#I’ve always thought about it as a literature genre but now that I’m grown I’ve started to truly think about it

[overdecorated-furniture]

Writer Introduction

Greetings, fellow writers of Tumblr! I thought I should introduce myself, as I have been lurking quietly for a while now, and you all seem like excellent writers with interesting projects.

About Me

I’m a teenage English girl, with a passion for history, literature, the odd cosplay, and storytelling. I’ve been making up roleplays with myself since I was small, and my stories have always kept me company.

I’ve grown up reading Shakespeare since I was seven, as well as the more traditional children’s classics, and have since found that my passions lie in fantasy worlds, historical fiction, and detective fiction/murder mysteries, although I like to dabble in all genres if I get the chance.

My WIPs

I am currently in the middle of writing two novels, a short story that has accidentally turned into a novella, and various short stories, flashfiction and any other bits and pieces that take my fancy.

The Jack of Diamonds

This is a historical fiction set in 1890s London, and focuses on the criminal classes, and the anonymity of personal and public life that is so prevalent across Late-Victorian Literature.

The plot centres around a young Aristocrat called Philip Devlin, and the double life he leads as London’s most infamous criminal. It’s still very much half formed, so I can’t be amazingly accurate about everything that’s in it, but it might be your cup of tea if you like:

Close Male Friendships that fall apart unexpectedly.

A strong female character who doesn’t fall in love with the protagonist.

The adventure/mystery style of Conan Doyle and Maurice LeBlanc.

And the inevitable morally grey Venetian of all good stories.

Echoes of Eternity (Working title)

This is a fantasy/folklore work, centred around the Arthurian legends, and has a time travel/time slip element to it. There is also an exploration of power and the damage it causes, as well as how death affects the living.

This is still mostly at a world-building stage, although I have written the odd scene out, so the plot is still fairly nebulous, but it follows the dual paths of a young mage called Amser from Arthurian times, and the story of Rose and Jay Fleetwood, as they attempt to right the wrongs of the past together. This might be up your street if you like:

A Morally Grey protagonist with dubious motives.

The magic of King Arthur and his knights.

Magic systems similar to those used in The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel series by Michael Scott.

And randomly angry ghosts leading to time travelling quests

A Monstrous Regiment of Women

This is historical fiction meets fanfiction, with a good helping of biographical info thrown in. It’s set during the Napoleonic Wars, and examines the place of women in that society, the psychological effects of war, and how the Napoleonic Wars shaped Europe.

I Have reimagined Napoleon Bonaparte and the Duke of Wellington as women, Letizia Bonaparte and Francis Wellesley respectively, and have imagined how their lives would look if they had still enlisted in the military. This is probably the most complete of my major WIPs, as all the information and plot is already available in history books, I just need to jig it around. You might like this if you enjoy:

Stories with good depictions of battles in them.

Regency Literature, or pastiches like Johnathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke.

Strong female protagonists acting outside societal norms.

Sweeping story arcs that cover a character in a range of situations and moods.

Other Bits and Pieces

I often write short stories, and most of them end up on my AO3 account. It’s a rather eclectic mix, with a lot of crossovers, but I enjoy writing them a lot. You can find it below:

I am more than up for being sent asks, participating in tag games etc, and love writing socially. I’m also happy to share any tips or prompts I think up, although those will be very sporadic given all my writing to date has been mostly self-governed. Generally speaking I’m somewhat uncomfortable with NSFW type prompts, asks etc, so avoid those if possible.

Finally, I look forward to chatting to you all and sharing my creations. Happy writing everyone!

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #creative writing #writers intro #ao3 writer #fantasy writing #historical fiction #mystery fiction #new writers on tumblr #new blog #writer info #my wips

[the7thcrow]

indulgence | part one

~

pairing: felix x (fem) vampire!reader series

summary: an indulgence grows to become dangerous, as the society of hampden college takes note of y/n’s new blood bag.

series masterlist.

word count: 4.9k

genre: forbidden love, angst (sorta), fluff, suggestive.

warnings: blood, suggestive content (kissing and a shirt comes off, nothing too crazy lmao), hook-ups (but nothing is explicitly described), strong language, and vampires ofc.

rating: 16+

a/n: hi everyone! this is my first fic, so i’m sorry if it’s a little messy. this is part one of what will be a series. i’d love to hear some feedback, so don’t be afraid to shoot me an ask or message! i hope you enjoy!

...

..

.

You are late. The pattering of rain echos from atop your umbrella, the puddles of pooling water soaking your loafers as you hurry along the busy street. However, you pay no mind as the liquid seeps into your shoes, mud embedding itself along your pant leg. On a normal day, you’d scowl. You’d curse the shitty weather, and grumble as you marched home to change into a dry pair of shoes. Only today is different. Today it doesn’t matter, not when you have far greater troubles warranting your concern.

The Council isn’t pleased. They’d be even more upset, if that were even possible, if you arrived tardy. You can imagine their old, petulant faces, looking down on you with disgust. Perhaps even pity, seeing you as nothing more than a childish young girl, who’d been foolish enough to break her vow. You frown to yourself, that’s all they would ever see you as. It didn’t matter how the years passed by, to them you were, and would always be simply that. A child. Always younger, always naive. Most of all, always beneath them.

The headquarters becomes visible in the distance, clouded in the slight haze of fog. It appears to be like any other building on the Hampden Campus. Old and rustic, elegant in the way it was shaped and carved, a relic of history reflected in a modern day era. Only this building holds a far different tale than those surrounding it.

Far more bloody. Far more gruesome. A home to monsters.

Monsters like yourself.

You knock on the door. Twice, slowly. Then a pause, before three times quickly. A code, letting anyone inside know that you are, in fact, a member of The Society. 

The door opens with a creak, a young boy with electric blue hair peeking out through the crack. After recognizing your face, he smiles, ushering you in quickly as the door slams shut behind you.

“Y/N! It’s good to see you. It’s been a while, huh?” The boy says, casually leaning against the door. It has been a while, you never came to this god awful building unless it was absolutely necessary.

“I guess it has been. But it’s nice to see you too, Jeongin,” you speak warmly in return. You’ve known Jeongin for a couple years now, since he first arrived at The Society doorstep. Alone and confused. A freshling, having just been turned. While perhaps not physically, he’s certainly grown since then, in both confidence and courage.

Suddenly, the smile drops from his face, his expression becoming sullen. “I hear you’ve gotten yourself into some trouble,” he states. When you don’t respond, he continues. “It’s not true, is it? I know you wouldn’t-”

“Listen, Jeongin,” you cut him off quickly. You aren’t in the mood to be lectured, especially not by someone whose opinion you actually care about. “I’m already running late. I’ll catch up with you after, okay?”

“Wait, Y/N!” He calls after you, but you’ve already disappeared down the hall, heading towards the council room. You quickly cast a glance at your watch. Shit, five minutes late. They wouldn’t forget that.

With only a quick breath to gather yourself, you burst in through the large wooden doors. The silence in the council room is deafening, as all heads turn to face you. In all your life, you’ve never seen so many dissatisfied faces. 

“Ms. L/N,” the head councilman calls. He has an old face, embedded with wrinkles and a scalp of thinning white hair. Unlucky. He could have been beautiful, or at the very least, young. However, he must’ve been turned late. A pity, to stare at such a reflection for eternity. 

You stifle a laugh. The frown he always appeared to be wearing probably wasn’t helping. 

“Take a seat,” he states, motioning to the chair seated in the center of the room. How dramatic you think, to put you in the middle of so many staring eyes. While the council was only composed of three individuals, the room seems to be full of other lower ranked members of The Society. 

As you take your seat, your gaze wanders the room, landing on a familiar head of shaggy brown hair. His eyes bore into your own, his expression serious. Perhaps even angry, the longer he stares at you. 

You want to say something. Mostly, to ask him what the fuck he’s doing here. This isn’t any of Chan’s business, yet for whatever reason he has the audacity to stare at you as if it is. As if you will grant him answers. As if he deserves answers.

“Ms. L/N,” the chairman interrupts your thoughts. “Do you know why you’re seated here today?” 

Why are you seated here today? Well, that answer is complicated. How could you have possibly gotten yourself into such a mess? How could you have been so foolish? You knew the rules. You knew what was permitted and what was not. Yet, you chose to ignore these conditions.

Why? What could possibly have made you toss everything you’d promised to the side? 

Well, that story starts with a head of bright blonde hair, and a set of curious eyes.

~~~~

The library of Hampden College had become something of a second home to you. Late nights spent bent over a book, transcribing various philosophies and literature into latin. Sometimes greek, however you didn’t have quite the same knack for it. That’s where you found yourself tonight, your beaten down copy of The Iliad staring back at you from its place on the table. 

Your classics degree was coming along just fine. You didn’t mind the endless books to read and poems to analyze. Nor the papers you often found yourself crafting from this very spot in the corner of the library. It was always quiet, always solitary at this time. Even the night owl students having gathered their books, departing the library for a brief rest before their early classes the following morning.

Tonight however, was different. You heard the door creak open, glancing up as a boy appeared in the doorway. He had long blonde hair, fluffing at the nape of his neck. Sporting a sharp blazer and a pair of oxfords, you couldn’t deny he was well dressed. Perhaps that’s why he grabbed your attention immediately, you were attracted to effort. To someone who was put together, who cared. 

The boy took a seat just a few tables away from your own, gently setting his books down and disappearing into the maze of shelves to your left. You attempted to go back to your work, but couldn’t seem to find your focus. Who was this boy? You’d never seen him before in all your time at Hampden. Also, why would he possibly be at the library so late? You recognized the faces of those who while rare, might possibly be here at this time of night. He wasn’t one of them. 

You would remember if he was.

You strained your neck trying to find his figure, having lost him almost immediately.

“A fan of Homer?” A voice rang out from beside your ear. You jumped in shock, greeted by a sweet smile and wide eyes. The boy chuckled. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

You smiled sweetly, trying to calm your beating heart. “No worries. And well, you translate the entirety of Book Eight overnight into Greek, and tell me if you could still consider yourself a ‘fan of Homer.’”

The boy laughed before beginning to pull a chair out beside you. “May I?” He asked.

Looking back, you should have said no. You had a lot more work to do, and near no time to do it. Not to mention of course, rejecting him initially could have saved you from this whole mess. Instead you nodded, a grin forming at the corners of your lips as he sat down. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. His voice was sweet, sultry. Alarming in just how deep it was, not quite fitting his bright and youthful exterior. 

“Y/N, classics department. Yourself?”

“Felix,” he answered. There it was, the first time you heard the name that would cause your undoing. “I’m majoring in history. Listen,” he began, leaning in slightly closer as if he were going to tell you a secret, his voice lowering further. “I must say, I’m in here all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen you before.”

You hummed, leaning in closer to him as well. His eyes glinted. “Well that’s simple, I’m assuming you don’t frequent the library at-” you glanced at your watch- “2:32 in the morning.”

Felix’s eyebrows furrowed with something like concern. “You’re here every night at this time? Why?”

“Hey,” you began, not wanting to lose the playful nature to the conversation. You’d heard enough concerned voices to last a lifetime already. “Aren’t you here this late yourself? You’re in no place to judge.”

He laughed, and you knew you could get used to that sound. “Fair enough, I’ll leave it be.”

“Why are you here this late, anyway?” You asked.

“Oh, so you get to know my secrets, but I can’t know yours?”

“Of course.”

He rolled his eyes playfully, resting his head on the desk, cradled by his crossed arms. “If you must know, I couldn’t sleep. Figured I’d read some of your classics, thought they might help me doze off.”

You shoved his arm, to which he feigned a groan of pain, clutching his shoulder. “Excuse you,” you laughed. “I have a lot of Homer to struggle through, and no time for your cheap shots. You can go ahead and leave now.”

You were surprised when he got to his feet, worried for a moment he’d taken you seriously and was actually about to make his exit. Instead, he disappeared into the philosophy section, emerging with a copy of The Odyssey. Felix flopped down back in his chair beside you, extending his feet on top of the table and leaning backwards. 

“Well, then I guess I’ll suffer along with you,” he said. Without another word, he flipped towards the first page.

Felix was a good person to study with. Well, technically you weren’t studying with him, but nonetheless it was nice to have him in the room. He didn’t bother you, didn’t speak, just let you do your work. Sometimes you’d look up and meet his gaze, his eyes imploring you. Curious. Mischievous. 

Dangerous.

“Alright,” you yawned after an hour or so had passed by, stretching your arms high in the air. “I’m done.”

He smiled, slowly closing his book and setting it down on the table. “Yeah? Finally going to go home and sleep?” 

“Sleep? What’s that?” You said, playfully scoffing. “Nah, it’s already past 3:30, it’ll be 4 by the time I get back to my apartment. Not worth it at this point.”

“Hmm,” Felix hummed, a flicker of mischief in his growing smile. “What ever will you do to pass the time?”

“I don’t know,” you returned, excitement building in your chest. “But I suppose I’ll leave you now. You still have about 3 quarters of The Odyssey to get through, and I don’t want to tear you away from-”

You shouldn’t have been surprised when his lips crashed into yours, but you were. You let out a small “mff” against the sudden impact. It took your brain a second to catch up to speed on what was happening. Here you were, with this incredibly beautiful boy of whom you literally just met, kissing in the middle of the library. 

Your second thought was about how you’d never done this before. Not kissing someone, hell you’d done a lot more than just that. But never a stranger, and certainly never a human, for that matter. You had to be careful with who you got close to, you never knew who could be dangerous, who could be a hunter. Besides, The Society had rules, and this alone was undoubtedly breaking a few of them.

So what the hell were you doing?

You should stop this, you thought. But the more you settled into a rhythm, the more your worries trailed from your mind. Felix was a good kisser. A really good kisser. His lips were soft, warm, his breath sharp with the taste of mint. When the dork had a chance to pop a tic tac you didn’t know, but it made you smile against him. 

You ran your fingers through his hair, leaning into him. He groaned in response, moving his hands down your figure, settling in on your waist. Carefully he began to fiddle with the buttons at the bottom of your blouse, and with that it all suddenly became real.

“We can’t do this,” you breathed, finally breaking away from him. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I went too far, I-” he began to apologize, frantically removing his hands from your body and shifting backwards into his chair.

“No,” you replied, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips at his sweetness. You grabbed the collar of his shirt, gently tugging him closer to you. “We can’t do this here.” 

The Society had rules, plenty. Human’s, in any sort of relationship, were out of the question. Public displays of affection with even your own kind, especially of the more vulgar sort, were off limits as well. The idea was to not bring attention to yourselves, to not cause a scene. And if you were going to break one of these rules so terribly, you figured you could at least pay the respect to do so privately.

“Okay,” he mumbled, placing his forehead against your own. “Where should we go?”

“My place? It’s a little far from here, but I don’t have any roommates. So..”

Felix smiled, planting a soft, lingering kiss at the nape of your neck. “Lead the way.”

~~~~

The walk over to your apartment wasn’t awkward per say, it was simply...charged. Felix had his arm looped around your own, making your way silently down the dark, lantern lit path through campus. You could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest, a desire thrumming down inside you, resurfacing. It had been a long time since you’d last been with someone. That last person being Chan, your ex as of eight months ago.

Things had been good with Chan. Great even, in the beginning at least. He was intense, thoughtful. He loved you deeply. Most of all, Chan understood. Like you, he was a member of The Society. He was under every restriction you were, and felt all the same frustrations. 

Of course, not all good things can last. Eventually your relationship began to sour. Your arguments became full on brawls. Your differences and quirks became unbearable. You couldn’t be in the same room without being at one another's throats. You were the one who finally decided to end things. 

Chan was the only man you’d ever loved, and since him you’d never entertained the thought of being with another. Until now, that is. You glanced towards Felix, who was staring ahead down the street, his eyes dark. You could feel his own desire radiating off of him, visible in the way he slowly swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. Besides, Felix could give you something more. Something Chan could never.

No. You stopped yourself. That wouldn’t be happening tonight. It would only make things more complicated, more dangerous. Still, you could feel it deep inside you, pounding for control. That familiar, incessant hunger. The more you tried to ignore it, the more it was there. Becoming stronger as your ears focused in on Felix’s heart beat, the sound of blood pumping through his veins.

You were pulled from your thoughts as the sight of your apartment complex appeared in front of you. Quietly you entered, making your way up the stairs and towards your own door. Releasing your arm from Felix’s, you fumbled for your keys in your purse. Giving him a small smile, you twisted your key in the lock, and allowed him inside.

The moment you closed your apartment door, all bets were off. Felix tossed his books onto your kitchen table, clashing into you with a speed that almost made you lose your own breath. You felt your back press against the wall behind you, Felix’s lips devouring your own. Desperate and wanting.

He quickly revisited the buttons of your blouse, this time starting at the top and beginning to make his way down. All the meanwhile his lips traced your neck, gently brushing against your skin. With every new kiss fueling your own desire, you slowly began to rock your hips into his own. This was escalating. Fast. As he finished with the last button, he allowed your blouse to drop from your shoulders, smiling to himself as he took you in. 

“Your turn,” you breathed, tugging at the collar of his shirt as a signal to take it off. He did so, absent-mindedly tossing it aside into your living room. He took your chin in his hand, forcing you to look up at him, staring deeply into your eyes. Then he proceeded to say the very last thing you ever expected him to:

“Look at your eyes… You haven’t fed in weeks, have you?”

You slapped his hand away and shoved him off of you, rushing to the otherside of the room, putting the coffee table between yourselves. “How-How do you?” You stammered, physically unable to form a complete sentence. How could he possibly know what you were? How did he even know you existed?

Felix’s eyes widened, clearly shocked by your reaction. “No, no. Don’t worry!” He said frantically, outstretching his hand to you. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you or anything. I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m sorry! I’m sorry.”

You stared at him, disbelievingly. “Yeah? And how do I know that?” You let this man into your home, your safe space. How could you have been so stupid?

“Look, I grew up around Vampires okay? My neighbors, back in my childhood home, they were like you. I know the signs. I know how your eyes blow out when you’re hungry, the way they glaze over when you haven’t fed in a while. That’s it. I didn’t even realize until I got a good look at you, back when you were translating. It’s no big deal, really.”

You scoffed. No big deal? Felix didn’t seem to realize just how big of a deal it actually was. Humans weren’t supposed to know what you were, certainly not at Hampden. The Society had made well sure of that. God, if The Council saw you now...

“Y/N, I’m sorry. I should have told you back at the library. I honestly didn’t think it would freak you out this much. That’s on me,” he said, inching slightly closer to you. Despite yourself, you didn’t move away.  “I’m serious though, it’s been a while since you last fed. Hasn’t it?”

A while was an understatement. The Society had been going through a shortage of blood bags, after having severed their connections with one of the nearby hospitals. Meaning if you wanted to drink, it would have to be from one of their Certified Donors. Which was another, fancier and far more innocent way of saying prisoners. These were humans who had given their lives to The Society, some willingly and others not so much.

You didn’t like going to their quarters. Located in the basement of the main district, it was always quiet down there. Always solemn. You’d never been to a place lacking so much hope. You’d only gone once, and drinking from that man still haunts you to this day. The way he didn’t move or speak, or even wince when your fangs broke his skin. The way his eyes were hollow and empty. How when you were done he simply laid down in his bed and turned away from you, without another word. 

The Certified Donors were what made you begin to hate The Society in the first place. Since then, your resentment only seemed to grow. 

You sighed, walking past him and flopping onto your couch. “Yeah, it’s been a while,” you confessed.

Felix carefully approached you. Instead of seating himself next to you, he got down on his knees, resting a hand on your thigh. “It’s okay, you can use me. I don’t mind.”

You were ready to tell him no, the word lingering on the tip of your tongue. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to deny him. Perhaps it was your hunger, the fact that a few more weeks in this drought, you might actually become ill. 

Or maybe, just maybe, it was the fact that you wanted to disobey the society. That this little act of rebellion, this utterly wrong indulgence, was what made your desire grow unbearable, unchained. You hated The Council, you hated the Certified Donor system, and you hated the way they had such a firm grip and control on your life.

A beautiful boy was seated in front of you, begging you to drink from him. How could you possibly say no? Better yet, why would you say no? To deprive yourself of something so great, for something you despised so deeply seemed ridiculous. That was the moment your judgment lapsed, that you crossed the point of no return. If you drank from Felix, there would be no going back. If the council found out, there would be consequences. Big ones.

But who doesn’t love a little risk?

You sunk down to meet him on the floor, staring at his bare chest. You could hear his heart pumping, its pace quickening the closer you got to him. 

“Are you sure about this?” You asked.

“Yes,” he whispered. You shifted your position. Not quite seating yourself in his lap, but hovering above, your knees on either side of him. 

“This might hurt a little bit,” you warned. You extended your fangs, approaching his neck, carefully. You didn’t realize until then how nervous you were. It had been a long time since you’d fed from a human. You’d drank from Chan of course, but he was also a vampire, and your blood didn’t have quite the same effect. There was pleasure in it, usually accompanied in moments of ecstasy, but it didn’t replenish you. It didn’t heighten your senses, nor fill you with energy. Most of all, it didn’t satisfy your hunger, your thirst. Not at all.

Felix’s blood would. 

You kept this in mind as you finally plunged your fangs into his neck. Felix let out a gasp, tensing beneath you, his hand clutching onto your arm for support. The taste of his blood grazed your tongue, metallic and warm. Delicious.

Fuck, did blood ever taste this good before? You didn’t think so.

The sweet taste consumed you. Intoxicating. Raw. Cascading over your mind in a blanket of pleasure, reveling in the way its effects seeped over your body. You could feel your mind growing sharper, your senses becoming more alert. It was a relief, after weeks of blurry weakness, of being too close to humanity in your thirst. You felt yourself again, the monster you are. The monster you are glad to be.

Here you were powerful. Invincible. And all you wanted was more. More. More.

More of this power, this sensation, this strength. This is what feeding should be. What feeding can give you. Not from a blood bag, nor a helpless prisoner, but from someone you want. Someone you desire. Someone who desires you in return.

It was as you felt Felix’s grip on your arm loosen that you finally broke away, breathing hard as you caught your breath. Felix’s eyes shifted to yours lazily, dazed. Perhaps even delirious. For a moment you feared that you’d taken too much. He blinked slowly, his eyes regaining focus.

Then he smiled. “Shit Y/N…” he began, his voice appearing more of a croak. “That felt really fucking good.” 

You grinned, leaning into him and pressing a series of kisses up along his jaw. Felix shivered, allowing his hands to slowly slide up your figure. Wanting.

“Yeah?” You whispered, your lips brushing against his ear. “Then how about we continue where we left off?”

      ~~~~

The next morning you woke to the sound of your alarm buzzing, sunlight peeking through the opening of your drapes. You heard a low groan next to your ear, quickly becoming aware of the hand wrapped around your waist. 

So last night really happened. The reality of your situation dawned on you. You’d both drank from and fucked a human. There was no going back now, you’d completely disobeyed The Society.

Worst of all? You didn’t care. At least, not near as much as you should have. 

You shifted to face Felix, seeing his eyes still closed, eyebrows furrowed. “Hey,” you whispered, planting a soft kiss on the tip of his nose. “We have to get up. I have class.”

He groaned again in protest, shaking his head and burying his face into the crook of your neck. Between last night's events and the ringing of your alarm, you both only got about two hours of sleep, and that was being generous. This was no problem for you, as while sleep was a luxury, it was not a necessity. The same didn’t go for Felix.

“Come on,” you laughed, worming out of his grasp. “You’ll be fine, I’ll go make us some coffee.”

You rolled out of bed, throwing on Felix’s discarded shirt and heading towards your kitchen. Flicking on the radio, you felt oddly blissful as you grounded the coffee beans into a filter. It had been a long time since there’d been another person in your apartment. It made the space seem less… haunted. No longer lingering with the essence of Chan’s ghost. It felt fresh. New. 

Felix emerged from your bedroom, rubbing his eyes sleepily, sporting only his khaki’s from the past day. His gaze met yours and he smiled. “So, I take it my shirt is yours now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed, leaning forward over your kitchen counter. Felix bent down, causing you to become nose-level with one another. The close proximity made your heart race.

“Mean,” he murmured, leaning forward to kiss you softly. There was no unchained desire, no promise of more. It was simple, warm. A morning of peace after a night of wildness.

You could get used to this, you thought.

The thought sunk in your chest like a stone. This wouldn’t be as simple as you wanted to be, as you needed it to be. There would be sacrifices to make, and cautions you’d have to adhere to. You had to get the truth out in the open. Better to rip the bandaid off now rather than later.

 “Felix, you can’t tell anyone about this.” You said. The smile faded from Felix’s face, and for a moment he looked so… hurt. He stepped back.

“About the feeding? Y/N, I wouldn’t tell anyone what you are, don’t worry about-”

“No, not just the feeding. About us. About any of it.”

Felix opened his mouth to say something, but then quickly closed it. His gaze hardened. “Ah. Got it,” he stated sharply, grabbing his blazer and motioning to the door. “I’ll just head out then.”

“Wait, Felix! No, it’s not like that,” you said, rushing around the kitchen island and reaching for his arm. He turned around to face you, his expression wounded. “Listen, I don’t know how it was with your old neighbors, but here at Hampden things are different. There’s certain rules we have to follow, and what you and I did? Well, that broke about a hundred of them.”

Felix was silent for a moment, then sighed. “Okay… But what do you mean rules? Who’s enforcing them? Hampden?”

“No, it’s bigger than that. There’s a group of us here, a society. There are rules we abide by, and they’re meant to keep us safe. Keep us united,” you explained.

“Like a cult?” Felix asked, and you had to refrain from rolling your eyes.

“Well, if that helps you, then whatever. Yeah, sure. A cult.”

“Where do you-”

“I’m sorry,” you cut him off. “But that’s all I can really tell you, at least for now. Honestly, the less you know, the better. Just for safety’s sake.”

“Oh. Alright,” Felix said, his lips pursed. He wasn’t pleased, that much was obvious.

“I know this sucks, I’m sorry. But if we want to keep doing this-”

“Wait,” Felix interrupted, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “You want to keep doing this? I thought you’d get in trouble?”

You smiled, and were pleased to see the corners of his mouth curve up in return. “I’ve already risked getting myself in trouble.” You trailed your finger along the bare of his chest, feeling the warmth radiating from his skin. He was so alive, so real. And it only made you want him more. Perhaps, that’s why he wanted you as well. You were unpredictable, wild. A challenge. 

A match made in hell.

“I dug myself a grave, Lix.” You looked up at him, entranced by the curiosity swimming in his eyes. “Might as well lie in it.”

~~

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#skz fanfic #skz fanfiction #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids x y/n #felix x reader #skz felix #stray kids felix #stray kids felix x reader #skz felix x reader #vampire skz #vampire stray kids #vampire felix #skz x vampire reader #stray kids x vampire reader #felix x vampire reader #stray kids #skz #felix fan fic #felix fan fiction

[dearkusuo]

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed. 

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along. 

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers. 

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun. 

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future. 

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret. 

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

 You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him. 

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again. 

 The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook. 

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face. 

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit. 

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum. 

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision? 

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

 You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out. 

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home. 

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes. 

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

#saiki x reader #saiki k x reader #saiki kusuo x reader #saiki #saiki k #saiki kusuo #the disaster of psi kusuo saiki #saiki kusuo no ψ nan #the disastrous life of saiki k. #saiki no psi nan

[wincore]

act iii, incomplete | ten

pairing: ten x reader

summary: it’s the same vivid dream every time — you, a feline constellation that keeps smiling at you and a boy who won’t ever forgive you. autumn, spring and everything in between come to save part of that but the truth is this: no amount of time spent at your small town theatre with your once best friend is going to speak the words for you.

alternatively, 

best friends aren’t meant to be lovers and ten, despite the millions of roles he’s played, keeps trying for the one role he won’t ever get.

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, slight theatre au, reincarnation themes, fluff, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

words: 23.9k

a/n: hello i’m so glad i actually completed this !!!!! i’ve never written something like this before !!! also longest fic let’s gooo ahaha special thank you to miss cat for reading this and making it at least infinity times better i am in indebted to u <3. playlist here.

part of the almost collab by @hyucksie !! (thank you for hosting this, it was lovely to be a part!!)

ACT I: HOMESICK

act i scene i. 

For the first time in years, you hold your breath at the local theatre, the walls more and more debilitated each year. It’s the only place, perhaps, that is so vibrant in its dull shades. The key is memories. Memories keep you alive in a way death and life and sickness cannot interfere. 

A single drum beat resounds through the theatre. A second one follows before a tune from a flute sets the mood. A voice speaks out, that of a woman, and it strikes you as somewhat sad. In that moment, you believe Ten would have pointed out to you that she is meant to do that, she is meant to play the part of someone sad. The curtains stare at you as undulating as a calm sea of red and you hold your breath. 

This is a modern play and you’ve only kept up with them for the sake of watching Ten play a part in them. As for other plays, high school Shakespeare was the most formidable text you’ve ever read and you’d rather not fight for your life again.

“Has the world ever seen a woman’s love unrivalled?”

A projector displays a flower, peonies, on the curtains.

“She once fell sick, dreaming of a lover; and once sick, she grew worse. Love is not love at its fullest if one is not willing to die for it.”

You don’t think that’s quite right. The curtains are drawn right then, their velvet sheen accentuated under the bright theatre lights and two characters appear on stage. 

Your first thought is that he’s grown far too much. The second is that he hasn’t changed much. Ten stands in the character of a play you haven’t finished reading yet, in clothes that accentuate his dancer’s figure and with the look of someone that isn’t him. You had tried to read  the play earlier but you might have gotten a little too excited to complete it. 

You bounce your legs in anticipation, the music and his voice fading out—it’s not like you can focus much with the high school kids giggling and making out in the seats right behind yours. You could always make a scene but it’s not like you to steal the spotlight away from your dearest friend. Besides, you need to reiterate through the list of things you have to help him catch up on since he’s been gone. Ten wouldn’t want to miss out on some spicy gossip. You chuckle to yourself, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool yourself. 

Ten likes overwhelming responses. You like to be overwhelming. You’re the perfect pair. 

The play ends in a way you can’t tell if it was a tragedy or a comedy. You could have if you paid more attention but this isn’t literature class. You can do whatever you want now and you’re a little preoccupied with your own thoughts. Ten. Your best friend is back from Broadway after a year of barely talking. You can’t wait to hear the stories.

You get up as soon as the lights are on but when no one else does, you sit back down. The curtains part now and the cast comes on for their final bow. You shift around to see if Ten is looking at you, the older people beside you grunting in annoyance and muttering something about the youth. He’s not but Sicheng is and when you send a wink his way, he shakes his head.

You pout at the lack of attention but it’s time to make your way backstage now. The crowd is exiting and you need to get there before Ten leaves. 

Once outside, you make a beeline to the back of the theatre building and mess up Sicheng’s hair as he leaves for home. 

“He’s inside,” he informs curtly and makes as much distance possible between the two of you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Sicheng,” you coo to annoy him. “You performed so well. Not as good as Ten though.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Were you even paying attention?”

You cross your arms and push him onto his track. He shrugs and you watch his figure disappear behind the corner before taking a deep breath. With anticipation, comes a little unrestrained droplet of anxiety. You shouldn’t be worried, you tell yourself. This is Ten, after all.

The crows sing a song to themselves under the purple evening sun and you feel annoyed at the sound. It’s a song for ghosts. You hate the sound of it. 

You rub your temples, trying to hush away the headache. You can’t wait to see Ten.

You swing the door open in an attempt to sneak up on him. However, you take a few moments to see him barefaced, the stage makeup washed off and a red undertone running through his nose and cheeks. That dark mop of hair sticks out every which way, and no attempt has been made to rectify it. It was once your job, actually. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he stuff his belongings into a worn-out satchel bag. You gave it to him when you skipped prom night. You smile. 

“Ten!” you yell at the top of your lungs. You’ve missed him so much—an old greeting should warm him up. This town started feeling more like home once you heard the news Ten’s back.

He looks at you so cold that you stop dead in your tracks. You freeze up, the words suddenly collapsing into themselves like wilting flowers. You don’t recognize Ten all of a sudden. He wears a deep frown and empty eyes, something you cannot understand no matter what angle you look from. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? You truly understand what that means when you meet his eyes.

“Ten,” you repeat at a more respectable volume. “Hey. I… I missed—”

“Hey,” he responds a little too quickly. Eyes less sharp than usual, he averts his gaze. “I- I need to get home early.”

Ten grabs his bag and leaves the room, his shoulder brushing against yours. You stand there for a few extra moments, breaths shallow and quiet. When you regain the sound of your heartbeat, you leave the practice room, throat dry and a frustrated sigh on your lips. Consequences, every time it’s the consequences biting back.

The crows’ song goes unheard.

act i scene ii.

“So… you want me to get Ten to talk to you?” 

Sicheng looks at you in disbelief, the ice cream in his hand starting to melt. You’ve never met anyone who enjoys ice cream in mid-autumn as much as he does. Sore throats are foreign to him.

You nod, crossing your arms. “I don’t know why he’s avoiding me.”

Sicheng scoffs, choking on the ice cream and taking a few moments to regain his composure. 

“Thanks,” he says when you rub his back in pity. “But… you really don’t know why he’s avoiding you?”

You shake your head. It’s a lie. But the only thing you can think of is the summer he left, when he confessed his feelings and you rejected him after a few seconds of contemplation. You had good reason. You just can’t tell him that. You’re still young and there’s so much to look forward to.

"You obviously have feelings for him!"

"Yeah, anger! Why would he just ignore me like that? We've been friends for, uh…"

"Stop counting, you suck at math."

You punch his shoulder and his ice cream almost falls off. He looks at you with a glare so strong, you have to take a step back.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I thought we were like any other pair of best friends.”

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, best friends in love with each other. Didn't you suggest getting married once?”

“As a joke,” you interject, feeling heat on your cheeks. “Actually, do you know how useful a marriage of convenience is? It's got convenience in the name. Think of all the tax benefits.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “The way you looked at each other wasn’t a joke—you know what? I’m not going to be the supporting act to your whole romance charade. You figure this out.”

You pout. “So you’re saying you won’t help?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. You won’t know if I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, groaning in exasperation. This was supposed to be a happy reunion and yet, you’re here moping to a theatre kid, hoping he helps you. You expected Ten to not take it well but right now, you wish you weren’t so blunt. You could have said it nicer.

You’re joking, right? Haha, nice one. Best friends don't fall in love.

Oh, this is all your fault. You knew him better than anyone else. You should’ve known the consequences too—you could scream right now. In your defense, you thought college made him lose a few brain cells. You still have to make it right. 

“Fine. Whatever you might do, better do it soon.”

Sicheng shrugs, turning back to his ice cream and browsing lazily through one of the magazines. He’s supposed to be watching the store—he gets paid for it but he couldn’t care less about this place. Sicheng is something of a theatrical actor too, traveling around and performing with his theatre group. He never cared for Broadway as much as Ten did.

However, you’re all here now. This autumn is going to be spent with your best friends no matter the cost. You smile as you think of the time you and Ten surprised Sicheng with a whole bag of ice cream and he cried although most of it ended up melting. Sicheng raises an eyebrow at your expression but doesn't question.

“There’s a reunion party by the woods,” he announces. “Next week. Saturday. You have to make up before that. You know they’re going to be brutal.”

You shudder. Your classmates certainly won’t let go of the idea of your relationship with Ten. Teasing aside, they’re going to be making either one of you uncomfortable. All your excitement drains itself. Your shoulders slump and you think that perhaps, asking for forgiveness would be a better out. You recover quickly though. This has to work out, Ten has to be your best friend again—what choice do you have? You missed him and you’re going to let him know.

//

The first attempt begins right in the evening. Sicheng texts Ten after his shift, asking him to get some snacks. Lucky for you, you work at the local snack store, also called the convenience store. There’s nowhere better to get snacks. There’s also nowhere else to get snacks.

You stand behind the counter, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie while your eyes trail to the hands of the clock on the wall. Sicheng texted him half an hour ago. Ten might not be the most punctual but you know he listens to Sicheng, even if it’s reluctantly.

Your impatience gets the better of you and you leave the counter to peer out the glass door. Unfortunately, someone pushes open the door right then and you clutch your nose, eyes watering at the painful impact. 

Ten looks petrified for a moment before turning around and leaving. You furrow your eyebrows, tears brimming from the pain in your nose and mixing into the exasperation from getting so bluntly ignored. Come on, Ten. You curse on your way back to the lonely counter. There goes the only thing you were looking forward to this evening. Sicheng walks in a while later, a sour look on his face.

“He actually gave me a mouthful,” he mutters angrily. “Can you believe that? Me. Who’s listened to all his lovesick ramblings about y—theatre.” 

You slump onto the counter further, the bright orange background of the store more headache-inducing than optimistic. 

“God, this is so much more difficult than I expected.”

“What happened between the two of you anyway? I thought you promised to call him every day.”

“I tried, okay? He wouldn’t pick up.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Haven’t heard about that one.”

He places the single pack of Lays onto the counter. You get up to pull the chocolate ice cream from the cooler.

“Don’t bother. It’s so depressing getting shut out like this.”

Sicheng mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. It’s his complaining voice though, so you don’t question him. 

“He’s going to be at the Bridge tomorrow,” Sicheng notifies. “Something about getting fresh early morning air. Now, there’s no way you can run into him and call it coincidence. So don’t do that.”

You cross your arms. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I mean, if you’re accompanying Mr. Yang to the dahlia fields for flower shop business… that’s a different story.”

Your eyes brighten and you sit up. “You’re a genius!”

“I’ve been telling you guys since—”

You hug him and he chokes, almost dropping the Lays pack. The door opens and you hurriedly wave at Yangyang, who’s here for the next shift before running out the door in a hurricane of bad decisions and good intentions.

“I hate being the middleman,” Sicheng mutters to Yangyang who offers him a pitiful look. The evening returns to its pink skies and you race your feelings to your destination.

//

“Mr. Yang,” you whine. “You don’t need a single dahlia? I’m offering to help.”

The older man scratches his spotless white beard and looks at you in confusion. “I gathered a whole cartload just three days ago. There’s no way I need more. You know this place—no one buys flowers anymore.”

“I’ll buy them! A whole cartload.”

“And where will you get the money, child?”

“Uh.”

Mr. Yang shakes his head at your immaturity. “If you’re so eager, get me some chrysanthemums from Mrs. Leong’s sh—”

“No. It has to be from the other side of the Bridge,” you interject. 

Mr. Yang is further perplexed but you’re glad he doesn’t ask further. Having to explain your love and friendship troubles to a senior citizen has never been an ideal situation. You make a face at the thought.

“Alright,” he says and takes a few moments to ponder. “You want an errand to run, right? Could you get me some sunflower seeds from Goodwin Park?”

“That far?”

He sighs. “Do you want to go or not?”

You nod reluctantly, checking your phone to see the time. It’s early as fuck and the only person you’d wake up this early for doesn’t even know you’re doing all this.

“It’s to feed the birds, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow. 

Mr Yang nods.

“You know, you don’t have to do all that to get Mrs. Leong to notice you.” You offer him a cheeky grin.

“I’m assuming it’s also a person you’re doing all of this for,” he hums in reply.  

You drop your grin and take the errand money, heat rising in your cheeks. Exiting quickly, you check the time again. Ten better not have left early.

Shortcuts are better when there’s someone with you, you decide. You have gained around five long scratches at five different places on your body trying to best the hill beside Maple Street in order to get to the Bridge faster. If Ten were here, he'd laugh at you for being so graceless. 

The Bridge is empty when you arrive and you sigh deeply. You’re not sure if you’re early or he’s late or you’re astronomically late. The grass is still a golden green in colour, for autumn never truly comes in when you’re expecting it. The little stream below the Bridge is almost dried up but the wooden structure stays. You remember Sicheng broke his leg once, trying to catch Ten’s family cat pawing at fish in the stream when it used to be fuller.

You greet Mr. Santello at his garden and buy the sunflower seeds. Your errand is complete but the rising agitation in your chest makes you kick a rock on the way back to the Bridge. This side of the town is bleak except for the garden and the only fun you’ve had here is when a beehive dropped on Yukhei’s head (he poked at it himself with no provocation from your side whatsoever). The scenery is much prettier with someone to appreciate it. You, on the other hand, cannot wait to leave this town. You walk back with certain memories playing in your head, the smell of nostalgia rising with the sun. You’ve always hated early mornings; but you did have fun in them when you had to wake up for school trips. You hold your breath, stopping right before the beginning of the Bridge.

Ten leans against the wooden rails of the Bridge, Starmill Bridge, with eyes gently closed and white earphones plugged in. You smile to yourself. When the sunlight draws across his cheeks, he seems brighter than golden skies and softer than late afternoon clouds. You see the boy from your childhood, messy unbrushed hair and his favourite grey sweater. He’s so full of colour. You wouldn’t mind staring at him for as long as you can.

You take a step and your hoodie catches onto a stray nail, making you stumble onto the wooden floor of the Bridge. You look at your scattered boxes of sunflower seeds with horror but not before finding Ten plucking out his earphone to look at you. He’s so pretty even in a daze.

“Hi?” you offer. “I was on an errand, promise. Not stalking you and trying to get you to talk to me or anything. Hah.”

Ten shakes his head at you and quietly stares for a few more moments.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answers finally. “Stop trying.”

You look at him with a flickering guilt though you’re not sure why. He sighs and walks toward you, frowning. He takes out the cloth of your hoodie stuck in the nail with tentative care. Gathering the boxes of sunflower seeds scattered on the floor, he glances at you once before getting up.

You grab his hand before he can walk away again. 

“Ten,” you say, your voice coming off more pitiful than you would like. 

He turns back at you with lips pursed and a sorrowful look in his eyes. 

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I need to work some things out.”

Ten leaves you hanging for a third time in your life and you pull yourself together enough to stand up. You can’t imagine—you don’t want to imagine how much longer this’ll go on. Ten used to be an amenable boy; it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Somewhere the wind comes tumbling in, whispering the words that everything has changed and everything is still changing.

//

The third and last attempt is outside his house. Ten’s mother is bound to notice you at some point, right? Considering you’re camping out like a homeless man from the nearby gas station, that is. You hope she’s out for grocery shopping and you can just pretend you were on your way home and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. Being the kind soul she is, she’s going to invite you to dinner since it’s late already. And where else can you spend your time while she cooks but in Ten’s room? It’s perfect and there’s no way he can avoid this.

“(name)!” Ten’s sister yells in glee. 

“Tern!” You smile at her.

“Mom’s sending me for grocery shopping. Do you wanna come help?”

You want to go inside the house but patience is quite possibly a virtue. You haven’t tried it out yet. 

“Sure.” You grin. “I’ve got time to kill.”

So, you are aware that Ten’s sister tends to shoot off at the mouth with the right person but you somehow cannot get her to talk about Ten. Apart from his life in New York, that is, which you had hoped to hear from him. 

“So… how come you’re not in our house already? No offense, it’s just you and Ten… you know.” She looks at you with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow. 

Ten must be a really good actor. Not like you ever doubted him but for his sister to be so blissfully unaware, he must have put on quite the show. Either that, or he really has forgotten you. You try not to feed fire to that thought.

“Uh, you know, been busy with the snack shack. We’re redecorating. Mr. Kim is going to boil me alive if I slack off.”

She giggles at your expression. “I heard it from Yangyang. He said the redecorations are ugly though.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ten let you talk to Yangyang? A boy?”

She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh. “He can’t tell me how to live. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

You laugh. “Right. You have no idea how overprotective he can actually be. Older brother instincts or whatever.”

She suppresses a laugh. “And you must be facing the boyfriend instincts.”

You stammer out a response but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s alright to get laughed at, you suppose, if Tern is in fits beside you.

The rest of the conversation is about things less important. It would be rude to not engage though so you talk with enthusiasm all the way back. Part of you sees Ten in his sister. How terrible of you to see someone else in a person right beside you.

“(name)!” 

Ten’s mother looks pleasantly surprised. 

“Good evening, ma’am!” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner, and she laughs, patting your arm. 

“How come it took you so long to visit? You hardly ever came over these few years, and I’m a little upset about that by the way, but I thought for sure, you’d be in the house the day Ten came back.”

You scratch the back of your head sheepishly. “You know. Work and stuff. Mr Kim is redecorating the store.”

She exhales in annoyance. “Is that man exploiting you children again?”

“I’m—uh… I’m an adult—”

“Hush,” she instructs, voice strict and you zip your mouth immediately. Never question a mother’s statement.

“Ten’s in his room, by the way. Should I call him?” she asks, after a minute of complaining about Mr. Kim, which you would have loved to join but there are other matters at hand. She has all the gossip in town and yet, she’s somehow blissfully unaware of the silence between her son and his best friend. Are you not as important? It makes you pout but you quickly neutralize your expression.

“Ten!” she shouts when you don’t respond, a little lost in your own thoughts.

“Uh—oh no, you don’t have to do that!” you say quickly. “I’ll just go to his room.”

You hurry up the stairs, just in time for Ten to open his bedroom door and jump back in fright.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, like the soul has been kicked straight out of his body. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to give him a scare.

You walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind you. 

“Ten. We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. You notice the change in his features—his hair has grown out, his face is more chiseled and he has an angry quirk to his brows. “I told you I need some space. You never know how to listen, fuck.”

His voice is a low whisper, in the short space between you. You don’t move from your spot, with your back against the wall and feet nervous. You shift from foot to foot and look him in the eye before looking away. You’ve never felt this way around him. You’ve never actually pissed him off this bad. You don’t know what to do.

“Just leave. God. I can’t believe you think you can just walk in!”

You frown at his words. “Ten. I just wanted to talk to you again. We’re friends—”

“How does it matter if we are? Everything’s changed. This whole place has changed. I’ve changed.” 

“But… that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re strangers—”

“Leave. Please.”

His voice is so low and odd that you don’t recognize it anymore. You sigh. You can’t convince him when he’s so defensive. You open the door to his bedroom to find Ten’s mom and sister in the hallway trying very hard to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. You offer them a sad smile and thank his mother for the dinner before taking your leave. You feel too ridiculous to cry.

How do people put in all that effort in romantic comedies? You don't even know where to start. Maybe you should follow the King's advice from Alice in Wonderland. 

Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end; then stop.

No. No, you can't be thinking of ending scenes right now. There's a much bigger problem at hand. Saturday. You better brace yourself for the unpredictability of former prom queens and class presidents, and the predictability of this small town that never changes. 

act i scene iii.

High school reunion parties here aren’t exactly mawkish affairs. There’s alcohol, people who are meant to be adults but haven’t quite grown into it yet, the looming woods, and more alcohol. There's no room for sentimentalism when your former classmates, seniors and juniors—those who could be here, at least—are back together and it feels like nothing has changed at all. However, college-age boys always pose problems. 

“Look, if Johnny can do it, so can I,” Yukhei tells you. 

Johnny smacks his shoulder encouragingly, and a few of your friends giggle at the two lanky men, looking like they’ve discovered something priceless beside the campfire light.

“This beer tastes like crap,” you mutter before returning to a regular volume. “But go ahead and try chugging two bottles in under a minute if you want.”

Your backhanded statement backfires almost immediately because he does exactly as you said. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try not to peek at Ten, sitting beside Johnny and looking rather sleepy. It’s the bedhead, you think to yourself. It’s cute.

“Alright, who’s next?” Yukhei asks, voice booming enthusiastically. 

Yeri sighs beside you, tired from the late night and not so much from the alcohol. Speaking of which, the alcohol table is somehow still stocked and Sicheng stands beside it, looking sour from being forced into guard duty. 

���Tell him to pipe down,” Yeri mutters, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and you look at her apologetically. 

“(name) hasn’t answered anything yet!” Sooyoung pipes up and you shoot her a look she ignores. “Neither has Ten, by the way.”

A bunch of “ooh”s pass through the crowd of roughly twenty people, and you would bury your face in your hands were it not for that stubborn pride of yours. 

Truth or dare is quite possibly the worst game in the history of mankind. Ten looks somewhat flustered under the attention but he just sighs. 

“Get it over with.” He looks at Yukhei expectantly.

“Kiss (name)!”

Your heart drops and you glare at Yukhei. You should have expected it. There is no one more unimaginative than drunk boys. His cheeks are flushed when he grins at you, encouraging you with a thumbs up gesture. 

“He doesn’t have to do that.” You cross your arms. “Consent is important even in fun and games.”

The sentence is so didactic of you but you hope the seriousness in your voice makes him back off.

“But you guys are, like, in love with each other,” Yangyang blurts before covering mouth as if he said something scandalous.

A bunch of chuckles follow, though Johnny shows some concern towards Ten. You remember why you hate high school reunions now. Apart from the fact that almost everyone gets to tell their stories of big cities and big dreams they get to live in, everyone turns into a child again when at a reunion. Perhaps it’s the burst of memories or the vivid glow of old connections returning but you can’t stand childishness. Even if you’re the one to act like a child sometimes.

“I’m gonna go drink,” you say. “That’s the punishment, right? I’m not playing anymore.”

Yukhei groans. “Come on, (name). You wouldn’t be such a bore.”

“I would,” you snap and get up from your seat, Yeri muttering in annoyance before leaning onto Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Ten is glowing in the cheeks, you find when you look at him. He meets your eyes once and looks away, playing with his fingers. 

You pour yourself some beer into a cup and lift it up to show to Yukhei before striding off to a place farther than the warmth of people and the campfire. The giant log is a nice enough seat by the edge of the woods. It is cold and mossy though, and you hug yourself, sticking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan.

The sound of footsteps over dried leaves catch your attention and you look up. Ten takes a seat beside you in silence. You move the cup of beer so that it doesn’t spill from any sudden movement. It’s quiet for even longer, your pulse the only rhythm to follow.

"Ten." You smile, looking away from him and into the ceaseless stretch of woods. He hums in response, as though a habit yet to get rid of. It makes you bite down your lip to prevent the smile from turning into something sadder.

You miss him. You miss the years you spent with him. You're drawn into him, into something old, familiar and safe. 

No one can save you when you’re homesick. 

However, you do not give up easily. What is broken can be mended with enough love and care.

Ten sighs, taking the cup from you right before it touches your lips. "Don't drink that. You hate the taste and it makes you go crazy."

You pout, but can't really find something snarky enough to say. Not when he looks like that—with dry, still-red lips and tired, apologetic eyes.

“Your forehead is so oily,” you mutter.

Ten looks at you, furrowing his eyebrows. He proceeds to hesitantly wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before shaking himself out of it. Instead he just glares at you.

“It’s not oilier than your nose,” he shoots, annoyed. 

“At least my nose isn’t titan-sized.”

“My nose is perfect. Do you- do you know how many people fall in love with my perfect nose every day?”

You laugh, covering your face. His features soften and he returns his gaze to the comfort of the endless forest. It does have an end, at the fences by the railway tracks but in believing that something can be infinite, you find comfort. 

"New York treated you well. Too well. But then again, you were always a narcissist."

You smile smugly at him and he gives you an unamused look.

"I'm… I'm glad we're talking," you offer after a few moments of unacknowledged silence.

He tenses ever so slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair and looks at you. He looks away again as if in an internal debate.

“You rejected me, (name),” he says, exasperated. “How do I recover from that? Don’t answer. It was so embarrassing.”

You close your mouth. If only you could tell him the truth. You had to reject him or your sentimental boy would never leave for acting opportunities. He doesn’t have to know that. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly.

But the truth is, it’s too scary to think about. You’ve been refusing to look at your feelings for a long time now. It’s only a cliche; it doesn't happen in real life. You’re too good of friends to be in love. Isn’t that right? It certainly couldn't have been you to fall in love with Ten. There were a million other people to do that in your stead. You feel shy all of a sudden.

“That was pretty embarrassing,” you mumble, pressing down your smile and he rolls his eyes.

After a few moments in silence, a sigh escapes his lips. “I’ve had enough time for closure though. I can’t believe I actually said that. Oh, the over-sentimentalism. Yikes.”

He makes a disgusted face.

You giggle. “I can’t believe it either. You do look cute blushing, by the way. You find any lover in the big, scary city? Any rebound?” 

Ten rolls his eyes. “Too busy. And are you going to tease me forever about this thing?”

You laugh. “That’s the Ten I know. You’re always working. Sometimes you should have fun.” 

“I have plenty of fun. You’re the one that used to cry at birthday parties.”

“I was six years old and it was one time, holy shit.”

The two of you break into laughter. The cold makes you draw nearer to him.

“Hey, wanna go to the mall this weekend?” you suggest.

“Wait, it’s still there? Wasn’t it supposed to get knocked down?”

“Yeah but the townsfolk didn’t want that so they delayed it. There’s, like, barely any employees though. It’s like a ghost mansion at night.”

Ten makes a face. “The afternoons there were so bright, like, there was so much sunlight, remember? I remember you always drinking my banana milk at the food plaza.”

You laugh. “I miss skipping class to go there. Now there aren’t any classes to skip.”

“Oh my god, remember when Mr. Wilson actually caught us?”

You laugh louder. “We had to pretend we weren’t his students. Which was futile acting because he knows every student.” 

Ten sighs. 

“I missed you. God, I’m so fucking sorry—I was in over my head. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Hey.” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too. Besides, it’s not you if you’re not being a bit of a drama queen.”

Ten elbows you in the side at the comment and you yelp, moving away and glaring at him in response. 

“Just because I’m in theatre doesn’t mean I’m a drama queen.” He mocks the tone of your voice and you giggle.

“So any special Broadway stories you have in mind? I wanna hear something funny.” You rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

"Well, one time this actress' dress caught on fire—"

"That's not funny, that's horrifying."

Ten purses his lips. “Okay. Uh… I got told to fuck off by an eighty year old man in drag after I threw raw steak at his window?”

You snort, eyes widening and Ten throws up his hands in exasperation. "How is that remotely funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's as funny as it gets with you."

"I can't believe you're pretending I didn't carry our sense of humour on my back for all of middle school and high school."

“I missed you," you say quietly, and he flusters, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

You sigh, inching closer. "Yes. I did miss you, you know? I called."

"And I didn't pick up. I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you've apologized to me more times now than you have in our first twenty years of friendship."

Ten rolls his eyes. "And I mean it. It's not the 'sorry I ate your cookies' apology."

"I fucking knew you were the one eating stuff from my bag back in high school."

Ten presses his lips, making a zipping motion and you push him in exasperation. The two of you laugh, loud and clear, before Johnny's voice comes in, telling the two of you to "stop fooling around near the woods" and that it's "unhygienic".

Seasons change but people don't. You walk home with Ten for the first time in a year and suddenly, you’re in love with the idea that things can just lie in complete peace once they fall back into what was always meant to be. Perhaps it’s the writer’s utopia, but you think it’s much more meaningful this way. Ten's hoodie smells just like home.

prologue.

It was a sunlit morning when you first met Ten, but it was only a sunlit morning. There were no birds chirping or faceless adults on that sidewalk or even your friends because you don’t recall them. You recall a child with two very important teeth missing and your sudden urge to run to his side. You’d pulled his cheek with a huge grin on your face because, and you still stand by this, they were too cute and plump and red to resist.

You were three and a half years old when you met Ten and you parted when you were twenty. One year later, you're back to linking arms, joking about each other and talking about life as though it's a passing stream. 

You were six years old when you cried at Ten's birthday party because no one was talking to him. It gave you an evening's worth of attention and a huge smile on Ten's face. You still think kids are mean as hell but they care for things like they have never cared before. 

You were eleven years old when you started to lose a little bit of touch with yourself. You talked less, you looked at people more. Ten's face was still the most comforting out of all. He said he liked to listen no matter how annoying you sound. Somehow, by the time sixth grade was over, when you were almost twelve—you talked at least twice as much. 

You were fourteen years old when you dated a boy out of curiosity and left on an awkward note when he moved away. You weren't sad for some reason. The idea of life passing meaninglessly by was engraved into you, like the waves that carve the beach. Ten was distant the whole time, with a scowl and more sarcastic remarks than usual, only warming up when you showed up at his door with a homemade cake. It tasted horrible and had the texture of a mossy pebble but you laughed over it anyway. Suddenly, life wasn't meandering but a river full of vigor in spring, beside a garden of fresh crested irises. 

You were sixteen when you were pushed to audition in a play by your best friend. The play was about life and death and love, and it didn’t make sense to you the way it did to him. You had good fun backstage with the costumes and the makeup, and it was all that mattered to you. However, some part of you didn't like it, hated it even when he kissed the female lead of the play with eyes full of adoration. You looked on as Villager B and you hated every part of it.

When you were eighteen turning nineteen, you decided to save up for college. It would take time—years perhaps but you would get there. You would get an apartment with Ten in New York City or any city full of bustling, busy life and you would tend to your rooftop garden. Small town dreams, however, die and they die and they’re buried in unloved, unplanted soil. 

You finally understood what your tenth grade English teacher meant when she said everything is theatre. 

The night he left, you had a nightmare. It was a play and you were the protagonist. You couldn’t make it in time for the night of the performance, anxious and afraid as you arrived. You’d been replaced. You hated to see him on stage with someone else. You hated it. You hated it. You hated it so much. 

Of course, you knew it would be a showstopper the moment that fight broke out between you and your replacement. You were cruel in that dream—almost as if you were someone else. But you felt comfortable in that skin, like you were meant to play that part after all. As if you were the villain all along and not the sweetheart of the show. You felt comfortable and it scared you so much that you woke in cold sweat and cried for an hour straight.

It hurt how lonely you felt. It hurt without Ten and you hate that you let him go. Something took shape inside the cavity of your chest, the shape of a weed sprouting in the pulsing garden of life—you won’t make the same mistake again. You’re going to hold on with all your might, till your hands ache and till your heart has had enough. 

ACT II: YOUTH 

 act ii scene i.

“Have you ever actually shoplifted in your life?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten tries to suppress his smile and fails, moving so that his back covers you from view instead. A conversation about New York subways led to a conversation about anarchy which led to… this. You’ve been trying to swipe the butterfly pin from the display for the past half an hour. You weren’t actually going to steal it—you just need to prove you can.

The mall is always eerily empty. It shouldn’t be this big of a hassle. Ah yes, apart from the fact that the souvenir shop has stationed the most number of employees for some goddamn reason. You’re not even sure why it’s there; a souvenir shop for your town might as well be a forgotten relic.

“What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not doing that. Causing trouble is your thing.”

You snort. “Right. Because everything we got into trouble for was done completely by me.”

“That’s actually true.”

You elbow him, giving him your most offended look.

“You can’t be serious about never causing trouble. You broke Mrs. Leung’s famous ruler, remember? And you always stole your mom’s Halloween cupcakes. Those were for all of the theatre crew, by the way.”

“That doesn’t sound right, darling.”

When you look up at him with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, you find him smiling in somewhat tranquil thought. It has been rather long. 

“Yeah, I helped you way too much,” you respond, distastefully. 

The two of you straighten at the cashier’s call. Responding that everything’s fine, Ten turns to you with a pointed look.

“If you’re going to do it, better do it before she gets suspicious.”

The hint in his eyes reminds you that he is indeed the devil you know, and you quickly pocket the little butterfly hairpin. This is not ethical in any way and even so, you feel the childish exhilaration. This is to prove a point to your dear friend.

“See?” you whisper to him, exiting the shop. “I could totally pull this off.”

“Not if I start screaming ‘thief!’”

“Did you ever get to play a villain at Broadway? It’s closest to your personality,” you jab.

He sends you a sardonic smile before sticking his tongue out. You should always beware a childish man and his childish smile. You never know if he’ll take you seriously. Ten is the absolute worst and you love him all the more for it.

“Are you actually not gonna pay for it?” he asks, tilting his head. 

“And let all those proceeds go to our corrupt overlord mayor? Nuh-uh.”

Ten laughs. “We should go vandalize his campaign posters again.”

The mayor has had, you don’t know how many, little scandals accusing him of embezzlement and every time, he’s escaped easy as pie. All the things you can do with money and you decide to hoard more money; you will never understand people like him. Besides, you won’t have to worry about that any time soon.

“See? You’re the troublemaker. I can’t even vandalize good enough.”

“It’s not my fault you have zero artistic talent.”

You place your hands on your hips. “I’m sorry? I’m pretty sure I taught you how to paint.”

Ten rolls his eyes, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Yeah. You taught the whole class how to paint when you smacked Mr. Cheng with that paintbrush.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes to you, despite trying your best to hold a serious expression.

“You’re a disaster,” he adds, staring incredulously at your fit of laughter. 

You look at him and start laughing again.

“Oh my god, what’s so funny? I wasn’t even trying to be funny.”

“Okay, emo boy,” you say, finally straightening and messing his hair.

“I was going to get a haircut.”

“Don’t. You look pretty.”

Ten hums, raising an eyebrow. “But I wanna look hot.”

“That’s going to take a lot of effort.”

Ten grabs you in a chokehold, messing your hair with his hands in the most obnoxious way possible. Finally able to loosen his grip on you, you look at him with your most fearsome glare. He has to stop treating you so gracelessly.

It’s not unusual for him to behave this way; in fact, you welcome it when he’s warm and much lovelier than the usual. But something feels amiss, something dangerous like the passage of time. 

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be talking much more about New York instead of our boring old town.”

He hums, eyes scanning the vicinity of the mall’s first floor. There’s an ice cream shop opposite to the souvenir shop, unvisited due its lack of variety in flavours, and a spacious marble floor with most of the shops closed for renovation. The other two floors are closed off completely but you’re sure that with enough effort, you could sneak in. The glass ceiling at the centre allows for sunlight to wash in as gentle waves, settling on your heads like golden crowns. There are little potted plants lining the walls to make the mall space look less dilapidated but it gives off the same effect as that of something abandoned, left alone and waiting. 

“You want me to brag about it?” He addresses you with a slightly cocky grin.

You roll your eyes. “Never mind.”

The mayor wanted to turn this place into some sort of religious campus but you detest the idea of that man getting his way. He’s the very same man to reprimand little girls for their outfits and to say “dancing is not manly” so you do owe his nauseating sexism for your distaste for him. That, and he has absolutely no sense of aesthetics. You would die before you let him remove the gardens or the livelier buildings blessed with the only colours you can bear to look at. 

“Hey, (name)?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Angry Cashier is making her way towards you.”

You snap your head to the souvenir shop and the cashier is indeed eyeing you suspiciously. You reach to pat your pocket but you’re stopped by Ten.

“You are, by far, the stupidest thief I’ve ever known.”

You puff your cheeks in annoyance, crossing your arms instead. Just when you think the cashier is going to call you out, the two of you sprint over to the mall exit with a plausible enough speed.

“We didn’t have to run, you know?” Ten complains as soon as you’re out and a street or two away. 

“What’s the fun in committing a crime if we don’t get to run?”

“I don’t know, it could be a brain exercise—oh wait. You don’t have one.”

You stick your tongue out at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“Hey!”

He jogs up to you, eyebrows furrowed and ready to spit some sass at you, no doubt.

“I thought you’d be more athletic. Dancing and all.”

“Yeah, no.”

You fix the hair in front of his eyes as he leans over on his knees, a look in his eyes as though caught off guard. They’re a lovely shade of honey, his eyes. They look at you with emotions you can't quite fathom and with the innocence of a love borne between friends who have been forced to endure the mediocrity of this town together. It’s a good reason, you believe, to be friends. Friends are meant to help each other, to save each other and to be there at the lowest. You can check all the boxes. It might have been a while but you’re friends and friends that grow up together stay together. The idea is naive but you cannot possibly look into a future without Ten. There must be a reason behind everything that is given to you. Even right now, as the silence starts to nip at you, you believe you were meant to make full circle. Fate is a funny thing and you wouldn’t believe in it ever, even for a surprise twenty dollar bill vending machine miracle, but it’s comforting enough to let settle on the two of you. 

The lead actors go hand in hand.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? I know I’m tragically beautiful—”

“No, you’re beautifully tragic. Your face, that is.”

“I stopped listening after beautiful, so I believe you agreed with me there.”

You roll your eyes. 

“You and your unyielding confidence can go fuck itself. I’ve seen you cry over a cat movie.”

Ten sputters out a response. “But- but Garfield saved that dog despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He could’ve lived a happy, peaceful life but he saved him. How is that not incredibly touching?”

“You’re weird. Garfield’s cute though.”

“Like me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“I was having my rebellious punk phase then, so no. I would never have said that when I was twelve.”

You laugh. “God, you looked so funny back then.”

“I thought we agreed to not bring up stuff from our teenage years.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to stop the laugh but a tiny giggle comes out anyway. The sun is going to set in an hour. You better make use of your time.

“Ready to go vandalize some posters?” you ask, grinning.

“You know what? I have a better idea. We should go pick some flowers.”

You blink at him. “That’s not remotely punk or rebellious.”

“Shh. You like picking flowers. Remember how we used to joke you should be hired at weddings instead of the flower girls?”

You make a face. “Why on earth would I fling flowers in the air at weddings? That’s not even a respectable job.”

“It suits you.”

“We should be kinder to our arboreal friends.” You cross your arms. “I’d rather tend to a garden than pick flowers for stupid occasions.”

“Tree-hugger.”

You pull up your middle finger and he laughs, fixing his hair right back into the messy waves.

“Why do you hate weddings?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Icky stuff.”

“No one’s having sex at the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant by icky stuff. It’s that gross feeling in the air. What’s it called?”

“Love?”

“Please, there’s hardly any love at weddings. It’s all pretend.”

Ten rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think all the brides and bridegrooms in the world are pretending at their own weddings?”

“If you say it like that…” You grumble. “I don’t believe you need to celebrate love, that’s all. It’s always there, you know?”

You look up to see Ten pressing his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing and scoff in disbelief.

“What’s so funny? Seriously, stop laughing—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Soon enough, Ten is crouching by the sidewalk in a fit of laughter which causes a hot flush rising over your neck. You weren’t trying to be cheesy. Now, your best friend is hellbent on making you feel embarrassed. 

“It wasn’t that cringe. Come on. Get up, asshole.”

“You were- you were just so—” He takes a moment to catch his breath, a few short laughs erupting from him nonetheless. “You looked so serious when you said that.”

Your face is hot enough for you to look away now. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“It was cute. You looked really cute,” he continues, somewhat sobered up. “And brave. You always say things with so much confidence that it’s brave. I’m glad you are the way you are.”

You look at him, slightly dazed before your cheeks puff up to prevent yourself from laughing.

“I regret saying that. You are the big, hideous regret of my life.”

“I thought I was cute?” Your snickers turn into laughter again.

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks, Ten. You’re really good to me.”

Ten shakes his head before walking away, leaving you to call after him in phrases of ‘wait up!’ and ‘when did you get so fast?’ as you try to catch up. You sometimes wonder if he likes being chased. You reach the busiest crossing in this town, with about four cars waiting at the stop sign. You’re not sure why anyone follows the traffic rules if there isn’t even any traffic.

Looking up, you gasp at the moon peeking over a still young sky. You're suddenly reminded of those afternoon naps you had in Ten’s room, the both of you fascinated by the idea of waking up and seeing the sky a whole different colour. The idea that time changes everything was still fresh in your minds then, the impact gentle if not loving. It’s quite late you found that time can steal just as much as it gives.

“Remember when we dyed your hair red?”

“I will, and I shit you not, physically assault you for saying anything about that.”

You laugh at the memory of his awkward hairdo. “No, the other time. When we were seventeen.”

“Oh yeah, I received like eight love letters for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He did look pretty, and just in time for Valentine’s day’s theme of red roses and nauseating pink hearts.

“I have proof.” Ten leans his elbow against the street lamp, missing it completely and stumbling backwards till he regains his balance. He gives you an impish smile, running a hand through his hair and breathing out. 

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words. “I think we never took pictures of that.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

“One good picture,” you answer, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of him off guard. Looking at it, you pout. It’s so unfair that he gets to look nice even in a hazy evening picture. 

Ten rolls his eyes, snatching your phone. “Let me show you how to take good pictures. Not whatever crap you have going on.”

You cross your arms, huffing but agree nonetheless when he forces you to pose by the street light. He blabbers on something about composition and colours that goes straight over your head but you can’t deny that the picture came out ridiculously well. You might have to change all your socials with a new profile picture.

“See? You can thank me with a kiss,” he says, a cheeky smile across his face.

You press your lips to his cheek in a swift motion, a smack sound resounding from it. It was uncalled for, you think, because Ten freezes for a few seconds in an uncharacteristic manner. He shakes his head, a scream dying in his throat before turning to you with the most scandalized look.

“Oh my god, what did you do that for?” he says, rubbing at his cheek in a teasing manner.

You wrap your arms around him, furthering his protests although he ends up smiling wide. “You asked for it, honey.”

“Nicknames are my thing. Stop trying to copy me, it’s embarrassing.”

"Okay, now let's take a picture together," you suggest pulling him closer.

He clicks his tongue and takes the phone from you, and when his hand rests upon the small of your back, you try to freeze up. His face is near yours, not unlike the usual but you feel your heartbeat hike up. It's a strange feeling.

"Now, can we go home?" Ten asks, handing you your phone. "I can't believe your background is rilakkuma."

"I'll change it," you respond, voice strangely quiet. You're only half smiling but Ten's smile is full and bright, eyes honey-pure. "To us."

Ten hums in satisfaction and offers his hand like a gentleman from another century, something you tend to exaggerate and you take it with a laugh. The two of you walk with entangled arms and playful skips over the pavement, getting the same old looks from passersby as you did as children and teenagers. The traffic lights glow a gentle hue below the mature blue evening sky, fading easily. You realize as gently as waves lapping at the shore that you missed Ten so bad it still hurts in the hole he left. 

act ii scene ii.

Any weekend in a boring little town of flowers starts with the news of parties. It used to be Johnny sending invites but now it’s mostly just Yukhei calling people for impromptu college parties. Now, you are aware that college parties are horrendous in every shape and form; you are also aware that the two hour car ride to the city college isn’t safe. But it’s easy to ignore hackneyed advice to stay away from parties and alcohol and weed when you’re young and have a ridiculously large group of friends.

The drive isn’t the worst part. At least the drive to the party isn’t; the drive back is usually too hazed to be memorable. Sicheng’s driving this time and with a lot of grumbling but he gets enough pitiful pats to the back and cheek to stop it. Ten has his feet up on the dashboard, having called shotgun before you by one fucking second. You’re stuck with Sooyoung and Johnny in the backseat, sandwiched uncomfortably at that, but you lean forward enough to nag Ten the whole time.

“(name),” Sooyoung calls in a sing-song voice. “Your overly affectionate looks for Ten are showing and it’s not even eleven yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows, stammering out a response and regretting it immediately. “You’re- You’ve been teasing me about this forever.”

“No, she’s right,” Johnny joins in. “Come on, there isn’t even alcohol involved. Yet.”

You roll your eyes, shrinking into yourself as the two of them laugh on either side of you. Sicheng says something along the lines of ‘nauseating’ and ‘idiotic’ but he gets an elbow jab from Ten.

“I’m driving,” he hisses.

“Into every sidewalk we come across?” Ten shoots back.

Another bout of laughter rings through, and this time you can smile too. It’s not that you’re particularly bothered by the teasing; it’s just uncharted territories you have no desire to chart. You always thought you’d meet Prince Charming on a balcony in a summer evening, and this is optional, but it should happen with ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift playing in the background. It’s quite inane to assume it would be your best friend, whom you have spent countless summer evenings listening to old Taylor Swift songs with.

Before you were aware of college house parties, you thought things like these would be more of a less-people-more-booze sort of situation. Turns out, the alcohol to people ratio is nearly the same. Stumbling out of the entrance to the frat house, Yukhei greets the lot of you with a dazed smile before promptly throwing up into the bushes. Rolling your eyes, you pat his back while Sooyoung gets some water from her purse.

“How many drinks was it this time, Yukhei?” Ten teases. “Half? Three-quarters? No wait, that’s a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Yukhei mutters, somehow still upbeat despite his continuous retching. “I bet you’d be drunk after a shot of whatever the hell I had too.”

Adjusting his jacket, Ten narrows his eyes at Yukhei with an incredulous look. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go.”

Sicheng raises his hands alarmed, but Ten has disappeared into the swarms of people before any sound can leave him.

“He was supposed to drive on the way back,” Sicheng complains. He opens his mouth in sudden realization and then turns to you. You look from him to Johnny and Sooyoung who share a look and walk briskly into the party with a thumbs-up gesture.

“Oh. Oh no,” you say.

“No, yes,” Sicheng responds.

You shake your head and laugh before sprinting inside, Sicheng’s yells of protest fading out.

Yukhei wasn’t kidding when he said his frat hosts the craziest parties. There’s far too many people here, at least far too many for Ten to have fun. You like the energy of the crowd though, all in their own zones and dancing to old party pop songs. The smell of alcohol hits you so strong at first that you have to take a breather in the little garden space they have. It’s more of an overgrown shrubbery instead of a garden but any green will do. Walking back in, you feel much more comfortable when you take a shot of vodka from a girl passed out on the couch. Laughing, you look around for familiar faces. Parties, however, are not the place to look for faces at all. You think you just spotted a fur neck warmer tied around a dude’s waist while he performs some Neanderthal variant of belly dancing.

You bump into a guy of fairly tall stature, a polite apology tumbling from his lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle in amusement. “You’re not a party kind of guy, are you?”

He stares at you with a placid expression, intrigued. “And how would you know?”

“First, you’re not drunk. Two, you look grossed out by those dudes on the bar table. Three, you’re making conversation with me instead of dancing.”

“So you’re saying I can’t make conversation and dance at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Mister, but you look like you’d rather not dance at all.”

He laughs. “That’s your way of saying I have a stick up my ass, isn’t it?”

You shrug, giving him your friendliest smile. “I prefer talking to drinking too. What’s your name? I need to know the name of the only sober guy in here.”

“Doyoung,” he answers. “Something tells me you’re not going to give me the same pleasure of knowing your name.”

You smile, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Names at parties are better left unknown.”

Something about him is inherently attractive, and you find yourself drawing nearer. Perhaps you could have a more fun night this way. “It’s much more fun to guess. Now, I’m guessing your party-loving best friend dragged you in here so you could get laid.”

He sighs, smiling at you. “I’m actually part of the frat.”

You gasp, hand covering your mouth. “No way.”

“Someone sober has to oversee whatever the hell’s going on here.” He shrugs. “Now, and this isn’t a guess, but you’re not from our college.”

“Nope. I’m from that little flower town nearby.” 

“Ah, I heard there’s a lovely dahlia field there.”

You nod. “And me. Just as lovely.”

You bite your tongue. That was certainly not sexy enough flirting. Ten has been rubbing off on you with his lame comebacks. Doyoung, however, laughs really loud at that. He must have a worse sense of humour than you thought.

You turn sharply at the sound of your name. Ten seems to be waving at you from a table of beer pong, looking rather distressed. You wave back with a bothered look on your face, aggressively signaling for him to handle his shit alone. He pouts and signals more desperately for you to come. Sighing, you turn to Doyoung.

“Sorry,” you say. “My friend seems to be in a pinch. Either that or he’s attention starved again in a record time of eight minutes.”

Doyoung laughs. “I liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too, plot twist.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Doyoung smiles at you. "Ah, I tend to forget but someone always comes along and shows me how friendships are made."

With one last smile, you leave him and walk halfway through to Ten before realizing you forgot to ask for Doyoung’s number. It’s too late to turn back now for the crowd blocks your version and you begrudgingly make your way to Ten. So much for your fun night.

“What was so important that you had to pull me away from the only attractive dude in this party?” you say, crossing your arms.

“Who, Doyoung?” he asks. “I’m at least six times hotter. And anyway, help me win this.”

You roll your eyes. If Ten knows Doyoung, you can somehow finagle your way into getting his number.

“I suck at this game,” Ten mutters. “How the hell is it supposed to hit its mark when the cup is so far away?”

“You have shitty aim,” you say, taking the ping pong ball and throwing it right into the cup. Smirking at the dude who’s already wasted on the other side, you turn back to Ten.

“That’s how you play.”

“Maybe you just have magic hands. Kiss my balls for good luck—wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that.”

You throw your head back and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. Sometimes Ten forgets to think before he opens his mouth and it might be surprising, but he does think before most things he says. He’s always been careful in the subtlest ways.

“I hate this game,” Ten says after missing the cup again. 

“Let me teach you,” you say, moving behind him and taking his hand holding the ball. He stiffens before letting you guide the angle of projection as you throw. It lands right in despite the wobbly beginning and you grin at him.

“I’m so done with this party,” he whispers, hands on his hips and stretching much like a cat after a nap.

You giggle. “I didn’t drink enough to forget everything that’s ever hurt me though.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks, before clearing his throat. “If you wanna stay, I’ll stay too.”

“I’m not a child, you know?” you say, smiling incredulously. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I don’t need you talking to any more Doyoungs. You know his body count?”

“That guy?” you ask, jaw dropping.

“It’s not that much actually,” Ten continues, smiling deviously. “More than what you expect from a guy in law though. You can shut your jaw.”

You huff. “How do you know though? Did you sleep with him?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “I would rather eat your baking than sleep with him.”

“Hey.”

Right then, the two of you are approached by a now-sober Yukhei. He must have vomited enough alcohol out of his system by now. Johnny stays beside him with mild worry across his features. Sicheng on the other hand looks like his social battery has drained out already.

“It’s time for a drinking game!” Yukhei tells the two of you. “With the… uh… not so drunk people.”

“So just the five of us? Where’s Sooyoung?”

“Doting over Yeri,” Johnny answers.

“Ah.”

“Let’s play something if you guys actually want me to stay and not die of boredom,” Sicheng mumbles in annoyance.

"Truth or drink?" Yukhei suggests. 

"Hell no," you mutter. "I've had enough of that."

"What, no dare this time," he insists with a wide smile and arms outstretched.

You hum. "What are you curious about anyway? I know you wanna know something."

Yukhei scratches the back of his head before glancing at Ten. "Well… have you two ever… I don't know, experimented with each other? Like you're best friends, right, so no hard feelings."

Ten furrows his brows, a gaze that's somewhere between a glare and a confused look.

"Experiment…?" He asks, almost afraid to.

"In bed," says Yukhei bluntly.

Ten turns a few shades darker in the face, noticeable even under the multi-colored party lights. You, on the other hand, pray your stunned expression isn't mistaken for the embarrassment you feel. You're not sure why the feeling arises.

"(Name) wishes," Ten jokes, playing it off.

You roll your eyes. "You wish, asshole."

Yukhei pulls a face and raises a hand to interrupt. "Please don't start another lover's quarrel."

Sicheng snickers at the side, although you thought he wasn't listening. How on earth does this joke not get old to them?

"Anyway, my question is answered," Yukhei says. "Best friends who are in love with each other cannot sleep together but friends who are not… they can right?"

Sicheng hums in response, a teasing smile already on his lips. Ten groans and places his hand to the back of Sicheng's neck, almost threatening.

"What would you know about sex, Sicheng?" He bickers. "You're like virgin supreme."

You narrow your eyes. "And what would you know?"

Ten opens his mouth then closes it promptly. Sicheng and Yukhei on the other hand break into laughter, mentioning something about digging graves before taking their leave from the two of you. You really don't think either of them should be drinking—considering Yukhei's a lightweight and Sicheng is supposed to drive.

Ten smacks the back of your head and you yelp, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"I was trying to help us there," he complains. "You're so unfun."

You mimic his statement and he tries to pinch you in the cheeks, which you expertly avoid.

"So tell me," you say. "Have you or have you not had sex?"

Ten sighs. "Okay, yeah fine. Guilty. Whatever."

"What happened to no flings in New York?"

"Didn't feel like telling you."

"Oh, I'm so hurt."

The two of you look at each other and burst into laughter, easy to forget the scores of people around you in the moment. 

“So you definitely had a few flings in New York,” you say, crossing your arms with a smug smile.

“Like three, yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “What does it matter?”

Some part of you is satisfied with the way he doesn’t look too interested. It’s the ridiculous part of you. The clementine light over his features make them seem even gentler than usual and you smile, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek.

“Wha—”

“Mhm. Your cheeks are so warm.”

“Oh, so now I’m your personal heater.”

Ten places his hand over yours and your heartbeat hikes, and so easily too when he looks at you with his honey eyes.

“You know what, you’re right. This party’s getting boring.” You look around, as though pretending will help you any better. But then again if Shakespeare was onto something and all the world's a stage, then you never stop pretending, right?

Ten looks at you for a suggestion and the moment pauses, contemplation on both of your faces. 

“Let’s just get Sicheng to drive us back,” you say finally. It’s not like you can stray too far for fear of Sicheng leaving behind the two of you (he’s done that before).

Sicheng jumps at the idea of going back and all of you have to participate in dragging drunk Sooyoung into the car and away from a slightly worn out Yeri. Thanking you and fixing her disheveled hair, she walks back into her own corner to what seems to be aggressively coding on her laptop and flipping the finger to any dude who approaches her. When work calls, you simply cannot hang up.

You and Ten are forced to sit together in the backseat now for Johnny sits shotgun, massaging his forehead from whatever hellsent concoction he made for himself and his friends. The drive is mostly quiet and you lay your head on Ten’s shoulder while Sooyoung snores beside you. It’s quiet like the laps of water between ripples. It feels so secure to stay like this, like the world cannot interrupt. You’ve missed your best friend. You’ve missed him so much.

You and Ten part ways with the others at the crossing and you don’t skip over the path as you used to, with the jovial youth you contained then. No, your steps are slower and perhaps more mature but still in pace with Ten’s just as ever. A cat waits by the entrance to your door, the same calico that has won over your mother’s heart and now waits patiently for treats. In a way, you kept feeding it because you thought of Ten whenever you did.

It seems these days, the only way to get kisses from Ten is to be a cat. He pets the cat with tender strokes and presses his face to its forehead with no fear of cat-borne diseases. 

“Hey, Ten. What about me?” You pucker your lips at him and he presses his palm to your lips instead, snickering.

In these short moments, moments that barely last, do you feel the three years he’s been gone. It’s funny how people change and never realize they do. It’s funny how you’re in awe of every person he becomes.

“I missed your rooftop the most in New York,” Ten says. 

You chuckle. “You hid there when your mom was mad at you.”

“Do you know how many slippers your rooftop has saved me from? I think your rooftop is more of a best friend to me than you are.”

You place your hand over your heart in mock hurt and he shakes his head, grinning.

“Well, let’s prove I’m more worthy of the best friend title then,” you say, grabbing his hand, the skin so soft to you, and dragging him into your house in quiet tiptoes. You remember coming up here back when you pretended to be pirates, when you acted out Shakespeare and when you wanted to forget the world, the terrible, cruel world you found yourself hating often. This is your hiding spot, a safe place. Ten makes it more so. 

Lying down against the rooftop, you trace the sky from star to star. The good thing about small, dimly lit towns is the clear view of the stars. So far from troubles, it must be easy to play the audience. 

“That looks a little like Felis,” Ten says, taking your hand and tracing a particular arrangement of the stars.

“Is that a… cat?”

“Yeah. It’s not a constellation anymore,” he tells you. “But I like to think it is.”

“I wish things never end too,” you mumble. “Like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or that new Taylor Swift song. I wish some things went on forever.”

Ten laughs airily. “I wish too.”

You turn to look at him. The curve of his nose is pretty as ever, eyelashes hanging close to the skin of his cheeks as he breathes with eyes closed. There’s a significant number of words you haven’t exchanged yet. There’s so many words you’re holding back.

“You seem tired,” you note.

He hums in response.

“Was New York that hard?”

He opens his eyes to look at you. “A little… tiring, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you can rest now.” You smile and he returns it. 

“I’ve been running for so long and telling myself I’m still dancing,” he says, a sigh escaping afterwards. “I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re with me,” you respond. “Right here. On my rooftop.”

“Watching the stars again,” he completes, laughing aloud. “God, I wish we were kids again. All I cared about were the flavour of my cereal and how many constellations I could memorize.”

“The stars don’t give a shit about you, Ten,” you tease, repeating the line you used to tell him.

“The stars might not give a shit about us,” he agrees, “But that’s why I’d like to watch them a little longer.” 

“Me too,” you say softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out. These are the moments between the bloom of a flower and when it is picked. These moments are serene and warm and gentle, however ephemeral they may be. These are the moments between the flapping of a butterfly's wings—times when you and Ten fell asleep in detention in fifth grade for something that was very much your fault, or when he pets your head with the biggest grin after pissing you off on purpose or the proximity of the baby blue sky after your latest shopping mall mischief. But the flower will be picked someday. To live is to live in fear, and no matter how you try to buzz out the idea of it, it will come and it will prove itself.

“Sometimes I wish I were an angrier person,” you say quietly.

“What for?”

“They just seem so much more driven.”

“You’re driven enough. I think you do everything right already.”

“Working at plant nurseries, maybe. I’m not even a good enough cashier.”

“Flowers suit you.”

“You know, I could spend my life picking flowers and arranging them if I could,” you say, sitting up. “Everything moves so fast that the garden’s gone by the time I get to smell the flowers. You get me?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I wish time could stop. Sometimes it does. When I’m on stage.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s very beautiful,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you.

It's quiet, the sounds of the night filling the space between you and him.

"You know, in dance," he starts, "the most powerful thing you can be is still. It's also the most difficult."

You hum in response. "I find it easy to be still with you though. It's like I don't have to perform anymore, you know?"

Ten laughs. "I know. I wish I could say that about my ambitions."

You place your palms against his cheeks, holding his face gently. You're not sure if it's because you're a little tipsy or Ten's lips that are driving you crazy, but you smile wide.

"You are like a flower," you begin rather wisely. "And spring hasn't arrived yet."

Ten blinks before snorting and then laughing like you just said the stupidest thing ever. 

The downside to getting along like a house on fire is that the house is still on fire and you don’t know what to do about it. Your heart is burning and you want to tell him the words you’re holding back. But if they escape your mouth, the wind might carry it away and leave you with a heavy response. You can’t say anything yet. Not until you’ve mustered enough courage to leave this town behind with him. Not until you have enough financial confidence to fall in love.

“Hey, Ten.”

“Hm? Don’t ask me something stupid and ruin the night.”

You giggle. “Will you stay with me wherever I am?”

“A little overdue but yes, until death do us part.” 

The two of you laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes brimming with an unsaid emotion. This is how you fall in love. You fall in love like flowers blossoming and withering, like you have only each other to withstand the test of time. 

“Should we dance?” Ten offers. “This time, maybe you’ll finally learn to not step on my feet.”

“That just makes me want to step on your feet more.”

It's so easy to fall in love that you fall asleep to the feeling—like the nights after you watched cartoons well past bedtime and thought that Ten was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, after reading illicit internet horror stories in seventh grade that only made you huddle closer, after creating a pillow fort in the name of memories the night of your graduation when you couldn't say out loud that Ten really is the prettiest boy you know. The feeling slips in like you slip on your night clothes and you forget they were ever off at all. Comfort is a fleeting thing but in that moment, it felt forever.

act ii scene iii.

Halloween is undoubtedly the greatest time to spend with friends. There’s spooky stories shared, an abundance of favourite candies and if you happen to be friends with theatre kids, there’s most certainly a fun play going on. The crisp autumn air is vaguely nostalgic, brimming with memories in this town. 

Evening creeps in and once you’re done with the day’s chores, you get dressed with such speed that your mother has to convince you to slow down. It’s like you’re a kid again, and you'd like to enjoy this morsel of your childhood before you're forced to grow up.

Greeting Ten’s mother as you rush into the house, you run up the stairs and into Ten’s room, opening the door with a loud bang. Somehow, Ten’s scream is louder than that. He’s wearing a towel around his waist (only a towel), hands covering his chest with a horrified look on his face.

"Stop screaming," you say, hands on your hips. "We've seen each other naked, what's the big deal? Actually, do that pitch again, you sound like Meryl Streep from Mamma Mia."

Ten chokes, covering his mouth with his knuckles while he coughs.

"We were like four and a half! How does that count?"

You giggle, turning around. "Change. Quick."

"I mean, you can see if you like, darling," he calls, liltingly. "I know you can't resist me. Ugh. Can't stand all this pining from a friend."

You make a gagging sound and he laughs. It seems like he’s gotten over the initial shock of you barging in. The sound of the wardrobe opening and Ten shuffling through clothes follows. You are glad, however, that he can't see the look on your face. You must be looking ridiculous. You wonder if he can see how tense your shoulders and torso are. This is not the way you wanted to start the evening. Can he tell apart the distinct nervousness in your voice? It's suddenly difficult to play it cool. And isn't playing it cool something you do in front of a crush?

You catch a glimpse of his naked back and it makes you shake your head violently to get rid of the thought. How ridiculous. You can’t be lovers yet.

“Alright, you can turn around. What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

"Say hello to the wicked witch of the West!" You exclaim, grinning ear to ear when you jump around.

"Oh, you don't have to dress up for that."

Your smile turns into a pout and you pull hard at his still-soft cheeks. He lets out a pained whine, grabbing your wrists and gently tugging them off. His skin turns red easily, however, and you're left with an image of rosy-cheeked Ten just like when you first met.

“You’re a demon spawn,” he hisses, rubbing his sore cheek. 

“No, that’s definitely your thing. Can’t borrow that,” you say, crossing your arms and smiling smugly. “Why aren’t you dressed as one? Actually, why aren’t you dressed as anything?”

Ten shrugs. “I have to wear some ridiculous ghost outfit for the play so I decided I’d rather play the part of a sexy pirate ghost.”

You snort, looking at the half-buttoned white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. “You? A ghost? A poltergeist is the word you’re looking for.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “If I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, ghost boy, let’s get going.” You loop your arms through his and pull him out, leaving in just as much a whirlwind as you walked in. You do walk back in though—to stuff a few of the cookies Ten’s mom baked in your mouth and walk right out with a muffled ‘thank you’ and your hand still around Ten’s wrist.

Arriving at the theatre, Ten catches his breath though he tries to not look worn out before squinting and making a show of searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“The train you thought we were going to miss.”

You stick your tongue out and finally let go of his hand. He pulls it to himself, rubbing at his wrist with an exaggerated look of pain. 

“Oh, it’s still intact. Thought I’d have to bid farewell to my dreams of being a professional calligrapher.”

“Eat ink, Ten.”

“Ooh, it’s the rare PG-13 (name). Nice.”

A loud bang emanates from the back entrance, Sicheng looking like a rather mortified Count Dracula (which is strange because Dracula is immortal, right?) with fake blood splattered across his jaw and two little fangs poking out. Ten no wastes no time in complimenting them, making Sicheng rather flustered.

“It was bad enough having to listen to your flirting through the door,” Sicheng mutters. “Get in. Quick. Sooyoung pulled out and we need someone to fill in.”

Your eyes light up and Sicheng is about to deny your wishes when Ten intervenes.

“(name). You get to play a slightly deranged witch with a most definitely existing bloodlust. You in?”

“You bet I am! I was born ready. Except in sixth grade when I had that meh phase and I wasn’t born ready. Then I was born ready again!”

Sicheng makes a face. “Yeah sure, just get in.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Not really, no.”

Ten whistles when he walks in. “How much fake blood did you guys get?”

“Enough to re-enact Red Wedding from Game of Thrones,” Johnny answers from a corner, in a costume which you can’t tell if it’s a werewolf or just a fursuit. You can never seem to guess when it comes to Johnny.

Ten laughs before turning to you, the sound tuning out. “I have never watched Game of Thrones.”

You pat his shoulder, laughing. In the next moment, Sicheng pushes a script towards you, expecting you to actually read.

“Sicheng, you know I’m going to improvise.”

Sicheng groans. “Shakespeare was right. Hell is empty and all the demons are here.”

Throwing a pointed glare at you when he says the word ‘demons’, he crosses his arms. It’s easy to convince him though—he’s quite amenable when he’s stressed out about details and both you and Ten know he just needs some reassurance and good, gentle shove.

You and Ten sit on either side of him on a really, really worn out couch that you’re not sure can hold the weight of the three of you.

Sicheng holds up his hands in both of your faces before you can open your mouth.

“I feel like the child of a really immature couple who is forced to grow up at a tender age because his parents are so immature.”

“Uh,” Ten starts. “That’s very specific.”

“The character I’m playing has daddy issues,” Sicheng responds casually, and a little out of it. “Actually he’s got mommy issues too. Why am I playing an eight year old?”

“Because children are crap at acting,” Ten answers and you reach your arm to smack the back of his head.

“What? Ow, that hurt.”

“Sicheng, it’s our stupid Halloween play. We do it to have fun,” you say, placing your hand 

“You going all motherly is freaking me out,” Sicheng says, wide eyes staring at you.

“You’re right,” you say, dramatically sighing. “Motherhood changed me. I can’t do evil black magic anymore. Aha! That’s a good dialogue, isn’t it?”

“Harrowing, actually, but I guess that’s what you’re going for.”

You and Ten share a fond smile, laughing to yourselves till Joohyun calls you and gives you basic stage direction. She’s almost never home except for Halloween and it makes the holiday even more exceptional.

“Ready, Wicked Witch of the West?” Ten nudges you before he has to go on stage. 

“Wait, is that actually my character?”

“No. No, it isn’t. For the love of cats—the animal, not the musical—please just keep speaking and make it worse on stage. I need a recording to laugh at.”

You roll your eyes and push him on. He looks so at peace there, the conversation from that night coursing in remembrance. It’s like everything is still, the lack of motion driving him to move. 

You never understand it yourself, however, when you’re on stage. You blabber like an idiot, as Ten says, and the audience laughs and that is it. You don’t experience what he does and it sometimes drives you a little crazy. Of course, you adding a pregnancy narrative to your witch does throw the rest of the cast for a loop but they handle it well. You just have to make sure you run as fast as you can from Joohyun after the play is done.

“Good job there,” Ten snickers after you duck behind a curtain as Joohyun passes by with furrowed brows and a frown. 

“I know right? I’m literally Oscar-worthy,” you whisper-yell and Ten shakes his head.

“Come on.” This time his hand grips your wrist. “I know the best way to sneak out of this theatre.”

Taking a flight of stairs that you were previously unaware of, you plunge into the darkness of what seems to be an attic. Ten turns on the flashlight of his phone and you yelp, the lighting not helping his already spooky makeup. He laughs before navigating through a bunch of boxes. 

“I heard they used to use this room as an execution chamber,” Ten whispers.

“They did not. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay fine. I did cry here though after reading an internet article about ill-fated lovers in ancient Asia.”

“Ugh. Truly horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Emotions terrify you.”

“They do not.”

Ten stops walking.

“Oh yeah? Got any proof?”

You stop yourself before you can do something embarrassing. The first thought that came to you was to kiss the smug look off his face and it does terrify you. The bastard is right. 

“I… cried at your birthday party.”

“You were six. Everyone cries when they’re six.”

“Alright, fine. I cried after you left.”

The silence makes you look up and for once, you don’t really want Ten to be so speechless. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I missed you a lot,” you say quietly. “Is that so surprising?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. 

“Hello? Anyone inside?” You knock at his forehead before holding his face between your face. “You’re shivering. It’s pretty cold here.”

“I’m not cold,” he says quickly, the red rising in his face.

“Of course, you’re cold. Your cheeks are aflame, that’s how cold it is.”

Ten shuts off the flashlight and you scream at the abrupt darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” he mumbles.

Now left with only Ten’s warm hand around your wrist, you let him guide through wherever the hell it is you are before emerging onto the second floor of 1075 Building. 

“What the hell?” You gasp. “Why wasn’t I aware there was a secret passage here? Is this what archaeologists feel like? ”

Ten smiles, in some sort of victory. “You don’t know a lot of things.”

You walk into the empty room, or rather wiggle in through the window—this building used to be some sort of housing apartment before being torn down halfway for renovation. Some ghost stories spooked the workers too much to continue. However, having been here long enough, you know that the only thing haunting this place is the abundance of cats. In fact, you can see a few eyeing the two of you from the other windowsills. The room is fairly well-lit and maintained so you guess the renovation will start again soon.

“You got us pizza?” you exclaim at the pizza boxes and cans of cola resting over a little picnic blanket.

“Yes, I did. Wait, crap, I forgot the candy.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” You show him the Reese’s peanut butter cups and Snickers you had pocketed from some unsuspecting children. They get way too many anyway. This is completely morally justified—you’re doing this to save them from cavities and poor health.

“I can’t believe you’d ever want to escape a theatre,” you say before humming at how good the pizza tastes. Pizza is always better when you’re having it someplace you’re not supposed to be in.

“Sometimes, it’s suffocating.” He finally bites into his pizza, an unreadable look over him. You don’t like it. Shifting closer so that your knees touch, you lean in a little.

“Oh, really? After all that talk about how beautiful it is.”

“It is. It just wears me out sometimes. Like you.”

Ten flushes red immediately. “I didn’t mean it—I, I… uh.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Gah, I knew you’d say that.”

There’s a pause. 

“I got kicked out, actually,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I had some disagreements with the writers and… and here I am.”

You look at him in stunned silence. “They did fucking what? I’m going to kill them.”

“No, (name). I was at fault. I overstepped. I guess city air made me a little greedy.”

“You were always greedy though.”

“If that’s your example of sympathy, you are horrible at it. Never try again.”

“Well.” You smile reassuringly. “You’re quite beautiful on stage. Too. Like me, as you said.”

“I’m a performer,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he leans in. “You can’t beat me at that.” 

“Then put on a show for me, darling.” You raise an eyebrow, a cocky smile over your lips.

Ten’s cheeks colour. It’s silent for a few moments and you take notice of the lack of distance between your noses, your lips. He seems to lose touch with reality when he gently cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. A soft gasp escapes you, not quite ready for the contact.

Ten pulls apart immediately, a look of horror in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry… I got caught in the—I’m sorry.”

He gets up abruptly and you still sit there in shock. When your senses are back, the room is empty and you hug yourself, feeling colder. God, you’re an idiot. For the first time in your life, you’ve come to your senses and you decide to let the only person you’ve loved walk out the door.

Your texts to him that night aren’t even left on read but you know he’s read the notifications. He always does when he’s avoiding someone. You feel the weight slithering in, pinning you down and making it hard to sleep that night. You have so many things you want to say to him and this time, you’re ready. Even if fate doesn’t let you, you will speak the lines you should have chosen much earlier.

act ii scene iv.

You don’t have anyone to show it to but the news broke you.

The idea of him keeping it all to himself, bearing burdens that are better shared makes your heart collapse its walls into itself. You’re supposed to be there. You were supposed to be there from every pitfall to the top of the world. You were supposed to be at every stage, at every afterparty and for every bout of performance high. You didn’t mean to leave the seat empty.

You were supposed to be there at every rejection and every failure, making fun of all the troubles. 

You get a text from Ten two mornings later to meet up at the new cafe everyone’s been talking about. It takes you the rest of the morning to practise what you’ll say, what you won’t and how you’ll say it. You’ve never done this much for actual plays. But you’re not acting—you just need the words to come out right.

The wall of the cafe is covered in ivy, but you cannot waste time admiring it. Your nerves have the best of you. You stop at the entrance, backtracking to say your entire speech in your head once again. The most important friendship of your life depends on this stupid monologue you came up with a night before in front of the mirror.

“(name).” 

You jump, finding Ten behind you. His nose is a little red from the cold but he looks fine apart from that. You can’t believe you’re early. This might be the first time in your life and you breathe out, slightly more confident.

“Can you… uh, not block the door?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The two of you walk in, a nervous tremble over your fingers but you clasp your hands together tight. He still remembers your favourite drink and you take a moment to try and understand why it’s surprising at all. You wish he never left.

“Ten,” you begin. “If you want to talk about that kiss—”

“Stop. I’m sorry. That was so out of line.” He lets out a distressed sigh, leaning back in the chair. 

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” you say quickly. That was not in the speech.

He sits up. “I… Am I taking things too seriously? You’ve been my longest friend, (name). You should tell me.”

You frown. “I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You just think it’s bad because you kissed your best friend and—”

“No. What do you think?”

You gulp.

“See, (name)? I lied because it fucking hurts right now. I don’t want to play this part.”

“No, Ten. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things but there’s the city, your job—oh. I- I don’t mean to bring it up if the wound is still fresh. Ten—”

“You don’t understand,” he cuts. “You’ve always been happy here. You’re happy wherever.  I’m not… like… that.”

There’s a pause. You pull your jacket closer, the temperature dropping despite the smell of warm baked goods and hit coffee.

“I thought you knew me,” you whisper coldly. 

Ten looks away. “I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about anything.” 

You breathe sharply. “Ten, I know the city was tough but it’s all you ever wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he whispers. “I don’t know where I belong and- and it just keeps getting harder.”

Your eyes soften. “At least, you were there at Broadway. You took the first step and maybe… maybe you can make a priority list, you know? Work things out.”

“(name), stop. You keep trying to cheer me up in the wrong way.” He dips his face into his palms, rubbing at it and sighing.

You purse your lips. This conversation is going nowhere and you’re holding onto the last shred of your empathy. You just want him back with you.

“You got to go out there, Ten. You went to college, you went to New York. You got to go out there and live your dreams, for whatever it was worth, while I’m stuck in this nothing town. Forever.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” he says, voice breaking. “You were saving up for college. We would live in the same city, in the same apartment with the cats and the hot pink curtains and a coffee maker—oh god, I’ve ruined it.”

It’s painful. You don’t know what to say. If this were a movie, the beautiful, romantic kind, you’d be confessing your long-kept feelings. But you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anything. It’s been a year and he’s changed in a way you don’t know and you can’t throw it onto him like this. This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have a script. Your practised words are forgotten as soon as they reach the tip of your tongue. 

People change, and you’re holding onto someone he’s already buried. He’s not in love with you; teenage love is shaky, wobbly at the foundation. He misses the years, not you. You’ve known him your whole life and yet a year’s difference makes you see things differently. You were lonely without him. You were lonely when you had to keep yourself from calling him, when you finally decided to stop sending daily texts, when you couldn’t find the same comfort in any of your other friends. You hurt him and now, you have to face it.

You pick wilting flowers at an overgrown garden. 

No, even if it isn’t you, you want him. You want him and him only, the years be damned. The past pales in comparison to what is now.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurt. “I was just shocked last night because I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

“You’re not in love with me,” he counters. “You’ve been in love with so many people but none of them were me.”

“You. It’s you—oh my god, it was always you.”

Ten glances at his untouched cup, yet undecided on what to do with his fingers when they stop tapping against the bright red plastic table abruptly.

“So what? So what if it was me? I don’t know what it’s like to play that part.”

You breathe out. There’s a silence between the two of you, one which you remember hanging stars upon. Now it's quiet in a way that has nothing to do with astronomy, or art, or music or anything, really. It’s empty. Like every other silence.

“I loved you,” you whisper in an attempt that is more delirious than for closure. “Do you really not know what that’s like?”

Ten shakes his head. “I… I don’t.”

The memories of him smiling under the sun, only memories keep your tears from brimming up. There was meant to be closure. There was meant to be an explanation. You were supposed to be closing that door you opened into each other. Ten looks at your shaking hands and for a moment, you think he might even reach out and warm them up with his sunlit ones. You press them to your face and breathe into them.

“You brought me all the way here to lie to me?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m not lying—I can’t care about you. You know that, right? I’ll ruin your life. Like I’ve ruined mine.”

You laugh, partly in exasperation and partly as an attempt to alleviate the pain in your chest. 

“You’re my boy. I know you better than anything else I know.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Don’t make me want something more.”

"Why would you kiss me?" You bite down your lip to stop yourself from crying.

Ten seems at a loss for words, looking at you with parted lips and guilty eyes. 

"I love you. I'm sorry."

With your eyes downcast, you take a shaky breath. It's now or never. Never, never, never. The word chimes like wedding bells and you think for a moment, to lie. If you pretend, if you act, you'll live it out. He cannot stay and you cannot leave. What a ridiculous pair you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get up and lean over the table to place a kiss against Ten's mouth. You pull away with reluctance, looking at the quiet surprise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I got… I got caught in the moment."

Ten stares at you soundlessly, mouth moving and yet no words come out. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair before placing his hand on your cheek and leans in again. There's a red flush over his cheeks and it makes you feel at ease.

"I didn't want to hold you back," you say after parting. "Or at least, that's what I told myself. But this year without you has been so painful."

Ten doesn't say anything.

"I… I didn't know what I felt and- and I was so scared… I didn't mean to hurt you. I hate that I did."

“I was afraid,” he says, breathing out like he was holding it in. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t care if I came back.” 

Time treats everything poorly. This time, you’ll try your best to win against it. Ten breaks into a wide, relieved smile and you laugh, rubbing at the tears that collected. God, you were so afraid you wouldn't ever be able to talk to each other anymore. Every room you’ve been in without Ten has been so empty that you had stopped opening doors at all. The coffee is hot and tastes better than ever.

//

You dream of something as ridiculous as the love you feel for Ten. 

There's a cat in the sky, made of stars and with a booming, deep voice—and you, you are little and insignificant on a forgotten rooftop. It is serene, in quiet contemplation, and you are looking at it like a neglected child at its mother. You ask something without words and it responds without words. 

All of sudden, the image disappears and you find yourself in a garden, picking flowers. The clothes you wear are not yours, the face you wear is not yours. But Ten, you'd recognise him anywhere, any time, in another lifetime.

You could see the clear distinction between the two of you however. You wore robes of royalty, the auspicious gold embroidery glistening, and he, that of a performing artist in quiet sage green. The blue irises that grew around you paid no heed to your colours and you had the thought that you should be like them. Vivid, smiling and never alone.

Ten greets you with a smile first and then stretches out his arms. You run to him, with enough force to knock the two of you onto the soft, grassy ground. No one will find the two of you here, in this flower bed. You remember thinking that royalty puts on just as much a show as theatre actors.

You didn't have to remember all of it to know that the story was a tragedy, carefully crafted by divine writers and painters. It was cruel, as is every writer's hand. You see him last under a beautiful sunset before an execution, the words ‘please’ on his lips and no hint of resentment in his smile. It was unlike him. It was so unlike him. 

You hug yourself. He shouldn’t have forgiven you so easily. It takes you a few moments to come back to your senses; this is not you. That person in your dreams wasn’t you—why did you have to feel all that pain? That person in your dream watched their lover die—no, let their lover die as though discarding a messed up sketch. Cruel. It was so cruel. 

The burning idea sprouts in your mind that it was the original script. That perhaps you were cruel and he was not and it’s been that way since forever. That if you don’t do something about it, you’ll be the villain once more. It's as scary to be young as it is lively—and not for once, did you ever think that villains were children too.

ACT III: HAPPINESS 

 act iii scene i.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Ten would spend tonight dancing with you. He says it so easily that you forget to tease him about it.

“Not like that,” he instructs, eyebrows furrowed. “Do this.”

“I am doing this.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not—holy shit, your arms are made of lead.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he stumbles, losing his balance. He sits down on his bed, leaning back on his arms and laughs. You join him and sit down on the fuzzy rug. He gets off immediately to sit beside you.

“I mean, you’re not that bad,” he says with a shrug.

You mimic his statement, rolling your eyes and he attacks your side with an unannounced bout of tickling. The last time you did this, you were a foot shorter and no high school dating rumours were flying around. The last time you did this, you didn’t end up kissing, limbs entangled with each other. December feels like June.

Ten pulls away from you, hovering over to kiss you once again before kissing turns into giggling which turns into laughter.

“I like this," you say quietly.

"Kissing me?" He asks with a sly grin.

"It's actually a little disappointing. Thought you'd be a ten at kissing."

"Atrocious. Disgusting. Vile. Never say that to me again."

You stick your tongue out at him and he does the same, the afternoon torpor settling in heavy as you cuddle into each other. It’s nostalgic almost but at the same time, so very new. You want to talk to him for hours and hours but when the hours end, it never feels enough. An ending is what you despise. Your thoughts meander.

“I had a nightmare,” you confess suddenly.

There’s a very brief pause. Before Ten even says anything, his arms reach out, pulling you into him. It’s warm and you smile.

“Was it your own face you saw?”

“Fuck you. You ruined the moment.”

“We were having a moment?”

You elbow him in the gut and he lets out a grunt of pain, the two of you moving away from each other just to glare. Ten caves first, sliding closer to you and placing his palm against your cheek.

“Can we resume our moment?” he asks, eyes crinkling when he smiles.

You press your forehead to his, your breathing in perfect coordination. This feels easy. This feels right. You pull away and look at him, the silence encasing your moment with him.

“I saw you in it. I… I lost you in it.” You bite your lower lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey. It was just a bad dream. I’m right here.” Ten draws closer, his breath mingling with yours and the warmth seeps into you just enough to forget the cold night. 

“You know what would cheer me up from a nightmare?” You nudge him.

“If you say visiting the graveyard—god, fuck, you’re gonna say visiting the graveyard. My suggestion is that you see a therapist.”

“I would if I had the money,” you retort.

Ten shrugs before furrowing his eyebrows. “Are we actually going to the graveyard? You know there are like graves there.”

“That’s… why it’s called a graveyard.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you failed seventh grade English.”

“You failed sixth grade math, Ten. Sixth grade. They teach you like fractions and shit then.”

“Do I look like I need to add three-fourths and one-eighths ever in my life?”

You shake your head before getting up with a burst of energy, and pick up your jacket from his bed. 

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” You start to chant at Ten until he reluctantly gets up. The sun is quite far from setting down yet and everyone knows the perfect time to visit a grave is twilight. Maybe the stone will give your life enough perspective to ease your anxious thoughts.

//

The town cemetery is located by the bed of dahlias which have withered in the seasonal cycle of life and death. There’s a light breeze and your jacket is just enough to withstand it. The sky is orange and pink and the graveyard doesn’t seem as looming as it does in the dead of night (which you know because you’ve visited at two in the morning on a stupid bet with Johnny and somehow Ten was the one scared shitless). You’ve heard stories of the soldiers who were buried here, the women who led the first revolution and everyone else who never got to grace history books. You’ve never enjoyed history much but you can’t gainsay that it puts everything into perspective.

Nothing else matters at the wedding altar and at the grave. 

Ten makes a face at the iron gates of the cemetery. “Okay. We’ve had our adventure. Can we please go get our evening snacks?”

“I love it when you’re antsy, Ten.”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “And I like it better when we’re in my bedroom.”

You gasp dramatically, placing your hand in front of your mouth lightly. “That’s quite scandalous of you, good sir.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I consider myself something of a modern man, you see?”

You skip over the steps to the gates and do a curtsy before gesturing to the entrance. He complies with a sigh of reluctance and lets you take his hand as you pull him in. 

A loud voice startles the two of you and Ten smacks his mouth before he can scream and embarrass himself.

“What business do you have here, trespassers?” The voice echoes through the graveyard.

You look around at the trees and squint at what seems to be some children wearing masks and giggling to themselves. You roll your eyes. Johnny told you some of the town kids were mucking about near the graveyard to spook passersby. 

“You really should get back home for dinner, kids,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Silence, trespasser! You will answer our questions to pass.”

Ten bites back a laugh. “Alright, kids. Shoot.”

“Are the two of you criminals married?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Do we look that old?”

“Okay! Next question. Did the two of you ever… do it?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head. 

Ten groans. “You can say sex, you know? Don’t be pussies.”

You elbow him in the side and he yelps. 

“Those are kids,” you whisper.

“I think they’re old enough if they’re asking,” he whispers back.

“No,” you answer the same time he answers “Yes”.

“What?” You look at him in surprise. 

He shrugs, somewhat guilty. “New York,” he responds in a meek voice. “You know?”

You snicker before it turns to laughter. “Why do you look like that? It’s not a crime to have sex—how the fuck did you even get some though?”

“It’s called having sex appeal. Ever heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something when one of the kids clears his throat.

“Okay! You may pass.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You really just the wanted to ask us about sex, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go, boys!” The kid declares before stopping abruptly. “And girl.”

A group of kids emerges from behind the trees and flock to a hole in the stone wall, laughing amongst themselves as they run out.

“Wow. Kids these days, huh?” Ten says.

“When we were their age, we convinced Yukhei to poke a beehive.”

“Okay, we were asshole kids but no one ever really told us bees were deadly.”

You walk further into the graveyard, beelining towards the same graves you visit often. They’re unnamed but they died sometime in the nineteenth century. Time passes in a way that is hard to comprehend—all these people and stories are never remembered and time is the only witness. Perspective is a luxury to those who have the time to look.

“Why do you like coming here?” Ten asks quietly, eyeing the gravestones with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“For perspective,” you answer truthfully.

He hums, a somewhat understanding note in his voice.

“They only lived for twenty-four years,” you note.

“The world ends too soon sometimes.”

“Kind of sucks.”

“Really sucks.”

The wind is cold when it passes the two of you by. Ten shivers and zips his jacket before checking up on you, fixing your jacket to cover you better.

“When I leave this place, I hope I have a nice farewell,” you whisper.

Ten raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you want it to be an awful, everyone’s-crying sort of affair?”

“No,” you respond, giving him a confused look.

“I want at least one person to be crying,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets. 

“That’s kind of—wait a minute.” You glare at him. “You don’t have to use that against me. I wasn’t crying crying.”

“I’m not! I mean it. Like, I want to mean something to someone.”

You draw near enough to link your arms, sighing at the warmth emanating.

“And you’re lying. I know you sobbed right into the pillow like a dramatic ass Disney princess.”

“You’re the one with a flair for drama.” You chuckle.

Ten makes a reluctant sound of agreement, crossing his arms. As he looks at the graves, there’s an expression on his face you can’t quite fathom. It could be mourning—but the graves are nameless, or it could be pity—but he believes that pity is not a positive emotion to feel. You want to ask but something keeps you from it. Something tells you that the answer won’t be pleasant for either of you.

“I hope I cry too,” he whispers. “When I leave and the curtain falls and the world ends.”

You look at him, pondering.

“When I leave,” he begins again, “I want it to hurt. When everything changes, I want it to hurt bad. Then I know it meant something.”

You slip your hand into his and squeeze. “If it means anything, you know I’ll cry if you leave.”

Ten laughs. “Yeah. So when you cried, was it the ugly snot cry or the silently sobbing kind of cry?”

“Fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to retort but gets a full kiss on the mouth instead, good enough to make him forget it. It’s a nice thing to get used to. If time permits, you could do everything together forever.

You return at twilight, grabbing some snacks and arguing whose Netflix account to use and the sun sets before you come to an agreement but it’s not winter anymore inside his room. In fact, it doesn’t feel like winter at all till you look outside and see the naked trees and darker skies, and you remember when you decided last year that you don’t like winter. 

Before you can have a change of heart, you turn to him with sparkling eyes.

He smiles before you even say anything, reading your face as easily as the back of his hand. “You have good news? Or, like, a gift?” Chuckling in breaks, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I just wanted to talk about our future.”

“Hm?” He seems a little surprised.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out for the both of us. I have faith in you. And in us.”

Ten’s smile falters but he doesn’t let it fall. “I’m glad you do.”

His ringtone startles the two of you just as you lean in, Ten muttering curses at the device. Pausing for a bit when he takes out his phone, he signals you that he needs a minute and leaves you alone in his room. 

Nothing much has changed. There's his cluttered ash wood desk with sketchbooks of varying sizes and colours, shelves with small plushies and, you notice carefully, the butterfly pin you stole. Beside it is the panda soft toy you had found at the side of the road walking back from school and felt so bad, you had "adopted" it. You let out a chuckle.

“Ten?” you call, holding the little panda soft toy.

Ten paces outside his room, speaking in a hush. His features are tense, shoulders stiff and eyes focused when he talks to the caller. Noticing you, his eyes soften for a bit and he makes his way towards you.

“I’ll- I’ll talk to you later,” he speaks sharply into the phone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, walking up to him.

“Sicheng,” he replies briskly.

“Oh.” You remember the doll in your hand and pick it up to show him. “Remember how we got this?”

He smiles but something is amiss in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

Whatever it is, it must not be important. After all, he’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything. Morning will come and everything will be alright.

//

The night is cold and the moon is missing. The clothes you wear are not your own once again. This dream begins when the sun has just set and you can taste bitter defeat, but of what battle you don’t know yet. 

All you know is that there is a war and you are caught in the crossfire. It hurts; you can’t feel your limbs anymore and another injury won’t matter anymore. Maybe this is the only life you won in.

No one dies in a way that matters. No one dies for anything at all. It just happens and that is a truth lying within the reach of the universe. Yet then again, when you find your last breath escaping you as you hold hands with the love of your life, you think there must be some meaning to it. You’re only twenty-four and you will be buried in a nameless grave for a war that was the fault of neither of you. 

It dawns on you the moment you wake up, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. The universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, until there is nothing left to be remembered.

All you can think then is that you will miss Ten in the next life, and in the next and the next. 

act iii scene ii.

Ten has to tell you. He knows. He knows how the story ends. 

But he’s afraid. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking facing forward till he’d turned around just to find you gone. New York was fun and he made new friends but it’s difficult to be anywhere without you. You’ve been attached at the hip for so long, it’s become strange to be apart.

Ten thinks about the call. The director was very particular about his role and chances come by as rare as diamonds. Ten breathes out heavy in annoyance, covering his eyes with his forearm. He loves sunny winter mornings and this is the worst one he’s ever experienced. He can hear his mom cooking downstairs, the sound soothing and he groans, running his fingers through his hair. 

He should tell you. He knows he should tell you. But fear never walks in on stage with full gusto, it creeps in, slithers in till he feels a shadow behind him on stage and suddenly, he can’t see the lights anymore. Ten is afraid. He is afraid of losing his sense of self to the millions of people he’s played, and to your vibrant world of flowers and colours. You are always front stage centre. You are at the bottom of everything and he can’t let himself fall deep enough. He’s not enough.

Ten turns to face the collection of DVDs on his shelf, untouched since he'd left. What did he start performing for again? Was it the time you and him pretended to be pirates in his room, his bed your gallant ship, or the time he watched his first movie on a sweltering hot summer day, or the time he sang to you the first time (it was a birthday song remix, made by Ten himself). Surely, it was for something beautiful and not for something like greed. At that time, he thought that maybe if he stole enough lives and stuffed it into the gaping hole, it would sate his envy of the people around him. The bright vibrant colours, he made his own and yet still, he feels like a thief with his nimble feet and a stash of paint bottles in his arms. He's not satisfied at all.

It was a sunlit morning and Ten thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice if he could paint with all the colours of the rainbow? You, who are so full of vibrance, couldn’t understand this epiphany of his.

"You keep getting on my nerves," he mutters in this empty room of his. "Everything you do gets on my nerves."

Ten decides that he’ll tell you this evening. After all, best friends tell each other everything. The theatre means the world to him but the whole world is out there, ready to be his stage. Eventually, this loneliness will turn into a performance and he’ll be grasping at identities trying to find familiarity. He will take his masks off over and over again, and he knows he’ll still be wearing one. He wants to greet you with his real face.

The world spins at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It never stops, and that must mean everyone on it can’t stop either. 

//

The crows are singing a song, or talking amongst themselves. You can never know. The song is dyed red as the evening, and with a splash of purple. It’s the season to miss flowers and warm hands and the sweet taste of ice cream. You don't know why but the "let's go to the gardens" text from Ten gave you the most awful feeling, much like the morning after your nightmares.

“I have to go back to New York.”

You look up at Ten from the park bench beside the dahlia fields. The flowers are asleep, not in bloom until next autumn. 

“What?”

“I got a call… from someone I know.”

Your first reaction is to smile wide and jump up. “That’s great! You’re not jobless anymore.” You laugh.

But then the corner of your lips twitch and your smile drops. The word ‘goodbye’ hangs at the tip of your tongue and you look at him, slightly perplexed. Ten, who looks at you with so much kindness, will never understand this envy of yours.

“When… when do you come back?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It depends on how well I do.”

You laugh despite the heavy feeling settling in your chest. “That- Let’s hope your acting is shitty then, hm?”

Ten frowns. “This isn't a joke. For once in your life, can you look at me with sincerity?”

You grit your teeth at his words. 

“I’m trying to lighten the mood, god dammit,” you murmur bitterly.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”

There’s something looming over the top of your heads, something eerie like a clock that never stops ticking or a clock that never ticks.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, surrender in your voice already. 

If you kiss him where you hurt him, will everything be alright? Can you grow the flowers he likes over his scars? Flowers… flowers—which were his favourite again? Irises or daisies? It must have been the prior; you’ve glanced over a hundred times at the endless fields of sleeping blue irises in his sketchbook. And yet, you doubt. Were those flowers chrysanthemums? You’re grasping onto memories and your knuckles are starting to hurt.

Ten looks at you with a gaze that is of the past. He looks at you like he’s mourning, like he’s keeping something grave from you. So you lean in, your lips brushing against his before you can kiss him fully. You want to feel him and for him to feel you, the idea of a relationship foreign and close to you as ever. Even so, you feel like a ghost as you run your fingertips over his skin and through his hair. He knows how to kiss you, how to hold you—and he’s known you for years.

Ten pulls apart for a few moments, breaths weaving into each other. It’s only five centimeters between your lips but it’s still five centimetres. You don’t know if you were meant to be apart or if you were not. The show must go on.

You brush the hair from his face, a lingering smile on your face from the kiss and the way his features align so perfectly. It’s easier to avoid his gaze that way. 

“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired. I feel like my skin is losing its grip on my bones. Everything’s falling apart.”

You hum, choking up at the sound of his voice. Soft and yet, so heavy.

He takes a sharp, shaky breath. “I don’t want to go.” 

Forever is the sweetest lie you’ve told each other. 

“You’re going to go,” you pronounce the words into realization. “You’re going to go away again. And I’m going to be right here.”

Your broken heart is making it much more difficult than it should be.

“Don’t go,” you whisper hoarsely. Maybe if this time you didn’t lie. Maybe you’ll be his number one, his lead finally. 

His breathing gets erratic, and he takes a step back to cover his face with his flushed hands. It’s painful to watch him this way and you want to take your words back. But you knew. You knew what the words would result in, what the words would grow into. You feel cruel.

“I… I can’t give up,” he says finally, “I can’t- I can’t. I’m sorry, oh god. Why can’t you come with me? Why do I have to go back alone?”

You swallow, your eyes downcast. 

“I’m not going to wait,” you say finally. “We should… we should stop now. It’s been long enough for us to go our own ways.”

Ten doesn’t move, at a loss for words.

“You… I'm sorry,” he says, choking on his own words. 

Your lips tremble and you wipe at your eyes. He cups your face, thumbs swiping away the tears before you can muster enough strength to push him away. You’re a complete mess, in a way you haven’t been before. Even now, he’s the only one you can face.

“We’re not,” you say, regaining some control over your tongue, “We’re not supposed to be like this. Do you think we would even be friends if we didn’t grow up here together?”

“What- What does that matter?” He furrows his eyebrows, drawing nearer.

“I’m saying that everything could just be a coincidence and maybe… maybe things should just end sometimes.”

You just want to kiss him, in the way a romantic story ends in a sweet kiss and it’s a happy ending.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “But if you want distance, I’m giving you thousands of miles of it.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t blame me for pushing you away.”

Ten throws up his arms in exasperation. “I’m not blaming—why are you so defensive all of a sudden?”

“You made me that way,” you answer, pitch low. Your throat hurts. 

Ten looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, baby pink lips in a frown you hate. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

You nod and let the words 'see you tomorrow' slip the same time 'goodbye' slips his. He turns his back and walks forwards as he always has, and you look in from the same place as you always have. 

Eventually, you get the energy to go home. You greet your colourful room with the same look you always have before something catches your eye. The colour of your room mostly comes from the polaroids stuck to your wall—you and Ten at your high school graduation dancing to Nicki Minaj, Yukhei and you looking done holding the caricatures Ten painted of you, Sicheng and Ten and you after your first theatre performance together. There are so many smiles that you end laughing, a little crazy with the sound. Perhaps spring isn't as far as you think it is. Perhaps you will be okay.

Everything has an end. You know that. It hurts so fucking bad.

Ten was right. Because it hurts this bad, you know it meant something now. It meant the whole world to you. Winter tumbles upon you at full force even as you hold autumn dearly in your arms.

//

This time, you close your eyes to find yourself in a field of dahlias. The dream is meandering with colours and sounds so quiet that you feel like you’re stuck in time. Then a loud vibration resounds throughout the field; it is not a field at all. 

You are sitting atop a bed of stars, in the belly of something much larger than you are. There is a place in the universe for everyone but you cannot find yourself in it. 

So you sit at the places you’ve always known, at gardens and children’s parks, waiting till your hair turns grey and your skin starts to wrinkle. Time flows around you, faster with each second but you sit so still that you're not breathing anymore. You're so jealous of those who move, dance and play. Does it have to be this painful? You don't want to be all these people in your dreams. You want to paint your own mask.

The world is so busy and you are completely still. You think of sunshine in New York and how he must be loving it and for a moment, your plastered lips quirk upward. 

When you wake up, Ten is on a flight to New York with a text that reads: "I'll come back. I promise." The sunset after a farewell—even you understand the beauty of it and so, you watch him chase his dreams into the sunset.

act iii scene iii.

You know an ending scene when you see one. It’s the only scene you didn’t end up sleeping through. But this doesn’t feel like one, no matter how deep the despair runs through you. This third act love was never supposed to work out and yet, something is amiss.

Ten doesn’t come back even when the billboards proudly show his face and he’s the star of the show. In your opinion, he always has been. But people get comfortable in the present, sink their feet into it, and when they do, they forget the past. 

The world spins at a thousand miles per hour but nothing seems to move for you. Everything stops and life goes on.

epilogue.

Your youth starts to run out.

Sorrow grows into anger, then into resentment. You’re not sure what you hate so desperately but you hate it nonetheless. You’re pissed and you don’t know what to do with yourself except wake up shaking and wanting to shout and cry at the world. You were supposed to have Ten by your side even then. Even when you’re against the world, he was supposed to be there. Now you’re all alone in a world that’s crashing and burning, in a world of your own making and in a world that is no longer in the palm of your hand.

You wish you were an angrier person, you wish you could curse and scream and fight as easily as they do in movies. At least he didn't make a villain out of you when he left first. 

You don’t really have nightmares anymore though. When you have nothing to lose, you start to fear less. You tend to a little garden of your own making after Mr. Yang passes away. There’s a quiet funeral and a will written with your name on it. You did spend most of your time there after Ten left. It’s your flower shop now and you can tend to whichever flowers you want to keep alive.

Sometime in your late twenties, you get a call from an old friend. You meet Doyoung at a coffee shop near the college he went to, and he tells you he got your number from Yukhei that night you met. He says he’s glad your number hasn’t changed in all these years—he found it going through his contacts. You find it cute the way he becomes flustered when trying to explain himself. He’s a lawyer now, finished all those tough years to complete his dreams.

It makes you smile. You think that dreams shouldn’t be kept in a bottle but your shelves are full.

You go on dates at the cutest new cafes and the most ambient restaurants, sometimes to amusement parks so you can laugh at his fear of scary rides. It feels like having a friend once again and you cheer up for the better. 

But Doyoung doesn’t understand history the way you do. He doesn’t understand a lot of things—but it’s not something you expect anyway. He’s rich and he doesn’t know what small towns are like. You think you can be in love again. He proposes to you on a yacht and you nod, paralyzed from your fear of the ocean. Your parents are so happy for you that for a brief time, you feel happy too in the shadow of their joy.

You don’t visit your hometown anymore after the wedding. You don’t visit theatres at all.

Sometimes you remember the night at the rooftop after the party with Ten and smile. But it was one night, one thing you did in a lifetime of nights and things you did. It dawns on you just then that loneliness makes you fragile, fragile enough to push people away instead.

Every time you close your eyes, you’re still dancing with him on the rooftop below the stars that are yet to fade from your memory. You now pick wilting flowers at a wilted garden.

“A play?” you ask, confounded. Doyoung has never been one for theatre.

"Your mom said you liked theatre," Doyoung answers, eyes inquisitive.

"Did she now?"

He smiles. "If you've grown out of it—"

"No. No, I've always wanted to watch a show on Broadway."

"That's settled then."

You start to understand the meaning of this place to Ten. You haven't called him in years and you didn't keep in touch after the first year. Life was as busy for him as it was still for you and you understand some of it now. After all, who would ever want to leave this place?

Being a part of the audience runs a chill up your back, with certain memories drawing to the surface of your thoughts as you sink into the seat. It's a popular musical but you can't say you've ever heard of it. Time runs differently in your little bubble. 

It hurts just about as much as you expect it to. Watching Ten on stage hurts so bad you almost look away. The nostalgia scratches at your throat, filling your head with memories you shouldn't be entertaining anymore. You should've kept in touch. You should've done something. You were friends before everything else.

All you want from him now is forgiveness. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with—

You start to cry before you can do anything about it. Doyoung doesn’t notice beside you, dozed off already to the soft orchestral music.

You must seem delirious, mourning as though you’ve buried a loved one. With a shaky breath, you force yourself to look. It is the tombstone of your childhood love that stands on stage. You were rash. You were so, so young and rash. Your lips tremble again and you cry, chest rising and falling as you remember something so forgotten that it seems a dream, something so warm that’s now six feet under in the cold ground. You mourn.

But he seems happy—and that's all you ever really cared about. That's all you should have cared about.

The play ends on a wonderful musical note and you find yourself in better composure. Shaking Doyoung awake by the shoulder, you look at him expectantly. He seems partly embarrassed to have dozed off and partly apologetic.

"You want to meet Ten?" Doyoung asks quietly.

You blink in surprise.

"You grew up in the same town, right?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

Doyoung smiles. "We went to college at the same place."

"Oh, I know. Most everyone from my town goes to college there actually."

Doyoung hums. 

"He invited me, actually," he says after a while.

"Oh."

It hurts only a little that he didn't invite you first. Did all those years mean nothing beyond a little romance? If you were years younger, you could be chiding him for it. If he were years younger, he would greet you with a Cheshire cat smile.

Backstage smells of sweat. A little perfume and powder but mostly sweat. You know that already. It's just that even the backstage here is grand. 

Ten looks as pretty as ever, even with half the makeup off his face. He looks as pretty as billboard posters, where he was meant to be, and in smiling Instagram posts and articles about how perfect his smile is. He's pretty but in a different sort of way.

Ten doesn't seem surprised. In fact, he greets the two of you with a poster smile. 

"Doyoung," he says first. "(Name). I hope, no wait. You guys better have liked that."

Doyoung laughs. "You'll bully me into liking it even if I didn't."

Ten rolls his eyes. "Law makes you so boring. Or maybe you were always boring."

Doyoung sighs, shaking his head. "Not everyone wants to be the life of the party. There's quite a bunch of wild stories about you on the internet."

Ten snorts. "I don't know why but you saying 'the internet' makes you sound thirty years older."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Learnt from the best."

You clear your throat. "If the two of you are done with your homoerotic banter…"

Doyoung chokes the same time Ten makes a gagging sound. What the two of them have in common is that they easily become flustered around you.

"I'm going to go wash my face." Doyoung excuses himself, exiting the backstage. 

In any other time or place, it would be fine being just the two of you.

"Ten," you acknowledge. "You look good."

"I always do."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to mask everything with humour."

"Like you did?"

You fall silent.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“It does,” he whispers before raising his voice something more audible. “When I look at your—our old pictures, it does.”

"You've kept them?"

"Of course."

You look at your feet. The reality settles. You’re not going back to the way things were. You’re married to another man. Ten’s not in love with you anymore. If you had taken the step forward back then, if you had kissed him before he took that step back—would things have turned out differently? 

The stars will now gaze at lonely rooftops and empty flower gardens—an audience you never wished to entertain. But now, you're glad to have been part of his play, part of the play you made together.

“Are you happy these days?” he asks. There is no malice, no resentment in his voice.

“Almost,” you answer. “There’s just one thing missing.”

To ask for forgiveness does not mean erasure. You can't move on by letting it go and pretending it was never in the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me,” you say quietly, rubbing your forearm.

Ten smiles. “We were a little confused, I think. We wanted to be loved, appreciated and found the easiest way.”

You smile back. “Yeah. It was always easiest with you.”

Ten pauses, looking around with a familiar feline look in his eyes before whispering, “So, Doyoung? Really?”

You straighten, crossing your arms. “He’s really nice. And he’s always asking me how I am, what I ate, and he buys me all the soft toys I want. And he’s a better kisser, by the way.”

Ten places a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

You roll your eyes before a short giggle turns into chuckling into laughter, and the two of you find yourself with smiling eyes, the look of childhood on your faces and memories unkempt. 

It is better to grieve than to never have loved anyone enough to. 

It doesn’t hurt anymore but maybe it stopped hurting a long time ago. But it meant something to you, meant so much to you and that's all that makes sense now.

notes.

the words to the play at the beginning of act i scene i is taken from tang xianzu’s preface to his own play, the peony pavilion, however they are not exact quotations. the graveyard scene and the “when everything is gone, i want it to hurt” dialogue are inspired by indie game night in the woods by infinite fall studio and i love that game pls check it out if you have the time and money!!

#wayv x reader #wayv scenarios #nct x reader #nct scenarios #cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct ten x reader #wayv ten x reader #nct ten scenarios #wayv ten scenarios #nct fanfic #wayv fanfic #nct imagines #wayv imagines #nct ten imagines #wayv ten imagines #wayv fluff #wayv angst #nct fluff #nct angst #moonwrites #ok 20k+ never again gn <3 #it's so painful to write small towns bc even if im from one (almost) my brain is permanently in a busy bustling city

[bruh-haikyuu]

A/N: It’s finally my birthday month and I am, once again, filling up the Konoha agenda. Today I offer you Konoha propaganda... Tomorrow? Konoha propaganda.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (Coming Soon!)

ensemble. | konoha akinori

part 2 - poco a poco.

word count: 8618

warnings: MC’s brothers have a heavy... sister-complex; overworking

(n.) little by little

‘Help’ wasn’t an unfamiliar word for you. Helping other people with their homework (to none of their avails), helping your bandmates with lifting the appliances, etcetera, etcetera. Do as much as you can, was what your parents told you as a child, and that was what you did, regardless of who asked.

Therefore, it certainly piqued your interest that Suzuki Ume, captain of the school’s marching band, and the two managers of the Boys’ Volleyball Club had crept their way into the Light Music Club room to ask you for a favor.

“Ooh, a cheering song’s certainly a new genre,” you piped up. “I used to try and convince my club members to switch to another style, but they’re too quick to reject me, y’know? PARANOIA as an idol group wouldn’t be so bad~”

The thought of the ever-stoic Mizushima Reo wearing a frilly idol costume had the Marching Band Club captain stifling a snort. “It would definitely be a sight...”

“I think we can all agree that when it comes to composing music and lyrics, you’re our first choice,” Kaori piped up. “If we can get the message across, then it would be a solid form of motivation for the team—or Bokuto at least, especially with the qualifying tournaments coming up.”

“Plus, Konoha would love it if you made a song for him, no?” Yukie followed, her languid gaze trailing up to your smiling face.

You’d nearly forgotten that Akinori belonged with the Volleyball Club. You were third-years now, both in the last moments of your high school youth. The teachers had started counselling for future prospects, your classmates had started worrying whether or not their current marks would bring them far in life, and as a whole, the third-years have begun to panic. You didn’t mind though—as long as you had your rock-hard conviction and your pragmatic boyfriend, you felt like you could do anything you wanted.

“Ah, I almost forgot that you and Konoha-kun were an item,” Ume said, her eyes twinkling. “So, how’s it? Have you two kissed yet?”

Faking a pout, you crossed your arms in mock offense, “Very scandalous, Umecchi. My virgin lips aren’t ready to be taken away yet, you know...”

“Kidding, kidding~ so, Y/N-san, would you like to do the honors of composing the Fukurodani Volleyball Club anthem for us?”

“No thank you!” you chirped, smiling earnestly.

The faces of your three guests fell.

Seeing their distressed expressions, you laughed, “I was just messing with you~ You guys are too serious. Sure, I’ll make the song. It’ll be fun, right?”

Kaori cleared her throat, reaching into her pocket to hand you a scrap of folded paper. “R-right... Anyway, here’s some ideas we collected to get you started. I’ve also written our numbers at the bottom, if you have any questions.”

“Though something tells me you already have them,” the droopy-eyed manager grinned.

Chuckling, your eyes flitted through the daintily-written notes and doodles scrawled all over the paper, “Yep. These notes are good. I’ll report back to you when I finish my final draft.”

“That’ll be great,” Ume sighed in relief. “But don’t work yourself restless, alright? Mizushima-san told me you’re those types of people who don’t stop until they get it done. We’re all third-years now, so we’ll be happy to lend a hand.”

“Of course,” was the answer you said to them, because it was the right answer. The moral answer. Instead of the more worrying: It’s fine, I might pass out from working too hard, but at least I’ll finish the job.

As the three “left the song in your care”, you escorted them back to the third-year hallways while replaying their entire conversation with you in your head. Oh, they were certainly a curious trio, walking into the lion’s den naked. But from all the curious things they’ve told you, one resounded loudly in your memory.

“Have you two kissed yet?”

Somberly laughing to yourself, you thought that, ah, that might be trouble.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Akinori’s ears were threatening to fall off their places from the two-hour long lecture about the Tokugawa shogunate. Whose grand idea was it anyway to put Japanese History as last period? He was ready to melt into a weary puddle right on the school’s entrance, but you, on the other hand, seemed even more chipper than usual.

“Geez, what’s up with all the extra energy? You’re like Bokuto...” he groaned. “Didn’t you have Modern Literature as your last subject?”

“Yep, but I’m not allowed to get tired now!” you laughed, exuberantly slapping his back to get him out of his slump. “We’ve got no club activities today, right? Let’s go to that new cafe in Shinjuku, just to get your energy back~”

“Mm... parfait would be nice. But why are you so particularly tireless now?”

“Ooh, I’ve got a new job to do,” you said while grinning impishly. “The marching band and the Volleyball Club asked me this morning.”

Smiling sympathetically, Akinori ruffled your hair. A force of habit. “Bokuto didn’t ask you to do anything weird, right?”

You shook your head, as you paused to stop in the middle of the courtyard to look at him properly. “Your managers asked me. Yuki-chan and Kaorin. They want me to make a cheering song for you for the qualifying tournaments.”

“Whoa, seriously?” he exclaimed, exhaustion replaced with that of wonder. “That’s really cool, Y/N-chan! I can’t wait to see what you’re going to write.”

The blonde’s hand fell from the crown of your head to the slope of your shoulder, the comfort from his palm spreading into your chest. Under the light of the afternoon sun, Akinori seemed much warmer in person. You wondered if you could do that thing Ume was pestering you about earlier. Leaning towards him, a million thoughts whizzed in your head, but you paid them no attention, because as soon as your eyes fluttered close—

HONK! HONK!

“Y/N-chaaaan!”

Lips falling flat, your features darkened. “No way... No way. No way. What the hell is he doing here?”

“Y/N-chan! It’s meee! I’ve come to pick you up~” the man waving by the taxi persistently yelled from you at the gates of the school, attracting the whispers and giggles of passing students.

Concern scrawled all over his face, your boyfriend turned to you, “Y/N-chan... W-who is that?”

“It’s that crazy person again...”

“Crazy person?!”

Grabbing his hand, you tried to ignore the shameless calls from the grown taxi driver who was simply too relentless. “Never mind that. Aki-chan, you can run, right? Let’s run right now. Don’t turn back, okay?”

And without warning, you dragged your boyfriend around a sharp corner, your legs pedaling as much as your glutes could handle. Akinori wished you’d stop and explain everything to him, but if you seemed to be so desperate as to avoid this certain taxi driver, then you probably had a good reason for it.

As much as he’d hoped he didn’t, curiosity overtook the boy and he did the one simple thing, you’d pleaded him not to do. Akinori turned back, and was met with a pair of sinister eyes that swam with murderous intent.

“Y/N-chan, he’s chasing us! Why is he chasing us?! And why is he so fast?!” he cried, the impending fear of the incoming taxi driver feeding adrenaline into his legs.

“This guy was a yankii* in high school. An A-grade delinquent. If he’s fast, then we just have to run faster!”

Did things always have to go so unexpectedly with you? Why couldn’t the two of you just sit down and make plans for the day, like a normal couple? Akinori figured you were lacking of “normal”, but to be chased by a former delinquent through a sidewalk was straight up terrifying—he didn’t even get to decide on what sort of will he was going to write!

“Y/N-chaaan! It’s me, Wataru-nii-chan!” your pursuer wailed from behind you. “Don’t you recognize me?! Is it the mullet?”

Wataru-nii-chan?! Konoha repeated in his mind.

Growling, you roared back at the man. “Go home, Aniki*! I can go back on my own, so stop chasing us before someone calls the police!”

Oh god, Akinori definitely didn’t expect his first encounter with one of your three older brothers to be like this. So much for a good first impression... But it was moderately your fault that you tended to avoid the subject whenever it was brought up. The only thing he’d ever recalled from your descriptions of them was that “they’re all annoying” and that they had all moved out from Tokyo to live elsewhere.

“Not until you let me drive you home!” your brother stubbornly shot back.

You were getting tired now. Running around in circles through the school district. If this race was a way to prove that you had graduated from the mere role of the “baby sister”, then so be it.

Though if it had been any other brother of yours chasing you down the streets, you would’ve been luckier. But this was Wataru for god’s sake. The second child. The idiot whose impulse transcended logic in every way possible—and the worst person to challenge to a foot race.

“Fine!” you groaned, nearly stumbling over your feet as your boyfriend pulled you from your fatigue. Hands slipping on the curve of your knees, you glared at your brother from the low angle. “I’ll go home with you this once. Then you’ll stop coming to my school.”

Ruffling your hair, he grinned, “I knew you’ll come through for your big bro.”

“...Whatever, let’s just go,” you muttered, shying away from the older man’s touch. Looking back at your visibly concerned yet confused boyfriend, you gave him a shrug and weakly waved goodbye as you trailed behind Wataru to his taxi.

Damn, that was way too scary, Akinori breathed. His stomach rumbling, he wondered if he still should stop by that cafe you’d talked about earlier. Probably not.

Resting your chin on the sill of the taxi window, you sighed loudly, enough to catch the attention of your brother on the rearview mirror. Wataru smiled brightly, driving you away from the landscape of Fukurodani Academy.

“Was that your boyfriend with you? That ‘Aki-chan’ Mom and Dad keeps talking about?”

“Bingo,” you retorted plainly, hoping that he’d stop trying to make small talk.

“By the way, I heard there’s a new cafe that just opened up in Shinjuku,” Wataru said, the mention somewhat a déjà vu. “You want to stop by and grab some parfaits?”

Frowning at your own reflection on the glass, you grumbled, “It’s fine. I’m not hungry.”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

What the hell is this, you cursed.

Like they just coincidentally planned to ruin your day, all three of your older brothers—who had mentioned to you that they were going to spend their break at their workplaces—were sitting jovially at your family dining table, as if none of this was a shock.

“Isn’t it a lovely surprise, Y/N?” your mother beamed, scooping a larger spoonful of rice onto your oldest brother’s bowl. “They didn’t even tell us they were coming to visit!”

Of course not, you scowled. If there was one thing you and your brothers had in common was that it was the annoying habit of doing things unexpectedly and expecting the second party to live with it. You wondered if this was what Akinori had felt the day you approached him.

“Y/N-chan’s gotten so big. I wonder if she can still fit on my lap like she used to,” Kensuke, the oldest, cooed, gazing at you with glassy eyes. “You want to sit on Ken-nii-chan’s lap, Y/N-chan? I’ll feed you too if you’d like~”

“No thank you,” you growled through gritted teeth and broccoli.

The third brother Masao chuckled while ruffling your hair endearingly, “Now, now, Y/N-chan. Of course Kensuke’s going to point out that you’ve grown bigger, he’s a pediatrician after all. If you don’t want to be fed by him, how about Masa-nii-chan, eh?”

Pushing your quarter-empty meal to the center of the table, you turned your face away from the college senior’s nostalgic “beef stew airplane”. “I think I’ve lost my appetite.”

“You usually eat things up like it’s nothing. Are you ill? A rebellious phase?” Kensuke muttered, leaning back on his chair to closely observe your darkening mood. “No, it’s something more... Could it be—is it your boyfriend?”

“Or that band of yours, maybe? I can’t believe you’re still in it, you know you can’t get very far with music, right?” Masao sneered, gulping down his glass of water. “All of your friends remind me a lot of Wataru when he was still a high school hooligan.”

Showing no signs of appreciation for the comment, your second brother winked at you from across the table. “Speaking of your boyfriend, I met him today when I picked you up, didn’t I?”

The mention of your ‘infamous’ boyfriend turned the heads of the entire dinner table—you weren’t so sure why your parents looked so surprised as well, you supposed it was just genetics.

“Really? What was he like? I can definitely tell he’s one of those skinny ones.”

“You bet. I was more curious about his hair though...”

“Is it dyed or is it a natural shade?”

“It was too dark to tell, maybe when I encounter him again, I’ll take a small snip of his hair to show everyone~”

Kensuke, who in your memory didn’t fare well with news of any boy approaching a 1-metre radius of you, darkly smiled behind the shade of his spectacles. He hadn’t said anything in response to Wataru’s report, and that itself terrified you to bits.

“Ooh, you’re still with him, Y/N-chan?” at his sappy call of your name, your stomach tightened. The table fell silent at the mercy of the oldest child. “That’s new. You usually get bored of something or someone after a few months or so... Are you sure it’s not much of a burden for you? You’re a third-year too, after all... You shouldn’t take relationships for granted~”

If Wataru was a knuckleheaded ogre and Masao was a devious fox, then Kensuke was definitely the demon to rule them all. It was in their nature, whether they realized it or not; they always made you seem pathetic so that they could take the chance to dote and care for you like they wished for.

“Dinner was delicious,” you blurted out, standing up from your chair abruptly that the tableware shook and clattered. “I’m going to my room.”

Watching you slam the bedroom door, Kensuke shouted after you, “Ehh... You’re not going to tell us about you and your boyfriend? We’re curious!”

You let your brothers’ voices fade out into white noise as you collapsed face-down onto your bed. You hoped that this visit wasn’t going to last long, otherwise, you’d be pulling out every hair from your head until you went bald.

Unfolding the scrap of notes your three patrons had previously collected for you, a weak smile cracked through your face. Don’t mind them, Y/N-chan, you thought as you got up to place your beloved guitar on your lap. Let’s get to work.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Akinori swore your face was so sour, he tasted lemons in his mouth.

You looked like you didn’t sleep for days. You, who had always brimmed with energy, were quietly cursing your brothers as you ate lunch. Added to your rather beautiful profile, you looked like an phantom waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim.

“So, how was your consultation with Yamanouchi-sensei about your future plans?” he cleared his throat, hoping that he could slowly pick away the frosty wall between you.

You only frowned deeper—so deep that your eyebrows were almost parallel. “Future plans... Do I have to decide everything now? My life is only this wonderful because I don’t plan anything. I could be busking in the streets with Reo, Iori-kun and MugiMugi ten years from now and I’d be perfectly fine.”

Akinori laughed. That ‘plan’ definitely smelled very strongly of you.

“What about you?” you nudged his elbow with the side of your chopsticks. “What do you want to be doing in the future, Aki-chan?”

“Hmm... I’ll definitely go to college—otherwise my mom’s brains will leak out of her ears if I don’t. After that, I’m considering setting up a business on my own, maybe in Meguro where it’s a bit cheaper than Ginza or Roppongi. It’d be nice to be your own boss, don’t you think?”

You smiled weakly and nodded. How annoying. Just as you were liberated from your isolation just a year ago, you felt like you were already seeping back into loneliness once more. Everyone had a plan after high school.

Akinori was going to be an ambitious conglomerate with the number one business in Meguro. Gorilla-faced gentle Reo was finally going to set up that ramen shop he’d been dreaming of. Iori, a rebel to mankind and jaywalking laws, was going to “hell with everything” and enter a prestigious art school. And young Tsumugi... well, whatever a sales operator was, you wished him all the best as a good senpai would do.

And thus, you were stuck again. As the prodigy L/N Y/N who could do everything... but could never decide on anything.

“It’s my brothers’ fault I was so sleepy when I filled in that form. They were disturbing my peace of mind and so I got scolded by Yamanouchi-sensei for it,” you reasoned.

“Is that why you look so tired?”

“No, that’s not it,” you sighed, replacing the lid on your emptied bento. “I spent all night finishing up most of the cheering song’s melody.”

Akinori nearly choked on his strawberry milk. “That much already?! Y/N-chan, the tournament isn’t until a week away! Geez, think about yourself more, won’t you? What would you do if you fell sick and collapsed?”

Getting up to pat away the dust resting on your skirt, you gave your boyfriend a cheeky smile. “Then you’ll just have to take care of me until I get better.”

“Ah... You’ll only ask me to do weird stuff. Why can’t your brother do it? Isn’t he a doctor?”

You curtly gave him an unappreciative pout, masking your obvious mirth. “C’mon~ I’m your girlfriend. You’re going to need a punishment for saying that, Aki-chan. Come now, don’t cover up your sides, I’m going to have to tickle you good—!”

Though you were laughing, you were a mess. More than usual, Akinori thought. It was disturbing enough that his first impression of your older siblings was nightmarish at best, but he wondered if your coping methods could’ve been more... amiable. What would he do if you really fell sick and collapsed? Would your brothers even let him visit especially with their overbearing sense of vigilance?

From your little grumbling, it really did seem like they didn’t like him. Or, really, the concept of him. As much as Akinori appreciated your solace, it would be troublesome if they’d thought he was trying to influence you to despising your family. Some sort of soap opera this is.

At least you were smiling now. He thought. And that was all that mattered in that moment, because he knew things were about to go awry one way or another.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Y/N-san... I think my ears just ascended to second heaven.”

In the expanse of the Marching Band Club room, Suzuki Ume had her hands clasped together, a content expression resting idly on her face. And it really did look like she’d died happy.

“Right~?” you grinned, setting down Lennon-chan next to the blackboard. “The melody really gets you pumped up, doesn’t it? Especially when it’ll be played by all the trumpets and percussions... I think even I’ll start feeling the adrenaline.”

Brandishing the handwritten sheet music in her hands, Ume smiled at you endearingly. “This song is perfect, Y/N-san. And I’m sure your lyrics will only make it better. If I may propose...”

Repeating the word she’d trailed off, you felt an even bigger smile cracking through the slits of your pearly teeth.

“It would be great if you were there to lead the song for us. That is, only if you agree! I’ve already discussed it with the PTA and the principal and they’re all on board with the idea.”

The room grew still, and the captain spoke again.

“I’m sure Konoha-kun will be excited if you were there cheering for him on... maybe you’ll finally get one of those romantic after-game kisses with him~”

Ume never recalled a moment where you ever blushed. But to see Fukurodani’s infamous “alien” genius so flustered—red from head to toe—was a victory no one could ever seldom. Who could blame you? When thoughts of your untouched lips being swept away by your guileful boyfriend in an enclosed space, so close yet so far from prying eyes were buzzing in your head... Geez, now you really wanted a kiss.

“I’ll lead the song for you—b-but not because I want my boyfriend to do... that!” you quickly reasoned, the red on your face turning darker. “Aki-chan gets all sweaty after a game and being kissed in that condition is gross! Public displays of affection are also pervy, aren’t they? R-right?”

Hoho, Ume giggled. So the Iron Maiden is this type of tsundere~

“Umecchi. That amused look on your face, please erase it.”

It took Suzuki Ume her entire fist in her mouth to pacify her approaching laughter. But eventually, she’d jovially apologized for teasing you, alleviating the pout resting on your face. Reviewing her ideas for the lyrics once more, you drew the conclusion that a) you were still going to have to examine the Volleyball Club first-hand for inspiration and b) writing lyrics for a cheering song was going to be harder than you’d expected. You, who had been used to your own hostile verses in PARANOIA’s songs, were going to have to be forced to avoid the usual... “dirty scums” business.

You were beginning to regret taking the offer, but quickly waved away the thought, thinking that you were starting to sound like your boyfriend. Exiting the Marching Band club room, you pondered on a proper time to visit the Volleyball Club for research. They had today off. Tomorrow, maybe? No, Akinori would complain that you were working too hard—

“Ow!” you yelped, rubbing your forehead from the sudden impact from the wall—Wait, you squinted. There was never a wall here.

And when a pair of arms wrapped around you as a constrictor so eager to devour, all answers were revealed. “Y/N-chaaan! It’s so nice to see you! Aaah, Masa-nii-chan was starting to wonder where you were, you know? Kyuu~”

Scuffling against the third brother’s vice-like embrace, you hissed. “Aniki, let go! You’ll damage my guitar! What are you doing here?! Who in hell would let you in?”

Gently setting you down, Masao watched you with a reprimanding look on his face, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“How cruel of you to say, Y/N-chan. I’m only here to check on my alma mater...” he sulked, focus zeroing in on the piece of paper in your hand. “What’s that? Can I see?”

Before you could express your dissent, Masao had already lunged behind you, snatching the paper into his hands. Reaching for the large wall with your dwarfen arms, you let out a shrill wheeze as his eyes started to skim over the paper and his expression dropped to a million feet.

“Give it back, Aniki!”

“You’re still doing this music thing? Geez, did you even listen to what I said during that one dinner?” he scoffed, turning his back to you to further deride your struggle. “‘You won’t get very far with music’. I bet these scrubs aren’t even paying you.”

Taking up all the strength in your legs, you craned against Masao as much as possible and retrieved the sheet with a disapproving crackle. “I’m not capitalistic like you. And yes, I am still doing this ‘music thing’, but no matter how far I’ll go...”

You paused, drinking in the grave look on your brother’s face.

“I’ll always have people to support me, Aniki.”

At the spur of the moment, like your ancestors were trying to curse you for speaking of the devil, a familiar call of your name had the both of you turning your heads. A mop of blonde and a pair of simple dark eyes that did not match the scene that was playing out before him.

What was Akinori doing here? Why would he call for you seeing that this obnoxious adult was here?! Run away, you begged with your gaze, but the fear that rooted your boyfriend was unrelentingly profuse. No! Don’t succumb!

“Ah! Y/N-chan’s brother!” he bowed, an angle so sharp he almost snapped a muscle. “It’s nice to finally meet you... S-sir.”

“Sir?” Masao drawled, the question pumping acid into the atmosphere. “I’m not even that old yet.”

Despite being younger than the first brother he’d encountered, there was no doubt that this one was more terrifying than the last. At least to your boyfriend he was. Masao, more attractive-looking than Wataru, had a carbon copy of your steely gaze. “He’s a fox! A wily fox who’ll get you to assume things without meaning to!” you’d told him a few days prior, annoyance burning in your tone.

As Masao opened his mouth to speak again, Akinori could only gulp. “You’re much taller than I expected. You’re a regular in the volleyball club, right, Aki-chan?”

“R-right,” he responded. God, now he knew why his term of endearment only sounded right when it came from you.

Circling your boyfriend like a famished vulture, Masao studied him from the tips of his hair to the toes of his shoes.  “So stiff~ I would’ve mistaken you for my little sister’s guitar if you weren’t so...” he smiled warmly at the boy, then hissed.

“... Alive.”

Akinori suddenly realized what you meant by him being such a “fox demon”—he supposed you were just trying to remind him of a folk tale that time, you said yourself that whatever you said shouldn’t be taken too much to the heart. Gulping at the imposing brute of the man, your boyfriend made a mental note to listen closely to your fanciful ramblings the next time he wanted to stay “alive”. For good riddance.

Laughing raucously at his expression, Masao slapped his shoulders, worthy of the ossan* at the nearby ramen shop. “I was just messing with you! Geez, you don’t have to take me so seriously~ You’re just like Y/N-chan but less cuter! Damn, exactly the type of guy Kensuke-nii would love and hate at the same time! Hey, tell me, have you two kissed yet? I can tell that my little Y/N-chan would enjoy that kind of stuff. She is the hopeless romantic after all~”

“K-kiss?!”

At the mention of the accursed ‘activity’, you decided that it was time to finally interfere. Fitting yourself in between your paralysed boyfriend and your brother, you spread out your arms in a sign of mock annoyance. Eyes blazing as bright as your face, you begged Masao one last time.

“That’s enough getting to know each other, right, Aniki?” you said, urging him away from the stricken third year. “If you’re really here to look around the school, then you should hurry and go already. I’ll take you to the staircase, come on.”

Casually lounging an arm over your shoulders, your brother bent down towards your ear, “He’s not so bad. I like him.”

You rolled your eyes. “If you’re saying that just to win me over—”

“Geez, would you stop getting all wary with me? I’m not.” Masao muttered. The mischievous glint in his eyes disappeared just as gravity replaced it. “Your Aki-chan seems like a good kid. Not my type, just so you know. But if you care about him that much as to protect the guy from both me and Wataru, then he’s really something, huh? I’m still not in favor of your entire music future ordeal, but if that Konoha guy is your ‘support’, then I’ll rest easy knowing he’s got your back.”

There was another one of those uncomfortable pauses you hated again. Your brothers never lied; it was one of those characteristics that made your family prone to bluntness over everything else. Nevertheless, there was a sense of lightness in your chest after hearing your brother’s approval. You supposed that even if Masao was the slyest sibling known to man, he was indefinitely more tolerable than... Creepy Siscon Kensuke or Stubborn Belittling Wataru.

“Are you going to tell Kensuke and Wataru about this?”

Eyeing your concern, Masao tilted his head. “I won’t. Promise.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, nodding at your brother from atop the staircase, “... Masa-nii-chan.”

The face Masao was enough for you to scrunch up in disgust and regret whatever you just said. “H-Haa... Y-you finally called me Masa-nii-chan again... I’m so happy. So, so happy. W-will you give me a hug, Y/N-chan?”

“No way. Calling you that again was embarrassing enough, Aniki.”

“Not Aniki! Call me Masa-nii-chan! Once more!”

Shaking your head petulantly, you laughed at your brother’s woes leaving him to continue with a tour of his alma mater (unaccompanied by the hug he so desired). You returned to your lingering boyfriend with ease in your heart and found him just as stricken as you had left him.

“He’s gone now, you don’t have to look so tense,” you poked at his rigid expression.

“Your other brother he mentioned...” Akinori bit his lip. “Would he really hate me?”

You let out a breath.

“I can’t say he won’t, but Masao also said he’d love you, right? Don’t worry about it,” you grinned, looping your arm around his to drag him through the third year hallways. “When he’s being serious, you can trust that guy with his words.”

“Even the ones about how you’d enjoy being kissed?”

The spring freezing in your step, you stared at your boyfriend incredulously. Dawning on Akinori’s face was a look of absolute triumph and illuminated by the shadows of the midday sun, it was like you were at an impasse. It was near unheard of, that this was the same boy who’d you manhandled last year to get his feelings straight! And now, he was using that subliminal charm of his—the one you’d developed—in addition to that godforsaken attractive smirk to ensnare you.

What’s up with that, you thought. A mix of sheer arousal, fear and pride pooling in your hammering heart. I created a monster.

“... Except for those words,” you gritted, trying to keep your footing steady with the way Akinori was leaning closer to your body.

He chuckled lowly. “Eeh, we haven’t even kissed yet. Do you actually have experience in this sort of thing?”

You turned to the large windows lining the walls, hoping that you’d play off your deepening blush. “Of course not. And don’t say it like you have any either! If I’d dated someone who’s already had their first kiss... that would be weird on my side.”

Ruffling your hair while laughing heartily, Akinori let his eyes trail towards the outline of your face. You were beautiful, that was obvious. But in a private moment just like this, just you and him, you always seemed like you were glowing. Your curious eyes—overflowing with mischief and mysteries that he swore to uncover with time. Your cheeks, warm against his fingers and always dusted with a faint red whenever he was around. And your lips. Untouched, unkissed. A plump pair he’d only dreamed of wrapping his own around.

Tracing the pads of his fingers on the contours of your lips, charting etches of himself upon it, Akinori wondered what it would feel like. To kiss you. Would you truly enjoy it, like your brother had said?

“Aki-chan...?” your voice. So delicate and seductive; his name came out of your mouth like amber honey dripping on his hand. It was funny, to be so in love with you. Even after moments where he’d regretted he hadn’t.

It didn’t occur to him how his face was already gravitating towards you. Maybe you weren’t just an alien, maybe L/N Y/N was an entire extraterrestrial planet with a pulling force of its own.

And Konoha Akinori would be the first man to set foot on it.

“W-Whoa! Sorry ‘bout that! Am I interrupting something private, Taichou*?”

Setting foot, Akinori thought of registering himself into a mental ward for thinking of such an uncharacteristic analogy. Watching you wave giddily at the prowler who just happened to be your bandmate Iori, he sighed. I just got hit by an entire meteoroid.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

You considered buying yourself a good-luck charm from the nearby shrine. The feeling of being overwhelmed... was something you could never get used to. It was rare for you to feel so swamped, taking into account how you prided yourself over being able to get things done at lightning speed. But the song, college entrance exams, your brothers, your band and... that interrupted chance of a kiss. Everything simply took its chance to slip itself into your head all at once.

And it didn’t help at all that Kensuke had found out about your lazily answered Future Plans form that you had stupidly left lying around on your bedroom desk... under that? The lyrics to the cheering song.

“If you’re going to take your future so lightly, then you’re better off not going to that volleyball match,” he’d said to you coolly, a reflection of your seething face bouncing off his glasses. “Is this why you’ve been up all night on your guitar?”

“It was my choice,” you’d told him repeatedly.

“What uncharacteristic choices!” Kensuke had gasped mockingly, crossing his arms. “I’m simply worried about my cute little sister. What if those choices lead you to your doom? Your future, your band... that boyfriend of yours.”

He had paused to ruffle your hair, in which you’d barely managed to duck away from.

“Why don’t you just give all that up and let your big brothers take care of you, okay, Y/N-chan?”

Of course, you had only scoffed in reply and pretended like you didn’t hear him, but you weren’t going to show Kensuke that his words were actually bothering you, were you?

At the current hour, your brothers didn’t matter. As long as you finished the lyrics, everything would be fine. It’ll be fine, you said to yourself. Your long week of juggling through school, visiting the gym for lyrical inspiration, appointments with teachers, your club, clients and boyfriend, all while avoiding your brothers’ nosy interventions had begun. And there was no more back-pedaling on anything.

On the bright side, the marching band was progressing amicably with practicing the melody with you. You decided that Ume, still inquisitive about the passage of your relationship, wasn’t their captain for nothing. Hence, it would only be fair that you also gave your all during your practices—whether or not you finally felt weary in any parts of your body didn’t matter.

And ultimately, the utmost crescendo of the entire week had finally dawned you. You finished. You finished the lyrics! The song! Just about 3 days before the tournament and you had excitedly jotted down the final lines of the cheer. It was flawless in your mind and you comically considered switching over PARANOIA’s theme into something more flamboyant.

Just as a storm had come, the gods had blessed you with a stroke of good fortune. Your week had finally turned around for the better. The rehearsals, the feeling of a pick between your fingers, the swelling intimacy between you and Akinori. Your future even seemed clearer in your head. The tournament was only two days away and you felt like steel. Nothing could stop you. Nothing—

“39 degrees.”

“H-huh...?”

“You’re sick, Y/N-chan,” Kensuke sighed taking a seat on the stool next to your bed, the thermometer between his fingers flashing the two digits you never once fathomed to unite. “Mom and Dad have called your school and told them you won’t be attending class today.”

Nothing, but a 39-degree fever that made your legs buckle every step you took.

“I can’t be sick!” you suddenly cried out, only to be thrown aback by your own string of coughs. You rasped again, your legs weakly reaching out to the floor, looking for your slippers. “T-The tournament is tomorrow and I have to be there to lead the supporters—!”

As your toes kissed the surface of the hardwood, your knees caved away, crumpling and collapsing you forwards into the anticipating embrace of your three brothers. Cringing, you couldn’t help but to melt away into their warmth. You were cold. So, so cold. And all you wanted to do was wither away.

“Oi, oi! Think about your health first,” Wataru scolded, easing you back down against your plush pillows. “39 degrees won’t just go away like that, y’know? Worst-case scenario is that you won’t feel better until Sunday.”

Bundling your blankets over your shivering form, Masao nodded. “Wataru’s right. We’re sorry, Y/N-chan, but I don’t think you can go to the tourney tomorrow with your current condition.”

With a gentle stroke of his fingers on your sweat-slicked hair, Kensuke was already putting you into a trance that made your eyelids go heavy. “It’s cold, isn’t it? You poor, poor thing... It’ll be alright, Y/N-chan. Doctor Ken-nii-chan is going to take proper care of you~”

And those were the least reassuring words you’d ever heard in your life before you yielded to slumber.

“Y-Y/N-chan, are you alright?!” your boyfriend’s voice blared through your phone. It was already evening, and you didn’t catch how many hours you’d been out like a light until you stirred awake to the ringing of your cell phone. “I didn’t see you all day so I asked Tsuyoshi-san and he said you were down with a fever! Should I visit and bring you some food? W-what do you want? Some miso soup or chicken stock?”

“No, it’s fine,” you wheezed out softly. “You don’t have to come.”

“W-why not?” Akinori murmured, the torment in his voice seeping through your speakers. “You said yourself that if you ever collapsed and fell sick, I’ll be there to take care of you, right? I want to take care of you now, even if you make me do weird things. So, please—”

“Akinori.” You sternly hissed. What were you going to tell him? That he couldn’t come because your iron-willed brother slash doctor was guarding your door like a dog? You didn’t even want to know what Kensuke would do to your boyfriend if he came over. “Don’t. Come. I don’t want you to catch my fever. The match is tomorrow, right?”

“Yes, but—”

“If you love me, don’t visit. Thanks for the concern,” you said flatly and quickly hung up before he could say anything else to pull at your heartstrings. God, you really felt like a loser. Maybe your brothers weren’t so wrong about the ‘weak little sister’ business...

A knock on the door, and the devil had answered to your thoughts. “Hello~? I’m coming in, Y/N-chan. Are you awake? I’ve got your medicine.”

Heat flooding your brain, you were already frustrated enough about the entire ordeal, and your brother’s face was the last thing you wanted to see right now. Turning around to face the wall, you buried yourself into your blankets as the sound of an opening door and a tray being set down filled the room.

“I know you’re awake,” though you couldn’t see him, you were sure Kensuke was grinning playfully behind you. “Turn around so Ken-nii-chan can give you your medicine.”

“I can do it myself, Aniki,” you grumbled from within your cocoon of warmth.

“Not with those shaky hands you’re not,” he said as-a-matter-of-factly. Growling lowly, you shifted beneath the sheets and locked gazes with your smiling brother. Eyeing his every movement as he poured the dark syrup onto a spoon (because who knows what kind of shady things he might put into it!), you rustled.

“Why are you doing this?”

Replacing the cap onto the bottle, the eldest brother’s face broke into a grin. “Because I’m both your brother and a pediatrician. So isn’t it my responsibility to do this sort of stuff? Ah, open wide~”

You quickly enveloped your mouth around the spoon, downing its contents. Your face scrunched repulsively at the artificial tang. Sour. “I suppose it’s your responsibility to make my life a living hell too?”

“That’s a good girl, Y/N-chan. Sorry it’s lemon,” he said, setting down the spoon on your bedside table before turning to you again. “I just want what’s best for you. My little Y/N-chan is different from those other good-for-nothing kids, right? It’s a big world out there and we don’t want you to suffer.”

“Would you stop treating me like a child?” you scowled, hot air spewing out from your nose. “What’s up with you three and doing that? I can function perfectly fine on my own. I’m a third year in high school. It’s so annoying that I could almost hate you. And this is all because you never want to listen to me!”

As the both of you immersed in the deadly silence, you took the time to ogle at your brother’s contorted expression.

Kensuke leaned back on his chair, eyes widened with surprise. “’L-listen’... Y/N-chan, of course we want to listen to you. I-is that not what we’ve been doing the whole time?”

“Listening isn’t the same thing as assuming what I want, Aniki. All you guys do is pile up expectations about the fantasy Y/N living inside your head, and it’s been on my mind the entire week,” you murmured, face growing redder. Though that was just the fever. You were sure of it. “I can’t be the little Y/N-chan I used to be. She’s gone. I’m me now, and the choices I make are the results of my own changes. The choices about what I do, love—”

You took one good, satisfying look at Kensuke’s face, before continuing your sermon. “—and my future. No matter how stupid it looks to you.”

“Oh, Y/N-chan...” he sobbed, striking you dumb top to bottom. Kensuke was crying. Your brother was crying, but what for? Did he catch your fever? God, being sick really did a number on people.

“We didn’t—I didn’t mean to make you feel that way! I was just scared. It was so scary to see you grow up so fast into an adult... then what next? You’ll forget us. You even said you hated me! O-oh God, I’m turning into an overbearing person... I want to commit seppuku*, I’m so sorry...”

Seppuku—Wait, this was your brother you’re talking about here. And with his degree of regret and brashness... he just might do it. How dramatic, you thought, a chuckle threatening to escape your throat.

“Geez, don’t commit seppuku, Aniki,” you sat up on your bed, handing him the pack of tissues next to your pillow. “I said I could almost hate you. But I can’t possibly do that—you’re my brother, right? Even though you three drive me crazy, to fully despise the people who care for you... That’s unfair, isn’t it? Come on, Doctor, don’t cry in front of your patients~”

Blowing his nose loudly into a tissue, he sniffed. “You must really like this guy, huh?”

You made a noise between confusion and shock.

“The old Y/N-chan wouldn’t go so far for anything if it didn’t really interest you... I was worried that he was taking advantage of you or something, to the point where you worked yourself sick. But I couldn’t help but to overhear your phone call from outside and I was relieved that it wasn’t the case.”

You leaned your head on your knees and sighed. “Of course not. Aki-chan is sweet and caring and he knows exactly how to come up with the perfect responses to my weird antics. He used to take advantage of me, and I used to take advantage of him. But that was a long time ago. He made me realize that I didn’t have to understand everything before I felt happy about anything.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Very. Aki-chan, my band, making this song for the tournament... it all makes me happy, and nothing could be better.”

The air was thick, and Kensuke took it as his cue to leave. Giving you one last smile at the doorframe after he’d flicked the lights off, you felt relief dulling your muscles.

“If you get better by tomorrow, I-I’ll try to figure out a way to get you to that gymnasium,” he said. A promise you knew he was bound to keep. “Your boyfriend is a good person, and I’d hate for him to go through such a grueling match without your support.”

“Ken-nii-chan?” God, it was embarrassing for you to say it, but you were thankful that you were clouded with darkness. “Thanks for listening.”

“G-get some rest, Y/N-chan. Good night.” A shut of a door and muffled crying through the walls.

Good night. You said to yourself and the comforts of your empty room.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

“Has anyone seen Y/N-san?” Suzuke Ume, frantic captain of the Marching Band, scurried through the throngs of students, parents and teachers.

“I don’t think she got on one of the PTA buses either,” Yukie craned her neck upwards to get a better view of the audience. “Did she forget about it?”

“No way! This is Y/N-san we’re talking about. The day she forgets is the day the world collapses in on itself,” Ume gritted. “Gosh, I have to get the marching band ready and everything...”

Down below, on the polished hardwood court, the boys of the Fukurodani Volleyball Club were raving on their own as usual.

“Hey, what’s Suzuki-chan freaking out about? You think everything’s okay?” Komi whispered to the unstirring wing spiker. “Yo, Konoha, you good, man?”

Akinori said nothing. The world seemed so quiet, not even Bokuto’s early-morning racket could shake him out of it. The gymnasium held out like an empty shell to him. Was the world always so silent whenever you weren’t around? What a desolate world he lived in before you.

Lumping a sinewy arm over his shoulder, Bokuto pointed out. “Where’s Y/N-chan? She’s not coming? I heard she was going to lead the crowd.”

“She’s sick,” he finally mouthed, shrugging Bokuto off his back. “She didn’t come to school either yesterday. I’m just worried about her, ‘s all.”

At his words, Komi frantically leapt towards him. “Sick?! The Great Deity is sick? Did you visit her yesterday? How is she?”

“Y/N-chan... didn’t let me visit,” Akinori sighed. “I don’t know if I ticked her off or if she’s finally gotten bored of me... but she told me not to come even if I really really wanted to.”

As the sentence left his mouth, a shrill whistle resounded in the gymnasium, bouncing off the walls in a warning manner. That was that. The tournament you so hoped to attend the entire week, gone in a matter of seconds.

“Waaaait! Sorry I’m late!”

Like seagulls flocking to breadcrumbs, the entirety of the gym turned its head to the northwest entrance. Where a girl donned in a lopsided Fukurodani uniform and a guitar case strapped to her back looked like she just ran a marathon to get here.

Akinori’s face flushed away of its color, but he couldn’t help but to smile. Elegantly poised Ume nearly dropped her baton, and the entire crowd had their jaws scattered all over the floor.

“Let’s get this party started, shall we?”

Coach Yamiji on the sidelines snickered behind his wrinkled hands. This is going to be one interesting cheer.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

There was a small corner in the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium, hidden to the eyes, where janitors and staff alike sparsely came by. A little close to the bathrooms, but not too bad considering there was a fragrant lavender air freshener nocked there. And at this hour, it was the perfect time for—I don’t know—perhaps a curious couple to bask themselves in an after-game moment?

Cradling your face in his hands, Akinori scrutinized the little features on your skin, his breath heavy with concern. “Are you still sick? You’re a bit warm.”

Pushing his hands away, you tapped his chest lightly. “How romantic, Aki-chan. You drag your girlfriend away to a private space only to interrogate her. I’m fine, you know~”

“Your cheeks are completely red, you can’t fool me.” He returned his hands on your cheeks, squishing them together. You looked like strawberry mochi. Cute.

“T-That’s for an entirely different reason!” you cried out, averting your gaze. Your fingers curled around your quaint chrysanthemum necklace out of instinct. “I’m really fine. My brother, the doctor, drove me here with Wataru’s taxi. And we both know he wouldn’t be the type of person to let me out of the house if I wasn’t well. And guess what? I think my brothers have finally come to accept you~!”

Sighing, he rested his forehead on your shoulder, hiding his face in your neck. “You’re troublesome, L/N Y/N. You’re lucky the cheering song was so good that we won those first few matches by a landslide. Otherwise, I would be fully scolding you right now.”

“Hehehe~ Congrats for the win.” Tilting your head against his, you let out a soft hum. “I’m sorry for worrying you, Aki-chan. What should I do for you to forgive me?”

Raising his neck to level to yours, Akinori propped his temple up against yours and spoke to you in a husky tone that made you feel feverish again.

“No one’s going to interrupt us, right?”

“Eh? I don’t think so, but what’re you doing so close—”

“Good.”

And with a soft clink of your matching necklaces bumping against each other in the vacant halls, Akinori had stolen your breath away like a phantom thief to a tower’s princess.

Warm, was the first thing he thought of at first contact. Maybe it was the residue of your night-long fight against a high fever. He might fall sick soon, but that wasn’t something to think about during a first kiss. The space between you was nearly spectral and Akinori’s beating heart was faint against your chest. It was fast, expectedly so. As his hands drifted to shyly wrap itself around the tendrils of your stray hairs, you sneakily nibbled his lower lip, erupting the bubbles of laughter from his throat.

“You smell like sweat,” you poked at his jersey, your cheeks burning up. “Don’t just do that without giving me a warning first.”

Tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, Akinori eyed your slightly parted lips, a dash of his saliva molten upon it, “It’s payback for all the nuisances you’ve caused. So take responsibility, Y/N-chan.”

‘Responsibility’. The word seemed so foreign to you, but perhaps being liable wasn’t going to be such a bad thing—even if you were just freely riding the wave. Letting out a raucous laugh, you threw yourself against Akinori, taking as much responsibility as needed. Twice, thrice, and so on.

Bit by bit, the tailwinds of fate pointed north, and the right path for you never seemed clearer.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Glossary:

yankii - delinquent

aniki - ‘older brother’, but really slang-y (usually seen in pop culture yakuza scenes)

ossan - middle-aged man (an ‘uncle’ of sorts)

taichou - commander/leader

seppuku - japanese ritual of slitting the belly

#haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #konoha akinori x reader #konoha akinori #konoha akinori imagine #konoha akinori scenario #konoha x reader #fukuroudani x reader #fukurodani x reader #bruh haikyuu writing #ensemble bruh haikyuu #2K special #sfw

[byunsbobobu]

Blood Promise  [Chapter 2]

Vampire Baekhyun AU

Pairing; Twin Baekhyun/BaekBaëk/ Alana

Genre; vampire/ fantasy AU

Warnings; angst, fluff, language, mentions of blood, slight teasing

Word Count: 3702

Prologue:   Chapter 1:

Vampires falling in love with humans was forbidden. That is until 18-year-old Alana Davis moves to town and attends the new boarding school; Hallows Boarding School. Unaware that vampires exist and that the school is home to both Vampires and humans. On one late night Alana stumbles upon two brooding and mysterious twin brothers, but little did she know they would soon change her life.  Will it be for the worse or the better?

** AUTHORS NOTE; Hii, here is the newest chapter update of Blood Promise. I hope you enjoy. Let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapter updates ;)***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[Two weeks later]

 It was Friday. The end of the week and the beginning of the weekend, and I couldn’t be more excited to just relax in my room, and binge watch some of my favorite shows. I just wanted to throw on my favorite silk pajamas with a tub of ice cream placed in my lap and just enjoy my sweet, sweet time alone. It was approaching 4pm in the evening, and I had decided to go to the library for a couple hours to study for my medieval literature class, after class. Chanyeol and Sehun ended up coming with me to study for our class we had together at the library. I thought about how I’ve grown surprisingly close to the two boys in such a short time. They were always goofing around whenever they were around me, but I didn’t really mind. Although, Sehun can really get on my nerves sometimes.

We were now seated by a large window in a wide and longish table near the back corner of the library, so that nobody would come up to bother us as we studied. The weather outside today was rainy and gloomy. The gray clouds covered the sky, as rain petals fell from the sky hitting my window. All that can be heard in the library is the sound of rain and the faint sound of the air conditioner blowing down. Staring outside your window now, you were beginning to get lost in the rain; you had your headphones in your ear. You were listening to some soft tunes hoping that it would help me relax and get my mind off certain things, so that I could concentrate better on my studies.

Getting back to writing down my notes from today’s class into my notebook; I was currently in the middle of a song when all of a sudden I feel the right bud of my headphones being pulled out from my ear. “What the fuck Sehun” I curse at him; keeping my voice low because were still in the library and I didn’t want to drag any attention to ourselves. “Why’d you do that for?” I asked, annoyance written all over my face. Chanyeol sitting in front of you in the table chuckles plopping the book he was reading down on the table. “C’mon Sehun.. leave Alana alone she’s clearly in her zone.” He spoke. You were glad you had a friend like Chanyeol. At least he helped keep Sehun from annoying you too much. “Thank you, Chanyeol” You smiled up at him. “At least you have some kind of decadency” you said in a sarcastic tone turning your head to your right looking over at Sehun who had a smug smile upon his face. You roll your eyes at him. “Oooh! Lighten up Alana.” He says. “You’re always so uptight, and I was getting bored just sitting here watching you guys study.” Sehun now laughing in between his sentences as he sees the scowl reaction of being bothered on my face. His hands were clutching to his stomach, as he continued to laugh at your face. Sehun runs his fingers through his shiny black hair tilting his head back a bit; eyes crinkling on the sides of his face. “Whatever” I tell him, a slight smile appearing on my face now. Quickly trying to focus back on my notes in front of me I pick up my pencil and begin to write. Moments later I hear Chanyeol clearing his throat. Looking up from my notes yet again, eyebrows raised, I placed my pencil back down on the desk seeming to notice Chanyeol who looks like he wants to get something off his chest. Sighing you speak; “Spit it out.” I tell him. Letting out a deep breath he speaks, “To be fair.. Sehun’s right. You’re always so uptight and tense.” Scoffing.

 “I am not uptight” I say defensively crossing my arms against my chest pouting.

“I just have a lot on my mind lately.” I admit to them. “Like what?” Sehun joins into the conversation, grabbing my pencil playing with it. Rolling your eyes,

I could tell that he was interested in what’s been distracting my thoughts lately.

“Just stuff… nothing you need to worry about.” I spit out rather quickly averting my gaze from both their stares. Although, something really was on your mind, and it was bothering you to a great extent, but you didn’t want to tell them just yet.

  It’s been two weeks now since what happened outside my uncle’s office late at night. I just couldn’t stop myself thinking about what I had seen that night. It’s like its embedded itself deep into my brain, and that’s all I’ve been thinking about lately. All that ran through my mind was them. Their gorgeous yet dangerous faces.  It all happened so fast. Recalling back to that night once more I remember seeing Baekhyun and Baëkhyun in a hidden corner behind the school walls with what looked like, blood all over their hands. They didn’t even seem fazed, by the fact you had found them. I remember hearing faint whispering from afar which was what peaked my curiosity to follow their voices in the first place. I had no idea I would end up finding them outside, so late at night. I remembered how intimidating they were from when I was back in my uncle’s office. First with Baekhyun, and then with Baëkhyun. I remember feeling paralyzed under their strong gaze. I shivered when I remembered the way they both stared at me when they realized I had caught them in such a suspicious act. Unfazed and unbothered. Even if it was just for a second it still was able to give me goosebumps. I couldn’t help but shiver a little Chanyeol and Sehun both noticing. Why were they out so late? Didn’t Chanyeol and Sehun say that your uncle didn’t allow students out of their rooms past dusk? Were they students from Night Class? What was your uncle doing talking to them, so late at night? My mind was just spinning with unanswered questions.

 Snapping out of my trance state. I turn my head towards both Chanyeol and Sehun. Sensing something was up they both looked at me curiously. “What’s wrong Alana?” Chanyeol asked. Wanting to know more about the Night Class students I asked him. “You remember how on my first day of class you guys brought up the subject on the Night Class students, and all that stuff?” I began.  “Y-yeahh” Chanyeol stutters nervous about where this was going. “Why did something happen? Did you see someone from Night Class?” He asked worry and curiosity laced in his voice. Unlike Chanyeol, Sehun was quiet. Surprised he hadn’t said anything, I remember he was the one who had told me about the Night Class students, and how they were freaks of nature. I really didn’t want to make them worry about me and my problems on behalf of the Byun twins.

 “No, I just want to know more about them.” I tell them, hoping they would give me the answers I was looking to hear. Sehun then suddenly put his arm around my shoulders pulling me into his chest. “Listen Alana, don’t worry too much about them. They are practically ghosts at this school.” He said with a smile on his face. “But you said that no one has ever seen students from the Night Class right?” I ask him, Chanyeol now listening in. “You said they were freaks of nature.” Sehun lets out a deep chuckle; “You really don’t let anything slip past you, do you Alana.”

 “Please Sehun” you looked at him with pleading eyes begging him to tell you more.

 Chanyeol sighs. “We think that the Night Class is some sort of secret society” Chanyeol begins to explain. “But we don’t really know’ since we’ve never seen one of them” He finishes.

 “I heard from a couple people in my economy class that the Night Class students are into some pretty dark shit” Sehun joins in.

 “What do you mean, by “Dark shit”” you ask.

 “Well that’s what we don’t know” Chanyeol shrugs.

 “We’ve never seen any of them to tell you that remember..” Sehun reminds me with a slight smile on his face.  “They don’t like to interact with Day Class students. They like to stay hidden from us.”

 “It’s rare for a student from Day Class to come across students from Night Class. Especially since Headmaster Dae doesn’t allow us coming out of our rooms after a certain time at night.” Chanyeol finishes

 “I wonder why?” a frown forming on my face. My mind wanders back to the Byun brothers. if I wasn’t curious enough about them before then I definitely was now. Was it just some lucky coincidence that I out of all people in this school happened to run into not one, but two potential students from Night Class on my first day of attending Hallows Boarding School?

 “Do you think my uncle, or must I say headmaster know about what goes on during the Night Class?” I ask them. Sehun soon detaches his arm from around your shoulder and leans back on his chair.

 “Oh yeah, for sure” they both speak at the same time, and this causes me to freeze in my seat. Noticing your state of panic, they say “But you shouldn’t worry” Chanyeol says. “Whatever they do during their time together, I’m sure your uncle’s just keeping them in check, so that they won’t cause any sorts of trouble.” Chanyeol says while Sehun starts patting your back gently comforting your nerves. Clearing his throat Sehun speaks.

 “Anyways, it’s getting late we should be getting back to our rooms now.” They both smile. “Wouldn’t want to be yelled at by the headmaster” Sehun continue. Dropping his head Chanyeol begins to laugh, his eye slightly closed, and the sides of his eyes crinkling. Shaking his head “Sehun’s a little afraid of Headmaster Dae” a smug look on his face. “You weren’t supposed to tell her that.” Sehun nudges Chanyeol on the shoulder across the table. “Now she’s going to think I’m some kind of wimp.” Giggling I rub Sehun’s back. “It’s okay Sehun, I know my uncle can be a little strict sometimes.” I smile up at him. Soon agreeing with Sehun, Chanyeol and Sehun both stand up from their seats throwing their books into their bookbags and sling it over one shoulder. Making his way around the table Chanyeol’s tall form comes up behind me. “Don’t stay out too late Alana”

patting your shoulder, both of them mumble their final goodbye’s as you watch them walk towards the entrance of the library. Turning back my head from looking a smile still plastered across my face, I quickly put my headphones back in my ears and resume writing down the rest of my notes hoping to finish soon.

 __________________________________________________________________

 It was now a quarter to eight, and you had just finished writing down all your notes from your class. Slightly pissed at how many slides your teacher assigned. It was already dark outside. All you could see now was the moon’s light up in the sky as it casted through the window into the library. The lights in the library were dimmed down, and only a couple were turned on. The librarian had left around 7pm, in which she had to turn down some of the lights in the room, leaving me alone. Making note to myself to stop staying out so late I quickly get up from my chair. Fixing my uniform and clutching my books to my chest I start to walk towards the entrance of the library. You were exhausted and you just couldn’t wait to get back to your room and run yourself a hot bath.

 Almost reaching the door I suddenly freeze in my spot; eyes wide when I see two familiar figures walking towards the library. I prayed that they weren’t thinking of coming in here. It was them. Starting to panic; knowing they would eventually see me in here, I quickly looked directly down to the ground my books still pressed against my chest hoping to avoid talking to them. I began to feel the palms of my hands sweat. My heart was racing, I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Still with my head down making my way towards the door I stop dead in my tracks when I hear the sound of the doors of the library opening and closing shortly after.

 “Well, well… look who we have here.” Baekhyun’s eyes scanning down your figure. Already familiar with Baekhyun’s voice, I knew it was him who had just spoken.

 “If it isn’t Alana” He began. “Jongdae’s precious little niece” feeling brave you slowly lift your head to meet their faces. My breath hitches. Heart beating even faster, palms sweating even more. They were BOTH standing right in front of me. Baëkhyun was just staring at me with his cold soulless eyes which seemed to hold no remorse or compassion in them at all. Baëkhyun hasn’t said a word since they both arrived. He just continues to watch me carefully.

 “We’ve been hoping to see you again.” Baekhyun speaks after a moment of silence. That stupid smirk back on his gorgeous face. I quickly scanned them over. Baekhyun was wearing what looked like the school’s uniform. He wore a gray suit. His suit was unbuttoned so you were able to see he was wearing a white turtleneck underneath. He was so broad you thought to yourself. You couldn’t help, but stare at him in awe, but also in fear. He paired his outfit with expensive black dress shoes, and some accessories which in this case were a couple rings around his slender fingers. His raven black hair was messily styled, his bangs falling over his face a bit, but not too much because I was still able to see his forehead peeking through. I hadn’t noticed this last time, but you seem to notice a pair of dangly earrings hanging on his right ear. On the other hand, Baëkhyun was not wearing his school uniform. I could tell, by how Baëkhyun acts that he wasn’t the type to follow school rules that often. Baëkhyun’s silver white hair was styled a little differently than today than when you first saw him. His hair was styled so that you could see an undercut. His bangs falling to one side of his face, exposing his forehead in a comma-shaped style. Baëkhyun wore a black turtleneck shirt, a necklace dangling down his chest and a pair of black leather pants that squeezed his thighs deliciously. I couldn’t help my eyes from wandering between the two of them, but just look at them. They were extremely gorgeous. Between their soft milky skin, their pink lips, their piercing eyes, and the way they dressed, it was impossible for you not to become affected by them in some way.

 Noticing that you had been staring at them Baekhyun finally speaks “What’s the matter Alana? Cat got your tongue?” He chuckles.

 “S-sorry” you make out past your lips.

 Baekhyun smiles down at your tiny form leaning down so that you both were now staring into his each other’s eyes. I quickly avert my gaze form his and look over to Baëkhyun who was still watching my every move. I felt so small under his gaze.

Feeling like he was judging me. Baëkhyun was standing in a straight posture, his arms in front of him hands holding his wrists. Realizing that you had been staring at Baëkhyun, Baekhyun turns his head around to meet Baëkhyun’s face and he smirks.

 Standing up straight; Baekhyun fixes himself and gestures you to take a seat in the chair beside you. “Why don’t we sit down and have a little chat princess?” Baekhyun says tilting his head to the side as he now watches me fidget under both their gazes. Nervously I begin to pull on the sleeves of my school uniform playing with them. Nodding my head, I slowly push the chair out from under the table and take a seat, as he had just instructed me to do. Just as I sat down Baekhyun comes right after me and sits right beside me. As for Baëkhyun, he slowly pulls out the chair from where he was standing a few feet away from you and sits down.

 “Sorry” Baekhyun speaks again.

 “My brother isn’t the very talkative type” He smirks down at you.

 I gulp. They were making you so nervous. Here you were with the two guys you had seen two weeks ago with blood on their hands, and all you could focus on was the way they were looking at you, and how they were making you feel at this very moment, all thoughts I once had about them in my head gone.

 “Soo.. Alana” Baekhyun starts.

 “We know you saw us that night, and we just wanted to clear some things up, He says while taking a piece of my hair in his fingers and twirling it. “and we want explain to you what you might’ve saw that night” He says.

 I stutter “I-I won’t say anything” I make out past my lips. Fear written all over my face,

 “I don’t even know what I saw exactly” you continue. “I-It was dark.”

 Baekhyun chuckles. “Aww.. your cute. I like you” He states. I’m now seated facing forward on the table hands in my lap as you look over at Baëkhyun as he continues to watch me and Baekhyun interact. I suddenly feel the cold sensation of Baekhyun’s hand as his left hand makes contact with my left cheek as he slides his hand down my face in a slow and teasing manner. His hands were soft against my skin.

 “We know you wouldn’t say anything princess” Baekhyun continues.

 “I just want to explain to you what me and my brother are.”

 That seemed to get your attention, and Baekhyun could tell by how your eyes lit up at his words.

 Still smirking he laughs. “I know you’ve probably been thinking about us, wondering about what happened that night, and what we are, am I wrong?” He asks already knowing your answer.

  Still facing Baëkhyun. Body frozen in its spot on the chair. I felt paralyzed. Putting his arms around your shoulder Baekhyun leans into you. His nose teasingly taking a whiff of my sweet scene. My heart was beating like hammers in my chest. The pulse on my neck tempting Baekhyun to an extreme. You whimper from the slightest touch of his lips grazing your skin. His lips now coming in contact with my ear he whispers, “You smell so..” he pauses, eyes closed as he inhales my scent. Baekhyun’s hair tickling the insides of my neck, he shortly exhales a deep breath “Sweet” just like I remembered his lips ghosting my ear.

 “W-what are you guys?” voice trembling in fear and something else I can’t quite put a finger on.

 “I know about the Night Class”

 “About your secret society”

 “What is my uncle’s business with you guys” I continue to ask trying to sound the least bit unaffected as Baekhyun continues to tease me.

  Baekhyun was about to answer when someone else’s voice cut through the now silent room of the library. My heart skipped and I gasped. Baekhyun chuckles into your ear causing goosebumps to rise up my skin.

  “You really are a curious little one” Baëkhyun spoke.

 “It’s no secret society sweetheart.” Baëkhyun continues.

 His tone cold and intimidating. Baekhyun eventually pulls away from my neck watching his brother approach me, as Baëkhyun now stands in front of me on the other side of the table. The only thing blocking us being the long desk. Watching him with my curious eyes not leaving his broad form, your breathing ragged now. Placing his palms flat on the table he leans down in front of me. Our faces so close to each other I can feel his breath on my cheek. Eyes scanning down my face he licks his lips hungrily

  “It’s a class for Vampires” he says with no remorse in his voice.

“Vampires aren’t real” I make out past my lips. They both chuckle.

“Ooh, they are very real indeed Alana” Baëkhyun continues.

 And you’re in a library all alone with TWO vampires” He continues a sadistic laugh escaping his lip as Baekhyun moves back to whisper in your ear.

 “You realize Alana” Baekhyun begins speaking into your ear.

“If we wanted too” His hot breath on my skin causing me to stir in my seat again.

 Baëkhyun this time trading in his cold expression; now displaying a smirk across his face.

 “We could drain you of your blood right here.” Baekhyun says into your ear.

 I slowly being to cry. Tears threatening to fall down your cheek. Your lips quivering

 “P-Please don’t” you beg. You didn’t want to die like this.

 “I’ll do anything” I tell them. Eyes closed now, as Baëkhyun just stares me down with the same sadistic smirk enjoying seeing you squirm.  Opening your eyes slowly you feel Baekhyun’s lips press softly to your neck. Still looking at Baëkhyun his eyes dark now, but also filled with what looked like lust as you feel Baekhyun’s hands coming to wrap around your throat lightly, tilting your neck so that you were exposed to his mouth, so that Baëkhyun could see what his brother was doing. You gasp when you feel his lips make contact with the beating pulse on your neck licking a strip up your neck, then planting a kissing to the area very gently that you end up letting out a small whine escape from your lips.

 “We’re not going to hurt you Alana. We just want to have some fun with you.” Baekhyun says sending chills down your spine, as he continues to place feather light kisses to my now sensitive neck. Subconsciously arching my neck more for him.

 Now it’s Baëkhyun’s turn to speak again.

 “Besides..” He pauses.

 “Your uncle owes us for what he’s done….”

  “What have I just gotten myself into” I wondered as I was seated in the middle of the library with two dangerous predators. One kissing my neck, and the other watching as I began to give into temptation with each passing minute…….

#exo #exo au #exo smut #exo vampire au #exo baekhyun #byun baekhyun #baekhyun vampire #BaekBaëk #Baekhyun AU #Baekhyun smut #kpop #kpop idol #kpop smut #park chanyeol #park chanyeol smut #oh sehun #oh sehun smut #vampire au #Vampire Smut #Vampire Baekhyun #monster baekhyun #obsession baekhyun

[amandaklwrites]

TV Series Review: The Haunting of Hill House (2018)

Genre: Horror/Psychological Thriller

Rating: 10/10

TV Show Review:

Is it possible for me to give a million stars to something? No? Okay, I guess I will anyway.

Let me start this review by saying that I am in no way a horror movie person. The “worst thing” I have ever seen was CRIMSON PEAK, and even that I didn’t finish because the ending was too gory for me (I do know what happened, though). When I was a kid, Disney’s HAUNTED MANSION movie scared the living hell out of me, and now, it’s one of my favorites. So, for me to say that THE HAUNTING OF HILL HOUSE was one of the best things I have ever watched says A. LOT.

I don’t even read horror books. I have found a few that I love—I’m looking at you Cat Winters and Simone St. James—and I’ve noticed, for me, it’s a certain type of horror. I have no care for the movies that are all about the jump scares or gory bullshit or serial killers chasing people around. To me, those stories have no substance (sorry to those fans, but that’s my personal opinion from what I’ve heard). I like the eerie, the idea that something is peering over your shoulder, and the play with darkness. I also like when stories are extremely character driven. A plot can be pretty terrible, but if I love the characters, then I don’t care if it lacks.

Which leads me into why I love this series. I love the characters, I love the vibe, I love the layers of interpretations.

For me, the characters are the best. I love the kids (Steven, Shirley, Theo, Luke and Nell), and the parents (Hugh and Olivia), and everyone else, but especially the family. I feel that they were all created so uniquely, with their own personalities and flaws and they all felt real. Like I was watching something real instead of scripted. Even how they respond to these events in their life are different (I have learned that Mike Flanagan specifically did it so each sibling represented a different stage of grief, which is SO BRILLIANT). And the strong relationship between them all, and their family unit with Hugh and Olivia as a strong couple of parents.

I loved how the story was told. That everything was unfolding with each episode, that pieces were pulled together with each siblings’ POV, and as everything started to ramp up. I like storytelling like this personally, as I don’t think it has to be told in a linear line. Sometimes, that’s not how telling your past works. So I think it reflects that idea well.

The haunting and ghosts were amazing. I loved the different kinds there were, and ones that seemed so new and original. I will say my personal favorite was the bowler hat guy, because not only is he rad, but he makes me think. Why is he so huge, why is he floating, and if he can float, why is his cane touching the ground? He doesn’t make sense, he’s a mix-match of so many things, and that’s what I love the most. That he isn’t like other ghosts I’ve heard about.

For me, I love how Mike Flanagan made the story about both ghosts and the psychological aspects of humanity. Without spoiling too much in this section, I think he made it a balance. Which is what I believe in. That there can be ghosts in this world, trapped in a house, but there is so much psychology behind it. That a house can be alive with the past and its own ghosts, but how you respond to it is up to you.

From here, I’m going to talk about some spoilery thoughts I have. So, if you haven’t seen the show and don’t want to be spoiled, please don’t continue. But if you have, or you don’t care about being spoiled, please do click on the “keep reading!”

Okay, so more on what I was trying to say with the whole ghost and psychology thing. For me, I’ve always believed that ghosts are real (I’ve lost count of how many experiences I have had, and I see ghosts all the time, and they seem to love following me around), so the idea of all these ghosts living in a house doesn’t seem unreal to me. I’ve been in places that feel like absolute rotting hell and I have to get out of there. I do believe that ghosts have a lingering bad energy and can seem evil. But to me, I don’t think ghosts possess or attack people (like, to kill them). I think at that point, there’s a psychology to it. Have you ever watched a horror movie and can’t sleep because you’re convinced there’s a ghost staring at your back? That’s how I think of it with a creepy house full of ghosts, you can be convinced that something will drive you mad. Which, for me, Flanagan created a good balance of both for this show, at least in my opinion. Because, we see all these ghosts, and after only a couple of instances, none of them attack anyone. They don’t hurt anybody. They’re just there. To them, the Crain family are the ghosts and what the devil are they doing there??

Which brings me around to Olivia. We all knew she would be brought up sometime, and her demise and descent into madness. I knew there was something with her from the very beginning (unfortunately), but I didn’t realize that she attempted to kill her two youngest kids, and actually did kill a little girl. I never even guessed it. But I knew she was losing her mind as more and more time went along. But I can see it. I mean, it does make some sense to a degree. Who isn’t scared that the world will tear apart their children, especially ones like Luke and Nell who are clearly caring and empaths? I’m an empath and I care so much sometimes that I feel like I get disappointed and hurt all the time. And I have heard my own mom talk about her concerns of me growing up that I will fall apart (and actually, I did at one point). So I 100% understand Olivia’s mindset. But I have the thought process that I don’t think the ghost of Poppy Hill controlled and manipulated her into killing her children. I personally feel like Olivia had mental illness stuff long before the house (I mean, the weird headaches??), and Poppy was a projection of those feelings and thoughts she was already having. I mean, we hadn’t even seen Poppy until Olivia was really thinking like that. I’m not saying that the ghost had no part in it, not at all. I think if you are unstable in the first place, and then you go to a place that seems to have this bad, lingering energy, your mind can spin out of control. I briefly mentioned that I have been in places that feel so haunted. I was deep inside a ship with my grandparents at one point, and I stood in one spot and I literally felt someone shove me back and then I couldn’t breathe. For like five seconds, I felt like I was losing my mind. I felt like I was dying and I wanted it to stop. (Turns out, someone had been crushed to death right where that had happened, which I found out afterward). So, I know what I’m talking about. In my opinion, that was Olivia’s case, since that was what had happened to me. I’ve also fell into such deep depression that my thoughts were erratic. So, somewhere along her time in this house, with her mind already in tatters, and listening to a maniac ghost who had been in an asylum, she lost it, she cracked. And that makes her so fascinating, doesn’t it?

I loved the kids. I loved all of them. But I do have to say, my personal favorite was Luke. He was so quiet and sincere, and he grew up and became a junkie. He was haunted by what happened in that house—and somehow, I think, he knew what his mother was trying to do to him and Nell. I know they were little and didn’t fully understand, but I think as you get older, you have to look back and think about it. This little girl with you had died after drinking tea. He may not totally realize it, but I think deep in his subconscious, he knew what happened. And how does someone live with that? Not only is he traumatized because of ghosts and his mother killing herself, but that haunting feeling? To me, that’s why his mother shows up as a ghost to him. Because he knows. But why I also connect with him is because I feel like we share similar personalities. Now, I never got into drugs, but there was a reason for that. It took me my whole life to avoid drugs constantly. Because, especially when my depression was bad in high school, I knew, knew, knew that if I had started playing with drugs, I would become an addict. I just knew it deep down inside of myself, so I stayed away from them. I consciously made a choice to not let that happen to myself. So, I think when I look at Luke, I see a version of myself that could have been. And I also understand it, even if I hadn’t done the drugs myself, if that makes sense? He cared so much that it broke him and that made me cry so much because I get it. I get it.

I’m a literature major, and in my classes, we learned that houses in stories, especially haunted ones, are huge metaphors. They represent the psyche. That’s why we find haunting houses so interesting in stories. So, to me, this house is both a physical entity that can be seen as evil, but it’s also more than that. Like Olivia had said, a house is like a body. It has its own energy, it collects memories, it sees more than any of us have ever had. So I like the idea of a haunted house collecting all these ghosts, and they’re living amongst them. Because isn’t that what hauntings are? Lingering memories, the past clawing after you? And a house perfectly represents that—how many memories, how many people and pasts has it collected over the years? I don’t see the house itself as evil, but all that has happened inside of it. I know the house and ghosts played a huge part of what happened, but we have to give Olivia some responsibility of what happened—she killed a girl and attempted to murder her own kids. I know she was mentally ill, but we can’t blame the ghosts and house itself. I mean, the kids are grown up and living away from the house, and they’re still haunted. So, it’s not only the house. It’s us. It’s humans with our grief and guilt and horror, and we’re remembering it all. But this house is important to them, because it’s where the ghosts reside, it’s where their mom—and then Nell—killed themselves. That’s their ghost.

I think where Flanagan wins is his complex characters, his complex themes and ideas. And that he creates an idea that has so many layers that anyone can interpret things differently. Like for me, I wonder how much the house and ghosts influence the characters and their actions, and vice versa. I think they’re meeting in the middle. And is Olivia evil or good as a ghost? To me, it seems still a bit deranged, because she wants her son to die and be with them. You would think that she would have let go of all that once she had died. But she’s free to choose, and that could be monstrous. But maybe she’s still living in her own hell because of the lingering ghosts and pasts in the house. Maybe you can never quite shake off your past, it’s always there, hanging out in the background.

It’s a complicated show, and that’s what I love about it. I watched it almost a week ago, and I’m still thinking about it. I’m still talking about it to my mom (who has only seen bits) and talking about the different layers and thoughts I have. I loved the sixth episode and how it was filmed in only five shots (who the hell does that???). I think this show is a work of genius, and Mike Flanagan needs all that credit.

This show is such an experience that I loved every single second of it. I want to watch it over and over to catch every little detail, to see if I experience something differently.

It makes me look a little longer at the ghosts that I see pass by me at work all the time now.

#the haunting of hill house #the haunting series #tv series review

[skylights422]

@ace-and-aro-wlw-positivity created a Q&A for aspec authors/writers, and as an aspec author, I am excited to participate and answer as many of their questions as I can. Under a cut since it became really outrageously long.

1. What was your inspiration for your character(s)? Are they modeled on yourself, a person that you know, or a character that’s already been established?

Typically I’d say my characters are a mix of general inspiration from other stories/characters and then bits and pieces taken from myself. I try not to make any of them like a clone of myself or another character, try to mix it up, possibly with mixed success but that is the goal.

2. How much, if any, has your character(s) changed since they were first created? What caused this change?

Oh wow, okay I have characters I still use from grade school and middle school, and those characters have changed/grown a lot. Most notoriously (to me) though are my two fellas Euphranor and Kadri. I created them while daydreaming in middle school while watching those science videos in class about how I could make a more parody-like version of said videos, Kadri being the energetic and comically sadistic teacher and Euphranor being the constantly irritated and foul-tempered student. The core of their designs and personalities haven’t totally changed (Euph is still a hot-head and Kadri still likes to troll him), but they’ve become far more nuanced as characters as their story become more involved and serious. They’ve also become softer characters, with Euph having a Heart of Gold and Kadri being a bit morally grey but generally compassionate and friendly. I think the cause of this change and others comes from a mix of things, for one I simply got older and what I wanted out my characters changed a bit. But also I think it’s because I spent so much time with those characters in my head that I couldn’t help but develop them more fully, which in turn made me want to give them a good story. Also, everyone is definitely more queer now then how they started, largely because I became more aware and comfortable with my own queer identity and spent more time in queer spaces (though with Euph I actually just realized he had to be gay because I every het relationship I envisioned for him fell totally flat and yet imagining him as having crushes on guys just seemed to work better/make more sense, and that was an earlier decision).

4. Do you intend on publishing your story one day? Why, or why not?

I definitely do! I have many, many stories I want to publish, as books or comics or tv shows or films. I’ve always wanted to publish some of writing since it’s one of my main passions and have always taken inspiration from the stories I consumed. I just love writing and would want to be able to do it as my main career, the key will just be figuring out how to focus on one project long enough to finish it. xD

5. Surprise fact! Give a random fact about your character(s), whether it’s their favorite color, food, or even song!

Euphranor loves to sing! He hums to calm himself down and even full on sings to vent his feelings sometimes. Kadri loves literature and video games, and blackberry pie is his favorite food.

6. Admit it, you have a folder on your computer of the various types of picrews you’ve created for your character(s). Would you mind posting a few (or five)?

*VIBRATES* MY TIME HAS COME. I absolutely have way too many picrews of my fellas so I won’t post them all, just two each for the core four of my main novel project. First, Euphranor:

(yes he is a Hufflepuff)

Kadri:

(also since I dragged the Hogwarts houses into this Kadri is Ravenclaw)

Ena:

(I put her in Gryffindor)

And finally, Fiera:

(Right now I have her in Slytherin. She could also be in Ravenclaw though)

7. Time to get serious for a bit. There’s been heavy debate on having non-human characters identify as ace, aro, non-binary, etc., but never actual humans. As someone who’s aspec, how would you explain to someone who’s allo why this can be and is seen as hurtful?

I mean, as a sci-fi fan I definitely love if the non-human characters are queer coded, but it’s definitely important to include human representation as well, and I think there are a few simple reasons for that. One is that queer people are, in fact, humans, and therefore our stories deserve to be told as they are in reality as well as how they could be in fiction. The other is only writing us as inhuman implies you consider our identities as fictitious or too strange for a human to have, and queer people already have to deal with other forms of erasure and invalidation in real life. (Also, not everyone is a fan of sci-fi/fantasy, and they should still be able to read stories where they can see themselves)

8. It’s a sad reality that many stories in mainstream media don’t have characters that are aspec, not to mention without resorting to harmful stereotypes. Besides there being nothing wrong with IDing as aspec, why did you choose to have your character ID as such? What would you tell other authors who’re interested in writing characters that are aspec, but are afraid of offending the community?

I have a huge list of aspec characters, which definitely started happening more once I was aware of my own asexuality (and later, aromanticism), since I realized that I could make my own aro and ace characters and then just went wild with it lol. It’s also easier for me to write since I can actually draw from personal experience somewhat for it. Beyond representation having aro and ace characters also allows you to explore more facets of human emotions/the human experience, so that’s always fun.

As for how I would advise allies looking to write a-spec characters, my main advice would be to remember that we are an incredibly diverse group of people, and so while no one a-spec character will resonate with every a-spec reader, an a-spec character written in good faith will definitely speak to some of us. Write them as an character first, and when it comes to things like how their attraction does or doesn’t work and what they want out of relationships, figure out what works best for them. Really, if you’re concerned your character would be offensive in some way you can always make a post asking about it, many of us are happy to offer constructive advice and appreciate that someone is wanting to put in the effort to write about our experiences. Reading or listening to anecdotes from an array of a-spec people is also a good way of getting ideas of how to portray us, and there are various resources for that (the tags, AUREA collects anecdotes from arospec individuals, and probably more than I can think of offhand)

9. If you’re comfortable with sharing, what is your characters’ identity? Do they use any microlabels? Does theirs reflect your own?

Unsurprisingly I have many characters who are aroace (Fiera is one of them), and Ena is bisexual and gray-aromantic. Kadri was originally supposed to just be bi/pan but has become increasingly aspec, will they end up gray-aro as well as grey-ace? Will they end up as a pan oriented aroace? I don’t know yet, but they sure are a pan a-spec. My most recent project has exclusively aro-spec protagonists, Valentine is aroace, Cedar is demiromantic, Raelene is cupioromantic, and then Clematis and Hadyn are presently just Aro and might stay that way. My aroace characters are often styled after my own aroace experiences, while other a-spec characters aren’t as much.

11. Why do you think that not just representation is important, but GOOD representation? Can you offer any examples?

Well, I think there are a few ways to make ‘good rep’. There is the ‘this character helps bring awareness/educate about the community’ and then there’s ‘this character just resonates with certain a-spec people a lot’, and the main reason I think it’s important is because rep should be for the people they’re representing. So if rep hurts the community or totally fails to be relatable to anyone who’s actually a-spec, then it missed the whole point and is doing just as much to leave the community feeling left in the dust as no rep. Of course things do get complicated when the community is divided on whether the rep is good or not, which I imagine will be a common occurrence, and many examples of rep probably fall into the grey area between Good and Bad, but generally people should aim to tell stories that will help more than hinder the people you are telling your story about. (Although I also think that the long term end goal is to get to the point where there is enough representation that it doesn’t matter if some of it is ‘bad’ or not, since I feel like that is the true state of normalization, but that is sadly not yet the case)

12. What’s the genre of your most recent story? Do you always write in this genre? If so, what other works do you have? If not, why did you pick it?

My most recent story (with Valentine) is fantasy, inspired by shoujo style anime series like Cardcaptor Sakura, while Euph’s story is more dystopian urban fantasy? His exact genre has shifted around a lot and will probably continue to do so. In general, most of my works are fantasy in some way or another. A few are more sci-fi or horror based, but definitely the majority are fantasy whether that be magical girl type stories, urban fantasy, superheroes, or dark fantasy.

14. What’s a brief biography of your character? Is their history, personality, and/or looks similar to your own?

I’m going to go with Fiera here. The short version of her backstory is that she and her older brother were born to neglectful parents, and while their grandmother was attentive emotionally she also lived far away. Her brother discovered magic, long thought forgotten, but killed himself shortly after, leaving Fiera alone and confused. She then made a point to dedicate herself to studying the theory and history of magic in the hope that she may someday understand why her brother would take his own life so suddenly like that. She has a down to earth personality and is very observant, and has a great deal of ambition and focus for tasks. She naturally has a more lighthearted and curious personality, but has become more somber since the death of her brother. While she always struggled with sustaining personal relationships, it’s only recently she started using her power of observation to be more manipulative and always keep a cool, pleasant demeanor. She has a love for fashion and sewing, as well as an interest in chemistry.

She isn’t really based on me at all backstory or appearance wise, and only slightly takes after me personality wise. Our main similarity is that we both can be quietly observant and don’t tend to get outwardly angry very often, and that we are both aroace. But I am nowhere near as focused as her, am terrible at lies/manipulation, and have different interests. I’m also way more prone to energetic rants and blunt statements than she is.

15. What are the themes of your story? Is it a lighthearted adventure, or are we talking deep, ocean-sized levels of angst? Why, or why not, did you choose them?

The tone of Euph’s story is kind of all over the place due to how often I’ve tweaked it, but there are certainly oceans of angst for all the protagonists. There’s just also decided remnants of the wacky humor from when the story was predominantly a comedy, and a lot more scenes of the characters just relaxing or goofing off than might be typical in a high tension drama adventure. My story with Valentine is generally much more lighthearted, though there will be some deeper moments for character development (and also because I want it to have a slightly gothic vibe, just Because)

16. How long have you been writing? Has your style changed from when you first began to now? What are some tips you’d give to those who’re interested in writing a story of their own, be it professionally or as a hobby?

I’ve been writing in some capacity just about as long as I can remember, and so my style has definitely taken various shifts depending on how old I was and what I was taking as my main inspiration at the time. Sometimes I went for more sarcastic and whimsical narration regardless of the events happening of the story, sometimes I went for a more quick modern-ish style, sometimes I would focus more or less on descriptions or dialogue. I don’t really know where I’m at right now though.

What I would advise to anyone wanting to sit down and write is to be patient and kind with yourself. Nine times out of ten what sounds epic in your head will come out at first as clunky and all over the place. But that is pretty much the whole purpose of first drafts; the clunky first draft crawls so the second draft may walk so the third draft may walk a little faster so the final draft may run. The other thing I would advise is to absolutely experiment, and see what works best for you. There is every kind of writing advice out there imaginable, much of it contradictory, so really you just have to mess around with styles and perspective and dialogue and see what happens, which stuff you liked and which stuff you didn’t.

17. What’s your process for writing? Do you plan your story out first, write whatever you want then edit later, or both? How might this help others?

My writing process is pretty much a mishmash of writing whatever comes to me, then planning, then writing, then using a bunch of character building exercises to have fun but make no progress in the plot, then neglect the project for months, then write some more or maybe plan. I don’t know how much this would help others, though I have found when I set goals with deadlines and some external pressure (nanowrimo, reward system implanted by friends, etc) I am far more productive, so perhaps that is something others could try if they struggle with staying on track?

18. Your book’s become quite popular, easily reaching the New York Times Bookseller list, and now, you’ve been picked to lead a writing workshop. It goes swimmingly, and afterward, someone comes and tells you that your book not only inspired them to write a story of their own, but also helped them discover and accept their identity. What’s your reaction?

Mostly I would just be flabbergasted, but also extremely pleased and honored to have been able to provide any kind of help or assistance to my readers.And I would feel very happy for the person, since that sort of inspiration is great to come by.

19. Are there any published stories out there that feature aspec characters that you also read? Do you have any suggestions?

Unfortunately not that I can think of! I am peripherally aware of some ace characters, but they aren’t in stories I personally consume. I hope to find more though!

20. Just for fun, write down a paragraph of your most recent writing. It can be an action-packed scene, some witty dialogue, or a colorful description that you really enjoyed. (Be sure to properly tag any possible triggers!)

Well, my most recent finished work would be the clunky first draft of my novel. So, here’s a silly conversation that entertained me to write:

Once they had bought the food, they went back to the park to eat. 

“You know, Fiera, I have come to a realization.” Kadri said.

“Oh? What’s that?” Fiera asked.

“Store snacks are not as filling as restaurant food, nor as refined, but they are decidedly addictive.” he said, munching on Twizzlers.

“Yep. That’s what makes them store snacks. Plus, I couldn’t get any really nice stuff. I’m not made of money.” Fiera explained.

“Which brings me to my next question, how exactly are you financing our meals? You don’t seem to work a job of any kind.” Kadri said. Fiera was almost surprised that he knew about jobs, but decided not to ask about it. 

“You’re right, I don’t. But my parents leave me about sixty bucks a week so that they can do what they want without me starving to death in their absence. After yesterday and just now, I’m down to like eight bucks, and the next payment comes in three days, so after this stash goes it's dollar store snacks only.” Fiera explained.

“I see. Fascinating. And these drinks you bought us, why are they vitamin drinks?” Kadri said,looking over a vitamin water curiously.

“Because we definitely aren’t going to get any vitamins from chips and candy.”  Fiera said simply.

“There is logic to that, I suppose.” he said. There was silence for a few moments.

“Um… Kadri?” Fiera said after a while.

“Yes, Fiera?” Kadri said.

“You know you can’t eat a whole bag of Twizzlers in one go, right?”  Fiera said.

“I don’t see why not. If it is not going to give me the nutrients I need, it may as well provide me with the maximum level of pleasure it is capable of.” Kadri said.

“Yeah, but you’ll get sick. And we have limited supplies.” Fiera countered. Kadri looked at the bag of Twizzlers in alarm.

“These are poisonous in large doses!?” he exclaimed.

“What? No, not poisonous, they just make you sick because they’re candy. All candy does that if you keep eating it.” Fiera said.

“Commoners lead dangerous lives, it would seem. I shall never forget this betrayal.” He said to the bag of Twizzlers, putting it down and taking the vitamin water instead. 

#Arospec Awareness Week #aromantic #writing #non-fandom #asaw2020

[the-desolated-quill]

The Quill Seal Of Approval Awards - The Best Of 2019

Hey guys! I’m still alive!

Sorry for my two month absence. Things have been pretty difficult at home lately. I’ve been having a really hard time at university lately, my mental health has suffered as a result, and oh yeah, there’s a worldwide pandemic going on and we’re all probably going to die!

So thanks to this Coronavirus, my uni has been shut down, which means I now suddenly have a lot more free time. So I thought I’d take this opportunity to catch up on things I’ve missed. Yes it’s once again time to hand out the most coveted and prestigious of awards that every writer, producer and director so desperately craves (or at least they would if they actually knew this existed). The Quill Seal Of Approval Awards. Where I list the very best the creative industry had to offer over the course of 2019. (yes I know it’s now March 2020, but if Jon Campea can release a best of 2019 list in February, then I should be able to get away with it). For there is no greater honour on this planet than to have your work of creative artistry praised and acknowledged on an obscure blog by an anonymous snob. That’s the dream, isn’t it?

First a couple of parish notices. Obviously due to various other commitments, I haven’t had the chance to experience everything 2019 had to offer, so this list will be limited to the media and literature I personally got to experience. So sorry that HBO’s Watchmen TV series won’t be on this list. I know everyone loves it, but I’ve only seen one episode so far (and will be posting a review on that soon) as I’ve only just gotten around to watching it. Also bear in mind this is my subjective opinion. If you disagree with my choices, that’s fine. Go write your own list. I won’t be upset. You have every right to like what you like.

...

But if you disagree with me, then you’re a philistine and a poopyhead. That’s not my opinion. That’s a scientific fact that’s been proven in a lab by grown-ups. Sorry. The truth hurts, I know.

Shazam!

Do you remember the days when superhero films used to be fun? When they weren’t some heavily militarised, dark and angsty loners with all the charm and charisma of a pub toilet at closing time? If you do, then you’re going to love Shazam. A funny and moving film about a kid that can transform himself into a Godlike chosen one figure through space magic.

Joking aside, Shazam is an exceptionally good movie with a strong cast, great writing and a very personal and intimate story about self worth and finding your place in the world. For those who have grown sick of these soulless, big budget, CGI heavy superhero flicks with world ending conflicts that end up meaning nothing in the grand scheme of things, Shazam serves as the perfect antidote.

John Wick: Chapter 3 - Parabellum

I’m very much late to the party when it comes to John Wick. I’ve never exactly had the highest opinion of Keanu Reeves as a credible action star and I’ve always found the Matrix movies to be overrated trash with delusions of grandeur, but after constant nagging from my friend @dicapitoe​ I eventually gave in and watched the first one. I loved it so much, I watched the second one immediately afterwards, and then the following day I went to see Chapter 3 in the cinema. Now I think it’s safe to assume I’m a fan.

I actually don’t want to say too much because I want to do in-depth reviews of these films at some point, but needless to say, John Wick: Chapter 3 earns its place on this list. Hell, the whole franchise deserves a Quill Seal Of Approval Award. John Wick is a masterclass in visual storytelling and worldbuilding, and Chapter 3 continues this exciting and dramatic narrative with great confidence and skill. Oh and Keanu Reeves, I take back every snide comment I’ve ever said. You sir, are a national treasure. Can’t wait for more :D

Joker

No! No! Stop! You, yes, you, the one who’s about to comment saying how wrong I am and that Joker is a derivative, dangerous movie. May I remind you once again that this is my list. It’s fine if you don’t agree. In fact I can understand completely why some people really don’t like this film. That being said, I very much enjoyed it and I feel it represents a unique achievement for the comic book movie genre. As superhero movies from The Dark Knight to Captain America: The Winter Soldier to Black Panther have been slowly and steadily proving that these films can not only be socially relevant, but can also be considered high art, Joker represents the genre’s apotheosis. It’s a smart and sharply written film that doesn’t shy away from exploring its themes of mental health, social neglect and narcissism, and it demonstrates the reason why characters like Batman and the Joker have been a staple of popular culture for so long. Even after all this time, we’re still finding new ways of reinterpreting them and exploring them. Combined with Hildur Guonadottir’s amazing score and a career defining performance from Joaquin Phoenix, Joker is truly a force to be reckoned with, much like the title character himself.

Elementary - Season 7

CBS’ brilliant adaptation of Sherlock Holmes sadly came to an end in 2019, but not before one last excellent season.

Elementary has always stood head and shoulders above its BBC counterpart in terms of quality, but personally I always felt that the show never managed to live up to the heights of its very first season with Moriarty. While Moriarty ultimately doesn’t return sadly, we get a great substitute in the form of Odin Reichenbach, a tech mogul who uses social media for his own ends in his misguided pursuit of justice. He serves as a great source of moral conflict for Sherlock and Joan, who have been known to use morally questionable tactics themselves, and is a compelling antagonist. Under showrunner Rob Doherty’s expert direction, Elementary ends on a high as we see the stories of Holmes, Watson, Gregson and Bell conclude in an emotional and satisfying finale. It’s sad to see a great show like this end, but it felt like the right time to stop and I’m glad the Elementary team kept their high standards throughout and were allowed to finish the show properly on their own terms. You will be greatly missed.

The Outer Worlds

Have you heard the news? Single player video games are dead! Nobody wants RPGs anymore apparently! It’s all about ‘live services’ and multiplayer looter shooters. Nobody wants a story driven, single player RPG these days.

Wait! What’s this? A story driven, single player RPG?! And people actually like it?!?! OMG!

Yes, from the people that brought you Fallout: New Vegas comes a new IP that makes a mockery of the AAA industry and their greedy trend chasing. Introducing The Outer Worlds. Set in the Halcyon Colony in the far future where rampant capitalism has taken over and disrupted society, you play as a colonist that’s been recently released from cryogenic suspension and has been tasked with saving the colony from the Board who are hellbent on taking away humanity’s civil liberties and destroying lives all for the sake of profit. The lore and setting is beautifully realised and the writing contains the same wit and satirical charm as Fallout. It also boasts a wonderfully diverse cast of characters, including a very unorthodox vicar and an openly asexual companion. Add to that some super smooth first person shooter combat and a great amount of freedom in customisation and roleplaying, The Outer Worlds proves definitively that single player isn’t dead. Take note Bethesda.

And there we have it. 2019 is finally over and done with. Now we can finally look forward to 2020. Assuming we’re all still alive by the end of the year :S

#the quill seal of approval awards #the quill seal of approval awards 2019 #best of the year #review #opinion

[skydiving-without-a-parachute]

You’re it!

Third part of the Tom Hiddleston series, find the previous two chapters on my masterlist, link in my profile! I was inspired by today’s rains. I headed out for a walk, thinking I could take a nice hot shower after getting soaked, but the rain stopped. So I took a walk in imaginary rain. Enjoy! (Also I didn’t proof read this one, sorry.) Also @lokislilslut this time I remembered!

Genre: fluff, smut implied, angst | Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x reader | Words: 1536 --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tom had been gone for two long months. You two had been bonding over text messages, long calls and occasionally even FaceTime or Skype. You loved it, when he FaceTimed you during the evening; You were still dressed and all after work, but being in a different time zone, he had just woken up, his hair all extra curly and all over the place in a mess, while he was yawning and his eyes were shutting constantly. In short, you had been talking for two months, discovering things you had in common and even some things you disagreed on with a passion. There had been a little... Well, aggressive exchange of words, when you had grown a little sassy and taken it out on him. It was quite early in the relationship that was slowly forming, but you were getting pretty comfortable with Tom, and hoped he felt the same way. Besides the messages and calls, all you did was work. Day in, day out. You were taking on almost double the amount of tasks you usually had, just to keep yourself busy. You had recently been dreaming about Tom a lot, and the dreams weren't always that pure... You had developed a lust for him, and once night you had been looking up pictures of him on the internet. His fangirls were all over his biceps, his thighs, his curls, his abs, his ass... The whole package, and you couldn't but agree with them. God, how were you this lucky? Any way, you thought it was too early in the relationship, you wanted more than just a sexual partner, and you wanted him to know, that you weren't only after his dick. Putting your thoughts aside, you sent him a text. "Awake yet?"You received a FaceTime call in a few minutes, and answered it only to see a blissful, maybe even sleepier Tom than usual. For a second you thought you knew, what he had been up to first thing in the morning, but you just put on a smile and wished him a good morning. "You know, where I'll be in about 20 hours?" he asked. You shook your head and furrowed your eyebrows. "Uhmm, have you been to... Los Angeles yet?" "I'll be in New York." "What? You're coming back?" your face lit up with excitement, and it was the cutest thing Tom had seen in a while. "Yes, I'll be in New York to see you. Care to go on a date?" he smiled, still a little sleepy, as he rubbed his eyes. "Yes! Just name the place!" "How about the library at seven? We could find ourselves something to read, and grab a bite to eat afterwards." The library sounded romantic. You knew how in love Tom was with literature and poems, and you really looked forward to seeing him in a building dedicated to books of all sorts. It was going to be so beautiful. "I'll have to go shower, or I might sleep all day", he told you, and made you bite your lip. You were going to suggest, that he take you with him in the shower, but he cut you off, before you could: "See you tomorrow, (Y/N)!" "Bye, Tom."The rain started an hour and a half after you arrived at the library. You stood outside and waited, like you had promised. By now, you were only waiting for the rain to break. If Tom was this late, he wasn't probably coming at all. Just as you threw your bag back on your shoulder and were about to leave to find yourself a cab and go home, you saw a figure running through the pouring rain. You were quite unhappy with him, but you couldn't stop a giggle escaping your lips. Tall and slim like that he looked like a stick man, running at full speed. God, he was hot even when running. He soon reached you, standing on top of the library stairs. His curls had darkened and stuck to his head, soaking wet, and his navy-coloured suit looked almost black. His feet must have been drenched in those shiny leather shoes. Jesus, what a guy. Skies had torn and water would soon be flooding, if it continued to rain like this, but Tom was wearing a fucking suit. "I'm so terribly sorry, (Y/N), I was yanked into interviews by my manager, and I was so busy all day", he started to explain himself, being two hours late for a date. "You could have called. You should have called!" "I know, I know, I'm so sorry. I just couldn't catch a break long enough to call or text, and once I was free, I just ran over here!" "I've been waiting here for two fucking hours!" "Come on, (Y/N), let me make it up to you. Please. We could go grab a coffee or go to a restaurant and warm you up. You must be freezing." "No." "(Y/N) please, I did not mean to be late, and I'm sorry."Needless to say, he had ways to make you change your mind, to always forgive him. Sometimes you wondered, if that was a red flag. He did seem sincere when apologizing, but so did all manipulative, hostile or even abusive men. Maybe you just were obsessed with the thought that no celebrity could be as nice and caring, as they appeared publicly. You silenced your mind and promised Tom, that you would let him take you out for a milkshake and a warm hamburger. Not the classiest of dates, but you were a little cold, you were about to get wet, and you needed some carbs to replace the ones you had lost burning with anger and disappointment. "A cab!" you yelled, and the both of you started running for it. The driver in the yellow cab saw you, you were sure of it, but he decided to drive off any way, even if the vacant light was burning. God dammit. Tom took off his jacket and held it over your head to act as an umbrella. You thanked him and told him, that you would probably have to find a cab somewhere else. The library wasn't exactly a hot spot for cabs. "I think I ran past a pub", he answered, starting to walk back in the direction where he had come from, still covering you with his coat, his light blue shirt turning semi see-through as it got wet. Maybe the rain wasn't such a bad thing... His jacket turned heavy with soaked rain, so Tom squeezed the water out of it, like he wasn't the slightest concerned of ruining it, and apologized again. "Tag, you're it", you yelled, gently slapping his bicep, and sprinting away. For a second he just stood there confused, but then ran after you. Maybe it was the internal tantrum that had brought your inner child to the surface, but playing tag in the rain was quite fun. You even ended up playing tag all the way to the fast food restaurant.Normally you would have been so careful to eat neatly, when accompanied by such a new date, but after today being such an emotional roller coaster, that had taken a toll on you and your energy, you went for your burger with a vengeance, destroying it in record time. Tom didn't mind, though he was more patient with his food, and actually found your "unladylike" way of eating fascinating. He watched you almost enchanted, when you were slurping away your milkshake along with some fries. He still felt so guilty about letting you wait for him for two hours in the coolness of New York's summer rain. "How have you been, (Y/N)?" he finally started a real conversation. "I've been busy. Work", you answered truthfully. You just didn't mention, why you had been so busy. "Oh. Have you had time to take care of yourself? Eat, rest, you know?" "Yeah, sure. I mean I-, well..." "That does not sound very convincing." You sighed: "What are you, my mother?" Tom chuckled, knowing very well not to say anything about that temperament you were currently displaying."I'm so sorry for today. Me being late and the rain...", Tom was still apologizing, when you cuddled up on your couch in front of the fireplace. You two had taken hot showers - separately - and put on some warm, dry clothes. Tom had just borrowed a pair of your biggest hoodie and sweatpants you could find in your closet, while you had slipped into your favorite pajama pants and warm, fuzzy socks. He spooned you and covered the two of you with a warm blanket. "Tom, shut up. I had pretty fun today, okay?" He smiled against your neck, still holding you close. "Well, I'm still sorry that it happened. Good, that you had fun, though." "You know, since you did leave me hanging for two hours, maybe I could get to ask you anything, and you have to answer truthfully." "Oh? What's your question, darling?" "What were you doing before you FaceTimed me yesterday?" A small puff of warm air tickled your skin. "Thinking about you."

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston fanfic #fanfic #tom hiddleston fluff #smut implied

[thecloserkin]

book review: E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frakenweiler (1967)

Genre: children’s literature

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: n/a

Is it explicit: n/a

Is it endgame: n/a

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: ‘sup i’m here to retroactively ruin your childhoods by excavating aaaaallll the incestuous subtext

“Two middle schoolers run away to New York City and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a week” is a premise that would never fly in our present surveillance panopticon. It works just fine in the sixties though! This is a well-nigh perfect book and I didn’t reread it on account of the incest subtext, but once I had reread it it was impossible not to ship (and when I say ship I mean aged-up characters since these are prepubescent). Elder sister Claudia is a dreamer. Little brother Jamie is practical to a fault. They complement each other like peanut butter and jelly. Here is a typical exchange between them:

”But if we make a real discovery, I’ll know how to go back to Greenwich.” “You take the New Haven, silly. Same way as we got here.” “That’s not what I meant. I want to know how to go back to Greenwich different.” “You can take a subway to 125th Street and then take the train.”

Amazing, right? Initially she’s trying to Prove a Point by running away because she feels under-appreciated at home—props to E.L. Konigsburg who was unabashedly out here agitating for Eldest Daughter Rights:

Claudia was the oldest child and only girl and was subject to a lot of injustice.

Of all her brothers she picks Jamie to accompany her because he’s got the most money squirreled away. That moment when she singles him out still kills me:

Claudia sighed, “I don’t want Steve. Steve is one of the things in my life that I’m running away from. I want you.”

I DON’T WANT STEVE I WANT YOU. If we flash forward to halfway through the novel, by which time a period of sustained teamwork has forged Claudia and Jamie into a single unit:

What happened was: they became a team, a family of two … You might call it caring. You might even call it love. And it is very rarely, indeed, that it happens to two people at the same time—especially a brother and sister who had always spent more time with activities than they had with each other.

This passage establishes conclusively that Claudia and Jamie weren’t especially close before they ran away from home, that this adventure has changed them, and isn’t that what falling in love is, stripped down to the very kernel of its essence? You undergo a transformation. Which is why I’m arguing for a submerged courtship-and-marriage narrative beneath the surface narrative of “kids just want to have autonomy and be taken seriously” (it’s still a superb book even if you just read it on that level though!!! you don’t have to be wearing shipper goggles to enjoy it).

One of the great joys of this book is Jamie’s deadpan humor. This is him after Claudia explains they’ll be stashing a few changes of clothes in their empty instrument cases:

“All in a trumpet case? I should have taken up the bass fiddle.”

Claudia plans their getaway in excruciating detail, and from start to finish it goes off without a hitch—although when she told him to “destroy” the note she wrote, she probably didn’t expect him to swallow it lmao. Watching Jamie be dramatic is fun because he never does it out of an excess of feeling, he does it out of an excess of caution (later on he nearly batters a door down because he’s convinced Claudia is slitting her wrists in the bathtub). Jamie’s sense of humor is most effective when Claudia and Jamie are bickering like an old married couple:

”How come you didn’t take art appreciation lessons with me the summer before last?” “Well, the summer before last I had just finished first grade…It was all I could do to sound out the name of Dick and Jane’s dog.”

Let’s just take a minute to appreciate how on-point this sibling banter is. They find a candy bar on the floor, still sealed in its wrapper:

Claudia: ”Was it bitten into?”

Jamie: “No. Want half?”

Claudia: “You better not touch it, it’s probably poisoned or filled with marijuana.”

Here’s when he picked which wing of the museum to visit with the express aim of boring her:

Many painters of the Renaissance had painted huge billowy, bosomy naked ladies. She was amazed at Jamie; she thought he was too young for that. He was. She never even considered the possibility that he wanted her to be bored.

Tfw when your dumbass younger sibling does something that makes you want to throttle them:

It caused Claudia to want to embalm Jamie in a vat of mummy fluid right that minute. That would teach him inconspicuous.

Among the shenanigans they get up to while living at the Met, the time when these two INVENTED TELEPATHY to avoid getting busted by museum security has got to take the motherfucking cake. Runner-up is the fact they call each other “Sir James” and “Lady Claudia” on the way to the commissary to purchase potato chips for dinner. Then there’s the iconic bathing-in-the-wishing-fountain scene—it’s the next best thing to sharing a bath right? If this were a romance novel there would come the pivotal moment when feelings are confessed to and this is it:

”I didn’t run away to come home the same.” “Well, this has been more fun than camp. Even the food’s been better.” “But Jamie, it’s not enough.” “Yeah, I know it’s not enough. I’m hungry all the time.” “I mean the difference is not enough. Like being born with perfect pitch…or getting the Academy Award. Those are differences that will last a lifetime.” ”I think you’re different already, Claude.” “Do you?” “Yes. We’re all sane, you’re insane.” “James Kincaid!” “Ok ok I’m insane, too. I’ll go along with you.”

Note that Jamie does not disavow his prior claim—Claudia is insane, no two ways about it—but he’s willing to throw in the towel on the whole “being sane” project merely to keep her company. If that isn’t true love I don’t know what is. I just. Can’t get over how they are SO MARRIED and know each other SO WELL:

”You know, Claude, when I’m not wishing I could give you a sock right in the nose, I’m glad you’re on my team. You’re smart even if you’re hard to live with.”

”Jamie, you know, you could go clear around the world and still come home wondering if the tuna fish sandwiches at Chock Full O’Nuts still cost thirty-five cents.”

”You’re never satisfied, Claude. If you get all A’s, you wonder where are the pluses. You start out just running away, and you end up wanting to know everything.”

Yes, Claude is his pet nickname for her and he kind of employs it to annoy her but at the same time, nobody else calls her that do they?? He’s the only one. Just like he’s the only one who gets her. ”We’re the only two people in the whole world who live with it,” says Jamie, referring to a new exhibit they’ve grown attached to, but he could just have easily been referring to this entire scheme of Claudia’s that landed them in the museum in the first place.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

The mystery of the new exhibit, a cupid statue of uncertain provenance, eventually drives the kids to call on the eccentric old lady who donated it from her own personal collection, the eponymous Mrs. Frankeweiler. But first a word about why Claudia is so bloody-minded about getting the dirt on this statue, which may or may not have been carved by Michelangelo. “Finding a secret can make everything else unimportant,” and Claudia is above all someone who relishes the hoarding of secrets. Discovering proof of the statue’s authenticity would enable her to go home the same on the outside but profoundly changed on the inside. If we’re diagramming this story Claudia’s lowest point is definitely when their funds are nearly depleted and they’ve exhausted every avenue of inquiry wrt the statue:

Jamie let her cry for a while. He sat there and fidgeted and counted the number of benches. She still cried; he counted the number of people on the benches. She was still at it; he calculated the number of people per bench.

So Jamie is absolutely useless at dealing with her emotional outburst but he readily acquiesces to spending the last of their money on a taxi to Mrs. Frankenweiler’s house. This is kind of a big deal for Jamie, considering we have him on record saying this:

”I haven’t been a tightwad all my life, have I?” “As long as I’ve known you.” “Well, you’ve known me as long as I’ve known me.”

That’s the sound of me screeching loud enough to bring down the roof. First of all did you notice that for Jamie “being alive” is synonymous with “knowing Claudia”!!! Second, he’s been vetoing Claudia’s motions to take taxis instead of buses/trains for …the entire book up to this point!!! And he says yes to this hail-mary pass in the form of Mrs. Frankenweiler because he knows Claudia needs the truth more than he needs the money. He goes along with it to please her, even if it goes against his most basic instincts. And that’s Jamie Kincaid in a nutshell: he’ll follow his sister anywhere.

The reason I want to dwell on Claudia’s fetish for keeping secrets is because it strongly supports my “submerged romance narrative” reading of the novel:

Claudia doesn’t want adventure. She likes baths and feeling comfortable too much for that kind of thing. Secrets are the kind of adventure she needs … That was why planning the runaway had been such fun; it was a secret. And hiding in the museum had been a secret. But they weren’t permanent.

YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE A PERMANENT, falling in love with your brother now there’s a secret you’d have to no choice but to take to your grave JUST SAYIN CLAUDIA. Like, yes they figure out the “truth” about the stupid statue but it’s the way they figure it out that matters, it’s Jamie inadvertently supplying the missing piece of the puzzle because as smart as Claudia is, as much as she’s 100% in the driver’s seat of this marriage partnership she couldn’t have done it without him. And the way it ends!! So open-ended!! So much scope for shipping!!! They resolve to adopt this lonely old lady since they’ve lost their own grandma(s), and to take day trips to visit her, and to keep any future visits secret from their parents too. What I love about Mrs. Frankenweiler as a character is that she’s the friend that Claudia and Jamie both desperately need. It’s instantly obvious why her and Claudia are kindred spirits; she susses out Claudia’s motives with little trouble:

”Because you found that running away from home didn’t make a real difference? You were still the same Greenwich Claudia, planning and washing and keeping things in order?”

What’s less immediately obvious is why Mrs. Frankeweiler and Jamie would get along like a house on fire:

”You won it at cards?” I could see the admiration grow in Jamie’s eyes.

Jamie, an inveterate cardsharp, is duly impressed. Mrs. Frankenweiler displays wily strategic thinking by extracting information from Jamie while Claudia’s in the bath, which devastates Claudia because she knows information is the only coin they possess to bargain with, but poor Jamie is like IN MY DEFENSE I HAVEN’T TALKED TO ANYONE ELSE FOR A WEEK AND I FORGOT HOW TO KEEP A SECRET. This is so sweet that these kids have not spoken above three sentences to another soul since they ran away from home. Their unplanned sleepover at Mrs. Frankenweiler’s also yields the funniest exchange in the entire fucking book, which goes like this:

Claudia wanted very much to let us know that she was annoyed and why. She acted cool. I pretended I didn’t notice. Jamie didn’t pretend; he simply did not notice.

“I’ll skip the soup,” Claudia announced.

“It’s good,” Jamie said. “Sure you don’t want to try it?”

I am DEAD and GONE. Claudia is subtly snubbing Mrs. Frankenweiler, but subtlety simply does not register for Jamie who operates entirely on a surface-meaning level. So he does what he does best (other than cheating at cards) which is urge Claudia to eat delicious food. He’s constantly thinking about food and whining about how hungry he is. But here he’s coming from a place of “this soup is lit, I care about Claudia so I want her to enjoy it too.” I love this scene sfm because it’s a harbinger of their future: Jamie’s totally the type to walk around obliviously in love with Claudia because as we’ve established he’s incapable of ascribing non-literal meanings to things, and she’ll have to clobber him over the head with the truth and it will be glorious. For those of us who ship incest because we like the idea of “secret” knowledge or a “hidden” text that only we have access to, this is it: This book is pretty much perfect.

While we’re here allow me to rec this pitch-perfect futurefic (11k words) chronicling Claudia and Jamie’s further adventures after they go home. It’s not shipfic but it’s startlingly in-character—even the authorial voice reads like Konigsburg’s—and since canon itself is a trove of shippy content, i’m a happy customer. This is Jamie’s BFF Bruce (the one he regularly cheats at cards): “Look, Jamie, am I your best friend or not? Or is it your stupid sister?” “SHE’S NOT STUPID!”

#book review #e.l. konigsburg #mixed up files

[windschildfanfictionwriter]

Writer’s Cut: Spitfire

I was going to do Ginny first from Stay Standing, but there is this one scene that I keep thinking about and recent discussions on Hermione had these thoughts at the forefront. 

The scene is very specific and very short: Hermione talking to Hannah. 

“Let’s go. We’ll have better luck talking to the locals.” ... “Show them the pictures. If they look like they recognize them then send up the signal. Understood?” 

“I’ve been working on my patronus,” Hannah said quietly. 

“Have you managed it?” Hermione asked, only half paying attention. 

“Not yet, but I’m close.”

“Then I fail to see how that affects us right now. Use the signal.” 

I keep going back to this small piece because when I first started Spitfire ages ago, my best friend took a look at this scene and it upset her. She’s a Hermione stan. She claimed it was too harsh. That Hermione was not this callous. It sparked a bit of an argument between us actually. Especially when she ‘softened’ my words by editing the scene in my document. 

Obviously the books demonstrate time and time again that Hermione can be this ‘callous.’ For me though, this wasn’t a callous moment. It was simply Hermione being absentminded. She is working on a case and she is going to get it done. I figured without Ron around, she would be even more focused on her work and less focused on those around her. 

Hermione’s character, one of her bigger traits in the books, is that she neglects people for books. She becomes so engrossed in her work and in her studies that she doesn’t really interact with the people around her. She is never purposefully cruel, never intentionally callous, but she does come across that way sometimes. She’s very passionate, and very determined to be right all the time, she goes so far as to ignore other possible solutions because they did not come out of a book. That’s a dangerous line of thinking and a dangerous way to live. 

She fails to understand her classmates. How she acted callously with Lavender when her rabbit died just to make a point. How she gets angry with Ron because he doesn’t enjoy school work and puts it off. How she doesn’t get along with her room mates despite the books showing that they’re perfectly fine people. How she looks down on people like Fred and George who focus more on making jokes and building a career from clever inventions than the traditional means of schoolwork and higher authority. 

Hermione is a flawed character and the readers (some) can see that, but the narrator can not. 

That’s where the problem lies. 

The narrator has this tone when it comes to describing what Hermione is doing as if Harry and the others are wrong for trying to tell Hermoine off for being too strict, for working herself into the ground, for being unbending. 

This means that even when the characters point out Hermione is wrong, the narration does not. Which has resulted in the idea that Hermione is ALWAYS right even when at first it seems she is wrong. 

Hermione callously tells Ron its the natural order for a cat to want to eat his pet. 

Well, that pet turns out to be a Death Eater, so Hermione is right in her actions. 

Lavender loves a subject that Hermione is against and she uses Lavender’s pets death as an example of the faults in Devinitions?

Well, the teacher is clearly a fraud who doesn’t know what she’s doing. 

Hermione attacks Ron with birds. 

But the narration reads like Ron is a villain for kissing another girl. He deserved physical abuse for not talking to Hermione for a week with no explanation. He deserves to be seen as the bad guy for having a girlfriend when the Hermione Granger admits she wanted to ask him to Slughorns party, but maybe she won’t now if Ron thought it was stupid. 

Hermione attacks Ron with her fists, hitting him over and over again. 

Again though, its okay, because Ron left them. Discard everything else. It is okay to physically hit and hurt someone because they had a moment of weakness. This scene is treated as if Ron deserves this. 

Hermione gives Ron the cold shoulder from here on out. 

But its okay because Ron is the problem. He deserves it. He needs to earn her forgiveness. 

No matter if Hermione Granger is wrong or right, the narration always puts her on a pedestal. Which has led to an unhealthy view of her character. 

When I wrote this piece and my best friend got so upset with me for this small moment of humanization, I realized how truly frightening the narration in the Harry Potter books is. To see humanization as a terrible thing. 

I tried to explain this to my best friend, but the words would not come. Instead it very quickly escalated into arguing about how she thought I clearly hated Hermione. Which sometimes I do hate her, not because I don’t like Hermione Granger as a character, but because I hate the narration that has been done within the course of the books. 

The whole point of Spitfire, what it was born out of, was this idea that these characters are human. Harry got a character arc, but at times it feels as if he lacked completely in getting an emotional character arc. 

Hermione lacks any form of character development in the books. She is the same person she was... a little older, a little more mature, but she has not grown in character. She has not struggled to overcome any of her faults. She has been ‘proven correct’ time and time again. 

Hermione does not approve of the Half Blood Prince notes that clearly demonstrate an understanding of the subject? 

Well, its a Death Eaters notes and the man kills Dumbledore. Right again, Miss. Granger! Absolutely wonderful! 

I wanted Hermione to face some of her flaws in this story, to be put in a position where she recognizes she’s in the wrong and must apologize and tries to make things right. Because she never has. 

Her arc in this story, that I’ve finally finished writing out, is absolutely wonderful. Not to spoil too much, but I began with a beautiful train scene where Hermione makes a mistake and her character development of going through that realization and working with Ron is quite the ride. 

I really feel like this opening scene was perfect for her. I wanted to show how detached she is when she doesn’t have Ron’s compassion to even her out. 

Not that Hermione would fail at life without Ronald Weasley, but that she is a better person for having him in her life. Just the same as having Hermione’s cleverness and stern nature helps Ron to center himself. Because Ronald Weasley can live in a world without Hermione Granger to, but why would he want to? 

That’s the point. The whole point. 

My best friend believed that I was bashing Hermione, but I firmly believe I was doing the opposite. As much as I adore my best friend, it worries me how she views characters and how it translates into real life. 

I would also like to take a moment to point out that shipping and fandoms and different opinions does not in any way need to be a dividing force between us. Sam is a Hermione stan, who likes Severus Snapes story, who is a (shudder) who likes Draco-Hermione fanfiction. 

She is the complete opposite of me in every way. She’s very romantically inclined, adores the romance genre, she spouts things that make me cringe and I cluck at her for her horrible taste and for the way she views things. She clearly suffers from a lot of cultural brain washings I try to unravel each time we argue. 

But we’re best friends. 

Like Hermione and Ron, we adore arguing about literature and culture and everything under the sun. We are constantly disagreeing and coming to compromises and having a blast while doing it. 

She’s a girly girl and I’m as gender neutral as you can possibly be. She’s a mommy and asked me to be the godmother and I told her no. I told her I’m a walking disaster when it comes to life and that I really don’t want to have any children to take care of. She was sad, but she understood. She appreciated that I took the offer seriously, that I considered the idea that if Sam died what would happen? 

She adores being a stay at home mom. 

I’d rather slit my wrists than live like that. 

But we’re still best friends. We respect each others choices and do everything in or power to help each other and are there for each other. 

People have often asked me what I think of Hermione and Ron being together, and while my reasoning changes as I grow older, the answer is still yes. I do think they work well together. It goes too far sometimes and things are damaged, but I looks at it like the Japanese do, where they repair things with gold and look at the damaged item with respect and pride because it has continued to endure. 

Its always been obvious to me that Harry didn’t understand Hermione and Ron’s need to argue all the time. He never saw it for what it was; stimulating intellectual conversations and debate. Passionate. Honest. Sometimes aggressive. But rarely hurtful. 

Fans, I feel, are a lot like Harry. 

They see what is happening, but they don’t really understand what is happening. They hear the words being said, but they don’t listen. 

Could I see Hermione or Ron being with other people? Absolutely. But I don’t ever see them not being friends. They gravitate towards one another and need a person who is willing to argue with them and to challenge them. Despite what many fans believe (because they are blind fools), both Ron and Hermione are intellectually driven. They need the mental stimulation or they both go a little batshit. 

But where Ron looks for it in life, Hermione looks for it in books. 

And that’s perfectly fine. I’m announcing to the world that it is okay to want different things, to work differently as human beings. It’s okay. 

#fanfiction. #hermione granger #ron weasley

[alwayschoosechocolate]

Are we even speaking the same language? ( Part 2)

Sophie moves to Seoul to become a language assistant at one of Seouls biggest music companies. Even though her Korean is far from perfect, she quickly seems to get along with some of the biggest stars in the company. But the language might not be the only barrier, she has to overcome.

Characters: All seven members of BTS, paring between Namjoon x main character

Word count: 3,655

Genre: romance, angst, (idk yet)

Comments: When the dialog is written in cursive, it’s in Korean.  

Masterpost with the other parts of the story, can be found here (x)

When they came back to the office spaces, Cathrine introduced Sophie to some of the other co-workers and then helped her get into the systems. As Sophie opened the mailbox, she saw that she already had 23 unread emails.

Cathrine chuckled.

“Looks like you already have some assignments. If you need help with anything, just let me know. I’m right on the other side of the desk, alright?”

Sophie thanked her and started reading through the emails. Most of them were introductions to the different systems they used, papers she needed to sign, and official statements. It took her about two hours to get through the new information.

Lunchtime came around, and Cathrine asked if she wanted to go out and grab some lunch. Sophie stretched in the uncomfortable chair and gratefully accepted. She hadn’t been sure, how they normally did it here. If there was a cantina, or if people went out for lunch. It seemed like Cathrine had made it her mission to make sure, that Sophie had a good first day, and Sophie really appreciated it.  

As they walked into the street Cathrine started explaining, where she could get food in the area, and which places were the best. They went to a small Italian restaurant a little way from the BigHit building, opting for some well-known food, instead of more new things. They both ordered a pasta and talked about where they came from, and how they ended up in Seoul. Cathrine had a master’s degree in business and communication and had done a semester abroad in Seoul during her studies. When she finished her studies, she went straight back to Seoul. “I just felt more like myself here. Like I could be whoever I wanted to be, and not who I used to be. Luckily finding a job here wasn’t that hard. Spanish and English is apparently a rare combination here, and many of the companies are quite international.” She had spent two years in Seoul, having moved here, when she was 25. “How about you?”, Cathrine asked as she took a sip of her coke. “What’s your story?”

Sophie pursed her lips, wondering where to start.

“I have a master’s degree in German language and literature, and I’ve lived 2 years in Berlin. I took a semester abroad there and ended up staying while I finished my studies. In the beginning, I thought it was the country and the language, that made me feel at home, but as it turns out, it was just the fact, that it wasn’t Denmark. That it was different. I liked the feeling of being foreign and having to learn how the culture worked. Turns out, that feeling kind of disappears after some time.” Sophie laughed a little bit at herself. “So I wanted to do something new. I originally wanted to go to France, so I could improve my language as well, but then I ended up here. I studied some Korean on my own for about a year, and thought, why not. I still can’t believe I actually got it.” She laughed and shook her head. Cathrine smiled at her.

“So your Korean is self-taught?” Cathrine asked a bit surprised.

“Not all of it. I took some classes, when I learned that I had gotten the job.” Sophie said shyly. She knew that learning a language on your own always got some kind of response. Not always a positive one.

“That’s amazing! So cool! Well, as I said earlier, you can join the language courses at the company if you want. They’re free, and I’m in them too.” Cathrine said, as she motioned to the waiter that they wanted to pay.

“I would love to, but I think you’re quite a bit better than I am.” Sophie said and laughed. Cathrine joined her. 

“Yeah, but there are a lot of other people on the courses as well. And then we can practice together.”, Cathrine said excitedly.

Sophie smiled. “I would love to!”

 When they got back to the office, Sophies mailbox had piled up again. 15 unread emails. But at least it was assignments this time. There were some translations, answering some emails in German and English. Sophie set to work. As the office space was quite large and noisy, she popped in her in-ears to listen to some music and drown out the noise.

After a few hours of working, she had a hankering for some coffee, so she got up and walked towards the breakroom, asking Cathrine if she wanted something on the way. She smiled restlessly and went with her. They were chatting about work while waiting for the coffee machine to make the drinks. “So what do you think? Does it seem doable?” Cathrine asked her over the rim of the coffee cup.

“Hmm. Yeah, I think so. Most of it has been translations into English so far, and communications with some German companies and venues. So that’s fine – haven’t had too much Korean yet.” Sophie wasn’t actually sure, if she was relieved or annoyed with that. She did want to practice her Korean, but a slow start was also nice.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get some if you ask for it.”, Cathrine winked at her. “I actually wanted to ask if you wanted to come get a drink after work? I know a really cool bar right around the corner. I think some of the others are coming as well?” They started to make their way back to their desks.

“Sure, that sounds like fun.” Sophie was happy, that they wanted her to come along, and went with her rule of not saying no to social activities in the first three weeks of living in a new place. It made it easier to find new friends, if you were constantly there the first few weeks. Although she did still have to unpack quite a few boxes, but that could wait.

 After work, Sophie went with Cathrine and two other girls from the office to the bar. Julia was a quiet Brazilian girl with short curls, big brown eyes and a shy smile. Hannah was Japanese but had grown up in the USA. She was loud, constantly cracking jokes and her laugh was contagious. The four girls ordered some drinks and sat down at a table in the corner. The conversation was relaxed and easy going. The girls wanted to know more about Sophie, and Sophie just wanted to get to know them. Even though they came from completely different cultures, backgrounds and languages, they quickly bonded over other things, like their love for languages and their interest in South Korea and Seoul. They stayed at the bar a few hours, before Sophie excused herself to go home. She was complete blown away by all the new information and all the new faces, and she was exhausted. The other girls waved goodbye to her, and Sophie left the bar to find a taxi to take her home.

As soon as she got in the apartment, her eyes caught sight of all the unpacked boxes. She groaned, debating for half a minute if she should start unpacking some of them now. But she decided against it, exhaustion pulling at her eyelids, and instead made her way to the bathroom to brush her teeth and wash her face, before she climbed into bed.

  The next few days flew by fast. Sophie spent most of her days translating and writing e-mails, attending some meetings every now and then.

Most of them had been really boring, revolving mainly around the different departments in the office. But today Cathrine had a meeting with BTS and some of their managers about an upcoming tour in the US. Cathrine had asked Sophie to attend as well, seeing as she wanted her to help with the organization of the tour. This included communication with the venues, booking accommodations, planning of transportation, booking of interviews, talk shows etc. Sophie was excited to be helping with such a big project and couldn’t wait to learn more about it.

As she walked into the meeting room with Cathrine, it was only one of the managers and a beautiful tall blond man, who Sophie vaguely recognized as one of the members, that were present. Jin, maybe? She wasn’t sure. He smiled lazily at Cathrine. 

“Hi Cathrine. Are you handling our tour in the US again?”

Cathrine chuckled a bit. 

“I only do communication. I don’t really handle anything. But yes. I’m helping again.”

He tutted and shook a finger at her. 

“If you hadn’t been there last time, we wouldn’t have been able to talk to anyone.”

Ah, so Cathrine had been with them in the US last time as a translator, it would seem.

“You have Namjoon, you don’t need me.”

“But you are far prettier than Namjoon, Cathrine!”, Jin exclaimed and Cathrine laughed at his compliment, before she shook her head. At the same time two guys stepped into the room.

“Hi, noona!”, they said almost simultaneously. One of them in a deep voice accompanied by a boxy smile, and the other with big doe eyes and a bright smile.

“Hi Tae, Jungkook. How are you?” They both chatted with Cathrine for a little while.

Sophie had been sat on a chair in the corner, since she got in, observing how relaxed and natural Cathrine was with the members. She had clearly worked closely with them before. Sophie kept her head down and pretended to make notes on her block. More people poured in the room, all saying hi to Cathrine. Sophie started to wonder if she was invisible. That was until Hoseok came in the room together with a stunning man with a thick blond hair. Sophie had found Hoseok beautiful, but it seemed the entire group was composed of really good-looking men.

“Hi Cathrine! Hi Sophie!”, Hoseok smiled at both of them and Sophie sent him smile back, thankful that he had acknowledged her.

“Hi Hoseok. Jiminie, how are you?”, Cathrine asked looking at the other member, that Sophie only now recognized as Jimin, one of the other members. Damn. She really had to study up on the artists. Cathrine and Jimin chatted for a bit, before he joined his bandmates at the table. Cathrine walked over to Sophie.

“We don’t have to do much this meeting, mainly listen and take notes. This is mostly an informational meeting. If you could take notes as well, so we make sure to have it all written down. The meeting is going to be in Korean, but I’ve seen how much you understand,” Cathrine smiled at her, “so just write down as much as you can.” Sophie nodded at her and looked down at her block again. The last two guys made it to the room.

“Hi Cathrine”, one of them said. He looked completely uninterested in what was about to happen, and mainly just looked like he wanted to sleep. Cathrine smiled at him.

“Hi Suga. Tired as always, it seems?”, she teased him. The other members snickered as Suga gave a slow nod, before he plopped down in a chair.

“Hi Cathrine, how are you?” the last member said, Sophie recognized him as RM, the leader of the group.

“Hi, Namjoon.”, Cathrine gave him a bright smile. “I’m good, not much new to tell. How about you?”

“Oh, we’re busy with the new album, so I have plenty of work to do. Actually, I wanted to get your help with some lyrics if you have some time one of these days?”

“Sure, whenever it fits you.”

He thanked her and joined the members, quieting them down. Sophie observed how they interacted with each other. The jokes and insults being thrown around along with pushes and punches. At the same time, they constantly reached for each other. Physically leaning or touching each other. They were obviously close. She smiled and shook her head. They definitely acted like they were siblings.

Now that everyone was present the meeting started. Short introduction to the scheduled dates of the tour, cities and the shows that had stated, that they would like to interview the boys.

“The communication with the different people in the US will all go through Cathrine and Sophie. Sophie just started here, but she speaks fluent English along with a bunch of other languages, I believe.” One of the managers laughed, as he gestured towards Sophie. She blushed and smiled shyly at his words. The members looked at her curiously. “So if you have questions about anything, or want to make requests about something, it goes through them.”

It was a rather short meeting and Sophie had been stressed about getting as much as possible written down, her note-block a combination of English, Korean, Danish and a few German words every now and then. As the meeting ended, she looked at the notes and groaned. It would take some time to rewrite them, so other people could understand it. She started to pack her stuff away, already talking to Cathrine about what the first order of business would be now. She didn’t notice RM standing next to her.

“It was Sophie, right?” He asked her softly, not wanting to startle her.

Confused, she looked up at him for a second, before she answered.

“Yeah, Sophie. You’re RM, right?” He smiled at her.

“Yeah, RM or Namjoon, that’s up to you.” He flashed his dimples, and she couldn’t help but smiled back at him. Her note-block caught his eye, and he chuckled quietly.

“Seems like you have a lot of languages in your head.” He looked at her questioning with soft eyes. “What language is that?” He pointed at one of the German words. She felt embarrassed and blushed heavily.

“It’s German.”

“Ah, wow. Okay, cool.”

He sent her another one of his dimple smiles, and she gave him a shy smile back. Suddenly Jimin called out for him from the doorway. He gave him a nod and looked down at her again.

“Well, it was nice meeting you. I guess I’ll see you again soon.” He gave her a bright smile and left the room.

Sophie quickly made herself busy with cleaning up the meeting room and gathering her things, so she didn’t have to look at Cathrine. She heard her laugh.

“You don’t have to look at me, for me to look at you like this. This is a look, that you can just feel.”

Sophie looked up at her. Cathrine had her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised and a big smirk on her lips. Sophie burst into a laugh, and Cathrine followed her.

“They are charming, aren’t they?”, Cathrine asked with a wink.

Sophie blushed.

“Well, I guess so. They are definitely handsome.”

Cathrine laughed and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well that’s a given in this industry.”

  The next week Cathrine and Sophie were busy making a proposed schedule for the band, incl. hotels, restaurants, interviews, talk-shows, the works. They had to send it to the managers before Friday, seeing as Cathrine would be in Chicago all of next week.

“Ah, Sophie. I almost forgot. I have a meeting with Namjoon at 2pm today about his lyrics. Do you wanna come and help out? See how it works? Some of the guys might need help, while I’m gone, and then you’re up.”

“Sure, I would love to.”, Sophie replied with a smile. She couldn’t wait to work with some more interesting translations than hotel-bookings.

 At exactly 2pm Namjoon came up to Cathrines desk.

“Hi, Cathrine. You ready?”, he asked her with a smile, that she returned.

“Yep, just give me a second. Sophie is gonna join us as well”, she added while pointing at Sophie with the end of her pen. Namjoon looked over at her and gave her a bright smile.

“Great”, he answered.

As they sat down to discuss the lyrics, Sophie kept to the background, wanting to observe, how they worked together. It was obvious, that the message of the lyrics was very important to Namjoon, and hearing the lyrics, Sophie could understand why. They were packed full of meaning. Messages of hope, reassurance and understanding. Opening up about self-doubt, mental health, social pressures etc. Sophie was impressed, and the more she heard Namjoon talk about the lyrics and the music, the more respect she got for him.  

Cathrine suddenly looked at her watch and jumped up.

“Ah, sorry! I have to go. I have an appointment in half an hour, and I can’t be late.” She looked to Sophie, “Sophie, are you good with taking care of the rest of the lyrics with Namjoon?”

Sophie wasn’t sure she was, but she didn’t really have a choice at the moment.

“Sure, Cathrine. No worries.”, she smiled at her.

“Great! I’m sorry, Namjoon!”, she sent him an apologetic smile, and he just waved her off.

“No need to apologize. Just get going. I’m sure, Sophie’s up for the job”, he said and smiled at her.

Cathrine mouthed a sorry and a thank you to Sophie, before slipping out of the conference room. Sophie just smiled and shook her head at her.

She turned and faced Namjoon, suddenly aware that she was alone with him. He sent her a reassuring smile, which she returned with a shy one. Okay, Sophie. Time to show what you got.

“So, this line, that you were talking about,” she said, and pointed to the line, she meant. “would it maybe be better to change the tone into something more… urban?”, she asked him.

He looked at her curiously.

“Maybe. Why do you want to make it more urban?”, he asked her.

“Because the whole song is built around how feelings are natural, but in this exact line, you seem to question it. Wouldn’t it make sense to reflect that in the words?”, she asked a bit unsure, if she had stepped out of line. After all it was his lyrics. But he inspected the lyrics again, trying different variations, before giving her a smile.

“I think you might be right”, he exclaimed, giving her a big smile. She returned the smile.

“Okay, let’s keep going. Ehm. I might need some help here though”, she said, furrowing her eyebrows. “This Korean word,” she said pointing on a word on the page. “I know, it means something along the lines of missing someone. Like aching from the feeling of being alone. But I see it being used in different situations, that aren’t quite like that. Is there some kind of nuance, that I’m missing in meaning of the word?”, she asked looking at him with bright curious eyes.

He smiled at her, surprised she had picked up on some of the nuances, since her Korean wasn’t that advanced yet.

“Yeah, actually there is. You're right, that it means to miss someone. But it is traditionally only used about missing your soulmate.” Sophie's eyes lit up.

“Ah! So, when you use it here, you’re indicating that your very first soulmate isn’t another person but yourself. And in this song, you talk about how you’re missing yourself.” She looked up at him, with a surprised look. “Wow, that’s beautiful.” She smiled at him. “Thanks for explaining that to me.”, she told him with a genuine smile, that he returned.

“Anytime,” he said. “If you ever have questions, don’t hesitate to ask. I’m mainly at the studio. You’re always welcome”, he ended the sentence with a dimpled grin. She giggled at him.

“Thank you so much!”, she answered. “But I think that was all then, wasn’t it?”, she asked him, looking over the lyrics they had brought with them.

“I think that was all. Yeah.” He started to stand up. “Unless you have some questions for me?”, he asked her with a smile. She thought for a moment, debating if she should just wait and ask Cathrine tomorrow. But then again, why not. She had nothing to lose.

“Actually, I was wondering if you might know of a bookshop here, that sells English books? I tried buying some books in Korean, but I still read quite slowly in Korean, and I get impatient. So, I wanted to get some English books instead, but I don’t know where.” Sophie met his eyes, that seemed to search hers for a second before he answered.

“There is a bookshop that also sells English books here. They don’t have a lot of them, but there are some.” He said, looking at her curiously before adding, “I’m actually going there myself today, if you want to come along?”

Sophie was a bit surprised by his offer, but seeing as she was still in her first three weeks of living in Seoul, she couldn’t say no. It might be a self-made rule, but she was still going to follow it. That didn’t stop her from getting nervous though. And she felt the cold-sweat break out, as she thought about being alone with Namjoon. She tried to ignore her body’s reaction to the situation, and quickly agreed.

“I would love to.”, she said and sent him a smile.

His face lit up in the biggest smile, she had seen in a long time.

“Great! I have to go the dance studio, but we should be done around 6pm. Just come by, when you get off work, and then we can go together.”

She nodded at him and gave him a bright smile. “Sounds good.”

His dimples popped out as he gave her a goodbye smile.

Interesting, Sophie thought. I wonder how this is going to be. She was a little hesitant to go to a bookshop with someone. Bookshops and literature had always been her shelter. Her place to be herself. But she wasn’t about to say no to Namjoon. She went back to work with a smile on her lips. Only 4 more hours.

Comment: Ah, so I know it’s moving slow. Have patience. The story keeps evolving in my head, and it’s for sure not a short story, so there is no need to rush. I hope you enjoy it! 

 // Part 3 //

#bts #bangtan #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jin #suga #rm #jhope #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #kin seokjin #min yoongi #kim namjoon #jung hoseok #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeun jungkook #bts ot7 #bts fluff #bts angst #hobi #bts scenarios #bangtan fluff #bangtan angst #namjoon imagine #multilingual #are we even speaking the same language

[jonghostation]

50 Questions Tag

Tagged by the lovely @ultminsung, thank you darling :*

1. what takes up most of your time?

Writing stories

2. what makes your day better ?

A good laugh with loved ones 

3. what’s the best thing that happened to you today?

The ATEEZ Wanted Episode jfbksefslkf

4. what fictional place would you like to go?

I’m gonna pretend there’s an s after place, so I’d visit Hogwarts, Narnia, the universe where Spirited Away and Howl’s Moving Castle is set

5. are you good at giving advice?

Oh it depends how confident I feel about it

6. do you have any mental illnesses?

Do I? I have never checked, I’d rather remain oblivious to it if I have any

7. have you ever experienced sleep paralysis?

Yes, multiple times. I’ve grown used to it, I’ve even made friends with the things I see on the foot of my bed. I just haven’t gotten used to the voices though :/ 

8. what musician inspired you the most?

Andrea Bocelli, he’s an amazing man and singer

9. have you ever fallen in love ?

Of course! I’ve had countless crushes, but I’ve only fallen in love a handful of times

10. what’s your dream date?

I want the date to last a whole sunny day, first we have a picnic at a park, go to an amusement park, carnival or arcade, ride bicycles together until we arrive at the beach where we stay before a bonfire until the moon rises, talking about anything and everything. 

11. what do other people notice about you?

Nowadays, it’s my blue-highlighted hair hehe

12. what is the annoying habit you have?

Not texting back at all :/

13. do you still talk to your first love?

Not as much, we still keep in contact though

14. how many ex’s do you have?

Without including flings and temporary flirtationships, I have 5 exes

15. how many songs are on your playlist ?

Like 230-ish?

16. what instruments can you play?

None, I know some chords on the piano and guitar but other than that, I can play the kazoo !

17. who do you have the most pictures of?

Myself and Jongho kfhaskfjdn

18. where would you like to go before you die?

Somewhere most similar to my happy place; on a swing that’s supported by a tree up on a hill overlooking the horizon

19. what is your zodiac?

Aquarius WHOO!

20. do you relate to it?

Very, yes~

21. what is happiness to you?

The realisation that you are very satisfied with your life, despite every hardship and trials along the way

22. are you going through anything right now?

Mmm, not really? I don’t keep track with my experiences, they come and go as they please

23. what is the worst decision you’ve ever made?

Losing my virginity to a dude who I’ve barely dated

24. what is your favorite store?

The grocery store

25. what is your opinion on abortion?

It’s definitely something significant, and that’s all I’m going to say

26. do you have a bucket list?

I do, in my head but their chances of ever coming true is quite low so I don’t put out too much hope but it’s there.

27. do you have a favorite album at the moment?

ATEEZ All to Zero and Zero to One heheee

28. what do you want for your birthday?

ATEEZ merch :))

29. what are most people’s first impression of you?

They always thought of me as this pretty, popular, outgoing, almost bitchy girl because of how I present myself at first hmmm

30. what age do you seem according to most people?

23 to 30, because the way I dress can sometimes look like a mom

31. where do you keep your phone while you’re sleeping?

Beside my bed hehe

32. what word do you say the most?

Really

33. what’s the oldest age you would date?

Right now, the oldest I would date is 22

34. what’s the youngest age you would date?

18!! That’s the legal age

35. what job/career do most people say would suit you?

Teacher, Performer, and Secretary

36. what’s your favorite music genre ?

Korean Pop, thank you very much~

37. if you could live in any country in the world, where would it be?

I would live in Japan, or Australia

38. what is your current favorite song?

Ariana Grande - Honeymoon Avenue

39. how long have you had this blog for?

Around 3 months? Very new, really huhuu

40. what are you excited for?

Talking to my friends!

41. are you a better talker or listener?

I am just a slightly better listener 

42. what is the last productive thing you did?

Check my assignments

43. what do you want for Christmas?

New makeup

44. what class do you get the best grades in?

As of now, Literature :)

45. on a scale of 1-10 , how are you feeling?

Around an 8? 

46. what can you see yourself doing in 10 years?

I see myself either teaching or being in a musical

47. when did you get your first heart broken?

8th grade

48. at what age do you want to get married?

I’ve always wanted to marry when I’m 25

49. what career did you want to have as a child?

A vet!

50. what do you crave right now?

Validation and affection :”)

I tag: @moonkissed-jongho, @youremytreasure98, @yunhos-gf, @celestial-hoes, @inamultifanstan, @kpoprunsmylifenow, @a-nik7, @san--shine, @softforyunho, @gothicmingi, @honeyjoongie, @missminji, @atinydannie, @seonghwalove, @shikyus, @younghhyun, @softyfor-sweaterpaws and really, anyone who’d want to do this~

#don't worry just say I tagged you #I really wouldn't mind #personal #tag #even though I'm quite inactive #I try my best to do the bare minimum here #so that I feel just slightly validated