#word for a specific complex but not strong emotion

[100-gar]

Listen, I do like the girls being friends and their femininity being shown as a positive thing. I'm not trying to erase that. The women all going clothing shopping together is cute and fun. I think you misunderstand what I take issue with here.

The problem is that, at the amusement park, they all get grouped together by random chance, and they go clothing shopping and don't do anything else while the guys all go have fun with the Amusement Park that they're in. I would welcome that scene if they were hanging out entirely by choice and not at an amusement park; if the guys went shopping too; if the groups were divided up a little more realistically so it wasn't all the girls doing exclusively that; or if they were actually properly shown doing literally anything else at the amusement park as well as shopping.

I'm not trying to make a mountain out of a molehill here, this scene really isn't that bad, but I felt it necessary to explain why it, as well as your defense of it, made me a little uncomfortable. It's not that the girls were shopping and being feminine, it's the context.

13 spoiler-free reasons why you should read Mairimashita! Iruma-kun

...if you haven't done so already 👀 (With "spoiler-free" I mean I'm not describing plot points or characters, but under the cut I'll discuss the overarching themes, so be warned if that's too much for you. The first 7 reasons may be enough lol)

It's both funny AND wholesome. I literally can't read it without laughing out loud, and there are a bunch of chapters that make me cry every time I read them.

It's clever! The Japanese version contains several puns based on the kanji "魔" (read "ma", = devil, demon), starting from the title, but it's a recurring pun. The English translation adapts them pretty well. Plus, there are some of the best plot twists in recorded history (IMO). And the names and characteristics of most characters are based on real-life demonology.

It's queer AF. Like, really gay. There are explicitly homoromantic relationships and several nonbinary and gender non-conforming characters. One of these is the best unashamedly nonbinary character ever written. Plus, the manga premise can be seen as an allegory of hiding in the closet. The only thing that made me uncomfortable because of cisnormativity (boys in drag as a joke) is completely fixed in later chapters, and very well so.

It's feminist, without being preachy or paternalistic. Simply put, the women/girls are three-dimensional, complex characters, as the norm should be. And there are lots of them, without it being a harem (...the harem trope is actually used as a joke).

It's spooky and adorable, imagine Halloween vibes all year round. Both main and background characters are super diverse, and if you like monsters there is stuff for you.

Most characters are neurodivergent-coded. It's basically the autistic/ADHD manga.

The art is phenomenal. It's especially good to see the improvement of the art style over the years (the first chapter was published in 2017 and the manga is ongoing). Some panels are really breathtaking.

8. The story is about personal growth - like most shounen manga, fair enough. But the protagonist, Iruma, is so far from toxic masculinity I dare say he's the antidote to it.

9. It's also about found family, the discovery of unconditional love, and trust, and healing from familial trauma.

10. It's about finding a group of friends you belong to, and transforming your weirdness into a strength, identifying and cultivating what you're good at instead of fitting into a mold.

11. It's about the beauty of learning in your own way, and the importance of education and the shaping of future generations.

12. And the reason why I opened this blog: it's about fascism and fighting against it. I mean real fascism, as in "a powerful individual/group wants society to be hierarchical and oppress certain minorities, elevating a specific subset of the population based on intrinsic characteristics which are being misleadingly treated as merits". Ethno-nationalistic stuff. More specifically, it's about being a somewhat politically illiterate person, who learns about systems of oppression beyond personal injustices. It's about questioning what is the best way to arrange society.

13. Most importantly, this manga gives you hope about the future, something I find harder and harder to have. Hopelessness is dangerous - as people without hope stop fighting. This manga makes me actively feel better. Since it's ongoing I can't ensure it will always remain that way, but I've come to trust the author enough that I expect it to.

[wormsdyke]

i have no one to talk to about this bc its a very niche crossover but i desperately need someone to compare notes with on the parallels of fabian in fantasy high and troy in community. your honor they're both pretty boys with legacies to uphold that have caused them to repress multiple aspects of their identity until they meet their autistic best friend who they are initially kind of embarrassed by until they are able to shed their toxic masculinity and fall in love with their autistic best friend in ways that exist outside of traditional romantic or platonic pairings. also they both used their newfound passion for dance as an entryway to deconstructing their shame and pursuing self expression. can anyone hear me

[planetsandstarsandstuff]

Synastry & Composite Chart Notes/Observations:

★ When someone’s Mercury falls into our 4th house their words can often stick with us for quite a while due to this house’s association with memories and the past. A much similar thing can happen when our Moon is placed in another's 3rd house or is in aspect to their Mercury. Reflecting on past conversations can be a common occurrence here. Words strike an emotional chord.

★ I find that when a person's Saturn is in aspect to another's Venus they tend to seek the approval and liking of the Venus person; Venus has the ability to build up the Saturn person’s worth - something Saturn struggles to do on its own. Venus can seek out Saturn’s approval just as much, but often in a slightly different way - one more akin to the way a child seeks their parents approval: to feel certain and affirmed, whereas Saturn is looking to feel valued and admired. 

★ I recently saw a clip of Chappell Roan talking about Joan Jett at one of her Q&A's saying, "She's, like, my celebrity crush. My gay awakening happened this year and it was because I saw a TikTok of Joan Jett, and I was like - obviously I've been gay - but it wasn't until I saw Joan Jett singing Crimson and Clover in the 80s [that I was like], 'oh my god'." I thought this was a very funny and on the nose example of 1H Venus synastry, with Chappell's Venus falling into Joan's 1st house - immediate, intense attraction is often a theme here.

★ The 6th house in a composite chart can speak to how well we maintain the relationship - it’s the consistent efforts needed to keep the connection healthy and functioning at its best. A poorly placed 6th house can, in some cases, indicate a disorganized relationship where one or both people neglect to create structure; planning and specifics may be ignored here, causing the connection to feel disjointed. A well-placed 6th house can point to these matters falling into place more easily - establishing a consistent routine or falling into a proper rhythm together likely comes naturally.

★ We can find that we feel most confident around a person when we're tapped into the energy of the planet/s their Venus touches in our chart:

Mercury: intelligent, curious, clever, helpful, efficient, communicative, logical, adaptive, informative

Pluto: deep, complex, mysterious, observant, profound, intense, raw, powerful

Uranus: unconventional, rebellious, freedom-seeking, inventive, visionary, unpredictable, exciting

Moon: sensitive, responsive, feeling, gentle, earnest, intuitive, security-oriented, caring, vulnerable

Saturn: competent, pragmatic, mature, grounded, disciplined, stoic, reliable, responsible, safeguarding, displays boundaries

Sun: authentic, lively, warm, joyful, sincere, expressive, creative, entertaining, distinct, playful

Venus: sweet, fair, giving, affectionate, social, tolerant, calm, attuned to the wants and needs of others

Mars: protective, brave, strong, driven, bold, assertive, quick to action, passionate, independent, able to lead

Jupiter: larger than life, wise, hopeful, moral, generous, easy-going, open-minded, transcendent, ever-growing, possessing strong conviction

Neptune: compassionate, dreamy, otherworldly, selfless, elusive, intangible, unbounded

★ I find that 9th house synastry can create an almost religious-like devotion to the other person - both people put a lot of faith in each other here. These relationships infuse our lives with meaning and allow us to feel connected to something much bigger than ourselves.

★ I've noticed that when someone's Pluto is making strong aspects to another person's chart, the planet person tends to feel intimidated or overpowered in their presence - ordinary things like eye contact or small talk may feel more intense with this person. This intensity can oscillate between feeling fascinating and overwhelming

★ I think a very sweet element of 5th house synastry is how we can often feel inspired to create for the other person - whether that's knitting them a sweater, painting them a picture, writing them a poem, etc. - they urge us to express ourselves through original and creative means.

★ The composite 10th house, being the highest point in the chart, is very on display - planets falling here can speak to the qualities people tend to associate with the pair. However, this isn't a very personal house and what's projected to the public likely isn't a full representation of the relationship; the position of this house can point to common misconceptions outsiders might have about the two:

Mars here can indicate people thinking there's tension between the two, even when there isn't.

Saturn here can indicate people thinking the pair is very serious and undemonstrative, others might assume there's emotional distance between them.

Venus here can indicate people assuming the two are dating or are romantically interested in each other, even when that's not the case.

(this can also be applied to the ruler of the composite 10H)

That's all for now!

[fqntasies]

Just a taste, baby - Feyd Rautha x Reader

summary: You and Feyd-Rautha have been connected through dreams since childhood; a complex inner-working of the Bene Gesserit mothers to join your bloodlines. It binds the two of you in a pull you can't escape (nor do you want to). Feyd is absolutely feral for you.

words: 1,258

disclaimer: characters may be out of character, specifically feyd, considering his desperate softness here. just a forewarning.

You were trapped, breaths coming out of shallow pants as you felt the scratch of the cement structure beneath your palms. He had you against the wall in a hidden alcove; along one of the lengthy corridors of the palace in Giedi Prime. Your mouths were just breaths apart. In fact the Harkonnen before you seemed intent on matching your breaths, mingling them. Tasting your tiny pants as his own. It made your eyes heavy, made you want to tilt your head back and close your eyes, give him access to the expanse of your neck.

"sweetness." He rasped, unable to control himself. The Na-Baron wrapped an arm about your waist, a vice arching you against him as he lowered a wanting mouth to your neck, licking and sucking where the two met. You mewled at the wet heat, felt him growl desperately at the taste.

The two of you hadn't even kissed yet - but the wait; the dreams - you both knew each other to the soul.

---- flashback ----------

The sands of Arakis and Geidi Prime alike carried mysteries of prophesies of the lisan-al-gaib. But midst such tales, the Bene-Geserit mothers also had worked to connect bloodlines through dreams. The Na-Baron and the princess of Arrakis had been bound by such since birth. A well-planned move to align feuds and place power into wanting hands in preparation of war. A web of politcal conspiracy only they controlled. Their plans could not be foiled.

But Feyd couldn't care less about such witchcraft; and neither, if one were honest, could you. The two of you had known of this binding since a young age. And when you had met as children too - the connection had been strong.

"Their line is bright" The reverend mother's voice had burned into your mind, even at 10 years old.

You remembered her cloaked form; a black shadow against the haze of the horizon, a tower above you as she turned from your parents. Her voice had been void of emotion, except for a smugness you didn't understand. But when you turned to glance at the older boy before you (such a uniquely beautiful boy; broad shoulders and smooth skin, black attire across a lithe form), his eyes shone with an intensity that surprised her. Dark, watching, intrigued. He intimidated you. He made you curious.

At 15 years of age, the Na-Baron hadn't spoken in their meeting; but he had felt more than he had imagined. The girl...she had made him feel things. It confused and awakened him to something he had never known. His uncle had never spoken of such a pull. A need.

When the ship had arrived to his homeworld, and the strange foreigners parted like a sea, Feyd-Rautha found himself straightening to his full height; head lowered as he studied them beneath an angled gaze. Garbs of strange colors - hair he had never seen before in elegant styles. He would be Harkonnen predator. He would be a warrior. Strike fear in these alien people, show the Baron he was not swayed so easily by something new.

But then-

Swathed in layers of white, a girl stepped forward; dainty and gracious above all else; practically floating across the landing platform. Yet her eyes betrayed her; darting to capture the landscape, thrown off perhaps by the infrared of Giedi Prime's black sun above them.

She was drinking in the strange newness before her, and then they found him. Feyd felt his chest tighten. Fists clenched. Heat brimmed under the chestplate of his armor.

She looked like some newborn animal, caught in his gaze. But they both felt it. The familiarity. The warm hum between them. It made you want to slip from the safety of your parents and stand beside him, as though his shadow was more protection than the whole parade your own family brought with them. You wondered if he'd felt the same.

Three nights later, you had dreamed of him. A bit older, hand in his as he raised it to his lips. His eyes had never left yours. As a young girl it made you blush. Now...

--------------------------------

You made a breathy sound as his tongue lathed the mark he had made, moving with a lazy carelessness across your pulse, hungry above all else, uncaring for decorum. He wanted to devour you entirely. He wanted you to see you helpless and delirious against him, just as you were now. As you were in all his dreams.

He knew you'd had them all too. His eyes on you at their wedding. His tongue against yours, moans and tastes and hunger. You watching from the arena as he slaughtered man after man, coated and heaving. He felt like a beast.

"Feyd-" His name barely formed, like a prayer from your lips.

His eyes nearly lolled in his head at the way you sounded, and he dragged his wanting mouth up to meet yours. Wet and wanting. Feyd's free hand shifted to engulf your slender neck, moving your head against his mouth to deepen the kiss, taste all of you. Consume.

The Na-Baron was all muscle and prowess, a looming figure that practically dwarfed you. The spanse of his shoulders alone were sinful, and deep down you loved how it felt to be completely in his grasp. Guiding you in your movements.

Feyd's tongue sought yours as much as he could, controlling and demanding - but you were a needy little thing too, weren't you? In the haze of passion you were pressing into him - leaning just as much towards his heat as he was pushing you both together. You sucked his plush bottom lip into your mouth - unable to help yourself. After all, why was he made so beautiful, if not to kiss? He was quick to follow, biting your own with a growl that made your knees practically give, and following with his greedy tongue.

"You're going to be my wife." the words are a promise, his eyes glittering under the low light; shadows flashign with the coming storm. You part your mouth as though to taste him again, a helpless 'please' slipping past as you arch in his grasp.

Feyd practically took you then and there. Enter the nearest room... make all his dreams a reality. His patience was nearly worn thin. Years of waiting, of hunger. And now it was here. You were in his reach, that tempting little waist; those hips. It made him absolutely insane.

He wets his lips, gaze feverish.

"tomorrow. tomorrow sweetness, hmm? Can wait that long?" He intends to tease you, but he knows he speaks to himself, his jaw locking as he adjusts his arms to press you against him.

You're so fucking soft. It makes him groan. Of all the things he's known in his life, softness was not one of them, save for the flashes of you in his dreams. He craved you like a creature starved. Thoughts of you made him fight better. Made him kill easier.

There's a rumble suddenly of a drone; Harkonnen orders breaking the silence in distorted code. The words don't make sense to your ears. Not yet anyway. You hope to make progress in the language, but it was a challenge; more than others. The variety of tones were a feat for any foreigner to take on; but this was to be your home. A lady of harkonnen would learn her husband's native tongue.

You know he has to leave.

[elysiansparadise]

The gentleness that holds a strong and powerful soul. Moved by passion. They put their everything on things that set in motion their inner world. 

Taurus Rising: Strength & Softness

Consistency, loyalty, support and autonomy are perfect words to describe this rising. People with enchanting and natural beauty, accompanied by gorgeousness and a calm attitude in the eyes of others that protects a brave and passionate heart. Life encourages them to develop patience and a persevering attitude. They are people who remain strong and unbreakable, seek to appear stable, strong and very independent even if inside they feel that things are collapsing or if their surroundings are breaking, they want to show that they are strong and that they can handle anything. More easily being the support of others rather than being able to open themselves to being helped or seen vulnerable. 

With Gemini in the 2nd house are people who highly value their intelligence, they take great pride in their knowledge, especially in those topics that matter a lot to them. For them, learning is something crucial in their lives, so they try to know a lot about many different things. They may have a lot of interest in design, gardening, music [specifically singing], writing and reading. Financial topics can attract their attention and they can acquire a lot of knowledge about it. This position can show someone very skilled with money or sales. Being a house linked to value and self-esteem, this specific overlay tells us about people who find themselves constantly questioning their own value, however, it is not just something that only applies to them, as they will question value in those things in which they society puts value. They will question the values ​​of their home or the groups they interact with. Another common thing with them is this inconsistency in their sense of security, feeling unprotected on many occasions. Clear, honest and direct communication is something they deeply appreciate, they love the feeling of being able to have a long and pleasant talk for both parties. They tend to prefer those where they are one on one due to their reserved nature.

Later, we find Cancer in the 3rd house, a placement that could be one of the main reasons behind the soothing and soft essence of this particular Ascendant. With this overlay we see natives with such an appealing way of speaking, sweet and very pleasant, there is something about them that allows them to be very understandable with other people and their emotions. These people are very curious about knowing the depth and complexity behind everything and everyone. When it comes to relating to others, they put a lot of emphasis on knowing the core of others, their emotions, their past and everything that allows them to have a better and more personal understanding of others. They are people with a warm way of speaking, they aren't usually impulsive when communicating and they think very carefully about their words before speaking. We have very capable, talented writers and speakers with the ability to easily evoke feelings in others. They stand out for their good memory and a light touch of warmth in their speech. These people may have melancholy tendencies or may think a lot about the past. If the Moon is making tense aspects or if Saturn is in this house, a tendency to constant periods of depression is likely. Writing can be a way for them to better express their emotions, and reading can be very relaxing as well. One of their ways to better connect with others can be deep talks and in some cases sharing food. If they have siblings, they may have a somewhat variable relationship but they may have a deep affection for them or at least one of them. They can assume the role of older sibling regardless of their age.

Inside Leo in the 4th house, lies a person with a warm heart, a generous disposition towards all those with whom they have a strong emotional bond, and someone who fiercely protects those they consider family. They are without a doubt people who become restless, fun and very charismatic once they trust the person next to them, being more authentic and effusive with them, as well as more warmly open. In family matters, there may be a very strong connection with one of them in particular, likewise, it may indicate a very busy, somewhat dramatic and in some cases noisy environment. These people hide their hearts very well from others, making it visible only to those with whom they feel they really connect, they are capable of loving very strongly and publicly, they are not the type of people to hide their emotions. No matter how calm or reserved they may seem, deep down they are people with great brilliance, with a lot of emotion and great creativity and ideas that brighten the lives of those around them. From a very young age they learned to think about themselves, about doing things that make them happy before wanting to make other people happy. In some cases, it is likely that the native has had to deal with family members who thought only of themselves, who were egotistical, or who did not take into consideration what others or the native felt or wanted. These people may have a tendency to take things personally, they hate feeling that they or their feelings are not taken seriously or valued. Another likely thing is that they are relatively more independent than other members of their family. They hate feeling ignored more than anything in the world, they like to feel and make those they love feel that they are heard.

For Virgo in the 5th house, romance is something sublime when there is devotion and dedication on the part of both parties. These people are capable of loving too much, always establishing the importance of making their partner feel supported, understood and motivated, actions that they seek to receive in return. They are always looking for the relationship to improve, they will seek to know their partner better and more deeply, the conversations about ways to make each other feel better will be very constant as well as the small and significant details. They are people who notice the slightest thing about their partner, changes in their look, tastes, preferences and other areas of their personality. They are very loyal, stable and gentle when they love. They think a lot before allowing themselves to have a romance with someone, they analyze the person in question. They are quite demanding of themselves, and may have the mistaken idea that they could be loved until they are that way or achieve that thing, when the beautiful fact of being themselves already makes them worthy of that love that they so doubt if they can have. . As this is the home of talents and hobbies, it makes them people not only very dedicated to them, but also very perfectionist when it comes to dealing with them, practicing a lot and never settling, remaining willing to learn more and continue improving. They like to do things well and think that if they can't do it to the best they can, it's better not to do it. Their confidence, their gentleness and charm that they are not aware of, makes them people who can attract admiration from others, many even admiring them for all the hard.

In the workplace, people with Libra in the 6th house are extremely capable and excellent. They are very good people at finding solutions to all kinds of problems, from problems related to their work, such as problems of or among others. Diplomatic, responsible and willing to help and collaborate in their work and/or their co-workers. Even if they consider themselves independent and are very skilled on their own, they make teamwork enjoyable and comfortable for themselves and others. Self-care routines are something of utmost importance to them and they will always enjoy taking care of themselves in every way. Their body is their temple, one that they care for with delicacy and attention. These people are very likely to attract a lot of attention from their co-workers, a common placement for romances in the office or work area. They will be able to make good contacts through their work and will be seen as very approachable, helpful and polite people. They are people sensitive to noise or any negative hustle and bustle, preferring to work in quiet environments, with music they like in the background and, in general, in an environment where they do not feel so tense. They can have that tendency to be very perfectionistic, especially when it comes to doing their homework or activities that they really like. They have an excellent eye for aesthetics and decoration, they are very sensitive and appreciative of art, loving the idea of ​​personalizing and decorating the spaces in which they are.

To say that people with Scorpio in the 7th house take relationships seriously is an understatement, and I am not referring to the matter of seeking to get married quickly but to the level of emotional connection that they want with their partner. They are people who want to see beyond the sublime appearance of their partners, but rather the beauty, darkness, secrets, complexity and details of their soul. They long for a very deep emotional connection with that person to whom they swear forever. These people have the ability to make you feel completely loved, from those virtues that you have, to those things that you do not share due to fear or insecurity. They love completely and give absolutely everything in their relationships, which they expect in return. They can have a marriage in which the dynamic is very intense but above all very devoted, one in which your partner's matters become yours and vice versa, where you protect and show yourself completely to the other. Throughout their lives they may experience tense experiences in the field of love or even in any type of relationship. They may have a tendency to be overly wary of the intentions of others, bordering on distrust. They may fear never being able to be loved sincerely or never being able to enjoy the beauties and soft side of love. Future spouse is likely to be a person with very intense emotions, with a lot of appeal, self-confidence and a slightly more serious and mysterious appearance of that emotional and devoted interior.

The sensuality of those with Sagittarius in the 8th house is accompanied by a feeling of liberation, an insatiable curiosity and an open and inquisitive attitude towards sex. These natives are people who enjoy exploring every peak of all the pleasures of life. The emotion of connecting deeply with your partner, exploring every corner of your soul with each caress and reading the complex mind of your loved one with your gaze. Seduction becomes an exciting, fun and very enjoyable game for these natives. There is a deep desire to bring light to your partner's darkness and for your partner to do the same. Traveling through each part of their body becomes the journey they most fantasize about. For them, it is necessary that there be something deeper in the connections to be able to fully enjoy the relationship, that there is the feeling that they are on the same level, that the other person is interesting and open with them. There is a fear of getting lost in the superficiality of life, especially in the aspect of love. There is a feeling of hopelessness in them, the thought that faith is gradually disappearing from their being, the feeling of being left on their own, without guidance. They are very introspective people, sometimes they can spend a lot of time analyzing themselves in their minds. They have a very rich inner world, and a need to find deep and meaningful things in what seems to be a somewhat superficial life.

When we see Capricorn in the 9th house, we can be sure that we find a very intelligent person capable of standing out in the subject of their interest. A great mind that sees the harshness of the world and is aware of it from a very young age. Existential and deep questions are very common, and a tendency to pessimism can become greater if Saturn makes many harsh aspects. They are people who try to be realistic at all times, do not get carried away by the initial beauty of situations and seek to take into account all possible results. Their ambition leads them to want to acquire more and more knowledge, and they can have many academic achievements throughout their university years if they decide to attend it. They may have to work abroad, travel a lot thanks to work or interact with people from other countries because of it. They are very selective people with what they want to learn, they pass the information through filters and always prefer to create their own opinions on topics, especially the most complex or moral ones. As mentioned in the previous point, there may be a tendency to doubt that good things can happen to you, falling into a somewhat negative thinking regarding what you may or may not experience.

When Aquarius is in the 10th house, the native can work in fields related to science, astronomy, physics. It is a common placement for people with interests, skills and work as astrologers. They often choose a career different from what their family has chosen, or something that their family or others consider unusual. These people seek to make a change through their work, and they can also become very notable and remarkable in themselves. These people usually prefer and end up having a job that allows them to meet many people, experiment, learn new things and explore their originality and ideas. They tend to be people who attract attention very quickly, there is a peculiarity about them that makes them stand out from the crowd, likewise, from a young age they know that they want to be different compared to the people they grew up with or lived with when they were young. You can achieve great things if you work on your own, embrace your independence and authenticity. An idealistic and ambitious quality hides in them, these natives dream of achieving many things on their own and making themselves feel proud. They can more easily inspire the masses through their unique personality, perseverance, authenticity and ideas.

One of the things that is not usually mentioned with this rising is their enormous devotion to their friends and the great importance they give the natives in their life, this is given by Pisces in the 11th house. They are people who connect very deeply with their friends, being able to easily sense when they are emotionally bad and, likewise, knowing how to help them in the best way. It is very common for these people to send messages or seek to communicate with them just at the moments when their friends need it. They are the kind of friends who are there through thick and thin, who are a great emotional support and leave beautiful lessons in their friendships. For them it is crucial that their friendships can go through from the most lighthearted and fun moments to the deepest and most emotional ones. They stand out for their empathy and ease of understanding people well even if their experiences and background are completely different. They will seek to genuinely help those they see in poor conditions and treat them as equals instead of further marking their differences. They can have various incomes, but more in fields such as art, through activities in which they help others or even in esoteric matters. They have a great ability to solve other people's problems, usually problems that they find difficult to solve for themselves.

The inner desire to be an independent person and capable of resisting everything that life brings to them is born from the need for protection. What is left to do when there is nowhere or no one to find that stability? Will there even be stability in this turbulence called life? Within them lies someone active, intent on striving until they can finally find and enjoy some peace. A resounding fear in them comes from always being in search of something they cannot have: inner peace, a comfy and peaceful life. With Aries in the 12th house, everything feels fast and spontaneous, from their deepest emotions to the environments in which they grow. In their mind and subconscious are recorded all those times in which they had to stand up for themselves, times in which perhaps there was no one to rely on, in which they came to the conclusion of never being able to rely on anyone other than them. them, in having to tame the tides of life on their own. The fear that it would always be like this grew in them. Not many are allowed to know their core/what they really are for fear of different things, of getting hurt, of being judged, but in them we can find people full of passion, ambitions and with an endearing quality of joviality. They are somewhat restless and spontaneous people deep down, something that is not usually perceived by their calm appearance. They are gifted with a strong temperament, and although they are sweet and kind, they will not be afraid to bring out that impetus and anger if you hurt or touch something very personal to them. These people focus a lot and use a large part of their energy in facing their inner struggles, to which they never give up no matter how tense they may be. It is likely that at many points in your life you felt that in some cases you were about to lose the battle, but your perseverance and inner strength will mean that in the end you will be able to overcome those problems that you usually do not talk to anyone about.

[chocosvt]

HER | part five.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s! 

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that! 

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

posting a bit earlier tn since i've got work tmo morning! i can't believe there is only one part left after this one!! :o

last chapter was angst up to the eyeballs so hopefully this one mends some of that heartache <3 still, much has yet to happen! this chapter contains one of my fave scenes teehee.

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—AUGUST 3RD.

The last time Wonwoo had been at your apartment to help you write, it was around the evening, into supper. He remembered the scent from the three-wick candles lit up in the kitchen—bonfire and vanilla—which you insisted was a necessity because it was the perfect way to relax your tense mind. Deciding not to cook, you had ordered Chinese takeout instead, and the entirety of the evening was spent sitting criss-cross on the comfortable rug splayed across the living room floor, indulging in warm food, writing, and letting the TV flick through a random season of your favourite drama show.

It was perfect.

Even now, as he sat on the bench across the street from your apartment complex, Wonwoo could still recall all the infinitesimal details—the fried crunch to every vegetable-filled spring roll, how the candles softly crackled when you blew them out at the end of the night, your small and very sleepy voice bidding him goodbye as you walked Wonwoo downstairs into the lobby—each memory sprung alive with such vividness. Wonwoo wished he could be poised outside your apartment knowing everything was the same; undamaged and intact. But that was an outcome too blissful for reality to maintain.

You had a specific nightly routine, particularly on Thursdays, after work: showering, followed by having a quickly thrown together dinner, applying a face mask, and then a movie before bed. He found himself memorizing a lot of your patterns over the months.

Wonwoo hadn’t texted you—he was doing this completely unprompted, without an inkling of his arrival. Maybe that was a terrible idea which should be discarded for something gentler and less likely to explode in his face, but that would only lead to more ruminating and more ruminating meant less doing.

The thing was, it was nearing eight o’clock. Wonwoo had been sitting on the bench for almost a half hour while the sun gradually sank, watching the occasional green leaf flutter down from the chestnut oaks adorning and shading the parkway behind him. The longer he waited, the further the shadows of the trees stretched, until he was completely engulfed and framed alone underneath their dark, cool silhouettes. Light still spilled across the street, igniting the space where everyone else was strolling, each person steadfast in their pace to be somewhere that wasn’t a sunset orange city street.

Breathing out slowly, Wonwoo glanced down at his hands.

It was like the first time he met you.

Just suck it up. Go do it.

He walked between the trimmed hedges that led to the complex door. The lobby area was exactly as he remembered it, though Wonwoo had come to learn those little complimentary desserts and cucumber waters set out the first day he visited you were no longer a thing, which you had vehemently complained to him about during a brief promenade through the park—another one of your palate cleansing ideas.

“Oh! Those pastries, by the way—they stopped doing them! I heard about it from my neighbour when I went down to get the mail. I was pissed, pissed, pissed! Apparently, there’s a lady who made them specifically for our complex because her grandson lived there. Well, he’s moved out now, so we all got fucked! If I don’t get my cute little lemon square with the raspberry on top and the powdered confectionary sugar all placed in a decorative doily, I will legit kill myself. Something has to be done… hey—can you bake, at all?”

Hence your immeasurable disappointment when Wonwoo revealed to you that he wasn’t notably talented at baking. Still, the incident provoked him to spend at least an hour a night researching different recipes for lemon squares that he could manage to pull off if given enough time and a handful of supplemental trial and error.

Wonwoo pushed the button to the elevator.

The heartbeat heavied in his chest while waiting for the doors to pull apart, the anticipation and nervousness coming down hard like thick snow flurries. A commercial ding at last echoed throughout the vacant lobby. Wonwoo immediately stepped into the small, confined space, feeling his breaths begin to drag, becoming almost audible in his desire for more oxygen.

Without a doubt, this was probably the hardest thing Wonwoo had ever done in his life. Even moving away from the comfortability and closeness of his family in Changwon—no matter their disagreements or quarrels—couldn’t compare to the emotion so palpably tugging within him akin to an ocean tide under a full moon.

He felt every twinge, but he was still doing well to maintain his composure, though Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from fearing that the control might leave him in the cold wind of seeing you again.

To look into your eyes could feel quite dissecting and Wonwoo didn’t know if he was yet strong enough to stomach the scrutinization despite how warranted it was. The best he could do was to expect nothing—this wasn’t about gaining closure, or basking in the liberation from righting a wrong—it was about the effort of accepting a profoundly hurtful problem he caused. You were hit front and centre by the shrapnel and you deserved to hear acknowledgement.

At the moment of reaching your floor, he didn't knock straight away.

Wonwoo stood outside the unit for a moment, removing his glasses and pulling at the sleeve to his large black hoodie, massaging away a smudge from the lens. After fitting the frames back to his face, he knocked. Each breath was fluttery. He tried so damn hard to soothe himself because life was unfortunately not a loop of constant aid and permanent reassurance and sometimes there was no other option but to be discomforted. At least he had his own company.

There was no movement from behind the door.

Swallowing very dryly, Wonwoo knocked again.

Nerves twisted in his stomach and turned his complexion pallid, though it was just on the edge of manageable and Wonwoo would have otherwise been quite proud if not for the lock suddenly clicking and the gentle, slow twisting of the doorknob. His fist clenched, the blunt nail on his index finger picking at his scarred cuticle.

Even when he saw you—Her—for the first time in over a month, accompanying the liminal doorway, staring back at him with an expression that he could use an entire pencil detailing, Wonwoo was able to sustain his control. Still, his heart was fucking racing.

Your eyes were wide, glassy, though somewhat veiled by the dip in your brows that began to gradually furl deeper in their recognition of his presence. He felt his stomach drop faster than lightspeed when a frown twitched into your lips, distorting the surprise in your face to anger, while the fingers at your leg curled into a rigid fist. There was a dewiness to your bare cheeks and a sweetened aroma from your skin that suggested you had gotten out from the shower not too long ago.

Wonwoo relaxed his hands.

“Hey.”

Expectantly, you said nothing.

There was a rolling, emotional sea unabashed to your face, continuously morphing between every shade of wrath within the sticky silence. Wonwoo worried you might slam the door shut.

He needed to say something fast.

“I know what you want to do—you want to close me out. I get that. I can see it all over your body. And, believe me, I understand.”

Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. That initial glassiness in your eyes only grew glimmerier; the frown tacked onto your mouth somehow threaded with even more fulgurant rage. He could see that you were going to snuff him into nothing, like grabbing onto a candle wick with your fingers despite the hot wax and flame.

But it couldn’t end so abruptly.

Wonwoo held up his hands, baring his palms in defense.

“Just—okay. Her, I hurt you. Hurt is even too weak of a word to use. I know that. I promise I do. I know what I did… and… and I know that I must have some fucking gal to come here unannounced after everything I said, but I've got an explanation. I swear.”

There was notable uplift in his chest, watching your grip loosen on the door, fall down to the handle, losing the hostility. Wonwoo paused to catch his breath, ensuring his eyes never wavered.

 “And… if you decide to listen to me… and you still really don’t want me in your life… I-I can respect that. If all you want is for me to disappear and never bother you again… I can respect that…” he felt sick just voicing it, like he could faint at the prospect. “It might be such a stupid fucking thing for me to say, considering how I treated you, but I genuinely want to do whatever will make you happiest.”

Was it good enough? Feasible, even marginally?

Wonwoo didn’t know. He could only stand in place and study the metamorphosis of your face—from deep-seeded anger, to something pained and unintelligible, and now, contemplation. The inner monologue in your head was probably running on overdrive.

Your fingernails carved into the door.

He kept quiet, waiting, until you quickly wiped something from your cheek and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“… Fine,” you uttered in a raspy, weak tone.

Relief struck him like a breeze during a heatwave.

“Thank yo—”

“But if I say I want you to leave, then you will leave, and you will not say one word on your way out my door or spare me one glance, even if it’s from the corner of your fucking eye.”

Wonwoo was staring straight into your gaze, then shifting to the pointed finger sticking in his face. You were deadly serious.

He nodded.

Finally, however, you stepped aside to let him in.

Wonwoo didn’t know if he should sit or stand. If he should grab a stool at the marbled kitchen island or come to fit himself at the edge of the cream sofa. The interior was pretty much identical to his previous visit, though he realized that a few potted plants you once kept by the elegant floor-length windows were missing—he’d assumed they’d died—it was probably somehow his fault.

“Um, where should we—where do you want to—”

“Kitchen.”

With your arms folded stiff, you walked behind the island.

He stood on the opposite side, knowing it was likely not a coincidence that you opted to put a barrier between yourselves.

It was a foolish idea and he would certainly not extrapolate, but Wonwoo wanted to ask about you. He wanted to know how your work was going at the beauty salon, if you had any more obnoxious dinner parties with your parents—were you still writing? To even look at you from across the hard countertop, captured in the quiet dimness of your kitchen, with your soft and bare face and those cute silk pyjamas, was enough to stop his heart if he allowed it.

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, sighing.

“Before I explain anything… I just want to say—”

“I don’t care about that,” you interrupted without hesitation, eyes scalding and sharp, “I know you’re sorry. It’s the least you could feel after everything you said to me. I don’t care.”

“R-Right…” he trailed off, sensing the heat from the overhead lights as though they were shining directly into his face. Wonwoo pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, gulping, “I guess you want to know—"

“Why. I want to know why you did what you did.”

“Why?” He echoed dumbly.

“Yes, why. Pull out an entire script and apologize—I don’t want that. Acknowledge what you did—good for you. I’m glad you can see how fucked up it was, all while I had to cope with your analysis on why I’m such a god-awful person. People say sorry all the time. I know it can be genuine. I just don’t care. Sorry doesn’t help me understand. Sorry doesn’t take away the weeks I lost, tearing myself apart. Sorry doesn’t mean fucking anything to me if all you’re apologizing for is something I already lived and breathed.”

“No, that—yeah, it makes sense...”

His fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the island, knuckles ivory white. Your intensity was more disorienting than a drug, but Wonwoo knew he needed to stay calm. Breathe. Listen.

“Okay, so?” You shrugged. “Tell me, then.”

“Why I did what I did…” Wonwoo exhaled, staring at his reflection in the marble while his mind twitched into complete blankness. “Well... I-I guess I was feeling… there was a lot I was feeling and... fuck.”

At the last second, he scraped everything he was going to say.

Wonwoo then looked up at you, who was so cold and reluctant.

“You know, um… before I met you, I had a girlfriend. I know I've never mentioned it. But her name was Jeanie. I met her at the university, actually. She worked in the Morrison library—like, the big stone building that looks like a castle, almost. Anyway. I met her because I needed to sign out a textbook for this elective I was taking and she helped me find it… Jeanie. Yeah. I don’t know if you ever saw her or—she was really shy. But I felt like she listened well, no matter what you were saying, or what you were talking about. She would give you her full attention. And… I just remember thinking… I could tell you anything, Jeanie. I could tell you I fucking pushed someone in front of a bus and you would wait and listen and hear me out until the end. She would make you feel… normal… human.

But—the thing is—I’m sort of laughing because I’m saying all this now, but… at the time, even despite my love for her, and how much I trusted her… I just… I kept her out. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. She knew I had anxiety, but never knew how bad. I never told her I stopped taking my pills. I never told her my actual feelings about anything… like, despite having this perfect person in my life, I still couldn’t open up. I didn’t think there was much harm to it, either. It would cause tension. Things would get… uncomfortable… but as long as she was there, I was like—I can get away with this. I don’t need to really discuss anything. She will always be here.

And then… one day… she just… wasn’t… uh—ahem—sorry, just—something in my throat, b-but, uh… yeah. She was gone. All her clothes, all her belongings: toothbrush, makeup, clothes, stuffed toys, notebooks, mugs, house decorations. It was all gone. I remember coming home to an apartment that was stripped bare. Like a skeleton. She took every part of herself from it. And all I could do was dumbly stand there and look at the bones.

Her number was disconnected, too. There was no one I could get a hold of that would tell me anything until I got this weird, vague email from her mom. ‘My daughter won’t be seeing you anymore. She’s safe. No need to worry.’  Those words picked themselves into my brain. I would go to sleep seeing them. I would repeat them in my head all night, and wake up with them still chiming. And I thought to myself, with all the weight in my heart… how could she do this? How could she leave and take everything and erase me without a word? It had to be her and it had to be the world just proving my point: being vulnerable, trusting, expressive—it isn’t worth it.

I really, truly believed it. I mean, I held onto it. I always looked at her as the one with the issue, but—fuck—it was me. I was the fucking issue. I… I must have made her feel so unimportant. I probably confused her, destroyed our trust, fucked up her concept of love. Like… I made her feel so trapped… that she felt the best thing to do was disappear, because there was no other way out… I made her feel that way. Me. It was me the entire time. And… I never really processed that until you were six feet away, screaming at me, cursing me up and down in the same living room I came home to that day, all emptied out. I had it out with you, the way I never had with Jeanie…

And the truth is, Her… I kind of… I always sort of knew I had that problem. I lived without ever wanting to acknowledge it. But I never really… I-I basically… I didn’t care about fixing it until I met you.”

Wonwoo tilted his head and stared at your quivering bottom lip, the shininess to your razor-sharp eyes, the manner in which your fingernails were sinching indents upon the skin of your biceps.

He paused, chuckling.

“I know I already told you… but you used to terrify me. I didn’t think we would ever mesh. Whenever I looked at you, I saw someone who knew herself, and I was so severely the opposite. But miraculously, I guess, you ended up being the person I feel the most comfortable with… when I see someone strong like you unravel, it makes me want to unravel, too. The trust I had for you was infinite.”

From across the island, Wonwoo noted how your eyes momentarily drifted down. A lump was sitting square at the base of your throat and it took a very dense swallow for you to even speak.

“… Had?” You whispered with a sniffle, hugging yourself.

Rolling out his shoulders, Wonwoo frowned.

“It was the party, Her. If you remember us talking in the guest bedroom… I told you that story about my brother and I, about my decision to move from Changwon… you’d nearly grappled Bells down to the ground an hour before. You apologized to me because you thought it ruined my night, but I promised you that it was fine, that I would always be here for you. And then we split ways. And you… you were… well, there’s really no clean way to say it but—”

“I had sex with Mingyu.”

“Uh, well… yeah.”

You shook your head. “He’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.”

“I know, I know. It makes it sound stupid but—”

“No—wait. You’re pissed at me because I chose to have sex with my boyfriend? Are you—are you hearing yourself?”

“Her, please, listen—”

“I went through all of your bullshit because of that!”

“Can I just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“It was because I liked you!”

Wonwoo’s heart was thumping almost audibly against his chest while his veins soared with adrenaline. Your fists were sitting, balled, on the kitchen island, though they began to unfurl as the weight cupping his confession—which was a mild version of what he truly meant to say—hung in the air like the plumes from a wildfire.

“I liked you, a lot," he admitted, watching your eyes slim with confusion, "and I’m sorry if that ruins us even more… but it’s true.”

“Wha—what—no. What do you mean you liked me? You liked me as in what? You liked me in a crushy silly way that’s just for fun, o-or you liked me in a serious way, that’s like, you want to… you want…”

Your mouth hung open, shoulders hunching.

His teeth gritted. “I thought I could… I wanted to…”

“Please just spit it out.”

“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be your boyfriend.”

Flares of heat melted slow across his face. Wonwoo could feel his temperature climatically rising. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth. His likeness wasn’t just that—it was a fully blossomed and unshakeable love. Though, he figured it might be too much, too suddenly.

“O-Oh…” you stuttered, “… and, you thought that…”

“Maybe you felt the way I did. Not that I’m going to ask if you did or didn’t. I mean, this was over a month ago. I’ve had lots of time to myself. I’ve been thinking plenty… the point is, I let those feelings affect my clarity and that’s why I felt so hurt. I felt like I was so open and candour just to kinda have it… thrown back in my face. But it just seems like every relationship I have, I sabotage it somehow… I didn’t go about us in the right way—not at all. It blew up into something terrible. I wish every day that I would have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut when I should have just talked to you.”

“Oh… god, Wonwoo.”

“I-I don’t know. It was late, and I was high—you were off a line of coke for fuck’s sake—I just—in that moment, didn’t it feel… like we were something? More than friends? Maybe you don’t remember everything. Some of it’s a blur, even to me. Like some fever dream.”

“No… I do remember some of it. I remember the spare bedroom. I remember how fucking comfortable that bed was. You were there… you were… helping me… and we... I know at some point we were lying down together but I don’t remember what I was thinking or everything I said… it’s just—it’s a lot… too much, almost.”

A groan reverberated from within your deepest cavity and he could only watch through the warm kitchen light as you leaned forward into your hands, your body slumped against the countertop and radiating with agony. Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of the spectacle, though he chose to let you swim in whatever sentiment was swallowing you whole, your head beginning to shake back and forth.

“Wonwoo… listen… I get that—I get what you’re saying, okay? I get that you have this fucking problem with vulnerability, and trust, and the—the, um—the self-sabotaging. I know. I have that, too. And I can understand that it was possible to misinterpret us…”

That word was like a decommissioning punch to his gut—misinterpret—as though it was merely wishful, ditzy thinking and it was him and him alone living inside the delusion despite the fact you were snuggling up against him. However, Wonwoo bit his tongue and simply listened. He didn’t need his bruised heart getting in the way.

“But that night was just—it was irresponsible, okay? On both our parts. I have a boyfriend who I very much l-like, and… and we’re just—you and I, I mean—we’re good at being friends. And you said it yourself that you’ve had time to think and get past it, so…”

“… Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo didn’t need his love to be reciprocated nor did he want to know if you actually harboured any feelings toward him back then. All he desired was for you to get what you had plainly wanted—the why. Perhaps it was unsatisfactory, lacklustre, or maybe it was beyond ridiculous and too inconceivable for words.

He was grateful that he’d even made it this far.

With a heavy, laboured sigh, you managed to push yourself from the marbled counter. A hand then propped onto your hip.

Your nails clicked once against the island.

“So… that’s it, huh?” There was a nasally tone to your voice.

Biting his lip, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Mmhm.”

Your head tilted straight back, like you were attempting to stop a runny trail of tears from escaping down your cheeks. You suckled in a breath, pressed your lips together firmly.

And then, abruptly, you laughed, pinching at your nose while your eyes squeezed shut. It was an exhausted, humourless laugh.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He didn’t exactly know what it was you were cursing, whether it be the realization of what the fight actually meant, or a reaction to his timid, but expired, confession. It could be that the information was too daunting and you were left with no instinct of how to manage it. Wonwoo chewed down on his tongue, keeping silent.

When your eyes opened again, they fell toward the fridge.

“Um… wasn’t it your birthday? Back in July?” You asked with a wet sniffle, brushing a wrist underneath your nose.

“Yeah… July seventeenth.”

Not bothering to speak, you walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open, pale light emanating from inside as you rifled around, moving containers and cartons and fresh produce. It was then that you revealed a cardboard box. Returning to the counter, you set the box in the very centre, and with trembling hands, you began unsticking the corners in order to reveal the surprise inside—a decent sized cupcake, frosted high with thick, white icing.

You sniffed again, turning to grab something from a utensil drawer, and then another item or two out the cupboard.

“It’s from Terra Cotta—it’s just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing—which I ordered as a dessert when I ate out with Princess the other night. But I was too full to eat it after stuffing my face with pasta, unfortunately. So, I got it packaged up. Stuck it in the fridge. Forgot about its existence until now.”

A butter knife fell onto the island, followed by a lighter and a single pink candle. You sighed, eyes turning waterier by the minute, and Wonwoo felt a twinge in his chest that ached like hell.

“Do you like red velvet cake?”

Wonwoo huffed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure. Never had it.”

You picked up the candle. “Want to?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

Rather than keeping the cupcake inside the box, you moved the dessert delicately onto a clean porcelain plate and proceeded to shut the lights off. The orange sunset that painted the streets had bled out all its lurid colour. Wonwoo was just beginning to realize how dark it was in the apartment. You propped the pink candle into the expertly piped cream cheese frosting and ignited the tiny wick. A shivering halo of fire reflected in the marble countertop as the flame wriggled and the wax burnt.

Honestly, he didn’t know what the moment signified—if it was a mere gesture of forgiveness, or just a simple means to release all the tension—Wonwoo had not a clue. He thought he should be looking at the cupcake but Wonwoo was looking at you and the lambent glow flickering across your very upset, still face.

Sniffling again, you picked up the butter knife.

“Okay… hurry up and make a wish, please.”

“Really?” Wonwoo chuckled. “You want me to make a wish?”

“Uh… yes. That’s what people do when it’s their birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Well—fuck—the spirit of your birthday, then.”

“You're asking a lot of me, you know. All this pressure.”

“Oh my god—it's just one ditsy little wish. I'm not asking you to write out your will, or solve world hunger. It's one stupid, tiny wish. For the sake of the moment. Hurry up before the wax drips on the icing.”

“I think you can just peel the wax off once it hardens—”

“Fuck! I don’t care, Wonwoo! God! Just—” he watched with a satisfactory smirk as you leaned forward and impatiently blew out the candle for him, “—there! Now, you don’t even get the opportunity to make a wish. Hope it was worth it.”

“So, you made a wish in my place, right?”

“Shut up. I’m cutting you the smaller half.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”

“No, I didn't make a wish in your place—here.”

“Thank you.”

“… How does it taste?”

“Uh, it’s good. A little firm. The icing is really rich, but I suppose that’s typical of cream cheese stuff. But overall, I like it.”

“I really love red velvet. Especially in cupcake form.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that.”

“I wonder if I could get a dozen ordered for my birthday...”

“We’re celebrating my birthday and you’re already thinking of your own? Can you at least wait until I’m out the fucking door?”

“You said it doesn’t matter!”

“Now, that’s not what I said.”

“Don't act like such a smart ass.”

Wonwoo knew he missed your quippy retorts, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this much. It was filling a pitted crater within his chest that had remained empty and stone cold ever since the argument.

As you turned the kitchen light back on, Wonwoo stuffed the rest of the frosted cupcake into his mouth and dusted his hands clean.

He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now.

Stubbornly, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave your apartment. It had been too long since he’d last seen your beautiful face, and half his summer was already wasted to lamenting the relationship he’d ungraciously snipped in half like a fresh garden rose. If you wanted him to leave, then he would oblige, because Wonwoo could never go back on his word to abide by the choices that might make you the happiest. That was what he cared about most, anyway.

From the opposite side of the island, you began to cross your arms again, fingers digging tight into your ribs. Wonwoo could see that the hues of grief and melancholy hadn’t really abandoned your face since his arrival, and the tears that had earlier welled up in your eyes were steadily returning, glinting along your bottom lashes as though they were dew droplets. Feeling his throat turn dry and sensing the air become dampened with your sadness, Wonwoo knew what you were going to ask—he braced himself quick.

“So… um…” you began pulling at the short sleeve of your silk-buttoned top, rolling the fabric between uneasy fingers, “it’s getting a little bit late and I just t-think you should go now, Wonwoo…”

He nodded, pushing at his glasses. “Yeah… of course.”

There was such an evident somberness about the way his feet dragged toward the door. You had walked him over, and now that the space between you was significantly less, Wonwoo had never battled so hard with his self-control to keep himself from touching you—even if it was just a slight, chaste brush of his fingers against yours—the simplicity and feel of your strawberry-scented skin would appease his constant aching. He glanced at you, saw that your arms were still crossed and your eyes trained to muse over the floorboards.

Wonwoo scraped against the cuticle of his thumb.

Does he just… leave?

It felt too abrupt.

He smiled at you, keeping it soft and mindful.

“Thank you for listening to me… I mean it… you didn’t have to but you did anyway and… uh, I don’t know. Just—thank you.”

“Mmhm…”

You were squeezing at your ribs even tighter now, pressing in your fingers so unnaturally deep. In fact, Wonwoo was beginning to feel worried, especially when he noticed the quivering in your frame and the hard bite you were sinking into your lower lip—how there were tears streaking one by one down the slope of your cheeks.

Wonwoo’s hand had been lingering on the doorknob, though it slipped off absentmindedly. He wanted to reach for your shoulder and give it a comfortable, warm massage, but he was still too fearful.

“Her… are you alright?”

After a cautious step closer, Wonwoo paused, attempting to peer at your face despite its pointed direction toward the floor. The question was worthless, he realized. You were crying and choking up.

“Do you… should I go?”

God—what an even more stupid question to ask—the thing he wanted to do least was leave when you were this hurt. But Wonwoo needed to know if it was his presence that was disturbing you.

You shook your head, sniffled up all the wet, runny congestion in your nose. He watched the teeth free from your lip as you gasped.

“I-I don’t know… I’m really, really sad, Wonwoo.”

He thought he might panic in the midst of your crumbling, however, there was too much guilt and heartache inside him.

“I know…” he murmured.

Somehow, it felt so criminal to just stand there and watch you weep, hearing every desperate attempt for a breath as you could only clutch onto yourself harder and let the tears helplessly fall.

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling his throat burn.

“Can I comfort you for a bit?”

You hiccupped, and your face pinched up in complete misery, the response struggling to escape through the large sob you cried out.

“Please.”

Immediately, his hands braced against the edges of your very warm, wet face. The heat was radiating like a summer blacktop, and the tears were quick to pool against his fingers as he did his darndest to softly clean and wipe them from your skin—though, Wonwoo came to accept that it might be futile—and he opted to cup your cheeks for just a brief moment, staring into your damp lashes and puffy eyes.

“Still such a gorgeous girl, even when you’re crying.”

You huffed at him, grasping onto his hoodie and tugging it.

“I need you closer, please.”

Waddling into his arms, your face smushed right against his shoulder. In the dim august dusk that meekly glowed through the windows of your downtown, sumptuous apartment, Wonwoo cradled you, coaxing a hand nice and gentle along your trembling head while his arm kept you secured firm into his body. As wonderful as it felt to hold you in the way he always dreamt of, Wonwoo knew that those tears wrinkling his clothes were mostly driven by him.

Your arms dug into his chest. It seemed like you wanted to burrow impossibly closer, into his ribs if you could, but the desire frustratingly couldn’t be fulfilled. To compensate, Wonwoo attempted to squeeze you even more, though he was somewhat afraid of cracking you in half. Maybe that’s what you were craving.

But he liked you very much alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, still damp from the shower and rife with the scent of fragrant blossoms, “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I have to. Everything I said to you… it was just stupid, pent-up rage from my own shortcomings… so much was building inside me and I made such a dumb fucking mistake—taking our situation and using it as a target—it was all bullshit..." inhaling a breath, Wonwoo sighed. "I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door… but I don’t think you would have wanted to listen, anyway... you probably would have just told me again to go fuck myself… you know, that was actually the first time I’ve ever been told that?”

Your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. The breath you proceeded to cough out made it sound like you were terribly ill.

“T-That’s hard to believe…”

Wonwoo smiled, smoothing a hand down your back. “You think so?”

Threading your fingers deeper into his hoodie, you nodded.

Stopping to contemplate, Wonwoo ended up agreeing, “hm… yeah... you’re right. There were probably a lot of times in my life where I deserved to hear that. But you’re the first, anyway.”

“Y-You… you deserve to hear it again… I mean, what were you thinking, Wonwoo?” Raising your head from his shoulder and sucking in a much-needed breath, you rubbed at the glisten iridescent to your face. “I didn’t know… I was just trying to t-tal-talk to you…”

Wonwoo unstuck some small, matted hairs from your forehead, guiding them away with the daintiest movements.

“I know you were...” he answered, keeping his voice quiet.

“And then, in the car… I-I just sat there and cried for so long that the sky got dark. I didn’t know what to do—like, I thought I might call Mingyu but he was at work a-and I had no idea what I would even say to him... and then, I called Princess. And she said I could come over and I legit couldn’t get one fucking word out to her.”

Meanwhile focusing on your choked, heavy sentiments, Wonwoo continued to clean the tears from your face. A warm hand had grabbed onto his wrist, not stopping him—just gently holding—as though you needed the contact to ground yourself, even a little bit.

“The shitty part was… even when I was at my angriest… I still couldn’t get myself to hate you. But I wanted it so bad, Wonwoo. I stayed up almost every night, trying to convince myself that you were the worst person I ever met, a-and that I would be better off without you—that you were a poison to me and everything about you is just a ruse to hurt people. No matter what I told myself, nothing would ever work… because I would—I-I don’t fucking know—I would think about how fucking good you make me feel inside. H-How happy I am when I’m with you. You listen to me, a-and you care about my thoughts and my interests and you’re just—you—you fucking live inside me somehow and I want you out so bad but there’s nothing I can do.”

Wonwoo had removed his hands from your face.

They slid down to your hips. He squeezed them tight, digging his thumbs into your flesh and bone over the silken shorts.

“You live inside me, too.”

Rubbing off your nose, you shook your head angrily.

“It can’t be like that.”

His throat twisted up.

“Why?”

“B-Because it—it can’t. You know I have Mingyu…”

“I only think about you. It’s always you. I don’t want it to change.” Wonwoo pleaded, hanging onto every word—trying to search for your eyes despite the adamant refusal to meet his gaze. 

“But I just—I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because!” You pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away as the anguished, grief-stricken shout reverberated between the high ceilings. Gripping at your head, you started to cry again. “I-I’m still so fucking angry at you, Wonwoo. I hate holding onto it and I hate that it’s been over a month and I’m still processing everything, but I can’t just move on from those feelings! I have to see it through. ”

The air was ice cold against him.

He just wanted your perfect body back in his arms.

“O-Okay… okay. I get it.”

“You do? Because I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”

Wonwoo sighed, curling his fingers in and out.

“No, I—I hear you. I promise.”

You still needed time. You weren’t ready to forgive him. That was okay, and he wasn’t the least bit vexated by it. If he had to wait an entire year, then he would wait. Nothing would shake him from you.

Slapping a palm against your cheek, you shoved away the further tears which were seeming to become an annoyance. Wonwoo wanted desperately to be the one to wipe your pretty face and kiss away the salty taste of your sadness, but he knew not to push his luck.

Beyond the windowpanes, the sky was nearly pitch black, pinpricked by all the distant lights from the city buildings.

“I’ll go now, okay?” Wonwoo murmured.

Folding your arms, you sniffled a little, nodding.

“Okay...”

He wanted to say goodnight to you, but then he thought of that rule you had proclaimed during your late-night phone conversation many moons ago—you had to say it first as courtesy.

Except, you were silent.

Nonetheless, Wonwoo had liked to think it was sitting right on the tip of your tongue, just as it was sitting on his.

—SEPTEMBER 8TH.

When he thought back on his summer, Wonwoo couldn’t believe the quickness with which it had flown by, especially considering how nauseously slow some parts moved while he existed, trapped, inside them. Still, it was probably Wonwoo’s most eventful summer since his move from Korea, in more ways than one. Now, it was back to university for his final year as a maths student, and Wonwoo actually couldn’t be happier for the introduction of routine and the opportunity to test all the inner workings he’d accomplished.

Just last week, Vernon had thrown together a small party in the backyard of his friend’s rental home. He was housesitting, and though Wonwoo wasn’t sure why the friend in question would pick a promiscuous drug dealer for hospitality upkeep, the party was apparently approved and Wonwoo had made the effort to attend.

It gave him the chance to reunite with Seungcheol and Seokmin who he’d unintentionally given the cold shoulder. He was just thankful they were relaxed about everything. The night was spent swapping stories from their summer by the makeshift firepit, drinking cold beers, and watching the fireflies twinkle in the dry backyard brush. Vernon had spent all his time sweet-talking some new girl he’d invited from the club, and when they disappeared inside for about half an hour, Wonwoo prayed his bladder could hold out.

Wonwoo had also invited Sierra.

He figured she was just too warm and amicable and he knew she would get along seamlessly with everyone there.

Since they last spoke downstairs in the pottery shop during late July, Sierra had gotten herself a girlfriend—a patron of the Honeymoon who worked up the courage to ask Sierra out after admiring her bartending skills, as he’d heard it—and Wonwoo was more than happy to extend the invite. Seungcheol had predictably brought along Princess, though Wonwoo hadn’t been too worried. They seemed to be on good terms despite the chip in the relationship.

If you had been in town at the time, Wonwoo would have invited you, too. But you weren’t, instead accompanying your mother on a three-day venture outside the city for some publisher’s trip.

But he kept you in mind the entire night. He saw you in the wide, bright moon sitting squarely above the crackling fire, and he felt you in the colder breezes that whispered the beginnings of a soft, fresh autumn. You were everywhere inside him, just like his blood.

Wonwoo had liked to think he’d done it right. All those conversations he shared with you over the phone since the reunion at your apartment seemed promising—even when they flared and ached like a broken bone—Wonwoo had just wanted to hear your voice and know your heart. Though, the conclusion had dipped him in a strange, confusing predicament he still struggled to reason.

“I think we work best as friends… we’ll always be friends.”

The moment was followed by the most intense silence, and then Wonwoo had shifted the phone against his ear, spreading on an audible smile that couldn’t have looked any faker in person.

“Yeah… I see that, too.”

But he didn’t.

He was still in love with you.

And now Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

You had come to an agreement that he should no longer help you with the book as it had been a point of contention since the start. Plus, you were now confident enough in your skills to finish it.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo was okay with that.

Nonetheless, he did offer his help if you ever needed it.

In fact, as Wonwoo sat in the small auditorium for his newest elective—the continuation to last year’s creative writing—he was scrolling through an old document you had sent him months ago, containing a litany of the same messily written paragraph, just rehashed as you attempted to find the best wording for it. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile against the palm squishing at his chin.

Your mind always did seem to work in twelve different ways.

Since he’d shown up early to the lecture, Wonwoo was able to pick a good seat in the middle. He recognized a few faces from last year as more students began to trickle in. Wonwoo kept his bookbag on the chair to his right because he liked the extra space, though he began fearing he might have to move it when the lecture hall filled to a degree past his expectations. Since when did all these people take the class last year? Was it because of the new professor? He spun a pen between his fingers, observing everyone rather judgementally.

“Hey—are you saving a seat for your non-existent friend, or are you leaving your bag here to make sure no one else would sit beside you? Not that anyone would want to with the way you’re begrudgingly staring down every single person who walks in here.”

Wonwoo grinned, the pen stilling into his hand.

He knew your attitude like the ducks on his aunt’s shower curtain.

“If it’s such a big deal to you, you can move it.”

“Oh, can I? Do I get the pleasure of moving your bookbag, Wonwoo? Are you really that kind as to save such a life-changing, personal, and intimate experience, just for me?”

Smirking up at you, Wonwoo dropped his bag onto the floor.

He was promptly greeted by a very shiny smile.

“That’s what I thought,” you said matter-of-factly, setting your iconic cream purse onto your lap after sliding into the chair.

“So,” Wonwoo huffed, leaning back and casting you a curious glance, “you didn’t tell me you were going to take creative writing.”

Pulling out some chapstick, you laughed. “Uh—you didn’t tell me, either,” the comment was wry and muttered through the obstacle of moisturizing your lips.

Scratching his temple, Wonwoo chuckled, “fair.”

“Gosh, there’s so many people in here. Way more than I was expecting. I mean, who even are these goddamn people? I hardly recognize any of them—oh my gosh, do you think it’s because of the new professor? I looked her up, you know. She’s published three books—they’ve all got crazy good accolades—and one of them was even made into a movie! That has to be why. Should I try to get face time with her after class? No—actually, I won’t. Then I look totally desperate. I’ll play it cool. I’ll wait until, like, three classes from now.”

“Well, you’re never short of making an impression.”

“Meaning what?”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, “what the fuck do you think it means? It’s not like I’m talking in morse code. You make an impression.”

You smacked a hand down on his knee. “Well, how do I know if you mean good or bad! And don't curse at me like that.”

“Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” he replied, softening his voice, “I am very extremely sorry.”

That little smile you gave him was enchanting.

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “And I meant good, obviously.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you say anything to her, she’ll love you.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“She’ll keep you reasonably in her thoughts?”

“Hm. Yes. I like that better,” you agreed.

While you busied yourself with removing the laptop from your purse and taking an extra minute to inspect your face with a small, compact mirror, Wonwoo glanced around the room again. A few people standing by the professor’s podium at the front were looking at you, their mouths moving in conversation, though Wonwoo could hear none of it from the general chatter. He supposed you were used to getting those dissecting, curious, maybe even sometimes hurtful stares. There was always a light shining on you, wanted or not.

As Wonwoo pulled open the class syllabus on his laptop, he felt a tap against his shoulder. Slightly turning his head, he spotted someone shuffling by in the cramped row behind him, waving.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” the stranger said quickly in passing.

Squinting at him through his glasses, Wonwoo nodded. “Uh, hey.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Someone from last year, I guess.”

“I see. Mr. Popular. Taking names and breaking hearts.”

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “The opposite, actually.”

You giggled so lightly at his response, and for a very slow moment, Wonwoo saw and felt the heat of your eyes stilling in focus upon his face. He squirmed somewhat in his seat, fingers picking at the rough, dark blue material upholstered over the chair’s arm. But then you resumed staring back at yourself in the compact mirror while applying another layer of lip balm, and Wonwoo had to subtly breathe out all the butterflies that fluttered up from his stomach.

With a satisfying snap, you’d shut the mirror, stuffing it back into the purse that was sitting atop his bag on the floor. He wanted to ask you how the book was coming along, how much progress you had made since he last proofread anything, if you were still engaging in those messily long sentences or had you since learned to clean them up.

But it was hard for Wonwoo to ask.

He studied the nervous hands in his lap.

“So… are you free after class?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Uh, I think so? This is my only class today, actually. No more SSA. I’m beyond happy. No one else seemed to take it well but me. I don’t care, though.”

“No, you made the right choice.”

“So, why do you ask?” Angling your body toward him, you smiled, and Wonwoo felt this pool of warmth expand in his chest.

“Do you want to stop at the café on Sunnyside?”

“Maybe. Is it good? I’ve never actually ate there.”

“I think it’s good,” he said, bouncing his knee. “I used to sit in there all the time. I don’t as much anymore, but it’s a cute place to visit. About a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”

Knowing that class was starting soon, Wonwoo moved the phone sitting on the edge of his tabletop into his back pocket.

“Actually, can I ask you something?”

He stiffened in his seat, hardly managing a nod. That always seemed to be a weighted question, especially in your hands, and the fact that you were biting the skin of your bottom lip only stirred forth more worry. Wonwoo folded his arms and nodded, feeling his heart beat.

“Well, it’s just—there’s no exact date yet, okay? But sometime in very late September my family is having another dinner party.”

Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his arms.  “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, continuing to bite your lip, “and, I basically—I-I’ve kind of been blabbing to my mom and stuff. You’ve definitely come up in some conversations. She made a comment that I could invite you and even though I disagree with her on, like, millions of things, I thought it might be a good idea…” your eyes flashed at him doubtfully. “So, like, I’m not gonna force you or anything. I’ve ranted to you about these dinner parties before so I’m sure you know how awful they can be. But… I don’t know… I mean, you don’t even have to stay the entire time. You could just pop by, o-or, or something like that. I just… I think seeing you before will help calm me down.”

Out of everything you could have asked, Wonwoo was least expecting the dinner party question. It seemed to have a very routine structure and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think that his presence there might throw everything off-kilter and the last—the very fucking last—thing he wanted was for your parents to absolutely loathe him. You always complained about them. Even with Mingyu and Seokmin there to accompany you, it seemed never to be enough. However, Wonwoo would hate to leave you hanging so dryly out in the open.

Even if he dreaded it, you mattered more to him than any awkward or nervous sentiments he harboured about the situation.

“Uh… okay. Yeah. I can go.”

You straightened up like a hair standing on end. “Really?!”

He nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh! You’re the best!”

Leaning over the chair rest, you bracketed your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, squeezing him into a quick hug that left his heart racing. Your sweet smell lingered in his nose as you slipped away.

“That’s such a relief… and—yes—for as much as I complain about it, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to keep everything on the rails. I’ll get you out of anything awkward or uncomfortable. And if you feel like it’s too much, I’ll be right there. I promise.”

Wonwoo smiled bashfully, shaking his head.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. I can manage a few shit conversations and uncomfortable silences. I’ve got my own problematic parents. I appreciate the thought, though. Means a lot.”

It would be another matter to anxiously dwell over until it actually happened, but Wonwoo was okay with it knowing how receptive you had become to his mood. More than anything, he didn’t know how to deal with Mingyu. The party had been decent. There were multiple people to bounce off and uplift the weight, substances to mellow the tension and distract the mind. But this felt very different. This would be more intimate. Less room for error in the form of lasting, arduous glances and short but gentle touches.

All he hoped for is that it might end better than the party.

—SEPTEMBER 29TH.

“So, I’ll come pick you up, okay? Just gotta text me.”

“… Yeah, that works. Okay.”

“Take a breath, Glasses. If anyone’s got this, it’s you, alright? No negative Nina shit. You’re lookin’ gorgeous, even more than me.”

“It’s Nancy.”

“What?”

“It’s—never mind.”

“Who’s Nancy?”

“I said never mind.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez… make sure you drop the attitude when you get in there. It’s not very cute of you, yeah?”

Wonwoo felt Vernon’s hand grip onto his shoulder, bestowing him a confident shake that somehow only served to reveal how jellied and weak he’d become. But Wonwoo also knew he couldn’t sit inside the mint-scented interior of his friend’s vanilla Camry the entire night, waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him with the energy he blatantly needed. Consequently, his attitude had gotten a bit snappy.

Vernon was right, though. Wonwoo had to find it within himself to relax, take a breath, and realize the time would fly once he was past the initial haze. Besides, you were there. That was all he really cared about. It made the most impossible things possible.

Looking down at the sleek, unwrinkled material of his black suit jacket, Wonwoo gave it a final and deciding tug. He then reached for the gift bag sitting by his feet. Inhaling, his lungs filled deep with air and Wonwoo was clicking his fist against Vernon’s.

“You’ve got this, playboy.”

“See you on the other side, I guess.”

Exiting the vehicle, Wonwoo spared one last hopeful glance at his face-studded friend before slamming the door shut, now caught outside underneath the moon’s shimmer. Late nights in September always seemed to be somewhat dewy and cold, with golden, ruby, and amber leaves slicked against the streets like flowers pressed into paper. Wonwoo shivered, smelling the earthiness in the atmosphere.

After tightening his fingers around the straps of the gift bag, he began making his way up the smoothly paved driveway, toward the welcoming and aglow ambiance that beamed from your family house.

He grabbed the rung at the door, slamming it a few times.

The anxious breath slowly flowed from his mouth as Wonwoo’s mind raced with who would be the one to answer. Feeling his circled glasses slip, Wonwoo pushed them back up using his finger. At the same time, the front door swung open, and in the clarity, relief washed over him like the caress of that autumn wind.

“Fuck! You’re here!”

Before Wonwoo could get a word out, your arms were already thrown around his neck. The hug was fleeting. As quickly as your body was pressed flush against his, it was gone a second later.

“Uh, yeah. Just got dropped off.”

“Oh my gosh. Come in, come in,” you chirped like an excited bird, pulling at his elbow, “I’m legit so happy you’re here. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes. I know I’m barefoot at the moment but I’ve been so freaking scatterbrained that I haven’t even picked out a pair of heels yet. You look amazing. I’ve never seen you dressed up!”

His face began to burn at the compliment.

“I don’t attend many things that require fancy clothes.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything.”

Smiling, Wonwoo realized that he hadn’t really marvelled your dress, but there was something awfully familiar about it—the shiny olive-green colour, the elegant, revealing slit at the right thigh, the thin yet simple straps draped along the open, lowcut back—he then remembered it was the final dress you had tried on from that expensive boutique in the mall. Somehow, the material looked even more stunning on you now than it did before.

His face grew warmer, sizzling almost.

“That dress has always looked perfect on you.”

There was so much more he could spew in the moment, some cloying, sweet thoughts and some very impure ones, too. But Wonwoo wasn’t trying to cross boundaries and he had to respect your wishes of staying as friends, even if it tore him up inside beyond words.

Fiddling with your fingers, you gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you recognized it.”

The hallway suddenly got very quiet. You were both just standing there, staring at each other, biting lips and scratching skin.

“So, um, I guess I can show you arou—”

“Oh, there they are! Honey, they’re out here!”

Wonwoo’s tender gaze had suddenly snapped toward a woman barging out from an illuminated doorway, a wine glass poised in her hand while the largest, most bedazzled necklace he had ever seen weighed down to her chest. Weathered heels beat the floorboards, echoing between the walls as she stalked toward him.

“You must be Wonwoo!” 

Her hand was gripping onto his wrist and Wonwoo could only prompt a weak smile that was indicative of his racing, feeble heart.

“Yeah, correct. Pleased to finally meet you.”

 “Oh, charmer. Pleasure’s all mine, sunshine. Okay, but—let me get a good look at you. Don’t feel like you have to stand by the doorway, all polite-like. Come a bit more into the light, over here.”

“Mom, don’t pull him,” you warned between clenched teeth.

“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t fret so much. Sheesh.”

Standing beneath the warm and yellow glow from the hallway chandelier, there was notable heaviness in Wonwoo’s chest as your mother’s dilated, intensive gaze wracked along his every feature, as though she were the reading the fine print to one of her catalogues.

“You’re certainly gorgeous,” she complimented, “and that voice! So soothing. How do you not have a lovely lady on your arm?”

Wonwoo’s eyes skipped to you in complete and utter panic.

Grabbing onto her shoulder, you gently guided her away.

“Mom, come on. You’re smothering him, alright? Remember the thing with Mingyu? I told you not to do that anymore. He just got here and I want him to actually enjoy himself. Don’t be so… pouncey.”

“Okay. I got it,” the mom said, lifting her hand and wine glass in submission, seeming serious for no less a few seconds. “The princess of the house, FYI. She always gets what she wants.”

You knocked her touch away as she wriggled your chin, very poorly veiling your annoyance through a grumble, “it’s not like that.”

“Didn’t I call in your father? What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably hiding in his office.”

“Is that where he is? Really? When I asked him to set the table? Jeez. You spend all day cooking a meal, chopping and dicing and braising and frying, and the man just can’t be bothered to put out some knives and forks. This is why I opened the wine early, y’know.”

Your arms folded, and you appeared so much smaller.

“Seokmin set the table already.”

“Oh! What—he—he did? I didn't even notice!”

“Yes, like an hour ago.”

“Oh my gosh! That boy’s an angel. Raised so well, wasn’t he? You know Seokmin, right, Wonwoo? You’re all friends?”

Awkwardly shifting in his place, Wonwoo nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where Seokmin or Mingyu were. There was dulled music echoing softly from a distant room in the house. Down the hallway corridor, it seemed to open up into a big living space.

Suddenly, your mom began to wiggle her finger at the bag he was holding limp in his hand, and for a moment, Wonwoo had even forgot it existed. She sipped from her gradually disappearing wine again, her words sounding muffled as they fogged up the glass.

“Is that a gift I spot in your hand, dear?”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered.

Flattening a palm over the intricate jewel necklace glittering down her chest, your mother fawned adoringly, and Wonwoo’s stomach immediately dropped knowing it wasn’t her gift at all.

“Gosh! You shouldn’t’ve!”

“Uh, a-actually, it’s not—it was—I got this for your daughter.”

His gut twisted, watching the excitement and gleam drain from your mother’s face, her smile wiped away like an eraser to a penciled drawing. At least you had brightened up, though it wasn’t without caution, and Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

Straightening her spine, a grin then twitched unnaturally to her mouth. She was directly back into the wine for another drink.

“Well, that’s certainly thoughtful.” Wiping off her lips, she unnervingly held Wonwoo’s gaze for a brief moment, her eyes harder than diamonds. She then turned toward you, proceeding to gesture in a swirling motion with her finger at your face. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind, could you take a few minutes to just fix your makeup?”

Your expression faltered, shoulders sagging.

“My makeup? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, the lashes are lifting a bit. It’s not too noticeable in this dusky hallway but out in the proper light, everyone will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t use that shade of lipstick. Remember the tip I gave you? When we take photos that colour is not going to show well.”

“I do remember, yes. But I thought it could match with—”

“No but’s. These dinners are important for us, alright? Go fix.”

Wonwoo held his breath. In all his time spent getting to know you—your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and oddly specific rules about the way things should work—the one cardinal sin was to never interrupt you. Even when he was fighting tooth and nail against you in his apartment, aching with hurt and bitterness, he didn’t cut you off once to get his word over yours. He doubted Mingyu had ever done it, and he was positive Seokmin hadn’t, either. To actually witness it felt somewhat like a crime requiring swift punishment.

Though, for all that Wonwoo was expecting in response to the rage that had just rippled across your face, there was nothing.

Because you’d choked it down like foul cough syrup.

He watched the fist unclench at your side.

“Okay,” you stated in surprising simplicity, “I’ll go fix it,” still with a sprinkle of attitude that your mother opted to ignore as she announced her trip into the kitchen to check the food.

The second she was obscured from view, a noticeable glisten of tears and exhaustion glimmered in your eyes, though you sucked all the emotions back with a deep, deep breath.

“Do you want to come with me, upstairs for a second?” You asked in a tight, shaky voice. “Unless you want to find Seokmin.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him later. Of course I’ll come with you,” he answered, smiling at you with all his tenderness.

He proceeded to follow you up a dimly lit staircase draped in a chocolate brown rug. The house looked quite small from the outside, hidden almost, by the inky night, but as Wonwoo accompanied you at the robust, wooden dresser kept against the corridor wall, he realized just how long the house actually was.

Your lower back pressed against the dresser, hands gripping the edges and fingers scraping the underside of the chestnut.

Wonwoo left the gift bag sitting next to an amorphous, black metallic sculpture that he couldn’t even begin to understand, then dusting off his palms and watching you shake your head.

“I mean, you’ve only been here for five minutes, and I’m already breaking out my seams,” you laughed, dabbing at a tear travelling too far down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to be like this so soon and I’m not gonna force you to stay.”

“Stop saying that,” Wonwoo urged, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I told you I would come. I’m not going to abandon you.”

You paused, biting the swollen skin of your bottom lip.

“… Okay.” Looking down at the ground, you wiped your damp face again before hugging yourself. “She always does this… she always has something to point out. Nothing can ever be perfect for her. I’ve spent, like, all day, preparing myself, because that’s what she wants, and it’s still not enough. I don’t get it. I feel—” you sucked in a needy breath, pinching at your nose, “—I feel like I’m just some stupid doll she’s trying to perfect, but I never came perfect in the first place, so it’s all a big waste, and somehow, it’s my fault… I know I’m unloading and I’m sorry for that, too. This day has just been—I hate it. I hate these dinners. I fucking hate everything about them. I want to bang my head against the wall.”

Wonwoo smiled at you.

He untucked a hand from his pocket and reached for the clenched fist at your hip, spreading apart your fingers into his.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m listening, okay?”

Though your eyes were misty with tears and tiredness, you managed to return a frail little grin that was deeply sincere. Your hand tightened in his for a moment, and then you were stepping into him like he was a fresh blanket straight from the laundry. Fingers bunched up his suit jacket and your face was warm against his neck.

“I think it’ll be a little better tonight,” you whispered. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me feel like I’m going insane.”

Wonwoo passed up and down your bare back with his hand, admiring the softness to your pampered skin and the luscious scent of your hair, though he knew you had probably hated every moment trapped in the hot shower, exfoliating and shaving and scrubbing your body clean. He felt you squeeze onto him harder.

“Can I see what your gift is?”

“Oh, yeah…” he muttered, pulling apart from your heat, “it’s kind of a two-in-one thing. It’ll make sense once I explain.”

“That seems exciting,” you answered, returning to your lean against the chestnut dresser, folding your arms and smiling.

“So, um—if you remember the poker game—I owed you a pretty big lump of cash,” Wonwoo said, reaching inside the bag to grab a smooth, matte box, “and then there was the day at the museum, of course. Running home in the rain. You lost a shoe.”

“Oh my gosh, yeah…” you giggled fondly at the memory.

“I was at the mall—and, yes, I know. Why would I be at the mall when I hate the place?  But I was getting my laptop fixed at that tech store on the third floor, and I also needed wires for my—okay. Never mind the rambling. Fuck, I’m turning into you now. Anyway, I walked past that one store you love and get pretty much all your clothes from. They had these heels in the window. The white ones, which you said to me are actually not white, but a very specific shade of ivory that I couldn’t see and still fail to see, to be honest. And they had that little bit of gold in the straps… but the point is—I got them for you.”

You glitched for a second, and it wasn’t until Wonwoo was basically pushing the box into your chest that you seemed to realize.

“Wait… you actually went to Rosette?”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Immediately, you flipped the box open and began flicking away the neatly trimmed cover of glittered tissue paper. “You got me the Gold Crystal Rope-Strapped and Ivory Ankle four-inch from Mirabella? Wonwoo! I-I was just talking when I saw them in the mall! I mean, you didn't have to actually get them!”

“I know,” Wonwoo answered, helping you pick the heels out from their imprints, “you’re always just talking, though.”

“Unnecessary.”

“To you.”

He was thankful you were too enraptured by the shoes to bother retaliating. Under regular circumstances, Wonwoo wouldn’t ever have been able to make such an expensive decision, but he still had some leftovers from winning the other poker matches at the party, in addition to a work bonus, and he knew that he still needed to repay you those favours even if they weren’t being held against him.

“They’re so freaking gorgeous,” you fawned, inspecting each heel like a jeweller would to their collection, “I can’t tell if I want to hit you or jump on you in happiness. I love them so much.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Oh my gosh, can you help me put them on? Pretty please?”

“Uh—yeah, ‘course.”

You gripped the edges of the dresser, slightly sitting on the surface as Wonwoo squatted down to your bare feet. He collected the first ivory heel and loosened the anklet buckle, proceeding to help slide the shoe on until it was fit perfectly. As he busied himself with loosening the buckle to the other heel, Wonwoo felt the ghost of your fingertips brush through his hair. In a spilt second, he froze, staring up at you, who was grinning back in utmost beauty.

“Just fixing your hair a little,” you stated innocently.

Wonwoo readjusted his glasses, nodding. “O-Okay.”

The action hadn’t felt that innocent, and as Wonwoo swallowed tight and continued sliding your ankle through the heel, he was overwhelmed with the most blaring, vivid, heart-hammering thoughts of smoothing his hands along each your soft thighs, pinning up the slippery silk to your olive-green dress, tugging aside your thin panties, burying his face and tongue so hot and heavy into your—

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“Fuck,” you groaned, lolling your head back while Wonwoo finished settling the heel onto your foot, “just in case you didn’t connect the dots, that means we need to get downstairs.”

He returned to height, straightening out the sleeves to his suit jacket. For some reason, there was such an intense disappointment burning in his chest, as though his carnal thoughts were not just thoughts but an actual intent to pleasure you—which was completely ludacris given your friendship and the fact your boyfriend was probably downstairs—that had now been ripped away from him by the shrill pitch of your mother’s beckoning voice.

“Should I take the box—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You grabbed onto his hand, tugging him toward the staircase.

“C’mon. Let’s get this shit over with.”

And Wonwoo followed, though he couldn’t help but note how you carefully dropped his hand upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, where Seokmin and Mingyu were standing about.

“Hey!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing toward him. “Wonwoo!”

Expectantly, Seokmin looked like he belonged in a suit. That dark cherry red colour was rather fitting and only served to amplify the glow of his indestructible enthusiasm. Wonwoo awkwardly sauntered over to them, playing with the threads in his pockets.

Mingyu’s suit was more charcoal in tone, with his hair expertly gelled and combed. He mirrored a suave movie star as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from his partly-filled wine glass.

“Uh, hey guys.”

You were hovering at the stove alongside your mother, talking in a hushed manner, while she stirred a large and bubbling pot of aromatic sauce, smelling like rosemary and perhaps cooked off vodka or some other alcohol. There was food everywhere—warm bread plates and fresh salad bowls and artistically painted casserole dishes covered by tinfoil. A window had been cracked open to help alleviate the heat swarming the kitchen, which Wonwoo could feel a little too uncomfortably in the air.

Seokmin grabbed at a couple crackers and cubed cheese organized onto a charcuterie board behind him.

“Don’t you clean up well?” He complimented with a big grin.

Wonwoo shook his head. “Not that well.”

“Hey—” Seokmin suddenly grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and pointed a finger at him, “—you’re here, alright? That’s an honour.”

Mingyu brushed the cracker crumbs off Seokmin’s suit.

“Don’t snack too much. She hates when you can’t eat.”

“Uh—I made this stupid board. I get to eat from it whenever I want. I’ll be fine, anyway. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Mingyu stopped tidying Seokmin’s suit, instead grabbing his wine glass off the countertop, sighing aloud, “that was a stupid idea…”

From the dreariness to his words and the slouch pulling down his shoulders, Mingyu didn’t seem to be all that excited or even half as chipper as Seokmin, though Wonwoo suspected that he knew the dinner parties to be a complete trainwreck. If Mingyu could hardly stomach a night with your parents despite all the stunning food and drink, then Wonwoo had no idea as to how he’d survive.

“So, um…” Seokmin lowered his voice, tipping his head close to Mingyu’s ear, “should we give him the rulebook?”

“Rulebook?” Wonwoo echoed.

“Uh,” Mingyu sipped quickly from his wine, “yeah, guess we can do that. Not in here, though. Let Her talk to her mom.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Seokmin smiled, flashing a sly wink at Mingyu. “Hey, we’re gonna give Wonwoo a quick tour, alright!” He then called, his hand wrapping around the boy’s bicep, already beginning to tug him toward the hallway. “It won’t take too long; we’ll just show the bottom floor! Be back in a few!”

“Oh, uh, I guess that’s fine,” your mother replied while grabbing onto the pot handles with two tea towels, moving the sauce from the element, “but please do be quick! And, Seokmin—do you mind fetching the hubby from his office after you’re done?”

“I can do that, for sure,” he answered, smiling bright.

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much.”

He was escorted out the muggy kitchen and down the corridor, flanked by Mingyu and Seokmin until they reached the living area where the piano music had been coming from.

Before he could issue even one question, Wonwoo was pressed down onto the red, very large-cushioned couch. Seokmin sat on the marble coffee table while Mingyu fixed himself onto the arm of a sturdy leather chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Neither boy spoke for a moment and Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened as he listened to the elegant, soft piano tune fill the space.

“So… what’s the rulebook?”

“Well, it’s not an actual rulebook,” Seokmin corrected, “that was just for dramatics, allure, etcetera. But that’s what we call it.”

“We? You and Mingyu, you mean.”

Shifting in his place, Seokmin nodded, and his voice dropped an octave lower, "play the game long enough, you learn the rules.” 

Mingyu’s chuckle dampened into the wine glass. “And there a lot of fuckin’ rules, that’s for damn sure,” he said with a scary smirk.

“But—we’ll just give you the crash course for now, as to lessen the overwhelmingness of what it takes to endure a dinner party.”

“Um, does Her know—”

“There are three principal rules; I’ll give them to you quick, so listen good,” Seokmin interrupted, leaning further into Wonwoo’s space, speaking quietly. “Rule one: do whatever the mom says, even if she doesn’t say it directly, or scarcely alludes to it. Makes everything ten times smoother, and gets her to like you, which is very important. Rule two: there is a guaranteed argument between Her’s mom and Her every fucking time—you stay out of it—never pick sides.

If you do get roped into whatever petty, passive-aggressive shame-fest they rake up, insert a compliment. Example: this steak is so tender and perfectly cooked! FYI—we’re not eating steak, so think of your own thing—and rule three: Her is like a freshly shaken can of carbonated soda and she can explode at any given moment. As her dear friends, and boyfriend, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen or else you’ll want to axe yourself.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow heavily at Seokmin, noting a few crumbs left on his cherry suit from the cheese and crackers.

“How do we stop that?” He asked genuinely.

Mingyu proceeded to lower the nearly emptied wine glass against his knee, clearing his throat, “you don’t stop it.”

“But I thought—”

“It happens every time, without fail,” Seokmin answered, shaking his head, “but you can prolong it. You know, like cracking open the cap and letting out some air instead of the bottle fizzling into obliteration right away. The explosion’s not as big then. It’s easy. You just keep the conversation pushing. Don’t leave any space for bickering. Mingyu sometimes takes Her downstairs, or outside. To be fair, you don’t really have to worry about the last part.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu huffed, hardly amused, “lucky you, huh?”

“What happens if that fails?” Wonwoo asked.

Seokmin leaned back, tipping his head to the side. “Last year Her’s mom spent six hours braising these honey-garlic barbeque ribs with asparagus and stuffed potatoes. Guess where the food ended up by the end of the night? Because it wasn’t my starving mouth.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Wonwoo sighed.

Bobbing his head approvingly, Seokmin smiled. “Exactly.”

“If these dinners are always such a mess, why do they keep happening? I mean, it doesn’t seem like anybody enjoys them.”

Fiddling with the thick folded cuff of his dress shirt, Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. They used to a be a lot bigger in the past. Way more relatives and family friends. Just get-together's with a lot of food and drink and intoxicatedness. A way to maintain community and repore or something. But it’s shrunk down over the years. I still can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.”

Mingyu rubbed tiresomely down his neck, somewhat wincing as he massaged a sore spot. “It definitely makes it worse.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Seokmin agreed, “it puts more pressure on the rest of us… anyway, I should grab ‘the hubby’ as per request.”

Snickering, Mingyu flashed his pointed canine teeth and raised the wine back to his lips. “Makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”

With an uneased laugh, Seokmin smirked. “Every time.”

As the boy disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the large living area, Wonwoo assumed he and Mingyu might return to the kitchen as it was probably not the best idea—leaving you alone for too long with your nitpicking mother—but when Wonwoo began lifting himself from the plump couch cushions he was sunken into, Mingyu’s hand touched at his shoulder to stop him.

In an instant, trepidation surged throughout his body.

Wonwoo’s face had most certainly gone white, though the lighting in the living room was too warm and orangey to tell.

“I just wanna talk to you about something real quick,” Mingyu said, stretching forward to leave his empty glass on the marbled table.

“Oh—um, okay.”

When he thought about the past few months, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t even spoke to Mingyu since the blowout party back in June. So much had happened since then, good and bad. Wonwoo could only suspect that he was about to hear the worst talking-to in his life, though he attempted to feign the terror for casualness.

Mingyu swooped a hand behind his ear, brushing back his perfectly styled hair, and looked to Wonwoo almost… forgivingly?

“I know you and I haven’t seen each other since the party at Seungcheol’s. I know some shit went down between you and Her and that it really blew up and you guys weren’t talking for a bit. She said, like, it was something to do with the book she’s writing and you were having differences about the direction and it kinda exploded.”

Wonwoo prayed it was imperceptible, the gigantic breath of relief he fought to exhale without too much giveaway, knowing that you hadn’t told Mingyu the truth to the argument. He was happy about your work-around, though he didn’t know if it was… morally right… that you opted not to tell your boyfriend—the person you supposedly trusted most—one of your biggest miseries.

“Oh… yeah,” Wonwoo exhaled, “it got pretty ugly.”

Mingyu nodded. “I honestly don’t even know if she’s still working on it. She doesn’t tell me about it. I don’t get why it’s so fuckin’ important to her but… I digress. Anyway, like Seokmin said, you’re here now, so you two obviously hashed it out. She seems to really appreciate you as a friend. And—hey—it helps takes some of the weight off my shoulders, y’know? Girl’s a fuckin’ handful sometimes.”

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation and the alcohol he was beginning to smell from the boy’s clothes. He understood the situation was stressful for Mingyu, that he might be teetering between things absentmindedly, yet he nonetheless questioned what Mingyu’s intentions even were with you.

“Well, uh… I really enjoy spending time with her, too,” he murmured as Mingyu reclaimed his emptied wine glass.

There was a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking it.

“You’re a good person, man. Seriously.”

Using Wonwoo as a support crutch, Mingyu heaved onto his feet, then proceeded to straighten out his charcoal suit jacket.

“M’kay, I’m going back to the kitchen. We’re probably gonna eat soon so don’t spend too long losing your head out here.”

“Yeah, got it.”

He watched Mingyu amble down the long and subtly aglow corridor, carrying his wine glass low at the hip until reaching the threshold to the kitchen. You had suddenly popped out, stumbling into him with a smile and some hushed words that were impossible to comprehend as Wonwoo sat alone, listening to the jazzy piano tunes from the record player. After nipping a quick kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, you entered the living room with a crooked head.

“What’chya doing out here?” You inquired, pressing a hand against the grand, wooden frame adorning the entry way.

Wonwoo grabbed at his knees while pulling himself up.

“Just a quick pep talk. And a fly-by of some rules.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “Seokmin’s crash course, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I call him John Green just to piss him off.”

Wonwoo smiled, stepping around the marble coffee table. “I feel like that might serve to stroke Seokmin’s ego above all.”

“No, it starts to irritate him after a while. You should know at this point I can piss off just about anybody. Even Seokmin. It’s a talent. Though I don’t think it’s enough for me anymore. I want to start pushing people to rock bottom or I haven’t done enough.”

There was a teasing sparkle in your eye as Wonwoo approached you. He could smell all that deliciously cooked food from down the corridor and his stomach was certainly responding to it.

“I can get you there,” Wonwoo said. “Don’t stress.”

“Forgot to fix my makeup. Want to come with me?”

He agreed, and you began to guide him across the living room, swathed in all its expensive mahogany fabrics, obtuse looking vases, and jade-green lamp shades that reminded him of late-night study sessions at the campus library. You pulled him past a wide shelf that was organized with much smaller, glazed sculptures that caught his attention as they lowly glimmered in the mellow light.

“Woah,” he gripped at your wrist, stopping your swift walk, “someone in your family loves ceramics, I’m guessing?”

You ricocheted back into his side, then taking a few seconds to adjust some invisible flaws in your hair before responding.

“That’s just some pottery I did when I was younger.”

Wonwoo squinted at you. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“You took classes?”

Shrugging, you muttered a simple, “yeah.”

“Is that why you were so interested in that vase back at my apartment?” When you continued to stare at him blankly, Wonwoo cleared his throat and reiterated, “the red one? It was really round at the bottom, but the stem was tall and skinny. You really liked it.”

“Oh—yeah—sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last been to your apartment. I don’t know if that’s why I liked it. Probably.”

He smiled at you inquisitively. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that to me, considering my landlord is a ceramics teacher. I mean, as you know.”

Your eyes seemed reminiscent and adrift, glancing from sculpture to sculpture—lopsided teapots, poorly shaped toadstools, crooked little spoons—there were a plethora of your small creations laid across the shelf, gathering dust and appearing untended to.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, hands buried in his pockets. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who liked getting their hands dirty. I suppose it’s different when you’re younger, though.”

Pursing your lip, you nodded. “Things are always different when you’re young. My mom used to use the spoons I made to scoop sugar into her coffees. But she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. Just wine.”

“Well, it’s nice she appreciated your effort.”

There was a beat of silence. Your expression twitched.

“I had to beg to take those classes, y’know?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at you. “How come?”

Your arms folded, and you shrugged again. “My parents honestly saw it as a distraction. I mean, why let your daughter play with some clay when she can hardly pass her math tests. But there was this super artsy girl in our recreational class who always made the best teacups from the clay, and she would paint them so beautifully… I wanted to be able to do what she did. So I asked my parents again and again and again until they fucking gave up and found a pottery class to enroll me in. Although, I'm pretty sure they supposed I would drop it sooner or later. Like it was just an itch I had to scratch. It was in this little art shop that looked similar to your landlord's.”

He smiled at you. “Was your instructor a polish lady?”

“No, she was not polish,” your head shook as you swept some dust from the black shelf, rubbing your fingers together, “I remember that much, but I don’t remember her name. It was after a flower, though. Something too complicated for my eleven-year-old brain to retain.”

“Probably Chrysanthemum or some shit,” Wonwoo muttered.

You laughed at his comment, “probably.”

“… Well, you must have liked it. You made so much stuff.”

“Oh, I loved it. I mean, looking at some of this stuff now, it’s not that great. But I didn’t really care that much at the time.”

“Considering you were a child, it’s pretty damn good.”

Wonwoo felt your elbow dig shallowly into his ribs. “Don’t try to flatter eleven-year-old me,” you warned him. “If you would have seen the other girl’s creations, mine would turn from pretty damn good to: well, at least she tried something new!”

“No,” Wonwoo chuckled, “that’s dumb.”

“Honestly, there was so much stuff that I made. More than half of it’s not even on this shelf. There wouldn’t be enough space.”

“Shit. What happened to it?”

You pinched at the olive fabric of your dress, massaging the silk between your fingertips for a moment while examining each and every sculpture moulded and grooved by your tiny childhood hands.

“My favourite part was destroying it,” you answered.

Wonwoo narrowed his brow, “I don’t think I could do that to something I spent so much effort and time creating.”

“Yeah, and that’s all good and fine,” you reasoned, adjusting your shoulders, “but I just didn’t see it like that, I guess...”

Intrigued, Wonwoo smiled at you. “How did you see it, then?”

For a moment, you thought, staring off into space.

 “Well, I just don’t understand why people are so afraid of things being ephemeral. When you’re an artist, or a writer, or a musician, I feel like you want to make something that will last forever, transcend eras, touch people for a lifetime, or, I don’t know—you want it to stay preserved, like when they embalm things. But I feel like there’s just as much worth and importance to the things that hardly last at all. I feel like there’s so much freedom and self-assurance in building something up and then crushing it down.

That’s what I loved about it. When the clay would explode from between my fingers and stick into the lines of my palms because I was squeezing it so hard—it just felt good. Like it was supposed to happen. Like I was letting go. It doesn’t have to mean I… failed. It doesn’t have to mean I’m good at it either… I guess I just want to enjoy things without the burden of having to prove I deserve to enjoy them. Why can't I just do it? Why can't it just be between me and myself, you know? Why can't I decide what to take from it?"

Wonwoo nodded at you.

Contrarily, that was the opposite to his own beliefs surrounding his art, and maybe even his life. Wonwoo could never let things go, nor was he sure when that quality had permanently wedged its way into his human nature. For some reason, Wonwoo saw the past memory where his older brother had scampered away into the bushes surrounding the public pool during that game of Lifeguard all those hot summers ago, leaving an adolescent Wonwoo to get dragged from the water and thrown onto the sun-scorched concrete as everyone watched.

He saw the fuzzy, white glow that beamed from his laptop left open in the darkness, sitting still with all those pages he wrote, and yet to be filled with the words that he could never string together.

Unlike you, Wonwoo had never figured out the mechanism to letting things go. Instead, he held everything—between his fingers, across his shoulders, on his tongue, under his skin, deep inside his chest. Hence, for a split second, he was incredibly jealous that it seemed you could live without weight. You were just a breeze.

And just like everyone else, you were still discovering yourself.

“Anyway. That’s my take on it."

"Why'd you stop? This seemed like such a big part of you."

You flicked your eyes around, shrugging. "Things got in the way."

Wonwoo wondered what things, though he didn't ask.

"But we should hurry. Dinner will be ready soon and my mom will flip if we’re not at the table in time. She interprets it as ‘we don’t care’ and that will open a can of worms nobody wants to see.”

You sighed, then grabbing onto Wonwoo’s arm to pull him down another mysterious, long corridor in your maze of a house.

“Oh, Mingyu, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad the interview went well! I had him slip in a good word for you, too. But I’m sure you put the nail in the coffin. Walking straight into a promotion, you know, that’s something so hard to come by. You’ll settle just perfectly.”

“Yeah, thanks. To you as well. That word went a long way.”

“Making the right connections is certainly key.”

“It is. But I’m just lucky, is all. Your daughter is the real key. She’s given me so much—you all have—I just wanna let you know how grateful I am. Seriously. You’re some of the kindest people.”

“Shush! Before I give you a lash from this towel. It’s been sitting under the potato tray so it’s nice and hot… I’m so excited for your future together. A real power-couple! That’s for sure.”

“Hm. Yeah.”

Wonwoo was pressed flush to the wall just outside the kitchen, simultaneously holding his breath while listening to the conversation between your mother and Mingyu as everyone was presumably sat around the dressed table. Your fingers were hurriedly ruffling out some wrinkles in his tie while you repeatedly cursed at both your tardiness, and he simply let you do what you pleased. After a half-second adjustment made to his collar, you wasted not an instant more—Wonwoo was suddenly thrust into the warm kitchen with you impatiently in tow.

As expected, everyone was sat and waiting. Even your father had been at last pulled from his study, and he was positioned at the head of the long dinner table while twiddling a fork around in his fingers.

Your mother had an elbow propped on Mingyu’s chair.

She was the only one standing.

“Quick,” you whispered into Wonwoo’s ear, practically shoving him down into the empty seat beside Seokmin, “sit there.”

Upon the nervous side-eye that his friend shot at Wonwoo, he suspected that he may have just wriggled his way into an unfortunate ticket straight to hell. You held up the flowy, billowing silk of your olive dress while making your way to the seat across from him and beside a very unenthused-looking Mingyu, who was evidently chewing on his inner cheek. Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s stare for no less than a second, and there was nearly enough electricity in the glance to make a crackle.

A few more dishes had been squeezed onto the table since he was last in the kitchen. Despite the fact there was only six people eating, nearly every corner and crevice of the table was occupied. Your mother had cooked enough to feed an entire party, unless she was planning on sending everyone home with tupperwares full of leftovers.

“Looks super delicious,” Seokmin complimented.

Mingyu nodded in agreement. “Smells even better.”

Wonwoo didn’t know if he was also supposed to throw out some off-the-tongue compliment and keep the train chugging. The atmosphere was just so heavy—everything felt like an extreme effort—he could hardly breathe without the sensation of his lungs itching, as though they were adorned in cobwebs. Unconsciously, he’d started picking at his thumb, his appetite disappearing by the second in place of dread.

“You boys are so lovely, thank you,” your mother commented, straightening out the orange tea towel in her hand while continuing to lean into the side of Mingyu’s chair. “This was all a labour of love.”

Seokmin flashed a picturesque smile that Wonwoo had seen many times before. “Well, I’m feeling the love. That’s for sure. Are we ready to dig in all?” Still, there was a bit of anxious haste in his actions. 

“One moment, first,” your mother stated, pausing Seokmin in his reach for a large casserole spoon. Wonwoo clasped his hands together even tighter as she said, “we’re going to wait a few minutes more.”

You had pulled out your chair, but you didn’t sit.

“Mom, I was just fixing my makeup. That’s what you asked me to do. There’s no reason to make everyone keep waiting.” You removed the towel from her hand and laced it through the oven handlebar. “Just take a seat, okay? I’ll start making everyone’s plates if they pass them.”

She smiled at you. “Well, that’s a very sweet gesture. But it doesn’t take long to fix an unstuck lash or change a lipstick. You’ve got yourself a makeup chair. You should know better than anyone, my love.”

Wonwoo hated this—he hated the way your mother’s criticizing was buttered up nice with a practiced, insincere smile and a crooning voice. He hated the way Mingyu was pushing fingers against the knot in his stiff eyebrow like something horrible was about to happen. He hated the way your father was uncomfortably mute, sitting only with a pursed lip and folded arms in complete disinterest, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He hated that Seokmin was continuing to beam his signature-watt smile even though the air was dense enough to crush everyone flat.

You picked up Mingyu’s plate, presumably because it was the closest to you, and started slopping some hot casserole onto it. Every movement was autopilot, thoughtless, as the steam from the breached casserole rolled up into the air and shrouded you.

“I was only trying to make it perfect,” you muttered.

“Make it what?” Your mother questioned, staring you down.

“Perfe—”

“Stop mumbling, my love. I can’t hear you.”

Mingyu’s messy plate was collapsed back onto its placemat with a very loud thud, and you looked to your mother with utmost annoyance.

“I was trying to make it per-fect.”

She quirked her head. “And you needed Wonwoo to do that?”

Just as he ruminated—the universe had a fearsome penchant for whirlpooling him into the centre of everything and anything horrible, like his name was written in the water. Though, Wonwoo couldn’t say he was expecting to survive the dinner party unscathed. He tried to remember the quick spiel of rules Seokmin had relayed to him—was it better to get involved or just shut the fuck up? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to do something? Wasn’t Seokmin supposed to keep the conversation pushing?

“Mom, please, just—I was showing him around, okay? He’s the guest. He’s never been over before. Wonwoo has nothing to do with us being a few minutes late to dinner. So just leave him be.” You removed the tinfoil from another bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, you started slapping creamy mashed potatoes onto Mingyu’s plate. “Trying to make something out of nothing… why can’t we just eat for once?”

“Honey, we could be eating, but you’re choosing to sulk.”

“I’m not sulking! I’m trying to help!”

“No, no, no. Mingyu’s plate looks like an animal that got squashed by a car. If you can’t even properly fix your future husband a nice-looking plate of food without pooling all your anger into it, then there’s an issue, there.” She shook her head. “A very big issue.”

Wonwoo could see your eyes burning.

Mingyu had then sighed, removing the wooden spoon that was clenched up in your hand like a weapon and slipping it back into the mashed potato bowl. The boy tugged a few times at your wrist, keeping his tired voice as soft as possible while imploring you to sit down.

“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” he said, probably to soothe himself more than anything, “all the food goes straight into my mouth, anyway. Same goes for all of us. Sit down, Her, alright? Please?”

“No,” you snapped your wrist free, “I don’t want to sit.”

In a desperate hope to experience some sort of consolidation amongst the tension, Wonwoo angled a glance toward Seokmin. When his friend wouldn’t look back and merely opted to keep biting his blistering lip, Wonwoo quite literally felt a meteor sink into his stomach.

Slicking a hand along his shiny hair, Mingyu sighed even deeper. “Please just sit. You know what’ll happen. Please.”

Again stepping away from Mingyu’s attempted touch, you began to shout, and Wonwoo’s breath froze as your voice echoed around the kitchen in a hauntingly similar manner to the quarrel at his apartment.

“I already said no!”

From the head of the table, your father pushed out his chair. His voice was oddly gruff when he spoke, like he hadn’t said a word all day and his throat was hoarse by consequence.

“Don’t shout,” was all he warned.

Your mother shook her head. “She will raise her voice when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the cut from her disappointed eyes even though she wasn’t even looking at him.

“I’m raising my voice because you’re not listening! You haven’t listened to me all fucking day! Oh my god! It’s eating me alive!”

In an instant, Mingyu was to his feet, almost trying to court you into the corner by the open window with his hands that you battered away. Wonwoo gripped onto his knees. He couldn’t choke out a damn word and Seokmin seemed to have become stiller than stone.

“Calm down,” Mingyu urged, “take some breaths.”

“You still won’t listen!”

“I’ll listen later, I promise.”

“Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?!”

“Just—you’re blowing this out of proportion again.”

“Stop trying to control me!”

“Calm down and—hey!”

With a frustrated groan, you squirmed away from Mingyu and rushed back to the dinner table where your mother continued to stare at you with such conflict in her expression, as though it was mentally taxing her to compute how such a seemingly perfect, established daughter could simultaneously appear so unraveled and incomplete before her. For a second, Wonwoo thought you might take the mashed potatoes or casserole and just completely drench the wall in their remnants.

But you didn’t do anything. Instead, you looked across the organized table—the vibrant food, sparkling drinking glasses, and expensive, unpopped bottles of alcohol—at Wonwoo, who had admittedly felt pretty useless and paralyzed throughout the ordeal. You looked straight into his eyes and he could see that you were almost physically begging him for an out. And, if he could see himself as an outsider, it was probably the same damn look he was giving you.

Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the silence in the room.

Your father coughed, retrieving his utensils, ready to sweep the argument and very obvious hostility under the rug—put a small little bandage on a gigantic wound that had been festering for years.

“Same dance every time. Come sit, Mingyu. Let’s just eat.”

That would be nice, if Wonwoo had any appetite.

That would be nice if he wasn’t pushing out his chair, getting up from the table, keeping his gaze level and connected with yours, watching you swallow hard, hold back your tears, anxiously flex your fingers in a momentary contemplation and then—unprompted—run. Just run.

Wonwoo fled into the corridor with you right behind him, your hands kneading against his lower back as he threw open the door to the quiet, dimly lit front porch where that damp and black September night was ready to breathe him in and whisk you two away. He heard the very confused shouting from the kitchen, but there wasn’t any time to waste.

Wonwoo flew down the wood steps and splashed through a shallow puddle reflecting the moonlight, running toward the long street drifted in thinly strewn mist. He continued to run, only stopping for a brief moment to turn around and observe you quickly fling off your heels before scooping them up while everyone crowded onto the porch, yelling.

In your bare feet and a smile so pearlescent, you sprinted straight into Wonwoo’s outstretched arms, giggling aloud while he gripped your body firm and spun you in a circle that saw your dress twirl like a ribbon and your legs brush through the alive air.

Mingyu began stalking down the driveway, visibly angry, his face twisted into a snarl that might see Wonwoo getting split in his nose.

“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed, squeezing your fingers into his. He was suddenly being tugged down the empty, dark street, as though there was some invisible curtain for you to magically disappear behind. “Let’s go!”

Wonwoo didn’t mind one bit. Indefinitely, he would let you tug him over a cliff if it meant you two could fall together. The street was long and wet but the air was so fresh. Every breath he took was pure.

He didn’t know where you were going.

But he didn’t need to.

“Be careful. I don’t want you to step on something sharp.”

“I think I already did.”

Wonwoo pulled tight on your warm hand, stopping you.

“Seriously? Let me look.”

You made a slight huffing noise while sitting down on a large boulder, not caring that the surface was sandy and damp, forming a dark imprint against your olive dress. Wonwoo squatted down, looking at the dirty underside to one bare foot, and then the other, realizing there weren’t any cuts. He then used the cuff to his suit jacket, brushing off the small pieces of grit stuck into the skin in case he missed anything.

In all honesty, Wonwoo had no idea where you two were. After running far down the fancy Hillcrest Street until your family house was completely obscured into mist and memory, you led Wonwoo off onto a separate footpath by the treeline. Your fingers were slotted into each other’s. This was the first time Wonwoo had let go of your hand since running away, and the chilled air felt like prickles on his palm.

Removing the phone from his pocket to shine a light, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the missed calls and texts that had collected minute by minute from Seokmin earlier. You didn’t even have your phone. The only thing you carried was the ivory heels that Wonwoo gifted you at the start of the evening, which were still clutched in your hand.

“No blood. No lacerations. Just dirt,” Wonwoo said. “If you did cut yourself, you might not even feel it with all that adrenaline.”

You smiled at him. “Your phone a graveyard of Seokmin texts?”

He smirked, flicking through them all. “Precisely, yeah.”

Leaning backward on the boulder, you at last let go of the heels and stretched your arms out behind you, staring up at the moonlight patterning between the forest trees, their branches more barren as the autumn leaves came loose in the breeze. They fell down one by one, rustling softly whenever they hit the ground. He heard you sigh.

“Everyone there can go fuck themselves.”

Putting his phone away, Wonwoo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“That line’s a classic, coming from you.”

He attempted to sit beside you on the boulder, ignoring how uneven and rough it felt under his butt. Wherever you were along the footpath, it was perfectly hushed, almost felt hidden. The tree branches above him had framed the moon akin to a picture—except, he felt like he was the one painted, and that it was the moon who was watching him.

“I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo began to look at you rather than the night sky.

“Don’t apologize.”

You stared at him deeply, licking your lips and shaking your head. His eyes were now well adjusted to the scarce light. Just the silver through the trees was enough to read and inspect your pretty face.

“It went off the rails.”

He shrugged, staring back. “It seemed like it needed to.”

“I made you part of it.”

“I made myself part of it.”

“But, I mean—just—if you… if you never…”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow. “If I never what? Met you?”

Puffing out a long breath, you looked down, picking at something on the boulder with a manicured nail. “… Yeah.”

“No,” Wonwoo was firm to correct, continuing to stare at you intensely even if you couldn’t face him in the turmoil of processing all the emotion and chaos, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You lolled out your tongue, smiling and sheepish. “Blah.”

He laughed, “I mean it.”

Sighing again, you glanced back at Wonwoo, your eyes flickering along his every detail in the dewy night. Your hand reached out to his collar, making another brief, probably unnecessary adjustment to it before sliding the gentle fingers down his chest. Wonwoo’s mouth ran disgustingly dry in that moment, to the point that he was relieved when you removed your hand because you might have felt how fast his heart was beating and thought him to be quite pathetic.

Tightly swallowing, he brushed an itch off his nose and opened his mouth with a question, his gaze catching yours. Although, at the last second, he weened himself from speaking when the doubt found and froze him. A breeze tickled through his hair and Wonwoo shivered.

Your brow furrowed.

“What?” You urged him.

Wonwoo chuckled. “Fuck. Nothing.”

“Not nothing. Please. What is it?”

You were leaning closer into him, enthralling him with those earnest, gleaming eyes. He swore the nighttime wind was pushing your sweet, blossomy scent against him—was pushing you against him—because now your thigh was squished right beside his and your shoulders were warm together. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“Who are you?” He paused, but didn’t falter. “Actually?”

Your forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

Wonwoo examined every aspect of your face that he had come to know so well over the months—the face he gradually couldn’t stop thinking about, to the point you would appear in his dreams. The face he was once completely disinterested in, because you were not someone that should have any reason to be in his life, just as he had no reason to be in yours. He felt his body move closer into your inviting warmth.

In fact, you two were so close that if he moved even an inch or few forward, then his lips might find themselves pressing to yours and his hand might settle and smooth up along your thigh to your cheek. Then, it would be impossible to leave the footpath without digging into you right then and there, kissing and tasting from you everywhere.

“What’s your name?”

It sounded like an obvious, warranted question that just about anyone would ask given the opportunity. But Wonwoo had never found himself wondering it. The things he wondered about you were much different and more character-driven, yet Wonwoo had come to realize that your name was just as important and precious and intact with your identity as everything else. He almost felt like it was the very last piece of you that he hadn’t shifted into place—his last chapter in a very long, complicated, topsy-turvy, seemingly-never-ending book.

Wonwoo thought you might laugh at him.

Tell him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” in that very smug tone of voice he’d hear from time to time while smiling hot with your secret.

Instead, however, you just stayed silent.

His hand touched with fragile softness at the edge of your face, a thumb then stroking along the space before your ear as you swallowed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered, hearing the leaves rustle above him, “it’s fine either—”

“No, one second.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue, opting to watch you lean back while digging fingers into the cleavage of your dress. From somewhere—he could only surmise—you had pulled out a thin tube with a cherry lid.

“Was that the lip stuff you put on?” He snorted.

“Lip liner. With a sticky patch on it right here. Figured I should keep it close. You know, in case a crumb managed to remove a single spec of it. Can't have my mother passing out from shame.”

“Clever thinking.”

“Give me your hand.”

Stretching out his fingers, he let his hand sit in your lap while you pulled the lid off with your teeth, then gripping his wrist and halfway leaning down to push the tip of the lip applicator against his palm. The sensation was cool and smooth. He felt each letter you traced, though he refused to let himself guess until you were done.

Under the moonlight, Wonwoo raised the calligraphed hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he realized—at last—the complete gist of who you were. And with your name came the understanding of what you were, in fact, doing in his very meaningless life.

Wonwoo kept staring fondly at his hand. But, as he was staring, you suddenly reached forth and smeared your thumb across the neat letters until they were lost. A memory made, and then covered.

Only between you.

When Wonwoo looked to you again, he saw everything about you so clearly that it was almost shining. Every decision you made, every word you said, the way you walked and dressed and flourished so openly before crashing so hard—Wonwoo could snap all those pieces into place.

“Can I ask you something?” You said.

He blinked at you absentmindedly, too caught up in his daze.

“Wonwoo?”

“Sorry—yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Pressing your knees together, the wind fluttered the fabric of your silky olive dress, and he could tell you were getting cold.

“When you were at my apartment, apologizing to me about our fight, that was the first and only time I ever heard you mention your ex-girlfriend.” Clicking your nervous feet, you looked over his shadowy face and the moonlight dancing in his glasses, “was she your first love?”

Crushing his hands tight into each other, Wonwoo bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Keeping your eyeline steady, you nodded. “Was she… like… what did you love about her?”

He almost couldn’t breathe. “Everything.”

You frowned. “Even the bad stuff?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, “even the bad stuff.”

It was very quiet for a moment, with you simply sitting in reflection and staring into the dark silhouettes of the trees. He was sure you already knew the answer to your initial question, although he understood that hearing him say it was different than infinitely assuming about a past that wasn’t yours. Wonwoo had been in love before, and then heartbroken down into little fragments of himself that he spent months soullessly dusting around. And somehow, he was in love again—a new love that felt so much different but still fit him so right.

“Hm…” you hummed.

Wonwoo placed his hand on your bare back, beginning to sweep his fingers up and down, sensing your skin quiver in response.

“It’s late,” he whispered, nudging his knee into yours and warming your ear with his breath, “I know you don’t want to go home, and that’s alright. I get it. But we should figure something out before my phone battery dies, yeah?” He proceeded to grab your hand and squeeze it. “I don’t wanna leave a pretty girl like you out in the cold and wet.”

When you looked at him, you were pouting, exhaustion shining on your face like the dew in the moonlit leaves. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” Your fingers gripped his impossibly tighter.

“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

You snuggled your head into the crook between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping your arms around his elbow to hold him close. “Yes.”

“Well, I’ve got one call,” Wonwoo sighed, fishing out his phone and squinting against its lurid light, “better hope he fucking answers.”

Vernon was confused to say the least, beckoned down a random street at near midnight when he could be in bed with the girl he was happily feeling up just half an hour ago, until a certain phone call ruined it. Wonwoo could tell from the manner in which his friend’s heavily furrowed brow remained creased when he opened the vanilla Camry’s back door, allowing you to slide in first with your heels in hand while Wonwoo followed. Tugging the door shut, Wonwoo could then only smile at poor, disgruntled, face-studded Vernon who was continuing to inquisitively stare him down through the rear-view mirror as though there was something smeared across his cheek or stuck in his hair.

Perhaps it was the patches of dampness and dirt on Wonwoo’s suit and your once very elegant dress, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“So… uh… dinner went well, then?” Vernon asked in a big huff after no one offered to break the silence, slightly turning his head to analyze the backseat using his busted, buzzing ceiling light.

Wonwoo and you were pressed together. Both unreceptive.

“Woah. Stop talking over each other, guys,” he joked dryly.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” Wonwoo decided to say.

“… M’kay…” Vernon replied, still perplexed but probably sensing it was best to save all the questions for later. “Music?”

Wonwoo nodded and turned off the ceiling light. “Sure.”

That was the beginning and end of the conversation.

Vernon pulled out from Hillcrest, keeping his elbow against the half-opened window during the drive, meanwhile you were allowing your heavy eyes to at last flutter shut. Leaning your head against Wonwoo’s broad shoulder, he noticed that your fingers were playing with his—you had gently grabbed his thumb and started rubbing his pigmented scar in absent circles, massaging into all the weathered years spent scratching himself until his anxiety would peddle away. The lip liner was still smudged against his palm in a cherry-tinted blur that he never wanted to wash off.

Smiling, Wonwoo let his cheek sit atop your hair, sensing the delightful breeze from Vernon's window flow into the backseat.

He was glad he went to the dinner party.

“Here are the keys. This copper one here is for the shop. This blue one is my apartment key. Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll join you in a few, alright? Promise… be careful on the steps,” Wonwoo instructed after opening the car door, proceeding to wrap his keychain in your fingers once you had emerged into the wind and sodden air.

With the white heels strung through your arm, you nodded at him sleepily and walked up the three little stairs to the pottery shop.

After you disappeared inside, Wonwoo turned around and opened the passenger seat door, climbing back into his friend’s Camry kept stalled but running at the curb. At first, there was silence between them. They both gazed down through the illumination of the headlights washing out the empty street. Vernon then slid his hand off the steering wheel, letting it cascade through his messy black hair instead.

“Do I even wanna know what fuckin’ happened?” His friend asked, his head clunking back against the upholstered seat.

Wonwoo blinked down at his lap. He started to smile, feeling it creep along his mouth even though he knew how suspect it looked.

Then, Wonwoo chuckled.

“We ran out.”

He finally looked to Vernon, who was staring back with highly quirked eyebrows and a dropped jaw. After exchanging an incredulous glance with each other, the two boys were laughing and ripping apart the silence. Vernon crossed his arms, sunk further down in his seat.

“Never would I picture you doin’ that…” he said through a lazy grin, “runnin’ out with another dude’s girl is insane, can’t lie.”

Wonwoo rubbed a palm along his cheek, still fucking smiling. “Think he’s gonna beat my ass?”

Vernon stared at him, deadpanned in his expression. “Is that even a question, Glasses? I’d beat your ass. I don’t even have a girl.”

“I don’t care.”

“If he beats your ass?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, a hand was pushing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Vernon was smirking at him hard, teething over his bottom lip.

“Damn. She’s got you by the scruff, huh?”

Wonwoo shrugged, beginning to shake his head. “You should see the way he treats her… there’s some weird ties between him and her family. I think he’s playing the long game… getting what we can while he can and then parading her around as a trophy or something. But she's miserable with him.” Running a thumb along his knuckles, Wonwoo grinned. “He can beat my ass if he wants to.”

Vernon clicked his tongue. “Well, just to float the idea, I’m s—”

“No,” quickly laughing away his friend’s questionable response, Wonwoo merely rubbed under his glasses and refused. “I’m not trying to get locked away for first degree murder. And neither are you.”

“I’m just tryin’ to say I’ve got you is all,” Vernon said with his usual nonchalance, as laid back as an ironing board, “but—you’re right. Save that for when I’m an actual drug lord. He’s not gettin’ anything from me. Not even a Flintstone gummy.”

“Well, I appreciate the favour. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Nah, I could tell it was somethin’ important,” Vernon excused, giving Wonwoo a comfortable smile, “s’not like I can’t ever get brain again. Your situation seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

Looking back at the pottery shop and the single light within keeping everything aglow, Wonwoo wondered if you made it into his apartment okay. He was worried about leaving you on your own for too long, especially when taking into consideration the extremities of the dinner party (that hadn’t really been a dinner or a party when he thought about it). Rolling out his shoulders, he turned to Vernon again.

“She needs to eat something. I’ll order food. You want any?”

Vernon scrunched his face. “What—you’re askin’ me to come inside with you two? I’m not on real good terms with her, y’know that, right? Just ‘cause she’s fuckin’ with you doesn’t mean that for me."

“It won’t be like that.”

“How do y’know? You guys gossip about me?”

Wonwoo smiled, pushing up his glasses. “I just know.”

Vernon paused to think for a moment, his hand returned back to the steering wheel while sharp teeth pulled at the skin along his bottom lip. With just the edge to his face streaked in yellow light from the outside street lamp, it was difficult to interpret his mindset, although Wonwoo knew it was a done deal when Vernon removed the glittering keys from the ignition and the rumbling car at last went silent along the empty midnight street.

Besides, Wonwoo would pay for it all, anyway.

Vernon quietly trailed behind Wonwoo into the apartment, the front door left unlocked and the living area bathed by the warm-coloured light fixture but absent of your presence. His friend placed the car keys onto the coffee table with an uncharacteristic softness, and Wonwoo figured that Vernon was probably still feeling uncertain about spending time with you—which made sense—the last time Vernon had spoken to you (spoken probably wasn’t an accurate word) was the confrontation at the gas station where he feared you might light his hair on fire.

Though, when Wonwoo poked open his ajar bedroom door, he found you standing near his desk, peering across the walled corkboard and all its pinned photos from his life back in South Korea.

He flicked on the light, pulling out the deep blue darkness from the air, and smiled at you.

“Everything alright?”

With your arms folded, you seemed smaller than usual. “Yeah—sorry that I came in here without permission.”

He was quick to shake his head. “No big deal—you don’t need permission.”

You were silent for a few seconds, grinning to yourself, and then gestured to one of the glossy developed photos stuck to the cork.

“That’s Bohyuk?”

Wonwoo nodded, “yeah.”

He realized you hadn’t spent much time in his room over the months that you’d known each other. For the most part, Wonwoo would always be at your apartment, or some unique location necessary to your story-telling when he was still helping with the book. At one point it would have perturbed him to see you gazing along the finer details of his room so curiously. Now, however, he welcomed it.

Stuffing hands into his pockets, Wonwoo let you observe the corkboard, watching you with a very amorous, kind smile that he hadn’t even processed until his cheeks started flaring with a heated ache.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“… I’m hungry.”

Unable to flatten out his smile, Wonwoo walked over to you and smoothed his hand along the side of your face, then caressing his thumb underneath your twinkling eye and against your cheekbone.

“I know,” he murmured, “I’ll order food.”

“Chinese?”

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen.”

Delighted to see your expression brighten, Wonwoo at last removed his hand from your skin. He knew he shouldn’t touch you or look so fucking pathetically in-love into your eyes, but he didn’t care.

“Do you think I can shower? I want to take all this makeup off.”

“Yeah, of course. Go for—”

Suddenly, from the living room, there was a loud bang that distinctly sounded like Vernon plowing straight into something heavy.

“What was that?” You asked, covering your mouth.

Wonwoo chuckled, “Vernon. Hey—you alright?!”

“All good!!” His friend shouted back. “Just—how ‘bout don’t keep your fuckin’ weights right beside the couch, yeah? Almost broke my fuckin’ foot!”

“Oops.” Wonwoo shrugged very unapologetically, staring into your amused eyes and giggling together. “He’s gonna eat with us… he did a big favour coming down to get us and everything, you know?”

“That’s okay,” you answered, “I just want to shower.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the room. Wear whatever you want. I’ll just take the keys so I can lock up downstairs.” He was nearly on his way out, but stopped abruptly. “Should we… uh… should I at least text Seokmin and tell him you’re safe? I mean, just in case—”

“Sure,” the response was quick and muttered with little care, “I’m sure they can surmise where I am, but you can do that, too.”

“Yeah, okay… well, I’ll leave you be. Food will probably be here by the time you’re out and dried off. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get cold.”

Finally, Wonwoo clicked his bedroom door shut. Keys in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Vernon plumped down on the couch with a pillow in his lap, all spread out like he owned the damn place, texting away on his phone. Wonwoo laughed as he walked by.

“Writing out your apology letter?”

“Somethin’ like that…” his friend mumbled, clearly more focused on his pixeled screen, “I might not be gettin’ that head after all.”

“Life’s all about sacrifices,” Wonwoo sighed while opening the front door, pausing briefly to mention, “we’re getting Chinese food by the way. She didn’t care that you’re staying. Anything you want?”

Vernon smiled while keeping his eyes trained to the phone. “No way. That’s a relief… n’yeah—I like the chicken balls with the sweet and sour sauce. Pork-fried rice is good, too. I’m not picky.”

“Noted.”

“So—wait—I have to ask, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but how did you become a drug dealer? Like, at what point did you even realize that was your… I don’t know… calling?”

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a carton of noodles in hand and a napkin splayed upon your bare lap, pointed chopsticks were being angled at Vernon from across the coffee table. He took a sip from his can of bright red soda, placing it back onto the coaster with a thud.

“Uh, fuck,” Vernon coughed, smiling subtly while beginning to pick through his own personal container of pork-fried rice, “well, I can answer it, I guess… do I get to ask a question in return?”

You grabbed the napkin, wiping off the sauce from your mouth.

“I’ll allow it.”

“Fair enough,” his friend answered.

Wonwoo had heard the story only once before during a smoke session on the apartment rooftop, though he doubted Vernon would trudge through all the details. Despite seeming like an open book who couldn't care less, there really were some sweet spots he didn’t like having prodded. Nonetheless, Wonwoo thought it was a good, earnest opening between the two of you, so he opted to stay silent while pulling the meat off his ribs with his teeth.

“Uh, I was a stubborn kid, let’s say that. Tried my hand at school but I could never get the hang of it. Could never keep a job long. My parents caught me usin’ once, weed and ecstasy, and they said if it happened again, I’m out.” Vernon fed himself another forkful of rice, taking a moment to swallow while you listened intently. “I thought I could keep it straight, but no luck. Yeah. They had no tolerance for it. I was out the next day. My mom was the most pissed, but she tries to reach out every now and then. I dunno... I feel done with ‘em, if I'm bein' honest. I’ve got somethin’ that works so I just run with it. The money speaks for itself so I can’t complain.”

As Wonwoo expected, it was the heavily watered-down version of everything that happened between Vernon and his family, however, it was enough to paint the picture. Taking a moment to slurp up some spicy noodles, you soon set the carton down and patted along your gradually swelling lips. The crumpled napkin was placed on the table.

“Yeah, I bet the money speaks for itself. You’ve got a bunch of stupidly rich university students on your roster. They go through just about everything they can get their hands on. It’s fucking insane.”

Vernon propped his elbows onto his knees, gathering more rice onto the plastic white fork while smirking at you knowingly.

“You’ve got that coke sniff, y’know?”

Wonwoo widened his eyes at Vernon, suspecting a wildfire.

But you merely shrugged, quite honest in your response.

“I know. I did it once with Mingyu, some friends, and I thought never again…” with a sigh, you massaged at your shoulder, staring off into a random spot that Wonwoo couldn’t pinpoint. “Mingyu was getting it for me at almost every party we went to. I don’t know. I thought, since he paid for it, since it’s right here, I might as well do it.”

Slipping the fork out from his mouth, Vernon grinned. “Coked-up sex is crazy. Especially when you've got the right cut. It hits.”

“Vernon,” Wonwoo immediately chirped at him while setting down his emptied container of food, his voice sounding particularly stern, like he was scolding a child for making an ignorant comment.

“What?” His friend laughed, raking a tattooed hand through his loose and shiny black hair. “It is. Feels like you’re on another planet.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just think a little before you speak, please.”

Again, Wonwoo was surprised to see your nonchalance.

“It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. I think… like… Mingyu only wanted me to have it for that reason—I’m making it sound like some non-consensual, pressured shit—it’s not,” you muttered, waving around your hand in dismissal, “I just… the thing is I don’t like how I feel afterward. But it was never enough for me to say that I didn’t want it. I liked that it would take me out of my head for a bit. My mind would stop running on overdrive.” Then, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “The last time I did anything like that was the party at Seungcheol’s, though.”

Whenever the party was mentioned, Wonwoo would always bite down on his lip and tightly curl his fingers. He had discussed it with you in the past, beyond the summer evening spent at your apartment with a red velvet cupcake in between you and a painful, aching hug he could still feel all the warmth and regret to.

There were long, long phone conversations. And somewhere, stuffed in his mind, was the memory of you and Mingyu behind the door as he listened to every little sound—skin hitting skin, the desperation in your voice, wood smacking the wall.

“Yeah, is what it is,” Vernon replied. He pulled a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Do I get my question now?”

“Uh… sure.”

Wonwoo had almost missed you staring at him. There was a concernedness to it, but when he smiled back you seemed to breathe.

“Still think I’m a gigantic fuckin’ tool?”

Immediately, you started laughing. Wonwoo followed suit, on the brink of embarrassingly blowing out the soda he just sipped from in a big spray. He was actually quite relived that Vernon had picked a more light-hearted question rather than something intimate. His friend swirled the toothpick around with his tongue, continuing to smirk in confidence.

“Giggle away. I’m curious, is all.”

Kissing your teeth, you held Vernon’s coppery, honey eyes. “You are a tool, one-hundred percent… but, I think you know that about yourself. And, um, you’re a good friend to Wonwoo. So… I guess my opinions about you have shifted. Appearances are deceiving.”

Pleased with your candour, Vernon grabbed his drink, leaned against the recliner behind him, and nodded his head approvingly.

“That tickles my fancy well enough.”

"Don't you think you'll want to settle down eventually?" You asked.

Vernon scrunched his eyebrow. "What?"

"Like, what if you find a girl. A really nice girl who could change your perspective. Do you think you'd want to settle down?"

With a quick laugh, Vernon shook his head. "Nice girls don't use half their last pay check to buy drugs. It's business at the end of the day."

Seeming skeptical, your eyes narrowed. "Right..."

"Vernon has his mind set on very specific things," Wonwoo smiled.

Straightening out the large shirt that draped around your frame—another garment belonging to Wonwoo that you had pulled from his dresser—you glanced between each boy and smiled.

“So... now I'm curious. How did this unlikely pairing meet?”

As Vernon was busy with navigating his toothpick, Wonwoo decided to tell the story, prompting him to sit up straight and alleviate his spine from being crooked against the hard bottom of the couch.

“I was convinced into attending a little New Year’s Eve party thing by these guys I don’t talk to anymore. Spent about half an hour wandering the halls, doing aimless laps, hating every second of it, debating if I should just take off. Not like anyone would notice. Then I bump into this guy—” Wonwoo nodded at Vernon, “—who was all tattooed and pierced up with this girl all over him. She was on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his bicep while she was laying hickies to his fucking neck from behind.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Who was that?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Vernon?”

“Uh—I don’t know if I remember, honestly. She used to buy poppers off me like every damn week so I called her Poppy. That’s not her real name, though. She’s long gone. Moved cities months ago.”

“Yeah, well, he told me I looked like a lost ghost. Asked if I wanted a swisher. I agreed for some reason, and we went out back.”

Brushing a hand down your neck, you giggled. “A lost ghost?”

Vernon nodded, folding his arms.

“Yeah. Glasses always used to have that look to him. Dead man walkin’ kinda thing. Just wanderin’ around with no purpose.”

Wonwoo hoarsely chuckled at his friend, “jeez—thanks.”

“You can’t deny it.”

“I know. But to be fair, I was fucking going through something.”

“Mmhm, that’s why I took you under my wing,” Vernon sang, his eyes swimming with their usual gold-tinted mischief, “I could just tell you needed some guidance. Gave him the swisher of eternal friendship.”

“Is that what you call it?” Wonwoo huffed sarcastically.

“I call it many different things.”

You smiled sweetly at Wonwoo while your fingers played with the long cuff on the borrowed t-shirt. “Whatever it was, I guess it turned into something pretty good... and, Vernon, I am sorry for how I acted at the gas station. There was just a lot going through my mind.”

True to his casual, untroubled nature, Vernon swung his head dismissively while letting an arm collapse across his knee, the toothpick now in his hand and being spun between his ringed fingers. “No, you’re good. Don't worry 'bout it. It was just ‘cause you care n' shit. I get that.” Quirking his expression in an endearing manner, he proceeded to flash you a solid grin. “You didn’t singe my hair off so, I’ve got no grudge.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t have actually done anything to you.”

“Eh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” Vernon answered in a smirk.

Reaching for your drink, you sipped from it and then snuggled the can between your criss-crossed legs. Wonwoo examined that very intriguing smile opening its way across your mouth like a spring blossom, wanting to know the exact moment that sparked it.

A quiet pause passed, and then you were sighing with bliss behind it—that relaxed kind of sigh when everything seemed to click.

“It’s nice hanging out with you guys…” you murmured, staring across the coffee table scattered with ripped-open sauce packets, empty cardboard containers, wood chopsticks, and unfurling napkins. “It just feels lighter… I don’t know… making friends has always been so tough for me. The right friends, I mean. Friends that actually feel like friends.”

Wonwoo pinched his lip in his teeth.

“It can take a while before you hit the right people.”

Vernon shrugged, concealing a burp that had him rubbing down his broad chest. “If we’re all friends, then we’ve gotta be the weirdest fuckin’ collaboration of people I’ve ever seen.”

You snickered into your hands while Wonwoo lounged an elbow onto the couch to help prop up his head, rolling his eyes toward Vernon.

Though, Wonwoo could easily understand what Vernon was getting at. You, a popular and high-fashion campus honorary who at first glance seemed to have very little patience for anyone but yourself, followed by the guttural and unbothered drug dealer without a care in the world, beside an anxiety-ridden hermit just trying to exist and somehow not turn to a puddle in the process. Vernon was right—it was a strange grouping of people suckled together despite their completely different paths and choices. Somewhere, somehow, though, there was a connection.

Like a fated string weaving everything into a knot.

Since Wonwoo had already ordered the Chinese food fairly late, it was quite difficult to find an ice cream place in the area that was open past midnight. Vernon and his sudden craving for cookie dough had offered the idea, and you easily caved, which led Wonwoo on a spiral of searching through his phone. Unfortunately, the only ice cream they could order was vanilla soft-serve cones from a twenty-four-hour fast-food chain which arrived to his apartment dripping. But no one really cared, and Wonwoo threw on the television for some background noise.

The conversations lasted until about two in the morning.

Vernon had not so gracefully taken up the entire couch, his face shoved into the embroidered pillow, an arm left dangling limp over the edge, and a smear of soft-serve dried to his cheek. You and Wonwoo were sitting side by side on the floor, a blanket spread around your shoulders with your knee spilled onto his lap, attempting to finish up the random movie that he couldn’t even remember playing. When the credits began rolling, it took him a moment to process that the drama flick was even over. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, eyes shut but still twitching against the dull, meek light flooding from the screen.

He placed his hand on your bare thigh, fingers stretching eager over the warm and soft skin to carefully grip it and give you a squeeze.

Then, with his lips feathering at your forehead, he mumbled your name to get you awake. Wonwoo did feel somewhat guilty about stirring you, but he’d rather you have a comfortable sleep on his bed than the living room floor. He continued to rub your thigh nice and slow, watching your eyelids flicker open and squint at him through the dark room. There was a shallow grin that you gave him, full of contentment.

“You’re all fuzzy…” you yawned, proceeding to rub at your eye.

“It’s late,” he answered quietly, almost whispering, “I think I should get you to bed. You’ll be much comfier in my room.”

“Is Vernon asleep?”

“Mmhm.”

Turning back to glance at the couch, you yawned again.

“… Oh… so, we’re going to your room?”

“Yeah… c’mon, I’ll help you up.”

Wonwoo didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom since there was already a small separation in the curtains, allowing just the right amount of moonlight through to outline everything around him in bluish-silver.

You sat down on his bed, letting your fingers travel along the sheets to feel all the slight rumples and divots, only to look up at Wonwoo with a tired smile and sincere, blinking, gorgeous eyes that felt akin to a gut punch. As much as he wanted it—needed it—Wonwoo knew that he couldn’t sleep next to you. He couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t fathom having you so fucking close in the intimate, cocooning darkness and not being able to squeeze his cold hands along every perfect part of you.

But you weren’t making it easy.

In fact, you were making it excruciatingly hard.

“Are you not going to lie down with me?”

Wonwoo felt the twig snap in his chest. You wouldn’t stop staring up at him through those wispy eyelashes and nibbling on your lip.

“I’ve got the recliner in the living room…” he could hardly choke it out. There was so much heat in his body that he could melt.

“Why sleep there? The bed is big enough.”

His deep voice twisted into a laugh he couldn’t avoid. “Yeah, the bed’s not the issue… uh, it’s fine, though. The recliner’s nice.”

He took a step back, but then you had grabbed his wrist.

“Wonwoo,” you said his name in a tender, breathy, desperate sort of way that sent his heart shattering to his feet, your eyes glistening through the sparse light like two comets, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Fuck—it was all he could think—fuck, fuck, fuck.

With your fingers still wrapped to his wrist, Wonwoo pushed his hand gently against the side of your face. He was closer to you now, applying a soft pressure to angle your head up at him. You were breathing thick per every second that passed, holding his eye contact without one fracture, smiling arch. Wonwoo wanted to drink you.

Leaning into his palm, you swallowed and squeaked, “please?”

His thumb was on your chin. Right under your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you can't look at me like that…” Wonwoo rasped in a low, hushed voice that was struggling not to crack.

Truly, he meant it.

Your hand slid further along his wrist, almost tickling him.

“Ple—”

Immediately, Wonwoo pressed his thumb past your bottom lip and onto the ridge of your lower teeth, stifling that dangerous little word before it could hit his ear the wrong way and render him spineless.

“No more, okay?” He murmured, slowly sliding the digit from your warm, damp mouth, feigning obliviousness to your thighs clamping together and the manner in which your fingernails dug at his skin.

There was another moment of intense, humid silence while he wiped the wetness against the edge of your jaw.

“Seriously,” Wonwoo firmed up his voice, “no more.”

When you at last seemed compliant, nodding, Wonwoo let his hand drift from your heated-up face. You stayed in place, quiet as ever, on the edge of his bed, watching him disappear through the doorway.

As he collapsed onto the recliner and pulled the blanket once pooled on the floor over his body, Wonwoo didn’t even bother shutting his eyes or removing his glasses. Instead, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling, letting his heart thump, thump, thump and his mind wander until he naturally couldn’t fight the imminent feeling of sleep.

It certainly didn’t help that you had wandered into his dreams—dreams that he should probably keep to himself, warped fully by desire and longing.

—END OF PART FIVE.

[rosesnbooks]

Gemini placements

disclaimer: i am not a professional, these are just my observations that i have accumulated over the years

🌀sun in gemini-i think that people usually form strong opinions about them. definitely not the type to be seen as wallflowers. they are naturally curious and they're either shy or like to shine in the spotlight, depends on other placements. whenever they speak, people listen to them and often find them charming and funny. i think their personalities can seem intense which is why they're not for everybody, but they're not easy to read. they are adaptable and knowledgable about things that interest them. if they like to talk to you about their thoughts and ideas, you must be special to them. honestly, they have no patience for people who try to waste their time and act fake around them. they can conceal their personalities around those they do not trust.

🧞‍♀️moon in gemini-they have a lot on their minds and they feel the best when they process their emotions verbally, whether through writing or talking to someone. they probably enjoy talking to those closest to them about their emotions, but some tend to have better personal "enlightenment" when they process things in writing. their memory is amazing and they are very logical. some try to dissect their emotions outloud, while others try to supress them. they can talk about deep issues and then joke around in a matter of seconds, they're quite adaptable. they can get stuck in their head and overthink things which leads to a lot of negative emotions that they wanted to avoid in the first place. can be insensitive sometimes when it comes to analyzing other's emotions because they approach it from a logical perspective because they want to be reasonable, which may sometimes backfire or provide as good advice. unsurprisingly, they are good with words. they are emotionally connected to their moms. their moms might have been youthful, curious, and adaptable when they were little.

💠rising/ascendant in gemini-they are, in my opinion, hard to notice! they definitely have a youthful appearance and attitude as many claim, but it's not easy to spot them because of their adaptability, unless you really observe them in the wild among different types of people lol. i'll repeat this quality a lot in this post, but they too are very curious. some may not talk much, but once you ask them about something they love, you'll see that sparkle in their eyes and the yapper will awake. may appear fake while they are trying to see if they like you, but they're just protecting themselves. if they want to create a fake persona tho, they can do it easily. they explore their identities often and try to figure out who they are, and may get confused because they change rapidly. they express themselves with their entire body lmao, especially when they are enjoying themselves. can get strong energy outbursts. they are not big fans of routine and following the rules strictly. they have a specific style most of the time, but they like to surprise themselves from time to time, to the point of confusing others haha

🐦mercury in gemini-they are light-hearted and try not to take things too seriously in life. many like to read and talk with open-minded people and to those with whom they share similar attitudes. they are quick-witted and may not open up easily about their emotions and share their vulnerable side with others, so actually a few people know their true identities. this also gives them an air of mystery. the charm is really charming with this placement lol. very creative as well. but when they finally open up about their emotions and thoughts, they reveal their complex and beautiful souls. they also choose their words carefully whenever they talk about serious matters. they are calculated and observant, even when they seem relaxed...they are processing everything others say and do, as well as their surroundings in general

💙venus in gemini-so, so flirty, even when that's not their intention. they like people that seem interesting and talkative. they seek out good conversationalists. they want partners who are always ready do adapt and explore, and those who are fearful of changes/passive are not appealing to them. unless they find someone that fits their criteria, makes them laugh and feel excited, they won't settle down and they'll seek excitement in flings. romance and love seem so fun to them so they want to enjoy themselves while exploring these concepts. they can be immature at times and a bit superficial. humor is of utmost importance! they need it in their daily lives and relationships with others. they remind me of young love, especially high school and college. they are good with people, so they are often adored. freedom and space: a must for them. without it, they feel suffocated and become bolters.

💿mars in gemini-they have so much energy and they sometimes don't know what to do with it. they cannot sit still for the life of them. they can have mood swings. they experience stress or anxiety but they have a highly adaptable nature and manage to do everything eventually. they are often good at different things, whether in natural sciences or more creative fields. not all of them look super youthful but their energy appears young and lively. and they serve visuals! their personal style and face card are truly amazing. they are really intelligent and quick with their responses, and they need mental stimulation most of the time. they come up with many ideas and creative solutions. it may be challenging for them to find something they'll stick with for a long time because they crave change. they have to be careful with handling distractions!! careers that don't allow them enough passion, mental stimulation, and flexibility literally drain their energy.

🔵jupiter in gemini-their communication skills get them far in life! they process a lot of information without difficulties and they are fun to be around. once again, they also love to express themselves verbally, so writing or in general having to perform among people is something they are good at. they like to meet different people that catch their interest, but they try to surround themselves with those who don't take life too seriously. this is especially true for those who may struggle with their stress and overthinking tendencies, so they like those who make them laugh and relax. their memory is excellent, to the degree that some remember dates of even minor events, especially if they are related to people they had a connection with at one point. music also triggers a lot of memories

🫐saturn in gemini-they have so much to say but there are some things holding them back, whether it is related to speech impediments or general insecurity, they keep a lot to themselves. that's why they may be harder to figure out. make no mistake, they are very clever and have different talents. they can be good with practical things in life and technology. they also pressure themselves to be as confident, practical/powerful as possible, but they need to embrace their curious and flexible side. following a routine is not their favorite thing to do and they absolutely despise small talk and want to delve into deeper topics. they have a strong desire for excelling in their communication skills

©rosesnbooks

[pollyanna-nana]

“I can’t help anyone…”

An analysis of Kieran and how it relates to his most controversial scene.

Warning for Indigo Disk DLC spoilers ahead

——————

Greetings! I’ve made it no secret that, despite what some people think of him, I am very fond of Kieran Pokémon’s little emo ass. As a result, when perusing the tags I’ve been bombarded with a lot of very… questionable takes regarding his personality and character, which I simply do not agree with. In particular, I’ve seen a lot of interpretations of a specific scene that I don’t think get at the heart of the story and have some fundamental misunderstandings of the subtextual clues we’re given about how Kieran and Carmine were raised, and I wanted to take the opportunity to present my own interpretations and how I have come to understand this young boy’s complex journey to self acceptance.

This scene, right here, has been the source of many specific complaints I’ve seen regarding Kieran’s character. I’ve seen people saying that his actions here make him a bully, that he’s shaming a fellow student for having troubles at home, and generally is an unpleasant, entitled person. And while I think there’s definitely some truth to those points (and they make him all the more interesting…) I don’t think a lot of these people are thinking about what this scene is really trying to tell us.

Yes, it’s showing the player that Kieran has changed since we last saw him. That his shy, kind demeanor has been supplanted by a stark cruelty that was hinted at in the end of Teal Mask, and that we have reason to fear and fear for him. However. I would argue that it also serves to tell us more about what Kieran himself has dealt with as a student at Blueberry academy. Specifically...

Kieran’s struggle with identity and self worth.

From the earliest segments of Teal Mask, we get strong indications that Kieran has quite the inferiority complex. Worse still, said feelings are reinforced by the people around him, knowingly or not. Here, when Carmine tells us that Kieran's "nearly as strong as she is", we know she simply means to compliment us in her own Carmine-ish way. However, purposefully or not, it reinforces Kieran's idea as someone who is always, at best, almost good enough. Almost as strong as his sister. Never as or more.

He tells the player that he'll hang back, not wanting to get in our way. With no prior prompting, either. How many times has he been made to feel that he was a burden? I adore Carmine, but one of her most pressing flaws is her struggle to make Kieran feel loved and wanted. Which, is actually pretty normal between siblings as she herself is a child. But still, given how much Kieran clearly loves and respects her, her words hold a lot of weight. And it's only Carmine who we get to see treat Kieran this way. While it's possible it's coming almost entirely from her, I'll discuss later why I think it may be more complicated than that. For now, though, it's clear that Kieran himself thinks very lowly of his abilities and would rather stay out of people's way, lest they berate him for perceived inadequacies.

He's had problematic behavior modeled for him by Carmine.

Here, too, we see how Carmine's treatment of him reinforced some very negative ideas of interpersonal conflict and resolution. All throughout Teal Mask, Carmine is telling him to shut up and be quiet, and does what she thinks is best for him without consideration for how it may make him feel. No physical violence, but emotional abuse is abuse all the same. While we know that she was ultimately trying to do what was best for him, and had very good reasons for keeping secrets, its undeniable that the words she used only further reinforced the idea that the strong will push around the weak, and that they have no need for anyone who falls behind in some way.

This scene in particular is fascinating, as we get to see first hand the kind of dynamic that pushed his feelings of inadequacy towards the breaking point. Here, after the player and Carmine run into Ogerpon for the first time, he thinks her weird behavior is because they were making fun of him. It's already sad that he would jump to that conclusion, but then Carmine smiles through his entire dialogue and says nothing. No reassurance, no denial, nothing. Kieran walked away from this conversation thinking that his sister and his new friend were talking about how much they dislike him. Speaking from personal experience, constantly feeling like people are talking about you behind your back at a young age can lead to you becoming brutally honest in a maladaptive way, and it can lead to people thinking you're cruel and unkind because you refuse to keep your thoughts to yourself.

Generational trauma, neurodivergence and cycles of abuse.

Here is where we leave screenshot land for a bit and I talk more about things that I suspect to be true, but cannot ultimately prove. However, I ask that you bear with me here and consider what may be going on above the heads of the child protagonists in a children's video game. (After all, if some people can write whole essays comparing Kieran's behavior to some very serious real-world events... I think I am within my right here!)

Kieran and Carmine, to me, match very strongly with the idea that they came from a bad home life. I don't necessarily mean their grandparents, as they seem nice enough (though flawed), but instead that their parents, whoever they were, contributed substantially to their strained relationship and problematic behavior. This post may seem very Carmine-negative, but I actually do not blame her for what she's done, not really. I do think that she has the agency and experience to take responsibility for how she's treated her brother, but I also think that it is something that was modeled for her by her parents, caretakers and teachers. I think it's very important to keep in mind in all conversations about these two that negative behaviors like these rarely manifest out of the ether. When I see child characters acting this way, I think less "wow, what horrible people!" and more "who in your life is modeling this kind of behavior for you?"

Full disclosure: I am an older sister myself, and my younger sister is very close to me in age in the same way that I see Carmine and Kieran as being. I see a lot of myself in her, which is why I deeply understand her frame of mind in everything here. Being expected to be the emotionally mature one in a sibling dynamic is difficult when you're so close in age, and it can lead to a lot of frustration as you feel like you're made to grow up too fast while your younger sibling is shielded from responsibility. It also doesn't help if the adults in your life model a lot of negative behavior, especially power dynamics, and if you have any sort of neurodivergency.

Speaking of... I wholeheartedly agree with the interpretations of the siblings having some combination of autism, ADHD, BPD or several other potential conditions. I won't go into depth, but without question there's something going on with them that's both untreated and misunderstood by those around them. Which, makes a lot of sense considering where they come from. Kitakami is a small nation, mostly agriculture based, and Carmine in particular is very resistant to the idea of it becoming a tourist destination for wealthier countries. They may not have the resources and infrastructure, along with cultural awareness, to properly diagnose and treat certain mental health conditions. Kieran doesn't even have a phone!

Something I don't see mentioned often is how Kieran and Carmine being at Blueberry is more than likely a very isolating experience for both. Being at a prestigious school in Poke-America, when coming from rural Poke-Japan, must've been a very difficult transition. Given that it doesn't seem like ANY of the adults in their lives are interested in their mental and physical well-being, I can only imagine that exacerbated their already existing issues. Not to mention that the culture of BB seems to be overly concerned with strength in battles, it's no wonder that both children's worst traits were made to fester over time.

Entitlement and disenfranchisement

Okay, enough of that. Back to screenshots. Here I want to talk about how some people interpret Kieran as being bratty and entitled, and while I don't necessarily disagree, I think with the context of everything previously laid out in this post that it's a lot deeper than simple entitlement. We know, from his own words, that all he wants is acceptance, independence, and meaningful human connections. To him, that comes in the form of strong pokemon (acceptance at the academy), going anywhere he wants (feeling empowered and self-confident), and being able to make friends with "anyone". Any friends at all, really.

While his "I worked so hard, and for what?! I STILL lost in the end!" can feel petulant and whiny, it also cuts deep for anyone who has grown up without. I think it's very important to note that Kieran is at precisely the age when systemic inequalities really start to weigh on someone, and before the brain and life experiences are developed enough to handle it in a healthy way. While some cope better than others, for many around this age the weight of knowing that there are people out there who simply have more than you ever will not by any sort of effort or triumph, but rather than the dumb luck of birth into a wealthy, privileged setting... well, it can be crushing.

It's something most grow out of, but for a kid like Kieran, who was so obsessed with the story of a genuine injustice (Ogerpon vs. the 'loyal' three), is it any wonder that he would react this way? The player is a particularly extreme example, of course, as protagonist powers are some real bullshit. Coming to terms with the fact that the system has failed him, but he can still achieve great things and become a person he can be proud of, is something that will probably only come with time and wisdom as it does for most of us. In the interim, though, petty teenage tantrums are to be more or less expected.

Feeling powerless.

In case you think I'm extrapolating far too much, I think it's important to note that, after the severe shock that was Terapagos breaking out of its own ball, Kieran reinforces all of these ideas himself. Here, when Carmine is begging him to help you, he refuses not because of hatred of you but rather his own self-doubt and loathing. Which, ultimately, has always been the core of everything Kieran has done up to this point in Indigo Disk's plot. He believed so strongly that if only he could become stronger, then he could prove to everyone, and more importantly himself, that he was worthy of taking up space and achieving his own dreams. But it's here, when everything truly comes crashing down around him, that the facade slips and shows Kieran as he truly is- a little boy who feels helpless in his current circumstances.

I've seen people say that when he cries after becoming determined to help you defeat Terapagos, it's out of jealousy or anger. However, I couldn't disagree more. The light returning to his eyes shows, in my view, that Kieran feels hope for the first time since he had his dreams crushed back in Teal Mask. That, even though he feels powerless, even though he's hurt people and hurt himself, he's still wanted. That he can do something meaningful, even if it's just cleaning up the mess he helped to make. (Briar don't think I've forgotten about you. You're the most culpable in this situation given you're the only adult- but I digress.)

In conclusion.

He bapy.

No but really, what does all of this even mean? I think going back and reading the conversation at the start of the post, especially if you were initially put off by it, with the context outlined here changes a lot about how one can interpret Kieran's behavior. Note that I am not trying to justify anything he said or did, but rather point out that this fictional child has some serious, unresolved issues that deserve time and thought turned towards them, especially in the way that they reflect real-world individuals and systems. Ultimately, if you want my opinion I think Kieran would be a pretty nasty person to know in real life if I was in school still, but you know what? So was I at his age. And so were most people, if I'm being honest. But that doesn't tarnish a person forever. All of life isn't high school, even though Kieran- or you, reading this right now- may feel like it is. He has a lot of growing up to do, but that's life. And in the meantime, he sure is one hell of an interesting character to follow.

[historicity-was-already-taken]

Early Review of The Girl Bandits of the Warsaw Ghetto, to be released Fall 2025

"Elizabeth Hyman has an important story to tell. It is the story of the brave Jewish women who risked their lives attempting to defy the Nazis’ intention to leave no trace of Jewish existence. These women not only acted as couriers and spies for the resistance but also took their place besides Jewish men as active fighters, hurling grenades and firing rounds of ammunition. At the same time, they wrote about the suffering of their fellow Jews so that they would be remembered by future generations. They knew that they might be the last Jews able to tell their story, and as such were committed to documenting the ‘days of destruction and revolt.’ The Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, however, although an extraordinary act, was inevitably limited in scope. Nevertheless, its significance is clear; as the ghetto fighter Mordecai Anielewicz wrote shortly before his death, ‘The dream of my life has risen to become a fact. Self-defence in the ghetto will have been a reality. Jewish armed resistance and revenge are facts. I have been a witness to the magnificent, heroic fighting of Jewish men in battle.’ Whilst the story of the heroic Jewish men who participated in the armed revolt is relatively well known, far less has been written about the young Jewish women involved: Zivia Lubetkin, Tosia Altman, Feigele Peltel, Tema Schneiderman and Dr. Adina “Inka” Blady-Schweiger. Hyman’s meticulously researched book finally brings these women out of the shadows. Drawing on the work of scholars such as Lenore Weitzman, Judith Baumel, Atina Grossman, Sonia Hedgepath, Paula Hyman, Marion Kaplan, Vera Laska, Sybil Milton, Dalia Ofer, Joan Ringelheim, Carole Rittner, Rochelle G. Saidel and Nechama Tec, Hyman carefully explains the gendered nature of Jewish life in inter-war Poland, and how it laid the foundations for the involvement of Jewish women and girls in resisting Nazism. She then draws on an extensive body of primary sources – diaries, memoirs, oral histories, testimonies from those who did and did not survive – to chart the establishment of the Warsaw ghetto and the mass deportations in its final days. The Girl Bandits of the Warsaw Ghetto is a brilliant and important addition to both the scholarly literature on the Holocaust in Poland and more specifically the role of Jewish women during the war. By writing a narrative history of this extraordinary group of women and their work in the Jewish resistance in and around Warsaw, Hyman will be able to reach an audience outside of academia. Through the words of the women themselves readers are able to glimpse something of this terrible time. Hyman uses testimony both wisely and sensitively – weaving it into the narrative so adeptly that it almost feels as if the women themselves are telling the story – and yet not overloading her readers with the often-agonizing words of the writers. It is also to her credit that Hyman resists a moralising or triumphalist narrative: she simply aims to tell the story ... it is a work which should be read widely. The analysis of the source material is extremely strong throughout: testament to Hyman’s skill as a historian and emotional literacy as a reader. I have given an extremely positive account of Hyman’s manuscript. After several decades of working in the field, I nevertheless learnt a great deal from reading it. And perhaps more importantly still, I found myself profoundly moved by the brave young women in the book. In recent years I have become concerned that I am becoming hardened by my research. That I no longer read with the attentiveness to suffering that I once did. Hyman’s ability to infuse the women she writes about with emotions and complex personalities drew me back. A gifted storyteller, she reminded me once again that the women we both study are not just figures from history but complex human beings making excruciating decisions and trying to make sense of what they were being forced to endure as best they could. This book deserves to be read widely. I frequently review manuscripts and this is one of the best I’ve read."

Zoë Waxman

Professor of Holocaust History

University of Oxford

17/09/2024

[papiliotao]

・❥・BEAUTY AMIDST AN ENDLESS NIGHT

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Alhaitham, Kazuha, Scaramouche, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Xiao, Zhongli

♡ — Synopsis: on days where you feel as though the world is against you, your lover is there to cheer you up.

♡ — Content: fluff, modern AU, established relationship, generally soft

♡ — Word Count: around 200 per a character

♡ — A/N: the fact that I wrote this solely because I get sad for no reason sometimes. I'm sure there are people out there who can relate though. For anyone going through tough times, stay strong and keep going! I hope this fic will be able to cheer you up a little. (P.S. the parts for each character are arranged in alphabetical order if you're looking for anyone specific)

As your boyfriend, it is both ALBEDO’s duty and pleasure to remind you how much you mean to him whenever melancholic feelings of dread weigh your heart down. You watch as he flips through the pages of a worn sketchbook sitting in his small art studio within your shared home. It is filled with the most wondrous portraits of landscapes, wildfires, and even people. However, Albedo completely disregards those works. Instead, he opts to point out particularly detailed drawings strewn throughout the sketchbook. Intersecting lines form picturesque depictions of the memories you share with Albedo. On one page, your first date. On another, your first night together. But it is the final page he shows you that causes you to raise an eyebrow at him. It seems to resemble a rather average day in your life. In the sketch, you and Albedo are conversing in a mundane setting; there’s really nothing special to be seen. When you ask your boyfriend about it, he allows a gentle laugh to escape the confines of his lips. Then, he points out all the finer complexities of the work. From the lovestruck expression on his face to the way he flawlessly replicated your every feature, you begin to realize how much Albedo thinks about you on a daily basis. Upon reaching this epiphany, the feelings of insecurity and bitter frustration that have been permeating every inch of your mind dissipate ever so slightly, and it’s all thanks to Albedo’s love.

On days where it feels as though you’re drowning in a sea of your own sadness, you are thankful for your lover’s relaxed demeanour. ALHAITHAM’s voice is the only sound that cuts through the tangible silence permeating the air of your living room. He recites complicated words adorning the pages of one of his rather verbose books as you sit beside him, leaning against his muscular figure. Although you can’t understand half the phrases that leave his lips, you feel at ease. His calm voice lulls you into a dreamlike trance, acting as a temporary ailment to the negative emotions that threaten to overwhelm you. So instead of paying heed to the disturbing feelings of deep melancholy that plague your fragile heart, you direct all your attention to the alluring sound of your loving speaking and the feeling of his body pressed against your own, allowing yourself to get lost in every single intricacy of his mannerisms — the very subtleties that you love him for.

Everything about today has felt rather off. Happiness eludes you, avoiding you like an ancient plague, causing feelings of unadulterated sorrow to bubble up within the depths of your soul. Although you’re trying to conceal all your woes behind a carefully-crafted mask of smiles and feigned lighthearted laughter, your facade is akin to porcelain — delicate and fragile, cracking under the slightest pressure. And to no one’s surprise, KAZUHA is able to see through your meticulously-designed illusion of exuberance instantaneously. The subtle sighs and breaks in your expression prompt him to drag you to bed as soon as you’re finished with your daily tasks under the guise that he wants to cuddle. In reality, he knows that you’re having a rather difficult time, and he wants nothing more than to hold you and kiss the pain away, so as of now, you are wrapped in his warm embrace as he continuously presses his soft lips to the back of your neck. His snowy hair tickles your skin as he comforts you, and between each chaste kiss, he whispers sweet nothings into your ear, assuring you that tomorrow, the sun will rise again, giving way to a brighter day full of ecstasy and warmth.

Some days you can’t help but feel as though the world has been obscured by veils of endless blue. Everything feels mundane, and you just can’t bring yourself to smile. Thankfully, even in moments as perturbed as these, you are able to seek a small bit of solace by confiding in SCARAMOUCHE. To others, he seems brash and insensitive, but when it comes to you, he is attentive beyond measure. So when signs of melancholy begin to show through the cracks in your demeanour, your lover drops what he is doing and turns his focus to you. He insists on taking you out to a mysterious location, and although skepticism floods your thoughts, you eventually give in, agreeing to trust Scaramouche despite his enigmatic musings. Your boyfriend drives you to a quaint location situated in the middle of nowhere by the light of the setting sun. As you exit his car, you are greeted by the scent of the evening air, refreshing and cool, just what you need after a long day of feeling down. Scaramouche intertwines his fingers with yours, grasping onto you like a lifeline. He pulls you through a sparse line of trees, and although the darkness of the night obscures your vision, you trust your lover to guide you. When you clear the grove of vegetation, you are met with a sight that causes your breath to catch in your throat. Scaramouche has brought you to a cliff in a secluded area overlooking the city. Millions of stars adorn the velvety royal blue of the night sky, illuminating the world below, and the lights that glitter from the distant urban area fill you with a sensation of nostalgic ease. As you sit down on the soft grass beside Scaramouche, a sense of calm washes over you. Here, beside your lover and under the watchful gaze of the luminous celestial bodies up above, you finally feel at peace.

Amidst restless hours filled with uncertainty and unwanted negativity, THOMA is like an effulgent light piercing through the darkness that clouds your mind. He caters to your every need, doing anything your heart desires in order to remedy your pain even the slightest bit. Right now, he is standing in front of the stove, his back to you as he attentively prepares a meal. A mouthwatering fragrance drifts through the air as he cooks, and the warmth that fills the kitchen from the stove melts the icy cage of sadness surrounding your heart ever-so-slightly. When Thoma finally finishes, he plates the food in a meticulous manner and then shifts all his attention to you. The steam from the fresh meal caresses your cold cheeks as your lover peers deep into your eyes, displaying to you a wondrous sea full of olive green lights as you lock gazes. Before you can thank him for making dinner, Thoma leans over the table and presses a tender kiss against your cheek — one filled with all the gentleness and comfort of the sun on hazy winter days, making even the harshest of stinging winds just a little more bearable.

Whenever the world seems grey, shrouded in the gloominess plaguing your heart, TIGHNARI never fails to restore the beauty of the vibrant hues around you by bringing you bright bouquets of delicate flowers. Vivacious translucent petals tickle your nose as you breathe in the floral scent of the blossoms you are holding in your hands. The perfumed aroma that fills the air causes the tension in your shoulders to relieve slightly. A sigh of contentment escapes your lips as Tighnari takes the flowers from you and places them in a vase. His fingertips brush against your hands, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. In a hushed voice, he begins to explain the symbolism behind each plant in the bouquet. From blush pink azaleas to the fragile and pure lily of the valley, your lover knows of the meanings behind each floret, listing them off one by one. You know that the only reason he’s rambling on and on is to distract you from the thoughts that wrack your restless mind, and for that, you are beyond thankful.

When VENTI first proposes the idea of going on a picnic, hesitance overtakes you. You know he’s just trying to cheer you up, but you’re not quite sure if you’re in the mood to go out. Nonetheless, he manages to convince you that leaving the confines of your house to breathe in the crisp, late spring air and surround yourself with the viridescent foliage of the outdoors will work wonders for your mood, so you allow him to drag you to the park, albeit somewhat begrudgingly. When you arrive at your destination, Venti sets a blanket down on the lush grass, and atop the checkered quilt, he places a weaved basket. Upon opening the basket, you discover that it is filled with all your favourite delectable treats, so despite the bitterness of the day, a small smile settles on your face. As you begin to grin, Venti sings you a song, imbuing each lyric with softness and tenderness, conveying to you that even in the darkest of hours, he will always be by your side. The wind tousles your hair as the sound of leaves rustling in a gentle zephyr rings out like a backing track to Venti’s angelic voice. For the first time that day, you feel a sense of ease settle over you.

XIAO isn’t great at comforting people, but each time he sees your empty expression, he feels his heart shattering into countless fractured crystal shards. Despite knowing that he’s not the most qualified to help you deal with your worries, you still decide to go to him to seek consolation, so in spite of the fact that he is rather inexperienced, Xiao tries his best. He tells you to rest and immediately tucks you into bed with a sweet yet endearingly shy kiss on the forehead. Before he leaves the room, he whispers a few honeyed words in a voice that somehow feels softer than usual, reassuring you that everything will be alright, and when he finally exits, he sets himself to work on all the unfinished chores around the house. He works diligently while you relax under the silky covers of your bed, and although it takes a while, when Xiao finishes with your trivial tasks, he joins you in bed, wrapping an arm around you and allowing you to bury your head in his chest, breathing in his comforting scent as you feel yourself drifting off into a blissful realm of alluring slumber.

On days where joy evades you, ZHONGLI never fails to find a way to comfort you. His presence alone is calming, but when coupled with his actions, you feel as though you can almost continue with your daily routine as usual. At the moment, you are sitting with Zhongli in your living room as your hands are wrapped around a teacup. Condensation graces your palms, and it would be unpleasant if not for the warmth seeping into your body through the delicate porcelain of the cup. As you take a sip of the drink, you allow an airy sigh of contentment to slip through your lips. It’s absolutely divine, reminiscent of the finest ambrosia, something straight out of the tales your lover is currently recounting. Your mind feels as though it is clinging onto his voice, hanging onto his every syllable to regain a sense of stability despite the fog that clouds your thoughts. He spins stories of downfalls and triumphs, some tales downcast while others inspirational, and in the midst of his narration, you find yourself transported to a different world full of fantasies — an oasis of reprieve hidden away from the monotonous and lamentable reality facing you.

Thank you for reading! If you enjoyed this, then reblogs and comments would be appreciated!

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Rhetorical Triangle

Rhetorical Triangle - a simple, useful tool that can help you develop a strong and well thought-out essay, especially in persuasive writing and speeches.

Each side of the triangle represents one of the three classical rhetorical approaches used to build informative, persuasive arguments that influence audiences in specific, powerful ways.

There are many visual representations of the Rhetorical Triangle available online, such as the following:

The 3 Classical Appeals: Ethos, Pathos and Logos

Each of the three approaches attempts to prove arguments and persuade readers by emphasizing a specific type of appeal.

These appeals are not mutually exclusive, and you will often find elements of all three working together in effective writing.

Ethos: Appeals to Credibility and Authority

To use this appeal, you might emphasize experience or educational background, your own or those of your sources, as the reason the reader should believe you.

By citing credentials, the argument is being built on the word of experts.

Your reader expects to acknowledge the qualifications of the individuals or organizations presented as capable of supporting an argument with valid, factual, and credible information.

Pathos: Appeals to Emotions

Although this appeal is not as commonly used in academic writing as the other two, it does appear regularly in literary work.

Recognizing and using pathos appeals to personal values and emotions, which are some of the most powerful appeals.

Logos: Appeals to Logic and Reasoning

When you think about academic writing, you probably think of logic-based writing, which targets a reader’s intellect and often includes facts that build upon each other to support complex arguments.

Because this appeal relies on a reader being able to follow well-constructed arguments, it is critical this writing is clear, organized, and focused.

Extra information that does not directly support the logic of the arguments can distract and confuse a reader, and ultimately weaken an argument.

Identifying and Using Rhetorical Appeals

Now that you are familiar with each of the three rhetorical appeals, you can consider how you might use them in your writing, based on the specific rhetorical situation you are working with.

ETHOS

If your paper is discussing the effects of drinking and driving, you might include an interview with a veteran DPS Trooper who can discuss his fifteen years of experience working New Year’s Eve patrols. His professional credentials help your readers believe his observations and ideas are informed, relevant, and appropriate to the topic. By citing them, you are presenting your source’s DPS training, certifications, and experience as the reason your readers should accept your argument.

Incorporating topic information from reliable, well-informed sources strengthens your argument and makes it easier for your reader to accept.

Writers present their source’s credentials through in-text citations as well as through their Works Cited listings.

These citations provide your readers with the background and information they need to evaluate the quality and credibility of your sources.

PATHOS

If your goal is to get your reader to feel something, or to take a certain action, you may find this appeal highly effective.

Think about the popular TV commercials that raise money for abused animals. Those commercials are designed to make viewers feel sadness by showing images of pain and suffering. By the end, they switch to hopeful images and dialogue to inspire viewers to take a specific action and become supporters of their cause.

Pathos is often used in literature. Think about stories that seem to come alive in some way. Perhaps it is a character to whom readers can genuinely relate or stories that make readers feel happy, sad, or angry.

Writing that evokes emotion often uses Pathos. It is also commonly used in spoken word compositions like speeches, poetry, and theater.

When possible, including thoughtfully chosen images and music is another way you can use pathos through sensory details to connect with your audience’s emotions.

LOGOS

To create logical support in your work, you might include data, case studies, statistics, lab reports, and other similar information.

This is a popular appeal, and if you watch for it, you will find it used to support claims in everything from scientific reports to advertising, such as the familiar “Nine out of ten dentists recommend using an automatic toothbrush over regular brushing.”

COMBINING RHETORICAL APPEALS

As you start planning your essay, you may find that a combination of appeals works best.

Example: You might decide that case studies and lab reports will provide the best data to support your claims, focusing on only highly-qualified sources that are well known in your field.

By making these choices, you are employing the power of both Logos and Ethos into your essay, a combination that will result in a clear, organized, credible, and effective argument that conveys your message.

Source ⚜ Writing Notes & References

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Autistic Spencer Reid

Happy Autism Acceptance Month, everyone! By request, my wonderful friends and I have taken on the daunting task of documenting the reasons why Spencer Reid is considered Autistic. Big thank you to you @spencer-reids-adventures and @foxy-eva specifically for their help. We hope everyone enjoys! This is not an exhaustive list.

Stimming/Self-Stimulatory behavior, including rocking/spinning in his chair, twiddling with his fingers, gripping sheets, bouncing his legs, biting his lip/tongue, rubbing his eyes, spinning pens, pacing (e.g., S6E12 "Corazon")

Averse to touch, dislikes hugs (S7E13 "Snake Eyes" & S11E11 "Entropy")

Explains multiple attempts at masking, including "being more conversational," (S2E19 "Ashes and Dust"), scripting conversation (S15E4 "Saturdays"), saying what people want to hear (S6E20 "Hanley Waters")

Verbosity - Difficulty recognizing when he's talking too much/speaking at inappropriate times (e.g., S1E16 "The Tribe" & S10E16 "Lockdown")

Began studying behavioral science to understand behavior that made him frustrated/confused (S11E22 "The Storm")

Averse to hosting/hanging out in his space; didn't invite his friends to his apartment for over 15 years (S15E9 "Face Off")

The only team member capable of proficient communication with other Autistic people (S6E16 "Coda" & S11E22 "The Storm")

He is referred to as Autistic by multiple characters, including a literal profiler, and does not deny or question it (S1E5 "Broken Mirror" & S8E3 "Through the Looking Glass")

Lack of social awareness, such as focusing on a convention while at a workplace shooter crime scene (S7E3 "Dorado Falls")

Various special interests, like Doctor Who (S6E16 "Coda" & S7E23 "Hit")

Literal thinking, such as focusing on scientific accuracy of a star-based fable (S5E13 "Risky Business")

Difficulty recognizing common phrases, such as the "sitting in a tree" song (S3E14 "Damaged") or jokes (S7E9 "Self-Fulfilling Prophecy" & S1E8 "Natural Born Killer")

Makes inappropriate references, such as to Derek's playboy behavior (S1E18 "Somebody's Watching") and Rossi's age (S7E13 "Snake Eyes")

Coordination/Spatial deficits (S1E17 "A Real Rain" & S8E6 "The Apprenticeship")

Hyperfocuses on a task to the point he doesn't notice his surroundings (S5E20 "A Thousand Words")

Unusual/hyper-specific pedantic language (S3E6 "Remembrance of Things Past")

Resistance to change, manifested as a luddite dislike of technology (S6E7 "Middle Man" & S8E4 "God Complex") and struggling with Gideon's death (S10E14 "Hero Worship")

He receives (apparent disability) accommodations to be in the field (S6E10 "What Happens At Home...")

Introverted, difficulty sharing emotions, even with his closest friends (S10E13 "Nelson's Sparrow")

Heavily bullied as a child (S3E16 "Elephant's Memory")

Difficulty making friends (S2E1 "The Fisher King Part 2")

Trouble with eye contact, which persists throughout the series

His mother is schizophrenic, which has a strong genetic link to Autism

Dislikes small talk (S8E3 “Through the Looking Glass”)

Enjoys memorizing lists (S7E11, “True Genius”)

Savant skills - eidetic memory and hyperlexia

Matthew Gray Gubler has also explained that, regardless of the canonical confirmation, he views and portrayed Spencer Reid as Autistic. Specifically, he stated:

"He's an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger's syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three Ph.D.'s and one can't usually achieve that without some form of autism." (Note: Asperger's is an outdated term with Nazi origins, which is now referred to as a part of "Autism Spectrum Disorder" by most countries)

DISCLAIMER: I am Autistic, as diagnosed when I was a toddler. These thoughts are my own and shared for fun. If you disagree, please make your own post about it rather than posting them here. This was a labor of love for fans like me and those who love Autistic people and the characters like us. Thank you for respecting and understanding my boundaries!

Looking for more to read? Check out my Autistic headcanon posts for Penelope and Hotch!

Thank you everyone! 🌈♾️❤️

[hwnglx]

disclaimer; the way this was worded can make it confusing, but these are behaviors or traits in other people the members could potentially feel turned on, and turned off by. enjoy 💌

bts' turn on's and turn off's

based on tarot. i do not know these idols personally. energies are always changing. what i say is NOT straight fact. pls take it with a grain of salt!

jin

turn on's

fair-minded and balanced

pleasant, gentle, peaceful and patient -> doesn't get angry or riled up easily

understanding of people's needs and okay with adjusting themselves accordingly

gives him the space and alone-time he needs

introspective, wise and intelligent (asks and ponders on the deeper questions in life)

reflects back on their actions and behavior -> is self aware enough to admit when they messed up

has valuable advice to give (it's kind of a pattern, he's definitely drawn to attractive brains and mindsets)

is open-minded and ready for new experiences -> not closed off and hesistant or scared of everything

would like to go on fun trips and activities with him

okay with more of a slow-burn but consistent and stable relationship -> doesn't rush to proceed quickly (like someone who's alright with getting to know each other slowly, maybe even start as his best friend first)

turn off's

overly emotional and dramatic (he'd feel overwhelmed and eventually drained)

but also too cold and severely detached (someone who has no sympathy for the people around them)

acts cowardly and avoids facing the consequences of their own actions

uselessly mean and cruel with their words

too proud and self-centered -> puts themselves and their own needs above others

full of selfish greed and doesn't know how to appreciate and be grateful for what they already have

clings to him and gets too possessive or controlling

too focused on superficial values (like money, fame, reputation, material possessions, etc..)

never satisfied with themselves nor the people around them -> keeps nagging, complaining and just spreading unpleasant energy

feels attacked quickly, takes everything personally and gets defensive right away

suga

turn on's

has a strong and transformative effect on the people around them (powerful presence, lingers in your mind)

knows what it's like to struggle and has gained inner strength from the experience (i.e. he thinks it's impressive to hear stories about how someone overcame a seemingly hopeless situation and learned from it in hindsight)

therefore has a good understanding of life and a lot of wisdom (keeps intriguing him with their mindset, words, thoughts, etc.)

deep and complex personalities

i keep hearing “dark”, i can see him liking when people are dressed in black, have darker hair, tattoos, etc.

doesn't insert themselves in unnecessary drama or conflicts and doesn't engage in childish gossip

has a good eye for detail and is quietly observant -> remembers the minor things about others (i.e. he'd love if his partner overheard him talking about a specific gift he wants and secretly bought it for him)

generous and giving to their loved ones (gifts really are the way to his heart)

very clever, quick-witted -> challenges him mentally

turn off's

doesn't have their priorities straight

delusional and overly unrealistic

too childish and emotionally immature

stuck in the past -> holds endless grudges and keeps bringing up old incidents

too naive and optimistic all the time -> doesn't wanna acknowledge reality for what it is, actively avoids negativity and runs away from their problems

takes unnecessary risks, is too wild and untamed (like a loose cannon type of free spirit he can't keep track of)

too simple-minded -> doesn't comprehend or care about the deeper things in life

he's likely to just not vibe with overly protected and overly privileged people who've never had to go through any hardship in their life

cares too much about being liked by everyone and gets obsessed over what people think

doesn't know how to assert themselves and actively avoids confrontation

j-hope

turn on's

very talented or skilled at something (especially in an artistic field)

humble, grounded and always eager to expand their knowledge and improve their craft

self-aware -> can recognize and admit to their mistakes

but doesn't linger and dwell on them too much -> knows how to grow and learn from their failures

chooses their battles wisely -> doesn't engage in unnecessary conflict and arguments (peacemakers who don't like fighting)

soft- and kindhearted (someone with pure intentions)

has a strong sense of responsibility and duty

carries a lot of inner strength and resilience

knows how to take care of themselves and decorate their own garden -> doesn't always need to rely on people to do the hard work for them

doesn't beat around the bush too much and expresses themselves in a clear manner

tbh, i keep getting that he's just very into self-development. he feels drawn to people who are always set on becoming the best version of themselves and would love to be on their side for that journey

turn off's

overly selfish and greedy for material things -> doesn't enjoy sharing or taking other people's needs into consideration (like if someone turned out to be hoarding money secretly he'd get the ick majorly)

gets overly controlling or possessive of him

behaves like a stubborn know-it-all and refuses to listen to his side of the story

too secretive and closed off from him -> keeps confusing him and sending mixed signals

puts on too much of a mysterious and hard-to-get act

too negative, pessimistic and dark

doesn't tell him about their thoughts or feelings leaving him wondering and worrying

deceptive (like someone who tries to cover up their mistakes and isn't upfront and genuine in the things they do, only does it for the show)

refuses to change, even if deep down they know they would need to (i.e. because it negatively impacts their connection)

bottom of deck was the two of cups. i kept getting this very forgiving and accepting energy from him, where it doesn't seem like he has these extremely specific expectations. he's okay with his partner not being perfect, because as long as he genuinely loves them, he's willing to work on their downfalls together. very sweet energy. (probably my favorite out of bts)

namjoon

turn on's

has a lot discipline, drive and willpower

knows how to keep their focus on their goals and doesn't allow anyone to stand in their way -> very determined and ambitious

courageous and willing to take on tasks others avoid (like the person who steps up first to do the hard work no one else wants to do)

capable of enduring and withstanding life's trials in a strong manner

likes to be a source of support and guidance for the people around them

uses their resources or platform for a higher good (i.e. someone who donates money to the less fortunate or helps out the homeless, likes doing volunteer work)

knows how to be grateful, as well as appreciate and count their blessings

capable of creating deep, meaningful and emotionally intimate connections to people

loves deeply and intensely

possessive and protective over what belongs to them (can see this applying to not only material goods, but also the people they're close to -> someone who looks after their territory)

turn off's

overly delusional and unrealistic

has their head in the clouds and rose-colored glasses on all the time

doesn't know what they want in life and struggles to make clear decisions -> keeps leading people on

refuses to admit their faults and doesn't learn from their mistakes -> keeps themselves stuck and self-sabotages

too lazy to work for their own success and sucks up to people in the spotlight in order to benefit from them (don't hate me but i can see him feeling turned off by privileged chaebols or nepo babys who didn't really work for their own success)

has no control over their emotions or rage -> explodes or lashes out on people

lets their frustration out on the people around them

unreliable and doesn't stick to their words -> says one thing but ends up doing another

acts irresponsibly and recklessly

doesn't know how to take life seriously and cracks jokes at inappropriate times

tactless and ill-mannered (like he'd feel the ick if someone laughed inappropriately during the discussion of a serious matter)

he had so much to say for the turn off's. he definitely gives me this vibe of having very high standards. i can sense this balance of tough love and thoughtful empathy in him, which definitely makes him an impressive and commendable leader. it's kinda like he was made for the role, really.

jimin

turn on's

intelligent, articulate and eloquent speakers -> always finds the right thing to say in the right moment

capable of being logical and objective when the situation calls for it

level-headed and swift at making decisions (he's someone who can struggle with this a lot, which is why he can feel drawn to a person who's more decisive and clear in their thought-process than him)

isn't afraid to argue and knows how to confidently hold their ground in a strong but diplomatic manner, without crossing lines

however self-aware enough to know when it's time to step back and admit they're wrong

loyal, committed and dedicated to everything they do

seeks peace and quietness (he enjoys intimate and relaxing alone-time with the person on his side, and wants them to feel like a break from all the stress)

has an inspiring, uplifting and encouraging effect on the people around them

capable of understanding his emotional needs and attuning their behavior, actions and words to them (he can need a little bit of sugarcoating sometimes)

has a profound capacity of connecting to people on a deep and emotional level

turn off's

acts like they're entitled to have a say in his life and allows themselves to command him around

too traditional, conservative and narrow-minded -> judgemental towards people different to them

childish and emotionally immature (example: throws a fit and acts like an offended child once told about their wrongdoing without acknowledging their mistakes. most members seem to not like that in a person)

lack of integrity and weak moral compass

doesn't care about adjusting their actions to the situation and struggles understanding their need to do so

tactless and impolite (especially verbally)

lacks empathy and compassion for their loved ones -> too emotionally detached and cold in relationships

gets a kick out of hurting and offending others

taehyung

turn on's

has an intriguing and mysterious aura to them -> awakens his curiosity and makes him want to get to know them closer

is more closed off and private about their life matters (a person who just gives off this impression that no one actually knows them)

can give off a cold aura but is much more passionate and enthusiastic about their personal endeavors than what meets the eye (also doesn't feel the need to rub their success or achievements into people's faces)

has depth and complexity to their personality -> knows how to talk about deeper and serious subjects in life

but can also have fun, be playful and whimsical at times

he loves duality

someone who's usually mature, grounded and disciplined but also carries this inner child-like excitement about life

trustworthy, dependable and responsible

dedicated and committed to him

capable of maintaining a good work-life balance

turn off's

too lazy and doesn't hold themselves to any sort of standards (like they don't care about improving themselves in any way out of comfort)

too deadbeat, boring, uptight and serious all the time

has an outdated and overly conservative attitude

stuck in their own beliefs and condemning towards views different to their own

not appreciative and very “meh” about the important people in their lives -> doesn't care to put in any effort into their relationships

too self-centered and only focused on their own desires

clouded and blinded by their emotions all the time -> lacks decisiveness

too emotionally needy and whiny

thinks they're superior him to him or entitled to tell him what to do -> acts controlling

jungkook

turn on's

he loooves a chase and having to work for their attention -> inaccessibility can intrigue and attract him (i.e. if a group of people showed interest in him, the one who doesn't would stand out and catch his attention more)

has strong values and convictions -> isn't afraid to uphold their principles and defend themselves or their loved ones when the situation calls for it

intelligent, eloquent and articulate speaker -> good with words (he likes beautiful and melodic voices too, would love to just sit and listen to his s/o talk for hours)

has clear objectives and goals in life -> knows exactly what they want and how to get it (will make it clear to him as well, isn't a simping yes-man who just adapts themselves to him all the time)

knows their worth and doesn't give in to people quickly

successful but humble about their achievements

loyal and committed to the people they love

stands behind their words and keeps their promises

polite and well-mannered

brings a sense of stability and comfort to the people around them (like a person who's this dependable and reliable pillar for their loved ones)

has a good balance of more “masculine” and “feminine” energy -> someone who can be dominant, powerful and assertive but also nurturing, loving and soft

he likes playful push and pull (like giving in for a kiss and stopping just timely enough to leave him wanting more)

turn off's

too competitive, egocentric and greedy -> doesn't know how to give in or grant others their rightful spotlight

ill-mannered, discourteous and tactless -> isn't capable of reading the room and acts impulsively without consideration for the people around them

impolite and offensive with the way they speak

constantly negative and pessimistic -> always finds something to complain about and ruins the mood

lets out their frustrations on the people around them

acts superior to others with nothing to back it up with (basically an inflated ego)

sucks up to him, puts on a fake act just to impress him (like a simp who just plays mr/ms perfect for him, he isn't easily fooled and can see through someone pretending to be something they're not)

too secretive and mysterious -> unsettles him, makes him question their motives (someone who keeps making him feel like they're hiding something and have an ulterior motive or hidden agenda)

doesn't commit to what they say -> leads him on, says they'll do one thing but end up doing another

i kinda struggled explaining this but i got the ace of wands plus the world. basically means a spark of passion, a new beginning, but putting an end to it before it could develop further -> he wants someone who's in it for the longterm and not just a one-time thing.

jk essentially just needs to feel the sincerity behind someone's intentions and actions. he doesn't trust people easily anymore and gets suspicious. he can easily feel turned off by people who are obviously just sucking up to him or making him feel like they want to be with him for the wrong reasons.

obviously, he wouldn't wanna be with a person who only sees him as someone they can benefit from. he's used to people simping for him (it's giving “been there done that, don't want that anymore”), so he can feel drawn to people who don't really care; since that'd mean they're more likely to overlook his status, fame, etc. and look at him as a person, rather than an idol, fantasy or an opportunity for their own good.

[sophieinwonderland]

Hiveminds and Multiplicity

When thinking about Hiveminds, I realized that hivemind connection is a spectrum, with many plural or plural-like experiences across it.

At the same time, both the beginning and end of this spectrum are singlet experiences. I decided to represent this with my own horseshoe theory.

Unconnected Individuals

This is pretty self-explanatory. These are totally separate individuals with their totally separate bodies. These are not even the slightest bit plural. Or, at least, not for any hivemind related reasons.

Mind-Linked

Now we drift into plural territory.

At this point, the individuals have some sort of mental link to each other. Mind links can range in levels of complexity.

At a low level, this may mean feeling each other's emotions or sensing when something really bad happens with no words or other communication. The most basic form of this might be "twintuition" in shows, where twins can magically sense when something happens to another no matter where they are.

At high levels, this can come with full verbal communication and other hallucinatory experiences.

Mind-linked systems often have strong barriers between them, only being able to transfer limited information, and maybe only in specific circumstances.

But the mind-linked are having plural experiences. They have someone else feeling their emotions, hearing their thoughts. It's very similar to sharing your mind with headmates. As this connection grows, they may end up becoming...

The Multiple Hivemind

At the top most point of the horseshoe, all mental barriers have been torn down.

They're still multiple people. They still have their own individual identities. But the link has become so great that they can read each other's thoughts whenever they want. They can share memories and skills freely between them, being both multiple and completely connected at the same time.

The Median Hivemind

Having achieved perfect connection, identity starts to erode. The median hivemind starts becoming its own collective identity.

Individuals in the median hivemind still retain agency and sense of self, but are also blending together more now and feel less like separate people.

The True Hivemind

At this point, there is no distinction between identity of the members. The hivemind is now one singlet spread across multiple bodies. A contrast and opposite to traditional plurality, which is multiple agents in one body.

...

We Can Get Weird With This...

Okay, that's a basic overview of how hiveminds work and evolve with singlets. But... what if some members of the hivemind aren't singlets?

Now things are going to get weird because hiveminds and mental links enable a lot of peculiar things that wouldn't be possible otherwise.

What if an old headmate goes dormant for years. In that time, the system becomes linked to a hivemind and specifically become either a median or true hivemind where they all identify as the same thing? What if that headmate comes back to find everyone else in the system is part of this hivemind with their identities melded into it, but the new headmate is still separate?

Or what if a multiple hivemind enabled headmates originating in the same body to front in multiple bodies at once, essentially allowing system hopping as a thing in those specific circumstances? What one of the members of an in-sys relationship used someone else's body (consensually) to be with their partner?

Or what if, for whatever reason, only one member of the system had the connection to the hivemind while the rest didn't?

Or... imagine that there are two systems with a strong mental link. They become a multiple hivemind with headmates able to speak freely to each other and even share an inner world. Then two headmates, one from each system, interact more and end up fusing. What does this mean? Which body is theirs? What happens if the link is severed?

Or in the same vein, what if a hivemind starts out as existing between 5 singlets? They become connected and end up being a multiple hivemind, and share an inner world. What if the hivemind created a tulpa together in this inner world, and none of the members are sure whose tulpa it actually counts as?

...

Anyway, if there's any takeaway from this, it should be that plurality is weird. Hiveminds are weird. And put them together and you get a weird sandwich. 😁

[forestwitchontheroad]

Billford Analysis!

Chapter one: Ford and his blind adoration before the portal incident, or abusive slowburn.

warning! this is a very open and incoherent form of my thoughts, where I do not mention many canonical details but only consider the attitude of the characters towards them.

so, I want to analyze as clearly as possible the interactions of Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher at different stages of their, I'm not afraid to say, very complex relationship, which bordered on both blind near-religious chthonic adoration and abusive violence as from a typical psychological manual.

to begin with, I want to look specifically at Stanford's notes from his Third Journal in order to create a general portrait of how his idea of Bill has changed over the years (later a retelling of the same events will be presented, but from Bill's point of view). most often, the long periods of their interactions before betrayal and finding out the truth about the portal are ignored, but they are especially important in the context of forming a long-term and strong attachment.

Stanford immediately begins to cherish his new acquaintance with Bill - he calls their meeting a secret that no one can find out. his low self-esteem also flashes here, depending not only on what people he knows say about him but also on society as a whole in the form of a scientific community. he keeps his acquaintance with bill secret out of inner shame and anxiety that he will not be trusted, he will expose the external environment as crazy, and all acquaintance with the supreme being, in the eyes of Stanford, will turn out to be a fiction of a lonely mind.

after all, isolation in a small town led Stanford to label their first meeting as a miracle on the decrepit pages of his diary. it was really a godsend for Bill, such a combination of mental genius and naive emotional trauma, but this will be discussed, again, in the next chapter.

calling Bill his muse, he sees his silhouette in the firmament, drawing the outlines of the constellation “William” in his diary on a par with the constellations we are familiar with. for me, this also means treating Bill not as a separate independent being on the level of Ford himself, no. at this moment, he perceives him more as an idea, as something inspiring, as a path to knowledge that can be read in the web of snow-white stars. he addresses his muse as a higher consciousness, which rarely visits him in dreams, and he listens to his every word. It seems to me that Ford's former religious upbringing also plays a role here, as well as the most persistent belief in the paranormal, which was based only on science fiction stories before moving to gravity falls. Ford's egocentricity, his belief in his own exclusivity, perfectionism combined with arrogance, also play here, which led to the fact that he really, without a doubt, believed that he was chosen as the greatest genius of our time. but really, why not believe if he was so successful in finding and justifying the existence of the supernatural in the first place?

and then - even more. all Ford's pages that relate to Bill at this point in time look fabulous, magical, and unreal. as if torn from a dream, depicting cosmic, unattainable expanses of consciousness and flying chess are symbols of knowledge and business cooperation for him. in such a hazy haze of consciousness, Ford very naively and dangerously agrees to give Bill permission to control his body as he pleases. and for Ford, it makes sense - how can a near-divine being, who does not have his own selfish desires and emotions, do something bad to him? even in the cold flame, when shaking hands, he finds an exquisite and mesmerizing moment.

torn pages from Bill's book complement this period in Ford's life - he depicts himself turning to heaven, which also shows his vision of Cipher as an extraterrestrial being that is incomprehensible to his human mind. he treats their relationship as the creation of an important chapter in the whole story, so all his words show excitement - he does not know how to address Bill correctly, is not sure what he should do. after all, it was the first time he found someone who did not turn away from him but found him even in dreams - he could not then lose such a truly fateful chance.

hence, religious servility, and this is it, in its purest form, begins to intertwine with Ford's own emotions, as well as fill a huge hole in his life in the form of the appearance of a friend. reverence begins to mix with respect and the desire to just be friends.

after all, Cipher's flattery is aimed not only at Ford's ambitions - it concerns all his insecurities and questionable life choices. where he speaks almost directly about how Ford is always right, and everyone else is either stupid or envious of Pines and his boundless special mind. Also, these empty compliments are aimed at Ford's main fear - being rejected by society or anyone at all. Bill promises him not power, not money, but his faces on all scientific journals - that is, fame.

the exchange of mutual jokes and thoughts leads to the emergence of friendship from Ford's point of view. he gets used to Bill's extraordinary statements and finds them native in his own way, some unusual feature of his communication style. Stanford is unusual himself, so he is happy to meet not only manifestations of paranormal activity but also sometimes creepy statements by Cipher, finding them exciting, making Bill's recruitment work even easier.

Bill helps Ford with anxiety, constantly advises something, even improved his eyesight - all these countless gifts began to change Bill's title in Ford's head from a friend to a best friend who was with him not only for the sake of transferring some kind of supreme knowledge - but also just like that, in seemingly mortal matters and problems. he was even ready to get a tattoo on himself at the request of his muse, but at the last moment, nevertheless, refused.

it should be understood that Stanford, due to limited experience of communication and socialization, had no idea what was normal and what was abnormal. Now and beyond, Cipher's demands will begin to grow in their seriousness, and Ford will really stop asking questions about them. maybe he justified it by saying that this is what friendship between beings of different kinds looks like, maybe a slight infatuation mixed with adoration with pink glasses closed any logical conclusions.

Ford's birthday is an indicator of a complete departure from Bill's perception of a divine being. Ford received a rather dubious gift in the form of dead rats laid out in his name, but it didn't matter at all to him - the main thing was that his birthday was remembered. the attention paid to the lonely Ford completely killed any rational thinking, so at the moment of drunken singing within the boundaries of reason with his muse, he was happy. He found someone who understood him, worked side by side with him, and was just there for him.

maybe there would not have been this blind infatuation of any character, Ford would have asked more questions about such strange and very disturbing signs of attention, like a tattoo or dead animals, but the emotional nature that he so desperately hid from himself won out again.

the moment Bill listened to him about Stanley, told him, and showed him the last atoms of his destroyed dimension, was the peak of their relationship. the very intimacy of such a conversation, its irreplaceability, when Ford saw not his exalted muse - he saw another being who had lost his home. he is ready to help at the same moment because he cares, and he will do everything to help with the pain, not knowing the whole truth.

later, on the pages about Krampus, Ford puts Bill on the level of Fiddleford's wife and asks in his diary when his muse will appear when his assistant left him. Ford does this unconsciously, which only confirms a young and even innocent love, which Pines himself does not notice out of inexperience.

and that's why he gets angry when Bill doesn't show up to fight the monster on his conversion. he bitterly thinks that Bill inspires another scientist, that is, he is jealous, and that maybe they are absolutely not partners at all, that is, he is afraid of losing Cipher. all these thoughts are recorded in the diary as a single whirlwind of emotions, which again confirms this indifference to Bill.

and when Bill pointed out to Ford his inattention, he immediately wilted, came to his senses, and was ashamed. he really regarded Bill's words as the truth. sometimes returning again to the near-religious servility that had gone away, but in tense moments made itself reappear.

let's end this chapter with a page from the website about the axolotl, which Ford was forced to release at the request of Cipher. Because of Bill's clever mockery of leaving Ford for another scientist, he, in a panic, agrees to everything. he just seems to point out their difference in positions in the relationship a little sadly, no matter what - because Bill always knows better than Ford, and it's better not to argue once again.

In conclusion, we can briefly summarize that Ford went from religious anxious adoration to friendly relaxation and again to loving blind anxiety.

stay tuned for the next chapter about Bill's perspective on this period of time!

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝕬 𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖗𝖊𝖒𝖊𝖒𝖇𝖊𝖗

Clapton Davis x gender neutral reader

Summary: You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. What you couldn’t have predicted was that a dare from a simple game would give you a unique chance with the person you’ve had a crush on for too long.

Warnings: pure fluff. No pronouns used towards reader. Reader is a shy nerd. OC male character. Truth or dare. Confession. Kissing.

Words count: almost 3000

Can also be found on ao3 and wattpad

You always considered yourself a shy and intelligent person, comfortable within the confines of your books and thoughts. Venturing out into social situations was never your strong suit, but tonight, thanks to the persistent encouragement of your dear friend Jake, you found yourself standing at the entrance of a vibrant house party. The atmosphere was buzzing with excitement, and you could feel the pulse of the music vibrating through the walls. Jake's reassuring smile beside you was the anchor you desperately needed.

He claps you on the back, urging you forward. “This is your night,” he grins, moving with you toward the center of the room.

You glance around, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. The room pulses with life—strangers laughing, dancing, and clinking glasses.

The familiar figure of Clapton Davis caught your eye almost immediately. Clapton, the charismatic and outgoing hipster who seemed to thrive in these environments, was surrounded by a group of friends. He was the type who exudes charm effortlessly with his easy smile and confident demeanor. He was everything you were not, and you had harbored a crush on him for quite a while now.

You often found yourself questioning the small interactions you had with him, recalling the many times Clapton approached you at school, always with some question in mind.

Sometimes, it was about complex subjects like calculus or chemistry, but often, it was something so basic that it made you wonder. “Hey, can you remind me how to find the area of a rectangle again?” he had asked once, his eyes twinkling with an inexplicable charm. Another time, it was, “Do you know if we have any homework for English?” It was as if he sought you out specifically, bypassing others who might have been more obvious choices for such questions.

Things so simple that you sometimes wondered if he was doing it just to annoy you. But you always brushed those thoughts away, deeming them too fanciful.

Each interaction left you with a flurry of emotions, part of you thrilled at the attention, and another part skeptical, thinking it was too good to be true.

Jake nudged you gently, breaking your reverie. “Let’s go join them” he suggested, nodding towards the group that included Clapton and two girls you recognized from school, Ione and Riley. Despite the knot of anxiety tightening in your stomach, you trusted Jake and followed him.

The group welcomed you warmly, and you tried your best to engage in the conversation. Your eyes occasionally met Clapton’s, and each time you noticed a peculiar intensity in his gaze. Was he actually staring at you? You dismissed the thought as wishful thinking and focused on the ongoing chatter.

After some time, someone suggested playing truth or dare. The idea was met with enthusiastic approval, and a empty bottle was swiftly produced. The game began, and the tension in the air grew palpable. You watched the bottle spin, feeling a mix of anticipation and dread. It finally landed between you and Jake.

“Truth or dare?” He asked you simply.

In a rare moment of bravery, you chose dare. You wanted to show that you could be courageous and, more importantly, you trusted Jake. He pondered for a moment, then a devilish grin spread across his face.

“I dare you to sit on Clapton’s lap for the rest of the game,” he announced.

That’s it, tonight you’re gonna have to find a way to hide Jake’s dead body without nobody noticing.

Laughter erupted around you, and your heart sank. You shot Jake a death glare so intense that he almost retracted the dare. But before he could, Clapton spoke up. “I’m totally fine with that dare,” he said, his voice steady but there was a noticeable effort to keep his excitement under wraps.

His eyes sparkled with an enthusiasm that he tried to hide behind a casual tone, and the corners of his mouth twitched as if he was suppressing a grin.

Your heart pounded loudly in your chest, and your cheeks burned with embarrassment as you stood up. The room seemed to blur as you walked towards Clapton, ignoring the jealous and envious glares from Ione and Riley.

As you reach him, Clapton surprises you by pulling you gently but firmly onto his lap. His muscular arms wrap around your waist, securing you in place. The closeness is electrifying, and your cheeks burn with a mix of embarrassment and a thrill you can't quite name. You can feel his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Clapton shifted slightly, making sure you were comfortable. “Is this okay?” he asked softly. You nodded, unable to find your voice, overwhelmed by the proximity and the fluttering in your stomach.

The game continues, but your attention is solely on the sensation of being so close to Clapton. It feels like you and Clapton are in a world of your own. His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart.

His head rests on your shoulder, and he begins to whisper in your ear, his voice a soft murmur that only you can hear. "How are you doing?" he asks, genuine curiosity lacing his words. The unexpected sweetness in his tone makes your heart flutter.

“Good,” you manage to reply, though your voice is shaky.

You feel the warmth of his body against yours, the firm muscles beneath his shirt, the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You settle in, trying to ignore the fluttering in your stomach and the heat in your cheeks. Clapton leans in closer again, his breath warm against your ear “You’re braver than I thought,” he whispers, his voice low and teasing. His words send a jolt of electricity through you.

"Do you come to parties like this often?" Clapton asks, his tone curious.

“Not really,” you admit, your heart still pounding. “I’m more of a quiet night kind of person.”

"Really? I'm glad you came tonight," he says, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat. "It's nice to see you outside of school."

You nod, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement. "Yeah, it's... different."

Some people in the circle leave to get a drink, others join in to participate in the game and Clapton keeps up a steady stream of whispers. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear. "You look really good tonight," he whispers, his voice low and intimate.

Your checks flush deeper feeling the intensity of his gaze on you and you manage a soft "thank you" in response. His compliments are so unexpected and genuine that they leave you both flustered and thrilled.

His lips grazing your ear while his hand rests on your hip, his thumb drawing lazy circles that make it hard to focus on anything else.

Every time someone else takes their turn, you’re acutely aware of his presence. His hand on your waist, the rise and fall of his chest, the occasional squeeze of reassurance. He asks you questions, some innocent, others more daring, each one making your heart race faster.

“Have you always been this bold?” he asks at one point, his tone filled with genuine curiosity and admiration. You turn slightly to look at him, his face close enough that you can see the flecks of gold in his eyes. “Maybe you just bring it out in me,” you reply surprising yourself with your honesty.

His presence is reassuring and his whispered conversations create a private bubble for the two of you amidst the chaos of the party.

He keeps the conversation light, asking you about your interests, your favorite subjects, and anything that comes to his mind.

"Thanks for all the help with school" he continues, his breath tickling your ear "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

The words hang between you, heavy with meaning.

"You must be really good at what you do," he says at one point. "I mean, you've helped me so much, and I know I'm not the easiest person to teach.”

You laugh softly: "You're not that bad. Sometimes I wonder if you really need the help, though.”

"Do you remember that time in class when I asked you for help with that really simple math problem?" he asked, his tone conspiratorial.

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from smiling too widely "I remember thinking you couldn't possibly be that bad at math”

He laughed softly, the sound warm and genuine. "I wasn't. I just wanted an excuse to talk to you." His admission made your heart flutter, and you found yourself looking at him with a mixture of surprise and affection

"Really?" you asked, your voice tinged with disbelief

"Really," he confirmed, his eyes holding yours with a sincerity that left you breathless. "I guess I just needed a way to get your attention.

I guess I just like spending time with you and hearing you talk.”

His admission sends a flutter through your heart, and you glance at him, finding his gaze already fixed on you. There's a sincerity in his eyes that makes your breath catch.

"I like spending time with you too" you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

The game around you fades into the background as you and Clapton continue to talk. He shares stories about his adventures in skateboarding, his mishaps in detention, and his dreams for the future.

His fingers trace gentle patterns on your waist, a soothing gesture that contrasts with the wild beating of your heart, his breath occasionally tickling your neck.

He adjusted his pink hat, then took it off and playfully placed it on your head. “Looks better on you,” he said with a grin. “You can keep it if you want”

Your face remained a permanent shade of red, but despite your initial embarrassment, a sense of exhilaration began to creep in. Clapton’s proximity, his touch, and his words all made you feel a rush of emotions you had never experienced before. Each time he spoke, it was as if the rest of the room faded away, leaving just the two of you in an intimate bubble.

"Is it just me, or is it getting hotter in here?" Clapton whispered, his voice dripping with playful insinuation.

You turned your head slightly catching his eyes with yours. "Maybe it's just you," you replied, attempting to match his teasing tone, though your voice was tinged with genuine nervousness.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through you. "I don't think so. I've got a feeling it's because of you." His hand gently squeezed your waist, pulling you a fraction closer. His touch was both comforting and thrilling, a juxtaposition that made your heart race.

"You know, I've always thought you were cute when you were deep in thought," he murmured, his lips brushing the shell of your ear once again. "But seeing you blush? That's something else entirely”

You felt your cheeks grow even hotter, if that was possible. "I... I didn't know you paid that much attention," you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Clapton grinned, his eves twinkling with mischief. "Oh, I pay attention to all the important things." He shifted slightly, his thigh pressing against you in a way that made your breath hitch. "Like how you always have that adorable furrow in your brow when you're concentrating on something.”

You couldn't help but laugh softly the tension casing just a bit. "And what else have you noticed?"

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost grazing your neck. "I've noticed how you always bite your lip when you're nervous. Like right now." His voice was low, intimate, and it made your pulse quicken.

Your instinct was to look away but his gaze held you captive. "Maybe I should stop being so nervous then," you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Clapton's eves darkened slightly, a look of genuine affection mingling with his playful demeanor. "I don't mind. It's one of the things I find most endearing about you.”

When the game finally ended and the party began to wind down, Clapton didn't let you go immediately. Instead, he held you a little longer, his eyes searching yours. As people started leaving, he gently pulled you aside, away from the others.

Jake catches your eye, giving you a thumbs up before you lose sight of him, your cheeks burning from embarrassment.

Clapton expression was serious, yet there was a softness in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat.

"I really enjoyed having you here tonight, I like you. A lot." he confessed, his voice sincere.

His words hung in the air, and for a moment, you couldn't believe what you were hearing. The guy you had admired from afar, the one who seemed so out of reach, was standing here, confessing his feelings for you. Overwhelmed, you could only manage a shy smile.

His whispers are constant, each one more daring than the last.

“Have you ever thought about what it’d be like to kiss me?” he asks suddenly, his voice barely audible over the music still going. His question catches you off guard, and you can feel your face heating up.

“Maybe,” you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. The truth is, you’ve thought about it more times than you can count.

His grin widens, and he leans in closer, his lips almost brushing your car. “I think about it too,” he confesses, his voice sending another shiver through you. “A lot.”

“What else have you thought about?” you ask, your voice teasing. You’re starting to feel bolder, encouraged by his openness.

“I’ve thought about what it’d be like to hold your hand” he says, his fingers brushing against yours. “To take you out somewhere nice, just the two of us.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your heart ache with a mix of hope and nervousness. “That sounds perfect,” you admit, your voice soft.

“I think we’d have a lot of fun together,” he says, his smile widening. “I’d love to see you outside of school.”

You nod, feeling a sense of excitement building. “I’d like that too.” you say your voice filled with anticipation.

To your surprise Clapton leaned in and kissed you. It was gentle at first, a tentative meeting of lips, it quickly deepened as both of you poured months of unspoken emotions into that kiss and all your fears and insecurities melted away in that moment.

When you finally pulled apart, you were both breathless, and Clapton's smile mirrored the joy you felt inside.

"Can we try this? You and me?"

You nodded, unable to find the right words but knowing that this was what you wanted too. The night had started as a leap out of your comfort zone, but it had ended with a dream come true. And as you walked out of the party with Clapton by your side, you knew that this was just the beginning of something wonderful.

Over the following days and weeks, the dynamic between you and Clapton shifted in the most delightful ways. At school, he would find new reasons to approach you, although now his questions were more genuine and thoughtful. "Can you help me with this physics problem?" he would ask, spending the rest of the time staring at your face lovably without understanding your explanations.

He would wait for you after classes, casually leaning against the lockers, his easy smile lighting up when he saw you.

The whispers and curious glances from others became background noise as you grew more comfortable with Clapton's presence in your life. You spent more time together, studying, talking, and discovering shared interests. You learned that despite his laid-back exterior, he had deep passions and aspirations, and he loved hearing about your dreams and ideas.

He also really loved to take you to his favorite skatepark and hear you cheer his name over and over.

Through every shared moment, every whispered conversation, and every tender kiss, Clapton showed you that stepping out of your comfort zone had been the best decision you ever made. The shy intelligent person you once were found that the risks you took led to the most rewarding outcomes.

Note: it’s been a while since I watched the movie so I’m sorry if I got something wrong with him ♡.