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poisonedapples · 3 years

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Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids

Chapter One: The New Kid

Story Summary: Roman has to have a completely new start. New school, new town, new home and a new family. As a kid in his first foster home, Roman isn’t prepared to trust these people and get hurt again, but he’s not the only kid in the house recovering from past issues. Regardless, their foster father Patton is ready to be the dad they’ve always needed, and traumatized kids learn to lean on each other for support.

Story Warnings: Past abuse of all types, trauma, and anxiety

Pairings: Familial LAMP

Chapter Summary: Roman moves into his new foster home. He is not having a good time.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety, panic, implied past abuse, food, one vomiting mention, and talk of hidden cameras

Word Count: 6778

Notes: First chapter of a story I’ve wanted to make for my foster au! Thanks to Cornybird on Ao3 for beta-ing this one <3

“Logan, Virgil?” Patton called out from downstairs. “Can you come down here? I wanna talk about something with you!”

Virgil and Logan gave each other curious looks from their sitting places on the same bed. Virgil placed his phone on the nightstand beside him as Logan set his book down at the foot of the bed, both standing up to exit Virgil’s bedroom and head downstairs. At the dining room table was their foster father, Patton, smiling wide with a laptop and notepad in front of him.

“What’s up?” Virgil asked after he and Logan glanced at each other.

Patton giggled to himself, “Sit down for a second and I’ll tell you! Nothing bad, promise. I think it’s very exciting.”

They quickly sat at the table on the other side of Patton. “So,” Patton joked, “I bet you’re wondering why I’ve gathered you all here today!”

Logan and Virgil spoke in unison. “You’re getting another foster kid.”

Patton blinked. “…How’d you guess it?”

“You’ve been really happy recently, but also very quiet about why you were so happy. You only get like this when you’re bringing another foster kid into the mix. You did the same thing when Logan came along.” Virgil said.

Logan nodded. “Virgil told me about his suspicions due to your behavior, and I agreed with him. I think we both expected you’d make the announcement soon.”

“Oh.” Patton rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “I didn’t think it was that easy to tell. Well, you guessed right! The new kiddo is moving in on Sunday!”

Logan leaned closer. “What’s their name?”

“His name is Roman Goldsberry. He’s fifteen, and he’s only been in the system for about five months. Though, before this, he was in kinship care with his aunt, so living here is going to be very strange for him. So just be patient with him at first, okay?”

“Yeah yeah, we will be.” Virgil smirked. “But you said he was fifteen?”

“Yup! He’ll be a sophomore in high school this year.”

“Aw, that means Logan’s still the baby in the family.”

Logan blushed. “I’m a teenager. I am not the so-called ‘baby’ of the family.”

“Sounds like something the baby of the family would say.”

“Falsehood!”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough.” Patton tried not to laugh. He knew how much Logan hated being the youngest, but it was hard to act like his reaction wasn’t funny. “Remember, Roman will be here Sunday, so be on your best behavior when he gets here. No spooking him.”

“Got it, got it.” Virgil slouched in his chair and thought. “One more question though. How fucked up is he?”

“Virgil, language.” Patton warned.

“Sorry! It’s just a question. We know you have a soft spot for the most effed up kids you can find.”

“I would have to say I’m curious as well.” Logan agreed. “It’s become a pattern.”

Patton sighed. “He’s not messed up, he’s a kid who’s struggling and needs support. If he wants to tell you two about his past, then he will.”

Virgil groaned. “Fine, fine. Can we go back upstairs now?”

Patton smiled. “Yes, you can go.”

“Great! I’m stealing your book, Logan.”

“Wait, you can’t do that!”

Virgil darted back upstairs with a maniacal laugh as Logan chased him, the sound of bickering teenagers traveling back up the stairs. Patton shook his head in amusement, still listening to the ruckus in case it got out of hand and he needed to step in, but Patton knew his kids. They may tease, but they’re not mean.

Patton continued working on his laptop once the noise quieted down again.

***

“I hate this.”

“I know you do, Roman, but I’m certain you can persevere and find happiness in this new home!” Roman’s social worker, Mr. Picani, smiled hopefully as he continued to drive him to his foster home. Roman was scooted as close to the window as he could possibly get, his legs crossed and clamped together so tight his thighs were getting sore. He didn’t trust Picani, and he sure as hell didn’t trust this new house. No matter what anyone told him.

“I already had a home! Living with my aunt was so much better than whatever could happen here.” Roman’s hands shook just thinking about it. He didn’t know anything about this new person, and the idea of being in a house full of strangers was enabling the more gruesome side of his imagination. He trusted his aunt, at least, but now he was going to a family who could be anyone.

Roman didn’t like the idea of that.

Picani frowned. “You know why your aunt couldn’t house you anymore, Roman. I know it’s not easy, but I think you’ll like this new place! It’s more up north in Foley County, and the area is nice. He also has two other foster children if that helps.”

“How old are the other kids?”

“Fourteen and sixteen, I think. You’ll get to know them more during your time there.”

Roman hummed, looking out the window and digging his nails into his shirt sleeve. He really hoped this foster dad hadn’t touched them before. Even forgetting about himself, a fourteen year old kid having to deal with abuse? Even after getting away from bad parents? He didn’t wish that on anyone.

“And if you ever feel unsafe,” Picani added, “you can always contact me, ‘kay?”

I already feel unsafe. “Okay. How much longer until we’re there?”

“About twenty more minutes. Just enough time to finish the rest of the Tangled movie soundtrack!”

Roman didn’t respond. Normally, he’d love to have a Disney soundtrack he could burst into song with, but he wasn’t feeling it today. And probably wouldn’t be feeling it for a long time.

He just wanted to feel safe. He felt safe with his aunt, but she couldn’t afford to keep him long after the trial since she gave birth to the twins. His aunt was always one of his favorite relatives, one of the few adults he genuinely trusted, now he was going to the house of some random guy named Patton, who he’d only heard of yesterday, and expected to be okay near him. Well, he wasn’t okay. And he wasn’t going to be, ever.

Roman leaned his head on the window and closed his eyes. His hands still shook a little and his chest felt weird, but fighting it now was pointless. Roman just hoped that if this guardian did try something, he’d do it quickly. The sooner Roman told on him to save himself and the other kids, the better.

Though, Roman still felt his hands tingle at the thought. The idea of “getting it over with” made him want to scream and cry. He wrapped his legs tighter together.

After a long time of trying to fight against his own anxious thoughts, Picani pulled into a driveway and stopped the car and Roman opened his eyes to take a look at where they were. He didn’t know the neighborhood, but it seemed like Picani was telling the truth when he said the neighborhood was nice. The house seemed huge, big bushes and flower patches in the front yard and a nice outside paint job. It looked like a house that a functional nuclear family would have, where the dad is a doctor and the mom stays at home with the kids.

Well, looks can be deceiving. Roman thought. Don’t get your hopes up.

“Here we are!” Picani unbuckled his seatbelt with a wide smile. “Grab your suitcases in the back, I’ll knock on the door.”

Roman nodded and got out of the car as Picani popped the trunk. He grabbed two red suitcases and a backpack, closing the car and wheeling it all up to the front door. Picani was there talking to a guy who Roman assumed must be Patton Sanders, and by taking just one look at him…Roman had never seen a person look so much like a dad.

He was wearing khaki shorts and a light blue polo with tennis shoes and knee socks, thick-rimmed glasses sitting on his face to finish off the dorky look. Patton managed to pull it off, sure, but Roman felt a primal urge from binge-watching Queer Eye to fix that mess of an outfit.

Before Roman could truly take in the fact that Patton’s knee socks also had kittens on them, Patton smiled wide once he saw Roman in the corner of his eye. “Hello, Roman! It’s so nice to have you, come on in you two!”

Patton stepped aside to hold out the door as Picani and Roman both walked in. Roman scraped his arm on the door frame trying to keep a reasonable distance from Patton, but neither of the adults seemed to notice how Roman was acting. Patton kept smiling away, and Roman tried to see how real that smile truly was. “So, Mr. Picani, I know I have some things to go over with you, so how would you feel if the other kiddos showed you around the house, Roman?”

…Kiddos? “That sounds fine to me.”

“Perfect!” Patton walked over to the staircase and called upstairs. “Logan, Virgil! Can you come down here please?”

Patton’s request was quickly followed by the sound of doors opening and closing. Two kids walked down the stairs; a boy in a black and purple hoodie, and another boy with thick glasses almost the same as Patton’s. They both stared at Roman curiously, and Roman wanted to sink into the floor.

Patton placed an arm over Logan and Virgil’s shoulders and Roman winced at the sight. “So, kiddos, this is Roman! And Roman, this is Logan,” Patton pointed to the kid in glasses. “And Virgil!” He pointed to the kid with the hoodie. The boys didn’t react much besides an awkward half smile directed Roman’s way. “How about you both show him around while I talk to Mr. Picani?”

Virgil shrugged. “Come upstairs, dude.”

Patton let go of both of the boys and walked off into the kitchen with Picani. Roman watched them from the living room for a moment, but he could feel two pairs of eyes staring at him from behind, so he turned around and followed the kids upstairs, bringing his luggage with him.

At the top of the stairs, a long hallway connected six doors on the second floor. Four of the doors were plain, brown doors, but two of them had very distinct personalities shown on the outside. One was covered in stars and planets, the door covered in a starry piece of wallpaper with a metal planet popping out of the background. The other was covered in caution tape saying keep out, with emo band posters poking out from under the tape. Two very different personalities.

“Your room will be this one at the very end of the hallway.” Logan opened the door to the room, turning on the light as Roman peeked inside. “You can place your luggage in here in the meantime.”

Roman nodded and walked inside to throw his luggage onto the floor. The room was very bare, with brown sheets on a twin bed and not much other furniture besides a desk and a dresser. There was a lamp on the desk and a floor lamp next to a door, and one of the opened closet doors showed that the top was covered in random boxes. Some newer-looking stuffed animals were also sitting on the bed; a soft bear and one of those squishy stuffed chickens Roman always saw in stores. It looked like an attempt at a welcoming gift, but new stuffed animals always put Roman on edge. He looked around the room, and the idea of sleeping here made Roman’s heart start to pound. He needed to check this place before he went to sleep that night.

Virgil smirked, taking Roman away from his anxious thoughts. “Damn, you’ve got suitcases? Living the fancy life I see.”

“…What?” Roman reeled.

Logan adjusted his glasses and crossed his arms. “Most foster children move their things using garbage bags. It’s rare we use actual suitcases.”

Roman looked down at his luggage. Suddenly, he felt guilty. “Oh, well…my aunt gave them to me before I moved out, so…”

Virgil shrugged. “What do you wanna see up here first?”

“We could show him our rooms. Or possibly the attic?”

“The attic is cooler.”

“What’s in the attic?” Roman asked.

“It essentially acts as a playroom.” Logan explained. “Board games and a…random assortment of items are all piled up there. It’s quite entertaining to search through, actually.”

“And it’s in the best place ever, come here.” Virgil motioned for Roman and Logan to follow him. He stopped at one of the doors, opening it and letting Roman peek over his shoulder to look inside. It looked like a normal walk-in closet, first aid and toilet paper on one side with batteries and rows of shampoo on the other. Virgil walked in with a smirk, “Now, check this shit out.”

Virgil jumped and pulled on a string dangling from the roof, unraveling a steep staircase through the closet leading up to a hole in the roof. Virgil started to climb the stairs as Logan followed suit, so Roman climbed right after them.

When Roman made it to the top, his eyes widened with wonder. Granted, it wasn’t anything too spectacular, surely not like something in Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory, but the fact that this hidden space existed made Roman feel excited. At his old house, he barely even had his own room to himself, so a place like this was paradise.

The walls were painted white with a giant window above a sitting area on the other side of the room. Shelves of items scattered the walls, and the rug on the floor was so clean Roman wondered how they even got a vacuum up here. It wasn’t anything like his old attic, stuffed with random items from over the years and covered in spiderwebs. Roman felt like he could spend most of his day here.

“We have a lot of various toys up here.” Logan said. He gestured to the boxes on one of the shelves. “Pokémon cards, a chess set, Magic the Gathering, lots of Lego sets, craft supplies, most of our toys make their way up here.”

Roman’s head perked up. “…Craft supplies?”

Logan nodded. “I believe we have paints and drawing utensils.”

Roman looked at the bottom of the shelf Logan gestured toward. There was a box of small painting canvases with paints and brushes, and though they definitely looked cheap, Roman saw them and grew excited as he took out a canvas and the paints in wonder.

“Kiddos!” A voice yelled from the staircase. Logan and Roman walked over to the stairs to look down, but Virgil stayed in his place on a beanbag near the window. Patton and Picani stood at the bottom, and Patton smiled. “Now, what are you all doing up there?”

“We’re showing him around the house.” Logan said matter-of-factly.

“You are, huh?” Patton crossed his arms. “Does he know where the bathroom is?”

Logan blinked. Virgil called out from behind both of them. “He knows where the important things are!”

Patton tried not to smile, but he lost that battle quickly. “Well, Mr. Picani is leaving right now, Roman.”

“How ‘bout you come down here and I talk to you in private for a sec?” Picani asked.

“Uh, alright!” Roman climbed down the stairs and followed Picani out of the closet, while Patton climbed up the stairs into the attic. They both stepped away to the other side of the hallway, and suddenly Picani’s face became very serious.

“Do you feel safe in this house, Roman?” He asked.

Roman clenched his fist and bit his cheek. No, he didn’t, actually. He didn’t know what Patton would do once the coast was clear from guests, and the idea of what could happen was freezing him from the inside out. The only place Roman would feel truly safe was if he was back in the hospital.

But Roman knew that wasn’t possible, and he couldn’t keep bothering Picani all the time for fears that couldn't be helped. He had to be on his own. Alone.

“I think I do. They…seem like good people.” Roman lied. He’d have to find another way to survive.

Picani smiled, not noticing Roman’s unease. He always was a great actor. “Amazing! Let me know if anything comes up, bucko, and I’ll talk to ya again soon! But until then…so long, farewell, auf wiedersehen goodnight!”

Picani walked downstairs and waved behind him, laughing at his own reference as he walked out the door. Roman watched him from the staircase until he could see the car leaving the driveway through the window, and Roman felt truly hopeless. This was a nightmare.

He stood frozen on the staircase for a while, staring through the window with a hope of Picani turning back and saving him. But no car came into the driveway, and Roman didn’t know what to do with himself anymore. What do you even do when living in a house full of strangers?

“Heya, kiddo!” Roman jumped at the voice coming from behind him, jerking his head back and pushing his back up against the wall. It was Patton, smiling wide with a concerned look in his eyes at Roman’s reaction. “I’m sorry, Roman, I didn’t mean to scare you! I just wanted to ask if you wanted me to give you the rest of the tour. I’ll show you everything you need this time!”

Patton laughed at himself, but Roman felt the need to vomit. Patton was close, way too close, and he didn’t know what to do about it. He didn’t want to be roaming around the house with him, vulnerable and nowhere to hide. He needed to be somewhere safe.

“Uh, no, I’m fine! I’ll figure it out myself!” Patton raised an eyebrow at him, but Roman didn’t care. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Patton’s voice became softer. He pointed to the left of him, down the opposite direction of Roman’s room. “It’s over there. Are you sure you’re alright? You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine!” Roman darted past Patton quickly and out of reach, rushing into the bathroom and locking it behind him. He pressed his back against the door and sat down, pressing his feet against the sink, ready to fight against the door if someone tried to open it. He wrapped his arms around himself tightly, trying to even out his scattered breathing. He knew Patton was outside of the door, he could feel it. He just needed to be somewhere safe.

Roman didn’t move from his spot on the floor, eventually curling into himself and resting his head on his knees. He was so tired, the whole day his heart had been pounding with anxiety and he was sick of it. What did it take to feel safe? Was it even possible for Roman to feel safe anymore?

He didn’t want an answer to that. He was just so tired.

Roman closed his eyes and leaned his body against the bathroom wall, ignoring all his aches from the strange position and trying to give himself some comfort. His body was exhausted but his mind kept racing, thinking of all the things that could go wrong while living here. He tried to fight the anxious thoughts, but Roman figured it wasn’t that big of a deal. If he threw up in the toilet maybe they’d leave him alone for the day.

But Roman never got to that point. He rested on the floor and let his body shake, taking some deep breaths at times to feel less like he was suffocating. Eventually, a knock came to the bathroom door, and it took everything in Roman not to yelp.

“Are you still in there, Roman?” Roman could tell the voice was Logan, and that helped him relax a little more. He took in a big breath and tried to act normal.

“Yes, sorry. Do you need it?” He asked.

“I’m alright. I simply wanted to ask if you wanted to come downstairs and use the paints you seemed so interested in.”

Roman’s ears perked up at that. He forgot all about the paints, and it would be something that could ease his mind a little. But Roman wasn’t that dumb. He knew this was a plan to get him out of the bathroom. Though…he might not mind that much if he wasn’t alone.

“…Would you sit with me?” Roman asked. He doubted Patton would try anything so long as they weren’t alone together, and if he pleased them enough, maybe they’d leave him alone.

Logan was slow to respond. “I suppose I can if you wish for me to.”

Roman rolled his eyes at that sentence. What a nerd, he thought, standing up and slowly unlocking the door to the bathroom before opening it. He looked through the crack to check if Patton was standing behind Logan, but no one else was there. Logan stood there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back, and Roman fully exited the bathroom.

“I set the box on the dining room table. However, Patton is also there making a pizza for dinner.”

Roman froze. The same room as Patton? “… I’ll go, but you have to stay near me.”

Logan nodded. He led the way down the stairs while Roman followed, entering the dining room through the connected area in the living room. On the table was the box of painting supplies, and Roman ran toward them to start taking them out, trying to ignore the fact that he could see Patton in the corner of his eye. He grabbed a canvas and the cheap paints, as well as a plastic pallet and all the brushes. All that he needed was a cup of water, but…the sink was right next to where Patton was.

Roman drummed his fingers on the table. “…Logan, can you get me a cup of water?”

“Alright.” Logan stood up and grabbed a cup from the cupboard, filling it with water and handing it to Roman. Roman murmured a thank you, and Logan sat back down at his seat. He was grateful that Logan didn’t ask why Roman couldn’t get it himself.

“So, Roman,” Roman stiffened at the sound of Patton’s voice. “Are you an artsy kid?”

Roman gripped hard onto his paints, squirting out a lot more orange than he meant to. “I guess, yeah. I like art.”

“Do you like to paint, or are you more of a sketchy kinda guy?”

“Uh…all of it. Painting, drawing, coloring, I used to make a lot of stuffed animals too.”

“Awww, that sounds adorable!” The oven beeped and Patton put on his oven gloves and pulled out the pizza. “It’s probably best I don’t know how to make stuffed animals though. If I did, this house would be full of little stuffed puppies!”

Roman didn’t respond. He focused completely on mixing red and orange for a perfect sunset color, attempting to get a good gradient with the lack of shade variety. Once he filled in his sunset and blended it with a dark night sky, he mixed his white with a dot of gray and made darker clouds, dotting them above his rough-looking hill. He wanted to add more texture to the bottom of the canvas, maybe some trees, but he didn’t know how to make good ones without a fan brush. Maybe he could add some grass…

“Alright, the pizza is cooled down and ready!” Roman noticed Patton put a plate next to his painting, so he pushed all his supplies out of the way so he could eat. Patton set down more plates around the table as Virgil walked in. “It was a real pizza work if I do say so myself!”

Logan rolled his eyes and Virgil held back a snort, but Roman didn’t quite know how to react. He might have found the dad joke more amusing if he wasn’t so on edge.

Roman took a bite of the pizza. It wasn’t anything spectacular, just a store-bought one that you heat up in the oven and serve, but Roman didn’t realize he was so hungry until now. He had skipped lunch because his nerves about coming here were making his stomach churn, but finally having food near him was bringing back that hunger. Roman’s foot was still tapping violently under the table, but it was progress.

Everyone ate their pizza in silence. It was incredibly awkward on Roman’s end, no stories to tell as this table full of strangers kept making glances at him. Patton was the worst with it. He seemed to want to say something to Roman, continuously making eye contact with him until Roman looked away, but still not saying a word. He couldn’t take it. He hated it, but he hated this silence even more. Roman swallowed the pizza bite he was chewing and opened his mouth.

“So,” Roman started, “what do I…call you anyway?”

“Me?” Patton asked, his eyes lighting up. Why would his eyes light up at that?

“Yeah. Do I say Mr. Sanders, or…?”

“Oh, Patton works just fine! I hear Mr. Sanders way too often at work to wanna hear it at home too!”

“Oh, where- where do you work?” At least it wasn’t so quiet anymore.

“I’m a nurse practitioner for a clinic. It’s a lot of fun, just a lot of work. At least my hours aren’t as crazy as most nurses.”

“Oh that’s…cool.” Roman didn’t know how to continue off of that.

“It is! Is there anything else you wanna ask me, though? Maybe about the house, routines, anything?”

“Well…what are the rules here?” That seemed like a very safe question to have. It could save Roman a lot of trouble, and it could give him more of a read on the kind of parent Patton was.

“Oh, it’s not that much. You’re old enough to clean up after yourself, so make it a habit to pick up your own things and not put that stuff on other people. Be kind to everyone else, and the only rule I’m very strict about is no yelling. You can be loud sometimes, but no angry yelling at anybody here. The last one is to respect others’ privacy. Always knock on someone’s bedroom door before entering. But that’s really it, I think!”

How often do you break that last rule? “That seems reasonable, I suppose.”

Patton smiled. “I think you’ll do just fine here, kiddo. I know it’s hard to start over, but you won’t be alone during it!”

“…Thank you.”

“And I’m sure Virgil and Logan could help out a little bit, since they’ve been in the same situation! Right, you two?”

Virgil was halfway through trying to stick a whole piece of crust in his mouth. “…Uh huh.”

“…Virgil, chew your food.”

“Lo’an ‘old me I cou’ do it!”

“Do not drag me into this.”

Virgil hid his mouth behind his hand as he chewed for a long period of time. “You’re just avoiding your responsibility.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m finished, so try not to choke now.”

“Now I’m gonna choke just to spite you.”

“Please do not start a choking contest, Virge.”

Virgil groaned before swallowing the last of his crust. He followed Logan to the dishwasher and put his plate in, closing it and scurrying away back upstairs. Logan hesitated leaving the dining room, looking between Patton and Roman. Roman couldn’t tell if Patton noticed Logan’s hesitation or if it was just perfect timing, because he also got up and put his plate in the dishwasher.

“When you finish, Roman, just put your dishes away.”

“I can do that.”

Patton smiled and walked off into the living room, sitting on the couch to watch some TV show seemingly about cute puppies and kittens. Logan glanced at Roman again.

“Do you still want me to stay?” Logan asked.

Roman ate the last of his pizza and pushed his plate to the side, grabbing his painting again to put in front of him. It was the most effective thing at calming him down. “…No, I should be okay.”

Logan nodded and walked upstairs. Roman tried to fully immerse himself in his painting, focusing on every last detail and how he could make it better without over-detailing it. Roman put more green on his brush and started to dot at his hill on the bottom, trying to add little blades of textured grass. It was a long process, just enough to take the majority of his focus and calm his hands.

…Roman felt really weird here. It didn’t feel like he lived in this house, now. It felt like he was spending the day with some friends, and his aunt would come pick him up before the sun went down. But no, these new kids were his foster brothers and the adult he was terrified of was expected to act as his new dad. There was no one coming to save him, he was expected to sleep here and eat here and live here. This was supposed to be his safe space.

Roman rubbed at his eyes and shook his head. Don’t focus on that now, he thought. Focus on the painting.

So he did focus. He focused on monotonous texture additions and watching the paint dry on his canvas as he went along, letting the repetitive action calm his mind just a little bit. His calming method seemed to be working too well, actually, as the more details he added and stared at the paint, Roman realized that his constant panic today had completely exhausted him. It wasn’t even seven o’clock yet and Roman could feel his eyelids get heavier. He rubbed at his eyes again and tried to focus.

Roman yawned once. He yawned twice and rubbed his eyes as he kept adding minor details to his painting. Then, after a while, Roman scooted his painting to the side and laid his head down on the table.

***

“…Roman, wake up, please.”

Roman buried his head deeper in his arms. “Come on Roman, it’s late.”

Roman groggily lifted his head up. Patton was sitting in the chair across from him, the lights were all off except for the one light above the dining table. Roman looked around him, and noticed that it was dark outside now. Shit.

“You fell asleep, but that’s okay. It’s bedtime now, and the other two are already in bed, so how about you go get ready and sleep in your bed? I bet it’s comfier than the table.”

Roman dug his palm into his eye. “…What time is it…?”

“About 10:20. You all have bedtime at ten.”

“…But I’m fifteen?” Roman gave Patton a confused and sleepy look. He hasn’t had a bedtime since he was twelve, especially one that was so early. His mom only told him to be in bed by midnight.

Patton smiled. “I’ll let you in on a little secret. Logan is the only one who needs a bedtime, but I don’t want him to feel left out because he’s the only one asleep. So, how about you get ready for bed?”

Roman nodded and got out of his chair. The more he walked, the more he woke up, and he could tell by the time he went back upstairs that he wasn’t going to go back to sleep for a while since he could feel his heartbeat in his chest again. Patton followed him upstairs, turning off the dining room light as they went. Roman got his bathroom bag out from his smaller suitcase and a cotton shirt with sweatpants for pajamas, bringing it all with him to the bathroom. He closed the door as he brushed his teeth for the night, placing his bag in the bottom drawer after he did. He changed into his pajamas carefully, taking the towel on one of the racks to hide his lower half under as he switched pants, taking his other clothes and throwing them into a laundry basket.

When Roman stepped out of the bathroom, Patton was leaning against a wall waiting for him. He smiled at Roman, but Roman still ran past him to get as far away as he could get. Patton didn’t seem to notice, or maybe he just didn’t care. Roman shifted on his feet awkwardly before closing his door.

“Um…goodnight.” He finally said. Patton seemed satisfied with this.

“Goodnight, Roman.”

Roman finally closed the door to his bedroom, waiting until he heard the door on the other end of the hallway open and close. Almost immediately after, as if another force was controlling him, Roman started to tear the place apart.

He checked the charging ports in the walls, the lamp, under the bed’s covers and behind every piece of furniture. He stood on top of his suitcase to check the vents and took out all the drawers in the dresser. He punched the stuffed animals to see if he could feel wires, but he still couldn’t find it. He couldn’t find it.

Roman felt himself start to pant. He refused to go to bed until he found it. No matter how well hidden it was, Roman knew there was a camera in here. He couldn’t stop until he found it.

Roman grabbed the boxes at the top of the closet and tossed everything out of them, checking every spare blanket and binder before throwing them across the room when he found nothing. He took the hangers out of the closet and threw them on the floor, shining his phone light on the wall of the closet to find a hole. Nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing.

Tears sprung into Roman’s eyes as he choked on his own breath. “Where the hell is it!?” He whispered, slamming the closet door closed and moving to check the bed. He tore the bedsheets off and checked the mattress, lifting it up as well to check the bed frame for anything that could be used to record. Nothing.

“Come on, please-” Roman took out the drawer from the bedside table. Nothing. He unscrewed the lightbulb from the lamp, almost shattering it from his tight grip. Nothing. He threw the lamp onto the bed and kicked the nightstand over. Nothing.

Roman choked out a sob as his whole body started to shake. This wasn’t fair, he spent all that time trying to get away from his dad only to end up in a place that hid cameras better than him. Roman gripped the covers he’d thrown and punched the floor next to them, the ache being an almost pleasant distraction from his own head. But his mind continued to race and his crying didn’t let up. The only thing Roman could manage to get out of his mouth was “No, no!”

Then, between Roman’s sobbing, he heard a knock at the door.

Roman froze in place. A feeling of dread spread through his chest and made his fingers go numb. For a second, Roman forgot to breathe as he remembered he forgot to lock the door.

Roman’s body was stiff, but his mind was going a mile a minute in a desperate attempt to save himself. He could hide in the closet, but since he tore everything out of there, if someone opened the door they’d immediately find him. He could hide under the bed, but without the covers to reach the floor it was easy to see he was under there. Roman choked on his own breath when he realized there was nowhere to hide-

“Roman?” The knock came back to the door, gentler than the first time. It wasn’t Patton’s voice like Roman feared, it was Virgil. Raspy and tired-sounding, but without a doubt Virgil.

“Y-yeah?” Roman squeaked out.

“Uh, can I…can I come in?”

Roman’s death grip on the covers loosened up slightly. “Yes…”

Virgil slowly turned the doorknob and opened it, slipping in through the smallest crack and closing the door slowly so it wouldn’t click. Once he was inside, Virgil’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of the destroyed room. “…Holy shit dude.”

Roman tried to dodge the situation, “What do you want?”

“I was gonna come in here and make a joke, like, ‘quiet down it sounds like a tornado is going through here’, but now I think I predicted the fucking future.” Roman put his head down as Virgil looked around in shock. “What the fuck happened?”

Roman wiped away his tears with the palm of his hands, digging into his eyes so hard he saw stars for a moment. “…There’s a camera in here.”

Virgil backed up more towards the door. “Wait, there is?” He darted his eyes around the room looking for what Roman was talking about. Roman let out a shaky breath.

“I haven’t found it yet, but I know it’s in here somewhere!” More tears went down Roman’s face as he hugged himself. Virgil seemed to realize what Roman was babbling on about. “I know Patton put a camera in here for me and I’m freaking out because I can’t find it!”

Virgil looked around at the mess again. He sighed. “I’m not good at this shit…you’re certain it’s in here?”

“Yes!”

“Hey, hey, don’t yell.” Virgil warned. “Pat and Logan are still asleep and I don’t think you’d like all that extra attention right now.”

He was right. If Logan and Patton came in here, Roman didn’t know what he’d do about it. It was the last thing he wanted, so Roman obeyed. “I just…I don’t know what to do…I can’t sleep until I find it.”

Virgil seemed to be thinking. He tugged on the neck of his pajama shirt before speaking. “How about we both make a deal?”

Roman lifted his head up to look at Virgil. “…Deal?”

“We’ll trade rooms for the night. There wouldn’t be a camera in my room if he’s trying to watch you, right?”

Roman paused. “…What if he’s watching you too?”

“I’ve lived here for two years. You think I wouldn’t have noticed a camera in my room by now?”

Roman thought about it. He did have a point, it was hard to go that long without finding the camera. Or at least, have your guardian have it slip that they’ve been watching you. And anything was better than staying in this place.

“…We can trade. Thanks.”

Virgil shrugged. “You know where my room is. Just slip in and don’t wreck all my shit.”

Roman laughed a little bit at that one. Virgil grabbed the sheets and covers off the floor and began to remake the bed as Roman grabbed his backpack and started to slowly open the door. But before he left, Roman had to say one more thing for his own piece of mind. “…Don’t touch my suitcases. I-I’ll know if you do.”

Virgil raised an eyebrow at him. “…I won’t.”

Roman opened the door and softly closed it behind him, slipping into the room next door covered in caution tape. He turned on the light and set his backpack down on the floor, looking around him at all the things that showed Virgil’s personality. Emo band posters covered the walls that were painted a dark purple, with dark wood furniture and Hot Topic decorations all over the place. Just looking at this room told him how angsty this kid was.

Roman shook it off and unzipped his backpack. He could deal with angsty decorations for the night, so long as this place could be safe from creeps. He took out his secret weapon from his backpack, something he secretly bought behind his aunt’s back with his babysitting money, the one item that made him feel secure in a home. He pulled out the security bar, locked Virgil’s door, and placed it under the door handle. Even if someone undid the lock, they wouldn’t be able to sneak inside while he was sleeping.

Roman’s heart calmed down a little for the first time in weeks. Even if it wasn’t much, he felt safe, maybe even safe enough to get some rest for once. Roman crawled into Virgil’s bed, covering himself in his very tasteful Jack Skellington covers, and tried to rest.

Roman’s hands still shook, and his head felt funny, but he eventually drifted off into a light sleep full of anxiety and nightmares.

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cupofteaguk · 4 years

Text

on the road (to you)

summary: as a young adult, one of the strangest revelations is the discovery that peers of yours from past fragile college years are getting married. so imagine your shock and excitement upon receiving a wedding invitation. there are, however, two problems: (1) you are a poor early-20s recently employed adult just beginning to adjust to your 401k plan, and (2) the only available ride to the wedding comes in the form of Jeon Jungkook—friend of a friend, attendee to that aforementioned wedding, and your old college crush.

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

genre: roadtrip au, strangers to lovers au | fluff/angst

warnings: recreational alcoholic consumption, definitely not an accurate representation of how a road trip might actually be, mentions of anxiety + insecurities, very minor book reference to: The Night Circus, equally minor movie references to: Mission Impossible and The Princess Bride because I have a problem, light makeout sessions, talks of DTR (define the relationship), some angst but this is me so there’s a happy ending.

word count: 27k

a/n: a birthday present for the one and only Jeon Jungkook, whom I love and respect so much and only wish the bestest of days for. Partly inspired by Taylor Swift’s song “invisible string” + a love letter of sorts to my own old high school crush for whom my memory of him helped build Jungkook’s character. This also turned out way longer than I ever wanted it to be lol oops!

update: i was actually able to do a writer’s audio tag on this fic!!! check it out if you want to hear about the behind the scenes process that went into writing this fic <3

When you land a job in the months following your college graduation, you feel as if you are on top of the world. How could you not? After all, the norm that follows post-college is one of disappointment and constant hunts online to find job openings for any position that could suit your background and previous work experiences. It’s a fear that plagues lots of your friends, both those in college and out. It’s the same paranoia you had in the months leading up to graduation and the few months after graduation—in which your days were measured by the boxes you packed to move out of your tiny college apartment and into an equally tiny new apartment you currently share with an old roommate of yours, as well as the days you spent hunched over your computer and scrolling through job postings.

You had gone through more than a handful of cover letters, resume submissions, and in person interviews before finally landing the job you currently have and have been working under for a month now.

Throughout the course of the recent month, you’ve continued to secure certain moments that solidify the confidence that you’re finally becoming an adult. Sure, a barely functioning adult who mostly still uses the microwave to heat up your frozen Mac and Cheese—but an adult nonetheless. From learning how to pay your bills online, to realizing that grocery shopping was something you needed to make a conscious effort to do, along with going to and from your nine to five job with your coffee order in hand.

All of those things have helped you feel like you were, perhaps, finally getting your life together.

And then you receive the invitation in the mailbox.

It happens when you unlock your box on a bright March morning, taking out the usual round of bills and fashion magazines until your fingers lock around an envelope bigger than the normal letter size. It’s much sturdier too.

You don’t know what to think of the letter, until you bring the damn thing back into your apartment and rip the opening. The mere sight of the content inside makes you feel like the hand of life has just taken your figurine and moved you back a good twenty squares.

The post in your hand reads:

WITH GREAT JOY, IRENE AND SEOKJIN REQUEST THE HONOR OF YOUR PRESENCE FOR THEIR WEDDING CELEBRATION ON THE DAY OF MAY 25TH. COCKTAILS, DINNER, AND DANCING TO FOLLOW.

There’s a date at the bottom of the invitation. As you line the date up with your calendar, you realize that you have a week to RSVP to the event.

You toss the envelope onto the counter in the kitchen just to glare at the cardstock, maybe to convince yourself this is a dream or at least convince yourself that it’s normal for your friend from college to be getting married even when you have yet to land a successful relationship of your own.

You aren’t as close with Irene as you used to be, but the memory of your friendship is still at the forefront of your mind. The pair of you met during your final year of university, when you were assigned to work together for one of your many senior projects and immediately clicked. The months you spent in her apartment and vice versa pulling out all-nighters in desperate attempts to finish your project definitely earns you an invitation. At the very least, you are happy to see that Irene: bright and smart and funny, is getting married.

Not only that, but getting married to Seokjin. He’s a year older than you and Irene, but those two met when he was still enrolled and have been inseparable ever since. You don’t know relationships that well, but you know them enough to recognize that Seokjin and Irene were what everyone called the ‘endgame’. In truth, it was only a matter of time before you were to receive one of these from them.

But did she really have to one-up you like this? Not that it’s a competition. However, it does leave a funny feeling to see someone the same age as you display a much more put together handle on life. You groan at the thought.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Karly asks.

You turn to your roommate. She’s seated at the kitchen table, books out and everywhere as she looks over at you. Karly: fellow alumni, graduated from her undergrad program early to go straight into pursuing her master’s degree. She’s a busy bee. You wave the envelope. “Irene is getting married.”

Her eyes widen. “Ah shit, no way?” She takes the paper that you offer to her and looks over the invitation. “Damn, I knew it was only a matter of time before we started getting this stuff, but to actually see it happening…”

You groan. “I know right!” You take the cardstock back from your friend. “It’s only been six months since we graduated, how could she be getting married already?”

“Well, Irene did have a job lined up for her right after graduation,” Karly points out thoughtfully. She sees the look of bewilderment you give her. “What? It was on her Instagram.”

You pout. “Of course Irene would have a job lined up like that.” You run a hand through your hair. “I mean, that’s good for her. Really good, actually…”

Karly jerks her chin towards the envelope still in your hand. “So, are you planning to go?”

“I don’t know, do you have plans that day?” You wave the paper. “I’m allowed a plus one.”

Your roommate cracks a smile. “Are you asking me out? A little forward of you, we’ve been friends for so long…”

You whine, shaking the paper and little more frantically. “Karly, this is important! I don’t want to go alone, I won’t know anyone!”

She laughs. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. What was the date again?”

You provide the date to her. You approach Karly’s place at the kitchen table and watch as she opens the calendar on her laptop. Immediately, you are overwhelmed by all the deadlines she’s got under practicality every date on the screen. Yet, a “wow” is the only thing you can say at the sight.

Karly smiles, sparing you a glance over her shoulder. “One of the joys of being a grad student slash T.A. slash research assistant.” She scrolls down into May, and narrows her eyes upon May 25th. Underneath the date is an event—color coated to bright orange and typed out in all caps. CONFERENCE WITH PROFESSOR WONG. “Oh crap, I have a conference that day.”

“No…” You whine some more, trailing off as you grab Karly by the shoulders and begin shaking. “Karly! You’ve left me out for the bears! What am I supposed to do?”

Karly laughs as she lets herself be manhandled in this way. “I don’t know! Go and deepen your social life or something.”

You stop shaking her and glare instead. “Is that a joke?”

“What do you expect me to say?” She retorts, appalled by your answer. “Then don’t go.”

You whine again. “But this is Irene, and I’ll feel bad for not going and congratulating her!”

“Then go!”

“But I don’t have a plus one!”

Karly places her hands at her temples. “Oh my god, this is like the circle of stupidity with you. Then find a plus one! Or just don’t go!” She whirls around to face you. “I will help you find a dress if you decide to go. I will also sit with you on the couch and eat popcorn with you if you decide not to go.”

You continue to pout, knowing that you deserve that gentle attempt at a lecture but still not liking the reason why you needed such a talking to.

“Fine,” You eventually decide to say, sliding into the seat next to Karly and leaning forward to plant your entire upper body on the table.

Karly laughs at your defeated posture. “Well, you have the rest of the week to make your decision.”

She has a point. That doesn’t mean you have to like it.

For the rest of the week the decision of whether or not you should attend the wedding becomes a weight in your mind. You spend the next few days pondering it, thinking over the pros and the cons.

As overdramatic as it is, you think about it during work, when you’re partaking in your home workout routines, and even when you’re about to fall asleep. You do want to go, you really do. It’ll be the first time you attend a wedding that didn’t involve a relative, which feels like a big deal in your adult agenda mindset. And Irene is someone you wouldn’t mind spending an evening with to catch up.

However, you wouldn’t get to spend the evening with Irene—after all, a wedding implies that she would likely be mingling with all of her guests and you would just be another attendee forced to find other means of entertainment. That’s where the plus one comes in handy. Except you don’t have a plus one. A slight problem.

You sigh. Work is a little slow today, as you are also experiencing the afternoon slump in which your mind drifts away more often than usual. You find yourself with a small laundry list of tasks (such as emailing companies, working on drafts for releases, and trying to set up different appointments) but without the motivation to do those things right away. Because of that, your afternoon slump takes the form of opening airline services to find information and prices about flying to Irene’s wedding. It’s in her hometown, about a five hour flight time from here to there.

You click on the various boxes that require information, finally allowing a search. As the search goes through, your eyes take in all the prices—both the amount to get there and to get back—and your lips part slightly at the totaling numbers.

“Five hundred dollars?” You mutter to yourself. You’re not sure how this would work with budgeting, but you’re still trying to figure out how to balance the cost of AC, the internet, and how to eat appropriate meals at least once a day. You don’t have five hundred dollars to spend on an airplane ticket. A slightly bigger problem.

You sigh again, resting your elbow on the desk and your chin in the palm as your eyes continue to scroll through the website.

Behind you, fingers curl around the top of your cubicle. There is a silence between the two of you: him, merely observing, and you, completely oblivious, until he clears his throat.

You jump, having not expected to be interrupted like this. A squeak leaves the back of your throat as you whirl around to see who is visiting you. “Jimin!” You exclaim, taking in the boy now perched along the wall of your cubicle. This is before you narrow your eyes. “Asshole, you scared me!”

If you just started working here and learned that you’d be cursing out Park Jimin for startling you, that past version of yourself might have turned red, shocked, and nervous at the thought. A month ago, Jimin was that coworker—as friendly as friendly people come by. With his pretty eyes, perfectly soft pink lips, and freshly dyed brown hair, you had been immediately taken by his charm and helpful nature.

Then the month went by, and you realized there were no romantic intentions on either end. Jimin then became your first friend in your new job. Albeit, he’s a nosy friend who enjoys asking questions and dragging you out to nearby bars and coming over occasionally with take-out, but a friend nonetheless.

“Sorry!” Jimin says back, then he glares at you. “What are you doing over here anyways?”

You shake your head. “What do you mean?”

“What do you mean what do I mean? You’ve been sighing all afternoon.” Jimin pulls out a slip of paper from behind his back. “Fifty times in the last hour, I swear to god.”

You straighten out of your seat to get a better look at the paper, unamused to find fifty tally marks across the surface. “You’re lying, there’s no way that I sighed fifty times in an hour.”

“Of course you wouldn’t know, you’re the one doing all the sighing!” Jimin retorts, lowering his hand with the paper. “Is something up with you? Did something happen?” His eyes flicker to the monitor screen behind you and he frowns. “What the fuck? Are you moving away already?”

You blink. “What?”

He jerks his chin towards the computer. “You’re looking at flight prices.”

“Huh?” You turn around, having completely forgotten about your previous predicament in light of discovering that Jimin counts your sighs. “Oh! No…”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “No, you’re not looking at flight prices?”

You slide back into your chair, a silent invitation for Jimin to step further into your cubicle. You sigh again, and he holds the paper back up. Taking a pencil out of his pocket, he makes another mark. You look over at him upon hearing the pencil scratch and scowl. “Give me that!” You grab the paper from his hand. “I’m dealing with a crisis right now, don’t count my sighs!”

“Alright! Alright!” Jimin slides behind you and leans forward to get a better look at your computer screen. “So where are you moving to this time?”

You press your lips together. “I’m not moving away. A friend of mine from college is getting married. I’m just trying to see how expensive it would be to fly over there.”

He whistles at the five hundred dollar price in your cart. “That’s pretty expensive.”

“I know!” You groan, throwing yourself further back into your chair. “I wouldn’t mind going, but I don’t have a plus one. And as you can see, flying there would be a challenge on my wallet.”

Jimin hums at that. “Well, regarding your plus one problem, I wouldn’t mind going with you.”

You turn to look at him. “Really? You’d go across the country and endure an entire evening with your coworker and her old college classmates?”

He shrugs. “If you’re desperate, I’ll keep my offer around.” He actually pouts this time. “Are you implying that you see me more as a coworker than a friend? After all the times we’ve hung out outside of work!”

Your eyes widen slightly, having not thought of that. “No, no, Jimin, I mean—yes, I do see you as a friend now but we met as coworkers so I just think of you as a coworker first—!” You’re rambling.

Jimin interrupts by patting your shoulder, the corner of his lips quirked up into a smile. “I’m just messing with you.”

You shake your head again. “Asshole,” You grumble, returning your attention back to your computer.

Jimin is still mid-laughter behind you. “Anyways, yeah, like I said. If you’re desperate to go, I wouldn’t mind going with you. But deciding how to get there is a different question entirely.”

You turn to glare at your friend for a moment. “I’ll let you know.”

He nods, before his lips part and he’s snapping his fingers. “Oh yeah! I wanted to ask you something.”

He backs up, allowing you enough space to turn around fully and face him. “Okay, what’s up?”

Jimin grins, lifting his leg up to nudge your chair slightly. “I’m going out tonight—you should come with.”

You don’t even give this a second thought. Your lips turn into a downwards curl as you shake your head. “Nope.”

Jimin looks appalled. “Why not? Didn’t you have fun the last time we went out?”

“If ‘fun’ to you is trying to drag your drunk ass home and staying the night to make sure you wouldn’t choke on your vomit…” You grumble, trying not to shudder at the memory. It has only been a few days since that ‘fun’ time.

“I told you that sometimes I overestimate my abilities, and I already apologized for that,” Jimin points out, although he does have the decency to look guilty for that mess. He perks up again. “But this’ll be different, I promise. I’m meeting up with some friends and we’re just gonna catch up. It’s at one of the quieter bars uptown: no loud DJ, no bright lights, no bottomless rum and coke. Promise. It’ll just be a lot of socializing.” He watches you hesitantly. Socializing has never been your strong suit. “And finger food.”

The mention of food does make you look up towards him—your first sign of interest towards something. However, another thought weighs you down. “Are you sure you even want me to go?” You ask after a moment. “I mean, this is a catch up with friends. Wouldn’t I be intruding?”

“Not at all!” Jimin brushes off, waving away your concern with his hand. “I told you, it’s a socializing thing. Besides, my friends are always bringing someone along. They were asking me when I’d have a friend tag along, so I thought you’d be a good selection.” He notices you still frowning. “C’mon! It’ll be fun. When I’m not vomiting over your shoes, I’m good company. And I promise I won’t be vomiting this time.”

You stare at Jimin for a moment longer, contemplating his words. This is very true. Jimin is an ideal friend to have during social gatherings—he’s good at keeping a conversation going so you don’t have to shoulder the weight alone, he’s good at reading when you’re in a good mood and when you’re ready to go home, and he’s excellent at keeping unwanted attention away. You know this. Jimin knows that you know this.

It takes one curl of your lips for Jimin to grin, knowing that he has convinced you. “Okay!” He says, finalizing the decision without having to hear the actual answer from you. He pats your knee. “We’ll take the subway after work, it’s just a few stops down.”

If your mind conjures up any second thoughts, Jimin leaves before you are able to express them.

True to Jimin’s word, the pair of you step into a subway heading westbound as soon as you’re finished with work. It’s much later in the day now, the afternoon sun has changed into a night sky with a chill spring breeze to match. The carts are filled with the evening crowd of adults, all done with another day of work and finding enjoyment for the rest of today by returning home or seeing friends. It’s a rarity that you would fall under that latter category, but the thought makes you excited nonetheless.

“Alright, so you wanna tell me a little bit about these friends that I’m seeing tonight?” You ask, gripping the handlebar above you but leaning towards Jimin so he can hear what you’re saying over the noise of the subway speeding down the tracks.

Jimin grins. “They’re just some friends I grew up with. We like to get together once a month to catch up and hang out, since everyone is so busy with their own lives.”

You smile back. “That’s actually really sweet of you guys, to plan hangouts once a month.”

He lightly flicks your forehead. “Hey, are you saying I’m normally not very sweet?”

“Well, not right now!” You protest, hand over your forehead. “That hurt.”

“You’re being a baby!” Jimin retorts back.

The pair of you continue to bicker like this until your stop is announced over the intercom. Jimin halts the further insults being thrown at each other as he gestures towards the approaching station, as seen through the window of the subway.

“This is our stop,” Jimin says to you, allowing you to step out onto the platform first. He joins behind you right after, leading the way as the subway’s three chimes signal the closing of the doors. There’s a breeze that follows, running through your hair and clothes as the subway zooms away to its next stop. The station itself is crowded, filled with groups of friends and individuals carrying on with the rest of their evening, overall looking so lively and you can feel yourself feeding off their energy.

With a gesture pointing up the stairs that’ll take the pair of you to ground level, Jimin leads the way. You make your way through people, following Jimin’s guide until you’re both exiting the station and entering the world of your new stop. It’s another area of the city you work in, so the change in scenery isn’t too dramatic—but it’s a place more catered towards restaurants, shopping areas, and hang-out sections. The bright neon signs protrude out from the building, flashing the various products or services the specific building offered: from manicure care to corner ramen shops.

“C’mon, let’s hurry!” Jimin calls back to you, picking his pace up slightly. He’s not running, but his long legs make it harder for you to keep up. “Everyone is already there.”

The pair of you continue to pace down the sidewalk, past the crowds of people waiting to eat, people lingering outside of clothing stores. Finally, Jimin slows down near a restaurant. He looks over his shoulder to make sure you’re still behind him, before entering the establishment. He mentions something about knowing where their seats are, before continuing deeper into the restaurant.

As you look around, the place does look like a restaurant slash bar—not as crazy as some of the bars Jimin takes you with the intention of actually getting drunk, but there’s still a bar here and there’s still alcohol being shared heavily. It’s the same demographic of early 20s, young adults with friends, but there are actual tables and chairs and booths set up like a restaurant. So you suppose Jimin hadn’t been lying to you about this.

“There they are!” Jimin says to you, as you look up and follow Jimin’s finger to the table in the far corner that is completely filled with the exception of two seats. You vaguely make out the back of some heads, most belonging to boys, before your eyes land on one of the boys facing you and Jimin. He’s sitting at the far end of the table, currently laughing brightly at something one of the boys at the table has said. For all intents and purposes, the boy is cute. Extremely cute. When he laughs, his eyes and nose crinkle and his lips spread into a wild smile—and brings out the dimple on his cheek. He looks like the embodiment of all your ideal types mashed into a singular being.

All of those things. Yet, that is not the reason why you are staring. None of those things come close to why you stop dead in your tracks, why your heart drops in your chest, why your eyes widen. Even with the shitty lighting in this restaurant, you are one hundred percent positive. “Jimin!” You manage to choke out, having enough well power to grab onto his hand seconds before he is able to make himself and yourself known to his friends.

He whirls around, wide-eyed and curious and worried. “What? Is everything okay?”

You shake your head. The room feels too small. “I think there’s something I should tell you—!”

“Hey, is that Jimin? Jimin!” Your voice is very easily drowned out by the sound of another, much louder voice that seems to boom through the restaurant.

Jimin turns back around in time to face one of the boys from the table who has gotten out of his seat. You are able to see him from over Jimin’s shoulder—a tall boy with messy unkempt hair and a boxy smile. Jimin greets him with a “Taehyung!” before the boys embrace. “Taehyungie,” Jimin continues afterwards, turning around so both are able to face you. “This is Y/N, she’s a coworker of mine.”

Taehyung grins, a friendly gesture that makes you relax. But only slightly. “Y/N! It’s nice to meet you, I’ve heard a bit about you from Jimin. All good things, I promise.”

“W-Well, that’s good to hear,” You manage shakily, eyes nervously darting to the boy at the end of the table, who has stopped his conversation and is now looking at you and Jimin.

“Let me introduce you,” Jimin says, breaking your concentration as he rests a hand on your shoulder. He points right at the boy at the end of the table, who is still staring at you. His eyebrows are furrowed together. You want to bury yourself alive. “That one over there is—!”

A lightbulb seems to go off in the boy’s head. His face breaks out into a smile as he points at you. “Hey, Y/N!”

Jimin looks taken aback at the fact you are being recognized by someone at the table. His hand lowers as he looks over at you.

You, however, cannot focus on Jimin. You can only focus on the boy at the end of the table, the boy currently smiling over at you with all the light in his eyes, the boy who makes the memories flash through your mind. From that, the best you can manage is a tiny smile. “Jungkook!”

Jungkook. Jeon Jungkook. Where do you even begin with him?

You met Jungkook during your second year of university. He had been an arts major (you were not) and yet, your paths crossed multiple times throughout the quarter as a result of sharing many general education classes together. You even were forced to pair up on a project for one of those aforementioned G.E. classes. Neither of you ran in the same social circle, but that didn’t change how sweet, funny, charming, endearing, easy-going, friendly, smart, and nice Jungkook was. It was very easy for him to make friends, very easy for him to go out of his way to say hi to you in the library or in class or in the cafeteria, and very easy for him to strike up a basic conversation with you.

Because of that, it was very easy for you to fall for him—to develop a deep-rooted crush that went on for the rest of your university experience. You would use the term ‘friends’ very loosely when describing what your relationship with Jungkook had been. You had never hung out with him outside the context of school, never went out to eat with him, and never saw him again after graduation. Until now.

Actually, ‘acquaintances’ would probably be a much more fitting term.

“Hey, I haven’t seen you since graduation!” Jungkook is saying as he stands up from his chair and approaches you. As if on autopilot, you return the one armed hug he gives you. His smile, while still pleasant, holds a surprising tinge of shyness to it.

“Woah, hold on a second,” Jimin interrupts, immediately pointing between Jungkook and you. “You guys know each other?”

“Y/N and I went to university together!” Jungkook provides.

Jimin looks like his eyes are about to fall out of his sockets.

“We’ve known each other since second year,” Jungkook continues. He looks over at you. “I didn’t know you know Jimin.”

“Uh…” You forget how to speak. You’re too busy looking at Jungkook as if you haven’t seen him for years. In a way, it feels like that. Seeing people from college outside of college after a graduation ceremony is like meeting them again for the first time—most of them develop a more independent look. Some look like their life is seconds from falling apart. Some look much happier without the institutional pressure to secure classes and grades and internships. Sadly for you, Jungkook falls under the latter category. Did he always have that twinkle of starlight in his eyes?

“Y/N and I work together,” Jimin provides, seeming to realize that you weren’t going to answer Jungkook’s question. “She started working about a month ago.”

“Oh, that’s cool,” Jungkook replies, still looking at you. It is then he seems to notice that the three of you are standing in the middle of the restaurant. Although you are not distracting any patrons, the workers probably don’t appreciate it. “How about we sit down? We’ll be able to catch up more!”

Jimin seems to regain control of the situation quicker than you do, because he nods at Jungkook. “Let me introduce her to everyone, then we’ll join you.” You look over to where Jungkook had been sitting and immediately notice the previously empty two chairs right across from him—like fate, or something terrible like that.

So you watch as Jungkook makes his way back to his seat, and Jimin starts to guide you around the table. He only drops a name. Surprisingly, he doesn’t linger, he merely takes you to the next person. It only takes you a second to figure out why.

“You didn’t tell me you know Jungkook,” Jimin hisses in between the time it takes to travel in between people.

“I didn’t know you knew Jungkook!” You hiss back. You smile and nod politely at the person Jimin introduces as Yoongi. “Seriously, you never mentioned him once!”

Jimin only keeps his frustration for a moment before he’s introducing you to someone named Hoseok, a boy with a bright smile, the one who was making Jungkook laugh earlier. “Okay, fine,” He relents, the pair of you finally move to take your seats. “But what was that earlier?”

“What was what?”

“You were just staring at him! What, did you have a huge crush on him or something—?” Jimin accuses, but he stops. Just as the pair of you are about to sit down, Jimin parts his lips in realization. “Oh.” Then, he sends you an absolutely wicked grin. “Oh, okay.”

Your eyes widen at him, murder in your eyes. “Jimin!”

“So, Y/N,” Jungkook’s voice cuts through your little biting banter with Jimin.

You whirl around to face Jungkook, eyes completely devoid of murder and voice several pitches higher. “Hi, Jungkook!”

He smiles, such a wonderful little thing that makes your heart flutter in your chest. “Hi.”

Jimin ducks his head to hide the fact that he wants nothing more than to burst into fits of laughter.

“So how have you been?” Jungkook starts up. “I haven’t seen you since graduation. Since you landed a job, you seem to be doing well.”

“I am!” You manage, only continuing to try and keep a handle on your heart and managing well enough this time. “There were a few months of just scrolling through job postings and writing cover letter after cover letter though.”

Jungkook laughs, another beautiful gesture that makes you mirror his smile. “I definitely feel that.”

“Well, what about you? What have you been up to?” You ask. “I think I saw on your Instagram and you were traveling around for a little?”

His eyes light up at that. “Oh yeah! I don’t know if you remember Kim Mingyu from school?” You do. “Well, he and a friend of his got into some freelancing and had to do some traveling around to work on some filming. He asked me to come along because I actually have some photography experience. So that was a thing I did for a few months.”

You nod, smiling. “No way! That’s so cool.”

You do relax after a few conversational exchanges with Jungkook. He’s just as relaxed and mellow, yet friendly and polite as ever, and it’s easy to make conversation with him as it always has been. Eventually, you join in on the larger conversations with the whole table—touching on topics from your university experiences to tales from your new job. A lot of your role, however, falls to listening. Jimin’s friends are rowdy, funny, and out-going. They invite you in like you have been in this group for years—and are able to provide context on older memories they are revisiting.

Most of your evening, however, is engaging in conversation with Jungkook. Occasionally, Jimin will join in, but he does spend most of his time laughing along to something his other friends are saying. Since you and Jungkook have always been friendly with each other, long conversations aren’t out of the ordinary. You just never considered how well you and Jungkook got along, how easy it would be to transition from topic to topic.

“I am really glad that Jimin invited you along,” Jungkook explains brightly after the pair of you are done laughing following Jungkook’s tale of another fuck-ups with Kim Mingyu. “Makes you realize how small the world is.”

“Oh, you should have seen her moping around earlier today,” Jimin interjects, choosing now of all times to insert himself back into your conversation with Jungkook. “She was sighing all afternoon—so maybe we should thank her misery that I decided to invite her along tonight.”

Jungkook turns to you, a sympathetic look across his face. “Did you have a bad day today?”

You try for a laugh, waving away Jimin’s words. “Jimin’s just overreacting. Actually, I found out a friend of mine from college is getting married, so I was trying to figure out my plan…” You start, trailing off as you look at Jungkook. “Wait, you didn’t know Irene, did you?”

“I did.” His eyes widen as his lips part in realization. “Oh my god, you were invited to Irene’s wedding too?”

“I was!” You exclaim, unsure whether you should be excited or even more nervous at the prospect of potentially seeing Jungkook at the wedding event. “Holy shit, this makes it an even smaller world. How did you know Irene?”

Jungkook is still mid-giggle at the pure coincidence of everything. “We both knew Mingyu! This is so crazy. Are you planning to go?”

You shrug. Jimin chooses to interject once more. “That’s what Y/N over here was sighing all afternoon over.”

You whine as you look at Jimin. “No need to sell me out! Listen, Jungkook.” You turn back to the boy opposite of you, who is still gazing at you. “I’m sure you understand my current predicament.”

“Sure.”

“You know how expensive flights can be.”

“Of course.”

You fold your arms over each other and rest them on the table. “So, are you planning to go to the wedding?”

He nods. “Most likely, yeah. I actually knew that the wedding was going to be happening soon, since Mingyu told me about it as soon as Irene got the ring. I ran into the flight problem pretty quickly too, so I decided to just drive to the event.”

Jimin whistles. “Drive across the country, huh, JK? That must be a four day trip, or something.”

“It was coming out to be,” Jungkook acknowledges with a nod. “But it’s okay.” He’s grinning, looking excited at the prospect. “I’ve never done a cross country drive before, so it was actually kind of exciting to plan the route. There are a few places I want to stop by and visit. I’m sure it’ll be fun.” Then, Jungkook turns back to you. “If you decide that flying would be too expensive, then you’re more than welcome to come along. It’ll be nice to have some company and not spend four days by myself.”

Entirely on instinct, you start to laugh. You think he’s joking—how could you not? This is probably one of the longest conversations you’ve ever had with Jungkook. Like you’ve mentioned before, you wouldn’t consider him a friend. Why would he seriously try to invite you on a road trip? “Yeah, I’m not too sure—I’ve never done a cross country trip before…”

The conversation shifts pretty quickly as soon as you reply back to Jungkook. Hoseok asks you a question that drags your attention away, simultaneously allowing you to forget about Jungkook’s request.

The end of the dinner happens soon after, when the bill has been paid and you suspect the long line of people outside waiting for a table are waiting for your party to be done. So venmo exchanges and money debts go around until each member of the table starts standing up one by one to make their move to exit the restaurant.

You and Jimin are one of the first to leave. Goodbyes are exchanged along with the polite ‘it was nice to meet you’ phrase thrown around. Jungkook is mid-conversation with Yoongi, but he still gives you a quick hug of parting before you and Jimin exit the restaurant.

The pair of you only make it out a few steps before there is a familiar voice calling your name. “Hey, Y/N! Y/N, wait up!” You stop and turn around, surprised to see Jungkook dashing out of the restaurant. He rests himself for a moment before he’s straightening back up to look at you.

You try for a smile. “Hey Jungkook, what’s up?”

He takes in a few more deep breaths to calm himself—either from the dashing he just did or to steel himself for the next question, you don’t know. “It’s about me inviting you to drive up to Irene’s wedding—I just thought I’d let you know it was a serious invitation. Having the company would be nice, and you wouldn’t be a burden to me, seriously. Besides, it’ll be fun to spend some time together.”

“O-Oh,” You stammer, wringing your hands together. “I’m not too sure… I still have to think about it.”

“Of course, of course,” Jungkook dismisses good naturedly. “Just thought I’d let you know, so you know that you do have options.”

Although the offer makes you nervous, you cannot dismiss Jungkook’s thoughtfulness. You give him a more relaxed smile. “I really appreciate that Jungkook, thank you.”

He smiles at your smile. “No problem! Actually…” He digs around for the wallet in his pocket and produces a little card. “Here’s my business card—my cell phone number is on here so just text or call if you decide to join me. Or,” He presses his lips into a more bashful smile. “You can just text me whenever for whatever reason. I just thought I’d let you know that it was good to see you again.”

You take the card slowly, unable to look away from Jungkook’s face. He looks so genuine and shy that it doesn’t help your own racing heart. “It was good to see you too, Jungkook…” You return, albeit a little breathlessly.

He smiles again, dimples pressing in his cheek (and your heart). He turns to Jimin “Oh yeah, nice seeing you too Park.”

“Hey.” Jimin hits him on the shoulder. “I’m your hyung, you should show me more respect!”

“My bad, my bad.” Jungkook doesn’t apologize though. His gaze flickers to yours one more time, gaze looking strangely hopeful. “I’ll see you guys around.” He walks backwards a few paces before turning around and returning to the restaurant. Maybe to see his other friends.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. You are still screaming internally regardless—as shown through your red cheeks, widened eyes, and singing heart. Jimin will certainly never let you live this moment down.

Now, you are screaming externally. You don’t even give a thought or an explanation. You simply walk into your apartment, nosedive for the couch, and start yelling into one of the throw pillows.

There’s a rapid movement of footsteps coming from down the hallway almost immediately, one that grows gradually louder until the owner of the steps starts speaking. “Who the fuck is out there? I’ve played softball my entire life and therefore will not hesitate to drive this bat so far up your ass—oh, Y/N.” The voice lowers significantly, as does the threat level it emits into the air. “It’s just you.”

You lift your face from the throw pillow, and immediately brush away at the hair that falls in your face. “What the fuck!” You croak, pushing yourself into a sitting position and pointing at the bat in Karly’s hands. “What are you doing threatening me with a bat? You’ve never played a game of softball in your life!”

“Oh, this isn’t mine. It’s Soonyoung’s.” Soonyoung is Karly’s boyfriend from high school, who used to play baseball on the high school team. How Karly has her boyfriend’s baseball bat is a mystery, but it’s something you think you are better off not asking about. She places the bat down on the carpet next to the coffee table. “But I should be asking you the questions, you bitch! You scared the shit out of me!”

You sigh, throwing your head to rest on the back of the couch. “Sorry, sorry. Had a crazy day.”

Karly ponders this as she moves to take a seat next to you. “You seemed fine when you texted me about you getting drinks with Jimin. Did something happen during the dinner?”

You straighten up again and grip Karly by the arm. “Okay, don’t scream.”

“You mean like you did?” Karly retorts dryly.

You shake her. “I’m serious!” When Karly doesn’t say anything, you take it as a sign to continue with your story. “I saw Jungkook.”

Karly blinks, then grabs your arm right back. “Wait, Jeon Jungkook, as in the guy you’ve been crushing on since second year?”

“Yes!” You whine, throwing yourself onto the couch all over again.

“The one you had to work together on a project with and nearly cried even though you guys just had to submit a paper?”

“Yes!”

“The one who said hi to you in the library that one time and you tried to put your elbow on the table afterwards but you missed and hit your head instead?”

You pause, scowling. “Okay, now you’re just being mean. Are you done?”

Karly is laughing. “Oh my god. What are the chances of you seeing him now?”

“There’s more,” You groan out.

“Really? Honestly that yell could have been just for seeing him again and that would have made sense—!”

You ignore her. “He’s friends with Jimin. He’s friends with Irene, too. He was invited to her wedding.”

“Wait, Jimin is friends with Irene or Jungkook is friends with Irene—?”

“He won’t pay for the flight though. It’s too expensive. I can attest to that.”

Karly holds a finger up, trying to connect the dots. “When did you look up flight prices—?”

“So he invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.”

Karly frowns.

You sigh. “Jungkook invited me on a cross country road trip to Irene’s wedding.”

“Oh! Oh!” Karly’s eyes widen. “Oh my god, that’s huge. Are you gonna go?”

“I don’t know!” You whine. “Jungkook mentioned it would be a four day drive to get there. I don’t know if I can survive four days in a car with him! We’ve never been that close, what if it gets awkward?”

Karly ponders this. “I really don’t think it’s in Jungkook’s nature to be awkward with someone—especially someone he’s had a history with.” She sees the look of disbelief you give her. “Well, even if that history was really limited. What makes you think it’ll be awkward? Was it awful seeing him tonight?”

“No!” You cry, straightening into a sitting position so your legs drape over the side of the couch. You force yourself to calm down. “It… it was pretty good actually.”

Karly raises an eyebrow, amusement dancing in her eyes. “Really now.”

“Yeah…” You reply, trailing off. “We sat across from each other during the dinner and we talked most of the night, surprisingly. I guess because we were sort of acquaintances we’ve always known about each other, so it wasn’t like we didn’t know how to ask questions to each other. And Jungkook… he’s easy to talk to as he’s always been and he’s so nice and positive and he has a dimple on his cheek when he smiles…” You finish slowly, noticing your racing heart that has come up as a result of this conversation and of your memory. You realize the predicament you’re in, further emphasized by Karly’s growing grin. You groan. “Shut up.”

Karly looks like a Cheshire cat. “I didn’t say anything.”

You grab onto one of the throw pillows and properly hit her in the face. “You’re saying many things right now, you bitch!”

Karly takes the pillow from you and proceeds to whack you in the shoulder. “Not outloud!”

“So you admit it!” You accuse, pointing at her.

Karly yells. “Just admit you still have a crush on him!”

Your groan turns into a cry. “Don’t say it outloud! Now I have to deal with it!”

Your roommate sighs. “Bitch, I can tell you exactly how to deal with this. You’re gonna go on this road trip with Jungkook and see if you guys vibe—you honestly will not find a better way to discover your compatibility with him. If it works out, then you get more than a plus one to the wedding. If it doesn’t work out, just skip the wedding and take the first flight back home. Cut off your friendship with Jimin while you’re at it—it’s the only way to ensure you’ll never have to run into Jungkook again.”

You pout. “That seems a little dramatic.”

Karly thinks for a second, then she nudges you. “Remind me again about that quote your high school English teacher used to always parade around.”

You stare at her for a moment, because you know exactly what point she’s trying to make. Still, you decide to humor her. And yourself. “‘You’ll never know if you’ll sink, swim, or float, until you’re willing to take the plunge’.” You level Karly with another gaze. Your friend has a point. You missed any chance to hang out with Jungkook during your college years—partly because your friend groups never intersected, but mostly because of your internalized fear of fucking up. But now that you are just a little older and just a little more versed in the art of conversing and befriending—maybe Karly is right. Maybe this is your chance to see if a different set of timing could make a difference.

So you sigh.

“I guess I should text Jungkook, huh.”

Karly pats you on the shoulder. “Take the plunge, my dude.”

You do take the plunge. You take Jungkook’s business card out from the pocket of your dress and dial the number. He expresses excitement—and also relief.

These things lead up to the current moment. Eight o’clock in the morning: you lingering in the kitchen with a cup of coffee, your suitcase by the door, and a roommate keeping you company.

You don’t realize how nervous you are until you get a text from Jungkook.

Jungkook (8:03am): i’m here! u can buzz me up so i can help u with your stuff :)

You (8:03am): it’s ok jungkook it’s just a suitcase. i’ll be down in a second!

You pocket your phone, and Karly can read the expression across your face before you realize what is going on. She straightens up. “He’s here?”

“Yeah.” You rinse your coffee cup and make your way towards the door. “Did you want to come down with me?”

Karly stops and gives you a look. “I thought that was already implied.”

“Well, thanks, that’s really nice—!”

“Someone has to give you an embarrassing goodbye.”

“There it is.” You sigh. You don’t say anything as you and Karly exit the apartment and make your way down the hall into the elevator. It only takes a few seconds for the elevator to lower down to the ground floor, where you and Karly exit and make your way to the front of the apartment complex.

You swear your heart beats just a little faster as soon as you see Jungkook near the front entrance of the building. He’s wearing a pair of black jackets with an oversized denim jacket and currently looking down at his phone—overall appearing so tall and pretty and otherworldly. For a brief second, you are taken by the fact that for the next four days, he’ll be yours.

Jungkook looks up as soon as he hears the door opening and he smiles. “Hey you.”

You smile, albeit a little lopsided and dreamy. “Hi.”

Jungkook walks towards you immediately. “Here, let me help you with that.” He reaches a hand out and gently takes the handle of your suitcase before you can say anything. Just as he’s taking the suitcase from you, Karly emerges from the building. “Oh, sorry about that.”

Karly waves him off. “Don’t be. I’m Y/N’s roommate—I’m just here to see her off.”

Jungkook stares at her for a moment, then he snaps his fingers. “Wait, I remember you. You went to college with us too.” He jerks his chin towards you. “You hung out with Y/N a lot, right?”

“Yeah, I’m Karly.” She holds out her hand for Jungkook to shake. “And you’re right, she and I hung out a lot. We were roommates back then too.”

Jungkook nods in understanding, before shoving his hand into his pocket. His other hand is still holding onto your suitcase. “Well, I promise to take good care of Y/N.”

Karly smacks her teeth against the side of her mouth as she points at him. “You’re a good man, Jungkook.” She pauses for a moment, seeming to contemplate a new thought. You recognize the look immediately, and your fingers twitch as if you want to strangle her. Or at least let her know you’re throwing her a look of murderous intent. But of course, Karly doesn’t see it. And even if she had, you doubt she’d care. “But no funny business, alright.”

You gape at her. “Karly!”

Jungkook coughs at that. “I-It’s just a drive—y-you don’t need to worry about that.” He does, however, turn away to hide the red that dusts his cheeks.

As soon as Jungkook’s back is facing you, you whirl around to shoot Karly with a glare. “Karly, you’re lucky I’m leaving for the next four days or I would not hesitate to figure out how to make stuffocation look like an accident!” You hiss out between teeth without taking a breath.

Karly glares right back. “You’re really dumb, aren’t you? The fact that he recognizes me because he saw you hanging out with me on campus doesn’t strike any chords? Even though, like you said, you guys weren’t really friends?”

You blink. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Karly widens her eyes. “What the fuck do you mean? Are you dumb with all the boys or just Jungkook?”

“What do you mean!” You snap back.

“So, Y/N, ready to go?”

You whirl back around to find Jungkook now standing in front of you and Karly. He must have finished packing your suitcase in the trunk of his car and is now looking over at you with a tilt in his head.

So you force a smile. “Of course,” You say, turning to Karly. “I was just saying bye to my roommate.”

He nods in understanding, sparing one more glance at Karly before seeming to decide against it because he looks away. He’s still a little red at Karly’s previous comment. “We should get going then.”

“Sure.” You look over at your roommate. “See you, bitch.”

Karly waves back, grinning wildly. You just know she has several other thoughts she’d like to share with you, but has probably deemed you embarrassed enough. Lucky for you, she keeps her mouth shut.

Unlucky for you, without Karly to be a barrier of distraction, this leaves you alone with Jungkook. You slide into the passenger seat of his car, still not yet processing the weight of what you’ve just agreed to. You fiddle alone for a second before Jungkook is opening the driver’s side and shifting into his seat.

There is a silence as Jungkook is starting the car, and a part of you wants to die. Or at least have the ground swallow you whole. Holy fuck, what did you just sign up for?

Your mind somehow takes five seconds to turn into complete shambles that you almost miss Jungkook’s question.

“Here, I’m giving you an important mission,” Jungkook says, rummaging through the various chords that lay over the center console before producing an aux cord. “Should you choose to accept.”

He’s got on such a serious expression you momentarily forget about your anxiety. His usage of the iconic line from Mission Impossible makes you laugh—a breathy sort of noise that escapes when your mind is too full. You still take the aux cord. “Oh my god—ever heard of bluetooth?”

He pouts. “It hasn’t even been five minutes and you’re already insulting my beautiful Celia!”

You raise both your eyebrows. “Celia?”

“Yeah, that’s the name of my car.” He catches the bewildered look you give him before angling himself back to face the steering wheel, where he shifts his console into drive and makes a turn onto the main street. “If you’re already weirded out by the fact I have a name for my baby, then you’re in for a very long four days, Miss. Y/N.”

You giggle, feeling that distraction of nerves start to come off your shoulders. “Not weird at all.” You pause. “Ryan is the name of my car.”

“Ah!” He holds one arm out in a grand gesture. “You see, not so strange after all.” He steals a glance at you, watching as you’re about to connect your phone to the aux cord. “Wait!” He says, pointing a finger at you.

You look up at him, wide eyes.

He’s still holding an arm up. “How’s your music taste?”

You’re still giving him your surprised expression. “You scared me!”

He laughs, returning his hand back to the steering wheel. “Sorry, sorry. I have to ask though—I’d rather know now than later, so I can kick you out and not feel as bad about it.”

Your laughter seems to melt away the last of your nervous energy. “Nice to know you’re putting all your cards out now.” You look down at your phone. “Regarding my music taste… it’s whatever you want dude! I have some lo-fi on here, some pop, alternative, Broadway, anime openings… an ‘everything’ playlist. Honestly, the world is your oyster.”

“How about we start with your ‘everything’ playlist,” Jungkook suggests. “That way I can judge you immediately.”

“Were you always this charming, Jeon Jungkook?” You retort. “Or has graduation changed you?”

“Oh, I’ve always been this charming—you just never noticed.”

That comment, however, goes over your head as you focus down on your playlist. You look over, selecting the shuffle option as Taylor Swift’s soft music from her newest album fills the air. Another silence fills the car, but it’s much more peaceful and comfortable. You allow yourself to settle further into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car.

“So,” You start after a moment. Jungkook hums to let you know he’s paying attention. “What inspired the name Celia?”

Jungkook brightens at the question. “She was this character from a book I read when I was younger. The Night Circus? Anyways, the book is about these two illusionists who try to one up each other with their skills of magic, but they end up falling in love. Celia is the name of one of those illusionists.”

You grin. “Sounds like a very cute crush.”

Jungkook grins back.

The drive out of the city continues like this. The pair of you cover the topic of books, of music, of your favorite animes. Jungkook just has this magical power of ensuring the tension dissipates from your mind and stays gone—whether it’s through his relaxed nature or easy-going teasing or his ability to ease the conversation from one topic to the next. It feels like every conversation you and Jungkook had in college, whether vague or circling around classes, all have led up to this moment. It seems like everytime you or Jungkook run out of things to talk about pertaining to a certain topic, you would bring up memories from college and just continue from there. Everything feels natural.

It continues to feel natural even as you and Jungkook slowly start to see the edges of the city landscape fade away. The high rises fade into shorter buildings and smaller business areas that surround the bustling city scene. You watch as those buildings and business areas become rows of houses. Residential areas in the suburbs, passing by the occasional school or corner restaurants.

“Before we enter the wide unknown,” Jungkook starts up, breaking the quiet that has enveloped the car. “You want to pick up lunch? You hungry?”

You haven’t even realized how much time has gone by until you look at the clock on Jungkook’s dashboard and notice that it’s past noon. You widen your eyes at the sight. “Wow, I didn’t even realize so much time had passed.”

“Yeah, we drove through a few cities. Time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”

“You wish,” You tease, sticking your tongue out. “So, what, do we stop at a Cheesecake factory or something?”

Jungkook blinks. “I thought you were poor—why would we stop at the Cheesecake factory? And why is that the first restaurant that comes to your mind?”

You wave your hands. “It was just a suggestion!”

“Well, I’m realizing that I should probably let you know that the motel I picked for us to drive to tonight is pretty far out—Google Maps says we probably won’t get there until midnight, and that’s with us driving straight through.”

“Midnight? Fuck, Jungkook. Will we make it to the wedding a day early or something?”

“Ha, ha, no. I’ll go over the schedule I planned out tomorrow. Basically, I want to try and cover most of our ground on the first day so we can take the rest of the trip easy. But I thought I’d let you know now that sitting in a restaurant probably won’t be the most time responsible idea.”

“That’s true.” You look out the window again and see the golden arches of McDonalds appear within your line of sight. “Let’s just stop at McDonalds.”

Jungkook follows your gaze. “Alright, down. Let’s do it.”

He exits off the freeway, following down a route that takes him almost immediately towards the McDonalds parking lot. Since this restaurant is still within the lines of the city, it’s not completely deserted. There are a few cars in the parking lot, even fewer cars in the drive-through line. Because of this, ordering the food only takes a few minutes. Both of you get chicken nuggets, sodas, and large orders of french fries.

“You know, we’re really living like kings,” You comment as Jungkook drives out and makes his way back onto the freeway. “College graduates, both somehow able to secure a job, and still ordering chicken mcnuggets.”

Jungkook shrugs. “I wasn’t told this is what adulthood would be like. But I’m not complaining. My 10-year-old self is singing in so much joy right now.” He says this as he’s stuffing a handful of fries into your mouth. You laugh, and hand him a napkin.

You turn the music back on. The pair of you silently munch on your chicken nuggets, as you angle your head towards the side window once again. As Jungkook drives, the numbers of structural spaces become more scattered the longer you both continue down the freeway.

The anime opening to Haikyuu starts playing when you turn back to Jungkook and realize that he’s trying to close the box of his chicken nuggets. You move right away, taking the cardboard from him and closing it yourself. “Let me know if you need anything, Jungkook. Think of me as your co-pilot.”

He laughs gently. “Is that the rule of the passenger seat?”

You shrug, putting the empty box into the McDonalds bag near your feet. “For me at least. Everytime I do one of these drives with family, the person in the passenger seat has to open the snacks, make conversation, and always stay awake with the driver. It’s just courtesy.”

Jungkook is smiling softly now, mostly to himself, but it lights the corners of his eyes that makes you momentarily unable to look away. “You wanna tell me about your family?”

So you do. Your voice becomes softer as you continue, but Jungkook listens to every single word you say.

True to his observation, it’s not long before the pair of you are surrounded by the wide unknown. Houses in the suburbs become farmhouses and farms. Conversations fade from your family to another comfortable silence as you continue gazing out the window. Jungkook requests your lo-fi playlist at some point, filling the car with the soft and distorted hums. It allows your mind to wander as you stare out the window. The empty stretches of land around you are filled with greenery, with mountains, cutting right through the perfect blue of the sky above you.

By 4:00PM, your entire body is starting to feel the ache of having been seated for long hours on end. You feel the tightness in the muscles of your thigh, the bones in your knees.

Jungkook must be feeling the same, because as soon as a sign for a rest stop comes on, he exits the freeway and pulls into a large parking lot. There’s a restroom on the side, but the area is surrounded by trees with mountains standing in the background.

Jungkook stops the car. “We should get out for a bit to move our legs.”

You’re already tugging on the latch that’ll open the car door. “I’m already feeling it in my knees.” You open the door and immediately extend your legs out onto the solid ground beneath you. You let out a sigh of satisfaction, and Jungkook laughs from next to you.

He’s opening his own car door soon after, but he straightens up into a standing position pretty quickly and stretches upwards. He closes the car door behind him, watching as you eventually pull yourself together to do the same.

You turn to face Jungkook. “I’m gonna use the restroom.” You gesture towards the building and earn a nod from Jungkook, who mentions something about doing the same thing. You meet back at the car a few minutes later.

Jungkook gestures to the trees surrounding the parking lot. “Want to take a walk around the area? Keep the blood flowing to our legs.”

You nod. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“Why don’t you get started. I’ll catch up.” Jungkook watches you leave, before opening the trunk of his car and rummaging around.

He does catch up with you, quickly enough that you hardly notice that he had sent you out first. You hear his footsteps, and the call of your name. You turn around. “Jungkook!”

The sight before you makes you waver slightly, as bouts of shyness overtake you. Standing before you is Jungkook, with his camera in hand. The lens is pointed right at you. As soon as you’re staring straight into the camera, Jungkook grins. “Say hi!”

You whine, whirling back around and covering your face. “Are you filming me right now?”

“I’m a photographer at heart, what did you expect?” Jungkook teases back. “Besides, it’s really pretty around here. You think I won’t film it?”

You snort, starting your walk around the parking lot. “Oh yeah, because there aren’t any parking lots and trees and bathroom stops at home.”

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “That’s not what I meant.”

You turn to stare right into the lens of his camera. “Then the mountains, right?”

He’s quiet for another second. “Sure.” He does, however, sound a little disappointed. You do not notice this.

The pair of you stay quiet as you make your round around the parking lot, taking in the mountains from different angles. The walk around is mostly just to rid of the sensation of your legs falling off, but it’s still a nice view to admire. As soon as you finish a complete round, you and Jungkook return back to the car. You watch as he carefully places his camera into his camera bag before you’re both back in your seats.

Jungkook turns to you. “Ready to get going again?” He looks at the control panel behind his steering wheel. “We’ll probably have to stop for gas in a few hours. But after that, it’s straight to the hotel.”

You settle back into the passenger seat. “I guess we already have our dinner plans then.” You’re referring to the gas station.

Jungkook grins. “I’m down for that.”

And so, the trip continues back on the freeway. With the lo-fi playing in the background, you watch as the sun tears through the blue sky, as the sun finally begins it’s dip to the other side. The singular color once spread across the pane of atmosphere now conjugates around the sun crawling behind the mountain—creating a diffusion of new colors. The corner of the mountain emits an explosion of oranges, pinks, and purples.

You lift your head from the window, eyes taking in the rainbow of pastels around the now fading sun. “Wow, Jungkook, look at that sunset.”

He snorts. “You wanna talk about things that you can’t see back in the city?”

You pout. “But it looks so pretty, see!” You keep gesturing towards the sunset.

Jungkook relents just enough to spare a glance in the direction. He hums. “Yeah, it’s pretty.” He looks back at the road. “Can’t really find a view like that in the city.”

You spend a little more time admiring the sunset than Jungkook does, for obvious reasons. You’ve seen a sunset plenty of times before in the past, but the context of this whole situation makes you unable to look away from it. You’re really out here, stuck in a car with someone you have never hung out with for longer than a few minutes. But you are enjoying yourself. There's peace in that.

So you watch until the sun dips below the mountain, momentarily leaving the sky in a navy color.

The next time Jungkook speaks, the area around you is much darker, and the sky is nearly black. “You hungry now?”

You lift your head from the seat, not even realizing you were drifting off. You’re thinking about Irene, wondering if you should have texted her directly congratulating her on the wedding rather than just simply sending in the RSVP. “Sure. We eat as the car eats, right?”

Jungkook smiles, a gesture you can barely make out from the headlines. “Of course.”

This goes on for a few more miles until the sign for a gas station comes up. A few other cars linger near the dispensers. Jungkook parks near his choice and gets out of the car. You follow behind him. He’s already sliding his credit card into the machine, and the sight makes you reach over to grab his wrist.

“I should pay, you’ve been driving all day!”

He shakes his head, waving you off. “We’ll take turns, okay?” He looks at you. “Buy me dinner tonight too, that sound fair?”

You pout, leaning back as you cross your arms. “Not really, but I guess I’ll have to accept it.”

He grins. “You are correct.”

As soon as the gas pump alerts you of the filled tank, Jungkook returns the pump back to the machine and locks his car. Together, the two of you make your way towards the convenience store, where the bell above rings to alert the workers of your presence. Nods are exchanged as you and Jungkook tear through the aisles to find anything that could satisfy your cravings. You return back with family size bags of hot cheetos and beef jerky, while Jungkook holds his selection of roasted seaweed and Doritos. You select your drinks together before returning to the cashier.

It’s nearing 9:00PM as you and Jungkook return back to his car, where you slide back into your seats and immediately tear into your bags of salt and sodium.

“How are you doing?” You ask as Jungkook finishes his first bag of roasted seaweed.

Jungkook pulls out his phone, scrolling through the final stretch needed to reach the hotel. “Yeah, about four more hours to the motel.” He looks over at you. “I’m good. The salt in this seaweed really helps. How are you doing?”

You nod immediately. “Great. Perfect.”

He smiles, shifting his console to drive and pulling out of the gas station. “I’m used to these weird hours. Remember how I told you I traveled around a bit with Mingyu and Wonwoo? There was this one day we only slept for an hour or something? It sucked, I think I almost passed out that day. But yeah, this is honestly not even that bad.” He turns to look at you. “I think the good company helps, too.”

You roll your eyes, grinning. “You flatter me, Jeon.”

Slowly, 8PM turns into 10PM. One glance at Google maps tells you that you’re still two hours from the hotel. Even though you’re not the one driving, and although you haven’t endured any physical activity that could result in this exhaustion, you still find yourself growing tired. Something about sitting under the sun, sitting in a vehicle that rocks side to side with a consistent hum—it makes your mind work slowly and therefore brings out the sleepiness quicker.

You settle deeper into your seat.

Jungkook giggles from next to you. “You tired already?”

You pout slowly, eyes closed just enough. “I’m not a morning person and you made me wake up at 8!”

“Sure, sure, of course.”

There’s a pause.

You ponder a question for a moment. It’s something that you would never dare ask Jungkook if you had been more awake and more alert. But you’re tired, and your defenses are lowered, and it means you are more prone to asking questions. “Hey, Jungkook? Did you have any girlfriends when we were in college?”

Jungkook doesn’t answer immediately. “Where’s this coming from?” He asks instead.

You shrug, making a dismissive noise as your shoulders rise up. “Curiosity.”

A pause. “I went on a few dates, but I never had a serious relationship.”

“No way.” You lift your head up from the seat. “But I remember seeing you hang out with the occasional girl in the quad, or at some restaurants around the school.”

Jungkook smiles. It’s hard to read the look in his eyes. They’re focused on the road in front of him, but they seem almost hazy and faraway. “Like I said, I went on a few dates. I did really want to get into a long term relationship in college. A lot of my friends had them, that’s where my parents met, so I was really open to the idea of at least experimenting. There were a lot of girls that I thought were nice, easy-going, or just really pretty, so I tried my hand in the whole dating thing.”

“And it didn’t work out?” You coax out gently.

“Not really,” He continues. He steals a glance at you. “We’d go on a few dates, but none of them ever felt substantial. I think girls see me and have a certain expectation—an expectation I couldn’t meet. So I never could picture myself in a long term relationship with any of them.”

You tilt your head towards him. “There must have been someone…”

“Well… there was one girl.” Jungkook starts after a moment. He’s not looking at you this time. “We had a few classes together earlier—we weren’t in the same major program. I don’t even know if I’d say we were close or anything. We just had a few classes and saw each other around on occasion. But the conversations we did have during class or outside of class just felt more real. Honestly, I could have been totally wrong about her. I could have just been blinded by all these expectations I was putting on her, which is ironic. But she was the only person I could actually see myself being in a long term relationship with. Or at least try.”

You hum, still facing towards him in your seat. “Why didn’t you try anything then? You’re a good guy, Jungkook. I’m sure she would have wanted to try with you too.”

“I guess I was just afraid of pushing it and scaring her off. I thought it was better to stay friends with her than try to pursue something. She never gave me an indication that she felt the same.”

“And how do you feel now?”

There’s a pause this time. “I don’t know honestly. We remained friends up until graduation but, uh, never saw her again. I do wonder from time to time how she’s doing.”

“You should reach out to her,” You advise softly. “Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird.” You grin at him. “You need to make your move.”

It is then that Jungkook turns to look at you. He looks for a little longer this time, eyes focused entirely on you. Underneath the small crescent of the moon above, you are still able to make out his facial features. His cheeks, his nose, his eyes—the latter is glimmering, like he knows something that you don’t.

“I’m working on that,” He mumbles softly. You turn your head back towards the road.

You wake up the next morning feeling groggy, dirty, and messy. Your head lifts up from a pillow you can only vaguely remember falling on, laying on top of a bed you only vaguely remember throwing yourself in. There’s sunlight pouring into the room, but it feels like early morning sun. There’s a crisp in the air that you can feel, that you see out of the window. Right outside is the gathering of bushes and trees, a bright blue sky.

You are in the motel.

Slowly, you push yourself into a sitting position, until you’re resting atop the white linen of your bed. Across the room, snuggled in his own twin bed, is Jungkook. His lashes are fanning across his cheekbones, his lips are parted, and his breathing is slow and soft.

It isn’t until Jungkook shifts in bed that you realize you’ve been watching him like a creep. Hastily, you tear your gaze away and decide to focus your gaze down. You notice immediately that you are not underneath the blankets. Instead, you are lying underneath Jungkook’s jacket.

You roll the jacket off your frame, discovering that you are still in last night’s clothes—which explains why you were feeling so groggy and discombobulated. You look across the floor of the hotel room. Your suitcase is near the foot of your bed, and your phone sits on your nightstand connected to your charger.

Vaguely, you recall what had happened the previous night—how Jungkook drove into the hotel room nearing midnight and the exhaustion was so overpowering that you and Jungkook blindly asked for any room with two twin beds before following through and practically collapsing into your respected beds.

You definitely did that, which explains why you were on top of the bed, why you’re still in yesterday’s clothes, and why Jungkook’s jacket was your blanket. Stealing another glance at Jungkook: underneath the blankets and in a different t-shirt—you can assume that he was able to take a shower before lying down.

With a sigh, you push off Jungkook’s jacket and lay it down on the bed next to you. Hoping not to disturb Jungkook, you slide out of bed and lower your suitcase to the ground. After fishing out a new set of clothes, you decide to take a shower.

The warmth from the shower is the best breath of fresh air you’ve gotten since hitting the road with Jungkook. It feels like your body is going through a battery recharge, and it’s one you take your time with. You step out of the shower, running the towel through your hair and drying yourself enough to slip on your outfit for the day. The towel is thrown around your neck as you step out of the shower, letting the steam follow you out of the bathroom.

Jungkook is still sleeping as you step out, which is good otherwise you’d feel bad for having disturbed his sleep time. After all the driving he did yesterday, you figure he deserves a few extra hours regardless of what the schedule calls for.

You continue running the towel through your hair as you pick up your phone. Strangely, you do not remember connecting it to a charger before knocking out, but you pick it up regardless to see the 9:00AM time across your screen.

There’s a quiet that takes over, in which you’re sitting perched comfortably on your bed and scrolling through your phone as Jungkook continues to drift a few feet away from you.

About thirty minutes seem to pass before Jungkook is moaning softly to himself, letting out a puff of air as he slowly opens his eyes. His arms extend above him, knocking into the headboard and making him curse softly to himself. His eyes open as he lowers his hands to inspect the damage before immediately looking over towards you.

He blinks, a tired smile overtaking his lips as he arches his back into a stretch. “Hey,” He greets, voice rough and scratchy and making your heart clench. Damn thing. “You’re awake. You knocked out pretty quickly as soon as we got the room.”

You laugh. “Yeah, I honestly figured that.” You pick up his jacket, as if he hadn’t been the one to lay it on you those hours ago. “Thanks for trying to help me get comfortable.” You gesture towards the nightstand. “Did you find my charger too?”

Jungkook sits up as he continues a small round of stretches and yawns. “I did,” He says. “You were barely coherent, but made enough sense to tell me where it was in your bag. Sorry for going through it, by the way.”

You shake your head, waving him off. “No worries. Thank you again, Jungkook.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a few moments, before that silence is broken by Jungkook’s phone going off. You look down as Jungkook snatches his own phone off the nightstand. He scrolls through something, before placing it back.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” You ask, bringing your fingers through your hair to comb and give you a distraction.

“Oh! Right.” Jungkook swings his legs off the side of the bed. “We have a slower day today. The hotel I picked is only about five hours away? We’re driving through the mountains today, so there’s this place I want to visit that has a little restaurant and everything. It’ll be a cute pit stop.”

You nod. “Awesome, okay.” You curl your fingers around the strands of now loose strands of hair.

It takes another hour until you and Jungkook are packed up again and ready to leave. A quick stop to the lobby provides both of you with a bagel and cup of coffee each as your breakfast. All before you’re once again sliding into the passenger seat of Jungkook’s car.

You roll your shoulders before clicking your seatbelt in. “Ready for another long day?”

“Of course.” He digs through his center console, producing his aux cord. “Your mission,” He says dramatically, not unlike yesterday. “Should you choose to accept.”

You laugh gently, taking the cord. “You in love with Mission Impossible or something? This is the second time in two days you’re quoting it to me.”

And this is how your day starts off—talks of Mission Impossible films that bleed into conversations about movies.

The day at 10 o’clock in the morning is bright and blue as Jungkook drives back onto the freeway and continues down the road. The first few hours consist of the surrounding flatland, of green grass and high mountains all around. Conversations between you and Jungkook are a little more scattered today, but there’s a new level of comfort about the situation. With both of you well rested, it invites a more relaxed atmosphere as you pass the occasional joke or story time between the pair of you.

As the sun continues to travel higher in the sky, Jungkook’s car starts it’s approach up the mountain. The trees start enveloping the pair of you into a newer, higher world. Not only that, but whenever you and Jungkook reach a clearing, it exposes a dip of lakes, grass, and mountains. And you, always having enjoyed the views of nature, keep an open eye for every single thing.

You see Jungkook’s choice of destination before he does, and you gasp excitedly.

Up ahead is a cloud of pink, white, and red flowers covering an entire mountain side. There is an occasional pop of cedar trees amongst the covering of pink, white, and red, but the colors are so poignant that it captures your attention immediately.

You point to it. “Is that where we’re going?”

Jungkook grins. “Surprise!” He’s selected this spot before offering the invitation to let you come along, but you’re not complaining. You’ve never been to a flower farm before, despite having heard about them and seen pictures of them for most of your childhood. You continue to watch with wide eyes and bright smiles as Jungkook drives closer and closer to the destination, finally parking in the appropriate lot after paying the fee.

You’re practically vibrating in your seat with excitement. “Jungkook, Jungkook, c’mon let’s go, let’s go!” You push on the latch and nearly tumble out onto the ground. You straighten to stand on your feet, before meeting Jungkook near the trunk of his car. Surprise, surprise, he pulls out his camera and loops the strap over his head.

He’s grinning as he closes the trunk. “You’re a little excited, aren’t you?”

“A little?” You echo, clapping your hands, seemingly unable to wipe the grin off your face. “Jungkook, this is a flower farm! It’s so exciting!”

So you dart off with Jungkook following closely behind you. The parking lot is located at the top of the flower farm, so the tour around the fields is a downwards one towards the bottom. A small pathway maps out a route for you to follow as you take in the various lines of flowers and colors. One short glimpse at the brochure tells you that these are spring flowers, and that you and Jungkook are visiting during the perfect season. You and Jungkook continue through your makeshift tour in silence, taking in the flowers as well as the view that extends out far beyond your line of sight while Jungkook snaps photographs behind you. Words don’t need to be said when everything around you says it all.

At the bottom of the field is a cafe, a small brick building with an outdoor seating area facing the now upward flower display. You and Jungkook order sandwiches and soda, and take your seats outside as you wait for your number to be called. There are a fair amount of people today at the field, most of which you can see ahead roaming through the flowers ahead.

“Have you ever been to a flower farm before?” Jungkook asks, as he glances over at you to see how bright your expression is.

You smile as you turn to him. “No, never. But thank you for bringing me here, it’s beautiful here.”

Jungkook smiles, looking a little smug. He looks proud of himself. “I’ve always wanted to come here, so I’m glad I was able to bring you along.” It looks like he wants to say more, but the number that rests between Jungkook’s fingers is called out, interrupting the conversation. He returns a moment later with the food. “I actually wanted to ask you something,” He says, taking the sandwich plate off the tray and placing it in front of you.

You take the napkins that are being offered to you. “What’s up?”

He settles down into his seat. “I didn’t get to return the question that you asked me last night.”

It takes you a second to realize what he’s referring to. Immediately, you feel yourself turn red as you press your lips together. You were definitely drowsy last night, and hadn’t put too much consideration in the aftermath of asking Jungkook about his college relationships. You instead try for a laugh, as you wave him off. “Well, you don’t need to ask me. It’s pretty boring.”

“Nonsense,” Jungkook brushes off, taking another bite of his sandwich. “So tell me, did you get into any relationships in college?”

You laugh, albeit a little nervously. “No, not really. I never even went on any dates before—I guess, like you, I just couldn’t see myself in any long term relationship with anyone that seemed to like me.”

“Well, how about crushes on your end? Did you like anyone?”

You gaze over at Jungkook—taking in his wide curious eyes, his soft voice, his contagious laugh. The memories of him waving at you in class, of him catching up to you afterwards to continue previous conversations, of him going out of his way to say hi to you in the library. Jungkook has always been thoughtful, considerate, and soft along the edges. How could you not have crushed on him during college?

And how could you not continue to have these lingering feelings for him afterwards?

You think about your own advice you had given to Jungkook. You should reach out to her. Since you guys were friends before, I’m sure asking her out just to catch up won’t seem so weird. You need to make your move. Could you even follow your own advice?

You look down before Jungkook could start asking questions about your staring. “There was this one guy,” You start, trying for an uneasy laugh. “But I don’t think he ever noticed me. Well, that’s a lie. I guess we were kind of friends? I think it’s more along the lines of me being out of his league.”

“That’s depressing,” Jungkook notes as he finishes his sandwich. You hardly even noticed him inhaling the thing. “How could you be out of a guy’s league? You’re so smart and funny and easy to talk to—if anything, a guy would probably be out of your league.” He leans forward, bringing you close enough where you can clearly make out the mole underneath his lip. “Tell me about this punk. So I can tell you he’s not good enough for you.”

You laugh, keeping your gaze on him. You doubt he’d be so confident had he known about ‘this punk’. “He isn’t a punk,” You remark quietly. “He’s really nice, and really sweet. I was pretty quiet in college. Definitely introverted and kept to myself and had a hard time making friends. Although I would have honestly barely considered him a friend, he just made me feel like my time was meaningful and my attention was valuable to him.” Jungkook’s eyes continue to bore into yours. “If anything, I just wish he knew how much I admire him.”

Jungkook’s gaze is unwavering across your face, once again displaying that unreadable expression. Yet, despite that, something glimmers in his eyes and he seems to come to an understanding you yourself don’t know about. That glimmer keeps swimming across the orbs, even as he switches his gaze between your eyes. They flicker down to your lips for a second, and your heart stutters in your chest.

Jungkook coughs, pulling away from you as he seems to hyper-focus his attention on the soda still in front of him. He looks shy as he steals another glance at you from across the table. “He might not have made you feel that important if you were too scared to tell him how you felt.”

You look down at your sandwich and take another bite. Something about the way he’s staring holes into the side of your face tells you that he knows something that you don’t. You wonder what he’s thinking.

Jungkook wears that thoughtful expression for the rest of the visit to the flower field, as the pair of you return back to his car and slide back in your seats. He stays quiet as you resume the trip, slowly making your way back onto the freeway and towards your second motel.

This kind of quiet is different than the previous silences the pair of you have grown to share over the past twenty-four hours. Unlike the comfortable moments of unspoken words, this is more tense. Like he knows something that you don’t.

You don’t know what to say, or how to break that silence. You don’t know if perhaps you said something you shouldn’t have, or said something to make him uncomfortable. All of those thoughts are not pleasant ones.

Jungkook stays quiet for most of the drive through the mountain. The music you have selected is loud enough that seems to drown the tense atmosphere, but the questions still press themselves deeply into your mind. What is he thinking about?

And worse of all: did he know you were talking about him?

You and Jungkook only speak a handful of times during the trip. He asks you if you need to use the restroom, if you’re hungry, and if you could play him your favorite anime openings. The pair of you have a handful of laughs about your mutual love for Haikyuu and Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, but most of the drive to the motel is ridden out in silence.

The pair of you reach the hotel around dinnertime, definitely nowhere as exhausted as you had been the previous night, but just as eager to finally reach your destination. The tension between you and Jungkook has eased slightly, so you can only assume that perhaps he has overcome whatever was bothering him. You yourself have pushed the thought of Jungkook knowing the truth out of your mind. After all, if he had known, you assume he would have brought it up. Or at least called for an Uber to send you home. You assume you would have provided some sort of reaction for the two of you to talk about. But alas, those thoughts follow a conversation that has not happened, and will probably never happen, because you’re sure that you’ll never have to be in a situation that forces your feelings to go out of control once again—!

“Hi,” Jungkook returns to the hotel clerk behind the desk, a girl to be about your age, who is flickering her gaze between you and Jungkook. A flicker in her eyes tells you that she already has multiple thoughts and assumptions about your relationship. “Do you have a room with two beds?”

“Oh!” The girl blinks, momentarily looking taken aback. “Of course, let me check.” She turns her attention to the computer screen in front of her. Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m sorry sir, we only have rooms with one bed available—either a full, queen, or king-size mattress.”

Jungkook makes a noise in the back of his throat as he taps his credit card on the desk. Just watching from the side, you notice how he swallows, how he looks down, how his cheeks turn red. He turns to you after a moment. “D-Do you, uh, do you mind?”

It takes you a second to realize what Jungkook is asking. He’s asking if you’d be okay with sharing a bed with him. Him: your college crush, the guy you never really lost feelings for.

You turn red too. “U-Um…” You press your lips together and swallow. “S-Sure,” You manage, waving your hands out in front of you. “I-I don’t mind. I-If you don’t mind, of course.”

“I-I don’t mind either.” Jungkook, however, looks like he’s about to combust. He looks a little lost again. He blinks once, twice, and seems to realize that he’s supposed to hand the woman behind the desk his card. “Uh, whichever room is the cheapest.”

“That’ll be the room with the full-size bed.” She flickers her gaze between the two of you. “If that’s okay.”

“O-Of course,” He stammers back, allowing the girl to take the card. He looks at you. “Do you mind staying here? I have to go to the bathroom real quick.”

“S-Sure, go ahead.” A part of you wants to hit your head on the desk. What is happening to you? Why is the mere thought of sharing a bed with Jungkook turning you into a pile of mush? You’re a grown ass woman—!

“So the two of you on vacation or something?” The woman behind the desk asks. She’s still in the middle of scanning Jungkook’s credit card.

You try for a smile. “Kind of, we’re going to a friend’s wedding.”

“I see, that sounds fun.” She smiles. “You know, I have to be honest, I was a little surprised he asked for two beds. You guys would make a cute couple.”

At the label, you start to turn red. “O-Oh n-no, we’re not a couple at all. That’s very flattering, b-but yeah we’re not together.”

“Oh, I know,” The girl rebuffs. Her smile looks more like a grin. She places Jungkook’s credit card on the desk, along with a receipt and a pen. “I hope the full size bed will change that.” She gives you a wink.

You part your lips, unsure what to make of the situation. “What—!”

“I’m back,” Jungkook says, sliding up from behind you and making you jump slightly. “What did I miss?”

“Uh…” You wonder if your face is too red or not. It certainly feels that way. “Here!” You push him forward towards the desk. “She scanned your credit card. You just need to sign and we’ll be on our way.”

If Jungkook notices the stiffness in your posture, he doesn’t comment as he leans forward to sign the receipt. Just over Jungkook’s shoulder is the worker, looking at you with a now shit-eating grin across her lips. Several questions ping through your mind, but you don’t get to ask any of those because Jungkook is turning around with his credit card in hand.

“Uh, ready to get going?”

“Sure!” You say, voice a few several pitches higher and you return to wanting the ground to swallow you whole. Jungkook leads the way out of the lobby, and you dare one last glance back towards the woman behind the counter.

She’s waving a slip of paper in her hand.

You turn back to Jungkook. “Hey Jungkook, give me a second. I think we forgot to grab something at the desk.”

It sort of feels like a walk of shame to reach the worker behind the counter, who is still grinning at the sight of you and your internal struggles. She hands you the slip of paper, mouths something that makes you go red, before you’re turning back towards Jungkook. “Good luck,” She had whispered.

Before you’re reaching Jungkook, you open the paper. At the very top is the WiFi password.

Underneath the WiFi password, in what you can only assume is her handwriting, is one sentence. Fate said you guys only get one bed- don’t worry, I think he likes you too :-)

“What was that about?” Jungkook asks.

You shove the paper into your pocket. “The WiFi password,” You supply.

The walk to the hotel room is quiet as Jungkook leads the way through the different hallways, corridors, and numbers on plaques. That tense silence is back as he guides the two of you, stopping only when he reaches the number that matches the one on the index card. He gives you a look, and inserts the card key into the slot. The door beeps, and he pushes open the door to find, true to the word of the lady behind the counter, one full-sized bed in the middle of the room.

For the first few hours, it’s easy to ignore that full-sized elephant in the room. Jungkook takes out his laptop and you guys watch your favorite season of Haikyuu together—it’s season two—or you guys linger about on your phones. It isn’t until nighttime falls into your bones, into your minds, that you realize that you really need to address the new situation.

“I’m gonna take a shower first, if that’s okay,” You say, already sliding off the bed to gather your belongings from your suitcase. Jungkook is humming along to the Haikyuu ending song, but he stops long enough to accept you taking the first shower. He watches you as you fish pajamas out from your suitcase. “Hey, Jungkook…” You start. “Are you sure you’re cool with this?” You gesture to the bed. “I can sleep on the floor. They give you extra bedding for a reason…”

“What? No, of course not, I’m not letting you sleep on the floor.” He moves until his knees are pressed into the mattress. “And I’m cool with this. Promise.” He hesitates. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“Y-Yeah,” You manage, straightening into a standing position with your clothes in hand. “I don’t really move around when I’m sleeping. And I trust you, Jungkook.” You keep your gaze on each other until you break it first, turning around to step into the bathroom.

You step out many minutes later, hair freshly washed and feeling much more relaxed than before. Jungkook has moved to the desk in the corner of the hotel room, typing away at some emails on his laptops. He does, however, whirl around upon hearing you exit the bathroom. The sight of you in your sweats, t-shirt, and damp hair makes his eyes linger.

You merely tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You can go now,” You say quietly.

Jungkook nods. “Thanks.”

Breaking that eye contact again, you turn to the bed and lift the blankets to slide under the covers. You rest your head on the pillow, and immediately start to drift away.

You are brought back after what only feels like a few minutes, when you hear a light switch turn off followed by the blanket next to you lifting up. You turn slightly towards the other side of the bed. “Jungkook?” You whisper.

A stillness. “Ah shit, I’m sorry. I was trying to be sneaky.”

“Mmm…” You mumble softly, turning your body 180 degrees in order to face him. You can vaguely make out the shadow of Jungkook’s outline. “Don’t worry. I’m a really light sleeper. Come on in.”

There is a shift in the blankets until you feel the additional weight of Jungkook’s figure crawling in next to you. The knowledge that Jungkook is lying right next to you turns your blood hot both with anxiety and because Jungkook brings in a new wave of heat underneath the covers. For a cool spring night, it’s comforting. But also further anxiety-inducing.

Jungkook shifts and even though the pair of you are on opposite sides of the bed, you can still feel the warmth radiating off his body. In the silence of the hotel room, you can hear Jungkook breathing.

“Is this okay?” It’s Jungkook asking. His voice is quiet, soothing, and very close to your face. You realize that you guys are facing each other.

Still, you have to give an answer. “Y-Yeah,” You reply softly. “Goodnight, Jungkook.”

“Goodnight.”

You turn onto your back. You try to go to sleep, you really do. But your heart is pounding, and rather than the blood filling your ears, it’s the sound of Jungkook’s breathing.

“Y/N, you still awake?” Jungkook asks softly.

You snort. “It’s only been a minute.”

Jungkook smiles. “Sorry. I just… I have a question. A thought, actually.”

“What is it?”

“Well, okay, I don’t want to come off as arrogant or self-centered, but it’s just a question and just this thought that I have…”

“Jungkook.” You turn back to face him. “You can ask me the question. I don’t mind.”

“Well, alright.” Jungkook shifts. He’s a little closer now, you can make out the outline of his face. Everything looks slightly more defined now, definitely a result of your eyes adjusting to the darkness. “When you were talking about the guy you had a crush on… you know, when I asked if there was someone you were interested in while we were in college.”

“Oh, I remember.” Your heart feels fuzzy, even though you have no idea what he’s going to ask you.

“Okay, um. I guess I just wanted to know. Were you talking about me?

The world seems to stop tilting on its axis—and all the consequences of that follow along. Everything around you slows to a grind: your heart stops in your chest, and all the air drains out of your lungs. You hold your breath, feeling as if your body has just been dipped underwater. Thousands of thoughts ping through your mind. You feel like that episode of Spongebob where all the file cabinets in your brain are catching aflame. You suddenly feel like you have no thoughts, but too many thoughts at the same time.

Above all, one question rises above all the rest: how did Jungkook know?

You’re so wrapped up in your thoughts that you don’t hear your name being called. It isn’t until you feel a hand at your shoulder do you jolt. “H-Huh?”

“S-Sorry.” Jungkook sounds a lot more nervous now. “You weren’t responding.”

“I… I was thinking,” You reply lamely.

A pause. “What’s your answer?” Were you talking about me?

You swallow. Should you tell the truth? Or should you deny everything with the hopes that Jungkook will forget this conversation ever existed?

The words spill out before you can think of a proper answer. “What if I was?”

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. “Well…” He starts up again, inching forward towards you. Every move he makes is amplified in your ear, every squeak of the mattress and every rustle of clothing echoed in the small space that is your hotel room. “I’d be kinda frustrated, to be honest. Because when I was talking about my own crush, it might have been about you.”

At Jungkook’s confession, the world seems to come crashing down on you as everything around tries to catch up to you. Immediately, you assume that perhaps you hadn’t heard Jungkook correctly, or maybe you’re completely misinterpreting what he’s trying to say to you.

In a perfect world, maybe you’d say something witty and smart. Maybe you’d play along until he snapped. Maybe you’d be fluent in courting talk and understand exactly what he’s trying to say to you.

But this isn’t a perfect world, and you are neither witty nor smart. You most certainly are not aware of flirtations. You need boys to be as straightforward as possible. Which is why you utter the most comprehensible: “What?”

You feel a warmth at your hip—Jungkook’s hand against your skin. “Ahhhh.” Jungkook starts, not at all sounding fearful but rather casual. Still the underlying case of shyness, however, because this is still Jungkook. “I forgot you sometimes need simple things spelled out for you. Remember when you emailed our Arts History professor three times because you kept forgetting what font she wanted the assignment in?”

You flush—Arts History was the class you and Jungkook were forced to pair up together for. Maybe you would have protested it more had you known Jungkook would turn out to be a little shit over it. “That was a one time thing! You’ve been bringing it up for as long as I’ve known you!”

Jungkook giggles, pulling you closer so your face is against his collarbone and his chin rests on your shoulder. “Shh, okay, okay, I’m sorry.”

Your face is burning at the feeling of your bodies so close together, your fingers pressed against his shirt and your nose against his skin. He smells like floral fabric softener. “Jungkook…?” You whisper softly, breath fanning his neck.

Jungkook tilts his head to rest gently against your temple. He stays quiet for a moment, absorbing the moment. “If you did have a crush on me in college, it would be frustrating. Because I had a crush on you too.”

This time it’s straightforward, just like how you’ve always wanted it. Why can’t you seem to reply?

“Oh.”

“I know.”

You curl your fingers around Jungkook’s shirt. “What if…” You start slowly. “What if I said I still had those feelings?”

Jungkook seems to think about his answer. “I’d say that I do too.”

You swallow, nodding in a way that allows him to feel the movement. “Okay then.”

Without a warning, Jungkook moves to curl his whole arm around your frame. This brings you even closer together. He noses your hairline. “Go to sleep,” He whispers softly. “We can talk about this tomorrow.”

A part of you wants to say no—that holding off on confessions isn’t what happens in novels or tv shows or movies. But the larger part of you knows that you won’t be able to have a proper discussion like this when you are weak, tired, and vulnerable. Your heart stalls at his consideration, allowing yourself to be content just like this: asleep, cuddling with Jeon Jungkook as you’ve imagined since you first developed your crush.

It’s much better than the fantasy.

You wake up the next morning with Jungkook’s arms wrapped around you, his soft breathing against your neck and his lips dusting the skin of your neck. There’s a new kind of comfort you find being held like this, and a part of you wants to melt back into his arms. You think you can pretend to be asleep just to stay here a little longer, but the urgency you have to pee and get the day started becomes too pressing.

Your previous assumptions of Jungkook being a heavy sleeper are confirmed as you manage to untangle yourself from him without so much as a whine from his end. By the time you finish with the bathroom, Jungkook is just beginning to push himself into a sitting position.

You linger near the foot of the bed. “Good morning,” You greet, almost nervously. For good reason to—the memory of last night is vague but defined well enough where you aren’t sure what the next course of action should be. It’s not like your college ever offered a course about what to do when your crush admits to liking you back.

Jungkook looks at you from across the bed. He gives you a small smile, a reassuring one. “Morning,” He says back. “How did you sleep last night?”

You twist your hands together. “Pretty good, actually. How about you?”

“Me too.” He adjusts his position so he can crawl over to you. He slides his legs over the side of the bed right next to you. He brings his hands towards you, palms up. Although he’s close enough to reach you, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks: “Can I?”

You don’t say anything, you merely rest your hand in his. He tugs you towards him, stopping only when you’re standing between his legs. He still keeps his fingers curled around yours, turning your hand up to play with your fingers.

He looks up at you, a soft smile across his lips. “Hi.”

You smile back. “Hi.”

He laces your fingers together, resting them between your bodies. “I guess now for the bigger question… how are you feeling?”

You look down at your hands, deciding you like the way his larger hands cover yours. “H-How did you know I was talking about you?” You ask instead, looking over at him.

Jungkook shifts his gaze away for a moment. “I don’t know,” He admits earnestly. “You were just looking at me back at the flower field and I had a feeling. And I really think a part of me was hoping you were talking about me.”

Unable to help yourself, you feel the side of your mouth quirk up into a small smile. “What would you have done if I wasn’t talking about you?”

He exhales in a laugh. “Honestly, I might have just driven out in the middle of the night and gone over a bridge or something.”

You laugh, trying to diffuse your smile by pressing your lips but it only works so well. “I was really surprised to hear you liked me back.”

“Of course!” He exclaims, looking momentarily shocked that you would feel this way. “I wasn’t messing around when I said you were smart, funny, and easy to talk to. That’s what made me really like you when we first met. Whenever we talked you just felt so real and approachable—like I could just be myself around you. And even now, seeing you after graduating and realizing you’re still all of those things. It just makes me like you more.”

You feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest. You’ve never thought of yourself in the way Jungkook is describing you—you always just assumed that you were in the background, that you’d never be enough.

Jungkook is looking at you, his eyes big and wide and full of truth. “Is that weird?” He asks.

You shake your head immediately. “No, no it’s not weird at all.” You shrug a shoulder, giving him a meek smile. “It’s really sweet, actually.”

Jungkook grins at that, heaving out a breath as a sign of his lowered defenses. “I think you’re sweet too.”

You groan at that, throwing your head back as Jungkook breaks into a series of giggles. “You’re corny.”

“You’re not complaining,” He points out. This is true.

You shrug. “I guess that means I’m expecting us to catch up on three years of terrible flirting.”

The smile slides off his face. “You’re right.” He brings your joined hands closer together until your whole body is standing closer to his. “Can I ask to kiss you?”

The four letter K word makes your heart stutter in your chest once more. Your hands are so close to his chest that you can feel his own heart beating, and the thought of Jungkook being equally nervous for this gives you enough confidence to return his question. “Why don’t you ask and find out?”

He smiles, a bunny smile that crinkles his eyes. “Touche. Can I kiss you?”

You smile back. “Yes…” You whisper, leaning down just enough for Jungkook to crane his neck up in order to meet each other halfway. It’s just a closed-mouth kiss, a soft weight against your lips.

It’s one that Jungkook pulls away from before you can really enjoy it, really ponder asking for more. “Sorry,” He says immediately, pointing to his mouth. “Morning breath.”

The pair of you stare at each other for a moment, before bursting out into laughter. That tense atmosphere is gone, replaced inside with that previously casual and comfortable air—as you step away from Jungkook and let him get his morning started. Except this time, the air is filled with open lingering stares, shy smiles, and Jungkook taking your suitcase wordlessly as you exit your hotel room.

By the time you load into your car, it’s nearing noon and the gas tank in Jungkook’s car is almost empty. The pair of you agree in another champion’s breakfast—gas station food.

“I swear, we’re both going to have terrible breakout tomorrow during the wedding,” You point out. Despite your words, you still tear into your Nacho Cheese Doritos with the aggression of a gorilla. “I’m going to photograph horribly. Irene will be so embarrassed.”

“You photograph horribly? Inconceivable!” He says the word just as it is said in The Princess Bride, which makes you burst into another fit of laughter.

The afternoon pans out the same way it has for the past two days. Jungkook drives onto the freeway, you decide the music, and the conversations fade in and out. Neither of you talk about the events of the previous night or of what happened in the morning—but the way Jungkook reaches out to laces your fingers together is more than enough.

The town Jungkook has selected to stop for the evening is a five hour drive from the wedding venue—and it’s an actual city space this time, with restaurants and grocery stores and apartments. As soon as Jungkook tells you this information, you are bursting with excitement. It’s been two days since the pair of you actually stopped and lingered in a city environment and you miss it.

It takes another whole day of driving to reach the city destination, as the first alert you get is the increasing number of cars that have joined you on the freeway. These more busy freeways guide you into the city, where you are greeted with the first sight of buildings, sidewalks, restaurants, and parking lots in days.

Even though most of these landmarks are simple flashes that you and Jungkook pass through on the way to the hotel he has selected, you keep your eyes glued out of the window in order to take in as much of the surrounding area as you can. You continue to watch as the immediate high rises become more sporadic and spread out, until he’s finally pulling into the hotel. The sun is just setting behind the many buildings along the horizon. Lots of other cars are parked in the parking lot. You can hear other cars, buses, and trunks driving around the background—and you feel strangely comforted by this discovery.

“Are you okay with sharing another bed today?” Jungkook asks as he guides the pair of you into the lobby. “I may or may not have called to make a reservation earlier when you were in the bathroom.”

You laugh, feeling giddy at the thought of Jungkook taking the initiative to continue progressing your now slow-growing relationship. “Was that all they had left?” You ask teasingly as you make your way to the counter.

Jungkook smiles down at you. “Perhaps I didn’t ask…”

Your lips part. “Jungkook!”

“What?” He’s laughing now. “I think I’m gonna bow out of any excuse to cuddle with you now that you’ve given me a taste of what that’s like?”

You’re gasping in the midst of your laughter. “You’re terrible,” You manage.

So Jungkook checks in—true to his word, he has reserved a single full-sized bed for the room.

“Hey, so, I was thinking,” He starts as he’s following the map provided to him by the employee with directions about getting to his appropriate room. This hotel is slightly bigger than the off-the-road ones you and Jungkook pulled into, so it takes a little longer to find the room. After a few minutes of turning the map over, you two eventually find the room.

“What’s up?” You ask as you push open the door and roll your suitcase into the space, with Jungkook following closely behind you.

“Come here,” Jungkook requests gently, watching as you let go of your suitcase and make your way towards him. You move into his space easily, allowing him to hold you by the waist. “Since we’ve both admitted to missing out on three years of courting, flirting, and dating—I think we should go out to an actual restaurant to have an actual date.”

You lean back slightly and give him a slightly shocked look. “Really?”

“Yes!” He says. “Besides, someone has to put their foot down and say that eating only McDonalds and gas station hot dogs is not the right way to go.”

You laugh at that. “True, but we were having so much fun!”

“Nope!” He exclaims, shaking his head. “The foot is going down, we’re going to an actual restaurant for dinner. Get changed, take a shower, whatever you need to do to freshen up.” There’s a finality in his words as he finally steps away from you, the smile of sweetness still on his lips.

The restaurant Jungkook picks after scrolling through Yelp and other lists of recommendations is a corner Italian place that apparently serves the best Linguini and clams—a dish that you really enjoy. So you put something together much more presentable than your usual round of sweatpants and baggy t-shirts—replacing the sweatpants with black jeans and giving yourself a cream colored cropped sweater. It makes Jungkook’s eyes widen all the same. He’s clad in his usual black jeans and oversized coat that is perfect for the spring breeze.

Since the restaurant is within walking distance of the hotel, you and Jungkook agree to chill off on the driving just enough to stretch your legs and actually have a walk for once—all while celebrating the final night of the road trip.

“I was a little worried about this at first, to be honest with you,” You admit softly to Jungkook, long after the pair of you have been seated in a corner booth and have ordered your food. You’re circling the pasta noodles around your fork, and Jungkook is watching with a touch of amusement and adoration in his eyes.

“Not gonna lie, so was I,” Jungkook returns back with an equally meek smile.

You gape at him. “You invited me though!”

“I did!” Jungkook exclaims with a laugh, looking down at his own order of food. “Me inviting you was honestly a spur of the moment thing. Me catching up to you, however, was me trying to be brave.”

“You seemed pretty brave throughout most the trip,” You point out

Jungkook shakes his head, situating his arms in a cross motion. “Nah dude that was just all a very well thought out facade. A part of me was expecting it to go terribly so I could at least walk away knowing that I built you up in my mind and the fantasy of that was better than the reality.” He must see the look of uncertainty casting a shadow over your mind because he immediately cuts back in. “Just so you know, the reality is much better than anything I could have conjured up.”

You lower your chin slightly, staring over at Jungkook. You bring one shoulder up into a half-hearted shrug, maybe to showcase a certain level of carelessness. “What were you conjuring up then?”

“Oh, I don’t know if you want to go there right now,” He rebuffs, looking a little red in the cheeks. “I think we should start slow. Refer to the PG thoughts, if you will.”

You laugh, focusing your gaze momentarily on the last of your pasta. You had sorted through the clams, since they weren’t your favorite things to eat. “Jungkook, are you admitting to me that you have thoughts above PG?”

“Oh shit, that wasn’t my intention!”

You giggle. “I’m messing with you, Jungkook!”

He pouts. “Don’t do that.” He rests his hand on the table, palm up, inviting for you to take it. “I just want to spend today with you, and take it slow—I just want to hold your hand and kiss you and lay with you and just be with you in the way I couldn’t be with you in college. Is that too weird?”

You look down, pressing your lips together, trying not to squeal and definitely not trying to throw yourself off the chair. You look back over at him and squeeze his hand. “That’s not too weird at all. That’s actually really sweet. Honestly, those are things I probably would have asked for regardless. I don’t really know the rules of dating—I never really went out that often.”

Jungkook smiles sweetly back at you, he brings your hands up to kiss the back. “I’ll give you a few pointers then, let’s get going.”

After the check is paid for—it ends up being a split between the two, it’s the best compromise you can come up with considering he wants to take you out but you want to pay him back for driving this far—the pair of you emerge back into the city space. Jungkook’s hand is still wrapped around yours, using that connection point to pull you close to him.

“Now this move,” Jungkook explains, beginning to lead you both back to your hotel room. “Is when the gentleman walks the lady home, because their date went by smoothly and he wants to see her for as long as possible.”

You laugh. “I’m enjoying this so far.”

The pair of you continue down the sidewalk, using the time it’ll take to walk back to the hotel to walk off the food in your stomach. You resume your conversation, giggling and laughing all the same until you’re walking through the lobby of the hotel and slowly making your way to your hotel room.

Right before you step inside, Jungkook stops you. “Normally, the front door is where the gentleman drops the lady off, and they talk about how well the date went.”

“Oh, well, in that case, this was so nice, Jungkook,” You remark, beaming at Jungkook’s own smile. “I’m glad you convinced me to eat real food for once.”

“You’re welcome—I had fun too.” Jungkook slides closer to you. You, completely hypnotized by his next movements, watch as he cups your face with his hand to angle you upwards. “This is the part where we have a first kiss, because the stars are lined up for this. And because I really want to.”

You smile, curling one of your hands around the wrist near your face. “Seeing as we’ve already had our first kiss, how about a second one?”

Jungkook smiles back, eyes lidded towards your mouth. “I guess that’ll work.” His lesson on dating, it seems, is done, as he leans in to kiss you. You suck in a breath as he covers your lips with his. It’s deeper than the first time he kissed you—which had been more of a peck with a side of morning breath. But now you’re both awake, tasting like wine, and drunk off each other. It’s a more real kiss.

You whimper as Jungkook’s tongue runs over your bottom lip, before slipping into your mouth. It’s a sensation you can get completely lost in, until Jungkook pulls away.

Under the hallway light, you can make out his flushed cheeks, his wet lips, his dark gaze.

Immediately, Jungkook is pulling you to his side before he starts digging through the pockets of his jeans. “Alright, we’re going inside right now.”

You lean into his shoulder. “I thought I was supposed to invite you inside, Jeon? What happened to giving me pointers on first dates?”

“Screw that,” He retorts, practically shoving the hotel door open. He turns around to face you. “Now, this is our hotel room. And I want to kiss you in private.”

Your laughter is drowned out as Jungkook tugs you by the wrist into the room.

Under different circumstances, waking up next to each other after a first date would hit you with a wave of anxiety and maybe even a vague sense of embarrassment at letting someone you like see you in such a vulnerable position.

Right now, however, under the morning sunlight within the covers of your shared hotel bed, you just feel happy and content. You wake up on your side, with an arm resting over Jungkook’s chest and his fingers curling around your own. There is an immediate feeling of giddiness that overtakes you, because it’s hard for you to believe that this is happening. Someone you’ve liked and continue to like actually returning your feelings? That has always been such a foreign concept to you.

You don’t know how long you continue laying in bed until Jungkook starts shifting next to you, signalling his wake. You watch as his eyes slowly peel open, laced with grogginess but still looking unfairly attractive that there are butterflies in your stomach.

Jungkook lets out a sigh, as he looks down at you. A tired smile takes over his expression. “Morning.”

“Good morning,” You reply back, voice soft and a little shy. “Happy wedding day.”

That is true. Today is Irene’s wedding—an event you and Jungkook will arrive at in nearly five hours. There’s a strange sort of knot that is beginning to twist itself in your stomach, a knowledge that something good is coming to a close but a fear in the unknown as to what this would mean regarding your relationship with Jungkook. Neither of you have laid down groundwork for your relationship—if this even is a relationship to begin with. You may be inexperienced with this kind of stuff, but you’re sure that one date and making out on a hotel bed doesn’t immediately constitute an exclusive relationship.

If Jungkook notices the tension in your form, he doesn’t say anything. He kisses your temple and grumbles something about wanting to get the day started. He mentions something about not having to worry about getting dressed for the wedding straightaway—that he has reserved a room at the hotel some of the guests of the wedding would be staying at, which is where you will be getting ready before the event. You nod, hearing pieces of his words, but a lot of it gets lost in your own thoughts.

Is it okay to ask questions about where you stand with Jungkook? Is it foolish of you to even bother wondering? You’ve seen movies and have had conversations with friends about guys who dismissed questions like that as ‘moving too fast’. You don’t want to scare Jungkook off, but you also need to know that you’re not wasting your time.

You remain in bed, staring up at the ceiling as you sigh and try to organize through your thoughts. You also try to break down how the past three days have been.

However, trying to do so proves to be a difficult challenge, as Jungkook’s phone starts buzzing excessively on his side of the nightstand—it seems like he is getting a series of text messages from someone.

You know you shouldn’t be looking or prying, but the constant binging of alerts only eats at your nerves more. You turn in the bed towards Jungkook’s side, picking up the device to search for the silence switch along the sides. The screen, however, lights up and you immediately see a name you have not seen or heard since college.

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :)

You freeze, feeling your body overload with information and questions come flooding into your mind. At first, you think you reread the message wrong. You think that maybe Jennie is texting the wrong person. But after the third or fourth time, you realize that this isn’t a dream. That Jungkook already has a plus one to the wedding, and it isn’t you.

More than that, it’s Jennie.

Jennie is also someone you went to college with, and someone that you only heard of between the grape vines and therefore is someone that is only vaguely recognizable. But you definitely know her. Jennie had been one of Irene’s friends, president of her sorority—and labeled some of the nicest people on campus. Even just from rumors and the one time you ran into her around the school, you can see it. Jennie is nice, beautiful, friendly, and outgoing. All the things you are not.

And now, she’s Jungkook’s plus one to the wedding. And Jungkook did not tell you.

Your lips part as your head starts to spin. Why didn’t Jungkook tell you he already had a plus one to Irene’s wedding? Maybe he did not owe you the explanation, and maybe you should never have assumed he’d be your plus one to the wedding.

The thought of you assuming Jungkook would be your date to the wedding fills you with a vague mortification—why did you have to go ahead and assume?

Your mind starts to spiral as you fall into the depths of overthinking. Now you were set to attend a wedding alone, with no plus one, and surrounded by people you don’t know. All while watching Jungkook sit with Jennie, eat with Jennie, and dance with Jennie.

Holy fuck, holy fuck, what were you going to do? You can’t go to this wedding alone. You can’t confront Jungkook about this—you’re not even supposed to be touching his phone or looking through his phone. He would definitely be upset. How could he not be?

At once, the tears collect in your eyes. How could this be happening? Seconds ago, you had been so content and happy, excited to attend this wedding with Jungkook. Seconds ago, you had been confident about your feelings, and Jungkook’s feelings in return. From all the kisses he showered you in, the date, the talking, the confessing—how could you not feel that way?

Had Jungkook just been pulling your leg? After all, he did have three years to talk to you, to go out with you. Why hadn’t he said something sooner? Is he here right now: talking to you and laughing with you because he hadn’t found anyone and knows that you would do anything for him?

In the background, you can vaguely make out the shower in the bathroom turn off, signalling Jungkook’s near completion with the bathroom. At once, it feels like you’re in a car that has enforced sudden breaks and has sent you flying against the dashboard—like you can’t breathe.

Hastily, you rest Jungkook’s phone back on the nightstand and roll back over to your side of the bed. You blink quickly, trying to rid of the tears that have collected in your eyes while also trying to calm the lump in the back of your throat.

Just as you’re starting to get a handle back on your feelings, the bathroom door opens and you can vaguely make out Jungkook’s humming as he exits. The fact that he sounds so carefree while you’re hurting only a handful of feet away almost makes the tears come back in. But you’ve learned how to hide your emotions well.

Jungkook’s soft laugh brings you out of your thoughts. “Still in bed?” He asks jokingly, sitting on the edge and placing a hand on your ankle. You try not to stiffen at the gesture. “You know, even though we’re getting dressed at a different hotel, we still need to get going.”

You take in a breath. “I’m comfortable here,” You exclaim, sitting up and facing Jungkook. He’s looking as wide-eyed, easy-going, and comfortable as always. You’re not sure how long you can keep up the facade of being okay. “I was just waiting for you, that’s all.”

You don’t wait for him to reply as you slide off the bed, grab your clothes from your suitcase, and lock yourself in the bathroom. You ignore the lump in your throat as you brush your teeth, as you get your day started. Finally, you look up at your own reflection in the mirror. Unlike previous times, when there had been a glimmer to your gaze—you don’t know you recognize the now disheartened individual before you.

You exit the bathroom and immediately turn to pack up your suitcase once more, ignoring Jungkook in the process. The boy is on his phone, typing something—probably a text message. Maybe he’s responding to Jennie, confirming their date for tonight, as he remains completely oblivious to your feelings.

The thought brings the tears back to your eyes.

“Ready to go?” Jungkook asks, all smiles and soft eyes as he slides off the bed to face you.

You don’t look at him as you shoulder your carry-on bag and straighten into a standing position. “Yeah.” You don’t mean for the tone to come out dry and unresponsive, but you’re too focused on trying to get the tears out of your throat.

You miss the way the smile slowly slips off Jungkook’s face as he watches you move towards the door.

Jungkook moves towards you, reaching forward to take your suitcase from you just as he’s done for the past few days.

You, however, brush him off. “It’s okay, Jungkook.” You pull open the door and make your way down the hallway without looking back to see if he’s following closer behind you. You don’t need his help, you don’t need his pity. You don’t need him to do these things, to lead you on—especially if he was going to end up with some other girl at then end of the day.

You stay quiet as you make your way to Jungkook’s car. Jungkook steals the occasional glance in your direction, seeming to finally realize that something is wrong.

He, however, doesn’t say anything until you’re back on the freeway—on the five hour drive towards the wedding venue. “Everything okay?”

You’re playing with your hair, but you stop long enough to spare him a short glance. You’re not even looking at his face, you’re looking at the chair he’s seated on. “What do you mean?”

Jungkook clears his throat. “You’ve been really quiet since I got out of the bathroom. You…” He gestures to the center console. “You’re not even playing any music.” He tries for a smile. “I’d really like to listen to your ‘everything’ playlist.”

“Sorry, I’m not really in a music-listening mood right now,” You whisper, realizing that you should probably cover up your ass a little better than you are currently. “S-Sorry, I think it was something at the restaurant yesterday. I’m not feeling super hot right now.”

“Oh no, do we need to stop by a pharmacy or something? I can run in and get some stomach machine or whatever—!”

“Jungkook, it’s fine.”

Maybe it’s the finality of your tone, or the sharper edge in your voice, but Jungkook quiets down again. One glance in his direction shows you the furrow of his eyebrows, the set of his jawline—he looks hurt and confused. And that kills you inside.

A small part of you wants you just lay all your cards on the table—to admit your side of the story and let him know about the texts and the hurt feeling still eating itself at your heart.

But another part of you, the bigger part of you, doesn’t want to give Jungkook that power. You don’t want to be the one to crack first, to be the one who gets hurt first. So you refuse to say anything, settling deeper and deeper into the seat of Jungkook’s car. Contrary to your initial thoughts, he doesn’t plug in his own phone to play his own music. He simply allows the pair of you to bathe in silence.

Without the music to distract you, without Jungkook trying to make conversation, it forces your mind to linger on the events of the early morning. Maybe Jungkook didn’t tell you because it was obvious to him that the pair of you would never have been a plus one to the wedding in general. He’s probably hurt because Jungkook can’t get his way with you.

The realization that he doesn’t even have the consideration to warn you ahead of time that an invitation for a ride doesn’t equate to an invitation to be a plus one brings the tears back to your eyes. Did you not even deserve a warning? Why would Jungkook let you kiss him, let you fall in love with him—only to turn his back on you like this?

You have to keep your eyes glued to the window of the passenger’s side of the car, just to make sure Jungkook won’t see the tears. You can just imagine that he’ll ask, and the conversation will steer the pair of you into an even more awkward space.

It’s a very agonizing five hours. Not having that time to recover from the shock of those texts is becoming increasingly more difficult for you to handle.

There are a few times that your tears overwhelm your whole system, where you have to sniff to get a handle on your body’s response to the emotions going through your body—which you’re sure Jungkook can hear. After all, there’s no music playing and there is a silence that is threatening to swallow you whole.

Jungkook, however, does not say anything in response to your very obvious sniffle. He merely tightens his grip on the steering wheel, and keeps his mouth shut. You wonder if he’s waiting for you to talk first, to explain what’s going on with you.

The sky is bleeding orange by the time Jungkook pulls into the new hotel, the final hotel. There is still two hours until the wedding is set to start, but every nerve in your body is screaming for you to leave and go back home. Every nerve in your body is telling you that you don’t belong here anymore.

“Okay, I let you have your peace for the whole drive over,” Jungkook starts off, voice tight, fixing the car into park. “But I’m asking you this right now. Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t seem fine… and I’m worried about you…” He reaches across the car to land a hand on your shoulder. It’s a completely normal gesture, especially between you and Jungkook, but you cannot handle it.

You jerk away. “I’m fine,” You snap out, actually fixing your gaze on him this time. Jungkook recoils, immediately retracting his arm from you, looking like you just burned him. You tear your gaze away from him. You’re not strong enough to see him hurt because of you. “Why do you care anyways?”

Jungkook exhales in disbelief, turning towards the steering wheel of the car and running a hand through his hair. “What are you talking about? Is this about last night? Did I… say something to scare you off?”

“This isn’t about what you said, this is about what you didn’t say and what you’re not telling me!”

Jungkook looks like you just grew a second head. “What are you talking about?”

You whirl back to face him. “Oh, so the fact that you and Miss. Jennie were already set to go to this fucking wedding together and you didn’t even think to give me a heads up and tell me?”

Jungkook freezes like a deer in headlights. “What? How did you know about that?”

You laugh, but it’s a hollow noise that only makes that lump come back to your throat. “Nevermind,” You bite out. This time, you don’t stop the tears from resurfacing as you give Jungkook a full look this time. His demeanor changes from frozen to pained at the sight. “I hope you guys are very happy together.”

You don’t say another word as you fumble with the latch of the door before pushing it open with more strength than necessary. You can vaguely hear Jungkook struggling with his own seat belt, but you don’t care. You slam the car door shut and storm away. You don’t know where you’re going—maybe around the corner to scream, or to call a taxi that’ll take you to the airport. You don’t care about the wedding. You don’t think you could face the embarrassment in facing Jungkook or Jennie or Irene right now.

“Shit, Y/N! Y/N!” Jungkook is calling for you now, his footsteps loud against the asphalt.

Everything feels like you’re going through water, which is probably why Jungkook is able to reach you as quickly as he does. He catches you by the wrist.

“Y/N—please, will you stop and just listen to me?”

“No! Jungkook, let me go.” You start trying to tug your wrist, trying to pull yourself away from him. “Let me go! I’m leaving! I don’t want to see you anymore!” You’re gasping, the tears blurring your vision and making you feel powerless.

Without a warning, Jungkook pulls you in his arms. Wrapping his arms around you, he traps you in his embrace. And you are miserable.

“Stop it!” You gasp, trying to push him away. You’re heaving—crying and trying to escape from someone as strong as Jungkook is definitely a workout for your body. “Jungkook, leave me alone. This is all my fault.”

He pauses. “What do you mean?”

You stop struggling, allowing Jungkook to hold you as you pull back enough to look away from his face. You wipe at the tears on your face. “It’s my fault anyways. I said I liked you and you said you liked me too, but maybe that wasn’t enough for you. Just because we like each other doesn’t mean we’re exclusive. I should have asked up front, so I wouldn’t get hurt in the long run.”

“You don’t need to get hurt though,” Jungkook whispers kindly, his voice overcoming the blood in your ears, as well as your own yelling. You quiet down at that, except for your own lungs contracting to catch more air. This leaves you a hiccuping mess. He waits until he knows you’re not going to say anything next. “You’re right, okay? Jennie and I were supposed to be each other’s dates.”

You’re still trying to catch your breath.

Jungkook rests a hand on top of your head, curling his fingers through the strands of your hair soothingly. “Are you okay?”

You hiccup. “Why are you telling me this? I just told you that I’m hurt right now…”

“Shhh.” Jungkook pulls back and cups your face in his hands so you can look at him. “You aren’t listening to me. I said we were supposed to be each other’s dates. We’re not anymore.”

You blink, allowing the tears that were already filling your eyes to fall down your cheeks. Jungkook wipes them gently with his thumb. “What?”

Jungkook’s gaze flickers between your eyes. “Jennie and I are friends, so we’d figure it would be fun to just go together and have a person to sit with, eat with, and dance with. As friends.”

“W-What happened then?” You ask, a watery color in your voice.

Jungkook gives you a gentle smile, the kind of gesture that tells you that you should know the answer already. “You happened, silly.” He keeps his eyes on yours. “I saw you at the party with Jimin and invited you to come with me. I assumed when I asked that we’d be each other’s plus ones. I forgot to tell Jennie though when I asked you out.” He tilts his head at you. “You saw the texts on my phone, didn’t you?”

“I-I’m sorry.” You hiccup again. “Your phone kept going off this morning and I was just trying to put it on silent. I-I didn’t mean to look through your messages…”

“Shh, baby, you’re good, you’re okay.” Jungkook interrupts gently, wrapping his arms tighter around you and swaying the pair of you back and forth. The usage of the nickname fills you with a new feeling, a warmer feeling. It helps calm you down.

Your breathing eventually evens out, bringing you back to reality and to the realization that you and Jungkook are hugging in the middle of a hotel parking lot.

Jungkook loosens his grip on you, letting you step back. He watches you for a moment. “Here,” He says, digging through his pocket and pulling out his phone. “I think you should see this.” He clicks through a few of his apps, until he seems to find what he’s looking for because he hands the phone to you. You look over at him, confusion flooding through your features. Jungkook gives you a reassuring nod. “It’s okay.”

Still hesitant, you take the phone and look at the messages across the screen. It’s the texts from this morning.

Jennie (9:53AM): hey jungkook !! just thought I’d ask where you want to meet up before the wedding starts

Jennie (9:53AM): since we’re each other’s plus ones, I think we should show up together but idk let me know what you think

Jennie (9:53AM): I’m excited to see you again and catch up, it’s been so long !! :)

Jungkook (10:20AM): hey Jennie !! oh shit i totally forgot to let u know but i actually found a plus one :( i’m soooo sorry i should have told you earlier omg i feel terrible

Jennie (10:20AM): no worries jungkook !! who is it omg do I know them?

Jungkook (10:20AM): it’s actually Y/N? We all went to college together…

Jennie (10:20AM): OH!!!! wait isn’t she the one Irene was working with a lot for senior projects?

Jennie (10:20AM): OH HOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO

Jennie (10:21AM): OKAY JUNGKOOK I SEE U

Jennie (10:21AM): she’s THE Y/N right???? the one u were in love with for our entire college career??

Jungkook (10:22AM): …… maybe?

Jennie (10:22AM): WOWOWOWOW good for u Jungkook !!! glad to see u finally having the balls to ask her out !!

Jungkook (10:22AM): OKAY THAT’S ENOUGH

Jungkook (10:23AM): I actually felt BAD for leaving you by yourself BUT NOT ANYMORE

Jennie (10:23AM): LMAO Jungkook I’m friends with Irene’s entire bridesmaid row i’ll be fine

Jennie (10:23AM): just go get ur dick wet!!!!!!

Jungkook (10:23AM): istg i will leave you on read

Jungkook (10:23AM): also that is NOT the point!!!!!! Just wanna love my new girl :(

Jennie (10:24AM): You’re gross

Jennie (10:24AM): but sounds good see you tonight!

You look up from Jungkook’s phone to see him watching you carefully, gauging your reaction, pleading for you to forgive him.

The only thought that can be translated into a coherent sentence comes out: “You were in love with me during college?”

Jungkook exhales in a laugh, his arms finding your waist once again. “I think ‘in love with’ was a bit of a stretch back then. I think you could agree that we didn’t know each other well enough before for me to say that.”

You’re still looking at him. “Back then…?” You echo.

He nods. “Back then.” He brings you closer, one hand moving up to gently brush at the skin of your cheek. “But it’s different now. Now, I can say with absolute certainty that I’m in love with you.”

Your lips part. “You’re in love with me?” The tears spring back into your eyes, but for a different reason entirely. The emotional rollercoaster you have just been on is unbelievable.

Jungkook’s eyes widen at the sight of your tears. “Oh shit, I’m sorry! Is that too fast? I’m sorry, I should have given you a warning or something. Or more time at least. Oh no, please don’t cry…”

You brush him off with a watery laugh, waving his concern away. “It’s okay Jungkook. This is fine, really.” You give him a smile. “I love you too. I really thought you were pulling my leg or something.”

Jungkook gives you his own small smile. “I’m sorry. I should have brought this up sooner about us being each other’s plus ones. Just because I assume something doesn’t mean it’s an established thing.” He brings you closer, his smile turning into a grin. “You love me too, huh?”

You giggle. You’re too strung out to come up with something witty or clever. “Yeah…”

Jungkook is still smiling, his gaze switching between your lips and your eyes. “I’m gonna kiss you now.”

You nod. “About time.”

He kisses you again, softly and sweetly, tongue slipping past the seam of your lips but it’s gentle caresses that make your heart feel like it’s crawling up your throat.

“OH MY GOD GET A ROOM!” A voice calls from the other side of the parking lot, forcing you and Jungkook to pull away. The pair of you look at each other and you start to laugh.

Jungkook kisses your forehead, sweeping down to your ear. “How about we check into our room and get ready?”

You giggle, nodding over at him. “That sounds good.”

So Jungkook leads the way, wrapping an arm around your shoulder as you gather your suitcases from the car and enter the lobby. You check in easily, as Jungkook is provided a map with directions on how to reach the room.

The pair of you don’t pull away once until Jungkook is sliding the key card into the door and pushing it open to reveal the bedroom you’ll be sharing for the night.

Both you and Jungkook park your suitcases near the foot of the bed, as per usual.

“Do you want to use the bathroom?” Jungkook offers.

You nod, smiling softly. “Okay.”

You gather the dress you’ve brought in your arms, about to enter the bathroom, before Jungkook’s voice stops you. “Hey,” He calls, approaching you and wrapping you in his arms again. He’s much more handsey this time, like he needs to make sure you’re not going to run away again, like you’re going to be okay. “You feel better now?” His thumb brushes your lips. “Your eyes are still a little red.”

You nod. “The makeup will probably help that,” You reassure in a soft voice.

Jungkook mirrors your movements. “Still, how about I get some ice for you so you can put something cold underneath your eyes… to stop the puffing.”

He looks genuinely concerned and worried for your wellbeing that you can’t help but smile. Since he is insisting, you decide to just let him be. “Okay, Jungkook.”

He smiles. “Okay! You start getting ready and I’ll get the ice, okay?” A quick kiss on your cheek before he’s bounding out of the door with the provided ice buckets.

Your eyes linger on the door for a few minutes before you’re turning back to your suitcase. The dress you have picked is a pink flowing floor-length number—something Karly helped you pick out before leaving. It’s soft enough that it doesn’t leave crease marks along the fabric, which had made this outfit perfect for the trip. You take the dress and your bag of makeup before entering the bathroom. You’re just slipping on the dress when you hear the hotel room door open and close.

“Okay, I got the ice!” Jungkook announces through the bathroom door. “Did you want to work on your eyes right now?”

“Sure,” You call back. “Do you mind zipping me up first?”

“Of course,” Jungkook returns, sounding distracting as you open the door to the bathroom. You peek your head through, noticing Jungkook opening his suitcase on the floor and sorting through it—probably for his own suit.

He must hear the door open, because he looks up towards you. Immediately, his eyes widen as he straightens up into a standing position. “O-Oh wow…” He’s looking you over up and down, up and down, as if he needs to commit this to memory. “Y-You look great. Beautiful.”

“Really?” You stammer back. “Thank you.”

Jungkook keeps his eyes on you as he approaches you. “You needed me to zip you up?”

“O-Oh right, yeah.” Hastily, you turn around, brushing the hair from your back to expose your undone zipper, and your bare back.

You think that he purposely grazes the tips of his fingers against your skin in his process of bringing the zipper up to the top of the fabric. You’re about to turn, thank him, but his hands back at your waist do the gesture for you. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. You look really pretty.”

You pout. “You’re being too nice to me.”

Jungkook whines, hugging you close to him. “You’re too cute.” He noses at your temple. “I just wanted to see you smile.” He pulls away after a moment. “Let’s take care of your face, yeah?” He turns around and returns with a small baggy full of ice. “Here, sit down for a second.” He leaves for a second, returning back with a towel. “Maybe… five minutes each eye. I don’t know. I’ll get ready while we’re waiting.”

So he takes his suit out from his case and disappears into the bathroom, leaving you alone with a towel of ice pressed against your eye. The cooling sensation definitely helps with the puffiness.

Jungkook appears from the bathroom a few minutes later—dressed in a black suit with a white button-down and a long skinny black tie. His hair has been fiddled with a little, but he still has that messy, boyish, lovable appearance that makes your heart race.

“Did you switch the towel?”

You nod.

“How do you feel?”

Slowly, you bring the towel down and rest it on your lap. You look at Jungkook. “How do I look?”

He leans forward towards you, holding your chin gently between his fingers. “You look better. Did you need to finish getting ready?”

“Yeah. I just need to touch up my makeup.”

“Okay, go ahead then.”

Jungkook takes the towel, and watches as you make your way back to the bathroom. You’re only gone for a few minutes before you’re emerging once more—eyeshadow a little darker, lashes a little closer, and lips slightly pinker, but overall still looking like the same version of the girl he fell in love with.

The pair of you drive to the wedding venue, a cute brick building with browns, greens, and whites surrounding. Guests already swarm the outside area, some of whom you recognize from college. The sight makes you nervous.

Jungkook sees this, and he reaches over to grab onto your hand. “You can just stick with me, okay?” He smiles. “I’ll protect you.”

You roll your eyes, but you are thankful to have Jungkook as your source of comfort and be that person you could run back to.

He parks and meets you at the front of his car, where you lace fingers and make your way towards the venue. You go through a small round of hellos and ‘nice to finally meet you’ conversations—most notably from Mingyu and Jennie, both of whom light up at the sight of your presence. Contrary to your previous worries, you find that you don’t really need to be so nervous. Mingyu and Jennie are friends of Jungkook’s for a reason—they radiate a relaxing nature that you can tell is what has drawn the three of them to each other.

They ask about you, your college experience, your current experience, passing easy conversation in the ceremony space right before the start of the wedding. It’s fun to see Jungkook joking around with the friends he grew up with, and even more fun to see how easy you are allowed into that world.

The actual wedding ceremony is a blur. You vaguely recognize the extremely attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Seokjin at the head of the aisle. You definitely recognize the equally as attractive, excited, and watery-eyed version of Irene, downed in white lace and looking much more beautiful than you ever remember her. Vows are exchanged, kisses are shared, there’s an applause, and pictures are taken before the guests are ushered into the main entry room—decked out with a bar and a few scattered seating areas. Jungkook whispers to you that guests are put here temporarily, as the ceremony space is being converted into a dining area.

True to Jungkook’s promise, he lingers by your side most of the night. Although you reassure him that you are fine, you are much more emotionally stable compared to a few hours ago, and that perhaps you are okay catching up with Nayeon—another girl from college, actually someone from the first party you ever attended who defended you when you were receiving unwanted attention—but Jungkook simply tells you that he likes being around you. He likes being able to put his arm around you, likes to rest his hand at your waist, likes people knowing that he has you.

It’s a few more minutes of conversation, of laughter, of old stories being exchanged between people you haven’t seen for years, when the guests are called back into the newly converted dining area. Instead of rows of chairs lined up, there are round tables filling the space. The long panel of doors once closed along the wall of the room have been opened—exposing a gazebo with a D.J. and a dance floor, all encircled by a string of big bright fairy lights.

You and Jungkook are situated at the same table as most of the guests you recognize from college. You assume this is purposefully done to give you all a common ground, and it works because conversations spring easily between you all. Even when you’re not talking about your experiences from university, you’re able to transition from topic to topic. You and Jungkook occasionally talk amongst yourselves as you’re eating, but you sit together and laugh together when Irene and Seokjin emerge and listen in during the wedding toasts.

Finally, Irene and Seokjin make their rounds through the room, stopping at the tables to cheer and laugh and exchange a few words of congratulations and conversation. Following this process, everyone at your table stands on their feet as Irene and Seokjin make their way towards you. There are bright smiles, Irene’s cheerful gasp as she takes in all the guests that have come to join her. She circles your table, hugging every guest, continuing this when she reaches you.

Irene grins at the sight of you. “Y/N! Oh my gosh, it’s been so long!”

“I know!” You return, pulling away from Irene. “Congratulations. This wedding is beautiful.”

She beams, absolutely radiating in her white dress and glittering makeup. “Thank you so much for coming! But oh my god, are the rumors true, did you really show up—!” She looks over your shoulder, and grins again. “Jungkook!” She hugs Jungkook. “I should be saying congratulations to the two of you. I was surprised to get the text from Jungkook saying that you guys were coming as each other’s dates. Gave me a whole pain because I had to switch some seats around at the last minute. But anything for my favorite people.” She turns to you and holds onto your arms. “Jungkook has had a crush on you for years, so you’re really doing him a huge favor.”

“Okay, enough,” Jungkook interrupts, scowling. But there is still that playful look in his eyes. “Did all your friends know about this? Jennie knew something was up too when I texted her.”

Irene presses her lips together. “Mingyu might have mentioned something.” She presses her hand to Jungkook’s cheek. “Stay safe, you guys. Hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” She moves onto her next guest.

Jungkook is groaning. “Remind me to never tell Mingyu anything ever again.” He glares at the boy from across the table. “Gonna fling some peanuts at that son of a bitch.”

You laugh, wrapping your arms around Jungkook’s waist. “Oh, let him be. It’s Irene’s wedding. You can get him tomorrow.”

Jungkook pouts, but he does wrap his own arm around your shoulder. “Ah, love my girl—promoting evil behavior after festive events.” He kisses your cheek as your table takes their seats once more.

The good natured atmosphere continues as you and Jungkook down your food, remaining fully engaged in the conversations happening around the table. After another hour of this, the DJ announces the start of the married couple’s first dance. Irene and Seokjin take to the dance floor and spin around, her white dress flowing around the room like light. Underneath the glow of the fairy lights, it looks like the couple is in an entirely new world. And you are so taken by it.

Jungkook does not turn to you until the DJ plays a slow song—a first slow song after a series of upbeat dance and pop genres. He jerks his head towards the dance floor. “You want to dance?”

You take his hand when he offers. “Of course.” He leads you across the room, towards the gazebo, where several other couples have moved to cling to one another. Jungkook pulls you in: one hand on your waist and the other with your own hand. “This is really nice,” You start off.

Jungkook laughs. “The wedding, or the dance?”

You smile over at him. “Both. Being able to slow dance with you, however, is marginally better.”

Jungkook is quiet for a little after that. He seems content just staring at your eyes, taking in the magic of this moment. “Thank you for coming with me,” He starts. “The whole road trip thing. Definitely would not have been as fun if I did all that by myself.”

“Well, thank you for inviting me,” You return. “Even though we had that big misunderstanding. I had a lot of fun.”

“Hey.” Jungkook angles his head a little so he can look at you in the eyes. “You know that I would never hurt you, right? You’re too important to me that I wouldn’t even think to pull some stupid shit like that again. You know that I love you too much to do that to you, right?”

“I do know now,” You say, gazing over at him. “And I love you too.”

You’re not usually an expressive person. But it’s worth saying those words just to see the grin that overtakes Jungkook’s face. It’s worth even more when he leans forward, kissing you openly in front of all his friends, nibbling gently at your bottom lip, running his tongue over the wound, and into your mouth. It’s worth it to have his fingers dusting sweetly over your skin, coaxing your mouth to open to allow exploration.

It feels like worlds pass before Jungkook pulls away, giving you that breathless smile dimple and all, before he’s leaning forward to bury his face into your neck.

“I think the drive home will be fun,” Jungkook mutters softly.

“Hm?” You hum, eyes closed as he presses tiny kisses along your neck.

“Most definitely,” Jungkook says, lifting himself just enough so that his lips hover over your ear lobe. “Because I plan on fucking you in every hotel bed for the rest of the trip.”

You feel your heart race, your cheeks heat. Yes, this was definitely worth it.

#jungkook scenarios #jungkook scenario #jungkook fluff #jungkook x y/n #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts angst #traci writes

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novelconcepts · 3 years

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FOUND IT!!! Consider this an official ask for 3 and 14 combined! #wheee

smiling into a kiss and play wrestling

Having a best friend again is strange. She’d gone so long imagining the phrase as a sort of neon sign staked firmly in the past: Best Friend, already spoken for. Eddie had always been it; no other volunteers need apply.

But Eddie’s gone now, out of her life, living out wherever his might go in another country altogether, and Dani finds the position has--slowly, without really planning for it--been filled once more. Not that she planned for it. Not that could ever could have.

She didn’t come to Bly looking for Jamie, and if you’d told her the gardener who refused to so much as meet her eyes, much less introduce herself, would become the most important person in her life--well. Life is full of surprises.

There is so little of Eddie in Jamie, she sometimes wonders how both could have occupied the same shape in her heart. Sometimes wonders how Eddie--who prized cleanliness, routine work hours, dinners at his mother’s once a week--would look at Jamie, if he could see her. Jamie, all tousled hair, happiest with a cigarette between her teeth and both hands buried in soil. Jamie, who has never kept a nine-to-five, never craved Sunday afternoons with her parents, never looks at Dani like she expects firm posture, bright smile, neat clothes.

They couldn’t possibly be more different--and yet, somehow, Jamie is her best friend. Unfair to think it, maybe, but she might be the best friend Dani’s ever had. Her sense of humor is dark, her vocabulary wallpapered with curse words and shorn letters; she smells of nicotine and sunscreen, dresses in wrinkled flannels and torn jeans. Where Eddie looped an arm around her shoulders, Jamie nudges her with bony elbows; where Eddie pressed his lips to her temple, Jamie leans carefully away. Different, in every measure.

And it isn’t that she likes Jamie more. That wouldn’t be fair--not after so many years in Eddie’s company. It’s just that when Jamie looks at her, eyes bright, dirt smudged on one cheek, sometimes, she feels...

“You’re thinking,” Jamie observes. She doesn’t say it the way Eddie would--the way he always pointed out when she was clenching her fist under the table, or picking at her nails, his voice edged with concern bordering on condescension. Her voice is light, her lips curved in a small smile.

Eddie never quite smiled at her like that. Or, if he did, it didn't pluck the same chord in her stomach. Not that that matters. Not that that affects the sincerity of friendship.

Not that it’s making her feel weirdly flushed this afternoon.

“Am I not allowed to think?” she asks. The sun, she thinks, is responsible for the goofy smile on her face. The heat of the day, which stretches on and on the way only early July knows how.

“Not arguing,” Jamie says. “One of us ought to.”

She’s on her knees, pulling weeds, her face shining with sweat. There’s something about days like this--afternoons where the kids are occupied helping Owen bake cookies, leaving Dani to nurse a glass of water and pleasantly-meandering conversation--that feels almost too good to be allowed. Eddie would have wanted to do something with a day like this: hike, or clear up the yard, or go visit family.

Jamie, on the other hand, pushes to her feet and surveys the bed she’s spent all day working. “Think that’s good enough for a break. Here, budge over.”

Dani obediently scoots to the edge of her seat, amused when Jamie flops down half in her lap. A year of working at the manor, and Jamie’s gone from a woman who couldn’t make eye contact to save her life to this: gangly limbs tossed haphazardly over Dani’s, sweat-slick skin sticking where it lands against Dani’s shoulder. It’s too hot for cozying up like this, but she can’t seem to convince herself to push Jamie away.

“There,” Jamie sighs, tilting her head back against the plastic of the lawn chair. “Christ, feels good just to breathe.”

“You breathe,” Dani says, “and I’ll think. Together, we make an almost-functional human being.”

“Almost,” Jamie says wryly. Her hand loops around Dani’s, teasing the sweating glass out of her grip long enough to take a sip. Dani nudges her.

“Could get you one of your own, if you ever learned to ask politely.”

“Don’t like me polite,” Jamie says with a shrug. “My brand is prickly-yet-charming, and we both know I’m your favorite for it.”

“Technically,” Dani corrects, “Flora is my favorite. Mainly because she doesn’t make me remind her to say please.”

“Please,” Jamie says without missing a beat, “keep pretending you aren’t captivated by my winning personality.”

Dani laughs. “Oh, is that what I am?”

“Mm.” Jamie takes another sip, reaches over her to set the glass down on the table, closes her eyes. “S’what you were all pensive about just now, I’m sure. How entranced you are with my witty banter.”

“Entranced,” Dani repeats.

“Beguiled. Mesmerized. Drunk with adoration.” Jamie’s face is pink, a bead of sweat neatly lining her upper lip. Dani only realizes she’s staring a fortunate beat before Jamie rolls her head to the left, peering at her with lazy amusement. “Go on. Tell me how much you love me.”

“Love how ridiculous you can be, maybe.” And how sweet, and how unquestioningly soft, though she doesn’t see a need to put that into words--or a way to do it without sounding entirely out of her head. The heat, she thinks, is absolutely getting to her.

It’s the heat, making her want suddenly to slide an arm between the plastic back of the chair and the cotton of Jamie’s tank top, pulling her even closer. The heat, making her want to displace the normal back-and-forth ease of friendship with something else entirely.

She’s had a best friend before. She’s never quite wanted to do with Eddie what she is, more and more, thinking about with Jamie curled up beside her.

Distract, she thinks, because Jamie is still watching her with that half-lidded expression she gets when the sun is particularly bright, the day’s work has been well-tended, and Dani’s shoulder is a cushion beneath her head. More and more, it’s been feeling like a dangerous sort of moment, Jamie’s face lingering near the crook of her neck. Jamie’s breath coasting down the neckline of her dress. Jamie’s smile sweeter than should be allowed, given the grumpy way she slouches around the grounds.

“Thinking,” Jamie says, her voice almost soft. Dani shakes her head.

“It’s not illegal.”

“Is,” Jamie says, “if you’re gonna just stare at me all googly-eyed while you do it. C’mon, what gives? Is today some holiday I’ve forgotten?” She sits up a little straighter, her face comic in its sudden concern. “Shit, Poppins, it’s not your birthday.”

She almost wants to say it is, just to watch Jamie turn fascinating new shades of maroon. “No--just--it’s hot.”

Jamie sags back with palpable relief. Her arm is freckled, Dani notices, beyond the norm; the summer is drawing all sorts of secrets from her skin, and it’s suddenly painfully tempting, the urge to trace her nail along these newfound constellations.

Distract, she thinks again, more urgently this time. Without thinking it through, without considering the consequences, she dips two fingers into the glass of water and flicks the still-cool moisture directly into Jamie’s face.

Jamie, to her credit, hardly jumps. She’s just blinking at Dani like their conversation has taken an unanticipated left turn into another language, water dripping from the end of her nose.

“Okay,” she says. “If that’s how we’re playing it.”

Her arm reaches across without hesitation, replicating Dani’s playbook: two fingers dipped, flicked, landing back in her lap as Dani sputters.

“You got me in the eye.”

“Cooled you off, though?” Jamie asks, almost politely. Dani laughs, and suddenly, it’s war. There’s barely enough room on the chair for the both of them to sit like adults, much less to squirm around, hips knocking, legs tangled up as the remainder of the glass finds its way--droplet by droplet--into Jamie’s face, down Dani’s neck, sometimes missing entirely and disappearing into the sizzling summer air.

Dani is ultimately the victor, an upset decided when she grasps the glass--now containing maybe two inches of water--and upends it directly over Jamie’s head. She’s laughing almost too hard to breathe, particularly when Jamie gives a firm shake of her hair, looking like a rumpled dog after a bath.

“That,” Jamie says in a low, dangerous tone, “cannot stand.”

She’s up before Dani can stop her, sprinting toward the garden hose uncoiled in the grass. Dani twists in her seat, knees drawn up to her chest, arms extended.

“Don’t you dare!”

“All’s fair,” Jamie says, almost apologetically, depressing the trigger.

They are, Dani notes somewhere in the back of her mind, full-grown adult women. They are thirty years old, gainfully employed, responsible for the upkeep of an entire house and the well-being of two small children.

They are also now chasing one another across the lawn, Dani sopping wet, Jamie laughing so hard she nearly trips over her own feet taking a corner too fast. The hose is growing more and more tangled by the minute as she dashes in a zig-zag pattern, periodically firing a jet of water over her shoulder, and Dani has no prayer of catching up--not with her shoes squelching, slipping on wet grass, her lungs clenched around a soundless jag of laughter.

Adults, she thinks, as Jamie makes the insurmountable error of trying to bolt past her like a quarterback dodging a tackle; she makes a successful leap over the tangled hose, but forgets at the last second to factor in the edge of the lawn chair. Dani has her around the middle before she can dart out of reach, the both of them tumbling over in a cackling heap of grass clippings, puddled hose water, freckled limbs.

They’re rolling, shouting wordlessly around giggles, Dani struggling to pry the hose out of Jamie’s hands. It’s harder than it looks; Jamie is small, but strong in an annoyingly wiry sort of way. Even when Dani manages to get her onto her back, the water is inescapable, dousing in short jets across her chest, down her arms, pooling awkwardly between them.

“You are,” she laughs, “a child.”

“Could a child do this?” Jamie replies, jerking upward at the hips with unexpected force. Dani rocks up with her, one hand grasping the sodden front of Jamie’s shirt for balance, and drops back down without budging from her seat. Jamie releases an oof as her back makes rough contact with the ground again, giggling too hard to successfully shove Dani over.

“Yes, actually, I think a child would be exactly that effective,” Dani informs her. Her body has never felt quite this alive, her muscles aching with the effort of an unplanned run. Jamie, chest heaving for breath, is practically glowing.

“Just want to remind you,” Jamie says, “you did start this.”

“Does that mean I win?” If she hasn’t, she can’t imagine it would feel any better than this: straddling Jamie’s hips in the soft grass, cool water seeping down her back, her dress sticking pleasantly to warm skin. Jamie allows the hose to drop from her grip at last, her head tipped back, eyes closed.

“Call it a draw.”

“What if I wanted to win?” She slides a hand up without thinking, pinning Jamie by the wrist before she can decide to take up her watery weapon again. Jamie draws a deep breath, face flushed, grinning.

“Guess you’d have to work harder for it.”

Children, Dani thinks--but suddenly, it doesn’t feel childish anymore. Suddenly, she’s overly aware of her dress rucked high around her thighs, of how short Jamie’s shorts really are, how her body is considerably less obscured than usual with her shirt plastered to her frame. Suddenly, she’s aware of Jamie’s hand flexing against the grass, pinned beside her head with a loose enough grip to break--though Jamie isn’t breaking it. Isn’t even trying.

Jamie is, instead, gazing up at her with hair mussed, eyes bright. Jamie, whose free hand is sliding up to rest along the curve of Dani’s hip.

She’s Dani’s best friend, like he was, but this doesn’t feel like it belongs in the same category as late-night stories swapped by the fire, or letting each other steal the vegetables the other doesn’t care for off their plate. This feels like a category all its own: the way Jamie licks her lips as Dani’s head lowers, the way Dani’s fingers graze the freckles painting her wrist on the way up to notching her palm against Jamie’s.

Her hair is wet, and Jamie’s face is sweaty, and there’s so little romance to the whole picture, it takes her by surprise. She’s always thought there should be talking before a thing like this, at least--a decision made on equal footing.

“I don’t have to,” she says, even as Jamie is saying, “Do you want to?”

Children would laugh again, go back to wrestling, go back to how it all felt just a few minutes before. They are not, Dani notes as she lowers her head--as Jamie shifts up at the shoulders to meet her--children.

She’s hyper-aware of all of it now: the sun beating against her shoulders, the hand Jamie is using to grip the back of her dress, the exact angle of Jamie’s mouth parting beneath her own. Her tongue is gentle, brushing Jamie’s, and the sound Jamie makes into her is anything but.

She’s smiling, she realizes, so hard, it hurts--that deep, wonderful hurt of laughing too hard for too long, of slipping in the grass and landing in a heap with someone who couldn’t help catching her on the way down. She’s grinning into Jamie even as she’s kissing her, even as she’s letting her body stretch out to press Jamie more firmly against the damp ground.

And Jamie, fingers curled between her own, making soft sounds of appreciation into the kiss, is grinning right back.

“This was your plan all along,” she accuses, brushing the hair from Dani’s eyes when they break for a breath. “Awful lot of work, for a kiss.”

“All’s fair?” Dani suggests--and she genuinely, honestly cannot decide which she likes more: the way Jamie kisses, or the way Jamie kisses and laughs at the same time. All of it, she feels, goes a country mile beyond best friends. All of it goes a country mile beyond anything she could ever have dreamed up, walking away from him the way she did.

It couldn’t possibly be more different.

#fanfiction #ficlet #the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #physical affection tag #bit of an AU route solely to capture the Light and Airy of it all #but I'd say it suits any version of 'em

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blackwoolncrown · 3 years

Link

The defining feature of conversation is the expectation of a response. It would just be a monologue without one. In person, or on the phone, those responses come astoundingly quickly: After one person has spoken, the other replies in an average of just 200 milliseconds.

In recent decades, written communication has caught up—or at least come as close as it’s likely to get to mimicking the speed of regular conversation (until they implant thought-to-text microchips in our brains). It takes more than 200 milliseconds to compose a text, but it’s not called “instant” messaging for nothing: There is an understanding that any message you send can be replied to more or less immediately.

But there is also an understanding that you don’t have to reply to any message you receive immediately. As much as these communication tools are designed to be instant, they are also easily ignored. And ignore them we do. Texts go unanswered for hours or days, emails sit in inboxes for so long that “Sorry for the delayed response” has gone from earnest apology to punchline.

People don’t need fancy technology to ignore each other, of course: It takes just as little effort to avoid responding to a letter, or a voicemail, or not to answer the door when the Girl Scouts come knocking. As Naomi Baron, a linguist at American University who studies language and technology, puts it, “We’ve dissed people in lots of formats before.” But what’s different now, she says, is that “media that are in principle asynchronous increasingly function as if they are synchronous.”

The result is the sense that everyone could get back to you immediately, if they wanted to—and the anxiety that follows when they don’t. But the paradox of this age of communication is that this anxiety is the price of convenience. People are happy to make the trade to gain the ability to respond whenever they feel like it.

While you may know, rationally, that there are plenty of good reasons for someone not to respond to a text or an email—they’re busy, they haven’t seen the message yet, they’re thinking about what they want to say—it doesn’t always feel that way in a society where everyone seems to be on their smartphone all the time. A Pew survey found that 90 percent of cellphone owners “frequently” carry their phone with them, and 76 percent say they turn their phone off “rarely” or “never.” In one small 2015 study, young adults checked their phones an average of 85 times a day. Combine that with the increasing social acceptability of using your smartphone when you’re with other people, and it’s reasonable to expect that it probably doesn’t take that long for a recipient to see any given message.

“You create for people an environment where they feel as though they could be responded to instantaneously, and then people don’t do that. And that just has anxiety all over it,” says Sherry Turkle, the director of the Initiative on Technology and Self at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology.

It’s anxiety-inducing because written communication is now designed to mimic conversation—but only when it comes to timing. It allows for a fast back-and-forth dialogue, but without any of the additional context of body language, facial expression, and intonation. It’s harder, for example, to tell that someone found your word choice off-putting, and thus to correct it in real-time, or try to explain yourself better. When someone’s in front of you, “you do get to see the shadow of your words across someone else’s face,” Turkle says.

In last month’s viral New Yorker short story “Cat Person,” a young woman embarks on a failed romantic relationship with a man she meets at the movie theater where she works. They only go on one date in the story; they get to know each other primarily over text. When the affair ends messily, it reveals not only how the bubble of romantic expectations can be popped by reality’s needle, but also how weak digital communication is as a scaffolding on which to build an understanding of another person.

In an interview, the story’s author, Kristen Roupenian, said the piece was inspired by “the strange and flimsy evidence we use to judge the contextless people we meet outside our existing social networks, whether online or off.” Indeed, even for the people we already know, we increasingly rely on contextless forms of communication. This puts an unusually large burden on the words themselves (and maybe some emojis) to convey what is meant. And each message, and each pause in between messages, takes on outsize importance.

“Text messages become marks on rocks to be analyzed and sweated over,” Turkle says.

It’s not always easy to figure out what someone meant to convey by using a certain emoji, or by waiting three days to text you back. Different people have different ideas about how long it’s appropriate to wait to respond. As Deborah Tannen, a linguist at Georgetown University, wrote in The Atlantic, the signals that are sent by how people communicate online—the “metamessages” that accompany the literal messages—can easily be misinterpreted:

Human beings are always in the business of making meaning and interpreting meaning. Because there are options to choose from when sending a message, like which platform to use and how to use it, we see meaning in the choice that was made. But because the technologies, and the conventions for using them, are so new and are changing so fast, even close friends and relatives have differing ideas about how they should be used. And because metamessages are implied rather than stated, they can be misinterpreted or missed entirely.

This metamessage opacity spawns thousands of other text messages a year, as people enlist their friends to help interpret exactly what their romantic interest meant by a certain turn of phrase, or whether a week-long radio silence means they’re being ghosted. (The New Yorker parodied this collaborative textual analysis in a video in which a group of women gather, war-room style, to answer the question “Was It a Date?”)

Features intended to add clarity—like read receipts or the little bubble with the ellipses in iMessage that tells you when someone is typing (which is apparently called the “typing awareness indicator”)—often just cause more anxiety, by offering definitive evidence for when someone is ignoring you or started to reply only to put it off longer.

* * *

But just because people know how stressful it can be to wait for a reply to what they thought would be an instant message doesn’t mean they won’t ignore others’ messages in turn.

Sometimes people don’t respond as a way of deliberately signaling they’re annoyed, or that they don’t want to continue a relationship. Turkle says sometimes taking a long time to write back is a way of establishing dominance in a relationship, by making yourself look simply too busy and important to reply.

But oftentimes, people are just trying to manage the quantity of messages and notifications they receive. In 2015, the average American was receiving 88 business emails per day, according to the market research firm Radicati, but only sending 34 business emails per day. Because—who has the time to respond to 88 emails a day? Maybe someone isn’t responding because they’ve realized the interruption of a notification negatively affects their productivity, so they’re ignoring their phone to get some work done.

I find myself ignoring or procrastinating even important messages, and ones I want and intend to respond to. I had to create a bright red “Needs Response” email label to battle my own “delayed response” problem. I regularly read texts, think “I’ll respond to that later,” and then completely forget about it. Working memory—the brain’s mental to-do list—can only hold so much at once, and when notifications get crammed in with shopping lists and work tasks, sometimes it springs a leak.

“A lot of the time what’s happening is people have five conversations going on, and they just can’t really be intimate and present with five different people,” Turkle says. “So they kind of do a triage, they prioritize, they forget. Your brain is not a perfect instrument for processing texts. But it will be interpreted as though it really was a conversation, and so you can hurt people.”

* * *

Still, even though instant written communication can be overwhelming and anxiety-inducing, people prefer it. Americans spend more time texting than talking on the phone, and texting is the most frequent form of communication for Americans under 50.

While texting is popular worldwide, Baron, of American University, thinks that a strong preference for communication that can be easily ignored is a particularly American attitude. “Americans have far fewer manners in general in their communication than a lot of other societies,” she says. “The second issue is a real feeling of empowerment. I think we have become a version of power freaks, not just control freaks.”

In a survey Baron conducted in 2007 and 2008 of students in several countries including the United States, the things that people said they liked most about their phones were often related to control. One American woman said her favorite thing was “Constant communication when I want it (can also shut it off when I don’t).”

“What I have seen in this country, and I don’t know if it’s a national trait, is people wait until they think they have the perfect thing to say, as though relationships can be managed by writing the perfect thing,” Turkle says. “And I think that is something we pay a very high cost for.”

In Baron’s survey, people also mentioned feeling controlled by their phones—bemoaning how dependent they were on the devices, and how the constant connectivity made them feel obligated to respond.

But texts and emails don’t create as big of an obligation as phone calls, or a face-to-face conversation. When young adults are interviewed about why they don’t like making phone calls, they cite a distaste for how “invasive” they are, and a reluctance to place that burden on someone else. Written instant messages create a smokescreen of plausible deniability if someone doesn’t feel like responding, which can be relieving for the hider, and frustrating for the seeker.

More than anything, what the age of instant communication has enabled is the ability to deal with conversation on our own terms. We can respond right away, we can put it off for two days, or never get around to it at all. We can manage several different conversations at once. “Sorry, I was out with friends,” we might say, as an excuse for not texting someone back. Or, “Sorry, I just need to text this person back real quick,” we might say while out with friends.

As these things become normal, it creates an environment where we are only comfortable asking for slivers of people’s distracted time, lest they ever obligate us to give them our full and undivided attention.

#technology #tech #text #relationships #articles #digital media #social media

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stillebesat · 3 years

Text

Beneath the Moon -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 18 Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk Taglist in Reblog.

“A werewolf.”

Logan swallowed, fiddling with the loosely wrapped bandage on his hand as he kept his eyes firmly on Roman’s ankles. “I told you.” He said. “It isn’t logical.”

“Hence why you came to me because I’m…what was that phrase you used the last time we…talked?”

Logan ran his uninjured hand through his hair as he ducked his head. Why had he ever thought, after how they’d left things off, that Roman would actually help him? The unhealing bite wound had to be infected and addling his brains despite the numerous doctors visits and medications he’d been on this past month that would prove otherwise.

“I believe I called you a ‘pompous prick of a prince stuck in a permanent delusional daydream.’” He whispered.

Roman snorted, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward like a hawk about to snatch up his prey. “Trust the Brain to remember such a phrase after what? Fifteen years, Lo.”

This was a mistake. Logan made a noncommittal sound as he hunched his shoulders. But he’d seen Roman and just---reacted, instinctively trusting that he would be able to help.

After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. “It’s what I’m good at.” He said, closing his eyes, again fidgeting with the bandage. “Remembering things.”

He’d been teased constantly for his memory all throughout school. Been called Sherlock or Brain so often that half their graduating class didn’t know his actual name.

Which made the fact that he couldn’t remember the fever filled two days after he’d received this...this bite...from that black dog--wolf?...more concerning.

And after a month’s long session of ‘research’ into his wound, his further symptoms, and the circumstances around his bite and the dog--wolf that had bitten him…had led him to the only explanation that fit the entire experience.

He’d been bitten by a werewolf.

And if...IF this was true, his research pointed to the strong possibility that in under an hour, when the full moon rose, Logan would forcibly be changed from man to wolf.

He didn’t want to believe it.

But all the signs pointed to it. His sudden allergy to silver. Cats no longer liking him. An increase in appetite, especially for red meat--which Logan had historically disliked the taste of. His eyesight inexplicably improving to the point where he no longer needed to wear his glasses. His sense of smell and hearing randomly becoming overwhelming to the point he could barely function only to return to normal a split second later. And most importantly, the fact that the bite wound on his hand would not heal, which a very dusty book from the library had stated would not vanish until after the first full moon after the bite occurred---all pointed to him being a werewolf.

But it wasn’t like Logan could just tell anyone about this theory of his. About what he thought could happen tonight.

After all, werewolves shouldn’t exist.

To confide to anyone that he thought that they did and that he could become one tonight because he’d been bitten by a dog that looked like a wolf--

“And you thought...that I was still this...delusional Prince?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow, his amber eyes glittering. “Willing to go along with any make-believe or fantasy adventure that comes my way at the drop of a hat?”

Logan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and hated himself for it. Of course it was crazy to expect that Roman of all people would believe him.

In retrospect he probably was the worst choice Logan could have made when choosing to confide in someone. After all, they had been, for all intents and purposes, enemies for the past fifteen years.

Yet Logan had momentarily forgotten that little fact. Had only remembered his childhood friend who had lived and breathed adventure growing up and would probably be the one most likely to believe him when he saw him pull into his driveway.

A Child’s fantasy was a lot different from an Adult’s though.

And Roman...Roman had gone from wanting to be an Actor in high school to choosing to serve three tours overseas in the War and coming back a decorated hero. Someone who had seen the darker side of being a modern day knight in shining armor and yet had chosen to embrace that reality anyways.

Even sitting, Roman commanded the room. He was all confidence, a lion lounging on his throne, claws only sheathed because there was no need to use them...yet.

And if things went…badly. It was all too likely that he would use those warrior skills and shoot Logan the moment he...he changed. After all, Roman was now trained to see threats and take care of them.

Werewolves were historically, in their lore, always a threat. A danger to society.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, conscious of how his heart rate had picked up.

Mistake. Mistake! MISTAKE!

He had under an hour to get to a place where he could potentially shift in safety. Where he could test his theory of what he was and how he would change without endangering himself or any people who might be around and here he was talking to his high school enemy like he expected Roman to take him in like a lost injured puppy.

Logan pushed to his feet, bringing his bandaged hand to his chest protectively. “My apologies, Roman.” He said, unable to look up from the ground to properly face him. Roman probably was staring at him like he was a crazed loon after his sudden appearance on his doorstep and the ludicrous story he’d just told. “I shouldn’t have intruded in such a manner.” He turned for the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

He’d been so desperate to find someone, anyone to humor him. Someone he could trust. To help him test out his theory. To make sure that IF he changed. If something went wrong. That--that if he--he became a crazed bloodthirsty beast, there would be someone there to take care of it--keep him safe from hurting others.

Or…if nothing happened. Which Logan desperately wanted to believe. That nothing would happen. That the moon would rise and he would just be standing there, perfectly fine and definitely embarrassed to have indulged in such a fancy...that someone would keep his momentary lapse in judgement quiet--

He highly doubted that Roman would keep this particular visit quiet. What sane person would? Logan probably looked like a crazed lunatic, showing up out of the blue in an old NASA t-shirt and worn jeans, spouting off theories on how he could be a new-made werewolf going to change for the first time tonight--Roman should have called the police as soon as he opened his mouth.

Logan would have, had their positions been switched.

He tensed, breath hitching as Roman caught his wrist in an iron grip before he’d taken three steps, conscious of the fact that his childhood friend probably now knew twelve different ways to incapacitate him before he could blink.

“You didn’t show me the bite wound.” Roman said, voice soft. “How can you tell me such a fantastical story and expect me to believe you if you don’t show me your key piece of proof?”

Logan bit his bottom lip, daring to glance at his childhood friend, gauging how serious he was about seeing the injury.

“Well?” Roman held out his hand, palm up towards Logan. “It’s not like I haven’t seen my fair share of battle wounds, Lo. I doubt your little bite will compare.”

That was true. Roman had seen battle. War. People dead and dying.

Logan steeled himself, he’d been careful about who touched his injured hand, not sure what the wound would do should it come in contact with another. “It’s not a little bite.” He said, reluctantly holding it out to him.

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.”

Logan looked away as Roman unraveled the bandage. His feet shifted in place as he glanced at the clock on the mantle, watching the second hand tick its way closer to the full moon’s rising.

It was odd...Roman had never needed proof before. He’d been the sort to take people at their word and go harring off at the slightest hint of an adventure.

Obviously he had changed far more after high school than Logan had anticipated. It was--

Roman whistled as the last of the bandages fell to the ground. “This...happened a month ago?” He asked, turning Logan’s hand over studying the bite that formed a large crescent shape from his middle finger down to his wrist.

“Twenty-eight days.” He corrected, wincing as Roman gently poked the wound. He’d been attacked on the last night of last month’s full moon cycle.

“It looks--”

“Fresh?” Besides the visible lack of blood coming from the wound, it looked like it could have happened only minutes ago.

“Horrible.” Roman frowned. “I’ve seen men take sharpenal to their hands and this--just a bit more pressure and you could have lost your thumb and two fingers--”

Logan winced, his stomach twisting. “I know--I didn’t.” It had been a close thing though. He could have lost half his hand if the wolf had dug its teeth just half an inch deeper into his flesh and pulled, it was a miracle he could still use his fingers at all. Another inconsistency really, with normal dog bites. His hand still worked perfectly despite the large wound maring half of the surface that should have destroyed his tendons and muscles.

“And you’ve tried--”

“Everything short of surgery.” And with his hand able to function normally, no Doctor was willing to try that just yet, not after a single month. “Nothing heals it.”

Roman hummed. “An unhealing wound.” He mumbled, looking up. He frowned, raising a hand to Logan’s chin, turning his head this way and that as he peered into his eyes. “Did you always have a golden tint to your irises?” He asked, trailing his fingers down to press gently against the side of Logan’s throat, where the pulse of his heart frantically pounded against Roman’s warm fingers.

Logan swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. Golden tint? “No.” He whispered. “They’ve always been green. You know that.”

Roman clicked his tongue, abruptly pulling away from him and crossing his arms. “Okay. Say, hypothetically, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Logan blinked at the sudden change in tone. “You don’t?” He asked, not quite believing he was hearing this as pulling his hand back to his chest. It would be pointless to try and rebandage it with the moon so close to rising.

“Hypothetically.” Roman stressed, giving him a tight smile. “If you are going to turn into this--” He waved a hand around. “Werewolf creature. What exactly did you want my help for? Cus I highly doubt you’re thinking something stupid like true love’s kiss will work in this particular scenario of yours that you’ve set up.”

To Be Continued. Part 2

#Beneath the Moon #December Drabbles #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Logan #Roman #Logic #Creativity #Werewolf!Logan #Werewolf!AU #bite wounds tw #injuries tw #war talk tw #fighting talk tw #death talk tw #mentions of Dog Attack tw #December Day 18

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the-silentium · 4 years

Text

5²

Masterlist

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Words: 2770 words

Warnings: Swearing.

Requested by: @justalittleb1tcrazy & Anon

Hi! I love your work, and I have an idea/request if it’s not too much to ask :) i’ve been thinking about a continuation of the 11 Five fic (because I adored it) where the Hargreeves go back to 2019 like s2 and the reader is a part of Sparrow Academy and she’s slightly more edgy personality wise, or something like that lol

Hi! Just finished reading 11 and I sobbed so hard ngl,, would it be alright to ask for a part two?? Maybe it could be about how five goes on after wards, honestly I just need closure :(( it was so good,,,

A/N: Here’s 11 Part 2! Hope you guys like it! @justalittleb1tcrazy, I already had the part 2 planned in my head, but you weren’t wrong with the Sparrow Academy! (almost) Also, the Sparrow Academy is totally OC, I didn’t go with the comics.

The days following your death were the most exhausting days Five ever lived. Between running around to gather his siblings and trying desperately to find a way back to 2019, losing precious time to sleep wasn’t even an option. He was running on the last bits of adrenaline his body could give him, the determination to find you back in 2019 and apologize profusely while holding onto you for dear life was enough to keep his body functioning for so long.

When Klaus broke the circle to go fetch the cowboy hat, Five genuinely wondered if the homicidal rage was finally getting to him because the thought of murdering his brother with his bare hands seemed pretty enjoyable at the moment. His patience was running thinner by the seconds and the lack of caffeine in his bloodstream was doing nothing to appease his pulsion.

As soon as the circle was complete again, the time-traveler visualised the right equations in his mind, warmth radiated through his hands and soon he jumped to the old mansion along with his siblings.

For a second, Five let himself live the joy of the moment. He finally did it. His dream for the past 45 years was now fulfilled, by his actions the people he loved the most could live in a world where the apocalypse never occurred and will never happen, where they had a real future and where he could live the life he wanted back when he was just a kid in the skin of his now-adult body.

He dodged Klaus’ open arms and closed his fists to jump to his bedroom, where he knew you were waiting for him to come back from the Icarus Theatre, but the familiar laugh bouncing around in the living room stopped his movement. His heart fluttered in his chest, his desire finally so near. He didn’t lose a second and jumped to the living room, his eyes searching for you excitedly.

You were seated on the second floor, your legs between the railings slowly swang in the air, your eyes fixated on a book opened in your hands, its words bringing a beautiful smile to your lips.

He didn’t recon jumping behind you, but next thing he knew, your back was facing him and you perked up at the soft old floor’s whine.

“Five, you’re back!” The joy in your voice got him to his knees, the relief of finally being able to hold you alive and well in his arms was too much for him to handle.

On an impulse, Five’s hands reached for your cheeks as you were turning your head to welcome him home, his desperation of the last couple of days showing through the not so delicate kiss he pressed on your lips.

Stars flashed behind his closed eyelids, not because of the power of the moment like he expected but because of the powerful right hook you managed to land on his temple. Five fell on his ass, stunned, hurt and utterly confused.

He opened his eyes to see you hurriedly get up from your spot and back away from him. He almost didn’t register the fear in your eyes before you tripped on a nearby bench and fell over. Always quick, Five jumped to your side and caught you before you touched the hard floor.

“What’s wrong? It’s me, Five!” He asked, his voice laced with worry while his eyes searched your face for any clue of why you attacked him after clearly being happy that he was back.

“You’re not Five.” You spat with anger. “Let go of me, asshole!” You jiggled in his grip, successfully freeing yourself without much of a fight, your words paralyzing him. It couldn’t be.

His sibling’s footsteps along with their worried voices echoed around Five but none of their words reached him, his thoughts were way too loud for any sound to break through his mind.

The answer was obvious. His siblings always managed to fuck up his plans, creating the biggest catastrophes everywhere they went and destroyed everything they touched. They had fucked with the timeline. They had fucked his dream. They had fucked his future.

Just as Five thought he couldn’t be angrier, a new bunch of people joined your side, one particular brown-haired man wrapping you in his arms from behind and holding you tightly to his chest. The sight of another man holding you made his blood boil in his vein, the feeling reminded him of the deadly phase seven; homicidal rage. If you hadn’t gripped tightly the man’s forearm, Five would have definitely jumped into a fight he was sure to lose but needed beyond reason.

“Who the hell are these guys?” Klaus’ voice broke the heavy silence of the room.

The biggest one of the new group turned his head toward his brother and Five already knew what he was going to say.

“We are the Sparrow Academy. I am Number One.“

Five’s eyes were still locked with yours, wishing for this nightmare to end or for you to break out of your act and confess that this was a very elaborate prank like you used to pull on him in your younger years. His salvation never came.

"Shit.”

Five was surprised his family caught up with the events instead of being clueless as usual.

Turns out their dad was disappointed enough of them during their meeting in the 60s that he adopted a completely different set of children instead. Five was sure that it wouldn’t hurt that much, knowing his dad replaced him, but it did hurt. A lot. After all he did to save the world, he was replaced like an insignificant object. Oh and to top it all? You fell in love with the current Number Five who can manipulate time as he willed. Out of spite, Five decided to call him Square from now on.

The lack of sleep mixed with his jealousy was making him very snappy and on edge. When he was trying to stop the apocalypse the first time, you were the only one able to calm him down from his cumulated frustration and anger. You’d take his hand, lay your head on his shoulder and talk to him about anything and everything.

Maybe it was delusional of him to think that even in another timeline you would remember him if he shared enough time with you. He couldn’t stop thinking that he was the original, the very first Number Five and that you belonged with him and not a pale copy, so he jumped to the kitchen where he knew you were making yourself a drink.

“Hot chocolate.” The sweet scent reached his nostrils and the memory of you showing him how to make it just like you liked played in his mind, stretching his lips into a fond smile. “You never changed.”

“I don’t like what’s bitter.” You shot him a wary look, clearly remembering that he jumped on you earlier. “I thought my Five made it clear, you altered the timeline. Even if another me was with you, I am not yours.” You mixed the hot water with the cocoa mix and turned to get what else you needed to make it perfect.

You stopped in your tracks when Five showed you the vanilla essence and chocolate chips in his hands.

“Thank you.” You whispered as you took the items from his hands.

“Happy to know some things never change.” Five stated, following you near the mugs. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw you shoot him a glance when he reached on the shelves for a cup.

“Do you remember your past and future lives yet?” He questioned as he prepared himself a pot of strong black coffee.

“H-how do you know?” He was proud that finally your attention was completely on him. “My Five doesn’t even know.” Five tried to ignore the pinch of his heart when you stated that he wasn’t yours.

“I know a lot about you.” He watched the black liquid fall from the coffee maker into the pot, hoping it would work faster. “Do you remember the 60s?"

"I remember the French Renaissance, the US colonization and a bunch of other lives but no, I never lived in the 60s.” You frowned, your eyes moving away, surely trying to remember if you really lived in that period.

“You did, you simply don’t remember it yet. If my theory is right, you won’t remember the 2019 life we had because everything changed in the 60s and erased it. This means that you’ll most likely remember the 60s some time soon and only then you’ll remember our 2019 because it happened back then.” His heartbeat accelerated at the perspective that you’d remember your affection for him and everything would go back to normal. Almost.

“So you think because I’ll remember my past life I’ll leave my Five for you?” You scoffed. “You’re so frickin’ arrogant.” You grabbed your cup and turned around, preparing yourself to walk away from him.

“I’m not arrogant!” His frustration exploded.

“Oh yes you are!"

"I’m scared!” His voice broke, but he didn’t care. Your furrowed brows relaxed and the insults on your tongue died along with your anger.

“Why?"

"I’m scared that I’ve lost forever the person who’s the most important to me. I survived 45 years in the apocalypse for you. I stopped an apocalypse for you. And you don’t even remember me.” At some point tears fell from his eyes, splashing into the cup tightly encased in his hands. “I’m scared I’ll never get to tell you that I love you.” His voice was merely a harsh whisper but you heard it nonetheless. He knew.

Your footsteps walking away made him close his eyes in agony. Just like the day he found your tortured body lying in a pool of your blood.

“Stop being an asswad.” You muttered before leaving the room. Five’s cup exploded between his hands, causing shards to cut into his flesh and blood to pool onto the counter. A small smile adorned his lips, a new flame of hope burning into his heart.

You avoided him like the plague for the next following days, exiting every room he entered and eating outside the manor whenever you could. He found it quite irritating but he knew you needed the time to think. You were starting to remember, he was sure of it by the small glances he received from you everytime you fled to another room.

He finally got some sleep, his dreams full of the comforting warmth of your arms, sweet words were whispered in his ears while one of your hands lightly combed his hair with your fingers. He desperately wanted to stay asleep, to never leave you again, but life was cruel and he always woke up, the reality hitting him like a brick. You would avoid him, again. He would die inside, again.

After changing into his newly bought day clothes, Five jumped into the kitchen, his too great need of coffee controlling his actions. He found you seated on the counter next to the freshly brewed coffee pot, a book in hand, a hot chocolate cup in the other.

“Good morning asswad.” You said without lifting your gaze from your line.

Five noticed your grip tighten around your book as he made his way toward you. He stopped centimeters away from your knees, his gaze transfixed onto your evading eyes. He patiently waited for you to meet his gaze before bidding you good morning.

Your breath caught in your throat when he leaned forward, his arm outstretched to grab a cup on the shelve behind you. Maybe today wouldn’t be as bad as the others.

He poured himself a cup full to the brim and carefully took a first gulp of his liquid addiction. He sighed at the taste, strong and bitter, just as he liked.

“So I do remember it right.” You closed your book and put it at your side on the counter. Your eyes lifted to meet his, causing Five to almost drop his cup at your tired expression. “What am I supposed to do now?” You sighed and rubbed your face with your free hand.

Five’s stress level skyrocketed. He knew what you were referring to. You were torn apart between living your present or allowing your past feelings to guide who you are now. He had wished the choice would have been obvious, that you would choose him without an ounce of doubt, but you were struggling.

“My feelings for you were so strong that I feel them now a-and they confuse me so much. I never felt that for-” You stopped yourself but Five knew what you meant. You never loved Square that hard and he was glad. “But what we had was in the past and what I have with him is real.” Tears gattered in your eyes just as panic flowed through Five’s mind.

“What we had was real! It’s still real now! You feel it and I sure as hell still feel it!” He put down his cup and softly placed his hands on your knees, desperation to prove his point showing in his eyes.

“I’m just being overwhelmed by my past.” You shook your head as tears fell down your cheeks.

“No you’re not. You’re panicking because you remembered me and fell in love with me through your memories. I’m the same man and you are the same woman and you know it!"

A sob passed your lips and Five reached for your waist to pull you into a comforting hug. Before his fingers even touched your form, you disappeared. Stunned, he turned around to find you into Square’s arms, his angry eyes shooting daggers at Five.

"Stay away from her.” He growled before disappearing with you.

Five kicked the nearest chair, pissed off by the time manipulator. He could not fight with someone capable of slowing, quickening or even stopping time. He had to put his last hope in you.

Square stayed at your sides for the next two days. Five saw how his constant presence was getting on your nerves, you needed time alone and he was denying you that out of jealousy.

Five was scribbling into his notebook when you walked up to him, definitely pissed off. Your hands were closed into tight fists and you huffed as you let yourself fall onto the couch next to him. You lifted your feet onto the cushion and hugged your knees.

He wanted to reach out for you so much, although it was clear that you needed your space. He waited for you to start the conversation, apprehension eating at him.

“They say ‘You can’t just give up on someone because the situation is not ideal. Great relationships aren’t great because they have no problems. They’re great because both people care enough about the other person to find a way to make it work.’” You took a deep breath before turning your head to meet his eyes. “I want to make us work. Like we always did."

Five’s heart stopped. Not in agony this time, but in relief. Happiness overwhelmed his senses and quickly, he reached for you to pull you against his chest and keep you close while tears fell from his eyes as the stress lifted from his shoulder. Your arms snaked their way around his waist and for a moment, he let himself melt under your touch that he needed for so long now.

"I love you.” He whispered the words he so desperately wanted to tell you in the 60s.

“I love you too.” You snuggled deeper into his neck, your hot breath on his skin giving him goosebumps. “Thank you."

"For what?” He frowned, genuinely wondering why you were thanking him.

“You stopped the apocalypse, Five. You gave so much to save the world.” You pulled away, smiling at him brightly. “Thank you."

Five realised that he was never thanked before for anything he had done for anyone. His composure melted and more tears ran down his face, the very first acknowledgement of his actions and sacrifices hitting him right in the feels.

"I’d do it all again for you.” He replied with a broken voice, his throat constricted and tears drowning him.

You pulled him into your chest after letting your feet fall on the floor, where he cried out of relief that you were still with him and out of exhaustion of everything he went through so that he could ensure that you and his family were safe.

#five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves #number five #number five imagine #number five x reader #number 5 imagine #number 5 #tua s2 #tua #the umbrella academy #sparrow academy

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arvandus · 4 years

Text

Touch (pt 4)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future chapters.

Recommended Chapter Song:

Bloodstream by Stateless

Part 1 Part 3

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 4 - Wounded

Later that day, while Dabi sat in his room nursing his migraine and checking his phone for a response from Giran, he heard a quiet knock at his door and the sound of footsteps fading away. He opened the door and found a white takeout bag.

Curiously, he picked up the item and looked inside to see tonkatsu ramen and a pair of chopsticks with some napkins, along with another bottle of water for good measure. He scoffed.

You brought him ramen.

Not one to turn away free food, Dabi brought the item into the solitude of his room and removed the lid. The smell hit his nose and he inhaled deeply. He hadn’t eaten anything all day, locking himself in his room to avoid the others while his persistent nausea made all foods sound unappealing. He drank water from the tap when he felt like he needed it, ironically hearing your scolding in his head each time he did so. His head and body aches were definitely reduced, but his mind felt off, different. He was grateful Shigaraki hadn’t given him any assignments today. He’d probably just incinerate anyone he came across, starting with Crusty Hands himself.

As Dabi ate, he mulled over his situation. Having to request your help for his burn was bad enough. But letting you see him like this? Broken by the weight of his addiction? It left a sour taste in his mouth, hampering his enjoyment of his noodles.

He didn’t have much choice – he knew he needed your medical care, so turning you away wasn’t really an option. Risking infection would only make a bad situation worse, and it was impeding his ability to get back to work. He hated being stuck in here, alone with his thoughts. So, when he let you in earlier, he had hoped you’d patch him up and leave, his hostile mood and harsh words a muzzle for any questions you may have felt tempted to ask.

Dabi should have known better. Now you were involved in supplying and managing his medication – something he would have never asked for. Against his better judgment, you managed to entwine yourself deeper into his life, even if it was for just a short time. How was it that he kept losing control of the situation?

It was your fault. It had to be. You had managed to navigate him like charted waters even though he never gave you a map. In hindsight, Dabi was honestly impressed; he knew he wasn’t an easy person to get along with, especially when he was in such a dark place.

Then again, maybe he did withhold some of his cruelty, despite how horrible he was feeling earlier. He knew he could get downright nasty when he really wanted to, his words honed to kill. If he truly hadn’t wanted you here, then things would have gone very differently. That thought was even more disconcerting – that for some reason, he felt the need to behave himself around you in some unspoken desire to keep you around.

It must have been the desperation. That was it. Maybe he was hoping that if he stayed in your good graces, that you’d use your quirk on him and free him from his misery. Even now Dabi wanted to feel your hands on him again, to feel your power seep like a mist into all of the dark parts of him. The more you touched him, the harder it was for him to get the sensation of you off his skin and out of his head. Maybe he really was becoming addicted to you. Why else would he have even let you in? Why else would he have let you stay?

He recalled you reaching out your hand at one point as if to touch him and it had made his pulse race with anticipation as he pretended not to notice. But you had changed your mind and Dabi was left with heavy disappointment, as he tried to understand why. Did you have fears of your own? Of getting too close to him? If you were smart, you would trust those instincts.

Maybe he should reach out to his villain connections to find someone with a healing quirk. It’d expedite his recovery and reduce his exposure to you. It wasn’t cheap, though… healing quirks cost a pretty penny in the underground. They were rare enough to come by in hero society and even more so in the villain network. Not many healers followed a life of crime – they naturally lacked a propensity for violence that the lifestyle required. Even if a healer could be found, could he afford it? Probably not.

Plus, there was the fact that he wasn’t much loved, even by the dredges of society. He had built a reputation for himself, long before he crossed paths with Shigaraki. He had no patience for stupid people with nothing but shortsightedness and lustful violence to offer, which turned out to be nearly everyone. His list of those willing to work with him was unsurprisingly short.

Dabi downed the warm, salty broth and set the container down to stare at the last bits of seasoning stuck to the inside, trying to read his future like tea leaves. They provided no answers, of course.

“Fuck.” He muttered.

Dabi’s troubled thoughts were interrupted by a ‘ding’ on his phone. His hand betrayed his composure, snatching the technology up swiftly.

It was a text message from Giran. Fucking finally. Maybe the universe wasn’t so fucked up after all.

Dabi’s eyes glossed over the words quickly, his mouth setting into a thin line. Giran had a seller he could hook him up with, but it would cost him, of course. And the worst part was that Dabi would have to wait. Giran was out of town and wouldn’t be back for at least a week.

Until then, Dabi was at your mercy. Luckily for him, mercy was something you had in ample supply. If only it wasn’t wrapped nicely in a pretty face and an addictive touch.

It looked like the universe wasn’t done fucking with him.

By the time evening rolled around, the pills you had given him were already beginning to wear off. Dabi expected as much. So, when you knocked on his door to change his bandages and check on him, he couldn’t help but breathe a small, secret sigh of relief. If he was stuck with you for the next couple of weeks, then he might as well take whatever help he could to make himself a functioning human being. He could hold out until then.

When he opened the door for you, you greeted him with a smile that immediately made him question his resolve. Were you happy to see him? Fucking why?

You watched him closely, trying to look for a healthy color on his cheeks, and happily noted the empty food container still sitting on his desk. It was an impromptu decision on your part – you were out getting food for yourself, and his words had echoed back in your head. It had sounded good at the time and buying for two was just as easy as buying for one. Plus, you had a feeling he hadn’t left his room all day, and you didn’t recall seeing a mini fridge in it.

Dabi noticed your happy glow and followed your gaze to see what you were looking at. He rolled his eyes when he realized. He probably should have said thank you once he noticed. That was what normal people did, at least. But he didn’t want to draw attention to it.

You began your typical round of questions. “How are you feeling?” you asked.

“I’m gonna need more of those pills.” Dabi replied as he removed his shirt for you. The one light in his room was already too bright for him. Behind him, he could hear the drip drip of his bathroom faucet, each ping on the porcelain like a hammer behind his eyes. At least it was evening now, which meant he could open his window to the cold night air to counter his elevated body heat.

You had begun unpacking the supplies you needed to treat him but paused to turn and look at him with wide eyes. “Really??” you asked in disbelief. “I just gave you some this morning.”

“What can I say, doll. They took the edge off for a bit, but that’s about it.” He replied with a shrug.

You pursed your lips in thought as you eyed the man in front of you. He didn’t seem as bad as this morning, thankfully. But you could tell he still wasn’t his usual self. You doubted that any amount of pills you gave him would fix him entirely, though. No doubt his body was feeling the effects of switching to something different after what was probably years of use. Most importantly, the pills you had on hand simply weren’t as strong as what he normally took.

You had considered this, of course. In fact, much of your day was spent trying to figure out your next course of action for Dabi. He was a League member after all, so if he couldn’t function for some reason or another then he technically fell under your responsibility. He needed to get back onto what he was taking before. Fortunately for him, your own connection was incredibly reliable and had better access to medical supplies than most. It just so happened they would be able to get the same medications he was taking. The downside was that it would take a little bit of time – there was a lot of fake paperwork to create in order to get access, since it was a high-class opioid. Until then, you had to keep him above water.

“Fine,” you said begrudgingly. “I’ll give you a few more.” You took the bottle out of your bag and handed him three pills, hoping they would get him through the night at least. He took them from your hand, the heat of his fingers against your palm lingering like the kiss of sunlight on a leaf. You froze for a moment at the sensation, before realizing that you were standing there with your empty hand out. You took your hand away, embarrassed. You probably looked like an idiot…

You pushed on, ignoring your overly critical brain. “Please try to wait it out as much as you can before you take-”

Your words were cut short as you watched Dabi down the pills dry, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. He caught your eyes in his own with a challenging, mischievous glow swimming in their cerulean depths.

You frowned at him. “You’re ridiculous.” You huffed. “You might want to try stretching those out a bit more. If I run out, you’ll be up shit creek.”

Dabi grinned. “Don’t worry, doll. I got a hold of my middleman earlier. He’ll be hooking me up in a week, then I can pay you back.”

You were stunned by his offer to reimburse you. You felt strangely… appreciated?

But damn it – he was too efficient for his own good. You hadn’t expected him to find a replacement so fast. Suddenly, you began to second guess your actions. Maybe you should have checked with him first…

Anxiety crept in like a fog. Would he be mad that you took matters into your own hands? Half-truths fell from your mouth while your mind struggled to reach a decision.

“Oh, um… it’s okay. I already put a request in for more of these since I figured I’d be treating you for a bit. I know they’re not as good as yours, but they’re better than nothing. They’ll be available for pick-up in a few days.”

Now it was Dabi’s turn to be surprised.

“You didn’t have to do that.” He said as he looked away from you. It was the first time he’d ever broken his gaze with you first.

“Well, I didn’t know how long you’d need my help with this, and I didn’t want you to suffer.” You said. You noticed his sudden avoidance and guilt filled you. Did he feel ashamed? Humiliated? Did you wound his pride somehow? You didn’t even tell him all the facts, yet…

You bit your lip nervously, and an awkward silence begin to make its way through the room. Dabi picked up on it immediately, of course.

He looked back at you, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. “What?”

“Um, well… I didn’t just get more of these pills.” You explained. “I talked to my supplier and was able to put in a request for the ones you were taking too. But they’re harder to get, so it might take longer before they’re available.”

“What?” Dabi repeated, his surprise deepening. His blue eyes widened slightly. This was so much more than he had ever expected from you and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. Annoyed? Flattered? Embarrassed? Dabi never felt embarrassed. Then again, he’d never had someone look out for him the way you did these past couple of days. There had to be a catch. Did you want something from him? What could he possibly offer you?

“Why would you do that?” he asked, his words laced with mistrust.

You fidgeted with your fingers, drawing your thumb nail along underneath your index finger. His presence seemed to fill the room. Something about the tension in his body and the wariness of his tone reminded you of a wounded animal, ready to bite. You wanted to choose your words carefully, to put the man in front of you at ease.

Instead, the words fell out of your mouth in a rambling mess.

“Well, I knew these weren’t really going to be sufficient for you.” You looked up at him. “And I told you I wanted to make sure you were getting your medication from somewhere reliable. Besides, this way it’s covered by the League instead of you paying out of your own pocket.”

You shifted your weight slightly, unsure if you should say anything else while he continued to pierce your soul with his sharp gaze, trapping you like a spider in a web. Oh shit, was he mad? He seemed mad. Maybe? Why the hell was he staring at you like that? Why wasn’t he saying anything??

Maybe you made a mistake.

Finally, you couldn’t handle the tension anymore and worked out an apology through your clumsy lips. “I-I’m sorry, I should have checked with you first. It’s just, I had to get in my medical order today, and I didn’t want to bother you earlier.”

Dabi broke his hold on you with a blink. “Wait. So Crusty Hands is paying for my drugs?”

“Yeah, I guess.” You replied with a shrug. “He has Kurogiri give me an allowance and I decide how I want to spend it.”

A chuckle escaped Dabi’s lips. “That’s fucking great. I bet he’d lose his shit if he found out.”

You secretly released the breath you were holding as your tension left your shoulders. “Well, he shouldn’t find out. Your pills are expensive.”

“Oh, he’s definitely gonna find out.” Dabi grinned. “I can’t not rub it in his face.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “Are you trying to get me dusted?”

Dabi’s grin froze for a moment as he stared at you, mirth in his eyes. “He won’t dust you, doll. You’re too valuable.”

You stared back at him, skepticism written all over your face. “Yeah, well that nice budget he gives me helps me stay valuable. So, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll keep your smart mouth shut.”

“It’s cute that you think you can boss me around. If you’re gonna make me keep secrets, then you better make it worth my while.” Dabi leered.

“Worth your while?” you echoed, confusion in your eyes. All your mind could conjure in that moment were impure ways to silence that attractive mouth of his and you were pretty sure that wasn’t what he meant. Your mind got increasingly distracted as you wondered what kissing him would feel like, with his different textured lips and the rings on the corners of his mouth.

Goddamn it.

Dabi’s deep voice pulled you back to the present.

“Don’t act coy with me, doll.” Dabi replied casually. “You think you know me so well, you’re making all my choices for me now. What do you think I want?”

A moment ago, he seemed low energy due to his withdrawal, barely holding onto his sanity out of courtesy of your presence. Now, all of a sudden, he was dripping with what you could only describe as sex appeal. He’d completely pulled the rug out from under you with his sinuous words wrapped nicely in a heavy drawl. His body leaned into your personal space just enough to make you lean away slightly, even though your body wanted you to go in the opposite direction, to meet him move for move, like a puppet on strings. If only his hands could caress you the way his voice did, then maybe you wouldn’t feel so tense... Rational thought abandoned you as you struggled to pick up the broken pieces of your façade while your imagination ran with the freedom of a wild horse.

Dabi watched your blank expression in amusement, enjoying having the upper hand. You looked downright terrified. What was going on in that pretty little head of yours? If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought you were going down a naughty rabbit hole. But Dabi scratched that theory – he wasn’t the type of guy girls fantasized about… right?

He watched as you faltered between your secret thoughts and your defensive words. “Don’t hurt yourself, sweetheart.” He teased. “I thought you were the expert? You’re always so smart with all the answers.”

“Wha-” you stammered. “Shut up, Dabi.”

“Just give me a few more of those pills for later and I’ll be silent as the grave.”

“Is that what this is about?” You pushed your hands against his bare chest, and he let you, backing out of your personal space just enough to let you breathe. “You’re ridiculous.”

“What did you think I meant?” Dabi grinned.

“Nothing.” You huffed. “Stop trying to get under my skin.”

“Stop letting me.” he countered. “I thought you were a professional? Do you get this flustered with everyone? Or maybe we got somethin’ special, doll.” Dabi knew he was pushing it, but the moment was too fun not to, your flustered reactions spurring him on. The more you gave, the more he wanted to take. Normally, gals didn’t let him get this far…

“Why are you like this.” You grumbled in annoyance.

“‘cause you seem to like it.” Dabi stared down at you. Were you gradually getting closer to him or was it his imagination?

“You wish,” you replied, denial thickening your tone into barbs. You tilted your chin up defiantly. “Maybe you’re the one who likes it.”

Dabi laughed. If you wanted to play with fangs out, then he’d play along.

“Don’t think too highly of yourself, doll. You’re not my type.” He mocked.

You stared at him, dumbfounded, his words cutting you before you could even understand why. Perhaps it was the attack on your self-esteem, or his blatant declaration that he had no interest in you. Just like that, the heat of the moment turned to ice, your eyes betraying your hurt before you could mask it behind detached anger.

Dabi faltered in his assault; he hadn’t expected the words to have such an effect on you. If anything, he expected you to provide a sarcastic agreement about him not being your type either, or you not wanting to be his type, or something along those lines. He expected you to be annoyed, yes. Mildly insulted, sure.

He did not expect you to see you so wounded.

Your lips pressed firm together as you took a steady breath through your nose to keep your eyes from suddenly watering by the slap of emotion that threatened to drown you.

“Yeah, well you’re not exactly a catch yourself.” You replied coldly. Whether or not your words mattered to him, you had no idea. His face was an emotionless mask as he straightened his back and retreated from what was left of your personal space.

If he was going to say anything in response, you didn’t give him a chance. You lowered your eyes to the level of his bare chest which now seemed impossibly far from you even though you had touched its warmth only moments before.

“Turn around so I can finish. I have to go check on Magne after this.” You said emotionlessly. It was the first time he’d ever truly heard you speak like that, and he quickly decided that he didn’t like it.

You finished hastily without any further conversation and left with a curt “goodnight,” before Dabi could finish putting his shirt back on over his head.

After you had gone, Dabi stared at the door for a moment, before he sat on the edge of his bed and ran his long fingers through his black hair. He wanted to ignore it and forget it; it wasn’t supposed to matter. But, alone in his solitude, his mind replayed the moment over and over for him, unrelentingly, until understanding slowly came. The stubborn seed of realization forced its way through his deeply rooted denial, his conviction not enough to refute what he plainly saw. Your small gestures of kindness, your excessive commitment to care for him, the way you smiled at him when you saw him… your wounded expression at his callous words.

Did you like him?

“Fuck.” He muttered. ___________________________________________________________

Part 5

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Taglist: @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #dabi x y/n #soft dabi #Dabi fanfic #bnha #mha #mha imagine #bnha imagine #fluff #slow burn #pining #intimacy #long talks #dabi is a todoroki #dabi is touya #touya todoroki

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eclecticvalor · 3 years

Text

7 Things I experience as a DID System. Mental Health Awareness Month.

In light of May being America’s mental health awareness month, I wanted to talk about something that has consumed my entire life for the past year and a half: Treatment and healing from a disorder that is stigmatised into the ground by poor representation and misunderstandings both socially and in the medical field. Those who are close to me know first hand how my symptoms and experiences have shaped the way I interact with the world since starting treatment, but aside from my closest friends and family, and the people I live with, I don’t normally talk about the fact that I have Dissociative Identity Disorder, and what that means to me.

Hi. My name is Atlas, some people call me Cadyn, and I am the primary host of 26 fragmented parts of my consciousness. I am not dangerous, none of my parts or alters are dangerous, and no, it is not like “Split”.

Dissociative Identity Disorder is a trauma based dissociative disorder listed in both the DSM IV and V, and is recognized as an uncommon disorder characterized by two or more distinct personality states existing within the same consciousness. These personality states come to be when natural childhood development is disrupted by severe, continued, or repetitive, trauma, the child has a natural inclination towards heavy dissociation, and a lack of adult or parental support to develop the means to cope with the things happening to them.

Unfortunately popular mental health media has seen an uptake in people viewing DID as a quirky “trait”, the ability to have functional imaginary friends living in your head... but in reality DID is a lot darker, a lot scarier, and isn’t something I’d wish upon my worst enemy. Because of this media spike I wanted to share 7 things that living with Dissociative identity disorder means to me

1. Amnesia

Living with DID means that I miss out on a lot of my life. A primary symptom of DID is amnesia. I have no solid memories before the age of 13, and the memories I do have are often skewed, incorrect, or completely false as my brain fought for a way to fill in gaps and cope with the loss of memory. I forget a lot, and not just things like forgetting where I left my wallet and keys, or forgetting the day - those do happen, but I also mean forgetting big things, important life experiences and things I wish with all my being that I could remember like my highschool graduation and my wedding reception.

I often forget important day to day things that make it difficult to maintain life as an adult, like doctors appointments, work schedules, meetings, and important daily tasks. I’ll forget that I’ve eaten at all that day and risk going days without eating, or overeating due to having no recollection of the last time I’d eaten. I forget birthdays (especially my own), anniversaries, and important holidays.

To an outsider, who has no idea what’s happening inside my head, this can come across as though I’m thoughtless or unreliable. That I am cold for forgetting an important date, or simply that I just don’t care when this very much is not the case.

2. Alienation

Oftentimes DID comes with a sense of alienation from people who you’re supposed to know. For me a really clear example of this is when I previously mentioned my childhood memories being skewed - I have a clear memory of a conversation I was having with some blood relatives a few years back in which I mentioned that one family member I had happy childhood memories of, and remembered playing together as kids, but with another family member they were practically a stranger to me. I had, and still have, no memories of ever spending time with them growing up, no memories of having any kind of relationship with them at all. My understanding of our relationship was that it was “forced” because we were family and our parents expected us to exist in the same space as we grew up, but that we never talked. But I was informed by a separate member of the family that I was very wrong, and this “stranger” was actually someone I had been close to growing up. This is a common experience with DID patients, and also a very frustrating one. It creates feelings of “You know me but I don’t know you”, and it’s extremely difficult to trust your own judgement of the people you know, because you often can’t tell if your judgement is skewed by your memories or lack thereof.

3. PTSD and Flashbacks

A diagnosis of C-PTSD (Or complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) is required for a diagnosis of Dissociative Identity Disorder. This means that while the individual symptoms of DID can be frustrating, scary and sometimes depressing, the most difficult aspect of DID, and the most important to focus on in treatment is the PTSD symptoms.

PTSD symptoms in DID can be extremely powerful due to the additional dissociative aspect. This can mean that for a lot of DID patients, flashbacks can produce full blown body sensations, hallucinations and terrifying delusions. This is One thing that I find incredibly difficult to talk about, but I also believe is extremely important to understand. It can be embarrassing, shameful and while I only speak for myself in saying this, can cause a lot of guilt and grief. There have been times where I have been experiencing powerful flashbacks and did not recognize my own husband, resulting in lash outs and fear towards him being delusioned into thinking that he was out to hurt me, or had harmful intent for just existing in the same space as I was.

For me, a single wiff of a familiar smell, hearing a sound, a certain color, an idea, a name, a passing thought or comment can throw my previously stable mental state into one of pure panic, hyperventilation, hallucination, delusion, fight-flight-freeze and reactionary responses. Through treatment I’ve developed adaptive and healthy coping skills and management responses but trauma responses can be so quick, and so unexpected that I don’t always have time to process my coping skills before my body and mind respond in negative ways.

4. Decision making and skewed Behavior

Because living with DID, means living with a shared or fragmented consciousness, this often means that while I may not remember, my life is still being lived during my time of memory loss. Alters or parts will take control and operate my body, reacting to things, interacting with people, completing tasks and functioning. But oftentimes parts who take control are very different from myself, and make choices and decisions that I wouldn’t normally make, and sometimes decisions I wouldn’t *ever* make. An example of this is the fact that technically I am a conservative voter, despite myself as an individual having leftist or NDP views, or decisions to leave or apply for jobs and work positions that I have no interest in, or that I don’t even have the qualifications or physique to do, or leaving ones that I personally loved and excelled at. This also reflects a lot in everyday life in more subtle things, decisions like what food to eat, things to buy, activities to do shift between parts while they’re in control.

To outsiders this can look a lot like impulsivity, lack of self-control, or lack of a sense of identity. This is a huge reason why a lot of DID patients are often misdiagnosed with Borderline Personality Disorder or Bipolar Disorder because the behaviour between alters can be so drastically different that it can look a *lot* like manic or depressive states.

5. Denial and Dismissing Trauma

A very common experience among DID patients is denial and being dismissive or disregarding the things that happened to them. I often find myself in a state of questioning whether my symptoms, my disorder, and even my trauma were ever real to begin with. In therapy I find myself saying “It’s not that big of a deal” or “It wasn’t that big of a deal” more times than I’m actually saying anything productive. A huge part of this is why I wanted to make this list, because the media, and a lot of medical circles deny that DID exists or believe it’s impossibly rare and those, while both false, can cause intense feelings of “Maybe I’m just doing this for attention”. DID is a very real, very difficult disorder to diagnose, to treat, and to live with disorder, and while it is uncommon, statistics show that approximately 1-2% of western population is diagnosed, and up to a suspected 7% are living with the disorder undiagnosed because of these misconceptions. It is not common, and it’s not something that everyone is going to have, but it is a very possible response to very real trauma and is a valid diagnosis to give to those meeting the criteria.

6. Hidden Symptoms

DID is often referred to as a “covert” presenting disorder. What this means is that most commonly outsiders, friends, family, employers and even the patient themselves can have a nearly impossible time recognizing the symptoms, and it often goes unnoticed until an event destabilizes the function of the person’s life. This can lead to a lot of backlash or denial coming from peers and family close to the person. This leads to the patient hearing a lot of: “I’ve never noticed personality changes”, “You don’t act like you have it”, “You couldn’t possibly have that”, “No, I would have noticed”, “You have to be mistaken”, “There’s no way, it would have been obvious”. And so, so much more. The reality of DID is that it’s *not* noticeable. It’s a safety response that the brain created to protect the psyche from the intense damages that come with long term trauma experiences, so it’s often designed to hide itself from abusers or perceived threats as a way to compartmentalize trauma memories and maintain the ability to survive through stress and unstable situations. Not being able to “notice” is kind of the point in most cases.

7. Wandering and Dissociative Episodes

Living with untreated or unmanaged DID can potentially be dangerous due to episodes of dissociation, “wandering” experiences (where the patient will wander away from home, family, or life in a confusion, attempt to return to a perceived life never lived, or in a state of belief that their current life is unsafe). For me this took a head last year, and was actually an event that led to the solidification that this disorder was the explanation to my experiences. According to nurses and my husband, I had wandered into the emergency room of a hospital in the middle of the night, with no idea who or where I was, with no idea how to return home, or even where home was. I was wearing a t-shirt, and it had been raining, and my body was so cold they needed to retake my vitals nearly 6 times because they were unable to get an appropriate reading. After discovering my identity, my husband was called to take me home. Working with a therapist helped to develop a safety plan during events like this to prevent harm from coming to my body, or from ending up in newly traumatic environments, but I was lucky. These situations can lead to re-traumatization, victimization, it can lead to kidnapping, assault, it can lead to being injured or harmed by environmental factors and so much more and it is so incredibly important that DID patients work with their therapist to develop solid safety plans proactively to make sure that the patient doesn’t experience any worst case scenarios during episodes like this.

Conclusion

My experiences are individual to me, and to my psyche. Not everyone will experience the disorder the same way, because not everyone experiences or responds to trauma the same way. I am so lucky, and extremely privileged to be able to access consistent care and treatment, that I found a professional who trusts me, and is focused on stabilizing and supporting. Too many people living with this disorder have no access to supportive mental health care because of the misconceptions that parts of the medical field hold regarding the legitimacy or frequency that the disorder develops, and too many peers and circles of people outcast or disregard the very real, very difficult experiences because they don’t understand the disorder, or believe it doesn’t exist, or believe it looks like split. If you, or someone you know is struggling with Dissociative symptoms, or dissociative identity disorder do not be afraid to reach out to a professional for support, and educate yourself on the reality of the disorder.

#dissociative identity disorder #DID System #dissociation #mental health awareness #mental illness #mentalhealthawareness #mental health #actuallydissociative #dissociative amnesia #education #psychotherapy #experience #actuallytraumatized #trauma #actuallydid #did/osdd

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jesuiscalmedammit · 3 years

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Mistakes Were Made – (5) Playing Nice || [Russell Adler x reader/fem!Bell]

note: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4.

Russell couldn’t remember the last time he was so nervous. And his job was dangerous, his life was on the line every single time, and there had been several occasions when he almost died. Yet this was one of the most terrifying things he had ever done. Every little movement of yours, every single word you said scared him. What if you decide to leave all of a sudden before you could talk properly?

But this was a risk he had to take no matter what. You had to sort things out in time and you gave him one week to do that. Seven days weren’t much. He had to be clever about how he would use that time. The trip to his home passed mostly in uncomfortable silence since neither of you knew what to say. And when you reached your destination, things didn’t get much better.

“Is this your real apartment or just another fake home to trick me?” you asked half-jokingly while he opened the door.

He couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh before he stepped aside so you could walk inside first. “It’s the real one, I promise.” Once Russell stopped in the living room, he put down his duffel bag and pointed at the other end of the apartment. “There’s a guest room at the end of the hallway, it’s all yours.”

Even though he expected you to head straight there, you remained perfectly still. Seconds passed before you finally moved again and turned to look at him. “Can I ask you something?” you spoke up uncertainly.

“Sure.”

Clearing your throat, you followed him to the kitchen and watched as he poured a glass of water for himself. “Why do you have such a big apartment if you’re barely home and live alone?”

“I inherited it a few years ago,” came his short answer right away.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

“Don’t worry, it’s okay.”

He then picked up his bag and went to put it in his bedroom, although this was only his way of building some distance to think about what to do next. Whenever he felt your eyes on him, his brain stopped functioning properly. This wasn’t helping. At all. He needed something to avert his thoughts, something the two of you could do together until you managed to loosen up a bit. And not just you, he needed that as well.

And then? Russell had no idea what he would do then. Maybe the problem wasn’t how you felt, but how he felt about this situation. When he glanced down at his watch and saw what time it was, he quickly came up with an idea. It wouldn’t solve the problem, but it could start a conversation that was completely unrelated to the mission you’d just come back from.

By the time he returned to the living room, you were already sitting comfortably on the couch, reading a book he had left on the coffee table before he left months ago. “So… are you hungry?” he asked as he sat in the armchair next to you.

“I’m starving,” you replied without hesitation.

“Well, my fridge is obviously empty so maybe we should order something.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and shook your head at this. Did he say something wrong? But then you let out a tired sigh and said, “Or I could go and buy a few things to cook proper dinner.”

“I’ll go,” he stated maybe a little too fast.

“Russ, I won’t run away, I promise.”

“What? No, that’s not what I meant. You’re my guest, this is the least I can do.”

You took a breath, ready to say something, but in the end, you remained silent. It was easy to tell your brain was in overdrive as you tried to figure out what to say or do. “In this case, can I go with you?”

It was his turn to be silent as he pointed a finger at himself. “With me?” he asked with a frown. Did you really want to go with him? That was… a good sign, right?

“Yeah,” you confirmed almost shyly. “But only if it’s not a problem.”

“No, it’s not, I’m just surprised.”

Letting out a sigh, you moved a little closer to him. “Look, if you wanted to kill me, you would have done it before we returned to the States. And Hudson knows I’m here so if anything happened to me, it would be obvious you have something to do with it. This means I’m not afraid of you, and maybe there is a chance you’re serious about this. That’s why I’m giving you an opportunity to prove me right.”

“Okay, I’m even more surprised now. I wasn’t expecting you to think about it this way,” he admitted.

“We’re adults, we need to know how to deal with stuff like that.”

“Alright, you’re now officially more mature than me I guess.”

“You would do the same thing at the end of the day.”

“No, trust me, I wouldn’t.”

Maybe he should have kept his mouth shut this time. He had pointed a damn gun at you not long ago, why did he have to say something like this? The point of you being here with him was proving he was better than that. But he had to relax. Russell decided to take a deep breath and try to calm down before saying anything else he would regret later.

For his surprise, though, you weren’t offended or hurt by his strange confession. In fact, you flashed a small smile at him then stood up. “Alright, let’s go shopping before we starve to death.”

He loved you. Yes, he was an idiot for thinking about you like that right now, but that was the truth. He loved you, he had loved you for a long time, and it was only at moments like this when he truly felt alive. How could you be such a nice person after everything that happened? Somehow he just couldn’t wrap his head around this one.

But then he picked up his jacket and left the apartment with you next to him. A simple round of grocery shopping felt strangely natural with you. The two of you were in sync when it came to deciding what you wanted for dinner, and finding the ingredients didn’t take much time either. It felt like you had been together for long enough to know what the other was thinking about. A part of him missed this side of your relationship.

Relationship... This wasn’t a relationship. He was merely trying to convince you to trust him again, which, knowing your background, wasn’t going to be an easy task, no matter how cool you acted around him. Still, he was happy to spend time with you. For outsiders, it might have seemed like you were just a normal couple doing perfectly normal things.

Then again it wasn’t a coincidence, after all, the two of you had been more than just friends before this last mission. You cooked dinner together before, you spent days together without leaving the apartment, and he missed those times. He missed you. And he hated what an emotional mess you turned him into.

Later that night, before he went to sleep, Russell couldn’t help but peek into your room. He tried to be as quiet as possible not to wake you, but he had to see if you were still there. The evening went smoothly, maybe too smoothly and he found it a bit alarming. Were you planning something? Could you be planning some kind of revenge for him trying to kill you? No, no, based on what he now knew about you, you weren’t like that. If you had wanted him dead, you would have done it without being sneaky.

Based on this, there was no question about it: you were just… nice. Maybe he just wasn’t used to this after spending so much time with the CIA. After everything that had happened in the past months, it was shocking that you were still being so nice to him. He had to keep you. Not in a possessive, against your will kind of way, of course, but as a girlfriend.

Letting out a sigh, he began to close the door but stopped when you suddenly began to scream as you sat up in your bed. You looked scared as if you had no idea where you were and what was happening around you. Whatever you dreamed about, it had to be intense. And bad. Could it be related to what he had done? What if it was and you now hated him for that?

note: adler is driving me crazy... || i’m sorry if this chapter didn’t make much sense 😅

taglist: @deviljoonie @ktdragonborn @pookolokon

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell adler x fem!bell #black ops cold war #black ops cold war fanfiction #call of duty #call of duty fanfiction #fic: mistakes were made #russell adler x bell #russell adler fanfiction

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the-scarecrxw · 3 years

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📓 :D

okay <3 I'm very fond of The Boys Retiring apparently but I have this one fic that I've just barely started but it's probably gonna be long.

So au Jeremiah going crazy plotline never happens. it's just chaos of chaos' sake. Rome still gets shot and is out of the picture for awhile. Jonathan and Jervis are up to no good until Jervis gets arrested (Jonathan very rudely does not give a fuck and doesn't help him) then like a week later Jerome emerges and together they cause chaos.

After a seemingly only Jerome attack on the gcpd (jim voice: that knockout gas hasn't been identified, tho. could be Crane.) Jim and Harvey are searching around the gcpd for any stragglers of Jerome's followers and such and whoops they check an alley and completely interrupt Jerome and Jonathan's post mission adrenaline rush bang and after some awkward back and forth (and Rome admitting he tossed his gun the moment he saw Jon) Jim is like "fuckin idiots. please cuff yourselves."

As they're leading them away Harvey makes a snide comment calling them freaks (bc Jerome made a joke about handcuffing Jonathan) and Jonathan does Not take it well and promptly elbows him and bolts, and Jerome quickly follows. Jim and Harvey take fire but the boys are able to duck out of the alley unscathed.

or so it seemed. Jerome looks back to not see Jonathan. He of course immediately turns back and oh god Jonathan is on the ground and there's blood and Jerome is panicking and getting angry because and Jim Fucking Gordon shot his boyfriend in the lung and hes probably dying.

this got long whoops one sec

Jim. feels very bad. he has very much so always felt bad about Jonathan. he always thought if he'd been quicker he could have saved him from his dad's serum. if he payed more attention to his case afterwards he wouldn't have gotten sent to Arkham. Abused there. Wouldn't have become Scarecrow. And now he just shot him. he's just a kid, really. barely 18.

Jim of course is like "okay, be mad later and help me stabilize him. get him on his side, put lots of pressure." in the bg Harvey is calling an ambulance and a patrol car to take Jerome to the precinct. Jerome very fiercely fights that he's not leaving Jonathan, who at this point is very out of it. So out of it that Jerome is very concerned and Jim is like "uhh yeah he's in shock because his lung just collapsed" and Jerome is like👌this close to strangling Jim but that would mean taking pressure off of Jonathan's wound.

Patrol car is there, ambulance another few minutes out. Officer switches places with Jim so he can take Jerome to the precinct [AND THIS IS WHERE I LEFT OFF WRITING SO FAR] but Jerome is still refusing but he eventually manages to pull him away (Harvey replaces him to apply pressure) While they're driving to the precinct Jim awkwardly tries to reassure him that Jonathan will be okay, the operation to help him rarely has complications. Jerome doesn't respond and Jim just... politely pretends he doesn't hear Jerome biting back sobs.

They keep Jerome in one of the interrogation rooms while Jim ya know washes all this blood off himself (Jerome is still covered in it) I haven't thought much about this portion of the fic, it's moreso time filler for until Jonathan gets out of surgery. Probably just gonna be Jerome refusing to talk to anyone until he can see Jonathan. Eventually Jim gets a call from Harvey that Jonathan is out of surgery, stable, and just waking from anesthesia so it would be the perfect time to interrogate him and Jim reluctantly agrees.

Jim, though, does have a heart and informs Jerome of the news and he immediately flips and demands to see him but Jim keeps refusing until Jerome yells "I'll stay in Arkham peacefully for the rest of my life if I can just get some time with him!" Jim reluctantly agrees (and helps clean him up bc they're not gonna bring him in covered in blood)

When they arrive Harvey has already been questioning him for a bit but it hasn't gone far bc Jon is still loopy and very good at avoiding questions. The moment he sees Jerome he tries to get out of bed except he's been quite literally strapped down to it so that doesn't go well. Harvey steps back and lets Jerome sit by Jon

We get very soft times from the pov of the awkward observers. Rome holds Jon's hand, occasionally strokes his face and hair and kisses his cheek while they're quietly talking and it's all very sweet and so incredibly uncharacteristic from what they're used to seeing from. well. maniacs.

As Jon really starts to get more lucid it's clear he's not comfortable being strapped down at all, he's constantly testing the straps and squirming and Jerome starts to unstrap him but Jim is quick to protest, saying he has to stay in bed and they can't risk him trying to escape while injured and Jerome snaps "he's not going to escape! he's going to stay and cooperate. He just doesn't like the straps. They did that to him in Arkham." Jim lets Jerome finish unstrapping him. they talk quietly some more for a bit before Harvey interrupts like "hey we really got to uh. talk and shit." and they both agree so the four of them sit there and after a moment of silence Jerome goes

"I'll agree to go to Arkham and stay if Jonathan can be pardoned. Blame it on temporary insanity-- something. Anything to keep him from going back there. He can function in society-- he can." Jonathan reluctantly nods and agrees

"Arkham tried giving me a medication. it quieted the Scarecrow. made it easier to ignore his suggestions and the urges he would give me. I refused to take them... But I'll take them now. If I can visit Jerome in Arkham."

Jim and Harvey of course initially protest but Rome and Jon make a really good argument. It's clear the arrangement was something they'd talked about before, but was still painful to enact. They clung to each other's hands, shaking. They didn't like the idea of being seperated. Being together kept them sane but Jerome refused to have Jonathan go back to Arkham. it had been a long argument and a lot of convincing before Jonathan agreed to the plan of Jerome going to Arkham alone.

So.... it happens. There's an actual trial this time (bc Negotiations) Jonathan is still too hurt to attend in person so lawyer in his stead and such. Jonathan watches the news with tears in his eyes in his hospital room as they get everything they planned. As Jerome gets carted off past a jeering crowd into an Arkham inmate transfer van.

I don't have much past this point. I imagine part of the deal has Jonathan being some sort of city/state ward for awhile? he's technically an adult but he'd been in basically prison since 15, so he has help getting set back up. I imagine a filler chapter of a Very Mundane Day of Jonathan's life.

Wakes up in his shitty little apartment. takes his morning meds. has a shitty poptart breakfast (he never really liked them until Jerome introduced him to the cookies and cream flavor) Goes to some classes (he's learning psychology...) where he pretends to be a normal person. Works after school (he's a library assistant.) Gets home and ponders if he needs glasses (glasses jonathan supremacy.) Has a shitty dinner while he emails his court ordered therapist that yes he is doing perfectly fine (that's a lie) no he doesn't need to see him this week, that panicked email in the middle of the night was absolutely nothing. Takes his night meds. Does homework or studies until he passes out. Rinse and Repeat until Saturday.

Saturday is his one good day. That's his Jerome day. His therapist notes an immediate uptick in his mood on Saturdays for approximately 4 days until it rapidly drops to concerning levels. Seeing Jerome sort of... Resets him. Cant quite say happy, how can you be happy when you can only see the love of your life your boyfriend for two hours once a week? For a long time they weren't allowed to touch, Jerome was handcuffed to the table. Now they hold hands his entire visit and sit close enough to whisper to each other softly, and they try to sneak kisses when the guard looks away for a moment.

Jerome's therapist notes his mood stabilizes on Fridays and lasts until Tuesday, in which he returns to the expected maniacal behavior.

....

okay I have more I want to write about this but I have to start getting ready for work so :( please enjoy this <3

#asks #b-rainlet #my writing #scarejokes #jonathan #jerome #fic: caught

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patricia-von-arundel · 4 years

Text

The Happiest Place in Fódlan

@lysissisyl and I decided to try writing something together - kind of. We decided to take the same prompt, and see what each of us would do with it. Almost immediately after, @frozenartscapes wrote about her AU where Silver Snow!Edelgard unexpectedly appears in modern Fódlan (where Byleth is still alive), and I realized it would work perfectly for the prompt (which was randomly generated):

Edelgard and Byleth go to a fair/amusement park and Edelgard wants to go on the roller coaster and Byleth agrees. Later, Byleth regrets their decision and ends up clinging onto Edelgard for dear life. (Or reversed. Either would be funny!)

So… here’s my take on it! (I reversed it, for the record.) Let’s just assume that Walt Disney lived in Fódlan…

Rating: G (this is fluff on top of fluff)

A befuddling world. They called it “Fódlan,” but it might as well have been a different planet. She felt horribly unmoored, all control lost - and there were few things Edelgard despised more than losing control. Months had passed, and still the feeling lingered. More than lingered: at times, it seemed to throb like an infected tooth.

But worse still - not a throb, but a deep, constant ache - was that she had no understanding now, it seemed, of Byleth. Byleth was the same person, but also somehow, radically, painfully not. She had become another alien, part of this alien world. For her, enough time had passed that the wounds of battle - both physical and emotional - had been able to heal, and even the scars they left had faded. But for Edelgard… Physically, she had healed. But no healer could repair the turmoil within her skull.

Though Byleth claimed there were people now who could. “Therapists,” she said they were called - “like healers, but for your brain.” She had even offered to take Edelgard to one. But Edelgard had balked at the idea, quickly insisting there was no need.

Need, however, was ultimately irrelevant. The shameful truth - one which she tried to keep carefully hidden - was that in this new Fódlan, she found herself more and more terrified of leaving the confines of Byleth’s small apartment in Enbarr. Even it was filled with strange, frightening things, but at least there was a feeling there of a semblance of control. No cars barreling unexpectedly around a corner - and better still, no vans or trucks. No crash of boxes of cans being unloaded at a grocery store. No card-only payments signs, or men’s restroom versus women’s restroom, or a thousand different variants of coffee with strange, confusing names like latte and espresso.

But even the apartment could be strange and confusing. Beds and chairs seemed too soft, but tables - covered in lacquer, apparently - and other wooden things seemed much too hard, their surfaces unnaturally slick. The lights, at night, were far too bright and uniform: no dancing shadows cast by candle or fireplace. There was no fireplace at all!

The worse times, especially at the start, were when Byleth was not there. Edelgard said nothing of her fears, but she certainly had them. Then, she was left alone with a microwave, which could safely cook in some things, but not others. (As Edelgard had found out the first time she worked up the courage to try to use it, and was caught by Byleth just before putting one of those infernal cans inside - why wasn’t the point of them to also have a ready-to-use dish? It was the most obviously-practical thing about them!) She was left with a million strange buttons on a remote control that could turn on a television (which had fascinated her in concept, but not, in the end, in practice). She was left with a thermostat, which controlled the air conditioner. (Byleth insisted it was not magic, though it certainly still seemed like magic. Much appreciated magic; Enbarr had seemed hot to her as a child, but somehow was even more so now. Byleth had words for that, too: climate change.)

Edelgard had known great sorrows - most of her life had been filled with them. What she felt now, though, after all of the initial confusion, was sad. Sad in the obvious ways she would always have expected to be, after so many years of war and loss, but also, perhaps even more so, in a confusing, complicated, overwhelming kind of way. Everything about this world, and about herself in it… it all just felt wrong. She was the true alien, here. An alien in a land she had once ruled…

There was no empire now, and thus no emperor. There was only Edelgard.

A person she no longer remembered how to be.

Living with someone she no longer knew.

She who so prided herself on her ability to control her mind and body, so careful of all that she said, had caught herself frequently almost letting slip the words “my teacher” when speaking to Byleth. But Byleth was not - she never would be again. And it was ridiculous to wish it could be otherwise, ridiculous and selfish, and yet, knowing also she would likely never be as happy again a she had been at that time… it was hard.

Because she had been happy, as curious as it was to consider it. The strain of all she was forced to balance, the burden of secrets and lies: yes, all those things had been a part of her life then. But for the first time in a very long time, she had felt as if she was wresting back control of her own life - taking it from those who had destroyed so many, and so much, and claimed it had all been for her benefit. Her life would be hers again - and all of Fódlan a more peaceful, egalitarian land.

Then Byleth came.

There had been times, then, when she had not only been happy - she had been absolutely, utterly euphoric. Something about Byleth simply called to her heart, in some deep, beautiful, timeless way: whatever connected them had always been there, she had simply not yet been able to feel it. She could almost allow herself to believe Byleth, too, could feel it -

- Until it snapped.

She still had not asked Byleth about her decision, that day in the Holy Tomb. She knew it could not be avoided forever - and Byleth had already hinted at discussing it - but Edelgard was not yet ready for some truths. Again, she had to remind herself this was not unexpected: it had not been 850 years for her, as it had been for Byleth. It had not even been six months.

All of this turmoil and uncertainty and sadness swirled constantly within her, like some endless storm, but she kept it to herself, locked once more behind a mask - an invisible one, perhaps, but a mask of a sort nonetheless.

Except she had never been good at keeping her mask in place around Byleth.

“You’re sad, El.” She said it abruptly, over a shared breakfast of toasted scones and jam. Byleth was not as blunt as she had once been - nor as outwardly difficult to read - but traces of her old self still appeared. “Why?”

Normally, such moments were almost reassuring - echoes of a world Edelgard would never see again, proof that that world had existed, that she had not always been just an unmoored alien - but this one left her heart beating more quickly and her appetite abruptly vanished. Still, she spoke steadily: “I’m afraid I don’t know of what you speak. I feel no unusual sadness, my - Byleth.” Not an outright lie: this sadness was no longer unusual. It had hung over her for a very long time.

She wasn’t the only one aware of that, either: “I know. Because you’re sad all the time.”

Edelgard looked down, at her half-finished plate. “You’ve not lost the talent for looking right through people, have you?”

“Maybe not. But it’s important. Especially with you.”

“Especially with - ?” She couldn’t stop the surprise in her voice, nor the sudden, almost painful leap in her chest - even as she immediately fought it. It was because of her strange situation, not because Byleth shared the feelings Edelgard had fought for so long. The feelings she was fighting again now, when five years ago - centuries ago - she had believed she had finally bested them…

“I really want you to see a therapist when we get back, El. I’ll ask Flayn who she’d recommend. Please, El. Things are different now. They can help you.”

“Did you say… Flayn?”

“She’s a pediatric psychologist specializing in childhood trauma and PTSD. Uh - that’s post-traumatic stress disorder. Which you also almost certainly have…”

More new words, though these Edelgard rather doubted she would remember. “That is… not something that I had considered. Perhaps because I had also not considered that Flayn is now an adult…”

“She’s not so different, for all the time that’s passed. Still very kind. Still has to stop Seteth hovering. Still loves fish - I wish you’d been here to see her when the first sushi restaurant opened in Enbarr!”

“…Sushi?”

“I’ll take you for it sometime - it’s a little hard to describe.”

Edelgard nodded - most of the food of this new age was quite good. She liked pizza in particular, with the little round meats whose name she could never recall, and also veggie wraps and tacos. Her opinion on chicken nuggets was still indeterminate, but most of what Byleth had offered had been quite palatable.

Moving away from food - and Flayn - she said, “My tea- Byleth - you said… when we get back?”

Byleth grinned - still such a strange thing to see her do! “El,” she said, “we’re going on a little trip.”

“A… trip?”

“A trip. To the happiest place in Fódlan.”

The “happiest place in Fódlan” was also, happiest or not, somehow even more confusing than all the very confusing things Edelgard had had to face for the last few equally-confusing months.

She blinked. And blinked again - trying to process all that was before her now that they had finally gotten past the mob at the gates. (And past Byleth gently correcting her when she called the people in uniform “gatekeepers.” They were called ticket takers, except here, where they were cast members. Why had the name changed, Edelgard wondered, when they performed exactly the same function?)

“That’s a castle,” she finally said.

Byleth laughed. “Yes. It is a castle.”

“But I thought you said castle are no longer built? There certainly was not a castle like that here… before. I would remember a castle as curious as that one.”

“This is an exception. It’s not a real castle. Well - it is and it isn’t. It’s called Cinderella Castle. We’re having lunch there later, but we can go see it now, if you like.”

“What's a Cinderella?”

For a moment, Byleth looked pained. “Okay, that’s on me. I really should have thought to watch a whole lot of movies before booking this trip…”

Movies was a word Edelgard knew. She liked some of them, too. “Cinderella is a movie?”

“Several movies. It’s based on a fairytale - that’s, uh, a story that pops up again and again all over the world. Kind of like all the different versions of what happened with Nemesis and Seiros, only not about anything that actually happened. Does that make sense?”

Edelgard considered this, then nodded. “Is the Cinderella movie anything like Star Wars?” She had enjoyed Star Wars enough to watch it several times, though she understood very little of it. Ships simply could not fly in space, even if Byleeth said they actually could, albeit not in that manner. They also did not look anything like ships. And Byleth said lightsabers didn’t truly exist either, which was a disappointment. Still, though, Edelgard did like those movies. She disliked comedies. Comedies confused her.

“Uh… not very much, no,” Byleth said. “There’s a ton of Star Wars stuff here, though. We’ll see it later this week. If you want space, though…” Suddenly - unexpectedly - her face lit up. “You’ve never been on a rollercoaster!”

“A roller… what?”

“Hurry, before the line gets long! We’ll see the castle later. Come on!”

To Edelgard’s surprise - and embarrassment - and heart-pounding shock - Byleth grabbed her hand, hauling her off down what seemed to be a street of shops (you could shop here?), towards the castle from a movie, not the ancient past. Such casual intimacy was very common now, as Edelgard had noticed very quickly, surprised at first by handshakes, hugs, people only kissing one another, but that didn’t mean it was any less of a shock to have it from Byleth. From a woman that, in her mind, had been preparing to execute her only months before. From a woman whose hand she once had longed more than any other to hold…

They turned before the castle - and the whole world once more transformed. There was no time to process it, but no matter - she was still struggling with trying to process Byleth’s hand, the warm softness of her skin. To process any of this.

“Only a 20 minute line - I’m glad we got here early!”

“20 minute line…?”

“For Space Mountain!”

“Space…. Mountain? I don’t - “

“Of course you don’t. You will soon! Hurry!”

What could she do but as told? She wouldn’t survive an hour in this curious place without Byleth. She could barely handle the street outside Byleth’s apartment in Enbarr without Byleth… And she wanted Byleth to keep holding her hand.

Life generally was now overwhelming. “I confess,” she said - voice raised and shaky from the gait of their jog - “I feel rather foolishly like a child right now, like this.”

“That’s the point, El. And look - we’re here!”

It did not resemble a mountain. It did not resemble… anything Edelgard had ever seen. Though this was approximately the hundredth time she might have claimed the same simply in the last hour. Something about it almost reminded her of the technology - the weapons - employed by the evil beings Byleth said history now called Agarthans, rather than the more-cumbersome name by which she had known them. But Byleth would surely never take her somewhere like that? Still, it was the first thing that came to mind, looking up at this strangely-shaped, spiky, silvery… something.

The sign certainly said “Space Mountain.” Maybe the definition of “mountain” had changed? Some words had, like kid and - as she had thought earlier - ship, like the spaceships. She would ask later, when she could properly concentrate on the answer.

Byleth, meanwhile, had a very strange smile on her face. “Your first time going into space,” she said. “Just like in Star Wars.”

“Going into space?” Edelgard looked at the strange-something again, then back at Byleth. “I’m confused again, I’m afraid, my teach- Byleth.” She cocked an eyebrow. “Though the smug look on your face leads me to believe you are continuing to be deliberately obtuse. Is this going to exasperate me the entire week that we are here?”

That earned her a shrug, but no less of that very self-satisfied smirk. “You’re not allowed to be exasperated at Disney World, El. It’s against the rules.”

“Then perhaps don’t go out of your way to be exasperating?”

“We’ll see. Are you ready to go in?”

Edelgard took a third glance at the strange-something. “This might be an absurd question, but… does it truly somehow go into space?”

Her breath caught - briefly, thankfully - when Byleth’s hand squeezed around hers. But while that she could hope Byleth didn’t notice, there was no possibility the flush in her cheeks would be missed. She looked down, to concentrate on Byleths’s words rather than whatever expression might be on her face. There were things she was still not ready to see.

“Not really into space. It just uses speed and lights - or rather, lack thereof - to make it feel as if you’re in space. It’s a simulation.”

“…Simulation?”

“Using senses to make you feel like you’re seeing or feeling something you’re not.”

Another strange new word. That was the true mountain, whatever the current definition might be: the mountain of words and meanings and lost words she truly felt she might spend the rest of her life attempting to scale. She couldn’t escape it even here, in the “happiest place in Fódlan.”

“Like television?” She felt even more absurd at this question, even knowing perfectly well Byleth was - and had assured Edelgard repeatedly she always would be - happy to answer questions as long as it took for Edelgard to understand. She might deliberately exasperate at times, but was still, truly, as patient with Edelgard’s questions as she had been when they were teacher and student at the Officers Academy. And that was appreciated - no matter how ridiculous Edeglard felt, at times.

“A… little like television,” Byleth said now. “But… like you’re actually in the scene with the actors. When there are actors. There aren’t any here. Just movement and lights and sound. And usually screaming. Lots of screaming.”

“You sound curiously cheerful about the prospect.”

The strange smile was back when Edelgard forced her eyes up once more. Byleth’s hand tugged hers. “I don’t want to spoil it too much. But I think you’ll like it. Ready to go?”

“As… ready as as I’ll likely ever be. I suppose.”

They were going inside the strange-something. The mountain-that-wasn’t-a-mountain. It was cooler inside - air conditioner again - and there was a line of people that moved in fits and starts, seeming to go gradually upward. They were climbing the mountain - in a sense? But it didn’t feel like being in space. Not that Edelgard had been in space. But it was not how she imagined it would be like to be in space. Maybe it was a simulation of climbing into space? But there was no speed, none of the lights and sounds Byleth had made sound like they were unusual in some way. Unusual by the standards of a world with lightbulbs and radios. If this was a radio. Sometimes, Edelgard still was confused by how far to extend a new concept - she had confused movie and television for weeks, after learning of them for the first time together.

After some time had passed - Byleth had said the line would take 20 minutes, but Edelgard had yet to master measuring time in such a manner - there were peculiar sounds, but they did not seem like those that would come from a radio, or a spaceship. Odd, mechanical sounds, like movement - and, very faintly, those screams she had half-wondered if Byleth might be joking about. She leaned a little, in case she could catch a glimpse of anything, but all she saw was an impenetrable wall of people in t-shirts and sunglasses and the curiious hats Byleth had told her about, the ones with balls on them intended to make people look like enormous mice. (Byleth had briefly attempted to explain why. It still made no sense to Edelgard.)

The screaming got louder - but there was an echo-y, muffled quality to it. As if it were coming from inside a cave, or the other side of a closed door. And mixed with it was what sounded like cheering, and… laughter?

Byleth’s hand once more squeezed.

(Why was Byleth still holding her hand?)

“You look concerned, El.”

She managed a smile, if only a tight one. “Perhaps a bit. It’s more that I am… now very, very curious. On a day when everything I see seems more curious than the last.”

Byleth laughed. “Even by modern standards, El, no one would ever call Disney World ‘normal’.”

The smile felt a little more natural, now. “I’m relieved to hear that. Though… I do think I’ll leave rather fond of this place.”

Another hand squeeze.

(Another caught breath.)

“Let’s see how you feel after this, okay?”

The end of the line - and more of the not-gatekeepers. But there were no tickets here, so what were they called? She would have to ask Byleth.

But later - one more hand squeeze (a… slightly longer one? It felt so…), then they had to part. The not-gatekeepers were moving everyone to separate, smaller lines. She leaned again at the strange mechanical sound she had heard earlier, now much closer and clearer. Everyone ahead was still taller than she was - Byleth said she wasn’t just imagining it, people really were taller now - but she could still see: rows of cars. Or were they called cars? This morning they had ridden -

She leaned closer to Byleth. “Is that a car or a monorail?”

“Neither. It’s a cart.”

Edelgard looked again, not bothering to hide in her expression the disdain she now felt. That thing was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a “cart” of any kind. It didn’t even have wheels!

Regardless, she was about to get in one. She glanced at Byleth, who met her gaze and grinned. She looked excited.

The screams suddenly felt much more urgent.

Then she was being ushered into her seat on the “cart,” a mysterious metal bar coming down over her lap. She knew seatbelts - was this just some variant, or did it serve a different purpose?

She supposed she was about to find out.

There truly was an alarming amount of screaming, somewhere ahead of them…

“Hang on!” Byleth said.

There was a startling little jerk as the cart began to move, but it smoothed out quickly. They were going slowly - into darkness. Complete darkness.

They stopped.

Lights - a sign? But while Edelgard could tell there were letters on it, she still struggled with the strange way things were written now, and the cart was moving again before she could make out what it said.

More lights - bright ones. Almost painfully bright. And peculiar, discordant sounds. Radio? It didn’t sound like radio. Or like any other sound she had ever heard, in this world or in her own. They were going up. surrounded by the too-bright lights and strange sounds, and Edelgard felt a curious, indeterminate dread building within her gut.

She leaned forward, to be heard over the sound. “My teacher, what - “

“Hang on, El.”

“Hang…?”

“The bar, El! Grab the bar!”

There was no more warning than that. There was no time for it.

The cart went hurtling into darkness.

Edelgard shrieked and grabbed before she was thrown off. The closest thing.

Not the bar.

Byleth.

Byleth’s arms wrapped around her own, holding her there. Was she laughing…?

There was no chance to wonder. They were still being thrown around in that pitch-black darkness, up and down and around. Edelgard might have continued to scream - as so many others were doing - but the first drop had knocked the breath out of her, and she had yet to manage to get it back.

It lasted for a small infinity - and almost no time at all. Then, they were abruptly back into a world of sunlight, of voices instead of screams, and of Edelgard quickly pulling back from her hold on Byleth.

Much as some part of her desperately fought as she did so…

Byleth had wrapped her arms around Edelgard’s. Byleth had held her hand - and for far longer than was necessary.

But this was not the time to dwell on it. She stood on shaky legs when the bar raised to allow it - and found a hand, reaching to offer help stepping out of the cart.

And again, Byleth did not let go. Instead, as they walked, she swung their hands casually, and smiled, and said, “What did you think?”

Edelgard considered this, trying hard to focus, despite the curious hand-swinging. “I… do rather wish you had warned me.”

Byleth laughed. “I told you three times to hold onto something.”

She felt the flush rise in her cheeks. “That is not what I meant, as you well know. But I…” She looked to Byleth, and allowed herself a rare open smile. “I quite liked it! Could we… perhaps go again?”

Byleth smiled back - filling Edelgard with a rush of warmth both strange and very pleasant. “Sure we can. We can go right now, if you like. You can even hold onto me again, if you want to.”

Edelgard looked quickly away. “Yes. Well. The… offer is appreciated.”

Another laugh - and another squeeze of her hand. “Do you want to go now?”

“If you’re sure that you don’t mind… then yes. I would quite like to go again. But my tea- Byleth, I’m… rather confused?”

“About what?”

“Why are we… How did we get inside a shop?”

#fire emblem three houses #edelgard #edelgard von hresvelg #byleth #byleth eisner #edeleth #modern au #tales of the tiny emperor #stories with lys #fire emblem three houses fanfiction

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sparklingchan · 4 years

Text

Checkmate || Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) X Bang Chan

Word count : 14k + ( oops-)

Warnings: A few cuss words , suggestive, mentions of death / murder / beheading and blood.NOT PROOF READ I’M SO SORRY.

Genre : Fluff, angst, romance ,strangers to lovers , Alice in Wonderland au, Royal au(a tiny bit) .

Description: Alice in Wonderland is just a story , or so you were made to believe.

A/N: This story is loosely based on the story of Alice in Wonderland. I always wanted to write Chan in a fictional universe and FINALLY I AM DONE WITH THIS STORY! I have twisted a few facts from the original story to fit my plot so not everything is the same.

Enjoy!

Weekends have had a special place in your heart ever since you were old enough to understand the importance of the last two days of the week in a normal human's life. For a long time , weekends meant going out with friends , partying, camping , eating , relaxing. Weekends meant your mom's scoldings in the morning , the sound of your dad's old radio, your brother's laughter. Weekends meant happiness.

But for sometime now, these definitions have changed. Drastically . Now weekends mean finishing presentations, cleaning your room , washing dirty dishes in the company of the empty corners of your solo apartment. Weekends now mean loneliness.

"Yes ,mom. I have been eating the herbal medicine you sent." You were never able to lie to your mom as a kid or even as a teenager. But the adult 'you' could easily do it. Lying to your mom was as easy as breathing now.

"Are you sure,y/n?" She asks in a stern voice.

You look at your small dining table , at the herbal medicine packet that lies there, as good new. And you let out a tired sigh , pressing your phone closer to your ear.

"Yes."

It had been an exceptionally tiring day at work today. And as you flop down on your couch with your mom still on call ,you wonder why you were feeling this sudden tiredness - all you did today at office was listen to your new boss boast about her achievements and your annoying colleagues kissing up to her as if she were some kind of Messiah.

"Aren't you coming home this weekend?" Your mom's tone now changes. She sounds worried, almost sad, "Dad and I miss you so much. Minho comes home often but we rarely get to see you."

Your eyes fall on the family picture hanging in the wall in front of the couch. It was the summer of your third birthday. Your mom and dad sat on the carpet while you and Minho stacked up legos to make a multi coloured house. The smile on your faces splash a wave of nostalgia towards you and you accept it wholeheartedly.

"I miss you guys too but I don't think I'll make it ,mom. I'm so sorry. " you say with a suppressed yawn, "But I will be going over to Minho's on Sunday so don't worry. We'll facetime you guys then." You feel your eyes get heavier but for the sake of your mom and your empty stomach ,you try your best to not fall asleep.

"Okay, okay. Sounds good. " your mom replies, "See you soon. Love you ,baby. "

You smile at her cheesy yet sweet words. Your mom has always been a fluff ball, just like your dad. But you and your elder brother didn't inherit that sweetness, sadly. "Love you too, mom." You reply.

And then the line goes silent.

You close your eyes, just to rest for a moment before having to cook dinner and working on your next week's presentation. But your eyelids feel like they suddenly weigh a lot more than they did a few minutes ago, like they were made of lead and you couldn't even lift them for a second more.

And before you know it, you've already drifted off into dreamland with your office clothes still on and your empty stomach growling.

For some reason , you'd always been a morning person. You've never had trouble waking up for school or college or work on time, where as your friends and colleagues were all heavy sleepers - they could sleep even through earthquakes.

You remember as kids ,all of your mom's friends would complain about how their kids wouldn't get their asses up for school in the morning and needed to be practically dragged out of bed while your mom just smiled and nodded in response. You probably adopted this habit from Minho ; he might be an annoying idiot most of the time but you have to give him credit where it's due.

And when your eyes open a few hours later, naturally , you expect it to be a bright , sunny morning.

But you're disappointed to see that it's still dark outside.

The lights of your living room are still on and the television is playing some stupid movie in the background , just the way it had been when you came back home from work and switched it on. Rubbing the sleep away from your eyes, you look at the clock on the wall. 3:45 AM, it reads.

"Goddamn it," you push yourself off the couch ,still groggy from your nap, your whole body aching . You grab your phone and office bag and waddle to your bedroom ,in hopes of finishing your much needed nap.

The hallways of your house are dark but familiar so it takes no time for you to find your room's door. Groaning , you close it behind you and walk towards your bed, a homely , comforting feeling enveloping you like a soft blanket. The lights of the room are switched off as usual , and the cold air of the room makes your skin tingle. You smell your signature perfume in the air and the room freshener you use, and surprisingly, a very strange, foreign smell that you are sure you had never smelt in your house before - the smell of grass and mud on a rainy day.

"What the-" you mutter to yourself as your mind finally starts functioning properly again , coming out of your post nap trance and all your senses suddenly switching to high alert mode.

It wasn't raining right now ,nor had it been raining in the evening when you came home so there's no way that this smell was carried in by you. You remember seeing droplets of rain run down the office windows during your lunch break, which means it had rained only a little bit during afternoon. Did someone enter your house in the afternoon?

Your heart starts hammering against your chest. Something feels wrong ,very wrong.

And you quickly realize you were right - because the moment you take a step away from your bed , your feet gets stuck onto something and you crash on the floor. Face down.

"Ow, shit - WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THAT?"

Turns out ,your feet didn't get stuck on a 'something ' , it was rather a ' someone '.

In all honesty, you had never seen a man as handsome as the one that lies on your bedroom floor right now, his hands and feet sprawled out as if he were sleeping on his own bed, his lips parted and hair damp. And if it weren't for his slow , steady breathing and the flush across his cheeks , you'd have almost thought he was dead.

You want to scream. And you do.

You should have called the police the moment you saw him, you think , but you didn't- more like you couldn't.

You are scared obviously, as you frantically check all your lockers and drawers to make sure he hadn't stolen anything. You check his pant pockets but find nothing. You even consider calling your brother but something was stopping you from doing so .

There is something about this man - maybe his extra silky looking clothes , maybe the weird pendant around his neck or maybe just the mere gut feeling that he might actually be the victim, not the criminal - that just wouldn't let you pick up the phone and call the authorities, even though you have their number on speed dial.

"Can I get another slice of bread ,please?" You snap out of your thoughts on hearing his husky, honey-like voice, call out to you, only to realize that you'd been staring at his face as if he were an alien.

Maybe he is an alien....

Embarrassed at being caught red handed, your cheeks flush as you nod your head and pass the man sitting on your dining table,right in front of you, his fifth slice of bread. Damn, he must have been starving.

"Thank you ,miss y/n." He replies with a polite smile, applying butter on the bread with the butter knife Minho had left at your place on your last birthday.

You want to return his smile ,you really do, but you can't find it in yourself to keep your curiosity suppressed anymore. You've never been so intrigued by a living,breathing human before, not to this extent at least.

A few hours ago, when he woke up after you dragged him off from the floor and laid him on your bed, you half expected him to attack you with a weapon or strangle you or threaten you for money but all he did was politely ask if you were the owner of this 'warm and cozy ' house and your name. He even called you ' a kind lady ' when you offered him breakfast and medicine for the slight fever he complained of , out of nothing but pure curiosity and intrigue.

"What was your name , again, sir?" You ask , putting down your chopsticks after deciding your breakfast wasn't that important anymore ,"and where do you come from?"

He sits up straight, the smile on his lips slowly dissolving into a frown. Did you say something wrong?

"I'm Bang Christopher Chan. But I usually go by Chan, " he answers the first part of your question and when he notices your anticipating eyes ,waiting for him to answer the next part , he looks down at his plate, as if embarrassed. "I wish I could tell you where I come from ,my lady ,but I can't and you wouldn't believe me either way. "

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion ; first of all ,this man - Chan - ends up in your room, passed out and sick , secondly he wears such expensive looking ,vintage clothes and lastly, the man speaks as if he were an actor in a Shakespearean play and now he refuses to tell you where he comes from.

He is feeding into your alien theory a little more than you expected.

"Well we won't know that unless you tell me." you reply with pleading eyes, curiosity getting the best of you. He shakes his head and presses his lips together in a firm smile, dragging his chair across the floor and standing up, "I'm afraid I can't do that."

You only watch in awe as he walks towards your main door in strange yet elegant steps. He turns around to look at you, "I express my heartfelt gratitude for everything you've done for me, my sweet lady. You gave me shelter and food and your magical herbs cured my sickness. I will never forget this favour of yours."

Magical herbs? Is he talking about your mom's herbal medicine?

You gulp, not knowing how to reply to his sudden expression of gratitude. With an INTP personality type, you've always found it hard to express yourself to people around you, even if your life depended on it and this time isn't any different either.

"W-well it was my pleasure." You stutter, "But where are you going now anyway?"

He runs his fingers through his silky , fluffy blonde hair and licks his dry lips. "I'm going to look for a friend. He might be able to help me."

"How will you find him? Do you have his phone number or address?" You ask. He shakes his head, "I'm afraid not. What's a phone number, by the way?"

Your eyes widen at his question, your mind running wild with possibilities of what might actually be going on with Chan. You've only ever seen things like this in movies and shows - a random person with no memory whatsoever meets the main character and they set out on an adventure together. And as curious as you were to find out whether Chan brings adventure with him too , you didn't want to get yourself involved in something so messy.

"It's a number via which you can contact people using this device." You say , showing him the led screen of your phone.

His mouth gapes at you , his eyes shaking with curiosity.

Oh this one is a gone case ,you think.

"I'll help you find your friend. What's his name?" You ask him again.

Still in fascination with your phone , he barely whispers his friend's name but thankfully you catch it,

"Lee Felix."

You hate driving . Period. Especially on weekends when the roads are full of impatient cars going off to picnics ,goods trucks trying to finish business as soon as possible , two wheelers which are the location of all the PDA in the world. You aren't used to seeing such happy traffic.

But here you are ,driving this mysterious yet charming man to his friend's place.

Lee Felix ,as the internet tells you , is an owner of a medicinal shop and is pretty well known among people for his homemade medicines and ointments. It only took one tap on your search engine to find out his location.

"So who exactly is this friend of yours?" The car has been quite ever since you left your apartment and you couldn't take it anymore - not when Chan just sits beside you , his fingers tapping on his leg with anxiousness.

He looks up at you , "He's more like a little brother to me , honestly. I grew up with his family - playing with his friends and his siblings. But he moved out of our hometown to do business. He still comes home sometimes but lives here most of the time. "

Now, that's the kind of information you'd been seeking for since the morning. He's slowly but surely warming upto you.

"So you're here to take him home or what?" you ask.

He shakes his head with a grim expression. "No, of course not. I wish I could but he is happy here , tells me he has a lover now and lots of friends. I'm happy for him. And anyway ," he pauses for second , "I'm here to hide. "

You find your heart race at the last word. He's hiding, but from what? From who? Is he a criminal that is trying to save himself from punishment? Or something worse?

Shit. This is not a good idea at all.

If your brother were here , he'd have flicked your forehead so hard it would have hurt for days. Maybe you even deserve it this time.

"From what?" You ask ,your voice only a whisper.

He sighs ,leaning against the window and looking out with thoughtful eyes.

"I really can't tell you, my lady." He replies.

Before you could question him further ,you see a house emerging in the distance and immediately recognize it as Lee Felix 's home plus workshop. Reluctantly, you pull over in front of the huge wooden house.

"How do I open the door ?" Chan asks with an innocent smile when you're about to get out. You let out a small chuckle and put your hand on your own door handle, "Press the black button here and push the door gently. " You demonstrate and he picks it up quickly, joining you as you stand on the porch of this Felix dude's house.

Chan knocks on the door with urgency, and for the first time today, he seems a little relaxed now. Like a weight from his shoulders had been lifted, and you don't have the heart to tell him that there's a doorbell directly on his right.

You hear quick shuffling behind the door and within a second ,the door opens to reveal a man - probably Felix - with bright orange hair and a big smile.

Brothers , you remember Chan's words.

They really do look like brothers as Felix jumps on Chan,embracing him like he had just saved his life. You don't miss the quiet sniffing from Chan and the tears that accumulate in Felix's eyes as they pat each other on the back , mumbling ' I missed you's to each other.

"I was so worried, Chan." Felix pulls away , grabbing Chan's shoulders, " I thought you'd gone to Marmoreal . Why didn't you tell me you were here?"

The name Marmoreal rings a bell in your head ,for sure. You'd heard that place before many times but as you search through your memories and try to find the exact context of that name , you fail to find it. It feels like you'd heard it almost in a dream.

"I just arrived here last night. Wasn't a very pleasant ride ,if you ask me. " Chan says , giggling.

Felix giggles too and then his eyes land on your confused face , as he let's go of Chan.

"And who might this fair lady be?" He asks with a pleasant smile.

Brilliant. Another actor from a Shakespearean play.

"Oh,right," Chan chuckles. " This is y/n, the kind lady who let me stay at her house for the night. "

No,he ended up in your room out of nowhere, you want to say ,but you swallow the words. You didn't want Chan to think of you as rude.

"Hello, Miss Y/n. " he smiles, " You've done us both such favour by housing him. We will not forget this. " Felix says, bowing his head to you.

Awkwardness is what you feel as you force a smile and nod in response,your palms sweating from the unexpected words , "You're welcome,I guess. "

Felix leads the two of you inside the house and you are greeted by a lovely young lady, who looks about your age - Felix's lover ,you assume.She walks in with a freshly baked cake in her gloved hands, her eyes shining the moment she sees the both of you.

"Oh,my dear." She runs to you , " Prince Chan! I have heard so much about you. Felix talks about you all the time. And oh,my, who's this lovely lady?"

Prince Chan .

Prince Chan.

Chan is a prince?

You look at him ,your eyes wide with confusion and doubt and he looks back at you with a nervous expression, like he didn't want the girl to address him as a prince.

"Yeah, " Felix clears his throat, raising his eyebrows at the girl in front of you , as if asking her to keep quiet. "This is Chan and the woman who provided him shelter last night- y/n."

"Oh my apologies," she replies with a smile, probably getting Felix's message, "Hello, Chan, Y/n, I'm Felix's girlfriend, Tracy. " She says as she clings on to Felix's arm and he stares adoringly at her like she is a rare ,precious diamond that no man could ever have but him.

You've seen that look before - in your parents eyes when they tease each other , in your brother's eyes when he talks about his boyfriend , in your ex boyfriend's eyes. You almost feel jealous.

"Hello ,Tracy." Both you and Chan say at the same time and then awkwardly stare at each other.

Tracy giggles.

"Anyway, Chan and I have important things to talk about. " Felix wiggles out of her grip and takes Chan by the arm ," Tracy, my love, would you please see to it that Miss Y/n here is not bored."

And Tracy surely did make sure you weren't bored for a single second.

She takes you into their medicine workshop, showing you the different herbs and fruits and vegetables they use to make the herbal medicine. She shows you the various jars full of these medicines and ointments. Her eyes shine with passion when she talks to you and it makes you realize how happy this makes her.

It is not an hour later,when she offers you a slice of cake and a cup of coffee that you find in yourself to ask Tracy about Chan and Felix and whatever happened back in their hometown.

"Ah,right. Their home." A sad expression falls on her ,as she stirs her coffee, " I wish I could tell you , I really do but unless Felix or Chan ask of me , I cannot do it."

The same response, again and again. "But I'm curious..... and scared." You mutter.

Tracy clicks her tongue on the roof of her mouth ,"Sweetie, I know you are and I don't blame you. But it is not my place to decide if I can reveal a secret or not....yet I can tell you this- Chan is not dangerous or anything of that sort. He's in fact the one in danger, in need of protection. "

Shocked, you stare at Tracy ,not being able to form proper words. Your prediction was right, Chan was in fact the victim.

You feel chills down your spine.

"Do you come from that place too?" You ask again.

"Oh no, I wish , sweetheart, I wish but no. I'm from this city itself. Born and raised. " she replies with a slight chuckle.

You want to ask her if Chan and Felix had come from a different planet but you stop yourself just in time when the boys arrive into the workshop.

"I'm afraid we'll have to bid them farewell now, miss y/n." Chan says with a sad smile and you wonder if he said that to console his own self.

"You've been so ,so kind to Chan. I would just ask you to do one last thing for him -" Felix starts, " Can you please drop him at the Levanter hotel ?"

Your forehead creases with confusion, "Why ? Will he not be staying with you?"

"No, I'm afraid not. He'll be easier to find in my house out of all the places. He won't be very safe here." Felix admits, embarrassed.

"Then he can stay at my place. He doesn't have to live all alone." Your mouth speaks out those words without giving a second thought to the idea of Chan actually living with you - you said you didn't want trouble but here you were ,being a big ass hypocrite.

"Well I don't see a problem with that, "Tracy chimes in , grinning, "and besides ,I like to believe that Chan would rather enjoy your company than be alone."

Your cheeks burn red as Tracy yet again puts you and Chan in an awkward place. His eyes are fixed on your face while yours are everywhere but him.

"Its settled then. " Felix says as the couple escorts you and Chan to your car. And just before you drive off, you hear Felix say to Chan, "I think we can trust the lady. Tell her about Underland. Tell her about home."

You love listening to stories. You remember your dad telling you and Minho stories ever night when you were kids and how you found it difficult to sleep without listening to his stories. Stories make you happy, they make your mind wonder about the infinite possibilities in this vast universe and how you happened to be where you were at the exact moment when the story was told.

Stories fascinate you .

With a voice as serious as your dad's, Chan starts, "I and Felix come from a far, far away place called Underland. You humans might know of it as Wonderland because of that one writer who stumbled upon our kingdom one day and decided to write a stupid book about it." He almost sounds angry when he speaks the last line.

"Anyway, I and Felix belong to Underland, which was ruled by the First Great White Queen's descendants for centuries. But everything changed when my grand father - The Last White King passed away. My father were to take the throne by blood right but then a blood descendant of the First Red Queen arrived and claimed Underland as hers. She killed all remaining members of the White Queen's family, my parents, my brothers and sisters," he pauses for a second ,blinking away tears. Your heart clenches with sadness , "But she couldn't kill me; I was just a baby. The youngest of them all. So she banished me to the Enchanted Forest forever ,to live with The Hatters which was Felix's family. In the forest , I grew up with his siblings - Sana, Momo , Me and Felix were inseparable. And we played with the Dormouse , the Cheshire Cat, the White Rabbit , March Hare all day. It was lovely, almost like a dream. Never once did I want to live a royal life or desire my rightful throne back - I was happy. But when I turned twenty , the Queen wanted me to marry her daughter so that she could tighten her claim over the throne. I couldn't do that , I couldn't marry a woman I did not know and did not love. So my friends used their magic and helped run away from the Queen and her Red Knights. And that's how I ended up in your house. "

You blink a few times as everything comes crashing to you at once - his sudden appearance in your room, his weird clothes ,his accent ,his strange walk ,his cluelessness about the modern world , and Tracy calling him a Prince - he is a Prince. A Prince of a place you didn't know actually existed, a descendant of A Queen you'd only heard about in books and movies.

Marmoreal is the name of the White Queen's home , now you remember.

Wonderland was real. As real as you and Chan and Felix and Minho and Tracy. It very much exists .

"Y/n, please do not fear me,I beg of you. You can ask me anything you want but I want you to know that I will not harm you. I am your friend. At least I want to be. " he says , putting a hand on yours as your mind snap backs to reality.

You straighten up.

"Questions , right." you say, still blinking more often than you needed to .

"So the Red queen and the White queen are real? Like they're not just that Writer's idea?" You ask.

"Oh ,they are, I assure you. They were sisters but enemies, which led to the evil Red Queen's banishment centuries ago. Their descendants never got along with each other."

You nod, gulping hard. So the scary Queen with the big head was real. Brilliant.

"And The Hatters , are they the family of the Once Mad Hatter?"

"Yes, they are."

"Aren't they all mad?"

He chuckles, leaning closer to your face, "Darling, they're only as mad as you and I."

Your heart beat gets stuck in your throat , stopping you from asking him anything anymore.

Taking it as the end of the conversation Chan bids you a quick goodnight and heads over to the guest room you had given him.

But he stops just before the door, leaning against the door with a grin ,"Oh, by the way, my lady ,you might not want to skip that herbal medicine on your table anymore."

You frown, "Why?"

"I wasn't lying when I said they were magical - Felix makes them after all."

Oh, what a small fucking world!

The next morning, Bang Christopher Chan claims that he makes very ,very good morning tea that will give you a boost that normal ' human ' tea could never.

"Take one sip and you will crave for more, " he tells you as you provide him with the basic ingredients and watch him from the opposite side of the counter , making this supposedly mind blowing tea.

Now, to be very frank ,you weren't much of a tea person - you've only had boba a few times and the proper ,traditional tea only on the few times that your dad makes some. You were more into coffee. But you didn't tell him that.

You see Chan lean over the boiling pot of water on the gas , adding tea leaves and a little bit of cinnamon and then half a spoon of ground ginger. You observe him , your curiosity bubbling like the boiling water.

"Are you going to add ...magic too? " you couldn't help but ask the question as Chan stirs the mixture in front of him.

He chuckles , a warm , hearty laugh that lights up the lonely and cold corners of your small apartment. His eyes turn into crescent moons and his deep ocean dimples as he walks towards you and softly boops your nose , "Yes, of course! How would it be different from your normal tea otherwise?"

You see him walk back to the pot and then rub his forefinger and thumb together above the mouth of the pot , "Watch this ,my lady." You stare at him with shock as a sparkly , golden dust snows down due to the friction of his thumb and forefinger and gets mixed with the boiling tea.

And when the first sip of the freshly brewed,warm tea touches your lips and travels inside your mouth, you feel an explosion in your brain that you'd never felt before. You feel like there are literal fireworks in your head ,burning and cracking and fueling your energy levels. You want to run out on the roads and scream on top on your lungs for no goddamn reason.

"Chan, I didn't think I'd say this ,but this is the most delicious beverage I've ever tasted." You say , booping his nose like he did before, " Thank You."

In the evening , you take him out for shopping after calling Minho to cancel your plans with him. You told him that an old friend of yours was visiting from Australia and that he would be crashing at yours for the next few days. Minho didn't care much , as usual ,and all he said was, "Don't get pregnant." You remember rolling your eyes at his annoying remark.

So now here you are, scrolling through your phone while Chan tries on different clothes in the trial room.

"I do not like the shirt that shows my arms!" He yells from inside as the employees of the store giggle.

You sigh, " It's called a tank top,Chan. And I'm buying it whether you like it or not, it's summer for God's sake!"

You hear him mumble something under his breath and then the door of the dressing room creaks open to reveal a very different Chan. You can't help up but gawk at his perfectly toned arms and the very evident biceps that you did not expect to be there. You gulp hard. With his tousled hair and perfect smile and gorgeous eyes , he looks like a Disney Prince, the ones you used to obsess over as a child.

He is a prince, you dummy, you remind yourself again. Prince of Wonderland . (Underland, whatever)

He awkwardly hugs his arms around his body as the cool air from the AC grazes his bare arms ,his cheeks turning red from embarrassment.

" Hey, chin up !" You grin , and walk toward him.

He presses his lips in a line and mutters ,"I look ugly."

"No, you do not look ugly ,Christopher. You look anything but ugly ," you glare at him, "You look amazing. Just like... Park Chanyeol. "

His forehead creases and you see a ghost of jealousy in his eyes, " Who is that? Your lover?"

You laugh out loud, patting his cheek softly. " No, he is a...famous person. In our world. Just like you are of your kingdom."

You decide to take out Chinese food for dinner and even though you want to ask Chan if he was okay with that , you don't. Because he probably doesn't know what China even is .

"Do you want me to carry that bag for you?" Chan asks ,pointing at the take out bag on your lap as the both of you settle down in the backseat of the cab you had called. You wince as you realize how badly your feet hurt from all the shopping and snacking.

"No , thank you. Plus you have enough things to carry yourself." You reply, eyeing the tons of bags he carries, containing clothes and shoes and whatnot.

The drive to your house is long , owing to the fact that the city becomes more livelier at night - a scene you rarely get to see with your own eyes anymore, thanks to your stupid job. The cab driver plays a slow, romantic song and you automatically find your eyes scan Chan's face, looking for something that could help you relate to the song booming through the speakers.

But all you see is worry.

"Chan, are you alright?" You ask him, placing a hand on his arm.

He looks over at you , his eyes shining like the city lights that you hadn't seen in so long, " You're a very kind person ,my lady. I do not know how I will ever repay you for this; any of this! "

You feel a warm feeling spread from your chest, coursing through your veins and under your scalp and your ears.

"You can repay me by making that tea for me everyday. " you reply with a soft smile.

Chan scoots over closer to you ,then puts his head on your shoulders, " Well then I'm sure you wouldn't mind if I take a short nap - I owe you this one too."

You blush and look away from his captivating gaze ," Fine, whatever. Just make the tea for me. "

You know you want to add something but you swallow those words and repeat them only in the company of your own thoughts.

Thank you ,Chan , you think as you look out the car window ,cherishing the beautiful streetlights and the tall buildings and the neon signs of shops and the gentle pressure of Chan's head on your shoulder , Thank you for making my weekend less lonely.

Chan is a man of his word, you can guarantee that - An honorable , honest man who almost seems too good to be real sometimes.

As promised , he'd make you tea every morning for the next two months before you go to office while he spends most of his time in your house, trying out different things to keep him occupied while you were at work - learning how to use your spare laptop , cooking tutorials on YouTube , videocalling with Felix , practicing magic on your plushies, online window shopping because he apparently loved the way people in your world dressed.

He'd wait for you every evening with another interesting thing he had learnt and wanted to share with you , and a plate of freshly cut fruits that he prepared beforehand. Then you'd both make dinner together and spend the rest of the evening talking and laughing and gossiping .He would tell you about Underland and it's castles and magic and you would tell him about your world and how a stupid picture on the internet could go viral in a split second.

On weekends, you'd make a hearty breakfast for the both of you and then clean the house together,which Chan never once complained about. By the time evening comes, you would have already chosen what movie to show him while the popcorn cooks in the microwave. Or sometimes you'd spend the day at Felix's or sometimes drive down for a small picnic at a park.

Slowly but definitely, Chan becomes a part of your everyday life , your source of comfort, your escape . And he ,in turn , finds a caring friend in you , a teacher , a person he could lean on . Knowingly or unknowingly , you become his escape too.

It is on one such Friday night that Minho calls you during your movie session and you excuse yourself from a weeping Chan ( the movie you chose was Titanic) ,walking towards your own room.

" What's up?" You say into the phone as you jump on your bed .

"Are you seriously asking me that? Y/n , it's been weeks since mom or dad or I saw you. You keep cancelling plans for your Australian friend. Do you think I'm stupid?" He yells at you and you move your ear away from the speaker. Gosh ,talk about being so loud and annoying.

"He's coming home after years, Min. I can't just leave him here."

He sighs, "What kind of a friend stays over for two fucking months. " then adds ,with all seriousness, " is this some Christian Grey shit going on?"

You laugh - you have to ,even though you know your brother is pissed off ," Dude, do you even hear yourself ? I earn ten times more than that Anastasia bitch did. I don't need a sugar daddy."

"Then what's going on with this guy ? Tell me the truth ,y/n . You know I'll believe you." His voice now softens.

You sigh, rubbing the crease between your eyebrows.

Not this time ,you wouldn't believe me, you want to tell Minho.

But then decide that if you can't tell him the truth ,you could at least tell him half the truth.

"Look, Minho...my friend is not here for a vacation. He's here to hide. He's in possible danger. " you whisper to him.

"What kind of danger? Y/n,what if he's running from the police? What if he's in trouble with the government?" He asks,his voice filled with concern.

You hated the fact that he was so similar to you . And he had the audacity to call you adopted for so many years. Asshole.

"No, silly. Not that kind of trouble. He ran away from his engagement. The bride's mother is a bitch apparently ,trying to force him for his money and fame. "

You hear Minho heave a sigh of relief from the other side and naturally, you relax too.

"Well then if you can't leave him alone ,bring him along to our house. I'd love to meet this Australian guy in person."

And that was the end of the conversation.

When you live with someone , you find new things about them everyday - today is the day you find out that Chan looks exceptionally attractive in a tight black polo t-shirt and simple jeans. His blonde hair is pushed back a little, his forehead glowing under the bright Sunday sun and he wears a watch that Tracy and Felix had gifted him last week. Handsome as a Greek God.

"How do I look ?" He asks you as he scratches the back of his neck, smiling at his reflection in the mirror.

He's gained confidence .

"Like a Prince." You say, standing beside him.

Your eyes are focused on your reflections in the mirror,the close proximity of your bodies and the way you both look like any other couple in the world, makes you feel overwhelmed. You see the few millimetre gap between his hand and yours and if you reach out a little bit, you could easily lace your fingers with him.

"And how do I look?" You ask him with a small smirk.

He scans your image ; you wear a simple floral summer dress with short sleeves ,along with a pretty wrist bracelet and a simple pendant around your neck. You catch him blushing.

"Like a Princess. " he replies.

You badly want to hold his hand in yours. But you don't.

The drive to your Brother's place is filled with questions and replies and a few careless teasings thrown here and there.

"I hope your brother doesn't hate me for keeping you occupied all the time. " Chan comments when you turn to Minho's apartment street.

You shake your head, " No,no. Of course not. Minho is not like that."

Your brother has lived with his boyfriend, Jisung for about five years now . You want them to get married soon but they always make weird excuses about it. So you just assumed they enjoy this live in relationship without the pressure of marriage and children.

"Hey , y/n, oh my god! Long time ,huh?" Jisung hugs you tightly the moment you enter their living room ,his big toothy smile permanently plastered on his face. Minho stands behind Jisung ,his arms crossed over his chest and his critical eyes focused on Chan. You smile and jog up to your brother, wrapping your arms around him. His familiar scent makes you miss home and your parents and your old room. "Stop being so stuck up,Min." You whisper to him as Chan and Jisung introduce each other and Minho eyes them suspiciously.

He chuckles and hugs you tighter ,pressing a small kiss to your head. You grin as he pulls away.

"Chan,meet my brother Minho, " you bring Chan to stand in front of Minho , "And Minho ,this is Chan." Minho observes the way Chan walks - elegant and smooth and the way Chan talks , like he were a dude from the Victorian Era yet he wears modern clothes and uses a phone and air pods. Everything about this man is mysterious yet Minho couldn't find anything to hold against him. Perhaps he is being too hard on the poor man. He also notices how lovingly Chan gazes at you , looks out for you in the smallest possible ways and you look at him with the same adoration and concern. Were you two dating? You didn't say anything about that though.

So he asks you after dinner ," Do you like Chan?" The question comes out as natural as any other question Minho has ever asked you. You look down from his balcony at the streets and cars and people below then your eyes fall on your brother and the wine glass in his hands and on Jisung and Chan who chat inside the living room over dessert, having found a common interest in music making and lyrics writing.

Your blood turns cold - not because Minho had asked you that question but because this is the first time you're actually considering the possibility of that being true. It scares you.

You think about a similar incident that had happened almost ten years ago - when you were in middle school and Minho was in high school. You had a crush on your cute classmate but he chose your friend over you. Even at that tender age,you were heartbroken. No one at home noticed your sadness or disinterest in everything those days but Minho did - he always does.

"I don't know ." You lean against the railing of the balcony , "I don't want to think about it."

"Why?"

"Beacuse we do not belong together. We're from different worlds. " you whisper , "And I'm not sure if he feels anything like for me."

Minho frowns at you then flicks your forehead so hard that it stings.

"You keep suppressing your feelings all the time, y/n. You wouldn't know if he likes you or if you belong together if you don't tell him." He says.

You do know that you do not belong together. You do know that he may never like you back. But you don't mention it to Minho.

That night , as you are driving back home and Chan is sleepily looking out the window,you ask him , "Chan, there's something I have to ask you."

Chan sits up straight ,his attentive eyes focused on your nervous ones. He could sense your turmoil since you stepped out of Minho's house. He nods ," Go on."

"Um...actually, Jisung's cousin is getting married on Wednesday. Would you like to be my plus one for the ceremony?"

You'd never seen Chan smile so wide before, his eyes practically disappearing in the process. His cheeks tinted red and his hands tapping on his thigh .

"Do you want me to?" He asks. He hopes more than anything that you say yes.

" Hell yeah,dude! " You reply, chuckling.

He has never hugged you till now , you realize, as Chan jumps and wraps you in a warm embrace ,even as you are driving. Your heart hammers against your chest and your cheeks turn brighter than his own.

His smell fills you with a comforting ,homely feeling and you just hope he never lets go of the hug.

Remember when you said that Chan looked really good in a polo t-shirt and you thought it couldn't get any better? Well you take your words back now.

Your hands go limp by your sides when you see Chan walk out of his room , as you stare at him from the small crack of the door of your room. He looks ethereal. He wears a black suit with a pink, silky shirt inside paired with his locket and his watch. Nothing too fancy and yet you feel your knees growing weak below you.

You suck in a deep breath,looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to gather enough confidence to walk and face him. You wear a pink net shirt with black palazzo pants, accessorized with silver earrings and a rose gold ring on your thumb.

"Okay, come on ,y/n." you encourage yourself, your heart beating fast.

You had not really expected him to drop his jaw on the floor the moment he sees you but he did and it makes your heart flutter and cheeks red.

He offers you his hand, "You look gorgeous ,my lady."

And you slip your hand in his ," So do you ,your majesty."

The wedding venue is not really far from your apartment so it takes only about 30 minutes for you to reach there.

And rest assured, you both had turned all the heads in the wedding that night. Wide eyes and gaping mouths and silent whispers of jealousy, you noticed them all. You felt a little bad for stealing the spotlight from the bride and groom but you secretly wanted to show Chan off too.

"Attention grabbers." Minho had teased you during the wedding ceremony as the bride and groom took their vows , earning a pinch from you in reply.

The rest of the evening goes by smoothly and before you even realize it, Jisung pulls you and Chan to the dance floor when a slow,romantic song comes up.

"Uh. I don't know how to dance." You admit shyly as Chan offers you his hand.

He chuckles and you notice how deep his dimples really are this up close.

"I can so don't worry about it. Just trust me. " he says, his eyes scanning your face

Smiling, you take his hand and put your other hand on his shoulder while he drapes an arm around your waist and pulls you closer. He indeed is a good dancer because soon you find yourself gliding around the dance floor effortlessly, flowing with the music and drowning in Chan's intoxicating eyes.

"This isn't so bad though." You comment when the lights are turned low and you see all the couples around you in their own bubble,doing their own thing, just grooving to the soft music ," I could get used to it."

Chan pulls both your arms and wraps them around his neck ,his hands finding a comfortable place around your waist.

"You should come to Underland some day. We could dance there all night. No one would disturb us." he whispers back,moving your bodies gently to the music.

Your smile fades , " I wish I could,Chan. I desperately do. "

He looks into your eyes and leans in closer, making your heart thump fast. Faster than it ever has.

"You can. You can come and go whenever you want, I promise you. " he says.

You nod at his efforts of making you feel better but you know that when he finally goes back to Underland, your heartache would be inevitable. You are so deeply ,madly and truly in love with the man in front of you that you will not be able stand a day without his warm presence in your otherwise dark and cold house. His absence would absolutely destroy you so you simply bury your face in the crook of his neck , breathing in his smell , enjoying his hands on you and sketching this moment in your mind forever.

"I'm going to miss you when you leave." you mutter in a silent voice as he runs his fingers through your hair , "Don't go,Chan."

You don't know why you're suddenly getting so emotional about him leaving when you always knew it would happen some day.

"Then come with me ,y/n." He whispers into your ears.

You pull away just enough to look into his eyes and then shift your gaze to his oh-so kissable , plump lips that you'd spent so many nights dreaming about.

Is this the right thing to do?

You no longer care.

He leans in first ,pulling your body towards him and softly yet hastily pressing his lips against yours.

Oh the bliss of having to kiss the man you've longed for since forever.

You're not even surprised when his lips fit perfectly in between yours as your whole body turns warm under his touch , like it had been waiting for him for a long time. And when you hold his cheek to control the pace of the kiss , you realise how much this means to him. How much you mean to him.

"I love you, Chan." You whisper after he pulls away, resting his forehead on yours.

He grins," I love you ,too."

The wedding ends shortly after but you guys stay back to wait for Minho and Jisung while they bid farewell to all of Jisung 's family and relatives.

"Be quick. " you tell Chan when he rushes into the boys washroom while you wait outside, your mind still replaying the intimate moment you had on the dance floor ( and Minho and Jisung teasing you about it later on). You shake your head ,smiling like an idiot.

Your beautiful thoughts are interrupted when someone- a tall ,muscular man wearing a peculiar red tuxedo - walks past you, bumping his arm harshly onto yours.

"Ow,dude,what the fuck?" You wince ,rubbing your arm as the arrogant asshole walks into the bathroom, "Piece of shit." You say when he doesn't even bother looking back at you.

You are about to go back to reminiscing your kiss with Chan but you hear a Chan yelling from the bathroom, his voice is as crisp and clear as the air in the mountains.

Your whole body goes cold.

"Get away from me !" You hear him yell and before you could stop yourself ,you feel your feet running into bathroom , pushing past the main door that clearly reads 'Male'.

"Chan? What's wrong?" You ask, your voice laced with urgency and adrenaline pumping through your blood.

What you see inside is something you'd never expected to see before but you were in love with a man who came from a place you didn't even know existed so this doesn't come as a big surprise to you. If Chan weren't in immediate danger, you might as well have been fascinated by it.

You see - Chan crouching on the floor , blood running from his nose and his hands covering his eyes , as if he's hiding. You see - the red tall asshole leaning against the wall, staring at Chan. You see - three very peculiar creatures surrounding Chan , shaped like the rummy cards with spades, diamonds and whatnot drawn on them and holding spears in what you assume to be their arms.

You almost regret coming in when all of them look at you with wide ,surprised eyes.

"Y/n! What are you doing here?" Chan gets up and walks toward you ,his lips quivering with fear.

The card creatures walk toward you,their spears pointed toward you as they growl something under their breath. You back away slowly.

"Hey! Stop it! She has nothing to do with it. Don't attack her." Chan yells at those things and thankfully ,they listen. They turn around and stand beside the asshole in the red suit.

Chan runs over you , tears starting to form in his eyes, "You shouldn't be here , y/n. Go back,now!"

You look into his eyes , your heart breaking at the sight of seeing him so in pain ,so vulnerable. It's like you're hurt ,too.

"D-did they do t-this to you?" You ask,pointing at his nose.

He blinks for a second then nods with a sigh ," That's why I'm telling you to leave ,okay? Y/n, sweetheart, please leave.Now." His voice is basically begging you and all you can do is stare at him and the others with horror.

"They found you. The Red Queen found you." You mutter to him,as he holds you by your shoulders.

"I'm so sorry ,y/n. I really thought...we had time. I really did. " his voice cracks as more tears stream down his face.

"We don't have all day long , Chan. Your future wife and her mother have been waiting for a long time." The man in red says sarcastically, "You've kept them waiting long enough."

You glare at the man then turn to Chan, who's a sobbing mess by now.

"They're going to get you married?"

The man in red scoffs, " He should be lucky if that's all they do. And knowing the Queen , she is very angry with him. He will not have it easy."

"Will they...execute him?" You ask ,running your hands over his face ,rubbing the mixture of blood and tears. Your heart shatters.

"No, the young princess is very fond of him actually. They will get married after he serves his punishment."

You see Chan wince in your arms as you pull him up in a crushing embrace. Probably the last one ever.

"I can call Minho and Jisung. They could easily take care of these bastards." You whisper into his hair, blinking tears away.

He clutches into you as if you were the only thing keeping him completely losing his mind.

He shakes his head, " No, don't, please. I cannot let more people get involved with me."

You pull away from the hug, just like you had on the dance floor, but it's different this time - more painful .

"Is there anything I can do...to stop this." You ask again ,desperate to not part from the man you've grown to love so bad.

He kisses your forehead,then holds your face in his hands. "I do not want any harm befalling you ,or your brother and Jisung or Felix or anyone of my friends in Underland, which is why I have to go and face my faith. I'm so sorry ,my love."

You let the tears flow.

Why was the Universe so unfair to people who deserved to be happy together? Why did the universe always favour those who mean ill to others?

"I love you ,Chan , remember that. " you say , " I always will."

He smiles through his tears, "and so will I. Always. I don't care if I am married or you are married or whatever, you're my princess till the end of Earth and till the end of Underland."

The asshole in red clears his throat, glaring at the two of you. Chan pulls away from the embrace and walks back to where he was originally when you came in.

You see all of them taking turns to drink from a vial with a purple liquid in it.

"Farewell,my lady." Chan whispers as a tear drop rolls down his face and falls on the floor with a soft splat. And in the blink of an , he is gone ,leaving behind nothing but a puff of golden smoke and his tear drop on the floor.

That's when you realise how real all of this is. And realise why exactly you didn't like the story of Alice in Wonderland as a child - its because the story is not a typical fairytale where the prince ends up marrying the princess, and because some day or the other, Alice had to leave everyone behind and come back to her real world.

You feel like it's been an eternity since you have been walking through the crowd of people in the wedding , people looking at you with disgust and fear, while you look for your brother or Jisung.

You enter the main hall and scan the room , sniffing away your tears and rubbing your bloody hands on your shirt.

You are a mess.

Finally ,you spot Minho in the far corner of the room ,speaking with a few guests with Jisung by his side. You sigh in relief but your body responds in the form of sobs.

You rush towards him and pull him by the end of his shirt, "M-Minho."

Jisung and Minho turn around ,their eyes widen at your crying, shivering , bloody sight .

Jisung immediately wraps his coat around you.

"Hey,what happened?" Minho demands as he pulls you in a hug ,and you sob into his neck, " Where's Chan?"

You feel Jisung rub your back soothingly.

"T-they got him ,Min. They took him and they punched his nose and it was all bloody and horrible and he was crying. Those things were so scary and ..." you say in between sobs, "..they'll punish him for running away and then marry him off, Min. I couldn't protect him."

"Who is them, y/n ?" Minho ask, rubbing your tears with his thumb.

"The Red Knights."

Jisung and Minho share a look of confusion with each other but they don't push you to explain your words.

"Okay,let's go home. We can talk there okay? Nothing will happen to Chan. We'll save him."Jisung says .

You shake your head , "No, we can't go home. We have to go to Felix. He's the only one who knows what to do. You guys can't save Chan without magic."

They want to believe you and whatever you say and they're worried about Chan too ,afterall both of them were so fond of him but they find your words rather hard to digest.

Nevertheless, your brother drives you to Felix's house.

His house once made you feel happy and complete but now it makes you feel horrible, like the freezing cold sensation you experience when you play out in the snow for too long.

And as you sit around his dining table , telling him about the incident and then him further explaining the whole story of you and Chan to Your brother and Jisung , you feel horribly empty.

"I'm so sorry ,Felix. I should have done something. I should have called out for help but I was so...scared. " you say , Tracy rubbing your back in comfort.

"Its not you fault, Y/n. Those knights are scary and the red man you talked about, he is the Queen's personal guard." Felix says ,"You're lucky he didn't do anything bad to you."

Jisung stares him blankly.

Minho paces up and down the room , his face twisted in confusion, " So you're telling me that the stupid story of 'Alice in Wonderland ' is true and Chan is from that place and you too?"

Felix hums in response.

"Bloody hell ", Jisung murmurs under his breath then adds , " so how do we go to that place and find him? I mean how do things work there?"

"Oh uh,no, we are not going anywhere. I will go . You are staying at home ,safe and secure!" Minho says to Jisung.

You frown in confusion.

"Wait, you believe it? You don't think we're all mad?" You ask.

They shake their heads.

"I trust you , y/n. You may be a pain in the ass and a crybaby but you aren't stupid or mad,as a matter of fact. We believe you ,of course." Minho shrugs.

You don't know if he's poking fun at you or if he actually believes you, but knowing Minho ,he rarely ever jokes around in situations like this.

"But how can we save Chan from there? Do we challenge the Queen and her claim on the throne or what? " you ask Felix.

Felix sighs , " It's not going to be easy . At all. That woman is dangerous...crazy even. She killed off Chan 's entire family , you think it'd be that easy to save him from her?"

There is genuine hatred and disgust in his voice when he speaks of the Queen. You'd only ever seen the portrayal of the First Red Queen in the movies and that woman was enough to piss you off . You couldn't imagine how someone from the same family tree could possibly get any worse.

"What are our options?" You ask ,tapping your fingers against your leg, a habit you'd picked up from Chan. You didn't realise it until just now.

"We cannot defeat her with physical power so dueling challenges and other such things are cut out. So that leaves us with either breaking him out from prison or being witty enough to fool the Stupid Red Head into letting him go " , He says . " and mind you, the Queen is very easy to fool because she's very ,very dumb but her daughter aren't. So we need a full plan to get him out."

You nod in agreement.

"Might I suggest something," Minho chimes in after giving much thought on whether he should speak up or not.

"Yes,please, of course." Felix replies.

"I think that the more important thing right now is to go to Wonderland - I mean, Underland- and as you mentioned earlier, talk to your friends and family. We can make a plan after we reach but first we need to know the severity of the situation there. "

Minho has always been smart but you don't want to admit it out loud - not in the presence of other people at least .

"Fine , yes. We must leave soon," Felix turns to Tracy , "Tracy, sweetheart, you will have to stay here and look over the shop . Jisung ,as Minho said,will stay back too. We don't know how long it will take but I promise I will be back."

And with that , you leave the two couples alone to bid their goodbyes and walk out to the porch, breathing in the cool night air.

"I promise I'll find you , Chan. I will find you and save you." you mutter into the air.

Funny things love makes one do.

The vial with the purple liquid feels cold in your hands as you uncork it .

"Do I pour it all in?" You ask nervously.

Felix stands on your left while Minho on your right, both of them holding the same vial in their hands.

"It doesn't matter. Just a drop does the work too." Felix shrugs.

You see him pour all the contents of the vial into his throat and then squint his eyes at the taste.

Minho and you share a look before doing the same.

And then your vision is fogged with a golden puff of smoke as you feel your body falling down a long, neverending , bottomless hole.

You've only ever heard about Underland from Chan and Felix ,and only ever seen this place through their eyes ,but now that you're actually here , it feels surreal, if you put it subtly.

The crisp and fresh air in the Enchanted forest runs chill down your spine and you hop over wood logs and thorny bushes with continuously moving leaves. Minho stays close to you, his hand never leaving your arm while his eyes try to absorb his surroundings.

Felix walks in front of you two , not wavered by the scene in front of him. And why would he be anyway,this was his home ,his domain.

"W-where are we,Felix?" You ask in a soft voice .

"We're in The Tulgey Wood . We're going to my house." He replies with a slight nostalgic tone.

The Enchanted Forest is so breathtakingly beautiful that it almost feels unreal to be walking right through it. The purple sky above you ,the rustling leaves around you , the trees that seem to follow your every movement and flowers that seem to have actual eyes, everything welcomes you rather warmly although you have a feeling you are yet to see the crazy side of this place.

"Well , I had expected you a little earlier, Felix." A sharp voice says from somewhere within the bushes, startling you and Minho and he jumps in front of you ,as if to protect you.

"What's that?" Minho asks,unable to mask his own fearful eyes.

Felix chuckles , " Don't be scared. This is my friend ,the White Rabbit. "

You hear shuffling sounds from the bushes and out comes the most cuddly looking rabbit you've seen in your whole life, hopping on his back limbs and wearing a waistcoat and carrying a stopwatch.

A waistcoat and a stopwatch....

Minho stares at the creature with awe while you bend over to take a closer look at it.

"Hey ,young lady ,back off!" The rabbit threatens you , squinting his eyes at you. And you immediately step back, blinking your eyes nervously.

"It's alright, she's our friend. Chan knows her too. " Felix says, crouching down to pat him , "This is y/n and her brother ,Minho. They're here to help."

At the mention of Chan's name , The Rabbit's eyes widen and he slumps down into Felix's arms and starts sobbing.

"Oh,my dear Felix , I'm afraid of what has become of The Prince. When we heard that the Knights brought him back , we were all so ...lost." he says as Felix cuddles him in his arms, "Dormouse and Cheshire have sneaked out from their duties of the Queen and gone to visit him . They say he looks scared to death. The Queen out him in a prison. With murderers and thieves and whatnot."

Your whole body goes limp at his words, your annoyingly vivid imagination creating those pictures in your head. You blink your tears away.

"How can we save him?" You ask in croaked voice.

The rabbit looks at you sadly , " Let's go to the girls first. They can help you."

"Who is he talking about?" Minho asks.

"My sisters," Felix replies , leading the way deeper into forest , "Come on, we're almost home."

The Hatters' live on a clear patch of land in Tulgey Wood , surrounded by trees for as long as the eyes could reach , in a huge house beautifully built like a Victorian top hat.

You were breath taken. And so was Minho because you could literally feel him hold his breath as you guys enter the house.

"Oh ,my gods , is that you Felix?" A high pitched female voice thunders from above you ,while you stand in what looks like the Study of the house. Your hands brush over a brown diary kept on the desk and the pot of ink sitting beside it. ' Medicinal Documentation ' the diary reads.

"Yes, it seems so. " Felix replies with a grin.

Your eyes fall on the steep spiral stairs in front of you that go up to the other floors of the house and you see two girls jogging down the stairs, big smiles plastered on their faces yet the sadness in their eyes cannot be hidden.

They are a tad bit shorter than you are , and they must not age more than Minho and as they jump on Felix ,squealing with excitement, one can almost immediately see the resemblance in the siblings' appearance ; bright orange hair , toothy smiles, and big ,sparkly eyes .

"And who might these lovely people be?" The shorter of the two girls asks ,as the white rabbit clings onto her long skirt.

"Oh,this is y/n and her brother Minho. They know Chan and want to help him." Felix introduces, " Y/n , Minho meet my sisters - Sana and Momo."

"Of course..miss y/n. We've heard about you." Sana ,the taller one ,walks up to you and bows her head lightly, "We're so grateful for what you're doing for the Prince, sweet one, we really are."

If Felix, Momo , Sana , Chan and the annoying ( but cute) rabbit were put in a Shakespearean play together , it would be a massive hit. Their accents are so good and elegant and graceful that you wish you could learn it too.

You smile at the compliment , "Please don't thank me. I haven't saved him yet. "

"Oh, enough of these formal courtesies, " the shorter girl, Momo , holds your arm and leads you up the stairs, "How about we talk over tea?"

The group reaches the top most floor of the house ,overlooking the beautiful forest through the window as you are made to sit around a long table .

Sana and Mina serve you a cup of tea while the White Rabbit passes you some freshly baked cookies.

"Wow,this...this tea is wonderful." Minho compliments when he takes a sip from his China cup , "Is this what Chan used to make for you ,y/n?"

You nod, as those memories dance around behind your eyes , " He was very good with it."

"Oh he always has been good at everything, I tell you ," Momo starts , " Sword fights ,archery, horse riding ,poetry , cooking, too bad a prince like him had to live with mere Hatters like ourselves."

"Hey,we weren't always this poor. " Sana adds, "This is all the Second Red Queen's doing, gods curse her!"

You scowl , " What do you mean? I thought she only harmed Chan's family . "

Sana let's out a woeful sigh while Momo and Felix look at each other with sorry eyes.

"I wish she'd only done that ,truth be told." Sana says.

"Yes, but instead she ruined everyone's lives who ever crossed paths with her." Momo says, "Our father was the Royal Hatter for Chan's family - the White Queen's descendants. And our mother was the Royal Physician . We lived a happy life , living in a big house near the palace in Marmoreal . "

"Marmoreal was the Summer Palace for the Royal family ,not very far from the capital town of Witzend. One such summer , when Prince Chan was only a year and a half old ,the banished heir of the Evil First Red Queen arrived in Marmoreal and her Knights butchered the royal family and killed every living creature in sight. Her dragons set fire to our house and the palace and the nearby villages. It was...horrible , to say the least. Only a few people survived , which included our family and the Young Prince. The Queen commanded us to take the infant away and never show up in front of her again and so we did - for a long time." Momo then looks over at Sana ,signalling her to continue telling the story.

"But that was until the Queen's only daughter - Princess Scarlet's 18th birthday celebration. We had gone to the parade fair in Witzend, just near the Queen's castle. No one knew us properly or Chan so we were safe. But the Princess saw Chan and fell in love with him...madly. She pursued him every chance she got and when she couldn't succeed , she used her mother's powers to force an alliance. Her mother was hesitant at first, given her history with Chan's family but then she too decided to force him into this alliance for her political good. And initially , Chan had to comply. But on the day of their wedding announcement, he escaped into your world."

"Through my rabbit hole,if I may add." The White Rabbit mumbles. You purse your lips, letting the story in slowly , word by word ,letter by letter. And when the realization sinks in,you purse your lips to stop yourself from crying.

"And I couldn't protect him. I am responsible for what happens to him." You whisper.

Everyone looks at you with disbelief.

"Hey, no! That is not true!" Felix says,almost angry ," You're the reason he was safe and happy for all those months. If not , if he were with me or worse,alone, he wouldn't last a week out there. You saved him, y/n."

"It's true, y/n. Our friends work in the Queen's royal kitchen and they've met Chan a few times in the prison - he only ever asks about a woman named y/n." Sana says.

Your heart drops into the deepest pits of your stomach. You didn't know what love really meant until you met him and although a stranger, in an unknown place , he still trusted you, believed you , cared for you , loved you.

You have to save him.

"Okay , anyone has any plans? Any ideas?" You ask ,after composing yourself.

"I don't have one but I really want to suggest we move this meeting to the medicinal garden in the backyard. That place helps me think. " The White Rabbit offers,scratching his fluffy ears.

As if something in your brain suddenly clicks , like a gear falling into place in a machine; Your eyes widen as you slam your hand on the table.

Everyone jumps up , startled.

"What's wrong ?"

You look over at the Rabbit and pat his head , "You are a genius."

"Huh?"

"You said your friends work for the Queen ,right?"

"Yes?"

You drag your chair away from the table, jumping to your feet ," I have a brilliant idea."

When the next morning arrives , you find yourself walking to the town of Witzend with The White Rabbit , Minho , Felix and his sisters by your side.

"Here,y/n, take this," Momo gives you something just before you enter the castle of the Red Queen. "You'll need it."

You gaze carefully at the shining vial in your palm.

"You know when to use it." She says.

You nod.

The Red Queen that you remember from the movies and the few excerpts from the original book of Alice in Wonderland that you'd only ever read once, you had expected her descendant to look a certain way too - big ,swollen head , scary eyes , loud voice.

But the woman sitting on the throne directly in front of you is definitely not what you had expected. At all. The Queen is a small woman ; and by small you don't mean skinny and short - she's literally small. She must not be more than three feet in height , you assume , but her features and face is that of a fully grown adult in her 40s. A human being who'd suddenly shrunk ( proportionally) like a raisin.

You wonder how someone so small could hold so much evil in themselves.

"Your majesty, " you bow down to her and so do the people standing beside you , scared yet worried for Chan. "It's nice to finally see you again."

You see a familiar gaze behind the throne, and you immediately recognize him - the Queen's personal guard - the asshole who had punched Chan bloody.

He smirks at you.

You curl your hands into fists.

"Yes? And what is it that you want from me?" The Queen asks, not really caring about the matter at hand. She picks at her cuticles while chewing her bottom lip.

Hesitant, you look at Felix asking for help.

Behind you , you could hear murmurs from the people waiting in line for their turn to put forward their complaint in front of the Queen.

"Your majesty, this is Miss y/n. She's come a long way from home to see you." Felix says ,his voice as gentle as the wind on a winter morning.

The Queen rolls her eyes, running her small hand through her red hair , " What can I do for you?"

That's the fakest thing you'd heard all day.

You clear your throat and pick up all your courage to speak, "I want your help to look for the man I love, your majesty. He's ...missing and possibly hurt I believe. "

" Why are you here instead of asking the Police to help you?" The Queen demands.

"Oh,because I'm afraid you're the one who has him."

The Queen stops picking at her cuticles, and raises her head to stare at you with her small , googly yet intimidating eyes. You realise now why the people were so afraid of her - the Evil curve of her lips and her deadly stare are enough to make you want to drop everything and run back home.

"What do you mean ,young lady?" The Queen asks, her interest now focused on your words.

A collective gasp runs through the throne room , starting from the citizens, then passing on to the Queen's staff and her card shaped Knights. They seem surprised at the Queen actually showing an interest in something for the first time.

"I'm talking about Prince Chan, your majesty." You say.

The Queen's eyes widen as you hear the room fill with murmurs and gasps and silent cries. How long had it been since a person dared to even mention Chan in front of the Queen?

"Mother,what is this woman talking about?!" You hear a loud shriek from somewhere beside the Queen .

And only when you squint your eyes hard enough can you actually see her ; the Princess of Underland who was hilariously so small (even smaller than her mother ) that you almost wanted to giggle. Now don't get me wrong, you weren't body shaming her or anything , but you'd never seen a person so terribly small in your entire life until now. You could only imagine what it would look like if Chan happens to marry her for real one day.

"Don't worry daughter , " the Queen gets up from her seat and walks up toward you, her guard close behind her , " Chan is only yours. No one else's."

Just when you're about to respond , you see two huge fishes - almost as tall as you - twirl up to the Queen and offer her a cup.

You'd never expected to see actual, living fishes out of water or wear clothes or hold trays and bowls or walk on their tails, but here you are .

"Wrong timing ,idiots!" The Queen screams her face red with anger yet she snatches the cup from the tray and gulps down all it's contents at one go.

What a peculiar woman.

"Go away now." The red asshole growls at the poor fish as they rush away from the scene.

You smile at the Queen as she stands in front of you , not even reaching your knees properly .

"You,girl, what do you want?" She demands.

You feel Minho wrap a reassuring arm around you , eyeing the woman in front of you with a hatred filled gaze. Felix stands close by your side.

"I want Chan to be released from prison , and be given his rightful throne back . That's all." You say.

The Queen scoffs , "His weak and worthless dynasty ruled over this excuse of a country and the useless people for years. I am only trying to make things better."

You can feel the disapproval of the citizens around you at being called useless.

"And? Do your people think you're doing a good job?" Felix asks.

You see numerous heads shake in a negative response,and you can slowly feel the tension in the room rising.

The Queen points her left forefinger at you while the other hand is on her waist , " You want the truth , peasant girl? So here it is - I do not care about anyone . I care nothing of this country and its citizens and its creatures. None of my ancestors ever had. We just like to sit on that extremely uncomfortable throne and enjoy the money and power we get from controlling these worthless citizens. Oh and I wish I could relive the screams of The White Royal family as I killed them. One by one."

The Queen gasps in realization of what she'd just said while the room falls completely silent for a second before the princess yelps , "Mother ,what is the matter with you?!"

The princess looks horrified as she runs up to her equally horrified mother.

You smirk - the plan of pouring in the truth potion in the Queen's tea had taken so less effort , thanks to the sweet Dormouse and benevolent Cheshire Cat and Felix's mother's medicine diary.

"Oh I hope you burn in hell . A whiny, good for nothing girl. You can't even fight your own fights without dragging me in. And as far as Chan is concerned , I don't care about you marrying him. I only wanted to secure my claim over the throne by forming an alliance with a person with actual rights to this kingdom." The Queen clamps a hand over her mouth, stumbling back from the shock.

The princess let's go off her mother,betrayal clear in his eyes.

"So you admit to your crimes?"

"Yes." The truth comes out as natural as those lies she'd fed the citizens and the princess and her servants and the Knights for years.

From the corner of your eyes , you see The Princess trying to sneak past everyone and run out of the throne room , guilty of her own wrong doings but Felix stops her with a firm grip on her tiny hand , "Where do you think you're going, little one? Didn't you threaten to kill my whole family if we didn't hand Chan over to you?"

The Red Knights close in to capture the Queen and her personal guard in their unbreakable grasp , giving up their oaths of protecting the Queen - their duty is only to serve Chan from now on.

Sana steps in now , turning to address the people who are witnessing this unusual incident, "My fellow lovely countrymen, as you can see right before your eyes and hear through your own ears , your Queen has intended nothing but to harm you and our kingdom for all these years. She means no good and never will - the true heir to the throne now lies injured and chained in her dungeons. What do you suggest we do?"

"Behead her!" "Free the Prince!" "Finish off the Reds!" "Be done with her guard too ." "Crown Prince Chan."

The room thunders with all sorts of suggestions and you make an eye contact with the White Rabbit ,who nods at you and you nod back ,smiling from ear to ear.

You've done it , he wants to say , you've freed The Prince.

The rooms in the castle were beautifully designed, but were in a terrible condition since most of the rooms were never used really and the Queen didn't feel it was important to get them cleaned regularly.

You had asked the White Rabbit to find some servants to get one of the rooms quickly prepped as the Red Knights carried Chan from the prison and into the castle - his birth home. Sana and Momo cleaned his wounds the moment he was laid down on the soft bed, changing his clothes and then softly pulling the covers over his body to keep him warm while he rests.

The White Rabbit brings you an apple but you don't eat it - you just sit by Chan's side ,praying desperately that he wakes up soon. You wouldn't be able to swallow a single grain of food until then.

You run your fingers softly over his arm ,drawing random patterns and spelling out your names on it.

"Please wake up ,Chan." You say in a whisper , scanning his calm yet beautiful facial features. "I found you ,Chan. I am here."

Your fingers find their way to his and naturally as ever ,wrap themselves around them.

Suddenly, Chan stirs in his position , a low groan leaving his parted lips. You stare wide eyed at him as he slowly opens his eyes, your hands still tightly intertwined.

"C-chan?"

He turns his head toward you , a lazy smile dancing on his lips and his eyes focusing on your face , which he'd yearned to see every second he spent in that horribly dark dungeon.

"Are you really here, y/n? Or am I finally going mad?" He asks you.

You lean in closer ,brushing a few strands of hair from his face.

"You're only as mad as the rest of us." You reply, "Welcome home ,your majesty."

Groggy and weak ,Chan pushes himself up in a seating position. "How did you deal with the Queen? Where is she? " He takes your face in his hands , "Did she hurt you?"

"She couldn't lay a single finger on me. And now she's locked up in the same dungeon as you were. She'll be given to the slave trader soon ,along with her daughter." You say. "Who knew a simple medicine and a few good friends could be enough to defeat a tyrant ?"

He giggles , pressing his forehead on yours. "Did you meet everyone else ? Momo? Sana? My friends?"

You nod with a grin. You'd come to adore his friends and family so deeply in a single day. You would hate to part from them.

"Thank you, y/n. I owe you everything. " he sighs, his breath fanning your face , "I love you so much I think it's going to drive me crazy!"

You chuckle at his cheesy words , "You're welcome. But I need compensation for all of this. An ' I love you ' is not enough."

You were joking ; hearing him confess his sincere love for you is more than enough but you liked playing with him. He looks very cute when flustered.

"Then what would the pretty lady desire?"

"You."

He shakes his head , leaning down to capture your lips in his plump ones.

This kiss was even better than the first one that you guys shared on the dance floor , mostly because you know now that even if he's taken away from you or you are taken away from him , you'll always find each other , in every world , in every universe. He pulls you up on his lap despite him being injured , and you let him.

You put your hand around his neck, pulling him closer and closer and closer . At one point ,you could no longer tell who he is or who you were. The only thing that mattered was that you loved him so much , you could deal with a hundred Red Queens for him. And you know he'd do the same for you.

"I have one last favour to ask of you ,my love." He whispers against your lips ,pulling away from the kiss. His red cheeks and sparkly eyes are a sight to behold ," I want you to stay here with me. Please."

You grin , knowing he'd say this and you were well prepared for it. Convincing Minho to let you stay was so much easier than you had expected really. All he did was shrug with a smirk and say, " Just don't get pregnant." In reality, all Minho really wanted was for you to be happy and healthy and he knew living here with Chan would make you the happiest.

"On three conditions." You reply to Chan ,who is staring at you like he'd seen a human like you for the first time.

"Okay. What are those?" He brushes your cheeks with his thumb.

"I can visit home whenever I want."

"Agreed, obviously. You're not a prisoner, y /n."

"Then I also want to put up a small shop of my own in the main market square. I will not be wasting my time on stupid politics- that's your job."

"Agreed. I will help you with it whenever I can. What's the last condition?"

You smirk and lean your face closer to his. "Kiss me one more time."

And he does.

You smile into the kiss , wondering now that ' Alice in Wonderland ' might not have been that bad after all. She had a choice to stay or go back and she chose the latter. You had the same choices too , but you chose to stay. It wasn't about a happy or a sad ending ,after all. It was about the choices.

And as Chan holds your waist firmly, deepening the kiss , you know you've made the right choice too.

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