#Professor mirror x todd snap | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

burytherosemarysprigs · 3 years

Text

Oral Sadism and Literary Arguments

A/N : Ok, so, like enemies to lovers???? slow burn??? literature??? fuck me.

/ Masterlist /

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader (College AU)

Word Count: 6k

Summary: There’s probably only one thing worse than chauvinist literature, and that’s the sardonic boy who sits two rows behind in Lit class with his torn paperbacks and ineffable aversion.

“Well, I actually disagree with you,”

If you didn’t have that much self-control, you would’ve snapped the pencil you were holding in half, as you heard a deep voice speak up behind you, and before you could retort, Professor Gordon spoke,

“And why’s that Jason?”

“I think Bukowski was trying to present how men will hide their inner thoughts and feelings, really their sensitivity in that aggression as an attempt at protection.” Jason spoke up, his voice boiling your blood as the rest of the class stayed in relative silence, as you turned around to look at him as he stared directly at you,

“I’m sorry, protection? What part about misogyny and blatant objectification of women as only being sexual objects that can be discarded and picked up when he pleases passes as protection? Women that are empty and uncharacterised to the extent the reader begins to agree with Chinaski that yes, women are less. Women are not important. And women don’t require compassion and consent, what part of any of this reminds you about goddamn male – “

“All right, I think that’s enough for today.” Gordon interrupted your heated rant with a sigh, which you share and quickly turn around close your eyes to try and avoid the weight of Jason’s stare as Gordon begins to dismiss the class.

“All right everyone, I hope you took something useful from that discussion, though I’m not sure if you would classify that as a discussion,” He added sarcastically, before continuing, “I expect you all to have brief outlines planned out for next week, and please try to work as collaboratively as you can with your partner to do so.”

The last part was directed at you and Jason – though neither of you payed proper attention – while the rest of the class let out small snickers.

“Right then, class dismissed, and uh, you two, could you both please stay behind for a minute.”

Fucking great. You thought to yourself, even though Gordon didn’t specify both you and Jason, his tired expression tells you otherwise and you start collecting your notes and pens into your bag in a silent fury and made your way to the front of the class, where Gordon was leaning against his oak desk, watching both of you stand in front of him – not casting a single glance towards the other as you waited for him to speak. He sighs,

“I don’t think you both understand how frustrating it is when your top students both have it out for each other and can’t hold a single civil discussion before arguing like little children,” He begins, becoming more wary as he continues, “Which is why I paired you up for this assignment and I fully expect you both to work together, and I hope I can expect that from you?”

He looked at both of you with an expectant look, and Jason only nodded curtly as a response, and you did the same but decided to chirp in,

“That’s great that you think we’ll be able to work together, sir, but on a totally unrelated note, how would my grade be impacted if my partner was suddenly mauled by a car over the weekend and was unable to complete the project with me?” You spoke, voice deadpanning, as your professor barely restrained in a smile while Jason looked at you with an empty expression.

“I would say that would be a fail as you missed the premises of ‘working with a partner’, as well as some serious legal consequences.” He replied, somehow maintaining a serious look as he spoke.

“That’s great to know sir.” You spoke, nodding along before he dismisses you both, leading you to quickly walk out of the classroom, breathing out a sigh of relief as you see Barbara leaning against the wall, busy on her phone, waiting for you to come out.

“What took you so long,” She asks as soon as she hears your sigh, pocketing her phone, and linking her arm with yours,

“I swear to God, one day, I might as well skin him – “

“Look, if I had known before that you could be so dramatic, I would’ve told you to choose drama as your major.”

“Ha. So funny. It’s just – fuck him.” You say the last part under your breath as you turned around to see nobody in the empty hallway.

“You two are really something else.” She states, making you roll your eyes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean that you and Jason are really annoying. And petty.”

“Well, he’s the one that needs to contradict and compete against every single fucking thing I say, every single fucking time! It’s really fucking annoying,” Barbara only rolls her eyes in amusement. “And Gordon paired us up together for this project, and, God, I just can’t do anything with him without wanting to punch him in his stupid face.”

“I know, and that’s exactly why Gordon paired you both up, he really likes you both and he wants you both to stop having this weird rivalry between each other.”

“Wait. You knew?”

“Well yeah. I’m his daughter.”

“Well, why didn’t you tell me then?”

“Because I like seeing you suffer.”

“You know, you’re a terrible friend.”

“Thank you,” She replies, with a small laugh, before she links her arm with yours again and whips out her phone to frantically shoot another text as she lets out a deep sigh. “Where is Steph? She took my car this morning and said she’d pick us up.”

“You let her drive your Bentley?” You ask, surprised she would give Stephanie one of her most prized possessions.

“Yeah, I know,” She spoke, absorbed in her phone, “But, she promised me that she would keep it safe, and we all know that I will kill her if something happens to it.”

“I do.” You reply, a small laugh escaping your lips before a blue Bentley pulled up in front of you both, causing Barbara to quickly pull open the door and shuffle inside, leaving you to chuckle to yourself before making your way to the back seat of the car, the blaring music making you wince as you enter the car but Babs quickly turns it off as both of you settle in.

“See! Your car is perfectly fine, just like I told you it would be!” Steph smugly announced, her blonde curls bouncing wildly as Barbara stared at her unimpressed, before both of them fall into their routine bickering as, this time, Babs begins to criticise her driving and apparent ‘mishandling of the most precious thing to me’, while you only roll your eyes at their antics before pulling out your phone to scroll through the messages you’ve missed throughout the day.

“Hey,” Steph’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts as you meet her eyes through the rear-view mirror, “What’s up with you today?”, her seemingly innocent question provokes a snicker from Babs – to which she receives a smack on the shoulder from you.

“What?” Steph inquires further.

“Nothing, why don’t you ask miss ‘I-fucking-hate-Jason-Todd’ here.”

“Fuck off, Barbara.” You grit out, glaring at her through the rear-view mirror.

“God, both you and Jason actually act like children,” Stephanie chimes in, “You’re both almost the same but you both compete against each other against every little thing – “.

“Are we done talking about Todd?” You retort, ignoring Steph’s comment, “I have better things to do than think about him.”

“Mhmm, sure.” Barbara winks at you and it takes a lot for you not to launch at her right there, in the car but Steph draws your attention away by babbling about some boy she met in her criminology class and the conversation in the car gradually fizzles out, until Steph asks,

“You guys heard about the party this weekend, right,” A matching ‘yes’ from you and Babs prompts her to continue, “Well, you’re going then, right?”

“I don’t know, but why’re you so pressed about it?” Bars questions, with a raised eyebrow.

“No reason, I’m just curious.”

“It’s Tim, isn’t it?” This time, you pipe in, and Steph almost yells,

“No. No, it’s not!”

“Oh my god. Of course it is.” Babs laugh echoes with yours as you eye Steph in the rear-view mirror, to see a blush dusting her cheeks as she quiets down.

“Whatever, are you coming or not.”

“After this conversation, yeah I am.”

“God. I hate you both.”

Standing in the corner of the party, nursing a red solo cup of something that burns your throat when you drink it, you regret not saying anything in the car against attending this party.

You’re currently standing alone, both Steph and Babs have completely disappeared into crowd, as Dick had shown up and quickly whisked her away as soon as you all entered the apartment, whereas Steph has promised to get you a drink about twenty minutes ago but never came back and as you try to block out the reverberating EDM music blasting through the room, you make your way towards the kitchen to re-fill your cup (the one that you went and got yourself), before something catches your attention in the peripheral vision.

It’s a wispy haired girl, her eyes smudged with mascara, backed against the wall of the kitchen – away from the main crowd, you could pick from her body language a sense of uncomfortability as she was drunkenly shaking her head at a man who towered in front of her, making you stop in your tracks to watch the scene unfold right in front of you, before quickly changing your course towards their direction, already knowing the identity of the man in front of the girl, without seeing his face.

“Hey, Cyrus, get the fuck away from her!”

As soon as you reach them, and the words leave your mouth, another raucous voice speaks at the same time as you.

“What the fuck are you doing?”

Cyrus and the girl in front of him stop at their hushed conversation, to look away from each other and face you both while you also look at Jason – with a shocked expression – standing next to you and before you can say anything, Cyrus lets go of his hold on the girl before turning to glare at you.

“I don’t see how any of this is any of your business?”

You restrain yourself from physically hurling at him and fist your hands at your sides before looking at him with an unimpressed look.

“I don’t see how any of this is your business either, Beck? Thought daddy said that he’ll pull you out of school if he had to deal with your stupid behaviour again, or did you forget about it?”

“I swear to god – “

He tries to step closer to you but Jason steps in front of you before he can do anything else, and mutters,

“How about you fucking walk away before something worse happens?”

Beck shrugs of Jason’s hold on him before walking away and pointing a finger at you.

“You’re such a fucking bitch, you know that?”

“Should’ve said that to your daddy when he said I was best fucking person he’s ever met.”

He looks at you wildly and is about to retort before one of his friends pulls his attention to a game of beer-pong happening in another corner of the party and the whole scene stops for a second. You watch with a held breath as within a fraction of a second, a cocky smile overtakes his face and his shoulders relax as he runs his hands through his dark hair, leaving with his friend and you quickly turn around to see the girl, still standing there, her arms wrapped around her body and a shocked expression on her face.

It takes you a second, but you manage to gently coax her to the hallway outside the apartment and Jason (unbeknownst to you) follows in your footsteps.

“Do you want me to call you a cab, or can I drop you off?”

She shakes her head and is about to say something before Jason interjects,

“I can take her home.”

Both you and the girl turn around and stare at him and you quickly shake your head, diverting your gaze away from him,

“It’s fine Todd, I’ve got this.”

He sighs.

“Will you just let me help her?”

“Well, I’ve already told you that I’ve got this under control, so I don’t see why you’re being so – “

“Oh - uh, you don’t have to worry about me, I can uh – go home myself.”

“No. I – uh mean, let us take you home just to make sure that everything will be okay.”

A meek smile overtakes her face as you squeeze her hand lightly and you offer a half-smile in return.

“Us?” Jason’s voice perks up and you turn around,

“Well, I don’t have a car. If you want, I can come with you and drop her off at her place but – “

“Yeah, sure. Come on.”

His voice is clipped as he moves past you both, turning around the end of the hallway, leading you both to quickly follow him as well.

“Wait. I never asked you for your name.” You gently rest place your hand on her shoulder, making her stop and quietly giving her name,

“It’s Anna.”

...

By the time you’ve left Anna’s apartment complex, the small talk in the car dwindles down as you both sit, unnerved in the dimmed light of the car, the silence suffocatingly awkward. It doesn’t change until he pulls up to the curb, facing the entrance to your apartment building.

“Thanks.”

It’s quiet enough that you didn’t expect that he’d actually hear you. Let alone, grab your wrist before you leave, an incredulous expression on his shadowy face.

“Thanks? That’s it. You’re not going to say anything about what’s just happened?”

“Well, what the fuck do you want me to say.”

“I don’t know.”

“Well neither do I. Look. Thanks for dropping me off and Anna. That’s it. I don’t have anything else to say to you.”

He doesn’t say anything and let’s go of his hold on your wrist before you quickly slip out of the car, not realising the force at which you push, slams the door shut, making you internally wince. But in your peripheral vision, you can see he doesn’t look at you, with his face staring forward and grip tight on the wheel.

His car’s gone further and turned the corner before you’ve even made it to the entrance doors, and you breath in the cold October air, letting the wind whip across your bare skin, goosebumps rising while standing in a pathetically insulating satin dress, your thoughts pummeling through your mind without fully understanding them and you sigh again.

“What did you say to him after that?”

“Babs, I’m already – “

You stop midway through your hushed conversation with Barbara to see a disheveled Jason noisily weave his way through the shelves, towards the table at the back of the library you had occupied with Barbara.

“Sorry, I – “

“If you weren’t really going to care about this assignment, you should’ve said something before showing up thirty minutes late.” You deadpan, voice steely and brows furrowed.

“Will you fucking listen to me?” he breathlessly cuts you off from saying anything else as he drops his books on the table.

“I’ll head out now.” Barbara mutters to you, squeezing your arm and slinging her bag over her shoulder before quietly slipping out of sight. You rested your chin in your propped arm, waiting for Jason to continue,

“Well, what’s your excuse?”

“I don’t have an excuse. I was caught up in call with my father, it ended up being longer than I expected.”

You stare at him for a moment, his eyebrows also furrowed and hair sticking in all directions as he breathes heavily.

“Whatever, just complete the outline of notes I made for you.” You replied, pushing pieces of sticky notes and highlighted papers, that you had been picking at for the past half hour, towards his direction.

In about fifteen minutes, you’re both working in relative silence apart from the occasional remarks on the thesis and clarification on handwritings. There’s also been the perpetual looks on Jason’s part, and regardless of how much you try to block them, it itches at you to confront him about his irritating tendency.

“What Jason? What do you want now?”

His expression is firstly, taken aback, and then he coughs before asking,

“Did you ever talk to the girl after the party?”

You nod slowly, eyes still trained on the table, curving letters on colour-coded sticky notes before replying,

“Yeah, Stephanie’s their R.A, so I went and checked up on them the day after the party, she’s doing fine.”

You think that’s the end of his curiosity, but the pit of anxiety in your stomach and his next question, makes you internally want to bang your head against the alder wood table.

“And, uh, what about Beck?

Now, you stop writing with your pen and look up at him instead, resting your chin on your propped hand again, with a bored expression splayed on your face to try and detract from the internal anxiety, for both yourself and him.

“What about him?”

He doesn’t say anything at first and for a moment you think he might snap like he did in the car a few nights ago, but he only closes his eyes in frustration as you cock your head to one side.

“If you’re wondering if he’s going to face consequences for what he does – then no.”

There’s no verbal response except for a quizzical expression and you almost roll your eyes at him.

“I swear to God Jason, do you live under a fucking rock?”

“I just – look if you’re gonna be a bitch about it, then fucking leave it.”

“Maybe if you’d like to stop yelling in the goddamn library, I can fucking say something.” You almost hiss at him, voice seething as you both glare at each other.

“Anyways, you probably know that Beck’s the son of the headmaster, yeah, yeah, anyways, he’s always been a fucking creep around parties, but he’s never like you know, ever gotten that far.”

Jason raises an eyebrow at your hushed whispers.

“Like, he just trails around parties looking to either fight someone or just annoy them the fuck out but usually someone stops him before he can do something worse. But, still doesn’t mean that he isn’t a fucking asshole anyways – and his dad and him have like the worst fucking relationship ever, he’s threatened to pull him out a bunch of times of school because he’s so shit.”

You lower your voice even further at the last past, that you’re not sure if he can even hear you.

“How do you know all this?”

You shake your head and trail your eyes back to the unfinished notes in front of you.

“That’s unimportant. He’s a whiny trust-fund brat and I don’t know why someone hasn’t punched him yet.”

That silences Jason for a moment. And the moment doesn’t last long before your phone’s alarm blares through the silence of the library and you quickly move to silence it and Jason eyes question you but you don’t respond, instead move to disorderly throw all the pens and highlighters into your bag and grab as many papers you could in one go before quickly whispering,

“I’ve gotta go.”

“Wait – “

“Look. I promised I’d help a friend out with something. I’ll let you know when I’m free again.”

Jason doesn’t have a chance to say anything else before you’ve flitted through the haze of bookshelves out of view.

“What happened to the guy your dad set you up with?”

“Darian?”

Babs doesn’t look up from her place on the vanity table as she touches up her makeup while you’re sat on the table with a plastic fork prodding the edges of one of the Halloween themed chocolate cakes Babs attempted to bake for the party.

“Yeah, the one with the hair, right?”

“The hair?”

She casts a pointed look at you through the mirror, but you only take in another forkful of chocolate icing before answering,

“Yeah, he had like the most voluminous hair I’ve ever fucking seen.”

“Really? Well he had the most boring personality that I’ve ever fucking seen.”

She barely contains a smile at your comment while her own snarky comment elicits a snort from you but before you can say anything else, the frantic clicking of Stephanie’s (beloved) d’orsay heels against the linoleum floor followed by her quickly making her way into the dimly lit bedroom causes the room to fall into silence.

“You’re not ready yet?”

Her voice holds an accusatory tone and Babs quickly scoffs,

“I’m trying. But somebody keeps distracting me by asking unimportant questions.”

“Excuse me. I’m trying to be a good friend and keep up with my friend’s life.”

“Please. It sounds more like you want to know more about Darian.”

Before you can retort to her statement, Steph’s voice cuts in,

“Darian? Who’s that?”

“A guy I went on a date with a while ago.” Babs replies with a roll of her eyes, pulling out a scarlet lipstick tube from her make-up bag.

“ – That your dad set you up with.” You finish for her and Stephanie laughs.

“Since when is Professor Gordon a dating guru?”

“Since fucking never,” Babs replies, this time, twisting the cap of her lipstick. “It was just some guy in the forensic unit that he probably felt bad for being single and alone, but he shouldn’t have, ‘cause he didn’t have a fucking personality even if he tried.”

“Well that sucks. Anyways, are you both ready?” She pulls out her phone out of the bag she’d brought and starts typing.

“Or, you know, at least tried to be ready?” This time, she eyes you pointedly and you let out a noise of protest while stuffing another forkful of chocolate cake in your mouth.

“I’m sorry not all of us have devoted our whole fucking lives curating every Halloween costume known to man!”

This was something you’d noticed since you’d come back to Gotham and had been forced to attend Halloween parties – nearly everyone you’d encountered was practically obsessed with the celebration – and one of those people was Barbara. So much so, that every year she held a Halloween party and planned it more profusely than you’ve ever seen her do anything else. Her love also came with a heightened scrutiny for your enthusiasm – or lack thereof – for the holiday.

Which was why you were currently sat, dressed in a black boat neck dress with a flimsy witch hat resting on your head as you decimated one of Babs’ rejected Halloween cakes – yet the worst part was that it was currently early December (midterms being pushed back made it impossible to have it in October) and the last thing you’d wanted was to attend this party but Babs had personally threatened to drag you there to complete her and Steph’s wish of doing a group costume.

“It’s only you, you know.” Steph retorts, head cocking to one side and blonde curls hanging over her shoulder, “Now, let’s go, let’s go!”

About three hours later, you’ve found yourself nursing a cup of cheap bar (the number, you’re pretty sure that you’ve lost count of), eyeing a clique of literature students, who are currently in the midst of an argument while you stand in the corner of the room, trying to avoid them recognizing you out of their peripheral vision.

“What’re you doing?”

“What the – “ You quickly turn around to see a tall figure dressed in black staring down at you quizzically, and then you realize that it’s Jason Todd.

“Todd, what the fuck do you want.” You hiss – not at all in the mindset to have a conversation with him at the moment – while trying to remain quiet enough so that you don’t attract any unwanted attention.

“I should be asking you,” He taunts back. “You’re the one sulking around the party and hiding in places.”

You don’t try to reply to his response but offer another front of argument that throws all sensibility of your previous claim of not wanting to fight Jason out of the window.

“I don’t fucking understand, why can’t you just leave me alone?”

“Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just trying to talk to you and you’re blocking everyone’s way.”

“Well, I’m not moving. So, they can find another way.”

“Are you fucking serious,” His voice raises. “You’re actually acting like a – “

“Shut up. Will you.” You hiss, pushing both of you further into the corner, so the bi-fold doors hide you better from the view of the group.

“What are you – “

“Morgan and his stupid friends keep trying to argue with me about some shit literature and won’t leave me alone.”

“Why?” There’s an edge to his voice which you pretend not to hear by avoiding his eyes.

“Beats me.”

He falters at the hostility of the comment – or lack thereof and you don’t say anything else but instead move to carefully peer pass the maple doors to scan for the group you’ve been avoiding amongst the mass of people in the room and as soon as you can’t see them you quickly move past Jason, to the to the cantilever staircase, without registering Jason’s footsteps trailing behind yours until you’ve reached the top and the overwhelming music and yelling from the party subdues a little and you let out a breath of relief before you see Jason also reaching the top of the stairs.

“Are you fucking following me?”

“No. Barbara and Stephanie were looking around for you and I was helping them.”

That lessens your anger a little and then confusion settles.

“Why?”

“I wanted to apologise to you.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding in and find yourself a little speechless.

“I – I meant why were they were looking for me but go on.”

“Oh,” You think you see his cheeks tint pink a little but with the dim lighting dancing shadows on his face, you’re not sure. “Well, I wanted to say sorry about the last class we had with Gordon.”

He takes a pause to slightly mess with his hair by running a hand through it.

“You were right about Bukowski – I – I don’t know why I said all of that shit.”

Looking back at this moment, you think it’s not your brightest because somehow his rather heartfelt confession falls almost deaf on your ears and somehow the narrative in your mind shifts to something else entirely.

“Is this some sort of joke, Todd?”

“What?”

“Did Morgan put you up to this shit? I know you and I don’t get along but siding with him is real fucking low, you know?”

“I – “

“I can’t fucking believe that you’re listening to all their bullshit and agreeing with them. It’s so – “

“No. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He cuts you off and his voice raises considerably. “I’m trying to fucking apologize to you and all your doing is being a bitch again.”

That silences you, but he continues.

“You know, I’ve tried. I’ve tried everything to understand what I did to fuck up with you, I’ve asked Barbara and Stephanie and – just, fuck, why did I listen to Dick?”

He mutters the last part, but you catch it anyway but still no response forms in your head at all, instead new questions pop-up as Jason runs another frantic hand through his ruined hair before quickly thundering down the stairs, leaving you…

You’re not quite sure what you’re feeling but cold is one of them as you pull the pathetic lace sleeves down your arm to try and warm yourself but nothing happens and maybe you feel your eyes too heavy to keep open as tears brim at the corners.

“Hey – are you okay?”

Babs’ voice causes your head to snap upwards as you watch her quickly scaling the stairs, eyebrows furrowed together, and you offer no response until she reaches the top and extends her arms to pull you into a hug.

“You were right. Halloween really isn’t your holiday.”

“Could you please stay behind for a moment?”

Gordon asks of you as you’re heading out of the hall, and the pit of anxiety resting in your stomach throughout the class, blooms further as you wait on the side until all the hall empties and its just you and Gordon.

He doesn’t say anything for a while, until he finally sighs and looks at you with a hard expression – one you’re all too familiar with from when you were little –

“Concerning Jason,”

You nod. Since your argument two days ago, you haven’t seen him, and the guilt seeped in farther when his spot well behind you remained empty the entire lesson.

“He’s pulled from your partnership.”

“W-what?”

“He came to talk to me, saying that he can’t continue to work with you anymore on any further projects, and the last one I paired you up on should definitively be the last.”

“Sir, I – “

“Look, I don’t like to meddle in the private lives of my students, but this situation is too tiring for me not to say that whatever problem you and Jason have; fix it. I always find both your work fascinating and that goes for the assignment you both submitted before and I simply cannot allow your own vanities to cloud judgment over the fact that you and Jason are paragons at literature and in my books, are too quick-witted to allow this talent to be lost amongst petty arguments.”

“I know, I – “

“So, I hope you’ll resolve this issue before next week’s lesson?”

“I – yes. Yes, I will.”

“Good. You’re dismissed.”

“Can I come in?”

The situation that you’re currently in rolls over you in waves of guilt and anxiety as you stand in front of Jason, in a beige coloured hallway as he idly stands with the apartment door halfway open, hesitant at your words or more so at how you’re standing in front of his apartment with worn boots and a heaving chest. You’d finally taken heed of the advice offered from Gordon, Steph and Babs and even consulted Dick and mulled it over with your own guilt before trekking all the way to his apartment.

“Sure,” His voice sounds removed – apathetic enough that you have to refrain from wincing, as he opens the door further to let you in. “Are you okay?”

You don’t hear him as your boots echo against the hardwood floor as you enter the apartment building and the sudden realization that this is the first time you’ve seen his apartment settles in as you eye the dimly lit space, with books scattered on the coffee – most of them are torn, something you’ve always found a little endearing, though you won’t admit it. The room is an oddly home-y mixture of warm beige's and deep browns that you would’ve kept staring at if he hadn’t called out your name again.

“What?”

“I asked, are you okay? You’re red in the face and panting.”

“Oh, oh, yeah, I walked all the way here and the elevator was out of service, so I used the stairs.”

“Why did you walk, nearly twenty blocks?” He furrows his brows and you let out of a puff of annoyance.

“I – listen, I don’t want to argue with you,” You take a step closer and calm yourself before starting. “You – you were right, I was being a complete and total bitch to you without reason at that party and before that. It’s just – “

You stop, and release a chuckle before awkwardly asking, “I’m gonna need a drink to get through this, do you have any?”

Nearly fifteen minutes later, not as drunk as you need to be, but enough that it gives you courage to finally stop beating around the bush and talk to him so you move to see him also standing facing the open windows to the evening sky, the sun setting against the horizon as dusk settles and you motion for him to sit on the floor as you are and he slowly complies.

“Look, I know I’ve been hostile towards you since – “

“Why?” He interrupts, not looking at you and you sputter a little. “Why have you been so hostile to me.”

“Well, you should know, none of it was your fault – well, not directly.” You sigh.

“College was my chance to start over. You don’t need to know all of the other shit, but I just thought that this whole experience would make everything okay and I wouldn’t need to fight for every single thing in my life just to end up being sub-par. And, it was going great.” You slightly chuckle to try not to choke on your words.

“That was, until you came along with your prodigal capabilities in literature and it felt like everything was falling apart again. Because somehow, suddenly, I wasn’t Gordon’s favourite anymore and I wasn’t at the top of the class – and somehow, I wasn’t enough.” Your voice is a little more choked now as you kept looking forward, even though Jason had started watching you now.

“It just was like my entire belief system just got turned upside down.” You release a breath and let the silence settle after your words.

“Fuck, I just unloaded a crap-ton of shit onto you, and you probably don’t understand any of it. I mean, I’m drunk so I don’t understand either.” You laugh and try not to cry, even though you’re pretty sure you will.

“No, I think I understand sort of, too,” He replies, voice softer than you expected and you’re more surprised to see a small smile gracing his lips. “You’re not completely wrong about the whole belief system thing there, you know, Gordon’s classes meant the same thing to me too and I just wanted to enjoy something without having to fight my way for it but boy, did you make that hard.”

A breathy chuckle escapes you as he stops talking and you both sit in the silence until he pipes up again,

“If we’re trying to mend this whole thing then maybe you should want this back too,” His voice is cryptic as you furrow your brows in confusion and stare at him with a lost expression as he stands up to walk away and disappear into the hallway, out of your sight before quickly returning with something clasped in his hand while you raise an eyebrow at him.

“You dropped this in my car when we were heading back from the party with that whole thing with Anna. Dick found it the next morning and had a whole field day about it.”

In his palm, rests a single earring piece shaped like an olive branch which you thought you’d lost in the chaos of the party and you almost laugh.

“You know, I’m gonna pretend this isn’t too creepy and thank you for giving it back.”

“I was trying to give it back to you but you never wanted to have a single conversation with me so,” You roll your eyes before picking up the earring and hooking it back through your ear even though you didn’t have the other one on.

“Right, I get it, I suck.”

That causes him to laugh as he settles back down again next to you and he doesn’t look at you before saying,

“No, you’re not as annoying as I originally thought.”

You echo a ‘hey’ and lightly punch him and the silence envelopes you both – softly, and there’s a moment of peace you think you’ve both settled in and it feels nice.

le fin

(pt.2 will come)

#dc #dc fanfic #Jason Todd #jason todd x reader #red hood #red hood x reader #batfam #batman imagines #jason todd imagines #red hood imagines #dc fic #dick grayson imagine #barbara gordon #stephanie brown #fanfic #my fanfic #bruce wayne #jason todd x you #red hood x y/n

264 notes · View notes

mrkwonandmrchoibabygirl · 5 years

Text

Now 2~Gdragon Pt.30

Genre:Angst/SMUT

Rated:NSFW

Pairing: GD X Reader

wordcount:7,138

Masterlist

DISCLAIMER!:remember this is just an edit of an original book called after by anna todd i do not own this book!

Y/N POV

Nine days. Nine days have gone by without a single word from Jiyong. I didn’t think it was possible for me to go a single day without speaking to him, let alone nine. It feels like one hundred, honestly, though each hour does hurt microscopically less than the prior one. It hasn’t been easy, not even close to that. Ken made a call to Mr. Vance asking that I be allowed to take the rest of the week off, which only meant missing one day anyway.

I know I’m the one who left, the one who walked away, but it kills me that he hasn’t even tried to get in touch with me. I have always given more in the relationship, and this was his chance to show me how he truly feels. I guess in a way he’s showing me—it’s just that what he feels is the opposite of what I had desperately wanted. Needed.

I know that Jiyong loves me, I do. However, I also know that if he loves me as much as I thought he did, he would have made it a point to show me by now. He said he wasn’t going to let this go, but he did. He let it go, and he let me go. The part that scares me the most is that the first week I was walking around completely lost. I was lost without Jiyong. Lost without his witty comments. Lost without his crude remarks. Lost without his assurance and his confidence. Lost without the way he’d sometimes draw circles on my hand while holding it between his, the way he’d kiss me for no reason and smile at me when he thought I wasn’t looking. I don’t want to be lost without him; I want to be strong. I want my days and nights to be just the same whether I’m alone or not. I’m beginning to suspect I may always be alone, as dramatic as the thought seems; I wasn’t happy with Noah, yet Jiyong and I didn’t work. Maybe I’m like my mother in that way. Maybe I’m better off alone.

I didn’t want it to be over this way, so cut-and-dried. I wanted to talk about everything, I wanted him to answer my calls so we could come to some sort of agreement. I just needed space, I needed a break from him to show him that I’m not his doormat. It backfired on me because he obviously doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. Maybe this was his plan all along: get me to break up with him. I’ve known a few girls who go that route when leaving their boyfriends.

During the first day I did expect a call, text, or hell, I really expected Jiyong to come bursting through the door screaming at the top of his lungs and causing a scene while his family and I sat in the dining room in silence, no one quite sure what to say to me. When that didn’t happen, I lost it. Not crying-in-the-corner, feeling-sorry-for-myself lost it. I mean I lost myself. Every second I lived in anticipation of Jiyong coming back to grovel for my forgiveness. I almost gave in that day. I almost went back to the apartment. I was ready to tell him to hell with marriage, I don’t care if he lies to me every day and doesn’t respect me, as long as he never leaves me. Thankfully, I snapped out of that and salvaged some respect for myself.

Day three was the worst. Day three was when the realization really began to hit me. Day three was when I finally spoke after three days of near silence, having only muttered a simple yes or no to Taeyang or Karen during their awkward attempts to engage me in conversation. The only sounds that actually came out were a strangled sob and a choppy explanation through tears of why my life would be better, easier, without him that even I didn’t believe. Day three was when I finally looked in the mirror at my dirty and bruised face, my eyes swollen to the point of barely opening. Day three was when I fell to the floor, finally praying to God to make the pain disappear. No one can handle this pain, I told Him. Not even me. Day three I called him, I couldn’t help myself. I told myself that if he answers we would work it out and both come to a compromise, apologizing profusely and promising to never leave each other again. Instead, I got his voicemail after two rings, proving that he rejected the call.

Day four, I slipped and called him again. This time he had the courtesy to let it ring to voicemail instead of pressing ignore. Day four was when I realized how much more I actually care for him than he does me. Day four was when I spent the entire day in bed reliving the few times he actually told me how he felt about me. I began to realize that most of our relationship and how I portrayed his feelings for me in my mind was just that . . . in my mind. I began to realize that while I was thinking we could do this, we could make this work forever, he wasn’t thinking about me at all.

That was the day I decide to join the ranks of normal teenagers and had Taeyang show me how to download music onto my phone. Once I started, I couldn’t stop. Over one hundred songs were added, and headphones were put in my ears and barely removed for almost twenty-four hours. The music helps a lot. To hear about other people’s pain reminds me that I’m not the only one to suffer in life. I’m not the only one who loved someone who didn’t love them enough to fight for them.

Day five was when I finally showered and attempted to go to class. I went to yoga, hoping that I could handle the memories it would evoke. I felt strange walking around in a sea of cheery college students. I used all the energy I had in hoping that I wouldn’t run into Jiyong on campus. I was past the stage of wanting him to call. I managed to drink half of my coffee that morning, and Taeyang told me that the color was coming back into my cheeks. No one seemed to notice me, and that was exactly what I wanted. Professor Soto assigned us to write down our biggest fears when it comes to life and how they relate to faith and God. “Are you afraid to die?” he asked us. Aren’t I already dead? I answered silently.

Day six was a Tuesday. I began to speak in sentences, broken sentences that usually didn’t relate to the subject at hand, but no one had the heart to call me out on it. I returned to Vance. Kimberly couldn’t meet my eyes for the first part of the day, but she finally attempted to have a conversation, which I couldn’t bring myself to participate in. She mentioned a dinner, and I reminded myself to ask her again when I can think straight. The day was spent staring at the first page of a manuscript that, no matter how many times I read and reread it, wouldn’t soak in. I ate that day, more than just the rice or a banana I had in the days before. Karen made a ham—I only noticed because it reminded me that she made one for the dinner Jiyong and I had here in the beginning. The images from that night, the picture of him sitting next to me and holding my hand under the table, sent me back into my tragic state, making me spend the night in the bathroom vomiting up the small bit of food I had consumed.

As day seven dragged on I began to imagine what would happen if I didn’t have to feel this pain anymore. What if I just disappeared? The thought terrified me—not because of my death, but because my mind was capable of going to such a dark place. That thought snapped me out of my downward spiral and brought me to the closest thing to reality my mind can handle. I changed my shirt and vowed to never step foot in Jiyong’s bedroom again, no matter what happened. I began to look up apartments that I could afford close to Vance, and online classes at SCU. I enjoy academics too much to close myself off and take online classes, so I ultimately decided against it, but I found a few apartments to look into.

Day eight I smiled, briefly, but everyone noticed. Day eight was the first morning that I grabbed my usual donut and coffee when I arrived at Vance. I kept it down and even went back for more. I saw Trevor, who told me I looked beautiful despite my wrinkled clothes and hollow eyes. Day eight was the shift, day eight was the first day that only half of my time was spent wishing that things had gone differently between Jiyong and me. I heard Ken and Karen discussing Jiyong’s birthday in a few days, and I was surprised to only feel a slight burn in my chest at the sound of his name.

Day nine is today.

“I’ll be downstairs!” Taeyang calls through the door of “my” bedroom.

No one has even mentioned me leaving, or where I would go if I did. I’m grateful for it, but at the same time I know my presence will eventually be a burden. Taeyang keeps assuring me that I can stay as long as I need to, and Karen reminds me how much she enjoys my company multiple times a day. But at the end of the day, they’re Jiyong’s family. I want to make a move forward, decide where I should go and where I should live, and I’m no longer afraid.

I cannot, and refuse to, spend another day crying over a dishonest boy with tattoos who doesn’t love me anymore.

When I see Taeyang downstairs, he’s taking a large bite of a bagel; a dab of cream cheese rests in the corner of his mouth and his tongue darts out to retrieve it. “Morning.” He smiles, his cheek full and eyes wide.

“Morning,” I repeat and pour a glass of water.

He continues to stare at me while I sip my water. “What?” I finally ask him.

“You . . . well . . . you look great,” he says.

“Thank you. I decided to shower and come back from the dead,” I joke, and he smiles slowly as if he’s unsure about my mental state. “Really, it’s fine,” I assure him, and he takes another bite of his bagel, finishing it.

I decide to put one in the toaster for myself and try not to notice Taeyang staring at me like I’m an animal in a zoo.

“I’m ready whenever you are,” I tell him after finishing my breakfast.

“ Y/N , you look so gorgeous today!” Karen exclaims when she enters the kitchen.

“Thank you.” I smile at her.

Today’s the first day that I’ve taken the time to get ready, really ready and presentable. The last eight days I have gone far away from my usual neat appearance. Today I feel like myself. My new self. My “After Jiyong” self. Day nine is my day.

“That dress is flattering.” Karen compliments me again.

The yellow dress that Trish got me for Christmas fits well and it’s very casual. I’m not going to make the same mistake as last time and attempt to wear heels to classes, so my Toms it is. Half of my hair is pinned back, with a few loose curls tapering over my face. My makeup is subtle, but I think it suits me well. My eyes burned slightly as I dragged the brown liner underneath my eye . . . makeup surely wasn’t on my list of priorities during my downward spiral.

“Thank you so much.” I smile again.

“Have a great day.” Karen smiles, clearly surprised but very pleased at my return to the real world.

This must be what it’s like to have a caring mother, someone to send you off to school with kind and encouraging words. Someone unlike my mother.

My mother . . . I have dodged all calls from her, and thankfully so. She was the last person I wanted to speak to, but now that I can breathe without wanting to rip my heart from my chest, I actually want to call her.

“Oh, Y/N , will you be riding with us to Christian’s house on Sunday?” Karen asks just as I reach the door.

“Sunday?”

“The dinner they’re having to celebrate their move to Seattle?” she tells me as if I should know this already. “Kimberly said she told you about it? If you don’t want to go, I know they’ll understand,” she assures me.

“No, no. I want to go. I’ll ride with you.” I smile. I am ready for this. I can be in public, in a social setting, without cracking. My subconscious is mute for the first time in nine days, and I thank her before following Taeyang outside.

The weather mirrors my mood, sunny and somewhat warm for the end of January. “Are you going on Sunday?” I ask him once we get in the car.

“No, I’m leaving tonight, remember?” he replies.

“What?”

He looks at me with a wrinkled brow. “I’m going to New York for the weekend. Dakota is moving into her apartment there. I told you a few days ago.”

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve paid more attention to you instead of making it all about me,” I tell him. I can’t believe how selfish I’ve been to not even pay attention to him telling me about Dakota’s move to New York.

“No, it’s okay. I only briefly mentioned it, anyway. I didn’t want to rub it in your face when you were . . . well, you know.”

“A zombie?” I finish for him.

“Yes, a very scary zombie,” he jokes, and I smile for the fifth time in nine days. It feels nice.

“When will you be back?” I ask Taeyang .

“Monday morning. I’ll miss Religion, but I’ll be there right after.”

“Wow, that’s exciting. New York will be incredible.” I would love to escape, to get out of here for a while.

“I was worried about going and leaving you here,” he tells me, and guilt fills me.

“Don’t be! You already do way too much for me; it’s time I do things for myself. I don’t want you to ever think about not doing something for yourself because of me. I’m so sorry that I made you feel that way,” I tell him.

“It’s not your fault, it’s his,” he reminds me, and I nod.

My headphones go back into my ears, and Taeyang smiles.

IN RELIGION, PROFESSOR SOTO chooses the subject of pain. For a moment I swear he’s done it on my behalf, to torture me, but when I begin to write about how pain can cause people to turn to or away from their faith and God, I’m thankful for this torture. My entry ends up being filled with thoughts about how pain can change you, how pain can make you much stronger, and in the end you don’t need faith as much. You need yourself. You need to be strong and not allow pain to push you or pull you into anything.

I end up going back to the coffeehouse before yoga to acquire more energy. On my way back to yoga I pass the environmental studies building and my mind goes to Seungri. I wonder if he’s in there now. I assume he is, but I don’t have a clue about his schedule.

Before I can overthink it, I go inside. I have a little time before my class begins, and it’s less than a five-minute walk from here.

I look around the large lobby of the building. Just like I might have expected, large trees fill most of the massive space. Sticking to the theme, the ceiling is mostly skylights, giving the illusion that it’s almost nonexistent.

“ Y/N ?”

I turn, and indeed, there is Seungri, wearing a lab coat and thick safety goggles on top of his head that push his hair back.

“Hey . . .” I say.

He smiles. “What are you doing in here? Did you change your major?”

I adore the way his tongue hides behind his teeth when he smiles, I always have. “I was looking for you, actually.”

“You were?” He seems astounded.

Jiyong POV

Nine days.

Nine days have gone by without speaking to Y/N . I didn’t think it was possible for me to go a single day without speaking to her, let alone nine fucking days. It feels like one thousand, and each hour is more painful than the last.

When she left the apartment that night, I waited and waited to hear her footsteps rush through the door, and I waited for her voice to begin screaming at me. It didn’t come. I sat on the floor waiting and waiting. It never came. She never came.

I finished the beer in my fridge and smashed the evidence against the wall. The next morning when I woke up and she was still gone, I packed my shit. I got on a plane to get the fuck out of Seoul. If she was going to come back, it would have been that night. I needed to get out of there and get some space. With alcohol on my breath and stains on my white T-shirt, I left for the airport. I didn’t call my mum before I got there; it’s not like she had anything going on anyway.

If Y/N calls me before I get on the flight, I’ll turn around. But if not, then too bad, I kept thinking. She had her chance to come back to me. She does every other time, no matter what I do, so why is this time so different? It’s not like I did anything, really; I lied to her, but it was a small-ass lie and she overreacted.

If anyone should be pissed off, it’s me. She brought Seungrito my fucking house. On top of that, Taeyang comes barging in like the fucking Hulk and slams me into the wall? What the actual fuck.

This whole situation is utterly fucked up and it’s not my fault. Well, maybe it is, but she can come crawling back to me, not the other way around. I love her, but I’m not making the first move.

Day one was spent mostly on the airplane sleeping off my hangover. I got many dirty looks from snobby-ass flight attendants and assholes in business suits, but I could give a fuck less. They don’t mean shit to me. I took a cab to my mum’s and nearly choked the driver. Who charges that much for a fucking ten-mile cab ride?

My mum was shocked and happy to see me. She cried for a few minutes, but thankfully she stopped when Mike appeared. Apparently the two of them have begun to move her things into his house, and she plans on selling hers. I don’t give a shit about that house, so it’s no skin off my back. That place is full of shit memories with my drunk asshole of a dad.

It’s nice to be able to think these things without Y/N’s influence. I would feel slightly guilty being rude to my mum and her boyfriend if Y/N were here with me.

So thank God she isn’t.

Day two was exhausting as shit. I spent the entire afternoon listening to my mum talk about her plans for the summer and dodged her questions about why I’m home. I kept telling her if I wanted to talk about it I would. I came here for some goddamn peace, and all I get is more annoyance. I ended up at the pub down the street by eight. A pretty brunette with the same color eyes as Y/N smiled at me and offered me a drink that night. I declined somewhat politely, my kindness only coming out because of the color of her eyes. The longer I stared at them, the more I realized they weren’t the same as Y/N ’s. They were dull and held no life behind them. Y/N’s eyes are the most intriguing shade of gray that appears blue at first glance, until you really look at them. They’re nice, as far as eyes go. Why the fuck am I sitting at a pub thinking about eyeballs? Fuck.

I saw the disappointment in my mum’s eyes when I stumbled through the door after two in the morning, but I did my best to ignore it, mumbling a shit apology before forcing my way up the stairs.

Day three was when it started. Small thoughts of Y/N kept sneaking in at the most random times. While watching my mum hand-wash the dishes, I thought of Y/N loading the dishwasher constantly, making sure there was never a single dirty dish lying in the sink.

“We’re going to the fair today. Would you like to come?” my mum asked.

“No.”

“Please, Jiyong , you’re here visiting, and you’ve barely spoken to me or spent any time with me.”

“No, Mum.” I dismiss her.

“I know why you’re here,” she said softly.

I slammed my cup down on the table and stormed out of the kitchen.

I knew she would catch on that I was running, hiding really, from reality. I’m not sure what type of reality there is without Y/N , but I’m not ready to deal with the shit, so why does she have to pester me about it? If Y/N doesn’t want to be with me, then to hell with her. I don’t need her—I am better off alone, the way I had planned to be all along.

Seconds later my phone rang, but I ignored the call as soon as I saw her name. Why did she call me? To tell me she hates me or she needs her name off the lease, I was sure.

Goddammit, Jiyong, why did you do that? I kept asking myself. I didn’t have a good enough answer.

Day four began the worst way possible.

“ Jiyong , go upstairs!” she’s begging. No, not this again. One of the men slaps her across her face and she looks at the staircase; her eyes meet mine and I scream. Y/N .

“ Jiyong! Wake up, Jiyong ! Please wake up!” my mum screamed and shook me awake.

“Where is she? Where’s Y/N ?” I choked, sweat soaking my skin.

“She isn’t here, Jiyong .”

“But they . . .” It took me a moment to collect my thoughts and realize it was only a nightmare. The same nightmare I’ve had my entire life, only this time it was so much worse. My mother’s face was replaced with Y/N’s.

“Shhh . . . it’s okay. It was only a dream.” My mum cried and tried to hug me, but I gently pushed her arms back.

“No, I’m fine,” I assured her and told her to leave me alone.

I lay awake for the rest of the night trying to get the image out of my head, but I couldn’t.

Day four continued just as it started. My mum ignored me all day, which I thought I would want but it turned out I was sort of . . . lonely. I began to miss Y/N. I kept finding myself looking next to me to talk to her, to wait for her to say something that was sure to make me smile. I wanted to call her, my finger traced over that green button over one hundred times, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I can’t give her what she wants, and that isn’t going to be good enough for her. It’s better this way. I spent the afternoon looking up how much it would cost me to move my shit back here to England. This is where I’m going to end up anyway, so I might as well get it over with.

We would never work, Y/N and me. I always knew we wouldn’t last. We couldn’t. It wasn’t possible for us to be together always. She’s too damn good for me and I know it. Everyone knows it. I see the way people turn to stare at us everywhere we go, and I know they’re wondering why that beautiful girl is with me.

I had been staring at my phone while downing a half bottle of whiskey for hours before I turned off the light and fell asleep. I thought I heard the buzzing of my phone on the nightstand, but I was too drunk to sit up and answer. The nightmare came again; this time Y/N’s nightgown was soaked in blood and she cried for me to go away, to leave her there on that couch.

Day five I woke up to a flashing red light on my phone indicating that yet again I’d missed her call, only this time it wasn’t intentional. Day five was when I stared at her name on the screen before looking at picture after picture of her. When did I take so many? I hadn’t realized how many pictures I had snapped without her paying any mind.

While looking through the pictures, I kept remembering the way her voice sounds. I never liked American accents—they bore me and they’re annoying—but Y/N’s voice is perfect. Her accent is perfect, and I could listen to her speak all day, every single day. Will I ever hear her voice again?

This one’s my favorite, I thought at least ten times while looking through the photos. I finally settled on a picture of her lying on her stomach on the bed, her legs crossed in the air and her hair down, tucked behind her ear. She had her chin resting on one of her hands and her lips slightly parted as she took in the words in front of her on the screen of her e-reader. I snapped the picture the moment she caught me staring, the exact moment that a smile, the most beautiful smile, appeared on her face. She looked so happy to be looking at me in this picture. Does . . . well, did she always look at me that way?

That day, day five, was when the weight appeared on my chest. A constant reminder of what I’d done, and most likely lost. I should have called her that day while staring at her pictures. Did she stare at my pictures? She only has one to this day, and ironically I found myself wishing I’d have allowed her to take more. Day five was when I threw my phone against the wall in hopes of smashing it, but only cracked the screen. Day five was when I desperately wished she would call me. If she called me, then it would be okay, everything would be okay. We’d both apologize and I’d go home. If she was the one to call me, then I wouldn’t feel guilty for coming back into her life. I wondered if she was feeling the same way I was. Was every day getting harder for her? Did every second without me make it harder for her to breathe?

I began to lose my appetite that day. I just wasn’t hungry. I missed her cooking, even the simple meals that she would make for me. Hell, I missed watching her eat. I missed every goddamn thing about that infuriating girl with kind eyes. Day five was when I finally broke down. I cried like a bitch and didn’t even feel bad about it. I cried and cried. I couldn’t stop. I tried desperately, but she wouldn’t leave my mind. She wouldn’t leave me alone; she kept appearing, she kept saying she loved me, and she kept hugging me, and when I realized it was my imagination, I cried again.

Day six I woke with swollen and bloodshot eyes. I couldn’t believe the way I’d broken down the previous night. The weight on my chest had magnified, and I could barely see straight. Why was I such a fuckup? Why did I continue to treat her like shit? She’s the first person who has ever been able to see me, inside of me, the real me, and I treated her like shit. I blamed her for everything, when in reality it was me. It was always me—even when I didn’t seem to be doing anything wrong, I was. I was rude to her when she tried to talk to me about things. I yelled at her when she called me out on my bullshit. And I lied to her repeatedly. She has forgiven me for everything, always. I could always count on that, and maybe that’s why I treated her the way I did, because I knew I could. I smashed my phone under my boot on day six. I went half the day without eating. My mum offered me oatmeal, but when I tried to force myself to eat it, it nearly came back up. I hadn’t showered since day three, and I was a fucking wreck. I tried to listen as my mum told me the few things she needed me to get from the store, but I couldn’t hear her. All I could think of was Y/N and her need to go to Conner’s at least five days a week.

Y/N once told me I ruined her. Now, as I sit here trying to focus, trying to just catch my breath, I know that she was wrong. She ruined me. She got inside me and fucked me up. I had spent years building those walls—my entire life, really—and here she came in and tore them down, leaving me with nothing but rubble.

“Did you hear me, Jiyong ? I made a small list in case you didn’t,” my mum said, handing me the frilly piece of stationery.

“Yes.” My voice was barely audible.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m good.” I stood up and tucked the list into my dirty jeans.

“I heard you last night, Jiyong , if you want to—”

“Don’t, Mum. Please don’t.” I nearly choked on my words. My mouth was so dry and my throat was aching.

“Okay.” Her eyes were full of sadness as I walked out of the house to head to the store just down the road.

The list only consisted of a few items, yet I couldn’t remember any of them without digging the damn paper out of my pocket. I managed to corral the few things: bread, jam, coffee beans, and some fruit. Looking at all the food in the store made my empty stomach turn. I took an apple for myself and began to force myself to eat it. It tasted like cardboard, and I could feel the small pieces hitting the pit of my stomach as I paid the elderly woman at the cash register.

I walked outside and it began to snow. The snow made me think of her, too. Everything made me think of her. My head was aching with a headache that refused to go away. I rubbed my fingers over my temples with my free hand and crossed the street.

“ Jiyong ? Kwon Jiyong?” a voice called from the other side of the street. No. It couldn’t be.

“Is that you?” she asked again.

Natalie.

This couldn’t be happening, I kept thinking as she walked toward me with her hands full of shopping bags.

“Erm . . . hey,” was all I could say, my mind frantic, my palms already beginning to sweat.

“I thought you moved?” she asked.

Her eyes were bright, not lifeless like I remembered as she cried and begged for me to let her stay at my house when she had nowhere to go.

“I did . . . I’m only visiting,” I told her, and she set her bags on the sidewalk.

“Well, that’s good.” She smiled.

How could she be smiling at me after what I had done to her?

“Uh . . . yeah. How are you?” I forced myself to ask the girl whose life I ruined.

“I’m good, really good,” she chirped and ran her hands over her swollen belly.

Swollen belly? Oh God. No, wait . . . the time line didn’t add up. Holy shit, that scared me for a second.

“You’re pregnant?” I asked, hoping that she was so I hadn’t just insulted her.

“Yeah, six months along. And engaged!” She smiled again, holding her small hand up to show me a gold ring on her finger.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, it’s funny how things work out, isn’t it?” She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and looked into my eyes, which were circled with blue rings from lack of sleep.

Her voice was so sweet that it made me feel a thousand times worse. I couldn’t stop picturing her face as she caught all of us watching her on the small screen. She’d screamed, literally screamed, and ran from the room. I didn’t follow her, of course. I just laughed at her, laughed at her humiliation and her pain.

“I’m really sorry,” I blurted. It was strange, weird, and necessary. I expected her to call me names, to tell me how fucked up of a person I am, to punch me, even.

What I didn’t expect was for her to wrap her arms around me and tell me she forgave me.

“How can you forgive me? I was so fucked up. I ruined your life,” I said; my eyes were burning.

“No, you didn’t. Well, you did at first, but in a way, it all worked out in the end,” she said, and I nearly vomited on her green sweater.

“What?”

“After you . . . well, you know . . . I had nowhere to go, so I found a church, a new church since mine exiled me, and that’s where I met Elijah.” Her face instantly lit up at the mention of his name.

“And now here we are nearly three years later, engaged and expecting. Everything happens for a reason, I guess? Sounds cheesy, huh?” She giggled.

The sound reminded me that she was always such a sweet girl. I just hadn’t given a shit; her kindness made it easier to prey on her.

“I suppose it does, but I’m really glad you found someone. I’ve been thinking about you lately . . . you know . . . what I did, and I felt like shit about it. I know you’re happy now, but that doesn’t excuse what I did to you. It wasn’t until Y/N that I—” I cut myself off.

A little smile tweaked her lips. “ Y/N ?”

I nearly passed out from the pain. “She’s, um . . . well . . . she’s . . .” I stutter.

“She’s what? Your wife?” Natalie’s words cut straight to the core as her eyes searched my fingers for a band.

“No, she was . . . she was my girlfriend.”

“Oh. So you date now?” she half teased; she could sense my pain, I was sure.

“No . . . well, only her.”

“I see. And now she’s not your girlfriend anymore?”

“Nope.” I brought my fingers to my lip ring.

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that. I hope things work out for you, the way they have for me,” she said.

“Thank you. Congratulations on the engagement and . . . baby,” I said uncomfortably.

“Thank you! We expect to marry this summer.”

“So soon?”

“Well, we’ve been engaged for two years.” She laughed.

“Wow.”

“It was fast, soon after we met,” Natalie explained.

I felt like an asshole as soon as the words left my mouth, but I asked: “Aren’t you too young?”

But she just smiled. “I’m nearly twenty-one, and it doesn’t make sense to wait. I’ve been fortunate enough to find the person I want to spend my life with at a young age—why waste any more time when he’s right in front of me asking that I do just that. I’m honored that he wants to make me his wife; there’s no greater expression of love than that.” As she explained, I could hear Y/N’s voice saying the words instead.

“I guess you’re right,” I told her and she smiled.

“Oh, there he is! I have to go—I’m freezing and pregnant, not a good combination.” She laughed before picking her bags up off the sidewalk and greeting a man in a sweater vest and khakis. His smile when seeing his pregnant fiancée was so bright that I swore it lit up that dreary day in England.

Day seven was long. Every day has been long. I kept thinking of Natalie and her forgiveness; it couldn’t have come at a better time. Sure, I looked like hell and she knew it, but she was happy and in love. Pregnant, at that. I didn’t ruin her life the way I thought I had.

And I thank God for that.

I spent the whole day in bed. I couldn’t even bring myself to open the damned blinds. My mum and Mike were out all day, so I was left alone to sulk in my misery. Each day got worse. I constantly thought about what she was doing, who she was with. Was she crying? Was she lonely? Had she returned to our apartment to find me? Why hadn’t she called me again?

This isn’t the pain I had read about in novels. This pain isn’t just in my mind, this pain isn’t physical. This is a soul-aching pain, something that is ripping me apart from the inside out, and I don’t think I can survive it. No one could.

This must be how Y/N feels when I hurt her. I can’t imagine her fragile body withstanding this type of pain, but clearly she’s stronger than she appears. She has to be to put up with me. Her mum once told me that if I really cared about her I would leave her alone; I would hurt her anyway, she said.

She was right. I should have left her alone then. I should have left her alone from that first day she walked into that dorm room. I promised myself that I would rather die than hurt her again . . . this is what this is. This is dying, this is worse than dying. It hurts worse. It has to.

I spent day eight drinking, the entire day. I couldn’t stop. With each drink I prayed that her face would leave my mind, but it wouldn’t. It couldn’t.

You have to get your shit together, Jiyong . You have to. I have to. I really do.

“ Jiyong . . .” Y/N ’s voice sends chills down my spine.

“Babe . . .” she says.

When I look up at her, she’s sitting on my mum’s couch with a smile on her face and a book in her lap.

“Come here, please,” she whines as the door opens and a group of men step inside. No.

“There she is,” says the short man who torments my dreams each night.

“ Jiyong ?” Y/N begins to cry.

“Get away from her,” I warn them as they close in on her. They don’t seem to hear me.

Her nightgown is ripped off as she’s thrown to the floor. Wrinkled and dirt-stained hands travel up her thighs as she whimpers my name.

“Please . . . Jiyong , help me.” She looks to me, but I’m frozen.

I am immobile and unable to help her. I am forced to watch as they beat her and violate her until she’s lying on the floor silent and bloodied.

My mum didn’t wake me, no one did. I had to finish it, all of it, and when I woke up my reality was worse than any nightmare.

DAY NINE is today.

“Did you hear about Christian Vance moving to Seattle?” my mum asks me as I push the cereal around the bowl in front of me.

“Yeah.”

“That’s exciting, isn’t it? A new branch in Seattle.”

“I suppose it is.”

“He’s having a dinner party on Sunday. He thought you’d be there.”

“How do you know?” I ask her.

“He told me, we talk from time to time.” She looks away and refills her coffee mug.

“What for?”

“Because we can—now eat your cereal.” She scolds me like a child, but I don’t have the energy to come up with a snappy remark.

“I don’t want to go,” I tell her and force the spoon to my mouth.

“You may not see him again for a while.”

“So? I barely see him now anyway.”

She looks as if she has something else to say, but she keeps quiet.

“Have you got any aspirin?” I ask, and she nods before disappearing to retrieve some.

I don’t want to go to a stupid fucking dinner party celebrating Christian and Kimberly leaving for Seattle. I’m tired of everyone always talking about Seattle, and I know Y/N will be there. The pain at the idea of seeing her tackles me and nearly knocks me out of the chair. I have to stay away from her, I owe it to her. If I can stay here for a few more days, weeks even, we can both move on. She’ll find someone like Natalie’s fiancé, someone much better for her than me.

“I still think you should go,” my mum says again as I swallow the aspirin, knowing they won’t help.

“I can’t go, Mum . . . even if I wanted to. I would have to leave first thing in the morning and I’m not ready to leave.”

“You mean you aren’t ready to face what you left,” she says.

I can’t hold it in any longer. I bury my face in my hands as I let the pain take over, I let it drown me. I welcome it, and hope it kills me.

“ Jiyong . . .” My mum’s voice is quiet and comforting as she hugs me and I shake in her arms.

42 notes · View notes