#yes I did build a whole au out of one picture of Austin thank you vm

[hogans-heroes]

Master AU list 11/?

Prince/Bodyguard AU

When the royal family gets increased threats of attack and kidnapping, it is decided that the prince should be assigned a personal bodyguard. Bucky is a veteran with his own demons but was hired for his impeccable record and medals for valor. Gale is no pushover and can take care of himself, except when it comes to inner wounds from distant parents. As the two grow closer, the situation around them gets worse.

[howtosingit]

Fic: And Every Birthday After

TK makes a decision about his relationship with Carlos.

*

AU after 1x05.

3K | Also on AO3

A/N: This is up a day later than I wanted it to be, but considering it’s the first thing I’ve written in two months, I’m still going to take it as a win. Happy reading!

- - - - -

TK climbs out from the car, his eyes on his phone as he shouts a quick “thank you” over his shoulder to his Uber driver before closing the door behind him. The car pulls away from the curb as he glances up at the glowing Austin Police Department sign before him, his bottom lip trapped between his teeth while he thinks about what he wants to do next.

With another look down at his phone to check the time, he nods, turning his back on the precinct to cross the street. It doesn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for: Carlos’s blue Camaro draws attention no matter where the police officer parks it. 

TK gently runs his fingers along the shiny, unblemished surface, his attention divided between the car in front of him and the building across the street. Carlos should be appearing any moment, fresh off his shift, and TK smiles as he leans back against the door, crossing his arms in front of his chest, trying to adopt a casual pose. He can practically hear Carlos’s laugh now, his brain supplying him with the memory of the last time he failed to casually lean against the Camaro, while they waited for Paul outside the 126. 

(TK thinks that just because Carlos has perfected the art of a casual lean, he shouldn’t get to laugh at those who are still learning.)

“TK?”

He’s so lost in his memories of that night - dancing close to Carlos in the club and sneaking kisses whenever the lights left them in the shadows - that he misses when the man himself appears right in front of him. TK jumps when he hears his name to find Carlos already halfway across the street, heading right for him.

“Hey there, officer,” he calls.

“What are you doing here?” Carlos asks, and TK’s eyes shift down just in time to see Carlos hide a giant green gift bag behind his back. “I thought we were meeting a little later.”

“We were, but I got out of work earlier than I planned and thought I’d surprise you.” 

TK waits for Carlos to come a little closer, maybe even give him a kiss the way he usually does, or at the very least a smile, but the officer does none of those things. Instead, Carlos stops a few feet away from him, his beautiful brown eyes wide as he presses his lips together in a tight line. TK notices the gift bag peeking out behind his back, fidgeting in his fingers. “Did someone get you a gift?” TK asks, breaking the weirdly awkward silence with his mounting curiosity.

Carlos freezes for a nearly imperceptible moment, looking like he’s been zapped by his own stun gun, before he lets out a sudden high-pitched laugh, his face morphing into a mask of forced normalcy. “Oh, this?” he asks, pulling the bag out from behind his back. TK watches as his eyebrows furrow - truly an adorable sight - as Carlos glances between the bag and TK. “This is from my boss, for Employee Appreciation Week.”

A smile suddenly appears on Carlos’s face as he steps closer, swinging the bag at his side before wrapping an arm around TK’s waist and pulling him in. TK goes willingly, his brain still trying to catch up to Carlos’s abrupt mood shift, and lets Carlos press their lips together in a chaste kiss. 

“Thank you for surprising me,” Carlos murmurs against his mouth. “Seeing you was exactly what I needed after today.”

“Long shift?”

Carlos hums in reply, stealing another quick kiss before backing away to pull his keys from his pocket. “Something like that.”

“You want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” Carlos admits. TK notices the way his eyes are twinkling under the streetlights. “Right now I’m starving. Did you finally decide on a place to eat?”

“What do you think of that Greek place on Lavaca?”

“I think,” Carlos starts once they’re both in the car, tossing the gift bag in the back seat before leaning over the console to invade TK’s personal space, “that if that’s what you want, then that’s exactly what I want.”

TK lets out a breath at Carlos’s claim, a feeling of contentment running through his body from head to toe. He feels Carlos’s hand on his cheek, his breath on his face. It’s overwhelming in the best possible way.

“You’re kind of sickeningly sweet, you know that?” TK teases, pressing forward to steal another kiss. 

“That doesn’t sound like a complaint,” Carlos fires back, his eyes crinkling as a cocky smile takes over his face.

“You’re far too confident.”

“Now I know that’s not a complaint,” Carlos smirks, his eyebrows practically dancing. 

“Shut up,” TK whispers, claiming Carlos’s lips again to ensure that he does just that.

- - - - - 

“No, I’m telling you, Paul actually said that, no hesitation whatsoever. It was pretty badass.”

“Sounds like it. Though, I’m guessing Marjan didn’t really appreciate it, did she?” Carlos asks, pulling the front door closed behind him as TK flips on the light before toeing off his shoes.

“Oh, she definitely did not. I kind of thought flames were going to shoot out of her eyes, she looked so pissed.” He flops down on the couch, pulling his feet up to get comfortable. 

“I know I’ve only met her on calls, but I can still picture that face so perfectly,” Carlos laughs, cutting through the room to the kitchen, where he drops his gift bag on the counter before opening the refrigerator. “I have cake for dessert, if you want any?” he asks, glancing back over at TK.

“Oh my god, yes,” TK moans, pulling himself off the couch and towards the alluring appeal of something disgustingly sweet. He drops his phone on the table before taking a seat on one of the barstools, watching as Carlos pulls out a small chocolate bundt cake before reaching into the freezer for a pint of vanilla bean ice cream. He flits about the kitchen with a casual ease that TK is more than happy to observe, his eyes drawn to his striking figure. There isn’t a single part of Carlos that TK doesn’t like, and he knows he could sit and watch the other man every minute of every day and never get bored. 

He gives himself a little shake, trying to clear his head, and his eyes land once again on the gift bag sitting on the counter next to him.

“So,” he starts, his tone laced with curiosity, “what exactly does APD give their best patrol officers for Employee Appreciation Week anyway?” He smirks, rolling his eyes. “I’m sure it’s got nothing on AFD, we all know firefighters have you badges beat.”

It’s not something he really believes in - the whole firefighters versus police officers rivalry - but that doesn’t mean that he and Carlos don’t like to joke about how they’re “sleeping with the enemy” every now and then. It’s even made for some very satisfying, competitive moments in bed, though they’re always followed by laughs and kisses and comments about how ridiculous it all is.

TK turns back to Carlos to find him completely frozen for the second time tonight, the ice cream scoop clutched firmly in his hand with ice cream melting down the sides as he looks from the bag to TK. 

This time, TK doesn’t let it go unnoticed.

“What is it with you and this gift?” he asks, reaching out to flick the bag with his finger. “You’ve been acting weird about it all night.”

Carlos swallows, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he drops the scoop back in the carton. 

“I lied to you.”

TK stares at him across the counter, taking in the tense set of his shoulders. It’s been awhile since Carlos was this uncomfortable in front of him, and he really doesn’t like it.

“What are you talking about?” he asks, having no idea where this is going. 

“This,” Carlos says, pointing to the gift bag as he circles around the island to stand next to TK, “is not a gift for Employee Appreciation Week.” 

“Okay, what is it then?”

Carlos stares at him for a moment, his eyes wide, before nodding and taking a deep breath, looking like he’s about to jump off a cliff.

“It’s a birthday present.”

“I don’t understand what…” TK trails off, his confusion disappearing as his brain works to put all of the pieces together: the gift bag in front of him, the chocolate cake and ice cream sweating a few feet away. His mouth goes dry, his heart hammering in his chest. His gaze darts back to Carlos, standing in front of him looking a little terrified but also a little eager, like he’s waiting to see what happens next. “It’s your birthday?” TK asks, his voice tight and barely more than a whisper.

Carlos nods.

“Oh my god, Carlos, it’s your birthday!” TK exclaims.

“It is, it is, but it’s fine, it’s nothing, it’s not a big deal,” Carlos rushes to assure him, reaching out to take his hands in his own.

“Not a big deal? It’s your birthday!” TK cries, trying to figure out what to do with this new information. His brain unhelpfully supplies a detail he had forgotten. “Wait, you’re the one who said we should get dinner together tonight,” TK reminds him.

“Yeah, we both had the night off and I wanted to see you,” Carlos mumbles, staring down at their fingers, intertwined between them. TK feels his breath stutter in his chest.

“You wanted to spend your birthday with me?” TK hedges, the words uneven as his heart threatens to choke him from where it’s become lodged in his throat.

Carlos wordlessly shrugs, a complete inversion of his confident attitude from just a few hours ago. TK takes a moment to appreciate how layered he is, how he sometimes feels like a million people in one, but how he’s still always Carlos, no matter what. “I like spending as much time as possible with you,” Carlos states, still not making eye contact. 

TK lets the words roll through him, feeling the way they light up every single nerve ending in his body. He’s surprised to find that they don’t scare him like he thought they would. Ever since the failed dinner date, they’ve both been careful to keep things from getting too serious. They’ve been having fun, hanging out and exploring Austin before coming back to Carlos’s place to roll around in bed together. They’re friends - TK is sure that Carlos is his best friend - and they’re a little bit more than that. 

Maybe TK’s finally ready to face the reality of what that could mean.

He thinks about finding out about his dad’s cancer diagnosis a few weeks ago, and how Carlos was the first person he ran to with the news. He remembers how Carlos talked him down from his uncontained anger and hurt, how he held him tight when he cried. 

Carlos was there for him when he needed him. TK’s only known him for a few months, but Carlos has always been there, strong and steady and grounding. A beacon of safety and comfort.

And TK knows that he wants to be there for Carlos in the exact same way. He honestly can’t imagine being anywhere else, now that he really thinks about it.

“Come here,” he says, tugging gently on Carlos’s hands to pull him closer, opening his legs for Carlos to stand between them. Carlos lets out a sigh, moving to place his hands on TK’s waist when TK wraps his arms around his shoulders. They rest their foreheads together, taking a moment to stare at each other, truly open and honest for maybe the first time. 

“Happy Birthday, Carlos,” TK whispers, waiting for Carlos’s smile to break through his frown before leaning in to steal it from his lips.

His breath catches again as their tongues tangle, their bodies sinking into each other as they give into their embrace. Every kiss with Carlos is worth writing a poem about, if TK was the type of person to write poetry, but this one would definitely inspire TK’s best work. He has a feeling that it’s because of him; he knows that Carlos gives his everything every time, but it’s TK who is now meeting him there with his whole heart. It’s like the wall that he’s put up has fallen away, crumbled to dust in the blink of an eye. Honestly, TK can’t even be bothered; no wall stood a chance against Carlos Reyes anyway. 

Carlos pulls away much sooner than TK thought he would, and as his eyes blink slowly open, he finds the other man staring at him, his brows furrowed once more.

“Are you mad that I didn’t tell you?” Carlos asks, his voice tight.

“No,” TK assures him immediately, reaching up to cup Carlos’s face in his hands. He feels the way Carlos sinks into his hold, letting him take some of his weight, like he trusts TK to keep him upright. “I’m not mad, Carlos. Though, I do wish I would’ve known.”

“I know,” Carlos sighs, reaching up to grip his wrists, dragging his thumbs along TK’s skin. “I know, I should’ve told you. It just… I didn’t want to make it a whole thing, spending my birthday together. I didn’t want to freak you out, I know you’re not looking for that kind of thing, I know this is just us having fun and I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything…” Carlos trails off, his grip tight as if he’s scared TK will jump up and run out of the house again. 

TK feels Carlos’s fear as if it’s hammering against his heart, but he definitely can’t blame the other man for his thoughts. Their past mistakes are all the evidence he needs to understand why Carlos hid this from him. He nods, biting his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to make it clear that he feels differently now, that he actually wants this to be a whole thing. That they’re on this path together now.

The idea comes to him so suddenly that he almost barks out a relieved laugh. Instead, he smacks a quick kiss against Carlos’s lips before jumping up from the stool, watching as Carlos’s eyes widen in panic.

“Wait, what-”

“I think I know how to make sure this never happens again,” TK interrupts, continuing to hold Carlos’s face in his hands as he backs him up a few steps towards the dining table. He pushes Carlos against it, taking pleasure in the way the other man automatically widens his stance, allowing TK to step between his legs and press their hips together. Without a word, he reaches down to grab his phone, smirking as he brings it up between their faces. 

“There,” TK says a moment later, turning his phone to show Carlos, who has stayed silent and slightly terrified this entire time, if his face is anything to go by. He looks over at the screen. “Now I’ll never miss your birthday again.” TK can tell the moment that he processes what he’s seeing, watching as Carlos’s face softens and his arms come up to wrap around his waist. 

“You want to remember my birthday next year?” Carlos clarifies, and TK is surprised to see tears in his glassy brown eyes. He tosses his phone back down on the table, reaching up to run his fingers along the stunning features of Carlos’s face.

“Babe,” he says, testing out the word for the first time and thoroughly enjoying the way it causes Carlos to vibrate against him, “I want to remember everything about you.”

There’s barely any warning before Carlos is on top of him, their lips attached once again as Carlos lays claim to him like a man unleashed. TK gives it all back to him, the two of them speaking paragraphs in touches and tastes and sighs and moans. There’s no holding back, not anymore.

When they are finally forced to pull back for air, TK takes pride in Carlos’s disheveled appearance, his curls wild and his face flushed and his lips bruised. He knows he probably looks the same, and he loves seeing the proof of their want and desire and need for each other with his own two eyes. He drags his fingers along Carlos’s plump lips, realizing for the first time that they are his to kiss, for as long as Carlos will let him. 

“This is the best birthday present I’ve ever gotten,” Carlos sighs, and TK meets his eyes to find them blown black but fixed on him, his gaze never wavering. 

“While I am obviously very glad to hear that,” TK begins, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his favorite lips again, “you should see what kind of birthday gifts I give when I’ve had time to plan them. I can promise you, you’re not ready for next year.”

“I’m ready for anything, as long as I’ve got you,” Carlos says without hesitation.

TK groans, falling forward to press his face into Carlos’s neck, feeling the vibration of his soft chuckle against his cheek. “You’re so sickeningly sweet, I can’t stand it.” Carlos merely hums, dragging his hands up and down TK’s back to soothe him. 

They stay like that for a few moments, just enjoying the way they get to hold one another, before TK pulls back to give Carlos a look.

“Speaking of sickeningly sweet,” he teases, his fingers dancing along Carlos’s thighs on either side of him, “what do you say we take that cake and ice cream upstairs and unwrap some other presents, birthday boy?” He finishes the suggestion with a raise of his eyebrows, watching as the blush on Carlos’s face deepens before he lets out a loud, bright laugh, the two of them falling into each other as they struggle to remain upright against the table.

And TK decides that this, right here, being deliriously happy in Carlos’s arms, is everything that he could ever want or wish for.

On this day, and every birthday they’ll spend together after.

[iwillgiveyoumyhappiness]

박준희, Park Junhee

itslilliansnow asked:

You're totally right about the culprit! I hate him, damn. Okay, it's AU of course and Junhee and the reader keep dreaming each other but the point is... they aren't friends, they didn't know each other! Every morning they wake up, forgetting the dream and then... BOOM! They CASUALLY bump into each other but.. Junhee doesn't recognize the reader, instead the reader does it. so they become friends (actually the reader is dying because damn I LOVE YOU, YOU ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!!) a bit of angst but at the end that dumb FINALLY remember her for his dreams and A LOT OF FLUFF AT THE END. This is the idea (actually it's a dream I did......) if you're comfortable with it, just take it, it's yours. If you're not.. DON'T EVEN TRY TO DO IT, YOU KNOW I DON'T WANNA LOAD YOU WITH SHIT YOU DON'T LIKE IT. Well.... that's all, love you. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙 - Saturn

Group: A.C.E. (에이스)

Member: Jun

(A/N) Listen to this with Feel Something by Landon Austin.

.

.

.

It was past midnight, yet you still didn’t dare to go to sleep. If you did, you’d just wake up again in a few hours in a cold sweat, your mind filled with worries. You wondered sometimes if you were going insane. 

You knew you were dreaming—you had been for almost every night in the past three years—but it’d gotten especially bad these past few months. Almost as something imminent was coming for you, but you couldn’t place what it was. 

It should’ve made you frightened, this feeling of not knowing. But instead, it was the opposite. It made you anxious, of course, but more than anything, you felt at peace with the thought. Something was coming for you, and you didn’t know what it was, but you weren’t scared. 

In fact, most of the anxiousness came from waiting for it.

Even though you didn’t remember your dreams when you woke up, there was always a lingering warmth in them that was shattered by your sudden rousing. The fear always came at the very end, because it felt like something was slipping far, far away—out of your reach. Something important. 

Something that would hurt you if you lost it.

You sighed. “I wish I knew what,” you mumbled to yourself, fogging up the glass in front of you. You wiped it away with the sleeve of your over-sized sweater, bringing the fuzzy city lights back into view.

There was one good thing about being up at this hour. You got to see the world from an angle that most people didn’t. You got to see the city in its fledgling hours from your little window nook. 

As the saying goes, it truly never slept. 

It always had some sort of life. Something that made it sparkle with just a little bit of wonder. You leaned your head against the window, the glass a little chilly against your forehead. You watched cars passing in the night—or early morning, as it may be—the sky become progressively lighter shades of dark blue, and the cityscape slowly becoming clearer in the distance. 

You stared at your faint reflection in the window. Messy hair, tired eyes, an old, worn out sweater and no pants. Not exactly the prettiest of pictures. 

“Oh, what the hell,” you muttered. You stood up, trekking across the room and grabbing some jeans out of your dresser drawers with a huff. “I’m not gonna be able to sleep anyway.” 

What better way to experience your insomniac hours than with the nightlife? 

Fresh air never killed anyone. 

You didn’t even bother brushing your hair before you grabbed your purse, locked your door behind you and left your apartment building, taking in a deep breath of the night air. 

As a city was, the air was a little musty, but it was a musty you’d come to love after living there so long. It felt refreshing to you, compared to your suffocating apartment.

Your flip-flops—yes, flip-flops—clapped against the pavement as you walked along, no set destination in sight. Maybe you’d get something to eat, maybe you’d go dancing, go to a bar, chill at an arcade or go to karaoke. 

Just do something. 

Heck. Maybe you’d even fall in love. 

You chuckled at yourself. “Dummy,” you said to yourself. You smacked your cheek lightly. “Been reading too many romance novels, watching too many dramas.” You sighed, shoving your hands in your pockets. You shrugged, ignoring the people rushing past you, busy with their own lives. 

You stared up into the night sky, tilting your head a little at the moon while you stopped at a crosswalk. For some reason, this scene felt familiar. It felt like deja vu, even though you were sure it’d never happened before. 

You shook your head at yourself. “Dreaming a little too much, maybe?” you wondered aloud. 

Suddenly, there was a deafening honk of a car horn.

You gasped, jumping back a little from the edge of the crosswalk and looking hurriedly left and right, your breath quickening. 

There was screech and skid, followed by more car horns. Some angry yelling, too. That was when you noticed the man. In the middle of the street. He was stumbling his way across the road (during a green light), a bottle of soju held tightly in his hand, the foggy green recognizable anywhere. 

He was tripping over himself every few seconds and you couldn’t quite tell if her was laughing like a maniac, or crying like a child. All you knew was that you were frozen, eyes wide and mouth gaping.

“Are you insane?!” you heard someone shout, leaning out of their car window. “Get out of the frickin’ road!” 

You noticed the mystery man—drunk out of his mind—had come to almost a complete stop, trying in vain to pick himself off the ground. He was still making the same mildly pathetic noise as he had been before. 

Without a second thought, you raced forward into the street, waving apologetically to the stopped up drivers. “I’m sorry!” you called, bowing to them quickly. 

A woman rolled down her window. “Just get him out of the road, thanks,” she said. Though she sounded a little snappy, you still appreciated the fact that she tried not to sound too annoyed. 

You nodded to her before turning back to the man. He seemed to have given up on trying to stand, just flopping flat on his front and muttering slurred words into the pavement. 

You touched his shoulder gently. “Sir, are you all right?” you asked, trying to put on your softest of tones. He just groaned in response. You clicked your tongue. “Okay, sir, let’s just try to get out of the road, okay?”

“...road?” you could barely make out. It was the least slurred thing in his entire sentence. 

You nodded. “Yes, sir. You’re in the middle of the road, and people are getting very upset with you.” 

He started laughing. “Woo-hoo!” he cheered clumsily, throwing his bottle up into the air. You ducked out of the way to avoid getting hit by it, and surprisingly, it didn’t shatter into a million pieces when it hit the ground. 

“Getting out of the street!” he said, probably louder than he thought he was talking. “Lezzgo!” He raised his hands as if he were doing some strange arm-dance. 

That lead to the first time you’d seen his face probably. 

His cheeks were flushed with the pinkishness of alcohol and he had the dumbest grin on his face, puffing out his cheeks, but there was more to him than just the obvious intoxication. A familiarity you couldn’t quite place. 

There was something in his floppy (currently messy and tangled-looking) black hair. The defined wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, his glass skin, the slightly wider-set jaw. The smile, too. Something in it hit a little too close to home. 

A car horn honked at you, pulling you out of your daze. 

You shook your head from your thoughts, grabbing the drunk man’s arm and slinging it over your shoulder, making him giggle like an idiot. As soon as you did, you felt weak in the knees. 

Something came flowing into your mind, like memories were being placed there that didn’t belong to you. Or maybe you’d just had trouble remembering them before. 

They were fuzzy blue memories of all those sleepless nights spent waking up worried about losing something important. And that important thing? You recognized it now. 

It was the drunk man on your arm. 

He was the warmth that made you feel safe and anxious about not being able to be with him anymore. He was the blur you would always vaguely remember that was taller than you by a few inches, always comforting toward you, and always left you with that growing swell in your chest. 

At least, that’s how he was in your dreams. 

“I suck,” you sighed to yourself. You chucked yourself out of your secondary daze and fumbled along with the man, getting him out of the road and to the cub of the crosswalk. The stopped cars were grateful, immediately going on their ways. 

You basically tossed him onto the sidewalk, but he just laughed at rolled onto his back. He stared up at the sky, pointing at the moon and calling it a ‘big star’. You face-palmed. “Out of all the people you could dream of,” you said to yourself, “you chose this loser?”

At first, you thought you’d just call a cab for the guy, but then something started happening to you that was all too familiar. A cold sweat. The same feeling you got every time you woke up from your dreams, terrified that your warmth was gone forever. 

So, against your better judgment, you dragged him back to your apartment with him muttering stuff to you the whole time, his breath thick with the scent of intoxication. It made you gag in the beginning, but you got used to it after a while. 

When you go back to your apartment, you tossed him on the couch, took off his shoes and watched him until he passed out. That honestly didn’t take too long. Maybe five minutes at the most. 

You sighed deeply, sinking down into the chair across from the couch. You glanced at the clock on the wall. 3AM. Of course it’d be that late. 

You pinched yourself, trying to see if it was a dream. 

It wasn’t. This was actually happening. It was actually three in the morning. You were actually letting a drunk stranger sleep on your couch. You were actually convinced that you’d been dreaming about this guy, and he was actually making you feel lighter, just by being there, even though you couldn’t place why. 

You seemed to be getting back more and more pieces of your dreams as the time ticked by. There was recollections of choppy out-of-place ‘footage’, for lack of a better word, of that very night. The evening with the full moon, the night-air and the drunk man. There was even more recollections of dreams after that being crafted a little differently. 

Like a conversation. 

You knew you’d heard that voice before, despite the slurring. It had spoken to you before in your sleep. It’d asked you how your day was, how work was treating you and if you were eating well. It had called you beautiful before, and it has said, “I wish I could meet you”.

Goosebumps raised on your skin. You rubbed your arms to calm them. This whole situation was too haunting. Too unreal. You were convinced that you must’ve been going insane, for there’s no way that something such as that could be true. Stuff like that doesn’t happen to people.

It happens in books and movies, but not in real life.

Reality wasn’t that surreal. 

But then again... If it wasn’t true, how did you know that he used to dream of being a singer? How did you know that he was exactly 175cm tall? How did you know that he was born in Suncheon and that one of his sister died? 

How did you know that hurt him so much that he cried for weeks?

How did you know that he liked soccer, that his favorite colors were blue and red, or that he liked watching anime when he had time? How would you know any of that if what your mind and heart was telling you wasn’t true?

You knew this man; even though you’d never met him before. And you didn’t even know why. You had no explanation other than a dream, and that was hardly convincing to any outside source. 

It was almost as if you’d been seeing life through his eyes for the past few years, but you just hadn’t remembered. You saw faces you never knew before; probably his friends and family. You did things you didn’t normally do, as if your body wasn’t your own. You ate foods you would’ve never thought of trying, just because you thought they looked strange. 

Had he lived through you, too? Did he know those secrets that you tried to keep buried underneath the surface and did he know you better than you knew yourself? 

Had he seen when you had the flu for almost three weeks a few months ago? Had he felt the same emotions that you felt when you were crying over silly things, like a sad dog commercial you saw? Had he felt the longing you felt when you saw all of your baby cousins growing up or your niece saying that she wanted to be just like you? 

Did he see the world from your eyes, just a little bit? 

Those were the thoughts that ran through your mind until birds were chirping and the early morning light was streaming in through the windows. You blinked the tiredness out of your eyes. 

Had you even slept? It didn’t feel like it.

It felt like hours of your life had slipped through your fingers, but you couldn’t really regret it. Not when you saw that the man who gave off the warm feeling was still sleeping across from you, snoring quietly. 

Even though you had closed your eyes for barely a second, you didn’t think you’d be able to sleep, so you just decided to go about your day like usual. Since he was there, you didn’t feel anxious, even if you had never met him face-to-face before. 

It felt like you had.

In you opinion, there was nothing to be nervous about. If you were at ease with someone, there was no point in making it awkward, even if it was for a strange reason like a dream. 

You made coffee and buttered toast, like you did every morning. The only difference was that you did it with the lack of emptiness that you usually had. 

You kept trying to convince yourself that it wasn’t because of the presence of the intoxicated man knocked out on your couch; just because you didn’t get any sleep last night and you were drowsy as hell. 

Your attention went back to said young man when you heard him whimpering. You thought he might’ve been waking up and suffering from a splitting headache, but when you looked at him, he was still fast asleep.

His brow was covered in a thin coat of sweat, same as the rest of his body. 

“Bad dream?” you wondered aloud, trying to keep your voice quiet. For whatever reason, the expressions he was making were very intriguing. They kept wavering between worry, happiness, and pain. 

You leaned down at his side and started shaking him lightly. “Hey,” you whispered, your brows furrowed with concern, “wake up.”  

His breathing started getting faster, his eyebrows knitting together. “Don’t leave...” he mumbled as he started thrashing. “Don’t leave. Don’t leave!” 

Your eyes widened. “Wake up!” you shouted, giving his arm a firm smack. 

The man shot up, breathing heavily, his dark eyes finally on full display to you in the morning light. They had a thousand layers to them, and you could tell that much just from a momentary glance. Slowly, his breathing even out. 

Surprisingly, a smile broke out on his face. A small, wistful smile. 

He placed his hands over his chest, seemingly not having noticed you yet. “Time hasn’t passed,” he murmured softly, closing his eyes to savor whatever he was feeling. “You’re still with me.” 

When he opened his eyes, that’s when it seemed to set in for him. His eyes darted from side-to-side as he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. “What the fuc—?”

“Please don’t swear in my house unless it’s absolutely necessary,” you cut in. 

He nearly jumped out of his skin, and he let out a rather girlish screech. He head snapped to you, his eyes wider than saucers. “Who are you?” he stuttered out. 

You stood up with a chuckle and grabbed your coffee from off the counter. “I live here,” you said simply, giving him a quick introduction and handshake. 

He nodded, shaking your hand back gingerly. “Oh, nice to meet you...” he said. He gave a small bow. “I’m Park Junhee,” he said, a bit of an embarrassed flush to his cheeks. Though, you couldn’t be sure whether or not that was truly embarrassment or just left over alcohol-glow. 

You gave him a bow in return. “Nice to meet you, too,” you said. “Want some medicine for that headache?” you asked, gesturing to your medicine cabinet around the corner. 

“How’d you know I have a headache?” he asked, surprise crossing his well-sculpted features. 

You almost snorted. “Dude, you were totally schnockered last night. There’s no way you don’t have a headache after that. How many did ya have? Four, five bottles?” you estimated. 

He shrugged, seemingly becoming more comfortable with the situation. “Six,” he said. He contemplated for a second. “And a half.” 

Your jaw dropped. “And you’re still alive?” you marveled. “I’ll admit, I’m impressed.” 

“I’m kinda used to it,” he said. 

You quirked a brow, walking around the corner to grab some hangover medicine. “Oh?” you asked. “Why do you say that?”

“Third year running alcoholism,” he replied with an under-the-breath huff. “It’s a skill.” You peeked around the corner, shooting him a look. He chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Not really sure why I told you that.” 

You stood in front of him, handing him the bottle of bitter medicine. “I don’t know why you told me either, but whatever,” you sighed. “You even trying to get clean?”

He shrugged, chugging the small bottle. “Not really,” he said, finishing off with a lip smack. 

“I don’t know if this is kinda personal or not,” you said, taking the empty bottle from him and chucking it in the trashcan across the room, “but why aren’t you?” 

He looked contemplative. “Yeah, it’s a little personal, but since you gave me a place to sleep last night, I give you a free pass,” he said. He held up a finger, smiling in that dumb way you’d witnessed last night. “Just this once, though.” 

He sighed deeply, seemingly searching his mind for the best way to explain. His fingers unintentionally swept back his bangs a couple of times. They fiddled with his sleeves, pushed them up to his elbows. 

Basically anything to postpone the inevitable. 

“If it’s too much,” you said, “you don’t have to. I was just curious.” You gestured to his expensive suit. “You just don’t look like the alcoholic type. If I had to guess, you’re a little rich.” 

He let out a dry laugh. “Rich people can’t be deadbeats, too?” he asked.

You almost snorted, taking a long sip of your coffee. “Oh, how dare I discriminate?” you said sarcastically. 

He laughed freely—a fluttery, breathy sound. “You know what?” he said once his breath returned to him. “Just ‘cause you’re funny, I give you permission to hear my life story.” 

“Is that really a prize?” you asked. “For me, you’re just a drunk stranger I met last night that I let into my house out of the goodness of my heart.” 

He snapped his fingers. “Exactly! And it’s because of that kindness that you will most certainly hear me out...?” he said, ending it as a question. 

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he was giving you puppy-dog eyes. 

He plopped himself down on the couch. “Maybe I’m being a little selfish,” he chuckled. “I’m itching to get it off my hungover chest.” 

You quirked a brow. “At least you’re honest,” you said, sitting across from him in your stiff armchair. “M’kay. Hit me with all that piled up shit.” 

He flashed a quick thumbs up. “’Kay,” he said. He hummed thoughtfully for a moment. “Well, to summarize, I’ve been stuck up on my ex for about three years.” 

You felt your expression drop a little. “Oh, yeah?” 

“Yup,” he said, nodding. “Can’t get her out of my head.” He gestured to his temples to emphasize the point. 

You pulled your feet up to join you on the chair, trying to warm your chilly toes. “Was she that special?” you asked, not meaning to sound that bitter. Hopefully you masked it well enough. It’s not even that you meant to feel jealous; it just naturally happened, like it was in your DNA. 

He rapped his fingers on the arm of the couch. “Hmm... Not really, I guess,” he said. “It’s just that she was the only girl I’ve ever loved like that, so I guess she’s a little under my skin.”  

You tilted you head. “Wait, wait, wait, hold up,” you said. “Rich-pretty-boy’s never had a girlfriend before?”

He pointed to himself. “Rich-pretty-boy’s still a virgin,” he chimed in. He furrowed. “At least, I think I am.” 

You almost rolled your eyes. “You don’t know?” 

“Well, remember,” he said, shrugging, “I’ve been drunk for three years straight, so I mean... Anything coulda happened, y’know?” 

You stood up with a huff. “I think you would’ve known if that happened,” you said. He responded with a grumble of “Well, yeah, I guess...” while you poured him a mug of still-warm coffee.

“Thanks,” he said softly, taking it from your hands, basking in the all-encompassing warmth on his fingers. 

You just hummed in reply. “So,” you said, setting your coffee on the counter and flopping back into your uncomfortable chair, “tell me about this ex.” 

He shrugged. “Not much to tell, really,” he said, taking a long sip of the bittersweet liquid. 

“Enough for you to become a total addict,” you pointed out bluntly. 

He almost choked. “Fair enough,” he said, wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He scowled at the small stain it left on the white cuff, but then he realized that he was already a mess from falling all over the place last night. 

You stared at him. “Dude, you’re rich,” you said. “Just buy a new shirt.” 

He waved you off. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, “I get it.” He sighed. “It’s just hard to think of where to start.” He chuckled. “Plus, I feel like I’m laying quite a lot on you for us being total strangers.” 

You shrugged. “We know each other’s names,” you said. “Not strangers then, are we?”

Despite how flimsy the answer was, he accepted it without a fuss. “I suppose you’re right,” he said. He adjusted the way he was sitting. “All right then, Miss Stranger-That-I-Know-That-Name-Of; prepare yourself for the entirely too lengthy tale of my first love.” 

Your mind immediately went, “The hell have I gotten myself into?”, but your heart told a different story. It said, “Let him go on, even if it hurts. If he cries, comfort him. Be his rock and his shield. Care for him over yourself”. 

Strange thing to think about someone you didn’t really know, huh? Especially considering that you were never one to believe in true love, or love at first sight. 

It just wasn’t practical. 

But then again... Was this really ‘first sight’? Maybe first physical sighting, but you felt like you’d been seeing his soul for some time now, cheesy as that sounded. 

It was while he was explaining to you all the wonderful things about his ex that you realized that maybe—just maybe—you were hoping that he would say something along the lines of, “But forget about her, this is about you. I want to talk about you, beautiful person I’ve met in my dreams”. 

Though... You supposed that was unlikely. 

He didn’t seem to recognize you. Would he even, or were you just a little crazy? You weren’t sure.

Would you even want him to recognize you? He was a drunkard. 

Nothing good could come of that. 

Yet, like all those foolish girls in movies who fall for the bad boy, you thought, “Maybe I could change him”. 

+++

Two Years Later...

You pushed away Junhee’s hands that were grasping at the hem of your shirt. 

“No!” you yelled, furious. “I’ve had enough!” You glared at the state of his apartment; the empty bottles scattered around and cluttering the already messy floor-space. “You keep saying you’ll quit. You keep saying you’re going clean. You keep promising me, but you’re not even trying.”

He stared up at you with those sparkly obsidian eyes, now watery with unshed tears. “But... I am trying,” he whimpered. His voice didn’t even slur. Your anger had sobered him up enough for that.

“You’re not!” you shouted, louder than you had expected to. He flinched at the suddenness of your tone. “If you had been trying, this wouldn’t have happened again and again. You keep saying, ‘As long as I’ve a friend like you by my side, I think I can move on’. Well, guess what!” You stormed towards the front door. “It’s not working.”

Junhee scrambled to his feet, blocking you before your hand could reach the faded gold doorknob. 

You glared up at him. “Move,” you said coldly.

“Don’t go,” he begged softly, the dam in his eyes threatening to spill over. “Please don’t go... I keep getting better, I do,” he tried to assure you. “It’s because of you.” 

Your eyes began mimicking his, though you tried to force it back. “Yet you’re like this again,” you said, your voice quieter now. That almost bothered him more. It felt like you were trying to hide your emotions from him now. Sure, your shouting voice was scary, but at least he knew how you felt. 

That was better than this.

He gave you a watery smile. “You can’t leave me. Please, don’t,” he said. His tone ticked up at the end, almost making it sound like a question, though it was probably from that fact that he was on the brink of sobbing. “You’re my special person, dude. I’ve felt 100% comfortable around you since the day you scooped me up off the street.” 

You didn’t look at him. You stared vacantly into the corner, taking in the trailed-in dirt and dust-bunnies. He really hadn’t been taking care of himself. You sighed. “This is why I can’t do this anymore...” you said, voice just above a whisper. “You call me your ‘special person’...” 

Finally, you looked at him, taking in his swollen, bloodshot eyes and damp cheeks from his escaped tears. “But you don’t love me,” you said. “Certainly not enough to change.” 

His eyes widened. “Love?” he choked out. 

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, dude. Love,” the word came out laced with venom, an almost poisonous sound. “I’ve loved you for literally the past two years, and I’ve remained at the steady stand-still of ‘Forever-His-Second-Pick’,” you spat. 

“You come over when your bored or drunk. You tell me lies about how you’re gonna change, you make me believe you, and then after a few weeks, you drink again.”

Your cloudy mind barely registered the tears spilling out of your eyes. “You call me your ‘special person’, your ‘soulmate’, your ‘angel’, but all you talk about is your ex.” 

Your hands balled into fists. You were angry with yourself, more than anything or anyone else. You were in love with the Junhee of your dreams; not the one standing before with beer on his breath. Yet here you were, crying over him. 

Jealous over his slurry, drunken words that were never about you, his best friend—just some girl that cheated on him five years ago. 

“Can’t you just get over it?” you whimpered weakly. “Because if you can’t... I’m leaving. It’s too hard on my heart. I’m not strong enough for this.” As much as it hurt, every word you were saying was true. 

It was too much for one person to deal with. 

Junhee almost reached out for you, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to make you hate him more than you probably already did. That’d be too forward, he thought. “Can you answer me one thing?” he asked quietly. 

You sniffled and brought your arms closer to your body, hugging yourself. “Sure, whatever,” you muttered. 

He paused for a moment. “Why did you fall in love with me?” he asked. 

You scoffed. “You’re gonna think I’m insane,” you said. 

“I’m an alcoholic,” he said. “If you told me turtles went through a third stage of evolution, grew wings and can fly now, I’d probably believe you.” 

You had to stop yourself from chuckling at that. Even in this situation, he still had that hold on you; that effect. “Fine,” you said sharply, hoping that the tone would cover your almost-slip-up. It seemed to have done the job okay. 

You let out a heavy sigh. “I’ve been dreaming about you,” you said. There was a certain weight lifting off of your chest after finally telling someone. “For years now, actually.” It felt like a massive secret had been revealed and finally, you could breathe easy. 

Even if your feelings weren’t returned, at least they were finally out in the open. 

Damn, if you had known it felt this good to be truthful to yourself, you would’ve done it ages ago. You felt like you’d just been reborn, nothing holding you back. No ties to past mistakes or regrets.

You continued on, “I’ve been seeing life through your eyes for years, probably since before you were like this,” you said, gesturing to the scattered bottles. You felt a ghost of a smile on your lips and your tears had stopped. “Your life used to be so pretty, so full of color. It made me feel warm.” 

Your smile faded. “But now... Whenever I dream of you, it’s not a good dream. It’s a nightmare.” You let out a shaky breath. “Your life is so ugly and dark now. It’s cold and damp. It’s not lovely and warm anymore.”

You finally looked up at his eyes. It wasn’t what you were expecting. Though... You weren’t all that sure what it was that you were expecting in the first place.

There was something in there, like a clearing. You know that feeling when the sun peeks through the clouds after a storm and there’s that musty, nature-y smell and it just feels... Peaceful? That’s what it looked like.

You saw a light there. A flicker of life you hadn’t seen in a while, like a sparkler being spun around and around, creating sparks that fizzled out as they touched the ground; beautiful, but not setting fire to the world around it. 

Your eyes widened. “Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked. You felt an unidentified swell in your chest, like the greatness of existence had just been imposed on your rib-cage. You couldn’t even explain it to yourself, let alone anyone else.

It was the feeling you had years ago, when you first started dreaming of him. 

The fireworks. The sparklers. 

You put a hand over your chest. The feeling was almost overwhelming. “Junhee?” you breathed out, feeling your lungs escape you for a moment. 

“You’ve been dreaming about me?” he finally asked, his eyes never once leaving you. 

You nodded slowly. “For years, yeah,” you said. 

The light in his eyes seems to grow brighter, the feeling in your chest gaining more purchase on your soul. “I’m not crazy,” he whispered. “I’m not crazy,” he said, a little louder. His face broke into a grin. “I thought it was the booze, but it’s not! I’m not insane!” he cheered, pumping a fist in the air.

He stopped his miniature celebration. “Wait... I shouldn’t be so happy,” he said. “It got darker after I met you,” he trailed off.   

Your eyes got comically wide. “What?” you stuttered out. You backed away a few steps. “What’re you talking about—?”

He pulled you in for a hug by your shoulders. “Don’t pull away, please,” he said softy, sensing your tenseness and hesitation. His hands were shaking, but the feeling in your chest didn’t go away. He was still okay. 

Why were you still worried about him, though?

Maybe because, deep in your heart of hearts, you knew that the Junhee before you was the Junhee of your dreams, flaws and all. Real life wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. That’s what makes it difficult; challenging. Everyday, different and frustrating, yet rare and gorgeous. Because you are able to exist.

Maybe that’s why you were somewhat glad that he was embracing you right now. His flaws and all, your flaws and all—because you yourself were not without fault—you wanted to be seen by his eyes, held by his arms, spoken to with his words, kissed by his lips. 

You wanted to exist within his life, not just his dreams. 

Even if it was difficult and challenging, because that what existing is. The universe was made to be seen by your eyes, and he was the universe.  

“I remember now,” Junhee said quietly. “I remember all of those flashes I saw of your life. You looking at your new dress you got for that one fancy event at work, how you make funny faces in the mirror to check your acne, that eyebrow piercing you really wanted to get.” He chuckled a little at the memory. 

“I remember your dog, I remember you falling off your bike ‘cause you almost hit that postman, I remember the postcard from your friend when he went to see the Northern Lights, and you were so jealous of him.” His grip on you tightened. “I remember that I was always terrified of losing you in my dreams, so I held on too tight until you shattered and fell apart.”

You could feel him frown. “I just didn’t know who you were,” he said. “But now I know. I know now that I was bad for you, because the flashes of your life that I see in my dreams now are terrible—something from a horror movie.” He sighed shakily. “I don’t want that for you.” 

You hadn’t spoken that whole time, merely ruminating on your thoughts; how you really felt. He didn’t rush you, wanting you to go your own pace.

You took a deep breath. “You feel warm again,” you finally said. 

He nodded slowly. “I think I am,” he whispered back. 

“Warm enough to move on?” A nod. “Warm enough to stop drinking?” A nod with no hesitation. You pulled back a little, scanning his face. “How can I trust you this time around? You’ve broken my trust so many times now.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “I have no excuses,” he said honestly. He looked you dead in the eyes. “I’m just going to have to trust in you being a good person, leading me well, and me trying my absolute best.” He caressed your cheek. “I don’t want your life to stay like those dreams... I don’t want a horror movie for you.”

You stared at him. “Oh, yeah?” you asked. “What kind of movie do you want for me, then?” 

He thought for a moment. “A fantasy?” he offered. “Maybe an adventure.” He looked hopeful. “Maybe a romance, too...?”

.

.

.

Finally!! I got this out for you, my love!

I hope it lived up to expectations and that you enjoy it a lot, my Saturn. ^-^ I know work’s been hard, so take it easy, m’kay? M’kay. Love you!

[sheehantravel-blog]

Days 24 - 27: New Orleans, LA; San Antonio, TX; and Austin, TX

In contrast to Nashville, New Orleans was actually a lot like I had expected it to be (a very good thing). The live music, the drinks, the nightlife, the people... there really wasn’t anything about it that wasn’t enjoyable. Besides Bourbon St being completely torn up by some major construction.

We got into New Orleans later in the day, and did the usual. Hotel, unload, freshen up, go out. I found a cool “live music and cocktail tour” of Frenchmen St that we booked for a couple of hours. It was a private tour, so there was just Maga and I, and another couple. Our tour guide was so awesome and full of knowledge about the history of the city. It was really cool to actually do an informative tour, since we haven’t done this yet anywhere. 

We went to four different bars. Well, Maga and I started at our pickup location. We got an uber there a little early just to be sure we wouldn’t miss the tour, and had a drink at the bar and were the only audience to the man playing acoustic guitar and the harmonica there. He had a lovely voice and I actually really enjoyed listening to him. We felt bad leaving since we were the only ones there... it was still early. I don’t think I can remember the names of all of the bars that we went to. The first one was called Maison’s I think? They had some band playing, they were good but not anything that blew us away. Maga got a variation of a moscow mule, her favorite, and I got an old fashioned. 

The next bar I don’t remember much. Maga struggled with an ATM machine. I snuck out and ran to the corner store with the tour guide for some cigarettes (I was drinking, yes I know you’re disappointed, and yes I know I should quit, thanks). Then I shared a smoke outside with a really nice girl named Sarah who was from Hawaii and lived in San Francisco, visiting New Orleans with her boyfriend for her birthday and their anniversary. Then it was time to go, so I didn’t get much experience or knowledge at this bar.

Our third bar was my absolute favorite. It was called Blue Nile, and it was the epitome of everything I ever thought New Orleans could be. We walked into this dimly lit bar that appeared as a really basement-looking dive bar. Then we saw the lights and the stage and heard the music... and wow.

This band was absolutely incredible. They had a really diverse group of at least eight people. The outfits were great, the passion, energy, dancing, and god the talent - everything that came out of these people were great. Walking into this bar and watching them perform was like a movie. And there was hardly anyone there! We were really enjoying ourselves there, but had to get to the last bar. But don't worry, Mama and I found our way back somehow late into the night and watched the band finish up their set. And they were right, they ended up filling up the place on a Tuesday night as if it were a Saturday. Someone bought a bunch of their CD’s and donated them to the crowd, and I got my hands on one. I feel like this kind of music is just so much better live, but I don’t doubt that they are amazing on record as well. I have yet to listen. But if any of you want to look into them, their name is Water Seed. 

It seemed as if we left Blue Nile and arrived at this last bar at the perfect time. We walked in and the band finished up their song some seconds later. Then all of a sudden the lead guy says to everyone, “Alright now everyone give it up for our good friend Quay as our special guest tonight!” Our freaking tour guide! He jumped on the stage and did vocals for the bands next song, I thought that we so cool. We had no idea, and like I said, he had just timed it so well.

Quay stuck around with us after the tour and helped us find a good place for food. He was a really great guy, it was cool to hear his story and get his recommendations. Oh! And can I just say that our Uber driver was just a doll? He went by the name Hope. He took us to our tour meet up location, and gave me his phone number to call him for a ride back when we were done downtown. It was so sweet of him to go out of his way to do that for us in the middle of a busy night. And he had so much information about New Orleans (like the huge pumping issue) and great recommendations as well. We love you Hope! 

The next morning, we found a place downtown kind of in the French Quarter to get some cajun/creole food. Maga and I both wanted jambalaya and gumbo. I also was told that I needed to try some crawfish or crawdads or whatever the hell. Love everything except the crawfish étouffée. What in the world are you people thinking? I thought it was disgusting, and the crawfish tails looked like tadpoles. I was pretty put off by it wish doesn't happen often, I typically love everything and anything. But, I tried it!

After lunch we went to Cafe de Monde, apparently a very popular french coffee shop in the French Quarter. They basically only had cafe au lait and beignets. Both were delicious, Maga and I had powdered sugar all over us. It as definitely worth the stop, I wish I had more pictures of this. We finished off the day by walking around the French Quarter a little more, peeking into shops, and then took a stroll by Bourbon St. It was completely torn up for construction, so I was glad we spent our one evening on Frenchman St instead. Bourbon just would have been way too hard to navigate, the whole middle of the street was just trashed and there was buldozers everywhere and big fences up with black cloth so you couldn’t see what they were working on. It took away from the experience a little bit, but I don’t think Bourbon St is my cup of tea anyways (get it, Frenchmen St, the French Quarter... tea...) Oh yeah, and I came across this somewhere near Bourbon St. If you don’t get it, don’t worry about it. 

However, the St Louis cathedral in Jackson Square was gorgeous. It was really sad to see our flag at half-mast, as always. It’s hard being in a big city after such a devestating event, you really look at people and the world a whole lot diffrently. Not always in a bad way, but you realize how often you take things for granted. I do my best not to. I try to be the best I can be to everybody I know. The world will know peace once we all treat one another the way that we would like to be taken care of. 

We then ended our day by stopping at the French open-air market before hitting the road to Texas. It was neat to see, but we didn’t find too much. I know I said before that I’m a souvenier junkie. Well, it all starts to get to be the same after a while. 

We had a hard time finding a hotel on our way through Texas towards Austin. We had to go through Houston, and didn’t even think about the fact that the hotels would be all booked up from all of the relocating. We had a stressful time trying to figure something out for about an hour, but we ended up being able to find something about a half hour back in the direction we came from. In my opinion, that was us getting lucky! We had a pleasant sunset coming in, though. 

Now for some reason, I have hardly any pictures from Texas at all. I don’t really remember getting into San Antonio because I had a really weird and concerning thing going on. I got car sick, not only from Maga’s driving, but I just can’t be a passenger in a vehicle anymore. I get sick if I’m not driving, usually. But we were about to come into busy, rush hour and big city traffic, so I wanted to drive, and I didn’t want to feel sick anymore. Well, when I started driving it got a lot worse. I think I needed to eat or something... I don’t remember anything and accidentally cut off a two part bus. Whoops. I’m okay thought and feel a lot better ever since.

We stopped in San Antonio for the river walk. I didn’t care to see the Alamo. Maga had seen it once before, and I’m sure the history is pretty amazing, but all it is really is a building that you can’t even go inside of. So for the sake of time and what not, I said let’s skip it. But the river walk was beautiful, and it was a nice hot sunshiny day, yet again. We’ve still been so lucky with the weather. I am concerned for New Orleans with this hurricane Nate though... the whole city is literally a bowl. A bowl with poor drainage and pumping systems. With a literal huge river that lies ABOVE everything. Where do you think the floodplain goes?! Alright. 

We then drove to Austin. I had to beg Maga to go to the Congress St bridge. Haven’t heard of it? It houses 1M-1.5M Mexican bats. I guess in the summer months they come out all at once at dusk and it’s supposed to be amazing. Google a picture! Maga is afraid of bats, but I wanted to go so bad and had to pull her arm. I feel horrible because the bats didn’t really come out and we had to pay for parking and navigating through downtown Austin is no fun. But there was so many people out waiting on the bridge! The bats did come out a little bit, but stayed below the bridge. It was so dark at this point and they were hard to see. But I did see some bats!

Then we thought it would be a good idea to spend the rest of the evening on 6th St, because we heard that that’s where things are happening. Well, this was on a Thursday, which was college night. And a lot of these bars are actually 18+ clubs. BUT we had a great time at the bars that we went to. The first bar had an awesome rock cover band and an amazing rooftop with two bars and games in the back. The next place we went to was a rock n’ roll dueling piano place, and we made some nice friends there who started out as just a stranger buying our drinks for us. He wasn’t creepy, wasn’t hitting on us. Crazy right? A genuine guy who teaches martial arts to little kids who have black belts, makes his own moonshine, whiskey, and vodka,  and is studying business. He says that he tries to always do acts of goodness to strangers, in order to “return the favor” of other people doing nice things for him. We thought that was pretty cool. There may have also been some drunk pizza eating involved in our night during the uber ride back...

The next day, we got some good local coffee at some Monkey something or other place, and then went to a really awesome and ritzy outdoor mall. Maga may or may not have dropped some cash. I like it when she spoils herself, she deserves it. We got lunch at this place called Yard Bar -  an actual dog park BAR. And small restaurant. It was so cool! You have to eat outside of the actual fenced in part of the park, but you can drink anywhere. It was another lovely day out, dogs everywhere having a blast and their owners hanging out in the sunshine drinking drinks. What a great idea. 

We then spent that night in Lubbock I think? Tried to cover as much ground as we could on our way to Colorado. It was late, Maga and I got Chipotle, and thats that. 

I apologize for the lack of pictures for these past few days for us. We must have been real busy? But this last week and a half of our travels consist of a lot of parks, so you’ll see way more pictures, I promise! I am SO excited to get to Colorado (we’ve been in Texas for like three days) and finally see some red rocks. Woo!

Ki 10/4-10/6