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marky4l · 4 years ago

Text

Step by Step / Mark Lee

step by step / mkl

pairing: Mark Lee x Reader

From an innocent childhood friendship to a juvenile high school rivalry to a forced pairing for a Psychology paper, it seems you and Mark just can’t avoid each other. But something’s a little different now.

genre: fluff, angst (a little bit), suggestive themes, childhood friends (barely mentioned!) to enemies to lovers, college!au

notes: lia yeonjun chan hyuck jeno all make tiny appearances

word count: 17.2k

hi!!! this is my first work nd I’m really excited to put this out I’d looove if you could give it a read :^) hound me on my inbox if u wanna i take anything

“Remember when we were best friends in fifth grade?”

His voice is a little quiet, and there’s a very obvious undertone of boredom, but you hum softly anyway, nodding, as if to question why you would ever forget. Fifth grade was a suburban brew of Star Wars marathons, figuring out the world, and Harry Potter merchandise littering your house. Fifth grade was lemonade and oatmeal, knitted sweaters, and sneaking into your mom’s vanity to swipe her makeup. And fifth grade was Mark—bright eyed, geeky Mark, with his Death Star replica and weird electronica music.

Mark, who had an affinity with Troy from High School Musical and Spiderman, and wanted to be just like them. Mark, who would show up grinning to your front door everyday, pie dish in his nimble grip. He was the one who had opened a lemonade stand at the corner of your block so he could buy you the Gryffindor scarf you’d been nagging your mom about the entire holiday season. He was the one who learned the chords to your favorite Jonas Brothers song and sang it to you each time you requested it.

“Yes, I do,” you answer instead, clearing your throat.

You attempt to push down all the memories that just ran through your head and adjust the grip you have on your pen. “Well,” Mark continues, “that was ages ago. Beats me why it ever happened.”

The timidity is replaced with a tidal wave of teasing, and the annoyance that had disappeared is beginning to crawl all over you. Again. You roll your eyes and pull up the slides your professor had assigned. “Beats me why we even ended up in the same university, let alone the same class,” you jab, “if you thought I forgot about how you outright failed our Spanish classes in high school, I didn’t.”

Your friendship with Mark had reached its unfortunate demise to the hands of middle school, where you had branched out with your interests and began to stick to societal (as societal as school can get) norms. He had joined the geeky, cool kids; you hadn’t joined a specific social circle, but you had a best friend, Lia, and you were generally good with everybody.

Somehow, despite you both being in good graces with everyone, you had a deep-seated dislike for one another that stemmed from an intense academic rivalry. Specifically, the competition to become school council president. That had ended now, seeing as though you were both in college, but the abrasiveness of your banter had never worn off.

“Oh, because you were so good at Physics?” he says, voice even. His brow is raised. “We all have our strong suits, you know. You’re one to talk.” You decide to pay him no mind, instead jotting down the criteria for your final project in Psychology 1—something about the stages of grief. You’re supposed to relate it to a different human process and show how they fit with one another.

It’s absolute fucking bullshit, and the fact that Mark Lee became your partner among a hundred students is beyond you. Absolutely beyond you.

He nears your screen, reading the content of your project, eyes squinted—you’d noticed his lack of decent eyesight years ago, but it seemingly hadn’t improved. “Relate the stages of grief…hold up, what? That’s difficult as hell. What are we supposed to do, lose a loved one?” You roll your eyes, turning to him. “No, Mark. The point is to find another process that happens gradually and relate it to this—denial, bargaining, anger. Get it?”

He stares back at you. “No.”

You groan audibly, turning back to your notebook. “This is impossible. Can we just switch partners so I won’t have to deal with you?” He smirks, kicking his feet up on the library table. Absently, you note how nice his sneakers look. Reclining onto the seat, he shuts his eyes as if to contemplate.

“I heard through the birdvine our professor’s the type to pair up people she thinks would look good together for shits and giggles. Girls and boys, boys and boys, you name it. Johnny”—he’s referring to a guy who’s a year above yours, studying Biology—“tells me over five couples have been born out of this class. Isn’t that nice?” You scoff, scrolling mindlessly through the slides to keep yourself distracted.

“It really is. A shame we won’t be adding to that list, because I can’t fucking stand you.” He laughs loudly, the vibration of it remaining in the deadly silent air. “I can stand fucking you, though,” he says, and then, before you can even blush, “All jokes. Don’t get your hopes up, ‘kay?” He’s quick to get up, just as flustered as you are at the uncharacteristic phrase that just left his mouth. He collects his jacket and jogs out of the library with a small, half-assed bye under his breath.

—

Lia’s eyes bore into yours. “He actually said that? I’m telling you, he’s some weird kinky guy under that whole cool geek persona. High school Mark would never have. Oh my god. He’s a furry—he’s a furry!” She flops back onto your bed, laughing. You poke at her waist in protest.

“It’s because he’s surrounded by too many weird classy fuckboys. You know, those that think that they’re all that because they haven’t roofied a girl.” You’re half-joking, and you’re really only referring to maybe two guys you’ve happened to see Mark with. As if to read your mind, Lia continues. “Hey, I heard some of them are okay. They’re not, like…those ‘nice guys’, if you get me.”

“I do,” you quip. “But I guess I’m just trying to find a way to justify the whole 360 in Mark. I mean, in high school, he was still nerdy—well, you know. Shy. But jump to sophomore year of uni and he’s suddenly some…” You rack your head for a proper term. “Sex god?” your friend asks, holding in a laugh. “Oh, eat shit,” you fire back, “really, eat shit. And while you’re at it, feed me some, too, because I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to turn in at the end of the term. Like, Jes—”

There’s a faint knock at the door, and then. “Lia? It’s—uh, it’s me, Daniel? Er, Daniel Choi.” Your wide eyes can’t possibly match Lia’s as she tugs on a decent-looking pullover and puts it on. As she swings the door open, you manage to sufficiently hide yourself under your duvet and attempt to hear their conversation.

“You know, it’s okay if you leave out the whole…saying your full name at the door part. Trust me…I know you,” she jokes, and you hear him laugh before you detect the crinkling of a plastic bag. “Chinese. Uh, I bought some extra for your best friend, because I’m not gonna pretend I don’t see the sentient blob on the bed.”

You pull the blanket off and smile sheepishly. “Hey, Daniel,” you say, “thanks for the food. I owe you an empty room next time, I swear by it. It’ll be easy, since I’m gonna be”—you heave yourself off the bed and onto the floor, where they’re both sitting—“holed up at the library for the next few weeks.”

Lia nods, chewing her chow mein, and then when she’s done, she explains to Daniel your whole huge Psychology end-of-term paper about stages and grief and whatever, oh also she’s partnered with Mark Lee, this guy that we both know from high school, and she dislikes his guts, oh you know him?

“Wait. You know him?” You repeat, and Daniel nods, ruffling his black mullet. “His room’s, like, three away from mine. He’s studying Theoretical Physics, right? Yeah, he’s always in his room doing school shit, but every weekend he’s out with the upperclassmen. He’s probably out now, ‘cause it’s Friday. How he even charmed them, though, is a mystery.”

Mid-dumpling, you roll your eyes. “Y’know, the hardest part is being partnered with him. But also, even finding what kind of gradual process to relate denial and anger too is weirdly hard. It feels like I could find something, but I haven’t gotten it…quite…” you trail off, your eyes landing on Lia and Daniel across you—they’re smiling softly at each other, and you distinguish their fingers interlocking quietly, as if you wouldn’t notice.

“…yet. Except maybe I have. How would you want to participate in my end-of-term paper?” Their gazes turn to yours, and you nod frantically. “Oh my god, I’m a genius! Seriously! Falling in love! Yes! It’s denial—anger—whatever, whatever! It makes perfect sense. The end is acceptance, too! Oh god, Li, it’s perfect. I will owe you for life if you help me out.”

“Wait, what? You dove straight into it, what—recap, please,” Lia asks, and you compose yourself before explaining giddily.

“Falling in love. It happens gradually, and we can compare it to the stages of grief. Seeing as you and Daniel are headed right there, we can use you as some test subjects. It’s not required to have respondents or subjects, really, it’s just an extensive paper, but it might help get the grade up. This is gonna be great, and if you ever wanna back out, you can, because it’s not mandatory.” Lia and Daniel meet eyes briefly, and then slowly, nod. “Okay, that’s pretty smart,” Daniel says, “I’m up for it. Are you?” Lia nods, slowly and hesitantly, and you smile widely. “You two just saved my Psych grade. I’ll be at Giselle’s tonight. Just…not on my bed.” You grab your keys and phone and bound out of your room, straight into the elevator at the end of the hall.

The elevator door nearly closes when a Converse-clad foot steps in, and your eyes rake up the figure, eventually landing on his face.

“Jesus fuck,” you mumble, “you must be kidding me.”

Mark enters the elevator with a small, teasing smile, hands tucked into his jacket’s pockets. “Hey, dude, what’s up? Was on your floor on my stop down to get some money Lucas owed me,” he says, “this is actually a godsend, because my genius brain found us a project idea. Relate grief to something else gradual? Easy as pie. Falling in lo—”

You cut him off before he can finish, “Falling in love, right. I thought of it first, earlier,” you say profusely, absently noting the pettiness in your tone. He whistles. “No need to get all possessive over an idea the previous classes have used before, man.” You continue, ignoring him. “Whatever. Lucky for our grades, I went the extra mile to get us some test subjects. Do you know the two Chois? Lia and Daniel?”

He nods once, “Yeah, their PDA on Instagram is fucking sickening, but I see your technique, and I like that—we get some extra data from their god awful PDA.” You nod once, and he continues. “It’s nearing 11 on a Friday night. Whose party are you headed to?”

“You’re welcome for the test subjects,” you gripe. “Anyway, I was so giddy about coming up with it, I just left them to…well, fornicate. As a compromise for being lab rats. I texted my…” you realize you’re starting to share too much to a guy you typically dislike talking to, and then there’s a silence in the air that’s painfully awkward.

“You texted your…?” Mark asks. “My friend, but she’ll be home at 1AM, so I’m out to kill time. No parties, just…I dunno.” He nods again, and then the elevator lets out a blissful ding. You step out simultaneously, and then he faces you. “Look, it’s freezing out, you’re in shorts and a puffer coat, and it’s three hours to 1AM, so I doubt you’ll get far.” You scoff at his words despite feeling your legs shake from the breeze outside. “I’ll be fine, dumbass.”

“Just concerned,” he says, in a tone that sounds more blank than annoyed, but he turns and heads toward the door anyway. He swivels back around briefly. “It’s in Johnny’s apartment. Just a couple people, if you get bored freezing.” He jogs outside then, and you inwardly appreciate the small gesture, but again, annoyance returns just as quickly. You linger a bit before heading out yourself, walking briskly to a local Japanese restaurant. You consider this an opportunity to have some me time, some rest after a shitty week in university. Lasting ’til 1AM alone and entertained would not at all be a problem.

You last one ramen bowl and head to Johnny’s apartment.

—

When Johnny Suh answers the door, he’s clad in a makeshift shower curtain gown of sorts, and is flushed and very buzzed all over. He hikes up the top to cover his chest and laughs profusely. “Did Mark invite you?” Behind him is a sizeable group of just about twenty people, which looks like forty in a cramped communal space. You’d been here before—Johnny likes to invite just about anyone to get stoned and listen to Kid Cudi on Fridays, and you had pushed Lia to accompany you before.

You distantly spot the kitchenette, the small living room, and then the two bedroom doors opposing each other. “The rule was to show up wearing something not marketed as clothing, but Mark didn’t follow the rules, so. Anyway, you’re off scot-free, too…” he pauses, “…if you take off the puffer coat. We’ve got heating, anyway. Free booze and weed, too.” You figure being in a flimsy tank top isn’t so bad—you’re sure half the people here are already getting laid or trying to, and nobody would really pay attention to you.

You shrug off the coat as Johnny steps aside to let you in, hugging it close to your body and navigating your way to the kitchen. The granite counters are filled with various bottles of booze, and you also note the cigarettes and blunts lining the island. You peruse the brands before settling on a sealed can of decidedly not-so-cheap-looking beer, and crack it open to take a swig. It’s warm and fucking disgusting, but there’s not much glitz in an “anything but clothing” off-campus college party anyway.

There are several people scattered among the living area, passing around a blunt—another group is playing suck and blow. You make your way over to the cheap couch on the far end of the room, taking a seat on the arm and stretching out your hand to claim the blunt. It’s Jae who passes it to you—Jaehyun Jung, an upperclassman whose infamy (for wearing nothing but toilet paper and running through campus) greatly surpasses him. “Who are you?” he asks, and you holler your name back over the Kanye West song playing in the background. “Mark invited me,” you tack onto the end as compensation.

He nods in understanding, watching you take a drag and pass it back to him. He only hands it back, saying, “It’s nearly done, just finish it,” and getting up to probably get some booze or another blunt.

You scan the area for a better place to cherish your weed, because you’re definitely not going to do it on the arm of a couch housing three couples making out to the high heavens. You spot an open window and a fire escape just beside the kitchen and walk over, ducking into the cool night air. It’s not quiet, it never is, and you treasure the peace that comes with the noise, closing your eyes and trying to milk the last few drags. All that is flushed down the drain when somebody kicks you out of your reverie and your last two drags are falling down, through the grills of the fire escape.

“What the fuck?” You look up to meet, of course, Mark’s gaze, teasing and mischievous.

“That wasn’t fucking funny, asshat. Get away from me.” You get up instantly, ducking back into the house and searching for your coat. It’s (very unfortunately) buried under a couple who have escalated from making out to borderline public indecency.

“Fuck it,” you mumble, swinging the door open and mentally preparing yourself for the cold once you get to the sidewalk, floors down. Mark follows suit, a laugh gracing the atmosphere around the two of you. “You know, I forgot how fun it is to make you pissed off. I did it all the time in eighth grade when I told our teacher you knew the solution to the Physics problems.” You’re fucking pissed. However petty, you’re fucking annoyed that you couldn’t finish the blunt, and you pay no attention to him.

He badgers on anyway. “Hey—it was a mistake, I wanted to say hi to you.” You scoff, finally turning—“Why? Because we’re friends? We’re not. We’re Psych partners, we came from the same high school, we share a couple mutual friends. But you and I are not friends, not objectively, anyway. Please, Mark. I only just re-acquainted myself with you today, but, like, you’re already so annoying!” You’re at the elevator now, and when the doors slide open, you step inside and let them close at once. You barely catch the unreadable look on his face in your annoyance, and you lean against the wall, shutting your eyes and breathing heavily.

How you’d even get to Giselle’s, or how you would wait out the remaining half-hour before she got home, was just up to whichever higher power happened to be witnessing you that night.

—

The door of your professor’s office closes with a saddening click. You stare back at her name, embossed on the wood in bold, in defeat, accepting your fate with a heavy heart. Just fifteen minutes prior, you had entered with a whole spiel prepared on how you just had to swap with somebody from your class so you wouldn’t have to work with Mark. This speech had occurred twice now—with your TA, and then once with your professor. This was your second chance, your redemption: so you prepared notes, you prepared convincing words—you had a point.

But your professor simply shooed you away, muttering how she didn’t have time for you because she was going to be receiving hundreds of papers in a few weeks’ time from a different class and she, quite honestly, couldn’t be bothered. You bite your lip, thinking back to the previous Friday—it was nearing two weeks since your small outburst at Mark. Since then, you’d expected to build a silent rapport of just working, observing Lia and Daniel, and then parting. And that was almost it. You would show up to your so-called “lab rat sessions”, cup of warm caramel latte in hand, and work.

Except Mark would constantly make noise, jeer, swipe your pen, and do other things that got on your nerves.

“You’re going to have to stop trying sometime,” Lia says, backhugging you. She’d been waiting outside. You let your head loll back onto her shoulder and whine. “Do you know when you’re so frustrated you want to cry? Yeah? That’s exactly how it is, Li. I can’t keep up with this for another two, three months. It’s like he’s not even, like, fuck, like he’s not even trying, y’know? We’re building the foundation of a pages-long paper. This isn’t some finals essay he can bullshit in three hours.”

You groan as Lia pulls away from you, whirling you around to face her. “It’ll be fine, I swear to you. I’ll help out, anytime you need it. I promise. If I start hating Daniel, I’ll even pretend like I’m in love with him. Head over heels.” You let yourself laugh and pull out your phone as you two begin to walk towards your dorm.

She tsks. “We’re gonna have a thing tonight, right? Like, a lab rat session?”

You nod, squinting over your calendar app. “Yeah, at around 5:30 to 6. It’ll be quick, but Mark and I are gonna have to stay behind to divide the work for the general paper and then start. Hopefully we can get some outlining done by tonight…so don’t wait up,” you sigh. She smiles apologetically, pinching your waist affectionately.

“Daniel and I will totally help you. He’s a Mark anti now. I told him about the party outburst thing.” You had sent her a slew of texts that night, and like every other story you had told (save for the most private ones), Daniel had caught wind of it. You’re half sure he was capable of blackmailing you at that point. “Good,” you shoot back, “I’m going to need all the anti-Mark force I can get.”

“Why?” You both turn to see Mark standing idly behind you. There’s a beat, and then: “You look like an inane stalker,” you retort, turning to continue walking. Lia follows suit—with the two of you, the vibe of the atmosphere would always come easy. If one was mad, the other would act mad, too.

“Hey,” Mark repeats, falling into step beside you, “why do you need an anti-Mark force? Tell me.” At this point, your nerves are on fire and your blood is boiling, and you’re beginning to envision beating him up on the quad. “Mark, it’s been great, but we’re going to our dorm, and in case you don’t want to catch a restraining order, I suggest you get off at your floor instead of following us like a creep,” you say sweetly, quickening your steps until he’s far behind you, smiling. Fucking asshole.

“I’ll see ya this evening, then,” he teases, and you grumble under your breath.

—

It’s 5:45 when Lia and Daniel leave the library—fifteen minutes early. You and Mark leave ten minutes later, hours before you were supposed to complete your task. You’re fuming, and for once, Mark has the decency to read the room and feel remorse.

The evening had started off well enough, though—Lia and Daniel had showed up, did their thing, described what was happening, and you and Mark had noted it down. And then, well. Mark spilled water all over your planner, which, in hindsight, was definitely unintentional, but in the spur of the moment, you could do nothing but your natural—everybody’s natural—response to getting something precious ruined. You began to cry. “What the fuck,” you sniffled, “is wrong with you?!” You had shaken the majority of water off your planner, but any and all dates had been smudged and bled, and you couldn’t bring yourself to forgive him. “I know I called you annoying, but this is too far,” you had said, watching his face go from teasing to genuinely sorry. “Dude, it was accidenta—”

“I don’t give a fuck—!” You quickly cut yourself off and wipe your tears when you see a young library assistant heading towards your table. Everybody composes themselves—Lia and Daniel straighten out the things on the surface and Mark sits up straight. “Hey,” he says. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but two students already came in with a noise complaint. We’re gonna have to ask you to,” he makes a gesture, “leave for now and come back tomorrow. Also, the puddle on the table…yeah. I’m really sorry.” He leaves, as if to make sure you have no other choice but to just go, and you slump back onto your chair in exhaustion.

“You two can go ahead,” you hear Mark say, “I’m really sorry about this. We’ll clean up and apologize.” Faintly, you hear them get up, and you feel Lia’s hand squeeze yours as she promises a text and food later. You let your eyes remain shut, drinking in the quiet, trying to calm your inner turmoil.

Ten minutes later, when you’re out in the cold November air, Mark finally speaks. You had cleaned up and collected your things in silence. “I’m really sorry,” he says, “it was an accident, for real. I know I tease a lot, but, uh, I’m being serious. I would never have done that on purpose. I see you write shit on that thing a lot, so…I know how much you like it. Treasure it…? I don’t—whatever it is, I’m really sorry. Like, really. T’was an accident. If you need me to pay for it…” You shake your head softly, hugging your damp planner closer to your sweater-clad chest. “It’s okay. Thanks, anyway. For helping. I’ll email you what you have to do. Bye,” you turn and begin walking in the direction of your dorm. The sun is beginning to set, golden orange hues casting a vast array of colors onto the landscape of the city. You sigh softly, heart heavy with annoyance and exhaustion, and speed up before you start having a mini-breakdown.

—

Stage 1: Denial|

Your cursor blinks back at you as you finish typing in your outline for the introduction. It’s early into November, but already, you’ve had to shut your window to shielf yourself from the biting breeze outside. Across you, Lia applies mascara and talks to you. “What are you up to?” she asks, face contorted.

“This godforsaken paper,” you mumble back, “just finished the introduction outline. I’m trying to give a loose definition for each gradual ‘stage.’” Shoving your Macbook off your lap, you get up to stretch. “Which I’ll probably find on Google Scholar, honestly. If you had to give me a definition—what’s denial?”

She hums contemplatively, wand on lash, and then pipes up. “I think it’s just a stage where you can’t face the fact that you’re interested in that person. Like, why them? With Daniel, he wasn’t really my type. So the whole denial was denying I liked him, because…well, yeah. But I think it differs. Some people deny it because they’re shy, or ashamed, or weirded out that they even like them.”

You’ve had your fair share of crushes before, and sure enough, you had denied them all. But that was high school—college, though, had only brought short-lived flings and one night stands; you were an overachiever, much too committed to your own prosperity to pay mind to anybody else for too long. (Except Lia.) So you hadn’t really experienced the whole boyfriend-in-university thing—not that you particularly wanted to, but you were just human; you were curious. Lia had gotten it, and it looked wonderful.

Speaking of—“So, a week without meeting Mark in person, huh? How is that going for you?” You scoff lightly, shaking your head as you pull your hair into a bun. “It’s going just fine. Dandy, actually. We work from our dorms and you and Daniel just update us. It’s a fine arrangement that I regret was not formulated sooner.” Lia nods in understanding, and you watch her pull on a top, mutter I’m out and head outside. For the fifth time this week, you’re alone in the dorm, with nothing but your Alexa playing SZA and your laptop. You pull it onto your lap again, staring at the boldface letters you had typed minutes prior: denial. You had no firsthand experience of being mature and going through denial; not in that way, anyway. You found it stupid that people even denied when it would be less painful to just admit interest.

You blow a raspberry as you research studies related to the term, bored out of your mind.

—

Two days later, you meet Mark again.

You’d also had the pleasure of, for a minute or two, meeting a friend of his, Donghyuck Lee from Economics. He’s loud and amusing and, from your viewpoint, undeserving of somebody as boring as Mark. (That’s from a minute-long intercation.)

At Lia’s insistence (and likely Daniel’s, too), you two met up to properly work and collaborate. In fear of being kicked out again, the four of you had chosen to meet somewhere else—a cafe off-campus affectionately named something along the lines of Saltwater Coffee. Naturally, after Donghyuck leaves, you find yourself sitting idly (awkwardly) beside Mark. “They won’t be long,” he says suddenly, “er, Daniel just texted me. They’re near.” You nod, pursing your lips, eyes trained onto your laptop. “We’re almost done formulating the denial stage and we can start outlining anger and bargaining. This’ll take about a week more—maybe mid to late November? Uh, I know it seems justifiable to slack off with the holidays,” you say, “but I really want us to finish this early. The due date’s in mid-February, so we can pass this on the 14th.” You turn to face him. “Get it? ‘Cause it’s Valentine’s Day.”

He nods. “Okay. No slacking. I get it. The Valentine’s is smart, too.” You nod back in silent understanding, turning back to type frantically into your keyboard.

You hear the door jingle and Lia’s small “hey, guys”, so you look up and offer a smile. “I’m gonna go order everyone some coffee,” Mark says beside you, getting up and shuffling over to the counter. Daniel joins him, and Lia takes a seat across you, her smile knowing and apologetic. “Everything okay?” You blow a raspberry, but smile, anyway. “It’s not so bad. It could be better, but no more banter, just very annoyed auras…? You get it. It’s just been tough trying to divert my focus to this and ignore all the annoyance I feel.”

“Totally, I get that,” she says, “but all the same, I’m glad he’s matured a little bit and lessened all the ribbing.” You smile at that, agreeing, and then the conversation spirals into one about both of your days—“Professor Callahan totally pops a stiffy over Professor Michaelson”, “Daniel tells me Joshua cheated. Yes, on Jess!”, “Mia dropped out the other day and nobody knows why, hope she’s okay”—before Daniel and Mark return, coffee cups in hand. Mark places one next to you, and profusely, you look up at him, who’s just about to sit.

“Thanks, but I don’t drink brewed coff—”

“It’s a caramel latte, the only thing you drink. Heard you say that to Lia once.” He takes a seat and pulls his laptop open.

You stare at him, taking the cup and bringing it to your lips. Sure enough, it’s caramel—thick, and foamy, and sweet. You look up at him again, but he’s busy on Google Scholar, perusing through journals and studies. You shake your head before turning to Lia, who’s already looking at you, expression mirroring yours.

Sweet, she mouths, but you purse your lips and choose not to acknowledge it. “Thanks,” you say quietly, and he hums to say you’re welcome.

Your eyes flicker to him. He’s wearing a knitted sweater, but he’s pulled it up to his elbows. He’s typing quickly, and he can use all his fingers, too (you fail miserably at that), and his brows are furrowed as if he’s stressed, or in a hurry. You’ve never really noticed this much of Mark before. It’s probably, you think absently, because you’re confused. Puzzled at the gesture that you didn’t expect—at all.

After an hour, he angles his laptop to yours. “Nailed the intro. High five?” You open the Google doc on your own browser, and sure enough, the word count has increased monumentally. You can’t deny his knack for writing. “There are a few discrepancies in grammar,” you say instead. “But…okay. This is good.” You ignore his hand, in mid-air, and continue researching.

Lia holds in a giggle, but turns back to Daniel, who, after fifteen minutes, turns to you and Mark. “Lia and I are heading out, guys,” he says, and Lia quickly tacks on. “Hey, if you need me to stay, I can,” she says quickly, but you smile and shake your head.

“This might take a while. Go ahead. See ya at the dorm, Li. Bye, Daniel.” Mark bids his farewells, too, and they leave you alone in the cafe. It’s nearing a three hour crunch when he abruptly gets up to stretch, a low grunt leaving his lips. “I’m exhausted,” he sighs, “but at least we’re nearly done with this whole denial thing.”

“We’re actually only just starting,” you state, “this is going to go through a lot of editing and proofreading.”

He chuckles and walks back to the counter to order something, and you shut your laptop to rest your eyes. Your glasses rest uncomfortably on the bridge of your nose as you breathe deeply. You lose track of time, and you open your eyes ten minutes later, fumbling to get up properly. There’s a panini beside your laptop, wrapped neatly in a tissue and laid on a plate. Mark’s is empty, save for crumbs, and he says nothing.

“Get up,” he remarks teasingly after a while, and you groan in exhaustion. “I am, I’m up,” you mutter, straightening your back and flexing your neck. Inwardly, you wonder if you should thank him for the panini that is obviously yours that you obviously did not buy for yourself.

Then Mark’s hand stretches out to take the panini, and he takes a bite. “Sorry,” he says, “I had to put my second sandwich in your space. This table’s a little small.” You hum back in acknowledgement, nodding once. “It’s, uh…all good,” you respond, voice small as you type into your laptop. Internally, your body fills slowly with humiliation and confusion, but you stay quiet, and that’s how the rest of the night goes: a silent, steady beat of keyboard clicking and the occasional question.

No banter, no nothing—it’s a godsend, yes, it is, but you can’t help but miss the abrasive, playful conversations the two of you had built up over the previous several weeks. But really—had you truly assumed he had bought you a panini? As if a coffee wasn’t enough? You felt at odds with yourself for even expecting such a gesture from the guy whose main habit was to annoy you to the ends of the Earth.

“It’s late,” he says, as if he’s reading your mind and knowing you’re absolutely mortified inside. “Let’s head home.” You nod, deeming the night’s work satisfactory—maybe even beyond, considering the amount of effort you both put into the output. You shove your laptop and charger into your bag and pocket your phone, lingering awkwardly and waiting for Mark to finish packing up. He’s particular with it—he has little sections in his backpack for the wires and chargers, and even his AirPods, and his laptop.

“Very organized,” you find yourself commenting offhandedly, your tone taking on a teasing edge. He glares playfully back at you.

“Sorry I don’t want my wires to break,” he shoots back, eyeing your flimsy tote bag, “unlike some people.” You roll your eyes and, against your strongest wills, a smile appears on your lips, albeit a small one. His eyes linger on your smile for a little bit before he clears his throat and zips up his knapsack. “Let’s, er, go. Thank Jesus we’re in the same building.” When you exit, the air bites at you despite the jacket covering your body, and you quicken your pace. “It’s cold as hell.”

“Ironic,” Mark says. You hide a smile.

—

That’s what November brings you—the next week and a half are composed of just slowly learning to get used to working with Mark again and going home late into the night, crunching to the max.

Your paper begins to take on more and more structure, and two out of the six days you’ve met, Mark has set down a caramel latte for you to arrive to. The acoustic music slowly phases into holiday guitar, and the coat rack at the entrance is weighed down more and more as the days pass, preparing to welcome December.

You and Mark work silently, save for the rare banter and eyeroll, and very gradually, the annoyance that had bubbled up within seconds before had sank down. You’re not friends, per se—it’s just that the frustration and exasperation had lessened considerably.

You were civil. That’s it. You won’t try to deny that you’ve been thinking about this a little too much—about what your “friendship” had become with Mark. You hadn’t snapped at him in days, and he hadn’t tugged at your ballpen in even longer. It wasn’t that you had cowered him into silence by crying over your planner—it may have instigated it, but his behavior was…different.

More calm, more sure. Less childish. He would still tease you, but not as much. It’s nearing mid-November now, and you’ve successfully done much of your introduction and denial, needing less and less of Lia and Daniel’s presence. (Which you’re sure they’re grateful for.) But being left alone with Mark isn’t as bad as you once thought—

“Hello. Earth to you,” you distantly hear, and you whip your head in the direction of the voice as you pace back to your dorm building. Mark stares blankly back at you. “What,” you mumble back. He quirks a brow before continuing. “I was saying, I think I need to take a rain check tomorrow. The, uh”—he clears his throat—“um, yeah.”

You eye him. “Okay…?”

He nods profusely, “Yeah, all good.” The walk continues in silence, the sun finally setting down behind the Manhattan skyline beyond you and the breeze taking on a chillier temperature. You sigh softly, fatigue overtaking you as you stare at the building nearing you. “If you take a rain check, just make sure you write it within the day or after,” you say, half-sternly and half-tiredly. He mumbles a “got it” and you both jog up the steps to the lobby, where you run into, by some weird twist of the day, a small group of anti-abortion protesters.

“Jesus Christ,” Mark mutters under his breath. “You have got to be fucking kidding me.” You rub the bridge of your nose in your fingers, choosing to tune them out and instead maneuver your way through the door. Before you can even take a step, though, they’re all up in your face with pamphlets and brochures and a guitar. “Excuse me,” you grunt, trying to gently push them aside, but they only come on stronger. “A child is a child,” they say. “If you know anybody who’s—”

“Is this your new initiative? Preying on college students on school grounds, unaccounted for?” Mark asks from behind you. You turn to find he’s filming and stifle a laugh. “I’m surprised nobody’s kicked you out. Won’t be long, now,” he adds with a smile.

You tune out nearly everything else—it’s really just them telling Mark to stop recording and him retorting with equally snarky phrases. It’s not until maybe after a solid two minutes of back and forth that one of them, a weird middle-aged woman, pulls out a burgundy gummy bear from a bag and pushes it into Mark’s camera. He takes it from her and examines it, puzzled. “That,” she says matter-of-factly, “is the approximate size of a fetus. It’s big. It’s sentient, alive. What, I beg of you, what would you do?”

Mark squints at it. Then he pops it into his mouth, takes your hand, and runs straight to the elevator across the floor.

“There’s a bunch of anti-abortion people outside, it’s not cool!” He hollers to the receptionist before the doors close with a damning click.

There’s a beat, and then.

Both of you are doubling over in laughter. “Why the hell would y—why would you do that?! You’re insane!” The response is: “Because they’re not cool! They’re fuckin’ annoying! So I ate their baby!” There are tears in your eyes, your laughter so hard it’s nearing silent—Mark’s, though, is loud and annoying sounding, though you seem to not mind so much. The laughter subsides when the ding of your floor sounds and you straighten yourself up. Getting into a different position reminds you of the very there, very obvious brushing of your hand against Mark’s, which he’d taken just moments earlier, post-baby eating.

You freeze and jerk your hand away. “I’ll, um, go now,” you say, “I’ll see you tomorr—no, the day after.” Against your wills, you meet his eyes, and you’re surprised to find that he’s already looking at you, an unreadable expression on his face. “Okay,” he says, his eyes not leaving yours. Your heart beats faster at a very small increment, but you head out and semi-run to your room, swinging it open and leaning against it.

You look up to find Lia and Daniel engaged in a heated Monopoly match. You make no noise, mind (and heart, but you can’t tell why) racing fast. You watch them play for a second before they both look up slowly.

“You’re smiling like a goddamn idiot,” Daniel says. Your face falls immediately. “I’m, um, no I’m not,” you say casually, pacing over to your bed and flopping onto it. Lia laughs loudly.

“That sounded so freaked. Like we’re your mom and you just brought weed home kind of freaked.” Pause.

“Are you hiding something from me?” She rises from her spot to look at you, head in pillow and all, and you let out a muffled “no!”, probably too defensive for your own good.

It’s Daniel’s turn to snort. You look up and glare at him, “You’re getting too comfortable for your own good. You need to humble yourself, Daniel. What’s it again? Oh yeah, Yeonjun, right?” He rolls his eyes at the use of his Korean name and turns back to the Monopoly board.

Lia flops atop you, eliciting a grunt from your lips. “Are you okay? Did somebody flirt with you? Did Mark finally fuck off and leave you alone properly?”

At the mention of Mark, your heart races—you will it to stop, and audibly groan in the process. “What is it, you bitch?” Lia asks, tugging on a section of your hair. “It’s nothing, Li! Nothing, I promise.” She glares at you before walking to Daniel and covering his ears. Instantly, he begins to let out a chorus of Lalala, and deeming the environment safe enough, you let it slip.

“Mark and I held hands. But it—”

“You what?!”

“It really, really doesn’t mean anyth—”

“How can that not mean anything? It’s hand holdi—”

“If you would listen to the backstory you’d know!” She pauses, and then uncovers Daniel’s ears and knees him.

“Okay, get out. Monopoly postponed, Jun,” she says, pushing him out insistently. He barely collects his phone and keys before he’s out, but you swoon silently when you catch him pressing a short goodbye kiss to her forehead before actually leaving. She turns immediately, fire and curiosity awfully evident in her face.

She nears you. “Explain.”

And that’s what sparks the story of the weird protesters, Mark’s power move, and the unintentional hand hold that lasted a few moments too long. She nods the entire time, laughing, and then her face straightens out again. You can almost hear the gears in her head turning as she analyzes the situation, and then she nods once.

“Okay. Perfectly justifiable to freak out.” Another pause. “But why were you smiling?” You stare blankly back at her, head working impossibly quick to formulate a reply. You’ve taken too long now, judging by the way Lia is looking at you with the most shit-eating grin on her fucking face. You groan.

“You like him, you bitch!”

You shake your head, facing her. “I don’t, dude. Trust me. I just…it was a fun experience, so naturally I’d be laughing. And smiling. But I’m just not interested in Mark! I’m not,” you fumble, being completely honest.

You didn’t—not even if you looked in the mirror and asked yourself. But you couldn’t deny the feelings you felt in the ten seconds from the elevator to your room, your heart racing and your fist curling and uncurling. When you look at Lia again, she’s still smiling, flushed. “You like him,” she says into her palm, which she’s slapped over her mouth in disbelief. You stare back at her, your expression baffled. “If I did,” you begin, getting up to discard your shirt, “I’d have told you by now. It’s really not that big of a deal unless you make it out to be.”

After that, you and Mark spend nearly three weeks walking on eggshells around each other. While conversations are no longer avoided, and you could talk without getting exasperated or too embarrassed, finger brushes are frequent, and eye contact only makes you extremely nervous. You had worked until the second stage—anger—already, but you’d still been polishing the denial and introduction. Considering November wasn’t over and the paper was due February, you figured you were moving at an okay pace. Besides, a lot of your friends hadn’t even begun.

—

There are two instances where you rush home, mortified beyond belief.

The first when when you struck up a conversation with the cute, Australian barista. Scrawled in big penmanship on his name tag is Chan. You had brought up, in passing, how often you’re at the cafe and how you probably deserve a free drink. He replied with a low hum, and you dialed down your flirty tone, slightly embarrassed. But not really. You’ve rejected plenty of people before. It’s when you’re already paying for your drink that he replied, handing you your (for a change) iced matcha with a small grin.

“I’d have flirted with you weeks ago if you didn’t have your boyfriend with you all the time. He’s always buying you your drinks.” You spluttered for a good second, staring at him incredulously. “He’s not my boyfriend,” you finally said.

He had shrugged, nonchalant. “He sure as hell looks at you a lot for someone you’re not dating. And you do it just as much, if not more. I’m observant, by the way. Not a stalker.” You had taken your cup and paced over to the other end of the cafe, sat across Mark, cheeks heated.

He looked up, brow raised. You shook your head.

The second time was when Donghyuck graced you both with his presence. You quickly found out that he was a magnetic presence and you both shared similar interests. The energy you both created was both amusing and annoying to Mark.

Although you kept quiet mostly, you enabled Donghyuck’s incessant teasing, which annoyed Mark to the ends of the Earth. “You’re a dork. Isn’t he?” You look up and nod with a smile. Mark rolls his eyes, sending Donghyuck into a laughing frenzy. Mark just grunts and continues typing.

Hyuck had made a joke about how two Physics textbooks discussed why the sad man named Mark owns two of them and didn’t have a life, and you laughed.

You didn’t usually laugh, not around Mark, at least, since it was safe to say you didn’t have any source of entertainment in such a boring guy. But you laughed at the witty joke, and Donghyuck, without thinking much, had said in passing: “Mark, I guess you’re right about everything about her being pretty.”

Mark said nothing, typing. You said nothing. Nobody said anything, not even a sly Donghyuck or, from the counter, an even slyer Chan.

—

When you see Mark next, it’s three days later, and it’s, for the second time, in Johnny’s apartment.

Lia had asked if you wanted to tag along, and you found no harm in going. (“You’re going because Mark is” becomes Lia’s favorite phrase of the night, so much it’s spread to Daniel, who you’d succumbed to and spilled everything to hours prior.) The walk there has something boiling low in your gut and you’re quiet, in fear you might end up vomiting in nerves or saying something stupid. Lia teases you, but her hand clasping yours reassures you, and you squeeze it tightly.

You get there late—it’s past 1AM, and you have a sense of deja vu walking into the cramped space. It’s fuller this time—people are creeping into the bedrooms to smoke in private or do some other things, but suffice to say it’s crowded as fuck.

“Want a drink?” Lia hollers, and you nod over the music. Johnny’s neighbor is another upperclassman named Doyoung, though he’s mainly referred to as Doie by just about everybody around him.

You’ve seen his girlfriend call him bunny a few times, though you’ve long desired to repress that memory.

Judging by the fact that you can faintly hear a different song from the next room, the party has probably extended to Doyoung’s. There’s quite a gathering this week—the rich freshman who you’d befriended once before, Chenle, and his horde of friends are here; from Lia, who hands you a drink, you learn that Kun and Sicheng, two incredibly attractive juniors, are here, too—in Doie’s, though. The party only intensifies, which is hard, because Johnny’s apartment is very tiny.

Eventually, you find yourself in the bathroom, smoking a joint you’d grabbed out of the clammy hands of a tipsy Chenle and kicking a couple out under the guise that you’re Johnny’s cousin. Chenle had protested but eventually given in, pulling a new one out of his pocket.

The bathroom light is white and harsh, but there’s a very funky lamp at the corner. From your place inside the dry (and thankfully clean…looking) bathtub, you eye it. It’s a tall one in the shape of a glass of margarita.

You heave yourself up and find the switch, and then when it’s on, you giggle at the green light emitting from it. You have absolutely no idea why Johnny, Jaehyun, or their roommate Jungwoo (3J, as some call them) have a decorative, margarita-shaped green lamp, and in their bathroom nonetheless, but you shut off the main light and return to smoking your blunt. Deciding your ass aches far too much, you lean against the tile wall and cherish the smoke.

The door opens abruptly, and you curse, pushing it back closed.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” you say robotically, using the same excuse you did for the previous three couples that showed up.

From the other side, you hear a shrill laugh and sound of confusion. When you peer over the other side and see Mark, you groan and laugh. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I saw you come in. Like, twenty minutes ago.”

“I’m cherishing the party privately.”

Mark ushers himself into the dark space and shuts the door. He makes a show of locking it, as if to show you it’s possible to do so. The sound of it locking sends a wave of nerves up your spine.

“I didn’t lock it in case a medical emergency happens and they have to rush inside.”

Mark quirks his brow. “I doubt they would think to go inside the restroom and not panic and call 911, you know.”

You shrug in indifference and take another drag, reluctantly offering it to him.

He takes it, and you pause for a second to observe him. His hair, dark, and which usually covers his entire forehead like a broom or at least parts in the middle slightly, is now styled differently.

He’s in a fitting black shirt and blue jeans, and, upon your closer inspection, silver rings adorn his fingers. You will yourself to look down. It’s dark. “What’s that you’re holding?” You ask instead, trying not to extend your stare at his shoulders.

“Your puffer coat,” he says, tossing it to you. “Left it last time.”

“That time when you annoyed the shit out of me, right,” you retort.

“Yes, exactly that time. That was ages ago. Weeks ago. Look at us now.”

“Us now—what, still disliking each other?”

He laughs humorlessly, but doesn’t entertain you further. He turns to the lamp instead. “Do you know I was there when they moved this in,” he begins, gesturing to it, “Jae got it at some weird, awful flea market, and he had to buy some extra wiring to fix it or whatever. I was doing Physics homework. It was at the start of this school year. And I bet you didn’t know…” he bends down and reaches to the base of the lamp, pressing a button, “that it changes color.”

The room is bathed in red now, and you swallow. “Interesting,” you manage to say, despite the racing in your head. “Very,” he responds, taking a step closer to you. You gaze up at him. He’s tall. You breathe softly. You nod in agreement. You don’t know what to do. You want to punch him and kiss him and leave all at once.

You want to kiss him, oh God, you want to kiss him.

“Oh God,” you say softly, out loud. Oh fuck. Too much weed?

He inches closer, leaving the blunt on the rim of the sink. “Why?” He smiles a little and you smile back, nervous. He’s so close now, and he smells so good—like cologne and laundry and weed. You shake your head. “Nothing,” you mumble back.

He’s even closer now, eyes boring into yours. You adjust your strap, a nervous habit. He takes your hand and does it for you. “I like this song,” he says casually, like he’s not playing with the strap of your dress. “Do you know what it’s called?” It’s vaguely familiar to you, but you shake your head.

“It’s Jhene Aiko,” he replies, and you nod. You gravitate closer.

You stare at him. He stares back. “I’m high,” you say. You giggle. “I had a brownie and that blunt.”

“That’s a lot,” he says. “Don’t finish the blunt, ‘kay?” You nod back, and giggle again. In two seconds, your nervous mechanism has kicked in and you’re laughing like a psycho. “I’m high,” you repeat, and then he kisses you, effectively sobering you up.

Huh. He kisses you, effectively sobering you up. He kisses you.

You kiss back, shocked and relieved, deepening it, trying to get as much of him as possible. His hands are big and wide and warm, traveling all over you. You want him. Your arms wrap around his neck, pulling him closer, lips molding against yours deliriously.

“Want you,” you say when his hands play with the hem of your dress, teetering closer and closer to your core. “I said, I want you,” you whine, “now.” Mark only laughs, his hands under your dress and playing with the lace waistband of your underwear.

“I like how this feels,” he mumbles. “Wanna take a look.” You whimper, hiking your leg up and nodding. “Please, just…touch me,” you say breathlessly. “Please.”

“I will,” he says, voice calm. “You’re being good.” You can’t deny the noise you make at the praise, breathy and loud. You pull him in again, drunk for more, your hands raking through his hair. It’s dark, the both of you basking in the small red light. Mark hikes your dress up, inching it higher, slowly, until he sees the hem of your white lace underwear. He grunts and pulls at it. “I love this,” he says. “So fuckin’, Jesus.”

You giggle against the smile. He toys with your panties for a bit before finally pulling them down, watching them sink to your ankles. “Hot,” he jokes, and you laugh in disbelief. “Why would you even be joking abou—”

“Mark! Let’s go, it’s 2:30!” Donghyuck’s voice is just as loud and clear as it would be if you weren’t separated by a door. Jolted, you and Mark instinctively break apart and stare at the rattling door. “Maaaark,” he sing-songs, knocking to a beat. You stare at Mark, waiting for him to respond.

“I have explosive diarrhea,” he says. You stifle a guffaw, pulling your panties up.

He pouts, tapping your ass. “Bullshit,” Donghyuck says from outside. “I’m cooomin’ in!”

In the span of a minute, where you realize Donghyuck is not bluffing and in fact has a stolen bathroom key from Jungwoo’s bedside drawer, you manage to shove yourself into the bathtub and hide yourself with the curtain. Mark switches the light back on, much to both of your disappointment, and pretends to smoke the blunt you’d left on the sink fifteen minutes ago. Ergo: pre-kiss.

You find your phone on the bathtub floor and grip it, turning the brightness down. You have a plethora of messages and voicemails from Lia, five calls from Daniel, and an interesting iMessage of Donghyuck’s red, weed-induced eyes from an unknown number. It could be anybody, and that scares you.

The texts are all frantic, and they’re the last things that bring you out of your high and back to reality. Where are u, who u with?, u getting railed??!, Have you seen mark?

“Hyuck, if I actually did have a shitstorm coming out of my ass, you’d be so sorry for breaking in,” you hear Mark say. You sink lower into the bathtub, awaiting Donghyuck’s voice. “You were the one who suggested we go at 2:30, and you’ve been smoking weed for the longest time, dipshit,” he says, “now let’s go. I haven’t seen your Psych girl all night, so you can cry about it at home.” You faintly detect Mark protesting and then, “Let me just freshen up! Just go ahead.”

Reluctantly, you peek out and find Mark alone. You get up and fix your dress.

You’re sober now. The red lights are gone. It’s just you and Mark, plain and simple. Your feelings haven’t gone away, though. You’re fucking fucked. You want him to fuck you. Oh, fuck.

“Go,” you say instead, spluttering. “And I’ll see you. Tuesday.”

You leave first despite yourself, not turning around for even a split second, finding a worried (and then relieved) Lia and taking five consecutive tequila shots to down the nerves and denial bubbling in your system. She raises a brow, but you refuse to even meet her eyes, head and heart pounding impossibly fast. You want to kiss him again. So, so bad. But what the fuck did you just let happen?

—

Stage 2: Anger|

Lia hadn’t pressed, and you were nervous, but it was getting easy to diverge the details of what happened during Johnny’s party. You had instead opted to work alone, too much of a coward to even see Mark’s face. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you feared you might just kiss him if you ever saw him. So you spent days at class working, and then at your dorm working, adjusting your route to avoid, as much as possible, Mark or Hyuck’s buildings and that godforsaken cafe. You did text Mark, though, and the exchanges were brief, not even a “thank you” or “good morning” preceding them. It was awful.

Working alone forced you into a heavy load of retrospection. You would think deeply, like how you are now, spiraling into a series of questions where you studied the play-by-play of what happened in the bathroom, up against the wall. You liked it. A lot. But you couldn’t. You wouldn’t let yourself. Why it even happened…God. You mentally berated yourself for giving into it. Didn’t you hate him? Or at least dislike him? Didn’t you take pleasure in scolding him or fighting with him?

“You’re freaking me out,” Lia says from her bed. She’s been staring at you. “You’ve been lying on your bed staring at the ceiling for twenty straight minutes.” She walks over to you, flopping next to you, her arms winding around your body. “You can tell me anything.”

“I know,” you say, nervous. You gulp.

“Okay. If you’re n—”

“Mark and I kissed.”

She sits up and turns to look at you.

“Made out, more like. We were going to fuck if we didn’t get interrupted.” You’re mortified, refusing to meet her gaze. When you look up, her face is even, but you know she’s bubbling over with giddiness inside. “That is so fucking great, dude,” she replies. “Why are you so embarrassed?”

“Because it’s Mark,” you whine. “He’s not…I don’t know.”

She lies back down. “You’re overthinking this.” You laugh, poking her waist. “I know, but I just…I feel like he might not like me much anymore.” You recount the way you left him hanging, despite the lack of awkward air and the potential to talk and become something. She tsks but justifies it, because she’s so good at that, being a mediator, and you continue with your day quietly.

Your mind is always on it, though, his hands and his lips, and you’ve scoured Spotify for the song playing that he had commented on.

It’s called Pussy Fairy. You cannot make it up. It’s a weird title, but the song is heavenly, and you can’t deny when it’s full blast on your AirPods and your hand is creeping closer and closer there, trying desperately to replicate what you felt in that moment. When you’re not sated, ashamed and sighing, you resort to working on your paper. There are moments where both you and Mark are working at the same time, and you hate yourself for getting all flustered when it happens.

—

It’s a Tuesday, in the early afternoon, when you’re out of class and cleaning out the little litter in your dorm, repasting whatever decorations fell off, et cetera. You have the time, anyway, and it wouldn’t hurt to fix the place up a bit. You’re halfway into re-stringing Lia’s fairy lights when someone knocks on the door, jolting you. You curse under your breath, hopping off her bed to swing the door open and reveal—

“What is up?!” Donghyuck grins back at you. His hand is raised in a high-five invitation, which you hesitantly reciprocate. “Mark tells me you’re meeting today, and that I should come remind you, since it seems like you forgot. He says you haven’t texted all day. Since I was on this floor—do you know Jeno Lee? Do you know it’s so amusing how Mark, Jeno, and I all have the same surname? Anyway. I was here on your floor to remind Jeno about an Econ presentation, and Mark texts me and goes, if you’re with Jeno, then remind you—you as in you, you—to come meet me and work.”

He talks so goddamn fast. “You talk so goddamn fast.”

He just guffaws, high-fiving you again. “Well, you get my point, right? Meet Mark at the cafe and work is all he said to do. If you wanna.” You nod slowly, absorbing his words. “Tell him I’ll be a little late,” you say simply, and as you’re about to shut the door, he talks again, his voice quieter this time. “I know you were hiding behind the curtain.”

You pull the door open again, so fast a minuscule gust of wind washes over both of your faces. “You’re kidding,” you say, “you’re kidding.” You stare at each other for a second before his solem features break into a smile. “I am. Mark spilled everything to me, so I decided to trick you.” Relief and annoyance break over your system as you swat Donghyuck’s shoulder. “You’re a dick,” you spit. “You’re bringing a bad image to Econ majors.”

He merely laughs and closes the door himself, light brown hair fluffing with the severity of his laugh (cackle.) Slightly annoyed, you drag yourself to get dressed, dread building up in your stomach at the prospect of seeing Mark again. Not when your mind conjures up what happened everytime you just see his name. Or the word mark. You’ve been out of it since it happened, not even responding to your usual heated debates with the conservative Trump supporter in class. You suppose the best way to confront it is to simply confront it.

When you get there, though, it’s clear that confrontation would not be an option. Immediately, when you sit, the air shifts into something oddly familiar—the atmosphere between the two of you when you first got partnered up. Except now, Mark won’t even give you a pinch of attention, or banter, instead typing his questions into the document to avoid verbal conversation. (He is a fucking petty bitch, you’ll give him that.)

You stroll over to the counter, pout set on your lips. “Hello,” Chan says politely, and you just smile half-heartedly. “Lover’s quarrel?” He teases, and you roll your eyes. “He’s ignoring me,” you respond, watching him make you a latte. “And we’re not dating. We never were.”

“Mm, right,” he says, finishing and setting your drink in front of you. You laugh a little, taking it. “No. We weren’t. But I’ll update you.”

When you return, Mark’s looking at you, quiet as ever. You break his gaze and continue working, working and working until the sun sets, nestled deep behind the horizon. When you look up again, the sky is already dark, city lights providing solace to the place. You look at Mark quizzically, as if to ask him what time you should both leave, but he just shrugs. “Any time,” he states plainly, and huffing, you get up.

“I’ll go right ahead then,” you say, trying your best to sound annoyed and get your message across. He says nothing, watching you pack up your stuff and sling your bag over your shoulder, and then eventually, leave.

Daniel is the first to see you in your raged, annoyed state—you meet him in the elevator of the lobby, your blood boiling and your fists balled. Knowing you’re headed to the same floor, he presses the button, ruffles his hair, and then lets the silence take over. And then, “What’s going on?” You breathe deeply, turning to him with a tired look on your face. “Mark’s going on,” you mumble, “he was ignoring me the entire time. And to think he was the one who requested my presence! It makes no sense. Why would he ignore me when we can just talk about it?”

“About what?”

It suddenly occurs to you that Daniel knows about your weird feelings for Mark, but not how they culminated. You splutter. “Um, about us. Everything.” Daniel looks amused, but the doors open, and you thank them for the temporary exit from the topic. He stops you right outside, though, and pulls out two ticket, card-looking things. “Wait, um. Listen, Lia and I are going to reach our seven-month…anniversary, I guess, of, y’know, being a thing. I know it seems really small, but I want to give her a little something out of appreciation, so I got us a room at this ski lodge outside the city.”

“That’s so sweet,” you say honestly, “but I must admit, it comes on sort of stalker-y. Like you’re whisking her off out of the city.”

He beams even louder. “That’s why you’re coming. With Mark!”

You gape back at him. “Did you miss the whole I-hate-him thing that happened in there?” You jab your finger towards the closed elevator doors, disbelief written across your face. He laughs. “Sometimes you can’t keep hiding behind”—he begins walking to your room, and you follow suit—“emotions, like anger. When I liked Lia, there was a point where I was just pretending to alienate her so I wouldn’t have to face that I was starting to love her. Like her. And you know, she did it right back.”

“Oh, quit it,” you scoff, insistent. “You’re lecturing me like you’ve been married a decade.”

“That’s what I want,” he says, and you gag. “The first step to that would be ski lodge trip, so you’re coming!”

You’re in front of your room now, and you pinch his wrist as he reaches for the handle, gaining his full attention. “I’ll gladly go,” you whisper, “if Mark’s out.” Daniel just laughs, shaking his head. “No, no. An overnight trip would delay your paper severely. Plus, they have two beds per room.”

“We’ll be staying in the same roo—hey, Li,” you say, quickly cutting your angry rant off when she opens the door, her face confused (to say the least.)

“Mm, hey,” she says, ushering the two of you in. “How long were you two out there?” Daniel shrugs, ruffling his hair and then pressing a kiss on Lia’s forehead. You boo from your place on your bed, buried under your duvet. “You both suck,” you holler, “always sexing it up in a sacred space. AKA my room.” Lia just grins and jumps on top of you, drawing grunts from you both. Daniel seats himself on the floor and busies himself with his phone. “How was Mark,” she whispers into your hair, and you groan.

“Bad,” you respond, “I’m so annoyed. We’re back to square one.” She makes an apologetic noise and gets up with a sigh, adjusting the strings of her pullover and then hugging Daniel. You watch them. You want to kiss Mark again. Life sucks that way.

—

Predictably, Mark turns down the offer of the ski lodge. He’s polite about it, too, especially since he and Daniel have grown a little bit closer since the start of your project. Daniel is, by no means, a “Mark anti”, but he would participate in the ribbing sometimes. Still, he’s insistent on the trip, saying it’s the best way to welcome December and that the forecast predicts a nice, thick layer of snow. It takes a week and two coffees everyday for Mark to give in, under the condition that he buy his own room when you get there.

Which, honestly, really, you have no problem with. Really, you think to yourself as you unceremoniously shove a knitted sweater into your bag. Really. Lia, who had graciously accepted the surprise, watches you abuse your bag, shoving sweater and scarf inside like they want to murder you. “Relax,” she says after a while. You laugh, playing it off (not so) casually.

The drive up there, courtesy of Daniel and a borrowed Prius, is fun, and cramped, but still decent, considering it was just an hour long. You’re in the back with Lia, and Mark is in charge of the AUX, which, of course, comes with its own bout of jokes. You even find the heart to participate and laugh in a few, not daring to meet his eyes. But all his songs are so fucking good. Frank Ocean, Jhene Aiko, SZA, and smaller indie artists flow from the speaker under his phone. The car ride has its share of epic karaoke moments—Mark plays ABBA, and Queen, solely to make sure everybody is belting out to the high heavens.

You get there when the sky’s purple and orange and there are some skiiers scattered around, though, since it’s not the proper holiday period, not too much. You trek over to the main lodge and that’s where Daniel pays for his reservations, and he and Lia retire to their room and promise to get up for dinner. You’re, again, alone with Mark in the lobby as you both stare at each other, willing the other to get up first. He does, to buy his own room like he said he would, and you can faintly hear the exchange from your seat on their nice, fluffy couch.

“I’m sorry, sir. We’re renovating a majority of the rooms for the holidays. That’s why reservations were a prerequisite for staying here.”

Mark sighs. “Okay, right. I’m so sorry. Um”—it’s at this point that you go up next to him, polite smile on your face, ready to take the room key and fuck off—“could we just get an extra blanket, please? For one of the beds.” The receptionist gives a curt smile, handing over the keycard and nodding. “That’ll be one queen-sized warm blanket, then,” she hums, typing away. The receptionist beside her goes to the back, presumably to get the blanket. Mark nods, smiling. “For two queen-sized beds, it must be a big room for both of them to fit comfortably,” he comments offhandedly, fiddling with the card.

The receptionist chuckles. “There is only one bed, sir.”

Oh, God. “Oh, God,” you whisper. “One bed?” She nods with an eye-crinkling smile, like her words have not just rained hell upon the two people across her. “One bed and a sofa,” she corrects herself, reading the information on the computer by the desk. Not wanting to risk your last shred of sanity, you smile profusely, walking quickly towards your room which, thankfully, is on the same floor, at the end of the hall. It’s a small, quaint place that would be honest-to-God perfect if not for the fact that—

“There’s one bed,” Mark sighs, the truth clicking into place. “Daniel is a fucking shithead.” You drop your bag onto the carpeted floor, surveying the room with a scrutinizing gaze. It’s sizable—a bed, a couch, a window. There’s a small wooden desk that looks like its legs can barely hold its weight, and then another door, leading to the bathroom. It’s not bad at all. But you’re exhausted, the sun’s long gone, and your resolve is shredding away as the seconds tick by. “Take the couch,” you say dismissively, “or the carpet.” You make a beeline for the bed, but Mark’s arm wraps around your waist, effectively stopping you.

Ohmygodohmygodohmygod “Shut up and let go of me, dick,” you stutter out. Mark loosens his grip and you shove him off, glaring at him. He gazes back down at you, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “We can’t just make up terms without negotiation,” he says matter-of-factly, and you blow a raspberry. “Fine. Let’s negotiate then. I’m a girl and that puts me above you because chivalry isn’t dead, thus, boom, I get the bed.”

“I was in the uncomfortable passenger seat all day and my lower back hurts,” he counters.

“My legs are wobbly.”

“Bullshit. My back aches.”

“You already said that, it’s invalid.”

The back and forth only intensifies, your arguments growing more and more bizarre, until finally, your volume is so high Lia says she can hear it faintly, four doors down.

“The couch looks comfy,” you try, but Mark stands firm.

“Do you know what? The bed is big. It’s a big bed. And we’re not going to take up much space. If we divide the bed with the sofa pillows…” you pick up the cushions and line them up neatly along the middle, “…then we can sleep beside each other without having to make contact with each other.” He seems convinced, stepping closer to the bed and nodding. “Okay. I get first dibs on the shower.”

“Asshole,” you mutter, but you let him anyway. You’ve unpacked nearly all your things and he isn’t done yet, so you’ve resorted to scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok and laughing at just about everyone that pops up on screen. Mark finally exits after what feels like forever, and you keep your eyes trained on your screen to avoid looking at him. From your peripheral vision, he is very much shirtless. There are no words exchanged, the thickness in the air only building bit by bit.

—

Three hours later, post-dinner, post-abandoning the thought of working on your paper, you’re stumbling into your room after helping the very tipsy couple of the night into theirs. You’re beyond tired now, and you can tell Mark is, too, despite the lack of eye contact or communication between you. You don’t even look at him, brushing your teeth and removing your makeup and clipping your hair up into a bun. It’s when he does the same, and you’re both in bed, using your phones, that he finally breaks the silence.

“I’m not mad,” he says. His voice is even and calm, and you quickly shut your phone off and sit up, peering over the pillow boundary you had created. You look at him expectantly before he sighs and continues. “Why did you leave?”

You stand up, getting out, trying to increase distance. You’ve never really liked confrontation. “I was weirded out,” you spill, “and scared…? I guess with the nearness of being caught, and with all the lights on, I was just shocked back to reality.”

He sits up. “What’s reality?”

“I don’t—know,” you splutter, getting back on the bed. “Not kissing you?”

He laughs, and then it becomes silent. “Right. Let’s sleep, then.” Without another word, he pulls his lamp off, and only the white moonlight is left illuminating the both of you. Shucking yourself under the covers, feeling your heart practically thump out of your chest. You honestly think he can hear it, or at least feel it. Suddenly the boundary doesn’t do much. You turn away from him, nervous, and you can faintly hear his breathing even out. You shut your eyes for a second. When you open them again, he’s looking right at you. “Just checking to see if you’re asleep,” he says quietly. You nod. And then you lean upwards, just a touch, so your lips nearly brush slightly. “Night,” you say, before turning to sleep for real.

You’re not sure when. And how. Sure, you faintly remember digging your legs sleepily through the sheets to find warmth and tangling Mark’s in your own. But still—when you’re up, the pillow fort is at your feet, hanging precariously off the four post bed, and your back is against Mark’s chest. His breath fans lightly over your hair and you blearily register what happened overnight. His arm is slung over your middle, it’s quiet, and oh Christ, he is hard.

It’s fairly late. He’s hard. The antique clock mounted up on the wall tells you it’s around nine, which essentially gave you seven hours of sleep. He’s hard. You bask in the warmth of Mark for a while before your resolve solidifies and you gently push his arm off from its position on your hips. He only comes on stronger, wrapping fully around your waist, mumbling incoherence into your hair. He’s hard. You squeeze your eyes shut, summoning sleep to overcome you quickly, but it never does. Dread overcomes you as you feel your underwear grow damp.

“Mm,” Mark grunts, his hand around your waist loosening. You move away but his head suddenly lolls into the crook of your neck, his lips touching the side of it. You whimper. He’s a fucking asshole, even when he’s asleep. You pinch his arm, jolting him to half-awakeness, and you roll away, despite your body’s protests.

He blinks his eyes open. “Sorry, shit,” he says, voice deep and ridden with sleep. You’re fucked.

“It’s okay,” you splutter instead. “Just go back to sleep.” You faintly register that you sound just as exhausted as he does, and you bury your head back into the covers. Everything, plus the sound of his voice, has you dripping, and you breathe in deeply to poorly disguise a whimper. He chuckles, already half-asleep, from where he is, and it’s quiet for a few minutes before you realize he’s fallen asleep. Knowing Lia and Daniel will be busy for a while, you pull a spare pillow over your head and chant to yourself before falling back asleep, too.

When you awaken, the bed is cold and empty, and the shower’s running. You check the time to find only an hour has passed, but you’re much more awake now, getting up and knocking incessantly on the bathroom door. “Hurry,” you demand hoarsely, “I want to go skiing.” You hear a muffled okay and scurry over to your bag to find the pair of leggings you had packed for this. You also find your parka, and you pull off your shirt to clasp on a bra.

“Not that I don’t mind,” Mark says, eliciting a yelp from you as you tug a sweater on at record speed, “but generally, that kind of thing only goes unnoticed in nudist colonies. I could research some for you, if you’d—ow! I was joking, God!” You bonk him twice over the head with the Bible on the bedside table, your brows furrowed angrily. “You looked, asshat,” you say, collecting your things and locking yourself in the bathroom.

When it becomes increasingly evident that Lia and Daniel have no plans of exiting their room, you grumble and resort to skiing alone. But as you’re shuffling out, bundled up, you spot Mark leaning against the exit waiting for you. He looks up and tsks. “About fucking time,” he says, holding the door open for you. It’s not that cold out—maybe you’re just used to having snow and chilly weather, and so is Mark—so you barely shiver, walking around and looking for a good place to ski.

“Forget skiing,” Mark says after a few rounds. “Let’s go sledding. I have a thing.”

“A toboggan, you mean.”

“A funny word. Really, just say sled.”

You let up, anyway, the bright sky and cold ground sending serotonin right into you. Sure enough, Mark does have a nice, blue sled that he lets you on, and then the two of you are bolting down the hill at breakneck speed, laughing all the way. It’s quite a long ride, and you’re smiling and yelping so much the cloth you’ve used to cover your neck has ridden down, the cold air hitting your face harshly.

You land very ungracefully—the toboggan hits a small tree and sends you and Mark catapulting in the same direction, your hands clawing at the air for expense. You find Mark’s arm and cling onto it in the split second you’re in the air, landing on a clearing of thick snow. The arm you’ve clung onto pulls you closer, Mark grunting “be careful,” and when the whole fiasco’s over, you’re smiling like an idiot, and you’re right on top of Mark.

You’re not straddling him or anything, but you’ve just happened to land with your face a little above his. You can’t stop laughing, your face flushed and red with the cold air hitting your face. So you laugh. Why wouldn’t you laugh? It was a good day. A good ride down the hill. So you keep laughing until they’re reduced to giggles, Mark laughing right along as you pull down the covering of his mouth and tug his beanie off, ruffling your hands in his hair and dipping down to kiss him.

He kisses you right back, his lips cold but quickly growing warm with the friction. You smile into the kiss, your hands roaming all over his pink face. The kiss is giggly and light, your hands all over each other as the sunlight filters in through the thick trees overhead.

You pull away after a while. “I hate you,” you whisper. He presses a kiss to your jawline and lets it linger there. “You think I don’t?”

—

Stage 3: Bargaining, Depression|

You’ve begun to type the structure out when Lia tugs on your pajamas, her tone insistent and curious. “What’s up with you and Mark?” she presses, her cheek pressed to your stomach. You fervently hope she doesnt notice how your breathing quickens, and, keeping your voice even, you answer. “We’re…thinking about things.”

Which—you were thinking about things, to be fair. There were things to be thought and you had to think about them. It was a broad half-truth. It had been two weeks since the ski lodge thing, and you and Mark had decided it was probably best to shut the fuck up about everything you had done. (Everything meaning a few kisses here and there, and maybe a little more under the covers.) You’d hated yourself for hiding it from Lia, but you and Mark were actually feeling hesitant about moving forward with whatever you were. There was a lot of ambiguity and questions, and until you could clear it up yourself, you knew you weren’t ready to tell anybody else. You had talked about it already—clearly, the two of you were beyond jumping straight into a relationship after not liking each other that much and then becoming hesitant friends.

But it was, if you had to admit it to yourself, nice having that little secret.

“I’d want to tell Lia soon,” you tease, walking steadily beside Mark. The afternoon sun is warm on your heads, the snow falling intermittently. He turns with a small smile. “I’d want to tell Hyuck, too.” You scoff, burying your head in his chest. You probably look fucking disgusting. Around you, Washington Square Park is full of natives and tourists, and college students like you, all scurrying around and giving you that very much holiday feel.

He buys you a hot cocoa and hands it to you. “Are you heading home soon?”

You take a sip, your tongue hot. “If my ratty dorm counts as home, then yes.”

“Home is a feeling, not a place. Does your ratty dorm feel like home?”

“Kind of. Lia’s there. And so is the rat infestation in the ceiling.”

Mark nearly chokes on his cocoa. “You’re gross as fuck.”

You let out a loud laugh, your beanie nearly falling off with the bounciness of it. Mark reaches behind you to catch it, pressing a kiss to your lips in the process, soft and light and God, you like it. A lot. “Clumsy,” he remarks, pulling it back on and dragging a generous amount of your hair in front of your eyes as he does it. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon, and thank God we’re nearly done with this paper.”

“It was my genius idea to combine bargaining and depression,” you quip. “That’s my gift to you. Merry Christmas, Mark Lee.” He laughs at that. His laugh, you’ve noticed, is goddamn loud, and it’s a literal cackle, but he always looks so happy when he laughs. And buoyant. “You look stupid,” you say, but the smile on your face is undeniable. He glares playfully at you, taking your hand and walking you both in the direction of your building.

“New York in the snow,” he hums. “Always a great place.”

“It’s full of tourists,” you counter. Always disagreeing.

He chuckles and then, like clockwork—like how you’ve done it for the past six dates—you separate when you’re just shy of a meter away from the lobby entrance. Your fingers curl in search of his, and you jog up the steps, eager to get into the warmth of the building. The lobby’s pretty empty, save for a couple of students. Mark’s ahead of you, already pressing the elevator button and waiting impatiently.

“We’re alone,” he sing-songs, his eyebrows wiggling. The doors open right as you take Mark’s hand, and you look up to meet Daniel’s wide eyes. Then you look to the right to meet Lia’s.

Despite your inner turmoil, you remain nonchalant, pinching Mark’s wrist instead of holding it like you’d planned. “That’s why our professor fucking hates you,” you say, narrowing your eyes. Your heart is beating a mile a minute, but you muster a neutral expression, shoving your hands back into your pockets. Lia knows you, though, and her furrowed eyebrows and parted lips say everything—but you just shrug, playing off what they could have caught you doing. “Hey,” you say, walking into the elevator with Mark. It all blows over.

AKA: Daniel has to drag a curious Lia away from you, with a promise that you would converse later. You and Mark are alone again, in the elevator, your hands barely touching, laughs loud. It’s all blurry after that. You’re high on a laugh and the thought of a kiss—you drag him over to your room, hands in his hair, breathless, loose kisses. You’re both so exhausted, though, that all you manage to extend your energy to is taking your tops off and making out lazily to the songs you’d recommended to each other.

“Mm,” he says when one of your songs starts playing. “It’s a nice song.” You nod with a smile. “I know it is, it’s one of my recommendations. It’s called Softly.” He plays with the strap of your bra. “I’ll give it more of a listen, then. Also, a red bra to school? Whatever will the professors think,” he jokes lightly, pressing insistent, but soft kisses on your shoulder. You laugh, pinching the inner part of his arm and eliciting a swear from him. “I was joking! I know you wore this for me, stupid.” The wind whistles outside, barely audible from the half-open window across the room, overlapping with the music.

This all feels too real, now.

You pout lazily against his bare chest. “Get off before Lia gets in,” you mumble, your heart beginning to race. He does, for what it’s worth, rolling off your bed with a loud thump and tugging his shirt and sweater back on. You watch him (fondly) annoyedly, your hair draping over you as you get up to properly shove him out. “Out, out,” you chant, laughing, and he giggles, turning abruptly to poke at your waist.

“Shut up,” you groan, a smile on your face. There’s a beat, then he pulls you close and kisses you, running outside right after with a literal guffaw. You watch him, wrapping your fleece blanket around your frame as he runs to the elevator, sweater backwards and hair messy.

—

Doubts are normal. This you’re assured of, but your head pounds with the sheer amount of things you’re cramming into it. You squint impossibly harder, trying to get the nail polish into the crook of Lia’s nail. You’ve probably overdone it, judging by the way she jabs her knuckle in between your eyebrows, her face contorted in worry. “Are you…okay?”

You narrow your eyes, the inner debate of telling her raging on and on. The nail polish drips onto her fingernail, rolling onto her pant leg, and she yelps, but her eyes are still on you. “You can tell me anything,” she says, softer this time. You know she’s serious—you know you can. You always have. You told her about every fling, one night stand, pregnancy scare, bad grade, hot professor, and spoiled deli food you’d encountered since you ever became friends. She knew you. And you were so sure she knew what you were about to say.

Except you didn’t know what you wanted to say. Your feelings were a mess, and you wanted one thing as much as you wanted the other. You couldn’t place what you wanted, and if you had to narrow it down, you’d realize that you were scared of what you wanted. You were never really one for commitment, or a relationship, or really anything, for that matter. And the fact that you were so hung up on thinking about what you and Mark would become—Mark? It all seemed so dystopian, almost. Like you’d never expected it. Your friendship was a childhood bubble that popped in the span of your first high school semester, and that was that. But just two days ago you were being kissed all over by the same guy you’d had a cutthroat student council president competition with.

It seemed so absurd? Crazy? Those adjectives were a little over the top. Deep down, if you dug deep enough into the parts you didn’t even tell yourself, you knew what you were. And if anybody else were to know, it would be Lia.

“I’m scared,” you choke out, your voice shaky. “I’m scared and sad, and happy and angry, and I want this but I don’t.” You cover the nail polish, shaking your head. “This is all so new to me. I hate how much I feel, especially because it feels so wrong. You know me—relationships are just not cut out for me. They’re scary and new. And people in relationships turn all gooey. I’m scared that this won’t last, but I’m scared that it will, and I’ll be doomed to an eternity of bland, padlocked relationships. It’s weird. I could be feeling this way for anyone, but it had to be Mark? If only I didn’t hate him, then maybe we could’ve gone off on a better foot. If only this whole thing never fucking happened, right?”

“It’s okay,” Lia cuts in. “Being scared is okay. It’s part of the whole process. And nobody said you had to get along like conjoined twins in a relationship. They just go when they go and end when they end. Not every relationship starts as a high school sweetheart thing and ends with three kids and a picket fence. And I’m so sure Mark would be so understanding if you didn’t like him or if you chose not to continue.”

“You knew?”

She laughs. “Of course I knew. I know a post-sex glow when I see one, and I was blinded that morning at the ski lodge.” You groan, pinching her indignantly, hiding your face in your hands as she laughs out of view. “Okay. Take some time and think about it, but for now, I want to get my nails done, so.”

—

It’ll be a week before you come up with what you want, and the whole time you generally avoid talking about solemn topics with him in person.

It’ll be another few days before you finally talk to him personally—with your paper nearly finished, you suggest a meeting at the library. It’s just two days before Christmas Eve, and you know Mark’s going to be driving to Canada, so you want to snatch him away for your own personal time for just a second. The snow has all but thickened as you meet outside the building, the silence deafening.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. You know he’s probably picked up on your erratic, quieter behavior in the past several days, but you gulp and lead him inside anyways, to your favorite section. “It’s almost Christmas Eve,” he says, watching you stall, surrounded by Philosophy books from just about every century. “I know,” you say, hoping you don’t sound too nervous.

“You sound nervous,” he says.

“Do I?” you ask shakily, your voice taking on an unnaturally high pitch. “I mean, er. I guess I sort of am. I guess I’ve been thinking about everything lately—about you and me and everything that just happened so suddenly. Because—because it did happen so suddenly. I just…needed time? Yeah, time. To think about everything. Because it all happened so quickly, I…” you stutter. “I’m scared of these things. I’m not used to them. Relationships? Things that last longer than a couple weeks? I don’t like these.

I have something bigger I want to focus on and anybody who gets in the way just isn’t worth it. And it’s so weird how it was you out of all people I started thinking about it with. Usually I just have the rare fling and then they’re gone, and I’m not even mad. But you’re different. And I like it.

But I just needed time to find out if I really liked it. If I really wanted to try. I know it’s only been a few weeks, and I probably sound really fucking stupid, but you get me—you get me, right? And that’s how I realized—if it happens, it happens. If it doesn’t, it doesn’t. I don’t know why I overthought it. I mean, it’s a good thing and a bad thing that I did. Like, on one hand, I got to really think about how this would play out, and on the other, I’d just end up spiraling. And it’s just weird. I hope you don’t know I hated you. Hate you? Hated you. I was just—it was all so juvenile. Everything just stemmed from that one awfully dumb high school rivalry. But other than that, you were always a cool…see what I mean? I’m kind of rambling—even if I thought I had planned this out. And. Yeah. I dunno. I fucking…I hate you, stop laughing.”

Mark smiles down at you—you’re busy pretending to read a Sartre book to look unfazed, but your flickering gaze says it all.

“Okay, stupid,” he says, bordering onto a laugh. “If that’s your way of saying you’re willing to give this a try, then I graciously accept. Should I be saying something equally long? I—is that how this works?”

You roll your eyes and kiss him instead, pulling him close, Sartre’s postulates dropping to the floor alongside your tiptoes.

—

Stage 4: Acceptance|

“Acceptance is just that. Just accepting that you love that person after weeks or months of all the other stages. With her, it was. Like. It’s the whole sitting down after silence, having some time for the revelation to set in before you realize you love them. Or like them? Well, love them, I guess. But I don’t know why you would be asking me this.”

You bury your head further into Mark’s shoulder, your eyes strained from how long they’d been trained onto your screen. You smile up at Daniel, thanking him for the input and beginning to type it in, watching Lia doze off on his shoulder. “We’re asking because we’re not quite there yet,” Mark hums, “it’s just February. It’s barely been two months.” You nod, watching Mark type where you left off on the document. Daniel snorts from across you. “You’re just about, I guess.” Mark chuckles, shrugging so your head bounces off his shoulder unceremoniously.

“Like I’d ever fall in love with that shitstorm,” he says pointedly.

“Oh, and I’d fall in love with this dickwad?”

“You’re perfect for each other. Bullying, but we all know Mark brought back gifts from Canada and that you stitched an initial onto his sweater.”

“To practice my embroidery. Also, I stitched Mark’s initial. M. Asshole.”

“Okay,” whistles Daniel, his hand unconsciously coming up to make sure Lia doesn’t fall off his shoulder. “But hey, you’re just about to submit this paper and I’m fondly remembering all the times you despised each other. And when you”—he points at you, devilish grin on his face—“started gushing to Lia about how he”—he then turns to Mark—“kissed you at Johnny’s party.”

“God, it’s not the time for that yet, we’re still a fresh couple,” you groan, burying your head in your hands. “You have so much dirt on me, Choi.” Mark just laughs, though, loudly, bringing the other cafe-goers’ attention to yours. He bites your shoulder to stifle it, eliciting a laugh from you. “I agree, there should be a certain time requirement for pre-relationship embarrassing stories,” Mark says, closing his laptop. Lia gets up at that point, already half-awake from the ruckus (AKA Mark’s laugh), pulling on Daniel’s sleeve. “Alright, and that’s my cue to get this girl some more coffee and then go.”

“Mm, I’ll come with,” you say, “I need a refresher before we leave soon, anyway.”

You walk in between them, your fingers laced in Lia’s as she squeezes them sleepily. They order first and then they’re off with a smile and a polite goodbye, leaving you to order your drink. You gaze up at the menu, and then down at—

“Long time no see,” Chan says with a knowing beam. “How is your not boyfriend boyfriend?”

“Well, he’s my boyfriend now.”

“See, I always know. What do you want?”

“An iced ca—how did you know?” You ask, tempted.

“It’s just…the energy? It was a hit or miss, but I kinda got that feeling that something was going to happen.”

“Hmm,” you hum. “An iced caramel then.”

“And a black coffee for her best friend!” Hollers a new voice that you could never miss, turning slowly towards the entrance to meet Donghyuck’s crazy eyes. He’s in a suit, which isn’t unusual given the sheer amount of presentations he’s had to do since the new year started. You roll your eyes but put in the extra cash anyway, much to Chan’s amusement. Hyuck nears you with a sly grin. “I hear you’ll be submitting your paper soon. I just want my name in there so I’m in your professor’s good graces.”

“She’s not even going to be your professor, Hyuck,” you say, taking your drink and smiling at Chan. You and Donghyuck both walk back to where Mark’s sitting, you beside him and Hyuck across the both of you. “Yes, but it pays to be in somebody’s good graces, I swear. See what happened? I got you two together. I orchestrated your entire love st—”

“Okay, now you’re just lying, Hyuck,” Mark says with a laugh, finishing up the first few paragraphs and closing his laptop. “We’re not even in love.” But his friend lets out a teasing smile, his eyes narrowed, and he gets up with a loud farewell and alibi about “being needed by my better friends.” You assume he’s talking about Jeno.

—

You walk to Mark’s room alongside him, thanks to the promise of his roommate, Jaemin, sleeping at a friend’s. Your fingers are intertwined loosely. The sun’s setting and Mark’s room is sheathed in beautiful shades of orange and pink, a vast array of dusk settling over the space. It happens quietly, but full of laughs, which is how it happens when you’re both tired and/or shitfaced. You do this a lot—a routine of sharing new songs or books you’d picked up over the week and then making out while they play in the background or while one of you read. It’s awfully, horribly, terribly fucking intimate.

“Your bra sucks,” he jokes.

You love it.

“Get better abs and we can talk about it,” you counter, poking his toned stomach. He really, fully guffaws at that, pulling you onto his lap and then tugging his guitar out from where it stands at the corner. You flop back onto his bed, watching him play—and then registering the familiar opening of the Jonas Brothers song you used to request nearly everyday. “Lovebug,” you muse with a smile, singing along to his voice, carried away. You’re sleepy and light, and you know deep down—in that space of yourself where you’re all but honest—that you were going to fall in love with him someday.

Later, when all you’re doing is hugging him as he reads your latest Philosophy requirement to you, he pauses.

“Is this the 21st century idea of love?” He asks idly, unclasping your bra and connecting the moles on your shoulder. You hum.

“It’s the Gen Z idea,” you say, connecting the ones on his bare back. “And this isn’t love.”

“Corny.” he smiles against your collarbones. You kiss his neck. It’s all very gradual.

—

hope you liked it :) drop an ask! I absolutely love all types of feedback

#mark lee #mark lee imagines #mark imagines #mark drabbles

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heynikkiyousofine · 3 years ago

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A just because little fic for my dear friend @enchantedink-ag, hoping you have a wonderful weekend!

Ao3: Part 1 l Part 2 l Part 3

“I don’t give a fuck whoever you are, where is my wife?” His growl growing louder, laced with venom, causing the twin demons to shiver. Inuyasha tightened his grip on Tetsusaiga, golden eyes darting back and forth between the two, readying himself for whatever they had planned next. Sniffing, he could smell the faint jasmine on their silk clothing. Kagome.

The female demon on the left, whose long blue hair glistened in the moonlight, smirked at him, her silver eyes giving him the creeps. “My my, someone’s a little angry. Who knew the half-demon had a little wife? Did you know that’s who she was, Kimoto?”

“I didn’t Kirigaya, but it seems the woman has a protector.” The green haired demon’s matching grey eyes filled with laughter, turning to her. “It seems he has come to rescue her.” Inuyasha’s jaw clenched as he searched for some way to defeat them, unsure of their abilities. His anger coursed through him, boiling his blood beneath. His thoughts returned to Kagome. What would she do? Find out what they want with me.

It was as if she was standing right beside him.

“What do you want with her?” He seethed, his knuckles white and shoulders tense as he waited. He needed to find her and not kill them on the spot.

“As if it matters to you, we need her spiritual powers to bring back our sibling, on the night of the full moon.” Kimoto explained, with the wave of his hand, before turning glistening eyes his way. “Though I don’t why we bother telling you. She’ll be long dead by the time you find her.” Kimoto’s fangs appeared as his smile widened, a laugh coming from his chest when Inuyasha growled louder this time.

All common sense seem to just fall away as Inuyasha raised his fang above his head, calling on the adamant barrage when a loud, painful sound pierced the air. Folding his ears back, he managed to side step just in time to see Kirigaya swipe her claws, aiming for his face. Closing his eyes quickly, he shielded his head with his robe wrapped arm.

When the excruciating sound stopped, Inuyasha opened his eyes to see the pair gone. Shit.

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Kagome knew this wasn’t a good position to be in. The twin demons had caught her off guard and came from behind, striking the back of her head when she was picking herbs in the forest. She remembered a painful signing in her ears and then pain as blackness followed shortly. Turning her throbbing head as much as possible, she saw the rope that bound her arms behind her tied in an intricate knot around a wooden pole. Sighing to herself, she knew her best chance was to wait it out and for Inuyasha to arrive. If he can find me.

Frowning, she peered into the dim light room, her only source a small candle that hung on the wall behind her. The small room was painfully empty, her mind attempting to come up with an escape plan, but becoming unsuccessful. Glancing down at her dirtied hakama, she noticed a bit of blood splattered. Oh great. Inuyasha is going to have a field day with that. Faint footsteps could be heard coming from the door across the room, Kagome’s gut tightened as two matching demons strolled in, smirks on their smug faces.

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Inuyasha sniffed, searched, studied, even crawled in the dirt to catch the faint scent of his wife. He couldn’t help but be frustrated, because this was getting him no where. The two demons didn’t have a scent, which in his right mind, would’ve struck him as odd, but he was so focused on locating the calming jasmine, he didn’t care. A soft jingling could be heard approaching and he knew it was Miroku arriving by his aura. Inuyasha raised his gaze just as Miroku jogged over the crest of the hill, panting as he stopped in front of still kneeling half-demon.

“Inuyasha, what happened to Lady Kagome?! Are you okay?” He managed to get out between breaths.

“Twin demons kidnapped her, but I can’t locate her scent. It’s faint and these arrogant assholes don’t have one.” His growl growing louder as he finished his explanation. He didn’t have time to waste, Kagome could be seriously injured. Kagome. His heart ached at the thought her bleeding, crying out for him.

“No scent? How odd….” Miroku mused as Inuyasha focused his attention back to the air. After a few quiet moments, Miroku continued. “What do these demons look like?”

“One had blue hair, the other green, matching grey eyes. Pale skin, gave me the fucking creeps. No scent from what I can remember. Spoke something about reviving their dead sibling.” He sniffed at the dirt, his claws digging in the hard ground when he couldn’t come up with a direction.

“Nothing is coming to mind. Anything else?” Miroku’s fingers stroked his chin in deep thought.

“There was this painful ringing in my ears, then they disappeared.”

“Ringing? Like a bell or a gong?”

Nodding, Inuyasha looked towards the setting sun, he needed to hurry and fast. The full moon was tomorrow night and not knowing which direction to head was making his head swarm with anger and anxiety.

“Inuyasha,” Miroku’s quiet voice came from behind him, “If these twin demons are who I think they are, you might be in for a rough battle….” Golden eyes snapped his way, filled with something Miroku had seen many times in the years he had known his friend. Fear.

“Tell me everything you know. Let’s find out form Sango and Kaede too. We don’t have much time. I’m leaving tonight.”

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“You are even prettier in the moonlight.” Kimoto purred as he held Kagome’s chin between his slender, pale fingers. “Sister, it’s a shame she won’t be alive to meet our big brother. He would love her as a companion.” Kirigaya’s gaze only stared at them for a short second before returning to the scrolls she had in front of her.

When they returned to the small room, the lit the remaining candles, bringing a soft glow upon the room. They had uncovered a small window, where the moon shown upon her features, giving her a little hope. Inuyasha had to have known by now she was in trouble. Damn, why hadn’t she grabbed her bow and arrows….

Kagome watched as the female studied the scroll, ignoring her brother, who reminded her of Jakotsu, a dead member from the Band of Seven. His figure as a bit on the lean side, but he wore masculine clothing. His voice, mimicking Jakotsu’s tone at times and his head, though a different color, was almost a replica of the dead mercenary. The female however, was the one who radiated energy from her aura, clearly the leader at the moment. Her stance, legs apart, back straight like a soldier only enhanced her perfectly fit clothing. It wasn’t until she was studying that what Kimoto said registered. Won’t be alive?! No way would she be a sacrifice!

“Wait a minute!” She cried, catching both of their attentions, “I will not be some sacrifice. You are going to be sorry once Inuyasha finds us!” Anger and tears began to fill her vision, as the blurry female figure stepped towards her.

“Priestess, we met your little half-demon protector.” Her smile grew broader, little fangs poking out beneath her top lip. Kagome struggled against the ropes, bringing more pain to her already aching body. Grimacing at the tight pull, she did her best imitation of an inu growl, hoping Inuyasha was alright. How dare they hurt him?!

“What did you do to him?” She seethed. Her teeth grounding against one another, the faint taste of blood on her tongue.

“My my, someone’s angry.” Kimoto laughed, clapping his hands together, as Kirigaya grabbed a fistful of dark hair and tugged Kagome’s face forward.

“Your precious husband,” she spat, “will never find you and after we are done with you, there won’t even be a body recognizable to him. Now shut up and sit there like a good little girl.” Releasing her hair, Kagome could feel streaks of tears falling down her cheeks, wetting her red hakama as the two demons grabbed their papers. Snuffing out all but one light once more, the last thing she saw was soft moonlight as she closed her eyes to sob.

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“Sango, your sure this should work against that screeching?” Inuyasha paced as he asked the others a million questions. Everyone could tell this wasn’t like him. Inuyasha is more of a fight now, talk later kind of guy, if he’s this worked up over and taking his time to figure out information about these two demons, this is a serious situation. Kaede mused to herself, grounding some healing herbs for him to take. She wasn’t sure of Kagome’s condition but he could use all the help he could get. She listened to Sango gently explain everything to Inuyasha once more, as Miroku sat beside his demon slayer wife, writing out a few scrolls. Kagome could use them easily, her apprentice having grown much stronger in the months since her return.

“Inuyasha, take this with ye. It will help with most ailments, since we do not know Kagome’s condition.” The older woman gathered a small pouch and handed him the small plum bag, carefully setting it in his palms. Seeing him nod a silent thanks, she smiled softly for him. He had come along way as well.

“Bozou, whatcha got for me. Kagome don’t have her weapons, so these had better work.” Inuyasha settled the pouch in his robe, before turning towards his best friend.

“These should work, especially with her spiritual power. These two demons, Kimoto and Kirigaya were once part of a trio before their older brother was killed during your father’s reign by non other than Ryūkotsusei and his hoard of dragons. They were powerful in their own right, controlling the air around them. It is most likely why you couldn’t pick up their scent or much of Lady Kagome’s, because they can control the air around them. In turn hiding away anything. Finding them will not be easy. But if what you was true, I think I know where they will be. This ritual, is supposed to be fatal.”

Silence filled the small hut, the crackling of the fire the only sounds as Inuyasha tried to calm his breathing. He had to find her and soon. He hadn’t told her yet, her scent has changed. She doesn’t know she carrying our child yet.”

“Miroku, tell him about the ringing sound.” Sango whispered, her hand gripping tightly on Inuyasha’s arm.

‘Ah yes, excuse they can control air and such, the youngest, Kirigaya has developed the ability to send this painful sound, wrapping the noise around your head. Controlling how loud and painful the sound can be. Much like Kagura could with the wind itself. The plugs Sango gave you earlier should help with the intensity of the screeching as you call it, especially with your sensitive ears.”

“Is that it? Anything else I should know about these demons?” Inuyasha’s shrugging Sango’s touch off, before grabbing a small stack of sutras from him and reaching for Kagome’s weapons.

“There is one more thing, my friend. Their brother, Koyanagi, the one they are planning to bring back from the dead, is said to be very powerful. Much more than Kagura ever was in controlling the wind. Be wary. Though, if my suspicions are correct, even killing one of the three will weaken them greatly. Do you remember the Panther King?” Seeing him nod quickly, Miroku continued. “It will be much like that, with the sacrificial part, but this ritual is needing some serious spiritual power to bring someone back from the dead. A full moon, a special scroll, and the blood of a pure powerful priestess are the key ingredients, take away one of those things and they won’t be able to finish it. But Inuyasha, if completed, or done wrong, it could kill Kagome instantly.”

“I won’t let that happen. Now, where the hell do I go?” He ground out as a wave of nausea came over him.

Author’s note: Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you would like to be tagged when part two and three comes out! A special surprise for part 3 will be featured along as well. Have a great Thursday guys!💕

#inuyasha #kagome #inuyasha x kagome #inuyasha fanfiction #drabble #mirsan #inukag #Kaede #happy ending

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cinnbar-bun · 3 years ago

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A Fool, A Sage, and a Lonely Friend Pt. 2

Pairing: Beelzebub x Reader x Lucilius

A/n: hello!! I return with the sequel after like… over a year hahaha … this ones a bit shorter, I think it’s best if I do smaller chunks versus just throwing a huge big piece like last time.

Warning: this is not canon. In the slightest. At all. Most of this is based on my interpretation of what I believe may have happened before WMTSB, and a lot of this has more dramatic and theatrical changes than what may have occurred. Please understand, I’m not trying to be canon- this is just for fun and I’m doing this to try and get to where we are now in canon! This series also contains mentions of abuse, sickness, death, and unhealthy relationships. If these make you uncomfortable, please do not read this.

Link to Part 1: https://cinnbar-bun.tumblr.com/post/190948837548/dark-rapture-and-chaos-lucilius-x-reader-x

“Open your eyes…”

He murmured softly against the body. His hand tightened around their wrist as he prayed for them to awaken.

Please... please... please…

Exhaustion and anxiety were all that remained in him. Ever since Beelzebub left to god knows where, he’d been focused on his newest creation.

A replica of the person he loved so dearly.

If everyone was to smite your existence, then he’d fix it all up for you. None would harm you. None would think to mistreat you or hurt you again. All they had to do was open their eyes, and he’d take care of them like how he couldn’t for you.

No movements. Lifeless. No pulse. Cold to the touch. No signs of any respiratory action.

He huffed as he pressed their cold hand against his cheek. He felt his eyes burn. It felt so much like when you were there… when you were in pain, suffering from that unknown illness even he could not figure out. He couldn’t help but mourn again. Everything was a constant reminder of what he had lost, and what he’d never get back.

A tear trickled down and he quickly wiped it away with his sleeve. He was tired. He was tired of crying. No more tears. There was no reason to cry when he was going to make you come back. He leaned over their body and used his thumb to graze across their cheek.

Nothing.

He sighed and was about to retract his hand when he saw their face scrunch up as they weakly creaked open their eyes.

“Wha… where…” they asked.

“My (Y/n)... you’re home.” He breathlessly whispered. He held their face with his hands and excitedly scanned them. Alive. It looked like them.

“Lucilius?” They asked, their voice barely above a whisper as they clenched their throat.

“You’re back. With me… I’m so happy. Come. I’ll have to perform some tests on you.” Lucilius said as he carried them in his arms. They looked at him with half-lidded eyes and tiredly nodded. “I can’t wait to show you all I’ve been doing.”

“What… what are you doing…?” they weakly called out. Lucilius tilted their chin up with his finger as he looked down on them.

“I’ve been working on bringing you back. I also made some new primarchs that you can befriend. Don’t you want to see that? You won’t be lonely anymore. You’re not in pain, are you?”

They opened their mouth before they shook their head. He smiled.

“Good...good… everything is right in the world now. I promise I won’t let anything hurt you anymore.”

They nodded and snuggled into his chest before they fell asleep again.

Ah, they still have sleeping spells. But that’s okay, I can fix that.

I’ll fix everything.

“Open your eyes.”

A cold voice awoke Beelzebub as he groaned in pain. He gripped his side before he felt a large force knock him over.

“What the-!” He yelled. He removed the black cloak covering his head and turned to his attacker. “You have some nerve-“

His heart stopped.

The assailant smirked at him and waved.

“Hello old friend.”

That voice! That… it can’t be…

How was it possible? How could it be that you ended up here? Here in this dark, disgusting hell? It couldn’t be you.

“(Y/n)?” He whispered. He felt he was being tricked. This was a cruel, sick joke. Pandemonium really was a disturbing and maddening place.

(H/c) hair, (e/c) eyes, (s/c) skin… things that reminded him of the love he lost. But so many things were different now. Those eyes were not wet with tears or weakened from sickness, instead, they were strong, burning with ambition that had him awestruck. The presence of you had become that of a… of a god, almost.

“Yes, it is me.” The figure nodded. They walked to him and gently placed a hand against his cheek. “Forgive me for hurting you, I just had to wake you up.”

He couldn’t respond. You were in front of him. After so long… after so many years of darkness and hatred and sadness spewing into his soul.

He gripped their wrist, wanting to hold you and make sure he wasn’t dreaming. That this wasn’t a cruel illusion placed by the gods of this world to torture him more.

“Beelzebub, darling, I’m here. You need to get up. We have unfinished business.”

“How are you alive?” He cut them off. They stared blankly before smiling again.

“I don’t know. All I remember is being offered a second chance. I need your help now.”

“What is it you need?”

“I know how cruel this world is. It has been so unkind to people like you and me. We are pawns in a game created by the gods. I am aware of how much it hurt you. But…” the figure hugged him, resting their head against his chest.

The warmth of your body against his made him feel nostalgic. He wrapped his arms around you and stroked your hair. Things he had wanted to do ever since you’ve been gone.

“But what if we became gods? Together?”

Beelzebub froze.

“You and I?”

“Mhm… just us two. Only the two of us, we who wish to seize control of our fate and take hold of our desires. We would be unstoppable, a force so strong that not even the gods could challenge us. All would bow to you, worship you, praise you. Don’t you want that, ‘Bubs’?”

He pulled the figure closer. The affectionate nickname that he never heard for so long… it felt like music to his ears.

“Heh… you don’t say? How did you know of what I wish?”

“Bubs, you fool. You don’t think I wouldn’t know what my love would truly want?” The figure chuckled before leaning into his ear. “I’ve missed you so much, Bubs. I’ve thought of you alone all this time. I wished to see you every day and dreamt of you every night. Is my dedication to my lord enough to prove how much I missed you?”

“Silence.” He whispered back. “You speak too much. To think, you’ve been here all along. Heh, I bet he never could have-“

The figure shut him up with a kiss to his lips. How long he had waited for that when he was a young, foolish boy. But now he was a man, a man with desires and dreams. No longer would he wait, instead, he’d claim. Claim all he wanted and desired.

The separation came far too quickly for his liking, and he held the figure close.

“Don’t talk about him. I’m here, Bubs. I just want you to think of me.”

“Tell me now what we will do to take over the skies. I don’t want to keep us waiting for our throne any longer.”

“I never thought you’d ask,” the figure smiled. “There is a certain… power. One that many cannot wield. But you, you’re different. You’re special, unlike anyone else here. This power can sow chaos wherever it goes, it can rip and tear anything asunder.”

“And what is this power?”

“It is called, chaos matter.”

#a fool a sage and a lonely friend #granblue fantasy #gbf #granblue fantasy imagines #long post #lucilius x reader #beelzebub x reader #Beelzebub gbf #Lucilius gbf #gbf x reader imagines #gbf x reader

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bokura-no-digital-world · 2 years ago

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Hikari Week - Day 4: Friends and Family

Days: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] Title: Fun Day Characters: Hikari, Taichi and their sons Yamazaki and Takato, respectively. Summary: Hikari, Yamazaki and Takato have a fun day together. The temperature was already high for a typical spring day, especially so early in the morning. The breeze tried to mess with Hikari's long brown hair, but she had learned better and tied it on a high ponytail. She unlocked her car and watched Yamazaki get inside before doing so herself. "Did you get everything we'll need?" "Yes, mom." The seven-year old boy said in an annoyance tone and rolled his eyes. "You've asked this at least ten times already." "I'm sorry. I just don't want to remember we forgot to pick something while we are going to Taichi's house." "Everything's here, don't worry." "Alright." She looked over her shoulder towards the back of her car while she took it out of its parking spot. "Let's go."

Takato was trying to open the door, but he was still too small to reach the doorknob and frowned with frustration. Taichi walked into the small hall to answer to it and his son ran to sit down on the couch with his arms folded in front of his chest. The man smiled at Takato's temper and then twisted the door open. "Hello, sister." "Hi." Hikari grinned. "Good morning." "Good morning to you too." Taichi bent down a little to look at his nephew. "You get bigger each time I see you. How are you?" "I'm good." Yamazaki hugged him. "What about you?" "I'm good too." The older Yagami ruffled his hair and laughed. "They do grow up fast." Hikari said while she made her way inside the apartment. "I feel like I gave birth to him yesterday." "Time really flies by." "Yeah, enjoy while you can because they grow up very fast." "Oh I know it. Takato, come say hi to your aunt and cousin." "No!" "Did something happen?" "Where are you good manners, little guy?" Taichi looked over his shoulder and then to his sister. "I'm sorry about that. He was frustrated because he couldn't reach the doorknob to open the door for you." "That's funny. It reminds me of how someone used to be as a child." "Shut up." "It's so surreal how he's exactly your replica, physically and in personality." Hikari laughed. "Do you mind if I talk to him?" "Be my guest." Taichi shrugged and watched her approach his son. "Hey there, Takato." She knelt down in front of him, who was still frowning and with his arms folded. "Did you know your father was just like you when he was a child too?" "Why are you trying to embarrass me in front of my son?" "Shhh." Hikari made a gesture with her hand for him to be quiet, without taking her eyes from her nephew. "Really?" "Oh yes, he would lock himself in our bedroom and only open the door hours later. And you know what made him happy less angry?" "What?" "Going to the park for the whole day." Hikari poked him lightly and a subtle smile was formed on his lips. "Maybe this can help you feel happy too." "Let's go, Takato. It will be fun." Takato looked over to Taichi, like he was asking his father permission. Taichi simply shook his head affirmatively with a smile. "You can go." "Cool!" "So go get ready. Yamazaki, go help him." The child slipped from the couch and ran to his bedroom, followed closely by his cousin. "Thanks for taking him out." Taichi thanked Hikari as he poured himself another cup of coffee. "Akiko and I try to take him to different places every weekend, but she had something to do today and wasn't going to be able to do it and neither would I. So I'm glad that you offered to do it." "Anytime." Hikari smiled. "It's way harder when it's summer vacation. I've been there." "How did you cope with it?" "Well, Yamazaki wasn't as agitated as Takato, so it wasn't that difficult with him, actually. But I took turns with Katsuo." Just when Taichi opened his mouth to say something, Yamazaki and Takato walked back in the living room and drew attention of the Yagami siblings. "Mommy, we're ready." "Okay then. Let's go." Hikari turned to Taichi. "I'll bring him back by four." "Great. Thanks again, sister." "You're welcome. See you later."

Keep reading it on FF.net or AO3

#HikariYagamiWeek2022 #HikariWeek2022 #Hikari Yagami Week 2022 #Hikari Week 2022 #Digimon Adventure 02 #Digimon

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fiveisnumber1 · 4 years ago

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Timeless - Five Hargreeves x Reader

Word Count: 3850

Warnings: Mild Violence

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

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Pt 8 - Birthday Cash (part 1)

Sunlight shined through your curtains as the sounds of the city outside you started to wake you. Slowly you sat up and rubbed the sleep out of your eyes. When your eyes came into focus you took a look at the calendar you hung beside your bed. The date of it read October 1st, 2002. Today was your birthday. Shooting up from your bed you ran down the stairs of your home into the living room. Standing there were your two parents.

"Happy birthday!" Your parents exclaim

You looked around the room to see balloons and decorations everywhere. Every year, your parents went all out for your birthday. To both of them, your existence was a miracle and they wanted to show how grateful they were to have you. Even when you were small and they knew you wouldn't remember what they had done for your birthday they still went all out. You were their little princess and all they wanted to do was make your day the best it could be. As you looked around the room you saw decorations from wall to wall. There were streamers and balloons as far as the eye could see. You made your way over to your parents who both gave you a big hug.

"Alright sweetie you sit tight right here and your father and I will be right back!"

Taking a seat on your living room couch you sit and wait for your parents. When they come back into the room you see your mom carrying a cake and your father carrying a box. Your mom places the cake on the living room table and takes a seat to your left side while your dad sits to your right. The two of them sing happy birthday to you and when you have your wish in mind you blow the candles out in one go.

"What did you wish for?" Your dad asks you

"Honey, you know wishes don't come true if you talk about them." Your mom says

"Oh fine, I won't pry." your dad responds "Anyway I've got one of many gifts for you right here. Do you want to open it?"

"Of course!" You reply excitedly

Your dad places the box in your lap and you gently undo the ribbon tied around it. Opening the box you remove the tissue paper and see the gift inside.

"No way! It's exactly what I wanted!" You exclaim

Inside the box was a replica of the diary for The Princess Diaries. The movie came out a little over a year ago and since then you were obsessed. You wanted the diary from that movie specifically because you loved how it needed a locket that fit it perfectly to open it up.

"Well, you had been talking about the journal ever since you saw the movie. It took a while but we had it custom made for you. It's practically an exact replica except we had it so yours could fit more pages." Your mom explains

"Do you like it?" Your dad asks

"I LOVE IT!" You reply "But where is the locket?"

"Lift up the diary." You mom says

When you lifted the book up you saw not one but two lockets.

"Why are there two?" You ask

"Well, we wanted to make sure that if you lost the first one you could have a second one handy." Your dad responds

"Keep the second one in a safe place." Your mom says

"I will!" You reply

You knew exactly where you were going to keep the second locket but for now, you spent some time with your family eating cake for breakfast and taking in all the time that your parents had spent to make your day special. When the three of you finished your cake your dad states,

"Your mom and I have one more surprise for you but we need to go to the bank to get it. Go get ready so we can head out."

Excitedly you run upstairs and get ready. When you finish you eagerly wait for your parents downstairs. Once all of you have everything you need to go, you head out the door and off to the Capital West Bank.

__________________________

Today was October 1st, 2002 but in the Hargreeves household, this day was just like any other. Reginald Hargreeves cared little for birthdays or the acknowledgment that his children were another year older. Like for past birthdays, he merely congratulated them on not passing yet and went on with his day. Unlike Reginald, Grace was much more sympathetic and caring towards the kids and tried to make sure that they all felt special on their birthday. When the children came down from their rooms for breakfast she made sure that each one of them got their favorite thing to eat. She also wished each individual child Happy Birthday as she handed them their plates. This was the routine that occurred every October 1st since they could remember, but this year it would be a little different because the kids knew that later today they would get to celebrate with you. While they kept quiet when their father was at the table, the minute he left the chattering of excitement amongst the six siblings was unstoppable. Each one of them presented their ideas for what they wanted to do for a fun birthday. Diego suggested,

"We should play pin the tail on the donkey but instead it's balloons and we have to pop them with knives!"

"Diego, you would win that one automatically." Allison comments

"And? I want to be a winner on my birthday." He replies with a wide grin

"Well, I want to have a dance party for our birthday!" Allison says

"Oooh, I can get on board with that." Klaus comments

"I want to duet playing happy birthday with (Y/N)." Vanya comments

"And I think it would be fun if we just sit around and talk," Ben says

"Maybe if we're lucky she'll bring over presents and we'll actually get stuff this year!" Luther adds

"What do you want to do for our birthday, Five?" Vanya asks turning the attention to him

"I bet he wants to kiss (Y/N)." Diego interjects making kissy faces at Five "Mwah mwah mwah oh (Y/N) I love you so much!"

"Shut up." Five says looking away from his siblings, heat rising to his face

"You're not denying it." Luther teases

Luther and Diego start to tease their brother more and Klaus starts to sing,

"Five and (Y/N) sitting in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G! Fi-"

"Ugh! Leave me alone!" Five says grabbing his breakfast and getting up from the table

Five then flashes away to his room. His siblings were so annoying no matter what day it was. Ever since he had accidentally told them about a month ago that he loved you, they relentlessly teased him about it. Well, Diego, Luther, and Klaus did with Allison chiming in here and there. Ben and Vanya were more so supportive and stayed out of his business, which he appreciated. Nevertheless, it was difficult to deal with their incessant teasing. Yes, he loved you and yes, he's thought about kissing you but he couldn't find the courage to go through with it. You were his best friend, his only friend and he didn't want to lose you because he felt a certain way and you didn't. It was a risk he just wasn't willing to take because he couldn't be sure how you felt for him. Five sat down on his bed and angrily munched on his birthday breakfast hoping that soon enough something would happen to make the day more exciting.

__________________________

When you and your family arrived at the Capital West Bank you took a look around. It was very nice looking with high ceilings and a balcony upstairs that worked its way around the main room. Your father approached the counter and you followed. You ignored the conversation your father and the clerk were having and continued to look around. You saw many different people in the bank, some standing around, some going and then some coming in. As you watched a group of men walk in the door you grew suspicious. In your gut, you felt something shifty about them. Cautiously you watched them out of your peripheral to see what they were up to but to not be obvious about it. A bank teller then steps out from behind the counter and walks you over to a set of stairs directing you and your family up them. Bringing you to a back room the teller uses a key to unlock the door. In the room, you see wall to wall safes. Each one looking just as heavily secured as the next. Your father takes a step towards one of them and entered a passcode. When the safe opens in there is an exact replica of Princess Mia's tiara. Your father gently grabs it from the safe and places it on your head.

"A perfect princess tiara for our perfect birthday princess." Your mom comments

As you relish in the sweet moment with your parents you all hear some commotion from downstairs. Your family and the teller head out of the room and watch from the upstairs balcony as chaos breaks loose downstairs. You can hear the screams of other people in the main lobby as the men who you had a bad feeling about pull out some guns and start threatening people. The banker pulls you and your family back into the back room. Quickly your dad takes the tiara off your head and puts it back in the safe before closing it swiftly. The banker that brought you upstairs calls 911 and details the situation going on, but before he can finish talking to the 911 operator a couple of members of the who were in charge of this robbery shoot him. The criminals, uncaring of what they had just done to an innocent life proceeded to make their way over to you and your parents. Your parents get in front of you to put space between you and the criminals but it is useless because they end up forcing you three down on the ground and put duct tape around your wrists. As you're on the ground you give your mother a pleading look but she shakes her head no. You knew that you could use your powers to get you and your family out of this but your mom didn't want you to in fear of people taking you to do experiments. You let out a sigh as the robbers sit the three of you up. One of them sends the others outside to guard the room before turning to your father to interrogate him.

"Now tell me where this tiara is." The criminal commands

This is not how you expected your birthday to go.

__________________________

For the Hargreeves kids, their birthday was going the same as always, which is to say not much excitement was going on. They all separated and started to do their own things but their activities were interrupted when Reginald yelled,

"Children come down to the parlor immediately!"

All the children made their way down to the parlor as quickly as they could. Standing in an orderly line from 1 to 7 the children look to their father to hear what he has to say.

"You have been training to use your powers for years and now you have been presented the opportunity to go and demonstrate them to the world. The Capital West Bank is under siege by a group of robbers and the patrons inside have been taken as hostages. There has been a standoff with police for about two and a half hours at this point and I intend for you children to finish it. Get out of your pajamas and get in your uniforms, we leave in 10 minutes sharp."

The children run off to their rooms and rush to get ready for their first-ever mission. This was not quite the excitement they were looking for but nonetheless, it was better than nothing. Within 10 minutes' time, all the children were ready to go. Quickly, they made it to the bank. The six children with powers devised a plan to get inside while Vanya stayed with Mr. Hargreeves looking at the scene from afar. All the kids minus Luther make their way into the bank through side entrances trying to not get caught. As nonchalantly as possible Allison walked towards the main part of the bank. As she did so she saw one of the criminals talking on a walkie talkie.

"Hey get them behind the counter," He said to some other robbers using his gun to gesture "Now you've put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't wanna do. SHIT!"

She approaches the man and stands their innocently.

"Hey get back with the others!" The man commands to Allison

"I heard a rumor... Allison replies

"What? What did you say?" The man asks

Allison then leans in towards the man and repeats herself. Putting a hand up to her mouth she says,

"I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot."

Under the command of Allison's power, the man turns to his accomplice and aims the gun at him.

"Hey dude, what the hell?" the other man asks

The man under Allison's power then shoots his friend in the foot before shooting again. The other man falls to the ground and accidentally shoots off rounds from his automatic weapon. The hostages of the bank scream in fear. A crash then comes from the ceiling as a bunch of glass rains down into the bank. Along with the glass is Luther who jumps down into the bank, grabs one of the criminals banging his head against the counter before throwing him out of one of the high windows. Within seconds Diego runs in brandishing his weapons of choice,

"Guns are for sissies, real men throw knives!" He exclaims throwing his knives and redirecting them towards one of the gunmen

The knives manage to hit the gunman in the shoulder and his heart. After the one gunman got hit by Diego's knives, the man standing next to Allison came out of his trance and ran away from her towards the counter. As the kids and robbers continue to fight chaos continues to ensue throughout the whole building.

__________________________

You and your parents had been in the backroom upstairs for what felt like hours at this point. The man who stood before you kept yelling at your father to tell him where the safe that had your tiara was. Somehow your dad had avoided the question thus far but the criminal was becoming inpatient. The robber was about to speak again when the sound of gunshots rang out from downstairs.

"We're gonna have to move this along. If you're not going to tell me straight up then I'm just going to have to force it out of you!" The robber yells

The robber then grabs you and holds the gun in his hand against your head.

"You should let go of me before something happens." You comment calmly

"Aw, what are you gonna do? Cry?" The man mocks

"You asked for it." You reply

In one swift motion, you phase backward through the man and kick him towards a desk that was in the room. As he falls over it you grab the letter opener and stab the man in the back with it hitting his heart. Undoing your parents' bindings you tell them,

"Stay here."

"But-" Your mom interjects

"STAY HERE" you command them

Within a second's time, you had phased through the door and into the middle of the upstairs hallway. Making yourself visible you use your powers to manifest the tiara in your hand and hold it up.

"Hey!" you yell grabbing the attention of the armed robbers "Looking for this?"

The angry men start to chase you but you turn invisible.

"Where'd she go?" One of them asks

One of the men walks down the hall to see if he can find you. Once the men are on two opposite side of the hall you reappear and taunt,

"If you want this crown you'll have to kill me for it."

The two men turn their guns on you and start to rapidly fire but you use your powers to make them go through you harmlessly and the two men end up killing each other. After you confirm they were incapacitated you hear a voice yell,

"Get back you freaks!"

Looking down from the balcony you see a man standing on top of the bank counter surrounded by Allison, Diego, and Klaus in their academy uniforms. You wonder when they got here but continue watching. the man points his gun at each of them he demands,

"Hey be careful up there buddy," Klaus comments

"Yeah, wouldn't want you to get hurt" Allison chimes

"Get back now!" The criminal demands

Five flashes behind the man so he is sitting criss-cross on the counter.

"Or what?" He asks with a cocky smile

The man turns his attention and gun to Five and starts shooting but Five had flashed away before any bullets could hit him. Flashing behind the man once more he crosses his arms, a serious look on his face. The man on the counter turns to him and starts clicking a stapler at him. Five looks down at the stapler before sarcastically commenting,

"That's one badass stapler."

Immediately after though Five forcefully pushes the man's hand. The stapler hits hard causing a gash in his head and the man to fall off the counter. Your jaw drops and your heart starts to race a little.

"Damn," you whisper to yourself

Something about him kicking that guys ass was really attractive to you. Forgetting that you were in the middle of fighting one of the robbers grabs you and takes the tiara out of your hand. You phase out of his arms and say,

"Either the crown goes down on the group or you go up in the air."

"You're not getting this back." The man states

"Alright, don't say I didn't warn you."

And with that you make it so this man's molecules are extremely light and hang him upside down in the air over the lobby of the bank. Freaking out he throws the tiara over the balcony and it lands by your feet. Not part of your plan but you are satisfied nonetheless. You continue to leave the man hanging as you watch your friends downstairs. Outside the vault five of the six children stand in a semi-circle around Ben.

"Do I really have to do this?" Ben asks

"C'mon Ben there are more of them in the vault," Luther says

"I didn't sign up for this," Ben says in a resigned tone

Ben enters the vault and begins to take out the men in their one by one. From across the room the man you were holding yells,

"Put me down!"

The five children left outside the vault switch their attention and see a man dangling upside down in the air. Looking slightly above him they can see you standing on the balcony above.

"I said put me down you crazy bitch!"

"You got it." You reply with a smirk before making the man's molecules extremely dense

The man rapidly falls down towards the floor of the lobby and impales himself on a flagpole. Five looks up at you an admiring smile on his face and awe in his eyes (even if they were hidden behind a mask). He had never seen someone so beautifully kebob a man.

"Wow." Five said to himself

The hostages in the bank start to run out of the building screaming. You transport yourself downstairs to the middle of the lobby and watch the bloodbath occur behind the translucent glass of the vault. When it stops you see Ben slowly step out from behind the door and he can be heard saying,

"Can we go home now?"

You see the children walk around the counter to make their way over to you. Even behind their masks, you could see the excitement in their faces especially that of Five. The children approach you but as they do you can see one of the men still alive get up and quickly make their way over to your group. Raising their gun up, they point it in their direction. He could've aimed at any one of you but he pointed his gun at Five. Quickly reacting you yell,

"Five watch out!"

You then transport your molecules so that you are between Five and the gunman. The gunman pulls his trigger but you push his arm up so that the shot hits the ceiling. You wrap your hand around his neck and look him in the eyes. Adrenaline rushing through your veins all you could think about was how this man almost killed the boy you loved. You were about to say something when,

*BANG*

Your entire top part of your body was covered in red. The body of the man falls backward and you see that all that was left was the shoulders down. You blink a couple of times coming to the realization of what you just did. Slowly turning to the group of kids Diego exclaims,

"HOLY SHIT (Y/N), YOU BLEW HIS HEAD OFF! THAT'S SO COOL.”

"Uh, thanks." you comment before gesturing to yourself and adding "Hey Ben, looks like we're twins now.”

You see a smile appear on the face of the boy who didn't want to be here in the first place. He didn't say anything but it brought him comfort to know you were in the same boat as him. You watch as Five opens his mouth to say something but before he can you hear someone screaming your name from above you. Turning around you see your parents. You wave to them from the lobby floor.

"Hi, mom! Hi dad!" You say as if nothing was wrong

You and the Hargreeves kids all watch as your parents rush down the stairs to get to you. When your mom gets to you she crouches down looking all over you for injuries.

"Oh my god (Y/N) are you okay? You're all covered in blood!" She cries

"Don't worry mom, it's not my blood!" You say with a positive attitude

Your mom wails in distress at the sight of her baby covered in someone else's blood.

"Honey, I don't think that was the right answer." You dad comments putting a hand on your mom's shoulder

"Oh uh, well then it is-" You start to say

"No don't finish that sentence, that's not it either." Your dad adds

Your dad helps your distressed mom off the floor and places a hand on your back escorting you all to the door. As the three of you walk he says,

"You know what. We're gonna go home and you're gonna get all that blood off you and then your mom and I are going to lay down for the rest of the day while you do whatever makes you happy for your birthday.”

The six children watch as you make your way out the door with your parents but before you exit you turn to smile at them knowing that you would see them later. As soon as you leave the kids rush out to the front steps so that the public can acknowledge them for the first time. This was the most exciting birthday they had had so far but they all knew it would only get better once you came over to celebrate later.

Tag list: @xplrreylo @joebob15274 @insatiable-ivy @fruitsaladtree @angelpeachamber @academy-umbrella @lizziel1410 @ir3neeee @faith-quake @aliens-with-colas @eddiomyspaghettio @lady-celeste25 @im-dead-and-hurting @nerdypinupcrystal @cherry-ki-d @anapocalypseinmymind

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geminiamethyst · 2 years ago

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Running. Chapter 22: Back On The Road

Chapter 1: click HERE

Chapter 21: click HERE

Chapter 23: click HERE

Mist drifted from the frozen part of the field. It wasn’t great, but it was better than letting a wildfire burn. The sun was doing its best to thaw out the ice, but albeit very slowly. It wouldn’t be that much of a surprise if the ice wouldn’t be melted for at least a couple more days at most. All the more to clear the area as soon as possible before someone sees the field. The further the group was, the safer that they would be from non-Limitless. Kugutsu hasn’t come back. Either he’s given up, or he’s started to make new puppets to be ready to attack again. Still, they need to leave as soon as they can. Maki helped Taka to wrap up his hands. She didn’t touch his hands (he didn’t want her to make direct contact with his skin), so she used her telekinesis to do the job. She had to make a few layers since the first and second froze the second since the fabric made contact with Taka’s skin. She tried to make the bandages like gloves so the wrapping would be like the gloves that he had before. Hopefully it would hold for a while.

Meanwhile, Kaito and Mondo were checking over their bikes. Since Kaito brought it up, the group became paranoid that they might be tracked. Since they hadn’t been with their vehicles until they escaped, there could be a possibility that Orochi had someone place trackers on the bikes, especially Mondo’s since he and Taka had been in the Underground the longest out of the group. They just wanted to make sure that there wasn’t anything there.

“Found anything?” Maki asked, packing away the remaining roll of bandages. Taka clenched his fists, making sure that the bandages weren’t going to come loose. Maki did a good job with this temporary solution. Hopefully, he’ll find a pair of gloves that would be a better solution.

“Nothing on my bike. Mondo?” Kaito muttered, scratching his head.

“Nothing! Whatever piece of shit that we’re looking for ain’t here!” Mondo grumbled.

“Or any possible trackers could be very well hidden.” Maki sighed. That made the group a bit more concerned. If there was a hidden track that they can’t see, then that’s a huge problem. They’d have to wait for them to get out to Tokyo and hopefully Miu would be able to destroy it thanks to her powers. Remembering the first problem that started the entire fight, Mondo pulled out the wooden replica of his motorbike. Again, he fought the urge to burn it since he knows that he could unintentionally destroy his own motorbike. After a few minutes, he could see what the problem was. He pulled something off of it and passed the model to Kaito.

“Looks like that son of a bitch forced the brakes to suddenly come on. I removed the thing that caused it, so my bike should be working now.” He muttered as he at down on his motorbike. Everyone waited with baited breath as the engine roared to life. Things seemed to be okay now. Wanting to make extra sure, Mondo started driving. He picked up speed effortlessly. He tore down the road before abruptly turning to get back to the group. Seemed like that did the trick. Mondo turned again and pulled over to the group, a wide grin on his face. He was back in his element. “Yes! We can start moving now!”

“Would you please be more careful? You could’ve been in an accident!” Taka exclaimed, sounding genuinely concerned about how reckless Mondo had acted with his test drive.

“Shut the fuck up! It’s my fucking bike, moron!” Mondo scowled, throwing the concern away like it was garbage. Taka went silent, opting not to fight on this argument. Or the fight had taken most of his energy out of him. Mondo went quiet at this too, but smirked knowing that he won that round.

“So…don’t suppose there are any Limitless in the Underground that has teleportation or something like that?” Maki asked. Despite the conflict being gone between the two, she wanted to be sure that the argument wouldn’t escalate. Mondo gripped the handle bars tightly after switching off the engine, his knuckles cracking from the grip, a troubled look on his face. Taka gripped his arm uncomfortably and looked like he had remembered something that he wished that he didn’t. The teens didn’t like the look of this.

“There was one. But-” Taka finally answered.

“Why didn’t you warn us?!” Kaito shouted, feeling like he and Maki had been betrayed. Had they known this information, they could’ve been more careful, even if the attack wasn’t avoided.

“Because it’s impossible that it’s him.” Taka answered, putting up his hands in a calming gesture.

“How can you be so sure?” Kaito asked, a little confused. Taka seemed too sincere to lie about something like this.

“You remember the Arena kid? What do you think woulda happened to you if I didn’t help ya?” Mondo spoke up, not missing a beat.

“You mean he’s-” Kaito shuddered, coming out in a cold sweat. He had a horrible feeling about what the answer was.

“Yep.” Mondo sighed, looking down at the tarmac. So, the Limtless that they were talking about was definitely gone. The snake that almost devoured Kaito had dealt with them. It was something that no one would wish upon anyone, even their worse enemy. Just the thought of being squeezed to the point of passing out from not breathing, having the bones in your body snap and then being swallowed whole whilst still alive was absolutely haunting. It was a death that was sure to be slow and agonising. One of the planet’s worst ways to go.

“But this doesn’t make any sense.” Taka sighed, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “There’s no other Limitless in the Underground that are like that. So I don’t know how or why Kugutsu was here.” That was a a scary thought. If there truly wasn’t anyone with teleportation powers when they left, then how else did Kugutsu catch up to them? And how did he find them? They were miles away from the town by now. Even if the group pulled over for a bit of rest, it would’ve taken a couple of hours at most. And they would’ve moved on too. That’s why they wanted to check for trackers before they started moving again. It was scary that they couldn’t find a tracker on either vehicle. Maybe they should check their bags when they were somewhere that was a bit safer to check. It was too dangerous to continue searching while they were out in the open.

“For now, we can’t think about that. Now that Owada’s bike has been fixed up, we need to leave.” Maki sighed, immediately picking up her helmet. “The longer we stay, the higher chance that the freak will be back.” No one could say anything else and silently agreed. Before slipping on her helmet, Maki carefully packed the wooden dolls away in her bag. She placed them in a way that they wouldn’t get damaged. She even wrapped them in a shirt as a way for extra cushioning. She fiddled with an uneven end of her hair. She should definitely cut her hair properly once they were more well hidden.

“Owada, I hate to sound like Ishimaru, but please try not to go too fast.” She said as she approached Mondo’s bike. She had a feeling that she and Kaito were still trying to keep some distance to avoid the two Limitless from fighting again. It was confirmed as Kaito led Taka to his motorcycle. “We don’t want another incident if we get separated and unable to get help should we need it.”

“Fine.” Mondo sighed heavily, knowing that she was right in saying that. Maki smiled slightly before slipping on her helmet and mounted behind Mondo. “Hey, Maki. You can call me Mondo. I hate being formal, especially since I’m gonna be around you two kids for a while.”

“If you insist then, Mondo.” Maki said, smiling a little behind her helmet. She had a feeling that he biker told Kaito a similar thing since her boyfriend had been informal with the biker since leaving the Underground. Honestly, she didn’t mind being informal, she was just trying to be polite earlier. At least she can feel a little more friendly towards the biker.

Kaito watched the scene. He had to admit that he was a little jealous, but he knows that there was still tension between Mondo and Taka, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Still, he missed having Maki behind him. He was too used to having her there after a full year. He’ll just have to tough it out until Mondo and Taka make up or they get to Tokyo. Honestly Kaito was hoping for the former more than the latter.

“Um…Momota?” Taka suddenly spoke up.

“You can call me Kaito you know. What’s up?” Kaito asked, slipping his helmet on his head.

“If your waist starts freezing up, please let me know. I don’t want to accidentally hurt you.” Taka said, hesitant to get behind Kaito. Kaito looked down at Taka’s hands, seeing that the bandages were being effective for now. So far there wasn’t any ice on the fabric so Taka didn’t need to worry. Maki had done a great job with making sure that there wouldn’t be any incidents.

“Sure thing, Taka!” Kaito smiled reassuringly, still wanting to make Taka more comfortable. Taka smiled sheepishly but still wasn’t sure if he was fully convinced. Nonetheless he slipped behind Kaito and started to hold on tight as the engine came to life. Mondo’s did the same and Maki looked back. Kaito gave a thumbs up as Mondo started to drive down the road. Kaito followed suit as well, feeling Taka grip tighter to his waist. He ignored the fact that even whilst freezing through the bandages, Taka was still cold against him. He put that down as a normal thing for Taka to have because of his powers. No need to think about that as they were finally moving again.

Hopefully, now there’ll be more distance from the Underground and there won’t be anymore problems.

Right?

“Do you have her?”

“No. They cut the strings of my beautiful puppets. But they’re still tied to them. If I can get the puppets back-”

“What have I told you?”

“To get the girl. To bring her-”

“You have one chance. That’s what I told you. You’ve squandered it.”

“Please! Give me another chance!”

“You’re out of chances. Goodbye.”

#running fic #limitless sequel #dr #drv3 #super power au #Kaimaki #ishimondo #kaito momota #maki haruwaka #Kiyotaka Ishimaru #mondo owada

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nhlandotherimagines · 4 years ago

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Family isn’t Always Blood-Part 3

Masterlist | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 4 |

Summary: will it be a boy? A girl? Will Kinsey and Elias be able to plan a wedding while expecting? Guess you’ll have to find out.

Author’s Notes: This took me WAY too long I’m sorry! Let me know what you think though? Was it what you expected? Was it bad? Good? I’d love to hear from you :)

Word Count: approx. 4.5k

Warnings: The usual really. Lots of crying (both happy and sad tears), pregnancy, absent parents, strong language, nothing too crazy though. Let me know if there is anything I should add here please

3…

2…

Elias’ fingers find the zipper on the garment bag, and I place my hand gently over his. His hand shakes under mine, and although I know it’s mostly excitement, I can tell he's nervous as we slowly pull down the zipper together.

As the garment bag falls away, my heart stops. There is no way this is happening, not right now! Elias’ hand drops from mine as he steps back slightly, as the people around me seem to let out a collective gasp. Tears burn my eyes, and before I can stop them, they’re falling down my face. This is NOT what I expected.

“Kinsey?” Elias’ voice is nervous, likely because I’ve yet to react to the scene in front of me. The jersey was not pink, or blue. In fact it wasn’t even a jersey at all. In place of the jersey we had all been anticipating, was a white onesie with red lettering across the front.

My hands at some point made their way to my face as I’m now using them to hold in the ugly sobs wracking my body. The tears in my eyes blurring the words in front of me, but it doesn’t matter, because I’ll never forget them. I’ll never unsee them. The five words that changed my life.

WILL YOU MARRY MY DADDY?

“Baby, turn around. Please?” Elias' voice is gentle when he speaks, but it sounds loud in the intense silence that has settled over everyone.

I slowly turn around, my knees feel weak, my vision is blurred, and my entire body is trembling. It’s a miracle I’m still standing, and even breathing for that matter. When I’ve finally turned around completely, my whole world stops. Elias slowly drops down on one knee, and as he looks up at me with those beautiful blue eyes no one else is here. It’s just him and I at this moment. A nervous smile on his face as he slowly pulls open the velvet box I hadn’t even noticed until now, I lose it. I collapse to my knees in front of him, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and as I cry into his shoulder.

“Last time I checked I’m the only one supposed to be on their knee for this.” Elias chuckles, and the room around us does the same, reminding me we aren’t alone. I lean back to look at him, but don’t let go. His face is blotchy, and his eyes are bloodshot as tears stream silently down his face. “Kins, you amaze me more and more each day. You’re an amazing woman, girlfriend, mother, and there is absolutely no question that you’d make the best wife. So, if you don’t mind, I’d like to make you mine. Kinsey Waters, will you marry me?”

“R-really?” The word is choked out in between breaths, as I search his face for hesitation.

“Yes!” He chuckles, lifting the ring up in front of my face. He shakes it teasingly, eyebrows raising as if to say ‘would I be lying?’.

“Yes.” The word tumbles past my lips, and I can’t stop it. Not that I want to. “Oh my god! Yes!” The squeal that escapes me is quickly drowned out by the cheers surrounding me, as I gather Elias’ face in my hands and crash my lips to his.

I cling to Elias like I don’t want to let go, grasping at his shirt, his hair, anything to ground myself. The kiss, the moment, this man; it’s all so overwhelming. I never want it to end.

As it turns out, not everyone is on board with that. “Okay! Okay! That’s enough, can we please find out about the baby. There will be time to fornicate after we’re all gone!” Brock yells from behind the camera, as more laughter fills the apartment.

Elias groans in response, but pulls away. I smile brightly as he slips the ring onto my finger, and for the first time I actually look at the ring. It’s simple, not too flashy, and yet I know if I saw the receipt I’d likely vomit at the price tag. It’s elegant. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed of and so much more. “It’s perfect.” I breathe out, and Elias chuckles. Bringing my hand to his lips he places a gentle kiss to my knuckles before rising to his feet, helping me off the floor in the process.

“Please tell me you have the actual jersey somewhere.” I giggle, catching Brock tapping his foot impatiently out of the corner of my eye.

“I do, one sec!” Elias quickly leaves the room, and I’m immediately swarmed by the other WAGs and Brock. Brock is quick to zoom in on the ring with the camera, as he makes commentary that is definitely not needed, but something Elias and I will both enjoy when we watch the recording back later.

“Okay! ” Elias announces, as he makes his way back into the room. “Are you ready for the real thing?” He’s now holding an identical garment bag to the one we had unzipped minutes prior, and I can’t help but wonder just how difficult this whole surprise was to pull off.

Elias removes the first hanger from the stall, and replaces it with the new garment bag. He motions me over, a large grin on his face, as everyone goes back to where they had previously been standing.

Elias’ hand finds mine again, as we both grip the tiny zipper. It feels different this time. Maybe it’s the ring sitting on my finger, or maybe it’s just the adrenaline coursing through my veins. As the countdown begins around us for the second time today, I become more and more impatient.

3…

2…

My stomach flutters, and I can’t bring myself to look as Elias’ hand moves with my own to pull down the zipper. Instead I watch him. His eyes bright as they seemingly shimmer with excitement. He’s so beautiful, and he’s mine. My fiancé, and the father of my child. The new weight on my ring finger, and my round stomach physical proof of just that.

Almost instantaneously, I feel his hand fall from mine and it finds his face, along with the other. He falls again to one knee, but this time he cries into his hands as everyone around us erupts into cheers. The moment feels absolutely surreal, and overwhelming, and I have yet to even look at the tiny jersey in the garment bag. It doesn’t feel like it matters, not in this moment anyway. The only things that matter are that we are happy, life is good, it’s pink, and we are a family. It’s pink.

Immediately my eyes snap back to the now open garment bag that my eyes had previously skipped over. The tiny jersey hanging before me was a tiny replica of the one I was wearing. It’s pink alright. It’s a girl.

As I turn back to Elias, his arms wrap around my waist as he begins whispering against my stomach. Again, all of his words muttered in Swedish. All I can make out is ‘I love you”, and ‘my girls’, and even without understanding any of the other words, my heart swells and tears wet my cheeks again.

I card my fingers through his hair, the beautiful ring standing out even more against the blonde. Cameras and flashes, along with many cheers and exclamations of ‘I knew it!’, fill both the room and my heart. This is it, the family I’ve always craved. Although it may not be conventional, it’s mine.

———

The movie Elias is playing on the tv does little to hold my attention. Not even because it’s bad, in fact it’s one of my favourites, but my head is all over the place today.

“Everything okay love?” Elias asks, eyebrows furrowed in worry when I look at him. I nod, but it’s evidently not enough for him to believe me. “Talk to me Kins.” He continues, pressing pause on the movie, removing my only form of distraction.

“She doesn’t have a name.” I’m deflecting, and Elias knows it. Instead of pressing the issue further though, he smiles sweetly over at me. I’m stretched out comfortably across the majority of the couch, my legs draping across his lap. His hand lightly rubs my thigh in comfort.

“Well did you have any in mind?” I shake my head stretching my hands over my growing bump, my ring on full display. Elias clears his throat, and I can tell he wants to say something, but he looks nervous. “What about your mom?”

“What about her?” My response is unnecessarily rude, but his question caught me completely off guard. He’s been trying for months to get me to talk about her, and I’ve successfully shut him down every time.

“Did you maybe want to incorporate her name?” His eyes refuse to meet my own, instead they stay fixed on his fingers that are busying themselves with the hem of my sweats. The scoff that leaves my mouth is dramatic, sure, but I’m beyond pissed he’d even make that suggestion.

“Why would I? She’s done nothing for me.”

Elias’ face falls, and his eyes meet mine. The look of pity he sends me would normally make me feel better, but today it makes me even more angry. “I’m sorry, I just thought-“

“Yeah well you thought wrong didn’t you!” I snap, cutting him off as I rise to my feet. I stand up too quickly, and immediately I feel light headed. My knees buckle a bit, and my vision goes fuzzy momentarily. Elias is quick to his feet, hands finding my waist to steady me.

Once my vision is back, and I feel steady again, I push away from Elias. He calls after me, but I just keep walking.

It’s not his fault, and I’m being dramatic. As soon as I step into our shared room, I know I’m out of line. It’s embarrassing, my whole life is. How can I tell someone, like Elias, who loves their mom dearly, that when I think of the woman who gave birth to me, the thoughts aren’t pleasant. Very little about my childhood was. Yes, I sound ungrateful, and to a degree I am. There were always good times, always. However it’s hard to look back fondly on those times, when almost all of them are plagued with heartbreak or disappointment in some form or another.

As I close the bedroom door behind me angrily, I pull off my sweats and crawl into the empty bed. Though I’ve slept without Elias many nights given his schedule, the bed has never felt so lonely. Tears soak my pillowcase, but my body barely even reacts. No dramatic sobbing, or trembling. I just lay here, numb, tears flowing steadily.

After what felt like forever, but was likely only a few minutes, the bedroom door creaks open. I don’t dare to acknowledge Elias as he closes the door behind him quietly. I lay silently, my back to him, as he removes his shirt. The covers pull back, and I feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind me.

We both lay there silently for a moment, neither of us moving. Only a few inches separate us, but they feel like miles. I can’t take the silence, or the fact that I can practically hear the gears turning in my fiancé’s head.

“I’m sorry.” I mumble, sniffling slightly. Elias lets out a breath, before wrapping himself around me. He places a gentle kiss to my head, letting his hand travel under my shirt to rest on my bare stomach.

“Me too.” He whispers into my hair. “I should’ve known, I just thought because it was a tradition, that maybe you’d want to. I didn’t mean to upset you Kins. I’m really sorry.” His voice shakes a little, but he takes a breath again to steady himself before adding, “I love you.”

Before I can even respond to him, it hits me. I sit up quickly, and Elias’ arm falls into my lap. He pushes himself up on his elbows, eyes widening with concern. “Adeline.”

“What?” He is obviously confused, and I can’t blame him. I just ignored his entire apology to blurt out some random name.

“Adeline Irene Pettersson. Addy for short.” I pause, suddenly feeling embarrassed by my wave of excitement. “I don’t know. What do you think?” I pray the nerves aren’t apparent in my voice. Picking a name for a person is a big deal, it has to be perfect.

“Adeline.” Elias repeats the name out loud thoughtfully. The name rolls off of his tongue beautifully, and I can’t fight the smile growing on my face. “Kinsey, I think it’s perfect.”

Elias rolls onto my legs, his face resting just in front of my stomach. I lean back, and run a hand through his hair.

Placing soft kisses to my stomach, Elias once again whispers to the baby. “Adeline, you have the most amazing momma. She loves you so much. Probably more than she loves me, and that’s a lot.” I can’t help but giggle softly at his words, despite the tears in my eyes. “You’re so loved, and we cannot wait to meet you.”

I smile down at Elias, a single tear slipping down my face. He returns the smile, but it quickly falls as my eyes widen in shock. “She’s kicking!” I practically scream, grabbing Elias’ wrist, bringing his hand over to where I had just felt our daughter kick. He waits hopefully for more movement.

Moments pass, and still nothing. “C’mon Addy, do it for daddy.” I plead, my heart breaking at the disappointment on Elias’ face.

As if she had actually understood the task she’d been given, the baby kicks even harder than before. Her foot jams hard into my stomach, right against her father’s waiting palm. The feeling, although still relatively new for me, was an entirely new experience for him. His eyes nearly pop out of his head, jaw practically hitting the floor.

“A daddy’s girl already?” I giggle, another tear slipping down my cheek. “There is no hope for me now.”

Elias shakes his head, and glances up at me briefly. His eyes find mine for just a second, with a smile on his face he looks back at my stomach. “You’re not going to be a daddy’s girl or a momma’s girl are you Addy?” He whispers, as the baby kicks again as if in response to his question. “You’re gonna be your own girl. Strong and independent, just like your momma.”

Elias fell asleep like that a while later. Head resting on my hip, a hand on my stomach, while my hands threaded through his soft hair. Life is good. I have a family now, and I would do anything for either of them. “I will make sure you never question my love for you both. No one deserves that.” I whisper before drifting to sleep myself.

———

“Shit!” Something hitting the floor loudly, followed immediately by Elias cursing wakes me. I’m quickly on my feet and rushing down the hall. I had been asleep on the couch, having passed out while reading some parenting book. So, when I round the corner into our bedroom, I’m confused to find it lacking my fiancé’s presence.

“Elias? Where are you?” I call out, fear lacing my words.

“I’m in here sweetheart.” He calls back. I follow his voice further down the hall to the guest room.

As I reach the doorway of the guest room, the scene in front of me has a giggle bubbling up my throat. Elias is on the floor, surrounded by various tools and wooden pieces, a frustrated, and thoroughly exhausted look painting his face. “Everything okay in here?”

“Wha- oh yeah.” He huffs, tucking a pencil behind his ear. He’s holding two identical pieces of wood in either hand, letting out another noise of frustration.

“Whatcha doing?” I place the back of my hand over my mouth trying to suppress my laughter, though my smile is audible in my words.

“Well.” He groans, placing both pieces down before pulling himself to his feet. “The plan was to have the crib together before you woke up from your nap.” He walks to me placing his hands softly on my hips. “Though, as you can see, that hasn’t happened.”

“Well the instructions can’t be that confusing are they?” I smile, and his face falls slightly. “You did use the instructions. Right?” Elias’ cheeks darken, and his eyes fall to his feet.

“I thought I could do it on my own.” He mumbles, and there is no stopping my laugh now. He frowns in embarrassment, as I do my best to catch my breath.

“Babe! The instructions don’t do it for you, they are a guideline for you to do it. On your own.” I explain shaking my head with a giggle, and pushing past him into the room. I quickly find the instructions crumpled into a ball on the floor. I unfold it, and read through it quickly.

“Well?” His voice hopeful, as he watches me inspect the now crinkled paper.

“Yeah I have no idea.” I sigh, leaning against the wall. “Time to call in the boys I think.”

———

“Who thought it was wise to let the three of you do this?” I giggle, placing three beer down on the dresser.

“You?” Quinn answers, eyebrows furrowed in confusion while Elias sends me a glare.

“Oh right. Well I’ll just blame my poor judgement on the pregnancy.”

Elias is obviously getting quite flustered about the whole process. He curses in Swedish, while poor Quinn sits beside him looking scared for his life. Brock finally finishes screwing two pieces together, and beams over at me before grabbing a beer. “Thanks Kins!”

“You’re very welcome Brock.” I place a hand on my stomach and make a point of talking dramatically. “See Addy? That’s why uncle Brock is our favourite.”

“Addy?” Quinn and Brock both ask in unison.

“Adeline. Addy for short.” Elias explains, with a smile bright enough to blind someone.

“What do you guys think?” I ask, pulling my lip between my teeth. Sure, we don’t need anyone’s approval, but their opinions are very important to both Elias and myself.

“It’s cute!” Quinn smiles at me.

“Cute?” Brock sends Quinn a look I could only describe as a mix between shock and disappointment. My heart rate increases. Great Brock hates it! “It's absolutely beautiful!”

The sigh of relief that leaves my body has all three men laughing. I can’t help but join in, as the three of them begin bickering over the next step in the crib building process. They are always so chaotic, and yet I love every second of the chaos. This baby will likely learn all kinds of trouble from Brock and Quinn, but I certainly wouldn’t want it any other way.

———

As my pregnancy progresses, Elias becomes more and more doting almost daily. Not letting me lift anything bigger than a book, tying my shoes, helping me get dressed, you name it and he’s done it. Honestly, it’s become slightly annoying. On nights like this though, I truly appreciate it.

Elias sits on one end of the couch, as I lay across its length, my feet in his lap. He rubs the balls of my feet, as I write in the wedding planner he’d purchased not long after our engagement. He smiles softly at me, as I chew the end of my pen deep in thought as I stare at the guest list.

“How many groomsmen do you want?” The question falls past my lips as he reaches over to pull the pen from between my teeth.

“Well, definitely I’d want my brother as my best man, and probably three more guys. To keep it even just how you like it.” Elias winks, nudging my leg with a chuckle. I roll my eyes, but smile anyway, because he’s absolutely right. Even numbers are always nice.

“Okay.” Four people is reasonable, but now I have to find a maid of honour and three bridesmaids. That shouldn’t be hard, but I have no idea who to ask. Holly for sure was a given, but beyond her I wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Are we inviting your parents?” Elias’ question comes entirely out of left field, and it feels like someone punched me in the throat. Were we? Do I want to? Should I? They only know about Elias from a singular instagram post. They don’t even know about the baby.

Elias must see the gears in my head turning, because he sends me a soft smile. “Why don’t we make invitations for them, and you can decide later if you want to send them or not? No need to let it stress you out too much babe.”

Reluctantly I agree. Would I regret not inviting them? Would I regret inviting them?

———

I’ve spent the last week making the invitations, painting each by hand. Was it crazy to do? Yes absolutely. I know that, but I want them to be personal.

“Have you even moved since I left?” Elias’ voice startles me. He left some time ago for his morning practice, at that point I had already been up working on them for an hour. He chuckles as I shrug, and places a kiss to my temple. “You’re crazy.”

“And yet, you’re going to marry me.” I tease, sticking my tongue out at him.

He places a sweet kiss to my lips, pulling away with a smirk. “Who told you that?”

Rolling my eyes, I shove a hand playfully into his chest. “Well you don’t have to, but if I just spent a whole week making these invitations and there isn’t going to be a wedding,” I pause sending him a ‘threatening’ glare. “You better run Pettersson.”

Throwing his head back, Elias laughs heartily. Hand clutching his stomach, as he struggles to catch his breath. “You’re adorable.” He manages to get out between laughs.

“Great, so you’ll drop these off at the post office on your way to the rink later.” Punctuating my request with a wink.

A groan leaves my body as I pull myself from the chair at the kitchen table. Elias is quickly by my side in aid, no longer laughing. His face twists in concern, hands finding my hips. “Don’t worry babe, I’ll drop them off. Now come nap with me?” He doesn’t wait for an answer. Instead he wraps a hand softly around my wrist, pulling me gently in the direction of our bedroom.

I can’t argue. Instead I follow him, body aching from how I’d been sitting at the table all morning. Elias carefully pulls back the covers, rearranging my pillows, and strips down to just his sweats. I quietly thank him as I attempt to get comfortable, something that’s become increasingly more difficult as of late.

Climbing in behind me, Elias pulls me into his side and places a hand gently across my growing bump. “You going to let Momma rest Addy?” He asks softly, eyes already closing. I watch him closely, and a small smile forms on his face as he rubs gentle circles on my stomach.

“You know watching someone sleep is kind of weird.” His voice is gravely and my face flushes in embarrassment.

“I wasn’t-“

“Mhm.” His lips quirk up into a smirk, eyes not opening once. “Get some rest babe.”

“Fine.” I grumble, placing my head on his chest. His breathing evens out, and his heart beat is steady in my ear. I place a hand on his chest, curling into his side the best I can given the fact my stomach is in the way. My fingers lazily trace patterns across his bare chest, eyes beginning to feel heavy.

“Love you Kins.” Elias’ voice is low, and I can hear how tired he is.

“Love you too Lias.”

It’s not long before Elias is snoring quietly beneath me. Everything feels so right, here in his arms. Like nothing bad could happen. With the feeling of ease settling into my bones, it isn’t long before I’m falling asleep too.

———

Somehow I managed to sleep through Elias getting up and getting ready. When I finally wake up, he is long gone.

Picking up my phone, my face lights up at the message displayed on my screen.

Elias❤️: I let you sleep. You needed it. Don’t worry though, the invitations were mailed. There is some pizza in the fridge for you if you want it. See you tonight xx

I respond with a quick thank you text, making sure to wish him luck with his game. Grabbing some pizza I settle into the sofa, and turn the game on.

Watching Elias play hockey always manages to put a smile on my face. He’s so incredibly talented, and extremely humble. It’s one of the many things I love about him.

No matter how important hockey is to him though, he always makes sure I know that our family is more important. Always. It’s the reassurance I never knew I needed, but Elias has always made sure it’s there without being asked.

———

Lazy Sundays have become somewhat routine for Elias and I. We wake up, Elias works out while I write, we eat breakfast together, and we spend the rest of the day working on our own things. Today has gone a lot like that.

Currently I’m editing some of my writings while Elias scrolls through Instagram from his spot beside me. Aside from the clicking of my keyboard as I type, and an occasional chuckle from Elias, the room is peaceful. That is until there is a knock on the door. “Babe can you answer that please?”

Elias hums in response, pulling himself from the couch. We aren’t expecting anyone, but it’s not uncommon for one of the boys to drop in, or to have someone trying to sell us something on a Sunday. So much to my surprise it’s a woman’s voice at the door, asking for me specifically. “Is Kinsey here?”

Elias walks back into the living room, a look of confusion on his face. “There is someone at the door for you babe?” His statement sounds more like a question, and has my heart rate increasing. Who could be at the door looking for me? What happened?

Setting my laptop on the coffee table, I pull myself awkwardly from the couch. I take a moment to adjust my tshirt and fix my hair before rounding the corner. The figure standing in the doorway, has me stopping dead in my tracks. My face pales, as my body goes rigid. This must be some sick joke.

Grasped in her hand is an envelope. One I recognize well, because I had sealed it weeks ago. I knew making that invite was a bad idea.

“Mom?”

———

Another cliff hanger? Why not? Let me know what you think! Part 4 is going to take some time, but I will get it out eventually I promise!

Tagging: @anastasiyaigorevnadobrodevskaya @heatherawoowoo @dripkingpetey @ya-pucking-nerd @jonnytoews19

#FiAB #elias pettersson #elias pettersson fanfiction #nhl fan fiction #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfic #hockey fan fiction #hockey fanfiction #nhl #hockey

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