#while my high school friend who used to fail classes is now on a vacation in Pattaya

[sanjiaftersex]

finished writing two paragraphs for my termpaper literature review

[lohkeuncensored]

Sometimes ranting about my issues help, but you're not obligated to pay attention

I've never failed anything school related; I was close once, back when I was 15, but I've always pulled through with mediocre to high grades.

The way things are going right now, that might change soon.

I'm on the 5th semester of my bachelors and I am so burnt out. I've gotten through a lot by the help of spite, but this semester (which I started out being so excited and interested) have drained me so much. And I blame all of it on my study group.

We are four in the group. Me, Tamara, Klaus and Martin. The class was split into two special lines at the end of the 4th semester, which made it difficult to create my own group for this semester as we were told to, as all the people I talked to chose the other special line of the education.

Tamara asked me if I wanted to group up, which I agreed to. I was just happy to be asked, you know?

The school wanted us to create 3-man groups, but on the first day after summer vacation it turned out that there was two 2-man groups, so we were combined into one 4-man group. I should have protested that.

Klaus was new to the class, as he'd just gotten back from a year with being sick due to stress, so I don't really blame him for anything; I know things can be hard, and I understand the struggles. Basic empathy, right?

The second time he called out from having a bad day, we all told him that we hoped that he'd feel better soon, as you do. And then the other two started talking about him in class, while he was home: they agreed that mental issues was just a bad excuse, and that you just had pull yourself together get past it. So, it was confirmed that I wouldn't be able to talk with them if I had issue, got it.

I told Klaus, privately, to let me know if there was anything I could do to help and that the others weren't as understanding to mental struggles.

We've been projecting a renovation of a 215 year old hospital/school building, and distributed different parts of the building between us. I got the top floor and the roof, and was to find a solution for getting more natural light.

The building is currently condemned due to mold, so we were geared up like we were in Breaking Bad when we got to go and see it.

Anyway, back to my issue.

I did sketches upon sketches of potential solutions, and we discussed it in the group, as one should with it being a group project, but every time I opened the digital model that we'd started on Martin had been in there and changed things in my work.

"Why is there a glass wall on my floor?" Martin thought that the best way to get natural light in a symmetrical building was to remove the right side of the hipped roof, making the ridge go all the way out the the wall and then put in a glass wall instead of bricks.

"Who moved the gypsum wall on my floor?" Martin thought that I had placed it wrong and moved it without asking.

On the topic of possible solutions for more natural light, I barely managed to suggest a dormer before Martin loudly proclaimed "no" and when asked for a reason, he said "because they're ugly" instead of being constructive.

Besides there being tonnes of more examples like this, he's also said things like "I have a friend who'd siding with Palestine, which is clearly wrong," and it feels like there's been at least one racist or general chauvinist comment on a daily basis, and it's just built up.

When I've complained to the others, they've been understanding and seemingly on my side, until I've tried to confront Martin on his behavior. I understand Klaus not wanting to get into a confrontation; he barely knows us and is still trying to get past his own issues. Tamara on the other hand are "apparently" trying to be neutral and find a middle road, without really noticing that Martin is messing with things that were already approved by the group and ruining several hours of my work without reason. But hey, it's not her work that he's messing with, so it's not that bad, right?

I tried to tell him that if there was things he was unhappy with, he should tell us when it first discussed, instead of bringing it up weeks later, when I'm about to put the finishing touches on my work. He legitimately just dismissed my complaint and ignored me, so yeah, I admit it, I got a bit emotional due to the disrespect. I'm a crier because no one ever taught me how to regulate my emotions, and I don't deal overly well when people won't listen to me.

And then fucking Tamara interfered by, condescendingly, saying "you shouldn't get emotional, Lohke. You're an adult and about to soon enter the workforce and no one wants to hire someone emotional."

Admittedly, I blew a casket.

I stood up and yelled at her "that it just doesn't always work like that, Tamara!" and fucked off to go cry in the bathroom.

I'm the oldest one of the four of us, but honestly Tamara seems to be of the idea that she's the most mature, presumably because she is the only one who has a child.

I can not with people talking down to me like that. I've been in the workforce for close to a freaking decade, and I've never been treated with this level of disrespect from someone who wasn't family before.

The last couple of months since then, I've stopped coming with inputs to the project, because I honestly don't care anymore. Everything has piled up too much and I've fallen into a hole of apathy, that I can't claim out of.

The exam is soon and I'm not overly hopeful.

If you've read this far, please cross your fingers that I'll at least manage a passing grade. Thanks.

[findingyou0711]

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

After struggling to decide what to do after high school, I could now choose where I was going. Although I could pass the UPCAT, I failed to pass on my preferred campus, so my mother decided to give up on that. While the entrance exam of the university near Taft Avenue was just so hard.

Despite not failing it as well, I was not able to make the cut because of the "quota requirement," and this pisses me off until now. During the summer vacation, while my classmates were already preparing for the next chapter of their lives, I was still figuring out where I would go and what I would do. Especially now that, after my devastating leg injury, I have to retire from playing volleyball, causing me to decline sports scholarships to several universities because of my mom's wishes. 

After one month of thinking and several examinations, I have decided where to go after graduation. I did not bother to tell my friends, as they were busy with their own lives. 

I am currently living in my cousin's house in Makati. I was supposed to stay with my uncle, who was also studying in Manila. However, my mom refused because it was too far from my school. 

I immediately left the house and rode a jeep to the train station. I was not afraid to arrive late because my cousin told me that some professors would not come on the first day because they were still fixing and deciding their teaching load. 

The first train that arrived when I arrived on the platform closed its doors, so I had to wait for the second one to arrive, which came for approximately five to ten minutes. This is not the first time I will travel far to reach my school. The only difference is that I am feeling exhausted. I had not arrived at my school yet; I could feel I had already spent the whole day. 

After five minutes, that train had arrived, and it was not filled this time. I immediately get in and find my spot. I am not hoping to sit because probably there would be anyone that could need it. After three stations, I had already arrived at my station. I get off the train and give my ticket. Currently, the machines are unavailable as they will change the ticketing system. The long walk from the train station is finally going to my school. I have to walk to the crossing lane from the station and walk again going to the school "walkway." I still need to cross from the walkway until I reach the building where I will attend my classes. However, I do not know where that building is. While holding a plastic envelope with my temporary pass to the school and the official student load, I went to the second building along San Marcelino Street. When I entered the campus, I just walked fast and forgot to ask the guards who were busy checking the bags of the students entering the campus. 

"Niko, you're on your own to figure out where is that fucking ST. I still have four minutes to be confused. Where is that?" 

I just walked to the stairs and crossed the bridge where I saw the "most disgusting river" that I have ever seen in my entire life.  

The first time I crossed this bridge after my scheduled orientation to buy a uniform, it did not smell that much, but the water was dark, with algae, and full of food wrappers. However, the smell of it was really disgusting and stomach-turning. I wanted to run damn fast, but my legs could not do it. What is even surprising is that people who are also crossing here seem unbothered and just continue walking. Some even continued eating their food while walking. To survive its smell, I have to get used to it. I just went straight without knowing where my freaking building was. Then, I saw this big gym sort off. I am not sure what it is called, but it is significant, and there is a transparent roof above. I finally remembered where that ST Building was. 

"I am already in that stupid building. But the question now is, where is my freaking room." 

The student load indicates that the room of my first class today was "201". Maybe it is located on the second floor of the building. I arrived at the supposed entrance of this building and went upstairs. After walking around the second floor, I finally found my building. After maybe around ten minutes of walking while being confused, I could locate my facility. I was five minutes late. 

I opened the door, nervous that the professor might be inside. But luckily, there was no professor inside the room. The reaction of my classmates was very precious. The two girls seated at the table immediately return to their seats. The group at the back, possibly playing games, are rushing back to their chairs. The funniest thing here is one of them almost fell on the floor. Others who were outside of the room immediately went inside. 

"Hey! Our professor is already here!" 

"Is he really the professor? He looked tall and mature, but I guess he is not." 

"Dude, you give us a fright! Dang!" 

I comforted them by telling them, "I am sorry to scare you all. I am not obviously the professor as I am wearing the same uniform as all of the boys in this room, white polo with the school logo and midnight blue pants. Nice meeting you all, and good morning." 

"Man! You just said asses. That's vulgar!" 

His seatmate immediately responded, "Dude, you're not even his dad! Shut the fuck up! We're now college students, dumbass!" 

"You just called me a "dumbass"!" 

"Then, what will I call you? A turd?" 

"Well, I just don't like how you refer to me. Uncool!" 

I am just looking at my two classmates while they are busy exchanging their arguments. I don't know whether I will intervene or just let them say their shits to each other. 

A female classmate went in beside me. "I am sorry if these two simpletons are arguing things that don't make sense. Nice meeting you! By the way, we cannot see you at the department orientation. Why did you not attend?" 

"Ah… There is an orientation?" 

She explained, "Departmental orientation last week. We are not able to see you there." 

"I was not able to receive any messages from the department. Maybe because my parents bought me a new phone and changed my phone number." I replied. 

"I see. Since we already know everyone except you, maybe it will be fair if you introduce yourself." 

Another student just entered the room, and again, the same reaction also happened as everyone ran to their seats. 

"Stop chickening! He also belongs in this class because of his uniform, and it also happens that he did not attend the last orientation meeting." 

Everyone in the class greeted him. "Hello there!" He only nodded and sat in the last vacant chair near the table. 

"Uhm… the two of you, please introduce yourselves. It would be unfair if you didn't do the same thing we did. You're just going to tell your names, you're major because this is a professional education subject, the last school you attended, and why you decided to attend here." 

I agreed, "Sure, but should I go in front of this room?" 

She replied, "No need to do that, just stay here. We could hear from here," 

So, I decided to be the first to introduce myself, "I am Nikolai Gayta. You can call me Niko. I am taking up Bachelor in Elementary Education and finished high school at Mater Carmeli School. I decided to study here because I also like the simple ambiance aside from this being my final resort. That's all." 

The other unexcited guy briefly introduced himself. "William Frederick Acosta. Bachelor in Elementary Education. Adamson BED. I continue to study because of the discount and my older sister studying here, and I also just got lazy with my college application. Thank you." and immediately sit down. 

Most of the class were shocked, including the girl who told us to introduce ourselves. 

"It seems that you're surprised. What's wrong?" I asked. 

"The guy just introduced himself that fast. Is he on a date or something?" she exclaimed. 

I laughed that they were surprised that the guy just introduced himself that fast. "Maybe he was shocked or embarrassed that he had to introduce himself out of the blue." 

She asked me, "Are you feeling the same?" I replied. "No. It's okay." 

"Hello, I am Arianne, the class president of this class. I graduated high school from St. Theresa's College in Quezon City. If you need anything or want to ask something, let me know." 

"Yeah, sure thing. Thank you." 

I could finally sit near the guy who also introduced himself earlier. Now, I can finally eat the egg sandwich my cousin prepared for me and the coffee I bought before going here. I guess that the coffee is already cold. But at least I could still drink it. If I was not lost earlier, I would drink this hot or at least warm. 

"You're not going to drink that cold, right?" the guy beside me asked. 

"I have no choice because…" when I looked, it was the guy who introduced himself earlier. I could see that he was the kind who does not talk much and prefers not to be disturbed. It gave me chills after he stared right into my eyes. "My money will be wasted if I do not drink this." 

"I see. I could see that you're more interesting than I thought. You are more than what I see, I guess." 

I admit that I am pretty embarrassed and quite disrespected after the class president just cornered me while I was going to sit. I hope they let me go to my chair of choice before asking this question. Instead, I choose to still do it to not appear rude. 

Minutes passed, and the professor was still not around. So, I just decided to grab my tablet and watch a movie. An hour later, the next thing I will do is wait for the second subject. But, the professor did not again. 

"I hope that I did not go today. I hope I just sleep." 

I started packing my things when I saw that most of my classmates had already left the room. The majority of them, maybe when home already. I was too busy watching this movie to the point that I could not see what was happening around me. I now left the room after fixing my things. I still need to walk to the train station, the platform, and ride the train to my cousin's house. 

[demwhore]

summer (l.ty)

pairing┃boxer! lee taeyong and college student! OC ft. Doyoung, Mark, Johnny and Taeil + mention of Bang Chan and Namjoon genre | fluff, slight angst | boxer! au warnings | slow-burn, language, mention of ass ( i know taeyong has none but alright), lots of banter, physical injuries, mention of blood, violence, mention of steroid usage, making out in the boxing gym, too much plot but aight, smut (for those uncomfortable, the smut is placed at the very end; the note indicates mature content, read at your own risk ) subtle sub!-dom! themes, unprotected sex, fingering, eating out, penetration, biting, marking, creampie, edging it’s not really that dirty but it’s just passionate lovemaking word count | 25k

synopsis | 

“If two people are meant to be together, they will eventually find their way back.” 

Or in which, you are stranded in your university due to summer classes and you had a little reunion with your ex that you last saw two years ago.

a/n | this is part of @neo-cult-ure‘s summer collab!  taglist | @cinanamon @jaesmintea @jungcity @seongghwaa @mjlkau @neoyoungho for helping me with proofreading.  tags | @ethaeriyeol @yuta-nakitamoto​ @suhweo @neocity-sarai @jaeminsmainbitch @the32ndbeat @bumblebeenct @cloudynakamoto @solecize @moonlss @ceruleanskies @tzuqui @jungjeffr3y @neo-shitty @o-schist​

muse | and this is based on the song summer by calvin harris, long flight by taeyong, call out my name, earned it by The Weeknd, pillowtalk by zayn, love me harder by ariana grande. there are literary quotes from The Notebook by nicholas sparks and The Great Gatsby by fitzgerald.

“The cows didn’t deserve this sight. You look like a moving potato sack.” 

That one familiar voice, laced with precise mirthful nuance immediately stops you from your attempted zumba dances. Your head automatically snaps towards the door where he is currently leaning at. Even without looking, you could see the tugging of his lips that belonged to your one and only grumpy roommate and unfortunately best friend, Doyoung. 

This is one of your routines, dancing carelessly in front of your open windows, to entertain the cows from the farm your dormitory is located at. They make such a great audience though, unlike the people from university. 

People who? You don’t know her. 

You lean over the table to shut down the speaker that blasts electronic music. 

The morbid greetings are never new to you anymore. In fact these greeting exchanges are normal, and an inside joke no one will understand but you and him. 

Doyoung looks like he recently woke up from his grave. With a sullen face and eye bags that are too dark, it stands out amongst his pallorness. Being a pol-sci student surely makes the stunning Kim Doyoung a disaster. 

He enters your room with coffee in hand and plops himself comfortably on the blue plush seats you two had managed to haul at the local thrift shop. This is Kim Doyoung with his disheveled morning look—his curly hair and baggy sweatpants but hail thee heavens, he still looks majestic and it’s unfair. He gulps a mouthful of his morning coffee. At this point you have made the conclusion that coffee is what kicks him in the morning, if not, daily. 

You gawk at the tall boy before you, bracing yourself for his never ending list of snarky remarks —about you, your ridiculous pajamas, the cows which you don’t understand either, college, his debates, how emotional the girls are in his department and it pisses him off, how capitalism sucks, do soulmate exists? And if yes, it’s bullshit and what not. Nevertheless, you do understand his points since both of you share a deep seated bond and a like for misanthropy. Despite his ear-splitting and sometimes provocative rants, it had never failed to boost you. Albeit you hate early morning scolds, Kim Doyoung and his banters are an exception. 

“Potato who? I am an exceptional dancer.” You grin while whipping your hair dramatically. 

On cue, Doyoung’s eyes roll heavenwards. What a dramatic king. “How is that even possible?”

You shrug. “They moo-ed at me longer than their usual moo-s. Look!” You point at the brown cow staring back at you while nibbling grass. 

Doyoung didn’t bother to peek at your window. Instead, he shakes his head in dismay while sipping again on his black coffee. “You need to seek help, you’re unbelievable.”

“Me and the cows just have a deep-seated relationship and they are far more supportive than your grumpy ass.” 

Doyoung didn’t answer you. He shifts again in his seat, his long legs folding in an uncomfortable angle. Doyoung winces as he settles his mug on the table just adjacent from the plush seat. He gives you a concerned look, “Anyways, enough with the cows. How is your major going? You look dead.” 

“So are you.”

“I’m stunning, what the fuck are you talking about?”

Bickering with him will be a waste of a time. 

It's 8:30 am and truth be told, you are not ready to go to your university especially when the impending torment awaits for your arrival. 

Your lips tug upward, an acrimonious smile painting your lips. If there’s something you want to talk about early in the morning, it would rather be about politics, rabbits, anything but your college department. The attempt in pulling an all-nighter yesterday night isn’t enough to lessen the never ending stack of paperwork your professors are demanding and talking about it would just fuel up your frustrations. “If the team won’t cooperate in the defense,” you sigh. “Summer.”

In an instant, Doyoung’s lips tugs into a shit-eating grin. Those smiles that hold such malice that shouts ‘you’re a worst case’. Being the sinister human being he is, he didn’t waste this opportunity to throw you his judgement. “For what I know college students should never be… negligent.” He drags out those words slowly like reciting to a child, making sure you do understand what the hell he is talking about and giving full emphasis on the last word that he said. 

You immediately retort back, defensive. “I am! I mean… I am not!”

“I am not saying you are… but your groupmates.”

“They are…”

His feline eyes are as dark as his hair while he studies you. He’s feigning fake enthusiasm while raising his brows up cockily. “Yeah?”

You inwardly let out a whine. “Yeah. Now. Shut up Kim Doyoung.”

He chuckles. “What? I’m not saying anything!”

You huff. “After all this crap, I will seriously go out for a vacation,” you pause. “And I won’t tag you in, bitch!” 

He rolls his eyes, “How despicable.”

“Seriously though, I don’t want to spend my time in university, it’ll kill the remaining sanity left in me.”

Overly confident, you want to smack the shit out of him. He shrugs. “I know. Good thing I’m an ace.”

You roll your eyes and throw your plushie towards his direction. But the devil incarnate has the deities on his side because the pillow didn’t budge nor hit him at all. 

“Excuse me, mister right. Sorry to pop your bubble but remember? Your professor is still frustrated at the bull crap you pulled.” Your lips immediately tugging upwards upon the memory of him blabbing out incoherently to you like a child, intoxicated with alcohol while flunking classes. All of it because he’s, according to him, an ace. 

“And what was that you were yelling at the corridors?” You try and recall the song he keeps on yelling in the top of his lungs while the people are shooting him dirty looks, “Young, dumb, young, young, dumb and bro-oh-ke…”

You wheeze while clutching your stomach. Good thing he got a nice voice, but still it was embarrassing. As if on cue, the stressed-out, disheveled Kim Doyoung wipes his face dramatically in humiliation. You’re both entertainers in your own ways, but he makes himself really stand out without him even trying. 

If Kim Doyoung’s life is a movie, you’d literally spend your dollars to watch him over and over again. 

“How’s your horse?” And you burst into fits of laughter. 

A distressed groan escapes Doyoung’s lips upon the memory. “Can you please not?” 

You shake your head no, still laughing upon the memory. He glares in your direction, his hawk-like eyes staring back at you with such vexation.

It’s a mistake for him to actually choose to drink rather than preparing for a major presentation that he messed up with big time. While drunk, he answered his professor’s inquiry with, ‘I don’t have a thing for voyeurism though, my horse is not down for it’. His professor is too infuriated at his answer and his laid back attitude, she gave him a big fat 60% mark as payback. What a damn ace, truly, ace of all clowns. 

“I just hoped the case study could help me. I didn’t know that the case presentation was worth 60% of my grade!”

“You should join a pageant sometime.”

“Fuck, no.”

“Well, you’re famous as well as your answer. Imagine the school paper desperate just to have your comment published?” You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes. 

His suggestive answer spreads out in the university like wildfire. If you could remember the quote, “Attention Ladies! Doyoung is quite reserved as his ‘horse’ is quite shy”, no public canoodling!

Doyoung is so furious when he sees the whole article, that he wants to sue the journalism club for defamation. But they immediately bribe him with a percentage, because the profits were surprisingly high because he’s featured in. Kim Doyoung is quite popular unlike you. He is a Pol-Sci student, and that made him proactive about social issues that you sometimes wanted to shut him out. He never stops talking about capitalism. And not to mention his fanbase— he has the looks, brain even if he barely uses it, and part of a famous sorority house. High number of admirers are really expected. 

He makes a face. That’s what you get when you enter one of your classes intoxicated with gin and bullshit. Yolo, Kim Doyoung. 

“Stop laughing,” he scowls. 

Doyoung clears his throat and diverts the subject, “Have you tallied the responses?”

“Oh, shit.” You shift yourself in your bed. A ballpen strikes your ass and a ruler snaps in half the moment you tried to move again in your spot. 

You wince. “I told Regina about it, and guess what?” 

“Spill.”

“She fucking forgot about the methodology. I’m going insane!” 

You stand up and grab the print-outs of your unfinished research paper. Doyoung brings the cup to his lips while watching you scurry back and forth in your room. You leave your room, only to return once again to gape at your best friend. The lack of sleep is taking a toll on you early in the morning, and all you want to do is to wrap yourself in your fuzzy blankets and binge watching Netflix. After all, it’s exciting to watch with the academic deadlines chasing after every episode you attempt to watch. 

Your best friend’s lips instantly curl upward and you register that the words he’ll be spatting out will slap the shit out of you “You still have to interpret the results, though.”

“Bloody hell.” You groan loudly. 

He grins smugly. “I really hope you won’t bawl your eyes out, but you still have a big nut to crack open.”

You were about to retort back but something had hit you. Your face painting an aghast expression, you cussed again, “Oh shit, the math homework?”

“Bingo.” His smirk widens at your stressed out face. “And the deadline is today.”

Why do you still have maths in your course? It’s ridiculous. 

Despite him being annoying at all times, you are still happy that Doyoung is at your side. He is a blessing in disguise. He somewhat remembers all the things you have mentioned to him like homeworks and other things and makes fun of you because you‘re such a fucking goner. Having the habit of doing something at the drop of a hat then to procrastinate and cram it all out like a madwoman. 

You manage to get through this bad habit of yours when your ex helped you back in the day. But now that he’s gone, all your mannerisms are flooding in like crazy. 

You heave a long sigh of frustration. “Why, why, the hell did I choose to watch Riverdale instead of doing my maths?”

You stare at his dark orbs dancing with pure amusement. 

He shrugs at your outbursts. “I have been telling you. You’re too distracted.”

You, per contra, immediately run to your bed and grab the nearest paper lying on the end with a  bold ‘biochemistry’ printed on the topmost part of the paper. You toss the paper to Doyoung’s direction and continued on doing the searching operation of your long-lost math homework. 

Doyoung clicks his tongue, finding the scowl on your face entertaining. “I just saw that paper! Now I can’t see it!” 

You stomp your feet in annoyance.

Doyoung rolls his eyes. He knows exactly where this will go. He counts.

Three. Two. One.

You wail. “Kim Doyoung! I cannot find it!”

“You should learn to search using your fucking eyes! Jesus Christ, you’re unbelievable,” he sighs, running his lithe hands through his raven locks. From the sound of his sigh, you know he’s tired of dealing with your constant bullshit.

“You have your eyes for a reason. For searching! Don’t use your mouth, Y/N,” he paused. Your homework is on the table.” Then he pointed at the coffee table.

“You’re lucky I’m being nice here. I’d rather hide that paper from you and watch you fail because you just lost a fucking piece of paper.”

You grimace, “You’re one hell of --”

You see how Doyoung’s face morphed in a whole 180 turn before the blink of your eye. From being calm to sinister. He mumbles, his tone so deep and malign. But you can hear him, “If you continue on. I will never, ever, help you with your essays. Carry on your GPA.”

What a hypocritical bitch. 

Doyoung exactly knows how and where to push your buttons. 

A whirlpool of emotions washes over you, and panic is the main cherry on top. It’s been an unspoken rule among both of you, that if ever who’s at rock bottom, the other half shall lift the rock no matter how heavy it is. And unfortunately, you're the rock and Doyoung has been helping you all through this time to somehow pass and manage your assignments. He’s been complaining how he is suffering from back pain due to carrying you all over the place. 

You huff, clenching your fist to control the forming irritation in your gut, “For the sake of my peace, I wanna punch you. But yes, thank you, bitch.”

He mimics you, “Welcome bitch.”

Approaching his seat, you plop yourself comfortably on the floor. “Now how do I do this?”

Doyoung tilts his head to the side to cast a greater view of your paper and his face immediately scrunches. “Mean and deviation? I have taught you how to get them, right?”

You groan out. “I forgot.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Of course you forgot about it,” he curls his lips to a frown. “But remembering handsome boys, you ain’t slick… wait… what’s my name again?”

“Gross.”

He snatches the paper from your hold with a scowl and begins scribbling the answers. He mumbles loud enough for you to hear, “You weren’t like this when he was here. You’re too distracted.”

You frown upon the mention of your ex. Doyoung is right, you suck up big time when your ex left you to pursue his career. 

Doyoung hands the paper back to you. Glancing at your homework, he had answered the first two numbers and the rest were blank. Your mouth presses into a thin line while attempting to answer the rest, following the solutions and steps of Doyoung from above. 

He lifts the mug to his lips and gulps the remaining coffee. A vibration from his pocket catches his attention. Doyoung fishes for his mobile phone and his eyes almost bulge out upon the text he just received. The screen illuminates his slender face. 

[from TY Track] [9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well. 

Glancing from your peripheral vision; you know he must’ve received some dirty text again with the way his eyes bulge out of his sockets and a faint blush of pink that has been kissing his cheeks. You were not sure from whom though but it could be from the lists of girls in your mind that you’ve once texted out to ‘fuck off’ as per Kim Doyoung. 

It happens daily and you are somewhat forced to answer them back because he’s been begging you to get rid of them. His ways of swatting the girls are really insurmountable. There is this time you thought he’s sending in dick pic (you almost threw a victory dance) but in reality he was just sending a picture of his beautiful middle finger followed by blocking or sometimes a ‘get lost, I don’t like you’.

You grin at the thought of Doyoung dirty texting but it’s borderline impossible. The amount of suitors is surprisingly high for a grumpy Kim Doyoung but he dismisses them all. You don’t know why he doesn’t open up opportunities for commitment, but it isn’t your business to mess with. After all, you couldn't blame them, his whole frat boy demeanor is really a lovely sight to look at. 

His mouth opens then closes followed by his eyes widening like he couldn’t believe the sight at his screen. You let out an airy chuckle while computing for the mean. “You got yourself a fubu? Shall we call in Alpha chi Omega and celebrate?”

His brows automatically furrow while hiding his phone away from your sight, in defense. Your conclusions forming like endless swirls in your mind at the sight of him being so, aloof. You shoot out a grin. 

“What the fuck? No!”

Your brows automatically shoot upward and you raise your hands still grinning widely. “Woah, chill, lover boy.”

Never in Doyoung’s life he plays cupid, because he thinks love is ridiculous. But he might as well play one for the sake of two broken hearts still yearning for each other. Doyoung knows he’s still not over you and you are still thinking about him even if you don’t admit. 

[doie] [9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around.

Two months and two weeks prior to Taeyong’s homecoming. 

Ragged breaths resonate around the boxing circle. The crowd is expectant, holding in their breath while watching the neck to neck fight. 

Chan is lying on the floor, his chest rising heavily with every breath he takes. His coach is yelling profanities from the farthest corner, urging him to get his ass up and fight. He hears the muffled rambunctious screaming of the crowd and the loud EDM music blaring inside the gymnasium followed by the irritating ringing in his ears. 

With Taeyong’s strike on his right ear, his balance fucks up and he can’t bring himself on his feet. Chan’s eyesight is getting worse, seeing occasional stars here and there. If it wasn’t for the gym’s blinding spotlight and camera flashes, he would really think that he got blind. Despite the large ring they are currently in, the atmosphere feels heavy, thick, and choking. The place stinks of cigarettes, sweat and blood. The floors were slightly wet with their perspiration. There’s overall tension, but violence is above it all. 

Taeyong wipes the blood that spluttered from his mouth from Chan’s jab. He runs towards the corner where his team is at. Taeil immediately scrambles to his feet to get inside the ring to wipe off his sweat. Taeyong feels extreme exhaustion while staring back at Taeil under hooded eyes. He is running a tongue over his mouthpiece and rests his head on the ring’s metal post. 

The referee enters the ring with a mic in hand then approaches the younger boxer. The referee pounds his fist onto the white mat, yelling numbers, “One!”

A pause. Then there is another pound. This time with much more force than the previous pound. “Two!”

Chan’s eyes flicker open at the countdown. His bruised eyes widening at the sound of his coach’s constant fire of profanities. Get up Bang Chan! Get the hell up! And so he did. Before the referee could shout the last number, three, Chan slightly jerks his shoulder, lifting his gloved hands then he tilts his torso to his right, raising up to his toes completely. Chan wobbles slightly while setting his posture up in full defense mode. 

The referee makes a dash, excluding himself from the ring. Taeyong walks towards the center, his stance is set with his gloved hand raised up for defense. Chan’s appearance is rough. With blood covering most of his torso, there are occasional hues of yellow, purple and blue lingering on the younger boxer’s cheeks and eyes, one of his eyebrows split open blood pooling down mixing with his sweat, his plump lips is swollen and busted as if he had been stung by a bee. 

Taeyong approaches the opponent carefully. Defense still high and not breaking eye contact. He knows how jumbled Chan is. Continuing on pushing himself further will just cause him harm— both mentally and physically. Due to Chan’s swollen right eye he can’t see Taeyong clearly. Throwing out jabs clumsily. 

After contemplating for a few, Chan throws a counterpunch but Taeyong is quick enough to throw a combination that interrupts the younger mid-way. Chan musters his remaining strength to launch out a strike but Taeyong immediately dodges and springs forward to throw a blow on his jaw. 

Chan can see spirals swimming in his vision that made him pause. With a disarranged mind, all he could do was to clinch on his opponent’s shoulder, breathing hard, bodies colliding with each other. The referee immediately steps in, breaking them apart. The crowd roars with both enthusiasm and dismay. 

Taeyong made the final move, shooting his last blow on Chan’s stomach that made the young boxer fall with a loud thud. The crowd erupts with extreme exhilaration. 

The emcee’s voice booms through the gymnasium’s speakers. 

“Ladies and Gentlemen after twelve rounds of action we go to the scorecards. We have a unanimous decision in favor of the winner none other than boxing’s pride of Seoul, Lee Taeyong! The one and only, current WBA welterweight champion of the world! Lee ‘Kingpin’ Taeyong!”

Taeyong approaches Chan’s figure at the other side of the ring and gives him his warmest regards. Taeyong watches the intimate moment shared between the Aussie and his significant other. As sweet folks say, loving kisses can wipe out exhaustion. Touché. 

Taeyong is sure that the younger boxer has potential and could make his boxing career stretch far with an obtained score of 116. Taeyong is in Chan’s situation once, losing then going home with a fucked up face. Everything is consuming— especially in boxing. Fatigue, face, dignity— but it is all about the commitment. It took Taeyong several eyebrow cuts just to achieve his current position. Before he was well-known as the Kingpin, he was once a loser. With high pressure, diamonds are formed. 

Victory is so sweet. Yet the Kingpin still feels empty. He misses those moments when he was still a nobody; someone will run inside the gym just to pepper him kisses and him dodging cause he’s all sweaty. Or the steamy make out sessions usually in his Mustang after every class. The late night sex in his room. He wants to turn back time, he missed experiencing it all, everything. It hurts for him to admit but he missed someone that is dear to him. Someone that is his life. Those memories cease the moment he decided to choose this career, boxing. He thought, was it worth it? Is selecting boxing really did give him the utmost happiness? Was it worth exchanging you for this career? After his several attempts of questioning himself, Taeyong couldn’t still answer whether all of this makes him happy or it’s just complete bullshit. 

His team jumps in the ring full of excitement. Taeil is showing him an ear to ear grin while wiping off his face. Taeyong winces as Taeil is too overwhelmed, vigorously wiping over his cuts. “Hyung, I’m not a car, stop wiping my face like a wiper.”

Taeil giggles. “Oh. Sorry.”

His manager approaches him, sliding the heavyweight gold belt over his shoulder. The manager leans over to whisper a strong ‘congratulations’. Taeyong nods back, unable to contain his glee. He grins at the crowd and pumps his fist in the air. The crowd are screaming for his name and his victory.

All hail, Kingpin. 

“Taeyong.”

Taeyong’s eyes flicker shut. It’s only been five minutes since Taeyong submerged in the cylinder shaped chamber full of ice, but for him it feels like forever. The water stings and the cold is there, but it eats away the soreness nevertheless. Taeyong grits his teeth, fucking five minutes feels like eternity. He tries to divert his attention to anything but the stopwatch clipped on the cylinder’s edge.  

A voice calls him again. Taeil. “Taeyong.”

The boxer breathes. “Yes. Hold on.” 

The timer beeps. Taeil approaches the cylinder bath to snatch the beeping device.

 Taeyong rises to his full height with the water swaying after him and the ice floating around the bath. Taeyong grips the edge and jumps out. 

Taeil approaches him with a towel in hand. The boxer grabs the fluffy fabric and wraps it around his bare torso still shivering from the aftermath of his post-match routine. The soreness from the fight subdues. Taeyong holds the fabric to his head to towel dry his silver locks. 

Taeil begins, “There’s something the manager will tell you.”

Taeyong shoots out a look towards him, his face immediately contorting into confusion.  “About what?”

Taeil shrugs. He plops down to the bench and drops the athletic bag. The steel bench creaks as he rummages through the bag and throws a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a black tank top towards Taeyong. 

The boxer grunts, snatching the clothes mid-air with his right hand. “Geez. You could’ve handed it to me, hyung.”

Taeil faces him and settles the bag. A tired sigh escapes his lips. “I’m not in favor of what he’s gonna say to you.”

Taeyong’s brow furrows. “Why? Wait, what is it about?”

Taeil leans back on the wall and closes his eyes for a moment. “You’re familiar with the gung-ho McGregor aren’t you?”

Taeyong’s eyes narrow as he tries to recall the familiar name. Damn, Chan’s smack must’ve shaken his brain. “The suspended boxer?”

Taeil nods and crosses his arms. “He’s actually back and wants to hold a match with you.” 

Taeyong fidgets on his spot awkwardly. Water droplets drip down his chest. It’s fucking cold. For heaven’s sake he’s just in his black boxers. 

“Can I change first?”

Taeil shakes his head and holds a finger to shut him out. “This is an important matter, kid.”

Taeyong scowls. “It’s fucking cold!”

He stops bickering back upon the sight of Taeil’s glare. Taeyong sighs, “We rejected them, right?”

“Yes. But backstage, Alexis’s manager opened up the matter to the manager again.”

Taeyong’s brows knot. “I just got into a fight. Can you talk it out with the manager?”

Taeil grimaces. “You know how my words don’t have an effect on him.” 

Taeil continues on, “Besides, you are never the alibi type. If there’s a fight, you fight. That is how they know you. So it won’t work, unless you got pregnant? But that’s borderline fucking impossible.”

Taeyong didn’t argue back since Taeil has a point. Alibis are not really favorable especially in the world of boxing, unless you’re at death's door. 

Taeil continues. “McGregor’s team promised a percentage if you let him win.”

“What the fuck?” Absolutely never. 

A knock disrupts the two. Taeil straightens himself while Taeyong readjusts the towel resting on his hair. 

Manager Oh enters the room. The two male cannot read the gloomy look on the manager’s face as the atmosphere is quite tense. 

The manager gulps and begins to speak. “I reckon Taeil has told you about the matter,” the manager pauses. “We’ll accept the deal. The fight will be pushed through.”

Taeyong’s ears piques as he begins to feel annoyed. “Without consulting me? If it wasn’t for Taeil hyung, I wouldn’t know.”

Manager Oh breaths. “They promised to sponsor everything for your UBT.” He halts again, trying to select the right words to cajole the boxer. “That’s your goal, right?”

The Universal Boxing Tournament is something elite, big, and wild. It isn’t just Taeyong’s goal but every boxer. The payments in the matches are double the fee he usually receives. Although the chance of fighting in the big event is at Taeyong’s palm, it left him in a state of deep conflict. He’s done being the sparring partner— or a punching bag of someone else. He’d establish himself and the idea of stooping down just for the benefit of others greatly dismays him. 

Taeyong strokes his nape. “It is one of my goals— dream, even. But I’m not sure, manager. I’m done being a punching bag.”

Manager Oh rubs his eyes. “I know…it’s just that McGregor is coming back and having a match with you could guarantee popularity for him.”

Taeil shakes his head in dismay but he never utters a word. 

The boxer is still unconvinced. 

The manager sighs. “He’s cleared of steroid usage.”

Taeyong squints. “What if he does it again pre-match? Then that cancels the match, what about the UBT spot they’ve promised?”

“You don’t have to worry about that… we have a written contract.”

Taeil shakes his head in disappointment. This rash decision of the team is what they'll be regretting later especially when an informal agreement is raised up. It won’t guarantee a spot to a big fight that easily. It’s like chasing dust. 

Taeyong inquires further. “When is this?”

“Next month. We'll grind to prepare you.” 

Taeyong knows how sicko McGregor can be in the ring. He has seen some clips of his matches. But if it means being in UBT, he’ll go.  “Alright.”

The manager stands up, brushing his pants. “We’ll move locations. I have a gym near the University you graduated from.”

The kingpin will return to the place where he started from rock bottom. It suddenly fills him with nostalgia. His two managers left the room for him to do his thing. Taeyong quickly grabs his phone and texted Doyoung, notifying him of his upcoming arrival. 

[Compose Message to: doie] [9:15] I’m coming home from Busan. See you at your university. How’s Alpha chi Omega? I missed them as well. 

His phone screen illuminates his striking face as he waits for a reply. Taeyong settles his phone down on the counter to ruffle his hair but Doyoung already responded. His phone vibrates. 

[doie] [9:26] See you hyung. I will show you around. The boys (and someone xD) will surely be glad to see you. Aja!

Taeyong grins. He’s excited to go home as well. A thought lingers on his mind, who’s the ‘someone’ Doyoung is referring to?

The sun is ebbing its way to daylight. It is the day of your defense or as Doyoung calls it doomsday or the Purge. Doyoung left you instructions on how to answer the panel smoothly without having the impression that you’re clueless.

He never spoon feeds you rather letting you do everything on your own. For this defense, he told you to shut up and not blab anything unless asked. And he adds, ‘answer straight to the point and don’t fucking sugarcoat’. Professors grill students until you could no longer retaliate, they are spawns of satan and you are so sure of that. 

This defense is the most stressful thing you encounter in your whole college life. An abomination, breaking people apart. Recitations are an exception though as you could always adlib like the stunt Doyoung pulled in his major classes.

The moment you set foot on the university grounds, you hear the cacophony of deafening alarm bells, signalling the students of the start of the first period. You sigh. Despite having to practice the day before (and practically being scolded and grilled by Doyoung), you still can’t calm your nerves. Your face immediately scrunches at the thought of summer classes. 

The sun is shining through the large oval in your university. Beads of sweat glistening on your forehead. Swarm of boisterous students walked side by side. talking about the same exact thing that has been swimming in your mind lately-- summer. Alas, the whole semester of dread is coming to an end and you cannot longer wait to wear the pink leotard Doyoung jokingly bought you for your birthday. You head straight north passing by the department of physical education. You see the soccer players, in their mighty, flashy maroon uniforms, running over the field. You immediately recognize the familiar figure of Johnny and the way the curvature of his ass sticks out of his shorts. Not that you really enjoy ogling at his ass though but it ain’t just another ass. It's Johnny Seo’s ass, popular, might as well stare at the divine sight before he charges everyone for it. You know of the big guy since you’re living in a small world, he’s friends with your best friend and a good pal of your ex boyfriend. Everything around you will always connect with either Doyoung or your ex.

Johnny has a reputation like Doyoung though. But unlike your best friend being known as a snob, Johnny is known for his massive dick and palpable cockiness in bed. He senses your stare and cranes his neck around to face you. His teammates behind him huddle together to ogle at the female their captain is looking at. He smiles at your direction then waves at you enthusiastically from the field. Lips curl into a smile while giving him a wave. You hear rambunctious woos and boyish whistles from behind when you continue on walking towards your building. Boys. 

The familiar mint green building is now in sight. You hug the folders close to your chest like it’s your armor while taking a sharp turn. It leads you down to the right wing but as soon as you are about to enter, a large signage of  ‘use the main door’ blocks your way. Your annoyance reaches its peak level while shooting daggers at the locked door. You contemplate, if you were to make a dash for the main door that is a meter away from here, you’ll be late for the first period. And professors always makes the tardy students sing in front and never in your fucking life will do that. 

A shout startles you in your place. “Son of a bitch!”

“What the hell are you doing there? Go to your room, dumbass.” Talking about the smart shit that just arrives with his sharp voice lacing with its usual deep suave and timbre that pierces your eardrums early in the morning. His building is just right beside yours. So whether you like it or not, Doyoung will be in sight to annoy the shit out of you like he usually does.

You turn to him. Going to the canteen to eat is tempting but the thought of disappointing Kim Doyoung and his efforts going to waste bites you off. “I’m nervous.”

The female students are eyeing both of you— most are stinky glares from his fangirls. You take a sharp breath and hoist up the strap of your bag properly. 

“Just remember what I’ve told you. And don’t abash yourself.” He ruffles your locks and you immediately swat his arm away. The squeals of the girls from behind obliterates both of your gossamer thin patience and remaining one brain cell. Needless to say, you walk up the pathway towards the main door of your building.

The thick choking atmosphere welcomes you. The happy color of mint green from its interior doesn’t conceal the melancholy of the people inside. You hear an upcoming call of your name, but you couldn’t apprehend it clearly because of the continuous murmurs in the hallway. “Y/N!”

You let out a groan of abhorrence as you whip your body around upon the call. But there isn’t a familiar face to chit chat with so you proceed forward but the wind knocked out of your lungs when you were suddenly yanked from behind. 

You are about to throw profanities when Dia’s face comes to view greeting you sweetly, “Hi, Y/N!” 

You attempt to smile but it looks like you’re suffering with constipation with all your teeth gritted together, “Hey!”

Dia begins. “I can’t wait for the sem to end!” She beams enthusiastically while clinging onto your arms. You struggle to climb the stairs with her hips hitting you sideways. 

“Me too.” You exhale while gathering your thoughts. Your minds a mess with the conclusion, summer outfit and the swarm of murmurs of the students in the stairwell. “I plan on getting a tan though or skinny dripping, I don’t know.”

“Oh my! Yes!” she laughs while tugging her lips out almost lost in thought. “Alpha chi Omega is actually planning on a homecoming party.” She smiles cheekily that is way familiar for you. You immediately grin at her being such a saccharine babe.

You raise your brows. “Who’s coming home?”

She shrugs. “I dunno.”

You frown while lost in thought . “Then how did you know about it?”

Dia waggles her eyebrows, a mischievous glint lighting in her eyes. “Of course. I keep tabs on the packing king, Johnny Seo.”

You grimace. “Huh? Packing? Where is Johnny going? I thought it’s a homecoming?”

Dia rolls her eyes heavenwards. You are being so impossible. “Packing as in walking around with a huge dick. My god, are you from the 90s?” 

“I’m not. I just don’t go around ogling at... what you call him? Packing Prince.” You make a puking face. 

Dia laughs while you mumble under your breath, “You are unbelievable.”

She clicks her tongue and leans in while shushing the words near your year, “I’m not though… hey you wanna know what’s unbelievable?”

It piques your attention, “What?”

“Johnny has the bomb-est ass ever. Like a hundred over ten, would recommend.”

You retreat back and scowl. She laughs at your impending disappointment. But she’s right though, in fact you saw a sight of Johnny’s ass early in the morning. Bomb it is. You shake your head, but a smile is tugging your lips upright, “Whatever you say so.”

Dia is still laughing, spreading positivity in the already sullen hallway in the ground floor. It didn’t last long as you both part ways upon the sight of room 402. You huff, trying to recollect your breath. Stairways will be the cause of your death. Your classmates are either feigning optimism or just dead tired. A voice booms out, alerting the class. You glance and see the person behind the said misery. 

“Groups one, kindly present in front. Get ready groups three and five. Say hi to the panel of judges.” 

“What in the fucking world?”

“You should have seen it coming.”

“The biggest bugbear of my life is spending summer in university instead of the beach!”

Doyoung gives you a nonchalant look. He immediately pays a visit to your building upon hearing your never-ending cusses at the call a while ago. He stands by the door of your room while his arms are crossed. 

He begins, “At least you’re alive, though.”  

Doyoung’s lips curling into a mischievous smirk. He cannot hide the fact that he’s impressed that you didn’t undergo a breakdown unlike your classmates and your control towards unyielding resilience. 

“I’m not close to being alive. I am deteriorating!” You groan making sure to imbue your tone to complete sarcasm. You thought that the research defense is the endpoint of the semester, but it wasn’t since the professors have something bigger to offer-- more diabolical. The dean of your college disseminates the mandatory summer classes on all year levels to avoid the crashing of major subjects with organization stuff and to somehow lessen the unit overload. The idea is beneficial albeit disheartening especially for those students who already had plans for the summer like you. What a sweet summer in the university. You shoot him out a look, “How are you alive? Despite all of this?”

“Heavy workload and org stuff is the thing that haunts every student. My professor has consulted me about this matter beforehand,” he grabs his phone and glances at it. His chinky eyes widen and he clears his throat. “We’ll be pushing the brave run next sem.” 

“Is that the annual event of your sorority that you’ll be running around in the campus, naked?”

Doyoung hisses. “Shut up. It should be kept a secret,” he shrugs. “But, yes.”

Another fact why his sorority is famous among the female students of the university. The brave run is an annual event held by his sorority, which symbolizes "a selfless offering of one's self to the people of the country.’ Running around naked with a mask to conceal their identities. And it’s going to be Doyoung’s first run. He fidgets in his spot while looking at you then at his phone. You cast him a doubtful look, “Do you need some privacy or whatever?”

He looks straight from your shoulder. “No, no. Stay put.”

“I wanna sit. I was standing for hours in front a while ago.”

Doyoung presses his lips in a thin line. He lamely mutters. “I will show you something.” He keeps on fidgeting in his place while glancing sideways. It deeply concerns you because he’ll look at his phone then will grin afterwards. Doyoung never grins. What in the world?

He certainly knows something that you’re completely oblivious about. His phone buzzes again. 

[from TY Track] [1:15] I thought your building is white one? How come you’re in a green one? You have a girlfriend from the nursing department don’t you? Ayeeeeeeeee. [1:19] im at the third floor lobby,, where are you?? I’m starving!!

Doyoung is on the fourth floor. Currently playing cupid. 

He gives you a look with a shit-eating grin lingering on his slender face. Not that he looks unpleasant to the eyes since he’s far away from it but rather handsome. But it greatly aggravates you because since that one message he received this morning, he just won’t knock it off with the annoying grin of his. You really need to know who the hell is responsible for his change of demeanor. 

Doyoung is the most misanthropic person you know and he always frowns. Unless he’s with his male friends or with you. Let he’ll freeze first then you’ll see him smile to his ears. He holds a finger near your face, “Wait here.”

You swat his wrist away but before you could knock him off, he’s already marching down the hall. 

“Kim Doyoung! Wait!”

You let out an exasperated sigh while playing with your lace to kill out boredom. Dia whistles to capture your attention. You return back inside your room to fix your things and to entertain the sulky Dia. She pouts, “I’m seriously starving! Let’s go to def!”

Def is the university’s cafeteria where both you and the guy who made your heart pound, met. 

“Okay hold on. Let me sign the attendance sheet for a while.” You approach the class secretary seated in front. Your back is against the door and a familiar figure looms near the door frame—looking lost. 

You’re playing in a full deck. Unaware of the guy who’s once your life, standing behind you. 

Taeyong and his team leaves Busan early at four in the morning with the yellow and pink hue of the sky slowly creeping along its way eating out the velvety dark skies. Taeyong drags his feet heavily against the grey pavement with his athletic bag hoisted on his shoulders. The early morning wind gives a chill blow that prickles the skin of the boxer. 

Taeil is walking behind him with his daily black coffee in hand and face sullen due to drowsiness. The team is moving at a fast pace and occasional long sighs are heard. Taeyong gawks at the team moving dumbbells, mats, gloves and belts in their black van. 

“Does your sorority know you’re coming home?”

Taeyong stares at his manager. His lips tugging upwards. “Yes. I’ve texted one of my friends and suddenly they’re throwing a homecoming party for me.” Taeyong’s chest vibrates with laughter. 

Taeil’s lips tugs upward in mischief as he knocks the hood of the van breaking the deafening silence of the early morning. The team immediately scramble inside the van like ants fighting off with seats, dirty banters and shades being thrown against each other. 

“I’ll sit here!” “It’s cold in that spot, I didn’t take a bath!” Another spits. “The handsomest is gonna seat beside the Kingpin.” Another voice holler. “Oi. Oi. No!”

The manager let out a tired sigh while adjusting the shoulder bag on his right shoulder. He reaches for his back pocket and wipes the droplets of sweats on his temple. “Let’s go, before these guys kill themselves.” 

He calls out with a stern tone rolling out of his tongue it immediately calms the chaotic boys, sheepishly fixing themselves while uttering incoherent apologies. They begin filling up with the manager taking the empty spot beside the driver’s seat. The rest scatter themselves on the spots they deem as comfortable. 

Taeil shoots Taeyong a knowing look and juts his head towards the empty seat beside him near the driver’s seat. Taeil reclines his back on the leathered seats and heaves a long tired sigh. “It’s good to be back. I wish they were preparing roses for your comeback. It felt like Disney, like for shits really.”

Taeyong grins. “Doyoung and Johnny told me about it. Alpha is scrambling like ants.”

Taeil’s voice lowers for a second. His thoughts are swimming in an endless swirl of abyss. “Fighting with McGregor could cause you collateral damage.”

The boxer rests his hand on his nape and closes his eyes for a moment. He knows. He whispers, “I know. May the odds play with my side.”

“This is not about the odds now, he could destroy you, I’m serious!” Taeil scoffs while scanning the view of the early and still asleep city of Busan. “Namjoon fought with him once, and the boy went home with broken ribs and hand fractures,” he trails. “It’s still early to back out. I’m really worried.”

“I am already destroyed, hyung. Ever since I chose this over engineering and leaving like I could really live through all of this…”

“Hyung, if I back out… all of these would just be a whole damned joke.”

“Please…don’t take McGregor easily.”

Taeyong attempts to dismiss the growing anxiety in his chest. One step at a time. One punch at a time, one round at a time. He sets a self mantra. “I won’t.”

The heavy traffic greets them the moment they make their way to the city arriving exactly at twelve.  Upon arrival, the team immediately unloads their baggage on the gym’s connected apartment while the manager nurses several calls about the match with the upcoming weigh in, face off, and budgets. 

Taeyong glances at the gym’s interior. It's a rundown one with a large ring in the center, barbell and dumbbells on the floor and a large mirror from across where he is standing. The lights flicker above him, casting a warm glow of yellow on his face. Taeil squeezes his shoulder, surprised at how he’s so rigid. Taeil begins, “Johnny gave me a call and he said that you should get your flat ass in the university.”

Taeyong throws his head back, mortified. “What? Okay, fat ass.”

Taeil rolls his eyes. “My ass is bomb.”

Taeyong raises his brows. “Squatting?”

“Yeah. Every night, wanna see?”

“I have my own ass.”

“Yeah…a flat one, unfortunately.”

Taeyong grimaces. “My ass is ‘bomb’ too.”

“Keep on dreaming flat ass.”

“Don’t be rude!”

The familiar name of the university greets Taeyong the moment he arrives. Doyoung notifies him of his whereabouts; in the medical department. Taeyong furrows his brows, just when did Doyoung shift his course? He said he’d die being a polsci student. 

Taeyong carries himself towards the familiar sidewalk of this university where he graduated highschool and was supposed to study engineering at. 

However his fate makes a whole turn when he’s casted by an agent when he’s buying bread from the downtown pancake house. And it all just happens just like that, him leaving all of a sudden, ending everything at his loved one’s disposal. 

His boxer facade falters as soon as he steps foot on the familiar grounds. With him here, he isn’t the Kingpin rather just the ordinary Lee Taeyong. He moves agilely, a thing he learned in boxing. His skin shimmers under the hot glimmering sun with his perspiration glistening against his forearms. Taeyong’s doe eyes scans the tall college buildings, looking precisely for a ‘tall building that is colored green with a bunch of people wearing white uniforms’ as per Kim Doyoung. 

A thought erupts in him, it’s been years since his last visit here. Everything before his eyes is entirely unknown for him. He spends a good minute searching for the building while running a hand over his silver locks that are haphazardly tousled in different directions. 

He ignores the flirtatious call of the students. The girls let out exhilarating squeals when he asks about the building and points behind him. Just as he’s about to go, someone yanks his arm dragging him away towards the opposite direction that planted a frown upon his face. He tries to dismiss them as kindly as he could when he sees that there is no way that they’ll be letting him go especially when he looks like a hot mess. 

There’s actually no use in flirting anymore as he’s still emotionally invested for one girl that is you. 

His eyes trail over the unfamiliar building and contemplate for a good minute before entering. The aura of the place elicits the same vibe in the boxing gym of his manager, bright by nature but something elicits off-ness more on sombre. 

His long legs easily climb the series of stairs until he reaches level three and glances around the place. Searching for the familiar figure of Kim Doyoung but he finds nothing even a silhouette of the boy. He fishes out for his phone to send him a text, the mobile vibrating after his taps. 

[from doie] [1:17] we’ll eat later!!!1 i need to show you someone oops something11!! :D [1:18] i'm coming!!! hold on!! Waaait

Taeyong hears rapid footsteps then a high pitch call of his name. A sudden tackle takes him by surprise. “I missed you, hyung!” 

Doyoung holds him at shoulder, his eyes examining his whole body. “You've grown so well and— damn.” 

The boxer standing before him is drastically different from the person he last saw two years ago. He’s not as fit rather skinny but the way he puts it now he’s got a massive glow up that takes him by surprise. With Taeyong by growing inches, his skinny fit that is now lean that is packed with muscles due to the strenuous training he’s put into and the eye catching tattoos that're lingering on his arms. He smirks at the sight of your familiar face minimalistically tattooed on his forearm. 

He inwardly chuckles. Fools. 

Doyoung didn’t waste the fraction of his time and drags a protesting Taeyong all the way at level four. Taeyong throws a questionable look, “What are we here for? Is Donghyuck in Nursing? Wait… are we here for him?”

“You’ll see… and no, let the moon be green first then we’ll see him here.”

“Oh.”

A chill runs down Taeyong’s spine. The heavy traffic they went through made him thirsty to the bone—now he wanted to drain his bladder. He calls out while eyeing the figure ahead of him, “Doyoung?”

Doyoung answers him with a shit-eating grin that made Taeyong think to himself. Is Doyoung in love at the moment? “Yeah?”

“I need to pee. The traffic sucks, I had to drink to keep myself entertained.”

He hums, not processing every word Taeyong says. He calculates everything in his disposal. From his distance, he can see your back facing the door where he’ll lead Taeyong into. Thus, hitting two lovefools. 

“Fancy. Go over to that room.” Taeyong glances at the room Doyoung is pointing at. He didn’t question the boy further because his bladder is asking for a fucking break. He slowly approaches the room while lost in his thoughts. He leans on the doorframe and asks where the lavatory is. Then, immediately jogs down the corridor without a word. 

Doyoung stands there, expectant and all smiley. Until he sees a different face entertaining Taeyong and your figure marching away with your friend, Dia. Doyoung attempts to call for your attention but you’re already out of earshot. He clicks his tongue in irritation. Cupid fails. 

You sluggishly drag your feet inside your room. Doyoung is nowhere to be found until you hear muffled singing so you reckon he’s in the shower doing his thing. You press your lips into a thin line while casting a look around your ransacked room that has been untouched for months. It may be the course of adrenaline pushing and so you cleaned. 

Doyoung walks around the shared place without a top that isn’t a sight that makes you utterly surprised anymore. You both share collective memories together, all deep and humiliation. So seeing him in his boxers early in the morning isn’t disturbing anymore. You do though, when he smiles. 

Doyoung squints, eyeing your figure going from one part of your room to another. He knows you don’t have plans on throwing yourself into the inviting city to lash out your stress from the months you have spent in university but rather dancing. Unbeknownst to you, he’s planning something to stop you from doing your ridiculous dances in front of the farm animals  sparing them the ridiculous sight after all he’s an animal rights advocate. 

Tonight is the homecoming party for Taeyong that surprisingly spreads out in the university like a wildfire. It will be damn-ed as the probability of both of you meeting might not be high due to the flood of party-goers rushing for the free alcohol and the said sorority and because of your lazy ass. Doyoung dons his blank tank top and ruffles the damp mop of raven locks above his head. 

You glance from your door and see your best friend have an absolute glow up like he doesn’t look dead just from days ago. There’s no doubt that Doyoung has his own ravishing features-- his scar, tall nose, pink lips, and the over-all enticing eyes that elicits a mysterious aura.

“Where are you going?” 

Instead of answering your inquiry he taps furiously on his phone. You can sense the infuriating spark that glowers on the boy. He finally looks up at you. “There’s a party in Alpha.”

“You’ll be staying there?”

He coos. The hidden sneer you can hear that rolls out of his tongue with great clarity that immediately brings your eyes heavenwards. “Why? You’ll miss me?”

“As if.”

“I will be staying there. You should go, though?” Doyoung absolutely knows how such a party pooper you were that you’d rather stay home than mingling in a random college party or whatever social gatherings. Your reason? The signature ‘I hate going out, Kim Doyoung’. 

It is part of the practice of his sorority to give out roses to a homecoming member, as significant as a welcoming gift and roses have a deep meaning for the frat. He volunteers to bring the roses for Taeyong since he has a cupid business to attend. He purposely left the roses in his room for you to bring your lazy ass in the sorority house and deliver the parcel to Taeyong. He grins at the thought.

You grunt loudly, generally having no qualms on concealing your obvious irritation. “Why do you keep on grinning? It scares me.”

Doyoung raises a brow then chuckles afterwards. “I’m just happy that I will finally get laid after these past months of hellish semester,” he trails off and gives you a knowing look. “Bye!”

It got you off guard. Kim Doyoung getting laid?

He beams at your surprised face. “I will be late. The alumni might be there anytime soon.”

“Who is the alumni?” This has been the talk of the town next to the homecoming party. You have no idea who it is despite your best friend being in on the said sorority. 

Doyoung runs his hands over his hair again and gives you a lopsided smile. “Secret.” 

He makes a dash for the door leaving you hanging and hungry for answers. Knowing him, he’ll never spill no matter how you squeeze him into doing so. It frustrates you as curiosity is getting the best of you.

Doyoung didn't bother to spill the person because for all he knows you’ll be meeting him anytime soon. It’s Lee Taeyong.

It's eight in the evening and surprisingly you were being productive at bare minimum. You try to uplift your mood by beautifying your room to look like it’s been owned by a lady not some random drunktard. After cleaning, you prepare dinner but the constant ringing of your phone disturbs you mid-way. You didn’t spare the called ID a glance for you know who the call is from. 

You snarl. “What?”

The chaotic music in his background is making it hard for you to comprehend what the hell he was trying to convey. His voice lowers two tones down his usual. “Hey, can you bring the roses here? I forgot to bring it with me.” 

You immediately roll your eyes. “And why should I do that?”

Doyoung on the other hand is trying to rake up his brain for possible things to coax you to bring your ass and the roses in the party. The alcohol might be taking a toll on him but it’s helping him to think of an easy plan to bring you here without any questions arising from your mouth. “I’ll treat you to dinner.” And just like that. 

You let your pride be damned. A free dinner is always a key to do favors. You huff. “Where is it placed?”

Doyoung immediately grins. “At my room, on the plush chair by the window.”

You cannot decipher how complicated your best friend is sometimes. It aggravates you. He never forgets his things and you think that he is doing this on purpose just to make you walk out of the shared apartment. But whatever his intentions are, the free dinner he coaxed you with is promising. You walk inside his room and the sight of his perfectly tucked bed welcomes you, the bundle of crimson red roses sits by the grey chair just beside his window. You didn’t know much of his sorority’s practice nor the significance of the rose, but you chose not to further question the frat’s motive behind it as the free food is your topmost concern.

You scramble out of Doyoung’s room to fix your dishevelled appearance. You grab the blue summer dress on your bed and thrash in an oversized cardigan to spice out the look then you pumped some gloss and ran a blusher on your cheeks. 

Damn the man who spoils your plans on binge watching Netflix. Damn Kim Doyoung. And damn you for biting on his bait. 

You made a beeline for the door, your phone in hand and the roses in the other. 

It’s gonna be a long and young night. 

For a summer night, the wind is surprisingly chilly and not humid. The night sky is clear with the stars twinkling brightly along the perfectly arched moon. The walk to Alpha chi omega’s house is not that long by car but unfortunately, the university carpool is not available and so here you were walking to the farthest side of the university. 

It doesn’t take you long to locate the house out of all the similar frat houses lined up together like building blocks. The house that belongs to the hosting sorority is booming out loud with obnoxious music and the notable crowd of wasted college students going in and out of the main door. The place reeks of sweat and alcohol. The sight of red cups litters the front yard and the large ‘homecoming’ banner is perched up the front porch of the frat house. You feel out of place just by standing out there awkwardly with a bouquet of roses in hand while mentally cursing out and throwing imaginary daggers on Kim Doyoung. If it wasn’t for the free food, you would never be here. 

A familiar ass caught your attention but it isn’t Johnny’s but Mark Lee’s. A sophomore and a civil engineer major that you bump into occasionally because of Doyoung. You approach his figure and his dishevelled state really caught you off-guard. He’s standing in his overall glory; with black tee that clings onto his lean torso and grey sweatpants. His high cheekbones stand out and his cheeks are slightly flushed due to two reasons you are sure of, alcohol and the cramped crowd inside. 

You clear your throat as you attempt to voice out your concern however it comes out as a mere squeak. “Do you know where Doyoung is?”

Mark gives you a knowing smile while giving you directions on Doyoungs whereabouts. There’s something off about Mark’s sly smile. Confusion undulates on your soft features which made the younger grin even more. 

Another sophomore jumps into the picture. He sends Mark reeling on his position but the younger boy shoots up a grin as an answer to Mark’s scowl. His tan skin glows under the poor lighting on the front porch of their sorority house and he looks beautiful nevertheless. Haechan brings the red cup to his plush lips, his throat bobbing down with every gulp of the beverage. He breaths while giving you a mischievous grin. “Well, someone’s about to cross paths with someone.” He makes sure to give emphasis on the word someone while grinning up to Mark. 

You raise your brows. “Yes… Doyoung.”

Haechan clicks his tongue. “May the odds be with you, y/n.” They continue on gulping their drinks and leaving you questioning what the hell are they trying to imply. It seems like they are trying to point out someone is about to meet you but you weren’t sure who?

Making sure you were out of earshot, the two boys fished out for their phones. Typing in the same text flying into their minds.

‘She’s in, make sure Taeyong is in the damn kitchen.’

They know. Except for you and Taeyong. Talk about thrill. 

You stalk away and enter the house. Irritation bubbles inside your system like a brook. It feels as if everyone knows something that you should be aware of. No matter how hard you try to think of a person who you can possibly meet in here, there’s none in mind. You try to wipe it away by mentally taking a note that what you are doing is a commission; a full course meal paid by Kim Doyoung. 

The sight inside of the house is quite a scene; a wild scene to be exact. Typical. Bodies are grinding each other by the beat of the hired DJ, sweat and alcohol as well as humidity. You squeeze yourself through the crowd of wild college students. Some sort of liquid splashes your skin but you paid no attention to it. 

This is why you hate going out. The only time you have been dragged into a party is with Taeyong. No, it wasn’t obnoxious but rather magical. Anything done with Taeyong is always spectacular, he makes all the mundane things dull to extra. 

That was during the last years of highschool when he asked if you could go with him to this frat party and you obliged. It was also in the same setting of a summer night, young and chill. Deja vu. 

Taeyong holds onto your hips that night while he glowed perfectly underneath the pale moonlight. The dusk may have taken its way that time but you can still remember how bright he glows like a crazed halo. Maybe the reason why you can still find your way to the outskirts of the university where the sorority houses are found is because he already brought you here. And everything, every memory you have shared with him is always indelible. 

You can remember a quote from Fitzgerald. ‘So we beat on boats against the currents, borne back ceaselessly into the past’. You find yourself spacing out remembering how his soft lips brushes against your pinna, whispering words that replays over and over and over again. Both of your bodies stayed close, swaying with the melodic beat that the speakers blasted up. It was always Taeyong, his scar, his lips, his eyes that are always so alive. It was always him, always. 

Taeyong leaned over saying the words that no man you tried dated ever uttered to you. “You are my sweetest feeling that I know.”

You beamed up to him. “I think my soul is in love with yours.” 

And you will always be. And nostalgia hits. You miss Taeyong. He has so much space filled inside your heart. 

You finally squeeze yourself past the hungry and wasted crowd and head towards the kitchen where Mark instructed you to go. You narrow your eyes searching for the familiar figure of your bestfriend but he wasn’t there, not even a trace of his silhouette. 

The kitchen is bustling with alcohol. Piles of beer cans, half empty bottles of wine and few bottles of soft drinks dominated the sleek black granite countertop. You walk near the kitchen island where several drinks are offered placed haphazardly allowing the people to nurse their own drinks. You had your back facing the opposite hall that leads to the dining area while clutching the roses for your dear life. 

Taeyong is leaning against the wall facing the dining area where his highschool friends are currently at. The rose ceremony was delayed because of Doyoung and so he busied himself by trying to catch up with his old friends. 

“How’s life so far, Taeyong?”

Taeyong smiles, he’s always as fresh as raindrops. “Usual.” 

They laugh. “How ‘usual’ is usual though?”

Taeyong thought to himself. It is bland, empty and he always finds himself staring past the mirror trying to remember how your face looks like since the last glance he had was exactly two years ago. He shrugs his shoulders and lifts the red cup to his lips. The alcohol rakes his throat, foreign. “A couple of punches here, training there, matches here, and rings over there. Usual.”

They continue on carrying their own conversation on which Taeyong lost interest. He just stares, his mind traveling and wandering. A high pitched screech alerts him, he immediately settles the cup down, the contents splashing over the dinner table. A woman is on her knees, clutching her lips with her hands. 

Taeyong immediately crouches down. “Hey, are you okay?”

She slurs and Taeyong tries to comprehend what she is trying to convey. “Wuh-teeeeer…”

“Huh?”

“Wuuuuh-teeer…”

Water. 

He immediately assists the girl to the kitchen sink. Dragging her slumped body slowly towards the kitchen floor. He tries to call out someone in hopes to help him with the inconvenience. But the kitchen is surprisingly empty. 

It’s a plan to have two souls meet together in one. But fate must’ve fucked up the plans of the brotherhood. For the one soul is mending a random wasted college girl and the other one is fuming in anger. 

You storm out of the kitchen when you are about to brandish a cocktail while waiting for Doyoung. Someone approaches you, pouring a beer into a red plastic cup. 

“All right, babe, you’re free tonight?” He nods, concentrating on getting his foam right while looking at you intently. You didn’t know who this guy was, but bold of him to be so overly confident. Pity he was a massive stoner from the looks of his red eyes. And he’s not, never, your type. 

“I’m not interested.”

His eyebrows went all sarky. “Why, you got a date?”

You face him entirely. “Look. I told you I’m not interested so don’t get too overly friendly and get the hell out of my face.”

He settles his cup on the counter and crosses his arms over his chest while leaning over to you, clearly invading your personal space. “Why should I do that?” 

You wrinkle your nose at the smell of his breath. “God. I’m out of here.”

You let your feet drag you away from the party. 

Oblivious to the failure, the other members of the sorority gather themselves around the front porch obnoxiously betting to one another. They have this one picture in mind, a painting of Michaelangelo, the creation of David. Where two fingers connect. Little did they know. There isn’t a meeting that happened in the first place. 

“I bet my ass, those two have already met!” Hyuck yells. “Homeboy must’ve scored!” 

And they all holler at once. Then, they hear someone clearing their throat. 

“Goodbye. I’m heading home.”

The boy’s eyes widens at the sight of you at the door, fuming. Doyoung is at the end of the staircase, examining you. He inquires, “Did you meet someone?”

You roll your eyes, “Yes, you,” you approach him and hand the roses. “Someone must’ve been so drunk he directed me to the kitchen when you are actually here.” You shoot Mark a look as soon as you finish your sentence and he answers with a sheepish grin.  

You turn to Doyoung, “Treat me to a nice dinner tomorrow.”

It’s confusing for him. “Wait… you really didn’t meet someone? Why are you leaving so sudden?”

The boys quiet down suddenly, all confused with the matter. 

“Oh, I did meet someone.”

“Yeah?” Sparks of excitement ignited inside Doyoung's chest. 

“Yeah…” you sigh. “A fucktard to be exact.”

Doyoung’s brows furrow for a moment then realization hits him. There’s never an encounter that happened like he initially expected to. The roses didn’t reach Taeyong. And you were also mad which is uncommon. You clear your throat again, “I will head home.” 

You lightly smack Doyoung cheeks and head off. 

“No way Taeyong is…a fucktard though?” 

“Man, go home you’re drunk.”

“I heard my name.” All heads whip towards the direction of the voice. Taeyong. 

A confused silence filled their friend circle before Mark interrupted mid-way, “No way Ty....”

They all groan in disappointment. The roses shenanigans didn’t work. 

Johnny slurs. “Maaaaaan, if someone didn’t get a shot. I’ll be getting my own shot.” And he stumbles on his own feet and lands on Mark and accidentally kisses him on the lips. 

Mark immediately pushes the taller guy away from him. A scowl paints his face while wiping his lips furiously. “Maaaan, what the fuck are youu doin’ maaan?”

Johnny yells, “No homo, bro!” And continues on peppering the protesting Mark with kisses. 

Sunday arrives faster than you have expected it to be. The professors were much more considerate with the classes and decided to have an interval for each class so it’ll be less of a burden for the students. After the party from Doyoung’s sorority everything seems to be a cultural reset from partying to lessons real quick. This is college and you are really accustomed to it. 

You ponder, there is just something—sort of difference in the air surrounding you and Doyoung—something like he’s been plotting something so evil or mischievous and it kneads in your chest that you’re the prey. Or whatever that is. 

He doesn’t say a word when you drag him to a restaurant of your choice but you are pretty much sure that deep inside he’s cursing you with all his might. You try to annoy him, testing his patience yet he answers you with a forced smile. But the way his eyes spark with such animosity is enough evidence to show how infuriated he is that he needs to pay for your dinner. And too bad for him, you have a big appetite. 

“What do you fancy eating today? Stir fried rice, or,” he stares dumbfoundedly at the large menu while scratching the back of his head. He mumbles incoherently, “I will just go with the black bean noodles.”

Doyoung’s body turns around towards your direction, “What do you want?”

You state all of your orders and you can clearly see the way Doyoung’s face grimaces. The cashier jots down the orders and Doyoung pays the bill with a pained expression ebbing his face. It was beyond entertaining when he was clutching the bill so tightly, the cashier had to muster such great effort to pull away the bill out of his iron grip. It was his fault anyways; he’s being such an idiot. 

“How’s your major?” you beam while mixing the fried rice. The mouth-watering sight in front of you made your stomach turn somersaults. Has it been months since you have eaten legit food? You didn’t know but right now you just want to stuff yourself up. Free food is always much more tastier than those that you pay for. 

“I’m taking up three units for fundamentals of political science,” he blows up the searing hot noodles and slurps it all. Doyoung’s cheeks puffs as he chomps loudly on his food. 

There’s a deafening silence between both of you. Minding your own businesses until Doyoung’s phone rings obnoxiously, disturbing each other’s peace. He picks up the vibrating phone with his lithe fingers and scowls at the caller ID, “What?”

You stare at him in silence. Still devouring the freshly served food on the table. Doyoung dramatically settles his phone on the table. An expression of agony painting his slender face. You ask, “What?”

He never tries to conceal the words he just spatted. Making you wanna hide away in embarrassment as the other customers shot you both dirty looks. “I want to poop.”

It’s taking a whole lot of effort for you to not headbutt the raven haired boy that is sheepishly grinning at you. You really do. The straightforwardness of Kim Doyoung can be excruciating for the people around him and you are not an exception. 

You grit your teeth, “Then go! I don’t have the loo with me! Jesus Christ!” 

He raises his brows and settles his chopsticks on the table. He clutches his chest. “After the good deed I have done to you, this is what you are gonna pay me back? You’re heartless.”

Alright, the weight of his statement has hit you straight to the gut. You try with plenty of effort not to shoot him a leer. You clear your throat and push away the growing impatience as you hoist your bag to your shoulders ready to get something for him. With the conscience card that he has recently pulled, you know he wants you to get him something. “What do you want?”

He smiles and uncoils from his slouch, rising to his full height emitting this smug superiority. “Gatorade.”

You squint your eyes and muster the deadliest death glare you can throw towards him. “You’re lying like… what is the gatorade for? You’re clearly making me pay you in return!”

He frowns at your claim. “I’m dehydrated. I chugged down plenty of beer, do you think that’ll make my stomach happy? Do you want me to fart on you to further support my claim?”

You roll your eyes in disbelief, “You’re gross.”

“I’m just trying to support my claim.”

“How? By broadcasting your physical state?”

He tries to open his mouth for another retort yet you immediately wave your hands in defeat. Bickering with him is like talking to a smart wall. He will try to twist everything until you want to give up, like practically shoving your head underwater. And the fact that he’s a political science student, of course arguing is one of his best specialties. 

You left as soon as both of you finished your meals. You rake up your brain of possible stores that sell Gatorade and the first thing that has popped into your mind was the convenience store on the east avenue that used to be you and Taeyong’s favorite spot. The memories flood your brain. 

“What does it taste like?” Taeyong asks, his brown orbs staring at you with such longing. 

“Sweet.”

He raises his brows, “Oh?”

“Yeah, have a taste,” you offer him the sponge cake you’ve been munching a while ago. You extend your arm in his direction and scroll absently on your phone. Before you can even complain about why it is taking him a long time to have a taste, his lips are already smashed against yours. 

Goosebumps immediately rises up to its wake upon the feeling of Taeyong’s lips on yours. This is your favorite feeling, something that only Taeyong can do to you. His tongue grazes your lower lip in a deliciously slow pace of which made you enthralled in the process. In response, you part your mouth to meet him halfway. 

He pulls back and smiles at you. “It’s so sweet, like you.”

You immediately blink to snap away from your reverie. You whisper underneath your breath, “Focus, y/n.”

Two years. Two fucking years have passed yet you are still drowning with the memories of him. 

The chime resonates in the store, signaling your recent arrival. The cashier gives you a curt nod then returns to sort out the products that lay on the countertop. You immediately made a beeline for the freezers at the farthest part of the store and grabbed the striking blue drink that appeared similarly like those occasional highlights on Doyoung’s hair. You sigh while clutching the cold beverage, “Just like his stupid highlights.”

It happens so fast that you cannot decipher the scene that unfolds before you. A figure looms behind you grabbing a watermelon smoothie, his body slightly clashing on yours when you attempt to walk towards the cashier. He is clearly towering over your height and his back is facing you. The guy’s shampoo or cologne has a tinge of a melon undertone that really reminds you of Taeyong of which derives from the fact that he is standing so close to you. Secondly, you can feel the humming warmth that radiates off his body. You gulp hard. 

You mentally curse at tangling yourself in an awkward situation. You should leave yet you find your face heating up, stunned with your brain freezing. You pause for a good minute to observe the stranger.

A chill runs down your spine at the sudden feeling and the proximity. You clearly know that this guy is a stranger, but there is a sudden feeling erupting inside you and your mind is coaxing you that he isn’t. He’s not a stranger. You stare at his back, trying to rake up who possibly this guy is. He had a mop of grey hair, dangling earrings on each side and a driven aura. You reckon he is handsome as well, judging by the way he can carry himself through the store. Your mind is in a state of an endless blackhole, empty. All you could think is the fact that his alluring scent has you biting inside of your cheeks and ogling at him shamelessly. 

The guys must be feeling the heavy weight of your gaze from behind. And so, he turns his head slightly to his right giving you the sight of his ungodly sharp jawline. You didn’t get a good sight of his eyes since it’s covered by the occasional strands of his titanium colored hair. You blink hard, that fucking jaw is really familiar. The fucking tall nose is familiar. The guy nods his head in veneration and whispers a small “sorry.” And stalks away. You hear the bell chimes. 

Your heart starts to slam against your chest out of nowhere when you finally formed all the puzzle pieces together. That familiar voice lacing with softness and care. The hair, the jaw, the nose, the way he dresses. No, this isn’t just one of your imaginations. You know, it’s him, isn’t he? 

You make your way through the snacks aisle to chase after the guy. He’s just inches away from the door when you suddenly grab his jacket sleeve. You smile, “Taeyong?”

“Uhm… do I know you?”

Your expression suddenly drops. The guy you just pull in is not the guy from earlier. He looks foreign with his hair in the shade of burgundy. You sheepishly apologize, but it comes out as a mere squeak from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I think I have mistaken you for someone else.”

“No shit. It’s alright.”

You pay for the beverage and snatch the parcel. You scramble to your feet quickly in hopes of searching for him. You know deep down, you’re sure of it. You crane your neck as far as you can possibly go until a voice laced from behind. 

“What the fuck are you doing? And where’s my drink?”

You whip your body towards him and hand him the Gatorade. 

Doyoung frowns. He tries to conceal the growing annoyance from his insides. Trying to act like his stomach frustrates him but the truth is, he is actually infuriated by the fact that Taeyong left the store so soon before you could even reach him. And he sees the scene unfold to himself. He huffs. With all the meticulous planning he thinks of, plus the help of his friends but still it isn’t enough that everything is derailing his momentum. Not just you and Taeyong but fucking fate itself. 

At this moment all Doyoung thinks of is a ceasefire, he gives up. He’s one everything—including faking an upset stomach and practically broadcasting that he wants to shit just for the sake of both of you because Johnny notifies him of Taeyong’s whereabouts. Doyoung’s face is quite red by the chilly wind of Sunday night. He announces after trying to cool down his frustrations, “I’m going home.”

You raise your brow, “But you said we’ll still eat downtown?”

Doyoung glares. Now he’s back with his usual demeanor that you could easily taunt by throwing him a series of provocations. But you choose not to, he seems to be in a really bad mood. Not to mention diarrhea lies that you seem to be picking up. “I’m mending a stupid stomach.”

And before you could pull him back, his long legs already take him a long distance from yours. 

Your feet backs up automatically and blend into the crowd. You cover your cheeks with your hands trying to wipe off the chilly wind that kisses you. Your summer dress’s hem flies after the sway of your hips. The adrenaline is still coursing through your veins due to the last encounter with the stranger in the convenience store. His alluring scent is still fresh in your mind and it only reminds you of the guy you are still obviously in love with. You shouldn’t be anymore, but there is still a spark that ignites through your chest.  And in your mind there is this feeling of familiarity that lights up the fire that has long died two years ago. It’s not just a plain sense of belonging though, it’s Taeyong, and he always feels like home. It’s been two years since Taeyong ended everything nicely. Yet something is quite strange as the feeling of longing for him suddenly went away with just a simple encounter that you weren’t even sure if it’s him in the first place. 

You utter to yourself, “It’s him, I’m sure of it.”

But the never ending question plays around your mind like a broken record. Are you really sure? Are you ready to face him after two long years?

You hug your figure as you make your way through the same familiar tracks of your favorite pancake house in the main district. You should be home right now, yet the alluring scent of pancakes has you dragging your feet into their shop. 

The small shabby shop that is designed with occasional aesthetic trinkets makes it stand out amongst the industrial buildings beside it. It is bustling and alive with the swarm of people going in and out of their main door, stomachs full and satisfied faces. You enter the door swiftly, the scent of freshly cooked pancakes thrills inside your nostrils. The familiar tune of summer by Calvin Harris blasts on the speakers in the small diner. 

When I met you in the summer To my heartbeat sound We fell in love As the leaves turned brown

The diner is very crowded tonight. You struggle to go past through the crowds but you understand, the pancakes they sell here is to die for. 

And we could be together baby As long as skies are blue You act so innocent now But you lied so soon When I met you in the summer

Your face immediately lights up when the cashier hands you the awe-striking sight of the freshly cooked pancakes, flooding with maple syrup with occasional strawberries there and frostings that adorn the stacks. You took a whiff of the familiar cologne with a watermelon undertone from a while ago, but you couldn’t bring yourself to focus especially when a pancake is making you so thrilled to eat. 

The bustling sound of the city mixes with the catchy tune of summer and you find yourself dancing slightly along it’s melody. The lights above you cast a warm yellow glow on your face while you are waiting for a change. You answer the cashier with a smile when she hands you the cash. When you turn around, it wasn’t the aesthetic decoration of the diner that surprises you. But your ex boyfriend’s handsome face comes to your view. Your heart pounds inside your chest, yes you were longing for him, and there he is. Fate plays. 

When I met you in summer. 

You whisper but Taeyong manages to hear that soft call that he fucking miss so much. Those plump lips of yours that utter his name with such love and endearment, “Taeyong.”

It takes you, well, a whole hour to plop down and listen to your best friend rant about you and Taeyong. The way he did plan everything but according to him,

“Fuck fate. Fuck destiny. But I’m glad though, even if I look like a villain trying to overthrow you two.”

You just know that he is beyond frustrated that he didn’t get the both of you meet with his own mirthful ways but nevertheless, he is happy. You, on the other hand, are still shocked. Not that you had a bitter feeling, but Taeyong really had a drastic change compared to two years ago. You barely even know him. 

It comes to your knowledge that he is really famous now, with his alias Kingpin plastered all over the city. He got home for a match with this Gregory guy that you haven’t heard of which is the fact that you are oblivious to it, all of it. Taeyong was stunned that you didn’t know anything about him or boxing, and you felt bad and so you made a mental note to research about it and him. He looks much more handsome than ever. With his doe eyes that hold a strong sense of contradiction, it’s strong full of aura and fire yet soft and endearing at the same time. The favorite rose like scar is still prominent underneath his right eye. His nose. His lips, those lips, it takes you an ounce of effort to hold back and not to think of unnecessary thoughts while observing the way how slow his mouth opens whenever he speaks or how pinkish it appears. 

Doyoung asks you while he plops himself comfortably on your bed. “What happened in the pancake house?”

It is awkward. 

After you whisper his name it feels like everything stopped. Both of you are like statues glued to your spots, holding deep eye contact. You can feel yourself flustered underneath his strong gaze. Those gaze that gives you an impression that he’s been undressing you already just with those eyes. It lasts for seconds, until you are both shushed by the staff for the queue is getting long. 

You flinch but relax the moment after when Taeyong’s hands found its way to your hips. Just like old times. He didn’t utter a word, instead he’d silently lead you to the table just near the door. You immediately elicit a gasp when the warmth of his hands suddenly disappeared. You blink hard then place your plate down and silently nibble on the edges of the pancake waiting for Taeyong’s arrival. 

Now that he’s much nearer, you can smell his strong scent. It doesn’t hurt your nose but the watermelon undertone stays in your nose for a while. A chill runs down your smile when he has plopped down comfortably in his seat giving you a fresh smile that makes your heart pound against your chest out of nowhere. 

Taeyong is itching to talk to you. He clears his throat, “So… I didn’t know you were actually staying here.”

You really couldn’t get a control of your voice, instead it came out really weak and not as strong as you hoped it would be. Out of all moments, your body is slowly betraying you upon the sight of the beautiful Taeyong. You really pray that he doesn’t catch you on. “I didn’t reach the quota in Missouri, and then the application period for Hansville is already closed. So I just stayed, I hate new enviro—”

Just as you could mention the environment, Taeyong already did. He gives you a playful look, “Environment?” There’s actually no point in small talk, because Taeyong knows everything about you but he did just for the sake of seeing you, your lips, your beauty, he’s risking it all. 

You feel your chest vibrate with laughter, “You couldn’t blame me though, I hate people.”

Taeyong grins. But his eyes are glimmering of darkness that surfaces his orbs. Taeyong knows and he sees it all, his overall effect on you. His lips start to stretch more into a wolfish grin while inching closer to you. 

You instantly gulp while staring at him back. “Why?”

“Are you really sure about that, y/n sweetheart?” His breath smells like mint that fans out your cheeks when he slowly dragged those words from his tongue. Casting instant warmth over your cheeks and activating your gooseflesh. 

You find yourself struggling for words upon the catch of his old nickname for you. Especially when he’s in this state, the usual laid back manner. You hate people alright, but you had exceptions like Dia, Doyoung and unfortunately him as well. He immediately retracts from slouching and straightens up his posture. He licks his bottom lips slowly. Honestly, watching Taeyong is making you suffer internally. 

“I really missed you, y/n.” He says, his voice echoing with deep timber that laces with velvet and sweet. But those words aren't imbued with sarcasm or mockery rather laced with deep sincerity. 

Those words somehow pinches you. You do right? But there is something holding you back. Fear? You let out a grin but it looked really forced with all your teeth gritted. “It was good seeing you again, Taeyong.” You clear your throat for the nth time and try to push out the strange feeling away in your gut. 

Both of you finish up your pancakes and he offers you a walk to your apartment. Both of you are not speaking letting the summer wind speak for both of you. The familiar building welcomes your sight, there is light in your unit’s window so you reckon Doyoung is still with the world. Taeyong clears his throat and stops in his tracks, “I guess this is your home, no?”

You smile, “Yes.”

He approaches you with such agility in an astounding manner. You catch a whiff of those familiar fruity scents again when he leans closer to you. In response you immediately shut your eyes, expecting. But there are no kisses delivered. Way to go and make yourself a fool. 

He chuckles. “Can I get your number?”

Your whole face heats up as if you’ve been submerged in a tub of boiling water. You open your eyes and divert your gaze away from his playful ones. “Of course, Hand me your phone.”

“Just scribble it down my forearm.”

“What?”

“My phone died but I got some marker, so just jot the digits down.” He fishes for the pen and hands it to you. His calloused hands brushing yours, and those small forms of touch still delivers the extreme effects to your body. 

Those sinful arms. Your fingers are shaking while jotting your numbers down, his bulging veins are too much of a distraction especially whenever he flexes it. 

You bid him goodbye and speed walk away to enter your unit, missing the smile that ghosts his lips at your marching figure. 

You couldn’t wipe Taeyong’s images that night from your mind and so does he. Hell, If you can just see how those smile never leaving his face at his unexpected meeting with you. 

The sound of a rustling bedsheet snaps you to reality. 

You stare at Doyoung. “It was okay.”

His brows arch upwards as if mocking you. “Liar.”

Heaven knows it wasn’t just okay, you indeed enjoyed having him as company. 

An exasperated groan leaves out your body as the bell rang obnoxiously signaling the end of the final period. You immediately hoist your bag over your shoulder and march away from the school as fast as you could. 

Unbeknownst to you, you are crossing paths with Taeyong in a day more than you had imagined. Just yesterday, you bump into him just when you were thinking about him. And his divine sight welcomes you, with his sun-kissed skin shimmering underneath the rays of the summer sun, his neck glistening with a thin sheen of sweat and those eyes that ignites with unexplainable aura and intensity. 

You hate to admit but he has changed so drastically and you could use the term cool, to describe him and his current state. You see him jog around the oval with his titanium hair striking up giving more emphasis to his sharp features. It’s parted haphazardly and damp. His tank top is clinging to his torso soaked with perspiration. His biceps strains out, he’s not that bulky type but with occasional muscles here and there, his physique is much more lean. And with just those charismatic looks, it never fails to send you a pool of pleasure, there. 

You feel a shiver when he turns around and runs a finger to his hair. His prominent veins bulged out as he tugged on his hair, fixing it into place. Your eyes trail down further until you see his abs on full display, coming to your view. 

Fuck. Fuck everything and your raging hormones. You immediately return your gaze up to his face and you feel your face heating up when it comes to your realization that he’s been observing you as well. His gaze never leaves yours, then one moment, he lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe off his face. Giving you the view that you've been ogling at. He knows what you like and he’s giving it to you without any protest. 

The sun shines through the oval, casting a yellowish glow on his body. His soft flesh is glowing with the occasional tattoos adorning his ribcage. You immediately gulp in hopes to diminish the growing sensation blooming in your stomach. But it never left, especially when Taeyong’s smile is being shot out towards your direction. 

He’s really pleased to see you, especially seeing you in that body fitting uniform that makes him go hard on a summer’s day. 

He approaches you without wiping the smile off his face. You fidget while trying to compose yourself not wanting to embarrass yourself much further. The night when you met him the first is enough. 

“Fancy seeing you here. Are you headed home?”

“I ought to but I think I want to take a walk to the park.” 

The bag straps dares to slip out of your shoulders. You utter an incoherent, “fuck.”

Taeyong immediately changes his expression. He looks at you in concern as he catches on your discomfort. “Why? Is there something wrong?”

“Oh… it’s just that the professor advised us to bring all three books for a collaborative reading but he didn’t show up.”

“Hmm…”

“And then I was tasked to report to the home room adviser so practically I have to carry out these heavy books while climbing up to the fourth floor.”

You immediately shut your mouth and your rants when you saw how he grew silent. You bit your lip and apologized meekly, “Sorry, I was just so tired from the summer class and this bag—”

He doesn’t utter a word but he grabs the bag away from you even before you can protest. He groans, “Damn, these are heavy.”

“They are.”

He stretches out his hand to you. “Come, let’s go to the park.”

You protest. Your eyes widening at his declaration. “But… but, you still have your training?”

“Nah. I can make time.”

And he pulls you away. His hand holding you dearly, just like old times. The warmth of his hands filling up those spots of yearning you had from his two year disappearance. 

The walk to the nearest park wasn’t as deadly silent like the first night you both met. With both of your shoulders bumping and hands intertwined. You were not holding back anymore, clearly stating all of your distaste towards your college professors passionately with Taeyong chuckling in response. The conversation carries on smoothly filling out the gap that both of you had withdrawn from the years of absent communication. It’s filling out the space as both of you are talking about the randomness in all things possible not letting the implicit dead air eat out the aura engulfing you two. 

Taeyong is not much of a talker, but when he does, everything that rolls out of his tongue could really hold a significant place in the listener’s memory. This fact still piques you up at the sight of his doe eyes quietly invested whenever you talk. You are always the talker between the two of you. 

You can notice it from your periphery. You can feel the heavy weight of his drowning gaze piercing right through you as he examines you with such curiosity. You halt at your impending speech about student organization, feeling a lot more hotter than usual. The silence ebbed its way like how a beacon flies away from a started up fire. You let out a sharp intake of breath as you muster all your courage to reciprocate his heavy gaze. 

You let out an airy laugh, “Is there something on my face?”

The way his demeanor changes drastically before your very eyes. His deep eyes are luminous, that made you feel some sort of deep mystification. His eyes are clearly looking at something through you, or searching for something to mend a yearning that is situated deep in his chest. He missed looking at your face, and a single gaze couldn’t fill those years of him trying to familiarize your face with those dusts in his memory. 

“You’ve changed so much,” he says. His eyes are not leaving yours. You could almost feel some tinge of connection with just the way he stares down at you with deep adoration. That shoots out a simmering feel underneath your skin and painting out your face with searing hotness. 

You try to conceal yourself by clearing your throat. “How do you know?”

“I keep on looking at you.”

“I can see that,” you state in a matter of fact. Challenging him further, “why is that?”

His lips immediately tugs upright at the change of your tone. He pushes in, further stretching out your curiosity, “Do you really wanna know?”

“Why?”

He blinks slowly, his eyelashes slightly fluttering against his eyelids. He opens his lips, “I wanna feel those lips again.”

You gulp hard when you see his gaze drops down to your lip level. That is the same thing you were thinking of the first time you saw him, don’t you? You also gawk at his as well, playing along the colors of a pale pink rose and crimson chrysanthemums. You can feel your brain struggling out to think of a thing to get away in this scenario you are in, instead you are lost in thought while looking at his lips. You definitely want to feel those lips as well. 

“Why don’t you do it then?”

You lift the edges of your lips into a playful smile testing out the very edge of Taeyong’s patience. You must’ve stunned him at your vulgarity since he is opening his mouth for a retort but nothing rolls out. 

“A-are you sure?”

This is the connection you were talking about. The constant pounding of both of your hearts are beating in sync against your rib cages. Feeling the same sense of want for each other’s touch. The butterflies flying around your stomach in an erratic manner. 

“Do it.”

You thought he’s gonna hold back, but the sudden feeling of his lips crashing on yours had you sending in a skyrocketing ecstasy. 

You didn’t get a hold of how long it has been, but all you can think of how sensual everything is. Goosebumps arise on your skin at the feeling of Taeyong’s tongue slowly grazing then nibbling on the plump flesh of your lower lip. You unconsciously let out a quiet moan that gave him access to meet you along the process. 

Taeyong relaxes for a bit and you feel his hands slowly crawling up your arm and find its spot and settle it softly on your jaw. He caresses you slowly with such delicacy, afraid to give you a scratch. You are really lost with his mouth connected with yours. You are too stunned to think of something but it felt magical and passionate. 

He slightly tilts his head towards his left and pushes your face more into him to deepen the kiss. His tongue grazing through the underside of your mouth. 

He breaks the kiss, but his hands never left your cheeks. His forehead is resting on yours, a smile is ghosting his lips but his eyes are closed. He whispers your name sweetly causing a feeling of sparks igniting inside your chest. You rest your hands on his shoulders, gripping on it for dear life and to calm your nerves. 

You can see the slow flutters of his eyelashes and how it cast a hollow shadow on his cheekbones. His breath slightly fans your face and you find yourself ticklish. He finally opens his eyes and how it holds such light, alive like the galaxy. He gives you a smile, “I really missed this.”

Then he leaned again to press on several small kisses, peppering your face with his lips while making smooch sounds. You immediately let out a giggle. His touch stays put, hot and tantalizing you can almost feel yourself burning. 

This is what Taeyong has been dreaming of. How he yearns for that tinge of strawberry that he only gets to taste whenever he’s kissing you. You taste so sweet. Overly saccharine it made him much more alive. 

Days past to weeks. It’s a routine like you expected it, impending torment every morning which is summer classes. But someone has added some spice to your monotonous life; Lee Taeyong. There has been a change in the atmosphere engulfing both of you— something that touches a nostalgic feeling — a slight nudge to your heart. 

He is currently leaning at the back door frame of your classroom. Watching you struggle to finish up an essay that is currently due in fifteen minutes. That is exactly the sight he would die to see. 

“Start with the main points first before you elaborate the sub points,” he beams. Good thing, you are situated at the very back and so you are both out of ear shot. You press your brows all together, concentrating on the damn vague subject but the scent of Taeyong is too distracting. 

He crouches down and snatches the pen away from you, scribbling a lopsided pyramid with all the words as your starter. You stare at him and he gives you a smile in return. The way his eyes turn into moon crescents that made your heart churn. Do you really deserve those smiles? 

He whispers proudly, “There. That should keep you on track.”

You gasp, “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” He steals a kiss from you and stalked away with his phone on his ear.

Later that day, your phone keeps buzzing against your ass. The first ever text you’ve received from Taeyong. He had a new number. 

[pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong] [4:16 PM] I hope you finished your paper! [4:18 PM] its taeyong btw [4:23 PM] uhm,,, perhaps you want to go for a ride,, like fuck I hate texting dhhdhd [4:23 PM] but I wanna show u around our boxing gym if you would like of course… [4:25 PM] text me back, yeah?

You immediately grin at the message. 

[4:26 PM] alright, as long as you treat me dinner :D [4:27 PM] alsoo… thank you, I said it already but I want to thank you agaaain :) [pretty but flat as a board lee taeyong] [4:27 PM] you got that! :) [4:27 PM] see you!!! <3

You pretty much found yourself ogling at his last message. 

[4:28 PM] anything for you, sweetheart. I love you. 

Those messages from Taeyong got you in a state of deep conflict. You just thought of it as a simple get together and not a date. Right, that must be it, he just wanted to show you around the place where he boxes. That could be it. 

On the other hand, Taeyong knows that it isn’t just something as a plain go-out impromptu. He really mustered his courage to ask you out for a date. And he hasn't thought of a proper place since he’s not permitted to wander around the outskirts of the city not until after his upcoming match. The boxing gym could be the second destination after dinner. 

The shared relationship between the two of you has escalated more than just plain awkwardness. While you are munching out your yakisoba, Taeyong is eating out his salad, watching and lowkey happy that you are sharing a company with him even though the offer is quite a little bit absurd. You are now staring back at him whenever he does, occasionally throwing out flirtatious comebacks after the other. This made something spark out in Taeyong’s chest, is it a sign of your feelings coming back? Or something even bigger than the picture he has been painting? Commitment?

The walk to the boxing gym didn’t take up much of your time. Taeyong pushes the door and lets you enter in first. There are several people inside the gym and they all gave you a friendly greeting. There’s another man that approaches the two of you, probably a few years older than you and is handsome as well in his grey sweats and black shirt. His eyes mold into moon crescents as he greets you with all his pearly teeth showing, “You must be y/n? I’m Taeil, Taeyong’s other coach.”

The people in the gym scrambled out to the connecting unit to give you both privacy. It's just both of you, with the lights casting a warm glow between your bodies, the dumbbells untouched, the ring in the middle waiting for him. He leads you inside the ring as he hoists up the rope upwards for your entrance. The platform is quite slippery but Taeyong immediately guides you forward towards the middle with his hands gripping your hips tightly. You just watch him intently and you can see how he grew a lot more taller, practically hovering over your figure.

He demonstrates a simple punch here and there. Pointing out the parts of the ring but all of his words are muddled, swimming away as your attention is solely focused on his lips and the way his slender body sway with such grace and agility. 

He removes the glove and throws it away. He approaches you, “Are you gonna do something with the way that you are looking at me?”

He can feel it. Tonight is something different. The way both of you are staring right at each other’s soul is a little different. 

He slowly intertwined his fingers with yours then he holds it up to his lips to kiss your fingers gingerly. He’s taking his time to kiss one digit to another. Then, he leans slowly while grazing his lips onto the outer shell of your ear. Your body tingles at the warm breath fanning the right side of your face. “What does that stare mean huh? Y/n?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to speak with those tantalizing eyes staring at you, full of determination, smoldering with passion and lust. His touch on your hips is burning, shuddering as he caresses it down slowly emitting the rise of your goosebumps. His lips are brushing against your nose peppering small kisses just like old times. He handles you with such care like you are some sort of a delicate masterpiece by Michelangelo. 

You just want him. His lips. His entirety. You want Lee Taeyong. 

He caresses your jaw soothingly before leaning down to press a soft peck on your lips. Then, again and again. Until you encircled your arms around his neck to pull him closer. You feel him smile against your lips after reciprocating your hungry and passionate kisses. After all these years of yearning, you’ve never felt so alive. He’s something akin to fire that never fails to have your insides burn with so much spark and passion. 

He pulls you more, pushing your figure on his. It feels surreal with both your bodies molding into one. His soft touch turns into a passionate tug of war with your blouse. His hands run over those curvatures that are hidden by your top. Oh god, he knows how he missed doing these. 

Taeyong knows that you’re the catastrophe that yields this side of him. He loves you so much. And he believes that you are both made for each other, like planets meant to be aligned together. Your scent that smells like home with a touch of roses and bloom. Your lips that are perfectly made just for him, your tongue that slowly and carefully grazes his lower lip. The kiss that both of you are sharing is too sensual, different, grounded into something just like the very first one you have both shared. 

He nibbles on yours that triggers a soft moan from you. You immediately granted him entrance. The ghost of his touch is still lingering on your jaw, until he settles it down onto your hips. You are sure that he can the loud pounding of your chest, the way the big spark ricochets against your chest with every touch he leaves. 

It’s messy but surreal. Binding with much adoration and deep sense of lust. With his tongue exploring every bit of you. Tangling and connected by feelings. It is so romantic that you don’t want it to end.

He breaks the kiss, leaning against your temple. Ragged breaths resonate around the quiet gym. You take your time to settle your pounding heart and breath. You look at him, all but imbued with pure adoration and affection. His swollen lips whisper your name in awe and he smiles at how he dreamt of it and now it's unfolding before him. 

You just want to be like these. With you tucked under his protective embrace. Listening to his erratic heartbeat. But, you were still afraid. 

He whispers, “God. What will I do without you?”

“But… I’m always here.”

“But I won’t.”

You inhale a sharp intake of breath. “I don’t understand.”

“I might move out abroad for training.”

Those are the things you are always afraid of. Taeyong entering your life, then to leave out as soon you cannot contain yourself anymore, drowning with every piece of him, lost without his presence beside you. 

 This was your nightmares, coming back at square one broken and shattered. And it’s threatening to come back especially now that you are finding yourself falling for him, again.

It’s raining hard. Gloomy and heavy just like the constant barrage of thoughts clouding in your brain that you have overlooked a text message from Taeyong and Doyoung’s sudden appearance at your room.

“I can see a blooming college student, and why is that?” He teases but it wasn’t enough to make your mood lift not for a little bit.

“I don’t see myself as blooming though, why’d you say that?” 

“Don’t lie to me. I can see how lovely and alive you are when you’ve been hanging out with Taeyong.”

“It won’t be long. I should’ve known,” you wipe your face. “God, why am I such an idiot?”

His face immediately concerts to concern, he knows you’re in deep conflict and something wrong is up. “Tell me.”

You told him everything. The internal battle you’ve recently put yourself into Everything that has been bugging in your mind lately. “I’ve let him in my life once, then now, twice and right now I’m unsure of everything. I’m even afraid that I have to go through the past shits I was thrown into because he chooses his career more than… us. And I don’t want to feel that misery again.”

He hums, “Look.” You embrace yourself for an earful of lectures from him. “But, who cares about the past? It's already done but it isn't just you who suffered and undergone extreme shit.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re dumb, y/n.”

“I said what I said, Doyoung. This isn’t love, it could be just the wild force like lust or whatever...”

“No, you’re still swimming around this deep pool of conflict and denial.”

“It's easier to speak about someone, Kim Doyoung. But you don’t know what I am feeling right now, stop invalidating me.”

“I’m not. But I’m speaking as a best friend and I know you love him more than you know, you do.”

You snap, “Stop concluding things!”

“Oh yeah? But if you are unsure of Taeyong, why do you keep on texting with him when you know that you shouldn’t? What about those kisses you both shared when he dropped you off here yesterday? You don’t know but you’ve been drowning with the presence of Taeyong that you’re oblivious to the fact that everyone knows you’re lying. You still love him.”

“I just want to hang out but that necessarily means I do love him.”

Doyoung clenches his jaw and approaches your figure. You’re being too difficult. Your eyes widens at his sudden outbursts but what made you stunned is that he suddenly pulled your face to his, then he planted a soft peck on your nose. 

Doyoung knew this was coming, but he just wanted to help with the thing he knows will work. After all the shenanigans he pull, all of them didn’t work and ended the way he wanted in it be. By doing this, he will know if you are indeed in a midst of conflict or you really do love Taeyong. It’s a giveaway, if you do push him away, it just explains everything. If you do not, then he is wrong for pushing everything into your edge.

Doyoung is tall and thus, he can see the marching figure of Taeyong and how he stopped midway at the sight of both of you. From the perspective of Taeyong, it gives him a picture that both of you are kissing when in fact, Doyoung is just leaning down to match your height.

“What the hell?”

You immediately remove Doyoung’s hands from your face and spin quickly on your heels to meet him. “Taeyong, I can explain…”

Taeyong smiles bitterly, “No. save it.” He lets go of the material he’s been gripping through all this time. 

The sight of Taeyong, he’s beautiful as ever. But looking at his face painting into a mixture of plain reticence and agony surely made you sick to the gut. You hate to see him hurting and when he spun his heel to leave, you chased him off. Afraid of losing him, again. At this moment you have been sure of it, you love him more than you do. 

“Wait—“

He spins his heel but maintains a safe distance from you. “I didn’t know you and Doyoung had a thing, I should’ve known.”

“No! No, please, listen to me—“

His gaze is so dark with pain and anger. “I don’t want to hear anything from you. Imagine, I have been believing all these time, yet, fuck.”

“No, Taeyong…”

He snaps, “Do you really love me y/n? Or you’re just driven?”

That shuts you out. But you know that answer, it's just that fear is holding you from shouting out how much you love him. 

He smirks bitterly, “See? Those could answer everything.”

Heaven knows how much you love Lee Taeyong. How you are afraid of seeing him leave and never return back. 

The next days you are waking up to are the worst as you speak. The way every morning feels so heavy with a constant tirade of thoughts running over your mind like a shadow lurking by. Your mornings pass by bitterly without messages coming from Taeyong or his stupid voice overs that lulls you to sleep. Not even his sweet talks and songs. None of them all. 

It feels like shit to wake up with a heavy chest glooming with unexplainable feelings of confusion and denial. You hated to admit but you are so angry with yourself for being such a pussy. The constant loop of emotions that you feel, above all fear of having everything repeat again, then anger at yourself for hurting Taeyong, then regret because you know you could have done something better. You are well aware that you are just forcing yourself into this pool of anxiety. Afraid of something uncertain, when you shouldn’t be and it was just enough to drive Taeyong away. You could have just told him you loved him, but you were letting yourself be pulled out by your own judgements. Love means sacrificing, but you were such a coward for doing so.

Denial that was the cause of the pain that killed his passionate eyes. You know too well that what you have shared with him isn’t just something as plain lust but it was driven by deep love and passion. Yet, you couldn’t even correct out the stupid lie that Taeyong had to forcibly believe. Because you were so afraid of admitting that you are falling back to him, and you’re afraid that he might not be able to catch you out like he did before all because of boxing. 

But was it worth fearing for if it meant pushing him away? No. You loved him more than you do. Does it make you at ease to just bury down in your darkest pits and watch Taeyong disappear just because you were so afraid of taking up the risk? No. 

In the course of summer’s day and hazy afternoons you have spent with him, shoulder to shoulder, swaying with deep grace and agility, you have seen how smooth your relationship with him changed. Unbeknownst to you, the relationship shared between you has blossomed into something passionate and raw; full of emotion. No puppy love but special and mature. You hate to engage with people but with Taeyong around, there is a line that connects the two of you like two star-crossed lovers destined and made for each other. 

His smile never fails to cast positivity in your life, and hell you know, that you wanted to be a reason for those smiles as well. But how can you do it, when you were the reason why it won’t happen anymore?

You know you are just scared of letting him inside your life and then one moment, he’ll leave. His departure has deeply wounded and scarred you to the point that you don’t want it to happen anymore. This has always been a part of commitment, that obstacles are being thrown towards your way. But the more you think of it, the more selfish and worse you felt. He did support you all the time, especially when you mentioned to him two years ago that you wanted to go abroad for an internship or those times when he is determined to keep you on track despite his body failing because of the strenuous training he’s being shoved under. But when it was his time to go, instead of supporting him all the way, you eventually closed everything around you, even tried so hard to tell it without hurting you. That made you feel like shit. 

You try to diminish everything and try to focus on your classes but you constantly find yourself thinking about those titanium hair and passionate eyes. His kisses and burning touches. You stare at the pile of schoolworks stacked neatly at your table, waiting for your whole undivided attention. But you just couldn’t bring yourself to focus, not with that growing lump of sadness clogging on your throat.

It’s impossible to wave everything off like nothing of this ever happened, that Taeyong was just another episode in your life. But he wasn’t just someone that is a passerby, he’s engraved to your memory, and he’s that memory you wish to remember till death. 

It hurts to see his face into pain.

Lee Taeyong is the man that you’ve ever wished for. He loves without boundaries, without limits, without judgement. He’ll love you with all his might, disregarding all those flaws that you keep. He’s pretty with his soul so bright and pure. He’s like a rose in this dead garden that shines in his very own way. Bright red, full of determination, power and beauty. He’s so kind like the angel Gabriel. He was a dream come true for you, ethereal like a daydream, the love of your life that you pushed away because you were being such a coward.

A throb in your chest escapes when you see the crumpled paper discarded near the door. His neat handwriting comes to your view.

I just read the Notebook by Nicholas Sparks and saw this passage;

“I am nothing special; just a common man with common thoughts, and I’ve led a common life. There are no monuments dedicated to me and my name will soon be forgotten. But in one respect I have succeeded as gloriously as anyone who’s ever lived: I’ve loved another with all my heart and soul; and to me, this has always been enough.”

I love you with all my entirety, I know I have fucked up, but I am willing to do everything for you, just to be with you, forever. 

He just loves you and you were doubting everything. 

“Good thing I didn’t throw that paper away.”

You immediately spin around your heel and see Doyoung plopping himself comfortably on the sofa. 

“I’m still mad at what you’ve done.”

“I know, but if it wasn't for that show, you’ll never be as sure as you are now.”

“You’re bullshit.”

“I’m just helping you,” he clears his throat. “Now, tell me more.”

“No, until you tell why you did that stupid thing.”

He sighs. “It’s an eye opener for people in denial like you.”

“What do you mean?”

“When you heard Taeyong, you immediately pushed me away and chased after him… Why? Because you don’t want to see him get hurt because of a stupid and childish act.”

You didn’t answer.

“Now tell me more.”

You sigh again and close your eyes. Doyoung watches you patiently. “Doyoung, tell me, am I dumb for feeling this way? Afraid that he’ll leave me again because of boxing and selfish because I am just looking out for myself?”

“First of all, you are not dumb, academically could be, but no, you’re not. You see, whenever we feel fear, that just means that we love that person so much we are afraid to lose them. And don’t invalidate everything just because you are looking out for yourself.”

He continues on, “I know that the separation of you two were messed up and rushed because Taeyong had to train more and you cannot decipher the fact that he has to leave. And now that he’s back, you just don’t want to feel the same old misery you had to endure these years. But trust me, he feels the same way as you do. In fact, much worse because he chose boxing over you. But it's part of life and love, sacrifices happen and it makes the bond between the two stronger.”

“What do I do?”

“You see, you keep on returning back to your past, that it might happen again and again. Forget those, it's in the past, what is important is the present and that is what you should focus on. Feelings are really hard to keep up with. We’re humans, vulnerable. But I know that he really loves you.”

“I do, too.”

“Then, you should talk it out to him. Don’t rush things and take lithe steps.”

He approaches your figure and pulls you into an embrace. You feel your eyes burning with tears when he whispers, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”

“What if he misunderstood?”

“He won’t. Trust me, he is my friend too.”

You feel a sense of comfort even if it's just a fraction of time. His words echoing around your mind, “If two people are meant to be together, they’ll eventually find their way back, and this is it, y/n.”

You find yourself dropping by their boxing gym. Taeil approaches you figure, awkwardly leaning against the door, kinda conflicted if you should set foot in the gym or not. 

“Hey,” he greets. His face is quite pale with the notable dark bags under his eyes, he looks really dishevelled. 

You bow your head, “Hey Taeil, what’s up?”

“Tired.”

“Oh, it's that so?”

“But he’s pretty messed up among all of us.”

He knows.

You can hear the disgruntled grunts and strong punches from the farthest side of the room. 

You let out a sigh, “Why is that?”

“You see, he’s been really expectant of this match but he was notified at the last minute that it was cancelled because his opponent was tested positive for using peds which is illegal,” he trails. “I think it made him upset given the fact that we have done extreme preparations and he was obliged to undergo a mandatory drug test when he hated doing it in the first place.”

You find yourself being stupefied, not knowing what to answer. “I’m sorry--”

You are interrupted midway when you hear constant shouts and punches. 

“It was found out that the contract of sponsorship was a fraud and used as a bait for us to bite on. He was really enraged.” Taeil clears his throat, “Now he’s been grilled by the trainers because there’s a big dip in his usual powerful performance. There was never a problem especially in training but his performance just escalated down and I really don't know how to help him either, I think he's really unmotivated.”

You feel really guilty because you were also the reason for his sudden drop in performance. 

You call out to Taeil and hand him the pink card, “Can you please pass this to him?”

Taeyong stumbles in the locker room after the hellish training, he grips on the metal bars tightly to support his body. He feels like his body is collapsing with his legs wobbling and his arms tired, without the power to hold anything in his command. The bright pink card that is clipped haphazardly on his jacket caught his attention, he stretched out his arm and he elicited a sharp gasp when he felt the sudden jolt of pain rising up to his shoulders. The contents of the card surprised him, your baby picture that’s his favorite and the neat calligraphy of a book passage that had his eyes damp with tears.

“So it’s not gonna be easy. It’s going to be really hard; we’re gonna have to work at this everyday, but I want to do that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, everyday-- Noah”

I have also read the Notebook and all I could say is I can’t stop thinking about you. Everything could be hard but I am more than willing to dive, to walk into a path full of thorns with you. I was really afraid to see you walk out of that door, and it came to my realization that I’d rather have you go away temporarily, to chase on your dream rather than losing you forever. Chase your dream and I’ll chase mine, and we’ll still find each other’s arms. I will support you always, rose. I love you so much. 

You find yourself in the boxing gym again, awkward as fuck. 

The rambunctious rambles of Taeyong’s teammates piques up his ears yet he doesn't pay attention to it because he knows it’s useless. He quietly wraps the white bandages around his wrist and his fingers. His muscles are still aching with the aftermath of the afternoon grilling yesterday but he needs to practice more despite everything fucking him up. 

Taiel shouts out, “Taeyong!”

He snaps, “What?!”

But the sight of your figure at the door deeply surprised him. You look like you’ve been contemplating for a good minute whether you should enter the gym or just cling out at the door. Ah, he knows. You hated talks and people so much and it shows.

It’s been days since you have last seen him, he’s still beautiful as ever. But you can see the dark shadow that casts underneath his eyes. There were lines here and there that could be caused by stress and fatigue. His jaw is much sharper than before. His eyes were unreadable, deep and smoldering.  

He hoists and climbs out of the ropes and out of the ring to approach you. You can see yourself eyeing his figure intently but you rest your gaze at his strong and unyielding stare down to those pretty lips.

He breathes, “Hey.”

It was just a faint call yet it feels like you’ve been floating around in cloud nine. You fidget against the wall and Taeyong notices. You wanted to tell him more, everything, yet you are confined in your very own space, with fear clogging out your throat. 

You settle with calling his name, your lips quivering, “Taeyong.”

Taeil immediately shushes the other boys that have plains on eavesdropping on the drama unfolding. The marches out towards the connected unit with exasperated groans leaving their lips. Now it’s just you and him again. With everything untouched and quiet. The space around you is basking into that awkward pace just like the first encounter. Your heart ricochets off against your chest that indicates a quiet plea that snaps you out of what you should do. Here goes nothing, you should talk it out to him. 

You try to divert your attention from the erratic beating of your heart to the boy who’s been looking at you with his dark eyes. 

He begins, “How is your summer class?”It took you off guard, “It’s fine.” 

You clear your throat and mumble the words, “I want to talk, please?”

He leans down with his brows furrowed together. “What? I didn’t get what you were trying to say…”

You sigh and yanked his tank top to plant a kiss on those rose colored lips of him. He misses your touch. He relaxes by the feeling of your touch. You were just enough to fill out the hole that has been empty throughout his heart. 

You whisper, “I’m really sorry for being afraid… for holding back… I don’t have something intimate going on with Doyoung I swear, he just leaned in to slap me out of my reverie… With his acts I was able to make sure that you were the only one that I will ever love…  I could never replace you with someone else because I love you so much… you are the only one that I will choose, forever.”

He closes his eyes and leans on your forehead. He was so afraid of losing you either. When he saw Doyoung that day, he really felt a sense of tugging in his heart. Fear that he couldn’t make up for all the things that he’d done. For leaving so soon. For leaving you. He misses you so much that he can’t find the energy to go on without you by his side.

He kisses you with all the power he could muster. With all earnestness. Peppering you with kisses, dusting every part of your face with all his might. He’s intoxicated with just your presence looming inside his systems. He leaves you breathless with every passionate kiss he leaves, leaving a trail of hotness that has been searing up into your body. You could almost feel that spark with just the ghost of his touch. This is what you want, with him  by your side. How content you feel with him and those yearning suddenly disappears.

Taeyong cups your face, holding you with such care as if you’re the most delicate glass. Fragile. He stares at your eyes, searching into yours deeply until he could see how beautiful they really are, that holds the entire galaxy with them, sparkling and deep.

You grab his hands carefully, kissing his bruised hands that are like those flowers that your mother grows. Delphinium, that is casting a glow of pale blue and violet. It must’ve pained him to still train with his hands scarred. 

He calls you out with the same old nickname for you that sends you to bits of fluttery. “Sweetheart... “ His voice is imbued with longing, his voice deep and soothing, contradicting yet lulling. “You don’t have to apologize. I will forgive you every time, because I love you so much.”

“I’m sorry for being like this, still trapped with the past…”

He shushes you with his finger. “Hey, let’s forget everything in the past and focus on what we have here in the present.”

You smile, “Present.”

Taeyong finds himself being lost for words yet he seizes this opportunity to hold you closer to his. He loves you dearly and admires your beauty. Your entirety. He loves you for being you. That is all about simplicity with your skin glowing, so it was your inner beauty that not only lit up your soft features but Taeyong’s eyes as well. When he sees you smile and laugh, he couldn't help but smile along too, even if it was just on the inside. To be in your company was to feel that he too was someone, that you had been warmed in summer rays regardless of the season.

“Stop staring.”

He laughs, “Why not? I miss you.”

“Your coach might scold me for interfering with your training.”

He rolls his eyes, “The match was cancelled, anyways. Let him be mad, I don’t care.”

You grin, “You’re impossible.”

He leans in again for a kiss. It’s not just a peck but one steeped in a passion that ignites. It is the promise of realness, of the primal desire that glows in your chest.

He kisses up and down your neck. You let out little whimpers of anticipation while he works his way back to your tender, smooth lips. 

He breathes out your name, “y/n…” caressing your face gingerly, brushing away those strands of hair away from your eyes, “Did you know I was really happy to see that letter from you?”

“Why?”

“Because you called me rose that you only did when you felt like it.”

You laugh at his confession, “Why?”

“I just felt happy that you finally addressed me by that name.”

You give him a smile while caressing his cheeks soothingly. His expression is a mixture of endearment and loving, with his smile that is so blinding with beauty.

He continues, “I could still remember that very last time you called me that and I thought I will never get those endearments from you. Rose is the name out of all that I can help but to smile whenever I hear someone say it.”

“It’s actually weird to call you that.”

“But it’s fucking unique and I will aways remember you whenever I hear the word rose.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you… You’re someone so kind and pure that brings up the beauty even in the smallest things and God… what will I ever do without you in my life?”

“We are always meant to be together even though Doyoung’s plan on bringing our paths together fails.”

You cross your brows, “How did you know that?”

He grins cheekily, “He told me.” That snitch. 

The conclusions are starting to form inside your head like whirlpools. You point out an accusatory finger towards him, your eyes wide, “So you know?”

He smirks and kisses you again. “Yes, but it just feels good to hear those words coming out of you.”

“You drama king!”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Out of seven billion, I will always choose you.”

Those words prompt another fond smile to play on your lips, one so tight it hurts your cheeks. 

You hear a roar, “Lee Taeyong! Back to the ring!”

You could see his manager fuming but when he sees your figure being concealed by Taeyong’s body he immediately scurries back and grunts out incoherent profanities. 

You snatch his top to lean for a peck then pushing him away, “Go, before you get grilled for--”

“For what? Being sexy?”

“You have an non-existent ass, Taeyong.”

He just smiles at your comeback. And he could just feel the air knocking out of his fucking chest. God, what is life if it wasn’t you with his side like this? He’s a lovefool, only for you.

He begins, “You know I hated books but…” his eyes are now soft and deep, earthy brown - the color of the earth after torrential rains. A smile tugging on the ends of his lips, “You are, and always have been, my dream.” 

You recognize those quotes from Nicholas Sparks. 

You smile too, “You are and will ever be the love of my life, Taeyong.”

SMUT (SKIP IF UNCOMFORTABLE)

You can still remember the first time that you felt extreme happiness, that is when you have been given the plush toy you have been dreaming off by your dad. That was memorable, then the second one that gave you light was Taeyong. He brings the extreme feeling of euphoria just by the ghosts of his lips. From the very start, you wanted to drown yourself with the boy who’s laced with elegance and sweetness that is Lee Taeyong. 

You didn’t know how Taeyong was able to spare himself out of his training sessions and his fuming coach. But what is important is that after he runs towards your direction, carelessly yanking out his bag, he reconnected his lips to yours, peppering your whole face down to marking your neck as his. You both don’t stop feeling each other until you are both forced out by Taeil. 

Taeyong’s vein is filled with adrenaline and the wild drive of lust. He carelessly drives down his apartment, skipping three traffic lights, at this moment he couldn’t bring himself to care about traffic rules, he wanted you the soon, the better. The both of you stumbles down the hallway, bodies waltzing while trying to fit in the door of his unit. 

His fingers were grazing your scalp slightly tugging on your locks to provide him more access to deepen the kiss. His other hand is roaming around you, exploring every bit of your curvature that you always hide. He grips on your hips hard then slammed you on the nearest wall he could find. Taeyong pushes his pelvis onto you, deeper while torturing you by biting down on your lower lip. You let out a quiet moan that urges him to do more, grinding against your pants that sends a surge of swirling sparks in your belly and wetness that pools between your thighs.

You’re his drug that drives him into madness. 

He couldn't contain himself any further as excitement pools inside his system, his eyes burning with desire with the sight of you caged between his arms. He gives you a look while he touches the hem of your shirt, silently asking for your approval. You nodded and it was enough for him to shake while trying to work out and remove you from the garment that covers your beauty. He inwardly let out a low groan upon the sight of your breast cupped perfectly by the lacy bra. 

Your faces immediately flush at his intense gaze, but he immediately leans in to plant a quick peck on your lips, smiling throughout. “You are perfect. God.”

He traces with his lithe fingers starting from your hands upward to your shoulders. You can almost see how he occasionally steals a glance at you with his hooded eyes. His gaze is so heavy and hungry as if you’re a pool of crystal water and he’s a man with an exorbitant thirst, that he cannot longer wait to devour you with all his might.  He proves his ardent hunger by cupping your cheeks and attacking your now swollen lips, then tilting your head slightly on the left to press his lips onto the delicate skin of your neck, his teeths grazing and biting down, leaving you angry red marks. He wasn’t feeling enough, he titles your head more, providing him more access to the sweet spot that is on the arch of your collarbones, sucking and marking until you are desperately crying for more. 

You let out an airy laugh, “Is this what you are planning along all this time?”

He answers you with a breathy answer, “Fuck, yes.” He towers over your figure while grinding more onto you, the friction making him bite down his moans and hard with every fraction of time passing by. “You’re the only one I plan on doing this with.”

 He pulls away and finally assists you while undressing. To him, you are the most perfect, with your skin glistening with sensual sweat. Taeyong’s eyes were drawn down to the red marks that caressed its way down to your neck, reaching to just below your collarbones. Taeyong always told himself that goddesses were real and he was sure that you’re one of them. You’re a masterpiece that he will always hold with such delicateness.

He pushes your figure down onto his silk sheets. You can feel the cold contact against your flushed skin while Taeyong hovers onto your figure attacking every part of you that his lips could. He sucks onto your neck until those marks turn with a deep chase of purple and blue. You buck your hips against him, firmly to feel him, until you could squeeze out a reaction from him.

Taeyong groans slowly which pushes you more to roll your hips against him. The instinctive reaction of Taeyong was to bite down on your neck a little more harder which earns a sharp gasp from you. There is a rising flame bubbling inside of your abdomen. Two amorous lovers binded by love and lust. He gives out a quick yet quiet apology while returning into his business on marking every spot he sees no shade of lilac or blue. You try to grind onto him shamelessly, again, teasing to test out his patience, yet he already has his hands holding you down to place with his nails digging deep into your hips. You could almost feel his raging boner resting against the flesh of your inner thighs, throbbing. 

Swatting away his grip, you immediately sit up to undress him up. Your hands run along his skin, clever, skilled, determined as you stripped off the tank top that clings onto his wrists. The flash of passion, the fury of need that darkens your eyes with a sense of decadent power as the man you really love is sitting before you, almost as naked as you. 

In mindless, liberated pleasure, you shove out his gym shorts. 

Taeyong’s eyes glimmered in the weak light of his room, as he forced the gym shorts out of him and flung it aside. “You’re driving me insane.”

“I could say that too.”

His mouth begins feasting onto your flesh again, his greedy hands racing over your quivering body in ruthless exploration that got you breathless. Heat pumps throughout your veins; feeling soft and warm, melting into Taeyong’s touch, like one's body. 

You let out a gasp when you feel Taeyong’s palm cupping your breasts. His other sinful fingers move against your surging wet heat, relentlessly driving you up to insanity, the need to release is clawing viciously inside your body. Your pussy throbbing with his fingers encircling with your clit in a torturous manner. 

Taeyong breathes, “Look at me,” when he sees your eyes fluttering shut. “It’s just you and me. Just us, like always.”

“Always.” The shadows dance around the both of you. Shifting while both of your fingers stroked. The sensation builds after the other, your body trembles, shuddering layers, then it halts when he suddenly withdraws himself letting you on the edge of frustration and want. 

“Fuck, Taeyong!”

“God, I can eat you out, alive.”

You breathe, “I could… let you.”

With the expert flick of his hands, he had your pants tugged down along with your panties with a low grunt. Your eyes both lock in a brief second, all smoldering and swimming with intense lust. He clicks his tongue while playfully flicking off your bra.

His hands, as you could note, are kinda calloused, rubbing at your inner thighs and then spreads them widely while exploring a bit of your body. The power of his caress is influenced by boxing that is tantalizing and arousing, his fingertips pressing onto the delicate part of your skin, wandering underneath to give you behind a gentle yet strong cup.

He leans in again to leave out open mouthed kisses on your bare chest. The air around thickens, your breath snagged in your lungs. Your back arches as he takes your breast in his mouth, sucking, teeth scraping erotically over your aching nipple. Then, trailing down to your inner thighs to leave small kisses here and there, then he’ll suck. You writhe against the small exquisite pain, sobbing his name, the wet pulse between your legs is pounding with intense need. 

Taeyong dips his head in between your legs, licking the hot, slick, and thick liquid that is dripping from your folds. You immediately let out a moan. He holds you in place, while he relishes on your juices while you suffer at his doings. The vibration whenever he let out a satisfied groan leaves out a tingling sensation to your clit. His tongue finally reaches out to encircle you wanting clit. Waves of ecstasy washes over you, crying out loud at the feeling of sharp sensation of pleasure flowing right at your veins. You try to reach out to anything your hands could get, grip on. You settle for his titanium hair. 

“You’re so sweet.”

Whenever he speaks it grazes slightly on the nubs of your walls, which made you arch your back in pleasure. He continues on licking your juices, until he slides a digit in taking you completely by surprise. With his long, slender fingers inside you, the feeling is exceptional, delirious. 

He slides his finger in, your folds welcoming him as it grazes and envelops every time he slides another finger. His thumb continues on playing with your clit which his fingers fucks you, knuckle deep without mercy. You immediately cry out in pleasure. 

He pumps in a fast pace that has your legs trembling. Your sex is throbbing at his merciless pounding while reaching out to poke out your sweet spots, clenching around his fingers and soaking with your juices. You can feel yourself coming again, as he quicken his pace, you bite down on your lips to ride out the pleasure you are feeling. His thumb busy with your clit and his fingers pumping in and out of you. 

“I’m coming. F-fuck, Taeyong. Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“You like that huh?”

“God, y-yes.”

You can feel the hot liquid dripping between your legs. God, your core is still throbbing at the aftermath of his finger fucking, and you still want more. 

“Fuck me Taeyong. F-fuck me hard.”

He immediately scrambles to his feet upon your request. Removing his boxers, you could see his dick, with a searing red tip oozing with precum. You are really aroused at the sight of him wrapping his hands around his dick, giving it quick strokes. 

“Open for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he mounted you, crushing his mouth into yours as he thrust his dick into you. A sob of pure and overwhelming pleasure eases up your throat. Your walls stretch with him inside. He eases himself, pushing his dick to the extent of your hot walls. Arching, you brought him deeper inside. Your hips move in desperate, greedy time, urging him on. 

In that fleeting moment before you both plunged into the roaring darkness, you understood that there will be no room for another man in your mind, in your soul, in your heart. It will always be him, Lee Taeyong. 

Taeyong reaches out to stroke a palm down your exquisite curves and hollows that drives him mad all night and day while he reaches his point. You take him well, with him cumming inside you. Both of your breathing are ragged. The weak light illuminating from Taeyong’s lampshade cast your silhouettes. When he leans to press a quick kiss on your lips, two grey shadows molded into one. 

“I love you.”

“I love you more.”

hello, this eaten all the left energy in my body so i hope you guys love this one! :D

[dulafer]

TWIN REVENGE

This is an old one, just thought I’d share..... Its of my shortest stories. Any feedback appreciated - dclouser@mac.com 

REUNION

I’ve always been the odd twin out. Will and I were both named William C. Witt with the only difference being our middle names – Charles and Conner. I’ve never liked being called ‘Willy’ while William preferred ‘Will’. Growing up, our parents couldn’t tell us apart - we even have the same birthmark on our chins. 

I’ve always been jealous of Will for being the favorite. Many times, I’d answer to my brother’s name on purpose or force Will to swap places with me. The first time I was Will was when he was failing algebra in 9th grade and didn’t want our parents to find out. We swapped places so I could take his tests. My condition was that I stay as him for the day – soaking up my parent’s adoration and love. Will was definitely our parent’s favorite which pissed me off the older I got, often lashing out for attention. In high school I started impersonating my brother to get him in trouble. Sometimes, I would get caught because my brother would have an alibi with friends backing him up, or I’d would slip up wearing my hair differently or some other little detail. 

By our junior year, I started hanging with another group of friends and dealing drugs. My reputation for trouble followed me as my ‘business’ grew. Will knew what I was up to because people would mistake him for their dealer. Weeks before graduation, the principal caught me selling drugs red handed, thanks to a tip from Will. Since Witts are a powerful family, Dad worked a deal to allow me to graduate on the condition that I spend the summer in rehab.  The deal was made and the day after graduation, Dad drove me to the rehab center. I lasted a week before escaping and never being seen again.

My drug pals smuggled me out of Los Angeles to northern California.  San Francisco was the perfect spot for me. With my college age looks, I blend in on local high school and college campuses where my business grew exponentially. I wear the college gear that fit the campuses I was working daily. I’ve always been thrifty with my earnings and always a light user myself so I saved my money for a future free of drugs. When I can, I sit in on college classes, mostly political science since my father was always drilling politics into Will and I. 

Will on the other hand, was the perfect son. He attended college for political science, becoming a staunch conservative. But Will wasn’t always perfect. After two years in college, he dropped out and was hired at Prager U as a campus correspondent to interview students and follow trends. Will quickly picked up a fan base nationally and within months was buying a condo and new car – with the help of a proud rich father. Will travels the country giving speeches, interviewing people and blogging.

Mom and dad have all but forgotten about me. I faked my own death and changed my name when I heard my family was looking for me.  It was convincing enough that the Witts even had a funeral for me. 

CAMPUS LIFE

I’m at Stanford University working my regular ‘route’, supporting my boys with product. A few girls spot me, come running over and one screams. “Oh my god, Will! I’m your biggest fan.” 

I wonder why they’re calling me Will and fawning over me? “Hi, thank you so much.”

“We can’t wait to hear you speak.  You going to do a ‘man on the street’?” the other one squeals.

“Sure am.” Not knowing what that is even. I see one of my boys coming over for his weekly stash. “Excuse me ladies, I’m meeting an old friend.”

Tyler comes over with his usual swagger carrying his backpack. “Do I have competition bro?”

“No, not at all! You know you’re my main man.” We do his frat’s handshake. Anyone watching us would see us both in Stanford gear and just assume we’re students. We take a seat on a nearby bench, talk business, two minutes later, he’s leaving with my backpack full of drugs.

I walk around campus, wondering about those two girls calling me Will.  When I get to the campus hub, I see my face plastered all over the board. The flyers reads ‘Will Witt, Prager University, Topic: Campus Diversity’. I pull one off the board, fold it up and place it in my backpack pocket. I’ll be damned, my little brother in town. I have to see this for myself.

I get home and study the flyer, find the Prager U site and start watching my brother’s videos. We’re so alike with our political beliefs – neither of us have fallen far from our father’s tree. We both have the same attitudes and beliefs as good old dad. He even sounds like dad did, around the dinner table our entire life. I then log into his Instagram account, using Will’s password he’s been using for a decade. I’m getting envious of my brother’s life – he’s still the golden boy and I’m sure dad is super proud of him. He’s traveling all over the world thanks to this Prager gig. On top of that, he’s become famous on Fox and other mediums for being very articulate and full of energy. 

As I watch him, I’m getting very envious of Will. I’m as smart and talented as my brother. I could have been the favorite son, the celebrity.  ‘Should be, could be, will be.’ I think to myself. That should be my life.

The next day, I head to a theater supply store and buy a fake belly, beard/mustache and some make up. I’ve got to see my brother in action today. Will is scheduled to do a ‘man on the street’ interview on campus this afternoon, then the speech later tonight. 

I show up for his man on the street interview but hang way back, out of sight of Will. With my disguise, I’ve gained 50lbs, a full beard, sunglasses and wearing a tie dyed hoodie. I watch and listen as Will, his producer and camera man set up everything. I record everything with a shotgun microphone - hearing the back and forth banter between Will, his cameraman Gavi and Mike, his producer. That evening, I attend the lecture in another disguise just to be safe. I’ve haven’t seen Will in over two years but he’s still the same arrogant Will in private. In public he’s very friendly and charming. As I’m listening to Will speak, a plan starts to formulate in the back of my mind. Willy is already dead to the world, so why not become Will. It’s not like I’m inexperienced in doing it. It would always piss Will off when I would steal his identity and fool his girlfriends. While he was taking a shower, I would get dressed first, take his clothes, phone, car and pick up his girlfriend who was clueless. Will would be pissed but I would apologize and he would forgive me. One time Will called his girlfriend while I was impersonating him and couldn’t convince her that he was actually Will – I was that good. 

I start tracking my brother via his emails, calendar and social media. Will is flying from Los Angeles to Washington for a week, with Turning Point USA to promote Prager U and himself. Our parents will also be gone on vacation to Europe for months, with plans to hook up with Will in London for lunch and a show in a month.

MOVING TO LOS ANGELES

I need to formulate a detailed plan. Will has lived the good life long enough, it’s my turn now.  I start with cleaning up my life here – telling my friends that I need to disappear again. They buy it easily as it has happened before. I clean out my bank account – about $1m, and drive to Hollywood where Will lives.

I rent a furnished apartment across the street from Will’s condo. It’s perfect – from my living room and bedroom, I can see his entrance and garage. I keep my fake beard and baseball cap on all the time, and only use the back entrance to go anywhere. On his departure day, I watch him being picked up by an airport service and confirm his flight took off on schedule. I head to my bathroom and remove my beard and hide my longer hair under a baseball cap. The condo manager gladly provides ‘Will’ with a spare key when I tell him I lost mine.

Will’s condo is very nice with an open floorplan. There’s 3 bedrooms and 3.5 baths. The lower level is a 2 car garage, lots of storage, a large video recording studio and utility room. His silver Porsche 911 Cabrio is parked next to a motorcycle. On the wall is some leather gear, boots and helmet. The 2nd floor has a large living room with exposed brick walls, huge flat screen, fireplace, bar, gourmet kitchen with top end stainless steel appliances and a personal office. The 3rd floor is all bedrooms with a huge master suite with large bathroom and large walk in closet. The one spare bedroom is sparsely decorated with just a bed, dresser and chair. The other bedroom is mostly empty. It’s a great ‘crib’ but I’m certain daddy helped pay for most of it.

I get to work quickly with my plans.  I try to check out his studio’s computer but its password protected and I can’t get it to unlock. This isn’t a problem after I plug in a thumb drive with keystroke tracker and some other tricks. In a minute, I gain access to all his computers and social media accounts.  The password was his usual password but backwards.

His iMac Pro is a wealth of information – full of his unedited videos, speeches and even a digital diary. I thought he stopped doing a diary in 11th grade but apparently not. He updated it just this morning before leaving. I’m sitting there for hours reviewing his life since I left. His comments about my death and funeral are cruel to say the least.  He blames me for fucking up life with my death, how mom & dad are glad it’s over and they’re all better off. Even my father agreed with him. That’s fine by me, they won’t miss Will at all when I take his place.

I decide to spend the night here and continue my studying. In his basement studio there is a green screen, professional video cameras and teleprompters set up in one corner which he uses to make his cutesy videos. I turn on the equipment, click on a file and up pops the words to his last blog on the teleprompter. On another display in front of the green screen pops up the empty stool where he sits. On the stool is a remote I believe is for controlling everything. I plop my ass down, face the camera, and see myself, or Will on the display in front of me. I fuss with my hair to give me Will’s prominent cowlick, press ‘record’ and the words start moving for me to perform. “What’s up guys, Will Witt for Prager U” I repeat his performance, then delete file before passing out at 2am, after seeing his posts on landing in Washington DC. 

LOOKING THE PART

My brother prides himself on his hair, especially the huge cowlick that he’s proud of. According to his calendar, he had a haircut a few days before leaving for Washington. I make myself at home taking a shower, and pulling on some of his clothes – dark gray skinny jeans, t-shirt, jacket and his black high top converse sneakers. I’m missing his clunky watch and ring he wears all the time, and also his rope crystal necklace he’s been wearing since he was 15. The one time I was with one of his girlfriends, not having that necklace on, gave away my identity. I jump in Will’s Porsche and find a salon with a great google rating. I ask for my usual and show her pics from two days ago. They’re very close up and detailed. In half an hour, I’m smiling at Will in the mirror, running my hand through his cowlick. 

Back home, I pull in to the garage and before I can close the door, some pretty little thing is running over to me. 

“Will! Hey there, I’m glad I caught you.”

“Oh hey, you caught me.” I smile and act surprise.

“Tammy and I are having a party tonight.” She hands me a flyer ‘Jen and Tam’s Big Party’.

“That sounds like a blast, ‘Jen’.” Hoping she’s the ‘Jen’ on the flyer.

“I was just going to slip it in your mailbox. Thought you were going to Washington or someplace exotic again.”

“My DC trip was postponed, so I’m here.” I give her a typical Will smile. 

“Washington’s lost is our gain. You have to come. Besides you can crawl home if you get drunk like unlike last time.”

“I’ll try my best but super busy here.” I chuckle with her, not sure what she’s referring to but Will’s diary will probably help me remember some of it. I’d love to go but there’ll be lots of iPhones around and plenty of pics/videos posted on social media.

A friend sent me a lot of WiFi HD fiberoptic video cameras and microphones to bug my brother’s place. I place a few in each room then sync them to my iPad. Walking from room to room I test them all for activation. It takes all day to hide them properly. Later on, Will’s latest VLOGs and antics from Washington start appearing on his desktop. 

His video reminds me how different our styles are. Will was always conservative dresser while I went for the grunge look. His videos confirm his tastes haven’t changed at all except becoming more expensive. I’m making myself at home – it’s going to be my future home soon anyway. With my new haircut, it only takes a little of his gel to look exactly like him.

 It was always fun turning myself into Will when we were younger, it’s still a turn on now. I print out some pics from his PC files, showing various outfit he’s worn.  I’ve got to nail his ‘look’ perfectly for my future life. There’s one of him in a sharp black suit, white shirt and black tie playing a piano, with a red lapel thingy at a Prager U gala a month ago. We both took piano lesson but I was always a little better.

It’s easy finding the outfit in his very organized closet.  He took it off, left the lapel pin in and probably hasn’t worn it since. There’s a video of the gala in his files that I watch, providing me glimpses of his shoes and watch. I strip out of his jeans, and into the outfit. I couldn’t find his watch – it’s probably in Washington on him but I slip on his pinky ring and a different watch from his jewelry box. Back in the studio, I start a new file – Prager Gala, pretending that I’m Will being interviewed about the night’s events. I sit on the stool, hit record and adlib the event starting with Will’s signature “What’s up Guys” intro, including flashing his two fingers. Being Will is all very natural for me. I’m up half the night learning the equipment, checking out his videos and closet. I just need a few weeks of studying him before I replace him. 

To access his cell phone, a friend puts me in contact with a local guy who clones Will’s iPhone. It costs $2000 but I now see his text messages, calendar and listen to his voicemails. I can also listen in on his calls while he’s talking to people. I can’t speak to them, and they can’t hear me but it’s perfect timing. With him in Washington, his entire life is going through his cell phone, providing me with up to the minute information. He’s working on his schedule for the next few months. With access to all this, I’m learning who his coworkers are, listening to work conference calls, what they’re working on and what Will’s job entails as Prager’s ‘social media influencer’.

Will has a spare set of keys for our parent’s place so I visit just to see what changes have been made while I’ve been gone. The most obvious change is the lack of pictures of me. Their mantel has no pics of Will and I together. It almost looks like they have only one son – that I never existed. Everything else is pretty much how it was three years ago. As I was leaving, Mrs. Tarantolo, their neighbor sees “Will” and comes running over to say hello. She thought it was sweet I was keeping an eye on their place while they were away “Such a good son.”  She claims to be my biggest fan and hasn’t missed any of my videos. She’s clueless about me, as she should – when even our parents couldn’t tell the difference, I’m not worried about anyone. 

My week consists of listening, watching and reading everything he’s up to. I take his Porsche out to grab lunch or dinner to remote places so I’m not seen by anyone that could know him. A few times, fans mistake me for Will and I sign autographs using “What’s Up Guys”. They’re thrilled and its harmless fun for me.  

The week flies by and I return to my apartment across the road.  I return the spare condo key to the manager after making a duplicate of it. On schedule, Will returns via  LAX shuttle service. My surveillance system works perfectly as he moves around his condo.  I see him taking a shower, changing into sweats and working in his studio.  His buddy Mike arrives later with pizza and they brainstorm in the studio about their next VLOG and ‘man in the street’ topics. Listening to their banter helps me learn the lingo and their personal relationship.

Will has not changed a bit since I left Los Angeles – same old anal retentive asshole. It’s fun watching and learning about him. He’s still an avid runner, and like clockwork, he does five miles around a nearby park most mornings. Prager U is just a few miles away and he’s there daily unless he’s traveling. He has a new girlfriend he casually hooks up with but it’s not serious, so that’ll be easy. He writes about meeting her in his diary. He’s got his work schedule planned for the next few months and I know enough to handle it. After a few weeks, my gut is telling me I’m ready to be Will Witt. 

Will’s next major trip is to London for a scheduled Turning Point USA promotion/MOTS and speech at Oxford University – same as he did at Stanford. My plan is to replace him when he arrives home. This gives me another 10 days to get up to speed with his life. I watch him pack, see LAX shuttle service pick him up and confirm his plane took off as scheduled. I make myself at home but keep a low profile, rarely going out. 

Between his phone and computer, I’m kept busy 24 hours/day just keeping up with his life. He’s definitely a video freak, not only recording content for Prager but also everything else like his hotel room, what he had for breakfast, his shopping excursions. I can’t wait to wear his new $7000 bespoke suit he purchased during his shopping expedition on Saville Row. I listen in on his phone calls with our parents, his friends and girlfriend Lisa. This helps me get up to speed with what’s going on in his life. Mom & Dad meet Will for lunch at his hotel, then go to see Hamilton. There’s plenty of selfies and videos to make his life mine. He’s spending a fortune on food, wine, clothes, cigars and trinkets. 

A few hours before he returns, I’m armed with chloroform, truth serum and various knock out drugs.  I hide in his bedroom, ready to pounce with a heavily soaked rag of chloroform. It’s almost enough to knock me out just holding it. 

HONEY I’M HOME

The door lock jiggles and Will enters, plopping his luggage inside the door. He makes a beeline to kitchen and opens the refrigerator. He’s there quite a while before I hear him dragging his very large suitcases up the stairs. I’m crotched in the corner, behind the door as he struggles to get both bags through. The perfect moment happens when one of the bags get stuck in the door jam and I hear him say ‘fuck’. In a split second, I pounce and have the chloroform soaked rag over his nose and mouth. A split second after that, he almost falls to the floor as I catch him. I drag him out into the hallway, and finish putting his bags in the bedroom.

“Welcome home Will, have a good trip?” I look down at him passed out and ask.

“Awesome trip man, had fun with the TP USA team, saw Hamilton with the parents, and hit up lots of pubs and cigars. I’ll have to show you all the pics I took.” I respond to  myself in Will’s typical enthusiastic lingo.  

I drag Will to the empty bedroom and start stripping him. Of course, he’s in a sport coat and tie to travel. It’s so ‘Will’ I think as I carefully remove everything from him, amazed at how alike we still are. I strip off my old sweat pants and t-shirt and put them on him. I pull him up into a metal chair I anchored to the floor, then handcuff his hands and feet so he can’t move an inch. I kneel down next to him, grab his face, then rotate it side to side to check his appearance close up. My sideburns are about a quarter inch too long so I head to my bathroom and trim them to match exactly. 

 I carry ‘my’ clothes back to my new bedroom and slowly start my transformation into Will. I love pulling on the outfit he’s been wearing all day—his sweat and scents mixing with mine. Everything is still warm as I put on his black briefs and socks. His charcoal dress pants fit perfectly as I pull them up. His shirt has gunmetal gray cufflinks and is monogrammed on the sleeve with our initials ‘WCW’. I pulled the black lace up shoes off his feet without untying them. I wiggle into them, tuck in my shirt and fasten my belt. In the bathroom mirror I put on his tie using the same technique dad taught both of us.  I pull on his cool black sport coat with large dark gray plaid patterns. There’s a video of him wearing this outfit for red carpet Oscar interviews. I check his breast pockets, locating his iPhone, keys and wallet.  Tucked inside an outside pocket are his glasses. Slipping on his ring, leather wrist band and watch completes my transformation into Will Witt. I adjust my hair using his Cremo hair cream—Will is always fussing with his hair. Staring in the mirror, I only see Will Witt, just as he was traveling first class earlier. I grin at myself as I adjust my shirt cuffs and admire my looks. I do his usual MOTS intro flawlessly – “What’s Up Guys”. From this moment on, I’m Will Witt and no one will have a clue I’m not. 

My iPhone buzzes in my suit pocket, it’s Will’s girlfriend, Lisa calling. 

“Hey Lisa, I just got in the door babe.” I answer watching myself in the mirror, smiling and playing Will flawlessly.

“I thought you would be, I’ve missed you so much Will.” She whispers seductively.

“Same, may I take you out for dinner?” I ask as charmingly as Will does, remembering their conversation from a day ago, and Will promising dinner and a surprise.

“I would love that.”

“Great, I’ll pick you up at 7, Let’s dress up and go someplace nice. I’ll wear a suit and tie.” This gives me the afternoon to get settled into my new life. 

“Okay Will, can’t wait.”

“Bye Babe.” Will’s cutesy name he uses for all his girlfriends.

‘It’s show time’ I think to myself. I head back to my brother who’s finally starting to stir from the chloroform. I start slapping his face and he becomes more aware.

“Wake up Willy, Willy wake up.” I say playfully. 

He looks confused, slowly recognizing me, his eyes bug out, then starts to struggle. “But you’re dead?”

“Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated. Don’t struggle bro, you’ll only hurt yourself.” I laugh at him.

“What’s going on Willy? Why are you in my clothes?”

“From now on, please call me Will and they’re now my clothes. I just got back from London and I’m really jet lagged.” I stand proudly, straighten my tie then reach into my breast pocket for my new wallet.

“Asshole, what do you think you’re doing?” he yells and gets pissed as he’s now fully awake.

“Well, remember when you planted drugs in my locker, turned me into the school principle and ruined my life?”

“Yeah, that was a good one! They all bought it too. Got rid of you for good.” He laughs.

 “Well, laugh all you want.  I’m borrowing your life.”

“You’ll never get away with this. Whatever you are planning, won’t work.” He predicts.

“Well I’m taking Lisa out to dinner tonight to celebrate my return. In other words, I need pussy but Will doesn’t talk like that. Let me rephrase it – I’m taking my girlfriend out for dinner and hopefully make love to her. Better?”  I leaf through my wallet checking it out, pulling out the debit card. “Bro, is your PIN still 8991? I may need some cash for my date. You only have a $40 in here.”

By the look on his face, I know he never changed is PIN. “Thanks bro, just needed to confirm that.” 

“She’ll know you’re not me, don’t even try it.”

“Bro, you’re talking to the guy who fooled all your girlfriends in high school. You’ve been dating her for what? About 6 weeks after meeting her at Jen’s last party where you got wasted and don’t remember getting home.”

“You’ve been reading my private diary?” 

“Well, you could say it’s my diary. So, I was just reviewing my life for the past few years.” I laugh at him. “Which brings me to a new issue – where should I take her for dinner, and do afterwards?”

“Fuck yourself.” He yells.

“Bro, I’m hoping to fuck her, not myself. You don’t want me to do something brash, ‘unWill like’ and ruin your relationship do you? I bet she doesn’t even know you have a twin brother, am I right?” I laugh at him. 

“Willy, what are you doing? Just untie me and I’ll forget this ever happened. I promise.” Trying to soften me up.

“Let’s get this straight, for the time being, I’m Will Witt, you’re nothing, don’t call me that again.” I yell at him. “Now, you’re going to help me be you or I’m going to really fuck up your life. You know I can do it. If you lie to me, there will be repercussions. Do not test me.”

“Okay.” He responds defeated.

“Okay, what?” I demand.

“Okay Will. Lisa loves Italian and there’s this little family owned restaurant called ‘Papa Joe’s’ near her house. She loves it and so do I. That’s where I was planning on taking her tonight. I always get the ‘Lombardo’ dish with an ice tea of course.” He answers defeated. 

“That’s good information bro, I really appreciate that.” I watch his face and have always been able to tell when he was lying. “What after that? What are her limits?  I need everything to be you with her. Give me the full history.”

He proceeds to tell me everything I need to know about Lisa – at least I hope so. 

“Now I need details about my job.  I know where you work, and what you do but more details about the people, office layout, where your office is and how I get in?” He gives me looks that could kill. “What’s up guys?” I mock him with his catch phrase. 

“My work ID badge gives me complete access anytime. It’s in the front pocket of my backpack. I have an office on the second floor, just left as you get out of the elevator. My name is on the door. You can’t miss it.”

“What do you do when you first get there, in the morning? Routine? Pals? Coffee? conference room? Where do you go for lunch? I need it all Willy. You don’t want me to mess up your perfect little life, do you?” I subtly threaten him.

Once I pump him for everything, I grab the bag from the corner, pull out a needle and inject him. He screams at me for about two minutes then become docile. I walk him to the bathroom and order him to relieve himself. Once secured back in his chair, I give him dose of Midazolam that will keep him out for 12 hours and put a ball gag in his mouth. I shut and lock the bedroom door, head back to my master bedroom finishing my unpacking. 

I slip easily into Will’s routine.  My shirts and suits will go to my cleaner per the receipts in the Porsche, the rest go into the washer. Carefully tucked inside his luggage is his new Saville Row Huntsman, a few new dress shirts and the Big Ben charm I bought Lisa in London. I can’t help but try on the new suit, admiring the fit and material. I head downstairs and see Will’s work backpack he has with him all the time. I take it down to the studio office and start going through the content…. A few cameras, my passport, iPad and MacBook Pro.  There’s a printout of my next Prager assignments and hand notes he made in the margins. I find his work ID, clip it to my suit, repack his backpack and head to the office. 

A DAY IN THE LIFE

I’ve followed Will to Prager U but have never stepped foot inside. I pull into an empty parking lot, and park in his assigned spot. Will says no one is ever there but he sometimes goes in to get a jump on Monday. My ID badge opens the main door. I easily find his office and make myself at home. On the wall I notice the signed photograph of Reagan that dad treasures and wonder how Will has it. I plop my backpack on the chair next to my desk and start exploring. I open my MacBook and it starts syncing with the LAN. I easily log in and upload my videos as Will does after all his events, according to his logs.  

I explore the entire building and everything is as he described – Boss’ office, video production, media center, studio, executive conference room etc. I confidently walk around taking in the names of my coworkers. In the men’s room, I smile at Will in the mirror and clean out my coffee mug. 

Back in the office, I settle into my desk and go thru my drawers, check my work email and respond to some.  I hear someone coming up the stairs, calling my new name, approaching my office.  I recognize it immediately as Will’s producer and friend – Mike.

“In here.” I yell out to him.

He pops his head around the corner. “Welcome back, how was your flight?”

“Uneventful, good to be home but jet lag.” I casually answer.

“My flight yesterday was delayed an hour from Chicago but not too bad.”

I heard their last conversation before Will took off this am, and continued it. “I’m good with the final edits from MOTS, just uploaded it so Alexander can add the graphics.” 

I pull up the video, knowing Will made a few cuts on the flight over, and show it to him.  

“You’ve been busy man, looks great. You want to grab lunch?” 

“Sure, you drive and pick.” I can’t resist the thought of testing my ‘Will skills’. 

Mike takes me to ‘In & Out’ for burgers.  He doesn’t suspect a thing, readily accepting me as his friend and coworker.  We talk about the trip, work and future trips. I feel as if I was actually there. He drops me off and I head back to my office and continue to familiarize myself with everything for a few more hours. 

My big test will be ‘my’ girlfriend Lisa.  I stay in Will’s slick outfit, donning his favorite Ray-Bans for the drive. She’s waiting for me outside and jumps into my car. Her unexpected full tongue kiss surprises me but I quickly adjust and give her full tongue back. We make out for a minute then I take her to Papa Joe’s.  Will was telling the truth, Lisa lights up as I pull in front and valet the Porsche. I use my brother’s pics, diary, blogs and text messages to talk about my London trip. When desert comes, I spring the Big Ben charm on her. She leans in tenderly, kisses me deeply and invites me to spend the night. 

At her place, we strip and jump right into bed.  In minutes, she’s moaning as I work her pussy, slowly penetrating it with the tip of my head. She starts moaning softly ‘oh Will, oohhh Will’ making me harder, pushing deeper into her as she climaxes. I explode in her, then collapse onto my back as she curls up under my arm and we fall to sleep.  She wakes me up with a blow job and homemade pancakes – Will’s favorite she notes. I’m not a big pancake fan but eat them eagerly as Will would. I’ve replaced Will completely and now have his sexy girlfriend. 

DAY TWO

I check on Willy when I get home and he’s starting to stir. My schedule today calls for video editing at Prager U with Gavi and Mike. I take a quick shower put on an outfit that screams ‘preppy conservative’ – which isn’t difficult as that’s all Will has in his closet, making my job easy. 

I pop my head in to the bedroom and see that he’s wide awake.

“Morning sunshine.” I cheerfully say.

“Let me the fuck out of these straps now!” he mumbles as I remove the ballgag.

“Sure thing, but first a little shot so you can take a dump and eat a little something. Hungry?”

“No, don’t drug me, it’s a fucking weird feeling.” He pleas.

“Sorry man, I can’t chance you getting free and having a fake Will running around.”

“You’re the fake Will, ass wipe.” He screams.

“Hmmm Lisa and Mike didn’t think so.  I ran into Mike in the office yesterday while uploading my latest VLOG and MOTS video, then had lunch with him.  He’s a good friend of mine. Oh, and Lisa… Damn did I hit her sweet spot last night as she moaned my name softly in my ears. She really loved the Big Ben charm I got her and the ‘Big Will’ I gave her. I think I’m in love bro.” I grab my crotch so he knows what I’m talking about. 

“You fucking bastard!!  Fucking asshole!! You’ll be caught. You can’t slip into my life that easily.” He screams.

“Now, now, Willy.  Guess you didn’t notice the video and audio bugs I installed throughout my new condo or the keystroke tracker on your computers. I’ve been catching up with you since Stanford. Your condo manager was gracious enough to give me a key after you lost it.” I run and grab my iPad and play some of the videos for him, then I show him the cloned phone and play his last conversation with Mike. 

“Guess I don’t need this cloned phone any longer. I have to admit, you’re quite the busy person. Your phone never stops ringing and beeping but don’t worry, I’m keeping up.”

“Fuck you Willy!  When I get free, you’re going to jail or worst.”

“If you get free, which I doubt. If you haven’t noticed, you’re bolted to the floor. Oh, don’t worry, I’ll have new carpet installed at some point. Nice thing bro – between my bank account and yours, I’m quite wealthy with a lot of future potential. In fact, after this gig, I’m thinking of running for office. Dad would love it and back me financially.”

He mutters. “Fucker.”

“Hey bro, don’t worry, I’m taking good care of your life. Enjoying it immensely, especially Lisa. She really knows how to wake me up but I’m not big on the pancakes.”

He thrashes back and forth in the chair screaming more obscenities at me.

 “Bro, seriously, how do I look? Do you approve my work outfit? I’ve noticed this sport coat is one of your favorites. Oh, and my new suit from London fits great and feels incredible. I just had to try it on.” I taunt him while adjusting my shirt sleeves and checking my watch.

“What are you doing here?” he quietly demands.

“Well the drug career pays quite well but is extremely dangerous.  After seeing you at Stanford, I decided a career change was necessary. Don’t you agree it’s a good career move?”

“You’ll never fool them for long.  There are things only I could know. You’ll tripped up.  What about mom and dad?”

“Are you serious?” I laugh out loud. “Mom and dad could never tell us apart, you know that. I did visit the house while you were in London and from the pictures displayed, it looks like I, Will, am an only child. They’re the least of my worries.”

“Oh, they’ll know you’re not me.”

“Why would they? Just look at me bro. I was always a better you than you, when I wanted to be. I do have to get fully up to speed with my new life, friends and girlfriend but that’s what all my new drugs are for. I kind of like your style so I’ll only wear what you already have in your closet.  I’m enjoying your preppy style. I think I’m rocking the Will look, you have to admit it.” I tug on my sleeves not interested in his rants.

“What about work?” He counters.

“Oh bro, that’ll be easy too. I’ve watched all your videos – the work and personal, edited and unedited. I taught myself iMovie to edit my MOTSs for uploading. I’ve seen you brainstorm with Mike on MOTS topics and question. It’s amazing how we even think alike politically. I’m ahead of schedule for today.  Like the anal person you are, I was in the office all afternoon while you were sleeping. I cleaned out my scummy coffee mug, organized my desk and left a note for Alexander on the graphics I’d like to see before the end of today. I can’t wait to meet the boss, have been a fan of his for years.”

“You can’t be me!” He slumps his shoulder in deeper defeat. 

“I am you, no one will have a clue I’m not.” 

I inject him with truth serum and a powerful muscle relaxer.  By the time I come back with breakfast, he’s docile and defeated. A few protein bars, quick trip to bathroom and he’s safely secured again. The truth serum is remarkable. I have a totally different discussion with him.

“Hey bro, how do I look? You like?” I spin around to model my outfit.

“I’ve worn that exact outfit before I think.”

“Thank you, now see, it wasn’t too hard to be nice, now was it?”

He spills his guts to me about all his coworkers, and what he thinks of them. While he’s drugged, I hit him up on family issues and his feelings towards me. He basically threatens to kill me and will since I’m already dead. It’s been on his mind since he woke up chained to the chair. I snicker to myself, knowing he’s the one who’s days are numbered. It’s almost time for work today, so I knock him out for another 12 hours.

My first day of work is a breeze.  I visit Alexander and review the graphics I want. Mike and I review the schedule and brainstorm future MOTSs and VLOGs. Will has the easy part and probably makes the most money. Prager’s staff writes his MOTS questions and helps him with upcoming speeches. He provides the topic, they handle it from there. Will was good enough to do my outline for his University of Texas speech next week. I turn them in and talk to Marissa, our content producer. I have the best gig – I just need to be the hip preppy conservative face of Prager U and get to travel all around the world. 

When I’m leaving Marrisa’s office, I run into Dennis Prager, the president of Prager University. He puts his arm around me and leads me back to his office.

“Will, good to see you, how was London? I just saw your rough video and it’s great”

“Thank you, Mr. Prager. London was great.” I respond and his face immediately looks puzzled.

“Since when am I Mr. Prager?”

“Dennis, sorry it just came out. I’m still out of sorts with jet lag and the British are so formal.”  I try to recover.

“I understand boy, plus you probably had too much wine and cigars I’m sure.”

“I sure did. I brought a few Charatan Robustos back with me” I chuckle knowing their conversations about them and using them to solidify my identity.

“And you’re not sharing? Will, Will, Will, how could you?” 

“I’ll bring them in tomorrow.” 

“Let’s grab lunch son.” 

I can’t believe I’m having lunch with Dennis Prager. He’s thrilled with ‘my’ work, wants me to do more TV appearances like Fox & Friends but also liberal networks. My ratings are through the roof. I talk about my London trip, showing him pics of my parents and selfies I took. We talk politics, going back and forth on issues. We get back to the office and I easily fit in and learn the ropes. By the end of the day, I’m very pleased with my new life. I pass on happy hour claiming I’m still of out sorts due to jet lag. 

CHECKING IN

Back home I check Willy. He’s awake but groggy.

“What’s up guy? How was your day?” I ask cockily as I strut in.

“How do you think, you sick fuck.”

“So sorry to hear that. My day was awesome. My latest VLOG and MOTS are killing it. I had lunch with my friend Dennis and he wants me to do more TV spots. It was probably the best day of your life, I mean my life.”

“My life! You fucker, my life.” He screams with pure rage.

“Wow bro, you smell. We’ll have to get you a shower but first I need to change. Be right back.”

I run to my closet and throw on a pair of running shorts and a Prager t-shirt. I keep my cell phone on me as it’s been going off all day. When I get back to Willy, he starts yelling at me.

“What are you up to? Did you get me fired? The truth, you owe me that at least.”

I laugh. “Now why would I mess up my career bro?”

“It’s my life and career. You’re going to pay for this you fucking asshole.” He continues to rant. 

“I’ve had enough of you already.” I grab the ball gag, shove it in his mouth and he starts thrashing again. My phone rings, it’s Mike calling.

“Hey Mike, What’s up?” Willy’s eye light up watching me.

“No, I’m fine, it was just jetlag and you know me…I tried all the beers and cigars in the pubs…Yeah buddy…thanks for your concern.”  I hang up and look at Willy. “Hey that Jetlag excuse will be good for another few days till I get the groove completely.”

He starts mumbling again but the phone rings again with Lisa calling. 

“Hey babe, how was your day?” I sincerely ask. Willy starts squirming and getting louder. 

“Hey babe, hang on, I’ve got my producer calling.” I put her on hold, walk over to Willy and gut punch him with all my force. I impale him and he shuts up.

“Sorry babe, did I thank you for last night?...Oh yeah, I’d love to but I’ve got a lot to catch up with…My parents are coming back Wednesday from their European vacation and we’re suppose to do dinner Thursday? Would love for you to meet them….Okay… love ya.” 

“Bro, see how easy this gig is for me? I still need you for some additional information like the combination to the safe in your office.” He stares at me but is keeping quiet. I grab my little box of drugs and mellow Willy out.  A quick shower, shit and change of clothes and he’s back in his chair. I feed him a sub and water that he quickly inhales. 

“Now Willy, what’s the number to my safe?”

“Go fuck yourself.” he mumbles.

“Willy, you know I could give you some truth serum or beat it out of you.”

“17858” he spits out as in disgust. 

I head down to his safe and open it up.  Inside is a gun, his birth certificate, social security card, and a stack of other seemingly important papers. I grab it all and take head up to review with Willy.

“Nice Glock Willy, let’s review what’s in my safe and why it’s there. Some quality bonding time. Most of this I know but the rest?”  I ask nicely.

“My contract with Prager U, noncompete, mom & dad’s will, my will, some stocks dad gave me.”

I leaf through it, reading it all and ignoring Willy. In between docs, I feed him some granola bars from the kitchen. I play with the unloaded gun in front of him, on purpose. I’ll have a use for it soon.

“Ok brother, more work questions. There’s ‘PR shots’ on calendar for tomorrow afternoon. What’s with that?”

“Joel, our CMO set them up.  It’s just ‘glamour’ pics for his new marketing campaign.”

“Oh, so that’s what my new suit is for I’m guessing. The email to Joel saying you’re all set after you bought it?”

“Yeah, please don’t fuck things up for me Willy. I’ve worked hard this past year.”

“How many times do I have to tell you? I’m Will.” I gut punch him again.

“I’m sorry Will.” He cries in pain.

“That’s better Willy. So, tell me what to expect.”

“Easy, take suit to work, some of my shirts, ties and jewelry.  Collette in our makeup will take care of the rest. Just smile and do what they tell you in front of the camera.” he answers, still in pain.

“Shoes?”

“The black derbies I had on yesterday, I bought for shoot specifically, wanted them broken in. Doesn’t matter though – they only shoot from waist up.”

“Now that’s more like it. Don’t fight me, help me so I don’t fuck up your life.” as if he’s ever getting it back, I think to myself. 

“Yes Will.”

HANGING WITH FRIENDS

“Now, my friend Tommy wants to go out tonight, grab dinner. What would ‘Will’ do?” 

“He wants to do 71Above – it’s the highest restaurant west of the Mississippi. Tricia, his friend is host there and can get us in. Very high end, suit and tie required.”

“That sounds great.”

“Yeah, he’s picking me up, I’m paying.”

“I’m paying!” I correct him. “What were you going to wear?”

“There’s a black Tom Ford suit with a red lapel pin on it, I’ve only worn it once for a few hours. White shirt and any tie.���

“Oh yes, my outfit from the Prager gala where I played ‘blue moon’ on the piano. What tie, what shirt?” I demand.

He looks at me shocked. “There’s a new gold paisley tie, white spread collar shirt with cufflinks.”

“Why thank you brother. I better go and get ready.” I shove another granola bar in his mouth.

I easily assemble the outfit he was going to wear. After all my spying, I’m sure I would have selected something as tasteful. I skip the gold paisley and decide on a ‘men in black’ look, almost exactly as he had on at the gala. A quick shower, 20 minutes with my hair and another 20 to dress and I’m still 36 minutes early for Tommy.

“How do I look Willy? Now be honest.” I ask walking into the bedroom.

He checks me out head to toe. “You look good Will. You’re wearing my good watch?”

“My good watch brother, remember? You wore your smaller ring at the gala but I stuck with what I had on coming back from London. I think I looks great. Went with the gold black onyx cufflinks. And dude I even had my name embossed inside the suit, sweet!” I open up my jacket.

“You’ve been watching my videos.” He realizes.

“Of course, and reading your diary, all the way back to when dad drove me to ‘New Starts’ and abandoned me. I’m good Willy, been watching you for a month.”

Just then my phone rings in breast pocket. I pull it out and see it’s Tommy.

“Now keep quiet Willy or you know what’ll happen.” I warn him as I answer. “What’s up Tommy? On your way…yeah early is good, I’m ready… Okay, that sounds good, see you soon.”

“Please don’t drug me bro, I’ll be quiet, I promise.”

“Sorry Willy, can’t take any chances. Besides, Tommy mentioned about having a drink when he gets here. Sounds like it’s routine for you guys. What does he drink?”

“Rum and Coke, lots in the fridge just for him.”

I grab the knock out needle and give him a dose.  He doesn’t fight me at all.

“Why thank you bro. I’ll see you later tonight maybe, if you’re awake.” I laugh as I leave and lock the door. 

Tommy walks in without knocking, making his way to my bar as I make my way down the stairs. He sees me and lifts the glasses.

“The usual?” 

“Sure, sounds good to me.”  he’s right at home, grabbing the rum and coke.

“Cheers!” he hands me one, we clink glasses and swig.

I follow Tommy’s lead the entire evening but I know enough about Will to discuss his trip, girlfriend and work. Tommy talks about his auditions for a few movies and a commercial. Sadly for him, I’m a bigger celebrity than he is, as a few people ask for my autograph while waiting to be seated. Tricia has seats for us right next to the window with the best view of LA. It a fun night as a few of Tricia’s friends join us. It’s easy playing Will and his friends. I have everything put on my tab. Thank god he has an early audition for a new Marvel movie, so we leave and I’m home by midnight. 

MORE WORK

I’m up early but Willy is out cold still. He looks like death, probably from all the injections and being upright on the chair for days. Not that I really care as it gives me more ‘Will Time’. To keep in character, I put on some of his work out gear, grab my iPod and do my usual run around the park. I work up quite the sweat but it probably helps with all the alcohol Tommy and I consumed. I check on Willy and he’s now awake and not happy. A quick injection allows me to get him relieved and toss him in the shower. He’s not putting up any resistance so I give him breakfast, leave him in the tub but making sure to securely handcuff him to a grip bar. I take my morning shower in the same shower so I can keep an eye on him.

Willy is so beaten that he’s stopped resisting completely and is cooperative even. Believing that by helping me, I’ll get what I want from him and leave him to his old life. What he’s doing is sealing his fate faster. Once I no longer need him, we’ll head up to my parent’s cabin in the mountains and he’ll be fertilizer. 

After I towel off, I sit on the toilet seat next to Willy.

“How you feeling Willy?” I ask trying to sound concerned.

“Please Will, can I stay here in the tub all day? I promise I’ll be good.”

“I think I can do that but you have to be knocked out. But sure thing. Tommy is a fun guy bro. He sure loves his rum & cokes. We had a blast. I think he was hurt that women were coming up to me for my autograph but not him.”

“Yeah, that’s happened before when we’re out.” He looks really down.

“What is it bro? you look sad.”

“What do you think? I’m chained up and I can’t believe people are falling for your act.” he gets a little feisty.

“Come on bro, how could they not think I was anybody but Will Witt? Don’t worry, no one suspects a thing, so we’re good but I need your help with today’s schedule – sorta of ‘what would Will do’ session just to make sure I don’t fuck anything up for you. Okay?”

“Sure Will, it’s what I live for.” he responds sarcastically.

“How do you come up with the topics for your MOTSs?” 

“Who do you think? Dad, you know how opinionated he is. When we had dinner in London, he rattled off six topics for me to cover and things he’d ask these snowflakes.”

“Ah I thought you sounded a lot like dad when interviewing people. That explains the notes on your iPad. By the way, I’m having dinner with the rents Friday night, having them meet Lisa.”  I just smile at him. “Now about today’s pics, what should I wear? ‘What would Will wear’?”

“We’ve been through this – my new bespoke suit.”

“Exactly what you’d wear today – into the office and for the shoot. I’m just trying to help you Willy.”

“Dennis is always pushing for me in more suits and ties, to be taken more seriously outside the campus forum. Keep it simple – black button down shirt, my charcoal brooks brothers suit. For the shoot, the bespoke of course and take all my new dress shirts and ties, many pairs of cufflinks. I love my gold paisley tie, the one you wore last night. Hopefully you didn’t ruin it.”

“No, I went with a black tie, so the paisley is fine.”

“There’s a large suit bag in the back of my closet that can hold everything you’ll need.’

“I have to tell you bro, I’m gaining a real appreciation for your closet. My tastes have really matured in the past months. What’s with the glasses though?”

“They’re for eye strain bro, giving my eyes a break now from the contact lenses. I also wear them for important interviews or meetings where I want to look more mature and smarter.”

“Well your glasses and contacts work great for me too. My eyes have been changing but I never had them checked. Now, what about the shoot? Who’s going to be there?  How does it work? What does Will do?” I press him.

“It’s a larger version of my down stair studio. Someone will come get me when it’s my turn, take me to changing room, then make up, then to the set – green screen. It’s easy really.  There’ll be people in and out all day long.”

“People like who?”

“Candace, Charlie Kirk, Dave Rubin, Guy Benson and many others.  It’ll be a few days of craziness.”

“Nice!  Do I have any nicknames or personal things with any of them?  Like, how do you address Candace? or Charlie?” He stutters and hesitates. “Spill it or more drugs. Besides, you don’t want me to fuck up anything with your friends now do you?”

“Candace is ‘Candy’ jokingly, she’s getting married in a few weeks.” He continues with the others. I’ll use the information but it sounds childish – something a more mature, evolving Will would never use.  I’ll phase that nonsense out. 

“Good to know. Thanks. I’ve got to get ready for work.” I grin at him.

Dennis Prager alluded to my evolving image during lunch and that I should be wearing more conservative outfits. I agree completely with the boss and love the image. With that in mind, I ignore Willy’s suggestion and go ultra conservative. I remember a beautiful light blue shirt with white contrasting collar and cuffs that ‘I’ve’ worn a few times. It would be ultra conservative with my gray Brooks. 

In Will fashion, I lay out my work outfit on the bed, adding all the details. When I’m satisfied, I pull it on my underwear and socks, pull on my pants.  After I add the belt, I pull on the Brooks shirt.  To keep with the Brooks theme, as Will likes to do, I select the Brooks tie that he wore previously. The whole image screams ultra conservative and looks great. I add white gold cufflinks, his smaller ring and gold watch. I pull on the jacket and stare at myself in the mirror. I put some gel in my hair then fix it exactly as in the pic I found in an old MOTS video. Oh, almost forgot my tie clip. He’s famous on Instagram for his tie clips? I clip one on and it completes my image. I flash a Will smile and fingers. “What’s Up Guys?”. 

I must have nailed the look because when I entered the toilet, Willy’s mouth dropped. In the bathroom mirror, I admire myself, tug on my cuffs and adjust my tie. I don’t say a word.

“Well aren’t you Will Witt.” He comments snidely but I ignore him for a few more minutes as I run my hand thru my hair.

“Who else would I be?” I turn around to face him. “What’s Up Guys, Will Witt for Prager U.” flash my peace sign to him, pretending I’m holding a microphone.

“Probably a better choice for today. No pocket square Will?” 

“Oh shit, totally didn’t notice.”

“In drawer under jewelry box.”  He answers me without even asking. I run to his closet, find a nice silk white one neatly folded in a square. I tuck it in my suit pocket and check myself out in the mirror quickly.

“Better?” He’s silent.

I pull out his preppy glasses and put on and off. “Glasses, no glasses?” I look at him.

“I don’t care, up to you.” 

“Know what, think I’ll have pics taken both ways. I think they make me look older, which would kill my ‘frat boy’ image on college campuses but might help me with the older generation.” I turn to look at his expression but he looks broken. “I love this suit bro, it fits me great. I made sure the knot was right by noting the length of the tie, and location of stripes. Not used to wearing one, almost forgot the tie clip – my fans would have blown up over such a faux pas.”

“True, they watch everything I post.”

“Ok bro, I need to get to work, busy day ahead. I’ll probably be late tonight because Mike wants to do Furley’s for happy hour. I’ll let you in the bathtub so you’re comfortable but how about something to help you sleep?”

“No don’t do that please, I’ll be good.” He begs.

I ignore him, grab the needle and knock him out for the day. 

I jump in my 911 and head in for another day in the life of Will Witt. The suit bag weighs about 30lbs and takes up the entire seat of my 911. Everyone accepts me and I keep learning more and more.  The lingo is coming naturally to me. The routine of emails, small talk and understanding my role is easy. 

I hang my suit bag and jacket on the back of my office door, grab my coffee mug and ease into the day.  Just before lunch, Nicki, one of the film staff comes for me – it’s my turn. I’m seated in in one of the dressing rooms, in a makeup chair, in front of the mirror. Collette comes in all smiles. 

“Will, you’re looking great.”

“You too, so let’s get started. I’ve got a lot to do today on top of these pics.”

“There’s something we’d like to do different this time.”

“Oh yeah? That sounds ominous.”

“Well, how about we cut your hair some?”

“Oh, I don’t know about that Collette, it’s my signature, my “conservative with the best hair”.” Sounding uncertain for effect.

“Well, I was talking to Dennis and Joel, and we feel you should be the focus, not your hair. We’re not talking about shaving your head, just toning down the cowlick some. If you don’t like, it’ll be back in a few months.”

I think about it for a minute, running my hand through my cowlick, looking at Will in the mirror. I’ve seen videos where the wind destroys his giant flop, part of his gig but in the end, I nod in approval and let Prager U redo my image. 

The ‘Will’ PR shoot was so simple, but time consuming.  They brought in some famous stylist from West Hollywood to cut my hair – it took an hour! They went through my suit bag and laid out a number of outfits but didn’t question my taste. They took multiple pics of me in 5 different outfits including what I wore in this morning. I was there for hours. At the end of the day, we head to Furley’s as planned for happy hour. I left on my new suit and last outfit I was photographed in. What a happy hour – hanging with Charlie Kirk, Ben Shapiro and other famous conservatives was incredible. Thanks to Will’s unedited interview videos, I knew exactly what small talk he had with a number of these conservative celebrities and played them perfectly. 

When I get home, my first stop is to taunt Willy still tied up in bathtub.

“Hey bro, this suit is simply amazing. You were right, the shoot was really easy, except for having to change every 20 minutes. Like my haircut?” I tease

“What did you do to my hair?” 

“Willy, remember, it’s my hair. It’s a shorter, more mature, conservative cut. Everyone loves it.  I still have the best hair of any conservative. I texted it to mom and she loves it too.” I open up the iPhone and scroll thru pics from the shoot, then laugh and leave to change into sweats. Following the same routine, I inject Willy, help him to bathroom, feed him and put him to bed. In just a few days, he’s totally changed from being in control to being dependent. He’s definitely a shadow of himself but I’m now casting his shadow.

Every day as Will gets easier as I seamlessly take over his life.  I’m sure I’ve slipped up a few times but since no one knows Will has a twin, who would suspect me? Wednesday at work was incredible. I helped with the rest of the PR shoot, chatted with all of my new conservative friends. I especially liked talking to Dave Rubin and Candace Owens.  I had dinner with everyone that evening and it went really late. By the time I got home, Willy had wetted himself. I was so pissed that I shoved a hot pocket in his mouth, hosed him off and drugged him heavily. 

On Thursday Gavi and I do a man on the street, at Santa Monica Pier. I nailed it – quickly picking up Will’s attitude and methods. It was easy after watching all his videos from the past year. Back in the office I sit down with Gavi, edit his video and work with Alexander to add the graphics.  

Willy is awake when I get home. His eyes scan me from top to bottom then he starts yelling through the ball gag.

“Hang on Willy.” I pop out the ball gag.

“I hate you Willy and I’m done playing your game.” He spits and hits me on my shorts. 

I gut punch him with all my force, then inject him to keep him docile. “Now Willy, we’ll get you on the potty and fed quickly. I don’t have a lot of time, Lisa and I are going to dinner at mom and dad’s. I really like her.”

I get Willy settled, take a quick shower and head out to pick up Lisa. Dinner is a breeze as Lisa is the center of attention. There’s no discussion of Willy at all – just about me and how proud they are of everything I’m doing. As I expected, they were totally clueless I wasn’t their precious little Will. I have to admit, it felt great being home. I showed Lisa my old bedroom and got a BJ on Will’s bed. It was like old times, like his other girlfriends I fooled. Mom and dad announced they’re heading to Hawaii to celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary and ask me to watch the house while they’re gone. More time to get reacquainted with my new life as their loving son Will. I spend the night at Lisa’s but get up early to take care of things at home, then work.

Willy is awake and pissed more when I check in on him. 

“Morning Willy.” I cheerfully announce.

“You’re Willy asswipe.” He yells back.

I gut punch him with all my force. “Don’t make me repeat myself Willy, now who am I?”

“You’re Will, Will Witt.” He’s barely able to speak, I hit him so hard.

“Now that’s much better Willy. Let’s get you to the bathroom and fed.” I inject him and continue talking while it takes effect.

“So, mom and dad love Lisa bro.  I think she’s really falling for me.  She gave me a BJ in my old bedroom. Sadly, your old bedroom is now a workout room with no trace of you at all. I showed Lisa my swimming and track trophies, tried on my old letterman jacket and gave her the whole Will Witt history. Can you believe mom and dad are celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary? I can’t!” I lay it on thick as the caring son that Will is. 

“Fuck off.” The mumbles.

“Oh Willy, don’t make me hurt you more.” I warn him. I can see the drugs have kicked in, and start untying him. Just as I loosen the last night, Willy tries a fast one on me, trying to tackle me to the floor.  I’ve wrestled him too many times and know his ‘plays’ and another gut punch and I’m dragging him into the bathroom. A quick shower, shit and breakfast bar and he’s good for another 12 hours.

Once he’s secured, I jump in shower and prep for another day in the office. Fridays are so routine with a team strategy meeting for upcoming projects/videos/content.  This is followed by lunch and office time till happy hour at Furley’s. After happy hour, I meet Lisa and a bunch of her friends out for more drinks and dancing, then back to her place.

END OF THE ROAD

I’m up early and skip out of Lisa’s, telling her I have some chores to do for my parents and I’ll be tied up all weekend. Willy is awake and thrashing about trying to get loose. I enter the bedroom smiling, and clap my hands.

“Willy, good news! Road trip bro! We’re going to the cabin to take care of some things for Dad. I thought you’d enjoy it.”

He stares at me, blood shot eyes, a week of facial hair, looking like crap. “Good, could I sleep in one of the bunk beds?”

“Sure thing bro, then we’ll talk about next steps here.” He calms down, feeling better, probably thinking he’s getting his life back.  He’s not. 

I drug him, give him a shower, get him dressed and fed. The next morning, I get him ready for 4 hour trip to the cabin. The dosage I gave him should keep him out for most of the trip. I pack some clothes and fishing gear in case I get the urge. We leave at 5am to avoid any traffic. 

He sleeps the entire journey and I don’t stop once. I’m careful to drive the speed limit to not attract any attention from state police. I pull up to the cabin before 9am. There’s no one around, no one on the lake even – all peaceful and quiet.  With Willy securely tied up in the car, I walk around the cabin inspecting the place, reminiscing about our family outings and fishing trips. In the rear about 500 feet from the house is an old well that’s been dry for years. Dad has been talking about filling it in for safety for years, but never did. It’s the perfect place to hide a body.

When I get back to the car, Willy is stirring. I help him out of the car and walk him inside the cabin. 

“Will, untie me please. My arms and wrists are killing me.” He pleas.

“Sure thing.” Knowing he’s drugged still and couldn’t run anywhere or harm me. 

We walk out to the back porch and I hand him a coke and sandwich. He sits on the step eating and enjoying the partial view of the lake.  I laced the coke with enough fentanyl to kill him – he’ll just pass out and die peacefully. 

“So what’s the plan Will? I guessing this is it for me.  Am I right.” As he takes a large chug of the coke.

“Yeah that’s about it Willy.  You won’t feel a thing though, you’ll just fall asleep. Hope you enjoyed the coke, no after taste?”

“Nah, it tasted fine. You know I need a few cokes a day to keep the energy up.”

“Yeah, it’s a habit I’ve had to adopt. You know Willy, I’ve always been a better you and this life is perfect for me. Don’t worry, I love my new life and have seamlessly integrated into it.  I’ll take good care of it.”

He’s in a daze now, the drug is kicking in. I help him up and over to an Adirondack chair near the fire pit.  He puts his head back and starts breathe erratically. Within minutes he stops breathing. I waste no time stripping and dumping him in the well. I grab a shovel and start shoveling dirt into the well until I can’t see any evidence. For good measure I add another foot of dirt on top of that. 

I’m exhausted after that, take a shower and dress in clean clothes. In town I grab a bite at Palmer’s diner – a dive with good food. As I’m sitting there finishing up with a piece of Apple pie, Rob Decker, an old friend of me and Will come up to me. He’s a local who owns a few small businesses, most inherited from his father. 

“Will! How are you man? Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?” He grabs my hand and shakes it hard. 

“Rob, good to see you! Dad asked me to check on the cabin and I needed a break from LA. I’m heading back to tomorrow.”

“Dude, got your gear?”

“Of course, was going to try the old creek before heading home.”

“I’ll join you, heck, even Tommy will go.  He’ll be thrilled to see you. He was talking about your videos on Facebook.”

“Sound great Rob, stop by tomorrow morning whenever.”

Back at the cabin, I start a campfire and relax. Once it’s burning good, I grab Willy’s clothes and toss it all in. I have an overwhelming sense of accomplishment and freedom now. I have a few beers and watch the fire slowly burn out. Sunday morning Rob and Tommy show up at 6am. They don’t even mention my brother Willy even though we were all friends growing up. We have a blast and they want to come to the big city and party with me soon.

I fly back late Sunday afternoon and clean up my condo – unmounting the chair, smoothing over the holes in my carpet, cleaning the bathroom and tossing out the rest of Willy’s clothes. I call Lisa and invite her to my place tomorrow night for dinner and love making.

Monday morning I’m in full Will Witt mode. I wake up and take my run, shower and fuss with my hair for 20 minutes. In keeping with Dennis’ wishes, I up my conservative appearance to match my new haircut. My new bespoke Saville Row suit anchors my identity as the only Will Witt. It’s teamed with my favorite blue Brooks Brothers shirt with white contrasting cuffs and collars.  I pair it with my new shoes and favorite tie I’ve worn a few times.  Joel loves my new attitude and appearance. At lunch, I pull a typical Will move – I escape to a nearby restaurant, hang out and work on my schedule as is habit. 

Life is great now. I have tons of friends and fans. Prager U is very lucrative and I’m in demand across the US and world for speaking appearances. No one suspects I’m not Will. I love the notoriety and acceptance. I even love my preppy wardrobe and new style. It’s grown on me and I’ll maintain it.  

[songofsaraneth]

an incomplete list of the Bullshit ive gone through this year (2021 only), for personal edification:

I am in grad school trying to do research as well as TA a lab class during a global pandemic

My car is broken into in late February outside of my apartment. $1700+ of my backpacking/camping gear and personal items were stolen from it. Ironically they did not find the $20 cash I had. 

Car battery begins mysterious dying if left overnight and have to call for rescue from AAA 4 separate times over the course of March. I suspect it is related to being broken into but can’t prove it without a mechanic’s diagnostics.

First mechanic I bring my car to does nothing for the entire MONTH they have it, except break my air conditioning of all things. I live in a desert. It is now 90º every day. At one point they call me to say they can’t get the back doors to open. I walk 2 miles back to them from campus and demonstrate how the automatic doors work on a 2005 minivan. I begin to have regrets about my mechanic choice but the sunk fallacy cost keeps me there for several weeks.

Mid march I also wake up one day to severe jaw pain/a weird “loose” feeling, like my mouth is slanting sideways. It is midterms and I do not have time for this, so I take a lot of ibuprofen and eat soup for a week. After 3 days I shove pillows and blankets around my face one night to keep my jaw aligned and when I wake up the next morning it is severely tight instead of loose, and I have to carefully stretch it open whenever I leave my mouth closed for more than an hour. I guess I just have TMJ now.

At this point I am walking everywhere until bike supplies arrive to fix my flat tire since the bike store is too far away to walk to; including walking back and forth to campus since I can only bring 2-4 out of 8 students into the lab spaces at a time and so effectively have to run each weekly lab 2-4 times per week; as well as going back and forth for greenhouse experiment monitoring/helping undergrads on our NASA contest project

Early April I go to the dentist for a crown on one of my back molars, which I must pay for out of pocket because my new dental insurance purchased when I moved last September has a 1-year waiting period and so will not cover it ($1200). Stretching my jaw open so far for the procedure reignites my new TMJ back to high pain levels.

While still waiting on car in mid-April I have a severe averse reaction to the second dose of the Covid19 vaccine, resulting in painful ulceration of all the soft tissues in my body (mouth, stomach, genitals). It is a very bad time for 3 days and I book an urgent care appointment for the first time ever.

Urgent Care nurse-practitioner does not believe me when I describe what’s happening, and misdiagnoses me with herpes.

I am still biking everywhere but now I’m extra mad and in pain about it so take car back from mechanic so I can get groceries etc. I make an appointment with the dealership but it will be a week until they can take it. In the meanwhile I have to drive it every 8 hours so it won’t die which means getting up at 2am to drive it for 20 minutes in the middle of the night so it will still turn on in the morning. 

I have a terrible reaction to the numbing cream given to me for the painful open sores over my body, because of a lifelong mint sensitivity, resulting in an even greater amount of pain

The dealership can fix my car over the following week but its $1800 and now insurance isn’t sure they want to cover it after all

Herpes test comes back negative and nurse apologizes profusely and recommends a non-mint OTC numbing cream alternative that works (yay) and a numbing spray that does not work because it turned out to use an alcohol based propellant which should not be combined with open wounds esp on the genitals (ouch ouch ouch). I try to tell the nurse why I was right about my diagnosis and she was wrong but she still believes it was a latent virus of some other variety and and not an immune response alone, despite the published case studies I have brought to back me up. I decide I have bigger hills I need to die on right now and stop arguing. Sores persist into May but eventually do go down and numbing cream keeps me moderately functioning.

Car is fixed and I can drive again but it takes 2 hours of crying on the phone to my insurance company for them to agree to cover the cost of repair

I make a primary care appointment for the first time in years so I can have a doctor in this state if something like this happens to me again, in June I do intake/bloodwork/set up appointments to check out some other issues ive been having

Grad school finals happen which i wont get into but Yeah. Finals stress triggers another outbreak of canker sores, but mostly clustered in my mouth and only 2 on my vulva rather than 8-12. I eat only soup for another week. 

I get a referral to the local mental health clinic and call about setting up an appointment for an ADHD evaluation. They tell me to download and send in some paperwork and they will call when they have available appointments

I am supposed to be doing all my labwork over the summer but the committee member I need escapes my clutches and we don’t manage to set up a meeting to plan it out/for him to explain the protocols until late June

Bloodwork shows I am critically low in vitamin b12 and low in D, which may explain some of why I am so tired all the time

Ultrasound shows a 1.8cm mass in the adnexa near my left ovary. There are several options for what it can be (folicular cyst, other kind of cyst, tumor, ectopic pregnancy i nearly laugh at my Dr and reassure her the last one is not possible if nothing else). It may go away on its own or it may not. Follow up scan in 2 months

I remember I was supposed to email forms to the mental health clinic and finally send those in mid July. It seems cruel to make me be the one to remember this considering I am calling about a formal ADHD diagnosis.

I also finally pin everyone relating to my labwork down and have a follow up meeting + make a list of what we need to order, but the staff who place orders are on vacation and when they get back several reagents are backordered

I have my follow-up ultrasound. The tech takes lots of photos which indicates the mass is still present, but I won’t know any details until my next PCP appointment when they send over the analysis to her in mid-August

Beginning of August the reagents I need for the first steps of the process arrive exactly 1 day before I leave town for a wedding and the lab manager is about to leave town for the entire next week

After the wedding, severe thunderstorms and tornados trap me in Chicago for 4 extra days. I spend a lot of time at the airport or on my way between the airport and my parents house. A facebook friend gets video of the funnel clouds which at least gives me something to sadly email my advisor and committee members when I have to join our planning meeting from my gate at O’Hare

I lose my drivers license at the security checkpoint on my last trip through the airport and don’t realize until I am boarding the plane because of course that is happening to me now

On the shuttle from El Paso back to Las Cruces after this ordeal the driver stops and picks up a box labeled HUMAN BLOOD and puts it in the trunk and i am too tired to care anymore

I stay up all night making the world’s most pitiful r graphs for my meeting the next morning and everyone takes pity on me and does not call out how useless they are

I spend the weekend trying to motivate myself to actually go into the lab and start my procedures, and fail to leave my apartment. This reminds me it has now been a month (Aug 15th) since I sent in my paperwork and the mental health clinic has still not called me back about up an appointment

I get overwhelmed with Everything and make this list

So that’s where I’m at at the moment. And this doesn’t even include anything from 2020 thats just been continuous like, y’know, a global pandemic and having a bad breakup of a 4 year relationship and moving to a new city where I know no one for grad school etc. I feel like I’m falling apart/unable to do all the shit I need to right now but you know what? Actually its been a really bad time and maybe falling apart a little is justified ;_; 

[script-nef]

Dating headcanons (iii)

Characters: Iwaizumi, Kageyama, Oikawa, Sugawara

Category: fluff

Iwaizumi Hajime

He’s not very experienced in this department, a shy baby

Blushes too much and is extremely cautious when he’s around you

You know those characters who turn their blushing faces away with a hand on their neck? Yeah, it’s him.

You gave him a kiss on the cheek and he nearly fainted

Hand holding is more common and you hug him after matches as a sign of “well done”

He always tries to protect you even though you promise you can do it yourself

“Hajime, I’m an adult.”

“Yes, but there’s no harm in extra precaution”

Poking at his biceps and thighs, enjoying how he splutters in embarrassment

You try to exercise with him, but always give up halfway because it’s way too hard

You’ll be lying boneless on a bench and he’ll carry you back princess-style

And his face would be burning up even after months of dating

After that, he asks you to just help him on his routines 

He can do push-ups with you sitting on him (kinda hard to stay on though)

Makes small dates to cafés, especially ones with animals

They just flock around him for some reason and you take hundreds of photos, sharing them to his friends

Tries to cook for you but isn’t that good at it

He once made chocolates for White Day and it was delicious

Turns out Oikawa, Matsukawa and Hanamaki had to eat all of his failed/previous ones and nearly couldn’t come to school

(He’s only talented in the desserts section, his cooking still sucks)

If you want to see him break, wear his clothes

He'll drop everything and freeze, face turning into a tomato

Also will scoop you into his arms and snuggle into your neck

You’ll be surrounded by warm muscles with affection, and if that isn’t the dream then what is?

Kageyama Tobio

Because he didn’t go to uni, your time is spent with phone calls and messages

Studying in university while he's off dazzling the world

He bought you a couple ring and keeps his on a necklace

He kisses it on his matches as a good luck charm and cleans it daily

It nearly broke once and he had a meltdown but calmed down once others said it can be fixed

Someone once asked about it and he said “My support and strength” with the most love struck look in his eyes

When he comes back to Japan, all his time is either spent on volleyball or you

Will sometimes come to pick you up when your classes finish

Having a buff 188 cm dork as a boyfriend is amazing

But he kind of gets jealous when you have to be in presentation groups with other guys

He does his best not to show it but man, a child could act better than him

He lets you practice your presentations on him and actually pay attention, asking questions to the point where it’s nearly interrogative

Tentative kisses are gifted while you’re trapped in his arms

In the beginning of  your relationship, his arms were stiffly frozen around your body. It’s gotten better with time

Tries to be very gentle with you (*cough* Power: 4 *cough*)

Is absolutely smitten with you and will do anything you ask

Expensive items? Done. Day spent lazing around and cuddling? Done. Selfies with couple hoodies and uploading them? Super embarrassed and will die soon but also done.

Trying to help him soften his glare so that he can approach animals (haven’t been successful so far though)

Whispers how much he loves you every night as you fall asleep in his arms

Oikawa Tooru

Is so damn expressive and loud about his feelings for you

Every time you see him: 

“[Name]-chan, I love you!” 

“How’s my amazing soulmate doing today?” 

“I bought you this huge plushie because it reminded me of you!”

Sends good morning and good night messages every day

Asks for cute selfies and cherishes them

His photo album is 95% you or you and him on dates

Starts distancing himself from his fans after your relationship starts

A lot of them are supportive of his relationship but some aren’t

Once saw you get harassed and nearly lost his shit

Cried because he’s the reason you were being hated on

You comforted him saying it's okay and they can't stop your love for him

He's now convinced you're an angel (which leads to your most used nickname)

You help him with his self-confidence by reciting all of his amazing achievements and little quirks you love

Buys matching key rings (related to volleyball) and flaunt it at every chance he gets

Drama QueenTM but in the best way

Will never let you feel down or unloved

Video calls despite the time zone difference when he’s in Argentina

Once took a vacation there (without telling him) and surprised him at practice

He cried so much and never let go of you for the month

Daydreams about proposing to you in the most cheesiest and romantic way

Sugawara Koushi

Softest boyfriend and the most caring lover ever

Always remembers anniversaries and special dates

Discusses his tiny students with you, gushing about them

Sometimes his “baby voice” that he uses to speak to his students slips out

He loves kissing you on the top of your head while you kiss the moles under his eye

Dates are usually to the park or museums

Tells you titbits about various instalments he learned to tell his students

He reads you books to help you sleep, usually classics

Makes sure you’re either warm or cool depending on the season

Once celebrated your birthday by creating a scavenger hunt

It took you all over the city; libraries, Karasuno High, a shrine, his school and then an amusement park

Rode the Ferris wheel at night so he could show you the glittering lights underneath

Y’know those jinxes of relationships lasting a lifetime if you kiss at the peak? Yeah, he tells you that

Soft kisses are exchanged and he vows to never let you go

Constantly checking up on you, not to the point where it’s overbearing though, to make sure you’re well and nothing’s wrong

Cried when he had a nightmare of you breaking up with him

For like half an hour even when you were saying that you would never do that

Had to watch a sweet and cute movie to help him calm down

Cannot think of a life without you in it

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to  but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s  hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok  < what were you watching  > say yes to the dress  < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me 

> neither. One subject does not a genius make  > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself.  > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u  > ....  > um  > lol 

 Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now 

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

[greenbriar-j]

Muscle Memory, full wip, unedited 4.7k, scroll at ur own risk; tagging some people who showed previous interest @halleiswriting @chazzawrites @pe-ersona @druidx and also @pens-swords-stuff this is what I’ve been up to lately

Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church bustles with activity. It’s peculiar, for it being a weekday. More peculiar still that the bustling is being done by young men and women who could very well be engaging in… more satisfying summer indulgences.

The Youth Group’s power couple sweeps in an hour late, ever put together even when, by all rights, they ought to be melting right out of their fancy outfits. Cheers rise from the crowd when they appear, each splitting off in their own directions to their own stations.

Y Nhi beelines for the painters, flicking her sleek ponytail to make sure it’s out of the way. The girls hand her a brush while detailing what’s left to be done. Vinny bustles for the sound technicians - who, really, are already done for the day, but are staying for the social factor.

Two things to note about St. Joseph’s power couple:

Y Nhi isn’t sure she believes in God very much anymore.

They are not a couple, but it’s easier to let everyone think so than to correct it.

“Jude,” Mary says (everyone calls her Jude because she and Vinny made a big deal of it years ago), “Are you sure you can’t help out during the week?”

Y Nhi shrugs. She’s not busy or anything, but it feels wrong to shepherd children into a religion she’s falling out of - even if Vacation Bible School had been one of her favorite summer memories for her entire life. That’s where she met Vinny, after all.

Vinny, laughing with the guys at the sound booth. To be more accurate, Vinny himself is only smirking, but that’s as close to a laugh as he gets around here. Stupid smirk. Stupid boy.

“I have work. Unfortunately,” Y Nhi mutters, dragging her brush across a cardboard cutout. “Vinny’s taking the week off, so I’m picking up his slack.”

Mary grins widely at that. “I swear it’s like you’re married.”

For whatever reason, Y Nhi’s heart clenches at that. Picturing herself and Vinny in wedding attire on the altar sickens her, but putting a faceless someone in her place makes her feel worse. But it’s not like she likes him. She’s sworn to herself that she’d become a cat lady in her old age - her army has already begun with a fluffy black kitten. It’s not looking too good for her future; Toothless likes Vinny more than her. She’s already failed as a parent.

Belatedly, Y Nhi realizes she’s supposed to be engaging in a conversation, not thinking about Vinny and their co-parenting of a cat. If it can be called that.

“Don’t hold your breath. The wedding is a long way off,” she says tightly. Like. Never. Never is a long, long way off.

“I wouldn’t be too sure.”

This time, Y Nhi lets the comment slide. She paints while singing under her breath, as she always does. A long time ago, she had no qualms about belting it out, but time has weathered away her volume, reducing it to only this. No one’s noticed the change or found it strange.

The conversation turns to something - anything - else. Degrees, internships, other boys who don’t dress in all black and aren’t named Vincent Truong. Y Nhi listens, but doesn’t contribute.

By the time the call goes out for a lunch break, Y Nhi is finishing three tasks at once. One of the other girls brings her a burger, slathered with ketchup and mayo and tomatoes. Y Nhi thanks her and continues wrapping one of the white pillars in cardboard paper to simulate a palm tree.

Not long after, someone nudges her. Eyes flickering upward, she’s met with the bored eyes of her very best friend. “Bite.”

She doesn’t, not yet.

Vinny wiggles the burger he’s holding in front of her mouth. “Only half a slice of cheese. No tomatoes. Freshest patty of the batch. Eat.”

She still doesn’t take the bait, even though he’s tailored this burger to her weirdly specific tastes.

Vinny sighs. “Jude. No one’s watching you. I promise all they can see is my back.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” It’s true she had a complex about eating in public for a while, for reasons she’s never told anyone including him. “Just not hungry.”

“Not very Gucci of you to lie in the house of God.”

“Not very Gucci of you to breathe.”

“Jude! The fuck, man.” But he’s grinning. Not the half-assed grin he gives everyone else, but an honest, mirthful grin reserved for Toothless and Y Nhi only (usually Toothless. Damn cat).“Just eat this, okay? I’ll eat the other one.” His whole demeanor softens as he picks up the burger she had ignored - the one that is surely cold by now.

She is hungry. After all, the reason they were late is because Vinny had to coax her to every step of getting ready this morning. He even applied her eyeliner with the even strokes of a practiced hand - so practiced that even Y Nhi admits it looks like her own work. If she had a choice, she would waste away in bed for the day, but Vinny has never been much of a fan of that plan.

According to her own plan, Y Nhi had been wasting away since before yesterday’s dinner. Famished might be a better word to describe her present state.

But today is one of those days that she feels guilty cementing the married couple narrative any more than it needs to be. They’re not getting any younger, Vinny and Y Nhi, and just because she’s sworn off marriage doesn’t mean he has. How’s he supposed to get a nice girlfriend if she keeps hanging around?

Objectively, it’s a stupid reason to risk passing out in a church of all places, but something about him just makes her stupid. Always has.

The longer she ignores his peace offering, the twitcher he gets. He finishes his own burger in ten massive bites. When Y Nhi still doesn’t eat hers, he eats that whole thing too. “We’re leaving early. Say an hour? Think about what you want to eat.”

With that, he’s gone. Y Nhi is not hyper aware of his presence as it moves through the open space. She does not miss having him next to her. Not even a little.

-

Y Nhi writes, appetite??? in her journal when she gets home. It’s the third time something of this nature has appeared on its list which isn’t titled - but if it was it would be something like “Things About Vinny T. that Don’t Make Sense.”

Even after inhaling two burgers, he took her out for pho and Thai tea, and he ate so slow that his noodles expanded in the broth. Still, he finished a medium bowl with relative ease, and Y Nhi was content after she’d finished a small.

How does someone who eats like that look like that? It has to be some sort of stupid freaky metabolism. Genetic polymorphism, she thinks, then adds that she might be incorrectly using the term she’d heard in class about two semesters ago.

She writes freeloading on the list. It’s not technically true, but he spends enough time at her place to make it feel like it. Right this minute, he’s setting up the living room to sleep in, awaiting her delivery of the overnight bag he always leaves stocked in her apartment for emergencies.

That goes on the list too. Definition of ‘emergency.’

According to recent months, an alarming amount of things fit under this category of Vinny’s mind. It might be nearing time to stage an intervention, but who’s Y Nhi to tell him to relax when she’s the one bordering on anxiety attacks all the time? Only god knows how many times he’s clutched her shaking hands until they stopped.

Y Nhi closes the journal. Snaps the band over the cover. Shoves it under her pillow. Vinny wouldn’t dare read it to begin with, but for some reason, she doesn’t even want him to know of its existence.

Quickly divesting herself of the impeccable outfit she’d worn for the day, she slips easily into one of Vinny’s large, large shirts and the shorts she affectionately calls game day shorts. Ever since high school, she’s worn them for events that require equal amounts of comfort and courage - or just for comfort, to be honest.

“Hey, loser,” she greets Vinny, emerging from her room. He’s got her guitar in hand, and is humming some tune that she recognizes but can’t place. “Your stuff is on my bed. Have you seen Toothless?”

He nods, and keeps playing. It’s in experience, being stared at with such intense eyes while trying not to stare at the other party’s stupid pretty hands playing her guitar. Fuck him, honestly, she thinks angrily.

Leaving him there, she pours each of them a glass of water in the kitchen. A shadow looms on top of the fridge, and she jumps. “Toothless, baby. Please stop napping on the fridge.”

Toothless is not napping. He stands up, shakes his tiny body and hops to the counter, then to the floor, twining around Y Nhi’s feet before scuttling off.

Vinny is singing now. It’s a new song, she supposes, and it sounds like a love song.

Slowly, Y Nhi moves around the kitchen, making as little noise as possible while doing absolutely nothing. She just wants to listen to Vinny and his new love song without him watching her reaction.

Once she gets past the lyrics about gentle touches and midnight escapades, she realizes something. Re-entering the living room, she deposits his water on the table. “Is that my melody? Why would you steal it?”

The guitar is placed awkwardly on the floor, the neck of it leaning on the couch. “Oh, is that where it’s from? Thought it was familiar,” he says with mild disinterest. “Well, I wasn’t that attached to it anyway.”

“Are you saying it sucks?” Y Nhi settles on the floor on the other side of the table, pulling her knees into her chest. Glancing through her lashes, Y Nhi watches Vinny’s expressions.

“I’m saying I’m not taking your work, you brat.” Then he hesitates. “I mean. Can I, just for one person?”

“What the fuck.”

Vinny twitches, finally. “I… Wrote the song for someone… So I’d like to sing it for her, just once.”

Something vile rises in her throat, and she wishes Toothless would notice her distress. Hugging the cat might make her feel a little better about the fact that Vinny’s written a song about a girl using her melody - and it’s not about herself and for some odd reason, that bothers her.

“Can- Can I hear it?” Y Nhi asks in a tiny voice. It’s easier than No, you cannot take my song to sing to some other girl who will take you away from me.

“Haven’t you been hearing it?”

“Vincent.” Because that’s easier than You colossal idiot, what shit are you pulling after two years?

“Jude-”

She stands suddenly, fleeing to her room. Shutting the door, locking it, she tries to breathe. Of all people, Vinny should be the last person to push her to this reaction. She doesn’t know what to think.

Vinny knows.

Vinny knows where her hard limits are. Technically, he hasn’t passed them. But he’s pretty damn close.

Y Nhi slips into the shower, leaving it on the hottest setting to boil the emotions out.

-

For the next two days, Y Nhi doesn’t emerge from her room. Her phone dies, and she lets it. Her body self-destructs in hunger and dehydration from crying, and she lets it. She stays in bed for most of it. Whether Vinny continues to sleep on the other side of the wall for those nights, she doesn’t know. Nor care.

It’s punishment for believing she might be ready to give love another chance.

-

The third day, a letter slips under her door.

She almost flushes it down the toilet without reading it. Everything is in position to do so, paper fluttering in unsteady hands above the toilet bowl. But she wants to know. What can Vinny possibly say for himself?

Jude. I wrote the song for you. I didn’t mean to steal your tune - honest to god, I didn’t. But when I found out, I thought it was fitting that we’d worked on it together. (“Together”)

Jude, the song is up to your interpretation, but it’s yours. I wrote it from my core, and it’s yours. Charge your fucking phone and check the lyrics I sent you.

Take a shower, and call me when you’re ready. You have a few days’ worth of takeout in the fridge. Please take care of your health; I know you’re not right now. I mean it in the best way.

It cuts off there. Unceremonious and blunt, and so very him. She hates it very much.

Y Nhi charges her phone while she showers. Working quickly because she’s so unsteady on her feet, she does the bare minimum before stumbling into the kitchen for food.

While she nibbles on the stir fried noodles he left, she pens her own note.

Vinny,

I will not read the lyrics. I don’t want to know, and you don’t have to pretend it’s about me.

Your joke took two years to reach completion. Congratulations. I hope I was amusing and that my downfall wall be the stunning conclusion you wanted.

She tapes it on her front door so he’ll see it the next time he comes over. Soon, probably.

Momentarily, she wonders if she’s being rash. Is it so impossible to think that he could find romantic attraction to her?

Then she remembers. Y Nhi is not built to be loved, if her history is anything to go by. Even if she’s wrong, even if Vinny loves her for real, she will resist. Losing him this way is better than the alternative: watching him dissolve to some monstrosity while loving her.

-

Nothing changes after that. Apart from Vinny’s absence from her apartment, they interact in exactly the same way.

Vinny says something borderline rude.

Y Nhi retorts with something blatantly rude.

They laugh about it and move along.

There are no gentle touches to avoid because Vinny rarely touched her to begin with - despite the way he slings his arm around everyone else, he wasn’t like that with her. No arm around her shoulder, no hugs, not even extended contact with her hair.

Y Nhi pretends not to notice when he goes through a full dinner with an arm draped over the back of his friend Justin’s chair. He leans on it, adding the tiniest space between himself and Y Nhi. He still passes her the condiments and spices she likes before she asks for them. He takes her home at the end of it.

This should be enough. Up until now, it always had been. These tiny acts were his long distance hugs. It had always been enough, but now it isn’t, and Y Nhi doesn’t know what to do.

Isn’t this what you wanted? For him to get a life away from you?

“How’s that girl?” She asks on the way home, just because the silence is killing her and perhaps because she’s a masochist. “The one you wrote the song for?”

Vinny looks at her for a brief moment, something like grief in his eyes. It’s a confusing expression. “She hasn’t really talked to me since.”

Y Nhi tries not to sit straighter at this revelation. “Oh, really? Hm. That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

Something about the word is profoundly heartbroken. She can almost feel the emotions hurtling off him in waves, but he doesn’t lash out at her. All it does is enclose each passenger of the car in a separate bubble. This is the closest they’ve been in a long time, but Y Nhi has never felt so isolated.

Her throat constricts, and her hands start to shake. “Do you… Know why?”

Vinny thinks for a moment, tapping his fingers on the wheel. “I think she doesn’t believe me. But I don’t really think it’s me, I think she thinks that love is meant for everyone except herself. She’s pretty bent on self-destruction now, as far as I can tell - No, don’t say anything yet.”

Every girl Vinny’s talked to in the last week pops up in her mind. Which of them seems most self-destructive? If she can’t keep herself by his side, he should at least have someone who can care for him. She could talk to them, probably, if she knew who it was.

“I… She thinks this is sudden, but I’ve been in love with her since I was fifteen. Or something. Like it kind of just happened over time, and I thought she knew.”

Fifteen means Vinny’s been futilely in love with someone else while she fell for the guy who ended up cheating on her.

They were happy in high school. It was college that broke them. Distance. The communications became less frequent in an inverse relationship to Y Nhi’s alcohol intake. Her grades suffered, and she convinced herself that she was too stupid for higher education. On his birthday, she drove for hours to his dorm to surprise him, only to find him making out with another girl. Sober.

Not that any level of inebriation could excuse him, but perhaps it would’ve hurt a little less.

Vinny isn’t done. “I fucking cut fruit for her every time we hung out. I did her dishes sometimes. I don’t know, I- I thought I did everything right. My mom thought I was doing everything right.”

“You tell your mom about your love life?”

Y Nhi doesn’t. Her parents don’t care enough to know anything about it beyond that she let go of a future doctor and that she’ll never find another because she’s past her prime. That’s what it feels like, anyway.

She’s literally twenty four. She has time.

“Not really. But they’ve met.” Vinny parks the car in front of her apartment, but he makes no move to get out or to let Y Nhi get out. “Jude, listen to me.”

“I’m listening,” she says. Training her eyes on her kitchen window, she thinks about the dishes she hasn’t done yet, the fruit she hasn’t cut yet, and how she hates thinking about it because it reminds her Vinny is fading.

Human adaptability is a remarkable thing. One more week, and this new normalcy will cement itself.

“The girl I love is you. Okay? I’ve walked around the topic for years, and I understand if you’re still not ready for it. But I know you’re getting the wrong idea in that head of yours. It’s you, and it’s always been you, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving it if you let me. I’ll also bow out forever if that’s what you need from me. But I need you to talk to me. I-”

Holy shit, is he about to cry? With wild eyes, she glances at him. If she’s made him cry, he’ll return the favor five-fold. No, she backtracks. That’s not Vinny. That’s the behavior of her second ex, the one that reduced her to a stiff puppet of a girl.

“Come back to me,” he says in a small, strangled voice. “I don’t even care if you break me in the process, but please come back to me. You can do whatever you want, as long as you do it by my side.”

For the longest moment, they say nothing. Then Y Nhi opens the car door. “Can you cut my strawberries for me? They taste better when you cut them.”

-

Vinny washes her dishes and her strawberries and quarters the already small fruit for her. He deposits the snacks in front of her and watches her eat - slowly, since they’ve just come back from dinner, after all.

“So it’s me?”

“Always has been.”

“And you never said anything.”

“I did. You ignored it on purpose.”

“No, I’m just a stupid hoe.”

“You’re not stupid. Or a hoe.”

“You’re always calling me stupid.”

“Not like that, stupid.”

“You’re going to have to undo a lot of damage if we date.”

“I know. I’ve been working on it already, didn’t you notice?”

“Yeah, but it’s gonna get worse if we date.”

“Have you considered therapy?”

“Vinny, I’ll be a pariah.”

“A happy one, maybe.” Hesitantly, he reaches for one of her hands. Halfway, he flips the palm up and waits for her to complete the gesture on her own. “You don’t have to decide right away. It’s just a thought.”

She puts her hand in his a little too eagerly, then pulls back a little too harshly. It feels like touching the flame of a candle.

A defeated look momentarily crosses Vinny’s eyes, but Y Nhi barely has the time to look at it before she steels her nerves and takes hold of his hand again. The coldness of his rings grounds her somehow. “We need a list,” Y Nhi says, “of things. First, you’re going to Google touch starvation.”

Her best friend jerks in a little victorious motion, jamming his knee unceremoniously on the table leg as he does. “Fuck, that hurt.”

“What was that about?”

“I wasn’t sure if you were actually touch starved or if you didn’t like men touching you.”

“And you didn’t ask?” Y Nhi is incredulous.

“How am I supposed to ask? ‘Jude, when I touch you, does it remind you of your sleazy ex boyfriends?’ You’d say no. Like a liar. Or so I thought.” He pauses. “Anyway, this means I can hug you now, right? 24/7.”

“If you ease into it.”

“And you’ll stop wearing those gigantic shirts that literally drown you.”

“...No. What?”

“Okay, never mind, nothing. What else? What other boundaries do we have?”

Of all questions she’s been asked today, this one is probably the most confusing. Her previous relationships are no help; she hasn’t exactly had the best exposure to “healthy relationships.” She’s aware that the bare minimum counts as decadence for her, so the question has her a little frozen.

After watching her face flicker through whatever emotions it’s displaying, Vinny rubs a thumb over her knuckles. “How about this: I have a specific thing I want your help with, and when things come up, we can talk about it.”

Y Nhi nods, though they both know she won’t talk about shit. But perhaps watching Vinny sort out whatever issue he needs sorted will give her inspiration on how to approach this. “Can we-?” She starts and stops abruptly.

Vinny blinks, then feeds her a strawberry slice. “Go ahead.” It’s a tactful move. Putting food in her mouth means she has to chew, meaning she has a few more seconds to gather herself and her thoughts, or at the very least, the desire to continue speaking.

“Can we not label this?” She finishes. “Whatever is between us.”

To her surprise, Vinny nods and acts like she hasn’t asked the bitchiest question of the night. “Sure.” You can do whatever you want, he’d said, as long as you do it by my side.

“And… Get rid of Jude.”

“What?”

“Jude. You remember why I picked that name?”

“Because of some fictional fairy queen that had the same name? You thought she was a conniving boss ass bitch and-”

“Shut up. Saint Jude. Patron saint of?”

Technically speaking, he hasn’t been wrong about the fairy queen bit. Unlike the suckers who fell for Cardan Greenbriar, Y Nhi’s wimpy ass was all in for Jude Duarte, mortal queen of the fae. And it was easier to admit that than to admit the truth that was dawning on Vinny’s face in 3… 2...

“Hopeless causes,” Vinny answers easily. Then his expression sobers. “Oh.”

Y Nhi nods. “But the me with you isn’t a hopeless cause. I don’t want her to be, anyway.”

There’s a lot that goes unsaid, but she’s certain Vinny hears it. Logically, she can’t keep relying on whatever instinct says, He’ll understand because he’s Vinny, but up to this point, it should work out okay.

Gently, he says, “Y Nhi,” reacquainting himself with the syllables of her given name. “Y Nhi.”

“Yes, Vinny?” She says just as gently.

He lowers his voice to a husky whisper, “You’ve never been a hopeless cause. You were a cause for hope.”

-

Vinny’s request is this: that Y Nhi teach him to be soft again.

The request makes her question if she and Vinny exist in the same dimension because who the hell convinced him he wasn’t soft? Hardened, prickly souls don’t master winged eyeliner for the sake of their loved ones. They don’t volunteer extra hours at Vacation Bible School while working graveyard shifts at the hospital. Don’t do the dishes because as much as they hate them, their roommate hates them more.

Vinny is soft, and Y Nhi is out for blood. “I need names, Vincent. And addresses if you have them.”

“My ex,” he says.

An awkward sound emerges from Y Nhi’s throat.

He raises an eyebrow at her. “What? I dated around. Didn’t think I should be hung up on you, but nothing ever went as planned. Anyway, my one ex did a really good job making me become someone I wasn’t. I didn’t like the person she made me, but it was kind of too late to turn around.”

Again, Y Nhi is confused. The narrative is promising, though, so she lets him continue in hopes that it’ll clear something up.

“If you don’t know me, how would you describe me?”

“Vinny.” She doesn’t have an answer, she just doesn’t want to say it. It’s not all good, and they just came back from an awkward fight. Was it a fight?

They’ve slipped back into their normal existence so easily. Nothing has changed, but at the same time, everything has.

“Just- The rings and the black and the tattoos. You’d think I drove a motorcycle or something, right?”

“You drive a Lexus. It’s the same in terms of your fuck boy vibes.”

“Y Nhi!”

“BMW would’ve sealed the deal. How many Hennessys do you drink a night, again?”

A pout settles on his face. She likes this version of him. “I see you get my point. I look like a baddie.”

“Yeah. Bad at life.”

“I swear to god.”

“Don’t do that, that’s a sin. Don’t use the lord’s name in vain and all.”

“Anyway. You of all people know I am soft, actually. She didn’t like that. And so I gained a second personality and-”

It’s rude, the way Y Nhi interrupts, but Vinny doesn’t seem to mind at all. “So if you’re always soft, what’s left for me to help you with?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “Actually. No, I’m going to tell you. I get embarrassed about my relationships. So if it ever looks like I’m pushing you away… I’m just really fucking embarrassed, at least for this first stage. Do what you will with that.”

- bonus/epilogue -

They return home for Y Nhi’s mom’s birthday. They’ve always rode home together, since they are neighbors no matter where they are. No one finds it odd that they hold hands more than before, that Y Nhi is still averse to touching everyone but him.

They appear at social events hanging on each other’s arms. Commentary about their status as a “married couple” breeze over their heads, but they never confirm nor deny anything. In public, they remain aloof to each other. They show tenderness in only the smallest of gestures.

In private, they are as they ever were. Vinny still does her eyeliner on her bad days, but now she cuddles him on the couch on his bad days. Between the two of them, there are a lot of bad days, days when they almost threw in the towel.

But they didn’t. Instead, they’ve introduced all manner of pet names (Vinny’s favorites to use are love, darling, and lately, em. Y Nhi’s favorites are Vinny and anh). They write songs to each other, for each other, with each other. Every morning, they make the choice to keep loving each other the way they have since they were fifteen - and while they joke that they wasted so much time, it was a necessary time for them to spend apart to learn how to exist together and how to choose each other even when it’s the harder choice than letting go.

Even I get lonely too

It’s not hard

Every question’s got an answer

And mine is you

Where you go then I will follow

All my life

You’re the name that I will whisper to the night

[qianinterprises]

Unexpected Snow Day

Author's Notes: This fic was actually created for Valentines Day and a version of it has been posted on ncta and ao3.

Synopsis: The snow on the ground was a big surprise, and you aren't sure if it's pleasant or not. Sure, you love the snow, but the thought of spending Valentines Day alone isn't super appealing. It's a good thing your neighbor, Kun, has other plans to spend the day.

Pairing: Kun x Reader

Genre(s): fluff, tiny microscopic bit of angst

Warning(s): none

Word Count: 3900

This image is not mine. Credit to the owner!

You hadn’t been expecting to view the snow blanketing the ground when you’d woken for work that morning. Your first thought was that you must be dreaming. Upon further inspection, however, you discovered that your eyes didn’t deceive you at all. Snow covered the ground. Well, more than covering it. Coating it more like. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen snow like this. Actually, you hadn’t seen it snow here at all, at least, it hadn’t snowed in the three years you’d lived in the small, one bedroom, one bathroom cottage you rented from the sweet old couple a few houses down.

You let out a sigh and leaned against the window sill, pressing your nose against the cool glass. You loved the snow. You always had. However, snow today? You squeezed your eyes shut. Typically, you didn’t mind being alone; you’d gotten used to it, but you’d never had to be alone on this particular holiday. Sure, it had been a while since you had someone romantic to share it with, but you typically had friends, or, at the very least, your students to keep you company. That was actually the plan for today. Spend the day of love with your students.

Those plans were foiled now. You hadn’t checked your email yet, but guessed school would be canceled. This place hadn’t received snow in years. They had no idea what to do with it! School would be canceled indefinitely until the snow melted away or, at the very least, became more manageable.

Your phone dinged on the nightstand, drawing your attention out of your thoughts. You gave the snow one last glance, puzzled feelings bubbling in your abdomen, before moving back to your bed to retrieve your phone.

‘Look outside!’

The message had come from Kun, your neighbor.

Before you had a chance to respond, another message arrived.

‘Guess no work today! And all that time put into lesson planning!’

You let out a little giggle at that.

Kun taught cooking class at the high school, a few doors down from your class. You weren’t in the same subject, but you had hit it off instantly when Kun had brought you a batch of brownies to welcome you to the school a few years ago. You’d quickly become fast friends, something that only made living next door to one another that much better.

‘Extra vacation days for us and the kiddos!’ you replied.

You couldn’t keep the grin off your face. There was just something about Kun that made you smile. Whenever he was around, a smile broke across your rosy cheeks, even if you’d had the worst of days. Your other co-workers seemed to have picked up on this and began relentlessly teasing you for it. Thankfully (or maybe not so thankfully), Kun hadn’t seemed to notice at all.

Your phone chimed again, this time portraying a little laughing emoji that Kun used a little too often. You slipped your phone into the pocket of your gray sweatpants. You were half tempted to climb back under the warm blankets heaped atop your bed, but opted to instead pace into the kitchen for a steaming cup of your favorite coffee.

While waiting for your Keurig to finish brewing, you stole another glance out at the snow through your kitchen window. The sun had risen fully now and you could now see white sticking to the tops of the trees. It was absolutely breath-taking. Something you hadn’t experienced in many years.

The sound of liquid filling your favorite coffee mug ceased and the sweet aroma filled the air. You poured in all of your creamers. Once it was sweet enough, you took a nice, refreshing sip, sighing softly as the warm liquid slid over your tongue and down your throat, instantly warming you.

Morning coffee was an absolute must. You couldn’t function without it. Sure, the caffeine was great, but it was more of the sweetness that you enjoyed. It was the perfect combination of sweet and bitter that got you ready for the day.

With a yawn, you moved into the living room of your little cottage. Monday’s were usually hectic and tiring, something you’d be counting on for the day. Now, with the snow covering the ground, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Perhaps you should stuff your face with chocolate and watch sappy romance movies with a box of tissues to dry your tears at someone else's happiness and your own loneliness. Maybe you should pop open the bottle of wine chilling in your refrigerator and drink the day away.

You sighed. You didn’t have a boyfriend to spend the day with. You didn’t have your best friend, who was already married, to cheer you up. You didn’t have your students to keep you distracted long enough for Valentines Day to feel full and bountiful.

You stretched out on the couch and your cat, Effie, jumped up in your lap, laying herself across your stomach, purring softly as she curled up. You stroked your cat's head and let your head lull against the throw pillows, staring up at the ceiling fan.

The best thing to do for a day like this would be reading a good book, you thought. It wasn’t long afterwards that you got up to grab a book from your collection.

The day was drifting away slowly, just as you had predicted. You was halfway through your book, taking your time to bask in the novel with a bowl of popcorn that Effie kept stealing. As lunchtime came and went, you found yourself succumbing to boredom. Your book was nice, but not nearly as interesting as you’d been hoping. You were blue. You had hopes that perhaps Kun would invite you over like he sometimes did for food or for a riveting game of Mario Kart, but as the day trickled away, those hopes vanished.

However, as your phone, which had been silent most of the day, began to ring, your hopes began to grow ever so slightly. The frown that had stitched itself across your face easily eased as soon as you picked up the phone to find Kun’s name flashing across the screen.

Light pink dusted your cheeks before you answered.

“How's your day going?” he asked.

His velvety voice sent chills up your spine.

“Boring,” you replied.

Your voice was dull with unenthusiasm that he chuckled at.

“I was bored too, which motivated me to clean out the old shed behind the house and I happened to find my own snow sled! I was wondering if you wanted to go to the park with me to try it out?”

Your face heated up brighter than it already was. He wanted you to go? Sledding? With him? You swallowed thickly. You shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

“I’d love to but uh… I don’t have a sled.”

“That’s fine! We can share mine! I-if you want to, of course.”

The way his excitement changed to stammaring made your heart pound. You’d never heard the cool, collected man stumble over his words before.

Your face heated, but you nodded against the phone, too anxious to speak just yet, although you knew he was waiting for an answer.

“I’d love to! When should I be ready?” you managed to squeak out.

“Ten minutes?” he asked.

Ten minutes?!

“Uh… sure!” you agreed, stupidly.

With that, the conversation ended and you shot up off the couch, startling Effie who had been asleep surrounded by popcorn kernels. Hastily, you tore the gray sweatpants down your legs, stumbling as you ran toward your closet, flinging your shirt off at the same time. As you reached the closet, you ripped the door open so hard it rattled, but you didn’t have time to care. Ten minutes was nowhere even close to enough time. Why you had agreed was completely beyond you. You could only assume it was your stupid, love-drunk brain going into over-drive with excitement.

You yanked a pair of black leggings off a hanger, ignoring the hanger that dropped onto the floor with a clank. You didn’t pause to pick it up. You didn’t have time! You rolled the leggings up your legs before grabbing a pair of jeans and sliding them up as well, hoping the simple combination would keep you warm enough. You pulled a sweater from another hanger, throwing it over your head and attempting to force your hands through, your heart racing as time slipped away, causing you to get lost in the sweater, attempting to blindly shove your head through the neck of the fabric.

With a grunt, you finally had the blasted thing pulled over your head and reached into the far back of her closet to retrieve a pair of black snow boots you rarely wore. You weren't even sure they’d still fit your feet, you could only hope.

You pulled your thick winter coat off it’s hanger. It was actually an old, tan, Carhartt coat that had belonged to your younger brother, but when he grew too big for it, shoulders too wide to fit, your parents, who hardly threw any clothing item away, found you could wear it. Sure, it was a little big on you. The sleeves were too long for your arms, the bottom covered your rear end almost completely, and it sat loose against your chest. Still, you loved it. It always smelled like pine and never failed to keep you warm, even in 20 degree weather.

You laid the coat out on the bed and turned your attention to the bathroom mirror.

Kun had seen you without makeup before, once, when his heat had gone out and he was banging on your door at 4 in the morning on a Saturday asking for warmth. That still didn’t make you confident. At the time, you didn’t care how your face looked, but now, as you stood in front of the bathroom mirror, you wrinkled your nose.

Freckles were cute when they just covered the cheek-bones of pretty, skinny girls, but you was neither pretty nor skinny, and you had dark freckles all the way from the top of your forehead down to the chubbiness under your jaw.

Time was ticking down. You knew you didn’t have too much time to worry about your face, but the thought of facing Kun bare-faced made your stomach churn. So, you did the only thing you could. You opened the bottle of concealer and pulled the wand out. You used the wand to dot over the freckles all over your face before going over them all with foundation. It wouldn’t cover them all or hide them, but it made them lighter, less noticeable.

Once dressed completely, you gave one more long, unsatisfied look into the mirror. You’d covered as many of your cosmetic flaws as you could. There was nothing more you could do, and you were rapidly running out of time.

More time had passed than you realized. Just as you emerged from the bathroom, reaching for your shoes, the doorbell rang.

“Coming!” you shouted, tugging on your snow boots, over fuzzy socks. Once they were laced up, you pulled the winter coat over your shoulders and zipped it up to your chin.

Once completely ready, you shuffled over to the door, turning the lock and opening it hesitantly to reveal a grinning Kun standing on your tiny porch, clutching a dull, red sled with the paint chipping. He wore a beige jacket, hood pulled up over his head, and a pair of jeans he’d likely lined with long-johns. He was dressed casually. Much more casually than she was used to, and it forced the air to get trapped inside her throat. He was perfect, even when he was dressed for the cold.

“Ready?” he asked, voice smooth, melodic, and full of excitement.

“Absolutely!”

Your heart thumped a little harder in your chest. His attire, the sled, his smile, the day; it all made this seem like a magical date. You knew it couldn’t be but… in your dreams and your diary, it would be the most perfect date you’d ever gone on.

He walked down the three small steps leading to the ground that was covered in the icy white powder. As soon as he stepped foot on the ground, his boot crunched under the snow, a sound you hadn’t heard since you were young. It brought back so many memories of a happy childhood spent building snowmen and having snowball fights.

You followed him off the porch, you own feet soon crunching into the snow.

Kun led the way from your yard into his, taking a shortcut to the park not far from where you lived, a little more than a block away. You made your way up Kun’s driveway and out onto the side of the road. A snow plow had already come through to scrape the snow and ice off the road, but it hadn’t done a very good job. It had left ice in the center of the road and the scrapped away snow leaned precariously on the shoulder, teetering between off the road and on it. Not much of anyone would be driving today anyway, you supposed.

As the two of you made the short journey to the park, you exchanged small talk, mostly about classes or students you had in common. A brief conversation about your desire to get a German Shepherd puppy and Kun discussing his goldfish, Hendery and Xiaojun.

Before long, you’d reached the park and your eyes grew wide. From the moment Kun asked if you’d wanted to go sledding, you’d held no other thought about the complications in your mind, specifically the complications of the amount of people currently running amach. More specifically, your students, both past and present, seemed to be everywhere you turned. In fact, as you were taking it all in, Billy Bridges, one of your more… challenging students, flew past on a juvenile snowboard, nearly plowing over another adult in his path.

Your heart pounded nervously in your chest. You weren't great in crowds, especially in crowds that included your students that would ask a million questions about seeing you when you saw them again. Part of you thought it would be best to just go home, ditch a Valentines Day sled date and do something else, but as Kun’s gloved hand found your bare one, your mind blanked. He didn’t say a word, but he seemed to somehow know how nervous you’d become. He slowly guided you up through the throngs of people to a tall hill on one side of the park, a hill not too many people were occupying, as surprising as it was.

Once at the top, you took a moment to survey the area below. It was amazing. The usually green field was covered in thick white like some sort of enchanted wonderland. Children with pink noses were sliding down smaller hills on homemade sleds. Teenagers threw balls of icy fun at one another and chased each other around with snow-dusted boots. Others lay on their backs, stretching their arms out and flailing them as if they were trying to signal for help, forming the wings on an angel as their legs opened and closed over and over to make the outline of a dress, creating a pile of snow between their legs. Parents stood around, watching their children have fun or tilting their heads back with opened mouths to a falling snowflake on their tongue.

“Ready?” Kun’s voice brought you out of your reverie, his hand squeezing yours gently.

You looked back at him, grinning and nodded. As snowflakes began falling around them, several flakes became trapped in his hair, making him look like a dazzling snow prince that made you weak in the knees, and the urge to throw yourself at him became more impossible to withstand.

Luckily, he gave you a smile and turned away, releasing your hand and dropping the red sled into the snow, balancing it on the top of the hill, careful not to let it slide down without passengers.

“Did you want me to push you first?” you asked once the sled was situated.

Kun turned around at your question, confusion etched into his brow until that confusion turned to mirror dejection.

“I-I was thinking we could slide together…” he said, a light pink dusting his cheeks.

He must have been getting cold.

You was flabbergasted, nevertheless, at his statement. Your mouth was agape and you silence must have come off as judging rejection.

“I mean, if you want to! But you don’t have to!” he insisted, voice wavering slightly as the words rushed out.

You was still struck dumb, but this seemed to be all the push you needed to collect yourself and respond.

“That sounds like fun!” you agreed.

Kun let out a sigh that you were sure was just a hard exhalation of air and his smile returned.

He opened his hand, offering it to you, who gladly took it, face beginning to feel warm. He led you to where the sled rested and held the sled as you settled onto it. You bent your knees and slid your feet at the base of the sled to stabilize yourself. Once you were settled, Kun released the sled and you placed your bare hands on the frozen white sheets to stabilize it as Kun slowly lowered himself behind you. Your cheeks grew hotter as he situated himself with his legs on either side of you. He scooted closer, until his feet were pressed against the head of the sled beside yours and your back was pressed against his coat-clad chest. You could feel his warmth and his heartbeat through their clothes, slow and steady. Your own heartbeat racing at the closeness.

Kun reached around you, settling his arms on your waist and grabbing hold of the steering robe that rested against your knees. He pulled it tight and let his wrists settle on the tops of your thighs.

Your face was hot. So hot you were surprised you weren't melting the snowflakes still falling around you. You fought the urge to nestle yourself back against Kun’s chest, to make yourself more comfortable in his embrace. You fought against every urge within yourself not to turn around and press a kiss against his lips.To claim this as the perfect date in the history of dates. In fact, the only thing grounding you and keeping you from acting on your feelings was your bare hands still resting in the freezing snow to stabilize the sled.

“Ready?”

Kun’s voice was so close to your ears, you felt like you could melt. All you could do was nod, too nervous to speak.

With that, you dug your fingers into the snow and used it as a springboard to topple you over the hill. With as much strength as you could muster, you did just that, forcing the sled to slide on the ice until gravity took control and you were descending the hill. The sled was slow at first, but it gradually picked up speed.

As you sped down, wisps of hair fluttered up into the wind as elated laughter bolted from both your chests. A wide grin stretched across your face. You had forgotten how much fun this was, or maybe it was Kun’s presence behind you that made it more fun.

Your eyes began to sting from the cold wind blowing in your face, drawing liquid to your eyes that you blinked away. Kun’s hands squeezed tighter around you, holding the rope and holding you steady in his strong arms. Everyone else had seemed to disappear. The only two people left in the world seemed to be the two of you sliding down the slope, laughing the whole way, wrapped up in each other’s bliss.

Unfortunately, the best moments never last forever and all too soon, the sled was sliding to a stop at the bottom of the hill. The world came back into view. Children were running around, teenagers were throwing snowballs, parents were catching snowflakes. Nothing had changed. You were still two people riding a sled who had no idea how the other felt.

As the sled came to a stop, you collected yourself to get off, ready to ask if he wanted to go again, but Kun’s arms tightened around your middle. You paused and glanced back at him questioningly, your cheeks heating again.

The snow fell around you, bits of it collecting in your eye lashes.

Kun didn’t speak for a long moment. His brown eyes just searched your, looking for the answers to a question he hadn’t asked.

You was about to open your mouth to speak, when he beat you to it.

“How do you feel about me?” he asked

Your cheeks flamed hotter.

“W-What do you mean?” you asked, attempting to play dumb.

You had no intentions on revealing your crush if he didn’t feel the same way.

“Am I just a good friend or… more?”

You were silent. It was your turn to search him. Your eyes met his again, hoping for the correct answer. As you looked, you saw no trace of jokes or laughter. You saw seriousness. A seriousness that you drew courage from.

“I see you as a really good friend who lives next door to me that I’ve known for three years,” you began.

His face seemed to fall and he started moving away from you. It was your turn to catch his wrist.

“A really good friend whom I’ve had a massive crush on for the past two years.”

It felt good to admit it. Your cheeks heated up more as you waited for an answer.

It never came. At least, not a verbal one.

Instead, a cold, gloved hand touched your cheek, drawing you closer before a pair of cold, plump, and absolutely perfect lips fell on yours.

It took you a moment to comprehend what was happening and to respond, but when you did, you placed a hand on his shoulder, drawing him closer to deepen the kiss. Your heart pounded in your ears. This was absolutely, without a doubt, the best Valentines Day there was in the history of days.

At least until a snowball hit you in the back, drawing you from the kiss in utter shock. You spun around, eyes wide until they met the mischievous smirks of Kim Jongin, Kim Jieun, and Lee Perry, three students you and Kun had in common.

“Mr. Qian and Ms. (Y/L/N) sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” They began singing.

Their teasing brought more heat to your cheeks, and Kun drew you closer.

“Well, that’s what we were doing until you three broke the moment,” he scolded.

This did nothing but make the three laugh as they doddled away to go bother someone else.

You whined. Your perfect moment ruined.

At least, until Kun wrapped his arms back around your waist and squeezed again.

“So you see me as someone you had a crush on. I see you as my girlfriend,” he said.

You turned to look up at him, shock written all over your face. You searched him, hoping he was serious. Deeming he was, a smile broke out across your face.

“And I want to be your girlfriend.”

He smiled and brought you in for another kiss, one that sealed the deal officially.

Definitely the best Valentine's Day ever.

[demivampirew]

The American

Napoleon Solo x OFC (Carmen Martínez)

Triggers: talking about coup d'état (no descriptions of violence, though), talking about sex (no descriptions/ no smut); the death of a friend.

A/N: I talked a bit about the Argentinian history. I think I did a decent job with what I remember from one of my classes from college 😁 There’s some Spanish, but everything is translated, so don’t worry if you don’t speak Spanish.

You can find more of my writings in the Masterlist

Tag list: @lunedelorient @henrythickcavill @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @mary-ann84 @desperate-and-broken @peakygroupie @summersong69 @ivvitm1109 @madbaddic7ed @iloveyouyen @the-soot-sprite @hell1129-blog @whyyoudothistomecavill @thetaoofzoe​ @thereisa8ella​ @darkbooksarwin

Date: March, 1962

Place: Buenos Aires, Argentina.

The handsome man smiled at the waitress when she brought the black coffee he requested moments before.

“Muchísimas gracias, señorita.” (Thank you so much, miss) he said with a big smile on his face. 

“No tiene nada que agradecer, señor. Por favor, hágame saber si necesita otra cosa.” (No need to thank me, sir. Please let me know if you need anything else) she replied very politely.

“De hecho, hay algo más que necesitaría que haga por mi.” (In fact, there’s something else I would need you to do for me) he prompted as a devilishly smirk appeared on his face. “¿Podría darme su número telefónico?” (Could you give me your phone number?) he finished asking and the young woman got really nervous.

“She can’t give you her number, she’s married to the asshole looking at you from inside the Coffee place and he’s going to beat her if he finds out you’re flirting with her.” The man heard a female voice explained and he looked to the other table placed on the outside of the store and there was a woman in her late twenties/ early thirties sitting there, drinking coffee. This woman gave a slight nod to the waitress and she smiled at her and the gentleman and ran back inside.

He looked at his coffee for a second, lost in his thoughts and then grabbed the cup and went to sit next to the lady. She rolled her eyes but said nothing. There was a minute of silence in which the handsome stranger took a sip of his hot beverage and then he spoke:

“How did you know that I spoke English?” he asked, amused and curious.

“Being an American, I would be surprised if you didn’t,” she replied while she continued to read the newspaper she had on her hands.

“And how did you arrive to the conclusion that I’m an American?” 

“Two things: A) your clothing. You’re wearing a suit and the fabric is quite expensive. Here, with the economic state of the country, only extremely rich men could afford a suit like that. B) Earlier, when you got here you saw two foreigners argue in English and you said to the waitress “ja, americanos” (Ha, Americans) while laughing at their behaviour.

“And how is that proof that I’m American?” he questioned while raising an eyebrow. 

The woman looked at him smirking, very amused by the situation.

“You would never hear a local call someone from the United States Americano (American)” she stated.

“Why not?” he was surprised and confused.

“Because we’re taught in school that America is a continent, not a country. So for us you are Americans, but so are we, because we live in the American continent, darling,” she explained.

“Hu, I didn’t see that coming” he replied amused by the new information he learned and her deductive skills. She could easily be a spy if she wanted to.

“Jack Deveny” he said as extended his hand.

“Carmen Martínez” she replied while shaking his hand.

“What a pretty name.” 

“Thanks, yours is very pretty too, Mr. Solo” she said in a soft voice, making sure no one heard her say that name. 

Napoleon froze. His eyes were wide open. How did she know that name?  What else did she know about him? Not very often it would happen, something that would catch him by surprise.

“H-how…” he started asking but she interrupted him.

“I constantly check the list of people coming to this country and their backgrounds.” she began to explain “I saw that a man by the name of Jack Deveny was coming to the country for vacation purposes and it caught my attention. You’ll see, “Mr. Deveny”, we haven’t had many American visitors in the last couple of years due to our tense political climate. Only people dealing with business or political related issues to attend would come to Argentina. So, whenever I see someone from the United States or Europe coming here, I follow them to see what they’re up to.”

“And what am I up to, Mrs. Martínez? Is that even your real name?” he asked and she smirked.

“Your orders were to find out if the rumours about Fidel Castro coming once more to Argentina to talk to the President were true; that’s what the papers you left on your hotel room said. You know, for a spy you’re terrible at hiding important documents. I would work on fixing that, sir.” she shrugged and giggled. “And believe it or not, yes, that’s my real name.”

“Hu. You criticized me for not hiding my secret and you’re out there giving away your real name,” he said amused and, to be honest, a bit offended.

“That’s because I’m here to have an honest conversation with you and I think for that to happen there should be no covers here.”

“What do you want to talk about?” 

“Your boss is fucking you,” she said, lowering her voice.

“Pardon me?” 

“They lied to you. They send you here not to spy on Castro, because they know he’s not coming here any time soon, but because they know a coup d'état is about to happen and they want someone from their team to witness it and to find out who’s going to take charge after President Frondizi is forced to resign and how that will affect your country.” she explained to him. “And I say they’re fucking you because they made you believe this was an easy mission but they did not inform you properly about the political and social state were currently living.”

“Ok. Would you care to do what they failed to do?” he requested.

“What do you know about my country's politics?”

“Not much, to be honest. I know your president has tried to keep a good relationship with America but he also supported the Cuban Revolution, which tensed up a bit the relationship with my country.” Napoleon replied.

“Well, trying to play both teams it’s something he not only did with the USA and Cuba. What do you know about former president Perón?” Carmen inquired.

“Military man. Help create the syndicates. Big, big following.” 

“He has a big, big group of enemies as well.” the woman told him. “The social politics that he applied while in office made a lot of people who saw themselves affected by his rulings hate him and do everything in their power to move him for his charge. He helped with the creation of syndicates and other groups that fought for the rights of workers, but some of the leaders of those groups became powerful men that had their own following and some anarchist groups were born. Those groups were extremely protective of Perón and his politics and would even go violent if they felt they needed to protect those beliefs. After he was forced to resign a year before he could finish his second term, a decree was passed that forced syndicates to cease activities and practice any worship of Perón and his politics.” she paused for a moment and continued, “When Frondizi was campaigning for the presidency after democracy was once again installed, he made a no so secret pact with the former president, promising him that if he convinced his followers to vote for him, he would reinstall syndicate activities and the practice of his political beliefs. The thing is that Perón kept his part of the deal but the president did not. He did allow syndicates to resume activities, but the ban against him continued. And later on, his support for the Cuban Revolution really put the conservative military leaders against him. His constant desire to have the support of both sides made him lose all his allies. As far as I know, in a few weeks or maybe just days, the military is going to take charge once more.” she finished and sighed.

“I’m sorry,” said Napoleon. He could feel her distress.

“You need to leave, Solo, before things get dangerous. And nor the rebels or the military like people from your country,” she warned him.

 Carmen took some money from her purse and put it under the cup’s plate. She stood up and walked away. Napoleon followed her with his eyes until he saw her disappear.

 For the next few days, Napoleon tried hard to find things about her but he couldn’t. She told him that was her real name but he started to have doubts about it. But she was right about the nature of his mission: after their encounter, he talked to his boss and he admitted that he was there as a witness and to collect information about the political state of the country. She was right about the hate of people like him, the rich-looking Americans. He got his ass kicked by a group of anarchists -he could have protected himself, but he tried to keep the appearances up so showing his fighting abilities wasn’t the smart thing to do, he would have given himself up. 

 The coup d'état happened two weeks after their encounter, on March 28th. Napoleon was already back in America at that time. He was supposed to stay longer, but he made the mistake of taking a married woman to bed and his husband was a high ranked officer on the military who threatened to kill him if he didn’t get out of the country. Solo wasn’t the kind of agent that failed on his missions so this was a first for him, or at least that’s what he thought. Thanks to a folder he found among his work archives, that contained all the information about the previous government and the military group that was going to take charge, he was able to leave with his reputation intact and nobody found out about his mistake.

Now he was safe back at his house, resting before his next mission was assigned, but he couldn’t stop thinking about her, Carmen: Was she safe? Would he ever see her again? He thought that was improbable, but he wished he could see her at least one more time; he needed the change to thank her for the folder.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

After the success of the first mission of his new team U.N.C.L.E, Napoleon decided to take a much-deserved break. He went to Saint-Tropez hoping to meet some beautiful women, have some drinks, party and relax.

The sun was shining bright. Solo grabbed two cold drinks and walked towards a woman who was laying on the beach all by herself.

“I hope you put on sunscreen lotion, don’t want to burn that beautiful skin of yours,” he said with a smooth voice while looking at the sun. “Drin…” he turned to look at her, offering the glass on his hand when he abruptly stopped, surprised by what his eyes were seeing.

It was her.

“Carmen.” he said, almost whispering.

“Hello, Napoleon. It’s nice to see you again.” she greeted him and accepted the drink he brought her.

“Are you still following me?” he asked, smiling and raising an eyebrow.

“Ha! You wished” she replied laughing, amused.

Napoleon joined her laugh and sat next to her. They shared a moment of silence, enjoying the view and the noises provided by the water dancing around and some birds singing. 

“I’m glad to see that you’re ok,” he said, breaking the silence.

“Me too. I’m glad to see that you’re still in one piece, American” Carmen added and made him laugh.

“How’s everything in your country? I’ve heard that you got a new president...Arturo something.”

“Illia. Yes. Humble and trustworthy guy. Most people like him, the military not so much; he’s too liberal for their taste.” she explained. There was a bit of bitterness on her voice.

“You think there’s going to be another coup d'état?” he asked, worried.

She was looking at the sun. She nodded and sighed.

“That’s why I left. I didn’t work for the government. I belonged to a group of men and women who worked from the shadows trying to help the country. We didn’t follow any particular political view, we just wanted to create a country with freedom of speech, with equal rights for everyone and where no one had to be afraid, but that’s hard to achieve. One of our men died and everyone got scared. Most of the members of our secret society fled to other countries, seeking asylum before their families got hurt. Me, I wanted to keep going, but I couldn’t do that alone, so I moved to the States and joined a group of strong women who are fighting for equality. I think there I could be really helpful.” she finished.

They looked at each other for a moment. Napoleon smiled at her and they remained in silence, enjoying the beautiful view. 

 After about twenty minutes of silence, the handsome man spoke once more.

“I never got the chance to thank you for helping me; you truly saved me.”

“You’re welcome. I hope that taught you a lesson about the downside of being a womanizer.

“ she said and he shrugged. Carmen rolled her eyes as she smiled.

“Would you like to have dinner with me tonight?” Napoleon asked suddenly.

“You’re not getting into my pants, mister? she replied.

“What about your heart?” he prompted, smirking. She couldn’t help herself but smile. No one can resist his charm.

[joyrose-fandomer]

Please, don’t fall for me (Sanders Sides fantasy school AU) Chap 2

Relationships : Future (Prinxiety, Intrological, Mocite, Platonique Moxiety and platonique Analogical)

POV : Virgil

Characters : Virgil; Remy

TW : Panic attaque (yes again),  Curse words (All on Remy)

Previous <<  >>Next

---------------------

"How was school ?"

For only answer, Virgil flopped on the couch and grunted.

"That bad ?" asked his dad with a sigh. "What happened ?"

His father sat next to him on the couch while Virgil told him everything that happened during swimming classes. Only living out the breathing underwater part. 

His paternal was open-minded and accepting about many things, but magic and supernatural were always a big no.

Virgil didn't think anything of it at the time. It wasn't like magic existed anyway he taught, it was probably just his imagination, was it?

  "It's ok Virgil, I'm sure it won't be as bad as the last school." Said his dad comfortingly.

"What if it is? You don't know how some people can be when they get you in their line of sight. They become another person completely!"

 He didn't mean to yell but he could feel memories he rather forgets forever resurface and he really wished he could just pack his things now and move to one more town.

His father sighed. "I know Virgil... But we can't keep changing school and town every time you charm your classmates. We're really short on money and if I resign from this job I can't guarantee that we'll have enough to eat. I hope you understand"

His father was working at a car wash at the moment. The last worker got to another country and they were in serious need of a new one. It wasn't very well paid and if they had to pay rent they would have starved to death long ago. But luckily for them, the house they're inhabiting was a vacation house landed by one of his paternal's friends.

Virgil felt selfish for even thinking of moving out. His father was already having a hard time because of him, he shouldn't have been difficult like that.

"Your right. Sorry..." The boy mumble in a pillow

His parent put a hand on the head of the disgruntled boy and drew small circles in his hair like he always did when Vigile was close to getting a panic attack. It never failed to comfort him and right now he couldn't be more thank full to have his father.

"Virgil, the Director wants you in his office."

Wow. The day was starting GREAT...

Virgil was getting back to school after a day of break to recover mentally and the first thing the teacher said when entering the classroom was that.

Virgil stood up and walked out of the room between his classmate's whispers and a few encouraging words from the boys of his classes. "I'm sure it's not bad", "You got this man". It was a little comforting but it still felt like a walk of shame.

Once out of the classroom the confused boy got through the corridors running everything bad that could happen in his head. He was totally going to get fired, he didn't know for what but he surely did something, or else he wouldn't be called to the director's office.

Finally, the high school boy stopped in front of the office's door.

He was supposed to knock now. But he was way too afraid to do so. Maybe he could wait a few more minutes?

Wasn't it going to make his anxiety even worst?

What if someone passed by and saw him standing in front of the director's office like that and call him a weirdo.

In the end, he didn't have to open the door at all since someone else opened it from the inside.

"Dam girl, how long you've been planning to stand there? Some b*ches have things to do you know ?"

The man looked down on Virgil through his sunglasses, hiding his facial expression. It was hard to know if he was really mad or just joking so Virgil got straight to the worst conclusion and decided he was mad at him.

Virgil looked at the ground and got quickly into the office to not make him wait any longer.In the office was another man sitting at the desk.

Wait that's the director? Virgil was only in the school for a few months and he didn't have a really good facial memory.

If the other guy was not the director who is he?

How did he know Virgil would come?

He apparently took too much time thinking because the man with the sunglasses interrupted his thoughts once more.

"Just put your ass down girl, we'll explain everything to you"

Virgil did as asked and took a seat in front of the director. The man took off his leather jacket and sat next to him.

The director started to talk.

"My apologies for taking you out of your class without warning but we heard from your classmate what happened at your gym classes. Are you ok ?"

Virgil quickly nodded back.

"Good. The reason why I called you here is my friend, Remy, here is interested in the swimming abilities you shown. And would like to see if you're interested in a school where you're abilities could be exploited at their full potential.

 The range of sports activities in a small-town's high school is limited and keeping you here would be a waste of potential.

 Of course, if you wished to stay at this school it's ok. I'm just asking you to think about it."

 The director stopped. Letting Virgil take it all in.

Abilities? Potential? Changing school? What were they talking about? Were they trying to get rid of him? Was the situation at the pool really this bad to try to get rid of him? Is that new school a youth detention center? He didn't do anything bad! He doesn't want to go to jail!

"Hey edge lord, you're there?" The voice next to him asked.

Virgil barely moved. His panic was starting to take over. The comment passed through the fog of his brain like a far-away figure.

"Yeah, you got too hard on him gurl. Could you get me a coffee while I take care of that, sweety?"

"Please, Remy. A thought we agreed to stop with the nicknames, could you hold still in front of the kids at least?"

"Yeah yeah sure."

The voice dismissed the other person. A shadow stood up and walked away. The sound of a closing door and the silence.

Virgil's anxious thoughts tried to come back-

"Hey kid"

but they got cut immediately.

"I don't know where you think I'm trying to take you to but no matter what it is, it's wrong."Sayed the fare away voice.

"We've been looking for you for a while now. You're moving a lot you know ?"

How did he think it would calm him in any way!

The fog of his mind got blown away by the sudden choc. He was now hyper-aware of everything around him.

"Do you know why we were looking for you?"

The panicked boy shook his head violently. He didn't dare to get his eyes off his knees although he really wanted to see the men's facial expression.

"No wonder. Let's get it out of the way. You're a half siren."

Virgil's head shoots up. He couldn't help but send the adult next to him a very unconvinced look.

What? siren? Did that guy hit his head or something?

"Yeah yeah, I get that look 3 times a day. That's the truth honey, just deal with it."

Virgil had so many sassy thing to answers to that but he couldn't. The man was already weird if he started acting like his classmate Virgil would never get rid of him.

"I know you want to say something just say it girl. I know you're not mute"

Virgil kept staring at the insane men like he could make him go away by sheer willpower.

"Let me guess, you're afraid of talking because you're afraid of charming me by accident, right? Is that why you wear this stupid face mask and hood?  Cause if that's to look cool it would be very sad, sweety."

Remy completed his sentence with a little smirk. Was he making fun of him?

Did he look this stupid with a face mask?

"Do you really think it's a normal thing for a human to make everyone fall in love with you just like that? To know how to swim naturally? To breath underwater? Come on gurl try and use your brain for a sec would ya?"

It did sound weird, phrased like that but there was probably a logical reason. Sirens didn't exist.

The man took a bottle full of a purple liquid out of his pocket and drunk out of it.

"Burk! This thing tastes horrible. Ok, kid, I need to test something. Could you say something? No fret, I'm not going to go crazy over you."

He took his hands up in a surrender gesture. He seems way too calm for all of this, it was like he was actually used to it all.

But how was drinking juice going to change anything? Virgil was confused. He looked at him stubbornly for a few minutes but the man didn't move an inch. He was waiting for Virgil to say something and he wasn't going to budge before he did.

Where was the director!

"I'm not a siren."

 That was all Virgil managed to say.

The men looked at him for a few seconds. before laughing and taking another sip of the liquid.

"You're good, I will give you that gurl. But that's the thing, you're not a siren. Just a half siren.

 You have no control over your powers. If we let you roam around like that you're going to charm the entirety of the human populace.

 That's why we're going to get you to this new school. To teach you how to contrôle your abilities. Got it, sweety?"

No change of attitude? Virgil was starting to wonder if he was saying the truth after all.

"No..."

Because it didn't make any sense. He was normal right? His dad always told him he was normal. He was just popular, it was normal in movies to be this popular.

At that moment the door of the office opened. And the director came in with a coffee in each hand.

He sat down sighing and gave a coffee cup to Remy.

"My apologies for the time. A few teachers needed my help urgently. So, feeling better young men?"

Virgil nodded. Remy put the bottle of purple liquid back in his pocket.

"Hi gurl, I gave him the speech about the sports clubs at school and all. Do you have the brochure I gave you ?"

Director sent him a murderous look at the nickname but didn't say a thing.

While the director was looking through his pockets, Remy gave Virgil a folded paper.

"There it is" Sayed the director before giving a brochure to Virgil. It's a very good school you should think about it"

Virgil had now two folded papers in his hands but the director didn't notice from behind the desk.

Remy pointed at the brochure the director gave him. Still hidden from the director.

"Don't forget to talk about it with parents about the school, kid. Just in case they say yes, you know."

Then he pointed to the paper he gave Virgil.

"And go visit, it's open all weak. But only for students, not the parents.

 If it's too far from your home I'll get you a ride, my number's already on it. And no giving my number, I know I'm hot but unfortunately for all the babes out there I'm already married.

Seriously tho, check it out. I'm sure it would change your mind.

And if you don't, I can still just kidnap you"

He laughed and took a long sip of coffee.

Was he serious about the kidnapping?

The director was starting to look frustrated by this reunion and put an end to it.

"Remy, please avoid those types of jocks, in serious discussion in the future. Virgil, you can go back to class. Don't forget to warn us if you choose to change school."

"haha sorry, honey! It was just a joke"

The man with the sunglass answered in a laugh.

But while Virgil was walking out of the office, could feel his look piercing through the sunglasses.

Virgil turned around one last time before closing the door. 

Remy was sitting in the chair like he owns the place, a big smile hidden behind his coffee cup. Virgil could swear he saw his eyes glow behind the shades.

He was not joking.

***<>===========<>**

There the chapter 2 of that AU. God I made 2 chapters and posted them it’s a record for me ! (>w<)

@moments-of-selves @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  I think you two where waiting for the next part ? I hope it’s ok to @ you ? 

[thelastspeecher]

Best Revenge

Figured I’d name this ficlet with the AU name that I decided upon earlier today and am very proud of.  This ficlet is a follow-up to the previous ficlet in this variation of my Superhero/villain AU, which you can read here.  Be prepared for some more reasons to hate Angie’s ex-husband.  Enjoy.

——————————————————————————————

              Max took a deep breath.  He got out of his car and slowly walked up to Lute’s house.

              Well, it’s Angie’s now, too.  After all, she moved in.  He knocked on the door.

              “Just a sec!” Lute’s voice called.  Max stifled a groan.  He’d been hoping that Angie would answer it.  Lute had hated his guts for years now and, since the divorce had happened, didn’t bother hiding it.

              Not like he hid it much ‘fore the divorce… The door opened.  Lute’s kind face promptly warped into annoyance.  He leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms.

              “An’ what exactly do ya want?” Lute asked snidely.

              “I just…I just want to talk to Angie.”

              “Hell, no.”

              “C’mon, Lute, we were friends fer years!” Max begged. Lute shook his head.  “I haven’t even seen her since she filed the papers.”

              “That’s fer a reason, Buster Brown.  She don’t want to see ya.”

              “I-”

              “Unless yer here to drop somethin’ off or pick somethin’ up, get back in yer car and leave,” Lute snapped.  Max straightened.

              “No.”

              “If I have to make ya leave, I will,” Lute said. Max couldn’t help the laugh that escaped.  “What?”

              “Lute, yer the most athletic of yer fam’ly, but that don’t mean much.  I know fer a fact that you wouldn’t stand a chance against me.”

              “Maybe not against his skinny little ass,” a voice said.  A strange man appeared in the doorway.  “But you’d have a hard time taking me out.”  The man smirked at Max.

              Shit.  He’s right.  The stranger was much bigger and bulkier than Lute, even more than Max.  No, calm down.  He could only take ya down if he’s a super.  And he could easily be a normie.

              “Oh, I should prob’ly introduce the two of ya,” Lute drawled lazily.  “Stan, this is Angie’s ex-husband, Max.  Max, this is Stan.”

              “Lemme guess.  He’s yer new boyfriend?” Max asked.

              “Nope.  Angie’s,” Lute said.  Max’s jaw dropped.  “Yeah, she fin’ly found someone who was more her league.”

              “She’s- she’s already moved on?” Max whispered.

              “Yeah.”  Stan looked at Max with pity.  “Honestly, man, it’d be best if you moved on, too.”

              “I-”  Max clenched his jaw.  “No.”

              “No?  Fine, fuck up your life, I don’t care,” Stan said with a shrug.  He turned around.  A rock flew into Max’s hand.  Max growled softly and threw the rock directly at Stan’s back.  With unnervingly fast reflexes, Lute caught it before it could hit.

              “All right, that’s it,” Lute snarled.  “Get off my property.”  Without waiting for a response, Lute shoved Max off the doorstep. Max lost his balance, falling to the ground.  He threw up a hand.  A chunk of rock erupted from the ground, forming a barrier between Max and Lute. “What the-”

              Dammit!  I shouldn’t have revealed that I’m a super.  Max got to his feet.  Better get out of here ‘fore-

              “I don’t think your ex-wife would appreciate how you messed up her garden,” Stan whispered from behind him.  Max slowly turned.  Stan jabbed at Max’s chest.  Max let out a gasp of pain.  The poke felt red-hot.  “Fix it, then get outta here.”  Max waved a hand.  The chunk of rock retreated into the earth.  “Good.  Now, leave, before Lute and I decide to pull that same trick and use our powers to intimidate you.”  Stan’s hair was smoking.  Between that and how it felt like Stan’s touch had burned him, Max could tell what Angie’s new boyfriend’s power was.

              He’s a pyro.  Of course he is.  Pyros suck.  Max’s own archnemesis, Flamethrower, was a pyro.  His mind suddenly registered what Stan had said.

              “Wait, Lute is-”  Max looked over at Lute.

              “No shit he is,” Stan scoffed.  “You know Angie is.  Did you really think her twin would be a normie?”

              “I-”

              “You’re fighting outside your weight class,” Stan said, talking over Max.  “Go home.” Max clenched his hands into fists. Something flew overhead.  Max looked up.

              “Was that-”

              “Yeah.  It was Angie. You were picking a fight to see someone who wasn’t even home,” Stan said shortly.  Max’s fury was wiped away.  His head hanging low, he walked to his car and got inside.

-----

              Stan watched Max drive away.  Lute came over.

              “He’s geokinetic,” Lute commented.

              “Yep.  And there’s only one geokinetic hero in this area.  Richter.”  Stan grinned. “Wanna team up against him next time we see him in his mask?”

              “Of course.”

              “What are you boys doin’ in the front yard starin’ at the street?” Angie asked.  Stan and Lute turned.  Like usual, she had landed in the backyard, then entered the house through the back door. Now, she stood in the front door, looking at them curiously.

              “Oh, nothin’,” Lute said.  “Just people watchin’.”

              “Hmm.”  Angie crossed her arms.  “Don’t know if I believe that, but whatever.”  Lute and Stan went inside, Stan kissing the top of Angie’s head on the way.

              “Coming in?” Stan asked.

              “Nah, I’ve got to weed the bluebells,” Angie said. “I’ll come in when I’m done.” Just as Stan closed the door behind him, leaving Angie on the doorstep, there was a shout.  “What happened to my garden?!”

-----

              It took a week before Lute and Stan had the opportunity to come face-to-face with Richter, aka Angie’s ex-husband.  He showed up at the outskirts of town, trying to stop them from a basic robbery.  Stan assumed it took so long because Richter was supposedly taking some personal time off.  He raised an eyebrow as he looked at Max.

              He shoulda spent a few more days on vacation. Even behind Max’s mask, his eyes were red and swollen.  Damn, he’s really head over heels for Angie, isn’t he?  Stan actually started to feel a bit bad, before reminding himself of what Max had put Angie through.  No, he doesn’t need your sympathy.  He kept trying to force Angie to have kids and quit her job.

              “You seem a bit under the weather, Richter,” Stan taunted, easily catching the rock that had been halfheartedly thrown at him. “Maybe you shoulda stayed home.”

              “Stayed home and had yourself some tasty chicken soup,” Lute added.  He hit Max over the head with a whip of water.  “I don’t really want to catch whatever bug you’ve got.”

              “I’m not sick,” Max said in a choked up voice. “I’m just- I’m going through some stuff right now.”

              “If you really were going through stuff, you wouldn’t be here, completely failing at beating us,” Lute said.  Max growled.  The ground Lute was standing on erupted, sending him flying.  “Son of a-” Lute shouted as he faded into the distance.

              “I was a fool to think villains might go easier on me when I’m in crisis,” Max spat.  “Only someone with a shred of humanity would care about my life falling apart.”  Stan snorted.

              “Sure, we’re the ones who don’t have any humanity,” he said.  “We’re not the ones controlling our significant others.”  Max froze.  He stared at Stan in horror.

              “What do you-”

              “I’ve made a lotta bad decisions,” Stan continued, ignoring Max.  “But not once have I tried to use a baby to trap the person I’m dating.”  Max clenched his hands into fists.

              “That’s not what happened!  I wouldn’t- I wasn’t-”  Max ground his teeth.  “You know who I am and why I’m a mess.”

              “Sure do.”

              “How?”  Max’s eyes narrowed.  “Angie.”  Stan marched up to Max and grabbed him by the collar. 

              “Don’t ever blame her, you piece of shit.  She’s a good person.  Too good for you.  I asked, but she wouldn’t say anything.”

              “Then how-”

              “You snitched, genius, when you used your power in front of me.”  Max’s eyes widened.

              “Yer her new boyfriend,” he whispered, no longer hiding his southern accent.

              “And circle gets the square,” Stan said coldly, letting go of Max.  Max brushed off his costume, glaring at Stan.

              “Was this some sort of scheme to get back at me?” Max demanded.  “Did ya seduce my wife to get her to divorce me?”

              “What?  That’s fucked up!  No!  I was in the right place at the right time to comfort her after you pissed her off.  Like I said, I didn’t know your secret identity until you had the fantastic idea to use your power in front of me.”

              “Hmph.”  Max crossed his arms.  “I can’t believe Angie would date a villain.”

              “You’d be surprised by what Angie would do when she’s not under someone’s thumb.”

              “She wasn’t- she-”

              “You tried to chain her to you with a kid!” Stan snapped.  Max snarled.

              “I did no such thing!  I just thought that we should get to havin’ kids quickly.”

              “Because then she wouldn’t be able to leave you.”

              “No, ‘cause then she would be more open to takin’ in Junior!” Max shouted.  Stan frowned.

              “Junior?”  His eyes widened.  He grabbed fistfuls of the front of Max’s costume and pulled him close.  “Buddy, are you saying what I think you’re saying? Are you- are you saying you already have a kid?”  Max paled. “How the hell would you have a kid, if you and Angie have been dating since high school?  Huh?”

              “Let me go,” Max whispered.

              “No.  Tell me. Tell me you cheated on Angie,” Stan snarled.  Loose dirt flew up, blinding him.  He let go of Max to rub the grit out of his eyes.  To his surprise, when his vision was cleared, Max was still there.  “You shoulda left when you could,” Stan said. His hands burst into flames.  Max stood his ground.

              “If you say a word to Angie, I’ll tell everyone who ya really are,” he said calmly.

              “What makes you think I won’t spread your secret identity to all my coworkers?” Stan demanded.

              “If you did, Angie would never forgive ya,” Max replied.  Stan ground his teeth.

              Dammit.  He’s right.  It doesn’t matter how justified it would be.  She wouldn’t tolerate me snitching like that.

              “Fine,” Stan spat.  “I won’t tell Angie.”  Max nodded. “Leave, before I beat your ass into the dirt.”  Max smirked, then turned around and slowly walked away.  By the time Lute had finally rejoined Stan, the hero was long gone. “Took you a while.”

              “Unlike some folks, I can’t fly,” Lute said.  He brushed dirt off his costume.  “So, what happened?”

              “The guy’s even more of a douche than we thought.”

              “Really?  Why?” Lute asked.  Stan groaned.

              “I can’t tell you.  If I do, he’ll leak my secret identity.”

              “Wh- ya really showed yer hand, huh?” Lute said, putting his hands on his hips.

              “I wanted him to know who was kicking his ass and why.”

              “Still…”  Lute sighed. “So much fer the big revenge plan.”

              “Yeah…hang on.”

              “What?” Lute asked.  Stan grinned.

              “I promised I wouldn’t tell Angie.  I didn’t say anything about not telling you,” he said. Lute’s eyes widened.  “Who knows, maybe what I told you somehow reaches Angie. After all, you didn’t promise not to tell her.”  Lute grinned as well.  “Then she can kick his ass.”

              “Look, Stan, I agree that Angie should be the one to handle him, but it took this long fer her to just divorce him.  What makes ya think she’ll go after Max?”

              “He cheated on her and had a kid with some other woman,” Stan said flatly.  Lute opened and closed his mouth a few times.  After a moment, he nodded.

              “Yeah.  I think that might be enough fer her to finally kick his ass like she should.”

[addictedtomanga]

Shoujo manga recommendations - living together/neighbors

1.      Konyakusei 

Sachi Hanaoka has just lost her parents to a traffic accident and her fear of living alone becomes reality. To add on to her troubles, Kouichi Saonji, the young landlord of her apartment, approaches her and requests that she prepare to vacate since she is now be unable to pay rent. Alternatively, Kouichi proposes a solution: he and Sachi will get married and she will act as his caretaker. Not only will her expenses be covered, but it would also serve as a method to quell his family's nagging for him to find a wife. Despite the lack of genuine feelings between them, Sachi finds herself drawn to Kouichi and accepts his offer. But will the newly wed couple be able to fall in love, or will they remain strangers forever?

2.      Sugar Family 

Since Yuuka's mother died at an early age, Yuuka turned out to be the one taking care of her child-like father. Right before high school started, Yuuka's dad announced his remarriage with Satou Masami. Masami-san turned out to be a reliable, responsible person, so Yuuka finally thought she's off the hook. That is, until she finds out about her new older brother...

3.      Kyou mo Uchi de Machi Awase

After a fire, a middle-aged man meets a homeless single mother and her son at the convenience store. He is instantly reminded of someone he used to know over a decade ago. Could it be...?

4.      Kyoudai Gokko 

Growing up, Rio Takara has always wanted siblings. So when her parents decide to move overseas without her and tells her she will be living with two people around her age, she's cautiously optimistic. But they turn out to be brothers who fight like cats and dogs. Is this what having siblings is like?

5.      Kamiki Kyoudai Okotowari

Iroha was raised by her single mother, but when her mother remarries, they move in with her step-father and his 3 sons. To Iroha, this will be the first time she's living with men. What will happen to Iroha's new life!?

6.      Monokuro Shounen Shoujo 

Kureha Mimachi, a 15-year-old girl, has just transferred into Shiritsu Kenhono High School. However, there is something weird about this school, it is actually a school where the Princes and Princesses of the beast-kind go to...?! Even though Kureha is human, she is there as a way to help the students their lives peacefully with humans and has the role as the "rabbit". Will she be able survive without being eaten by the students...?!

7.      Mademoiselle Butterfly 

Our heroine is a girl who lives as a geisha in Japan. She has a male childhood friend who's always been kind to her and is her favorite. He's a painter, only he paints on human body parts, and she loves it when he paints beautiful butterflies on her arms. She goes to visit him one day and finds a naked woman lying in his room. Immediately after, she gets a customer who's rich and very interested in her. The thought of being away from her friend pains her, but is everything really too late?

8.      Mayonaka Lolita 

After she took some medicines, Michiryuu became suddenly a little girl. People used to say that she was really perfect. That's why she wants to came back to normal quickly. But the only condition if she wants that happen is to find "a personn she'll love". But that's completely impossible for her! So what will happen to Michiryuu...?

9.      Mayonaka ni Kiss 

Natori Nono is a very tough school-girl, she lives with her widowed mother Ayame and her younger brother Takumi in a very small apartment, where she does all the chores. Her boyfriend wants money from her, because he's really poor, too. But one day, Nono discovers that her mother remarried! She married Ichijou Hayato, the owner of the 'Ichijou Group'. Now, Nono lives there (in unaccustomed riches) with her mother, her brother, her stepfather AND her new stepbrother: Ichijou Kasuomi (his father calls him Omi-kun)!!! At first, Nono thinks Kasuomi is not nice. But what will happen next?

10.  Harem Lodge 

Midori lost her mother when she was young and now her father's gone too. But her dad left her with a surprise: a fiancé named Tetsuya. So now, Midori has to live in a good-looking men only apartment (Harem Lodge), which is actually filled with weirdos. What is going to happen to her? Well we just have to wait and see...

11.  Hyakujuu no ou ni Tsugu!

This is the liberated area where you listen to girls will, a girls high school! in this class, there's a king. Me, Yuka! My friends are counting on me and boys are afraid of me! But that kind of paradise will suddenly break up by a thirty-year old man!! dates will take place in golf areas and kisses will have the taste of smoke...

12.  Last Notes 

Haru and Aki are the masters of the branch store - an old-looking and very unusual shop. It sells only one thing: a special kind of incense that, when burned, allows the user to see and speak with the spirit of the dead person that appears in the smoke. Every customer has a different reason for calling up the dead, and how they use this unusual opportunity is up to them...

13.  Hapira Hajimaru 

Asai Sachi's luck has always been considered dreadful. After becoming the class president, she meets Kurono Hyougo, a guy with a frightful face who bears various gruesome rumours behind his back. Hyougo had been living alone in an apartment; but when Sachi mistakenly reveals that Hyougo is a minor, he had to be kicked out. Fortunately, Sachi's father is a realtor, and suggested to have Hyougo live in their unused detached house. Would Sachi's bad luck turn upside down upon meeting Hyougo?

14.  Hana o Meshimase

After Shion's mother passed away, she was left with her father who loves to gamble and evade his responsibilities as a father. Due to that continuous pattern, Shion moves in to live as a live-in employee with 25-years-old florist Shun Mamyuuda. As she begins to learn the value of flowers and life, will she also find her place in love?

15.  Good Morning Call 

Nao Yoshikawa stays behind to live by herself when her parents leave to inherit her grandpa's farm in the country. On the day she moves into her new apartment she soon discovers that it was rented also to Hisashi Uehara—a cute, super-cool and popular guy from her school. Not only did their housing agency unexpectedly close down, the landlord of the apartment tells them that they had to pay more for their apartment then they had expected. With both no money and no home to return to, Nao and Hisashi decide to live together as flatmates.

16.  Nanako Robin 

Yoshino Nako has a saying. "If I'm happy, I can do anything!" In her sister's place, Nako-chan steals the groom of an arranged (political) marriage and helps them elope. But when the Hayami group starts failing, she must pay the consequence by housing the delinquent brother...

17.  Momo Raba 

Chieri (Cherry) was living an ordinary life, until her sister Ichigo (Strawberry) suddenly left her child Momo (Peach) on Chieri's doorstep. Momo is an infant; how is Chieri supposed to take care of a baby while still in high school!? To make matters even more frustrating, two guys are fighting for Chieri's love...!

18.  Men’s Life 

Mio's life is changed in a big way due to an encounter with Rin, an upperclassman who is one-year-older, and...!?

19.  Tonari wa Nani o Kuu Hito zo 

Inaba Suzuna is trying her best to make a campus debut and to have many friends in Tokyo. Until she realized that she miserably fails at living alone. Fortunately, her neighbor, Seto, comes and saves her from dying of starvation. Bright campus life is still far away for Suzuna, but at least, she has a very dependable neighbor!

20.  Yumemiru Taiyou

While loitering in the park, Shimana Kameko, who intended to run away from home and skip school, meets a suspicious man in a kimono. This man, who had been locked out of his house, offers Shimana a place to stay. However, he requests she fulfill three conditions in exchange for her tenancy!?

21.  Taiyou no Ie 

After her mother abandoned her and her father remarried, high schooler Mao Motomiya is left feeling like she doesn't have a place where she belongs. One night, her childhood friend Hiro Nakamura finds her in a shrine eating cheap convenience store food and offers to take her to a restaurant. Their subsequent heart to heart leads to Hiro suggesting that Mao move in with him. To Hiro who has lived apart from his younger siblings all these years after their parents passed away, bringing his family back together in the once-lively Nakamura home begins with the first step of giving Mao a loving place to belong. When Mao reluctantly accepts his invitation, she is surprised at how easy it is to settle in with her longtime friend. Now she must deal not only with mending her relationship with her father and helping the oldest Nakamura brother attain his goal, but also her growing feelings for Hiro.

22.  Tsubaki-chou Lonely Planet 

Oono Fumi is a poor second year high school student. Because of her father's debts, she's kicked out of her own home and has to rely on her own connections to survive. Thus begins her life as a live-in housekeeper for a reclusive writer...

23.  Faster than a kiss

Losing their parents, Fumino and her brother hop from one relative to another. Getting tired of all those movings, she finally decides to quit school and work to support her brother on her own. As they sat on a park bench, her teacher appears in front of her and agrees to her demanding of marrying and supporting both her and her brother!! Is he serious or just playing around...!?

24.  Kiss/Hug 

Ryuu, a super-business-like transfer student from England with black hair and blue eyes just arrived! During the night of the Tanabata festival, Ryuu and Yukino became attracted to each other at first sight. He then declares, "You will be mine!" This brought confusion to Yukino, who has zero experience in love. But could she actually be falling in love?

25.  Kanna to Decchi 

Our heroine Kanna is the daughter of the famous builder in town. One day a boy with a hammer appears to train under Kanna's father?! The heart pounding love story of a handsome apprentice carpenter.

26.  Sabaku no Harem 

Mishe a strong willed girl raised from poverty has caught Prince Kallum's attention. Attention as in, "you will become one of my concubines," thus begins Mishe's adventures into Prince Kallum's world.

[cosmiclatte28]

Memories (Yuta x you)

Today is not a good day, my phone fell into a toilet bowl and we're on a road trip. I just got the chance to put it in rice and the screen won't budge when I touch. Hopefully everything will go well by tomorrow or Tuesday.

Anyways here is a new fanfiction for you all and for my broken heart :”)

enjoy! ps this is 95% real life story, this happened between me and my friend. but we got no string attached :-)

It was a blessing at first when the substitute teacher came in and announced that class was cancelled and we were allowed to just study anything by ourselves as long as we keep the room quiet. Half of the class were called for a laboratories class for practical exam practice. You are one of the second half of the class that won the privilege of not studying, you were so excited at first, not until you sit down with a question for one hour.

 Finally you have a time to rest in school, since the national exam test is coming closer and you along with your friends were twisting brains to memorize everything and make tons of practice quizzes.

There were only six or seven students in the class, one of them was your best guy friend ever since you two met in first year of senior high school. Now you were ready to graduate after passing the examination of course, and you did not realize it has been a long three years of sweet friendship with Yuta.

Nakamoto Yuta is a new student from Japan who caught your attention since the first day of orientation day, and you cannot lie that you were afraid of him at first. Probably because his Instagram feeds are nice and aesthetic; however, that was totally wrong. Yuta is a warm guy with a really funny humorous side when you know him. He happens to be one of your closest guy friends and he has a special space in your heart.

No, you did not see him as a man you want to be in a relationship with, you are so happy with the friendship bond now. Both of you like each other's joke and you just click with him. He never forgets you whenever he went for holidays, he always come back to school with a lot of special souvenirs for you. Since then, you've been giving him souvenirs too and that becomes the small vacation routine between you two.

Today you are stuck in the room with Yuta and your other friends. Just that a lot of them are sleeping and you did not want to sleep. You tried to busy yourself by studying and solving questions, but seeing Yuta just enjoying his free times makes you want to slack back and relax too. Well, Yuta is not like you in terms of academic focus. He did not study as hard as you, and usually even piggy backs you for projects. He loves modeling and dancing that he spent more of his time and effort there, though you have to admit that is cool of him to break the stereotype that man can model too.

Yuta glances from his sleeping position, between you and him were three tables. Three of your main squad sit there and were all away somehow. Yuta is sitting on the other end and stares at you.

"Study Yuta, you need to pass the exam. I can't help you. I am taking Chemistry and you are taking Biology. I cannot help you." you pause from trying to solve a long question.

Yuta shakes his head, "The exam won't determine my future. I'll graduate since my school report is nice. Chill."

You shrug your shoulder, "Well, Winwin is also taking Biology test, why don't you ask him for some study group time?"

Yuta just flips his hair and winks at you, "I have better things to do. Relax a bit please (y/n), you can do this why bother stressing yourself out?"

You want to hit him, but the school doesn't allow violence and you were raised to be a gentle girl.

At last the stress hits you and you stand up from your chair. Some eyes were watching you as you make your way to the big white board and uncap the marker. You slowly draw there and although you cannot draw, your feelings are moving your hands and you were covering the board with scribbles.

Your mind was like a pile of unsolved tangled strings and you were trying to straighten them out, but nothing seems to lead to an end. Maybe it's the pressure from your small heart saying you need to learn more for the exam because you are still unable to do it.

You scribble your thoughts into the white board and it is no longer clear, slowly the dark shadows of curls are covering the lower side of the box and you jolt in surprise when you feel someone tugs your hair into the back of your ear lobe and force an airpods into your ear.

"Hey!" you scream from the surprise and when you toss your head to see who is doing this, Yuta is standing there beside you with his secretive face.

"What?" you bring your hand to stop him from forcing a metal into your ear.

The other students are not paying attention to the two of you, for them you and Yuta were already so close to the point where people ask if you were dating him.

"Put it on quick." he whispers while glancing to the door, checking if there is any teacher walking by, because the rules here are strict about touching others.

You laugh thinking that why did he give you a piece of a Bluetooth ear phone if none of you have a phone right now. "What you want me to use this?" you grab the ear piece and he nods his head.

"There's no song here, we don't have a phone." you punch him.

He just ignores you and suddenly your ear hears the familiar catchy opening song of EXO-OBSESSION.

"I want you I want you want you." resonates in your ear and that did not fail to bring a smile on your face.

Yuta just smiles when he sees you already grooving into the intro and asking him to pump up the volume a little bit.

He puts his hand into his pocket and the song turns louder inside your ear.

"How?" you ask with a big surprised face, this song really brings your mood back.

He taps his pocket, "Shhh it's our secret."

You pull out a thumb to him and he calmly brings his hand to put down the strands of hair behind your ear to cover your ear.

"Cover them, make sure no one sees." he still steal glances to the door.

You nod your head, "Of course! You should've done this sooner. Hey can I have the eve by EXO next?"

he shakes his head, "I don't think you were going to violate the rules."

You shrug your shoulder, "Well if things go wrong, you were the one who got your phone confiscated, I don't."

Yuta's eyes widen and he playfully hands out his palm, "Return the earphone."

and you totally whine and pout in front of him, "Don't."

He smiles and just ruffles your hair, "Cutie."

You shudder, "Cheesy eew!"

The feelings you have to him remain unchanged, it's already super comfortable to have him as your best friend and he too clearly has crush on another girls. Whatever happens, you just wish nothing can break your bond with him. Nothing big and nothing small. Yuta will forever be your best friend and so will he.

Yuta just stands there beside you, his right hand takes the marker away from you and with his artistic skills he draw images of funny characters on the board. It's no longer dull and gloom, but filled with cute doodles.

"Thanks for the song and mood booster, but break is coming soon" you hand him back the ear piece and he quickly keeps his belongings in his bag.

"No problem" was all he said.

You sit back down on your chair, cheeks a bit red from realizing what he did might make someone blush deeply but not for you. Your mind plays back all the small attention he gave to you in the past three years.

"Hey (y/n), I am goin downstairs, what do you want?" he asks one day before leaving the class.

You check your bottle, "Water please. Let me take my wallet," you were about to walk to your chair, but he was faster "No need I'll go now. Just one right?" and zoomed he go.

"(y/n), I heard that Starbucks has a new card collection, maybe you want to buy them quickly before it ran out."

"(y/n)! Can I be in your team?"

"(y/n), I brought your favorite snacks."

He was so sweet, even when he did not mean to be sweet. He just knew how to cheer you up with the simplest thing and he knew you well.

"(y/n) I've used up all the soap you gave to me last holiday," he winks and you burst into a laugh. "You're sending me code to buy you a new one right?" and he just shows you his gummy smile and nods fiercely.

"(y/n) happy valentines!" he said and gave you a special unicorn shaped chocolate. You were surprised, your squad were confused, the class was wondering who gave you a big chocolate, but in the end you and Yuta keep the tie only up to best friend.

You cannot forget how surprised you were to receive the special unicorn chocolate, but that was the first and last special valentine gift you had from him. The next time he gave all his girl friends the same chocolate gifts, but you... you once won a special unicorn chocolate.

end.

i hope my phone can get back to normal real soon 😭😭😭

[inkrabbit]

Sucker - Pete x Vance

 Sitting on his bed, yearbook resting in his lap, Pete stares at the signatures from the greasers. Summer break had started a few weeks ago, and while some students had gone back home or were on vacation outside of Bullworth, he had been trapped in his dorm. Sure, he went out occasionally to walk around town, see what was new at the cinema or get some fast food, but that was it. Even Jimmy had been too preoccupied to hang out with him, which wasn’t too much of a surprise. Sure, he had hoped maybe he could hang out with his best (and pretty much only) friend over the summer before the ginger went home, but when he found the dorm room closed and texts explaining he was working those odd jobs for extra cash, all those expectations had flew right out the window. Pete was used to being alone, sure, but this felt worse. Having finally made a friend and then to just be… forgotten.

 So here he was, feeling sorry for himself and wondering if he could ease it by taking Vance up on his old offer. Join the greasers at the tenements, hang out and forget – just for a moment – that he was a loser. But the phone number seemed so intimidating, and as Pete grabbed his phone, he found it hard to do anything. To power it on, input his password and create a new text message. What would he say? “Hey Vance, I’m feeling lonely and wanna hang out”? Did that sound too desperate – too emotionless? Should he ask him how he was doing and hope he would be invited to hang out? He didn’t know how Jimmy did it. He had seen his friend start up a conversation out of nowhere. Even whenever he would text Pete, it would sometimes just be a simple “wanna hang out?” message that seemed so nonchalant. Is that what he should send?

 His phone’s ringtone going off scares him, making him jump as he looks down at the caller ID. It’s a familiar phone number, and it’s only familiar because he’s spent the past hour or so staring at it in his yearbook. With a deep inhale, he accepts the call, holding his phone up to his ear.

“Hey, Vance! What’s up?” he greets, trying to sound confident as he closes the book, slipping it into his nightstand’s drawer.

“How’s it hangin’, big daddy?” What did he call him? Pete sits there, brows knitted together and mouth agape as the name replays over and over in his head. “You got my number memorized, huh? Now why’s that?”

“Ah, I was just gonna text you, actually,” he confesses, “Why do you have my number? I don’t remember giving it to you.”

“Jimmy gave it to me,” He can almost see the greaser shrug, his reply coming like it was the simplest thing in the world. “Now then, what were ya gonna text me?”

“Uh I guess – uh…” He’s stuck now, mind drawing a blank. He can hear Vance on the other side, an interested mhmm coming through loud and clear, curious to hear his reply. “I wanted to know if you wanted to hang out?”

 There’s silence on the other end for a bit, and now he’s worried that was the wrong thing to say. He should’ve asked how he was doing instead, cursing himself for blurting out the first thing that came to mind. However, he starts to hear shuffling, and he can faintly make out someone else in the background, but not one he recognizes from the academy.

“If you don’t shut your mouth – not you, Petey – I’m gonna shut it for you!” Vance’s booming voice makes him jump, the sound of a door slamming shut at the end of his threat, as if proving a point. With a sigh of relief, he starts again in a calmer tone. “Now, what was that? Hangin’ out? Sure!”

“Ah, are you okay?” he asks, “Who was that?”

“Oh, ya mean the yellin’?” he chuckles, the shuffling continuing on the other side of the call. “Sorry ‘bout all that. Sergio’s a bit of a prick sometimes.”

“Sergio?” Vance lets out a breath that sounds like a mixture of a scoff and a chuckle.

“Older bro,” he tells him softly, and that airy, jokey tone has vanished. “Likes to butt into my life a lot. Annoyin’, but that’s why I stay away from home so much.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you were home…” He should’ve guessed. Vance wasn’t one of the quiet kids at Bullworth. He was probably busy for the summer, either being home or with friends.

“Nah, I need a break,” Pete can only guess he hears a window creaking open, and a few seconds later, Vance is letting out a huff. “You still at school? I’ll come swing by, pick you up. We can do whatever.”

“Really?” He tries to keep his cool and not sound like some desperate dweeb, but with the soft chuckle he gets, he knows he failed.

“Really. ‘Sides, I told ya to hit me up whenever. That’s why I gave you my number!” The comment makes him smile and Pete makes sure to let his appreciation be known. With a soft goodbye, he lets himself relax. A smile is plastered on his face and for a moment he wonders why Jimmy had given Vance his number. Whatever the reason, he doesn’t dwell on it too long. He knew Vance lived somewhere in New Coventry and he didn’t have long to get dressed.

 Setting his phone on the nightstand, he hops up from his bed and walks over to his wardrobe. He keeps it casual, knowing Vance wasn’t exactly someone who critiqued people’s fashion too harshly. The first thing he grabs is the old band shirt Jimmy had left when he spent the night months earlier. It’s simple enough, a white Billy Talent shirt with a little design, “like a fire!” right below it. It’s a little baggy and the material isn’t the thickest, but it’s something and truth be told, he had always liked the shirt. Or, just maybe, he liked how cool it had looked on Jimmy and he hoped it would look just as good on him. Throwing on some old jeans and his sneakers, he ruffles his hand through his hair, ridding himself of any lint. He lingers for a moment, staring at himself in the mirror. Maybe he would grow his hair out this year? Something new.

 With a shake of the head, he snatches his phone up and shoves it into his pocket, exiting his room and steering clear of Wade dumping one of the nerds into the nearby trashcan. Pushing open the doors, he jogs down the steps and makes his way over the main gate, anticipation coursing through him. A part of him is worried about how today’s events will transpire. What would they do? Would Vance make fun of him? Would he flake out? He did seem eager to meet up. But was that because he just wanted to get away from his brother?

“Ay, Petey!” He looks up, sending Vance a smile as the greaser approaches. Eyeing him up and down, Vance lets out a low whistle, eyebrows raised. “What’s your tale, nightingale? Ya look different!”

“Oh, I uh – I-I didn’t wanna make you wait,” he responds, letting out a nervous chuckle. Vance claps a hand on his shoulder, making him jump.

“Looks good on ya,” he tells him. Heat rushes to Pete’s face. How long had it been since someone had genuinely complimented him?

“T-thanks! You look good too!” It was the first time he had seen the teen like this. His hair had been slicked back, almost hastily, and while he still wore his leather jacket, the rest was different. A white dress shirt that had been unbuttoned, a black top underneath with matching jeans. Even his shoes were changed, old worn out high tops that were left untied.

“What? Ya like what ya see?” Vance’s teasing tone brings Pete out of his daze, the greaser laughing when he starts to stutter.

“I-I just – I mean I-” He takes a moment, breathing in and trying to collect himself as they start to walk. “Y-you just look different, too. Never seen you like that.”

“Got dressed quick,” he confesses, and even though his tone turns to a more calmer one, his smile never fades. “Wasn’t really expectin’ to go out today. Glad you asked, though. Sergio was startin’ his crap.”

“I never heard you talk of him,” That wasn’t much of a surprise. Pete had often kept his distance from shop class, intimidated of the clique and their hostile personalities. He wasn’t exactly the best at fixing bikes either and didn’t have much of a desire for it, which was why he had skipped it when filling out what extracurricular he had wanted. “What’s he like?”

 Vance hums a bit, lost in thought as they pass over the bridge that led into Old Bullworth Vale. He tells Pete of how Sergio used to go to Bullworth, and how he was the main reason he got into fixing bikes and wanting to eventually move on to cars. They lived in a broken home, their father occasionally bringing home some woman for the night and locking them out. Sergio would often steal the keys to the car before they were pushed out, giving them a warm and somewhat safe place to sit in throughout the night. Vance never knew if his brother slept those nights, but he remembered falling asleep in the passenger seat, the older teen behind the wheel with a scowl on his face and switchblade in hand. They often parked on the street in the richer part of town, but Sergio was paranoid, knowing of the delinquents that roamed around. Apparently they were worse those few years ago from the stories he heard and the cuts and bruises on his brother’s body when he would come home in the early mornings. Vance even bragged about knowing how to set a broken nose and pop a shoulder back into its socket, much to Pete’s horror.

 The stories of Sergio eventually turned into how Vance joined the greasers. Once the leader of the clique, he had filled Vance’s head with stories of shop class. The stupid antics he and the others would get into, the stories and conspiracy theories Neil would tell them. They all seemed very entertaining and fun, and it was no wonder Vance had wanted to experience it. Sergio had apparently appointed Johnny’s brother as leader, but had forced him to agree to watch over and take care of Vance when he started his high school life the following year, knowing how hostile the other member was. So before Vance had made friends with Lefty and made a strong connection, Johnny’s older brother was right by his side, deterring any other greaser that came up with ill intent.

“Maybe you’ll join us, too?” Vance’s suggestion catches Pete off guard, his eyes going wide as he looks at him. Could he ever really pass off as a greaser?

“I-I dunno,” he stammers softly, bringing a hand up to rub the back of his neck. “I-I don’t really see myself being… one of you guys.”

“I do!” he declares, a bright smile on his face. “C’mon! When school starts up, we’ll go talk to Neil!”

“We?” he repeats. Would Vance really go speak to the man with him to get him enrolled into shop?

“’Course! It’ll be fun!” he tells him confidently. His head is held high as he wraps an arm around his shoulder, bringing him closer. “You’ll have us to hang out with and protect you. What? You think sometimes I don’t wanna goof off in class?”

 The greasers had always seemed so serious when it came to their bikes, but he told a different story. How he, Ricky and Peanut would make jokes, harass each other and even start small fights. They had been sent out more times than he could count, and Pete thought what that would be like.

“I’ll think about it,” he finally tells him. Throwing his fist in the air, Vance lets out an overjoyed holler. Pete supposed he would be speaking to Neil when August rolled around, and he would be spending more time with the greasers. At least he wouldn’t be alone.

 Pete doesn’t realize they’ve made it all the way to the carnival until the loud music reaches his ears, having been too enticed in Vance’s interesting (and overly dramatic) stories. Some about the clique and some about his older brother. And as Vance pays for their way in, the greaser turns his attention to him.

“What about you?” he asks, curiosity thick in his voice as they find a bench to sit down on.

“W-what about me?” He lets out a nervous chuckle, avoiding the teen’s gaze.

“I told you all about me!” he starts as he raises his voice just a bit, “Now it’s your turn! What’s ol’ Petey’s life like?”

“Not as exciting as yours,” he confesses softly. Vance just scoffs, rolling his eyes with a smile on his face.

“Yeah, sure,” he dismisses with that snarky tone, “I seem to remember ya bein the one to operate that old hunk of junk in the junkyard way back when.”

“You mean the magnetized crane?” he clarifies, snicking as Vance rolls his eyes and waves a hand dismissively.

“Yeah, whatever,” He turns back to him, grin once again appearing on his face. “Now, again, tell me about yourself!”

“W-well...” There wasn’t much to tell, but Pete decided to share anyway. His story wasn’t as exciting or scary, but Vance seemed to take interest. He scoffed when Pete said his parents lived decently close to the school, but he lived in the dorm room anyway because his parents wanted “some peace and quiet”. No wonder he was so awkward. Vance would bet anything that his parents were to blame for the younger teen’s poor social skills. Not to mention his father was a librarian, and he wouldn’t be surprised if the man kept a quiet tone around the house too.

 When asked about any siblings, Pete could only shake his head. His parents were dismissive of his existence, often leaving him to his own devices, only coming around once in a while to check on him. His main entertainment was watching TV or playing video games, occasionally even drawing. His parents would buy him little sketchbooks, seemingly pleased that he had found something quiet to do without them having to hear noises coming from the television set. He did admit that he had a hamster at one point, an orange and white long-haired rodent that was his best friend for a few years before it passed from old age. It was sad that he didn’t even seem to have friends growing up, his parents not wanting him to go out in fear he would get hurt or taken. Maybe that was the only nice thing Vance had heard about the couple, but Pete had been right. His stories weren’t as exciting. Apparently his first year at the academy had been the most thrilling time of his life, and Jimmy had been his first and only friend. Vance couldn’t imagine having a life so… sad.

“How’s ‘bout we keep makin’ this depressin’ life of yours fun?” Vance suggests, a glint flashing across his eyes as he grabs the younger teen’s hand, pulling him up from the bench. Pete falters and stutters out a flurry of questions, almost tripping over his feet as he tries to keep up with the teen’s fast pace. Vance is just a bundle of laughter, promising him a night he wouldn’t forget.

 They start at the back of the park first, walking through the freak show and marveling at the people behind the glass.  Alfred, the skeleton man, had been the first freak to greet them, eyeing Pete as he took a drag from his cigarette. Seeing his bones poke out through his skin had sent shivers down his spine, and his voice held something Pete couldn’t quite place. As they made their way further in, they could hear Paris talking, making some remark about the show she was watching. Sitting on her couch with legs spread, she sent them an acknowledging smile as she picked up a few chips, throwing them into her mouth as she scratched at her beard. Of course, Vance had a couple remarks about her, but Pete had tried to drown him out as he led him throughout the rest of the freak show.

 The others had all been interesting, and Pete had wondered how life could be so weird. Siamese twins, a mermaid that Vance wasn’t too sure was real. However, the one who stuck out the most to Pete was Drew, the crazy painted man. His screaming and incoherent rambling had already made the teen nervous, but when the man threw himself against the bars of his enclosure, he had jumped back with a shriek, scared the bars wouldn’t hold him. Vance had grabbed his arm, steadying him as he tried to calm his nerves.

“He’s just actin’,” he tells him as he shoots an agitated glance at Drew, “Guy’s just some wacko. Probably doin’ this for the easy money.”

 Pete just nodded his head as he followed him, but the screaming had stuck with him, and he was sure it would for the rest of his life. And though he didn’t want to admit it, he was more than overjoyed to have walked out of the freak show, letting out a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding in. Maybe it was the dark lighting or how cramped everything felt, but Pete didn’t like it, only noticing once they were outside just how close he had been walking to Vance.

“How about we try out those rides ‘fore it gets any darker?” It’s only now that Pete realizes the sun is starting to set. With a smile, he gives him a nod and follows him over to the Big Squid. The line moved quick through the queue, and before they knew it, they were being seated in one of the carts. The monotone voice of Freeley comes through over the speakers, the request that everyone keeps hands and feet inside and not try to stand up during the ride. And when it starts, picking up speed and throwing them around, Pete can’t keep the smile off of his face, occasionally glancing over to Vance, seeing him laughing as well. It felt nice for Pete, to feel like he finally belonged somewhere or meant something to someone.

 By the time they get off, both are a bit dizzy. Pete raises his hand to rest it on Vance’s shoulder in order to stabilize himself, but when he finally registers the cool leather beneath his palm, he pulls away, worried about what response he would receive from the greaser. However, Vance just gives him a joyful smile as he leads him over to the roller coaster. They’re not seated in the front, Pete being too nervous, so both opt for the cart in the middle.

“Lemme slide by ya there,” Vance’s voice is soft as he moves over Pete, who’s sitting in the seat closest to the steps they had just walked up. They pull the bar down securely, Pete giving a few extra tugs to ensure it wouldn’t be going anywhere. Of course this doesn’t go unnoticed, and the greaser snickers softly at the younger teen’s actions. Once more, they hear the monotone announcement before the ride starts, launching them towards the opening of the canyon before pulling them up. Everyone else on the ride has their arms raised, but Pete’s holding onto the metal bar for dear life. And as they approach the top of the hill, he screws his eyes shut, body tensing as he prepares for the worse.

 A scream is pulled from him as the coaster falls down the hill, and Vance reaches over to pry his left hand from the handle bar, raising it into the air with his, yelling at him to just let loose and have fun. Although his body is trembling a bit from the fall, he takes the advice and finally opens his eyes, loosening the grip he had on his other hand and letting it raise into the air as well. Vance is still holding his hand, palms pressed together as Pete grips him with almost the same intensity as he was the bar. However, despite the biting wind in his face and the sharp turns that throw him into the teen, Pete can’t keep the large smile off of his face. Vance is right, this is a lot more fun. And as the coaster returns its original spot, the two are still laughing. The bar rises and Pete stands up, stepping out, still holding Vance’s hand to keep him steady and make sure he doesn’t trip as the greaser asks him how his hair looks. There’s one more ride and as they walk over, Pete has to stop the teen before he pays yet again for their fun.

“You’ve paid for everything!” he tells him with a laugh, digging out a dollar from his pocket and giving it to the operator. “It’s time I paid for something.”

“Well, ain’t you just the sweetest,” Vance smiles at him as he leads him over to the rickety seat. He scoots over to the end, allowing Pete to climb in after him, both pulling down the bar that creaked loudly. The ride starts, jerking them forward a bit as they follow the curve up. The sun’s set by now, and the carnival lights illuminate below them as they’re taken higher and higher up. Pete shivers as the soft breeze picks up, but he tries to concentrate on the view around them. He can see the beach in the distance, the lighthouse’s light rotating around. Their cart stops at the very top, rocking slightly and Pete looks below. They’re so high off the ground, it’s intimidating. Another shiver runs through him, this one out of fear.

“You cold?” Vance questions, cocking his head as he looks at him. Pete lets out a soft hum, eyebrows raised as he turns his gaze to meet his. Vance just gives him a cheeky smile as he brings his hands up, gripping his jacket and removing it from him. It was the first time Pete had seen a greaser without their iconic coat on, and he was honestly surprised to see that he actually had some muscle to him.

“U-uh… what’re you doing?” Pete’s confused when Vance drapes the jacket over his shoulders, but the warmth he feels is more than welcoming.

“You’re cold, ain’t ya?” he asks with a small chuckle, “I’m fixin’ it!”

“Y-you don’t h-have to,” he stammers softly, but Vance doesn’t seem to be taking no for an answer. He just sits there, a smile on his face as he tilts his head up, looking at the stars.

“Glad ya asked me out, ya know?” he starts, catching Pete off guard. He was glad? “Gets kinda… crazy at home sometimes, and everyone else was off doin’ their own thing. Managed to find Jimmy and get your number, just to chat but… well, you had a better idea.”

“Yeah, I hear ya,” he agrees, going to hold the jacket close as he matches Vance’s smile. “I don’t really got anyone except Jimmy, and he’s been busy. I'm too cool to be a dork, and too dorky to be anything else, so I’m always just… alone.”

“No you’re not,” The confident tone makes Pete knit his eyebrows together. “Ya got me now! And soon, you’ll have the greasers! Peanut’s gonna be the leader, and I just know he’d be happy to have ya!”

“Maybe cause I’m Jimmy’s friend,” he scoffs softly, looking to the ground as the ride resumes, slowly bringing them down. “I just… I wanna feel like I exist without him, you know?”

“You do,” Vance wraps an arm around his shoulders, bringing him closer to him. “You and me? We’re existin’, right now, without Jimmy. And you’ll be existing, without Jimmy, when you join us.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ll see,” Maybe it was the low self-esteem Pete always had throughout his life. How dull and mediocre it was, and how the most exciting thing to ever happen to him was falling in with the only two psychopaths in all of Bullworth. “Just feels like I only had a meaning when Gary and Jimmy showed up in my life.”

“And you’d be wrong,” As they get to the bottom and the railing lifts, the two make their way out of the old cart, thanking the man and being on their way. When they walk to the gates, Vance’s arm finds its way back across Pete’s shoulder and they fall into step towards the exit. “Tonight’s been amazing, and it’s because you asked me to come hang. Not Jimmy, and sure as hell not Gary. Don’t see any of those two makin’ you do this.”

“You’re right,” he chuckles. They walk back through the tunnel, Vance still giving him a pep talk he probably needed years ago. He’s still holding onto the jacket, his face tinted red and a smile pulling at his lips. It’s not long before they get into a more friendly conversation, making jokes and thoughts about what the next school year would hold. Vance kept referring to him as the newest greaser, and at this point, Pete wasn’t even denying him or the idea. He loved the thought in fact. To be part of a clique and feel like he belonged? Have something relatively close to a family that would care for him and make him feel like he mattered? It was almost like a dream come true.

 They walk all the way back to school, sneaking past the prefects that were out prowling, looking for any students breaking curfew. It was a lot warmer inside the dorms when they entered, the doors shutting loudly behind them as they walked down the hall and towards Pete’s room. However, that was as far as Vance went. Standing outside of his room, he’s practically beaming at the younger teen.

“I had fun,” he tells him, and Pete can only nod in agreement. They stood closely together, and the faint smell of Vance’s cologne mixed with the cigarettes he smoked almost religiously had radiated off of him. It was nice, calming in a way.

“I uh – I’m uh… I-I’m really glad you called,” Pete laughs, turning his gaze to the floor. “Not sure I would’ve been able to text you.”

“Me too,” Curling his index finger under Pete’s chin, Vance raises his face so he’s looking at him again. Softly brushing his thumb across his bottom lip, he leans in to press a kiss to his mouth. Eyes going wide, Pete stares at him in disbelief when he pulls away, hearing a chuckle. “You have a good night, Petey. Maybe we can hang out again tomorrow.”

 He opens his mouth to say something – anything, but nothing comes out. So instead, his just nods, his face on fire as the greaser chuckles once again. He takes a step back, gives him one last smile and finally moves to leave the dorm. Pete’s knees feel weak, his heart racing, thudding so loud against his chest that it reverberates in his ears. He turns to go inside of his room, but a gasp escapes his lips. He rushes after Vance, flinging the heavy door to the dorm rooms open.

“Y-your jacket!” he calls after the teen. Turning back with an innocently confused face, he looks Pete up and down. The leather jacket is still hanging from his shoulders. It was cute that he didn’t put his arms through the sleeves.

“You keep it,” he tells him, a smug grin forming. “Every greaser needs a leather jacket! Consider it a gift!”

“O-oh, o-okay…” He smiles, shrinking in on himself just a bit. “Thank you! I’ll take good care of it!”

 Vance just nods, turning his heels and continuing his way out of school grounds and towards home. Pete watches him until he makes a right, disappearing behind the walls. With a soft sigh, he closes the door and returns to his room. He gently takes the jacket off, hanging it on the coat hanger by the door. His heart fluttered as he admired it, and he couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. He owed Jimmy his gratitude, and come the beginning of the school year, he was going to make his way down to shop class and speak with Neil about joining.