to have the “rival” production shut down. Seeing the constant racial pressure made Aldridge all too aware that his dreams of conquering the stage could not happen on American shores. Inspired by the British Shakespearean actors he watched on stage, he moved to Liverpool at only seventeen years old.

Playbill of the African Grove Company’s first production of Richard III. The figure is the actor James Hewlett. 

 Aldridge was new to England, but the country was familiar with his artistic background for all the wrong reasons. More than a year before his arrival a British comedian named Charles Mathews began performing a new routine, including a character called the “African Tragedian.” The portrayal was wildly popular, but it should have been shameful with Matthew donning blackface and portraying an African American who botched lines, made a fool of himself on stage, and fumbled his way through the works of Shakespeare in New York City. It is believed that the inspiration for this character was James Hewlett, the man that Aldridge apprenticed under at the African Grove.

Rather than let the portrayal destroy him, Aldridge used the name recognition to his advantage. He began billing himself as “American Tragedian from the African Theatre New York City” or simply “The African Tragedian.” On October 10th 1825 Aldridge made his European debut in the lead role of Oroonoko in Revolt of Surinam, a story of an African prince tricked into slavery and sold to British colonists. People recognizing the phrase “The African Tragedian” from the Matthews comedy routine filled the theater seats expecting a good laugh. What they got was a powerful dramatic performance that stunned all in attendance with one member of the British press reporting:

“It is most true that those are ‘blessed who expect nothing’, and from this cause may have proceeded in some degree the satisfaction with which we beheld the performance of the ‘Tragedian of Colour, from the African Theatre, New York’, but we do not hesitate to express our opinion that his acting will gratify many and astonish all.”

Regardless of the reviews, when Aldridge stepped onto the stage he had already made history by becoming the first African American actor to establish himself professionally in a foreign country.

Portrait of Aldridge painted by James Northcote.

Aldridge embraced the rumors and misconceptions swirling around him and created an elaborate backstory for himself, that he was the descendant of a Senegalese prince whose family fled their homeland for the United States to save their lives. It was a story that made him seem even more mysterious and people began to visit the theater purely out of intrigue. Whatever the reasons that people went to see him perform, they all left deeply impressed by the power of his acting. After his portrayal of Oroonoko, Aldridge began touring the United Kingdom and over the course of a few years he successfully built a name for himself with his work in productions of Othello, Macbeth and Richard III. Aldridge did not return to London for several years, and when he did it was under circumstances that were tragic but also hugely important to his career. While performing the lead role of Othello on March 15th 1833 Edmund Kean, the most highly renowned tragedian of the time, collapsed on stage into the arms of his actor son Charles Kean and uttered the words, “O God, I am dying. Speak to them, Charles.” He did in fact die a few weeks later leaving a vacancy in the play’s cast. Aldridge was asked to take over the role and he jumped at the opportunity. He had his start in London, but this was different, he was now performing the lead role of Othello in the prestigious Royal Coburg in Covent Garden alongside some of the great names of his industry. He was only twenty-seven years old but it was the role of a lifetime.

Aldridge as Othello, painted by William Mulready.

Unfortunately, Aldridge taking the highest stage in London was too far for some people and reviews that once praised him began to slowly simmer with racism and critiques on everything from his physical appearance to his pronunciations of certain words. As Aldridge took on other roles in the London region critics became sharply divided with some applauding his abilities and others remarking he should be reduced to a street sweeper outside the theaters where he was performing. One complaint of some lay in his very interaction with white actors, but this may have had much deeper roots in that Aldridge would sometimes portray white characters in greasepaint and wigs leading some people to become angry that he was taking prominent rolls from “their” actors. Another reason for the harsh criticism was that Aldridge often took liberties with his performances, changing characters from villain to hero and vice-versa, erasing entire scenes and adding new ones, and adapting classics as he wished. Additionally, on the closing night of his engagement at a theater Aldridge made the bold addition of directly addressing the audience speaking on the injustices of slavery, some addresses coming before or very shortly after the emancipation of slaves in the British colonies in 1832.

Despite all the criticisms, Aldridge had built himself up to be a bona fide star of the stage taking on complex roles with ease and even resurrecting Shakespeare’s Titus Andronicus in 1845, a production not produced in the British Isles since 1724. 

Aldridge as Aaron in his revival of Titus Andronicus.

After touring various theaters in England he made his way to the European continent in 1852 where he performed in wildly successful tours in Germany and was presented to the Duchess of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. He then proceeded to tour Prussia, performing for Frederick William IV who awarded him the Prussian Gold Medal of the First Class for Art and Science. He then moved on through the later 1850s performing in Budapest, Serbia, and then Imperial Russia making him the first actor to perform Shakespeare in the country. His performances in Russia caused a wide array of reactions. They were powerful, highly praised, and he became acquaintances with some of the great poets and artists of the time such as Taras Shevchenko, Count Fyodor Tolstoy, and the Czar of Russia who awarded him with a Golden Cross for his accomplishments. On another hand the performances caused uprisings and resulted in some works of Shakespeare being banned entirely. With his near-constant touring and performing Aldridge became one of the most well-know and acclaimed tragedians of his time and in 1859 with nearly four decades of acting under his belt he returned home to England. It was time to take on another benchmark of Shakespearean acting and tackle the role of King Lear.  

Pastel portrait of Aldridge drawn by Taras Shevchenko in 1858.

After successfully performing the great tragedy and then completing a second tour of Russia Aldridge again returned to England. He was now in his later fifties and after purchasing property in England and applying for British citizenship in 1863 it may have seemed that the actor was finally ready to take root at home. But this was not the case and he was quickly back on the road in Europe and making plans to bring a tour to the post- Civil War United States. Unfortunately, his plans to cross the Atlantic again never had the chance to unfold. In 1867 Aldridge was on tour in Poland when he became very ill with a lung infection. He died in the city of Łódź on August 7th 1867 at the age of sixty.

Aldridge portraying King Lear.

For a man that revolutionized so much in the world of performing arts the news of Aldridge’s death took an unfortunately long time to reverberate through the world. His remains were buried in the Łódź Old Evangelical Cemetery but he would not receive a proper tombstone and memorial for twenty-three years. In the United States Aldridge had become a legend and a role model for African Americans but the news of his death reached the states painfully slowly. Many Black theater groups decided to rename their companies to honor Aldridge, most notably The Ira Aldridge Troupe of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. His grave is now maintained by the Society of Polish Artists of Film and Theatre.

The magnitude and influence of Ira Aldridge’s accomplishments cannot be understated. As a young man in the early 1800s he took the steps to travel across the globe in order to not only challenge, but smash the roadblocks placed in front of African American performing artists. Despite mixed reviews and racism that attempted to crush him he thrived, taking on Shakespeare in England and carrying it to other parts of the United Kingdom, all over Europe, and to corners of the globe that had never had access to Shakespeare on stage before. He gave performances that both amazed and infuriated through his renditions of text, his customizations, and his speaking directly against the horrors of slavery in a world where it was still firmly rooted in people’s lives.

Today the honors to Ira Aldridge can be found all over the globe. Howard University in Washington D.C. has a theatre named after him, A bust of Aldridge sits in the foyer of the Theatre Royal Drury Lane in London, in 2014 a memorial plaque was dedicated at the place of his death in Poland, and he is one of thirty-three people granted a bronze plaque at the Shakespeare Memorial Theatre at Stratford-upon-Avon.

Memorial plaque for Ira Aldridge at his place of death in Poland.

[svtmatokis]

Closure Part 1

Annyeong~! I’m literally WEEKS away from the end of probation and I am super duper stoked to share with you this next piece. It’s going to be a two parter so look out for the next one soon. 

I’m someone who believes that you shouldn’t live life with regrets and that everything is a learning experience. Everything is meant to happen for a reason and we’re all meant to walk our own paths. Sometimes though, the people that come into our lives are hard to forget. People like your first love for example. 

When I was in grade 11 we had a transfer student from Sask. and he was like that hot new kid that every girl liked. I was lucky enough to have his locker next to mine so we became quick friends.  The thing is, we were on two totally different spectrums of life. He was that popular AP/IB kid who was super smart and took Calculus and wanted to go to top Universities while I was the art student who was involved in a lot of extracurriculars while focusing on Music and Culinary and just wanted to live my life. We were in first aid together and had NOTHING in common. We joked, smiled and shared some special moments while others judged. Why would the hot new kid like someone like me? It didn’t make sense. Eventually, the pressure of his new friends got to the both of us and by senior year, we were nothing more than acquaintances. We talked but it was nothing as in depth as it was before and eventually after graduation, we left with unspoken words and to this day, what if’s still play in my mind.

I’ll never forget him nor will I regret my choices back then. We were young  and if we had stayed the way we were, I dont think I’d be writing this blog right now haha... 

Sorry if this was a bit long, but writing this is closure for me too. I know I’ll probably never see him again but I needed to get this off my chest once and for all. No matter what, he’ll always have a place in my heart. 

NOW TO THE REAL STORY! 

Plot: You were once a trainee with Pledis and had a close relationship with the boys of Seventeen before debut especially Wonwoo. But with the boys debuting so soon and your ambitions changing, leaving was the best choice, but maybe cutting contact from them for five years was not....

Pairing: Reader x Wonwoo

Words: 2565

Genre: A tiny bit of Fluff, lots of reminiscing

“So I’m bringing a friend with me to the meet up tonight” Seungcheol said as the boys finished up practice.

Tonight was a night where all the artists from Pledis got together to hang out. They normally had dinner together before going back to one of the dorms to play games, have dessert and relax outside of their busy schedules. This only happened on rare occasions and were organized by group leaders and their managers so it took a lot of careful planning.

Wonwoo looked up from his phone and raised an eyebrow at his best friend, “Someone we know?”

Seungcheol nodded  his head, “I ran into her a few weeks ago at a cafe and invited her to our get together tonight. I’m going to meet up with her now for dinner so I’ll see you guys back at the dorms.” he said before throwing on a nicer shirt he brought with him and said his goodbyes realizing he was running late.

You sat at the meeting place Seungcheol had told you to wait at so the two of you could have dinner together. You couldn’t believe it had already been close to five years since you last saw him and the rest of the boys. Had it really been that long since you left Pledis?

You thought about each of the Seventeen members, from the oldest but still childish Seungcheol, to the shy gentleman Joshua who you were happy to see had come out of his shell after all these years and of course baby Chan who was still in high school when you left and now he was a graduate and achieving his dreams.

Then there was Wonwoo, the man who no matter how hard you tried, could not rid of from your memories. You leaned back against the bench thinking back to your days with Pledis.

You were one of the older trainees, only being a month younger than Joshua but had entered around the same time Seungcheol had. Not too long later, Jihoon came along and the three of you formed a quick bond both wanting to achieve the similar dream. You and Jihoon became close naturally since composing was something you were both passionate about. Seungcheol was like the big brother you never had, he was always looking out for you but at the same time, he didn’t hesitate to critique you during practices and boy was he harsh sometimes.  

You remembered the day Wonwoo was introduced to the rest of the trainees, it was a few weeks after Soonyoung had joined and you couldn’t help but be intrigued.  He said he was a singer but eventually through Seungcheols influence, he got into hip hop and started rapping.

You remembered the days where you and a few of the other female trainees would sit in on the monthly evaluations and you were mesmerized by Wonwoo’s rapping skills that he had picked up. It complimented his naturally deep voice and his style only added more to his performance.

Eventually as time went on, you two got close since you ran into each other during practices or whenever you were with Seungcheol and Jihoon. Eventually, those group meetings turned into one on one meetings and it was safe to say, you were developing a slight crush on him.

He was quiet and didn’t say much but his actions spoke for him. There were days where practice for you didn’t end till late and Wonwoo would wait for you to finish so he could walk you back to the dorms and stop by for a late night snack along the way. His reason being that it was too dangerous for you to be going home alone though in reality, you normally walked with the girls who lived in your dorm until this habit had picked up.

Other times, he would wait for you outside your dorm building with coffee in hand knowing that you had an early class and he would walk with you to the company all the while enjoying the banter that went back and forth between you two. It was a natural feeling which made your insides warm.

The times you cherished the most were during breaks where a few of you would go to a cafe to relax and it was almost always that you and Wonwoo were together. As the people around you would converse, you would rest your head in your arms while leaning on his arm for support. It brought butterflies to your stomach every time you felt his  fingers gently caress your arm, slowly lulling you to sleep.

But all those moments ended just as quickly as they began. When the boys found out they were going to debut, the boys were on lockdown and working extra hard and all the time that you spent with them was cut short. You didn’t mind because you were working with Bumzu and learning how to compose with Jihoon but because of all that, it meant that you were seeing less of Wonwoo as well.

The two of you always missed each other with timing. Whenever Wonwoo had free time, you would be with Jihoon or Bumzu or at practice and vise versa.

Eventually, the two of you were forced to focus on your respective paths and despite you having feelings for him, had to make that sacrifice and push them aside and soon friends turned into strangers.

You would pass each other in the hallways and greet each other politely but there was never anything more than that. Eventually, as the boys got closer to debut, your own path changed and you found yourself leaving Pledis.

You stated that it was time to move on and that you had other aspirations but deep down, you knew that you were heartbroken and you were running away from your feelings for Wonwoo. Only Seungcheol and Jihoon knew that you had resigned.  There was no big farewell, you had a meal with the two boys on your last day before promising to keep in touch but never did.

As you said goodbye, the memories of you and Wonwoo played back in your mind. The talks, the laughs, the late night walks everything and you had to stop yourself from shedding a tear in front of your friends.

You didn’t think your absence would make an impact on anyone and it didn’t except to Wonwoo who had immediately noticed your absence. When he asked Seungcheol a few months later, a pained look made its way onto his face and the leader only shook his head before walking out of the room not answering.

It was Jihoon who told Wonwoo that you left and cut all contact from everyone and no one could locate you and amongst the boys, Seungcheol was taking it the hardest since the two were practically siblings.

From that day on, you were a constant in Wonwoo’s mind as he was yours.

Five years later, you were a successful composer with Starship Entertainment. The path that you were on with Pledis was different from the one you were on now and looking back, despite what you left behind. You had zero regrets.

Your thoughts were interrupted when someone grabbed you from behind causing you to turn around in shock.

“Seungcheol!” you gasped as the said boy grinned at you before pulling you into a long hug.

The two of you went to a restaurant you both frequented back during your trainee days. It was a small place but had the best Cheesy Korean Chicken and the two of you often found yourselves eating there more often than not.

“Ah...this place feels so nostalgic doesnt it?” Seungcheol asked leaning on the table.

You smiled and nodded your head, “I haven’t been back here in ages.”

“How’s Starship? I heard through Baekho that you left the country for a few years before joining them.”  Seungcheol said after you had ordered.

You nodded your head at his statement. Running into the members of Nu’est had been completely by accident.

After leaving Pledis, you went to do a bit of soul searching and spent three years out in L.A. Nu’est went to film their comeback music video there and it was just pure luck that you ran into them at a restaurant you were at with a few friends Joshua had introduced you to once upon a time. .

Baeko, a member you had bonded with during your trainees days recognized you instantly and called you out.

Once the initial nagging was over, the two of you caught up and you even took him and the other members to your studio your practiced before telling him about the offer Starship had had given you and that you accepted it.

Baekho passed the message on to the others at Pledis and thats what lead to your conversation now.

You and Seungcheol ran into each other backstage at an award show that you attended with Monsta X. They had won an award for their comeback album which you helped produced and wanted to take you in thanks. After the initial shock wore off, you agreed to meet him for dinner the following week..

“I really enjoy working with everyone there” you answered with a smile. “I feel like it was all meant to be.”

Seungcheol nodded his head with a smile. “You looked really happy that night. I can’t believe you helped produce that amazing album. Your skills have seriously improved.”

You blushed at his compliment before thanking him and telling him how proud you were of him and the boys for winning all those awards but also on constantly improving day after day causing him to only grin at you cockily.

There was no anger or tension in the conversation. The conversation flowed like they did back in the day and to anyone who didn’t know the situation, they wouldn’t have been able to tell that you hadn’t seen each other in almost five years. But you also knew that there was a giant turkey in the room and it was no surprise Seungcheol was the one to drop it.

“And you’re one of the most sought after producers in the Korean music industry. Bumzu must be proud. Do you keep in contact with anyone? Outside of Baekho?”

His tone was light but you knew the underlying meaning in his question.

You shook your head, “I only met with Baekho briefly and he gave Bumzu my cell phone number and we only talked on the phone not too long ago. I kind of made it a point to move on with life after I left Pledis.” you explained, “You were all preparing for your debut and I just didn’t feel complete at the agency anymore. I didn’t think it mattered.” you shrugged as Seungcheol shook his head.

“It tore me apart that no one knew where you were after you left. After time passed, I guess a few of the members stopped wondering and moved on with their lives but we can all tell Wonwoo thinks about you alot.” Seungcheol said clenching his hands. “I don’t know what went on between you two before you left but from time to time, when someone brings you up, he gets this distant look in his eyes.”

You sighed, “I’ve thought a lot of about it over the last few years too. What could or should have been. I guess with time, the close friendship we had as trainees faded and we both went our separate ways to walk our own paths. Though at the same time, I feel like there were a lot of things left unsaid between the two of us.” you ran your hand through your hair, “Like we never got any closure you know?”

Seungcheol nodded his head understanding before changing the subject.

“There’s a meet up tonight with a the guys from the company. I said I was bringing someone so I was hoping you’d go with me. I know everyone would be happy to see you again since they heard you were the musical genius behind Monsta X’s latest comeback album.”

You sighed remembering how that was announced. Monsta X had included you in their thank you speech during the award ceremony and you recalled seeing many shocked faces in the area where Seventeen was sitting but remained hidden.

You agreed to go with the promise that if you felt uncomfortable, you would leave and Seungcheol agreed knowing that it wouldnt come to that.

After he paid for the meal, the two of you put your masks on and walked through the streets of Gangnam hand in hand to the Penthouse that the leaders and solo artists had rented out for the get together.

Wonwoo knew the moment Seungcheol walked in and his jaw dropped at who he brought with him.

“No way, is that Y/N-noona?” Mingyu asked shocked as a group started to gather around you and Seungcheol .

Wonwoo couldn’t stop staring from his spot. The last time he saw you was at the monthly evaluation right before you left Pledis though he was sure he caught a brief glimpse of you at the award show the week before sitting with Monsta X’s Shownu.

You felt his eyes on you throughout the night as various artists came to greet you and caught up with those you were once close with. He didn’t approach you but you knew he was watching as if almost waiting for the right time.

Stepping out onto the patio to take a breather, you looked out at the city skyline and let out a sigh. Seeing and catching up with everyone was nice and you were glad they were all doing well. Jihoon had embraced you tightly as soon as he saw you and congratulated you on your success. He even offered to collab on a piece with you one day which you said you would think about.

As you pondered your thoughts, you didn’t hear the door behind you open and shut before feelings someone’s presence next to you.

“It’s been a while…” a deep voice interrupted your thoughts and you turned your head shocked to see the one person who was constantly on your mind.

“It has. How are you Wonwoo?” you asked as he turned to give you a small bow.

“I hear congratulations are in order.” he said with smile looking out at the city skyline.

“Thank you…” you said, “Congratulations on your success. I knew you guys would be great.”

Wonwoo chuckled looking down letting out a hesitant breath, “Listen…” he had to think hard of what he was going to say. Right now, they were treading on light water and he missed when their conversations would naturally flow between them.

“Would...you like to get coffee with me tomorrow?” he asked turning to look at you and he met his eyes before nodding slowly.

“I would like that.” you said with a smile as he grinned knowing he made the right move. The two of you stayed on the balcony in a comfortable silence for a few minutes before you both deemed it too cold and decided to go back inside.

At the end of the night, at Seungcheols insistence, Wonwoo walked you back to your apartment with the promise of seeing you the next day.

Shoutout to @johnaldsuh and everyone else in the Discord chat for the encouragement! - Anna

[stratus-skye07]

Sense Of Love [Seven] (M) | Minho

Seeing the truth

[Masterlist] [Six]

MINHO

“At the tone, please leave your message.”

I hang up after calling Y/N for the hundredth time today. Since taking her home last night, I’ve been worried about her. She doesn’t answer my calls or texts, she wasn’t at the cafe and the school is closed today. She could either be anywhere or at home. Neither of the places I could really go to and expect her to open the door for me.

Today I had another photoshoot with Bohee. One that was for sure going to be the last. Things were going fine until she pushed Y/N to try and intimidate her.

“Has Cinderella gone back into hiding?” Speak of the devil.

I ignore her and continue to where the shooting was taking place. She followed and continued to say things to get my attention but I kept my silence with her.

“When are you gonna get your head screwed on straight.” She whispers in my ear as we’re posing, “She’s a nobody and always will be. Down the line what could she give you?”

The more she talked the harder it got to keep a cool expression. I just had to endure it for a couple more shots and I can rid myself of the trouble that I caused for myself and Y/N.

“Okay, that’s it. Good job, you two.” The photographer says.

We finally separate and end the shoot. I head over to Onew so we can finally leave this place. Thinking that it was done, I can sense Bohee following close behind me.

“Yah!” She smack the back of my shoulder, “What’s so special about her?”

It’s my fault that Bohee is so clung onto me that it’s my responsibility to set things straight, “She has a heart!” She freezes in her place, “You and I have no connection. I’m sorry for making you think that we had anything romantic going for us. We both knew that things were just physical. This is where we end things off as clean as possible. I don’t want you to ruin your career because of me. You can hate me all you want. I’m willing to accept your hate because I deserve it but don’t take it out on someone that I found to have feelings for.”

Bohee’s eyes begin to water, “We could’ve made it work if we wanted to.”

“I don’t.”

Driving the nail into the coffin, Bohee turns her back and walks away. I know it was harsh but she needed the reality check that I should’ve given her a long time ago.

Onew pats my shoulder, “It seems like Y/N really has made an impact on you.”

I smirk, “Why do you say that?”

“I’ve known you for a long time and you’ve never apologized to anyone about anything before in your life.”

I shrug, “Sometimes you just need to grow up and stop being an asshole.”

Onew and I begin to get our things together when I notice a figure standing nearby and watching intently. A figure I wasn’t expecting to see but at the same time was anticipating.

Taemin calmly speaks, “I need to talk to you, right now.”

I nod leading him out towards the back of the building’s alleyway. Once the area was safe to talk in, I turn to face him but I’m met with a fist to the jaw instead. Any other person I would’ve laid them out just as quick but considering the circumstances I take the hit.

I look back to see that Taemin’s calm demeanor was gone. His nostrils were flaring with anger as he looks at me.

“I deserved that.” I say clutching my cheek.

“I told you to leave Y/N alone. Now you’ve pushed her too far.”

“You don’t think I know that? I’ve been trying to call her since last night. Is she okay?”

He shakes his head, “Like you give a shit. Just stop whatever plans you had with her. She doesn't need you complicating her life any further.”

“I have no intention in leaving her alone because I have feelings for Y/N. I hated what happened to her. I hate myself even more for putting her in that situation. I can understand your anger towards me and you can hit me as much as you want for it but I wanna know what’s going on with her. Is she really okay?”

Taemin’s breathing begins to even out when he hesitate to continue this conversation. He turns to leave but I grab him by the shoulder to stop him.

“Please, just tell me so I don’t make the same mistake twice. For Y/N, I need to know.”

He swipes my hand off his shoulder before turning back to face me, “You know how she ended up blind?” I shake my head, “She was in a car accident that killed her parents.”

My heart drops remember how Y/N mentioned her parents but never putting that and her blindness together.

Taemin continues, “The doctors had no hope for her seeing again. Y/N wanted to take the chance and go forwards with eye surgery. In the end, she managed to regain her vision. It was too good to be true though. One day she had an anxiety attack and her vision went blurry for a short amount of time. Her doctor says that if she puts herself in stressful situations or suffers any kind of traumatic events it could cause her to go blind again. This time, the next operation won’t be as successful.”

Y/N

Deep down, I’d hoped to never sit in this exam chair again but at the same time I knew that it would never stop. My eyes were always going to be a problem for me ever since I first went blind. I’d experience the temporary blindness before but for some reason this one felt like it was going to be the one to end it all.

I woke up in the morning with my vision back to normal, but I was still worried about it so I called Dr. Park as soon as possible. I called Key and told him about the incident that led up to the vision going blurry. He said he would take care of the cafe. I’ve been in his office for most of the morning running test on my eyes. I’ve even had to put my glasses on as if it would help anything but comfort me.

Sitting in the familiar office, Dr. Park came back in with a stack of papers in his hands. He’s going through all of them before taking a seat at his desk.

“So?” I ask him.

He closes the folder to turn his attention to me, “I’ve looked through everything numerous times and you’re eyes are coming up normal.”

“So they’re fine?”

He nods, “They don’t look any different than the last time you came in.”

“Then why do I keep getting these cases of temporary blindness. They can’t be normal for someone who’s recovering from successful eye surgery.”

“Technically, your surgery shouldn’t have been as effective as we thought. This could be your eyes’ way of rejecting the results.”

“So what do I do now? Will my vision get worse over time or will I go back to being blind?”

“From the results we have, your eyes are fine. It doesn’t mean your vision is deteriorating. It could just be a symptom from your attacks like shaking or breaking out in hives. As of now, there’s nothing wrong.”

“What do you suggest I do?”

He sighs before leaning forward, “As a doctor and as someone who’s watched you grow up like a niece, I’d suggest you just live your life as normal as you can. Don’t let this stop you from helping others and living. You’ve come so far to let it affect you now.”

Growing up, I made sure nothing in my life changed. It was hard after losing my parents but I did everything I would’ve done if they were still alive. I went to school, I work, I volunteer. I did all of that with and without vision. Living in fear of losing my vision shouldn’t stop me from living in general. I can do it with my eyes closed.

Waiting to cross the street, I pull out my phone to see all the missed calls and messages from Minho. He was another fear that I had to face. I don’t deny my feelings for him but I worry about his feeling towards me when I tell him everything. Was he ready for that kind of commitment when it came down to it? Was I?

Crossing the street, I turn the corner where the front door of the cafe is when my question was about to be answered. Minho is leaning against the wall but jumps off when he sees me approaching.

He starts rambling, “Y/N, I’ve been trying to reach you all day. I’m so sorry about last night. I shouldn’t have pressured you into going with me in the first place. Plus, I should’ve taken better care of you.”

I smile at his frantic apology. I take his hand in mine and ask, “Do you have some time to spare?”

MINHO

I don’t know if Y/N was angry with me or not. She simply asked for an hour of my time to talk about something. The whole ride to her apartment building was quiet. She stayed silent as she stared out the window.

Once we arrived, she waited for me to get out of the car to follow her. She walked towards the stairs but instead of going up them she walks past them. I continue to follow her towards the door that’s right below her apartment.

She flicks the lights on to reveal a whole room filled with all things related to art. Canvases are hanging on the walls. One side of the wall was covered with shelves of pens, pencils, and brushes in jars along with a long table where someone would sit to draw or paint.

Y/N walks over to some of the artwork, “This is where my artistic past is. Locked away below my apartment building.” She points over to a staircase that must lead to her apartment.

“You did all of these?” Most of the canvases looked like professional ones that you would get from an art museum.

She nods, “Yeah, I’m not so sure if I still got it or not. It’s been years since I used any of this stuff.”

I walk around to take a look at all her work when I stop at a painting that catches my attention. It was a painting of her parents. I could tell it was them. Y/N had bits of her features within them.

Y/N chuckles beside me, “One night my parents and I were coming home from an art contest, I ended up winning. This was the portrait that I entered to win. I remember yelling at my dad to stop moving so much. He’d complain about getting work done but I knew deep down he didn’t care as long as I could finish this one.”

“Your parents must’ve been really supportive of it all.”

“Extremely supportive. Everything art-wise I could get my hands on I wanted to do it. They bought me all the supplies for it. They’d both come to my art shows. They’d even pretend to not be my parents and had critique discussions with the people to lure them into liking my stuff.”

“I wish I could’ve met them.”

She looks up at me with a smile, “I think they would’ve liked you.”

I raise my eyebrows, “Think?”

“Well,” she shrugs, “you were kind of a dick when we first met so I don’t know if that really would’ve swoon them.”

I sigh, “Fair enough.”

Her smile slowly fades away as she looks back at the painting, “The night of my last art show, it was raining when a careless driver cut my dad off causing him to swerve. The car lost control and ended up flipping into a pole. I woke up in the hospital and I couldn’t see anything anymore. My parents didn’t make it. My mom was pregnant with my little brother or sister and they were gone too. Once I regained my eyesight I moved all my art work and supplies with me. I wouldn’t use them again but I didn’t have the heart to throw them away. They were gifts from my parents.”

“You regained your eyesight though, why did you stop art? You have a gift for it.”

She shrugs, “I felt like it was selfish for me to continue doing it when I’d lost the people I loved the most because of it.”

I grab her by the shoulders and turn her to face me, “Y/N, what happened to your parents was not your fault.”

She smiles again as her eyes begin to water, “You wanna know why I don’t want anyone to get close to me? It’s that fear that lives in the back of my mind that I might go blind again and my significant other will have to care for me more than necessary and that they’ll worry too much about me, that they’ll forget to take care of themselves. I’m scared of being loved to the point where I’ll have to count on them because they can’t stop worrying about me.”

“Don’t cry.” I swipe my thumbs along her cheeks.

She begins to speak through light sobs, “I’m telling you all this because of how bad my feelings have gotten for you. I pushed you away at first for that reason.”

This whole meeting was about her opening up her heart to me. Starting with her past and current fears of herself along with the person she would let in. That person being me.

Y/N separates herself from me to walk towards a blank canvas, “My doctor doesn’t know if the next time I lose my sight I’ll get it back like I have before. Thinking that I might end up going blind again makes me want to appreciate the little things again, like seeing colors.” She picks up one of the jars filled with colored pencils, “Do you mind if I draw you?”

I smirk, “Like your French girls?”

She chuckles, “I had a feeling you were going to say that but sadly I don’t think I can make you as sexy as them.”

“As long as you’re up for it then I would be honored to be your model.”

Y/N directed me to sit in one of the stools by the table as she walks around the room collecting the materials she needs for the drawing. I watched her pick each item cautiously as if she was trying to remember what each color would look like once it was on the paper. I could tell she was getting flashback each time she stopped.

After gathering all the materials, she sits down on the other corner so she would be in front of me. She reorganizes the supplies around the white piece of paper so they were easy to grab.

She sighs, “I have to warn you that this will be time consuming so I need you to keep the same facial expression at all times so just focus on something that will keep your face still.”

I nod, “Okay.”

Y/N

It felt really weird drawing again after nearly ten years. I almost forgot how to start once I set all the pencils, pens, and markers out on the table. Looking at Minho’s face helped get me started. Each time I had to look up at him, I almost got lost in his eyes and how they were watching me so intently. His expression never changed once I started. He had this look of pure happiness even though he only had a small smile on his face. His eyes and smile said it all.

It probably took me about two hours to finish the drawing. I could’ve taken breaks in between but once I started I didn’t want to stop. It was like riding a bike again. Everything started coming back to me as I went on drawing. Minho didn’t move much. I would constantly ask him if he was okay or if he needed a break but each time he said no and to continue on.

Dropping the colored pencil, I stretch my arms. “Okay, I’m done.”

Minho starts moving his neck and shoulders around in relief, “How does it look? Obviously not as good as the real thing, right?”

I chuckle taking another full look at the realistic drawing, “I mean it’s not too bad. I am a little rusty after all.”

I hand him the drawing for him to judge. His eyes widen along with a smile, “Is this what you call rusty? It’s amazing. It makes me want to kiss myself.”

I crack my knuckles, “I guess I still got it.”

After cleaning up the art supplies, I invite Minho up to my apartment for a drink since he had to sit still for so long. The sun was beginning to set outside but I didn’t really want to let Minho go just yet. I’d let him into my heart where there was a lot of grief that I’m afraid once he leaves that’s it.

I look at him for a moment and begin to think what kind of things he’s been holding back that he might not have the courage to talk about. The discussion with Key begins to pop in mind. I wonder what his story is.

“Minho,” he hums in response, “can I ask you something?”

He puts his glass down, “Sure, what is it?”

“Last year, you lost the championship. People say that you loss the fight on purpose, is that true?” He looks at me for a moment without answering that I begin to regret asking him so suddenly.

His eyes shift down to his hands as he sighs, “Yes, I did.”

“But why? You worked so hard to get that far. How could you throw it away like that?”

He raises his gaze to meet mine, “My parent’s own a restaurant. They were about to lose it. At the time, I was just a rookie and I had no sponsors yet. I didn’t have the money to help them. I couldn’t let their dream get taken away because they supported mine for so long. I had to do something. At the time, I was friends with a guy, or so I thought I knew him as one, but what I didn’t know was that he was into betting and other things to make money. He came up with the idea.”

“That idea involved you losing your championship. Minho, you could’ve gotten sponsors after the win.”

He nods, “I couldn’t wait for them to come. I needed the money right then and there. I make it to the finals and have everyone bet on me. We bet on the other guy and split the money. I’m not proud for doing it but it was for my parents and I would do it again if I had to.”

I reach over to take his hand, “I don’t blame you. If I had to choose to give up art completely to have my parents back I would do it.” I was in awe of his choices but he did it for his family and for that I can’t judge him so harshly.

I take my glass over to the sink. I’m about to turn around when Minho’s arm embrace me from behind.

“You’re the first person to not make me feel guilty about it.” He whispers in my ear.

I turn to face him. He has somewhat of a sad smile on his face as he looks at me. I can tell that he’s been burying the incident while trying to rebuild himself all over again. It hasn’t been easy for him which is probably why he’s had such a snobby attitude when I first met him.

I pull him into my embrace. The feelings were almost like us being released from our worries and guilt about ourselves.

His hold tightens before slightly pulling away. I became disappointed of the distance until his mouth immediately covers mine for a hungry kiss. His lips are just as soft as I remember the first time we kissed. This time I wasn’t going to pull away because I’m sure of what I want without fear of anything.

The kiss was never ending as our breathing became heavier. Minho’s body began to press further against mine causing a moan to release from my mouth as the counter kept us firmly against each other. My hands slid up from his neck to run through his hair while the other found its way into the collar of his shirt to feel his toned shoulder blades.

I begin to feel the spark in my core igniting as Minho’s strong hands touched the nape of my neck while the other hand was slowly finding the bottom of my blouse. Once his fingers grazed the skin under my shirt, it sent a satisfying chill between my legs.

I started to feel like Minho was being extremely careful with his next approach that I begin to get impatient of what’s to come next. In order for him to know that I’m sure about this, I reach down to the bottom of his sweatshirt to pull it up. Minho breaks the kiss to get the sweatshirt over his head. I bite my lip once I get the chance to admire his lean body.

“What? Did you think my training was just for show?”

Making eye contact, he smirks before wrapping an arm around my waist to lift me onto the edge of the sink. I nearly fall back when Minho grabs me by the waistline of my jeans to pull me closer to his bulge.

In response, I pull my blouse over my head, “Are you trying to show off right now?”

Minho chuckles before bringing his lips back onto mine where they didn’t stay for very long. His mouth travels down my neck. He’d kisses, suck, and even bite on every inch of my skin as he made his way down towards my breasts. His hands slid up my back until he found the clip on my bra. Just as quickly as he found it, he was even quicker to undo and slide my bra off my shoulders.

Feeling the sensation in between my legs slowly growing, I push Minho’s chest to get some space as I jump off the edge of the sink, “Not that I’m not having a good time but my butt’s going numb on this counter.” He laughs as I take him by the hand to lead him towards my bedroom.

Halfway there, Minho’s arms wrap around my bare abdomen and his lips continued to leave behind wet kisses along with his teeth biting at the skin of my shoulders and neck. My hands had a plan of their own as I struggle to undo his pants backwards. It gave Minho the idea to do the same as his travel down to unzip my jeans followed by his hands finding their way into the waistline to slid them down.

Reaching the bed, Minho whispers in my ear, “Bend over.”

I instantly obey placing my hands on the edge of the bed as Minho slides my jeans, along with my underwear, down my legs. Stepping out of them, I begin to feel shy at the vulnerable state I was now in.

Tossing my clothes aside, Minho’s hand starts gliding up my legs until he reached my thighs. He stands over me when his fingers slowly traces towards my inner thighs. Ultimately reaching my folds. His lips leave kisses up my spine until the heat of Minho’s body touches my back.

His hand continues to explore between my legs, “Minho...” I try to beg for him but my mind ends up going blank at his touch.

He shushes me, “I know. I have to be sure you’re ready for me.”

Before I could come up with something to say, his fingers slides up and down my slit until pushing past my folds. I gasp from the sudden intrusion and end up squeezing down on his fingers. He groans in my ear before removing his fingers, leaving an empty feeling.

Minho turns me back to face him where his lips find mine again. This kiss felt more needy like he didn’t think it would last so he wanted to savor the taste.

“Lie down.” He orders. I’m barely able to speak at this point from how much his touch is causing my brain to go blank with little to no response from it.

Minho followed as he crawls over me. Reaching down between us, I slide his pants down his thighs as he takes over to remove the rest down his legs until he manages to get them completely off.

“Fuck,” he says under his breath.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

He runs his hands through his hair as he buries his head in my shoulder, “I don’t have a condom on me.”

I chuckle at the disappointment on his face. I reach over into the bedside table drawer where I kept a pack of condoms that Key had given me for my birthday in hopes that I would get laid this year. I never figured they’d actually come in handy.

I hand him the condom as he tilts his head in curiosity. I wave him off, “Don’t ask.”

After wrapping his erection, he leans over me with his length teasing my entrance. Minho combs the loose strands away from my face as his eyes bore into mine before pushing his hips further against my thighs. The tip of his penis slowly pushes past my folds causing me to groan from the lustful feeling. My walls welcomed and squeezed him which caused Minho to take a breath before moving anymore. It isn’t until he begins to move at a steady pace that I grip at his skin for support.

I press my knees against his hips to pull him deeper into me each time he thrusts. Goosebumps formed when his low groans would sound in my ear. It felt as though each time he sunk into me I was going to fall a part.

Once he begins to change the speed, I found myself having a tight hold on his shoulder to pull his body closer to mine. My moans got louder once I started to match his rhythm, hitting the sweet spot that’s deep down in my core. The pleasure in my body continued to rise to a point where I felt that knot in my stomach begin to tighten. We stayed in sync up until that spring in my core released leaving my leg feeling like jelly.

Minho’s lips traveled up and down my jaw as his hand strokes my hair. Our breathing was the only sound in the room. We stayed like that for a long moment until the grogginess began to take over.

I open my eyes to see nothing but a dark room. There was a slight shift in movement as the warm feeling that was covering my body starts to move away. Instinctively, I reach for the feeling to keep it close by.

I hear a chuckle, “It’s okay.” The warmth returns to pull me in. “I’m not going anywhere.”

MINHO

Y/N slept in my arms so naturally. I stayed awake continuing to replay the night over and over again until sleep finally caught up to me. I tried to change my position away from her body but her arms reached out to pull be back. I couldn’t help but smile at how cute she reacted. I never wanted to leave her side.

The bright sun woke me up to the morning. Trying to adjust to the brightness of the room, I feel this ticklish sensation on my stomach.

“If you keep moving I’m gonna mess up.” I rub the tiredness from my eyes to find Y/N sitting on my hips, painting on my torso.

“What are you doing?”

She smirks, “I was just checking to see if these paints still work.”

“By using them on me?”

“I don’t have any canvases to paint on. Your abs were the only thing hard enough.”

I stretch my arms over my head, “Give me a minute. Something else will get hard for you to use to paint on.”

She laughs but it doesn’t stop her from painting. “I hope you don’t mind me wearing your sweatshirt.”

It’s not until she mentions it that I notice that she’s wearing my shirt with the sleeves rolled up, “Not at all. It’s only a hundred thousand dollar shirt.” Her face falls and I chuckle from the reaction, “I’m kidding.”

She sighs, “I already owe you those sunglasses. My debt is about to be worth more than this apartment.”

I watch Y/N continue her painting. I look down to see what exactly she was painting. It was an ocean view of a sunset. She finishes lining the ocean ripples with the brush around my belly button.

“You're like a female version of Bob Ross.”

“There’s no mistakes, only happy accidents.” She smiles as she places the brush and the tray of paint on the bedside table.

I sit up but she instantly pushes me down, “Are we not done?”

“No, you have to sit still until the paint dries or it’ll smudge.” She leans down to give me a teasing kiss on the lips.

I bite my lip at the sight of her cleavage showing from the oversized sweatshirt. Sighing, I look up at her, “Do you know how hard it is for me to wait with you hovering over me?”

She laughs, dropping her head on my shoulder. “Fine. Since you’re so impatient.” Her lips glide across my cheek as she kisses my jaw, “I’ll make the process go by faster.”

With a playful grin on her face, she begins to lower her head towards my chest and blows on the damp paint to dry. She continues to do this until she reaches the end of the paint where she placed a towel over my waist area to keep the paint from landing in the sensitive areas.

I groan in frustration, “You’re really doing this to me right now?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to dry the paint.” Her hands begin to press against my thighs as she start to pull the towel further down my legs.

Suddenly, her cell phone starts to ring from the kitchen. She groans as she looks at the time then her expression changes.

She sits up, “No one calls me this early.”

“It’s probably Taemin checking in. He seemed really worried about you.”

“No, I already talked to him before I met up with you. The only other person that would call me this early would be Key and he only does that when something’s wrong.”

Y/N gets up from the bed and disappears to where the ringing was coming from. In the meantime, I continue to admire her artwork in detail.

All of sudden, I hear my phone vibrate from my pants. Carefully, I get up from the bed to pull out my phone from the back pocket. There’s a missed call from Hyun-Ki along with a text message. I guess he’s finally chosen to take my offer. I open the message. My hand clenches the phone in anger.

The text message read, “I think we should renegotiate.” Attached to the text was a photo of Y/N leaving the cafe.

Y/N

I reach my phone before the call could go to voicemail. I begin to have this unsettling feeling when I saw that it was in fact Key calling. He knew that I wasn’t going to come in today so something isn’t right.

I answer, “Key, what’s up?”

He was breathing loudly, “Y/N, I-I don’t know what happened!”

“Key, calm down. What’s wrong?”

“I came in like I normally do and it was like this.” He was frantic in explaining the problem that I can barely understand where he was getting at with the call.

“Okay, you’re not making sense. Are you hungover again?”

“Y/N!” He calls my name with a much serious tone that I rarely hear from him,  “Something’s happened to the cafe!”

[Eight]

[darksided-words-blog]

The Messenger

Original short story by Ryatt Clark

Jess & Sophie make a confession that has the potential to either destroy or empower both of their lives.

Part 1 - Jess Logan

Where it all went wrong...

The cursor blinked on the screen for what seemed like an hour. Sophie waited for Jess to respond, but the cursor just kept blinking. Three little dots flickering in succession, taunting her with the idea that Jess was writing back, but what?

Sophie rubbed her hands together nervously waiting for the woman to respond. For the two minutes between her message and the one she received back, she squirmed in her chair, waiting for some kind of reply to the message she just sent.

 “I think I am in love with you, you know.”

Rubbing her hands over her eyes, she suddenly felt stupid and silly.

In Love? She asked herself. That’s impossible. How did I just say that to a virtual stranger; a literal virtual stranger. I don’t even know her!

Her internal monologue did nothing to stop her fear from rising. But, what if she thinks I’m crazy?

 “I’m in love with you too. Have been falling for a while now.”

 Nearly three thousand miles away, Jess sat behind her own computer and sighed. A sense of relief coated every inch of her as she hit enter on the keyboard. A small giggle escaped her lips as she reread Sophie’s message.

She loves me… how is this actually happening? Her thoughts were erratic and spiraling, her body tingling at the idea that there was someone in the world that loved her. Not JUST loved her but was IN love with her loved her back.

It had been at least two years since she had felt the love from anyone other than her son, but even now as he got older, he would say or show it less and less. Ian was a good boy, always sweet and kind to her, but now that he had hit the official milestone of being a teenager, he couldn’t be bothered to be her sweet boy any longer.

S: “Really?”

J: “Yes, really.”

S: “I’ve never been in love with a woman before, scares the shit out of me.”

J: “Oh, same. Trust me.”

S: “I just don’t get it. I mean, we don’t even know each other.”

J: “Don’t we though? I tell you more than I ever tell him.”

S: “About him… about them both. What now?”

J: “I honestly don’t know babe. I just know that I love you. That I am IN love with you.”

S: “I guess we’ll figure it all out. Just feels good to finally tell you.”

J: “Same baby… Same.”

For the next two months, Jess and Sophie fell deeper in love and lust. Through talking, laughing, sharing, writing together and everything in between. They found something in each other that had been lacking in their lives, despite of the fact that they both were committed to other people. They found love and comfort within each other, in addition to a friendship that felt more important than just about anything else.

 Jess Logan

The summer months had transitioned to autumn. Brightly colored leaves scattered the walkway to Jess’s house as she muddled up the path with the bags of groceries. Noticing his truck was in the driveway, she thought maybe Henry would have heard her approaching and stepped in to help.

Fumbling with her keys in the lock, she swung the door open only to find him laying on the couch, his eyes wide open and plastered to the television.

“Could you maybe help me here? I got at least another dozen bags,” Jess huffed, dropping the plastic sacks that were digging into her wrists.

“Where’s the boy? He can help,” Henry grunted, his eyes not leaving the screen.

“He’s out. Remember? I just dropped him off at practice and stopped by the store. It’s not a lot Henry, please?”

Groaning with effort, Henry rose from the couch and adjusted the waist of his jeans. Jess watched him as he slowly made his way towards the front door, only stopping to slip on his shoes. Henry never looked away from the television.

Rolling her eyes, Jess picked up a few of the bags she’d stumbled in with and headed towards the kitchen. After packing away the essentials, she turned on some music and went about the daily grind of cleaning and preparing a meal for her husband and son.

Checking the clock, she noticed it was half-past four, and grabbed her cell phone from her jeans pocket. There were no notifications of any kind, which was unusual for that time of day. By then, she normally had half a dozen messages, at least, from Sophie, not to mention numerous notifications from a variety of social media apps where they had connected.

Today, there wasn’t one. A hint of unrest settled into her stomach, but she did her best to blow it off and continue about her business.

An hour later, Ian had made his way home and was helping Jess set the table for dinner. She laid out the meal and observed the two men in her life go about devouring it without saying a word to her or to each other.

“So, how was practice?” Jess asked after swallowing a bite of her salad. “Did you get the time the coach wanted you to achieve?”

“Yup,” Ian responded before shoveling a spoon full of potatoes into his mouth while scrolling his newly received cell phone. His brilliant green eyes were even more illuminated by the glow of the screen and it immediately reminded Jess of Henry. That thought caused a shiver of fear to spiral down her spine.

“Hey, bud? Please not at the table, ok? This is supposed to be a family dinner. Not a grunt and scroll sort of thing.”

Looking up at his mother sheepishly, the boy turned off the screen and laid it face down as he’d been instructed many times before.

“Thanks,” Jess said and offered her boy a smile. “So, tell me about practice.”

Jess distracted herself by listening as Ian prattled on about the new guy on the team and how he would never meet the time needed to qualify to run the mile for the Fall trials. Back in the recesses of her mind, she was waiting for the vibration from the phone letting her know that there was a message for her. But it never came.

Dinner was cleared, Ian and Henry both left the table and wandered into the living room where they argued over some sports team and a call that was made. Standing in the corner of the kitchen, she pulled out her phone and navigated to the app where she and Sophie chatted the most. The only visible item was the last message she had sent in their chat from the night before.

 “Goodnight baby, I love you so much.”

 Nothing. Sophie never responded to that, which was unlike her. Sighing, Jess initiated a few of the other apps and noticed that Sophie hadn’t posted anything, anywhere all-day long. Biting her lower lip, she hesitated over the keypad that would dial Sophie directly. Calling and chatting on the phone wasn’t something they had done more than two or three times in the six months they’d known each other; only once since saying those three words that seemed to change everything.

Stop being ridiculous, she’s just busy, sick, I don’t know… but stop panicking… Jess tried to calm her anxious mind. But it was the feeling in her stomach that concerned her most. She knew her mind could get carried away and lead her down a path of problems that don’t exist, but her gut was always right. It was where her intuition lived. Right at that moment, it was screaming at her that something wasn’t right.

Ian went off to bed about a half past nine, and Henry had fallen asleep on the couch an hour earlier. Jess finished cleaning up from dinner, put the laundry away and made sure that both Ian and Henry had their lunches and bags ready for the morning.

Finally falling into the recliner, exhausted and worried, she passed a glance to her sleeping husband and sighed deeply. Knowing he was fully asleep, she picked up her cell and checked the round of apps again. Still nothing. Calling wasn’t an option, as it was the middle of the night where Sophie was laying her head. It didn’t stop the fear that had gone from her gut to her heart though as she began nervously scrolling through her timeline.

None of the posts she’d made for Sophie had been reacted too; none of the funny memes laughed at. Jess knew that there would be days when they wouldn’t speak, there had to be. They both had very busy, active lives, but that day hadn’t come yet. It was logical it would, but Jess still couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, and it caused her to become unhinged.

x

The next morning dawned and Jess went about her daily morning routine of sending Henry and Ian off to work and school. Settling into her home office, she opened the spread sheet and began to focus on the data that needed to be added.

Sipping the steaming cup of hot coffee, she heard the familiar ping of the messenger app where she and Sophie would talk. Her heart fluttered at the notion that Sophie was finally there, but also the apprehension from the day before still lingered, causing that initial bout of excitement to quickly fade.

Drawing in a deep breath, she used the mouse to maneuver to the small bubble icon at the bottom of the screen and expanded it.

     S: “Hey, you there?”

    J: “Of course! I was worried about you. Are you ok?”

    S: “Not really. Look, I can’t right now, but will you be home in a few hours? I need to talk to you.”

    J: “Yes, I’ll be here all day. Working atm.”

    S: “Ok cool.”

    J: “Alright, ttyl. I love you <3”

    S:

 Jess waited for the usual, I love you too, but it never came. That’s when she knew it was over before it could even start.

The afternoon muddled on and Jess tried to concentrate on her work. Plugging in the data and numbers into the right places on the spreadsheet was becoming more and more tedious as her thoughts were constantly floating back to the brief and somewhat cold message from her friend.

In the hours that past, she replayed their entire relationship through her memory. Sophie had been the first friend after Jess decided to join a new social platform. It was for writers and artists to share their work, find others to help edit and critique what their projects and even connect artists and contractors looking to work with each other. She had joined to do that, to start sharing some of the stories she’d been scribbling down in between jobs and seeing if there were people out there interested in helping her write.

It had given her something to do on the nights Henry fell asleep on the couch and Ian was tucked away in his room with video games or some girl on the phone. Jess wanted something other than just nightly binge watch sessions of some random show or reading another book that did nothing but fill time.

Lonely, bored and feeling as if her life was nothing special, she loved the process of writing. Jess found herself daydreaming about a dozen different kinds of lives she’d like to live and paired them with new scenarios to develop a collection of short stories about empowered women.

The more she wrote, the more doors of her own personality were opened to her. Jess was able to rediscover things about herself that she never realized to be possible. So, she took the leap and dove in, finding a sense of self and self-worth. What she didn’t expect to find, was this person with whom she fell in love with. Now she sat with the notion, and pretty strong gut feeling that she was about to lose this all, too. She’s already lost passion and desire she had for Henry, as she assumed he did for her, she was losing her son to adulthood, losing her mind in mind work data, and now, she was going to lose the one thing that made her feel anything... Sophie.