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#The rest dont have quit the same vibe. So I consider this one the best
bloggingboutburgers · 9 months
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Hi, kinda random, but I could really use some advice. I really wanna write a qpr but feel like I dunno much about it- uh- so yeah! Just wanting to ask how I should do it- like, how do I do it?? How do I represent this while being accurate and respectful?? I know the theory but like addhhbbkjt
Sorry if I am being weird I dont really know how to phrase this Q_Q
...OK so this is gonna sound funny (or not) but... I've been toying with the idea of developing a story involving a fictional QPR as well recently and... I have no idea how to go about it either. Despite being in one!! I actually have trouble explaining what a QPR means to most people honestly TwT
But I'll do my best to give a few pointers from my experience:
Needless to say, kinda, but a QPR is NOT a romantic relationship. It may LOOK like it on paper but I guess the way I see it, there's a lot less... Grandiosity and possessiveness than with romance. It's a lot more chill, I guess I could say. It's not like "this person is my whole life and I would die without them" or something, it's more like "this person is pretty great to experience life with and it'd be pretty cool if this lasted as long as we both vibe."
A QPR is NOT inferior to a romantic relationship NOR is it superior to a friendship, in my opinion. I see no scale of value of the sort. Each of these things are their own thing is all.
Considering it's quite the particular situation, no two QPRs will be the same, I think. So you can at least rest easy considering there can be quite a lot of variety in this type of relationship.
What I mean by that is, not everybody who's in a QPR will be comfortable will the same things. For example my partner and I may give each other lip pecks (never any tongue), but it took us years to be comfortable with the idea, and it doesn't necessarily mean everybody in a QPR will be at ease with that. And conversely other people in a QPR may be comfortable with a level of intimacy we may not be comfortable with.
What that implies is, in my experience at least, a QPR means a LOT of communication. My partner and I constantly have heart-to-hearts about what works or what doesn't for us, and are both aware some things may change over time.
As an aromantic, I value being in a QPR deeply because it responds to some issues that I think a lot of fellow aromantics probably face: the first is needing human connection, like any person, but having to struggle with the fact that you'll always come second after your friends' romantic partners and kids (if they have any), and the fear of abandonment that comes with that; the second is wanting human contact and affection, like any person, but having to worry that if you seek affection from or give affection to a person, they'll catch romantic or sexual feelings for you and it'll turn ugly for you, kinda. Being in a QPR responds to both those needs while negating these fears. If I ever wrote a fictional QPR personally, I think that last point would be what I would wanna emphasize the most, in my own voice. Because it's so key.
As usual I suck at being succinct and all, but I hope these were helpful! TwT And I hope nothing I said here misrepresented other people in QPRs out there
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harpie-raven · 5 months
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“When the Chips are Down” from Hadestown is SUCH a Peter Nureyev song.
While I’m gonna make a separate post linking and also ranting about my Spotify playlist (cause I really like some of my choices lol) — I wanted to rant real quick about this one.
The Fates (for those who don’t know/haven’t listened to Hadestown I shall explain) are played by 3 women who sing (for the most part) in unison, and with harmonies and acapellas. In the context of Nureyev here; this *totally* reminds me of The Executives (or whatever they’re called), all being regarded as, ‘My Associate’ as well as having the same voice and speaking the same way. In “When the Chips are Down”, they’re talking to Eurydice (who is Nureyev in this ex.)
While the whole song gives me vibes, this section gets me quite a lot:
“[FATES]
Life ain’t easy
Life ain’t fair
A girl’s gotta fight for her rightful share
Whatcha gonna do when the Chips are Down Now that the Chips are down (x2)
Help yourself
To hell with the rest
Even the one who loves you best.
Whatcha gonna do when the Chips are Down Now that the Chips are Down (x2)
[EURYDICE]
Oh my aching heart. “
The parts that I put in italics remind me of the S3 finale (Juno Steel: What Lies Beyond Prt. 1-3) specially (for obvious reasons for the ones who knows SPOILERS HERE FOR THOSE WHO DONT) — considering Nureyev had been stressing out, brought down, and feeling cornered by his debt (“help yourself”), leading him to (which was his plan from the start) leave everyone on the Carte Blanche (“to hell with the rest”), including Juno (“even the one who loves you best”). He even references in his journal that while he wanted to be beside Juno while he read it, he knows deep down that he won’t be.
The rest of the song matches as well, having parts including “shooting to kill” before the other person can, and knives in the back. For these reasons the song itself honestly just clicks SO well in my head, thanks for coming to my TED Talk lmao — like I said, linking playlist with other song “matches” later on lol, but this one required a bit more than a little description on my part.
TLDR: the Fates represent The Executives, and Eurydice represents Nureyev. Linked by my brain due to lines matching plot points (S3 especially).
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ilostyou · 1 year
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youngblood (by 5sos) ranking!
ghost of you
meet you there
more
lie to me
why won't you love me
youngblood
want you back
if walls could talk
moving along
talk fast
better man
valentine
babylon
empty wallets
woke up in japan
monster among men
@fountainpensongs your move. but first .. things to consider! (buckle up i didnt even realize how long this was)
ghost of you will never not be my top song off this album and quite frankly possibly all of 5sos' discography but not in a basic omg ghost of you! way. in a. this song is Mine and it makes me Feel and. yes. anyway. meet you there is a very solid 2 for me bc !!!! it fucking SLAPS and one of the songs i immediately fell in love w listening for the first time and that has not changed. more???????? same thing. extra points for the easier-more transition and being absolutely phenomenal live (myt and more also slay vocals across the board. as always, but bears mentioning). next lie to me, great song on its own but when you consider the background 🙃 feelings are hurt and it's very solidly up there. wwylm actually only recently grew on me but i LOVE her now, it's actually a super sad song?? really really like it actually. next we have the youngblood/wyb/iwct stretch which really is interchangeable based on my mood lol they all SLAP and imo are a tier (youngblood maybe s tier bc of how rockstar™ it is of them esp live) but either way. slay. wyb would maybe be higher but in a way it feels kind of basic to me for some reason? but i do like it a lot it's never a skip and is almost always a straight bop. then we've got moving along and talk fast - moving along goes surprisingly hard but i'll say it's not their best songwriting and feels kinda cheesy lol so. very good middle of the album here. talk fast is SO FUN im obsessed w calum's verse, absolute banger but don't necessarily love it more than the ones above it yknow? THEN the little holy trinity of better man/valentine/babylon being songs i really did not like or listen to UNTIL i listened to the myt tour live album and i was Changed by these three specifically (better man - FUCK me at a quarter to three???? luke?? excuse me??????? valentine....the entire thing. the whole damn thing. michael did not leave one crumb and calum is HOT. babylon - pure vibes live and see prev re calum.) i however dont love the studio versions so they kinda hang down here lol. THEN LASTLY. my dead last trio. they can die. i have listened to mam maaaaybe 3 times total i Do Not Like It. woke up in japan makes me full body cringe idk why, empty wallets i just ? do not vibe with. don't like her either
honorable mention for when you walk away! a whole bop but i can't just stick her in the rest of the ranking bc i don't really ? know where it would go bc it's so separate to me
and NOW thank you for coming to this actual ted talk
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familyofpaladins · 3 years
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Watching (the first) Ice Age for the first time in a good 5 to 8 years and I forgot just how much of a good movie it is We got: • Accidental baby acquisition • The fact that this lady, exhausted from running from a tiger and jumping off a waterfall, just sees this mammoth and decides, yes this is a safe thing to leave my child with • Reluctant allies • The dodo/melon scene • The "send me on my way" scene(s) • The entire "short cut" scene • ... the evolution of sloths • ... the baby, when seeing the spaceship in the ice, making the "live long and prosper" hand gesture • ...Ice slides • ... finding out what happened to Manny's family through cave paintings • Lava scene • "Villain" redemption through "crap now I care" • Sid on skis • Heroic self sacrifice • Found (herd) family
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lilastromama · 3 years
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Rating the signs as big 3 placements
(gemini, aquarius, capricorn, cancer)
gemini:
sun: 8/10 I love them and that is not bc its my sun sign, i genuinely like them in general. They are bubbly but also serious if needed. Theyre literally the twins and u if ure lucky (or unlucky) u will meet both sides of them. Yet i have to say, we can be incredibly toxic if unevolved. Also sometimes we start arguing for fun and dont really tell you about that so it leads to an actual beef, we sorry tho, but evolved we really mean no harm
moon: 6/10 i have mixed feelings about this one to be truthful, it can definetely be a hit but also a huge miss. there is a lot going on in their heads and hearts and they tend to overthink to the point they end up blaming you for things they themselves made up. Listen to their words when mad, it says what they wanted to say all along
rising: 9/10 im positive about this one tbh, like i as already mentioned in one of my posts before, they definetely have more of the "gemini" look than actual gemini sun people. They somehow look always very young or younger than they actually are atleast. Cute people <3 but maybe tend to be a little arrogant, what a tragedy
Aquarius
sun: 4/10 i definetely dont feel positive about aquas. Maybe its just the ones ive met i dont know, what ive experienced was just a complete turn off to be honest. Yet to be fair, i wanna mention they can be incredibly creative and there not getting enough credit for that. They have a universe inside of them they only show a few. Also very tragic
moon: 3/10 theyre over dramatic, Also not very good at expressing what bothers them so they tend to ghost people often - they can be mean as hell just bc they feel offended + they take things personally very fast
rising: 7/10 we're going somewhere. Aqua risings tend to be very upfront, maybe a little TOO upfront, to the point they will just shit on you just because. Well it could be better but as a friend of a friend, could be quite funny since they can be storytellers. but be warned: maybe ull become one of their stories
Capricorn
sun: 9/10 i really do like them, they always bring jokes that are just out of pocket but u will catch urself laughin still. They can be very mature and serious people if needed tho and they can give very good advice about whatever topic
moon: 7/10 lets not deny the fact that cap moons were probably the kids in school which always got mad if certain group projects weren't done how they would've done it, still I usually vibe with them bc theyre very trustworthy and empathic (if they want to)
rising: 8/10 i do feel good about it aswell - they come off as very collected, organized and clean. I feel like they take their first impression very seriously and are afraid anyone could NOT see them as anything i listed above. I miss a little resting here tho so cap rising: please consider a break!
Cancer
sun: 10/10 i love cancer suns, they so often possess such a calm yet bright energy which can influence the people all around them. Ive always felt so understood by cancers and memories with them always stuck out to me
moon: 6/10 i feel like cancer moons can be extremely problematic if not evolved. They tend to project their insecurities onto u too and make it your problem. They can be the person that always vents to you but will never let you vent to them. But evolved this placement can be just like cancer suns - incredibly understanding (maybe even psychic)
rising: 11/10 idk i find them a true masterpiece tbh. I feel like cancer risings look more like a "cancer" than typical cancer suns - its the same with gemini. I know i will probably be alone with this but i think this placement just left out all the "negative" traits about being a cancer and just claimed the best bc thats what it feels like to me
(More parts with more signs/placements are coming🌽)
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ephemerlskies · 4 years
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the eighth hour | ot7
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⇢ pairing: hoseok x reader
[other members - namjoon, seokjin, and jimin]
⇢ genre: (long ass) one-shot, angst, partial fluff, thebreakfastclub!au, highschool!au, badboy!hoseok + fosterchild!hoseok, jock!jimin, nerd!namjoon, and seokjin as just your classic seokjin, childhoodfriends!au, friends to enemies to lovers
⇢ word count: 38.1k
⇢ warnings: explicit language, underage marijuana usage, mentions of alcohol, mentions of sex, themes of bullying, themes of depression/anxiety, mentions of mental abuse, cliché high school tropes, mutual pining (as always), homophobic themes, mentions of physical violence, mentions of explicit pictures
⇢ summary: who would have guessed that five separate events could converge into one shared Saturday detention? what emerged as an even bigger, yet pleasing surprise was the bonds that could form despite the contractual bindings of the high school cliques that you, jimin, namjoon, seokjin, and hoseok were assigned to.
♪ playlist: apple juice - jessie reyez • around - niki • ivy - frank ocean • friends - bts • dont you (forget about me - simple minds ♪
a/n: holy shit this was super fun to write!!! i was going to make this a series but instead i just impulse wrote this as a super long one shot. anyway i hope you enjoy! <3 also the playlist really does match the ~vibes~ so i hope y'all give it a listen :)
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8:00 - 10:00
You blamed timing. It had been the only scapegoat to somewhat reconcile your seething frustration, though there was always that part of you that scorned your own poorly executed decisions. Maybe if you hadn’t stopped to say hi and discuss something as unimportant as the temperament of the weather with your teacher in passing, or if you didn’t skip your semi-weekly coffee, or if you hadn’t spent as much time inspecting the new flyers pinned onto the bulletin board then you could have avoided this conundrum. Timing, however, was completely out of your control, making it ideal to place blame on. That and the troublesome deviant who had you being held accountable for actions that were not of your own doing. 
Jung Hoseok. Your once childhood best friend turned bitter and drifted towards a life of immorality and mild misdemeanors due to his series of unexplained personal calamities. 
Even the nonverbal idea of his name had triggered aggressive animosity in you. Well, it felt like hatred; the burn in your chest whenever you thought of him felt like hatred, but you never dug deep enough to figure it out. 
It was shocking that you could feel this despise with such severity, but Hoseok had that particular quality about him that seemed to make anything possible, though you could never quite place what that quality was. And of course, your path intersected with his at the exact wrong time and the exact wrong place. That particular quality had drawn a treacherous curiosity to influence you to linger a few seconds too long, another poor decision of yours. To top it off, the exact wrong person had caught you in this perfectly timed and unfortunate situation and convicted you on the grounds of guilt by association to land you a Saturday detention. Mulling over these consecutive misdirections was punishment enough to drag you miserably through the rest of the week; the detention waiting for you at the end of it was simply the cherry on top.
 Apprehensive questions had always been your mom’s go-to tick when it came to you. The car ride to school had been flushed with them being that this was your first detention, let alone run-in with authority, in your entire academic career and your annoyance to her queries was more fuel added to the already monstrous fire of regret. This had produced some odd concoction of eagerness to escape this interrogation. Though you had no real desire to start this long day, your mom’s questions were the closest to giving a reason to that.
Your mother pulled up two blocks away from the library where you would be jailed for the next eight hours, and she packed in a few more questions to delay your departure. You and she sat in the car, marinating in the discomfort, waiting for the minutes to tick by until eight o’clock arrived. Your mother looked to you with pity and guilt as if she were delivering you to a slaughterhouse, not aiding to relieve the guilt of your own harbor.
“It’s just detention, Mom. It’s fine.” And you wished you believed it as much as you wanted her to. 
“Did I remember to pack the apple?” 
“Yes.”
“And the water bottle isn’t leaking anymore, right?” Her worried voice and demeanor had not been subtle in the slightest for this question had been asked about eight minutes ago in this same car ride.
“No, mom.” The bite in your response had warned her to relent her questions. 
“Okay, I’ll see you at four.”
“I’ll see you.”
“I love you, ___.”
“Love you.”
Stepping out of that car, finally escaping from the perpetual, suffocating questions had you identifying the crisp Winter air as a comfort. The fog decorating the school’s roof and treetops looked like it wouldn’t recede. It was abhorrent, not being able to get a glimpse of the sun before an epoch of detention stole your last few seconds of freedom. 
Your deep inhalations had formed a few puffs of clouds mixing with the surrounding fog, and you began to prepare entry into the penitentiary that others called the library. Your heart had been pounding from the momentum of frustration with your mom’s doting. However, it hadn’t ceased even when you parted ways because of the dread of facing Jung Hoseok once again. 
If the thought of his name was enough to send you into a hurricane-like rage, you couldn’t imagine what type of disastrous storm awaited you being confined with him for the next eight hours. 
The walk down these couple of blocks was paced intentionally to stall the beginning of this tortuous Saturday. Your strides had slowed substantially as they carried you down the halls of your high school, past the bulletin boards that hammered more guilt upon remembering that was one of the fatal mistakes that led you here, then past the school’s cafe that drilled the regret even deeper in your bones. 
As you approached the doors to the library, you gripped the cold handle until it grew warm from your hand. A bit of time to breathe, compose and mask your nerves granted you half an ounce of dignity needed to open the door and step through the threshold. You walked over to the two rows of three desks and exchanged a cordial glance with the school’s renown football star, Park Jimin, seated at the front right table, in a manner that disguised your guilt with indifference. Then, you settled in the seat at the table behind his, finding this the optimal place to draw the least amount of attention.
The quiet boy sitting in the back of the rows had reacted with a noticeable surprise to see your face in this setting. He looked as embarrassed to be here as you felt, however, while you refused to show it, he draped it on his expression with little to no restraint. Both of you did not bother with the formality of a nod or smile, but a simple acknowledgment for the lack of proper acquaintance. 
Though you had never had a personal interaction with him, you still knew his name to be Kim Namjoon and that he was characterized by everyone who knew him as the nerdiest kid in school. Quite a cliché, though you had no reason to think he was anything beyond that since his rounded eyeglasses and turtleneck sweater certainly upheld the truth in that stereotype.  
The remnants of your intruded sleep felt heavy in your eyes which numbed your endurance to stay awake. Soon after the bothersome exhaustion almost conquered you into a sleep, a disarrayed body had fumbled through the doors snapping the heads of you, Jimin, and Namjoon towards him. He stood in front of the door, glancing back to it as if he were considering a swift escape from the concerned glares and embarrassment of the scene he had just made. And though there had only been three others to witness the progression of him rattling the handles, pushing against it with just enough force to unbalance him, and then nearly tripping into the eyes of his peers, it had been just enough to elicit a sizable amount of anxiety.
“Sorry, the door um…” He gestured towards it then towards the handle, then after bringing that same hand to his head to itch away his nervousness, “the door was jammed.”
None of you sitting in that book-filled jail cell cared, much less wanted to know the reason he barged in to interrupt the silence, but the way he fumbled through his words had been far too interesting and entirely ineffective in dismissing the unwanted attention. 
Jimin had found this particularly amusing as he choked down a few laughs as not to raze the other boy’s ego completely, but his efforts had just drawn more awareness that he was laughing at him. The lanky figure with red-tinted ears and cheeks scuttled with a low hanging head to the front table, next to the one Jimin was seated at, without another word as to avoid further demoting his dignity.
Dignity was a funny thing to everyone in the library. It was handled differently by each body during this Saturday detention. Some were trying to protect it, some had paid no mind to tend to it, some (you) were trying to pretend it was undisturbed, and one had felt the weight of his diminishing dignity as no heavier than a feather.
This one, the same one that tormented you with his mere existence, had shoved the door out of his way in a manner of excitement. He strutted through the room to suggest he had some sort of twisted pride to be here and that his dignity fluctuated from the various looks of disgust, annoyance, confusion, and attraction. 
Hoseok didn’t offer you more than a glance, although the scan of his eyes could hardly be counted as any sort of acknowledgment. In fact, he glared longer at Namjoon who had done everything in his power to surrender any dominance, already in scarce supply, and appear meek to avoid an altercation with Hoseok. 
The other boy, Kim Seokjin, who had previously made a fool of himself, waved at Hoseok expecting to make a quick friend through his naive opportunism. Hoseok responded by lurching forward with his fist raised level with his shoulder in an advancement of hostility. Despite Hoseok being about ten feet away from him and in no realistic position to actually hit him, Seokjin flinched. His juvenile bullying proved to be ineptly humorous to everyone else in the library, except Seokjin who successfully lodged himself deeper in embarrassment.
For some reason, you were agitated that everyone else’s presence but your own was enough to earn his attention. It was beyond reason to want this man’s eyes to meet yours, and yet when it failed to do so, there was an unmistakable disappointment sitting in the place where you wanted Hoseok to look. 
You knew it stemmed from the unsatisfied hope that he wouldn’t act like he didn’t know you once, that maybe he’d let the guarded past seep through and guide his eyes to rest on you gently, as they often used to do. But what did that matter? You hated him.
There was some shame that followed how you counted yourself lucky that he sat at the desk right behind you, giving you a perfect trajectory to shoot him a snide look. You hoped it would arouse guilt that he had been the reason you were here and that he couldn’t even present the decency of proper eye contact, though he most likely found it flattering from the way his lower lip slid between his teeth and a twisted grin formed. The quick avert of his wandering eyes had replaced the heat rising in your body with more disappointment.
“Hey, tool.” The voice behind you passed over your head to the target sitting in front of you. Jimin turned back to assure Hoseok was audacious enough to call him that name, “Yeah, I’m talking to you.”
“What do you want, dickhead?” Jimin had been over this conversation before it even began, but he still played into Hoseok’s little game. He too had succumbed to that particular quality of Hoseok’s that had many people wanting to argue with him. Nowadays, it seemed to be the only way to get a bit of his attention. 
“Ooh, dickhead.” Hoseok’s low scoff had interrupted him momentarily, and the toss of his feet on top of the desk and lean in his chair drained a bit of suspenseful tension into the air, “Those are big boy words. Someone’s been drinking their big boy juice!” His voice was caked in a sharp taunt that had Jimin’s fists contracting into themselves, leaving crescent-shaped dents in his palms from his fingernails.
“What’s your problem, dude? Just leave me alone. I didn’t even say anything to you.” Turning his body to face away was not nearly enough to evade Hoseok’s mission of infuriating Jimin just for the hell of it. 
The boy, layered in a black leather jacket over a red flannel, mounted the desk and jumped onto yours then Jimin’s with a racket of stomps that echoed between the shelves of books. You looked over to the spot on your table where his foot landed, grimacing at the dirt residue of his shoe print and the whiff of nicotine Hoseok left in his wake. Your attention, along with Namjoon’s and Seokjin’s, was soon shifting over to Hoseok who slumped into the chair beside Jimin, all in deep anticipation of what the delinquent would do next. 
Your focus was trained on his fingers that pushed through his hair, exposing his forehead, and if you weren’t so invested in his interaction with Jimin, you might have noticed the pesky butterflies flitting around your stomach. 
“Can I help you?” Jimin didn’t give Hoseok the satisfaction of another turned head, making Hoseok greedy and frustrated with Jimin’s passive protest.
“I just wanna know…” The glance he shot to you sent shivers through your body, but you knew there was some mischief in this look, “You and princess over there are fucking?”
“What the hell?” These words had escaped from your mouth before you had the chance to fully construct a more dignified response. Jimin looked to you in attempts to apologize on behalf of Hoseok’s foul tongue. Seokjin’s ears had grown into a much deeper red upon hearing these obscenities and Namjoon’s eyes had widened almost as large as his jaw-dropped mouth.
“What the fuck is wrong with you? I don’t even know ___ like that.” Hoseok sat on the desk to face you with a smirk of such arrogance that it riled a combative sneer from your face. 
“So, you’re telling me, you’ve never slipped him the tongue, ___? I swear I could cut the sexual tension with a knife.” 
“You’re delusional.” Jimin cut in.
“Maybe. I couldn’t be as delusional as you, being concussed probably a hundred times from rolling around in the grass with your football friends.” 
“As if a loser like you knows anything about me or my friends!” 
“You like rolling around with your brain-dead guy friends?”
“What did you say?” What Hoseok was alluding to hadn’t been a reference to what Jimin perceived it as, though it had gashed against a rather sensitive spot. More so a personal, secretive spot and Jimin sewed his lips shut in fear to push Hoseok any further.
“Shut up, Hoseok! Everyone stop acknowledging him. He just wants attention.” Though what you had said was true, and everyone surely agreed on that, Hoseok had drawn in each of you and had you all completely wrapped around his finger in minutes. 
You seemed to be spooled around it the tightest as your eyes were now at war against his piercing glare. A small ten seconds grew into eternity when you were under his gaze and the canopy of memories it seemed to hold, and when it was torn away from you there was a sense of relief and exhilaration tilling through you. 
Hoseok would never admit to it, but your eyes had almost faltered his own, almost moved him to an obedience that would have him sitting down at his desk and shutting up. There was a bloated discomfort with his recollection of your power over him, especially uncomfortable with the fact that the years of distance hadn’t diminished it in the slightest. Nor had it given him the time to muster a tolerance against your gleaming eyes. This pushed him to look towards the nerdish boy sitting in the back.
“What about you, nerd? Ever gotten down and dirty? I’m sure you haven’t but maybe ___ could help you out with that.” Namjoon was stiff except for his hands that had been quivering the moment Hoseok began directing his torments towards him. Maybe it wasn’t the hollow comments that had angered you, but the fact that he still wouldn’t find the nobility in himself to face you when he disgraced your name in such explicit ways. Or the fact that each time he failed to meet your eyes, you only felt yourself wrapping tighter around his finger.
“You’re an ass, Hoseok.” Jimin muttered under his breath because part of him was too afraid to address him with full confidence. 
“Jealous, meathead?” 
“Didn’t you hear ___? No one cares for the bullshit that comes out of your mouth.”
 “Yeah, that’s the point. If no one cares, then I can say whatever the hell I want.”
Someone did care, not that he had the mind or attention span to notice how even in hatred, you felt natural to be at his side again. Or rather, in between the crossfires of Hoseok and Jimin’s deafening stare-off. The letterman jacket covering Jimin’s torso had instigated Hoseok to flick the flap of his collar against Jimin’s cheek. He was swift to knock Hoseok’s hand and now his anger gave him the motive to speak louder. 
“Don’t start with me again, asshole.” 
Hoseok performed a fake shudder in the face of the confidence born in Jimin’s tone. The two have now risen to their feet and inches away from their noses brushing against each other. Jimin’s hands had repositioned into the same fists of enragement while Hoseok called Jimin’s aggression and raised him with his arms folding across his chest. Seokjin’s nails were being fervently trimmed by his teeth and Namjoon shifted to the edge of his seat. It was clear neither of their prideful masculinities would allow for them to subside from this standoff. Who would make the first move, however, had yet to be unraveled and thrilled everyone to oblivion in the dimly lit library.
Again, your eyes couldn’t be ripped from Hoseok and how his white tank top had clung against his heaving chest. The way his cocked eyebrow and ego had the strength of a crazed hurricane, one that swept you up in its winds with no trace of mercy. Still, there was nothing that could peel your eyes away from him, not even the rampant air currents thrashing through the library. Your focus had nearly distracted you from displaying your shameful affinity towards his arrogance and intimidation. Internally, you were sure you would have been salivating profusely with the way your mouth hung open. On the outside, you only stared, leaving the rest of what that meant up to Hoseok’s imagination. 
Has it really been long enough to note that his shoulders broadened and his jawline sharpened?
Timing played its incessant role as the overly suspicious Vice Principal Donald Dickson walked in, ridding the library of what could have resulted in bruised eyes and busted knuckles. Jimin and Hoseok sat down upon hearing the tick of the door handle, before the supervisor fully walked through the door and set his eyes on this group of expectant students. A beat of silence clung onto the space between the five of you, now six including the Vice Principal, and Dickson took in the sights of what he perceived were cowardice troublemakers sitting in the desks before him.
“Hello, everyone. You’re here today because you did something wrong. A wrong that needs to be punished. And what better way to do that than wasting away your Saturday?” 
His words had been spoken from an embittered tongue, eager to thread more guilt into each one of you. Truly the only thing more distasteful than his mustard colored tie paired with a navy blue collared shirt was his arrogance. In seconds, he squeezed the excess space between the five students, cramming you all, almost unwillingly, into a team against him. The surplus of space, flushed out by his own demean, drifted him further away. He stepped closer to the desk, specifically to the leather-coated boy slouched in his chair and leaned forward intending to tempt Hoseok into picking a fight with him. 
“Welcome back, Hoseok.” 
Dickson's arrogance began to singe the air, making the space smell rancid as if something had been rotting in this library for months.
“Good to be back, buddy!” His sarcastic chide sat horribly with Dickson, feeling this pet name as a challenge to his authority. And if something as trivial as the word ‘buddy’ stung him so, he couldn’t have been less prepared for the comment about to spill from Hoseok’s mouth, “How ‘bout we go for dinner after this, Donald? Oh, actually never mind. Looks like you’ve been eating enough for the both of us.” 
Normally, his empty insults would have passed through Dickson’s head but he had been in a bad mood today. The heckling had sent him right over the edge and gave him the opportunity to take his frustrations out on Hoseok.
“It’s Mr. Dickson to you. And you just earned yourself another Saturday detention.” Said with the slam of his hand against the table. All but Hoseok jumped from the slap that reverberated through the halls. The underlying tactic to put his foot down, or rather his hand down, lost its effect on the one person it was meant for; Hoseok saw this as a reciprocated challenge and was always up for a way to reclaim his domain.
“Don’t be stingy, how ‘bout another one?” Doing the exact opposite of what Dickens wanted, testing his power even more, though to Hoseok his power was nothing more than a pathetic hunger for any sort of authority, something missing from his life outside of work. If bossing around children was the only outlet to feed this obsession, Hoseok saw to it to make this worth his while.
“Fine! You got one!” 
“Can’t wait to see you again, babe.”
“That's it! All your Saturdays for the rest of the month are gonna be spent here, with me. You happy now?”
“Over the moon.” 
“Hoseok, stop it.” Even though your plea had been a whisper, it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Hoseok snuck a glance to your disapproving face. You’d been surprised to meet his unworried expression, despite arguing with Dickson and sacrificing all his Saturdays for the sake of knocking the vice principal down a few steps on the hierarchical ladder. His attention to you was stolen by Jimin.
“Dude, what are you doing?” Jimin had his head facing down in compliance as if he were setting an example for Hoseok. Just minutes ago, they were at each other’s throats, but Dickson had this vulgarity in his threats that excelled in earning him the title as the most hateable person known to humankind, of a much higher rank than Hoseok, and that forged some unspoken solidarity between all of you. If it hadn’t been for Dickson, Jimin and Hoseok would have broken into an all-out brawl. Instead, it smoothed the dynamic between the two boys to a shielding defense of one another.
“Shut it, Park. Or you’ll get one too.” 
It took everything in your willpower to not scoff at Dickson’s insolence. You, personally, had quite a bone to pick with him as he was the exact wrong person that caught you, withheld the opportunity to explain yourself, and unjustly held you responsible for simply being in the vicinity of the crime scene. As much as you hated Hoseok, there had been nothing so compelling of your hatred than Dickson.
“Now, each of you will write an essay.” All five mouths groaned in response to this, “Yeah, yeah. You’ll write an essay whether you like it or not. You will sit here for eight hours, not say a word, not move unless it's to write your essay, and not even think about trying to leave.”
“What if we have to go to the bathroom?” This was a genuine question masked with innocence, however it doubled as a ploy for Namjoon to aggravate Dickson.
“Well, you’ll hold it!”
“Mr. Dickson, you’re definitely supposed to let us go to the bathroom.” You added.
“Even prisoners get to go to the bathroom.” A comparison laid out by Hoseok, quite fitting as Dickson seemed to treat you all lower than the dirt lodged between the ridges of his shoes. 
“You don’t tell me what I can or can’t do!” Dickson grew red in the face, a sight for the sore eyes of the five prisoners in this library.
“So, you expect us to hold it all day?” Jimin tossed his own objection in this dispute. 
“I expect you to do what I say, or do you three want to join your little friend next Saturday?” Dickson didn’t hold his tongue or restrain the volume of his voice that was barking this unreasonable demand. The wag of his fingers was as if he had truly asserted any real or respectable power over the five of you. Seokjin released the chuckle that had been brewing in his chest ever since Dickson began spouting his hollow threats. 
“Something funny, kid?” 
Yes, you’re making an ass of yourself, you thought.
“Nope just… thought of something that happened earlier today. Like, way earlier today, uh, a joke! It was funny, so…” Now you were all at the mercy of Dickson’s comical attempt to have students worship him. 
Jimin’s head had buried deeper towards his chest to mask the tears forming from holding his laughter behind his teeth, while Namjoon utilized the cover of his hand to fence in his. You and Hoseok had been trading off with noiseless snickers that exhaled as huffs of breath when Dickson had turned his back to check the time.
“It is eight thirty-two. You punks have a good six and a half hours until four comes, so I suggest you take the time to work on your essays. If you don’t finish, you’ll be back here next week to do just that. You’re going to write about what you did wrong, and why it was wrong, along with a long, thoughtful apology for what you did.” Dickson paced back and forth in the front of the desks with the sets of eyes, minus Hoseok’s, following his body. Two things stood with a backless stance in yet another empty threat of Dickson’s. One, there were not any grounds for Dickson to mandate another Saturday detention if the five of you didn’t finish an unrequired essay. Hoseok had the pleasure of pointing out Dickson’s other incorrect claim.
“Seven.” 
“What?” One could see the steam pouring from his ears and nostrils as he halted as if Hoseok’s retort acted as a hurdle placed in his path.
“We have seven and a half hours until four.”
“That’s what I said.” 
Jimin’s eyes had rolled back at Dickson’s inability to ever admit he was wrong, a trait only painting him into a bigger joke. You shook your head softly because the stillness you were trying to maintain was too overwhelming to handle, and this seemed to ease the second-hand embarrassment raging through you each time Dickson opened his mouth.
“No, you definitely said six. You said ‘you punks have a good six and a half hours until four’. Then Hoseok said ‘seven’ and then you said ‘what’ and then he said ‘we have seven and a half hours until four’ and then you sa-”
“Enough!” Dickson exclaimed.
Seokjin spoke innocently to give a correction to Dickson. His shallow grasp of social cues often had his well-intentioned actions trilling off his tongue with a sting to Dickson’s pride. Though, nothing had done more harm to Dickson’s pride than the prance of his half delusional authority before the eyes of those who had their own reasons for being stuck here. None, however, had been as lewd as the tyrannical reasons that drove Dickson here. 
“Watch your tone, kid.”
“Who else heard Dickson say six?” Hoseok asked after raising his hand high, followed by Jimin, Namjoon and you casting your concurring votes. Seokjin’s slow uplift of his hand was soon diverted to play off his affirmation as scratching his head. Hoseok’s smirk bloomed from the majority’s favor with him, and the one effortful but ultimately silenced support of Seokjin. 
“Looks like the Is have it!”
“Whatever! I’ll be back to check on you all in a couple hours. No moving from your seats. No talking.” He felt the slight of each of your hands, depleting his once esteemed title of vice principal to a speck of dust that did nothing more than agitate the noses of unimpressed students. The stiffness in all your muscles began to deteriorate from Dickson’s reluctant retreat, having you loosening the clench of your jaw. Watching Dickson wrangle the handle of the broken door before a gruff exit had assisted in soothing your nerves.
Not long after he left, not even a few seconds after the door closed, Hoseok felt an itch for not-so-civil disobedience and scratched a sweet relief to that by walking over to Namjoon, who had been scribbling on the paper that should have been filled with the assigned essay. He snagged the paper from the pencil once being grazed against it and jerked his hand away to evade Namjoon’s attempt at retrieving the stolen item. 
Everyone else’s attention had been forthcoming, and all found the contents of Namjoon’s paper much more worthy of their time than the essay was. Hoseok took a second for his own inspection as his lips curved to a quiet grin. Before Namjoon got the chance to explain it, Hoseok cruised along to the front of the room to behold to the rest of you the picture etched onto the paper.
“It looks like we got an artist on our hands.” Though it was heavy with teasing, there had been a cloaked adoration in Hoseok’s word. It was almost as if he were showing Namjoon’s talent off through the guise of badgering. You hadn’t known the man before you in the same way you knew him as a child, yet you still picked up on this through the lilt of his voice. 
It dawned on you then; no matter how many years past and how the roads of change diverted you in life-altering directions, there would always be a piece of the inner child in you. Small and fainter than the drop of a pin, but still there. You saw the kind child that Hoseok used to be still rummaging around deep within, trying to find its way to the surface.
Hoseok took notice of your perceptive glare that had differed from the others; your eyes always whispered something more that made him equal parts elusive towards you and troubled that maybe you’d been able to crack open his once impenetrable veil. The crusted formation of his toughened skin soaked in your eyes, making it softer and easier to see through. 
“Is that-” Your eyes squinted to focus on the detailing of the drawing, “Is that me?” The simultaneous glares of everyone onto Namjoon had caused a slight perspiration to fog the lens of his glasses. 
It was unmistakable, the face and shadowing were a near perfect imitation of yours, but the sharpness of each line exuded a striking tenacity quite the opposite of the demure front you upheld. A tenacity that felt indicative of a desperation for something; to Namjoon, it was clear in your eyes there had been a facet in your life missing which left you feeling robbed. This tore through you like lightning, leaving you to discover the source of what had been robbed of you. 
“Looks like I was wrong. The sexual tension wasn’t between meathead and ___, but bookworm and ___.” The blush on your cheeks wasn’t nearly as red as Namjoon’s entire face. “My sincerest apologies, please tell us how you and ___ fell in love. I wanna know every little detail.” 
He’d considered various routes of excuses, such as the picture wasn’t of you, or that maybe he’d absentmindedly sketched your features simply because you were in the same room but there would be no avail in either. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t accept that, backing him against the wall of shared curiosity between the other four, so Namjoon resolved that telling the truth was far more becoming of him than protecting the last of his dignity.
“To be fair, I drew almost everyone in the room.” He slipped a few papers from underneath his notebook, accompanied by an exasperated sigh, all depicting his own interpretation on his peers sitting before him. Each one held some unfeigned element of you all, not of intention though also not of coincidence, that drained the multiple facades to ineffectiveness until they were completely impotent. Everyone had gathered around Namjoon’s desk looking for their own picture, and neither Jimin nor Seokjin were prepared to face theirs.
“Yo, this is sick!” Jimin had his portrait between his fingers, eyes scaling the led sketch that accentuated his more flattering features. It was pleasing in the beginning but as he examined with more scrutiny that feeling had been sullied into fear. There had been a glint of worry in the eyes of Jimin’s drawing that had his once excited smile fading into a humbled concern of the growing nuances this small detail suggested. Jimin was just glad everyone else was concentrated on their own portrait so no one would be able to see this unsettling vulnerability strewn into the drawing.
Seokjin’s was a rather accurate paradigm of his eccentric expressions and attitude. To his surprise, this was given a more favorable look to what most people thought were awkward tendencies; it had become the focal point of the portrait as if there had been some unadulterated goodness in his heart that Namjoon seemed to be the only one to see. And below that surface of the painting, there was a tired expression bleeding through the excited one. All at once, his burdens seemed lucid and bare within the positivity intended to circumvent those exact burdens.
“I didn’t know you drew.” Jimin broke the silence with what he believed to be a keen observation. Namjoon found it quite daunting of him to act like this had been some revelation that the rest of you shared. 
“Well, you never asked. In fact, I don’t think we’ve ever had a conversation.” There had been an edge ruminating within the words Namjoon spoke that blew through the air and raised a few hairs on Jimin’s neck.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just that we’ve been in art class together all year and my art has just now caught you by surprise.” The accusations in his tone shriveled Jimin into a corner of odd mortification for his ignorance of those who didn’t run in his circle. What made matters worse was there could be no proper objection to what Namjoon said, as he looked around to each of your faces trying to recount any memorable interaction with you all. It would be more fitting to call the rest of you strangers than acquaintances, let alone schoolmates, and least of all friends.
“I-” All words had been brushed to a place unworthy of being verbalized. 
“Meathead has better things to attend to than talking to us lowlifes, Namjoon.” Hoseok cut off Jimin’s already lost train of thought. 
You and the four others were now positioned in a circle, though some sitting on the floor and others finding a seat on top of the desks, you were all in this circle, together. The outside world had given you all the freedom to choose who you talked to, what kinds of people you associated with. Perhaps too much freedom that amounted in severed connections and missed opportunities to meet those who might serve as beneficial to your life. However in this room, in the crowded library which held that freedom from you all and granted you an even better gift of contingency, there had been an irresistible gravitation to seek entertainment through each other and learn what would have gone unlearned if not for the five different mishaps that led the five individuals to this room.
“I never said you were a lowlife!”
“Oh, but you were thinking it. Admit it.”
“Are you ever going to stop talking?”
“Are you ever going to stop using the entire bottle of Axe body spray or do you want us to lose our sense of smell?” Namjoon and Seokjin were more humored by this comment than you had been. Not because you didn’t find it funny, and it was all too true to foster any denial from Jimin and anyone in a ten foot radius of the boy, but because you kept busy wondering how the transition of the once sweet-tongued Hoseok had developed him to acquire such a thirst for belittlement. Or perhaps, why he had undergone this caustic transformation.
“Oh, like you’d ever be caught with me or Jimin at one of your parties with all your hoodlum friends.” You shot him this retort aspiring to sour his praise from the two other boys.
“You wanna party with me, sweetness? I think I can arrange that.” It was surprising, the sarcastic offer, and it suggested that he wasn't the one who initiated the drift of your friendship. That had struck some chord with you because you were certain it was all his doing, and subsequently cleared your tongue of a witty retort that would shut him up. He shifted from his crossed legged pose to dangle his legs from the end of the table that sat behind where your back had been. The tip of his foot had nudged against your shoulder blade in a tease to which you hastily swat his dark boot away.
“Fuck off, Hoseok.”
“You’re the one who brought it up! Don’t be shy, I’d love to see you get plastered with me and my, as you call it, hoodlum friends.” He had been a few more light kicks away from you landing your hand against the side of his cheek. To his luck, your resolve had kept your hands folded in your lap.
“In your dreams.”
“I’d party with you!” Seokjin’s idealism had interrupted your exchange with Hoseok as his eyes, now raked with astonishment, moved to the boy sitting diagonally from himself.
“I'm sorry, did you say something?” Hoseok asked. Jimin’s fingers pinched the bridge of his nose while you had surrendered to the foot still digging into your upper back to turn towards Seokjin as well.
“Um, just that I’d hang out with you.” A bit of regret had a stutter leaking through his words.
“I wouldn't want to interrupt your bible study with my hoodlum parties.” Thickly layered sarcasm was just another social cue Seokjin was wholesomely unaware of, or perhaps he’d caught onto Hoseok’s aim to insult but didn’t care about it as much as you and the others had.
“I’m not even religious and I can handle parties! I’ve been to lots of parties.” He had fooled no one in the library with that statement. Seokjin’s volume had tapered off towards the end, filling the quiet of his voice with even more regret. There was a force out of his control that had him spewing the first thoughts that popped into his head through an unfiltered mouth.
“Bud, you are the human embodiment of an unwanted boner. Stiff? Yes. Annoying? Check! Something no one wants at their parties let alone in their pants? One hundred percent.” The rest of you, but mostly Jimin, had given up on taking the high road. This was made obvious to Seokjin and Hoseok through the contagious laughter afflicting the three of you, and even Seokjin couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the ends of his lips.
“Hey Hoseok, come look.” Namjoon’s beckon was said seconds before a few more taps of his pencil against the paper. It wasn't in his nature to call out to someone like Hoseok, but the need for him to face his painting had given his words the momentum to be spoken.
His approach had been a bit too unsuspecting; he didn’t think to craft a strong guard for seeing his portrait that he’d been waiting for. That had been a grave mistake. 
Hoseok stared at the page as if he had seen a ghost. Though it was not one of an unfamiliar face, the apparition had been the mirror image of him. With the glide of his pencil, Namjoon haunted the man with the impenetrable veil to a state of uncharacteristic lethargy. You were sitting right behind him, giving you the perfect vantage point to witness the picture of a man being stripped from his conceit. In the drawing, he was crying. This had nearly gone unnoticed from the obstruction of your vision by his shoulder. 
Nearly, but it was the first detail that caught your eye. It was eerily familiar, like Deja-vu. Even if the others were to see it, they wouldn’t have distinguished how this had illustrated a portrayal awfully close to the innocence of a younger Hoseok, of which only you had been acquainted with, and he immediately crumpled it to a ball before you were able to collect any more of the details to your memory. 
“What kind of shit are you trying to pull, huh?” His demanding question stripped the lighthearted atmosphere from the room. The cuff of Namjoon’s turtleneck joined the shriveled paper in his hand as Hoseok yanked him to a weak stand and an even weaker defense. 
Jimin compensated for Namjoon’s frailty with a firm grasp on both of Hoseok’s arms followed by pulling him away to stop what could have been a brutal beating. The paper had fallen from Hoseok’s hand which went unseen because he was struggling to free himself from Jimin’s strong grasp, which was cultivated through his athleticism.
“Bro, calm down!”
“Hoseok, stop being like that!” Your voice had his scowl now directing towards you, still maintaining the weathered clutch on your heart. There was no ambiguity in fear. One thing often scarce in Hoseok's eyes, but you saw it then. You knew his anger wasn’t of shallow disliking to the picture, but what it exposed of him that he was trying so desperately to mask.
Seokjin had taken it upon himself to see what triggered the fumed reaction from Hoseok by picking up the paper and stretching out the wrinkles enough for proper inspection. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as to why Hoseok would waste his temper on something as trivial as a few fictitious tears. With one more thrust of Hoseok’s shoulder, he escaped Jimin’s distracted hold and swiped the paper from Seokjin before anyone else had the chance to see it.
Hoseok wished you hadn’t seen it, as well as the other boy. The troubling fear in the painting, and how it reflected that particular quality onto him, though in an entirely new light. He wished it were gentler, the reflection; he wished it didn’t cut deep enough to carry a brutalizing truth. He wished it wasn't a reflection at all, that instead it was a misjudgment or an oversight. And he had no idea you saw past what Seokjin saw as just penciled tears on a paper. His shields of iron and skin were in no position to stand against your eyes. 
They never were.
“What the fuck are you looking at, freak?” 
“Hobi, don’t call him that.”
And with the utterance of the long-abandoned nickname, Hobi, it had sparked a sequence of memories to rattle through Hoseok’s mind. He was collapsing into himself, into the memories of you and your voice possessing exclusivity to the nickname that held a sentiment of which he’d almost forgotten. The scenes had tranquilized his boiling fury to a light simmer. Such nostalgia had that effect on his mind, as well as expelling the surroundings of the library from each of his senses and replacing them with sweet, untouched memories. 
The fragrance of fresh linen and lemon crowded his nose, the same way it would when he would walk into the comfort of your home. Long ago, when his arrival required no invitation, but was an expected, weekly affair. And during tough times, it grew in frequency. 
His nose would grow to associate the smells of linen and lemon with your home of pure safety, then into the arms of your mother whose delight had gone almost unmatched when she saw him. However, it never surmounted the ripples of joy you would feel when you were greeted with his arrival, and you believed you would never have to miss that feeling. This scent sailed him into the tragically estranged feeling of safety, now a malicious craving for it to return pooled in his chest; missing the feeling of safety he once had with you almost hurt more than the actual absence of it.
Though he wondered if it truly was the nickname ‘Hobi’ that swept him in a melancholic reminiscence, or the stark smell of fresh linen and lemon invading his nose. He wondered why it was that no other person had ever made him remember such insignificant details of his past that were too good to hold onto. He wondered if it really were the nostalgic scents and nickname, rather than the person who they reminded him of; all the good, safe things that left with you and your budding friendship. 
The muffled voices of those around him were just enough to crack through the tent of reminiscence.
“It’s okay to cry, Hoseok. We all know you just act tough but inside you care about what others think just as much as the rest of us.” That comment had been restitution for Hoseok’s previous jab at Jimin’s body spray misusage.
“Yeah, I cry all the time! Just the other day-” Seokjin chimed with agility from the quickly fading regret.
“Please stop talking. Please don’t make me punch you.” Jimin’s interruptive threat crammed back the thoughtless anecdote about to spill from Seokjin’s mouth.
“Wait, I’d actually like to see that. Seokjin, keep going.” To Namjoon, the idea of a boyish fight between the two sounded far more entertaining than whatever story Jimin had stopped Seokjin from sharing. “Why are you so afraid of crying anyway?”
“Yeah why?”
“Tell us, Hoseok.”
Consecutive questions such as these held a violence equivalent to assault in Hoseok's mind. He’d been cornered, his eyes that once couldn't bear to rest on you before now seemed to plead with yours for a salve from these bombardments. And you couldn’t tell if you hated him or the fact that with one look, he had winded you tighter around his finger.
“Hoseok is just mad because he cried during Marley and Me.” You said, quick to scavenge for a decent distraction. Your memory of watching this movie with him about ten years ago had been far too riveting to keep to yourself. 
In fact, you rationed it positively selfish to hoard something as enthralling as Jung Hoseok crying real tears, not like the ones on Namjoon’s drawing. And part of you, part of him too, knew this was done in favor of Hoseok to misdirect the rest of them from the actual root of his anger. Exploring the soul-bearing secrets he kept hidden beneath his thick skin was a venture overwhelmed by terror and discomfort. You felt this through that look glazing his eyes, and figured the Marley and Me incident was a worthy sacrifice to protect something far too fragile to tread on. The four of you were now swimming through a lake of laughter as Hoseok tried to suppress his annoyance, and especially his gratefulness to what you had done for him.
It began then, the struggle. He found the constant maintenance of keeping his skin intact over his heart forfeiting to your offer of kindness. As much as he tried to press the skin back onto himself, it would shed almost a bit too easily.
“What kind of heartless monster doesn’t cry at a dying dog? You’re all insufferable.” Hoseok stood up, turning away from the belly-aching giggles still erupting from you and the other three, “And I was eight years old. And ___ cried harder.” His trudge to the back of the room, away from the commotion of the drawings, was gorged in a strange distrust.
There was the possibility he had spilled one too many secrets with his long, catatonic silence after the way you called him that name. How you all had established a comfort to open yourselves to a partially amiable conversation together and that Hoseok felt like he was the one standing on the outside looking in. 
Thus, leaving Hoseok feeling betrayed, distrustful, and fumbling over where to place the blame. 
With himself, the full-fledged outing of his feelings that were ripped from his chest by his own hand without the consent of his mind. It felt unlawful, like he was unwillingly breaking his own rules. Or perhaps blame lied with the people who took one look at his leather jacket and paid zero caution when shedding a few layers of the deceitful front of his skin. What was left was the outer shell, the once impenetrable veil lying on the floor, and a man without his protective skin, open and raw and sensitive, though scared of vulnerability above all else. 
The rest of you followed suit to return to your empty chairs, ignoring how the air was damp with a complex rigidity that none of you felt equipped to handle. No one, least of all you, had been sure of what to do with the discomfort that sterilized the air with nothing but the sounds of five syncopated breaths, longing for some release of this silent torture.
You were sure of two things. 
First, you hated Hoseok and he showed his reciprocation of that through the flipped middle finger when you braved a glance back to him. Second, you concluded that the reasons pillaring your hatred for him had changed within two of the eight hours in this library. It was astounding, torn between being impressive and pathetic the way he’d roped you back into the sentiment of the young, inseparable children residing in the darker caverns of your hearts. 
The younger you that handed him a tissue and a shoulder to lean on, a gift of nothing close to judgement, when you had seen him crying at that sad movie. The younger him that in many ways held a strapping debt over your head for rescuing you from numerous bullies throughout elementary and middle school and a long spell of loneliness from your lack of friends in your younger years. The two mellow hearted friends attached at the hip, and the heart, that skipped along the steps of life as if misery and loneliness were nightmares lived out by those who didn’t have a person like Hoseok in their lives. They were locked away for quite some time and remained that way due to the abundance of freedom that this library had suspended. 
Because in the library, you couldn't run or hide.
Hoseok was sure of one thing, and one thing only. It was far clearer than the tainted air of the library along with the fogged arena of the outside world, and brighter than the way your eyes still outshined the shadow of his own pain; the irrefutability was beyond the depths of the ocean. 
His heart had been broken, pulverized to a dust, for far too long and it was because of how dearly he missed you and the safety that accompanied you. 
If you looked closely, you could see past his skin to his bones and all the secrets and scars carved in them.
 10:00 - 12:00
Timing. What you thought was an incarnation of the devil itself, seemed to torture you through today like it had a personal agenda against you. The five students and their endurance of boredom had been eroded from the minutes that felt like hours and the confiscated cell phones leaving you all to the devices of screenless misery. 
The silence continued stalking the air, still just as heavy and nuanced as before. You wondered why the quiet didn’t feel all that quiet. In turn, it was nothing less than an earthy rumble at this point, like the ground was ready to shake and knock every book from the shelves around you. Every time your eyes would meet with another one of your peers, they’d be instantly veered with a quick glance towards the ceiling or down at the blank papers sitting on the desks before them. Hoseok fell asleep long before you had the chance to read the hints of his mind that were lightly seasoned in his eyes, that seemed to have a way of avoiding you today. 
Still without some of his skin, and now the loss of his dignity joined. Because of that, he was tired and needed to sleep. It had more or less been Hoseok’s melodramatic efforts to recoup for the loss that put him in a moped mood; you not being in his life was the little secret that fringed his heart far worse than Namjoon’s portrait.
Maybe if you would have let him know that yours and the others’ dignities had been left at the broken door of the library then he wouldn’t be as mortified. At the time, you didn’t feel like it had been your job to do so which was retrospectively an all too uncompassionate choice. A bad choice. Far worse than the ones you made to lead you to detention.
Seokjin and Jimin had been tossing crumpled pieces of binder paper and shooting them in the trash can with high spirits, the heavy boredom of detention being cut through by their makeshift basketball game.
“That's fifteen.” A gloat followed Jimin’s victorious fist shaking but soon to be shut down by Namjoon.
“No, that was fourteen.” He held the paper where two sets of tallies were marked side by side under the initials J and S.
“What? I was counting too and that was fifteen!”
“Ha! Read it and weep.” Seokjin teased.
“Jin, shut up! You've made like three.”
Namjoon checked the paper and confirmed Jimin’s rebuttal with a thumbs up. Your resting head on the palm of your hand shook with laughter at the scowl plastered across the boy's face, which had made a habit of blushing a bright red in regret of his comments. 
Seokjin said nothing to this, instead proceeded to crumple four more pieces of paper now encased in his hand.
“Well now it's gonna be seven.” He had made this claim a bit too soon after the sling of his arm amounted to all four paper balls bouncing off the rim of the trash can and scattering onto the floor. Having all three of you laugh broke the fourth boy’s slumber, but he went about it calm. Hoseok’s eyes opened, quiet and slow, and none of you noticed he had regained his consciousness.
Dickson’s return had hushed the last bit of laughter along with the surprising enjoyment circulating through the third hour of detention. This time, Dickson was mindful of your collective vendetta against him which was why he had been armored with even more aggression than the last time. The mix of you four riding off the delights of playing with the little entertainment made available and Dickson’s heavily loaded disdain would make for quite a reactive outcome. There had been a lewd displeasure of finding littered papers along the floor adding to his frustration.
“Which one of you imbeciles were tossing around paper balls when you should have been writing your essays?” The unresponsive silence pushed him over the edge of annoyance, “Well?” 
His earth-shattering holler had fully awoken Hoseok who joined the unconcerned teens in this noiseless stare off. A yell or a whisper wouldn’t have made a difference by the means of intimidation since none of you could take seriously a man who missed the step of re-zipping his fly after going to the bathroom. The five of you were urged to point it out, though none of you felt the need to bury him even lower in all of your regards; he did that quite adequately and consistently on his own.
“We all just really want to do well on our essays! What you call paper balls were the triumphant efforts of remorseful students, sir.” Any resistance to Hoseok’s humorous antagonizations towards Dickson were depleted by the second round of his arrival. Namjoon demonstrated his agreeance with a snide head nod joined by Jimin who also nodded some proof to Hoseok’s lie.
“Really? Is that true, Seokjin?” 
“Yes, we all just want to better ourselves, sir.” Singling the evidently weakest willed student did not go over the way Dickson had hoped. He stood by Hoseok’s lie even if he couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Dickson. There had been some unknown element of surprise that had Seokjin just a few steps ahead of Dickson and a few steps behind the rest of you. Still, he was far ahead of Dickson, whose temper seemed to be strained.
“What about you ___, any thoughts?” He asked you this as if there was any evidence for his disbelief. And he was right of course, to be disbelieving, but the derogation of his voice did render his correct assumptions as nothing short of foolish dictatorship. Again, there was space. It was the five of you, a dividing space, and then Dickson. 
Space is meant to be empty, or it is not space at all, and Dickson’s unwelcomed invasion into it had made him the target of five unrelenting students.
“My English teacher says writing multiple drafts before turning in the final product is a clear-cut way to do well on essays.” Your eyes weren't level with his. They had been glancing back and forth from the desk to the unzipped fly of his pants that were now unfortunately a foot too close in your peripherals. Provided you had nothing to lose, maybe another one of your Saturdays, but even that seemed to be worth pointing the zip, or lack thereof, of his pants. “Sir, your fly is down.”
He hastily corrected this and his authority had been running too thin from the jabs sent his way, diluting any call to action he made into a watered down whine. It wasn't enough to spread over himself or each of you, making his second retreat taking place faster than the one before. On his way out, he tossed three out of four of the papers in the trash and kept one to inspect. There was no draft of an essay written on the paper, and for once he was right and it felt awful. 
You would have felt bad, but no one could empathize with his fatal arrogance.
“You kids are a piece of work. I don't get paid enough for this shit. You better be done with these essays by the end or I swear.” And he didn’t finish whatever he was about to say before walking out of the library, hurried and belittled. Jimin was, of course, the first one to burst through the silence with giggles and the sound had doubled, tripled, and so on until all of you had been absorbed in a fit of laughter. Even Hoseok released a smirky chuckle, and felt attuned with you, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Jimin. 
For lack of skin, one could assume. Or maybe he genuinely liked the way he felt around you and those who were on this team that was too diverse to give a definite label.
“___, I can’t believe you actually said it. God, I was going to but I thought he would have cried.” Jimin pushed out this appraisal through gasping for air. 
“I couldn’t help it. It was right in front of my face! I think I have to go wash my eyes out.” You were rubbing your temples to massage away the increasing disgust upon picturing it.
“If anything, I thought Seokjin would’ve been the one to do it.” Namjoon said, keeping busy with another illustration.
“Nah, ___ handled that perfectly.” Jimin managed to level his breath by now.
“I wonder if your bite is as big as your bark.” Hoseok said, just to get another one of those annoyed glares, which seemed to be the only way he knew how to get your attention now. His affluence of communicating, especially to you, has been sloping off to quite elementary levels. Still, he did what he could.
“You wanna find out?” Your voice insinuating you wouldn't falter to his bereavements. Your eyes looked back to the smirk of satisfaction painted over his face, boiling a bit of frustration in your chest. Mostly, frustration with yourself for finding your eyes trailing along the length of his admittedly handsome face. Frustrated that, no matter how insufferable he was, you were undeniably attracted to him which made you struggle to suppress your own smile.
“Guys, look.” Namjoon held up a stick figure sketch of Dickson. It wasn’t nearly eligible to be considered a sophisticated piece or technically accurate to Dickson’s appearance. Though the elementary style of it had a stronger sense of accuracy than any proper portrait of Dickson would have. The grimace of the stick-figured Dickson and the detailed pants that included a dropped fly upstaged whatever ornate cross-hatched or contoured lines that had been applied to the four of your drawings. 
“You have a talent, you gotta give me some lessons sometime.” It felt like Jimin meant more of this. Perhaps he had been referring to what Namjoon had said before. As if he were realizing his range of friends left Jimin destitute in the terms of social circles and in some way, Namjoon had been entirely unique from anyone he’d ever met. He didn’t want to be another cart in a train of unexpanded minds due to a case of the status quo. 
Namjoon was alluring, to put it simply. Outside of his long undisturbed comfort zone.
“Well, you haven’t seen my art skills. I like to call myself the Van Gogh of our high school.” Seokjin did nothing but embarrass himself, but it had a normalcy you and the rest had grown used to. Now it was not just expected of him but looked forward to. Things were changing before the eyes of the five different faces with five different stories. Changing, yet at the same time, feeling as if things had been returning.
“Yeah, all you have to do now is cut off your ear!” Namjoon said sarcastically.
More laughter, more good feelings poured into the library that once felt nothing more than a temporary, barren jail cell and a source of guilt and boredom. It was full now. Full of something much warmer than before. 
You were looking at Hoseok, now with a little less hatred. Seeing him smiling, laughing even, had softened your hatred to something else. It was still painful, and just as hard to identify as that particular quality of his. Whatever blame you directed towards him hadn’t been as hampering as this new feeling you got when you looked at him. He felt your gaze, louder than the chime of a bell, and wondered if he had shed enough skin yet to look back at you. To be filled with fresh linen and lemon and all the pieces of safety latched onto the exchange of glances that were not of the seniors in high school, but the childhood friends that long ago shared one heart.
Sadly, he didn't look to you, not yet. Not when he felt unready and unaccustomed to the ripe, underlying skin covering him now. He couldn't be brave enough to risk disappointing you with how his gaze might not have measured up to how sorry he felt for being the loose cannon in your life.
 You looked at the clock that read it was twenty-two minutes until the third hour of detention. Watching time tick by had proven to slow it nearly to a full stop, so you took to the sights displayed by the library window. The fog was still heavy, trading the perimeter of the parking lot with thick invisibility. Somehow, you had acclimated to the unseen sectors of what was within the fog. You couldn’t see through it, all you could truly see was fog, but that was not as pronounced as what you felt and what you knew. There was, without a doubt, something beyond the fog; that was what you knew. And what you felt was consoled in knowing there was surely something, anything beyond the fog, thus leading your eyes to Hoseok, again. You looked at him, right at his face, at his thin skin, and knew there was something beyond the fog.
“Stop leaning against the table, you’re gonna knock it down.” Namjoon had been referring to the tower of dusty books gone unread for a considerable amount of time for anyone, even the librarian, to notice they were missing. 
What, you wondered, could be more captivating than the mysteries hidden between the fog? To Jimin, Namjoon, and Seokjin, the antics of stacking books was that and more. There were about ten, maybe thirteen books piling taller than Namjoon. Though it had the advantage of resting on the already raised table, it was still admittedly impressive since Namjoon was on the taller side. Jimin stood on the table with arms flattened and extended to steady his balance and to still his body from any shaking that could derail their handy work. 
“Yeah, Jin, stop leaning.” What Hoseok said was clean of genuine concern, made clear from how he’d bumped the table with his knee causing the pile to teeter side to side, yet not enough to actually knock it down. The other three boys held their hands toward the books as if the gesture would have actually saved it from toppling over.
“___, come over and help us steady the books! Hurry!” Seokjin’s request had you rushing over try and balance the stack wobbling nearly to a complete collapse.
“Do you guys wanna do something actually fun?”
If not for the almost bewitching inflection of Hoseok’s question, you would have maintained focus on keeping these towering books from falling. Though, he spoke with an implication that he possessed something that would whisk you away from boredom and you were still, a bit less unapologetically, reeled tight around his finger. So, your attention was spent on Hoseok until there was no more. Same with the others. All four eyes tossing an unrestrained marvel in place of a verbal answer to his question. The vigilant silence was enough to have Hoseok’s hand digging in the pocket of his leather jacket and pulling out a neatly rolled joint.
“No fucking way, we can’t do that in here… Right?” Although he wanted to sound doubtful, repulsed by the stick of weed between Hoseok's fingers, the question threaded along the end of Jimin’s doubt had a faint enthusiasm.
“Dickson’s stupid. We can just tell him it was a skunk.” 
“I think we should really evaluate our actions before we do them.” By we, he really meant Hoseok. Seokjin tried to act in place of a sort of parental guidance, though he knew now how unlikely his influence would take effect.
“You’re right. Let’s see.” He paused and inspected the joint pinched between his fingers, “I’m bored, in fact, we’re all bored. I have weed, I want to get high, being high is fun. My evaluation says we should definitely get high.” Mocking the frail advice from Seokjin, Hoseok evaded the logic behind what the other boy had presented with yet another sarcastic remark. No one else argued, even those who were strongly opposed to drug usage, because there would clearly be no avail in discouraging Hoseok. Not to mention, deep down, all your inexperienced hearts had a slight curiosity for the coveted thing in Hoseok’s hand. 
“That’s hardly an adequate evaluation, Hoseok.” Namjoon said, though he was already crawling with a rising inclination since a much less favorable boredom would have tormented him if he declined the offer. Jimin, Seokjin, and Namjoon drove through the traffic of worries and doubts and arrived at the destination where Hoseok was impatiently waiting.
“Fine, then I guess I’ll just enjoy this by myself then.”
“Wait! I’ll- um, I’ll go.” Jimin said and it was enough for Namjoon and Seokjin to admit defeat to their desires. Football season had not begun yet, neither the periodic drug tests, and there was a growing stress looming over them all that could be displaced by getting high.
The only one still fraught with a neurotic hesitation and clinging opposition that pushed back from the cohorts all in agreement was you. Marijuana had always deterred your fascination, even though you knew it was on the safer side of most drugs, and your virgin lungs feared it in the same way your stomach feared alcohol and your heart once feared Hoseok’s return in it. However, Hoseok had slithered his way back into your life and that wasn’t scary in the slightest. It was exciting and comforting, even, to be graced with his return and it made you question what else you had been missing out on.
“Alright. Dickson usually falls asleep around now because he gets tired after eating lunch. God, I hate that I know that. Anyway, this gives us the chance to sneak out to the second-floor bathrooms where there aren’t any fire detectors.” 
The timing of his plan mapped out a perfect escape, however timing was never one to do you any favors. 
As the others snuck past the ajar door to Dickson’s office, inside the vice principal was sure enough sound asleep, you remained in the library and watched the others, one by one, throw all caution to the wind. Hoseok’s stalled exit from the room was ushering you to a state of indecisive pacing. It was clear he was waiting for you, though Namjoon’s, Jimin’s, and Seokjin’s company would satisfy the quota for a proper smoking circle. 
“You don’t have to come if you don't want to. The offer still stands either way.” He spoke tentatively and his eyes were habitually resting on anything, your hands, your chin, your lips, the floor, and even the fogged window, but not your eyes. He could resist the magnetism of your eyes because he felt like he needed to, but surrendered to the way his feet carried him a few steps closer to you. Enough steps to work a fast beating into your heart. 
“I’m not going to pressure you. I wouldn’t do that, you know?” 
You knew he meant this genuinely. The only thing thus far that came out of his mouth without the stain of sarcasm. It was because of how genuine he sounded that made the rattle between your bones far more feverish than the shallow, meaningless jabs he’d made to and about you during today.
Why does it hurt when you talk softly? Why does what should feel like soft fleece burn like the friction of gravel against my skin? 
You branded these questions in the eyes unseen by Hoseok. It aches to know that you hated him all this time, and you just now realized his soft spoken voice had been reigned by you. Softly, like the inner child begging to be liberated from Hoseok’s protective skin. Softly, like when he said he wouldn’t do that to you, it came from a place in his heart ten years in the making and reserved wholly by you.
“I just…” His steps hushed you. The proximity of his body to yours had placed you in the eye of the hurricane, where it was quiet and calm and even softer than his voice. He radiated an energy that reminded you of something strong that was tired of being strong and on the verge of withering away; like a tall, old oak tree. Mighty, beaten down from the weather, and readying to lay in its tomb. 
You always were able to admit he was attractive. Anyone with functioning eyes could see that. The delicious sharpness of his facial features made for quite a face to look at. He was damn near perfect. But when did he become so beautiful? How did his sharp features soften to become delicate and lovely? The duality of this man was flexible, ranging from rough edges to rounded, gentle surfaces.
You believed his approach was to lead his quiet, soft voice to your ears because one had to be close - very close - for another to hear such a gentle tone. But he wouldn’t have achieved such closeness if it weren’t for the fortitude of longing and the smell of fresh linen and lemon that emigrated from you. Nor the gentleness of his voice could have been procured if the other three were still here. When it was just you, there was no reason to be anything but honest and gentle and close. Resistance was now undone by being with you and the timing of it all. It was peeling away more of Hoseok’s skin down to the bone and he allowed you to do this. Finding a place, the library, with someone, you, filled the hollow chasm of his chest with an oasis one could only classify as safety.
I want you to stay here with me. 
Wherever that thought surfaced from, whether it be the spirit of a younger you or the sentiment of the current you, it was too real to keep from choking back a few tears.
“___, I-” Before the words of an unbarred tongue expressed how he wanted to admit he missed you and lay out every reason for pushing you away in order to annul all the pain he caused both you and himself, Seokjin had peaked his head through the door quite similarly to the frantic way he previously exited it.
“Hey, are you guys coming or what?” His urgent whisper had melted the overwhelming feelings being exchanged through silent pauses and simultaneously reconstructed the wall that severed your friendship, or whatever you had with Hoseok. 
“___, you’re not coming?” Seokjin sounded friendly in his disappointment. If it weren't for the fact that what he was referring to was smoking pot then you would have joined simply because his tone had flipped into a sweet, inviting plea.
“No, sorry. I think I’m gonna hang back. Someone’s gotta keep watch for Dickson.” Hoseok exhaled with relief that you didn’t come. He didn’t want you to feel pressured and at least he could accomplish doing that.
The skin retraced its steps back onto Hoseok. And when you looked out the window, for you didn’t want to watch Hoseok leave you again, the fog was impervious. The tepid steps of his departure sounded similar to that of a ticking clock. Each tap moved time forward and Hoseok away from you.
When you looked back to the emptiness of the library, you wished you could follow him. It was too difficult. Not the walking itself, and joining them had only been one staircase away, but the following aspect of it. To follow him, to chase the man that left you like he did years ago, like a decomposed afterthought, was difficult because you feared to be met with dry rejection. You’d rather not venture off into the fog, and stay unharmed in the clearings.
 Hoseok should have, in the wise words of Seokjin, evaluated his actions before making any official commitments to them. His constant neglect of this crucial step had led him into quite disturbing situations, including this one.
It was a few minutes after the joint had been smoked to the stub of the filter. Hoseok tossed it in the toilet of the large stall they occupied. For the most part, the boys were silent and enjoying their highs. And Hoseok was silent as well, but his thoughts were under completely different circumstances. They were blaring around in his head with a sharp ringing.
The memory of you, his awareness of missing you, seeing you again, and finding that his ability to look into your eyes long expired had been a taxing precursor to getting high. It was a first to have his emotions heightened taller than a mountain because of his intoxication; most of the time it numbed his emotions and the world around him. Though, there is a first for everything and Hoseok was clamming up from all the guilt, loneliness, and longing ensued by the Indica making its way to his brain.
They were all talking by now, describing how they felt or if they were feeling any buzz at all. Namjoon was the first to be hit with a wave of high and he unceremoniously stood up to wash his hands because he insisted that he could ‘feel the germs crawling on his hands.’
Jimin and Seokjin were the next victims of the unspared joint. Jimin had been repeating the word “woah” until it was devoid of all meaning. 
Hoseok slipped under the spell last, but his high wasn't fermenting in the same light-hearted ways as the other boys’ highs. His harnessed a colossal weight that was an ounce away from being too much, from sending him into a fight or flight reaction. The stressor could only be the pent-up emotions that were billowing from his chest so wildly that there was no chance to inhibit or ignore it. Hoseok was not as high as the others, but high enough to send his dignity into the unreachable air. Soon, he couldn't tell if the discomfort in his skin was because of his high or his new discernment for this stifling barrier. 
The depth of this emotional hole was deeper than that of a dried well, and had left Hoseok to be somewhat of a benign lump to the conversation at hand.
“Guys, I think I’m peeing. I feel like I’m peeing. Am I peeing my pants right now?” Seokjin rose to a panicked stance, spinning and bending to check if there was any wetness seeping down the pant of his leg. Namjoon, who was still washing his hands, and Jimin had fallen into a debilitating laughter. Though even in a state of sobriety it would have perpetuated a hearty laugh, their elevated reactions were that of the high they were still riding, and based on Hoseok’s observations, wouldn’t be coming down from anytime soon. 
“Holy shit. Dude, just pee! we are literally surrounded by toilets.” It was a difficult task, but Jimin managed to squeak this out between his giggles. 
“I can't pee in front of you all! I get… I get pee shy.” They all noted, Seokjin was an exemplary companion to get high with. 
If Hoseok weren't entrapped in his thoughts of you, of fresh linen and lemon that seemed to be far more pungent than the remnants of weed wafting in the bathroom air, he would have tallied Seokjin as one of his go to smoking partners. Nothing deemed lucrative to distract him from what really mattered to him: 
Fresh linen and lemon and you, and his damn skin.
“You guys may make fun of me for my axe body spray but at least it’ll cover the weed smell.” Jimin gloated, hunchbacked and head lowered to check if the scent of weed clung to his clothes or hair.
“We’ve been in a closed room for like twenty minutes. Obviously, you’re not gonna smell the weed. ___’s probably gonna tell us that we smell like a walking dispensary.” Namjoon said with a chuckle. 
“Now you smell like Axe body spray and weed.” Seokjin hadn’t stopped patting down the inseam on his pants to make sure nothing was inordinately wet while throwing in an additional jab.
“We should be heading back soon.” The faucet finally shut upon hearing Hoseok’s suggestion. “You three go ahead first, I’ll hang back so Dickson doesn’t catch me with you all. God knows he would be way angrier to see me walking around with you three.” 
Namjoon dried his hands and nodded with red glazed eyes covered by partially deflated eyelids. Jimin stood up and yawned from the weed-induced drowse blanketing his own eyes and Seokjin’s eyes still scaled the expanse of his pant leg with hulking paranoia. 
In a line, they left the bathroom to house no one but Hoseok, the pungency of weed, and his memories. In Hoseok’s eyes, they were blindsided by one thing and one thing only.
 Ten years ago…
White faded to grey in the clouds hanging above your inattentive eyes. The sandbox with worn plastic digging tools and a red bucket was the only part of the world that mattered to you. Soon, everything else blurred into nothing. You liked the sandbox not for the majesty of castle building or the sandy canvas to carve the visions in your young, creative mind with the swipe of a finger, but because of its smallness and how there was no room for others to play in it if you were in it. That was undoubtedly a strange reason to enjoy a sandbox, especially since youth usually carried along with it a craving to meet the first friend you could find and stick with them through the trials and tribulations of elementary school. You were harder to please in the sphere of friendship, leaving you to take to the sandbox where there breached no worries of finding a companion. 
Your finicky little heart made you a feeble target for young, boyish bullies. The pleasure of picking on the loner of the grade often satisfied little boys of their brutish desires. You’d always been a bit docile, and perhaps too much for your own good. There was no need to fight back and usually their torments were no more damaging than paper cuts that would heal in less than one or two days.
Today, however, you were proud of the sand replica of the Andes Mountains, which was quite accurate in your own opinion. Having it grinded down to nothing, to a footprint of a bully’s unforgiving torture was the last straw. 
“What are you gonna do about it, loner?” One boy asked.
“Ha ha, good one!” The others cheered on his infantile belittlement.
You didn’t think words sanctioned a fitting reprimand for their actions which led you to throwing a handful of sand, aimed at their face. It wasn’t enough to do any physical damage, but it had been more than enough to elicit anger and fill the opened-mouthed laughs of the three other boys with the specks of dirt and other fine sediments. One boy cupped a clump of sand around a medium-sized rock and pelted your arm with it.
Hoseok, who had been sitting a few yards away, turned to see where the pained yelp originated. When his eyes laid on you and the way you had been rubbing a rock-shaped red mark on your left arm, he felt the muscles in his legs moving him before his brain told him to help you. Quite heroically, he leapt between the blockade of three boys and you, fists clenched and eyes narrowing to push the little roughness he had in his soft facial features against them.
“Leave. Go pick on someone else.” Hoseok warned with an edge that had two of the three boys tutting their heads down in shame.
“Oh yeah? What are you, ___’s boyfriend?” 
“I’m the guy who’s gonna beat you up if you don’t leave.” It had been the conviction in his voice that held all the power. The voice of an angel to you, and to them, the voice that made picking on the defenseless loner not worth the trouble. They all retreated to kick around dirt at each other giving Hoseok the chance to turn around and check your arm’s injury.
“Are you okay?” He sat down next to you, and to your surprise, there was just enough room for him in this tiny sandbox. 
“Yeah, it’s just a bruise. It’ll go away.”
“I’m sorry about those guys… I- I think they’re dumb jerks.” This little slight towards them was quite modest in comparison to how Hoseok spoke in his later years. It wasn’t intended to insult the bullies necessarily, but to show he was on your side. That you didn’t have to play in the sandbox alone anymore if he was lucky enough for your picky taste in friends to acquire a bias towards him
“Yeah, major jerks. They ruined my Andes Mountains.” You were shoving around some sand to piece together the broken sculpture.
“Why the Andes Mountains?”
“I don’t know. They’re cool! They’re super tall, have you seen them?” In some way, it wasn’t the mountains that were feeding your excitement and the discussion, though short, was much longer than anything you experienced before Hoseok. Not only did you ward off the few people that stumbled into your sandbox, but many kids began avoiding you altogether. 
“No, but I’ve seen pictures of other mountains.”
“I’ve seen them! They’re big and rocky and they go alllllll the way up to the sky!” Your arms shot up to mimic the mammoth Andes mountains. 
“I’ve never seen a mountain like that but I’ve seen a volcano.”
“Woah! Where?”
“It was on some beach. I don’t really remember.”
“You’ve been to the beach? I’ve always wanted to go! The beach is like one giant sandbox.” Hoseok chuckled at your fascination. If he could travel back in time, he would have befriended you long ago so you wouldn’t have to wish to go to the beach. You would have already been there - with him.
“It’s so fun! I found a jellyfish on the shore and threw it back into the ocean and it didn’t even sting me!” Now you had been laughing at his whimsical personality. 
“You’re weird… I like you.”
“Could I- Could I help you?” Hoseok asked this, already preparing himself to an untimely demise of his efforts to befriend you. 
You paused. Your empty arena of friends had gained a candidate well-suited for your liking. Even as a child, you knew the trope of ‘boys who bully you only do so because they have a crush on you’ was just a way to excuse the brazen attitudes of entitled little boys. Hoseok wasn’t like any of those boys. He was kind, he spoke gently when he asked to play with you. He fit into the sandbox with you and you didn’t mind the company. 
The answer was clear.
“Yeah sure. Grab a shovel!” You didn’t bother looking at him, though his eyes were immovable from you. 
“If you wet the sand it sticks together better.” He said, attempting to prove himself an asset to your sand mountain construction.
“I never thought about that. Thank you.” This piece of advice was the first of many gifts this boy would give to you. 
One could assume the rapid advancement of your affection towards him could be due to how easy it was for younger children to build attachments with one another. However, that could not single-handedly explain the way you already felt close to him and how when he wasn’t in the sandbox with you, the vast space was not comforting as it once was. Not in the slightest. It could not explain how you and him never fought over petty things such as sharing the red bucket or whose sandcastle was better. He, without fail, insisted yours was always best. How your fondness of him only grew whenever he handled you in a much more tender way than he handled the bullies, no longer coming around to throw rocks and mean words at you.
“Wanna have a playdate?” You proposed in an uncharacteristic lapse of valor. 
“Um…” The hesitance wasn't because he was opposed in the slightest to this offer, but the little details of his life that often got in the way of building normal relationships, “Yeah.”
“Yay! I just have to ask my mommy first. She will probably want to meet your parents.” You said while molding the sand into a pointed mound.
“I don’t…” He stilled his fingers against the dampened sand, hoping it would calm the fast pace of his heart. “I don’t have parents. I’m a foster kid.”
You didn’t give an immediate response, instead turning your attention over to the boy who was unable to move from mortification. It confused you that he felt ashamed of this, your young, well-intentioned mind unaware of the negative implications and stigmas that surrounded being in the foster system. You simply smiled.
“Well, that's ok! Mommy will just be happy I’m finally having a playdate.” You said, shearing away the depth to this aspect of Hoseok. He was surprised, and also comforted in the fact that him being a foster child was no bigger of a deal than the color of his hair or the size of his shoes. As if this trait of his was something normal. He felt normal with you, and his inexperienced heart couldn’t decorate the thankfulness he felt with the right words.
“I’m Hoseok, by the way.”
“I’m ___.”
And the rest was history.
With him, the world didn’t matter. The end of recess didn’t stalk your mind. The threat of mean boys had become unthreatening. The lonesome life that you were comfortable with now felt like pins and needles against your body. The idea of friendship that once felt like pins and needles was comfortable, with Hoseok. To think, you had been fooling yourself into believing you were okay with being lonely and that you would have never come to terms with the emotional poverty that being alone subjected you to if it weren’t for him. Because with him, you believed the byword adults would regularly preach ‘sharing is caring’. You nursed a considerable affection towards Hoseok to care for him and had now realized you had far too much space in your sandbox to not share it with him.
“Thank you for being my friend.” You said, in the wake of all the goodness of friendship he had introduced you to.
In sixth grade you weren’t worried about a new school or leeching onto a clique. The burden of belonging didn’t barge in on your life like it had most of your peers. You had the privilege of being best friends with Hoseok. He told you on the day of your fifth-grade promotion that middle school wasn’t so scary, not when he had you. There was nothing for you to do but trust in him, not because you had to, but because you wanted to and because you knew he would always be honest with you.
It was you, Hoseok, and the little sandbox against the world… until it was not.
Unlike the end of elementary school, the end of middle school was met with no such promises of the kindling allegiance Hoseok used to assure you of. You assumed it was because his consistency in your life now went without being said. However, you learned this was a terribly incorrect assessment.
The start of high school was when everything changed. The seasons cycled through right before your eyes, and you weren’t ready for the new semester of school that Autumn brought. What you had been even more unready for was the gradual disappearance of Hoseok from your life. When he’d been drawn to certain promiscuities and stopped coming over for the weekly visits and soon forgot the comfort of fresh linen and lemon. You wanted to ask him, or rather, plead that he wouldn’t drift. The only certainty in your life was becoming more and more unseen and, in his place, an evasive fog to renounce him from your vision altogether. There was nothing for you to do but let him go, not because you wanted to, but because you had to.
Because he stopped looking at you and forced a cold divide between you two without negotiation.
Eventually, you made friends though not nearly of the same caliber as Hoseok. Most of your connections felt shallow and a bit forced and you knew there was no way in hell you would have let them into the sandbox with you if you were a kid again. Not in the way you let Hoseok; you hated living with that knowledge.
It was horribly painful the way he tore the plant of his body from your life. He’d buried the seeds and began to fertilize your world with companionship and intimacy. He grew with every step that you grew, however the bud of your friendship hadn’t the chance to blossom before he ripped out every root tangled within the inner workings of your life.
He had abandoned you in the dark night of doubt and confusion and aloneness. Half of your broken heart was somewhat glad he didn’t tell you why he had done this because it would have been devastating to find out he simply didn’t like being around you anymore. That horrific thought that the need for you to be in his life grown to a rusted nonessential was second to aloneness in being the worst thing he left you with. The other half of your heart was dedicated to wishing he would walk into your life again.
Why would he do that to you? 
And more importantly, how could he do that to you? He knew there were no two things more fitting for each other than the two of you. So how could he dispose of the one thing that meant everything to you and leave it to rot in the soil with the rest of the broken, decaying promises? 
There was a reason, and he forbade himself from telling you. He was so ashamed of his bones that he decided to cover every fond memory and every scar that turned his skeleton textured with permanent divots with endless layers of skin.
The half of your heart that longed for him eventually merged with the other half that felt nothing but complete abandonment. The sandbox was of single occupancy once again. You hated him for that.
 Present day
Hoseok’s eyes were full. Not of bloodshot vessels along the whites of the eye and not of worry that Dickson would catch them. They were full, almost outweighing the irises, with none other than melancholy and tears. Real, wet tears. He could blink away the tears and wipe them on the sleeve of his flannel, but he couldn't disengage the melancholy, the utter sadness from infecting his eyes. 
Looking up at the tiled walls of the bathroom, there waxed a bitter disgust in his chest for going so long, far too many years, looking at anything that wasn't your eyes. His labored efforts to keep away from you, not even allowing himself the option to explain the purge of you from his life, was bitter. Disgusting. It filled him with more guilty tears. 
He wasn’t crying for himself or the pressing torture he had endured for the majority of his life. He was crying for you. He was crying for the fact that he couldn’t tell you all the reasons he’d left you and tarnished the purity of your smooth skin. He was crying for hurting you, he was not oblivious to it. 
Yes, he was crying. The portrait held a valid hypothesis of the future. An older Hoseok, crying for fear of losing you. For you.
He waited a few minutes longer, giving enough time to account for any sudden stops or distractions that might have been littered in the path of the other’s transfer back to the library. Hoseok stood, checking the mirror that the tears were dried, and the melancholy was clouded with a redeeming fog, and then made his way back to the library.
No one, not you, not even the thick skinned Hoseok could be immune to the commands of timing. It was unavoidable, the misfortune that timing would always sweep over the lives of you and Hoseok. Dickson was second to timing on being an unavoidable force of annoyance and persecution. Walking down the extensive, closed hallway gave Hoseok no possible divergent path to escape the hunt that Dickson seemed to be on. 
“Well, well, well. Look who we have here? I’m disappointed to say I’m not surprised to see you breaking the one rule I enforced.” The completely irrational and dictatorial rule that he had been referring to, of course, had Hoseok’s rejection of it written all over the way he strolled through the halls. 
Any number of excuses would have cushioned the blow of Dickson’s repercussive actions about to be set in a meticulous line. He could have said he honestly needed to relieve himself or that he was feeling nauseous and needed some air and a quick lap around the halls. But he didn’t want to make excuses for himself. 
Hoseok had been parading around this Saturday as if he had enough skin to protect him against the external forces of you, Dickson, even the other three boys. He was tired, reaching the apex of a tall cliff, climbing and climbing to what seemed like an abstracted end without the comfort of a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on during this tiresome journey. And now, he just wanted to let his body fall down the agglomeration of his own barricades.
“I was smoking weed in the bathroom.” His defeat from trying and his apathy towards Dickson’s belligerent blows left him on the bottom of the cliff. There was no use in standing, in climbing again. No use but to fall and wait for the day to end.
Dickson took this vulnerability to his advantage. He was all too quick and far too eager to sink his teeth into the thin skin on Hoseok. As he was drinking the juices of all the power he felt entitled to, his thirst grew morbid, thinking the only way to quench it was to swallow every last drop of dignity from Hoseok’s body.
“You, Hoseok. You act like you’re top dog. You do whatever you want, whenever you want, and what does that leave you with? You’re never going to be satisfied. You’re gonna end up empty and broken just like the family you never had.” This was beyond crossing the line. Dickson had stomped over it, pummeled it into mush, spit his dirty hatred in it, and perverted every aspect of Hoseok’s life that had once been latched safely behind the line. “No wonder you’re such a troublemaker. You’re desperate for any sort of attention or authority because you never had the father figure in your life to set you straight. And even if you did, even if the world gave you every privilege and shortcut to living a better life, you would still probably be empty, broken, and useless to everyone around you. What are you gonna do? You’re gonna graduate in a year and I can safely bet you have no plans. You’re going to end up a nobody. A loser. Just another unwanted orphan.” 
The Hoseok four hours ago would kiss his knuckles against Dickson’s lip before he had the chance to finish grinding him to a pulp with those words. The Hoseok at twelve o’ clock, four hours older, was tired and swept in his anguish of losing you, or perhaps letting you go, or even worse, pushing you away. The tonnage of all these put his head into a haze and he couldn’t see Dickson, not that he wanted to. He couldn't see you, your eyes, even when he fell to his knees and begged the universe for that. He couldn’t smell fresh linen and lemon, only the faint memory of them which was quickly fading. The fog was surrounding, enclosing, imprisoning him but for what crime? For being the one who never seemed to be at the right place at the right times?
“Get your ass back to the library, Jung.” Dickson let this command roll off his tongue as if he’d been dubbed a place on a shiny pedestal. As if anyone in their right minds would have honored him for degrading the most fragile parts of Hoseok and shredding the sensitive skin of the man already fallen to the base of a cliff.
Wordless, visionless, Hoseok walked in a slump past Dickson to the library. Though, this book-filled prison felt safer than outside. Because it had you, it had the memory of your laughs and your eyes. It had the people who, though annoyed, still cared to give him more respect than he deserved. 
And everyone, especially you, were increasingly worried about the amount of time it took Hoseok to get back. The others almost settled on the conclusion that he had been caught and put in some sort of solitary confinement by Dickson. Toes curling and hands fisted, you prayed that he would return. You prayed and it cleared all the hatred from you, still leaving a few stains of resentment for him. You resented him, but hated? Not in the slightest. 
It was shocking, more so than your hatred of him, how in just four hours your animosity transformed into something tame and a little bit bruised and quite dramatically opposite of hatred. In hatred, one wants nothing to do with the other. In resentment, one seeks resolve with the other. You wanted him here and you wanted his eyes to make contact for longer than thirty seconds to make some sort of amends. 
“I’m guessing what's worrying you right now isn’t your essay?” Namjoon tacked a concern in his question and through the way he had been staring at the empty seat behind you, there was no doubt he was talking about Hoseok.
“I don’t know why I care. He’s the one who decided to leave.” The low hanging grin was the best ‘I’m fine’ face you could pull. It was no use against someone like Namjoon who, within seconds, painted a part of you gone unvisited by anyone, including yourself. “He probably ditched. He can never commit to anything.”
“Ouch. Didn’t know you took detention so seriously.” You and him were well aware that these questions were void of their surface meaning. The connotations strung onto his every word had encoded his knowledge of what was really going on and he was about to get it out of you. “You and him were friends in middle school right? I think I remember. You guys would always eat lunch together.”
You were about to correct him and tell him you’d actually been friends since the first grade, but you decided against it. What were you trying to prove by saying that, anyway?
“Yeah, well, that was a long time ago.” 
“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry.”
“No, it's nothing you have to be sorry about. It’s probably nothing he has to be sorry about either. It's just me setting my expectations too high and disappointing myself.” You paused to stilt the quiver in your voice about to crack through your words. No one had ever asked about what happened with you and Hoseok. No one had ever cared enough to even wonder. This was a first for you.
“I don’t see it that way. I think he’s lonelier than he lets on.” Namjoon wasn’t sure of what he was trying to prove, but he certainly harnessed more emotional intelligence than you had assumed. 
You suddenly felt guilty for doing the lazy thing of resigning him to a label, a slightly dehumanizing one at that, without even having one full conversation with him. 
“Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“I don't know. I’m not sure why I said that, but I just felt like I needed to say sorry. You’re a good guy, Namjoon.” The grin bubbling from your lips was not a front this time. You were genuinely, profoundly touched by the way he’d shown you compassion about the Hoseok situation like no other did. 
“Thanks, I guess.” He chuckled at the randomness of it, but knew you meant well and that you fully knew why you were apologetic. Feeling seen past the stigma pinned on his back, he knew you only meant well.
Right when you were about to give up and mark this as another self-designed hope that failed to be upheld, timing came to your aid. 
For once, it did and it brought Hoseok with it.
“I just got chewed out by Dickhead.” 
Despite the sting, the way he rubbed against the raw wound left by Dickson, it felt better than admitting it hurt him so. To make light of his deepest cuts and sprinkle a bit of his own salt in the wound, well, that was what Hoseok specialized in.
Seokjin, still riding on the waves of his high, walked over to Hoseok and wrapped him in a hug as if he had been gone for days. Hoseok stood still, he didn’t return the hug, nor did he shove Seokjin off of him. It wasn’t because he fancied a hug from this strange boy, but more so he felt too awkward to move or even react.
“Dude, we thought you died. We thought he killed you.” Eventually, Hoseok gathered the resolve to lightly nudge Seokjin from his personal space. 
“Well, I’m alive so you can stop hugging me.”
“Hoseok, what happened? Did he get you in trouble?” You sounded far more concerned than the rest. You really wanted to know if he was okay, but you found that it filtered through your throat with an overly mild expression of that. Still, he caught this, along with every other subtlety in your voice, and wanted more than anything to tell you the truth.
No, he thought, He did something far worse. I would have rather taken a lifetime of detentions than to have been forced to witness the sickeningly honest criticisms Dickson threw into my already melancholy, tearful eyes. How he left that interaction unscathed and I was drenched in the pain of facing my truth.
But the words didn't come out. He didn’t feel like anyone would care about what he said anyway, and he didn’t feel like dragging you into more of his issues.
“He just got all worked up about his no leaving the room policy. The usual ‘how dare you go against me’ sort of speech. I honestly didn’t really pay attention.” His eyes trailed to the floor.
“What a dick. Sorry, man.” Jimin said while yawning, unrecovered from the Indica induced drowsiness.
“Yeah sorry, but I’m sure you got in a few good comebacks, right?” Namjoon asked.
“Yeah, for sure.” Hoseok would have otherwise been boasting about the way he fired back against Dickson. You were expecting that, and when it failed to come you knew something was wrong.
Namjoon had been drawing a new picture while he asked this. Absent-mindedly enough to not notice Hoseok’s shaken behavior. The sketch was of the five of you, sitting in a circle. It was laid back, with a touch of delight that shed the new bond forming between you all into a visible light. No one in that room would have guessed this Saturday to turn out the way it did, however none of you really cared for the alternative outcomes. You were all just glad you were living through this one. 
The one that was encapsulated by the painting, the erasure of circumstantial union by a wave of perfectly crafted comradery. This wasn’t some deep insight of Namjoon’s, not like the ones in the individual portraits he drew. This was not of blind guesses or improbable hopes. This was clear to him, to you, to everyone. 
There were no such distractions to clamor your notice of his timid mannerisms. The way he walked a bit too quietly to his desk as if someone had stripped him down to nudeness for all eyes to witness. And just like before, when he first walked into the library, he found his seat without a single glance in your direction. Though, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel frustrated with him. Not when his worries were more real and devastating than his portrait. 
This time it was different on two accounts. One, your ambition for him to look to you was not so you could relish in the guilt tripping stare he would be met with. The reasons you wanted him to look to you now was because you wanted him to know he was seen and was anything but alone. Whatever Dickson said or did was not a burden he had to shoulder on his own. And two, he didn’t sit behind you, didn’t try to avoid the unavoidable. He sat right next to you, in the scant space of your table, and there was enough room for him; even in the smallest spaces, there would always be enough room for him anywhere you were.
The scenery of him was bringing it all back. The sandbox, the mountains of sand, the young savior with the heart of gold. The love of having him by your side and the pain of his gutting absence. The roots of him were sliding back between your veins, once again seeking habitat for the bloom of friendship, or something more. 
Look at me, you wanted to say. I’m finally able to see you again. Can you see me? We’re all here, Hoseok. Jimin, Namjoon, Seokjin, and me. We’re all here, waiting for your eyes. Waiting to see the bones beneath your skin.
“Hobi, are you okay?” This time you made sure your whisper only touched Hoseok’s ears.
“I don’t know. I don't know anymore.” He couldn’t see you and he had no idea you had been waiting for him, in the fog, all this time. 
 One week ago
The text read that the study group you had been invited to join, courtesy of your friend Lisa, had a study session on the second-floor study room. It wasn’t to hang out, just to study, and you wished it would be more than that. At least a part of you did. The other part of you, the one still hung up on something that happened long ago and the same part of you that liked to play in the sandbox alone, didn’t care that most of your friendly interactions had been surface level. 
One day, you’d meet with a few friends for coffee, or another you’d meet up with a group to study, and the more you hung out with people, the less personal friendship began to feel.
Friendship without Hoseok began to feel like a business exchange, or a mechanical interaction that had become overproduced and of less quality. Like pulling the same lever repeatedly, until it became a boring chore. Not to say you didn’t appreciate it. Though shallow, trite, and forced, it was more than Hoseok ever gave you these days.
But the text made you feel lonely, like an add on or an afterthought. Simply someone to fill an extra seat at the table. You wanted to feel like you weren’t just going through life without connecting, but connections were placed at such a high standard, thanks to Hoseok, that they were hard to come by.
Your teacher passed you through the halls, you tried to avoid eye contact but that made it even more obvious you didn’t want to talk to her. You both exchanged a cordial greeting and flung a few thoughtless comments about the weather into the mix to prevent any awkwardness. It was raining, you said. The rain looked like it was going to clear up, but still looks foggy out there, your teacher responded. She walked to her office and you returned to reality. 
Your reality. Alone.
You stared at the bulletin board and the dozens of neon colored flyers for new clubs and campus organizations. Band? You were hardly the musician. Physics? Barely passing Chemistry answered that quickly enough. Chess? You’d rather be lonely. Maybe it was pathetic, but you wondered why there wasn’t a club for finding people. No underlying activity, no common hobby shared amongst the group, just a club to help a few lonely souls feel a little less lonely. For people who had a hard time meeting friends and an even harder time keeping them. Where was that club?
You walked past the school’s cafe, not needing the caffeine to wind yourself up over the impeding awareness of how alone you felt today. Monday. The day of reckoning it seemed. When you felt alone, as you did today, your thoughts could only gather memories of Hoseok to cheer you up. To remember that once you weren’t so alone, it definitely felt better than remembering you were alone.
You and Hoseok had been diametrically opposed ever since the gradual end of your friendship. He’d become somewhat of a rebel and you stayed humbled and quiet. The once parallel lines of your souls running along the span of seven years together had diverged, his line east and yours, west, by the time you hit the eighth year. 
Today, all alone, you decided to start walking east. Not that you were looking for Hoseok necessarily, you were simply hoping to find something, or someone. It was that decision, along with the various others, that had you walking east and trying to get home before the rain fell again. You could have been surrounded by a group of classmates by now, who were half discussing the contents of the next Statistics exam and half meandering about what they were going to do this weekend, but that wouldn’t change the fact that you felt alone. 
Just like the one who played in the sandbox, you’d rather be alone while feeling alone. Though solitary walks in the rain meant you weren’t of any access to distractions. You began to wonder, which was never a good thing in your case, why you felt alone? There must be something wrong with you. Everyone else seemed to get along with the idea of friendship no matter the depth of them. You had concluded maybe ‘sociable’ wasn’t programmed in your DNA because sometimes you found yourself absolutely hating the idea. But that couldn’t be true because there was a part of your life that you spent loving the idea. Not just the idea, but the real deal as well. What could it be then? What was the reason you walked alone this Monday afternoon?
There he was. The moment you saw him you knew he was the reason.
“Hoseok.” You hadn’t felt those syllables in that order fall from your lips for quite some time, only hearing it in your head made him seem nearly unreal. But he was real, so was his name.
He had a cigarette stuck between his lips, then soon his fingers, leaning on the seat of his jet-black motorcycle. You were walking closer to him, slowly, like the way one would approach a wild animal so not to scare them off. Your steps drew you back to first grade again, and proximity wise, you were just as close to him as you were in the sand box. However, your hearts hadn’t even been in the same country.
“Do you need something?” The worst part about what he said was the fact that he didn’t mention your name. As if your name hadn’t crossed his mind in four years unlike how his was practically branded between the wrinkles of your brain. As if, to him, losing you was nothing more than a check off of some to-do list, a chore, a burden he was just trying to get over with. So, it was absolutely pathetic what you thought immediately in response to what he asked.
I need you.
“You smoke?”
“No, I just like holding cigarettes in my mouth.” Your eyes rolled to this, feeling a shockwave disassembling the Hoseok you remembered in your head. He was entirely new, not the boy who liked to go to the beach and played with sand, and you had a hard time recognizing him with this new skin he wore and the fog that, as your teacher guessed, was thickly lurking through the air. 
“How are you?” You thought this was a dumb question because you knew he would answer with some short winded, meaningless ‘good’ or ‘fine’ or maybe he wouldn’t even say anything at all, leading to a fateful dead-end to this dragged out conversation. It was enough to make you equally eager and exhausted. If you could call what you felt for him with words, it would be hate. Probably.
His face looked paler than it had before, and his hands looked like it would feel like ice if you touched them. You used to touch them all the time, and they were warm and looked just as warm as they felt. If you touched them now, would they be as cold as his voice? Would he even let you?
“I’d say I’m quite annoyed that someone decided to interrupt my peace and quiet.” He flicked the butt of the cigarette to shave a few ashes off the end of the stick. You just shook your head at how he didn’t hide the way he dodged your questions with insincerity.
“Sorry, jeez... How the tables have turned.” 
“What?”
“Oh just that,” You paused to wonder if him asking what you meant was some subtle indication he wanted to continue talking to you but you settled your bets on that being wishful thinking. Besides, you hated him so why should you care? “Way back when, I remember the roles were reversed. You were the one interrupting my peace and quiet.”
“I distinctly remember saving your life.” To you, no matter how desperate it was, any sort of mild banter with him was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, treasured with the memories stored in your chest. This was certainly the case being that in almost four years, the little he said to you now was the most he’d probably ever say to you in the rest of your lifetime. You took what you could get, after all, beggars can’t be choosers.
“Okay, calm down, you saved me from getting sand in my hair and down my pants.” You laughed and took a subconscious step closer to him. Carefully, lightly as not to scare him away because Hoseok looked stiff and distant minded when he saw you move towards him.
The mumble was registered clearly by Hoseok from the way you watched his partial scowl transform into a barely intelligible smile. You saw it, despite how small it was, and you missed the way he looked when he smiled at you. You missed knowing why he smiled, since right now you had no idea what prompted him to curve his lips the slightest bit upwards. More than that, you missed being the reason he smiled. That was selfish, maybe, and far-fetched from the looks of the gaping distance he seemed to be as comfortable with as you were uncomfortable.
“Li-”
“You-”
“Oh, you go.” His and your eyes were both fixed on the cigarette twirling between his fingers. And though you haven’t talked to him in a while, you knew that the tapping and twirling of his fingers was one of his habits to soothe his nervousness. 
Was he nervous? 
You wanted to carve the part of your brain dedicated to overthinking, specifically when it came to Hoseok, out of your skull. You hated the fact that you overanalyzed his every movement down to the twitch of his ears more than the fact that you cared enough to do so in the first place, and you hated that more than the man himself.
“You shouldn’t put that stuff in your body.” From the way his eyes didn’t move from the cigarette, it felt like you could have said nothing at all. He brushed it aside as if he was never intending on listening to you in the first place.
No, you thought, not Hobi. He would care, I think. He has to care enough about himself to keep his body healthy. And for some reason, above all the other overthought thoughts, that one seemed to scare you the most. If he didn’t care about you anymore, and he didn’t care about himself, then did he care about anything at all?
“Mm.” His gruff response fit unfortunately well with his hand, the one with the cigarette, that was moving towards his mouth again as if it were some act of defiance against you. 
Your hand moved to curl around his wrist, which began a new set of overthought thoughts about how rough his skin felt against your hand. Soon, you found your thumb grazing softly along the underside of his forearm. It was you double checking to make sure this was the same skin as the Hoseok you knew before, an accidental gesture born out of instinct rather than methodic planning, something that, if he asked, you wouldn’t be able to explain. For the time being, you did everything you could to investigate where his new nihilistic attitude had bloomed from.
Before the ten second mark of this abnormal, slightly familiar contact, you channeled every neuron in your body to signal your hand to let go of him. He seemed blind sighted enough for you to snag the cigarette out of his hands and into your own.
“Do you want a hole in your neck?” 
“What are you doing?” He didn’t sound as angry as you expected him to be. Moreover, he looked worried which under sighted your awareness of the deft approach to reach for his cigarette back.
“Like I said, the tables have turned. Now, it’s me who’s saving your life.” 
Before you could throw it on the ground and flatten out the flame with your shoe, you braced for the unforced mistake of looking into his eyes and seeing nothing. All that was sitting in the socket of his eyes was a lusterless fog. You wanted to see his eyes more than you wanted him to care, which was an odd transition being that his care had been the top priority ever since freshman year. Your hands were gloved by warm cotton, but you would have taken them off to hold his hand and make them warm with yours.
“Hey!” You thought that was just in your head. Maybe the voice of reason to advise you from holding his hand because that would be extremely weird to do to an estranged friend. But it wasn’t a voice of reason that stopped you, it was quite possibly the worst person to stumble upon this encounter. “No smoking on campus!”
You turned around and saw Dickson’s manic expression then immediately turned to the cigarette that was in your hand. 
Shit.
“I can explain! It wasn’t-”
“Can it, ___! No excuses.” Dickson’s eyes trailed to the pack of cigarettes that the one in your hand was sourced from. He didn’t say anything, just shook his head and reached into the pocket of his blazer to pull out that notorious pink pad of detention slips. With nothing more than a smug grin flashed like bright headlights against you and Hoseok, one that you would grow to hate more than anything, Dickson turned and strut away with long strides and an elevated self-esteem.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you this Saturday, princess.” He smirked. To you, it was a mockery and some sort of reprisal for taking his hand and his cigarette soon after. 
“Fuck you.” You turned away to walk a petty five or so yards away from him before some gravitational force pulled your head to turn back to him. To see if he was watching, perhaps waiting for you to walk back over to him but sure enough he’d kicked his leg over the seat of his motorcycle and started the engine long before you walked halfway towards where you were left to do nothing but watch him leave. He became smaller and smaller, hazier and hazier, and then unforeseeable in the fog.
You watched him leave, and you were almost sure you hated him.
 One week ago
[Hoseok’s POV]
It was enraging and inconvenient for the weather to fog up right as school let out. Hoseok had more trouble driving his motorcycle when there was too much clutter in the air that disoriented the view of the road. He rarely stayed on campus for longer than he needed to, but it looked like he needed to. On the brighter side of things, Hoseok didn’t have to return to his foster house that smelled of old, wet, rotting rags and sounded of strained but persistent screams of his foster parents. 
Even sitting in the fog, sucking in the burn of nicotine, was better than going back there. Days similar to these, days intruding his week more often than not, he found himself stuck between a place he wanted nothing to do with and a place he could envision through a pixelated glare that brought him warmth, quiet tranquility, fresh linen, and lemon. The arms that would meet his body and wrap him snug against another body, then the excited face of yours that met with his equally excited face. 
It was a shame he could only live out these delights through an array of distant artifacts far too old to expel the loneliness from his heart.
Monday was whirling him through a pool of memories he’d rather keep covered up; it was winter and there was no need to swim in such a pool unless he deemed the risk of freezing to death a tenable substitution for smoking cigarettes in the fog. But it was not a matter of whether he would willingly dive into the pool, rather it was whether or not he could keep himself from falling in or even being pushed in.
Hoseok hadn’t seen your face in nearly four years. Of course, he saw you around the campus, strolling the halls or sitting in the cafeteria. He hadn’t seen your face, however, the way he used to look at it before high school. When he was a child free to flagrantly admire what his heart fancied as beautiful, there was no remorse or guilt from the way his eyes brazenly printed the details of your face into his memory. The creases at the sides of your mouth, the ends of your eyes that were pushed closed by the force of your cheek, and the number of teeth visible when you would smile had been graphed out like a mathematical equation; he was of the few that could solve it between the interval of two seconds. He knew where the inner portion of your eyebrows began and how far down the tip of your nose rested on your face along with the lining of your hair scaling the top of your forehead better than he knew any geographical map studied in school.
Most importantly, he studied your eyes more meticulously than he had his own eyes. Not your arms, or hands, or even the support of your legs could carry as much as your eyes. Hoseok liked to look at them when you smiled because they held the softness of a blanket after a tiring day burdened by a snowstorm. He could see it so clearly, a vast cloth in your eyes made specifically to wrap around a body in need of warmth.
But when you were angry, they held the wildest fires that would burn down anything in their line of vision. No matter how difficult it was to look at your eyes when they were sad, he was familiar with the molting roses that made your tears look like wilting petals; it was unsurprising that even in sadness, you shed beauty from your eyes. 
To him, you were the most beautiful being he’d ever gotten the chance to see.
He loved seeing your face, even if the only way he could do so now was through the partially disfigured memories of his younger self. He was sad to say he had no current frame of reference to jar in his mental gallery of you. There was no way he could look at you on the will of his own because he was afraid to unsheathe the distance and repression set to protect you from him
There was no way, because he would have probably fallen in love with you all over again.
He was about to leave, but a gust of wind blew him towards the decision to smoke one more cigarette before surrendering to the house that smelled and felt quite the opposite of one place he truly considered his home. 
And then he saw you. Walking slowly, and you looked so frightened of him. In all fairness, there was no reason for you to look at him with anything other than repugnance and unease because he turned quite jagged over the years.
You, however, were a relic of the past. Like a highly revered piece of art in a museum of grandeur, with the flawlessly manicured, picturesque beauty that couldn’t be bothered with the touch of Hoseok’s calloused hands. He could only stare from behind the velvet roped boundary that kept his body from melting into the art of you.
“Hoseok.” Your voice doubled down on the apprehension that tensed your walk up to him. He pulled the cigarette from his lips, feeling it inappropriate to have such a foul thing in his mouth if he were to greet you. 
You looked so beautiful. So different from the thinly spread memories of your face; your cheeks had grown into maturation but still maintained a soft innocence. When he looked in your eyes, he did not see roses or raging fires or warming blankets, in fact, he could barely recognize them let alone see what they were holding. It hurt more than the smoke battering his lungs.
Get your shit together. Get away from ___. He reminded himself in an incriminating manner.
“Do you need something?” How he had the ability to keep his mind wrapped around you but spewed words forcing you away was beyond any comprehension. Nonetheless, he did it, simultaneously scolding and applauding himself for not reverting to the version of him that would have greeted you with a soft hug or loving smile.
“You smoke?” The disappointment packed into your voice put him at an odd with himself. 
Finding the frustration plowing through his chest, he processed these self-aggressions through a misdirection onto an unsuspecting victim. One he never thought deserving to be the target of his projected anger, but then again, it was the only way to hinder your warm hands from digging beneath his skin.
“No, I just like holding cigarettes in my mouth.” He exhaled relief, along with the rest of the smoke inhabiting his lungs, that you had rolled your eyes. His charade was fooling you into annoyance, keeping you just out of his reach where you belonged. 
“How are you?” Or maybe this act of his was not working as well as he thought, since you padded these questions down like you had nothing better to do. Hoseok began to feel worried, the brimming loneliness was about to unleash through the conversation you were, for some reason, trying to initiate.
If you were to go away, it would break me again. But, at least, it would keep my skin intact.
“I’d say I’m quite annoyed that someone decided to interrupt my peace and quiet.” He freed his cigarette from the ashes bunching at the end, hoping you would mimic this riddance. Maybe you would see he had burnt your body to an ash, and sooner or later the entire cigarette would fall away to black dust. If you saw that, would you finally have the sense to leave him?
He couldn’t stand looking at your eyes. To behold such beauty, suspended from any chance to have your body against his was nothing less that torture to him because he was so very cold, and you looked like you harbored enough warmth in your fingertips alone to cure him of it.
“Sorry, jeez… How the tables have turned.” 
Hoseok bit down against the side of his cheek hard enough to steal a bit of blood from his gums and to keep him from asking what your eyes were holding today, and if you would be so kind as to give him a piece of it to feed his empty, starving eyes.
So, he settled on:
“What?”
“Oh just that,” Hoseok panicked in the span of your brief pause. Could you notice he was asking for a bit of your eyes and warmth? He was fucking everything up as usual, he thought. “Way back when, I remember the roles were reversed. You were the one interrupting my peace and quiet.”
The jig had not been up yet, thankfully.
“I distinctly remember saving your life.” 
“Okay, calm down, you saved me from getting sand in my hair and down my pants.” When you stepped close to him, the film of fear once guarding your walk was scraped clean which led to more silent punishment for letting his selfish indulgences of your company get the best of him. 
His muscles couldn’t resist the smile bubbling under the thick skin on his lips. Not even skin, or fog, could hide the smiles that never seemed to run short with you. 
And it was the step, or how miserably trapped in the purgatory he felt, or how he smelled fresh linen and lemon exuding from your hair and clothes that pushed him into the pool of memories he’d been walking around, but avoiding submergence. 
It was deathly freezing. Now, he was fully submerged in the fluid-filled vat of your memories, however. It wasn’t the bone chilling frigidity of the water that had him reaching his arm out and gasping for air, but the enticing warmth of your body that stood above him, as if you were waiting for him to reach to your aid, for you to fill his depraved lungs with linen and lemon tinted oxygen.
“Li-”
“You-”
“Oh, you go.” He believed it was better that you spoke.
“You shouldn't put that stuff in your body.” 
The broken levers and switches and pulleys which made up the inner mechanisms of his body found your banal suggestions as the only surge of kindness his old machinery had felt for a while. He’d heard it before; the Health Education segments, the anti-smoking adverts, the doctor’s orations tunneling out of his ears as quickly as they entered. But your words were caught like traffic in his head, so much that it blocked all entry of a fiery retort to pass through his mouth.
“Mm.” He mumbled because you were right. He shouldn’t be smoking; he shouldn’t be doing a lot of things but some of his actions felt out of his control at this point of his life.
Unprepared could not describe the intense degree of shock Hoseok felt when your fingers wrapped around his wrist so attentively. He was reaching his arm out, waiting to be removed from the cold and isolated pool he’d fallen into (or perhaps pushed into by you), but he never expected his hand to be met. He predicted he would spend eternity reaching to no avail, left to drown in this chilling pond of memories that rendered him frozen in the world of the past. Instead, his body reunited with the dryness of the air.
Hoseok hoped you couldn't feel the embarrassingly quick speed of his pulse with your thumb that rested right against his artery.
“Do you want a hole in your neck?”
He would have responded with: Could it be any worse than freezing to death?
“What are you doing?” His expressionless visage, one labored with hiding his worry, had fallen away from his face. 
The way the cigarette looked in your hands had him nearing a faint. To him, it felt like an accessory, like a bracelet or a belt, like it belonged in his hands. But when you held it, the small stick looked like it was going to leave permanent stains of corruption along your skin. It was absolutely abhorrent in your fingers. Any second, your entire body would be lurking with his repulsive residue and he thought it would kill him before it killed you.
“Like I said, the tables have turned. Now, it's me who’s saving your life.” 
That was the tipping point for him. The surge of tender nostalgia. The last bid of persuasion he needed to grab your wrist instead and press his mouth against yours, warm and wet and gentle. And he would have done exactly that, he would have kissed you and offered his last breath to your lungs if not for the unexpected saving grace that arrived in the form of a bitter vice principal.
“Hey!” Dickson’s approach was followed with the inevitability of detention. Hoseok only knew this to be true because even when he wasn’t smoking on campus or doing something that would elicit a detention, Dickson always found a way of weaving in reason to prosecute Hoseok. “No smoking on campus!”
“I can explain! It wasn't-” 
“Can it, ___! No excuses.” Hoseok was in his own world now, counting down the seconds until the pink slip of detention would be presented in front of him on a rusty silver platter. When Dickson walked away, he found it fitting to begin breathing once again.
“Looks like I’ll be seeing you this Saturday, princess.” The mischief in his smirk bred the annoyance back into your chest, which was his goal of course. Before he got the chance to enact his sinful deed to close the space between your lips and his, he hopped on his motorcycle and wheeled himself to a safe distance. 
Cold and lonely, but safe.
He had the rest of the week to figure out how in the hell he was going to spend an entire day with you without looking into your eyes and breaking through the already vulnerable skin. 
 12:00 - 2:00
“Are you okay?” 
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
About two minutes after Jimin’s head took a dive, landed against the solid wood of the table, and snapped back awake, he looked a bit confused and tried to reattach himself to reality.
“Does anyone know what time it is?” 
“Twelve ten.” You and Namjoon answered in unison like you had been keeping track of every minute that passed since eight o’clock. 
“Time isn’t real.” The still high and rosy cheeked Seokjin mumbled out through a cluster of thoughts bumping around the otherwise empty space in his brain.
“I’m going to punch you.” Hoseok said, feeling sensitive to irritation after the denigration he had just undergone courtesy of a washed-out vice principal.
“Hoseok.” Your tone was a punishing command that needn’t more than the one-worded sternness to make Hoseok huff lightly in adherence. 
“It’s been,” Jimin paused to count with his fingers, “four hours already? It honestly hasn’t felt like it’s been that long.”
“Well, you know what they say.” Namjoon commented this with no further explanation as if Jimin had any actual clue to what the other boy was referring to.
“What? What do they say?” Jimin responded, expectant for the explanation.
“I know. Is it that time isn’t real?” You tried not to laugh at Seokjin’s re-utterance of his thoughts that were polished over with an intoxicated glaze, knowing your approbation to him would further aggravate Hoseok into actually punching Seokjin.
“How are you still that high, Jin?” Namjoon said through a soft chuckle.
“I don’t know it’s kind of freaking me out now. Am I gonna be high for the rest of my life?” 
“No and no. It’s that time goes by faster when you’re having fun.”
“That’s rich.” Hoseok took it upon himself to point out the irony and wicked hypocrisy of the insinuation that Jimin was having, of all things, fun with the four of you.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimin had almost forgotten Hoseok seemed to get the most satisfaction out of picking at Jimin specifically. 
Jimin wasn’t the easiest target since he was the furthest from a social pariah, Seokjin and Namjoon filled that slot, but he had both a namesake of being a star football player and a pyramidal structure of friends to lose from Hoseok’s unforgiving tongue. This made it much more satisfying to Hoseok.
“I just would have never guessed you would get off your high horse for a few hours to join the rest of us lowlifes. Consider me flattered.” This wasn’t the first or last sarcastic remark to whip tirelessly against Jimin however it was enough for Jimin to feel deserving of answers.
“Where do you keep getting this idea that I think of you guys as lowlifes?” 
“Oh, you wanna know?” Hoseok said, finding the clutter of denial Jimin had congregated around himself both ignorant and audacious. Even Namjoon and Seokjin found it astounding how gullible Jimin was towards his own refusal to admit an all too terrible truth.
“Please, enlighten me.” In the simplest terms, Jimin was in over his head to take on such a challenge with the amount of overzealous egoism in his voice. It felt like an affront, the ignorance shrouding him, to the experiences of the minnows that had to walk the halls with their heads hung low in order to avoid an unsolicited and traumatizing attack from the sharks of your school.
As much as Jimin didn’t want to acknowledge it, he was a shark, and the rest of you were minnows.
“Why don’t you tell everyone why you got detention?”
Jimin stiffened to a stone-like manner. It was petrifying to even move, let alone speak on behalf of his actions that led him here. He didn’t have his posse of dim-witted friends to protect him, nor the freedom of avoidance being trapped in the library. There was, for once, nowhere for Jimin to turn to other than the four faces of those deserving of his explanation.
“Well?” Hoseok coaxed.
“Damn, was it that bad?” Seokjin was worried he placed too much hope on Jimin’s shoulders. He wanted to believe Jimin was one of the good ones, or better ones at least. That out of his friends, Jimin would be the one to do the right thing because it would have been nothing short of betrayal if he relinquished himself to the cowardice of the ‘follow the leader’ mindset plaguing Jimin’s group of friends.
Perhaps it was the razing hues of the cheap fluorescent lights in the library, but there was a strange brightness illuminating this room in particular. Out in the halls, it was darker and easier to miss the faces of passing students. So dark that when you first stepped into the library, your eyes felt a slight burn and was forced to readjust to seeing with clarity for once in quite a long time. 
In the library, there was no way to miss their faces. Maybe if you closed your eyes it would have been easier and the burn of the lights infiltrating your retinas would be boiled down to a grazing sting but now wasn’t the time for closed eyes. The rarity of brightness and clarity was too good to return to the blindness of the halls and the fogged space of the world outside. It was safe to keep them open, just for now.
“Don’t tell me it was one of your dumb football friends who put you up to something.” You said as if you already knew this to be true. 
“They’re not dumb.” “What? Are you trying to defend them? Defend yourself?” Hoseok said and it was not caked in indifference or sarcasm. It was angry and driven by some demented sort of care for Jimin to take accountability for his actions; it was as if he knew Jimin was better than that but he wouldn’t admit this even with a gun to his head.
“No! It’s not that. It’s just…” Jimin had reached his breaking point. There was nothing left to hide. Not when the library was so damn bright that it singed his vision enough to well a few tears to collect at the base of his eyes. “They’re fucking cruel. I don’t think dumb people can be as cruel as them.” 
Jimin’s eyes were spaced out to the floor as if he had seen a ghost, or many ghosts in the form of the untracked amount of students that were swept into a relentless attack by those Jimin dared to call his friends. Those who he stood by, even if it cut through every moral instinct in his body. The most shameful ghosts were the ones sitting before him, listening attentively.
And the most haunting ghost of all was none other than himself. 
“Jimin, what did you do?” Namjoon, walking on eggshells or rather shards of glass, asked this of him apprehensively knowing how overwhelmingly displeased you all would be with his answer. 
“I didn’t have a choice! I-” The tears once held at bay on the bed of Jimin’s eyes had now been pushed over and down his cheeks from the guilt crowding the space where they once rested. “You know my friend Connor right? Well, I don’t know if I can call him a friend. Not anymore at least.”
The four silent nods didn’t give him enough time to construct the strong foundation of courage he needed to build upon this. However, Jimin had exhausted the last of his courage. All there was left for him, for all of you, was to be vulnerable. To be welcoming of his pain seemed to be the only source of strength to say what was needed to be said. What, for once, he felt like he could openly admit to. 
The library was bright. He began to feel seen because of it and the noiseless juncture gave him a chance to be heard.
“I, um, I made the mistake of leaving my phone out. God, I was so fucking stupid. I can’t believe I did that.” He took one deep breath to energize himself, “I, uh, I got a text from Kim Taehyung and,” 
Jimin had been instilling frequent pauses between what he was saying. Talking, especially to those whose opinions held a measurable importance to him, was the most difficult thing he had to do. Jimin spent over ten hours in the beating sun, extrapolated his muscles of their ability to move with the intensive workouts he had to do for training, ran over seven kilometers nearly every other day, and shoved an integral piece of his heart to a place of hateful and regretful shame for his whole life. But this, the uncomplicated act of talking had twisted into an unsolvable maze with Jimin placed right at the center.
“Connor looked. He- he fucking looked through my texts.”
The mention of Kim Taehyung, the only uncloseted person in your grade, had given you all the information needed to know why Connor looking through Jimin’s texts was not just an invasion of privacy but an infestation to the immunity Jimin built against how he loved; who he loved. The boundaries had been set and had been wrongly trespassed over, and to someone like Connor, that didn’t register as a violent act of homophobia. Jimin didn’t have to explain the contents of the texts for you all to know that it was far beyond platonic.
Suddenly, everything made sense to Hoseok. Being that he was the only one who knew what happened, but not as much to know the reasons behind it had him feeling almost as guilty as Jimin.
“You don’t have to explain yourself. I didn't know all that.” Hoseok had given Jimin an opt out, a shortcut to escape from the maze Jimin was still wandering through, which was his way of apologizing and clarifying he would never cross that boundary, the boundary that Connor ravaged with a hateful heart. 
Jimin turned it down. He turned down the shortcuts. This wasn’t a journey that would be accomplished by taking the easy way out. Sometimes, one must run right into the eye of the hurricane to be freed from the shackles of self-despair.
“No. I need to tell you guys. I don’t want you guys to think that...” Jimin pushed past the final wall, realizing the very mask meant to protect him was the thing that had been turning him into someone he couldn't recognize when he looked in the mirror. “I just… I want you guys to know.”
The low social status of the others in the room wasn’t why he felt like he could be honest. It wasn’t the fact that even if you all knew, it would have been diluted to an unverifiable and petty rumor because no one took what the delinquent, the loner, the nerd, and the freak said seriously. What motivated him, or more fittingly, what inspired him to be honest was your gift of listening, not just hearing to hear, but hearing to care and understand Jimin.
“I’m gay.” And he finally found the end of the maze. “I’ve never said it out loud before. It sounds weird coming out of my mouth.” What he expected was awkward silence, a few uncomfortable or disapproving grimaces, or a complete rejection of what he revealed himself to be. These expectations weren’t met, by the grace of God or more likely the grace of those who listened with care and understanding. And Jimin cried harder.
“I don’t think it sounds weird. I’m so happy you shared that with us.” You said in place of the expected rejection, and you smiled in the place of the expected turned back. “I’m proud of you for being so brave.”
“You are?” 
“We all are.” Namjoon added to the support.
No longer did Jimin feel the need to rely on the fractured confinement of the closet, but on the open, warm support of the four others and the brightness of the library. When he gathered the reactions for the four of you, the soft expressions directed towards him, he knew he was in a safe place. Even Hoseok, without outwardly smiling, gave him more acceptance than any of Jimin’s football teammates would have given him.
“No disrespect but what does that have to do with why you got detention?” Seokjin’s bluntness corralled Jimin back on topic, even if it wasn’t the most empathetic way of going about it.
“Oh yeah. Well, Connor started saying all this shit about telling everyone if I didn’t um…” It felt like the words coming from his throat weren’t hot air from his lungs, but jagged rocks scraping the sides of his windpipe, “If I didn’t beat Taehyung up then he’d tell everyone and leak our conversations.” 
“Would people finding out about you two be so bad?” Seokjin asked naively.
“You don’t understand. There weren’t just messages.” He had been fidgeting with the end of his shirt, engulfed by the regret of how he handled things. Though, his choices had made him a parcel between deciding on the lesser of two evils and this was never a fair advantage. “There- there were pictures too. He threatened to leak them and I… well, I thought I was protecting Taehyung from him, but I was being selfish. Weak. I was protecting myself.”
“Jimin, that’s not fair. Connor put you in such a fucked up position! God, how fucking dare he?” Your face was red with anger. Hoseok had been tracing the distress lines on your forehead and between your brows with reverence because it was too heartbreaking to look at the defeated expression tolling Jimin’s. “You know Connor also sent around my friend’s nudes after he was begging for them. He’s fucking vile.”
“There has to be something we can do to get him in trouble.” Namjoon had already been willing to risk having to voluntarily interact with Dickson to rat Connor out. However, Jimin objected strongly.
“No! Then word would get out. You don’t know half the shit my teammates say about gay people. There’s no way they would let me stay on the team. And my parents don’t have a clue. I have no idea how they’d react.” Jimin brought his forearm to wipe away the tears still spilling from his eyes. “I’m scared. I already lost the one person who I really cared about in this damn school because of that asshole. I can’t lose anything else.” 
“Why would you want to be on a team with people who hate gay people? Or be on the same team as the guy who literally blackmailed you into beating up your boyfriend.” Jimin didn’t take too kindly to Seokjin’s unthoughtful assertion. 
“You wouldn’t understand. I- I’ve built my life around football! I wouldn’t have any friends and my whole future is riding on my football career. God knows my grades aren’t enough to get me accepted into college let alone get a scholarship. You don’t understand the social pressure of not being a part of something.” Now, it was Jimin who made thoughtless assertions against Seokjin. “Someone like you just wouldn't understand.”
“Someone like me?”
“Do I have to say it?”
Internally, you pleaded with him not to say it. Namjoon already knew the hurtful assumptions Jimin had placed upon the four of you this whole time.
“Well, you're the one who brought it up.” Seokjin retorted.
“Say it, Jimin. Admit you think of yourself as better than us just because you're popular and on the football team.” Hoseok spat with a determined bite to his words.
“Fine! Someone like Seokjin is an outcast. It’s true, okay? It’s not my fault he doesn’t get the pressure that I’m under.” The admittance was torrid and vain but nonetheless true to Jimin’s prerogative. 
“Are you kidding me? You don't think all of us don't understand the social pressures of feeling like we don't belong?” He was never one to argue or get upset about things. He often felt like he had no place in ever standing up from the many instances when he’d been pushed to the ground for his entire life. 
Seokjin, and Namjoon too for that matter, have been casted as a sort of boot licker trapped in between the cogs of the social hierarchies in high school. Being at the very bottom, on the receiving end of the brute force from those who are lucky enough to be a part of something, hadn't been easy. They didn’t get the leverage to misstep or speak out, and their consequences had always been enforced with an expensive debt of hiding what was really on their minds. 
“You don’t think I see and hear the way people talk about me? I’m a freak, a low life, a joke. No one wants to be friends with someone like me. And yeah, I guess I am the joke of the school! The inside joke that everyone is a part of except for me. I've never had the fear of not belonging because that was a given ever since I started high school. At least you have something to lose. I never had that and I have to pretend like I’m okay with it all! I have to pretend that everything people say about me or make fun of me doesn't affect me. In fact, I feel like I have to constantly make a fool of myself because that’s the only way anyone pays attention to me! That's pathetic! If I didn’t, if I just shut up or if I-” His voice cut off momentarily from the lump impeding on his throat, “If I were to just disappear… or… if I were to die no one would care. And I have to pretend to be okay with that. But I’m not- I- I just hate it.” 
You didn’t have to look at his eyes to know he had also been crying. And he was right, everything he said. The way most people disregard him and when they do acknowledge Seokjin, it’s only to place hate or insults to titillate their sick amusement. It brought you to tears in the most gut-wrenching way, because part of you attuned to his loneliness. His feelings of unimportance, that if you were to fall off the face of the Earth one day, your tombstone would be just as undeclared and forgotten as your once beating hearts.
“Do you know how many death threats I’ve gotten in my locker? Yeah, they’re probably empty threats just to piss me off or scare me but they still affect me. I- I start to believe maybe I should be dead. I just… I just want to be seen.”
In some way, Jimin felt decided for just like Seokjin did. Decided by external forces that he should be manly, straight, and nothing beyond what had been expected of him. Though the oppression of heteronormativity chained around his neck was vastly different that the shackles that kept Seokjin at an arm's length away from ever making a true friend, there was a communion within the unwelcomed and pervasive loneliness.
And that kind of loneliness drives someone to a deep and unyielding kind of depression. The damaging isolation from having no one to tell you they love you when you feel unloved ricocheted against your insides, and it begins to feel like a hunger but a million times worse.
You couldn’t feed it on your own. You just have to wait for someone else to want to feed it, to want to love and accept you. But no one could wield such compassion when they were too occupied with fitting in, until now.
“I don’t think you’re a freak or a joke. I’d never make fun of you, and I would notice. If you left, Jin, I would notice.” Namjoon said to give Seokjin shelter and company in feeling out of place. He felt it too and it was heavy, crushingly heavy. 
“I think we’re all just pretending to be okay. Pretending that living and existing doesn't hurt and that every day doesn't leave a scar on our body in some way. Being alive when you are pretending is lonely because it isn’t you who’s living and existing. It’s the shell of you, and the real you has to watch from a distance. That distance is so lonely. And when you try to crawl back into that shell, and maybe become whole again, you just can’t. You’re stuck because you've been hurt too many times to feel safe in your own body. I’ve felt it, now I know Jimin and Seokjin feel it. Even ___ and Hoseok, I know you guys feel it too. I wish we could stop. I wish we didn’t have to pretend. If we could stay in this library, together, we wouldn’t have to. But the end of the day will come and we’ll all have to go back to pretending, won't we?”
A speechless agreement filled the air.
“I don’t. I don’t want to feel lonely anymore.” Seokjin said.
“Me neither, I don't want to go back to pretending. I want to be able to love who I want to love.” Jimin looked to Seokjin, scared and unsure of whether or not they could face the world again. Oddly enough, comfort surfed over fear and uncertainty because they were not alone anymore. To be in a state of apprehension with those who take time to understand one another lightened the load tenfold. If one can be lonely with other lonely people, then maybe they weren’t alone after all. 
In this library, bright and giving, they certainly weren't alone.
There was nothing to say or refute. Hoseok had in fact been pretending, his skin just as fake as the leather jacket covering him. Though now, unlike when he saw his portrait, he felt the absence of his skin to be freeing. He felt uncomfortable in his skin; he wanted it off completely. Being strong, pretending to be unhurt led him to come crashing down as hard as he did when he faced you again. You and all the mistakes he’d made and Dickson’s hostile attack in the halls. Perhaps weakness is a form of healing.
Letting the guard down just enough to let the kindness of another’s heart in. 
“Do you guys… to me, you guys are my friends.” Spoken with an intentional rephrase and delivered without an expectation that the four of you returned this projection of friendship, Seokjin felt less alone than he did in the dark of the hallways that, although physically narrow, were wide enough to have him walking through alone.
“You’re my friend.” You said this quickly, to not give any chance for silence to settle doubt. You were his friend, truly, more so than the friends you made to fill the Hoseok sized void in your life. “I don’t have a lot of friends either.”
“Me neither.” Namjoon said.
“I mean, I have a lot of friends, but I think it’s all bullshit. I think you guys are the only ones close to anything real.” Jimin said through a smile.
And though Hoseok had come to realize what it felt like to be seen, to have his bones exposed to the eyes of the understanding, there was still that adjustment period. Letting go of the habitual usage of rudeness and sarcasm as a defense mechanism against the rawness of being human with other people was not an easily dropped reflex.
“Wow, well this love fest was certainly something.” 
How could he do that? How could he reduce the trauma and bravery piled between the five of you to another crass, insensitive comment? 
“Oh, god. Can’t you just quit it already? Can’t you take anything seriously?” You were well beyond the brink of holding your tongue. Beyond the point of patience that was placating your owed explanation for Hoseok’s drastic change and unannounced desertion.
“No, that part of my brain died a long time ago. Sorry to burst your bubble, princess.”
“Oh, is that what your excuse is?”
The other boys sensed there was some unsaid history between the two of you which placed them as silent audience members, serving a watchful mediation to this long-awaited performance. 
“What’s your deal? Calm down, it was just a joke.” His insensitivity came from a place that grew used to pushing you away and stonewalling the idea of emotionality, yet another defense mechanism brandished to become second nature to him. And with the attentive eyes of the other three, there was no chance of loosening the skin and veered away from showing his bones. Hoseok knew exactly what ‘your deal’ was but he didn’t have the slightest idea of how much his feigned indifference packed more dirt in your wounds.
Or at least, you hoped he didn’t. It would have made it far worse to know he was aware of the way he hurt you. 
“What’s my deal? My deal is that you don’t care about anyone! You never cared about me and you made me believe that I could trust you. You’re just an asshole, when you get down to it. You have no heart.” You spat, feeling the heat rising just as quickly as your body which collected the strength to take a stand. 
He too stood up, facing you and it overspent the little energy he had to look into your eyes as you said these harsh things, unhidden in the library’s brightness. Of course, you didn't believe anything you just said. You knew he cared, or at least he did once, and that he had a heart, no matter how emptied of love it felt in his chest. His heart was there, beating slowly as if waiting to stop completely.
You were speaking through the frustrations of trying to reach out to someone who held their guard up stronger and mightier than a brick wall and seemed to want nothing to do with you. 
He didn’t know this. Hoseok was up to his neck in regret and guilt. He was tired, and his heart was weary from doing its job of maintaining his breath. A breath he didn’t feel worthy of harboring anymore. He had been tired for a while now and just wanted to be vulnerable, like the rest of you. However, no matter how many times he thought it over or talked himself into it, the skin just seemed to regenerate faster than it shed. 
He wanted to take you in his arms, never let go, tell you where it hurt and hoped you would love him there in the same way you would when you were young, and when his heart didn’t fully understand the hefty price of being the unwanted orphan who dragged misery into the lives of everyone associated with him. He wanted the sandbox, the Andes mountains, Marley and Me, the first grade, the aromas of linen and lemon, and you all over again. But he knew, he never stopped wanting that.
“You don’t know that, ___! You don’t know anything so how dare you make claims like that about me when you don't know half the shit I’ve been through!” He was screaming, though not so much in the literal sense. The high pitch of his voice was him trying to talk over the secrets that he kept from you. It seemed like the only thing that would drown out the loneliness itching to be liberated was his hurtful words. It sent you into a rage
“Then tell me! Let me help you or be there for you! Stop running away. For once in your life stop running!”
“Why would I tell you of all people?” The true meaning behind this was unclear through his spiteful tone and sandpaper skin. The one person he wanted the best for, he wanted to protect, wasn’t the person to dump all his problems on. Not you. Not your kind eyes and soft, warm hands and skin. He couldn't drag you under the bus with him and make you solve the unsolvable. To put you through that, it would have been better to drive a dull sword right through your chest. 
You wanted to slap him or shake him. Shake the secrets out of him and place him right under the bright lights of the library. You wanted to reach into his chest and pump the slowly dying organ with your own hand so he could keep on breathing.
“I hate you, Hobi. I fucking hate you.” You said this and you said his name. The name owned by your tongue that carried too much sentiment to mean anything of hatred. Both his name and your hatred flew through the thick fog surrounding Hoseok, but only one of those two met with his skin and melted it off his bones completely. 
“I hate me too.”
He couldn’t let you, or anyone see him cry. So he ran, just like always. Hoseok walked out of the library, right into the dark halls, but it was him running again. Running far away from you just like he did over three years ago.
It seemed like he didn’t reveal nearly as much as Seokjin and Jimin had. Even Namjoon, with the few words he’d offered on his place in the grips of loneliness seemed to be loads more than Hoseok gave.
But to you, it was enough. To you, his silence and grim avoidance told you everything you needed to know about Hoseok.
Dry eyes, dignity, skin, the defensive masks once mounded over your faces were nowhere in sight of this library. Becoming emotionally undone and disarmed was nothing more than becoming honest with yourselves and others. It came just in time before those mighty walls broke down to leave you all sitting ducks to the much harsher grasps of your peers’ judgements
It felt like symbiosis. The mutual giving and receiving between those who had been pretending, but were worn out by the last few hours of detention. To give the skin that covers and protects and hides the things unwanted by most of society. The things often put to shame or denial or negligence and root loneliness deeper into one’s body. And to receive a mindful ear that cares and listens, empathetically, to the words locked away, as well as a place where these insecurities and inner torments can be put to rest through the form of words.
No longer were these secrets kept. There was no one to shun or misunderstand or commit the crime of breaking the bones of those who stand out to fit in the mold of what was considered acceptable or worthwhile. 
Four out of five coats unworn, laying in the center of your circle, safe and understood.
The question remained, if and when the fifth one would be shed?
Namjoon broke the tense silence.
“Are you going to go after him?” 
If it was your freshman year, you would have been racing out of those doors before Namjoon had to ask. The you of the past would have climbed over the Andes mountains, the you of elementary school would have swam across the vast oceans to drag him back into your life. The you of the past, the one that had only a sandbox and Hoseok, would have gotten to the door before he had and blocked any exit from this room. 
But you were not in the past, and Hoseok was already gone. Namjoon had to ask whether or not you would go after him and that meant there was a chance you had given up, for good this time. There was a chance you wouldn’t go after him.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.”
 Five years ago
For the better part of a year, Hoseok tumbled through life without any cadence for feelings and emotions. He was an adolescent boy, after all, and each week brought a new challenge to his plate that left little room to focus on the chaos of his life and guidance of his heartbeat. This week, he set his sights on getting you to race him on your scooters down the steepest hill in your neighborhood. 
Dusk was orange and warm, sending its hues along the streets and faces who were under it like an important message one must read with the utmost care. Hoseok liked this part of the day specifically because the end of the hour would take his tired body into your home to eat dinner with you and your mom. He saved that for later and for now, he and you were occupied with scraped knees and tired knuckles from gripping the handles of your scooters, and a hill rolling down so far it seemed like it would take a lifetime to reach the bottom of it.
“Come on! We’ve been practicing for hours! You can do it!” His scooter was edging to slip off the slope and down the hill in eagerness. Yours stationed a foot behind with your helmet strapped snug around your chin and a grip around the handles so tight, you left the divots of each finger on the rubber padding. 
“What if we die?” You looked at the back of his head soon turned to become his face as he peeled away his determined glare to a soft reassurance. Wheeling back to align the front of his scooter with the front of yours, he was left to subside to the beatings of his heart, fed by the sun placing itself on the crest of your helmet and the luminescent rays drizzling like a serene waterfall down your face and body. 
He never thought about beauty much, being that he was no older than thirteen years, but seeing you under the aging sun had put it at the forefront of his focus.
“If we die… then you’re mom’s gonna be mad. So, I won’t let that happen.” 
“Hobi!” You swung your arm that braised the bone of his shoulder not without a laugh at his rather playful response to your worries. 
“Trust me. We don’t die. And whoever gets to the bottom first wins.” Your laugh served as a catalyst that quickened the pace of his heart. Whatever it was trying to tell him in this moment, it was surely of sizable importance being that it sent waves of warmth through his cheeks and down to his legs. The challenge now hadn’t been the epic scootering down the hill but putting his heart aside long enough to last the rest of dusk.
“Wins what?” You asked with intrigue.
“I don’t know. A piggyback ride all the way home.” Tired legs and a heavy head convinced you this prize had been worth the risk of falling, akin to dying in your perspective. Your head turned to the hill, looming over the intersecting street at the base of it, notifying Hoseok that backing down was no longer an option.
“Alright. Ready, set, go!”
Opening your mouth didn’t come with the expected release of terrified screams but laughs of thrilled enjoyment. The wind was cut through by your body, now rocketing down the gradient that felt much less steep than it looked, and you commended Hoseok for convincing you to tackle this seemingly trifling challenge. 
“This is so fun!” Your yelp was lost in the rapid descent, but Hoseok, a few feet ahead of you, had been in range of your acclaim. 
It was then when the young adolescence in his brain was overtaken by the guidance of his heart. His own tired body became alive and light. When you said this, the joy in your voice made the decision for him to discreetly apply pressure to the metal brake of his scooter with his heel, to realize he couldn’t make you carry him home. 
Not because it was tiring for you, but he wanted to see the look on your face when you won. He needed that smile and the warm blanket of your eyes that would heal his aching muscles and tired body. And it was your open-mouthed smile and celebratory hops, along with the showering glints of sunlight and the end of dusk that turned his loss into an incredible win. His covert efforts to draw this joy from you came from a place none other than pure love.
“I won! Hobi, I won!” Without a second to spare, you ran and mounted his back with legs wrapped tight around his torso and your arms snug, but not quite choking, his neck. 
“Alright, fair is fair.” Though, it wasn't fair. Not in the slightest, and Hoseok made sure of that. 
The feeling of your soft, jaded breath against his neck was energizing, and every so often you would give his body a tight squeeze when he was struggling to trudge back up the hill, as if to thank him. And you were because you knew he let you win. You squeezed him in your arms, keeping firm to the memory of him and this triumph gifted to you. Though, it was not as great of a gift as Hoseok was to your life. 
“Thank you, Hobi.” Your soft whisper was followed by an even softer kiss on his cheek, damp from the sun and the hill and the piggy-back ride. Soft enough to communicate to him the gratitude in your heart, which translated and directly manifested into his lungs now fanned of all the burning once inflaming them; his face sporting quite a bashful smile too.
He was not tired, not when he was holding you because it felt more like you were holding him. Like you were always going to hold onto him.
The neatly lined houses had little to no variation. Individuality in this small, suburban town was like finding that needle in the haystack. To him, your house was that shiny little pin. Your house was a home, and he saw that through the partly uncurtained windows that gave him a view of the scene inside. Most of the time, you were already seated by the sill, waiting for him to arrive. 
You and Hoseok had arrived at the base of your driveway, staring up at the small incline that looked like it was taller than the Andes Mountains themselves to Hoseok.
“You know how I said we won't die?” You turned to his lightly blushed cheeks upon hearing this to see he was smiling. “Yeah, well, I think I’m going to die.” 
His pearly whites cemented with metal braces and strands of his unkept hair stuck in the sweat of his forehead were sightly. You began to laugh, looking at the goliath hill separating you and him from a home-cooked meal courtesy of your mom, then back at the odd, awkward boy who had yet to discover the wonders of deodorant and properly fitted clothing.
Hoseok wasn’t all too desirable in terms of the traditional realm of attractiveness. His arms were lanky, unable to place themselves naturally at his sides without looking uneven, and his posture did him no favors either. And you took in all five foot five of him, before he hit a spur of growth, and thought he was the loveliest little thirteen-year-old in your grade and in the whole world. 
“Come on, you know my mom won’t allow that. I got you, Hobi.” You weaved your hand through his, pulling with all the force your muscles could exert to haul him up the driveway. You made it to the top and your hand didn’t let go of him. Your mind was trying to deny the twists and turns of your stomach and the fast pumping of your heart any credence. 
When all else fails, you must listen to your heart.
Both you and Hoseok discovered in your very young, inexperienced lives that hills and driveways and scooters and all the other trivial barriers were no match to hearts. 
It was in first grade that he knew he was going to be your best friend. It was by eighth grade he knew he loved you. So much he’d carry you with bruised knees and broken arms to the ends of the earth. 
 2:00 - 4:00
Hoseok’s memories of you became sort of a mosaic. The little pieces of you were, singularly, a bit insignificant in the time they were being experienced. Often overlooked, and taken for granted, he couldn’t realize the beauty they captured until he stepped back. With distance, he saw the full picture, the ethereal mosaic had brought him a far and lonely appreciation for the past. 
All throughout the day, he didn’t want to look into your eyes like he did the day you convened with him in the parking lot where he was smoking. His fluency of your eyes had unraveled with time, leaving him feeling illiterate in the language of you and completely lost. When he felt lost, he wanted his heart to guide him again, but it would instruct him to return to you and replenish the deserted friendship. However, from what everyone told him, even Dickson, he wasn’t worth the effort. 
You had been staring at the door opened and closed by Hoseok, waiting to be opened and closed by you. As if there were a part of you deciding on letting him go, you tapped your hand against the table synchronically with the seconds ticking by on the clock. The door had eroded the rest of the library away, along with the three sets of eyes staring earnestly at you.
“So, are you gonna go or what? We have like two hours left and God knows whether he actually stayed on campus or not.” Seokjin sliced the wordless atmosphere with heavy hopes you would make any indication of your next move. 
“Seokjin, shut up! ___, don’t feel pressured to do anything.” This overlaid Jimin’s pounding urge to hoist you up himself and throw you into the wiles of the halls.
“What? ___ clearly wants to find him.” 
“Well, he clearly doesn’t want to be found. He’s such a child, honestly, I shouldn’t waste my time.” You knew you only said this to try and talk yourself out of the decision which had been established by your beating heart the minute Hoseok walked out. The obvious desire to follow him had been expressed through the discomfort you felt for tearing your eyes away from the door; you were guilty, above all else. 
Each tap of your hand could have been a prelude to your inevitable pursuit of the man who, in fact, did want to be found. It was effortful but insincere to attempt leveling the scale between the two options of chasing or letting go; the opportunity of Hoseok was a weightier one than the life without him, executed through repetitive, passionless motions. You were bored, repulsed by the way you had lived out each moment of your life just to wait for the next and the next until your life was over. 
“Come on, you know that’s not true.” Namjoon added, “We’ll cover for you if Dickson comes back. I really think you should go.”
“Yes, please. Go.” Seokjin placed his desires proudly once again. 
“In all honesty, I think you should go t-”
“Enough! I’ve already gone down that path. All I ever got from it was unheard voicemails and ignored texts.” You were still looking at the door, and still trying to talk yourself out of it - and still feeling guilty.
“Love is hard, I get it. But-” You didn’t let Namjoon finish his well-thought out life lesson that would have coerced you into going after him.
“What? I don’t love him.”
“Ooo, ___ and Hoseok? Fire and ice. Rain and sun. Winter and Sum-”
“Seokjin, don’t you have an essay to write?” You cut his words down as well, finding none of their entertainment in your inner psyche appropriate. They were placing themselves in your mind, but to them it wasn’t so much of a locked door than a door wide open with its secrets spilling out faster than the tick of the clock and the tap of your hand.
“Well, he clearly loves you. I don’t know him that well, but I can assure you he doesn’t get like that around just anyone.” Whatever ‘like that’ meant, you were annoyed that you knew exactly what Namjoon was implying. It didn’t stop you from perpetual, stubborn denial.
“He doesn’t love me.” 
“Oh… Are you being- Is ___…? Are- You’re stupid.” Seokjin’s words crumbled to near incoherency due to his complete astonishment for your lack of judgment. Perhaps if your belief that he didn’t love you was a genuine judgment, then his assessment would have been correct; you were being stupid.
“Well, fuck you too!”
“What he means to say,” Namjoon’s pause was to shoot Seokjin a disapproving glance, “is that it's really obvious you guys are into each other. I don’t know your history but there are definitely some unresolved feelings.”
“If you’re not gonna talk things out with him, at least tell him to come back so Dickson doesn’t get him into even more trouble.” Jimin’s addition only vegetated your inclination to find him again. 
It made sense. It was rational, reasonable, and therefore possible. You couldn’t let him get in trouble. You were just doing him that small favor. In your head, it caked over the real reason; to know he still cared or to see his eyes looking back at you, and figuring out what was the wedge that drove you and him apart. Maybe this would somehow re-cultivate the half of your heart still hanging by the thread that tethered you to him.
“I-” You stood up, walking towards the door that was about to be opened and closed, and looked back at the three boys now favoring much more satisfied and slightly smug looks on their faces, “Oh, shut up.”
Jimin held his hand, palm facing the ceiling, in front of Namjoon who greeted it with a victorious high five. Seokjin held his pencil up to signify you that he could now peacefully start his essay, to which you smiled warmly. You couldn’t thank them out loud, because you had nothing to ‘thank’, or so you thought.
You were just making sure Hoseok wouldn't get in trouble. That’s all it was. Then, you opened and closed the door and began the chase again. This time, however, the fog that once hurdled your vision was easy to sift through with the loud beats of your heart navigating you through the moors of the hallways.
You turned left, then stopped to ponder on turning back and going right instead. Hoseok didn’t make this easy and you wouldn’t have expected anything less from him. Eventually, you just let your body wander the many halls for about ten minutes before you decided on furthering your search to the roof of the main building. 
There was a new revenue of motivation that moved your legs forward. Before, they were struggling to keep up with everything life hurled at you. Now, it was far more determined and self-assured because you were moving towards a goal. You wanted to find him, and this time everything you had faced, all the loneliness, self-blame, forced smiles and friendships couldn’t keep up with you.
The stairs proved to be quite a test for your determination, and you passed with flying colors, heavy breaths, and inflamed hamstrings. You were lucky to push through the door and find him standing, staring off into the expanse of the fog. Towering over the haze had you realizing the entire school had been submerged, not just Hoseok and you and the library. Everything was under that sheet of blindness except for, as of now, you and Hoseok. The roof served as a platform to look upon the fog and stand safe from the numbing effect it debilitated on those in it. You knew he heard you. The perk of his ear as you ungracefully fell through the door to the open air told you he knew you were there. 
You stood a few feet behind him, and he offered only the view of his back facing you. There was a line to be crossed if you were to go towards him, place your hand on his shoulder, and ask him to face you. Whatever line that was, you knew it was Hoseok who set it and you wanted to know why.
“It’s cold out here.”
He said nothing, but did provide the tenuous gesture to turn his head, giving you a side profile of his face. In turn, wiring through your eyes was the stains of what could only be deduced as tears along his cheek. 
“Aren’t you cold? Let’s go back inside, Hobi.” 
Hoseok couldn’t look, doing so would only invite you to join him. It would plot his every desire along the pavement and undress how much he wanted to have and hold you. But you were no one’s, least of all his, to hold.
“Dickson could be back any minute.” Your footsteps towards him raised the clarity of your voice. You were doing a fine job at hiding the real reason you came up to get him, both from yourself and Hoseok. It pinched his weathered heart that you had just come up to warn him about Dickson. 
“Okay.” He answered curtly to bitter the atmosphere and showed no sign of leaving. 
“Well, I’m not leaving here until you get your ass down there, so, you’ll be getting me in trouble too.” You crossed the line which felt more like walking over a burned bridge, and placed yourself next to him with perfect access to see his face.
He was even more beautiful standing above the fog. 
You leaned your elbows next to his on the ledge of the building. His eyes, glistening from the tint of resisted tears, plowed over the treetops peeking through the top layers of mist. It was difficult to tell whether or not he was listening when his eyes were busy whispering secrets to everything in the far distance and the close proximities. To everything but you.
“Why?” Hoseok’s eyes were nudging towards the direction of you. He wanted so badly to look at you, to brave a glance but he was so cold out here that he had frozen over into ice. 
In this ice, he couldn’t move or even breathe for that matter. Looking at you and not being able to move towards you was an unnecessary torture of which he'd rather not look at you at all. So, he remained in his calcified state, eyes edging dangerously close to you.
“Why what?” Your eyes moved away from him, to the fog instead, trying to see the ground below. “You’re staying up here, aren’t you?” 
“Yeah.”
“Well, I’m staying with you.” Hoseok was shocked that you said this with such decisiveness; it was difficult to decipher whether this proposition came as easily as it was said. The lonely glades of mist were entrenched by a new plurality, like a double-edged sword ready to cut through the veil of secrets. The more you would push through Hoseok’s skin, the more it penetrated your own.
“God! Why can’t you just leave?” He removed himself from the ledge, pacing over to the space in the middle of the roof. Thinking this would suffice the desperation for distance was a gross miscalculation. You too pulled away from the ledge that overlooked the foggy plains and placed your steps consecutively with his. 
“Don’t you see I clearly don’t want you here?” That lie tasted much more sour when spoken out loud.
“I don't! Okay? I really don’t. I don't understand… I- Why did you leave? What the fuck did I do?” Your voice had matched in elevation with your frustration; you were not referring to him leaving the library, but to his cold departure from your life over three years ago. And with that, was the unending pursuit of him. 
“___, you just have better places to be. So go! Stop staying with me. Jesus fucking Christ! Look at me!” His hands angrily emphasized his sharp features that would surely draw blood if you came too close. “You shouldn't be hanging around with someone like me.”
“Is that what this has been all about?” You stood paralyzed; your body was stunned from this all too underwhelming reason. You were hoping that this wasn’t it, there was surely a much more redeeming explanation for how he ripped your heart right out of your chest. The thought that this was the reason for the cut tie had cornered you in a fiery rage. It made you furious. “Are you fucking kidding me, Hobi? That’s what this is about?”
What better place to be than right here, with you? You knew he would not be generous in giving any further explanation, so this question remained in your head.
“Yeah, actually, it is.” A shiver riddled its way under his jacket. He turned towards you, finding that revealing the truth which cemented him into a miserable, solitary life was not as climactic as he expected. Nor did he expect it to be revealed in the first place.
But it was, unceremoniously, rolled onto the roof. He had nothing to hide anymore so he looked at you. Your eyes, that he could finally see since you were above the fog, were close to tears. Years and years of denial and repression compounding against your heavy heart now alleviated, but it was not the least bit rewarding. You thought he was absolutely delusional to believe the gesture that his abandonment was rooted in the effort to protect you, when all it did was hurt you.
“No I-” You swiped your hand against your cheek, though it was useless as tears soon replaced themselves on your face, “That’s so stupid. That’s- You think I care? I don’t give a fuck about what you look like or what you do, Hobi. Don’t you understand I-”
“No, you don’t understand. I’m not good.” His voice wavered through his throat, releasing more as a cry for help than an assertion of truth. 
“How could you say that?” You did him the favor of taking the strides towards him. The initiative fell to you and your body moved through instinct to close that distance Hoseok kept trying to re-establish. His body was weak up close; when there was no space or fog and the jacket draped over his body could no longer keep his skin collected along his bones, he was weak and it was far more relieving to see him vulnerable. 
“You were the best thing to ever happen to me. You were the only little first grader that wanted to be my friend and not just that. You showed me that someone could actually want to be my friend. You gave me so many years of happiness that would have been dreadful without you. I would have hated life without you. And I do! I hate life without you, Hobi. I’m so lonely.” You were unsure how you came to finally reveal every message your heart pumped through your veins and up to your brain for all these years, but you were glad it happened.
It wasn’t Hoseok’s lack of effort that kept all the good things he’s done under the rug of unimportance. It was the mounds of contempt the world held for kids like him. The stigma of abandonment and undesirability that was clamping down on any part of him brave enough to reach out, making it difficult for any feelings to be shown without irreparable harm or discouragement.
“You don't mean that.”
“I don't mean that. That’s it? That’s all you can say?”
It was, for the moment, all he could say. The feelings of unworthiness facilitated utter shame of himself like congruent figures now inseparable from each other and had molded a cage of confinement around Hoseok. His body was trapped under the scrutiny of everyone who expected him to fail, and one day he was afraid your eyes would join. That one day, you would look upon him with nothing of warmth, love, or admiration. Nothing of the eyes populated with blankets and storms and bountiful roses. 
“You’re so fucking persistent!”
“Why are you pushing me away?”
“Because!”
“Tell me why! You know I deserve it.” The conversation metered out with a lot less organization and structure, which was the result of many untouched feelings released between the two of you. The blizzarding words were combative and destructive as well as reparative and conjoining, but most of all it was grievously uncivilized.
“Jesus Christ.”
“Three years. Three fucking years, Hoseok. I’ve wasted three years of my life blaming myself for losing you. Blaming myself for being lonely. God! I'm so mad at you! I'm so mad at myself for still loving you!”
And there it was. The last stroke of courage slipping from your mouth into the words spoken through an unfiltered and unrestrained heart. It was beating fast right now as if it had been unmoving in your chest for the past three years. Finally beating again, you felt all the blood return to your limbs in waves of pricks along the expanse of your skin.
Hoseok was not ready to be cast into the shallow, yet inescapable oasis of your testament. The remoteness of the past three years had him crawling through an emotionless desert, purged of any source of water or food or nourishments to keep his thick-skinned body functioning. The moment he was presented with a bit of the revitalizing water, Hoseok, like many starving people, dove into it too much, too fast.
He felt the atrophied muscles in his legs gain traction to glide towards you. The force was a savage agent of his tightly packed emotions which erupted the moment you said you loved him. He loved you, he knew that now, and his body wouldn’t allow him a second longer to sit desolate and starved. 
Without stopping him, his lips planted roughly and passionately against yours. You were wrapping your arms around his neck before the logical sense of what was happening had been granted permission into your conscience.
Your heart, his heart, were guiding and deepening the kiss, only tangling you tighter into your dedication for him as much as it was twisting the confusion and unanswered questions into a larger, messier knot.
His tongue slid against your lower lip, assuming an entrance to slip himself into your mouth. Your jaw hung slightly agape and gluttonous at the way his lips spilled such tender movements against yours. His hands were running along your back fervently, holding your body firmly in place, like he was trying to keep his own body from disassembling. 
Your lips were moving messily against his, though unchoreographed, they moved with a near perfect synchronicity. Refinement had seceded to your hunger to taste him. His mouth was sweet and hot, gentle and forceful, loving and angry, and the light pinch of his teeth that took your bottom lip between them had you moaning lightly into his mouth.
Then, everything once expounding into inexistence flooded back into reality. You divorced yourself from him as every empty promise claimed their demands to be fulfilled. The push against his chest was strong and it had to be in order to dissect that long awaited act of closeness. 
“What the hell?”
A long interval of silence tormented the rooftop since Hoseok could only explain himself through guilty looks directed at the concrete floor. The surface upholding him was solid, of course, so it was strange that he suddenly felt like he was sinking into the ground below. His hand ran through his hair, trying to bring himself to words. To say anything or do anything other than take you in his arms and hold onto you so that his body wouldn’t sink beneath the roof’s malleable surface.
“I’m sorry.” And that was not good enough for you. Not when he kissed you like he loved you and didn’t let you fill three years with desperate, lost hopes.
“Sorry for what? For kissing me or for giving up on our friendship? Or for breaking my heart? Or for making me feel like I did something wrong or wasn’t enough for you? Or for making me think that everything built between us was just my imagination?” The list could have lengthened into an unplanned admittance of all the pain he caused you, however, it wasn’t the time for you to speak. 
It was his turn.
“I guess I was just…” Afraid you wouldn’t want me anymore, “I guess I just didn't see it that way.”
“Stop lying.” You said and could only hope he wouldn’t revert to his evasive and insincere responses. Your hand came to rise and press against his chest. There was nothing to testify what came over you in this moment, but you wanted to feel his chest and know his heart was still beating. That, like yours, it still sent life throughout his body with its consecutive pumps. It was. 
Ever so harshly pounding away at his rib cage as if it were trying to break free.
“I never… I never had anyone care.”
“And?”
“And I didn’t wanna drag you into my shit.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?” Your hand moved from his chest to his chin, holding it in place so he couldn’t get the chance to look anywhere but into your eyes.
“Don’t be stupid, ___. My life isn't exactly picture perfect. From the beginning, my parents didn’t even want me.” He felt like he was being held emotionally captive by the years of trauma he had endured. Of the cycle of abuse and repression that crushed his will to feel anything at all. He was trying to break free. Despite all these facets of struggle, he spoke gently to you and it made your heart bleed empathy for his pain.
“Listen, there’s always that kid that everyone knows is trouble. Everyone knows that they’ll end up in a bad place. You know what I mean... That was me. I was that kid. I didn’t wanna drag you in that shit with me. You think I wanted to push you away? I had no other choice!” To you, he did have another choice. He could have stayed with you, but of course, he had no idea. 
Hoseok looked at you so sadly, with eyes begging to be loved and a voice softened by his tender, bruised heart. He felt so isolated. The imminence of his downfall became prevalent ever since he began to pay attention to the judgmental whispers of teachers and parents on open house nights when he showed up parentless, or when he was the last one at extended day care when everyone else’s parents came to pick them up from school. Paying attention to detail was the wrench thrown into his life, unhinging the naivety, and drilling in its place the knowledge that society had ostracized him for being an orphan.
Maybe it was because you loved him so much, and it was blinding. You didn’t see much of the world outside of the lens of Hoseok, but you didn’t feel the need to see such a place. Your figment of him was always in a good light; you couldn’t fathom shedding darkness or disappointment or repulsion anywhere near him. So, when he said this, you were completely oblivious of that dehumanizing label many teachers, parents, and fellow students grouped him under.
“I don’t understand.” 
“Of course you don’t.” He jerked his head away with a scoff. Though to no avail, your hand still mounted onto his chin.
“No I mean,” Your head turned down, attempting to process this information into coherency, “I don’t understand how anyone could see you like that.”
“See, this is exactly why I can’t be around you. I’d ruin you! You see the best in me and that's the worst thing you could do.”
‘Ruin you’? You still didn’t know what that meant.
“Were people really that bothered that you were an orphan?”
He said nothing. He simply looked at you as if you had pointed out an observation so universally accepted that it went unneeded to be discussed. Like it was a given to cast someone like him off, or to repeat his worthlessness until it was purged from a tongue bored of belittlement and moved onto the next victim of verbal assault. He was simply one of the dominoes falling into place. Falling on top of each forgotten and neglected child.
“You wanna know what Dickson said to me?” He paused, not to wait for your permission but to prepare himself to recount the hurtful things still pronging against his open wounds, “He told me I’m unwanted. He told me that I was going to end up some loser not even worth considering a part of society. Basically, I’m damaged goods, ___, and you shouldn’t be hanging around me. You actually have a chance to make something out of yourself. Don’t waste that chance on me. I can’t let you do that.”
“You know that's not true.” Your hand moved to his cheek since he slipped too easily away from your grip of his chin. You held him in place, you held him with you.
“Why shouldn’t I believe it? ___, think about it. I am pathetic. My own parents didn’t even want me. And my foster parents told me I was just a financial asset. That my only worth was their monthly foster parent check.” 
It was crushingly difficult to hear such punishing words coming from Hoseok. That he not only had to endure the unfeigned demoralization of those who saw his worth to be instrumental but that he had come to believe them. He came to resent himself for a choice that was not his to be made but still suffered every waking day for it.
“And I guess I thought you were going to leave me behind like everyone else seemed to do. Like everyone eventually just wants to get rid of me.” 
“What?” The core pillar of your relationship with Hoseok relied on his permanence in your life, so hearing him fear what didn’t once cross your mind took you back as well as your hand. “Hobi, how could you think that?”
He shrugged distantly.
“Don’t. Don't you dare.” Almost out of nowhere, your soft cries were emulsified by the dryness of the air and turned into a heavy sob. But, it was not out of nowhere. It was from somewhere deeply upset that you let him think so lowly of himself all these years. That maybe, you hadn’t fulfilled your job as his best friend. “First of all, don’t you dare say that about yourself and second of all Dickson is a piece of shit.”
“___, please don’t cry.” He was urgent in his request. 
Not over me. Don’t waste your wilting petals of tears over my corpse.
“You thought I would leave you? You weren’t protecting me from whatever inferiority complex you’ve carried around your whole life. You were protecting yourself.” 
“It’s not like that.” He stepped towards you, trying to ignore the wince worthy pain when you dodged him as if he were a bullet. “___, I love you.”
You were astounded by the signals so contrasting of each other that they led you to a plight of hysterics. You had to let out a flustered chuckle at the way he told you he would be heading left then turned right when you were already walking on the opposite path.
“I love you.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“I love you.”
“You have a fucking horrible way of showing it.” Your arms folded over your chest and he realized it was his turn to keep your gaze locked with his. To chase you and to be put in the position that he forced you into three years ago. “I can’t understand you.”
“I was weak. If your hands were covered in blood would you walk up to something good and clean and force your stains on it? Would you leave disgusting prints of yourself on something so pure just because you were the only person in my life that didn’t see me as just an orphan?” Hoseok drowned himself in his words, but obtained and kept a soft hold on your cheeks with his hands.
 He was unable to register how distorted his perception of himself was in your eyes, feeling as though everything he said drowned his lungs with waters that almost choked him from speaking at all. 
There was a borderless delusion which fraught the comparison Hoseok just explained. It fell close to thoughtless and hollow, the way he reduced you to some virginal, helpless and unattainable prize on a pedestal; he subjected you to some paradigm of pristine stature that wouldn’t have the good nature to be anything less than empathetic for him. Though, you were not the image of purity or unmarred of pain and suffering; he was the reason for that.
“I'm not some little innocent kid. I know bad shit happens, but I’d never let that change the way I see you.” Filling the vacancy of your heart wasn't all too touching. You were distraught, distrustful, of everything in this world that led Hoseok to such a destructive mindset. To ruin the sweetest boy and subject him to undeserved misery. “You’re not just an orphan. You will not let that define you, you hear me? You are you. You are Jung Hoseok. To me, you will always be Hobi.”
The most frustrating part of this was tied between the fact that no real blame could be placed on one contender and the difficulty of understanding someone’s story when it went untold for far too long. Perhaps you had been pretending his pain didn’t exist because it was easier to see him as a stone-like, uncaring heathen. It was easier to cover your deep grief for losing him with hatred, but it did nothing to solve the division between you two; at the end of the day, you were still lonely and you still needed him. Wasting three years away to bitter resentment was nothing compared to knowing the truth of it all but having no power in redirecting yourself to compassion rather than anger.
“I should have been honest. I was scared.” He said. “I just thought I could never be enough for you.”
The fog was fully cleared. Your eyes panned from the edge of the roof to Hoseok’s needful gaze and down his addicting lips. All this time, he was just as alone and just as afraid, existing no less than a car ride away from you and still light years from ever being able to garnish his defeat with an admittance that he needed someone.
What more was there to say? Hoseok could have droned on about the way his foster parents stripped him of innocence and tossed him into the frigid hands of self-reliance or how he felt himself sinking into failure when the world of no mercy pulled him by the ankle and dragged his thrashing body through life without the guidance of someone who knew what was best for him. He could have explained how every unmet expectation put him against the world, in constant competition with not just everyone else but himself. Fighting against his need to be cradled and cared for with his resistance to tenderness enacted to thicken the skin on his body so the weaponry of an orphaned life, unearned glares of contempt and disapproval, and predisposed low regards wouldn’t dig as deeply. 
He could have relayed all his nights lost to wondering why he wasn’t worth keeping. Why a child without the slightest clue how to dress, or bathe, or speak, or trust was turned away by the very people who brought him into this world and had to figure out all these lessons on his own.
It was the depletion of his own self-worth that drove him to loosen his grips, and how that was not of apathy but instead caring too much to let himself get in the way of your opportunely life. Letting you go was a loss that came with a painful imminence.
He said none of this because you looked at his eyes and he looked at yours. Through the clean air, the ripe and unhazed space among reuniting stares, he saw what your eyes carried. It was an ocean. A place of immeasurable depth and complexity, never still and constantly giving the sand something to shelter and love. A wide body of life and water that replenished the seared collection of bones under the parched skin of Hoseok’s flesh.
In loving you, in gazing into you, he let the water diffuse his skin until he was skinless, fully bone.
“I never stopped.” You redacted the fact that you were referring to loving him, because the unsaid implications were communicated much more beautifully and accurately than what the entire collection of the English language could attribute.
“Me neither.” Hoseok paused, dropping his hands from your face to his sides knowing with full confidence you and your gaze would remain with him, “I don’t know what to do.”
“About what?”
“I hate living. It's terrible. Everything about my life is terrible and I hate it.” His face turned wet quickly. Seeing this brought a natural desire to hold him again and to cast off his despair with your loving touch.
“Am I terrible?” You asked, hoping your words would serve as that gentle caress.
“No, how- Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m a part of your life. You might have gotten rid of me once, but I’m here to stay. Am I so terrible?”
“No. You’re wonderful.”
“Can you look at me and tell me I’m wrong when I say I need you in my life just as much as you need me?” The stagnant exchange of undeterred eyes was a comforting overture. A beginning that was not quite new, but a dormant adventure ready to be reborn into fruition.
“No.”
“So, I’m going to tell you. Hoseok, I need you in my life because I love you. Because no matter what people may say, you’ve brought nothing but love and happiness into my life.” The words, like a needle and thread woven into him, stitched the fabric of his heart back to fullness.  “Do you understand? I believe in you. I will be there for you. That’s what friends are for.”
“You’re my friend.” It constituted both a question and an irrefutable statement.
“Yours.”
“Mine.” He smiled softly, a gentle disparity against his tears.
“Life won’t be so terrible. I promise. If we have each other. If we have people who care, life is not so terrible. You have me, Hobi, you have someone who cares.”
There was no profound revelation with what you said. Nothing that was original or unordinary; it was quite common to be told you were cared about. One could refine your words to about three, maybe four, with the same tact. But that is exactly what made it original and unordinary to Hoseok. Countless people said the words ‘I care about you’, trillions of times and in hundreds of different ways and languages. It was said over and over again but Hoseok was never familiar with the comfort of being on the receiving end. To be cared about, and to be told he was cared about was quite revolutionary, and a completely profound rarity to him. And to him, these words were invented by your caring tongue; the first utterance that transformed the radical concept of care into something plausible. 
Sometimes, that’s all one needs. To be told they are cared for. Sometimes it’s enough to clean the bone of its wretched, heavy skin.
“What’s going to happen now?” You and he had migrated to look out to the fog ejecting itself among the trees and stretching all the way to the horizon. The trees were sitting so close together yet far enough for fog to slide between them. You wondered if the trees knew that they weren’t alone. 
“At this point, it's up to you.”
Once again, it wasn’t said. The beautiful things were expressed through silence because it somehow fertilized the sincerity with greater effect. Verbalizing them would have tainted what was kept clean and loving inside the warmth and safety of your hearts. You never knew to have such a connection with someone where the most important things that should be said aloud were somehow louder when they weren’t. Somehow, with the gentle brush of his arms against your sides as he was embracing you from behind, it was louder than words.
There was a stillness encompassing every piece of this moment. A stillness of the air, of time, of the two bodies placed above the fog. You and Hoseok were arrested from reality, lounging in the freedom of each other’s presence. The bright orange sun permeated through the grey clouds, reflecting specks of light along the faces of you and him. Seeing your skin once again carrying soft ornaments of the sun’s rays returned him to the only place he felt like he belonged: your heart. Being taken away from the chaos of life, Hoseok felt that this Saturday fell within the bounds of eternity.
“Are we going to be okay?”
“Together, we will be. We have each other.”
You took his hand in yours, fingers sliding together. His attention was stolen by you, or maybe it had belonged to you this whole time and was simply being returned to its rightful owner, still soaking in the sweet rays of the sun. He had no facetious, obtuse comment to tack along the tenderness of the roof. For once, he was vulnerable. It felt euphoric, like his heart truly began to pump life blood into his body.
“Okay.” He readied himself for the new world he was about to embark on, though this time, it was hand in hand with you.
“Ready?” You took a few steps back, towards the stairwell, your arm pulling Hoseok along, “I got you, Hobi.”
He nodded, no longer afraid of the dark halls. His narrative was not a singular venture. There was a partnership, a force of love perhaps, that pushed him to step forward. 
Hoseok once feared no one would get to his bones; to see the skeleton of himself underneath the epidermal armor. After many years and many layers of skin, no one had attempted much less succeeded in exposing his bones that yearned to be seen by the eyes of someone brave enough to face this quagmire.
And by chance, by timing's watchful eye, you had done just that. Lovingly exfoliated each layer of skin, washing away the scars and bruises of everything they had endured, and held his bones bare in your hands. Standing in the glimmering ocean waves of your eyes, feeling his bones, purified of all grief, against the air and conflated four years’ worth of the lonely, blinding fog once surrounding him. 
Standing in the sandbox once again of double occupancy. 
“I love you.” The words cascaded off his tongue with the same grace and earnest of what being in love felt like. Hoseok couldn’t do a lot of things and had quite a bit of trouble expressing himself for these past few years, but his love for you was something that couldn’t be anything less than accurate and sincere to do his heart a bit of justice. 
“You said that already.”
“Are you going to say it back or not?” He pulled you in by your waist, leaving you no other option than to oblige the requests he flew into the air.
“I love you, Hobi. I do. I love you.” Your hands lifted to his face, and his cheeks were warm. Though soft skin covering it, you could feel his bones. They were being caressed, loved, touched by your hands. 
He closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he felt this at home when he wasn’t in your home of linens and lemons. His face shifted to the side to press his lips into your palm.
“I love you.” He said again, seeping into skin, printing the words into your bones. Hoseok had to repeat it, just to hear you say it once more, to make sure it was all real. That it wasn’t just him that was melting into the art of you, but the art of you touching him, coalescing with him.
“I love you.” Tears of his face were brushed by your thumb and they didn’t feel like the sad ones shed before. They were a sweet and gentle ode to everything he’d ever wanted since the moment he asked to play with you in the sandbox.
You were crying as well, holding him in your hands. Holding him. You could not see the fog, the only thing rapturing every sense was Hoseok. Your lips pressed lightly against his, feeling him smile into the kiss, and that drowned out the crisp, punishing air that pricked chills against your cheeks. 
Hoseok knew he was going to be okay.
 The two of you made your way back to the library, greeted with three suspenseful eyes, trained against the doorway partly from apprehension that Dickson would return and partly from hoping you and Hoseok would make a swift return. They, too, cared and wanted to see if Hoseok’s skin had finally shed.
“Heeeeey.” Seokjin drew out his coy greeting to tease you and Hoseok for the all too noticeable gesture of holding hands. Jimin and Namjoon were captured in the physical intimacy that you two casually displayed as well.
“You two took your sweet time, didn’t you?” Namjoon said to the pair of smiling faces now returning to the table behind Jimin without further explanation. He was implying the long absence of you and Hoseok was not delayed through a reprimand from Dickson but by your own insatiable desires for each other. 
“I found this idiot on the roof. Took me a bit to convince him to come back down here, but I did it.” You turned over to Hoseok who was investing his efforts in rearranging himself back into an outwardly tough manner.
“Oh, I bet you had to do a lot of convincing, huh ___.” Seokjin’s comment was met with a light slap against his shoulder by your hand for his lewd teasing, and the way his fingers imitated quotation marks when he said the word ‘convincing’.
“Hey! I actually had to convince him. This man is very, very stubborn.”
“Yeah, ___ wouldn’t leave me alone so I didn’t have much of a choice.” He stared at his hand once being held in yours, trying to shovel over the smile simmering on his lips. Jimin shifted to face you and Hoseok, eyes squinting to slits from reading the overwhelmingly happy expressions on your faces.
“So, Dickson came back.” Jimin said, smiling widely.
“Oh shit. What did he say?”
“We all pretended that we could see you and he was the only one that couldn’t see you guys. It was hilarious, you should have seen his face.” Seokjin intervened with his own account of the story. Jimin turned to him and burst out laughing harder than when Dickson walked like a defeated soldier out of the library.
“He was like, ‘You kids need to learn respect. You mess with the bull, you get the horns’ whatever that means. But he didn’t even end up doing anything because he knew we wouldn’t snitch. But, damn, you should have seen his face.” Jimin’s hand covered his mouth during the process of him laughing and wedging in pieces of the story in between. 
“That sounds like the dumbest cover up ever, but I guess Dickson is somehow dumber than that.” The count of five smiles amounted to each of you hunching over with laughter at the vice principal’s idle reactions to the detentionees displaying a clear sign of insubordination. 
“He is. He really is that dumb.” Namjoon said during a pause from whatever he was drawing.
“Well, either way, I appreciate the effort. And Hobi does too, even though he won’t admit it.” His stubborn disavowal of expressing appreciation contrived through rolled eyes that then landed onto the four others accompanying his space. Though shadowed through his many apathetic modes of emoting, he found this Saturday detention not only bearable, but enjoyable. He found himself attached to other people after severing all ties from actual intimacy. Being connected and vulnerable was an easier way of going about his life. And, he didn’t realize it then, but he planned on keeping it that way. 
“Hey guys?” Seokjin tossed aside the Dickson debacle with this conversational prelude, “What’s gonna happen when we go back out there?”
“What do you mean?” You asked, absentmindedly reaching over to grab Hoseok’s hand at the mention of leaving the safe space of the library. He responded to you with a gentle, reassuring squeeze that eased the contraction of your worried muscles.
“We’re still gonna be friends, right?” The prospect fell into consideration as the five of you were moved to silence. After a few exchanges of ambivalent and uncertain glances, Namjoon worked in a soft smile to soothe the frightful thought of returning to the harsh reality. 
“Yeah. We are.” His confirmation spoke for the rest of your benevolent agreement. 
“Well, I better see you guys at all of my games.” Jimin set this expectation as a receival of the newly polished friendships, grooming quite a bit of fondness being that the four of you knew more about Jimin than his own parents. “And, we’ll be sure to go to Namjoon’s.... Art competitions?”
“Not quite, but I appreciate the thought.” Namjoon laughed. 
The commonalities that were once so obscured between you all had become clear by the arrival of the eighth hour. Though there were many obstacles placed to stint any form of connection between five polar adversaries, you all found a salve from the relentless feeling of loneliness through each other. Your essays were never written, finding Dickson’s call for another Saturday detention of probable cause. Even if you were to write an essay on what you did wrong and why it was wrong as well as why you were sorry, there would be no truth unveiled in it. You all found that living unapologetically had been a far more effective catalyst for growth and maturation than any half-hearted essay assigned by a man with no credentials to call himself a student administrator.  
There was that phrase, "down to the bone", that had hung over Hoseok's mind for quite a bit today. Some say it implies when you've spent all you had, and are left with the poverty of dry marrow. That, to him, was a mutilation of the phrase which he couldn't accept.
This colloquial, "down to the bone", could not be a reference to having nothing left. Not in his case at least. Not when he felt so full of safety with nothing but his bones under the home of your eyes and hands
Hoseok looked at you, then to the other three and knew things would be different. Eventually, things would get better, he just had to wait long enough for those better things to come.
You found each other, and that was all that mattered.
 A week later, you met up in the campus’ cafe with Jimin, Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok discussing the rather insignificant topic of which contestant was going to be eliminated from the reality television show you had all been keeping up with. 
“Hey, did you guys ever actually write that essay Dickson told us to write?” Seokjin asked, knowing he had failed to do so.
“Nope.” Jimin said unregretfully, almost with a prideful twist.
“Of course not.” You replied.
“Well, I might have written something on behalf of all of us. It wasn’t an essay per say, more like a letter to Dickson.” Namjoon said smugly into the cup of his coffee.
“What? What did you write?” Jimin put forth the curiosity shared by the four of you.
“Oh nothing too special.” But, of course, if it was anything of Namjoon’s doing, it was something entirely special.
You decided not to further pry on the specifics of what was written, rather sipping your coffee and learning not to regret how the hot liquid burned your tongue. Those eight hours spent in the library gifted you with a wider perspective. Maybe you burned your tongue on this coffee, and tomorrow you might miss the bus to work. Or, sometime in the near future, there would be a new store in the mall that lured you away from the errands set to a schedule and you would have to rush back to work a few minutes late. You learned that these small misdirections in life happen, at the exact right time and the exact right place.
The grateful receive of every moment, deliberate or erroneous, was like a single grain of sand. One grain might pinch out some annoyance. Ten was too textured to ignore. Dozens and thousands padded down as a sandbox where two childhood friends could play. And millions of grains of sand, of gratefully received moments, cultivated a soft shoreline; a place where the deep blue tides had a comfortable bed to tumble onto when it was tired from the tempestuous ocean. Where the contents of the ocean could spill along the wet sand, and it would humbly the tired water’s offerings. A place where a mass of misty, opaque air could roll in, cover every inch of the ocean and would blind the eyes. 
But, never the heart. 
The hearts, joined since the first grade, were free of scars because of the plethora of love that continued to flourish even in your absence. Love always keeps the heart safe.
Timing was a fickle arbiter, always tearing you from one thing to the next and the next and the next, but somehow leading you to exactly where you were meant to be. It has a way about itself, inevitably delivering you into the lives of those you were meant to be with. 
With Jimin, with Namjoon, with Seokjin.
And once again with Hoseok.
-----
a/n: thank you so much for plowing through this long, angsty one shot! i am so happy to finally release this and hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed creating it. as always, i would love to hear feedback from you lovely readers! 
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owlf45 · 3 years
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so,,, i have a few My Hero fanfic ideas that i'm quite fond of. but every time i try to sit down and write them, i just. cringe. like, physically cringe. although like i said, i'm quite fond of them and i would love to put them out there on ao3. this doesn't happen with my other fics from a diffrent fandom. did you go through this? any tips on how to conquer it? should i not write them at all? should i make up a new plot? thanks, sorry for being annoying lol.
youre not annoying anon! i also feel the same way at times too! firstly, though, you should always write them!! share your gifts with the world!! secondly, im not sure where the cringe lies, so there might be numerous reasons: 
lack of content 
phrasing of the first scenes 
framing the time period 
outlining
characterization 
plot
infodumping 
what about MHA is causing this? 
but also, im of the firm believer that all ideas, to some degree, sound cringey and stupid until theyre put down on paper effectively. so dont let the cringe hold you back too much. fic writing is the equivalent of “fake it until you make it” and i too always feel some amount of cringe over a certain phrase or scene in a chapter. anyway, going to ramble a lot under the cut, as i always do: 
so if im struggling with liking the writing, then i probably havent sat on the idea for long enough. if there’s not enough content for me to work with, i get caught in a corner and start writing an awkward mess. it’ll come out in a way i don’t like and i start to get frustrated. so maybe simmer on the ideas a bit more. brainstorm a bit. give yourself sort of an idea of where you’re going to go, but be flexible if you find out while writing it that something works better, feels better. your gut will treat you well. 
it also might be because of how the beginning/first chapters play out. beginnings are always the hardest hurdle to jump, imo, because i struggle to get the work done if the first few scenes aren’t incredibly strong. so i tend to do quite a few drafts until i finally find a route i can vibe with. so look at things like word choice, imagery, strength—are the first few scenes strong? do they represent your story? is it something that’d peak your interest while reading it? does it feel like a scene that could come to life? maybe it’s not the idea that’s the issue but the writing, and it’s simply not polished enough. should you consider pursuing a different writing style altogether? a good first few scenes can help propel me to writing the rest of the story. a weak first few scenes ruins the process for me. 
if it’s not the content or the phrasing you’re struggling with, maybe consider framing the story in a different way. instead of starting at the beginning of your character’s story when they’re a child, why not start where the important plot comes in when they’re older? about to go to UA or any other school, for example? instead of changing the plot, why not change what period in it you talk about? flashbacks or reflection exist for this very reason! and if not time, what about a different character or POV? 
also you might want to consider outlining more! its not for everyone, but maybe it’d help if you had a good idea of where your story is going. it’s absolutely wonderful to add heavy foreshadowing to the beginning of one’s work. you can also add a lot of details which seem ignorable at first but become important later. maybe that might help the progression of you writing your story. maybe it’ll add a bit of mystery. that can always help liven up a bit of work. 
(speaking of mystery: imo, mystery is a writer’s best friend. it helps spruce up the writing and make it tons more interesting, and detracts from any of the “cringeyness”. so consider that while youre writing, even if the mystery is as simple as “will character A and character B become friends?”) 
what about characterization? have you considered that, perhaps, while writing it the character(s) just comes off as awkward and stilted? when you’re writing the scenes, do the character interactions read as fake or forced? maybe the plot isn’t the problem, but instead the way the characters react and interact. maybe try working on those. would rewatching/rereading some canon mha help you better grasp the characterization? 
and if this still isn’t working, consider tweaking—not changing!—but tweaking the events of your plot here and there. rearrange a few events. maybe the progression doesn’t make as much sense as you thought it’d originally made. 
one of my biggest pitfalls that make me c r i n g e at my attempts at starting a new work are when i start explaining. its easy to start talking about the world and your characters and what your story is actually about, and i encourage you to avoid that. instead of explaining why your character is the way they are, or what they do, have a scene filled with action. your character robs a bank. or they’re running from the police. they stare down at an assignment dealing with a societal issue theyre painfully aware of. one of their friends set up a date with their crush and smugly staring down at them. 
so don’t explain how your character has faced societal issues all their lives, which they have never talked about to their class, and now has to do an assignment on said issue. describe how the character stares at the paper of their assignment blankly. don’t explain how the character’s life has been horrible ever since their parent passed away and they got hooked up with the league of villain’s bullshit, and now that’s led them to being chased by the cops. describe the character running for their life as the sirens sound behind them. 
ofc, you can still add those little details here and there. the character running from the cops curses out shigaraki. the student staring down at their assignment mentions briefly that they’d never had to talk about such a sensitive issue to their classmates. i find, however, that the more i attempt to explain rather than describe, the more cringey it gets. it feels like a stream of consciousness, or a deliberate telling of a story, rather than the story speaking for itself. 
interestingly enough, you said this whole thing only seems to happen with MHA and not other fandoms. so what do you think you’re doing differently? are you relying more heavily on canon in MHA than you would in your works with other fandoms? how do you begin your works in contrast? if youre not doing anything differently, then is it a problem with mha as a fandom? is it  because there’s a lot of huge creators in MHA, or that it harbors a surprisingly large amount of content of incredible quality? in that case, are you really doing anything “wrong” or “cringey”, or is it more of an expectations kind of thing? in which case, tell expectations to fuck off, because i promise you you’re doing better than you think you are.
finally: if you love the work or the ideas, then who gives a shit about cringeyness? just post it my dude, i promise you someone out there will love it. and if youre still concerned, there’s tons of nice people in this fandom who’d look at your work if you asked. reach out to some people, maybe join/look at a few servers, ask someone to read what you’ve written, as for their advice—after all, each fic is unique in the “why?” it might be causing you to feel these things, so i’m only so limited in my ability to help. 
anyway, it’s... ass-o’clock am, and usually i would spend the next hour or two cutting this down to a reasonable length but im too tired to do that. so here’s MY apologies for rambling once again. one of these days ill learn to be concise. 
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lemonietrinket · 4 years
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How Day6 would react to overhearing you admit your crush on him to one of the other members
AN: a request from anon. i feel ive treated this more seriously (and focused perhaps more on the confessions themselves, bc i interpreted ‘crush’ subconsciously as ‘having long-term-feelings for’) than you meant in your request but i hope you enjoy it nonetheless!
Sungjin
“hyuuun, i’m in love please make it stop.” “only way that’s going to happen is if you go tell him.” “...i hate you.”
sungjin... i picture is going to date to marry (or an equivalent if marriage is not for you, as though i get the vibe he’s quite traditional, for the right person he would be very easily convinced), so he takes crushes and confessions quite seriously
probably would feel bad for eavesdropping
then would feel happy that you felt the same way
but then more serious issue of now having to confess would take over
would spend a long time thinking of the best way to do it
would probably settle on a classic walk or cinema/theatre depending on what’s showing
would make damn sure he and you would be alone while confessing—so to save both parties from pressure and embarrassment should things go wrong 
also he’s quite a private guy and would want to let others know on his own and your terms
ngl probably wouldn’t admit he’d overheard you until like... a long time later
it would be under the initial reasoning that he would wait until you were stable so it wouldn’t have too big of an effect
but then he would forget
until it randomly came up in conversation 
like we may even be talking years here
maybe when you live in your own place, just the two of you, and you’re hanging out with him and younghyun who is just refusing to go home bc the food is too good at yours who brings it up 
“i don’t understand how it took so long for you two to get together, like even wonpil was starting to find yn’s pining sickening.”
and you would be salty, because “excuse me i hid my desperation very well!”
and sungjin would just immediately come to support you because he’s a loyal motherfucker and would begin, without thinking “she did, i didn’t know until i—”
that would be when he stops himself bc hes like oh shit i didn’t tell her and now two very curious sets of eyes are like staring at him and he’s 98% sure he can’t backtrack at all 
“when you what?”
and he would just sigh “when i overheard you telling younghyun that you liked me”
and there’d be a moment of silence, followed by laughter 
youngk would be confused, probably, having a surprisingly better recollection that you perhaps would “wait i remember that—how did it take you two months to work out what to do next?!”
and you end up just laughing harder, before noticing the the mix of emotions on sungjins face and reassure him “it doesn’t matter how long it took, we’re together now”
anyway overall sungjin is probably quite serious about it, but it will have a happy ending, you’ve just got to be patient lmao 
Jae
“dowoon, what do i do?” 
jae would be playful about it
after hearing you ask dowoon for advice since hes good friends with him he would be ecstatic, but would try and keep it lowkey
he’d hide out of sight of the doorway he’d passed by to have his little moment
and then he wouldn’t be able to stop smiling
his eyes would keep glancing to you for the rest of the day, even more than usual
but i think he would want to make things more official as soon as possible, as he doesn’t want to waste any time when he could do it sooner and be with you
and so he’d ask if you had a spare moment on the day or so, and take you some place quiet
not necessarily his room, more likely just outside the front door in the warm summer air
and ngl i think he would totally pull the “i think you know why i summoned you here today”
of course, yall have no idea, but you’re used to his occasional crackheadery—otherwise why would you crush on him so hard? “not a bit, but if its a trip to get snacks you don’t even have to ask, i’m in”
“well, that is a plan for later... depending on how this goes”
that’s the point where you would get confused and begin to wonder if something is up, but hel’l continue “i found out something really cool today yn.”
“really? was it the pin to brian’s credit card?”
he would laugh but shake his head, “nah even better” and that would give you the heads up that this was serious, and it would occur to you that he might have overheard something
but it becomes obvious when he follows with “a little bird... told me that someone, likes someone else, in our group. our friendship group.”
you briefly consider panicking, as the whole thing could still be construed as him not liking you back, but you put on a brave face and push through, “oh really? who?”
“that’s the problem, i don’t know, but i was wondering if you did.”
the chance was clear for anyone to see, and seeing the glimmer of hope, you seize it “well, i know someone who likes you... but i’m not sure if its mutual, so that might be why they haven’t said”
“if it’s who i think it is, then it definitely is... mutual” he would admit
and that would be the closest the two of you ever got to literally word-for-word confessing, because out of nerves neither of you would probably be able to admit it at the crux of the moment
however, like in all the movies idc if its cliche you would gravitate towards each other, and that would be the moment where you both recognised your feelings as well as shared your first kiss together
ok i’m going to stop before i combust 
anyway as for whether he’d admit he’d overheard you, he would probably be quite quick to the chase on that one too, probably right after the kiss and you’ve spoken about it a bit more, he’ll probably just say “i kind of accidentally overheard you telling dowoon, please don’t be mad at me”
but how could you be, you’d gotten what you wanted after all
in conclusion, jae is lighthearted about it and woudn’t waste any time
Younghyun
“wonpil did i tell you how much i love his eyes?” “hmmm... perhaps... but tell me again, to just to make sure.”
god bless wonpil his emotional support would be A+
right off the bat our youngk is a songwriter
he probably finds a lot of inspiration out of love
and so his feelings for you coalesce to create love songs that he may or may not use in the future
anyhow, it means that to cope with his feelings he’s probably half composed something small where he admits them 
with little intention of you probably ever hearing it at all
or at least, not without big chunks edited and names changed/cut
but when he overhears you rambling to wonpil who doesn’t mind the sappiness a characteristic you probably got off our brian anyway with his occasional borderline emo-ness
he’s grateful to his past-self for starting it, and realises that maybe its time to finish it
so it’ll take a week or so for him to finally confess
bc even though hes a bit of a flirt, i don’t see him wanting to tarnish love, since he owes it so much and its not fun to play with someone’s heart, especially not yours
so it might take him a little longer, and when he gets round to it, it’ll be perfect, just like you in his eyes
so prepare to be serenaded
yes, that sort of serenaded
in dim evening light, with the sun’s glow beginning to fade and make way for the stars, flickering like the candles laid out for you
again, that classical vibe won’t be missed on him
as for whether he’d tell you, probably only if you asked, but he would add that he’d been writing the song beforehand
he just may not admit to not planning on ever performing it
overall? when it comes to romantic flair, kang younghyun is king 
Wonpil
“sungjin, uh, do you know where wonpil is? i can’t—” “isn’t he at your hip?” “as much as i kind of wish he was, he kind of isn’t.”
wonpil, my lovely sweetheart
probably wouldn’t be able to stop himself from just
walking straight in when he accidentally overhears you to ask right there and then
like, you’re probably pestering talking to sungjin in the kitchen or another equally frequented place, so it was likely that someone was going to overhear anyway 
and maybe that was part of sungjins plan dont put it past him
but also it meant wonpil got further into the room the hunt for sustenance spurring him on, you know how it is before he caught onto what was being said, thus making it harder to back out
thus sungjin knew he’d overheard, but you with your back to the door were still clueless
and would’ve stayed that way had wonpil not continued and straight up asked or sungjin not said anything, which lets face it by this point he was really considering doing
he would be really excited about hearing that the feelings were mutual, and you were right there so what harm was really being done if he did just straight up waltz in?
as soon as you heard his small “you like me too?” you would whip around 
aaand that would be sungjin’s cue to leave
“do you mean that?”
“it only feels right when you’re by my side, pillie.”
the words you would exchange would be in a soft flurry of emotion tbh, out of disbelief but excitement for the future
most likely ending with you embracing, foreheads resting against one another’s
fluff hours only in the house of pil, ok?
Dowoon
“jae, do you think dowoon will be free tomorrow?” “yea why?” “i want to take him to the cat cafe—” “oh my god is it happening?! is it really happening? are you finally going to tell him? plan ILU is underway?” “keep it down!” “oh god everybody stay calm, stay fucking calm—!”
my bean
my lovely bean
would feel guilty over accidentally eavesdropping, and this would reflect in his shyness later
however, he decides to run with the silver lining of having the chance to be prepared for tomorrow
and so he would not say a word and try and act natural
especially when you ask him if he wants to go out somewhere with you the next day
he’s not sure how he did, he tried to hide his ears as best he could but he was also well aware you knew him too well
when the next morning rolls around, he’s up early, getting ready in nice clothes that he hopes aren’t suspiciously too nice
and then he waits, trying to calm is nerves, before realising that maybe ignorance is bliss
when the time comes and you make your way to the cafe, he finds it difficult to act surprised, but also to try and keep his breath steady
finally, near the end, after asking if he had a good time and wanted to come back, you confess you liked him and it’s as if a weight lifts off his shoulders
he would kiss your cheek soon after, without much warning, out of relief and joy and nerves and a whole lot of else
and you’d probably pull him in for a proper kiss by his collar as soon as you’re sure he’s ok with it
and then the fact he eavesdropped would be a secret that he would die with
~~~
Masterlist
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drkcnry67 · 4 years
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you are
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A/N: going into the DC side of things. except another leap for my writing as well as my brain. this came to be in the middle of the night bout 2am so i briefly jotted a few ideas on a piece of paper in the dark and now im doing this… i hope this brings joy in these dark times!
Pairing: Kate Kane x reader
sentance inspirations : “what's stopping you now?" “can you help me with my tie?” / “can you zip up my dress?”
tags: WARNING THIS IS INTENDED FOR MATURE AUDIENCES! THIS STORY FEATURES LESBIAN (GIRL ON GIRL) SEX, I REPEAT DO NOT READ IF UNDER THE AGE OF 18. I MEAN IT! DO NOT READ THIS STORY IF YOUR UNDERAGE! YOU WILL BE VIOLATING SOME LAWS IF YOU DO! NOW DONT DO IT!
summery: not freaking telling
Masterlist
several years ago, billionaire Bruce Wayne disappeared from Gotham City, the company struggled but when Lucius Fox got murdered his nephew Luke struggled to keep Wayne techs inner lights on.
one evening Kate Kane walked into the office of CEO Bruce Wayne her cousin. she was determined to continue the legacy he had left behind in one shape or form.
she stumbled upon her cousins biggest secret, the biggest legacy he had left behind. she found the Batcave. she discovered her cousin was Batman. now she continues the shadow of the Bat. she continues to strike fear into the criminal element of Gotham City.
you had gone off the grid shortly after Bruce did, you werent sure when or if you should return but 6 years later you did, just cause you figured things would have changed and you had heard about another bat being in gotham.
you wanted to know if Bruce had returned. of course you knew your boss’ deepest darkest secret, you were his co ceo and his secretary. you had to know these things.
the penthouse you had been living in before leaving gotham hadnt changed at all. after putting your stuff down and getting somewhat settled, you decided to go and see if your workplace had changed at all, you decided to go see if anything had changed with Wayne tech.
the exterior of wayne tech hadnt changed though there were fewer lights on inside, but you swiped your key card thinking that no one else would be here that you would be able to go upstairs without anyone realizing that you were here.
kate: “someone just used a key card and entered the building.” Luke: “what do we do?” Kate: “we need to find out who they are and how they have a key card. It looks like they are coming up here. So perfect we will be questioning them in no time.”
Luke: “why would we question someone who used a key card? wait what was the key card access number?”
Kate looked at the computer again…
Kate: “4789932. why do you ask?”
Luke: “dont interrogate the person coming out of the elevator was the last person to see Bruce before he disappeared. his secretary, YN.”
you exit the elevator at that moment to see Luke and Kate in the room. Kate’s eyes lock onto yours, her gaze piercing your soul, you had forgotten that you were standing in the office of your former boss.
Luke: “you YN right?”
YN: “who are you? and how did you get in here? this is sacred space.”
Kate steps in front of luke and comes close to you.
Kate: “no need to be hostile, im Kate Kane im Bruce’s cousin. the one he didnt really mention, when he disappeared i figured i would use this place as my home away from home. plus my buddy Luke here is the son of Lucius who i believe worked closely with you and Bruce before Bruce disappeared and before Lucius passed a year ago. when my cousin disappeared did you happen to…”
you interrupted Kate, you felt bad for doing so but you knew what she was gonna ask.
YN: “no he didnt mention anything to me about where he was going, he was just being Bruce. he told me he had to leave Gotham and wasnt sure if or when he would return. i left that same day when he and i had last talked. we had our final conversation and i got on the next flight out of gotham and spent the last few years trying to cope with having lost my job, the loss of my best friend, and the loss of my life.”
Kate: “how long have you been back in Gotham?”
You had to set yourself down in a chair cause now you were feeling the vibes and memories from being back in the office.
YN: “i got back only 4 hours ago. i live in the penthouse in the gotham plaza hotel a couple blocks away. but there are a ton of cars and everything everywhere whats going on?”
Kate looked at you and then remmbered that you hadnt been back in gotham very long.
Kate: “tonight is some sort of fancy ball type thing that the rich folk are throwing in honor of the crows security team that helps the gcpd protect gotham well only those who can afford it anyway. anyway my dad wants me to make an appearance and be there and such so i was wondering if your not busy would you consider coming with me…”
you were shocked this woman this woman who you had barely known for a total of half an hour was asking you on a date… and you of course had nothing to wear.
YN: “i would love to but i have nothing to wear.”
Kate: “we can solve that… Luke im taking the night off… and whatever you do dont contact me at all. im gonna show YN just how much has changed in this city and with its people. and rememebr to pick us up at the apartment at 6:30pm.”
Kate takes you to the elevator and down to the garage. you of course realized that she had a motor bike and that was a total turn on for you.
YN: “where are we gonna find me an outfit on such short notice.”
Kate: “there is a boutique near my place we will stop there on the way to getting me ready.”
you take the helmet that she hands you, you put it on and strap your small bag cross your body, and get on behind Kate. you hold on tight as she takes off out of the garage.
the feeling coursing through your veins right then was something you hadnt felt in a long time. in about 15 minutes you both arrived at a small boutique. it was super fancy, you remmber hitting alot of those types of store when you were bruce’s secretary.
Kate: “lets find you a dress…”
you and Kate walk into the boutique and smile as you both walk in not knowing what you wanted like detail wise for a dress. but Kate spoke up fairly calm.
Kate: “can i get some help to find this lovely woman a dress for the ball tonight?”
Helen comes around the corner and stands immediately in front of you and Kate.
Helen: “such a fluent canvas, let me guess you wear mostly bright colors, but look good in almost anything, dont really care for heals but will deal with wedges, spaghetti strap, built in bra, and has to have a slit in the front for easy walking but can deal if it doesnt. how did i do?”
YN: “you got it. how did you know?”
Helen: “darlin’ ive been at this a long time plus you are very easy to read… wait a moment you remind me of.. YN?”
you had to think now… you couldnt think straight in the first place cause of Kate but now you were faced with this lady who suddenly knew your name.
YN: “im sorry you seem to have me at a disadvantage. do i know you?”
Helen: “its me Helen, i was your tailor when Mr Wayne was still here. God rest his soul.”
you now knew who she was and she hugged you welcoming you back to Gotham as she took you to the rack where she happened to have a mermaid spaghetti strap in lilac and in your size.
she pulled it off the shelf and handed it to you. you held it up to your figure and she gave it the thumbs up as she went to grab you a shawl and a handbag as well as a pair of wedges which she took a guess on the size.
kate and you went back to her apartment and she helped you get comfortable before she went to go get ready for the ball. you started to take off what you currently were wearing, and then you slid into the dress. the satin lace combo gliding across your skin.
you didnt hear Kate who wanted your help with her tie come back as you finished pulling the up but couldnt reach the zipper.
Kate: “knock knock…”
YN: “i cant reach the zipper. Can you zip up my dress?”
Kate: “only if you help me. Can you help me with my tie?”
you nod.
YN: “deal. but who goes first?”
Kate: “come closer to me and turn around so i can do up the zipper.”
you turn around and move your hair out of habit. Kate’s hands move slowly along your back to the zipper but they trace every inch of your back before grasping the zipper.
YN: “can I ask you something?”
Kate: “of course.”
Yn: “did you have any contact with Bruce before he left that would indicate where he was going or why?”
Kate: “no but my cousin was strong willed, if he wanted to do something he most certainly did everything in his power to achieve whatever he was trying to do. Ugh the zipper is stuck, do not worry I have someone who is very eager to help in any way possible but while I Call her can you do my tie?”
Just as you turn around you hear the door open, Kate turns to defensive in front of you. Mary walks through the door.
Mary: “chill out sis it’s me!”
Kate: “thank God it’s you I hope you can help. Mary this is YN, YN this is My sister Mary. Mary can you fix YN’s zipper on her dress it is stuck even I couldn’t get it.”
Mary places her purse and her coat down and comes behind you. While you trace Kate’s form grasping hold of her tie. Mary goes to take a look at your zipper, she spends longer on the zipper then you do on kates tie.
You had this weird feeling, like she had a secret, like she was trying to tell you something and you werent quite picking up the signal.
Kate had one of her hands on your waist, she had every confidence that she had found her one in you. Course she had heard her cousin mention his fantastic secretary but she didnt think you would be this gorgeous. Mary after a while exclaims.
Mary: “i have an idea… stay right there dont move…”
mary left the room for a moment this left you and kate to further ponder your thougts. kate still had her hand on your waist, this sparked something within you that you had not felt in years.
Kate: “do you have anyone special in your life?”
YN: “ive been single every day for my entire life. cause before i left bruce and i shared secrets with eachother that we soon knew would go with us to our graves. kate, im a lesbian…”
Kate smiles and is about to speak when mary comes back into the room, she goes to the back of your dress and fiddles round for a few moments before standing straight and comes back to her bag and coat.
Mary: “all done i replaced the zipper pull, you will be fine ill fully replace the zipper before that dress is needed again. now both of you should go Luke will be here any moment. and im hitching a ride so hurry up both of you and finish getting reAdy.”
Kate and you finished getting ready, the sound of a car horn sounded. this pulled you and kate out of your own admirations and into a state of lets go present to the public.
you held kates hand this sent several shivers down your spine but in a good way. kate however knew what you felt but she knew she would have to tell you her secret after tonight if everything went her way.
kate: "so i hope that this isnt too forward but how do you think people at this party will react to seeing you at the party let alone back in gotham?"
yN: "dont worry bout it ill just exclaim that im back to stop running from the past. Exclaim that I can't and I shouldn't run forever! Even if I'm still scared."
kate: "what do you have to be scared of?"
yn: "my future, the company I worked for for so long went awol after lucius God rest his soul and now I return to meet the cousin of my former boss and the son of his best friend. Geez I'm overwhelmed!"
Kates hand on your own had you finding the strength to make it through the evening! Your only thoughts were of how how you and Kate looked.
Luke got out of the car and came round to open your door so kate and you as well as mary could exit the car. The press got one look at you beside kate and had a field day.
After pushing through the crowd, making it inside the gallary you realized that the security was tighter than usual.
YN: “when did security get beefed up?”
Kate: “since my father became the leader of a security company, they are called the Crows, they became a thing after Batman disappeared. lets avoid any and all contact with him while here, he wont entirely take kindly to me having a date at this gala.”
YN: “does he know that your...”
Kate: “yes he does but he doesnt entirely approve of it. but you know what screww what he thinks. im just happy to not be suffering this event alone.”
You smiled you knew that there was a small chance that kate had feelings for you as well. there was speeches, music, silent auction and dancing. this was what you and Kate spent some of your time doing. was dancing and placing tickets into the silent auctions.
You and Kate were standing by the bar during the next few speeches, doing a few shots and having several laughs.
Kate: "have you ever kissed a girl?"
YN: "not willingly... Poison ivy got me once but batman swooped in and saved me after I sucker punched him while he was trying to save me. But I guess kissed and put under a spell by a bad girl doesn't count."
Kate: "nope but it was a good try..."
before kate had a chance to finish er sentance her name was being called, this made both you and her turn toward the voice, this also made kate immediately chug the rest of her drink.
Jacob: "kate... didnt expect to see you here tonight."
kate: "thats cause i didnt mention that i was gonna be here. as i found out a few new things today but you dont need to know as long as you do what you do we can never be a proper family. trust me being gay is the best thing to ever happen to me. I swear I'm not gonna give up who I am just to make you proud of me. If you can't accept me for who I am then how are we supposed to be a family. "
Jacob: "Kate you made your choice years ago at the Acadamy you don't need to remind me that we are not and can never be a proper family. You and your lady friend enjoy the gala."
Jacob gives you the snake eye before walking away. You turn to Kate both of you now standing alot closer before. Then it was time for someone from Wayne tech to get up and speak.
You and Kate were the only ones who were able and willing to represent the company on the stage.
Kate: "Wayne tech was started by my aunt Martha and my uncle Thomas Wayne many many years ago. Then my cousin Bruce took over when he was old enough. 6 years ago my cousin disappeared, 3 years ago lucius fox was murdered, today I stand up here with YN who worked close along side lucius and Bruce for many years before Bruce disappeared. Under her leadership and the help of lucius fox's nephew Luke we have plans to reopen Wayne tech."
YN: "citizens of Gotham, what Kate says is true we have plans to reopen Wayne tech, we hope to bring good to our city, continuing on in the steps of my former boss and business partner Bruce, may he ever be remembered as we reopen and continue the business that was the foundation to Gothams Legacy for years before and will continue to be...”
before you could finish your speech the lights in the entire building went out. you and Kate stood close.
Kate: “stay close to me, this is not supposed to happen...”
a few moments later a single spotlight on the other side of the room reveals someone standing there...
Hush: “greetings gothamites, right now some of the crows are all standing on pressure plates that will explode the building if they move. so i want the little rat who is associated with Bruce wayne to come forth and face the punishment for trying to shine that light again.”
Kate and you make your way through the shadows and around the harmless civilians to a hidden panel in the wall. stepping inside this felt very familiar feeling of security.
Kate: “we all have our demons, some of our demons hide in the shadows, for this lunatic out there im one of his demons. YN you know Bruce’s secret now im trusting you with mine.”
YN; “ what are you talking about Kate i have to go out there and stand up to that monster and prove my worth.”
Kate: “and you will have your part to play in this but so will i...”
you watch as she emerges from shadws into some low lighting dressed as a bat...”
YN: “so you took after your cousin in that respect. i am so happy that you have trusted me with this secret. thank you for that.”
Kate: “all i want you to do is go out there and keep him talking distract him long enough for luke who can hear us right now to silently and remotely disarm the pressure plates. now go, ill be along shortly. i have to go a different way.”
you leave the hole in the wall, you walk out there and throw your voice from behind the people.
YN: “who are you and what the hell do you want with me?”
Hush: “why dont you come out and face me so i can see who you are!”
You go further and a spotlight shines on you.
Hush: "well well well, let's get this party started.. Starting with a pop quiz: in Wayne tech the last project that was announced to be in development was what?"
YN: "a new secure wing at arkham asylum."
Hush: "what made the plans for this project go off the rails?"
YN: "the disappearance of Bruce Wayne and the murder of lucius fox."
Hush: "and what project are you guys gonna start on with your start up?"
Yn: "why does it matter to you you dick? You are the one that is basically holding us for hostage... Now either release the innocent people and disarm the pressure plates or the gcpd will be crawling over this place in a matter of moments."
Hush: "now now little girl, you were Bruce Wayne's pet weren't you?"
YN: "I was his assistant and best friend."
Hush: "I knew him once, but he was much different then... I for one am glad he is gone, he was an arrogant ass..."
Kate came into view a few times, helping to set up the room so the people are safe, you keep ‘hush’ busy for a few moments. before you knew it all the innocents were in a safe location.
Hush approached you rapidly and began to get all up in your grill.
Hush: “why are you not afraid of me?”
YN: “cause ive seen things in my lifetime that would scare even a man with no heart such as yourself. so do your worse cause im counting on someone saving me very soon...”
Hush comes up and starts using his fingers to trace your body. that is when Kate decided it was time to make her presence known.
Batwoman: “hey ugly, take your hands off the lady...”
Hush turns to see Batwoman who you know is actually Kate standing behind him...
Hush: “why should i you silly little bat?”
Batwman: “cause in a number of moments the pressure plates will be disarmmed, the crows will be free and you will be going to arkham. now pick on someone your own size...”
Hush turned away from you immediately before turning to batwoman he chucked knives at her while you stood there and watched.. Kate caught your eye and winked, just like bruce used to do if he wanted to pull a reverse batarang catch combo.
Kate threw the batarang and it landed in your catch then with all your strength and force your threw that batarang at the back of hush’s head and he fell straight on his face.
batwoman: “alright commander the pressure plates have been disabled, make sure this animal sees justice. ill take the lady out of the building. have a good night commmander.”
kate comes up to you and grapples both of you out of the building. kate’s father called to make sure both of you were okay. you ended up at wayne tower with kate now she still is in costume.
Kate: “what fascination did my cousin have for bookcases...”
YN: “it is just his thing, back at wayne manor he had a bookcase a piano entrance and several other things, he finally choose the bookcase to make things easy for his quick escapes.”
Kate: "do you want to see the cave?"
YN: "I haven't been down there since before Bruce left... I would love to see it back up and running."
Kate's hand on your own leading you down into the cave made you smile as the stairwell seemed to get brighter like something glowing at the end of the tunnel.
Getting to the end of the tunnel there's a path lined with flame less tea lights.
Yn: "it's beautiful... I love these tea lights!"
Kate: "I have to be honest tonight I had a hard time keeping myself from letting my heart lead my actions. In the few short hours that I've known you, I've fallen in love with you. I had Luke and Mary set this up. As well as the bed in the center."
Kate says as she starts de suiting allowing you to roam around but mid way through de suiting her eyes couldn't leave your form.
Kate: "it took everything I had for will power not to make love to you right then and there and when we were dancing it took all my will power not to kiss you while dancing."
You turned to face Kate both of you facing eachother now.
Yn: "what's stopping you now?"
Mid way through de suiting Kate allowed her instincts to take over. she left her suit half off ran to you cupped your cheeks and kissed you. this was the kiss that felt like it had happened before, but of course it hadnt but it sure as hell felt amazing literally breath taking.
after 10 minutes both of you broke the kiss breathing heavily before kate spoke in heavy raspy breaths.
Kate (breathing heavily): “this might be more sexy if you help me finish getting out of my suit.”
YN (breathing heavily): “turn around and i will...”
Kate turns around, you place small seductive kisses trailing her neck, to her shoulder, down her spine earning small soft moans of approval from Kate. your hands moved to her wait and began to slide the suit from her waist down her legs you still leaving kisses ever couple seconds.
once the suit was off Kate threw it across the table in the corner, and took you closer to the bed as she started to use her hands once more to roam over your body, feeling every inch of it.
Kate: “you are still wearing far too much clothing... turn around time for me to help you get out of what you are wearing...”
YN: “i promise you that this is probably way less than you were wearing.”
Kate: “turn around for me..”
you turned around and smiled, kates hands on the back of your dress using the make shift pully for the zipper that mary had put on to undo the dress. but Kate kissed your neck earning soft moans from you.
Kate: “dont forget we are the future of wayne tech, and united we stand..”
YN: “you are so hot, i got all throat dryed and tongue tied when i first met you. i was shell shocked... but im damn well glad you were the one in the building.”
the fabric slid off your body on its own, all kate had to do was make sure you didnt trip over the dress. tossing that with the suit you are in the caressed embrace of Kate.
Kate: “so beautiful...”
you turn around lifting Kate’s tank top off her body. her hands making quick work to slide off her shorts. both of you now scooting onto the bed, Kate was on top of you quicker than you were fully laying down.
Kate: “now this is how love is supposed to be...”
Kate grinded her way onto you, pulling off 69 and just general pleasuring sensual acts. you both were screaming and moaning in pleasure.
Kate: “you know i dont think ive had this much passion in sex in a long time.”
YN: “i know what you mean and i am perfectly content staying right here for like ever...”
kate had been using a double strap on so it pleasured you both. she hadnt puled out or really stopped moving, you both were just laying in a way that you could have a conversation.
YN: “how did i get so lucky to end up with you?”
Kate: “no idea but it was probably the same thing that brought me to you. i love you...”
You cupped her cheeks making sure your noses were touching and that was how your night of perfect bliss continued with the strap on and the vigerous sexual positions and the oral sex you received from Kate.
After several hours of that you both fell asleep cuddled together in perfect harmony. Morning soon fell, the bat computer started its morning routine, the lights were still romantic.
In those moments things seemed simple, both of you had forgotten the horrific but wonderful time at the gala the night before.
Kate and you stirred at the same time, opening your eyes only to start grinding the strap on again, not alot of moving from where you were nor from under the covers.
You were still going at it moments later when Luke and Mary began to decend into the cave. Neither you nor Kate noticed as you were too pre occupied.
The bat computer spoke suddenly.
Computer: "sir Luke and lady Mary, madame Kate and mistress YN are still rolling in the sheets, they also just woke up shall I put up the protective shield?"
Mary: "yes please so we don't have to see anything.. But there is a question I have who installed those shield and why?"
Computer: "master Wayne did for his rendezvous with miss Kyle! Whenever they would happen. "
Luke: "did my father know? About Bruce and Selena?"
Computer: "oh yes everyone eventually knew cause they got engaged in secret. To show Gotham that Selina had truly changed her spots."
Luke and Mary were shocked they didnt think that someone would happen upon anything like that in the cave... though like they were about to see the shield would reveal as though nothing was on the other side of the wall...
Luke: "did bruce leave anything indicating where he was going or why he left?"
computer: "that information is classified except to those whose code names are on the inscription."
Mary: "is it safe to go down now?"
computer: "yes go on..."
meanwhile you and Kate were still engaged in the sensual arts. passion flowing gracefully from you both. neither of you noticing the shield nor hearing the voices from luke and mary, nor realizing that there was work to be done.
about an hour later you and kate were both finally satisfied. you both threw on the robes sitting near by and smiled happily walking out from behind the shield. only to be confronted with glares from Luke and Mary...
Luke: “glad you both could finally join us... oh by the way, great idea for starting wayne tech again that is a brilliant plan...”
Mary: “where are your formal wear so i can repair that zipper and whatever else needs on it...”
YN: “its on the couch over near the shield. just dont look back there it aint pretty.”
Kate smiled cause she could only imagine what kind of horrors they would see if they looked. 
Kate: “did you find anything on that Hush character from the gala last night?”
Luke: “sadly no but i can say that whoever he is is extremely hard to place. plus there is no mention of anyone named Hush in Bruce’s files anywhere.”
YN: “so he is someone new thats okay cause i am the one that took down Poison ivy, that was one of the only missions i ever did with bruce i had my own suit and everything. Bruce taught me everything he knew. but in those moments ivy had no idea that i was the same girl she had tried to force to kill Batman. then i turned around and clipped her with a batarang to the back of the head and brought her ass to arkham. it was a glorious day. it was also the same day that Bruce told me he was leaving. or well that he was preparing too. he told me for what was coming neither of us should be in the city. so when he left i grabbed what few belongings i had and i left gotham and had been in Star City till yesterday.”
Kate went to mary who handed Kate something which peaked your curiousity, but you werent gonna pry you knew when the time was right Kate would do what her heart commanded. 
~1 and a half years later... success had been accross yours and Kates features as you both were running sucessfully 3 businesses. the reopening of wayne tech had gone smoothly. then there was the real estate firm that Kate had been running before you got to gotham as well as a nightclub. a little excessive but its a welcome reprieve with a fully stocked bar. you and Kate were happily living in your penthouse together. you had left alot of it alone due to both of you missed Bruce and wanted him to be honored.~
Kate: “YN, did you put..”
YN: “top drawer in the middle cabinet, Kate did you...”
Kate: “its in your desk in the center drawer...”
you and Kate were functional working happy couple. this was to be the night of the wayne tech gala. you both had put one on as tghe grand reopening and now its a yearly thing. to showcase everything that is in development for the people of gotham. 
Kate: “can you believe that its already been almost 2 years...”
YN: “can you believe that i never thought i would have ever been working for wayne tech again.”
kate: “can you believe that you are the most beautiful woman at this party.”
YN: “your not so bad yourself.”
Kate smiled as she came up behind you to help you do up your dress. 
Kate: “do you think bruce would be proud of what we have done and are doing?”
YN: “i think whereever he is he is very proud of us... and even better he would be honored that we took this mantle and have upheld it for the good of the Wayne family legacy.”
thats when an intruder alert sounded. it was one of the silent alarms on the wayne manor property. 
YN: “we should go as ourselves not in costume.”
Kate: “ill call Mary and Luke and have them stall for time at the gala. we will be there in plenty of time. but your right as usual.”
YN: “good thing we travel to impress.”
Kate: “we also travel combat ready... i get now why you always have slits in your dresses. lets go.”
Kate and you got onto Kates bike and drove off towards the detection. ah yes wayne manor now declared sacred land and only for family, it was unusual that someone would dare to venture onto the property. 
upon arrival at the gate you and Kate parked and got off the bike leaving your helmets and hiding the valuables in the safe installed on the bike. 
Kate: “keep your eyes open something isnt right.”
YN: “dont worry whatever it is we will make sure to handle this.”
Kate smiles and keeps you close while walking further onto the property. you remembered the last time you had been here before bruce left and disappeared. 
Kate: “see anything yet?”
YN: “not yet... wait there is a light inside...”
you start running towards the house Kate follows in suit, you start going up the steps but stop as Kate comes up behind you and grabs your hand both of you walking up those stairs together.
Kate and you each opened one of the double doors, both of you walking inside the light seemingly brighter. you could hear rustling and creeking of floors. you and Kate wanted to charge in “guns” blazing but you were in civilian form not a good idea. 
you both stop outside the door to the room, you hear a familiar voice. no it cant be... 
Kate: “whoever that is, is going to be tried for trespassing...”
except you knew that voice... you knew who it was...
YN: “dont be rash babe, i recognize the voice.”
you open the door with Kate on your heels.
YN: “talia...”
the figure turns around and remves her hood.
Talia: “its been a long time YN. how have you been?”
YN: “to be fair its been a gong show... what with having just come back to gotham last night after being in star city for the last several years.”
Talia: “i guess it has been a long long time. whose your friend?”
Kate holds her hand towards talia and stands tall beside you.
Kate: “kate kane, im Bruce’s cousin. im as of 1 and a half years ago  YN’s  girlfriend.”
Talia shakes kates hand. 
YN: “what are you doing here talia?”
Talia: “i mean no disrespect but something seemed wrong about Bruce disappearing. something felt wrong and if i can find out why it felt wrong then i can find out where Bruce disappeared to.”
YN: “keep us informed, we have an expo to get too.. we are so late...”
Kate: “if you wish there will be a ticket for you at the door Talia. it was very nice to meet you.”
Talia: “as it was to meet you Kate.”
You and Kate leave Talia to what she was doing and head back to the bike. Tears fell from your eyes thinking about Bruce and how proud he would be of both you and Kate.
Kate: "thinking about Bruce?"
YN: "I just wish he were here to see what we have accomplished. But let's get to the expo and reveal the plans for the developments that we have come up with."
Kate hands you your helmet before hse puts hers on as you both get back on the bike and head to the expo. Parking in the parking garage you make the notion that you both got dirt on your outfits.
Kate: "shit Mary is gonna kill us... She might have planned for something like this... Hold on let me..."
before kate could call Mary, mary rang Kate’s cell...
Kate: “Mary thank god its you listen YN and i had a little run in with some dirt both our outfits are no longer presentable do you have any spare outfits.”
Mary yells at luke and then speaks a moment.
mary: “meet me in the washrooms in the lobby... i will have them there shortly..”
you and Kate sneak your way through the corridors and head into the lobby washrooms. anxiously awaiting Mary’s arrival with your replacement outfits, you made sure that you kept a level head. 
Kate: “you look a little tense love...”
YN: “i wanted this night to go smoooth and now we have to do a costume change only a few short moments before we have to be on stage for the toasts. this is not how this night was supposed to go...”
Kate: “not to worry, there is still plenty of time for things to go right.”
Mary walks in a while later, you look at Kate with anticipation for the way that you were hoping this night would go was not what it seemed. 
Mary: okay whose first for their outfit change... 
Kate: just give me the outfits Mary, you and Luke need to make sure no one comes in here for a few moments while we get changed... once we are changed ill knock on the door and you and come and collect the outfits. 
Mary: that sounds do-able. just both of you hurry up people are asking for you, important people. 
you and Kate were not sure who could be out there but you both were certain that this night was gonna be a rocking good time. 
getting into your clean outfits you both realize that you both are wearing your costume colors. Kate knocks on the door once you both are presentable, mary walks in.
Mary: you both look spectacular!
Kate: ya in our costume colors what is going on?
Mary: luke developed a microchip to change anything into your costumes its like a portable solution. but these are just incase of any ruckass. which we are hoping there wont be but just in case here they are. 
Kate: what if we just want to be normal for one night?
Mary reaches into the neckline of Kates shirt and your bra line on your dress and pulls out the microchips. 
Mary: if you both change your minds i have the chips now go  you both are due for your speech in a few moments. 
you and kate go out of the washroom, arriving in the ballroom to be greeted by dignitaries and just in time to be called up on stage. politely excusing yourselves you both walk up on stage. 
Kate: whats up gotham city. thank you all so much for coming out tonight. this year so far is really big and productive for the company. i cant believe its been almost 2 years since me and YN brought wayne tech back to life. if bruce wayne were here today, to see what we have done he would be very proud of everything we are doing to keep this legacy alive. the silent auction will run all night the winner will be contacted by telephone and by email. the prizes will be availble for drop off or pick up at wayne tech. now i am gonna turn the mic over to my business partner and girlfriend YN.
YN: thanks kate, so as you all have seen around the room are some of the plans to refurbish some of the wings at arkham as well as build a secure wing for those more deadly super criminals. our goal is to create a more secure enviroment as well as give the orderlies more space for any other crazies that may pop up or have to go to arkham thanks to the donations of you Gotham we almost have the funds to start the arkham asylum expansion project. 
Kate: before we sign off for the evening i have something i would like to do. bare with me i have not put alot of thought into this but here it goes. 
Kate turns to you taking your hand in her own.
Kate: Yn you and i have taken Wayne tech and brought it back from the dust and shadows like a phoenix in rebirth but tonight as we boht stand before all of gotham i have a question for you, this night at this gala i want to know. Will you YN marry me?
she then got down on one knee and held a ring box to you open to a rose gold entwined celtic knot band with a emerald cut stone in the center. your face went pretty fast from shock to a face of happy complete utter joy. 
YN: yes!
was all you managed to squeak out.  kate placed the ring on your finger and kissed you before holding both your hands up for the press to see the gripped shot of the engagement ring. 
you were not sure what else would come out of your mouth. thats when luke stepped onto the stage with mary. both of them bringing you and kate some champagne. 
mary: waiters are coming around with champagne will you all please join me in raising a toast to YN and Kate  the best people for the right jobs at the right moments. we are honored to be in your debt. to YN and Kate. 
the toast made, the congratulations flowed in, the press all over your engagement. even the crows offered congratulations. 
~what happens now is a different story for a different time~
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delbeugre · 4 years
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Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.
im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!
TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE
BACKSTORY
capricorn sun / virgo moon / scorpio rising
raised by her uncle Big (his name) who is a hermit shut in town local in the depths of the florida marshland like some goosebumps protagonist. hes gone far past socially acceptable in terms of his ability to connect with the modern person but is wise beyond belief... his whole vibe is a warped cross between a cryptid and a mountain man that forages and cooks neighborhood plants. married for 27 years before his wife passed from illness. its quite possibly the only thing hes ever been emotional about
but dels entry to his life throws a wrench in his sadness (despite abandonment being what they bond over). she takes the focus away from his loss with her presence; her dad, his brother, died in a tragic train-car collision around the same time (which is speculated to be a suicide bt nobody can ever really be sure). he was a single parent so her custody is thrown up in the air for a few months as cps decides what they r gna do with this freshly orphaned little scrapper
she just kinda turns up on his doorstep n from there they cohabit a space. shes arnd 6-7 at this time... big never seemed to b phased by the fact tht she was a child n tended to treat her more like an apprentice or guest. he was never close to her father because of their age difference, being the older out of the two, so to have his daughter become his responsibility is just..... weird
this doesnt mean that he wouldnt provide for her bt it was. not very parental whatsoever.... no conversation or interaction beyond what was necessary. she was a mute fr a while and still is? to a degree.... very short spoken
when she got to her preteens he offered her an allowance in exchange for little odds and ends of stuff to be taken care of around the house. errands n all tht.... sometimes he wld purposefully leave things for her to pick up n take care of without mentioning it for a bonus. taught her the importance of saving your money and the horrid corruptness of a society basing everythings worth off paper. big exposed her to a lot of knowledge and took advantage of her silent curiosity by fueling it with books, homeschooling, life skills (catching a fish, setting a trap, knowing your berries in the woods...... the works)
her teens carried out the same way bt with the introduction of a real job, a spot down at the local butcher shop checking people out at the register and helping around the back of house. del knows a great deal abt cow/pig/chicken/etc anatomy from her years here..... she committed to being 100% vegan into her early twenties because of her trauma frm this occupation
it paid very well tho n was the best gig she was going to get within a reasonable biking route from home. so she settled!
the plan wasnt to keep it up for long anyway. she worked rly hard for her spot at yates and didnt intend to ever screw herself over. her plan was to get her bachelors, masters, become a professor, pursue a personal hobby of agriculture and build an elaborate greenhouse to live in
bt things happen..... 
some 35yr old douche with a green thumb woos her at a gardening store n swoops in to teach her a little more abt romance; all of this, of course, under the guise that he had all these tips and tricks for living environmentally friendly. a lame hippie wannabe that shouldve never even approached her bt alas.... he did
love is a touchy subject n it hadnt been something she set her sights on, but she was interested in wht this dude could teach her n at 19 she ended up falling in love. she delayed her education to stay an extra year back home and work out another plan which included him
this was very disappointing to her uncle bt he didnt have anything to say abt it. it was never parental before n it was never going to be, so this was another lesson she wld just have to overcome on her own
it turns out that she doesnt care for infidelity. when the confession comes out its met with a lot of screaming, bawling, blistering white hot anger. the whole incident is blacked out of her mind to b honest....
matters of the heart are no longer something to concern herself with because of the repercussions of her rash behavior regarding heartbreak O________O she spent a year in jail n still has to attend therapy / anger management meetings
deep down she is still hurting. there was a lot of pain... bt the sadness is not over the loss of some noob. she is in a state of constant disappointment, detaching from herself out of shame. putting her own life on pause only for it to turn out like that? stupid stupid stupid... 
PERSONALITY
chugging along! tldr spectre-like swamp nymph aura with the slightest (not so slight) unhinged feral tendencies
delicate like a moth resting in the gleam of a flashlight.... her anger singes her wings when shes too comfortable staying in one place, so theres always constant stimulation, always shifting gears. shes prone to feeling threatened; that being said, sadie is wary of walking in crowds, a little bit skittish when approached without making eye contact beforehand. like a small grey kitten..... in a big wide world
has a hard time keeping a conversation bt is very interested in debate, and even more so in studying alongside someone in complete silence. it reminds her of home in the same sense tht her uncle wld nudge her to keep reading by always having his own book open
doesnt have many friends and is alright with that. rumors are tht she is still a virgin bt who really knows? not i...... bt i wldnt be surprised if this was true. shes not impressed by people nor material items so this whole yates crowd is a turn off
she is truly clueless when it comes to how to behave around anyone her age. i think she understands but it just doesnt compute. she could come off as impolite bt it is just standoffishness? some people cld try to crack her but i dont think even she knows what that would be, or what that would look like. even in her one (1) failed relationship it was never deep heart to hearts or sharing dinner..... solitude is her realm
del is very comfortable with herself, very open with her wardrobe! doesnt leave too much to the imagination? she appreciates the human experience n expresses that thru this whole “body is a temple” type thing.... not quite confidence, but proudness of being. has gotten multiple notices frm professors for her tops being too sheer, nylons too ratted up, etc. has dirt under her fingernails half the time, chipped polish, some chapstick. smudges her eyeshadow on with her fingers
doesnt smoke cigarettes all too often but is dependent on weed. it kinda perpetuates her paranoid demeanor bt at the same time it keeps her lax enough to be able to mentally handle city life
her room is a playground for huge monstera plants, christmas cacti, ivy creeping along the doorway. she sleeps on a tiny thin mattress on the floor with a linen sheet and has her books stacked up on the ground next to it to hold her ashtray. the whole thing is dumb empty
takes her studies seriously and pinches every penny she can..... she has never ordered herself a coffee frm somewhere before, ordered food frm a restaurant... nothing. i wld think the most she would branch out from harvesting everything on her own is buying a bag of sunflower seeds frm a gas station, but even then, she much prefers eating stuff she grows herself. has a tomato plant, some basil beginning to sprout, etc.... manageable crops for any college students tiny space
...
bt yea thats it thats all! connections cld be all over the place. im legit open to anything. theres only a few tht come to mind right off that bat: 
a few people that get along with her? same classes? they shared a bowl n now theyre getting into the nitty gritty of some personal conversation that is veering into no mans land....
some sort of clueless makeover moment? arent rly into sadie as a person bt see a lot of potential... perhaps need a plus one to a party on the fly and figure thats the best option theyve got
crushes? this wld be fun n potentially dangerous! like playing with a hot cast iron pan or something :)
again im vry new to rp so i wld like to leave a lot of stuff up to chemistry, brainstorming n stuff like that, but please consider everything on the table! what i hav mentioned is the tip of the iceberg im so burnt out n i wrote a lot more than i intended to i am so sorry but i promise i am friendly
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lollytea · 4 years
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What are your opinions about Jungle cubs? I loved that show as a kid!
hi hello!! thank u for humoring me!! i love getting asks about the stuff im currently obsessed with that nobody really cares about, it makes me feel valid! also i dont have well constructed opinions, i just have a very messy, manic head so i just babble all my thoughts. for that i am sorry 
im not gonna say jungle cubs is the best damn cartoon to hit the tv and maybe its just my own biased love speaking when i call it a good show but it means a lot to me personally. it brought me comfort as a little kid, i came back to it as a teen when i was feeling very alone and came back to it again as an adult just cuz of my recent love of baloo and talespin and needing something to keep me upbeat during the quarantine. 
and ive watched quite a few cartoons i loved as a kid that i dont really vibe with anymore. i tried rewatching gummi bears. its not my thing. but jungle cubs is?? really good?? its just so charming to watch. i love the expressive animation, i love the smooth flowing dialogue, i love the playful and naive tone it has of just a bunch of kids being kids, i love the depiction of these characters, i love the performance of the voice actors, i love the layers it adds to the original film. layers that were never intended to be in there in the first place but isnt that just the beauty of interpretation and ones own imagination. 
its such a formulaic concept isnt it. to take a classic show/movie and make its protagonists babies for a spinoff. but i dunno, i always got the feeling that whoever was the backbone of this story actually cared about the characters they were writing and took a sincere approach to it. 
they thought in-depth about how to devolve them from their current personalities in a realistic way and what aspects of themselves are so core to their being that they would have been ingrained since childhood. the cubs feel pretty three-dimensional and considering theyre cash grab spinoff babies, that is an amazing feat.
but also, i love it for the very very very simple reason of its really adorable. bagheera especially. to see such a stoic and levelheaded character in his earliest stage as a child just Hits for me. cub bagheera is clever, hes cautious, hes a little stuck-up, all traits he has in the movie. hes also not the best hunter, doesnt know how to roar yet, is a little cowardly, sorta awkward at times and is often trying to prove that hes the best even though hes aware that he is nowhere near the best.
like its easy to believe the kind of person he grows up to be but at the same time, its really interesting to see the more childish aspects of himself that he eventually matured past. and hes adorable dude! baby bagheera voiced by EG Daily is the sweetest goddamn thing, i love him so much 
also shere khan who is a fuckin doozy. hes very interesting in this too. everything about his attitude is reminiscent of a preteen who says mean things to you on voice chat while playing overwatch but if you tell him you’re gonna call the police on him, he starts panicking. thats shere khan’s vibe, a real edgy little tiger who thinks hes hot shit cuz he probably caught something bigger than a mouse like one time and its gone to his head. 
hes constantly stalking around, subtly bragging about what a natural predator he is. but at the same time, he’s still around?? hes still hanging around with the other cubs cuz hes ALSO a cub and likes to play around with other kids his age. and he fucking loves his friends. the amount of times he’s scared off bigger animals who were about to harm them. and its really sweet cuz they like him too. while his attitude is definitely annoying sometimes, they still consider him their friend and enjoy his company. its just wholesome. 
plus hes also pretty vulnerable as hes a cub. he doesnt stand a chance when they come across a grown animal as a threat. he gets scared just like the rest of them, hes just so arrogant that he never admits it. 
in fact the appeal of the show in general to me, is the vulnerabilities of all the characters that comes with being in their most immature state. they dont know any better when it comes to stuff. this show is real dumbass hours 
EVERYTHING about baloo is just great. he does not change even slightly. he is exactly the same except hes little and his voice hasnt broke yet. his child voice is amazingly fitting also.
i mean i guess one thing that differentiates him is adult baloo had some semblance of a philosophy. he was wise....in a way. baby baloo does not know shit about shit. he does not think. he just vibes, okay?? i love him mwah
i dont have much to say about the others but i DO like this interpretation of them more than their adult selves. it also just feels bittersweet that they grew up to be such dicks. Haithi is lovely, i love that hes just out here TRYING to be a colonel but he lacks the authority that comes with being a grown elephant and he doesnt have the self confidence to command anybody yet. he is simply babey.
 louie is a very cute little dude, i love him and baloo as just an idiot squad. he also has a very good voice
kaa.....i dont trust. on one hand, hes very sweet as a child but on the OTHER HAND he grows up to be the creepiest fucking creation disney has ever put in a movie so that snake will always rub me the wrong way even when im trying to like him. 
also ONE THING thats driving me crazy about this show is like. it has the best depiction of pre-adolescent boys that i have ever seen in a cartoon ever. just the way they behave. theyre sweethearts one minute, extremely mean the next minute, going from building eachother up to lightly bullying eachother, lots of unprovoked play fighting, laughing over dumb shit, rude to strangers for no goddamn reason, theres just a lot. 
it fuckin knocked me back like 15 years cuz it reminded me so much of kids i used to play with. and these arent even human children whose brain development is documented, these are animals, this show had no business being this spot-on.
i dont like season 2. it has a few gems here and there that i get a kick out of. but as a whole, its really disappointing. since the show swapped production companies, they seemed to uproot it completely and start from scratch. and its kinda sad cuz i think they were TRYING to do something poignant when it came to a future narrative but it just didnt land. firstly there was a huge animation downgrade and looking at the two season in comparison is kinda depressing. 
also they redesigned the characters, some looked worse than others. baloo looked fine but i still preferred his og look. bagheera....was the worst. rip bagheera. 
they all underwent a huge personality change. and not in the way that showed subtle maturity, i mean a vapid exaggeration of their original personality. the only characters who were left relatively alone in this regard were baloo and kaa. and i dont mind gradually changing a character since there IS an adult version of them that they should be growing into. but the season 2 depictions are literally the furthest things from their adult selves that its unbelievable.
 another pet peeve is they changed a few of the voice actors and.....i love these season 2 voice actors in other work theyve done. dee bradley baker and cree summer specifically who are both very talented people. but they did not fit these roles in the slightest. (not to mention having cree summer play an APE and suddenly having her do a LOT of monkey noises that the previous va never had to do. im not gonna get into all that BUT hmm.) and if youre gonna recast the characters to make them sound “older” as least make them sound somewhat similar to the jungle book actors, so you can picture them eventually growing into those voices. 
also the tone shifted so much between seasons. the way they tried to make this jungle more of a “society” with shit like talent shows and sports games and celebrities and like fuckin. STOP. theyre animals. just let them be animals. along with that the writing just feels really off and its just. not fun. i dont like it 
and as i mentioned, they WERE trying to do something here. the fact that the cubs didnt hang out with eachother as much and were starting to drift apart is kinda sad and wouldve liked it see it handled a little better. but instead i got season 2, which was stupid. and im 21 and im petty. 
anyway i am very sorry that ended so negatively and im very sorry that rant was completely all over the place i have no sense of proper organization i just wanted to gush about what i love. but on a positive note i love jungle cubs!! its very dear to my heart and makes me very happy and i wish it had gotten more episodes
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dimpledpran · 3 years
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me beginning to read ur response; are we the same person? lol completely feel the homebody/fic reading/picky eater, that sounds like a nice time tbh hehe...ahh yes that's good, im the same way i will listen to a bit of everything! but oh i used to love 1D, and ed sheeran is p good too, honestly i only ever heard his first two albums lmao then the next one i kinda didn't vibe too much w it lmao oops. LITTLE MIX THEY ARE MY ABSOLUTE FAVE! god, did u see the jesy news? how we holdin up? (1/?)
oh that is so exciting! what kind of dancing? (continues to read and realizes u answered this as u went lmao srry) oof i admire anyone that has rhythm in their bones cause lord knows i can't dance to save my life lmao but wow wow ok that sounds really really cool! i hope u can go back to dancing&such if u really enjoy it! sounds really cool tbh SINGING IS ALWAYS GREAT NO MATTER THE TALENT YOLO lmao don't let anyone stop u from ever singing lol. sounds like uve done some good ol tv watching (2/?)
oh man ice cream is well deserved and received on any day good or bad but ahhh yes pls a good ol fic can always be a good mood lift :')) i love this we've got quite a few shared interests and such its p cool considering we are the same age!! well im 26 still but i turn 27 in feb lol so but skdlfjs seems like u really loveeee food that is great! and aww the mom food comment, ok same here. u have really good taste in food! u know ive never had indian food! i wanna try some! (3/?)
i can't seem to find any other asks we have shared? i could have sworn i had sent a couple other ones? and u answered? i sha;; go thrpugh your blog since its not in the tag ok! don't wanna leave something un-replied too heh (4??/?) << i think
found it! i knew it! us 'adults' have such busy schedules huh lol i hope you've been resting better these days and not staying up TOO late lol do let me know when ur ss thing happens! wanna hear all abt it heh but anyways lovely i hope ur doing well! taking care of urself and having a nice time! stay safe and i will be back soon!!(5/5)
Hiya love! I shall once again leave my response below the cut. :)
Hahah yay! Glad to know I am not alone in that! 🙈
Used to listen to 1D? Not anymore? I’m offended on their behalf. Just joking. Who are your fave artists?Ed’s first two albums are amazing, the recent one is more pop, but there are a few beautiful songs! YESS! OMG LM ARE SO UNDERRATED AND IT IS DEPRESSING! yeah, I saw the news. I am upset, but I also really am happy that she finally can focus on herself. The industry is too messed up and I hope she gets to where she wants to be mentally and emotionally. She really deserves the best! How are you coping with that?
I have a friend who has no sense of rhythm, is stiff as a rock. We ended up being partners when we learnt Salsa in school, and she chose to be the “lead” and i was to follow her. It was not an easy ride, but in the end we got a B for the exam. So i believe that if she can get a B, anyone can dance! Just gotta keep trying! 💪 HAHAHAH IKR! it is always fun to just belt out and have bathroom concerts! My neighbours should be honoured to listen to me! 😂😂Hahah yeah. the TV watching is what lead me to creating this blog, so no complaints. 
Awww that’s so cool! We are of similar age and have so much in common! Yeah, I am a bit of a paradox. Like I am very picky with food, but I also really love food. haha.  Yess! Mum food is always the best! OMG you should try Indian food!! It depends on if you like more sweet or spicy or sour stuff, but there is pretty much something for everyone in Indian cuisine! Where are you from btw? I dont think I asked this before. (I am sorry if i alr did, and this is a repeat qn)
Oh god! I am so sorry!! I didnt realise that I misspelt the tag, so it was mzdsnetcc instead of mdzsnetcc.. I am sorry that you had to scroll through and find it. But I have rectified it, and I will make sure i spell it correctly henceforth. 
Definitely have been resting better! Thank you! Yeah, working life is more hectic, but i honestly will take this over schooling again. I am so glad to be done with studying. My office SS is finally happening tmr! I can tell you about it next time on how it goes! Thank you for your lovely message! I hope you are having a great week! I believe you have tmr off, so I hope you enjoy your break! Hope you get to do something fun! Take care and stay safe! 🥰🥰
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autisticstarseed · 4 years
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if u could, perhaps, bless us with all the applicable symbols from that fic ask for hvh 👀
ooOoOOOoOO Rub s gay hands togehter omg ty friend 😍;;;;;;
💡 - What was the motivation behind the story?
hHH i hadnt written in 10+ years so when i latched onto this plot idea i just thought itd be a good time to jump the shark and try it again !! i just wanted smth really edgy and depthful bc im emo and the rest kind of snowballed
💎- What was your favorite part?
osdlfksd;lf it’s hard to pick a fav but the drunk scene was definitely the most fun to write at least
⛰️-  What was the hardest part?
THE SCENE WHERE THE GANG IS KIDNAPPED BY ENKI,,,, i debated toning down the violence but in the end i knew where the story was going (and where its still going) and that its gonNA be kinda dark so why hold back now ig
🎭- What was the feeling or mood you were going for?
BITTERSWEET AF,,, sort of just treading the line of ‘hopeful’ and ‘hopeless’ at all times to fully portray the feeling of being at your lowest, but with that classic tss ‘silver linings just around the corner’ kind of undertone
🏟️- Who was your intended audience?
mostly all the adults that watched tss as a kid and felt like spirituaLLY MOVED BY IT cuz i really tried to tap into that Emotion Tee Em we all felt when we found out that zak was [redacted]
🔬- Was there one scene you were building up to/knew you had to get just right?
hHH theres actually a LOT of scenes like that and i think a lot of my general motivation to keep going comes from that ‘WAIT FOR IT WAIT FOR IT’ vibe slkdf:SDF but the Plot Twist tm in the latest chapter was definitely a big’n, and theres a few more of those still to come :^)
🗝️ - What were you thinking when you wrote it?
kjdjFSDs:DF tbh whenever i start really writing, [’im shifting into soup mode’ seinfeld meme voice] im shifting into maladaptive daydreaming mode
🎥- Were there any tv shows, books, or movies that influenced this verse, if any?
:^) devilman crybaby pls forgive me for everytHing
📈- Was there a clear character arch you wanted____ character to go on?
i actually have a short list of what i somewhat consider to be the story arcs in my notes !! mostly just for organization and obvs i wont list the future ones but so far we’ve seen the kushtaka arc, the enki arc, and now we’re in what i call ‘the annunaki’ arc.
🎢- Were there any scenes you were nervous about? For audience reception or otherwise?
ALL OF IT JSHDJSKD, but again a lot of the enki scenes i was worried would be too edgy TM, and the whole annunaki plot as well i was worried might be too ‘out there’ for ppl, but it takes the story exactly where i always wanted it and lines everything up perfectly so i went for it lol. i was also ofc worried if people would like ila or not bc oc but most ppl love her actually which is so 😭❤️
☠️- Did you consider killing off any of the characters? Did you?
8^) [mickey mouse voice] this is a surprise tool that will help us later ,
✉️- Did you title your chapters? What title do you like best?
yes! the next one actually has my favorite chapter title yet, but so far i like ‘so strikes the harpoon’ since its a throwback to the first couple chapters
☀️- Was there symbolism/motifs you worked in?
o every single paragraph is an overly thought out middle school poem im entering in the talent show actually
🎵- Did you have a playlist/piece of music that went with this story?
Yes !! i have HVH insp part 1, Part 2, and an extra one for all those songs that have the vibes but just dont fit enough to make sense in a playlist
📜-Do you want to write something like this again in the future?
probably ! ive learned i definitely like the edgy/darker and emotionally driven stories with ongoing plot, so that trend will almost definitely continue. idk if ill write a dystopia again anytime soon, but i think my future stuff will at least retain that long and heavy vibe
💁- Did readers influence/change any part of this story?
oh yEA like basically i was ready to quit after the very first chapter before it was even written and kinda just got it all out on a whim of motivation but was expecting to flake on it like i tend to do with projects, but the invested response to it was just so uplifting that its what ive been riding on all ten chapters and im so grateful for it :’)))
✏️-Would you go back and change anything if you could?
hHHHHHHH yes and ok this is terrible but i actually tend to avoid re-reading my older chapters until i hAVe to bc i suffer from that sO much ,,, , its just little things like tiny words i wanna change or bits i wanna take out/put in and once or twice ive even caught a mistake or plot hole/smth i forgot to add that i rly do have to go back and edit and i just turn to dust every tim e
⭐- What’s a scene/paragraph you’re proud of?
i really liked the northern lights scene!! it was meant to be a pivotal moment of that ‘bittersweetness’ vibe i was talking abt and it was another one of those scenes i had been planning for a while;;;
“ I think of how much the rest of the family would love this. This isn’t like the moon and the sun, where I can see it and know that even if it looks different, they’ll see the same one soon enough, wherever they are. This reminds me only that I am not with them. It stings. It seems unnatural for something so gentle and natural to appear before us as if we aren’t in complete, total fucking chaos. After all we’ve been through, and the sky still dances. “
📣-What was the best piece of encouragement you got?
AVERY ALL OF UR LIVEBL OGS AND COMMENTS GIV ME SUCH L I FE, ,, ,, CRYIGN CAT FA ce
🔦-Did you learn anything while writing it? About yourself? Writing?
isdfhSDF YEs, part of my hesitation to write came from this thing where i always just assumed there was a wildly high standard of writing in fandom spaces like in original literature spaces, where you had to have like 10+ sentences to a paragraph and you had to describe every tiny detail of a setting and you had to follow every single grammar rule or it was unreadable but like. genuinely its like sculpting with words as long as you have a shape ppl get the idea which is such a weight off my shoulders lol, its still a lot of work but so much fun to know i can to an extent do what i want and ppl actually like it like that. i also learned that like most other writers i have to cause my favs emotional and physical pain,
🎁- Any writing advice for people who want to write something like this?
hhHHHH 1. please do it its so fun just give in to the edge my guy , 2. try to get comfortable re-reading your chapters, for me its like when ppl listen to themselves sing/act but im trying to do better bc its so much more consistent when i keep it fresh in my mind and it also boosts confidence when u can pick out the things u like instead of the things u dont, 3. trying to have at least one scene in mind for each chapter that ur excited to write so u can have motivation to update faster! for me it doesnt have to be smth i think would excite the audience either like it could be the most basic thing but just having an idea of it and knowing i want to see it come to life rly helps me stay on top of it all
TY SM FRIEND THIS WAS SO FUN x x )
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Ok so I know some people in the fandom don't like talking about Magnus' past lovers because anyone that isn't Alec everyone just turns their heads but ok listen. Your last response about Magnus and queer history my head immediately went to Freddie Mercury and oh please I would like a little more insight on how they met and their relationship. The only thing we knew was that Magnus would go to his concerts and even drag his friends along. What I would give to learn more about them.
FUCK MY LIFE anon listen idk if you fully know what you're getting yourself into by asking me this because i am literally OBSESSED with Magnus' relationship with Queen and Freddie like im literally VIBRATING rn i was answering the questions in order but i just HAD to answer this one immediately because !!!!!!!!!!!!! fuck fuck fuck i love magnus' relationship with Freddie Mercury and Queen so much you dont understand, i have already made some posts and i still plan on making a playlist of Queen Songs That Remind Me Of Magnus but anyway hell yeah let's DO this
okay so first im gonna talk a little bit about how i view their relationship. now, they probably weren't in a very serious relationship, since theres this whole Magnus Locked His Heart Ever Since Camille thing, but Magnus and Freddie have SO much in common i cant really think this was just a fling, either. so here's what i think: magnus and freddie were good friends who sometimes hooked up and that definitely had chemistry to have something special, but it never happened because Magnus never fully allowed himself to give in to it and neither did Freddie - im assuming their relationship was in the 70s, since in the 80s Freddie met his husband, Jim Hutton, and at that time Freddie also had a hard time trusting and loving. also, Magnus was already in New York, so it couldn't have been too serious. but Magnus would go around to watch their concerts and every time he would find Freddie somehow (it wasnt that hard, really, you just had to go to the local queer scene) and they would sometimes hook up, sometimes just talk and enjoy each other's company, sometimes both. that's what i think it's most likely.
but the absolutely OFF THE CHARTS amount of vibing they must have done. i dont think you fully understand - unless you're a queenie trash bitch such as me - just how similar magnus and freddie are. here's a short, comprehensive list of Freddie Mercury Traits:
Freddie was seen and stereotyped as an overly sexual, lothario, diva and inconsequential kind of guy, and to some extent he put on this facade, but in reality he was extremely closed off and insecure and loving, and this was mostly a persona he put on to protect himself
Despite that whole persona, Freddie was an extremely compassionate guy who did everything he could to help others, particularly other queer people. His personal assistant, his chef, his chaffeur, all were other queer guys (sometimes his exes even) that had nowhere else to go and were in need of a job, and Freddie was just like "oh, would you look at that, you're hired now. I'm gonna pay you, hm, 3 million" it was so. When Jim lost his job Freddie hired him as a gardener. They literally met because they were talking in a club and Freddie was all like "lets all go to my house" and brought in a bunch of strangers to his home. That's the kind of guy he was. His house was always open as well
Freddie was loyal to a fault and a little bit too trusting, and was stabbed in the back a few times. The most well-known one is P*ul, who outed him against his will despite them having years of friendship, a blow that Freddie never fully recovered from, but there were others. Despite being a shy guy and reluctant to open up, he actually wore his heart on his sleeve and this sometimes ended up hurting him, a lot
Freddie felt absolutely lonely and like he was unworthy of being loved. This is not a secret, its a common theme in a lot of his songs, the most prominent of them being somebody to love. He wanted to be loved and taken care of but at the same time wouldnt allow himself
He was also very insecure. Jim says in his book that Freddie would frequently ask him, out of the blue, if he loved him, despite the fact that they were, you know, married (not in the paper, of course, but Jim bought him wedding rings and Freddie called him his husband, so i consider them married)
He was constantly scared of being an inconvenience. When he found out he had AIDS, his first instinct was to tell Jim that if jim wanted to leave him he would understand. Jim, of course, said that was bullshit and he wouldnt leave Freddie because of that
He was a perfectionist and always wanted to do his absolute best, nothing less. He was also a creative genius as we all know
He loved cats and would bring random cats into his home constantly
He loved fashion and pretty things
He was a queer, gnc man of color
He had a pretty protective side to him; queen's bassist, John Deacon, was extremely shy and said that Freddie pretty much shielded him from the press attention, and also helped him polish his song writing skills and always wanted him to do his best. After Freddie died, John quit the showbusiness.
I mean, remind you of someone? Holy fucking shit, i nearly lost my goddamn mind when they mentioned that he hooked up with Freddie, because they're so similar in their issues and insecurities and interests it's almost meta. I don't know if that was on purpose or not, but i thank the sh writers every day for that line tbh honestly i am so blessed
Unfortunately i think they might kind of be too similar - you get two very insecure, afraid to be hurt people who kind of have a persona together and it's kind of hard to have them have a meaningful relationship. But where Freddie was shy, Magnus was extroverted and easygoing, and there were always parties (something the both of them loved) and they had enough common interests to bond over. Also, they both couldnt help but wear their heart on their sleeves, even when they tried not to. And i mean, i am 100% sure that Magnus absolutely loved Queen, because 1- who doesnt? 2- the songs are so intense and heartfelt and beautiful and theatrical and that's right on magnus' alley; 3- the lyrics just speak to him, because there Freddie was, writing about wanting to be loved and fearing to open himself up, and there was also Brian writing all these songs about seeing your loved ones die, and Roger was a domestic abuse victim - there was just so much for him to relate too. So i can definitely see Freddie and Magnus staying up awake late at night, looking at the window and talking about themselves, their fears, the personas they have created and how hard it is to break out of them, when they were alone in a hotel room and everyone else who was at the party was gone. Just the two of them, having heart-to-hearts, then sleeping, but the next day the magic was gone and they were both back to guarding themselves - also, Magnus was avoiding getting involved with mundane men, if you go by my headcanon. so there was just too much holding them back
but it was still an important relationship that helped the both of them learn more about themselves and get a little more used to opening up and allowing themselves to talk about themselves. they didnt really break up as much as drift apart - Freddie had the band and Magnus was high warlock of Brooklyn and the political tensions in the downworlder community were high. But they both got their happy endings after all - Freddie met Jim and they were together until the end of his life, and Magnus met Alec, who will be with him for the rest of eternity too because i said so :) so its all good, in the end, and Freddie will always have a special place in magnus' heart, as both an amazing human being that he was honoured to meet and someone who was really, really important to magnus and that helped him become who he is today and be a little happier and more comfortable with himself
he still loves queen and listens to them constantly. sometimes its bittersweet to think about him, but most times its just good to hear these songs that mean so much to him and think of how far theyve both gone
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migleefulmoments · 4 years
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Reality Check on TSG and Darren: Dissecting the Lies the ccers repeat.
The obsession with Mia and TSG returned as soon as Elsie was over- just as predicted. I find it so odd that a handful of women with NO intention of ever stepping foot in TSG have such an obsession with keeping tabs on negative Yelp reviews. How often they must check Yelp in order to catch every one.  hot of the press so they can blast it and rage over the problems. But even more curious is that they never actually vet the reviewers themselves for their validity. Several of the negative reviews the fandom delighted over were clearly written by people who have never been to the bar and were influenced by Abby’s theories including the one who complained about the vaginas dripping on the bar and the one who complained about Open Dyke Night and then admitted she was underage and half a world away. 
Here is TSG overall score: 
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With 118 review they are at 4.5 stars so these 1-star reviews are not the norm.  Most review look something like this 
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or this
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Now let’s look at this recent lot that Cassie decided to bring to ccers’ attention.  
cassie1022
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(Well Megan, it depends on what night you were there. They close at 1 am on Tuesday and Wednesday).
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(If the door people are turning people away an hour before closing, Mia needs to know and the Yelp review will be helpful  But since the vast majority of the 118 reviews are very positive, this clearly isn’t a problem that occurs often).   
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(This is the one that gets Abby’s fired up about.  I have no clue it it is true or if it this policy is posted anywhere. I will give them this one because I can’t check anywhere.  20% does seem a bit high for a bartender tip since they aren’t waiting on a table...anyone?)  
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(Melinda, Melinda Melinda...I’m going to guess that by her comment that she is not 21. She gave the place 1-star because the bartender carded her. Basically that is it. She gave them a horrible review and ranted because there were frumpy old lady tourists in the bar, she insulted the drink taste and the price even thought it sounds like she wasn’t served and the bartender thought she looked young. I’m sorry but this smells wrong. But even more telling is the comment “If I am willing to buy your mediocre $20 glasses of urine then you bet I am old enough”. Notice she never says she is 21, she simply spits that she is willing to pay the price for the horrible drink and that qualifies her.  
Check out her Yelp page- she went to LONO after TSG and complained about TSG on that LONO’s review.  “BEST BAR OF THE EVENING! I came here after fleeing the depressing depths of Tramp Stamp Granny's in search of refuge. The bartender with the long red beard was incredibly nice! He was kind, considerate, and extremely welcoming. The drinks were superbly delicious!!!!! Everyone should come here”  I get the vibe she didn’t get served at TSG (Keep reading, there is another hint about her age at the bottom of this section) 
Back home in NY she gave Trader Joe 1-Star claiming she found a worm in her smoked salmon. That seems suspect since the salmon was smoked. She gave her local ice cream place 1-star and this charming review “There was a long, black hair rolled up into my ice cream, the plate that my "sweet treat" was made on was covered in ice and the remnants of previous orders, and the employees appeared to be quite overworked.  When I want ice cream, I don't want an accompanying side of pity for the workers and disdain for the tedious, migraine-inducing procedure to make a mediocre ice cream. Also, the store was sweltering and I broke out into a beading sweat while waiting in the purgatory-like line.” The only places Melinda likes are a hot dog place and a pizza joint. The pizza joint got 5-stars “By far the best pizzeria ever; my existence would be trash without Emilio's. Oozy, gooey goodness that tastes like ambrosia regardless of the toppings. While the employees are lacking in the common customer service charm that we are force fed as a society, they have a higher level of pizza IQ than the rest of us average mortals. I guess that's what happens when you spend your days cultivating the food of the gods.”. But my favorite review of all is for 5-star review for her favorite hot dog place “Very delicious, savory hot dogs. The location is prime with it being directly behind the high school, however, the large line every single day can get a bit tedious. If only they would expand and open an extra window.” Now why would an adult care that it is located near the high school? It would seem that the person who calls the location “prime with it being directly behind the high school” but also notes that it the line is large every single day is a high school student.  Of course she could be a teacher who eats hot dogs everyday and is between the ages of 22 and 30 (any older and she would not be that upset that the bartender thought she looked young) but her comments reek of teenager.) 
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(I have no clue what David’s issue is.  Is this a viable complaint to leave on Yelp? It sounds like David has a personal issue with the guy working the door.)  
Now the ccers chime in: 
ajw720  While all of these are bad, how are they getting away with unitemized bills that include gratuity with no policy plainly in site? I totally understand charging gratuity and have absolutely no issue with it, but it needs to be clearly stated, because if it is not, that is tricking customers into tipping twice. Disgusting.
Can we please separate d from this horrific establishment? Not only is it utterly misogynist and offensive in nature, with theme nights where the name is considered hate speech, it is repeatedly cited as poorly run.  First a 5% upcharge on ice and now we learn they charge gratuity automatically on bills of $80 or more without clearly stating the policy. That should be written on the bill handed to the customer.  Unacceptable.  
(Can we please separate d from this horrific establishment? No, Darren is married to the owner and considers himself an owner. What did he say the other day? “It’s my bar too because we are a unit” or something like that.  
Not only is it utterly misogynist: TSG is NOT misogynistic. You dont understand the word .
and offensive in nature: TSG is NOT “offensive in nature” to most grown adults. You can find it offensive but you do not get to dictate what the rest of the world finds offensive. Your attitude is no different from the Christians who claim they won’t serve LGBTQ customers because it is against their religious beliefs in that you are both putting your morals, values and beliefs on someone else and declaring that it is offensive to all of us. If you find it offensives then don’t give them your business. Period 
with theme nights where the name is considered hate speech: The theme-night names that you find so offensive and are labeling “hate speech”, are in fact words the LGBTQ is using to empower their community. “Open Dyke Night” was named- and is hosted by- a lesbian who uses the word to empower lesbians. These theme nights you find so offensive are NOT for you. They are nights for the LGBTQ community to come to a space that is safe and enjoy the company of others in the community just like them hence Open Dyke Night is for lesbian women to come together with other lesbian women and enjoy a night of singing and celebration. 
it is repeatedly cited as poorly run.. : It is NOT “repeatedly cited as poorly run” by anyone who isn't named Abby, Cassie, Leka, and Flowers. The bar has 4.5 stars overall and a lot of 5-star reviews. This is exactly what NadiaCreek was talking about when she said “You are denying a reality that is obvious and that gets more and more evidence with every passing day. You are tricking yourself into seeing patterns that are not there, by obsessing over small details and ignoring a mound of evidence for the opposite, true conclusion. That kind of thing can and will pour over into areas of your life that do matter. Denying reality in any area of the world is a dangerous game that can and will impact the rest of your life”. THIS is so important.  
First a 5% upcharge on ice and now we learn they charge gratuity automatically on bills of $80 or more without clearly stating the policy. That should be written on the bill handed to the customer: A 5% up-charge on ice was mentioned by one person. I wouldn't be referencing that based on one person’s random comment. The 20% gratuity is again only one person complaining so I wouldn’t sink my teeth in to this one until you know a lot more)  
klaineownsmysoul
When you have a “venue operator” masquerading as an owner who knows nothing about how a business should be run and obviously couldn’t care less, what do you expect?  They couldn’t be bothered fixing the air conditioning last summer and laughed it off as a joke.  Pretty sure at this point its obvious this wasn’t some sort of “life long dream” of hers to own a bar like they’ve pushed; more like a dream to have a place where she can drink for free and have her pic taken while people kiss her ass and call her wonderful.  There is not an ounce of D in that place.  His shoelaces have more integrity than this place.
(You have no clue what the business end of TSG is and comments like how she is “masquerading as owner” are so obtuse and stupid they defy logic. She is the owner and the bar is busy. But it doesn’t matter if it is failing and barely hanging on- it isn’t any of your business-that’ss between Mia, Darren and Danny and their landlord and vendors. It’s really sad and disgusting that you want Darren’s bar to fail. CCers want to be taken seriously -Abby constantly complains that the stans won’t listen to the various cc tropes -and yet you make nonsense statements like this...this is one big reason why you aren’t taken seriously. You WANT Mia to fail and you WANT TSG to go away but that is not the same thing as it actually failing or Mia being a clueless boss. In fact, her employees have said very nice complimentary things about her being a fabulous boss and they are far more credible evaluators than the cc fans who have never been to the bar and  simply believe Abby’s fantasy tropes about the bar and Mia failing. You have no idea if she cares or doesn’t care and again, it isn’t any of your business. It’s her business to drive into the ground or make it a roaring success. Darren’s fans don’t get a say in the matter other than to either be a customer and pay for drinks or don’t give them your business. 
Patrons continue to go to the bar and I have not seen complaints about the lack of A/C except on opening night.  It is just as much Darren’s bar as Mia’s- so you believe Darren didn’t care about the A/C and laughed it off as a joke? When? Or is it that A/C was out a few days over a year ago and you are still using that as fuel for your rage about a bar that you have nothing to do with? 
“Pretty sure at this point its obvious this wasn’t some sort of “life long dream” of hers to own a bar like they’ve pushed; more like a dream to have a place where she can drink for free and have her pic taken while people kiss her ass and call her wonderful” Again comments like these are why you aren’t taken seriously.  Mia owns the bar. Whether you like it or not, she owns the bar.  You simply don’t like that she isn’t the bar manager-she pays people to do that.  The owner is the one who hires and trains staff, makes decisions about the menu and what alcohol will be offered, writes the policies and procedures,   plans the calendar and makes payroll. She pays other people to run the bar day-to-day and that pisses you all off because you can’t see her at the bar and criticize every moment that is uploaded to social media. What she does is all behind the scenes and not Instagramable. But it doesn’t mean she isn’t working. There is a thing now called the internet and it makes doing a lot of the work of running a bar doable from a wide varsity of locals.  .  
Your comment that “there is not an ounce of D in that place” leaves me shaking my head. When you guys say things like this it just proves that you don’t know anything about Darren. You spend your time looking for Blaine and you're right- the bar has nothing to do with Blaine but it has Darren written all over it. The cc fandom spends all of their time and effort looking for the Darren they want to see and it’s a lot of work. You have to reject a lot of what you see and blame it on his team for making him be the bro’ dude that you can’t stand. You have to find videos and look at them frame by frame to find the moments you believe are the ‘real’ Darren aka the one you want to see. You have to cut out those precious few seconds, slow them down,  and  turn them into gifs and THERE...THERE IS the Darren you know and love.  But while you are doing all that work you are missing the real Darren. The one who is right there in front of your face but you don’t like because he isn’t Blaine. Darren’s footprint is all over the bar- from the elegant debauchery of the decor to the sexual puns on the signs and the drink names that IS Darren Criss. The piano at the center of the room-Darren’s piano- that he uses to connect with people through music and the fact that it is a piano bar that plays covers is all Darren. Mia plays very different music when she performs and yet the bar is literally based on what Darren does best- play the piano and sing covers while those around him join in. The place is ALL Darren-you just don’t like the real Darren.)        
flowersintheattic254
You know so many things were attempted to try to make M look like a career woman, with a viable business, shared interests with D and not a beard without taste or work ethic.
I think the bar will likely last as long as the fake marriage as M isn’t interested in it when D isn’t there to hang off and when you consider when it opened and how the encage went down.
M hung around bands when she was younger due to her fathers businesses. She likes being around famous, talented people. The bar gives her the opportunity and venue to continue her groupie inclinations.
I’m absolutely glad that D has been too busy recently to be there.
The most influence he may of had was with the whiskey choice.
(I don’t know why it’s so hard for you all to understand that Mia had several jobs and now she is owns a bar. The fact that you feel entitled to criticize her for her career decisions and make comments about her taste level is pure misogyny. Darren has also had lots of jobs and you don’t criticize him and the punny sex jokes are all Darren and yet you attribute them to Mia- that’s misogyny. Mia didn’t write Me and My Dick, Darren did, he loves the puns.   As for shared interests...he married her. Their shared interest is the family and the life they are building together.
How long the bar is open is yet to be determined but given that your record for predictions regarding Darren and Mia is abysmal, I’m not going to sweat it. The idea that Mia “hung out with bands” as a kid and the piano bar gives her the opportunity to hang out with famous people-I just can’t. She hangs out with far more “famous people” and musicians just going to events with her husband then she ever will at Darren’s piano bar. 
Her “groupie inclinations” WTF is a “groupie inclination”? I don’t even know what to say to that because I have no clue what a groupie inclination is. It’s really sad that you are so happy that Darren isn’t connecting to people though music since that means so much to him. He recently was asked if he had a need to be on stage and he said no, he has never had that need but what he does "NEED” is to connect to people though music and he also has said that playing the piano while people sing along gives him that connection.  I shouldn’t be surprised that you are gleeful that Darren hasn’t had time to spend at the bar he created in honor of his beloved Marie’s Crisis, your fan-girling over Darren has never been about Darren, it’s always been about you).  
leka-1998 Too bad you can’t actually call forgetting about that place most of the time and drinking the money they force people to spend a career. She’d be truly successful. It’s really her bar and D’s just the piano man, right? So if that could stop too, that would be nice.
(You really need to stop slandering Mia, she doesn’t drink anymore than Darren. You never call out Darren’s drinking but then again, it’s just your misogyny speaking-it always comes. The bar is Mia and Darren’s. When he says he’s just the piano man, he is just taking the attention from himself and giving it to her.  Darren does this a lot with people he cares about.  But he has been very clear that the bar is his and Mia’s. I know words are hard for you guys, you get so caught up in the meaning of the word that you fail to hear the message. Anyone paying even a little attention t Tramp Stamp Granny’s would realize that is Darren’s bar through and through. Someday maybe you can all stop looking for the Darren you like, stop obsessing about what this word means or that word, stop slowing down videos and clipping the out the 3 seconds you like  and instead  you can just listen to the Darren that is right there in front of you and HEAR what he has to say.  It will be revolutionary.  Listening to other people without assumptions is the very least you can do..literally it is the least).    
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jsmnutami · 4 years
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Kyoto: day 02
Fri, Feb 28th 2020
We started today at 8 am, after having an Indonesian fusion breakfast at our apartment (we brought abon + teri from home, and some rice of course) we were ready to start our day. It was a sunny day but still, the temperature was around 7-8 degree celcius. No rain predicted which always a blessed.
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Our first destination was Kiyomizu-dera temple. It located at kiyomizu area, Higashiyama district eastern of Kyoto. Kiyomizu-dera is a buddhist temple founded in year 778.  It takes its name from the waterfall within the complex, which runs off the nearby hills. Kiyomizu means clear water, or pure water.  In 1994, the temple was added to the list of UNESCO world heritage sites.
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We have to walked 1,5 km from our apartment which was not that bad. One thing to be noticed was the uphill road along the way. We chose the uncommon way to got there (again, thanks to google map), less crowds but still feel a bit touristry thanks to many store lined up from small cafe to souvenir shop. 
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Once we arrived, we welcomed by a small temple-like gate with a few steps along the way. There were not many people that day thank god, I heard in its peak season, there would be massive lines of people and its not that enjoyable to visit.
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After passing the gate, we found ourself at the top of the hills, at this point you could see the city of Kyoto from its modern building to mountains surrounding it. By the way, I think Kyoto is pretty much like Bandung (minus the traffic) because this city is located in a highland and surrounded my mountains, not a modern as Tokyo but still a city not suburban. 
Before entering the main temple, we required to bought an admission ticket 400 yen (Rp.55.000) per person. The main temple was located 18 m above the ground, this temple is famous for its large wooden terrace surrounded my cherry blossom and maple tree. Unfortunately, we went there on winter so all of the trees has no leaves left. The best season to visit here (and visit Japan in general) is autumn or spring, you’ll feel mesmerized by its beautiful pinkish cherry blossom blooming or orange-red maple leaves there. 
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After we satisfied with the temple, we were heading downhill thru the exit gate. Besides the main temple, Kiyomizu-dera has a couple of other small temple as well. We payed a visit to one of the small pagoda called Koyasu Pagoda which reminded me so much of the pagoda in Kemaro Island, Palembang lol. Just before the exit gate, we made a brief stop at Ottawa Waterfall. Legend has it, each stream's water is said to have a different benefit, namely to cause longevity, success at school and a fortunate love life. However, drinking from all three streams is considered greedy.
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Done with Kiyomizu-dera, we proceed to our next destination; Ninenzaka and Sannenzaka slopes. 
First we headed to Sannenaka, a street full of souvenir shops, cafe, and street foods. Here in Kyoto, one of the well-known souvenir was a traditional japanese fan which ranged from 1000 yen (Rp.125.000) up until 15.000 yen (Rp.2.000.000). I also happened to bought a snack, a cream puff with matcha custard inside, yum!
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One thing I like about these slopes was how they were reminding me of old and authentic japan. I like the classic and traditional vibes they provided. A lined of machiya-like (old traditional japanese wooden house) shops and traditional rickshaws somehow soothed me. These were definitely a must visit place while you’re in Kyoto.
In Sannenzaka, we stopped at one famous dessert cafe I’ve been dying to visit; Maccha House!
This cafe sells variety of matcha dessert (since Kyoto famous for its uji matcha) but famous for its matcha tiramisu. I tried one for 590 yen (Rp.80.000) and it was worth every penny I’ve spent! The cream, topped with matcha powder, was smooth, not too sweet which I like and it has a strong matcha flavor. If you’re happened to be here, I really recommend you to try this! Again, thank me later.
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After Sannenzaka, we were entering Ninenzaka street. Here’s place of the famous and one of the kind Machiya-like starbucks. Too bad we were already full from tiramisu before, we bought nothing from this starbucks, maybe next time.
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From Ninenzaka, we continued our journey that day to Gion District. Gion is Kyoto’s geisha district, with hostesses in colorful kimonos often sighted on the wooden Tatsumi Bridge, or amid upscale Japanese restaurants and boutiques on Hanamikoji Street.
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From Hanamikoji street (famous for its geisha diner) to Gion Shirakawa (a river banks street full of traditional japanese restaurant). I personaly love the vibes at Gion Shirakawa, it was so peaceful with its large pavements and again, a lined up of machiya restaurant with cherry blossom tree along the way (no, not blooming yet).
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It’s lunch time! We were craving for some hot dish, and we picked halal ramen Naritaya which located 500 m from Gion Shirakawa. Finding a halal ramen in Japan could be a little challenge since ramen traditionally made with pork broth or topped with chasu but thankfully this one is the halal one :)
Their food ranged from 800-1400 yen (110.000 to 190.000). I picked spicy miso ramen; which in my opinion it tasted almost similar with ramen I had in Indonesia but better. As a sucker for japanese food, I think this place is quite good for a nice bowl of halal ramen. In my experience, the halal food in japan always more expensive than the regular one, i dont know why tho.....
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Gion district, done! Next: Fushimi Inari-taisha Shrine
Fushimi Inari-taisha Shrine is one of the well known icon of Kyoto. The highlight of the shrine is the rows of torii gates, known as Senbon Torii (the orange gates we all know, even we had one of its replica here in Bandung). Located at the foot of Mount Inari all the way to the top. It’s pretty easy to get there, once you arrived at JR Inari station, the Shrine located right in front of the station. This is one of the place that didn’t have an admission fee or free entrance!
a little detour, as you might already knew, train is the main transportation here in Japan. With its extensive and somewhat confusing line, it covers almost every inch of the country. In Tokyo, they have more complicated lines yet I feel like its less likely to get lost there than in Kyoto. Kyoto has so many lines managed by various company; not just metro and JR like in Tokyo. Sometimes, they’re using the same line for a different train. My little tips here is to always read the sign on every train you’ll take, make sure those train will make a stop at your destined station. And if the seats in the train are nice, it probably a long-ride train, not a local train so always do the check and be cautious. 
Okay, back to the main road.
In Fushimi inari-taisha Shrine, first, we saw the main shrine, then we have to hiked all the way to the top of the mountain with the torii gate along our way. We didn’t make it to the top, I heard it takes 2 hours to get to the end of the gate. Lucky for us, there were not many tourist that day so we could enjoyed our hiked there. The gate actually are a charity given by a person to the shrine. The bigger the money, the bigger the gate you’ll get.
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Along the way to the station, there was so many food stalls selling japanese street food. From dango, daifuku, yakitori, and other Kyoto specialty. I myself bought Strawberry daifuku (mochi) for 250 yen (Rp.33.000). Yum! Japanese food is the best, even the street food. So, make sure to take a stop and buy one to yourself whenever you’re in Japan.
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The sun has set and we were back to the apartment. Took a little bit rest and decided to strolled around Gion for a quick dinner. It only took us 20 min from our apartment to Gion by foot. One thing I noticed again during our walks is that how quiet and peaceful Kyoto is compare to Tokyo. We took a shortcut thru residential area and its the most peaceful among all. Even the famous Hanamikoji street (Geisha’s area) is far from crowded. 
We were having dinner at Mcdonald’s Gion, near Kamo River at Kyoto-Karawamachi area. This is something that worth the try if you’re planning to visit japan. Go to the nearest Mcdonald’s and order their ebi filet burger. The crunchy tempura-like exterior with a mashed AND real shrimp inside....again, thank me later.
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It’s a wrap for our 2nd day, 5 days to gooo!
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