#go to the remote streets and see how people actually live

[yesyoutubeisruiningmylife]

there's just something about people romanticizing travelling to europe that rubs me the wrong way

#i get it its pretty #but show the shitty parts as well #go to the remote streets and see how people actually live #dont buy the overpriced food with a view that is meant for tourists to empty their wallets #yes the buildings are wonderful but they also have a history that barely anyone cares about #idk maybe its just the influencers who are trying to convince themselves and others of something that doesnt actually exist #i can guarantee you that not every french person buys a fresh croissant in the morning #nor does any italian eat pizza every day #anyways i forgot what this post was about #i just want europe (and most importantly each country) be appreciated for what it is and not their idealized versions #im having thoughts this has been building up #random

[catscidr]

// taking care of your dogboy (hsr edition!) //

i. note — sry i havent been posting yall i got a job + ive been working on three cosplays at the same time bc my local con is coming up lmao (´ཀ`」 ∠) however the brainrot never stops. it only takes a break. a little break of approximatively. a month. ish. ......... anyways dog hybrid hsr boys brainrot !!! lmk if we want more of this with more boys •ᴗ• comments and asks are appreciated hehe ii. includes — blade, gepard, boothill and gn!reader iii. cw — slice of life stuff turning into smut, possessive behaviour, overstim, slight dom/sub dynamics, real messy stuff, manhandling. use of the word "hole" to keep reader gender neutral iv. wc — 1,9k

blade is a mutt riddled in scars and dirty bandages from living on the streets and fighting to survive.

you think he might be some german shepherd mix, but he refuses to let you swab his teeth n gums for a dna test (last time you tried you narrowly avoided a punch to the face. he apologized in his own way afterwards), so whenever people ask, just say he’s a rescue to avoid revealing that you actually just… don’t really know what breed he is. they usually drop the subject and simply go on their merry way, seeing as he wasn’t the type of pup to appreciate affection from strangers anyways– it’s rare for you to leave the house in the first place, though.

you had to switch to a remote job because blade is just so persistent when it comes to you. although possessive is a much better descriptor, because he doesn’t let anyone near you. whenever you leave to get groceries he ends up practically breathing down your neck from how close he gets— acting as if he were your literal shadow— glaring at everyone that gets too close to you. you’ve made it a habit to always go to self-checkout lane so blade doesn’t scare off the cashiers.

the second you get home he’s all over you, determined to rid you of that outside stench and replace it with his own. you started packing your grocery bags in a way that nothing will break if (read: when) you suddenly drop them on the floor, all because you’re so familiar with blade’s impatience.

he holds you still by engulfing your body with his, knees caging your hips as he grinds into you, shallow and deep. blade’s growls and huffs fill your ears just as much as his cock fills your hole, his knot kissing your tightness from the outside.

“do you like this? like how i have to fuck you every time you decide to go outside again when you could stay here,” with me blade omits, his tail swishing back and forth on the bedsheets behind him, the sound just barely grounding you to reality.

your grocery bags were long forgotten on the foor (as they usually are), your mind too foggy to function. clawing at the sheets, you try to crawl away from blade’s grip— to no avail.

he tuts, craning his head to bite down onto the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. “i might just need to mark you for extra precaution,” he bucks into you, knocking the air out of your lungs. you hear squelching, the constant plap! plap! plap! from his thighs smacking against your ass and whine, broken babbles leaving your kiss-bruised lips.

“b-blade, y’can’t- ah,” he shushes you by plugging you full of his lengthy cock, his knot almost threatening to press inside of you. you whimper, feeling lightheaded from a mix of both nervousness and arousal.

he soothes the hickey he left on your neck, licking it languidly as he stills to bask into the way your hole throbs around him. warm and tight and oh so tempting.

“shit, wanna fill you. wanna… have everyone know they can’t have you. you’re mine, mine to love ‘n mine to fuck,” you’re not lucid enough to process his thinly veiled confession, too busy writhing your ass back against him in a feeble attempt to get him to continue moving.

you might want to invest into some good concealer or into those skin coloured tattoo patches to cover the bruises and bite marks blade’ll leave on you if you want to continue being a functioning member of society. you can’t really be walking around in public as if a dog had just mauled you right before you left the house, can you?

gepard is a golden retriever because of COURSE he is. similarly to blade, he likes to invade your personal space a lot— not because he’s possessive, but because he’s extremely protective of you.

the random bruises you used to randomly notice on your body faded as soon as he came into your life. gepard’s soft, lingering touches healed them; gently placing a hand on your hip before you bump into sharp furniture so it doesn’t hit you, redirecting your head to his shoulder as you nod-off in the train before you bang your head, and so on.

it’s a full-time job and he’s working 24/7, always on the lookout for anything that could possibly hurt you as you saunter off… wherever, without a care in the world— because he took care of everything!

he would clean the apartment for you, cook (though you usually insist you do the cooking; a human doesn’t have the same taste in food as a hybrid), and even act as your own personal alarm clock. gone were the days of being woken up by loud, blaring beeping. gepard woke you up with forehead kisses instead, making your mornings much more pleasant.

but poor geppie, he’s always taking care of you; so take care of him, won’t you?

every so often you’ll sit in his lap to help him get rid of whatever stress he held in his body. your hands will knead at the muscles in his broad shoulders, all while you simultaneously kiss away the strain in his face. his brows are furrowed as you do your best to soothe his muscles; you never forget to smooch his cheek, nose and the corner of his lips.

though the attention and gentle acts of affection always ends with your hands lower than they should be.

“ah ah, no touching, remember?” you murmur in his ear playfully. you had been at it for what felt like hours; gepard’s cock and abdomen was smeared with the remnants of his cum, skin tacky from his previous loads. your hand shows no sign of stopping, not even when he begged oh so sweetly.

“c-come onn. just… jus’ wanna kiss…” and who were you to deny your sweet boy? your lips find his in a heartbeat, his tongue swiping over your own sloppily as he breathes you in like a depraved man.

the only condition you had when you did this was for him to keep his hands to himself— at least until you both decide to move on to something else. until then, his fists clench the sheets beneath the both of you, and his ears stay flat on his fluffy head.

“i’m… i’m close again, g- aah, please, please…!” he begs, cock weeping precum as you continuously jerk him off. you smile, absentmindedly rocking your hips to the rhythm you held him prisoner to— gepard was too engulfed in the warmth of your hand to notice, anyways. “cum whenever you want sweet boy,” you purr, and he keens as he buries his face in your neck, his hips lifting off the bed ever so slightly as they meet your hand and he thrusts, riding the high of his orgasm.

sticky cum coats your hand for the nth time; you relent your grip on his cock for his sake, instead choosing to shower him with chaste kisses all over his face. gepard whines, taking ahold of your waist weakly as he breathes into the crook of your neck.

“geppie, your han-“ he cuts you off, swiftly switching positions so you’re now laying on your back as he hovers over you, chest rising and falling quickly, catching his breath from the intensity of his orgasm. gepard’s tail wags slowly behind him as his hands creep up from your waist to your chest just as slowly- you feel his cock harden against your pelvis, precum spilling from his pinky tip.

“‘ts my turn now,” he huffs, leaning down to nip at your neck.

boothill is the most obnoxious dalmatian hybrid you’ve ever seen (not that you’ve seen many, or at all). but he’s made your life so fun so you can’t be too mad at him

he’s always dragging you out of bed to go do something— could be going to the park nearby or sit in the living room playing video games on your dusty console, it doesn’t matter because he’ll MAKE you step out of your cozy nest!!

you’re glad he’s friendly, because you’re not sure how you would handle such an excited hybrid when you left the house. people come up to the both of you to chat and he indulges their questions, essentially leading the conversation (while you stand there awkwardly, not knowing what to say).

boothill is also great with kids, unexpectedly. 9 times out of 10 when you go to the park he ends up playing with someone’s child, bright smile on his face as he messes up their hair with a rough hand. they’ll throw a frisbee for him to go catch and he’ll do it happily, or he’ll even… teach them how to beat people up.

(you stare mortified as he teaches a little girl how to throw a proper punch only for her to then punch her parent when she leaves boothill’s side. you go up to them and apologize profusely, forcing boothill to bow with you.)

he also loves to help you out, even though he’s not the greatest at household chores— but he definitely tries! though he is a stellar cook, which never fails to surprise you whenever he’s on dinner duty. he just… really sucks at everything else.

it’s… mostly because he just has so much energy. he sweeps the floor? nope, he’s picking off the pieces of the broom off of the floor because he accidentally broke it. he’s fixing your bed? nuh uh, you’re throwing out the ruined bedsheets because he accidentally tore them to shreds somehow.

so, with all of these accidents happening because he’s just brimming with energy 24/7, you started purposely exhausting him. or, rather, gave him the green light to exhaust you until he tires himself out.

“booth-aah, w-wait, you’re being too…!” you fall over on top of his hard chest, keening at the new angle his cock reached inside of you. he repeated his assault on the spot that made you see stars as your jaw gaped, broken moans leaving your lips.

“don’t tell me y’re tapping out.. haa, already!” boothill grunts, his grip on your hips tightening. he throws his head back with a loud moan, abs tensing as he nears yet another climax— the 5th one of the night. maybe, maybe not. you lost count after the third one.

you bury your face into the crook of his neck, focusing on the feeling of his cock plugging you full instead of the soreness, the burn in your muscles that came from your knees holding you up on his lap.

watching you riding him will always be his favourite thing in the world, even if he always ends up fucking up into you and taking back control at the end of the night.

“gonna cu-uum…” you whine, clenching around his length almost painfully tightly, hearing his breathing hitch as an orgasm is ripped out of him in consequence to yours. boothill’s fingers dig into your ass, his hips lifting off the bed as he cums deep inside of your sloppy hole again, sticky fluid building up beneath the sheets.

you collapse on top of him fully, chest heaving against his own as you come back to your senses, slowly but surely. boothill’s ears perk up, hearing how your breathing had evening out.

“so… got another round in ya?”

#not proofread i just rambled sorry teehee #i wish i could say i had the time to think about writing stuff at work but im so busy that i rly cant #gotta keep the customer service grind Up #gotta Lock In when i tell ppl to have a nice day ykwimsayin #anyways i was in a dogboy mood. Clearly #eat up yall #honkai star rail smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #hsr x reader smut #hsr x reader #hsr x you #gepard x reader #blade x reader #boothill x reader #blade x reader smut #gepard x reader smut #boothill x reader smut #cw hybrids #tw hybrids

[clockwayswrites]

*writes 800+ words of Another Red but not the part I'm supposed to*

Jason breathed in the heavy clove scented smoke, taking comfort in it. He didn’t smoke often anymore, but if Bruce and Alfred hadn’t gotten him to stop, he didn’t think he ever would. Somethings were just too much part of a person. The smoke swirled up into the night air, caught in the constant breeze a harbor city like Gotham had.

“You don’t have to do this kid, put yourself in danger like this.”

“No, I do,” Rabbit bit out. Jason was pretty sure if he could see the kid’s teeth, they would be bared in a feral smile. “What I can’t do is let people get hurt when I can go and help them.”

“Yeah, and what about your safety? You could die.”

Rabbit laughed like that was some sort of big joke and Jason felt himself bristling at the reaction. Jason knew how dangerous this was— more than anyone else in his family. He’d felt that fear and pain and—

“Yeah, well, Hood, sorta too late for that.”

Jason’s anger left him so suddenly that he felt cold in it’s absence. No—

“Do you know, it’s not the death itself that’s bad,” Rabbit drawled, almost lazily. He finally lit his gifted cigarette. He didn’t take his mask off, like Jason had hoped he would, but ducked his head down and pushed the mask up just enough to take a slow drag. He looked so small like that, hunched over on himself with the bright ember dangling from his fingertips. “The body stopping everything… it’s sorta of quiet. All those functions we don’t think about going on all the time— breath’n and blink’n and beat’n… it’s quite without all that going on. Nah, it’s not the actually dy’n that’s so bad, it’s the fear that comes with it.”

“Yeah.” The admission almost hurt Jason to choke out.

“Yeah,” Rabbit agreed. He took another drag from the cigarette. His free hand was curled over his head, likely to keep his face hidden from Jason, but it just made Rabbit look all the more like a scared kit. “And that fucking fear? That worst part? I live with that all the fucking time, Hood, so nah, I’m not so ‘fraid of dy’n‘gain.”

“At least let me help you avoid it,” Jason said. He didn’t mean to plead but fuck if he wasn’t.

Rabbit snorted and took one more drag before he snuffed out his cig and stood. “Yeah? And how do you plan to do that?”

All traces of the drawling accent was gone and that hint of Gotham was back in Rabbit’s voice.

Jason wondered which was more real.

He reached into his belt instead of pressing the matter— instead of pressing the accent or take on death or talking Rabbit out of this life. Jason knew in every shattered bone of his that it wouldn’t do any good. This life already had the kid by the neck and there was nothing to do about it. It would choke Rabbit out one way or another, just like the rest of them.

The red fob was innocuous against his glove, could hardly even see it in the dim, yellow light of th Narrows. Red on red on red—

“Take it.”

Rabbit didn’t.

“What is it?” he asked instead, leaning forward just a little.

“A panic button.”

Rabbit snorted and flicked the remains of the cigarette at Jason. “I’m not taking a fucking tracker.”

“It’s not a tracker until you activate it. You press and hold the button on each side for two seconds and only if you do that is it a tracker. I can’t activate it remotely on my end or anything,” Jason said. “It’s the same one I give some street kids and sex workers. There’s nothing special about it, it’s just a tracker.”

Rabbit watched Jason with an eerie stillness. “Swear it.”

“I swear, it’s just a panic button. It’s only a track if you turn it on.”

Rabbit still didn’t move. Jason sighed and started to pull his hand back before Rabbit darted forward and grabbed the panic button. The little fucker was quick.

“I won’t press it just for anything,” Rabbit said with a defiant jut of his chin.

“Wouldn’t expect you too,” Jason said with an honest, easy shrug.

Rabbit watched a moment longer before he pulled out a keyring without any keys and put the button in. It hung between a battered food shelter tag and a library barcode that Jason was sure was counterfeit.

“Yeah, whatever. Now go on and get, Hood. Don’t you have a whole city to look after?”

“Fucker,” Jason said fondly and stamped his own cigarette out before he tucked the butt away in a pouch slot. The small part of him that was still very much a Bat wanted to do the same with Rabbit’s so he could try and pull some DNA. Instead he flicked Rabbit off and leapt off the roof to the kid’s laughter.

#another red #dp x dc #batpham

[mediumgayitalian]

The satellite dish at Camp Half-Blood would be better suited as a cereal bowl.

It hardly works. It catches a grand total of nineteen channels, twelve of which are news stations, and the final seven almost never have anything playing that’s actually worth watching. But the DVD player only ever works every third month, and the strawberry plants have to be watered, so on rainy days, the sixteen of them cram into the rec room of the Big House, organised, fight-reduction seating for as long as Nyssa can tiredly maintain it, and squabble over the remote.

“It’s my turn! Give it to me!”

“Quit whining you little twerp —”

“Will! Make her give me the remote!”

“Snitch! Snitch! Sherman, beat him up —”

Nico narrowly dodges Kayla’s dirty sneaker, sniggering to himself as Will and Sherman share, for perhaps the first time in either of their lives, an identical sigh of endless suffering, each grabbing one sibling and yanking backwards. They’ve really dug their claws in, so it takes a couple tries.

“Kayla,” Will warns, both hands clamped around her ankles, “if you don’t let go in three damn seconds —”

“Ellis sucks at picking channels!”

“Everybody sucks at picking channels! We got maybe four to choose from!”

“Seven,” correct several people at once.

Will rolls his eyes. “Forgive me. I forgot about the three toddler channels the rest of y’all babies are so enthralled by.”

“As if you don’t watch Sesame Street with as much childlike glee as the rest of us, Solace.”

“Can it, Diaz. Kayla, remove your nails from his face!”

A hand tugs on his sleeve. Nico glances over to find Austin’s big, pleading eyes, and since he is a massively weak loser, apparently, he sighs, mouth twitching when Austin wiggles happily, and plunges his hand into the nearest shadow.

He digs around for a second, trying to orient himself, and smirks when he sees his hand reappear across the couch, right in between Kayla and Ellis’ heads. He waits, watching for a break. Austin watches carefully next to him, hands still around his other wrist, and when the timing is right — a twitch in Kayla’s knee indicating an oncoming kick that even Will won’t be able to stop — he squeezes. Nico darts between them, snatching the remote for himself. He passes it to Austin with a wink. Austin points it to the TV immediately, clicking it to what everyone has aptly named the ‘Grandma Channel’ — twenty-four-seven footage of gardening set to quit jazz.

Thirteen groans — one cheer by Miranda, their lone ally — sound at once.

“You’re weak as all hell, di Angelo,” Billie informs him, obviously a fake gardener. Shame.

He makes a face at her.

Despite their troubles, the peace of the Grandma Channel does not last. In what can only be a coordinated attack, Nico and Austin are lulled into a false sense of security, entranced by a particularly satisfying timelapse of a grape vine, and when their guards are down, they are ambushed. With a deafening war cry, Harley is flung bodily on top of the two of them, landing with two gleeful elbows to Nico’s shoulder and Austin’s ribs, rendering them breathless and perhaps even close to death.

“No maiming,” Austin protests, wheezing.

“I’m telling Chiron,” Nico agrees, similarly struggling to reinflate his lungs. He glances at his medic boyfriend, also known as Judas, who only shrugs, smirking. His thumb is notably smeared with grease, a consequence of touching Harley no matter how many times Nyssa forces him to shower. Traitor. “No maiming is, like, the only rule here.”

Harley climbs off of them, elbows once again violating the rule on the way off. Nico actually feels his spleen compress into the size of an atom.

“Tough!”

The little twerp hands his prize to his big sister, who points it at the screen gracefully, as if she did not just use said brother as a weapon against two innocent people. Constantly innovative, those Hephaestus children.

Nyssa, on account of having hands like steel wires and a right hook that could make Muhammad Ali fall crying to his knees, is left peacefully alone with the remote. Nico glares at her, as he often does, with equal amount of hatred and awe. His emotions are widely replicated across the overstuffed couches.

She clicks rapidly through the channels, as she always does, fast enough that the sound echoes like static along with the rain.

breaking — jump! — traffic — learn — George — crayon — soil — sale —

She hardly rests in a channel for more than a second, cutting in the middle of sentences and even words, images flashing rapidly across the screen, swirling colour and skipping melodies, steadied by the roll of thunder, the patter of raindrops, the roar of wind and away of bending trees.

kids! — buy — gun — bridge — add — spade — colour — nine — east —

Austin sighs from beside him, sinking into the couch. Nico breaks away from the hypnosis for a moment to glance at the rest of the room and finds everyone else similarly entranced; eyes half-lidded and unfocused against the still-swirling TV, heads tilted back, curled into each other, limbs slow, fingers tapping quietly.

run — neat — rose — pasta — schools — closure — Sola — bumper —

“Wait,” Will murmurs.

gym — roll — climb — bush — accident — bud —

The old couches creak as Will shifts, Kayla pushed gently to the side as he moves forward.

“Nyssa, wait. Go back.”

The rain seems to mute itself. Nico is aware, quite suddenly, of the stiff set to Will’s spine, the odd quality of his voice. Nyssa, too, must recognize it, because she glances over at him, then slowly back to the TV, pressing the channel button once and setting the remote carefully on the coffee table in front of her.

No one grabs it.

“— terrible tragedy,” says a news anchor. “Unbelievably, really, Barbara, and something so sudden —”

“No,” Will says.

“Yes, Dave, always something you read about in old newspapers but never remember happens in real life —”

“No. No.”

He reaches for the remote but misses the first time, patting blindly on the table, and the second time, too, eyes glued to the bright screen. His hand scrabbles, nails digging on the old wood, increasingly desperately, but his eyes won’t move, face won’t pivot. Nico swallows, pushing back the sting of bile crawling slowly up his throat, the dullness in his ear, muffled like his ear is turned to a soundproofed wall. The hands he tells to reach over and hand the remote to Will don’t work.

“— almost makes me think of James Dean. That’s Naomi Solace, for those just tuning in, currently in critical condition from a head-on collision with a semi in Savannah, Georgia —”

Nico’s ears white out completely.

Will’s knees hit the floor.

———

next

#MORE IS COMING DO NOT LET ME FLAKE #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #pjo hoo toa #nico di angelo #will solace #camp half blood #solangelo #will solace angst #angst #emotional angst #my writing #fic #longpost

[yxngbxkkie]

You said send you some sooooo listen 17 from drunk love confessions X felix I’m just saying it’s him

thanks so much for sending one in!! this prompt is definitely perfect for felix 🥹 i hope you like it 💓

17. "I’m not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?"

"You’re not doing anything."

"But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?"

~

You're in the middle of a spooky movie when your phone rings, making you jump in your seat. You glance towards the device to see Chan calling you. You reach for the remote and pause the movie before answering his call.

"Hey, Channie. What's up?" You greet him, putting him on speaker so you can check your other notifications.

The sound of blaring music comes through your phone, making it slightly harder to hear him. "Hold on," he mentions to you, noticing the sound growing quieter. "Okay, hey, I know you're doing your movie night, but is it possible for you to come pick Felix up?"

"Don't tell me he's plastered?" You ask while getting up from the couch.

"I wouldn't say he's plastered, but he's… drunk," Chan laughs. "He keeps asking for you. Seungmin's ready to deck him if he asks for you again."

A chuckle leaves your lips as you grab one of Felix's hoodies, throwing it over your head. "I believe Seungmin wouldn't actually punch him, but I'm on my way," you inform your friend after slipping your shoes on.

"Thank you so much! I'll let Felix know. He'll be happy," Chan laughs again, and you can hear him get closer to the party. "I'll see you soon, Y/N!"

You bid him goodbye before hanging up the phone. A giggle leaves your lips as you picture your best friend wasted. You grab your keys and head out the door of your apartment.

It doesn't take long for you to drive to their frat house. Thankfully, it's only a ten minute drive. You park along the street before exiting your vehicle. You can see a small group of people hanging out on the front porch, joints, and beers in their hands.

You provide a small smile as you walk by, entering the front door with ease. You stand on your tiptoes, looking for anyone from your friend group. Felix is the first person you spot, your smile widening at the sight of him.

You push through the crowd, greeting some people you know from your classes. Felix's eyes find yours once you reach him, his dark orbs lighting up.

"Y/N! You're here," he gasps, attempting to get up from the deep couch. You giggle softly and stand in front of him, holding out a hand for him to grab. "Hi, pretty!"

He grabs your hand, and you help him to his feet, resting your free hand on his side. "Hi, sunshine," you greet him happily, your heart fluttering in your chest at how adorable he looks. "You feeling okay?"

Felix nods his head vigorously, and you release his hand, moving it to the side of his face. "I'm great now that you're here," he sighs, leaning into your touch. "Do you want a drink?? I can have Chan hyung make it!"

The stumbly boy tries to go towards the kitchen, and you stop him. "No, no, I'm okay. I need to drive. Do you wanna come home?" You ask him, leading him to the front door.

"Wait, I-I don't know if I want to leave yet," Felix stutters over his words, both of his hands grabbing yours. "Plus, you just got here."

You manage to lead him outside, and you're glad the group that was out here isn't here anymore. "Sunshine, did you forget that we live together?" You ask with a giggle, sitting him down on the bench. "I'll still be with you when we go home."

He looks up at you with the most innocent look. "Why do you want me to go home? I'm having fun," Felix pouts, and you let out a quiet groan.

Why do you have to be so cute? You think to yourself while moving some of the hair out of his face. "Because you're drunk, baby," the pet name slips from your lips.

"I am not drunk!" He slurs his words, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You're not drunk?" You ask with raised brows, moving to rest your hands on your hips.

He shakes his head. "I'm not drunk. Can a drunk person do this?!" Felix doesn't move much, only opening his arms wide.

You smile at him, holding in a chuckle. "You're not doing anything, sunshine," you tell him, and his eyes sadden.

Felix looks at his hands before returning his gaze to you. "But… I sent you my love. Did you… did you not get it?" He asks, and your heart feels like exploding.

"Oh, baby," you whisper, taking a step closer to him. You grab both of his hands before pressing a light kiss on the back of his hands. "I received it. It's right here."

You place his hands over your heart, watching his glossy eyes drift to your chest. He smiles fondly at you before leaning to rest his head on your stomach.

"I love you so much, pretty," he sighs, moving his arms around your waist.

Your fingers comb through his hair. "I love you too, sunshine. I'll remind you again in the morning."

~

tagging: @thewxntersoldier @reddesert-healourblues @spacegirlstuff @moon0fthenight @foxinnie8 @like-a-diamondinthesky @prettymiye0n

#lee felix #lee felix imagines #lee felix imagine #lee felix x y/n #lee felix x you #lee felix x reader #lee felix drabble #lee felix scenarios #lee felix fanfiction #lee felix fanfic #lee felix fic #stray kids #stray kids imagines #stray kids imagine #stray kids x reader #stray kids x you #stray kids x y/n #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fic #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios #stray kids drabbles

[finniestoncrane]

Ik this is sorta late depending on time zones and this ask being cheesy as hell but what would the Riddlers do for Valentine's Day with reader? Something cheesy asf? Or not celebrating it at all? I wanna know I'm curious as hell now

Valentine's Date

Riddler Headcanons gosh i rushed so fast to get this done today!! luckily, it was a blessing as work was SLOW! so here are the boys and how they would celebrate valentine's day in my mind because i am down bad for them all and live in a fantasy world where they would all try and do something nice for you 💚 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: suggestive stuff but it's mostly fluff!!

young justice

i can almost guarantee that if you're spending valentine's day with him, it'll be the first one he's had with a partner

so he is pushing the boat out. or... as best as he can... what with the nerves

he wouldn't do something too extravagant, not too fancy or big. that would only increase the number of people he might embarrass himself in front of

he's far more keen on taking you to a quiet, unexpected but comfortable restaurant with quiet music and only a few tables, so he can talk to you and hear you properly

he'd buy you a single rose, hire the violinist to play a song by your table, your favourite tune

no dancing, he's got two left feet, but he will reach across the table and hold your hand, stroking it with his thumb and looking into your eyes

and when he takes you home, he'll walk you to your door and offer you a shy, reserved kiss

whether or not you pull him through the door by his tie and ravage the poor beast is up to you

unburied

he wouldn't actually ask you out for valentine's day

he'd give you a rant about capitalism and how it's a made up holiday and that you should keep your calendar clear anyway just in case he decides to do an ironic date

you'd think his goal was to embarrass you, in fact, because he's showing up to your house with a little remote control and blasting your favourite song out of every speaker system you own

"hey, sh... don't ask how i know your favourite song or how i got control of your devices. just... stop thinking about it. hey. hey! you're thinking about it... don't think about it, sh you're too pretty to think about it. let me think about it, i'm smarter and prettier"

dinner isn't anything too special either. takeout pizza on a rooftop in gotham somewhere. it could be romantic though, and it would be to someone desperately in love with him like you

listening to him talk about light pollution, asking if you want to hear some riddles about constellations, pointing out the various places he's hid from his enemies

it's not traditional by any means, but it is oddly romantic. dinner, music, time alone under the dulled stars. maybe that was his plan all along

gotham

oh we are going WHOLE HOG here for valentine's day!! you know he's an old romantic, a sweet and gentle soul

so don't think for a moment that you'll be seeing any other people that day, your attention will be solely focused on each other

he's sent, uh... someone has sent in some miscellaneous threat to your workplace, so luckily for you(!) you're not required to go in! SO SURPRISE!! he's here to make you breakfast

and then a brief walk down some of the quieter streets, where he might be brave enough to ask if he can hold your hand

once you're at his apartment, you're in for some respectable but tension filled cuddles on his sofa while you watch some classic romance movies

and then he's making a beautiful three course meal for you both! pressed tablecloth on his little dining table, roses in a conical flask, candles in test tubes (is he stealing these from work?)

he'll feed you little bits of food, wiping your face with a napkin, staring into your eyes dreamily

and then the night will end with a perfect and very polite kiss that you'll wish wouldn't end

telltale

he knows how to do romance, he's been around long enough. it's more a question of whether he can be bothered to celebrate

but he'll pull himself together and act the perfect gentleman for you, regardless of how tired he is after a day of committing violent/cyber crime and being oddly agile for a man in receipt of a state pension

(a fact which will come in handy at the end of the evening...)

he'll start off the evening with the traditional gifts. a box of expensive chocolates or candy, perfectly suited to your dietary requirements of course. and a bouquet of flowers. not roses, but your favourites. he knows they'll make you happier

he's not one for being out in public, what with the whole "is he dead" thing, so you'll be dining in BUT to make it special, he has hired a discreet personal chef to provide the food for the evening

slow, quiet jazz playing in the background, just you, him, and the waiters he has hired and has threatened under extreme violence to keep their mouths shut about this particular shift

could it get any more romantic??

arkham

bless his heart but this eddie is forgetting that it's valentine's day until you're handing him a card, grasping it between his dirty fingers, smudging the soft pink colour with grimy fingerprints

then, you'll endure a fifteen minute long lecture about why you should have at least had the sense to warn him in advance, or to remind him, since you know how he can be

and when he's done, he'll be pushing you out of the room, getting rid of you so he can "finish his important work" and only then can you consider "doing something for this silly holiday"

really, he's just looking for an excuse to get you away so he can work on your very last minute present without you seeing

which of course, he'll present to you as though he had been pretending to forget all along

"i made you this, it's a symbol of our relationship"

it's the remnants of a neon question mark bent into place to resemble a heart. and there's hot glue still drying on it. and a screw stuck to it

but it's the thought that counts, and the thought is there! after all he loves you enough to have lied and put aside his important welding or whatever to haphazardly craft the lie

dano

for him, valentine's day is about showing your love for someone. because you can love them every day, but this is an excuse to make a display out of it

so expect a myriad of gifts, food, perfumes, vouchers, jewellery, stuffed animals, flowers, a handmade valentine's card

enough that it makes you guilty (and enough that you wonder if he really has just been saving all his salary instead of spending it on... furniture or therapy)

then, the personalised activities! most of which involve you doing his quiz all about you and your relationship with him, solving several riddles that lead you to a hidden compartment in the wall of his bedroom (weird.) where he's stuffed his poems to you (sweet!) which he will then recite to you, stuttering over the words and blushing the whole time

but it's not enough for him, he wants to shout it from the rooftops, show the world how much he loves you and appreciates you

he's had all this love bottled up for so long with no one deserving to give it to! let's just hope it comes out in a healthy way...

btaa

he's swooping in to your apartment very late at night

"it's only 11pm, it's still valentine's day mi amorrrrr"

look, he's very sorry that he wasn't able to spend the day with you, and that he's incredibly late to the dinner you had planned

but he's a busy little criminal, he has so many things to do AND he had to do it all by himself because he gave miss tuesday the day off so she could go on a date of her own and-

oh see! you've changed your mind now, no longer grumpy, because he was actually doing something kind for someone else

he really is a generous soul, emphasised by the fact that the reason he was late was because he was pulling off a perfect heist in a jewellery store uptown

so... did you save any leftovers for him? or is he going to have to return this beautiful ring/watch/necklace he bought you?

twojar

he's a curveball, like seriously give you whiplash kind of valentine's date

you think it's going to be a very standard evening, after all there you both are in black tie best, sipping expensive champagne, him talking about himself while you try hard not to stare at his tits

but when the meal is finished, he goes to pay in secret and then rushes you out into a car with tinted windows, and it's lucky he can get you so hot and flushed and eager that quickly, since it's not long before you arrive at the next spot

a strip club

which is? i mean not a traditional valentine's day date location, but it could be very hot

and he's booked one of the private rooms for you both, so at least you won't have to hide your blushing cheeks from the rest of the guests

but it becomes very obvious that there isn't a dancer coming to entertain you, and you worry that he expects you to get up there and put on a show, which would be a disaster because you haven't planned anything and-

"happy valentine's day"

ah. of course. why would the world's most self-absorbed man think you would want anything else for valentine's day than a private strip tease from him

and he's annoyingly very right in that assumption

btas

he absolutely does the most! and the most is often cheesy and dorky and therefor a million times more precious

the kind of guy who would buy you a rose for every day he's known you, regardless of how many days he has known you

the kind of guy who gets those little personalised lego figures made of you and him, or gets a plushie of him to give to you so he'll always be near you (and you know he's putting the personalised message in if he gets it from build a bear)

he knows your favourite starter, main and dessert are all from different restaurants, so he's made the reservations at all three with plenty of time for romantic rides in the back of cabs between each stop

it's important he has plenty of time to cover your neck with kisses, and for you to tell him how adorable he is

and then, because he is the cheesiest but in the best way, it's more than likely he'd use valentine's day as an excuse to propose to you, so he's down on one knee under the cloudy gotham night sky to ask you to marry him (and you're obviously not going to say no)

zero year

he doesn't do valentine's day, what a waste of time! he's nice enough to you the rest of the year, why should there be one day where he has to do something extra fo-

oh? oh! oh ok, if it means you have to do something for him too, then he's down for it

yes... that sounds like a wonderful excuse to get up to some mischief... (it's concerning how evil his little face looks when he's supposedly considering activities for the most romantic of holidays...)

although, why bother going out somewhere on a date, it's such a waste of time and effort

he has to keep his energy for more important things, and speaking of... he can think of very few ways to spend an evening that are better than taking you into the bedroom and sharing an exchange of giving for a few solid hours

no need to wear something nice, it's only going to get stripped off

no need to get him a gift, you'll be giving him plenty

and no need to eat something, he'll make sure you don't leave hungry, trust him

#finnie writes #riddler x reader #riddler x you #riddler headcanon #ridler scenario #gotham riddler #arkham riddler #young justice riddler #dano riddler #zero year riddler #batman unburied riddler #bu riddler #telltale riddler #twojar riddler #riddler #the riddler #btaa riddler #btas riddler

[orphicrose]

The co-host (Alastor x Femreader) III < >

Summary: You are Alastors Co host in life, perhaps more. But are separated by a sudden death. When you are finally reunited in the under world, it is up to Alastor to figure out why you don’t remember him.

☙I’m very thankful for everyone who has left nice comments on the other parts so thank you&lt;3

I’ve started a taglist so do let me know if anyone is interested

@cannibalcoyote

—————————————𖤐

The king of wraith was up y/n’s ass with the lack of souls coming in this month. Usually they were at least in the thousands. But they had dropped to hundreds. She was the only one who could claim them, so it was difficult for one person to visit all those people in one day. It was exhausting. 

On top of that, a new evil was lurking around every corner. Watching her at every moment and kept her on her toes. Now she had gone face to face with this thing, she was almost certain he was more powerful than her. But how. She had the gift from Satan. Who was more powerful than him? A lot, actually. But none of them as remotely accessible. Lucifer? No way. Lilith? No one knew where she was. Perhaps he made a deal with one of the sins? It was a mystery. But all she knew is she had a reason to be scared. 

“I don’t know Zestial, I really don’t. He was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. His body grew, like, bigger. And he seemed like a deer?” Y/n questioned herself, trying to recall everything she had seen that night. 

“A wendigo?” He asked, trying to see her image. 

“Yes! Yes a wendigo.”

Zestial had grown worried when she didn’t show up, and decided it would be best if he visited her the following day. Her home was the definition of humble and cozy. A simple house outside the city. Where the streets didn’t bother her sleep and she could feel a sense of security. 

“Do you have any reason to believe he may come after you again?” He questioned 

“Well, he didn’t chase me. Though It was dark, there’s the chance he couldn’t see me and decided against it”

”Please, keep safe tonight dear friend. And do contact me in the morning.”

Few more words were said before his departure. And with that, she was alone again. In a more safe destination but, nonetheless, alone. How was a being as gifted as her feeling fear, was it because she didn't really like it coming down to a fight? Did she truly value her life? Who knew. The only thing she could do was focus on her work, and distract herself. Overthinking was not a good game plan. Her bricked fireplace was letting off embers into her living room, her walls portrayed images of their shadows dancing along to the flames of the small fire. Warm feet resting on a velvet ottoman as she gracefully flicked through this weeks paperwork. The numbers really have dropped, what was she going to tell the boss? He wasn't exactly the forgiving type. The amber light gave her face a beautiful glow as her eyes showed the focus she had been needing for weeks. 

Three distinct knocks erupted her from her mind. Each equal lengths of time apart from one another. Maybe it was the wind, or her imagination. Afterall, she had been through a lot of stress recently. Eyes flickered down the hall to where the front door sat, her chair angled perfectly so she could see it. Though, there were no windows to warn her what was on the other side. There it was again, the exact three knocks. It can't be mistaken for anything other than a living being anymore. Her feet landed in her slippers, warmed by the fire, and her hands brought up in front of her ready for anything. The door got closer and closer, her fear tying a knot in her stomach. Suck it up y/n, she thought, Satan wouldn't let anything happen to you. 

Without letting her logic control her anymore, the door swung open. "Hel-", he began before she swiftly shut the door again. It was him, has at her house, at her front door, while she's in her pajamas. What a way to go.  Again, she opened the door "-lo" he continued as if nothing happened. "Did your mother not teach you how to properly welcome a guest?" he fended offense, before setting his microphone in front of his feet and leaning on it.  Teeth bearing a blood thirsty grin, similar to their first encounter, but definitely not holding as much of a desire for murder in his eyes. 

"She taught me not to talk to strangers", she in fact did not do this, but she did teach her how to make origami swans!

"Oh, but she must have! Such a smart woman your mother was!" He treaded lightly, or so he thought to himself. He was certain that the both of you were thinking the same thing, but that was not the case.

"And what is it that makes you think you know my mother?" Her tone more brave this time. Was this some manipulation tactic to gain her trust? What exactly was he playing at. He seemed like the type to play with his prey, but not in this way.

"Because i did know her, dear. Have you not caught on yet?" That look in her eyes was too painfully familiar to not have been her. It was her, but it didn't seem like she knew that yet. He was becoming frustrated, maybe he should have shown her he wasn't a threat. Not to her anyway. Or maybe he could have showed up in a more public space, in the light of day. "No, you haven't caught on yet." A sadder tone flashed through him, without his smile failing to give him away.

"I don't appreciate you taunting me before you attempt to hurt me." Y/n bit back, trying to shut the door again. Something stopping the door from closing. She looked down to find his cane wedged between, forcing an opening for him to peek his head through. 

"You don't seem to understand. I've already had my meal today y/n, I'm just here to have a civilized conversation with you" His use of her name struck even more fear into her

"And... how do i know you wont turn on me"

"Maybe because we both know you're more powerful than you think. Or maybe because i know your full name, miss y/n m/n l/n"

She was more than a little creeped out at his point. There wasn't a single memory of her doing it, but at some point she must have invited him inside. Because he was sitting in the lounge chair opposite her now, appreciating the fire as if he wasn't some crazed serial killer. She didn't dare look away, mapping every little change in his expression. What was she even doing. He tried to make her his dinner about 24 hours ago. And now he's sitting in the place where she eats hers. Something in her just told her that this was where she was supposed to be in this moment. Whether fate was setting her up for her inevitable second death, or something bigger.

"You have a very cozy home, y/n" His voice became softer, never lacking in the static undertone he carried with him. 

"That's Miss L/n to you" Not a second was hesitated before she bit back.

"Of course, miss L/n" Alastor hummed, initiating a brief silence they used to be accustomed to. "I am going to assume you don't remember me" Sarcasm complimented his voice nicely.

"Remember you? From yesterday when you attempted to send me to my second fate? Uhm, yes." Eyes still locked onto his face.

"And i am deeply sorry for that... misunderstanding" He replied, receiving a scoff from Y/N. "But i was talking about years prior to yesterday"

She didn't respond with words, just a confused look in his direction. "years?". She truly didn't understand what he was getting at. If he wanted to kill her, she didn't doubt it would have happened by now. So what else could he possibly want. By this point, he knew she wasn't just messing with him. Something was truly wrong. It was wrong enough that she was down here in the first place, but to own a business dedicated to retrieving souls and being an overlord? Not his Y/n, never. He was looking for purpose, and he found it. 

"I see. Well..." his crimson eyes displaced signs of genuine disappointment. "I see you need time to recover from our little encounter yesterday. But you will be seeing me again" and with that, his body faded into the shadows of the carpet. Similar to how he appeared the first time they met. There she was, left with more questions than one person needed. She definitely wasn't sleeping tonight. 

#hazbin x y/n #hazbin x reader #Hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #alastor fluff #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust

[momtaku]

Excerpts from Shingeki Fly

I finally had time today to look closely at my copy of Shingeki Fly. I used my cell phone to translate bits of the interviews, so mileage may vary, but I am fairly confident the gist is more or less correct.

About the Shingeki Fly Color Art Book

Since Isayama prides himself on not being an excellent artist, he wanted the color art book to highlight the work Mr. Nakao, his colorist since the beginning of the series.

I really like this reflection regarding Mr. Nakao on his first chapter of Attack on Titan:

This is the first color manuscript that a presumptuous amateur, a newcomer who doesn't really know how to hold a pen left or right. The composition, panel layout, and everything else is terrible, but the way you colored it so nicely made me think that maybe I can make a living as a manga artist, and that manga doesn't have to be created by one person alone. I remember feeling hopeful that I would be able to participate in the unknown series that was about to begin.

Isayama's experience at Anime NYC in January 2022:

Isayama talks about how happy he was to visit Manhattan. Because he can't be normal for two seconds, he mentions that seeing the skyscrapers at night reminded him of the 1998 GODZILLA movie.

He also talks about the fan panel. My translation app says something like this: By actually seeing the crowd I was able to realize that Attack on Titan,'' which I had been drawing while holed up in my room in Tokyo, was connected to people far away from Japan and overseas. I was very happy to be able to see each fan's face and think, ``How happy are they?''

(I was able to attend that fan panel in person so I can attest how emotional he was by seeing us all there.)

Isayama's experience at Anglouleme in France in January 2023:

Being in France made him feel very far away from Japan because the city and architecture were so different from what he was used to. He described walking on the streets by the Eiffel tower in the middle of the night as thrilling.

While he set the landscape of Attack on Titan as French, German and Italian architecture, he understands now it was all from his Japanese perspective. Seeing the city is person was completely different from what he'd imagined.

How it felt drawing Levi after such a long time

Here is something I didn't know. At first Isayama was going to write a prequel set 100 years before the main story, but after meeting the fans in France he realized the idea of a one shot was to make them happy. Instead of an original idea, he settled the tea cup story, which is something he'd intended to write but had never had the chance.

He said is was surprisingly easy to draw Levi again after such a long break. The only thing he really had to think about is what Levi would sound like as a 10 year old.

"Bad Boy" was also his first time drawing manga on an iPad. Because he wasn't used to it, he had three assistants helping him. I really want a good translation of this bit because it seems funny. He mentions something about how what should've been digital remote work was more of an analog training camp. He said is was fun to reminisce about his "war era" when he would work while chatting with his assistants about trivial matters.

#shingeki fly #bad boy #levi ackerman

[boyfhee]

› HOW TO GET BACK WITH YOUR EX : five do's and don'ts

SYNOPSIS · You were all in for a new start; a new city, new apartment, new department and new colleagues— though, not under the best circumstances— you tried to make it through your early thirties while lost between whether to give up or go on, and then you meet Heeseung, who happens to be on the other end of the same street.

WC · 26.2K ( guys pls give this a chance )

GENRE · melodrama, angst, slice of life, romance, exes to ?

WARNINGS · lots of drinking, marriage talks, mentions of failed relationship and breakups; implications of sexual activity, very existential, mentions of suicidal thoughts, blood, lot's of tense changes ( since this transits between past and present a lot ) please read at your own discretion.

NOTE · i know i'm on hiatus but this was almost done and i had a sudden burst of motivation so here we are. my longest fic till date, i'm so proud of how this turned out. experimented a little with my writing style here, overall a fun experience. i hope you all enjoy this as much as i did, happy reading. ps the quote below is actually by john mark green, but let's assume it's written by hee for the sake of this fic. okay, good bye again, see you guys soon :›

playlist : tune in for better experience hehe

“ And if love may be madness, may I never find sanity again, ”

— Lee Heeseung, Red Wine

I.  Regret and Remorse

You don’t think you’ll ever become someone who’d look forward to the working experience that comes with job transfer. In fact, you don’t think you’d ever become someone who’d grow a liking to job transfer in the first place. 

Autumn of 2022 was supposed to be filled with vacation plans and a self-sobriety program in one of the many remote towns of Gangwon, away from the internet and daily complaints of your employer and family members. To put it simply— you’re tired of the life you’ve been living so far. Looking back, when you were a fresh graduate from one of the best universities of Incheon, life seemed to offer more opportunities than it does now. Your goals weren't any different from other people in the same age group as you, which majorly consisted of getting a job that pays well, maintaining financial security, getting into a good relationship, and perhaps visiting a few places on your travel list that you made in your first year of university. The idea of ‘ideal workplace’ leaves your mind the moment you step into the industry. Over time, you’ve realised that there’s no such thing as a job that fits to your liking and pays well, along with a hundred other benefits ranging from covering medical expenses to providing paid leaves. While that may apply to some, most of the crowd isn’t lucky enough to experience the luxuries of their dream job or workplace. Unfortunately, you happen to be just another person of that kind. 

You wake up, it’s the same old Monday morning— and no matter what day it is, it always feels like a Monday morning. You look through your same seven sets of office attires in your closet and pick one for the day; you go to the kitchen and find the same dish you had last night. You heat it up and eat the same for breakfast. Albeit, you find yourself at a cafe downstreet if you’re hoping for a change of scenery. You go to work, review the same old files, look at your same old colleagues and the same old boss who makes your blood boil. You aren’t the most sociable person and prefer to have lunch at the canteen, and coincidently, it’s the same old menu from four days ago. The day proceeds in the same old direction and you arrive at your apartment by six in the evening if your team leader doesn’t make you work overtime. You make dinner, sleep on the same old bed in the same old room with the same old feeling of dissatisfaction stuffing your stomach, and the same old cycle continues. 

Intellectually, there has been no progress— you've read scarcely half a dozen books, haven't made one new, exciting friend, haven't had a starling or unusual thought. Economically, things are no better— same old bills to pay, same old pay that hasn't been increased over years now. You get your paycheck and half of it goes into buying necessities. It's the same old job, same old routine of nine-to-five workdays, the cheese and ham salad for lunch, same dreary ride home. No change, nothing but routine, sameness, monotony— it's as if you're vegetating.

If you could go back in time and meet yourself when you were still a college freshman with high hopes and even higher aspirations, you would tell yourself to stop. Now that you’ve seen how the world works and have experienced the stagnancy of life, you wouldn’t want your young and carefree self to go through the pain of disappointment after encountering it yourself. You would instead tell yourself to switch fields since finance doesn’t seem to have a lot to offer. Instead, you would push your past self to go for liberal arts when you suddenly wanted to switch majors in the second year. Perhaps, in that case, your life would’ve been a tad bit better. 

Well, better than what it is now, at least, because currently, you’re sitting in the living room of your new apartment with a beer can in hand and tons of unpacked boxes around you. You’ve been thinking of unpacking for over an hour now, but every time your eyes land upon another beer, you’re back on the floor, chugging the drink down and regretting your life choices. Things would’ve been better if you had turned in your resignation instead of waiting till the last week of July for your pay; because now it’s August, and you’re in a new city with a new apartment, and the only thing you remember is the way to the nearest seven-eleven store from your apartment. You don’t want to think of this negatively, really, since you’ve been asking for a change, after all; and nothing is better than starting anew in a completely new location. However, you don’t want to work in the sales department when all you’ve ever worked about is finance. You don’t want to go through the pain of getting lost in the streets and chased by some dog, for you’re hitting thirty and you feel your bones cracking. You wanted a new start, however not in this field. A new start, for you, meant going on a vacation, detoxifying your mind off all the stress and tension, picking up a hobby, focusing on self-care— just anything that would help you change your views about life.   

Your silent remorseful session is interrupted by a knock on the door, and you’re certain you heard a doorbell, however you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol playing with your mind or whether someone is actually waiting at your doorstep. Forcing yourself to stand up, you stumble towards the door, the sudden decrease in blood pressure leaves a hint of dizziness as you step forward. Since you’ve just moved in, expecting anyone besides mails and landlord is pointless. While you remember having a friend living in the same city, you never told her your address so it’s unlikely for her to visit you either. You stand before the door, fixing your hair before moving down to the creases on your shirt as you unlock the door with a forced smile; and the time ceases to exist. 

“Hi,” Heeseung mumbles. 

You step aside to let him in, involuntarily— “Hi,” you breathe out before stressing your mind to come up with a reason for letting him inside. Could it be that you’re so lonely that now, you’re treating your ex as just someone you’ve been expecting to see? Maybe not, maybe it’s because you just moved in and despite the notes that you both ended on, it would be disrespectful to shut the door on someone who came with seemingly all good intentions. 

His steps are laced with hesitation. There’s a Château Margaux in his hands as you notice his fingers nervously tighten around the bottle before he turns around, albeit you avoid his gaze actively. “I heard someone moved in so I came to meet,” A pause, and then: “Didn’t know it was you.” 

He puts emphasis on the word as if it’s a bad thing. As if you’re an outsider trying to invade his peaceful life yet again, only to cause mayhem. However, the question is, had you known that Heeseung lives here, would you have moved in? Or, would you continue to live knowing Heeseung is your neighbour and that you would possibly see him for the rest of your life? You don’t know the answer to that one— not sure if you even want to find one, in fact. The last thing you need is to worry about bumping into an ex. You gesture at him to take a seat and to your surprise, he sits on the floor, exactly where you were having your drinking session before he came along. You grab the wine glasses from the kitchen before making your way back to the living room and sitting opposite to him. There’s a heavy tension in the air, one that is suffocating both of you, though you’re sure a major part of it is arising from you. After all, you let him inside as if he was an old friend, one that you were hoping to see, as if he isn’t your ex. 

Heeseung and you got together in your second year of university. You met him through a mutual friend on their birthday when they invited a few people from another department. You didn’t plan to go initially, you had presentations to make, but something inside of you prompted you to give in and had it not been for that day, you would’ve never come across Lee Heeseung in your life. The first time you met him at the bar, Heeseung seemed to be a heavy drinker— droopy eyes, messed up hair, a few things written on the palm of his hands— he didn’t even come across as someone who paid attention during lessons. However, much to your surprise, he excused himself early, sitting outside with a can of cold coffee he got from the vending machine in his hand while reading what seemed like economics notes compiled in pdf format. Perhaps, Heeseung knew he came off as a showoff when you found him chugging down his drink in an attempt to erase whatever effect alcohol could have on him. 

You sat next to him and all of a sudden, he started explaining how he doesn’t usually dip in the middle of gatherings with friends and step out to study. He simply happens to have a test the next day and his friends dragged him along. Simultaneously, you learnt that it was his first time drinking despite and he swore not to drink anything that wasn’t caffeine. It was nice, really; while Heeseung was busy worrying that you might dislike him for being such a show off, you were enjoying your time with him because in the end, you weren’t a big fan of drinking with your friends either. The two of you talked about wasted matters, complained about subjects and teachers, shared social media handles. It was fantastical, almost unreal, because you don’t remember the last time you clicked with someone so quickly. You didn’t have impressive social skills to initiate conversations, which consequently resulted in you being left out most of the time. It didn’t really matter since relationships and all were secondary at that time, for you had a set goal to work towards. You had always believed that people can make friends and fall in love anytime. However, life gives you just once chance to achieve your dreams. Disconnecting from the public didn't have any effect since you got your work done. While your friends wasted their nights at clubs, you spent it studying and completing assignments. You never felt the lack of friends and interactions eating you slowly. The loneliness didn’t hit you until you graduated with hands full of bills to pay and responsibilities to handle. 

After that night, you started seeing Heeseung more than usual. Despite being in different majors and completely different schedules, you saw him at the campus more often than you used to. It was as if he was always there, waiting for you to find him. Despite changing Twitter and Instagram handles, the two of you barely talked. There was no communication except interacting with each others’ posts, leaving a comment every now and then, tagging each other in stories. You would mutter a soft hello every time you’d bump into him and if fate allowed, you’d have a small conversation. There was no progress in your relationship until a few months after your first meeting, at one of the fests hosted by the Art Department. You had no one to visit with and Heeseung wasn’t interested until you came across him in the library, taking down notes of the lectures he had missed. He asked if you wanted to visit the fest, much to your surprise, and that was the first time you had hung out with Heeseung after knowing him for five months. 

“You seem excited for work,” It’s a question that leaves you confused until your eyes land upon the stacks of files and documents lying stray on the kitchen counter. The next thing you notice is that Heeseung’s voice has gotten a lot deeper, possessing all the necessary qualities of a voice a hiring manager would want to hear in interviews. 

“Do I?” You offer a rhetorical response, not knowing exactly what to say. For a brief second, you considered pouring yourself more drink and going off about your lethargic and unfruitful lifestyle. A chuckle falls off your lips as you stir the wine in its glass, feeling the weight shift from left to right before chugging the remaining liquid down. “I hate my job,”

You pour yourself another glass. Heeseung’s fingers flinch watching your hands reach for the bottle but he didn’t dare interrupt your actions. Another second passes in silence, another sip of wine hits your system. You feel fatigue fill your sinuses as you fight off sleep for another hit— another line of thoughts.  

You can go on for days, complaining about your job, despite knowing that looking down on your work and throwing shade on your boss isn’t going to get you anywhere in life. But at the end of the day, you have nothing else to talk about either. While your colleagues spent weekends drinking, going on dates, and watching movies, you worked your ass off to finish off a project and get a promotion; because promotions come with an increase in pay, and the thing you need the most at the moment is money. Even in school and universities, you used to spend your days and nights studying hard because in the end, the employers from big companies always look for candidates from the top universities, students who graduated with high honours and those who have a lot to offer to the market. Graduating from one of the best universities in Korea in your department should’ve helped you get a high paying job with several benefits. You didn’t lack knowledge, nor did you lack the brains to tackle the problems in finance. You graduated on top of your class so your educational qualifications weren’t below the bar either. If it comes down to experience, one can not expect a fresh graduate to have work experience. In the end, you’re left with the lack of information once again, not knowing why your life turned out this way when every step you took ensured success. 

“Then, why don’t you try doing something that you like?” Heeseung suggests, twirling the glass in his hand, unknowingly mirroring your actions. While he thinks he’s doing a good job at keeping the conversation going, Heeseung knows his advice isn’t worth a penny. Imagine telling a full-time employee to quit their job and do what they like! He thinks to himself, almost ready to take his words back, because he can’t even imagine himself doing the same thing for the sake of a better life. 

“You can’t depend on your likes and dislikes to make a living,” You chuckle yet again, voice laced with bitterness. Failure and disappointment were something you never had tasted until now. You remember the dissatisfaction you felt when your mother gave you sliced apples when you told her you were hungry. You refused to eat, but your mother said that when you’re starving, you don’t look for food that suits your taste. You just eat whatever you get; and thinking about it now, you think it applies to practical life as well. Survival in this world isn’t possible if you depend upon your preferences. Humans have the ability to adapt to various situations, and the key to adaptation is working under different circumstances, often that don’t suit your preferences. That is how you secure your position in the world. If things revolved around one’s likes and dislikes, you sure would’ve been a billionaire for you love to stay on your couch all day and dislike capsicums. 

“What about you?” You counter with the same question. “You look even more tired than how you were in university.” Now, your attention is on his dark circles and weary eyes. The Heeseung you remember from university was phenomenal, having an urge to do anything and everything. His eyes searched for opportunities, hands aching to work on something new. His never ending passion and a desire to know more made him an ideal figure for the juniors as well as someone who the seniors used to envy. However, the eyes of the Heeseung sitting in front of you are telling a whole nother story. They’re talking about the good times while his hands look tired from having a lot on his plate with no time for himself. 

“Work load,” Heeseung sighs, eyes fixed on his drink as he continues to twirl it around. Your gaze shifts to the corner of his lips, watching them curl into a faint smile. “Do you remember how we used to spent weekends hunting for part time—”

And then a pause. Your eyes avert to his’, meeting him in the line of contact; they resonate with just two emotions— regret and respect. You fail to decipher the meaning behind his gaze, you lost the ability to do so years ago. He presses his lips into a thin line, pressing his fingers against the glass in an attempt to suppress his emotions before looking away from you. The comforting silence suddenly weighs upon your shoulders with its hands around your neck, suffocating you to the point of breathlessness; and then you ask yourself— what am I doing? The clock strikes seven and it didn’t hit you how quickly the time flowed until everything dawned upon you. Once again, you’re left questioning your whats and whys about life, for after all, you didn’t expect to spend your evening drinking with your ex. You notice splatters of rain against your window pane as they blur the golden glow of the city scape behind. The rain falls louder, the room fills with the sound of clouds rumbling, you take another sip of wine— it takes you back to your days with Heeseung. 

You don’t know if it’s alcohol blurring your paths down the memory lane, but a part of job hunting with Heeseung also included applying for the same part-jobs and competing so see who gets hired. Although, both of you ended up receiving a polite rejection most of the time, it didn’t affect your relationship. Actually, you don’t think anything regarding job interviews or grades affected your relationship with him. It was a good, healthy race, one that allowed both of you to grow as individuals, for yourselves and for each other. There were days when you came home with the news about getting hired, only to know how his application was rejected or he was fired, and vice-versa. You both took your turns comforting each other— it didn’t feel like your life was any different from his. In fact, every second with Heeseung felt as if you both were living the same life. Watching him go through the exact same thing you went through a few weeks ago, or finding yourself in the same situation you found him merely a few nights ago; it was like watching just another version of yourself.  

Seconds catapult before you. Heeseung gets up and makes his way towards the door. No words are shared, the world is spinning too quickly, it gets harder and harder for you to retrace your steps to figure out how you ended up here. His name falls off your lips— it’s not louder than a soft whisper. You don’t know why you stopped him in his tracks. Is it intentional? Is it involuntary? Or is it because you were hoping for something else? You would never know, at least not now. Months expanded into years and the time when you dated Heeseung still feels like yesterday. It’s as if you woke up— there is his face next to you, the sunlight offering a soft golden glow to his eyes as they light up your whole words. His lips meet yours, a smile emerges under the tender kiss, Heeseung tells you he loves you and you couldn’t be happier. The day rolls by, your steps follow him everywhere he goes, breaths mingling into each other in secluded corners of streets, hidden from the world because it’s a love to be harboured in secrecy. Your hands intertwine with his. It’s two souls living as one, two hearts beating in synchrony. The night rolls by and you’re back in his arms, a little closer to heart, deeper into his mind. The moon sighs in admiration, night slips through his feather light touches as he traces every inch of your skin with love. The sun comes up— and suddenly you’re exes. You never had enough time to process his departure from your life, just the way you failed to process his impromptu arrival this evening. Heeseung is in front of you like the way he used to be. However, just like the first time, the universe agreed but the stars never aligned, and Heeseung is leaving once again as you fail to hold onto him one more time.

“Why don’t you resign if you don’t like your job?” Heeseung stops by his door, and you realise the words that leave his mouth are the same ones that people throw at you whenever they hear you complain about your work life.

“I was about to, but was transferred here. Thought I should give it a try before quitting.” While that doesn’t sound like the most convincing reason, it sure is a plausible one. You had been looking for a change— any change— and throwing away the chance to have one while it had been in your hand would be a bad decision, no matter how unfavourable it sounds at the moment.   

“Doesn’t that sound familiar? When I confessed, you said you weren’t sure about your feelings but would give it a try,” There’s a faint smile on his face, albeit you aren’t able to perceive the meaning behind his words. “I’m sure it’ll turn out better,” 

You take a step towards the door before shutting it completely. You don’t know why he said that, nor do you think you’ll ever get the chance to ask him. Perhaps you wouldn’t ask him willingly in the first place. You turn around, leaning against the door as a sigh escapes your lips. Heeseung has his own life, and so, his own views on different things. If he resents you, you’re in no position to try and change that for him. You don’t think you’re in a position to interfere with his life when you decided to walk out of it in the first place.

If regret was his part to play, then remorse was yours. 

II. Don’t be a ‘know it all’ 

Drinking with Heeseung feels like yesterday, when in fact, you haven’t seen him in four days. 

Life is busy, and it’s even busier for someone like Heeseung who works as a chartered accountant if your memories from last evening aren’t defying you. You can’t imagine yourself in that position, not like you want to in the first place. Excel sheets and tons of documents about taxes are all you could think of when you hear anything along the lines of accountancy, which is intolerable to you, given that you’ve majored in finance, ironically. 

A lot of things in your life are contradicting, actually. You don’t like to cook but cooking for close friends is something you’ve always loved. Examples follow, and at one point you realised that your life barely makes sense. Expectations from friends and relatives made you a try hard, so much that anything less than a perfect score made you feel suffocated. People had desires and interest in certain things, but you needed to be good at everything, and saying that it was for yourself would be a lie, because you had to set an example of an ideal person in front of your younger siblings. Your parents were strict to you and it didn’t feel unfair. You were ten when you saw your mother cry because of all the financial burden, but she had to be the perfect mother for her children, so you never saw her complain ever again. Fifteen year old you didn’t have a goal in mind but she knew that there’s a path ahead of her that leads her siblings on the right track, towards a better future, and so she took it— no aims and dreams of herself, just whatever she could’ve done for her brothers. It was hard at first but the formula to success was easy— hardwork and determination, and all you had to do was avoid distractions. Again, the reality didn’t hit you until you met Heeseung. 

It was as if you were both her two sides of the same coin. Persistence flowed in both of your veins, but every time you looked at him, you realised that he enjoyed everything he was doing. Heeseung enjoyed waking up at four, going out for a jog, attending classes, job hunting, staying up till two or simply not sleeping on some nights. Even on the darkest of the days and coldest of the nights, you would see Heeseung looking at you with a warm smile. He always managed to find a reason to smile, or make a situation humorous enough to make others smile as well. You don’t know how he did that, you never had the chance to ask, but you’re certain that even if he told you, you wouldn’t understand. Heeseung’s principles of living were beyond your comprehension— staying up late yet waking up right when dawn breaks, buying books but never really reading them, researching articles on topics that don’t concern your subjects even marginally— but that’s just his curiosity getting the best of him. 

Often, he’d find himself amidst a financial conflict like any other college student, but it never had an impact on his desires, and he used to say, ‘A sale wouldn’t wait for me to pay my bills so that I can buy my favourite shirt with the money left,’ as if his rent was going to pay itself. If someone asks about the biggest difference between him and you, it’s about desires. You suppress yours while Heeseung lives them like it’s the last time he could ever wish for something. You believe in the cause, while Heeseung did in curiosity, and that’s where it creates a line. Though lately, you’ve been hearing other things about him, new things, if you must say. 

The landlord told you about the Heeseung who’s quiet, who doesn’t leave his house until it’s about work, who eats the same menu for days until his system demands something new, who now has been prescribed actual specs because of his family history of hypermetropia. You find yourself smiling about it because back in university, Heeseung used to brag about his perfect vision, and you would say, ‘family health history is no joke. you take that shit down to your grave,’ and now when it has actually happened, you wonder what he has to say. Hearing stories about him made you realise that a lot of things changed, but Heeseung didn’t. Maybe, the situation demands him to live vegetatively, or maybe he’s saving up for a bigger plan. 

“They say you’re a loner,” You had said one time when you bumped into him on the lift. “That you never leave your apartment except for work,” 

Much to Heeseung’s surprise, a lot of things changed after he entered his thirties, the most prominent being his back pain, which may or may not have arisen from the lack of workout and constantly sitting in front of his desk for hours. He would smile at plants or sit by the balcony, watching the city being ever so lively and yet so monotonous. Afternoon naps became mandatory to continue proficiently for the rest of the day and before he realised, Heeseung became the old man of every highschool student’s imagination. Truthfully, he spent his first few months after graduation in his room, amidst sketching pencils and loose sheets. While other fresh graduates hunted for jobs or ways to fill their resume to fit the companies’ requirements, he spent his early months as an unemployed lad who graduated with top honours from one of the best universities in Korea. For the first time in life, he found himself looking at his ceiling and wondering, what’s next. Heeseung, who always had a plan for something despite seeming reckless, was about to step into adulthood with no plans to follow. 

“I guess I’ll be that,”

He was back in your apartment, same wine in his hand, same old complaints. It’s been quite a few weeks since you’ve moved in and Heeseung always finds himself in your living room at noons when he doesn’t sleep, making small talk about topics that usually stir a little interest. You haven’t had the time to go out with your colleagues and make new friends or explore the city, which gives you a perfect excuse to see Heeseung and call it socialising. Not to mention, you’ve been introducing him to your previous workmates as the ‘new friend’ you’ve made in the new place. 

“We both know you’re not that,” You continue, recalling all the reasons why Heeseung isn’t how people around describe him to be. 

“No one is the same after actually getting a life,” He replies while going through his emails, scrolling down with one hand before placing the wine glass by his side and proceeding to type something. “Look at yourself, for example,” 

You don’t know whether it’s a compliment or an insult. Perhaps the latter, albeit the chances of him noticing a good difference in you are low but never zero. Your eyes fix on his fingers, following them as he types something before clearing it all, and then typing all over again while mumbling the exact same words with an expression ranging from confusion to worry. You reconsider his words, he isn’t half wrong. 

Adulthood is climacteric. You think you’re an adult the moment you turn eighteen but in reality, you aren’t one until you’re in a position to make it through life profoundly, and ironically enough, you don’t think most people get a taste of adulthood until they hit their late twenties or enter their thirties. Your mind traces back to what he said— ‘yourself, for example,’ and suddenly, you become conscious of every single thing that has changed about you. You learnt piano but now your fingers don’t flow smoothly over the keys as they used to, given you haven’t played piano in years. You were a part of the science club in highschool and the student council president in your senior year. You wanted to go into aeronautics but seasons changed and one day, you looked in the mirror and saw the version of yourself who was about to graduate with honours in finance. Even after graduation you had a chance to switch fields but you didn’t, or rather, couldn’t. You were hired in the same year, which gave you even more reasons to continue since it would relieve your dad of the financial burden looming on his shoulders. Maybe, that’s what adulthood is supposed to do to you. You find yourself working in a field you have no interest or experience in and by the time you gain experience, you’re too old to grow an interest. 

Statistically, your school life was much better than college and onwards. You had, although little, but knowledge about all the subjects, a desire to know more, time to yield interest and a will to keep going on. To think, almost everyone in high school grows up under the same circumstances. They either have the opportunity or are given one to pursue what they want, taking it or not is up to them. For you, it was the former. You were given the chance to participate in the maths olympiad which you didn’t because of school exams. You were recommended to the best science institute in the country but you dropped out in just two months. Your music teacher offered you a chance to learn music professionally in Vienna but you never reached out to her on that again. You were given multiple chances to live how you wanted to but you simply discarded them and went with what proved to be the easiest way. 

That moment on a comparatively warm august afternoon, sitting next to him with wine, you went all the way back to all the instances and decisions that lead you to where you were right now. 

On the other hand, you shift your attention back to Heeseung, and even though you never got to know about his childhood or parents properly, you certainly knew that the way he experienced both of them was better than yours. Growing up as a single child gave him absolute control of things that he did and did not want. His decisions were not influenced by his parents, which could be classified as some sort of independence in regards to making his own choices from an early age, but neither did he have any siblings to set an example for. All his life, Heeseung has only lived for himself, and it reflects in his personality, if one tries hard enough to notice. While you had to give up one thing or other for your siblings, Heeseung got a taste of everything he wanted. He knows how it feels to not sleep all night but you never had the chance until much later because you were always thought to sleep on time and wake up early, whether or not you had anything to do. There may have been someone guiding him all along but most of the time, his experience gave him a clear insight and freedom to choose what he wants to do. 

To sum it up, you might be more qualified in terms of academics but Heeseung has more experience when it comes to diverse situations, and experience is all employers want these days in their employees. 

“Well, you still are the ideal candidate for marriage,” You chuckle, remembering what the lady told you a few days ago. You notice him marking a few emails before closing the app, picking the wine glass back up once again. It’s not a surprise to see someone like Heeseung being approached with several martial arrangements. He, despite being described as a loner by a few residents in the apartment, is still the guy with whom you would want to marry your daughter off. He works nine-to-five like any other family guy, is disciplined, comes from a good family and education background, and his looks work as cherry on top.  

“All they want is a guy with a stable job and salary,” He spat with a smile, chugging down the drink in his glass all at once. “That’s not who I want to be,” 

“Who do you want to be, Heeseung?” You ask above the silence lingering in the room, just loud enough to pique his interest. His phone screen lights up with a mail, but his eyes never leave your sight, not even for a second. 

People usually wouldn’t recommend talking to your ex, let alone sharing a deep, therapeutic session about life and self-development. If you say you’re starting as friends again, they would say it’s impossible because the bare minimum requirement to classify as a friend— the lack of romantic emotions— has already been violated. Even if you claim to be over Heeseung and treat him as just another one of your exes, you know there are unsaid feelings blooming in the air. You wouldn’t call Heeseung a friend, he never was one, actually. Heeseung was never there when you actually needed a friend but you never noticed his absence as your colleague, or as your boyfriend. Heeseung is terrible at being friends because he confessed to you the day he introduced you as ‘just a friend,’ to his friends. You wouldn’t consider being friends with your ex, yet you don’t think you could be anything more with him either. You started talking to him as a stranger but Heeseung has always been way too familiar to identity as a stranger. Too familiar for a stranger, too strange to be familiar, it’s another one of the things your life could be contradicting about. 

He looks at you, directing your question back to you as if you’re a better candidate to consult. ‘Who do I want to be?’ All your life, you’ve never done something that counts for yourself. Even your perfect sleeping schedule was meant to set an example for your brothers. Your achievements were never yours to begin with. You were good at piano, but that’s because your teacher taught you. You never composed a piece and simply played what has already been played. Even at work, you do what you’ve been told, and not what you want to. There’s no innovation, just flow of ideas from one level to the other, and it keeps being passed down to a level beyond which, it’s no longer fruitful. ‘Who do I want to be?’ You ask yourself over and over again, but it’s a question you don’t know how to approach. Rather, you would like to know, ‘Who am I right now?’

Just like that, October passes amidst wines and visits from Heeseung every other afternoon or evenings on weekends that weren’t swamped with work. For some reasons, workload increases as December approaches with his cold and calloused hands, which could be the reason why you’ve been seeing less of him lately. Occasionally, you would pour two glasses of wine and sit in the living room, but it would end up with you drinking yours in silence while his’ rests untouched. On nights you stay up till twelve or so, you could hear him unlock his doors in a hurry and shut it just as quickly. Maybe, that’s how a busy lifestyle is supposed to be. Consequently, you stopped waiting for him, coming in terms with reality once again. For a brief while, you considered flying back to your hometown and living with your family for a while, but the idea was dismissed as soon as the announcements about promotions emerged in your department. Once again, you found yourself working day and night with eyes set on no one but Heeseung to spend your upcoming Christmas with. 

Usually, you’re someone who prioritises family over work but a promotion is what you need the most at the moment. Time and patience, they say, but you have neither of those. You don’t have time to sit and rethink or start all over again, time to start from scratch, and patience was never one of your positive traits. At times, you would consider resigning and moving to a whole other country but it was too late to do that. You were no longer a stranger to society, you knew how things work and you had to make things work, with no time to try anything new. At thirty-two, no one wants to see you resign and fly to Maldives for a vacation, to live like you have no worries to worry about, not even yourself. See, that’s the pain of growing up. Parents would tell their children that they have their whole life to do what they like and just a few years to study and make something out of themselves, and it’s nothing but a lie. The truth is, you only have time when you’re young and, as you grow up, time starts slipping out of your hand. A kid is expected to be able to walk by the time they’re eighteen months old, or two years at most. Beyond that, it’s a problem and you have to consult a paediatrician, even if you don’t want to. A student is expected to graduate by the time they turn eighteen, people are expected to have a job by twenty-seven, you’re supposed to be in a relationship before thirty and married by thirty-five. As you grow old, the time to do something runs out and by the time you’re seventy or so, you realise you’re too old to do what you want. 

“I actually wanted to go back this time but, mom’s trying to convince me into getting married,” He said when you accidentally bumped into him this morning, signing off a delivery. Heeseung, in college, came off as someone who would be rather interested in marriages, someone who’d commit to a serious relationship in university and end up marrying them. You wanted to ask the reason but chose not to, maybe because you remind yourself that you’re exes and there are boundaries that should be maintained. 

“So, you just don’t want to get married,” It’s supposed to be a question, albeit it comes off as a statement. You lean against your doorframe, watching him carry his parcel inside and placing it next to his couch. Usually, you’d lend him a hand but today, you simply crossed your arms and waited for him to respond. 

“I don’t want to get married right now,” He replies between huffs. “I can barely take care of myself,” There’s a faint bit of fascination in his voice, a smile evident on his face that leaves you wondering if the slight humour was necessary or whether it’s supposed to be a facade for his rather unsatisfactory lifestyle. 

“Well, you are doing much better than me,” You counter with the same fascination, shifting your weight on both your feet equally in hopes to engage in a full fledged conversation instead of a small talk. “Besides, marriage is a two way street. Being the husband doesn’t mean you have to earn and be responsible for the whole family, or being the wife doesn’t mean she has to cook, there are no roles to play. Marriage is just, sharing what you do, good or bad, right or wrong, and helping each other become a better version of ourselves.” A string of silence follows, you notice his chest rise in an attempt to reply, but words never leave his mouth. You wonder if you said something wrong, but part of you knows you didn’t. Marriage is not as horrific and most of the people make it to be. We all need someone to hold onto, someone who you know will be there when the world isn’t— it’s similar to dating, except you’re committing to just one person, which is better than breaking up and living in vain for months before falling for someone and living the whole process all over again.  

“You seem to know a lot,” But Heeseung never replies and shuts the door, and it’s just you and the silence once again. 

You spend the next few weeks locked in your bedroom, in front of your laptop, making a presentation while living off noodles and beer. You sleep schedule has been in shambles, you’ve grown prominent dark circles, living the vicious cycle of working your ass off with little or no sleep to suffice for your constant workload. This is the most productive you’ve been in a while, especially after your transfer. You wouldn’t say your job pleases you and better, but being aware that this project could really end up with you getting a promotion and thus, a salary increase, is enough to keep you going. 

You were back where you had started a few years ago, reading reports and watching your laptop overheat from all the tabs and applications running at once. You knew what you were doing but everything felt so foreign. The excel sheets spread open with the pointer blinking for you to add an input but your fingers no longer dance above the keyboard like they used to in the first few months of your job. You consulted your seniors, talked to your team leader, watched conferences of qualified professors of your field, took notes, but it all led you to the same thing— deleting and rewriting the whole thing, or simply a blank document that would light up your room on  nights you chose not to sleep. You even considered talking to Heeseung at some point but after recalling the way he dismissed you the morning he was receiving the parcel, you choose not to. While most people wouldn’t mind taking ten minutes to offer a word of advice, you simply choose not to involve Heeseung with your personal issues. 

Taking half days from work using it as an excuse to work on your presentation gave you an opportunity to watch Heeseung leave and arrive at his apartment everyday. You’d sit on your balcony with beer, or tea, rarely, and your laptop on your lap, scrolling through emails and numerous files, and around seven every evening, you’d see him step out of the cab that drops him off right in front of the apartment. On mornings, you usually see him walk up to the intersection which you think is to compensate for the lack of exercise in his routine. Often, you find yourself peeking down from your railing to catch a glimpse of him as soon as the minute hand crosses seven twenty. When he doesn’t arrive by eight, you grab another can of beer and take rounds from your door to the balcony with a pacing that increases with every second that passes. One time, he came home at nine and you rushed to open your door before realising that you can’t tell him you’ve been waiting for him for the past two hours. Good thing is that you had your phone and continued on your way to the apartment garden, telling him that you have to make an important call. 

You met him as his ex and now you find yourself dropping everything and waiting for him as if he’s your first priority. That’s when you realised you needed to create a line, but for now, you don’t mind hanging out in the neighbourhood with Heeseung as his friend, according to how he now introduces you to people he knows. 

“You’re telling me you never went out and explored this place?” His mouth was agape, too shocked to say anything. There were days when your antics spilled out relentlessly, but living in a city for over almost four months and not knowing any of the routes besides the one to your workplace has to be the worst one of those. Even back in university, you preferred to spend weekends in your dorms instead of at some club or bar, like your friends did. It would be a stretch if Heeseung said you are a hopeless case because he was no better, but he wasn’t as bad either, in several ways. 

“Hm, well, work gave me a perfect excuse to not go out,” You say with your eyes glued to the data sheet on your phone and it reminds him of the day you saw him studying Economics outside the bar. These are a few of the similarities that Heeseung noticed between him and you, similarities that he likes to see but is too scared to address in words. “Besides, it would be a waste of time and fuel when you can get the exact same things at your doorsteps.” 

“Is that why you never went out in college either?” He asks finally after a long drawn silence, albeit it never hits you since you’ve been too busy going through the documents on your phone. “Hey,”

“Maybe, but that was more because of academic reasons,” A poke on your shoulder manages to draw a response out of you, but it doesn’t take Heeseung to realise that you’re no longer interested in his questions. “Should we get more beer?” 

Heeseung stares at you, wondering if you still want a response because you’re already picking up cans from the shelves and walking towards the counter for billing. Gradually, he realises that you don’t even remember asking him for his input because you’re simply paying the bills and thanking the woman for her service. Instead of a question, your words resonate more like a statement. As if, you are no longer asking for a third-party input, you don’t need it, you’re simply letting them know your next decision, disguising it as an action of. . . kindness? Soliticion? He doesn’t know.

Now that the sun is approaching the horizon, offering a purple hue to the ever so beautiful sky, Heeseung finally comes to terms with what he thinks about you. His mind traces back to the day you told him that he’s not who people make him out to be and for a brief second, he questions the credibility of your words. You claim to know him, but do you know that he has been living by the edge all this time, or that he has been fired thrice before getting a job in the bank he’s working right now, or that he tried to call you after you broke up with him, that he has been diagnosed with some sort of congenital heart condition? You didn’t lie when you said one’s family health history will follow them down to their grave. And just like you, he doesn’t know much about you either. Even though you’ve told him most of the things, ranging from your family to your current situation, Heeseung doesn’t know who you are. There’s an unfamiliar familiarity, or a familiar unfamiliarity, either works, he doesn’t have a better phrase to describe it. To think, while you consider yourself in a position to classify people’s thoughts on Heeseung as right or wrong, he doesn’t even consider himself in a position to pay for your food, and it’s probably because how you’ve been taking slow steps away from him, eyes still glued to your phone while you keep talking to him as if he’s right next to you, when actually, he’s twenty steps behind. The sun that has disappeared, leaving behind a sombre glow over the whole city, taught him something— that no matter how long you’ve known someone, you never know them enough. There are pieces of you that separate you from them, actions that tell you that no two people are mirrors for each other’s soul, for one’s body and mind knows how to differentiate between self and non self, and no one’s a ‘know it all,’ after all. 

“You’ve changed,” He mentions abruptly, and that’s when you finally look up in his direction, soaking in the awareness that Heeseung is no longer standing next to you. 

For some reason, the evening led you to a local restaurant and while you were busy on your phone again, Heeseung took his time reading the menu card. As he took his time ordering the drinks, your attention shifted to the view of busy streets on the other side of the glass window pane. You watched as the high schoolers had the time of their lives next to a vending machine, following the actions of the book store owner as he reopened his shop for the evening. You swear you heard Heeseung call out your name a couple of times, albeit it felt like a fever dream and you didn’t respond. 

Change, as he described you, you wonder what could’ve changed inside you. You don’t think there’s a lot. You still work like a maniac and refuse to go out. Your complaining nature never changed, but you still don’t voice your problems where you should. You still get terrible headaches and take a pill for every little inconvenience. In the end, you don’t think you’re very different from how you were when you met Heeseung. Except that your hard work barely pays off these days, you think you’re still the same, monotonic version of yourself that he fell in love with, the same you that dumped him on the day of graduation ceremony four years ago.

“You said I changed,” By the time your drinks had arrived, you were knee deep in the simulations that could’ve made Heeseung feel like you’ve changed. “In what aspects, if I may ask,” 

“Like, in general,” He replies with a nod. “I can’t point it out but something about you has changed— well, of course, your age aside,” Liar, he thinks. Heeseung, in fact, knows what has changed, but he doesn’t know how to put it in words. Well, I can’t say you’re no longer looking forward to my opinions on something. Because even though you met as neighbours, even though you’re in a restaurant with him, having a meal and sharing bits of your life’s stories with each other, even though Heeseung looks forward to seeing you everyday— he needs to remember that you started as exes. 

You manage to draw a long hum out of you, nodding cautiously as you take his every word into consideration. They don’t offer much insight about what he’s actually thinking, but again, you never know exactly what is going on inside someone’s head. However, you take your chance to try and get something out of him. “A good change or a bad change?” 

“That’s for you to figure out,” He says softly, tying his words with a long, silent pause that follows closely after. He shoots you a cheeky smile before digging in and you take your time examining his features under the yellow lights of the restaurant, noticing the way he cuts his steak, or the way his eyebrows perk up as soon as his phone rings. You watch him turn to his side as he picks up the call, putting hand on his mouth to minimise the sound, though it was loud enough for you to decipher it clearly. 

You read the slight changes in his expression and gradual curve of his lips swifting upwards. Amidst all, your phone rings as well, interrupting the decorum of the restaurant. You pick it up quickly when Heeseung sends you a displeasing look, though you believe it wasn’t intentional. You didn’t check the caller ID but the voice tells you that it’s your team leader and for some reason, you’re expecting something good. Call it a hunch or the change in scenery tonight but something tells you that there must be good news waiting for you in a secluded corner. While you try your best to focus on what is being informed to you from the other side of the line, you’re too busy analysing Heeseung’s grimace that now you’re mirroring the same smile that’s dancing on his face. He glances at you and his smile grows wider, making you do the same in return. You really hope your call isn’t about the presentation due tomorrow because if yes, then you’re going to mess up, for your attention is nowhere near your call. You’re so lost taking note of every single change in Heeseung’s expression that now, everything your team leader is telling you from the other side of the phone is a blur. It’s as if you’re in a crowded room and the only thing you’re able to perceive is him. You’re so busy indulging in his actions that the only thing you’re able to hear clearly from the phone is that you’ve been removed from the project.

‘I know that you’ve been working hard but the Chairman thinks you’re not skilled enough to collaborate with us on this project,’ You start paying attention to the conversation now, letting everything else around dissolve in the yellow glow of the restaurant. ‘To make sure your efforts aren’t wasted, you’re free to give us a brief view on what you had in mind and if we decide to include it, I’ll put in a word or two for you to the Chairman.’ 

‘Promotion,’ he mouths the word with a cheeky smile when your eyes focus back on him before getting back to his phone once again. You don’t put down your phone and pretend to be on a call to avoid hearing about his good news, or share the bad one from your side. You try to respond with the same smile but your lips feel like they’re frozen. No movements— you don’t know what to say, how to smile; numbness is all you could comprehend. For the first time in all the years that you’ve known him, a slight hint of envy intoxicates the air between you and Heeseung. You should be happy for him— you’ve always been. You’ve always been a part of his success despite falling to the rock bottom on your part. On days Heeseung called you to inform you about the awards he received in a particular competition, you’d invite him over for a celebratory drink even if you, yourself, lost terribly. It was a long drawn process of mutual development and self-care. What people thought of as a relationship written in the stars, was a selfish way of ensuring your well being in the most selfless ways ever. You stayed with Heeseung because he was the only person down to hang out with you in your apartment instead of forcing you to go out. You enjoyed his company because he motivated you to do better, to test your potential and go beyond your limits; and somewhere inside, you knew you were worth the same for Heeseung too. Watching him do well, isn’t that what you wanted? You should be happy for him— but you’re not.  

Heeseung excuses him outside the restaurant once his phone starts blowing up with texts and calls, giving you a chance to drop your facade and let the whole situation sink in. You lean back on your chair, phone on the table as its screen lights up with a message from your team leader, informing the team that you’ve decided to step down from the project— which is a lie but you assume it’s been told to save you for further embarrassment. You sniff, a chuckle falls off your lips, there’s no use of it at all, what’s done is done. On the other side of the glass pane, you could see Heeseung talking on his phone with a triumphant smile, making invincible patterns on the pavestone with the tip of his converses. It feels as if he’s shining against the busy streets behind him, as if he’s the centre of attention at the moment. It takes you exactly back to your graduation day— he was just as happy sharing the news about his graduation with his family. You were sitting inside a cafe and watched him talk for what felt like hours. Your heart was full of the same dissatisfaction, but now that you think about it, perhaps it was just jealousy back then too. While Heeseung was born smart, brimming with passion, you had to fight to get what you wanted. And despite being one of the brightest students in his class, Heeseung’s achievements never had a chance next to yours. You stood in the first three ranks of your school, first five all your college life, been recommended to prestigious schools, were given more opportunities, you were better than Heeseung in all the possible ways. 

You watch Heeseung come inside and pick up his fork, only to put it down and get back to typing once again. There’s a smile on his face and it tells you that you’re equally deserving of the happiness he’s experiencing, perhaps even more than him because life was way harder for you than anyone else you’ve known till date. For the first time in years, you think life is unfair to you because even after giving your best in everything, you’re met with nothing but failure and discontent. No matter how hard you try, your efforts never pay off and people start treating you like a pushover, thinking you would do everything they’d say because you need to put up a good image of yourself in your workplace. You walk hand in hand with failure and watch people succeed with their bare minimum effort. You look at him once again and think, why must it always be you who suffers the pain of failure and shame.

Why me, why not him? 

III. Remember why you broke up

By the time winters arrived and marked their peak, you barely got a view of your neighbour. A part of it could be because of his even busier work life that comes in with promotions. You took the weekend off, saying you have an annual health checkup scheduled at the City Hospital, even though it was a white lie and you never had an appointment with your physician to begin with. Those two days felt longer than usual with the four walls of your apartment making you feel suffocated in your own house. You paced around for hours on empty, rearranging things, cleaning rooms, cooking meals, moving furniture— just anything that would make you feel useful. Truthfully, being depressed over a promotion makes you feel even more stupid about yourself. It’s a part of life, something you involuntarily signed up for when you applied for your job and you can’t run away from it no matter how much you try. Being in the workforce comes with disappointment and pleasure, failures and success; it’s not your first time losing but it still feels like the burden of failure is occupying every little space in your room, making it harder and harder for you to breathe. 

You thought things would be better once you get back to work but everything starts caving in when you hear the team leader discuss details about the project. Initially, they would let you in their meeting, offering you a chance to share your ideas to see if they can cultivate anything better but it didn’t last long either. You started learning about their meetings after work from other colleagues and they started leaving you out of their discussions. On some days, you would sit by an empty table in the canteen and go back to every move you made, trying to track down the mistakes you could’ve made for them to push you away. You didn’t expect them to keep you updated on everything since you’re no longer on the project team, but it would’ve been better if they had simply said that you’re not needed anymore instead of watching you run around cluelessly before you caught a hint. Everything would’ve been a lot easier if you didn’t have to drag yourself around to survive and make a living. On days like these, you would imagine Heeseung in his cabin with a complacent smile, laughing with his friends and receiving compliments. You don’t know why but at one point in time, you started picturing yourself in his shoes while idly resting in your apartment. 

Occasionally, you would hear his footsteps outside your door and stop everything you’d be doing to hear him unlock his door and walk in. Having Heeseung with you was slightly better than living alone and drowning in your overbearing thoughts, but you decided to maintain your distance. Heeseung— apart from being your ex— was someone capable of doing something, anything. You’ve known Heeseung for years and the once carefree young adult found a purpose in life. He had goals to achieve, perhaps a to-do list to complete; you didn’t want to disturb his decorum with your lethargic lifestyle. On some days, he would knock on your door and you’d pretend to be asleep. He would stand for a minute longer and knock again, you would focus on the sound of him tapping his shoes until they faded behind his doors. You started with leaving him on seen and stopped reading his texts altogether. For a few days, it felt refreshing— as if he was never a part of your life to begin with— but the loneliness didn’t hit you until he stopped dropping by your door. And you realised— you were never able to get him out of your life properly. After you broke up, you moved away, blocking all means of contact, but met him at a reunion, and something inside of you prompted to get his number, and so you did. Even though you never talked, you found yourself staring at his number with your fingers hovering over his caller ID. 

It took you years, but you think you’re coming to terms with the truth, that you can never get Heeseung out of your life, and it’s not because you can’t, but instead it’s because you don’t want to. Life without Heeseung felt like a maze, but with him it’s as if you’ve found a way, and you would never admit but having him next to you was so much better than living alone with alcohol. 

When his absence overwhelmed you, you would try burying yourself into stuff as a distraction. It started with books, then painting, followed by poetry, before you would slump on your couch again with no motivation to do anything. Job wasn’t any better or busier. People had little expectations from you and you had even less. At times, you would pace in your living room, trying to complete a presentation or prepare an excel sheet. The deja vu caved in when you’d hear Heeseung’s cab stop by the apartment entrance, except you no longer ran to your balcony to catch a glimpse. You no longer sat on the balcony with tea, waiting for him to arrive. As time passed, you stopped paying attention to the sound of him unlocking his door. His footsteps dissolved in the heavy silence, too miscible for you to perceive. Occasionally, you’d find yourself thinking about him in the shower or before bed, but the thought of him never lasted long enough for it to dawn upon you. Before you knew it, Heeseung became just another neighbour you had, another resident living in the fourteen floored apartment.  

One evening, you bumped into a woman who was standing in front of Heeseung’s apartment. You didn’t see her face, for you were standing behind her with grocery bags, but you could picture what she looked like. Your eyes settled upon her chiffon shirt and the way it complimented figure, her stilettos, a handbag from Lana Marks, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to her. The thoughts about her knowing or being related to Heeseung didn’t cross your mind until a few minutes later. She, despite being someone you never met, was the exact image of how your younger self had imagined herself in future. 

“Excuse me, does Lee Heeseung live on this floor? I just want to confirm,” And her voice is just as captivating. You find yourself staring at her face longer than you should, losing the sense of reality because of all the questions hurdling inside your mind. 

Who even are you?

“He does, but he’s at work right now,” You reply with a bitter smile.

Who are you to him?

“I see,” It seems like she’s about to say something, and you’re not up for a small talk with a stranger, or Heeseung’s girlfriend, or his ex-girlfriend, your ex’s other ex girlfriend, whichever fits the scenario better. Actually, you’re not half against the idea of him dating someone else, not like your refusal will mean anything either. Truthfully, the idea never crossed your mind. You spent your days working days and nights to get the degree you’ve been aiming for, apply for jobs, fueling your hunger for having more and more. 

Maybe, that’s why college is supposed to include one of the most youthful years because after all, it is the only time when you’re free from most of the worries. You didn’t have stress about attending classes regularly or having proper notes like you did in highschool, nor did you have to worry about fitting into the workforce and numerous interviews. College, for you, was the time you could see yourself falling in love, and you did, and now that you stand in your marginally empty living room with your gaze reaching up to the farthest of the buildings touching the sky line, you realise that you don’t see yourself falling for someone the way you did for Heeseung. Perhaps that’s why your conscience refused to imagine him with someone else. Maybe because he had such an impact on you that you don’t see yourself with someone else, you sort of hoped that the time he spent with you had half, if not the same, impact on him as well. 

The evening passed by with you sitting in front of your laptop, scrolling through the document your boss sent you the same noon. The beer cans lie stray on the tiles, right next to you as you shiver under your beige cardigan. You’ve been wanting to close the balcony for a while now, except you don’t want to get up from the cushion that has warmed up with you sitting on it for two hours now, especially in this cold weather. You’re not busy, but you’ve been trying to indulge yourself into little work here and there. Even if it’s just moving your furniture from one corner to another, or going through a file that you’ve already reviewed the previous evening, anything that could make you feel less lonely is welcomed. 

These are the moments when you zone out involuntarily, thinking about Heeseung, or more precisely, his work life. You picture him in his cabin with a cup of coffee, skipping lunch because he has files stacking up on his desk. You imagine him amidst his colleagues at a local bar after working hours, having his drink of relief that hits his system with a wave of satisfaction after a long and busy day. You think about him a little too often for someone who’s trying to forget him. Usually, the thoughts are laced with traces of envy. Today, they’re drowning in something between regret and jealousy. You take a sip from the can in your hand, and suddenly, the image of Heeseung with the lady from earlier pops inside your mind. You’re not sure if they dated, or if they are dating, but you do know that they’re more than friends. Perhaps, it’s just a hunch, an intuition that’s terribly wrong and is driving you to insanity because of all the stuff you’re thinking about. You know you should stop but you can’t help but picture them together. 

Now, you’re thinking about their life together as a couple, the stuff they’d do, the things they’d say. You feel like an intruder peeping into their lifestyles, someone who’s uninvited in their story, a third person. You think about them doing everything you and Heeseung did together, but again, neither of you had a lot of things in your hands to begin with. You had your problems, he had his part-time job, a sorry excuse of a college major that both of you found interesting, along with each other’s shoulders to cry on when needed. While your stories started off as any other tale of love with paths decorated with flowers, it was far from how they portrayed love life in universities in the media. In reality, you barely have time for each other and if somehow you do, you know in the back of your head that you’re missing out on other things. College is, actually, just a bunch of things to do with limited time, and the time is running out of your hands while you sit on your bed and contemplate life decisions, crushing over some person from one of your classes, thinking about the bartender from that cafe downstreet, making up for everything you didn’t get to do during highschool. 

You and Heeseung didn’t have a lot of time to offer each other. Texts were shared, he’d face time with you every morning and you’d call him if you couldn’t see him after classes. Hugs shared in hallways reduced to apologies at your shared apartments, you both went from making out in club rooms to barely getting a glimpse of each other on weekdays. Initially, when he would get back after extra classes, you would be at the door, waiting with your arms open. After sometime, you’d be in your room, busy with your work while he would be lost in his own world of things to tend to. At first, Heeseung’s presence made you feel better about yourself but later on, it didn’t matter if he was there or not. It all felt the same, and the worst part, neither of you tried to work on it. Both you and Heeseung started to get used to the lack of each other. 

Your fingers tighten around the can, your mind goes back to thinking about the lady. Maybe, the lack of affinity in your relationship gave Heeseung a reason to give up and move on. Perhaps, she was everything to him that you couldn’t be, maybe she keeps standing at her doorstep to welcome him after he returns from work, that the two of them seek for each other instead of getting used to whatever has been offered by the circumstances. Could be that every kiss meant as a thank you for being in each other’s life instead of a sorry for not being able to see each other for days and more. Maybe, he is happy with her and you have no right to be jealous because in the end, you gave him every reason to try to forget you. 

Another shot of beer down your throat, another can added to the emptied stacks, your senses start fading into nothing when you hear distant clicking of doors, or perhaps it’s the hangover blanketing the sound for you. With the last bits of energy and soberness left in your system, you get up and open your door. 

“Didn’t expect you to remember me after all this time that you’ve been ignoring me,” Heeseung snaps at you playfully, or maybe, with a hidden sense of disappointment. You have the answer to his question if he asks why you suddenly opened the door when he didn’t even ring the doorbell, or why you’re here standing at your doorstep with nothing but a thin cardigan in this chilling weather. You’re just hoping he won't ask you for the reason you refused to see him until now, because you don’t have an answer to that. 

“Someone came, looking for you,” You say, and meanwhile, in the back of your head, you think of reasons why you actually ran to see him the moment he arrived from work. You don’t want to admit it’s because of the woman from earlier today, you don’t think she’s the reason behind the sudden changes in your mannerisms in the first place. “Some lady,”

A pause, you notice realisation seeping through the cracks of his skin. A second passes, and then another, his eyes tell you that he knows who it could be. “Right,” 

And, Heeseung steps inside your apartment as if it’s yours, and you step aside, letting him in, as if he has always belonged there, and it feels as if the walls have started to fade out the moment he takes a seat on the couch, taking a sip from the bear can you offer him with eyes ever so indulged in him, as if he has returned home after months. Heeseung exhales deeply before letting the words fall off his lips. “We dated for a while,” 

You expected that much, judging from her mannerism and the way she took your name. You had expected them to be in a relationship, or had pictured them as exes who are planning to get back together, a luxury you could never afford. Consequently, you bury those thoughts deep inside, taking a seat next to him, and for some reason, you feel breathless in your own house, on your own couch, with your own bear intoxicating your systems. It’s something Heeseung has always done to you; making you feel out of place. 

You want to yell at him. 

Looking at Heeseung, you don’t know what exactly made you fall for him in the first place. For example, say, you can claim that he dislikes drinking out late with friends and is the type to study even during gatherings based on just one incident. You can sit back and claim to be almost, if not just as, similar to him, pointing out the similarities while completely ignoring the differences, crossing them out of your list of reasons why. But considering everything now, Heeseung has always been different, and a better different. He received good grades even after spending empty hours at your apartment, watching you study. You complained about having day long picnics with him, saying the two of you could use that time more efficiently. As a result, there were nights you could cry yourself to sleep because you were unable to look at your relationship from his point of view. You would kiss him but it’s an apology for the upcoming week that you wouldn’t be able to see him, and you would cancel dates just to study another chapter beforehand. Every single second spent next to him reminded you of all the sacrifices he made for you and every thing you did to disregard his efforts. No, you weren’t a bad partner, his timing was wrong, but saying that would be just another excuse to soothe your aching heart. Looking at him now, it takes you back to all the days you’ve spent together in pain and pleasure, between yes and no’s, do’s and don’ts, a choice between leaving and staying for a little bit longer; the memories are bittersweet like your favourite wine, or rather, they resemble a cold autumn breeze that makes you shut your doors and windows, keeping you from enjoying your favourite season. Time spent with him was short, though nice, but thinking of him makes you blue. You said you wouldn’t see him again but you’re still here, next to him, stuck in the past, still young, still making mistakes, still growing, not knowing if you’ll ever learn. 

“So, how was work today?” You ask, partially because you don’t want to think about him and partially because of the slight curiosity you have regarding his work life, about how it feels to do something he likes, something that doesn’t feel like a chore. 

“You’re not going to ask why we broke up?” He questions back. 

“I figured that it’s your private matter,” 

“She said I didn’t love her,” He says it factually, as if it’s something you’re supposed to know. “That I used her to pass time while waiting for someone else,” His words are unclear, insinuating towards something that you dare not assume, but his eyes are telling you that it’s your fault. 

And for once after you broke up with you, you wonder if Heeseung resents you for calling off your relationship. The thought of him hating you has never crossed your mind, be it your pride or habits to avoid taking the blame. You don’t resent him, he can’t either. You loved each other, you got over it, you broke up, that’s life. That’s the flow of the universe, to meet people and leave him to meet someone else and to keep meeting a new person until you find the one you could stay with. If he thinks you’re the reason why he hasn’t been able to move on, then he’s no different from you, for the thought of him dating someone else has been bugging you ever since the two of you had a drink together on the night you moved in. 

To you, love was inordinate. I love you, Heeseung would say, and you’d ask, how much— he wouldn’t find the words to answer you then. You can go on, pretending none of this ever happened, draping sheets over all the memories about everything you and Heeseung were, in the back of your mind, and fall in love with him all over again, living as all the things you could’ve been. You’ve put too much faith in your love for him, knowing that even after spending the sunsets alone, your mornings will always commence in his arms. There’s fear lurking around, you chose to ignore it. So resentment, in your relationship, was a bliss neither of you could have. For every day that you stood him up, Heeseung paid you back multiple folds. Every moment spent in his arms struck you back with arguments that seemed to get bigger, and none of you were ready to work things out. The pain was mutual, you both hurt each other, then why does it seem like only you’re in the wrong? 

“Turns out, I never gave you a congratulatory gift for your promotion. I should be having a bottle of wine if I’m not wrong,” You get up from your couch; a subtle attempt to change the topic and drive the atmosphere in any other direction except the one it was flowing into. 

Silence takes over, you’re in the kitchen, leaning against the counter, he’s on the couch, the sound of water dripping down your kitchen sink hits your ears as you get conscious of the periodic sounds of the clock ticking. Maybe, wine is just an excuse to get away from Heeseung and everything that his presence takes you back to. It feels like university all over again, where you could spend hours in silence next to each other, though this time, you’re apart, but still, under the same roof. The sense of something being terribly wrong looms in the air, but none of you could bring yourselves to say something, because you both need a shoulder to lean on. There are heavy untold words housing the back of your mind, unasked questions that haunt Heeseung in his sleep, suppressed emotions both of you know couldn’t be expressed so easily this time ‘round. 

There’s no wine at your place, but you put water to boil while preparing hangover soups for both of you. His exhausted grimace tells you he needs it, and you need it even more than him. You’re taken back to the days when either of you would have a run down to the nearest convenience store to the university to get beer and then spend the night before the test amidst alcohol and sheer stress weighing your shoulders. You would refuse to waste your time instead of studying but one look at Heeseung and you’d lose your composure. Blurred words about how both of you should be studying for exams would escape your lips between sips from your cans and, Heeseung would simply laugh at your failed efforts to pull yourself together. On days, you think about the possibility of you and him and you could’ve been if time had allowed, wondering if you could’ve made things right by attending the reunion last year instead of making excuses to pass just because Heeseung was going to be there. You consider every single scenario where he and you could’ve been together if time had allowed, and if either of you had taken a step towards making things right, then again, a voice from the back of your mind would tell you to give up. 

You hear Heeseung let out an exaggerated sigh. “I resigned,” 

“What?” And it feels like your lungs have collapsed. “I mean, you’ve been promoted then, why?” You don’t get it. Resigning from a job that had everything to offer seemed too incomprehensible in your knowledge. Had it been you— had it been anyone else— would think the same.

You’ve spent months in despair, searching for a purpose in the way you make money, a reason to keep going on between oceans of failure with pieces of your shattering will staying afloat. You’ve spent nights staying up, working on a presentation and giving it your everything to secure a better position in your department. Not a day has passed when you didn’t feel like you’ve lost the purpose of everything and yet, kept going with the flow of life to see if something good lies at the other end. And Heeseung would say, who cares about the standards of normal people, but recruiting managers don’t look for something out of the ordinary. They’re not looking for someone who would operate things based on whether it fits their sense of satisfaction, someone who would resign after getting a promotion when other employees struggle to get one. You would consider having a long talk about the choices he made and one he should’ve gone with, but instead, you sit in front of him on the cold winter tiles. 

“Promotions can make you feel good for a while, but they can’t satisfy you in the long run,” He says it easily, a little too carelessly for your comfort. “I just want to do something I like,” And once again, you come to the conclusion that these are the reasons why you and Heeseung wouldn’t have made it even if you had tried.

He’s too different. 

Heeseung has nothing to lose, never had to begin with. When you saw yourself for a whole month, doing everything in the same way, he was out enjoying his life. Now that you’ve managed to pull yourself together and learnt to handle your emotions, though not by a long shot, he shows up and tells you that he has resigned from his perfect job, or rather, a job that would’ve been perfect for you, at least. You would’ve been a better employee, you’re efficient, you don’t make decisions impulsively, have excellent qualifications, know how to separate work and private life, how to separate likes and dislikes from needs and necessities. You wouldn’t have resigned because if you did, you would’ve lost your only source of income, your last straw, something that has been keeping you from returning back to your stagnant lifestyle. You would’ve been a much better employee than Heeseung. 

You’ve seen him living like he has no worries. You’ve seen him switch clubs, change hobbies, drop subjects until he settled with something that satisfies him. Heeseung is about kissing his lovers between paintings at an art museum, promising forever, but he’s so quick to change his heart. Heeseung knows what’s important and what’s not a little too much, he knows what he needs and things that have no use for him anymore. Perhaps, it’s a sense of fearlessness that you acquire growing up the way he did, exquisitely happy and desperately carefree. You think it’s just a waste of time and resources for people like Heeseung because they don’t understand the value of certain things just because they’ve received it too easily. You wouldn’t disregard his efforts because you’ve seen him work hard to make ends in university. Even though things were a tad bit easier for him compared to you, you know it was the hardest time he had during university. You admire Heeseung for his consistency and passion, but you despise him for throwing away something you’ve seen people cry for; something that you’ve cried for, over a hundred times. While you may come to respect his choices when you wake up the next day, but right now, you wish that he was in your shoes, living life the way you’ve been living, suffering, struggling, suppressing. 

“People just don’t get by through society with their likes and dislikes,” There’s a touch of envy in your words, you hope it wouldn’t get past him. You grew up doing everything that would result in a secure future instead of something that satisfies you, to put it straight. The managers at interviews don’t look for candidates with most unique or extraordinary likes and hobbies, but rather they’re in search of someone with experience, ironically, and someone who can adapt to different circumstances without diminution of their efficiency. 

And you think, the childhood people have, or the way they grow up, what they go through and the circumstances they lived in, it really shapes their future selves. Growing up in a financially suboptimal family made you believe that money is everything, and people can try convincing you otherwise but their views wouldn’t alter the truth. Even if you wake up and try to think that money isn’t the most important thing, you would learn to believe otherwise the moment you open your empty refrigerator by the end of this month. You didn’t waste time having highschool romances and university love stories. You’ve had your fair share in having crushes and one night stands until you met Heeseung, and thinking about it now, a part of you knows it was a better decision to stay with him instead of hoping you had someone by your side on days when you didn’t feel like yourself. Perhaps, you did use him like a part of your conscience claims. Maybe at the end of day, away from all the concepts of love and lust, that’s what he was to you, a band aid that needed to be replaced before it infects the very wound it was healing. 

“You’re going to regret it,” It’s a breathy confession, a bitter truth. “Decisions made impulsively, they always leave heavy regrets,” You’ve been walking hand in hand with regrets. You’ve made decisions, many of which you thought would offer great results but instead, left with heavy regrets. You know better than giving up on the perfect job in search of something you’d enjoy doing, or walking in another direction knowing it’s the longer way home. Life has given you your fair share of events to think back to whenever you sit back, planning to do something new. Sometimes, you wonder why all of this only happens with you, and as an answer, you think that maybe, you’re the only one who would take life for its lessons and losses and still keep on going as if nothing ever happened. 

“Then, did you ever regret breaking up with me?” You see, Heeseung was never successful in comprehending the whole logic behind love. He was told it’s warm, but he knows love is the loneliest place a person could ever find themself in; he read that it’s kind, but Heeseung has spent nights spilling tears on his pillow, all because of love. It’s self contradicting; love is supposed to make you feel happy, but it stings. It gets under his skin, makes him unsteady, makes him question everything he has ever believed about love. He didn’t see it coming. Truthfully, Heeseung didn’t see you coming into his life. You were a boon and a blessing, the one who made him feel reckless and out of control; the one he is infuriatingly and inexplicably drawn to. Ironically enough, you’re not the one who tucks him in bed, but instead the reason why he cannot sleep at night. So, Heeseung needs to know if his presence made you feel the same way, or if he was really just another passerby in your melancholy. 

His question is the words you’ve been avoiding to notice ever since you called off your relationship with him. It has been hiding in the back of your head, popping up every once in a while when your heart aches for love and when your arms feel emptier than the streets after midnight. And amidst your heavy heart and cold tiles, your hands find their way to his. A faint apology falls off his lips, whispered in your ears. The moon watches you slip his shirt off his shoulders, your lips tracing along his neck while his hands find solace in your curves as if you’re the home they’ve been yearning for; an old spark ignites again, a beginning of something tragic. 

As the night dwells further into the darkness, the two of you are pulled back into the old cycle of healing and hurting, the give and take where both of you would be standing with your hands stained with losses by the time it ends. Your steps are heading towards actions you couldn’t reverse, and the very reason you broke up flashes in front of your eyes, though faded enough to have you ignore it. Guilt trickles through your fingertips, seeping through the cracks of his skin, his eyes gleam of remorse, and the moment your lips meet his’, fate decides to play into the hands of your history once again. 

IV. One step at a time

It didn’t feel right watching Heeseung being so busy even after resigning from his job. You always see him on his laptop, typing or reading something. Morning to evening, from noon to night, you’d see the lights in his apartment switched on, faint rumblings of furniture and numerous phone calls filtering through his walls and entering yours. He was busy, he was planning something huge, and you didn’t like the sound of it. 

You’ve come to a point in life where you can finally accept your pettiness and slash or, your jealousy. Maybe, it’s one of the few emotions you’ve been feeling over the past week, and now, you finally know the reason why. Waking up this morning, you imagined yourself in his shoes once again— without a job, without a secure financial flow, without a purpose or strong sense on what to do next, just as someone in the workforce who’s contributing to nothing. The furthest your imagination took you was to your terrace, you don’t know how you would live through a life like that. 

Some things about Heeseung have never made sense to you. While he might come off as someone who has plans prior to everything, you always see him as someone who lives his life based on a hit and trial concept. He does one thing, and if it doesn’t fit to his liking, he switches to other, and then other, and then he has a never ending cycle in his hands. You weren’t there when he got a job but you know how Heeseung looks when he is passionate about something. The evidence lies all the way back to university, or during the few months that you’ve witnessed him go to work before quitting abruptly. You’ve spent evenings trying to deduce a conclusion as to why he resigned, and every possibility leads you to the answer that it was a decision made in spur of the moment. A part of you thought about asking him for a reason if he ever had one, but you ultimately realised that a person like him doesn’t need a reason to choose something that he likes; no one does, except you. People don’t put a second thought when it comes to choosing what they like and what they don’t. They date their crushes, eat their favourite food, watch their favourite movies, attend concerts of their favourite artists; favourite, it’s a word that tends to solve most of the trivial problems that arise throughout one’s life. Perhaps, that’s another reason why you decided not to ask Heeseung about the night from two days ago. Even though you made the move, the most he can say about complying and giving in to your acts would be because he wanted to do so; no reason, no plans, nothing. 

Maybe, it was your fault. You could’ve taken one step at a time, starting from dinner, then something else— you don’t know what people do to get back with their exes. You’ve never done that, would have never if it wasn’t for Heeseung, because something about him has you gravitating in his direction. That’s why, you sit on his couch, the TV remote in your hands as a random show plays on the screen. Your eyes are rather focused on Heeseung, who sits by the kitchen counter, typing something on his laptop for the past hour. He has been busy with that lately. You pictured unemployment as lying on your bed all day, or pacing around your apartment uselessly, having the days feel longer and watching the time pass because you have nothing better to do. But, Heeseung is way too busy for someone who has recently resigned, he’s even busier than how he used to be. You asked him about it once, and he said it’s something he has been wanting to do for a while now. Heeseung never gave you the context, but you know he is putting his time into writing drafts for his book. 

Occasionally, you anticipate a small talk with him, but with no signs of Heeseung being interested in anything except his drafts, your eyes instead run all over his living room, taking a note of every single detail that exhibits his taste in interior decor that has changed over time. The wine coloured curtains are a little too vibrant to fit his choices of decors and furniture. You remember him planning out the living room layouts with you back in university when you were still together, when life was beautiful and you were impossibly happy. 

You find it amusing how quickly things change. It’s been years but if you’re being honest, it feels like just yesterday, you were accepted in the university you’ve been aiming for, as if just yesterday, you earned the scholarship, and just yesterday, you had met Heeseung. Your heart still picks up a pace at the sight of him.You’ve spent months thinking about the time you spent with him, regretting every move that led you to the decision to break up with him. You’ve had your fingers just centimetres above his caller ID, just impulses away from making a call, seconds away from asking him to get together back again, heartbeats away from giving into your desires. It started with your falling for him first, and you kept falling harder and harder until you realised that you were at the bottom of the pit and it was getting hard to breathe. You spent years trying to make your way up, step by step, and when you were finally by the edge, he came back and pushed you back to where you had started. You would say you hate him but a part of you wants to believe this could lead to something better than how it was last time, because things have started to feel a lot like love, and you’d like to take a chance with your broken fate yet again. 

“Heeseung,” You call once, voice low and quiet like a whisper, one that dissolves between the sound of television. You expect him to hear, but your words fly by his ears as if they’re of little to no importance. “Heeseung,” You say again, this time a little louder, eyes fixed in his direction, watching the seconds pass and waiting for a reply. For a second, you wonder if he’s pretending to not hear you deliberately, but you push yourself to sit up straight, hoping he’d hear you this time. “Hee,” 

And he whips his head in your direction. It was for a brief second, but you could see a hint of surprise in his eyes. You would’ve said you have accomplished something if Heeseung had spared you a little more attention, but his eyes go back to his laptop and before you know it, his fingers start dancing above the keys yet again. 

“What are we?” You ask, half hopeful, half defeated. You don’t know where the question comes from, or why you are even asking it. Your heart isn’t hoping for a happily ever after romance, your mind isn’t looking for a redemption arc. You’re not hoping for a good response, you’ve learnt to keep your expectations low after everything that has unfolded in the past. You’re not hoping, you tell yourself, but your soul knows otherwise. 

A second passes, then another, your mind starts coming up with answers to your own questions. What could you be? To strangers, you’re neighbours; to your friends, you’re exes; to yourselves, it’s a broad question. You could tell your mind that you’re in a friends-with-benefit relationship that has a terrible lack of communication and get away with it, but your heart knows it was supposed to be something wrong. 

“You tell me,” A soft laugh falls off his lips, it makes him sound like he’s lost as well, just like you. You take it as a good enough response but Heeseung stands up from his chair, making way towards his bedroom as if you aren’t even there, as if your question holds no meaning. You would’ve assumed his response meant that even if you both are without labels at the moment, you could be something in the future. Maybe, your actions from two nights ago would’ve lead to something good if he was less busier, but for now, all they do is guide you to the answer to your own question: 

A temporary fix. 

That’s what you both are. It’s exactly how it was back in university, a sense of mutualism with no sense of responsibilities. Things were obligatory, dates were barely a show to the world for your sorry excuse of a relationship. It started off like a fairytale, as if you both were supposed to meet, meant to fall in love, made for each other. In the first few weeks or even months, having Heeseung next to you felt like a blessing. A luxury to come home to someone, to have someone you can vent to about that one professor who kept dismissing your essays, someone who you can talk about your endless project and seminar ideas and they would reply with the same enthusiasm, someone who could make you feel like you’re seeing the world just by staying within the four walls of your messy apartment. Dating Heeseung had you believing in all the romance tropes you’ve ever come across, so much that you forgot that you’ve been living in a painful reality. 

You tried not to ponder over it so much. You went back to work once the weekends passed, back to your old excel sheets and same old job. Occasionally, you would wish he stayed next to you until you finished your work just like he did back while you were still dating, but you knew it was too much to even hope for. You would say, you’re going crazy. Perhaps, you shouldn’t think so much about the one-night-stand sort of thing you had with your ex, your neighbour. You both are adults, one without a job and other without the will to do the job, both brimming with unsaid feelings, tied to loose ends, holding onto unasked questions for answers, troubled by old memories and the future that was about to come. He deserved an explanation, you had an excuse to share. Whatever happened, was bound to happen. 

Sometimes, you wonder if Heeseung thinks about it as much as you do. Memories from that night haunt your mind like spirits, making it hard for you to focus on anything and everything else, yearning to feel his touch one last time. There are evenings when you’d come home in hopes of having a conversation about what would happen to the two of you in near future, but then you’d see his eyes glued to his laptop screen the moment you enter his apartment and you’d realise that it has only been you all along. Watching Heeseung do well even after giving up his job no longer induces anger or jealousy. Instead, a sense of inferiority floods inside of you whenever your eyes fall upon his figure leaning over his laptop, typing relentlessly with a content smile on his face. And the reason, once again, lies in the concepts of too many similarities and even more differences. 

Months ago, when you were still in Incheon, still bound to your old apartment and old lifestyle, there was a point when you had seen yourself at your lowest. You used to drag yourself to work, force yourself to smile, push yourself to make it through everyday. You struggled to do the bare minimum that was necessary to survive. You wouldn’t say your situation was any better than Heeseung only because you still have a job while he doesn’t, because inside the four walls of his apartment, he’s doing better than any other unemployed person out there. He’s doing better than you while you still had your job, while you still had money in your hands to spend on useless things. You spent months pulling yourself through just to make sure you don’t lose your job, and Heeseung resigns from his’ a little too easily. You feared every second that passed because you didn’t know what the future would hold, and if you still had a future, but Heeseung is sitting on his couch and writing as if he has nothing to worry about. You saw yourself for months, doing the same thing, in the same way, and Heeseung is living every minute as if it offers him something amusing. 

Life was always easier for Heeseung, and you wonder if this is the reason why you’re standing by his door with your nails digging into the palm of your hands. Maybe, if this is why you don’t try to strike a conversation and instead, walk out of the door as if you accidentally walked into the wrong apartment and now that you’ve realised your mistake, you would make sure you don’t repeat it and end up in the same place ever again. 

The next few days pass by rather slowly. 

You’ve been trying to keep yourself busy with work. Though it’s a bit hard to focus when everything else is plaguing your mind, things have started to get into place once again. Additionally, you’ve also been busy trying to grow a liking for your job after getting an earful from your boss. The truth is, you don’t exactly hate your work life. Materialistically, it’s perfect— a good environment, impressive benefits, a considerably loaded paycheck— it’s wonderful, but intellectually, you feel you’re at the same place where you started from. You haven’t gotten a new project in a while ( was kicked off the one that kept you motivated ) not a single new thing about work except reviewing documents and passing them on for signatures. One could tell you to quit and look for something you prefer to do, but resigning and pursuing something that you like, unlike Heeseung, is a luxury you never had on your side. 

Before you realised, it had already been a week since what happened between you and Heeseung. You wanted to talk about it, hoped to, but he’s harder to see than the most. You could see him through your kitchen that faces his bedroom. You would see his shadow roaming behind the curtains, a notebook in his hand, or a laptop, rarely. Heeseung likes to scribble his thoughts on a paper before settling with one, it’s something you’ve noticed back in the university when he spent nights working on his projects while you sat still at the corner of your bed. You can still watch him on and on for hours, sitting on his couch and imagining him walking up and down his living room while working on his drafts. 

Watching Heeseung is one thing you will never get tired of. It’s a little discovery on its own. Every step he takes and every move he makes tells you something new, something you hadn’t known before. You remember sitting next to him in libraries late at night and watching him study. It was supposed to be a simple observation, perhaps an intention to catch onto his tricks and tips to study, and suddenly you see him biting his nails as if his pores are dripping with nervousness. It made you feel better knowing that someone like him has his moments where he’s nervous, even scared, maybe more. Watching Heeseung was something you had on your daily checklist because those moments reminded you that he’s not all strange, that there are similarities, and that he also falls weak, just like you. Watching him felt like watching yourself, as if he’s more you than you are. It felt like taking a look into the mirror and realising that whatever souls are made of, yours and his are the same. 

But mirrors for each other's soul has a cost: by the time they part from each other, the individuals have become indistinguishable. Before their merger, they each yearned for the other; as they part, they part from self. Maybe, that’s why leaving him felt like leaving pieces of yourself and meeting him again felt like you could breathe once again. 

You can hate him for all the reasons why he is better than you and for all justifications you could offer to prove otherwise. You can spend hours explaining why life has been unfair to both of you, yet still he gets to have the better end while you always fall back to the start even after all the times you’ve tried. You can go out and tell the world your tales of misery and braveness, how you didn’t give up even after life dragged you beyond what could possibly be the worst, and you can complain your heart out about how Heeseung, despite having everything you could ever ask for, gave up all because it didn’t fit to his liking. You can call him a coward in front of eight billion people and would still find yourself in front of his doorsteps at the end of the day, just like now, because after all, he’s the only person who would welcome you with open arms. 

“Have you ever tried painting?” You ask while taking a look at all the loose sheets lying around on the centre table in his living room. It comes off a surprise when you find that what he has been scribbling behind his beige curtains were sketches of characters of his novel, rough and messy, some drawn seemingly in love while others had patches of pain in their eyes. 

“As a kid, yeah. My parents made me try almost everything out there,” He replies on his way from the kitchen with two coffee mugs in his hands; and amusingly enough, it would be the first time you’d be having coffee with him ever since you moved, because every other conversation was accompanied with alcohol or wine. “But paint brushes aren’t my forte, really,” You take one of the cups, nodding in the process. Your childhood wasn’t any different, despite the financial shortcomings. You remember taking extracurricular classes at least four days a week, all for different fields, art being one of those. You wouldn’t say your painting skills are worth exhibiting, but they are better than his. Maybe, that’s why you briefly consider pointing out his mistakes, telling him that he could try fixing the body proportions to make the figures look more presentable but again, you refrain yourself from doing so. 

Instead, you take your time observing Heeseung, again. 

A sip of coffee hits your system, you sit on the couch, watching him arrange the sheets into one place. Earlier, it seemed as if Heeseung didn’t care about you seeing his living room in such a mess, as if it’s something you’re allowed to see because it’s you. You notice the way he’s holding onto the coffee mug, you’ve always loved how his fingers wrap around its perimeter completely. It’s one of the things about him that you find attractive. He sits on the opposite end of the couch and you’re sent thinking about the last time you both sat like this, having coffee over silent smiles. One second, you’re thinking about all the good times you’ve had and the next, your mind drifts back into the thoughts from a few nights ago. 

The coffee started tasting bitter or maybe, it’s just your thoughts. From thinking about his hands in yours to the smile that used to warm up your evening, nothing seems to cross your mind except the way you felt when his lips captured yours for the first time in years; nothing compares to that, not even close. You thought it’d be fine this time ‘round, people don’t make the same mistakes over and over again. Meeting Heeseung again was like falling back into the hole you’ve been climbing up, but hitting the bottom never hurt. You thought things would work out just fine because you’ve grown up. You’ve learnt things, you know what you did wrong back then and you know exactly what to do to make things right. All these things, they ran an imaginary conversation inside your head where everything went back to normal. There was a point where you couldn’t distinguish between daydreams and reality, and the truth didn’t hit you until you were sitting on the floor of your shower, hyperventilating his name into your hands; and you asked yourself— is it so bad for people to just use one another?  

Because friends with benefits is also a relationship based on convenience, you don’t get why loving someone the same way is deemed toxic or simply unacceptable. If things had worked that way, you wouldn’t have ever ended up on this turn of life. You and Heeseung would kiss but won’t be in love, sleep next to each other but won’t be a couple, share your secrets but won’t be friends. He would be someone you would’ve seeked on evenings you couldn’t stop crying and you would be someone he could hold onto on days that made him feel like he couldn’t go further. Not lovers, but not friends, just something, someone you could use and not feel guilty about, someone who could walk away a hundred times without hurting you, someone you didn’t feel obliged to focus on. You both could’ve been someone who didn’t feel like a chore to each other. If people could just use each other, perhaps, you and Heeseung would have lasted longer. 

Commitments are hard. Loving is hard, because a day comes where you run out of all the reasons to love. You become selfish, starting thinking about the give and receive, the shortfalls, the absence. The part of your lover that you fell for becomes the very reason why you fall out of love. Instead of appreciating the times spent together, you start complaining about all the minutes that went in waste, all the days they weren’t by your side. You take a step away from the commitment you swore upon and then one day, you start walking away before you even realise. So, loving is hard, and it’s even harder to fall in love again when you’ve walked away once and you’re afraid to do it again, not because you don’t want to hurt the person you love, but because you want to save yourself from hurting all over again.

“How are you doing?” You ask above the silence, voice no louder than a whisper. You’re hoping for a conversation none other than about what happened that night. It’s not because you want him to take responsibility because you’re just as responsible for it, perhaps more. You simply hate how you’re the only one still hung over it, you hate how he can go on with his life without worrying about the things he did that have shifted the ground beneath you. 

“Good,” He replies, just as quietly. A pause follows, you feel his eyes on your while yours are still fixed on the mug, fingertips running circles along its rim. “Great,” And, you find another reason for why you’ve been acting lately. The worst part about walking away isn’t the realisation that you have to leave everything that once made you happy, but instead, it’s the hope that follows you everywhere you go. You hope that they’ll run after you, that they’ll stop you and tell you not to leave, that they’ll beg you to say and tell you they need you, but they never do, Heeseung never did. 

You look at him after much consideration, there’s a certain look of inevitability in his eyes. It’s not welcoming but it’s not pushing you away either. It’s like he’s telling you there would be a moment when you would look at him in a certain way, and you both would cross the threshold from friendship into something so much more. Perhaps, it’s just the mood of time or your imagination that has you seeing things, but you feel a certain innuendo in his gaze and the way it traces every patch of your skin, from your eyes to down your hands, threatening to transverse further down below. It could be an innocent play of eyes, a harmless action that doesn’t mean anything more than. . . something. 

It’s how you begin, your mouth against his, and his fingers tracing along the back of your neck. It feels euphoric and equally sinful, the way his lips move in synchrony with yours, fitting like puzzle pieces. Heeseung tugs you closer by your waist, a faint gasp escaping your mouth that dissolves immediately into your breaths mingling together. He’s pushing you back into the couch, your mind plays all the moments with him like a short film, it feels like a warning sign, but you’re far in too deep to pay attention to anything else except him. Every swivel of his head sends you down a spiral of pain and pleasure, you’re somewhere between pushing away and pulling in. You’re so lost, it feels like you’re on an island and Heeseung is the water. If you’re drawing, he’s the oxygen, if you’re falling, he’s gravity— his presence in your life is contradictory. He’s the reason you’re hurting, and the very reason you like every second of it. Heeseung pulls back, a gaze full of love, he whispers a sweet confession. 

“Date me,” he says. You don’t remember responding, and the next time those words flood back inside your mind is two days after the incident, when you’re laying on your living room floor with beer once again. 

You’re counting now, the amount of times you’ve ended up on the floor with beer, thinking about all your past actions and regretting. It kind of sounds funny to think about it, to think an adult can’t pull their life together and resorts to alcohol even at minute inconveniences. His words haunt your mind day and night, in sleep and when you’re awake, in happiness and in sorrow. It seems like you’re back to stage one, where all he ever did was look at you and all you ever could do was think about him for as long as possible. Focusing on work doesn’t help. You tried shifting your furniture from one corner to the other, avoided Heeseung for three days before he was at your door with the electricity bill that was accidentally given to him. Consequently, your alcohol intake has increased again, not that it ever went down, but frequent meetings at work gave you a reason to stay sober. As for now, you’ve been spending each day the same way, vegetatively, ever so stagnant, like water in an infected pond that is born to numerous parasitic diseases. Your refrigerator is getting emptier day by day, you feel too exhausted to buy groceries. Days transform into weeks, Heeseung leaves for Busan for a week. He didn’t tell you. You overheard it from the ladies in the elevator. Now, there’s a closed door in front of you everytime you open the door to your house. A door with letters and envelopes piling up, a plant that is drying up day by day because looking at it, you assume Heeseung had forgotten about it. When the energy to cook leaves your body, you resort to ordering takeouts. Missed calls from work are the only thing preventing your apartment from drowning in silence. When the last of your hope dies, you resign from work. 

You think you’re going crazy, because you get back to the cycles of standing in the balcony around the time Heeseung used to return from work. A part of you knows he doesn’t work anymore, heck, he isn’t even in the city, but you spend most of your day thinking about him. At times, you wonder the point of all this. You wake up, check your phone for any texts from Heeseung or simply anyone. Fifteen minutes pass and you drag yourself out of the bed, eat ramyeon, watch television, sit on the balcony with bear, watch the people come and go, eat ramyeon for lunch again, sleep, ramyeon for dinner— you needed someone else, something that would break you out of this vicious cycle. There are days when your own skin suffocates you, when the image in the mirror doesn’t feel like yourself but rather, a faceless person. You’ve spent hours sitting in the shower and letting the water prune your fingers. You let your tears wet the bed sheets. For some reason, it feels like you’re coming to terms with reality. 

As days pass by without Heeseung, you’re starting to realise your feelings, able to sort out things you want and don’t. You thought your dream was to live an average, normal life. Looking at it now, you don’t think it’s what you wanted, maybe you didn’t have a choice to begin with. You studied in a prestigious university, you had scholarships to support your tuition fee, you had a job that paid you well enough, you had everything any other person your age would desire, you had those things because you wanted to set an example. You lived for your siblings, you lived for your parents, you lived for the expectations that came with your intelligence and skills. Sitting in the bathtub as your mind revisits every decision you’ve ever made in life, not one was for yourself. Or maybe there was— loving Heeseung. 

Perhaps, at the end of the day, you wanted someone who would love you, someone who would watch you be selfish and slowly clap at the back of the theatre because you’re doing a good job, you’re choosing yourself above everyone else. Heeseung was the person, it’s the only thing you’re so sure about in your life. He was like a saviour in the apocalypse. He’d tell you to blather about your insecure mind that kept nagging you regarding all the things you couldn't do and, he’d explicate how exquisitely it told you lies that you believed. You thought you could reciprocate, but every moment spent next to him reminded you of things he was and things you could never be. You were scared he’d notice your insecurities, the voices tell you that you’re only worth abandoning. You guessed it wouldn’t be hard, you just had to hide your feelings, and years later, your decisions prove you wrong once again. You’re struggling to breathe under your skin, your heart desires for him, you’re falling in deep again, and you’re about to pack your bags. That’s how your life has always been, to avoid getting hurt, you hurt the people you love. 

Maybe, you need him after all. Heeseung was one thing you were certain of in your life— still is— but you had your pride ruling your life, and he had stars to reach. 

At some point during Heeseung’s trip, you pick up a paint brush. It’s a sudden decision, an impulsive move. You wake up one morning and your senses crave the smell of oil paints and brushes. You never had a talent for painting, not by a long shot. You attended classes back in middle school but had to drop out because of your family’s financial conditions. You think you’re trying to copy Heeseung. You both have unsaid words in the back of your mind, both need to convey their feelings one way or another. Heeseung picked a pen, you chose a paintbrush. It’s supposed to be therapeutic, you have heard about art therapy. There is no set subject, you draw whatever comes to your mind. Your first piece exhibits your kitchen. There are unwashed dishes, you used yellow to add a light glow except, you used a little too much of the colour. The second one, an apple from your fruit basket. Third, your ceiling— white, blank, empty, you’ve named it ‘My head’s ceiling,’ as lame as it sounds. Your fourth is the cat that roams the neighbourhood on most nights. You don’t know about anatomy, but you sure do see slight improvements with colouring. Your fifth and the last one is Heeseung from the night you met him for the first time after moving in, and then he finally arrives from his trip. 

“Did you miss me?” He asks you when you show up at his doors in a thin cardigan and a bottle of wine in your hands. Weather was never a problem, any place with Heeseung tends to feel warmer. You walk inside, eyes on the loose sheets lying all over his kitchen counter. You wonder how he will react after hearing about your resignation. 

“I missed drinking with you,” You may or may not have a motive behind your words, maybe you wanted to feel him against you once again, maybe the wine ends up being an excuse again, but the night doesn’t flow in that direction. You tell him about your resignation, he finds it funny after the ‘pep-talk’ you gave him when he resigned. You tell him about your newly found interest in art, he tells you to practise since you have plenty of time. His responses are short and specific, not a word more or less from what’s necessary. His eyes make their way to you once in a few minutes and the rest of the time, they’re on his laptop screen. There are so many things you want to talk about, you have so much to share, so much to do. You had plans for tonight, but all he offers you is a short talk. It’s as if you’re not important anymore, as if you’re the third person between him and his drafts, and he’s doing you a favour by not sending you back to your apartment. He’s being distant, it doesn’t surprise you anymore. Half of it is because of his drafts, the other half, his interest. Heeseung is passionate about what he does. Whatever he does, he sacrifices all of him, it’s about catching his interest. You pour yourself another glass, Heeseung asks you a few questions about his work in progress. You realise he’s losing interest in you, little by little. 

You sort of expected yourself to be better after his return, it turns out to be false. You’re still on your living room floor, hands and clothes having stains of reds and blues. You painted the wine bottle from last night. You haven’t got any sleep, the image of Heeseung pops up everytime you close your eyes. It feels like the world is giving you what you had given him long ago— all the pain and insufferable longing, all the reasons that made him believe that he deserved to be abandoned. When you got busy with studies and a job in your last year of university, ignoring Heeseung seemed to be the only way out of your hectic schedules. You had exams, a job to cater too, money was already a problem so you couldn’t afford giving him gifts on all the days they have made for couples. Heeseung used to show up with something new every single day and no matter how pretty it was, a part of you despised him because it made you feel inferior. Leaving Heeseung wasn’t an option, it was your only choice. He was the only thing you had that you could throw away. 

“Can we talk?” Heeseung shows up at your door on a Thursday morning with words that brushed away any traces of sleep in your eyes. It’s eleven, you woke up barely fifteen minutes ago, and you find him at your door; hands empty, no traces of his laptop or notepad. You think you’ve finally become one of his priorities, after all. 

“About what?” 

“Us,” He responded quickly, he came prepared. “I want to talk about us,” And there it is, confrontation knocking at your door. You’ve been waiting for this moment for a while now, for weeks and more, perhaps, and now that it’s in front of you, waiting for you to hold it’s hand and guide it inside, your body freezes under his gaze. It’s a game of push and pull, like a pendulum oscillating between two extremes. You want him to tell someone about you. The thought of you vanishing completely from his world is unbearable. You can’t stand the thought of being a silent tomb in his heart, you don’t want to be an inscription on the first page of his book. You want him to tell the world about you and promise you a forever, but a part of your heart gently reminds you of the impossibility of the kind of love you’re wishing for. It’s not Heeseung who you can’t trust, rather, it’s yourself. You’re scared of your demons. When things get happier, you get anxious because you might ruin it once again. 

“Do you want to come in for coffee?” And here you are again on your couch with mugs and words you’re busy burying inside. The situation feels oddly familiar, your eyes travel to him. There’s a look of dejection in his eyes. 

You join a wellness club a week after, and Heeseung is the first person to know about it. You saw the advertisement when you went to buy fruits two days ago. It didn’t interest you until you walked back home and found yourself in front of your mirror, thinking of what you were and what you’ve become. Your dark circles have grown prominent, your joints ache from the lack of movement. Walks with Heeseung after dinner are the only reason why you wake up everyday and eat your meals. You have your paint brush and wine, you have every reason to not live any longer. If it wasn't for him, you don’t think you would have been breathing at all. You look up the fitness club on Naver, take your time reading through the programmes they’re offering and the pricing. Maybe, this is the change you needed in your life. Not Heeseung, not money, not a job, but some time for yourself. A place to think about yourself and how you are doing, a place to be selfish without being ashamed of it. 

The first few days were nice, you met new people, saw new faces. One new thing in your life, apart from painting. The sessions mainly focus on meditations, you were never the most patient person in the crowd. Some sort of yoga follows before a break, and that is usually the worst part. You would sit on the wooden floor and watch others talk, their laughter and murmurs filling in the hall. It makes you feel like how you used to be in the university— in silence, by yourself. You had conversations with your mind, with your heart. You looked around and saw eyes looking at you. Every second felt like they were talking about you when in reality, the thought of you never crossed their mind. You were no one, despite being popular, it’s ironic, and you hate how the exact same thing started happening in the club. It would have hardly taken you five sessions to give up and get back to your routine of painting, drinking, and sleeping. When Heeseung asked, you excused it as boredom and unsatisfactory. Actually, you have started feeling better ever since Heeseung returned from his impromptu trip. With him next to you most of the day, you feel functional and sane. You feel like you could think again, you decide to get back to cooking your own food instead of ordering take outs or simply sleeping after drinking. You didn’t see the need to attend the wellness classes anymore until a few days before, when they texted about a trip in the groupchat. You tell Heeseung about it, he locks himself in his apartment for the following days to come. 

You don’t know how or why he made that decision. You spend hours everyday thinking about all the probable reasons, only to end up with nothing. After three days of consideration, you land onto the conclusion that you take too much of his time. It makes sense, of course, he’s busy, he’s working, he has a job, even if it’s basically sitting into his room all day and typing. You, on the other hand, don’t have anything. You have your issues that you project onto people, you have problems you try to ignore, you have indecisiveness and can’t decide what you actually want. You spend too much of your time thinking about if onlys and begging God for last chances. Days pass by without him, alcohol becomes your only solace. The voices in your head remind you of the consequences of your actions. They scream about the mistakes you make, laugh at your actions. They recite tales of how you tend to ruin the person you like, how you’re a parasite and Heeseung is a host, and how you feed on his blood to keep yourself alive. You wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, you feel like wanting to scratch off your skin. At times, you want to run to Heeseung and profess your love to him, tell him how much you want him, how much you need him. You have always been aware of your feelings, of what you wanted, but deep down, you’re afraid that you might be a worthless person after all. And now, you are the worthless person who is trapped in their own empty life. 

You want to try living your life as a different person. A life where you’re not you, and all the things you have now aren’t yours, good or bad. An alternate reality where Heeseung isn’t someone you meet at your lowest, where he isn’t just a use and throw to you. You want to go to a place where nobody knows you and live as if you have no history at all, you want to know how it feels to live without having people expect something from you. A life where running away isn’t the only thing you’re good at. You haven’t talked to Heeseung in five days and you're already on the way to his apartment from the supermarket after getting some fruits. Perhaps, you just want to live a life where his presence and absence wouldn’t mean so much to you, where it wouldn’t cost you your life and pride. 

When Heeseung opens his door and invites you inside without asking any questions, you realise he has been expecting you anyway. Heeseung gets back to writing, you’re left alone in silence yet again. You envy Heeseung. As a writer, he has an inclination to step inside someone else’s shoes, to get under their skin and see the world through their eyes. It’s a blessing, you think, to be able to live as a thousand different characters and experience a thousand different emotions, to be able to express them so beautifully in words and actions. If you were him, you’d live as a different person everyday, in a skin that makes you feel comfortable. You could be a pianist pretending to be nervous, or a ballerina with her broken shoes. When Heeseung doesn’t say anything for the next few minutes, you pick up an apple from the grocery bag in your hand and enter his kitchen to grab a peeler. It’s an old tradition between you two, to say things with actions instead of words, to hug each other when sad, to offer fruits when you’re in pain, to sit in silence when you are sorry. 

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” You say abruptly, letting words fall off your lips without control. Heeseung’s hands stop in the midst of typing, hovering over his laptop. When the sound of keys stops, the air starts feeling emptier and heavier than ever, sending a wave of shiver down your spine. 

“What?” A soft gasp, a voice of disbelief. “Why didn’t you tell me any time sooner?” 

“Well, I am telling you now,” 

“The night before you’re leaving,” 

“I would’ve told you sooner if you could take a break from whatever you’re writing,” A pause. You look at him, his shifts ghosts your sight and falls upon the apple in your hand. You’re looking at the document displaying on the screen, your eyes fall back on the fruit in your hand just a few seconds later. You wish for Heeseung to be more open with you, to yearn for you the way you do for him, to want so much that every moment without you feels like death’s hands around his throat. Maybe, he already does, maybe he wants to but couldn’t because the fear of you leaving yet again is eating him from inside. You have given him all the reasons to doubt himself and you as well, every reason to think thrice before knocking your door. Writing is an escape, you know he has his own problems, after all, how many times did someone pick and pen or and paint brush when they couldn’t pull the trigger? 

“When will you return?” He asks, a little unsure of the question, if he should even ask you. 

“One month,” And you respond, peeling the apples between your words. “It’s a paid trip from the wellness club I joined, some sort of detox, so I don’t think we’d get to talk much either,” Your thoughts aren’t sane, they’re all over the place, everywhere. It’s hard to walk, harder to crawl, it feels like you’re standing in a deep pit, the way out is in front of you but you don’t know how to reach up there. Calling it a detox sounds stupid, but you know you need it, it’s for you, for him, and for whatever the two of you are becoming. 

“It’s alright,” Liar. “It’s just one month,” 

Before you know it, you’re in his arms and you’re hugging him back. Perhaps, you missed the embrace, the warmth of loving and being loved. “Just one month,”

“I love you,” He smiles against your ear, arms pulling you closer. You’re stepping into happiness for the first time in months, you’re reminded of its previous betrayal. And you realise that the person you’ve been yearning for is the one you should step away from. 

V. Should you get back with your ex?

It’s been five years since Heeseung has heard from you. He has been waiting, but he doesn’t have time to sit back in his apartment while putting everything aside. He has been keeping himself busy with drafts and publishing, lost amidst plots and characters he created, living in a whole another universe as an escape from reality. It all makes him sound crazy, or rather, like someone who has been through severe grief. But, Heeseung has been busy thinking about all the new genres he can try and every single thing that he can include in his writing because no one can stop him, and his imagination means no bounds. After all, Lee Heeseung, after five years of waiting and working, has finally published his most awaited work. 

Heeseung isn’t used to distances. They drift people apart, as they once did the two of you, but he didn’t mind anything when it came to you. You were going to return within a month either way, and thus, he found solace in texts and calls while waiting for the days to pass. You’d send him pictures of the city while he’d forward you an image file of another blank document. For days, you both texted restlessly, between meetings, during meals, while taking a walk, before and after bed, it was as if you had returned all the way back to how your life was in university. On days you couldn’t make time to call him due to your busy schedule, he would leave voice notes regarding every single thing he has been up to. It was a small step towards forgetting the past since neither of you tried to talk about it. It was more of an attempt at ignoring your past mistakes and moving on, taking a mental note to not repeat them again. While the need to talk things out bugged both of you every night, you were just fine with whatever the two of you had at the moment. 

Things had started off good, but the two of you started hearing less of each other. His busy schedule or your lack of internet could be blamed. You really needed some time to yourself and it seemed to be the perfect excuse to not text him first, or even back. Days morphed into weeks, weeks into months, Heeseung was finished with the first draft for his next book. That was for you but Heeseung, again, isn’t used to distances. You would see his texts on the top of your notification bar, holding onto a fragile ray of hope that he’ll hear from you anytime soon. You’d see his missed calls, voice notes, emails, direct messages on social media, even a letter he sent once. You could feel guilt pool inside of you, realising that once again, you’re being the one to draw a line, to create distance and while you promised that they wouldn’t affect you both this time ‘round, you’re the very reason why they keep on increasing. But, Heeseung is good at these things, hoping, holding, waiting; he’s good at sad things. Perhaps, it’s just another thing he has come to learn because of you. 

When you didn’t contact him for another two months, he started reaching out to your friends and family. He called your friends and his friends, his family, even. It was like he was in a forest with a lantern, looking for treasure, and the flame went out. 

He used to think he could go a day without your presence. Without telling you things and hearing your voice back. Then, a day arrived when he found himself struggling to feel your presence but the next was harder. He knew with a sinking feeling it was going to get worse, and it wasn’t going to be okay for a very long time. 

Losing you wasn’t an occasion or an event. It didn’t happen once and instead, happened over and over again. Heeseung loses you every time he picks up your favourite coffee mug, whenever that one song plays on the radio, when he unconsciously scrolls all the down to the bottom of his messaging app, coming across your contact. He loses you every time he thinks of kissing you, holding you, or wanting you. He goes to bed and loses you, when he wishes he could tell you about his day and everything that he has planned for the future; and in the morning, when he wakes up and reaches for the empty space across the sheets— Heeseung begins to lose you all over again. 

“What inspired you to write this book?” And now, he’s sitting at his book launch event, a faint smile on his face, a good of pride gleaming in his eyes. Through the years, Heeseung has released short stories and poems; poems that he wrote while looking out of his window at every flight that flies by, hoping you’d arrive one day, while sitting outside next to your apartment late at night, while drinking your favourite wine knowing you would’ve had the whole bottle to yourself if you were to join him. Heeseung would sit on the cold tiles of his living room and let his mind paint a picture of you. The image of you in his mind is blurry, but he feels every emotion you gave him to this day. 

“A friend, my neighbour,” His smile grows wider, a little more filled with sorrow, yearing oozing through the cracks of his skin. “My ex-girlfriend,” Calling you his ex doesn’t seem right since the two of you never broke up. You need to be in a relationship to break up, and Heeseung and you weren’t anything. 

His first poetry work, ‘Red Wine,’ was written in the first few weeks after you stopped contacting him. Those were some of Heeseung’s worst days of life, days he felt like doing nothing except lying down and staying still until his systems gave up due to the lack of movement. He has written about you drinking red wine on the floor just like you do, and on the other side it’s him, cold and bleeding. You’re looking at him— he pictures you as such, and you continue to sip on your wine, watching him bleed. Is there a possibility of you and I? Heeseung wouldn’t know, for you enjoyed your red wine while his blood pooled around your legs, and you wouldn’t flinch because you wouldn’t know if it’s blood or wine unless you taste it, and you wouldn’t know if he’s hurting for you’re too busy dwelling in your own mind.   

“Did you get back with her? Is that why the book is named ‘How to get back with your ex’?” Heeseung thinks the question is rhetoric. Anyone can tell if he and you are together or not after reading the book. Few seconds pass in silence, it’s not the question he’s running from, but the answer that lies around. Heeseung doesn’t know if there was ever a point when you considered taking him back into your life with labels, just as how it used to be back in university. You waited for him at odd hours but never admitted to missing him. He confessed, you never gave an answer, but you kissed him as if he was a part of you that went missing centuries ago. Your touch bled with yearning, love rolled down your cheeks, and you never accepted your feelings. You’re not his lover, he likes to keep you as his favourite incomplete fish. 

“No, actually, we’re not in touch anymore,” Heeseung isn’t familiar with loss. He doesn't have a lot to offer, not at all. Lee Heeseung, in fact, doesn't have anything to give or lose, his hands are empty. He has a mediocre job that he resigned from over a mediocre reason, and a mediocre life, a mediocre apartment with some mediocre flowers in the mediocre vase a friend gave him as a congratulatory gift on graduation day. He has the same mediocre thoughts and books, tropes and genres, no new thought in a while; Heeseung, actually, has more to accept than to lose. 

To think, he has always been on the receiving end of life. 

The first month was the hardest. He started hearing less of you, and then none. Losing you, it was like experiencing withdrawal symptoms. Heeseung would pace around, hours on empty, looking obsessively at his phone to catch a hint of you, just one text, one missed call, anything. His editor continued to call him, even show up at his place, telling him to write, to do his job, but words don’t flow when you’re not around, and the thought of you pains his heart inexplicably. He knows he’s always talking about second chances, how there is always a second shot at things that slipped out of your hands. The day you cut off all contact with him, Heeseung realised that it was probably his last chance with you. He cried the first time the news of Bus M4107 crash on its way back to Incheon. He ran back to his apartment, avoiding getting hit by a lorry only by a few minutes, vision getting blurry as his mind started coming up with all the worst scenarios possible. Heeseung went through all his contacts, looking for names familiar to the two of you and begged them to try to get in touch with you. He spent hours looking at his phone, his eyes were like a searchlight. How they looked at the sky with such longing, how they always turned towards the door hoping you’d walk in any moment. Heeseung doesn’t care if you’re with him, he doesn’t mind seeing you across the street while pretending to be strangers. He doesn’t mind not being able to hold you. Even after all these years, even when he’s Korea’s bestselling author, even when he has everything he has ever dreamt for, his life has voids that remind him of you, but it’s fine. Things were fine, you left him one Sunday morning with his cup half empty. It was supposed to be just a month, but five years later, Heeseung pads around his apartment following your presence that still lingers around. Outside, the rain is already falling, there are still pieces of you behind every door, he can live just fine. He can live knowing you’re here, in this world with him, amidst the eight billion people. It’s better than accepting the fact that you’ve left him alone, forever. 

Fifth month was a little easier, Heeseung published his first short story. He was doing good, and had work to stop himself from thinking of you. Friends and family kept him busy, book signing events occupied most of his days. You didn’t leave his mind, you just started residing less. He thought of it as a routine— every morning, you’d leave his mind as his schedules began. He pictures you floating over the city, over the busy markets and sublime lakesides. You visit sometime in between, when he’s resting on his bed or enjoying his tea. You walk back in and tell him about everything you’ve seen. You talk about the balloons stuck in the tree, about the girl running behind her school bus, and then you leave again and he sits to write. You walk down the streets through the sunset, the fragrance of sea-food spinning in the air. There’s a couple on their first date, a group of friends taking pictures outside a hotpot restaurant, a wife waiting for her husband, a mother picking up her son, a family going shopping, and then you’d come back right before he’s going to bed. You’d tell Heeseung about them, your voice ringing in his ears. You kiss him goodnight, he goes to sleep, your thoughts are like a lullaby. And the next morning, the cycle repeats again.

Around the twelfth month, Heeseung found himself at his lowest. It had been a year since you left, a year since you disappeared off the face of earth with no trace of you even after investigation. The case was closed, Heeseung felt the ghost of you leaving his mind bit by bit. Your empty apartment had been sold off to a woman in her forties, he didn’t like the idea of someone else occupying the place that had once belonged to you. In his mind, you still live there, and you still spend your days lying on the living room floor with wine. The renovation began soon after, Heeseung found himself standing in the living room of your apartment. With every inch of wall painted, the absence of you caved in on him closer. Every inch of brush stroke on the wall covered the evidence of your existence, painting white over the pieces of you that you left behind the closed doors. It felt like a sign to move on, as if the world was forgetting you and so, Heeseung was supposed to do the same. It boils his blood to this day, his heart aches inexplicably. The universe knows you as someone who disappeared off the face of Earth, it doesn’t know you like Heeseung does. It doesn’t know the impact you have on his life, it’s unaware of the little things you did that changed his view about things. People are moving on, the media forgot about all the people who died in the accident. He doesn’t understand how everyone continued with their lives as if nothing ever happened. Twelfth month was the hardest for Heeseung. Disappearing memories of you from his mind froze his mind, he wanted to die, if it meant he could see you again. 

You see, getting back your ex isn’t always about the romantic feelings you had for each other. You can be friends with your ex, or neighbours, co-workers, and it would still mean you got back with them, because getting back together means putting the past behind and working together to help each other become a better version of themselves. Isn’t that what we do even when we start dating our exes; being better than how you were with them in the past, not repeating the mistakes that drifted you apart in the first place? Heeseung doesn’t mind getting back with you even if you’re a stranger he sees at the supermarket. It’s fine even if you’re someone he sees once a week at the subway. If there is even a little chance that you’re here, Heeseung is okay living with just a glimpse of you. He has waited five years, he will wait for fifty more. 

“Do you still love her?” A journalist raises the question, and Heeseung could ask himself the same thing over and over again, always ending up with the same answer: he doesn’t know. Saying that he does would be an overstatement because Heeseung doesn’t know where his heart lies, and denying it would be a blatant lie. So, instead, he likes to think of you as just someone who came into his life and lost her way out of it. 

Just someone who he met one night by the bar, someone he warmed up to so quickly that every single neuron in his body went off with alarms, alerting him of all the possible consequences about how this would take a tragic turn. It happened like this : he met you, and for some reason, he felt more connected to a stranger than anyone else— closer to you than his closest family. Someone who taught him what loneliness is because before you, Heeseung was used to doing things alone, on his own. Someone who made him rethink every life decision, someone who, he knew, would turn his life upside down, and still he let you do it. You were someone he spent his happiest days crying about and saddest moments reminiscing over. Heeseung gave you love, and in return, you gave him an insight on life, an important lesson, and an answer to all his whys and hows. Your love was soft and tacit with all hands and lips and hearts in tandem. It was like a storm and he was walking into it straight. Heeseung is an explorer, you were a traveller. You both met at the intersection, the lights went red, the world stopped for a brief second. He saw love in your smile, he wishes he could see more of it. But you had a plane to catch and Heeseung, he was already home. 

Dedicated to my ex-girlfriend, the one I didn’t expect to meet after years of trying to move on, one who left and came back as if nothing ever happened and turned my life upside down. I think it was obvious that this was about you anyway. I hope you are happy, wherever you are. I hope you’re still here. Thank you for being someone I could rely upon, for being my muse, for being my one and only love. 

—

Thank you for reading, ‘How to get back with your ex’.

#—approved. #@ : hgbye. #k-labels #kflixnet #enhypen #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fic #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #lee heeseung #heeseung #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung fic #heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x y/n #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #heeseung fluff #heeseung angst #kpop fic #kpop fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x y/n #@ : htgbwye.

[boymeetswerewolf]

Sterek Week '23 // Day 4, Whole of the Moon / @sterekweek-2023

when you get caught between the moon and new york city i know it's crazy, but it's true if you get caught between the moon and new york city the best that you can do ... is fall in love - Christopher Cross, "Arthur's Theme (Best That You Can Do)"

"The Best Thing You Can Do"

When Derek was little, he asked Talia how anchors worked and how he would find his. She explained that anchors were different for everyone, but for him... for him it would be love. At that age, Derek just scoffed at the idea of his anchor being love. How could something so frivolous like being in love help him control his werewolf transformation?

So Derek went through life never quite fully getting the hang of getting his transformation under control during the full moon. The various places he lived at, he would always make sure to lock himself in during his transformation so that he wouldn't go rampaging through the streets of New York on a full moon.

In the back of his mind, his mother's words stayed with him, even though he'd experimented with a million other things as anchors that never seemed to quite work. It wasn't until he moved into a loft apartment and then met his downstairs neighbour, Stiles Stilinski, that things started to change.

It wasn't exactly love at first sight. In fact Derek found Stiles to be a little annoying and a spoiled college kid at first who was just living off his parents' money. But then, somehow, they began spending more and more time together, and as Derek got to know Stiles more he realised he'd misjudged him. He was pretty insecure at times and tried to mask his social anxiety by - ironically - becoming a party animal. But there was a caring side to Stiles that softened Derek to him. Stiles was often concerned with the welfare of his friends, making sure they had everything they needed and helping them as much as he could. He even managed to drag Derek out of the loft to go and party with other people once in a while.

Though Derek could get annoyed if this didn't fit in with his regimented schedule of being a hermit, he did find himself enjoying his time with Stiles. It was during one night out in a club when Derek realised he'd lost track of time... and the moon. The copious amounts of alcohol might have had something to do with it, but there was another reason too. Stiles had been on his mind all night as they were dancing and having fun, so when he walked outside and saw the full moon, Derek just stopped and stared at it.

He could feel the urge to shift come over him, the fire running through his blood... but for the first time in his life he had control over it. He turned around to see Stiles coming outside to find him, a quizzical expression on his face. "Where did you disappear to?" Stiles asked, glancing up at the moon.

"Oh, nowhere... I was just having an epiphany of sorts," Derek grinned and reached out to take Stiles' hand.

The energy that passed through that single touch was electric, and it surprised Stiles who almost pulled his hand away but then after a moment squeezed Derek's hand tighter.

"Well this is new," Stiles said, sounding a little surprised but definitely pleased.

It was the first time they'd intimately touched like that on purpose, neither having spoken of their attraction to the other before. Derek hadn't even mentioned anything remotely related to werewolves that might give Stiles an inclination that Derek was more than he seemed.

"I don't know what's going on with you tonight, but I like it," Stiles smiled and chuckled, wiping his tired drunken eyes with a smile.

"Yeah, there are a few things I need to tell you," Derek admitted, a glint of joy in his eyes, "But don't worry."

"Well see, that's why I like spending time with you... I never feel like I have to worry when I do," Stiles explained, his voice playful but the message earnest. "You make my anxiety just melt away. I can actually enjoy myself, enjoy life"

Derek smiled to himself, then to Stiles. "It's the same for me," he said softly. He couldn't tell Stiles yet how happy that made him, but it wouldn't be long before he did. Even though Derek hadn't realised he was falling in love, he knew without a doubt he'd found his anchor.

The pair took things slowly after that, carefully navigating the path from platonic to romantic, but every full moon Stiles would come over and they'd hang out, most of the time just watching movies and talking about anything and everything. Just having Stiles around him was enough to help Derek maintain control over his werewolf transformation.

And so he realised his mother was right: the best thing he could do was fall in love, which is exactly what he did.

#sterekweek2023 #sw23theme #sw23moon #eternalsterek #sterek #my sterek #my art #my fic

[vaspider]

Hey, sending this off anon so you can answer privately if you wish. I'm really confused about the difference between being anti-Zionist and pro-Palestine. I've been using both interchangeably for myself, but apparently that's incorrect? I don't know who else to ask.

So... I haven't had anon on in like 12 years, I don't do private answers, and I don't talk about I/P online.

But let's talk about a different issue instead. Let's talk about reproductive rights instead, as a means of just talking about why being anti-Thing1 doesn't mean you're pro-Thing2.

(I swear to fuck if anyone comes onto this post and tries to say I made some sort of direct weird parallel between Israel and either of the examples below to try to 'prove' something about me or drag me into stuff I have said I don't talk about, I will yeet them into the fucking sun. The purpose of these examples is solely to use easily-understood references to explain how you can be anti-Thing1 without being pro-Thing2.)

If someone is anti-abortion, that doesn't mean they're pro-parenting or pro-baby. It's about where their focus is, right? Lots of people are just like 'well, we don't think abortions should exist. There should be no abortions.' Well, great. But what's your plan for the people who are pregnant and don't want to be? They're not going to stop existing just because you think abortions shouldn't exist.

But a lot of people who are anti-abortion don't have plans for that. All they have is a firm belief that abortions shouldn't exist. No one should need them, no one should want them, no one has a right to them. All other concerns go by the wayside.

Or the people who live around me who want homeless people off the streets, but have no plan for how to get people off the streets. They just say 'well, there shouldn't be any homeless people on the streets of Portland,' but their answer is fines and jail time. (This is a real thing happening where I live, btw. Fines for daytime camping, as if that's going to help people get off the streets. Now they have a fine they also can't pay with all of the money they don't have.) These people have no plans for affordable housing, they feel like it's perfectly acceptable to define someone as 'turning down' shelter even if that shelter requires you to be inside by 9 PM and the unhoused person doesn't don't get out of work until 11 PM. Their focus isn't on the positive thing -- people obtaining housing security -- it's on the thing they think shouldn't be happening: unhoused people where they have to see them/be inconvenienced by them.

You can be anti-abortion without being even remotely pro-parent or pro-baby. You can be anti-homelessness without being pro-housing security. It's all about what your actual focus is.

In this case, the question you have to ask yourself is: is it more important to me that to be anti-Zionist or to be pro-Palestine? I can't answer that question for you, because, like I said, I don't talk about I/P at all online, and -- more importantly -- it's going to completely depend on how you, personally, define Zionism, let alone anti-Zionism, and how you, personally, define being pro-Palestine.

You're gonna have to wrestle that one out on your own.

#non-rebloggable on purpose

[upon-a-starry-night]

Number Neighbors Pt.3

Natasha Romanoff x Fem! Reader

Natasha masterlist     Series Masterlist

Pt2

Word Count: 1k

Summary: When you catch sight of the newest trend going around you know you’re all but bound to at least try it, it was harmless anyway. What could possibly stem from something so little?

~

You and Nat began texting regularly back and forth every day, despite her initial hesitance to talk to a stranger it seemed like maybe she was beginning to open up to you, and it was safe to say she was on your mind 24/7- which after one too many glasses of wine and rom-coms lead you to pick up your phone and send her a text you were far too drunk to think over

               Nat🔪

Y/n🍦:

Heyyy segg-c ;)

The response wasn’t immediate although you could see she had viewed your message, you pouted at her lack of reply and sloppily typed out another message. You were relying solely on auto-correct to convey your emotions

Y/n🍦:

Don’t ignore m3 :(

Nat🔪:

Sorry-

What’s up?

Y/n🍦:

I’m lonely

How cme no one un New York wants to date me?

Nat🔪: 

Maybe because people in New York suck?

Y/n🍦:

I want to agree but technically I live in New York 

which means your saying that I suck

Nat🔪: 

You're*

And I mean

-If the shoe fits

Y/n🍦: 

Shhh my brain can’t think grammar right now

>:0 

Currently sobbing and not because of the Rom-coms

Nat🔪:

I’m kidding

You only wear Duck socks anyway

Y/n🍦: 

Stalker! 

How did you know I was wearing them?

Nat🔪: 

Well last time you were watching TV you were wearing them

I just guessed

Y/n🍦: 

I don’t believe you

I knew you were an FBI agent!

Nat🔪:

You got me.

Surprise

Y/n🍦:

 wait really?!

Nat🔪: 

Yep, I’m actually right outside your window

You, being in the drunken excited state that you were in, immediately dropped your phone on the couch and ran to the window, searching for signs of anyone but the local crackhead on the streets. Much to your dismay, no one was there

Meanwhile, Nat was silently praising herself for getting you to believe her story, but it was obvious you were probably under the influence of some sort of substance and despite you being a total stranger you were remotely interesting and she could humor herself a bit longer.

                        Nat🔪

Y/n🍦: 

You’re mean

Nat🔪:

Just so you know I’m laughing so hard right now

Y/n🍦: 

I don’t tolerate liars in the sacred house of Y/n

Nat🔪:

I didn’t know you were a religious figure

Y/n🍦: 

well when you look as hot as I do…

People can’t help but worship you

Nat🔪:

Understandable

I’m sure you look great

 Although your cheeks were already red from alcohol consumption, you were sure that if you had any friends they would point out the noticeable blush on your face

Y/n🍦: 

Thanks ;) 

 I’m sure you look great too

Nat🔪:

Yep

People are falling over themselves as I sit in my Pajama pants and Tank top

Nat looked up at the sound of someone entering the living room. Clint, surprised that someone else was in the room, tripped over his own feet and fell straight onto the floor, Nat chuckled to herself while Clint just groaned. Huh, guess she was right. 

“What are you doing awake Nat?” Clint stood and rubbed the back of his neck, stretching his now-aching muscles

“I could ask you the same thing” Nat shot back

“I’m just getting a snack,” He explained, opening the fridge and taking out some leftover pasta that Wanda had made, Nat lifted her brow in a silent question but Clint just shrugged and grabbed a fork

“Whatever, fine, don’t tell me I didn’t even want to know” He mumbled as he walked back to the elevator to go to his room

Nat decided her room would probably be a more appropriate space for privacy and left the living room for the solace of her bed

She knew she could look you up and find out who you were in seconds but it was nice to finally talk to someone new who wasn’t a target for a mission. And you were actually pretty fun to talk to. Maybe she’d just take a peek in the morning. For now, she was reveling in the moment.

                      Y/n🍦:

Y/n🍦: 

What kind of pajama pants?

Was the question Y/n had sent, along with a picture of her own pants, which had rainbows all over them. She laughed to herself, haha gay. 

She needed to drink less next time.

Nat🔪: 

Wow.

Nothing as interesting as those

Nat debated sending a picture of her plain gray pajama pants and after what felt like ten minutes of internal struggle, finally snapped a quick photo and sent it

Y/n🍦:

Booooo! Gray

You know a person's pajama pants say

A lot about their personality

Nat🔪:

I’m offended

Y/n🍦:

Good, you should be.

I’m offended too

Offended that you’d even consider buying pants so boring

Nat🔪:

What’s wrong with gray?

It’s a great neutral color

Y/n🍦: 

Is that what you want your personality to be Nat

Gray?

Nat🔪:

Well what would you suggest I wear then 

Miss Rainbow pants?

Y/n🍦:

Rainclouds

Since you’re so grumpy all the time

Nat🔪:

You’re really pushing your luck

Might just have to delete your number now

Y/n🍦: 

No!

I thought we were friends

Nat🔪:

Strangers

Y/n🍦:

Strange friends.

Nat🔪:

Don’t you have a job or something? 

How come you’re always up so late?

You should sleep

Y/n🍦:

Don’t You have a job??

Maybe you should go to sleep

Nat🔪:

I’m trying but this crazy stranger keeps

Texting me all night and keeping me awake

Y/n🍦: 

They sound like a great person

You two should definitely meet

Nat🔪:

Goodnight Y/n.

Y/n🍦:

:( fine

Good night Nat, good luck sleeping in your Gray bed

Nat scrolled up and checked the picture that she sent, confirming that her bedspread was in fact, not in the photo

Nat🔪:

How’d you know it was gray?

Y/n🍦:

 like I said-

A person’s pajama pants say a lot about them

Nat just shook her head as she shut off her phone, a smile on her face, You really were something. The more she talked to you the harder she found it to stop texting you.

Pt.4

-I had a random number invite me to a birthday party not too long ago. What’s your weirdest random number story?~ Starry

------

Taglist @romanoffsgal

#marvel #natasha romanoff #marvel fanfic #women of marvel #marvel fanfiction #marvel fic #natasha romanoff fanfic #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x you #natasha romanoff x you #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha fanfic #natasha fluff #upon-a-starry-night-writes #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff #Fluff Fic #mcu fluff #marvel fluff #number neighbor #number neighbor story

[reflections-in-a-critical-eye]

I previously talked about panopticon in my post about surveillance type content in BTS and it striked me to see that Jimin might actually make use of that concept. I do want to stress that this is just one way of interpreting the image and other clues given up until now and not a definitive understanding.

What's important in the panopticon is that its purpose is for the individual who is watched to self regulate his behavior. They are not forced, but merely put into a situation which automatically leads to that. It's called internalized surveillance. They act in the way they're supposed to do without an outside factor actively imposing it to them. I think this concept works very well for the artist-idol and in particular the industry through BH's modus operandi. Before going further, I do want to mention again the sinopticon which is the opposite - when the many watch the few. That is because the BTS content is usually a combination of both. They always had to self regulate their behavior when they were being watched by the many (live streams) and then there was also the ITS type of content which was a more clear example of a panopticon. They basically grew as a band in a surveilled environment through different media outlets.

In interpreting Jimin's concept as him actively being aware of his internalized surveillance and how he had to self regulate his behavior, is nothing short of fascinating. It's like Brecht's theater, by which I mean he might hint at actually shedding a light on showing how the mechanism works and perhaps the results that come from being in that state, hence the title of the song Set Me Free Pt. 2.

Being an idol means being constantly scrutinized, micro-analized and watched closely by millions of people. We are part of it, we are the surveillants here as well because this is a complex relationship and not a one way street. It might be about internal expectations, industry demands and the fandom's disection and criticism of every gesture and every word. We are as well the guardian in this metaphorical prison. I'll wait and see if any of this is even remotely close to what Jimin wants to express once the song is out and the album as well.

Writing about this, I got reminded of this quote that I really like and I try to take it to heart, although it's not easy. But it did make me think about Jimin's journey and what this album might be about in a way.

I love Joan Didion. At 26, she wrote this essay on self-respect for Vogue. This is the defining quote:

"To free us from the expectations of others, to give us back to ourselves - there lies the great, singular power of self-respect."

#jimin #jimin face #jimin set me free pt 2 #the post about bts and surveillance content is pinned in case anyone is interested

[ppoppokari]

the fae of the oktober woods

pairing~ park seonghwa x oc! reader (this is for my bff katt ya'll)

genre~ (au) (h) (lowkey fluff)

ghostwritten for~ @horanghaejamjam (as a part of the atiny halloween project)

synopsis~ when katt had moved to quiet do-gooder neighbourhood they find that they got more than they bargained for. behind each preppy student and righteous priest was a fascination with the occult. what katt really wanted was to find love, but there was no way that they would find love in a town that felt like hell on earth... right? maybe just maybe they would have to look darkness in the eyes to find a love that would last for an eternity or more.

… or the one where curiosity finally got the better of katt.

wordcount~ 6.5k

featuring~ mentions of christianity, talk of ghost sex but no ghost sex actually occurs, an amateur summoning ritual (mentioned but no graphic summoning happens ), a haunted house, course language, a predator/prey dynamic, alcohol and drug consumption (every one is legal in this fic so don't worry and it's mentioned for a brief second, only seeing it if you squint), strange dreams, hints of smut at the end but no actual smut, i don't want to spoil it but seonghwa isn't who he seems to be- but spoiler he isn’t a faerie

playlist~ 🍄

a/n~ hi! it me~ i may have gotten way too carried away in this one, i was a horror writer for ten years of my life. so this really makes me feel nostalgic. and surprise katt!! i nearly spilt the beans so many times while writing this.

i love you so much buddy 🥹

also a huge thank you to @atinyhalloweenproject for giving me the opportunity to participate and for being so kind and patience, i truly truly appreciate it.

this is kind of creepy, like duh it's horror but this is the uneasy type of horror but it's still kind of sexy?

“Tonights terrifying tale takes us to an everyday neighbourhood, the houses are perfect, the American apple pie life we all want and to make it better the people are just as perfect. But this isn’t about them, it’s a tale of lust, deep desire, and a dance with the devil.

In this episode we will peel back the streets of suburbia and you will find something dark and twisted… if you dare to look.

I’m your host Barry Collins and this is…”

There was no bad blood between you or the ancient, living skeleton of a host but with a swift movement you reached for the remote. Upon doing so you were immediately relieved of the grating static of the old re-run of some ancient black and white Halloween special that had been on loop since you moved in. 

Bringing your hands up you lightly pressed your fingers into your temple, an attempt to soothe the persistent migraine that had been lingering since the early hours of this morning.

To say your dreams were getting out of control was a huge understatement, but how could you put it into words. How could you approach your parents and say that you woke up feeling as if an invisible weight was pushing down on your chest paired with sharp ringing in your ears, oh, and don't forget the immediate urge to throw your blankets to the ground and remove your pyjamas that clung to you.

Technically you could, but that wouldn't even touch the surface of everything that had been going on.

One thing was apparent as you looked ahead and saw a human-shaped blur sitting next to you through reflection on the blank screen...The only thing you had control over was the tv.

With a sigh you stood, feigning ignorance as you often did. Three months in this house and such things were a common occurrence, whether it be out of pure exhaustion or extreme confidence you let everything remain as it was. There was no need to search for all your missing items if they didn't want to be found.

Passing by a generous handful of misplaced shadows you made your way to the kitchen, stopping to pet Prince and Gizmo who trailed close to your feet. "You want a treat? You both deserve a treat for guarding my room last night." Crouching low you kept them occupied with a scratch behind their ears before tearing the scrap of bacon that remained on your plate in half. Wiping the grease on the hem of your t-shirt you all but threw your dishes into the sink as you brought your hands up once again.

"Shh stop it, no more headaches, just calm down Katt, it's okay." Your self-soothing was starting to work until a cold hand gripped your shoulder.

A sharp exhale knocked the little air you had as you spun around on high alert. Your sporadic movement startled both you and your mom, you honestly didn't know you had it in you.

"Katt! My god, what's gotten into you?" "Mom, you scared me!" Your shaky voice was a dead giveaway that something was eating away at you, call it luck or mother's intuition but she could sense your invisible thoughts, words that never formed.

"You're so skittish today, is there something I should know?" "I'm not skittish! You literally came out of nowhere, and who grabs shoulders like that. You're like every horror movie mom ever." You were the only one amused by your comeback, which was apparent by your giggle and the fact she just stood their analysing you. So, you decided to break the uncomfortable silence "Don't worry I'm just a little tired."

"If you're too tired you might have to miss the church service tonight, I know they're expecting you to be there but you're honestly not going to miss out on much."

"What?! No! I mean I'm well enough, I'm so energetic right now don't sweat it."

You weren’t looking forward to the bi-monthly sermons that most of the town attended. There were only two things you wanted most in this world, 1. A boyfriend and 2. To spend as much time as possible away from your potentially haunted house. And church could probably give you two of those things but at what cost?

Luckily for you, you really didn't have to submit yourself to an extended church service, opting instead to abandon the sermon and have a bonfire with your friends.

At this point in time, you were being quite generous with the whole ‘friend’ title in a frantic attempt to distract yourself from how shit this town actually was. Normally you would have refrained yourself from being half as critical but honestly Birch Lake was unnerving and the people even more so. Your friends were as preppy as they could get, yet they had their generous dose of duality with their obsession with the colourful history of ghosts and the occult. In any other circumstance you would casually avoid them, but right now you had to make the best of what you had.

"If you need to rest you can stay home, the last thing I want to do is force you to go."

In a motherly fashion she brushed your bangs to the side, resting the back of her hand on your heated forehead.

"It's your call, do what feels best."

Your sleep deprived mind was playing havoc with the words you spoke, resulting in the most gracious word vomit.

"I don't know, I want… I want to, I need..."

"You need to get laid."

“What?”

Phoebe didn't even attempt to hide her eyes rolling to the back of her head “Katt I’m not repeating myself twenty fucking times because you have insomnia or some shit.” Even with all the attitude her eyes met your and she smiled.  “I was just saying, you’ve been here for like what? Five months?”

You nodded your head, trying to play it cool as the rest of the group eyed you, it was hard to tell whether the heat came from the bonfire or from their collective gaze burning holes into you. If it wasn’t for the shitty craft beer flowing through your body, you probably would have had the energy required to give a decent response, but you stayed silent drinking in the flames.

Having realised that you weren’t going to bite the bait Phoebe readied another comment before she was abruptly cut off by Tao “It feels like you’re overcompensating for something Phoebe, the lord asks us to look within, and from where I’m sitting, looking through you I see that you’re the one who needs to get laid.”

Amongst your group of friends who you truly would have avoided under any other circumstances, Tao was the most harmless. Regardless, he was still the leader of your group. He didn’t seem like much, but he had wit and charm, he was the shepherd who led your group away from the bible school hall, past the theatre and into the forest to get to a small clearing. Tao was the son of the head pastor meaning he knew how to skip sermons without anyone noticing. He was also the only person who had your back…when he felt like it…which made him a D+ at best but he was still appreciated.

Each person broke into a mocking chorus of laughter, which Phoebe joined in on “Haha ha ha hahahaha fuck all of you, I hope you all die in a ditch in your next lives.”

Taking her comment with a pinch of salt you all resumed back to what you were doing before, listening to Jeremy as he mentioned some old lost media legend. “That reminds me, Jeremy you’re into lost media and stuff, have you seen this black and white tv show it’s kind of like the Twilight Zone but it’s just supernatural horror?” Jeremy looked over the rim of his tortoise-shell glasses, squinting at you, his attention was peaked. “What’s it called?” “I don’t know the name of it, I always miss the opening credits or switch the channel.” “So, it’s one you’ve seen?” “Yeah, it’s hosted by this old guy Barry Collins that’s all I know.” Jeremy raised a brow contemplating what you had just told him “I don’t think I’ve heard of it.” “That’s strange it’s on probably eight times a day and it’s the same episode on loop, or at least I assume it is.” You may have been far too optimistic assuming he would solve this mystery in a mere couple of minutes “Well, sounds like a good show, maybe I can come over sometime and see it”.

As the minutes passed a layer of fog seemed to cover everyone’s eyes, a result of the weed and alcohol stash everyone contributed to. You initially wanted to dull down your senses, hoping the one can you had would serve as mental cough syrup, even though it wasn’t strong enough you refused to have any more. So, you sat, keeping yourself entertained by picking at your black and orange pumpkin nails.

It was when you looked up once more when you noticed something flicker at the corner of your eyes and your throat tightened, if it wasn’t for the size of the bonfire, you wouldn’t have noticed it. But the silver switchblade was shimmering as bright as the stars above. So, you could confirm that you weren’t jumping the gun or losing your mind you did a double take, what you didn’t know was that this would result in the worst mistake you had ever made.

Phoebe noticed the nervous flicker in your eyes as you looked towards her drawstring backpack that was slouched at the edge of the log she sat on. In an instant you had sprung to your feet, though you wanted to run your body was stuck in invisible quicksand, fear ceasing your muscles. There was a delayed reaction of a couple of long seconds before anyone noticed you jumping up in fear.

“Damn Katt you need to chill; you scared me half to death.”

“No! I’m not going to chill! You can’t tell me she isn’t going to hurt me! She has a knife!”

If this were any other circumstance, you would have taken a chill pill and even laughed about it, but this was a sick kind of déjà vu. It was hard to determine when the dream had occurred, each night blurred into one, but one image you would never get out of your head was the one where the infamous Phoebe stood, knife in hand, a piercing look in her eyes as a foggy darkness outlined her petite frame.

“You’re totally taking this out of context, this knife isn’t for you. I had other plans tonight.”

“But…” “No Katt, you spoilt the surprise, I thought you could all do a favour for me. I wasn’t going to mention it yet, but I did some soul searching and realised people suck, and there is no way I’m dating Justin again, but I totally need some dick so the next best option. Obviously summon a ghost to sleep with and call it a night.”

The saddest thing about that was the fact that you couldn’t tell whether she was that drunk or whether she had always been this insane.

“I can sense the judgement don’t act all high and mighty you would do the same thing.” “As far as I can tell I definitely wouldn’t do the same thing!” “Well, the knife isn’t for you, no blood sacrifice, it’s to cut hair, string and other some other stuff. I did the other part of the ritual earlier, but I needed an open fire, so I thought I’d get some help.”

You took a step back, grabbing your bag, you didn’t have to be superstitious to know that this was something you didn’t want to be involved in.

“You’re seriously overreacting Katt, hey, if you help me with the ritual maybe we could have a threesome with the ghost.” A thin layer of bile formed in your throat at the idea. But what truly made your stomach churn was the fact that no one was batting an eye, they had made it clear that they wanted to be in on this either for the thrill of it or they were all equally as insane as each other.

Having stood your ground as best as you could for the whole entire night, you allowed yourself to turn in the other direction and run as soon as the candles were lit, and the sigils were roughly etched into the dank soil next to the fire.

Feeling permanently stuck in flight mode you found it impossible to catch your breath, though you were in motion already the swamp green forestry started to spin. In that moment you were waiting to fall face first into the mud and be taken out of this sweet misery but instead you kept moving, losing balance you hopped a few steps forward and into something, or more appropriately someone judging by the sharp sound of them being winded.

You had already made it up in your mind that if it were Tao or literally any one of those phonies you would shove them away and continue running. So, you readied yourself by pulling your arms back, but like an unstable slingshot your arms snapped down to your sides as you looked up to see the kindest doe eyes that were slightly covered by his loose black hair. Considering how you literally winded him, he still held a gentle gaze as he looked down at you, though nothing was said your heartbeat fell into a soft rhythm. For someone who looked as magical as the forest around him it was almost impossible to imagine what his voice would have sounded like. It was up to the stranger to break the silence and he did oh so gracefully, with a comforting smile he spoke his voice just above a hushed whisper.

“It’s okay, you’re safe, deep breathes. If you’re in danger just squeeze my hand.” It wasn’t like you to trust someone so quickly, but this felt different. “I’m fine, they probably weren’t going to hurt me, I just wanted to go home but I don’t know how to get out of here.” He opened his mouth to respond but paused as he heard the ominous snap of branches. Without hesitation he wrapped his arm around you “I can help you get out of here you just need to stick close and tell me everything. His grip was firm, but not vicious as he led you back to where you came from, you hesitated, your pace slowing down.

 As if he could read your mind, he went on to soothe you with his words once again. “We need to cut through here, there’s no way I’m letting you go back there. But now you’ve calmed down I need to know what you were running from.”  “I don’t think you’re going to believe me.” You pause awaiting his name. “Seonghwa.” “Seonghwa.” The way his name felt falling from your lips was addictive, “Well.” He paused too “Katt.” “Katt, I doubt you’d be this shaken up for no reason, plus I definitely heard some shouting.”

“I just escaped one potential murderer, so I hope you don’t mind me asking, what are you doing out here so late?” Without missing a beat, he answered. “I was picking mushrooms.”  Man, he was really out here being the most ethereal forest being in the universe. Noticing your bewilderment, he continued “My grandma used to forage as a child, and she asked me to go get some mushrooms.” Despite his simple explanation many of your questions remained unanswered, yet your curiosity pushed forward. “So, you’re a fan of ghost mushrooms then, interesting.” Seonghwa grinned at your dry retort “I’m more of an oyster mushroom guy, I imagine the poison would be too bitter for me.”

Scoffing at his response you were captivated by the instant shimmer of light that cast itself onto his cheek, as if he was warmed by the rays he hummed in delight, even though it was a mere streetlamp.

“There you go, I should be getting home.”

Your mind had already weaved a beautiful narrative of discovering “the one” hiding out beneath the shady leaves, so you held onto his arm for a few seconds too long. Seonghwa noticed, tilting his head like a curious rabbit before realisation set in. His soft gaze flickered with a sense of confidence, “Unless you’d prefer that I walk you home.” “I would like that but please don’t keep your grandma waiting.” “I don’t think she’ll mind; evening walks are kind of a norm for me.” “Thank you so much, I owe you one.” Seonghwa looked off into the distance shielding you from his suave grin, part of him hoping that you would give him something sensual in return. Despite his sinful temptation he looked back at you his sharp eyes softening as he feigned innocence. “Katt” He savoured each syllable, “You don’t owe me anything, unless…” He dropped the sentence hoping you’d bite back enough for him to charm you. “Whatever it is, yes.” “I guess I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, friend.”

For the first time that night you genuinely laughed.

“It’s your lucky day, I’m definitely looking for new friends.” The transition between extreme fear and instantaneous lovesickness left you in a daze, so much so that you didn’t realise that either A. Seonghwa knew where you lived or B. That you subconsciously knew where your house was, nor had you realised that you had released his arm from your tight, timid grasp. The swinging of your arms brought forward the autumn winds which then brought forward the faint smell of dirt and mushrooms. The conversation itself was way more colourful than the streetlights that made his eyes twinkle.

The house called your name, but you refused to listen, hesitant to leave Seonghwa’s side. It’s not like you fully believed that it was haunted or evil it just wasn’t it.  If he noticed your hesitance, he didn’t acknowledge it. There was something he wanted to say, but instead he glared at the house as if he had a vendetta against it.

“Thanks for walking me home, I really appreciate it.” “Of course, anything to see you safe from the Oktober ghouls and witches.” He said that part with a smooth chuckle, swiping his lower lip with his tongue.

“I hope to see you sometime soon Katt. You made my night even though you practically winded me.” “Hey! I said I was sorry, I think, look I was scared.” “Well, how about you make it up to me with a hug next time? Good night Katt.” One sheepish smile and a polite wave later and Seonghwa was up the road, looking back at you as you entered your house. What he didn’t see or hear was the delighted squeal you let out as you clutched your heart, excited butterflies warmed your heart as you closed your eyes, his face, no his smile, no… his everything was a good enough reason to keep your eyes clenched shut as you walked to your room, again it felt like you already knew this place like the back of your hand. Once you had made it to your room you fell back on your bed, too dazed, and your heart feeling too light to notice the misplaced shadows or the murmuring that surrounded you.

You had fallen asleep, something you found hard to believe, but what was more of a shock was the fact that you also left the door unlocked. Your parents were prepared to enter a house devoid of all your belongings. Luckily nothing had been stolen and even better, after losing sight of you at church, they returned home to find you asleep with a peaceful smile on your face. Even so, they wasted no time questioning your whereabouts as soon as you made your way downstairs for breakfast. You had a keen sense of self-awareness in the way that you knew that your lie was utter bullshit, yet you decided to commit to the bit and claim that you were there for most of the bible study session until you got a stomach-ache and that the church knew about the entire situation and that Tao had walked you home.

“You know you can be honest Katt.” “I’m telling the truth! I haven’t been well lately; it might be a summer cold or like an autumn cold? All I know is it sucks, and I still don’t feel good.” Your dad was certainly more amused by your flailing arms as opposed to your mom who shovelled more syrup-drenched pancakes onto your plate, hoping you would calm down and eat. You didn’t show any sign of stopping, so your mom took any type of silence to interject “Don’t let your pancakes go cold.” Hoping that you had convinced your parents enough you ate, savouring the syrup. You were in no rush to finish them trying to delay the ordeal of doing the dishes today, yet it was that day that your saviour arrived at the door.

As soon as the knock resounded throughout the entire house you jumped up, speed walking away from your parents prying gaze. At this stage you would have been relieved to see the damn mailman, However, you were greeted with something way better. His hair gently fell across his forehead, even though it was a wavy mess it seemed calculated, and he wore a plain white shirt. Only one thought crossed your mind, ‘Were his lips always so rosy?’ Being so captivated by his morning beauty, you overlooked the basket in his hands. “Good morning Katt, I hope I didn’t wake you, but I’m just dropping by to give this to you, see it as a housewarming gift from both of us.” “I, that’s so sweet! You didn’t have to do that, really.” You hadn’t been able to put your finger on it last night but there was something about his eyes, whenever you looked into them you felt even more determined to keep him a secret, he was your own personal fairy, he was magical in every way, a midsummer’s night dream.

As soon as you heard your parents approaching you leaned in close to him, your breath catching the corner of his ear “I’m inviting you inside act like you don’t know me, I haven’t told my parents about you yet.” Seonghwa nodded “Why don’t you come inside?” Seonghwa was about to step inside, but he hesitated, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Cursing on the inside he stepped inside, lured in by the way you looked over your shoulder, beckoning him to follow you.

Seonghwa had always been perceptive, he could sense when he wasn’t wanted and even though he knew you were ecstatic to see him the constant chattering of disembodied voices was headache inducing. Still Seonghwa smiled appearing as charming as ever when he introduced himself to your parents “I can’t stay for long, I just wanted to drop this off.” You couldn’t tell if his ethereal nature was lost on them or whether they were in awe of him like you were. They seemed almost robotic in their response; it was rare for them to be this polite to anybody especially a guy that you liked. He must have had that effect on people.

“Park Seonghwa, I just got back a couple of days ago, out of town for my grandmother’s knee operation, we made this together to welcome you. It’s sort of a tradition of ours.” Your mom stood, impressed by his reserved nature. She reached for the basket noticing that it was predominantly food combined with a few small ornaments. “It’s all homemade.” He had a habit of smiling whenever he mentioned his grandma and it made you wonder if she was just as kind as Seonghwa.

Your mom was somewhat shocked at the revelation she gestured to the wooden ornaments “These too?” “Yeah, we carved them out of oak.”  You knew her silence meant that she was impressed, marvelling at the fine lines etched into the wood but Seonghwa couldn’t read her. “It’s not a good luck charm or anything it’s just something good to look at.” “I think it’ll look perfect right here.” Pushing it into the centre of the dining room table your mom scooped the basket into her arms. “Wait, is that strawberry jam? Pass it here.” Passing you the old hand-painted jar she walked into your kitchen, you assumed they were probably going to wear his name out behind his back, it was apparent by the fact that your dad trailed after her instead of Gizmo or Prince.

“You’re so magical I was literally craving strawberry jam.”  Since they had walked away Seonghwa had relaxed, a flirty smile overtaking him as he noticed you struggling with the jar. The brush of his hand sent a jolt of flaming electricity down your spine, but it had yet to disappear as his cool hands lingered on top of yours. “I’ll get that.” Upon passing the jar to him it was open in one swift motion of his wrist, as a force of habit you reached for the jar “Oh my, I told you I got it.”  Placing the jar on the table he dipped the discarded butter knife into it collecting the jam. He did the following with such ease, tearing off the edge of an untainted pancake and smearing it with red.

It was naïve of you to think that Seonghwa was an innocent man, devoid of any form of lust, in the short time you had known him he was constantly dancing on the fine line of being an innocent boy and a man fully aware of everything around him. In short, he knew what he was doing when he brought the pancake up to your mouth. His fingers were skilfully positioned to ensure that once you took a bite the jam would dirty them, in any other situation he would avoid anything sticky or that wasn’t mud. Unlike those moments he knew that someone, you, would clean them for him. Instead of removing his fingers he let them linger until you licked the jam from his fingers.

“That’s it.”

Seonghwa’s words meant nothing at the time, but that was then after spending each day together that’s the reality you now had. You went from taking comfort into Tao’s kindness to chasing after Seonghwa, or at least you would be the one chasing after him if he didn’t show up at your house or approach you while you were out and lure you away. Following the situation with the strawberry jam Seonghwa was subtle. He would edge you by showing the side of him that was willing to kiss you silly, but for some reason he never did kiss you. He wanted to but not yet. So here you were in a section of the woods that you most likely ran past in a panic on that one night that you never wanted to relive. For once your life seemed like one every suburban teen lived even if you were a little too old to be considered one. You sat on the ratty tartan picnic blanket drowning in happiness.

Seonghwa made a habit of occasionally looking up at you from his section of the clearing, his hands littered with dirt as he ran his hands across the clumped dirt while he hummed along to the radio. “I swear I’m not holding it against you, but you did promise to help me.” “And I will I’m just thinking.” “About?” “Things… but more importantly why don’t you ever wear gloves when you do that?” “It depends on the answer that you want. I can give you sane or insane, take your pick.” “I’ll take the Seonghwa answer.” “Maybe it’s not the weirdest thing ever but I like the feeling of the dirt on my fingers so damp and cool, plus who needs cologne when the dirt makes you smell so fresh.” “Seonghwa, you know that half of the time I can’t tell whether you’re telling the truth or not.” “Yes, and I thought that’s what made you like me. I’m pretty sure you said you liked my Hozier charm, even though he probably copied my likeness.” Seonghwa prodded at the dirt again.

It was the second time you broke your promise to Seonghwa, you did say you would help him collect, mushrooms, acorns, and butterfly wings amongst other things. It sounded like a fun Saturday afternoon but as the time came you just wanted to admire how beautiful he was, a hobby that you discovered days after meeting him. The leaves blocked out the afternoon sun, providing you with the privacy you needed to make the next move.

Seonghwa looked straight ahead, despite being away from you he could hear the thudding in your chest, he sensed fear. But it didn’t make sense he hadn’t done it yet, immediate dread filled him. It seemed you had finally caught on to his lies. Instead of showing his exasperation he kept looking ahead at him, ignoring the centipede that crawled over him he pressed his palms into the wet dirt trying to calm himself. He didn’t feel fear, don’t get it twisted his dread came from the fact that the game of cat and mouse had been cut incredibly short.

“Seonghwa, I have something to tell you.” That’s not what he expected, he sighed in relief he had never been the best at reading human emotions. Bracing himself to be ever the gentleman you knew him to be Seonghwa rose from the ground, patting his on his upper thigh. Approaching you he kneeled peering into the deepest part of your eyes “What is it?” Honestly you were prepared to shout it out to him but having him this knocked all the air out of your body.

‘Get it together Katt’ you thought when he brought his hand up to your shoulder. His gaze was hooded waiting for permission, he was monstrous on the inside, but he wasn’t devoid of sympathy even if it was false in nature.

“I didn’t keep my promise.” “You silly thing, you can always start by searching over there.” “Not that promise… You told me the night we met that you wanted a friend, I owed it to you, and I can’t do it.” He thought he knew how this was going to end, yet you had him stumped. “None of this makes any sense Katt.”

“I don’t know how else to say this Seonghwa, I love you and that’s it.”

If Seonghwa knew how to feel guilt he would have but that wasn’t the way of the incubus, then again, he didn’t know whether he ever acted like his kind. As far as he knew he was the only one who played with his victims before devouring their lustful souls. It was the thrill of the chase he wanted more than anything. After your confession you had looked away from him, your nerves had gotten the best of you. But by the time you looked back up at him your heart that you had so lovingly given to him got caught in your throat. Your first reaction was to scream so you did, but over the loud radio and his hand pressed against your throat there was no way that scream would grace his presence.

Looking ahead all, you could do was shudder at the man in front of you, though he no longer looked like a living man. His skin was light pewter, coated in thick crackling mud that hardened across his arms, except for the mud on his finger which smeared against your skin. And his eyes? Oh, his eyes were something, even in your terrified state you wanted to swim in his too cold to be orange and the too hot to be blue eyes.

“Sshh little one, if you listen to me I… Well, I doubt you’ll be getting out of here anytime soon. But don’t fret.” The creature between you clicked his tongue against his partially sharpened teeth, but he faltered as you gurgled out a panicked gasp. “Katt, Katt, Katt what am I ever going to do with you. You betrayed my trust; you said you would promise to be my friend yet you’re looking at me like I’m a monster. Seonghwa leaned in his cool breath tickling the edge of your ear. “I couldn’t sense lust like I did when I first met Pheobe, she was lying there inside of the string circle oh so desperate. But let me tell you this. I didn’t want her. I wanted you.” Seonghwa released you and to his surprise you didn’t run, and it warmed him. After all, Seonghwa truly felt like he wasn’t like any other incubus, he didn’t know love, he thrived on fear, but you had captivated him. So, he intended to use the time he had with you to present you with the offer of a lifetime.

“Seonghwa, please I don’t want to die like this.” Seonghwa brought both of his hands up again but this time he cupped your face “Don’t be sorry sweetheart, you have no reason to fear me. You’re lucky she was so far north, if she was in any other part of the forest she could have easily summoned San, Mingi or Hongjoong and trust me they wouldn’t have let you leave. It’s still me.” It was frankly insane, this had to be one of your elaborate nightmares. “Katt, I was willing to kill you, but not now, I have other plans. I just want you to hear me out but first I would like you to enlighten me. Tell me… why were you so keen to want me?”

The urge to run was still present but looking at him you still managed to see the man you fell in love with, it was odd to still love something like him but his voice, this everything was enough to have you chasing after him. “I thought I finally found the person who truly understands me, I thought you would fool me into liking this stupid town but turns out I was the stupid one.”

“If you’re a fool then I am as equally so for I have a proposal.” His eyes were flickering like two sleepy flames ready to die out, you would have run but one thing was keeping you where you were, the growing warmth in his touch.

“I recall each word you uttered to me, you want the nightmares to stop, you want the voices to stop. What if I said I could help you?” Your throat was ashen dry, so you gave up on answering him, but your eyes said it all. “Instead of making a deal with the devil I would like you to consider making a deal with an incubus. Even if you failed to keep your promises, I know you will be able to keep this one.” At first you had assumed that your compliance was a way of survival but as strange, sick, and twisted as it sounded your heart already found a way to love him. “Tell me about this deal.”

Today was a day of firsts and Seonghwa finally had the pleasure of saying that he had experienced resting his head against that of someone he would have loved if he were human. “If you agree to do this, let me bed you out here let me give you a part of myself I can guarantee that no one in this town, human, demon, or ghost will harm you. I will protect you Katt, I will take away all the noise and all your nightmares if you let me.” “Please do it.”

He crashed his lips onto yours, you savoured the taste. It was rough but knowing Seonghwa or whoever this creature was it was safety. Bringing your arms up you clasped them around him encouraging him to dip his body down. “I’m trying hard Katt, but I want to taste you.” “I didn’t think incubuses cared about their victims.” “You’re mistaken you’re definitely mine but a victim? Of course not.” Seonghwa’s touch seemed to transition from stone cold to warm and comforting with each lingering kiss. After dragging them across each inch of your body he unbuttoned your black and orange cardigan. One, two or three kisses and you were addicted, it was hard to tell as each kiss bled into the other. Instead of letting the cardigan fall off your shoulder Seonghwa hooked the edge of it with his finger, dragging it down. Expecting more gentle touches you were startled by the sensation of his teeth nipping at your bare skin, ever the mystic forest fairy he seemed to be he made roses bloom in his wake.

You had snuck through the back door this time, another faint smile gracing your lips, another difference was the fact that your parents were home this time. They remained optimistic, you were bright and talkative over the past few weeks, but this time you walked straight past them. Taking a seat on the couch you stared at the black screen ahead of you, you looked a mess, but you loved it. Your eyes were too cold to be orange and too hot to be blue, the mud was beginning to crack on your skin but probably the thing you were the most grateful for was the fact that Seonghwa kept his promises, the voices in your head ceased to exist and for a split second you could see Seonghwa sitting next to you.

“Whatever I feel for you Katt know it’s the most powerful thing in this waking world.” His words melted away along with his smoky figure. Staring ahead of the screen you couldn’t help but sigh as you rubbed your head before laughing, that was a habit you could stop now. The pain and the voices ceased thanks to him. As you closed your eyes, reliving the sensation of Seonghwa’s body on yours, his tongue wrapped around your most sensitive areas and his hands scratching down your back you closed your eyes. All that was heard was the tv turning on as the same ancient host was brought back to life.

“I will let you in on a little secret, listen closely. Sometimes love and terror can prove to be as beautiful as one another, we chase love because we fear that we will be alone but some of us look fear incarnate in the eyes and we fall in love. Next door to that everyday neighbourhood, that American apple pie life, is a forest. And some of us let curiosity get the better of us, but it’s certainly not all bad for we find new life by running away from the old. The piercing yowling of the ghosts cease to exist, because Katt looked evil in the eye and hidden underneath his heaving breath Katt heard a faint thud of a heartbeat."

all rights reserved to ppoppokari

#atinyhalloweenproject #park seonghwa #ateez x reader #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x oc #ateez seonghwa #kpop x reader #ateez #au #demon au #demon seonghwa #ateez demon au #ateez x oc #incubus seonghwa

[thedisablednaturalist]

People should get reimbursed for commute time

If it takes someone over an hour to get to work, that should be part of their pay.

Many people have to commute long distances/through areas of slow traffic because they cannot afford to live closer to their workplace. This is also why work from home is a big thing.

If corporations want people to return to their offices, they need to make it appealing enough. I'm not going to fight through traffic for 2 hrs in my free time just to sit at a computer all day, when I could just stay home and don't waste that time.

Corporations would be forced to invest in local affordable housing, perhaps even affording housing credits. They would need to invest in local infrastructure (which in the US is falling to pieces) and improve public transport in their area (faster commute -> less cost to the company, less cars on road -> traffic moves faster, employees without cars would still be able to get to work). Also people would be less stressed and actually take the time to drive safely because they wouldn't feel the need to rush. It would make companies actually take an interest in how their workers get to work and investing in local communities.

I live sort of near DC. We have a HUGE amount of workers commuting into the city and its surrounding cities. Retail workers also have to commute to these cities and suburbs because they cannot afford to live in those areas. My boyfriend commutes an hour to his part time job at a kennel in a rich town. A lot of people live in the more affordable, lower income, far away areas in the nearby states because housing prices in my area are fucking insane. I knew someone who commuted 2+ hours to work and 2+ hours back. There are people who drive even more than that.

And where do these employees have to live? Food deserts. Crumbling infastructure. No parks, no walkability, no public transport, bare bones everything. Only the cities which only the few can afford have basic infrastructure. And even the people living there have to commute to OTHER even richer areas. There's a ton of places where housing developments have just been shoved and are surrounded by nothing but farms. There's nothing local to do, so everyone goes to the closest town and city. It's also why you see a lot of older towns have abandoned main streets. Why have your business cater to the 100 people who live there when you can be in a city with thousands?

There has been some recent interest in paid commute times. 1 2 especially with corporations trying to get workers to go back to the office. Personally, I love working in my office because having a separate space outside my home helps me keep work and home separate and allows me to focus easier since I'm not in "home mode". I don't have room for an office in my parents house so working from home kinda sucks rn even though it would help a lot since I'm disabled. But it is nice being physically near my coworkers, even if it gets annoying sometimes. Also many jobs involve fieldwork (like mine!) which can't be done remotely anyway!

There would be incentive for corporations to keep their employees close AND provide more remote work options for those living farther away. As well as matching pay to fit rent/housing prices in the area (or vice versa).

Also there needs to be something done about corporations having their entire workforce sourced from another country entirely, working for pennies. But that's an even more complicated situation that I don't have experience in.

#long post #its 6am rant time #its so much more sustainable to have people live and work in the same communities #so many resources are spent on commute #i like my drive because it gives me time to wake up and i like just sitting n focusing for a bit #but my commute is also pretty easy since I am going away from the city towards the lower income areas #on the other direction it is backed up completely most days #we drive a lot during work to bc we visit different restoration sites and we get paid for those driving times! #it all comes down to corporations not giving a shit about their employees lives #pls dont try n dox me there are a ton of areas near DC like mine #so its harder than you'd think #but yea ive seen some crazy fucking traffic and commute times #corporations should invest in their communities instead of acting like fucking parasites #remote work #return to office #commute #labor rights #id love if sustainable city experts n economists chimed in #sustainability #sustainable cities #local economy #community

[nansheonearth]

I’m sorry if this is an intense thing to ask here but you have reach that I just don’t get on my blog and I’m scared to even pose this question because I feel like there will be a lot of judgment potentially hence the anon…

As a woman in a situation that feels extremely hopeless (basically housewife with no income of my own, 4 pets which makes a lot of housing less accessible not that any of it would be more affordable than the shithole we live in now, mental health struggles/ ASD making employment feel impossible to maintain at full time level) how the fuck do I actually manage to get out of my marriage 🥲 like any and all advice would be welcomed but absolutely don’t want to give up my pets as they’ve basically been all I hold on for. I’m married to a TIM (I bought into trans stuff for a while and considered myself non-binary for years, I’m desisted now) who excuses all their issues with mental health and trauma and has become honestly emotionally abusive and neglects any of my needs. At this point the only reason I am still here is because I cannot fathom any way I could afford to live on my own… I have no friends, my family is abusive so can’t rely on any help there, and I’m terrified that if I left I’d lose my pets and end up on the streets… I feel like in my head the only option is something I did before and absolutely fucking hated and don’t want to go back into because it’s absolutely shameful and brings up so much trauma I have which is cam SW but any time I’ve managed to get a job I cannot maintain enough hours to afford to survive alone, even full time with minimum wage here being $15 I would barely be scraping by and have no extra income beyond absolute necessities. I’ve tried looking for remote work but almost nothing is an option due to not having a degree or any specific skills, I’ve only worked in fast food and low skill care professions that emotionally ruined me. I feel hopeless and like I’m just stuck in a dead end where at best I get a day of good and then weeks of neglect or at the worse times fully emotional abuse, I truly have no clue what to do and I’m feeling like I’d rather just not exist than deal with any of this any longer… I’m just hoping to find ANY resources or advice on how to manage pulling myself out of this place and I’m at a point that I’m so desperate that I’m out here messaging people I don’t even actually know because I have NOBODY in my life who can offer any guidance or help 🥲 again I’m sorry if this is a lot and I know you personally probably don’t have any answer for this I’m just hoping that someone with some reach and access to others in a community who might understand might have any advice for me 😞

Hey I'm sorry you're going through this. I was in an abusive relationship for years and I understand leaving seems impossible while you're in the situation. But you can leave and there is hope.

I would suggest starting by looking into domestic violence support groups first. They can usually later point you to other resources like job placement, mental health care, financial assistance, legal advice, and housing. Be adamant about wanting to keep your pets because many will try to get you to give them up in this situation.

Hopefully people see this and can add more advice. You're not the only woman to have abuse by a transwoman partner and reaching out to other survivors could help.

#radfem #spousal abuse #transwomen #transwomen violence #male violence #male #anon #ask #reply #o