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everafterkeiji · 3 years

Text

Song: Hiccup by Valley

Summary: After encountering a road block in your relationship, what path will you take to wind up your broken heart with Iwaizumi?

Pairings: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem!reader

Genre/Warning: angst, cursing

Word count: 6k

A/N: i promise myself i was going to write some bokuto fluff but this song keeps bringing me back to iwa😣 also pls listen to this song<3

2 YEARS AGO

"Tooru."

You call out to him, knees to the floor clutching tightly on your shirt, droplets to the wooden surface. Oikawa harshly closes his eyes, unable to let his eyes rest on your weakened state. He takes a deep breath when he hears your mournful sob. He hears how you took in rough gasps of air so he drops the box from his hands as he rushes to you, his knee scraping from sliding to the floor as he takes you in his chest as you sobbed even more. Oikawa allowing his own tears to fall on your clothes.

He consistently caresses your hair, as your sniffles and cries of pain covered the eary atmosphere of your apartment.

"Tooru." You call out again, he closes his eyes as he leans his head on yours. He dreaded every second that passed knowing he shouldn't be the one to comfort you, but he knew your savior wasn't going to rescue you this time.

"Do you think he'll miss me?"

"I know he will, darling." He assures you, and you wipe your eyes gasping for air once again before speaking again. He lets his hand slide down to your back, patting it every now and then.

"But there's someone better huh?"

Oikawa bites his lip, and you take this silence as an answer you'd never forget. Your lips tug upwards, grinning at how it stung when it came from Oikawa. To Tooru, no one could replace you. He couldn't envision someone to love his brother the way you did and no amount of pain can top how much you cherished each other but he couldn't answer because he was unsure of the motives of the past ace.

"Thank you for staying." You whisper and he pulled you closer as he sighs, glancing at the apartment that appeared in their late night video calls. The same room where he saw the brightest smile that was painted on Iwaizumi, the eyes that carried passion whenever you'd pop up. Visiting the apartment for the first time, he didn't expect how- lifeless it felt.

"Always."

PRESENT

You stretched as you rolled over to the side, used to the ghost of him. You shouldn't be used to it, he should be there to occupy it everyday but every morning you were just greeted by the chilliness he brought you.

The sun sneakily shined upon your eyes as you immediately turn away, expecting the memories to strike your heart like it does whenever the sun flaunted its rays.

"You're mesmerizing." He whispers, his pointer finger inched its way down to your cheek, smiling to himself. You hummed in response, shuffling in the sheets as his heart pounders at the sight of your shoulder peeking through the thin material, with the sunlight decorating your skin with its beauty.

You opened your eyes only to be surprised by how bright the sun was making you close them immediately, giggling to yourself. Who knew his heart could melt even more? Once you've slowly opened your eyes again, you gaze at your Hajime placing a hand on his cheek. With his hand on your chin, he slowly lifts it so your lips meet with his as you smile, running your hand from his cheek to his hair, while closing your eyes at the

He pulls away as butterflies swarmed inside him, pushing back the string of hair that landed in your eyes.

"I love you."

"Forever?"

"And ever after."

You curse at the usual memory that would pass you every morning. It annoyed you how there wasn't a day where you weren't starting the morning this pissed off. Realistically speaking, you adored how your memories would bring life to your body once in a while but when love appears, pain tags along- making it hard to enjoy the only things that could take away the emptiness.

Without him, you could never bring yourself to close the curtains. A habit you've devastatingly brought upon yourself.

Whenever the sun rose and it's light surrounded your room, it was the closest embrace you could ever have from him.

You let your fingers graze over the longing sensation on your lips. Incapable of forgetting how every kiss from his plush lips made you high. Intoxicated with his devotion to you. Each having it's own unique way of bringing you stories from the way it synced with yours.

Do you ever think about coming back to kiss my mouth? You ask yourself, sadly letting go of your lips before stepping into the bathroom.

I miss the taste of you and it's always been you. Iwaizumi thinks to himself as he feels the tingle of coldness from his lips. Like you, he adored the way his mornings were blessings but his room looked like a grave for his emotions.

Curtains closed, not allowing to let the sun peak through since the light in his world wasn't there to bring back the life in his soulless apartment.

He steps out of bed entering his bathroom, brushing his teeth as he rubs his eyes with his free hand.

"S-shush! Baby- baby stop talking!" He says chuckling before placing the toothbrush in your mouth. You two were superbly drunk and it seems like even if Iwaizumi was drunk to the gods, he was still the responsible one in the relationship. You were already about to pass out but his loud laughter kept you awake.

"But Hajime- let me sleep already, you're so noisy bub." You pout but he chuckles again. You turn behind you try and sit on top of the counter but you slid off when you jumped. Iwaizumi shakes his head with a grin as he places his hand on your waist before effortlessly lifting you and placing you on the bathroom sink.

You continue to brush your teeth as he watches how your eyes would droop every second. You spit out the toothpaste before taking in some water and spitting it out as well. You wiped your mouth before bringing your arms outward. "Am I okay now babe? Hajime- honey I wanna sleep." You beg as he rolls his eyes taking you in his arms, like a bride.

"And what about you mister? Did you brush your teeth?" You teased, taking in the aroma of alcohol he had. He bit his lips trying not to laugh but he shakes his head, answering your question. You let out a gasp of betrayal as you hopped out of his arms grabbing the toothbrush and putting toothpaste on it, but you hear his cackle making you laugh as well, addicted to how it made you join him in an instant.

"Princess, at least put it on the actual brush. Not the other end you dumbie." He states making you look down on your failure of an attempt. You let out an "Oh." and this brought tears to both of your eyes from laughing endlessly.

He gazes at his reflection through the mirror as he takes a deep breath. It felt like if he'd utter a word, his voice would already crack at the resurfaced moment. He scolds himself for having minimal change in a span of two years. He told himself that he shouldn't wallow in the grief but he endured it for days.

There wasn't a clear way for him to move on, especially when you drained him from all functions of his mind. The only thing that interests him to be happy was that he held on to the probability of meeting you again. Even if the chances were slim to none, he'd take anything that there is left just to see you again.

Though it seems like, he'd have to suffer longer just for it to happen.

Maybe I'd understand the things that you'd do. You whisper as you take another gulp of alcohol. It was Saturday, your supposed late night sessions with Iwaizumi but instead you were solo for today, and maybe for the rest of the years. You bitterly chuckle to yourself as you didn't bother to answer Oikawas call. Your phone kept going off, receiving dozens of messages and missed calls from the setter. He deeply hated Saturdays, or at least your version of it.

Whether you chose to bottle down every beer you had, or scream and get smothered in mascara stains from crying, or even worse, both. Sometimes you'd even mistaken Oikawa for Iwaizumi, and Oikawa allows it knowing it's a way for you to cope. He hated how far away he was but he strictly told you that if you were ever to pursue yourself to go to the club, he'd drop everything and book a ticket to you immediate, of course this was enough for you to listen especially when you'd feel guilty for wasting his time.

Oikawa knew better than to ask for Iwaizumis help. He remained a bridge for the two of you, knowing he'd encounter to different sides. Iwaizumi had him pick up his belongings in your apartment, denying to step foot in your room. In which brought Oikawa to tears at sight of his best friends past lover in such a disaster of a state. So granting Iwaizumis wish, he stayed.

"Why can't you do it? It's your apartment." Oikawa argued making Iwaizumi grunt in pain as he secretly wipes away the tears in his eyes. He sighs before facing the setter.

"She hates me, Oikawa." He says, staring directly at the boy. Oikawa scoffs but stares at the ground, hands to his side formed in a fist.

Is it that bad? He questions.

"Iwa- what happened?" He asks nervously but Iwaizumi only closes his eyes as he tries to get rid of the screams from the previous night.

"I'll tell you soon. When you see her, maybe you'll understand why I can't do this, why I can't face her. Just please do me one favor." The tone in his voice slowly lessens with the last sentence, making Oikawas heart ache for the two of you. Looking at Iwaizumis eyes, Oikawa could see the way he was holding back, but from what? There was a certain change in his usual stare- he looked lost.

Oikawa sits on the couch as he lets his hand gesture for Iwaizumi to speak. He couldn't say anything else but he hoped that Iwaizumi would take his silence as an answer already. Oikawa would do anything for Iwa, and if he was your other half, and Oikawa will do the same to you.

"Save her."

"From what, Iwa?"

"From what I've done."

Oikawa was impatiently waiting for your response but it seems you've decided to push him aside again. Although he was home, the distance from him to you was troublesome so he insisted to call you instead.

He assumed that last year you've gotten better since you spent you Saturday sleeping instead of drinking, but it progressively got worse.

"I mean, one drink wouldn't hurt right?"

He was dumbfounded when one drink turned into hundreds. He knew it was difficult to continue especially when you and Iwaizumi were having the time of your lives everytime. Whether you were extremely drunk, he knew that you two acted the complete same when you were sober. There wasn't a difference, meaning that's just how love worked between you two.

"Tooru- honey!" You shout as Iwaizumi pouts. It was your 4th anniversary and Oikawa decided to call to greet the lovely couple another successful year of your relationship.

"It's shittykawa to you, babe." Iwaizumi teases making Oikawa rolls his eyes. Through the camera, he sees you above Iwaizumi with arms wrapped around his neck without your chin resting on the boys head as he smiles, content to see that 4 years and love didn't change, not even a bit.

"Disgusting lovebirds, happy anniversary to you both!" Oikawa cheers as you giggle, blowing a kiss to him for greeting you two.

"Thank you Tooru-" your words were cut off by a gasp of realization as you shake Iwaizumi. Hajime takes in your excitement as he shakes his head at your actions.

"Hajime! There's no way you're not making Tooru as your best man- anyway! Tooru! This my official invitation for you to be his best man at our wedding!" Oikawa laughs as he raises his eyebrow to Iwaizumi who had a smirk on his lips.

"Well, I will be overly disappointed if I wasn't chosen. If Iwa-chan declines, I'll be your best man instead Y/N, or if you take my offer, I'll be the groom." He winks to you as you laugh before taking another sip of your drink. Iwaizumi flips off Oikawa and the setter only returns this by poking his tongue out to his best friend.

"So is that right, Iwa-chan? Will you finally bend the knee for the lovely lady?" With Oikawas question, you turn to Iwaizumi as if you were nervous. You bit your lip looking at your boyfriend before he pecks your lips catching you off guard as he looks at you with a smirk.

"I'd be a fool not to." He says making you squeal, as you immediately cover your face in your hands, embarassed by how red you got. Oikawa rolls his eyes, envious at the love you shared. Although, he is joyous that you've made Iwaizumi the happiest man he can be, even if you two weren't married yet, to Oikawa it looks like your relationship will only lead to the altar.

There wasn't a single doubt to that.

"Y/N! I thought you've forgotten how to pick up the phone again." He scolds you but his anger washes away when he sees you with red eyes and sniffling uncontrollably.

"Hajime." She calls out, as Oikawa sighs into his pillow realizing it's another night of him acting as Iwaizumi. He's already heard all the things you wanted to say to the missing boy and he accepted the fact that you'll never have the heart to say it to Iwaizumi himself.

"Why do I miss you, now that you're out of my life?" You cried. Oikawa only rests his chin on the palm of his hand as you continued to pour your sadness upon him. You swing the bottle in your hands before downing another wave of liquor.

"I wanna know what you're doing tonight." You whisper as you take your phone, clicking on Iwaizumis contact but before you could, Oikawa spoke, knowing your next intentions.

"No, not again Y/N." He says but you shake your head your finger threatening to press it already.

"Y/N listen to me, Iwa would have contacted you right now but this isn't the time!" He argued but you scoffed, angry tears brimming in your eyes.

"No! Then when will that time come then! I've been waiting for so fucking long already! It's never gonna happen 'cause he's forgotten me- Fuck!" You shouted, taking Oikawa by surprise as you collapse to the floor once again, Oikawa coming back to the sight of you he wanted to forget.

"Y/N- babe I'm sorry-"

"Enough, Oikawa. If you could've been honest that Hajime's found another, then-then maybe I-" your voice cracks as you stressfully runs your fingers through your hair, gripping it tight in your hands as you let out another doleful sob, breaking Toorus heart.

"I don't know what do anymore." You whispered, your heart shattering in to even more finer pieces. You couldn't even put into words how you've been in torment for years.

It finally dawned on you that you weren't headed to the altar, you were headed in a different path.

Without him.

"Y/N- listen- Iwaizumi-" you ended the call leaving Oikawa stunned as he drops the phone in his hands in frustration and in regret. He decided to visit Iwaizumi, knowing it'd be hard to ever communicate with you again, especially that you've been struck by a wrong thought.

And no one else could handle you the way Hajime would.

"Iwa-chan."

"Oikawa? What is it?"

"I fucked up, I'm sorry."

Iwaizumi held his breath as Oikawa explained what happened. He couldn't wrap his head around the unintentional pain Oikawa has given you.

"Iwa, I'm so sorry." Tooru says, making Iwaizumi close his eyes visioning your features crushing at the idea of him having somebody by his side.

Hajimes eyes would never betray you. The only reflection that stayed in his eyes, was the future that was thrown away.

"Oikawa, hey it's okay, I understand." Iwaizumi says with a soft tone to assure Oikawa. Tooru would never intentionally hurt you, he was there to save you. Even if Iwaizumi didn't ask him to take care of you, Oikawa would do everything to bring a smile on your lips. As much love you have to Hajime, its the same amount you have to Oikawa.

"Leaving isn't bad because you're gonna come back with something even better and that's the best version of yourself."

It's your words that he counted on. He believed that he wasn't being selfish, or prideful. You made him believe that finding himself was enough to get him all the medals, the passion, and everything he wanted. So he'd want nothing more than to give thanks to you.

"Iwa."

Oikawa breaks the silence. Iwaizumi looks at him while biting down on his fingers, his heart beating too loudly at the thought of you.

"Why didn't you call her- not even giving her a proper goodbye." Tooru asks with masked anger in his tone. How could he help Hajime when he's blocking him from the truth?

"Iwaizumi. Answer me. For once." Oikawa begs, but once he's met with the silence, he's never been more eager to give in to anger.

"I just- I can't let it happen again, Oikawa. Not to her, not to us."

"Baby, what movie do you want to watch on Saturday? I've seen so many good ones lately." Iwaizumi turns to you with an exhausted expression. You were arranging the condiments in the cabinet, waiting for his response.

"Can't we- reschedule? I-I have something to go to-"

"You can't blow me off for the third time this week, Iwa." You spat, sick of the excuses. Has it really been three times? Iwaizumi questions as he leans on the couch, letting out a sigh. To which is a response you didn't expect to receive.

"I've been busy." He lied, he may not feel it, but there wasn't a single hesitation when he spoke. You memorize his schedules, his after meetings, the excused he's mentioned didn't even bother to make sense. It hurt how he was able to come up so easily, not even thinking about you'd be able to piece them all together.

"Or are you just tired, Iwaizumi?"

You asked rudely. He looks at you before rolling his eyes, covering your heart in bitterness at his pride.

"So what if I am?"

He talked back, hitting you with a bigger wave of emotions. You slammed the door of the cabinet, marching to him each step mixed with rage and pain.

"You're tired? Imagine what I've been feeling, Hajime!" You shout, volume picking up on your tone as this makes Iwaizumi stand up from the couch, not backing down at the power of your voice.

"Clingy? Needy? Pathetic? Tell me, does that sound any different to you?" He said it with so much disgust, strong enough to make you doubt everything you've fought for.

"So you don't give a fuck? Is that what you're so proud of, Iwaizumi? That you're so fucking insensitive?" He felt a tug on his heart when you called him that. It's been so long since he's heard you say it so- normal. As odd as it is, he couldn't hear his name the same again, especially when it came from you.

"Exactly! God I- Y/N. This is why-"

"WHAT IWAIZUMI!"

"This why I'm so fucking tired of you!" He shouted, not only did it create a barrier in your apartment, it brought up your past barrier that he broke down but now he's the cause of it to return.

"You're just- can you even make it on your own without me? It's like if I leave you'd- lose your shit! We need space!" He was fuming with confused anger as you feel your throat give out. You were shaking, your heart was too fast and unsteady, you weren't the same.

"But space is what you've been giving me! Coming home so late? Standing me up? You don't even fucking realize how many dates we missed!" He scoffs before running his fingers through his raven hair. Taking a step towards you, making you stand your ground as you tilt your head to meet with his empty eyes.

This isn't the man who could love you forever and ever after.

"So what! I've got so many things to do apart from dealing with your shit!" You stare back at him, weakened at how your heart couldn't handle it anymore.

You looked down, feeling the sting in your hands when your nails digged into the skin of your palm. He sits down on the couch, drained from the war full of shouting and the damage his heart was in.

Surprisingly, you sat beside him but there was such an intense distance between you.

He turns to you but chills ran up his spine when he sees how you look like you've agreed to everything he's said, making his eyes widen at the foreign feeling.

This is what he was scared of. Failing to find interest in the same routine, to find the energy to continue like he used to. Being worn out by how repetitive things were even when the love you both had was nowhere near boring.

In fact, it was exhilarating. You were both curious to try things together, that's what led you to even owning an apartment together, planning a future, even planning your marriage that was now a blur.

He trembled. Regret, anxiousness, exhaustion. He didn't expect himself to feel this way, especially to you, who he loved completely but felt a certain drift in his heart. He looks away from you as his eyes trail on the picture of you two. He couldn't hold it in his hands to look at how happy he looked, because he isn't the same anymore.

He's lost his way.

"D-did I..lack something?" She asks quietly. He gulps at her question. It was so heavy to him. How you asked him, questioning yourself in this relationship. With anxious hands, he wanted to reach out for you but his efforts were surpassed when he felt a wall between you and him.

"Am I worth.. to keep?"

Please, baby. He begs in his mind for you to stop. He couldn't register how he couldn't make himself speak. He was holding back too much, terrified that he was going to break you more and more with every word he'd toss to you.

"Then this is pointless isn't it?"

You both look at each other, both met with different expressions in your eyes. Iwaizumi could see how tired you were, how he knew you wouldn't be able to look at him the same way before, since he gave up first. While you can see how there wasn't a single lie in his eyes, the downfall was upon you.

No matter the space you give him, there can never be a spark to bring him back.

He bit his lip, facing the truth. Even he knew there isn't any other way.

"I know what you're gonna say, Hajime."

"Princess.. I'm sorry"

"Just go." It was impossible for him to follow your orders when all he wishes is to stay but then again, he's run out of reasons to.

"You gave up, Iwa!" Oikawa shouts, standing up to the boy. Iwaizumi lets his eyes wonder on the floor because he said nothing but the truth.

"There isn't anything I can-"

He's heard enough. You've asked Oikawa many heartbreaking questions. They were all unanswerable, and it pained him he couldn't give you at least one. He was in pain as much as you were. He hated how stupid Iwaizumi was for leaving you and choosing to cower away. He hated how you blamed yourself and slashing your heart because of Iwaizumi.

The tension has set fire to Oikawa and with years of loyalty between the two, Oikawa throws a heavy punch to Iwaizumi, disgusted of his actions.

Iwaizumi, completely at shocked at Oikawas punch, steps back a few times before his blood dropped on his fingers. Oikawa walks straight to Iwaizumi capturing his collar and pulling the boy upwards, nothing but rage consuming the setter.

"Did you love her then? Don't tell me this bullshit that you can't go back to her. Do you even wanna know what she asks me?" Iwaizumi removes Oikawas hands from his shirt, crumpling it in the process. Oikawa lets out a sarcastic laugh as he looks at Hajime.

"Ah, so you know how much shit you put her through? Then maybe you are an asshole but god- Iwa she loves you so much. If that isn't a good enough reason for you to talk to her, then I'll find somebody else for her." Oikawa threatens as Iwaizumi lets out a sob, nothing but regret that he hurt two of the most important people on his life.

"But what if it happens again?"

Iwaizumi asks, it was the only thing that held him back for returning into your arms. He isn't stable enough to return when the fear lingers in his head. What if he falls out of love? What if he gets tired again? Then you'll never want his presence again. He couldn't master up the courage because he too was scared of it.

He will not go through dozens of years just to be apart from you. He's already lost his mind to see you and Oikawa face the tragedy that he left you with. He felt nauseated with himself. How can he promise you forever when it was out of his grasp?

"Why don't you find out?"

It was a simple sentence that left Oikawas lips yet it brought Hajime to tears. It would've been that easy. If he didn't stay with his demons, then maybe you were here to offset his heart. After 2 years, isn't it too late to realize that he's never really ran out of love? It strengthened, but he was so afraid of battling with you like you did, hating how he was the man who shattered your overall being.

"Thank you, Oikawa."

He whispers as Oikawa takes a seat beside him, smiling that he brought the boy to realize the amount of time he's wasted by being surrounded by doubt. Oikawa pats the boys shoulder, sighing in relief that Iwaizumi was back.

"Always."

You swore to avoid your phone the entire day. As much as you wanted to apologize to Oikawa for the outburst, you just wanted a day of silence since your thoughts never give you the chance. Not only did you promise to avoid technology, you decided to avoid people as well, promising to yourself you'd rather stay inside in order to avoid the envy you had for other couples.

So here you are, tucked in your jacket, wrapped in your blanket waking up from a 4 hour nap. You yawned before squinting when you open your phone. It's 8pm and your stomach was nowhere near happy. Slowly standing up, you make your way to the kitchen opening the fridge seeing absolutely no hope to make a meal. Sighing lazily, you decided it'd be best to just buy some food.

After getting ready, you step out of your apartment as you drive to the place where you usually order. You admired how the moon lit your way. Opening your windows you smile when the cold whiff of air instantly surrounded your car. You loved the way your hair flew in the wind while you listened to the song playing.

Once you've finished your bought dinner, you decided to take a turn in your path. Now that it was late at night, you couldn't resist to visit a place you've been missing.

You take in a deep breath as you leaned on the metal bar, loving the way the view still took your breath away. You were face to face with the nightlights and the busy town below you. Not only was it stunning but it was a place to recall some of your favorite moments with him now that you were out of your comfortless of an apartment.

"Sorry for being late, Oikawa was an ass." Iwaizumi excuses himself as he stood beside you leaning on the rod, smiling once he takes in the lights. He turns to you before removing his jacket and placing it on your shoulders, a sweet gesture that had you blushing every time.

You couldn't refuse knowing he would've scolded you. Instead, you stood closer to him before leaning your head on his arm. With his hand, he interlaced his fingers with yours, as your heart flutters. He takes in your hand, placing a gentle kiss on it as you did the same with his hand making him twirl you in satisfaction. You giggle before landing on his chest as he leans down and places his warm hands to your cheeks as he leans in to take your lips with his.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, reciprocating his kiss. He's given you hundreds of kisses before, how is this any different than the rest?

He pulls away, as your foreheads touch as you both painted a smile on your lips, feeling a slight tickle to it with how flustered you both were.

"I love you so much." He whispers, the first time he's ever let the three words slip from his mouth. Your hands make their way his hair, grabbing it lightly before nodding happily.

"I love you more, my Hajime."

Who knew that just by saying those three words, it was enough for you to believe in an ever after with him? Maybe you were wrong to fall for it even though he gave you a fragment of your so called forever.

You glanced beside you to see a vacant spot and you let out a disappointed sigh. You take in the sight of your fingers, missing the way it perfectly fit in his and how he held it with so much care, giving you an idea that he'd never let you go. Unfortunately he broke this bond but you still longed for his skin to be at contact with yours again.

You sat down placing your hand on the bench as you close your eyes leaning your back on it. You felt a shift of weight beside you, someone finally accompanying you in this lonely night but you've caught on the familiar scent of the stranger and you let the name slid off your tongue.

"Hajime."

He turns to you in shock that you knew it was him but you open your eyes, turning your head to be faced with the man you've been longing to see in two years. He looked the same, the same face who clouded your dreams. He was certainly your Hajime, the pretty boy you've adored since you were in high school.

Happy anniversary. You silently greet each other. How bittersweet, isn't it? What was meant to be your 6th year, turned into 2 years of avoiding each other.

And as you took in Iwaizumis appearance, he did the same with you. Loving the way your features clicked in his memory instantly. Was it even possible for you to be even more beautiful? To Iwaizumi, it was. He absolutely missed you, but why was his heart nervous?

What do I do? He asks himself. Small talk isn't what you deserved. God- you deserve so much more. Endless hours of talking, his embrace, his love, that's what you missed. He was willing to love you with everything he's got, now knowing he'll never run out of it because he isn't scared anymore.

"This isn't a dream is it?" You asked as you turn back to the sky counting the stars that was above you. He was glad you broke the silence, and he appreciated how there wasn't the same tension before. It felt so- serene and unique. Something he wishes it'd be a good sign for the both of you.

"I can't believe it either." He exclaims making you smile. You couldn't ask him how he's doing, not wanting to drag on a conversation you've waited years for to happen, you couldn't let it be bland and meaningless.

"We were something weren't we?" You asked with a soft smile. Iwaizumi chuckles beside you, as he sits closer to you. The cold air swirling around you two as well as the car noised filling in the comforting silence.

"God, I miss what that's like." Iwaizumi answers as you look at him. You looked down on the floor with tears appearing again, the same as Iwaizumi. You were both craving to hold each other but it didn't sit right to just rush into each other knowing there's so much to unpack.

Maybe it was a bit unexpected that you'd face him this way. Echoing through your ears was the conversation between you and Tooru about how the time never came. Now, you weren't even close to being prepared. You both imagined a proper conversation wherein you two would agree to meet up and talk things out. Yet subconsciously, you came to the same place at the same time not even knowing you'd meet. You lacked strength to bundle the words that you've always wanted to say to him and he felt the same way.

The last time you sat next to each other, that was when you parted. Now, back in the same position, it felt overwhelming. Seeing each other for the first time, both had you shocked and careful of your words. You wanted to scream how much you loved him, and he wanted to hold you in his arms to wash away the bleeding of your heart.

You loved how the universe made you two meet. It was quite painful that it had to be the place where you've shared so many memories with him. You didn't know if this was a blessing in disguise but you couldn't complain when the love of your life was here, beside you.

When he saw you, he felt like the sun shined above him like it did every morning. Where he had an angel to wake up next to, when he couldn't spot a single imperfection in your skin when the sun danced in your beauty.

And you've finally remembered the way his touch would bring you the assurance without words. His unexpected kisses, his sweet embrace, his smile that makes your heart run a marathon.

You're finally here. You both think, your hearts synced in how you've waited for this moment.

With your hand on the bench, he places his hand on top of yours, feeling like it was too fragile to hold but you didn't pull away. He takes in your features in the moonlight as his heart picks up the pace at the feeling that washes over him.

There isn't a barrier anymore.

Having the chance to hold your hand like this, he'll never take this for granted again. His everything, back in his touch, god how lucky he was. Remembering Oikawas words, one thing was clear to Iwaizumi, and that was the fact that he couldn't afford to have another hiccup in your relationship.

"We really fucked up this time." Iwaizumi comments making the both of you chuckle as he intertwines your hands with his, smiles on either your faces now that you've finally found the path to each other.

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jalapeno-princess · 3 years

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What if I Never Get Over You?

(He’s so pretty ugh God really does have his favorites)

Mark Tuan X Reader

Genre: Angst (A lot of curse words) (Angry Mark) (God bless)

Word Count: 8.9K

Summary: Mark was just seconds away from falling asleep after a long, exhausting day of work until Jackson comes over to his place, angry with the fact that Mark has been avoiding all of their many attempts to get him to move on. However, Mark has come to the realization even in the beginning of your break up that there is simply no getting over you.

A/N: Hey guys! So, this imagine is based off of the song “What if I never get over you” by Lady A and honestly it is one of my favorite songs ever and I’ve been listening to it on repeat for the last couple of weeks so I highly recommend that you listen to it while reading the lyrics hit me so hard for someone who has never been in a relationship once in the 22 years of my existence and I just found myself unable to stop typing this specific story. I’m currently in the middle of finals so I will be able to focus more on writing (If I’m being honest, I focus more on writing than I do on my education who am I even kidding LOL). This one is a little more on the sad side but the ending (I don’t know how I feel about it) but I consider it happy I guess? Please enjoy!

It's supposed to hurt, it's a broken heart But to movin' on is the hardest part It comes in waves, the letting go But the memory fades, everybody knows Everybody knows

What if I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you?

“Mark Yi-En Tuan—open the damn door. I have a bone to pick with you.”

The word exhaustion couldn’t even describe half of what Mark was currently feeling. He had just finished work less than half an hour ago and against his friend’s pleas to grab a drink with them at the bar they normally frequented, he made a beeline back to his apartment. All he wanted to do was change out of his scrubs and sleep for the next twelve hours.

Being a registered nurse was actually the last occupation Mark would’ve thought he’d ever get in to. As a young boy, all the way up until his senior year in high school, he never cared about anything other than playing baseball, video games, hanging out with his friends and eating junk food. He desired to “live in the moment” as much as he possibly could while he was still young and he decided he would worry about his future once he graduated from high school. Even when he did move on to college, he had no idea what his plans were.

Like a lot of his friends, he was attending university in order to please his parents and to get a degree. In what—he didn’t care. Honestly, he thought about studying many different majors—engineering, kinesiology, biology, criminal justice and at one point—culinary. But he could never see himself settling in to any of those careers. His younger brother Joey knew that he wanted to be a pharmacist and unlike Mark; his soul purpose was to be successful in his education.

At the time, Mark considered the younger boy to be a loser. He wasn’t living his high school life to his fullest potential—or at least that’s what Mark thought. On the day of his graduation, his principal began announcing each and every one of his classmates; what college they were attending, whether or not they received any honors and what they planned on majoring in. When it was his turn and the principal called his name, he was excited to finally be over with that chapter in his life.

He expected to take the diploma and walk back to the bleachers like everyone else was. However, he felt exceptionally stupid when it was made aware that he had no idea what he was going to do after high school. Even his good friend BamBam—the class clown and the student with the lowest gpa in his graduating class had plans to go to college and major in hospitality. It made him feel pathetic and although the audience clapped right after he shook hands with his principal, he couldn’t help but feel as though some people were probably laughing at him.

Hell, if he were to be sitting in the crowd and someone were to be in the same situation he was in, he would’ve laughed too. How could someone who was eighteen years old have no clue what he wanted to do for the rest of his life? That made him realize that Joey wasn’t the loser—Joey was extremely intelligent and planned for his future before he even realized what a future was. He was also the reason why Mark ended up going in to the medical field seeing as how his goal was to become a pharmacist and open up his own pharmacy one day.

The younger boy; along with his parents and his friend Jinyoung coerced him in to attending med school because they witnessed how much of a people person Mark was and they felt like he would be very successful in whatever career he were to obtain. It wasn’t an easy road to success—in fact, he found himself wanting to give up more times than he could count on his fingers.

College was already frustrating as it is, but majoring in nursing was one of the more difficult fields and a lot of the students who started off in nursing did not end up graduating with a nursing degree. Mark had no idea how he ended up getting his bachelor’s—let alone his master’s degree; especially because he felt there were so many students who were smarter than him and had more knowledge than him when it came to nursing who ended up getting kicked out of the program.

Whenever he felt like giving up; when the multiple all-nighters he would pull in order to study for exams that he never seemed to be able to pass no matter how hard he tried, or the numerous amount of nights he found himself crying because he was afraid he wouldn’t make it and become the successful nurse everyone was expecting him to be—he remembered why he was going through all of that pain and suffering in the first place and it only gave him the motivation to continue until he finally achieved his goal.

It took him almost six years, but it was worth it. He loved his job; although it could get very hectic almost every single day, he would get yelled at by patients for things out of his control, he got thrown up on, urinated on and even had families of patients threaten to get him fired, he also witnessed many miracles throughout the walls of the hospital and he got to meet a lot of people who would change his life. One person in particular that was the sole reason why his younger friend was currently pounding on his door—wanting to reprimand him for something he did a few days prior.

Mark sat on his couch and weighed out his options; he could just let Jackson continue knocking on his door until he either got tired or came to the realization that there was a chance Mark was fast asleep by now. As good as that idea sounded, he was afraid that he would get noise complaints from his neighbors and the last thing he needed was to get evicted from his apartment over a ruckus he wasn’t even causing.

Mark took in a deep breath and prepared himself for any confrontation Jackson might let out. He was expecting his rowdy and extroverted friend to bother him sooner, but then again —it’s not like Mark ever really hung out with his group of friends all that much in the last few months. If only he could say it was strictly because his job was working him to the core and making him exceedingly tired; if only it were that simple.

He took a look in the peephole; curious as to whether or not Jackson was alone and if there was a chance he was drunk. The older boy released a sigh of relief when he saw Jinyoung and Yugyeom with him—he knew they would probably act as the mediators of Jackson went too far and said something to infuriate Mark.

It’s happened many times in the past; Jackson Wang—bless his soul; but he had to be one of the most attention seeking and loud mouthed people that Mark knew. He also had no filter and said things like they were; he wasn’t afraid of hurting people’s feelings. Especially if those people just so happened to be his six good friends. As soon as he opened the door and saw the aggravated look on Jackson’s face, he had to stop himself from slamming the door and heading back to his room.

“It’s almost midnight. I’m so fucking tired Jackson, this couldn’t have waited till the morning? Or at least an hour where I’m not drained of all my energy and won’t be able to fight back if the situation called for it?”

Jackson ignored his comment and walked right past him—plopping himself on to Mark’s couch. The two other boys gave Mark apologetic expressions; it was obvious that they felt bad for bothering him at such a late hour—especially seeing that Mark was ready to knock out at any second.

Neither of them wanted to be there, but when Jackson gets drunk—which he was currently plastered at the moment; heightening his confidence that Mark was quickly growing irritated with, he has a tendency of admitting things he would never say when sober and because their conversation at dinner consisted of Mark and his personal life, the five other guys knew leaving Jackson alone with Mark was not the best idea.

One of them would end up with a black eye and a busted lip and there was a ninety-five percent chance that it would be Jackson. Mark was never a physical person; he never believed in violence and he tried his best to solve problems verbally before having to get physical. He’s been best friends with Jackson for almost sixteen years now—this meant that he was extremely comfortable with putting the younger boy in his place if he had to.

There were only a couple times that Jackson and Mark either disagreed or actually fought over something and it was usually Jackson who’d instigate a lot of their quarrels. One time, Jackson said something that really got under Mark’s skin and he ended up with a busted lip. It wasn’t like the two of them stayed mad at each other for too long though; all it took was a few apologies, a couple of beers and some takeout that would get the both of them back on speaking terms.

Jinyoung and Yugyeom weren’t too sure about what would happen between their two oldest friends tonight. Jackson was furious with Mark—he went in to great detail about how he was going to give him “a piece of his mind.” They didn’t completely agree with the points that Jackson made; especially because Mark was old enough to make his own decisions and nobody, not even his really good friend could tell him how to live his life.

“Why did you tell Sophia that you weren’t interested in a long-term relationship? She called me crying this morning saying that you no longer were interested in her—“

Mark rolled his eyes at Jackson’s complaints. He knew he would get an earful sooner or later about how he’s been avoiding Jackson’s and even the rest of their friend group’s many attempts at trying to set Mark up with someone they knew—whether it was a coworker or a mutual friend. A couple of weeks ago, Jackson introduced Mark to a friend of his girlfriend.

He wasn’t going to lie, Sophia was very pretty; she was also very smart—had a bachelor’s degree in family law and she was still in school trying to get her master’s. However, Mark wasn’t interested in her—or any of the girls that the rest of his friends tried to get him to go out with. He understood that his friends were only trying to help him “get back in to the game” or whatever BamBam said—but the eldest boy did not want anything to do romantically with anyone his friends were trying to set him up with.

“Because I’m not. I was never interested in her to begin with. I was just going on these dates with her to get you off my back. She’s a nice girl; all the girls you guys tried to introduce me to are nice girls—but I don’t want a relationship right now Jackson nor do I even have the time to focus on another person, I barely have time to take care of myself. I know you guys are worried about me, but I’m fine. I’m twenty-seven years old; sure I’m not as young as I used to be, but settling down in to a relationship is the least of my worries. If you’re just bothered by the fact that I’m the only single guy in the group and you pity watching me sit by myself while you’re all accompanied by your girlfriends, I just won’t go out with you guys anymore.”

When Jackson let out a scoff, the two younger boys looked at each other cautiously. Shit was going to hit the fan soon and they were afraid if they didn’t leave within the next five minutes, punches were going to be thrown. They also grew worried that if both Mark and Jackson were to argue, especially over the topic of Mark’s love life, that it might actually ruin their friendship with no promise of reconciliation.

“Stop giving me that shit Mark. It’s not because you’re busy—you’re still hung up over y/n! That’s why you’ve been pushing away everyone from your life and I’m sick of it! It’s been almost seven months Mark, you need to move on. She obviously isn’t coming back. If she genuinely still loved you, she would have never left in the first place. Stop trying to look for y/n in other girls and stop letting another chance at being in love again slip through your fingers because you have this stupid hope that one day, she’ll realize that she made a mistake in breaking up with you—“

“Jackson, shut up—“

“For all you know, she’s already moved on—“

“Jackson, if you know what’s best for you, you would shut up—“

“Maybe the reason why she left is because she found someone else—someone who would give her the love and attention you failed to give her towards the end of your relationship and that idea alone is what’s messing with your head. Thinking about her loving someone else, finding solace in someone else, fucking another man—“

“SHUT THE FUCK UP JACKSON. YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT. YES, I STILL LOVE Y/N. I’M ALWAYS GOING TO LOVE Y/N—IT’S ALWAYS GOING TO BE Y/N. I HAD THE FUCKING RING AND EVERYTHING SO DON’T YOU THINK FOR ONE FUCKING SECOND THAT I’M EVER GOING TO MOVE ON TO SOMEONE ELSE. I TOLD YOU ALL AFTER THE SECOND FAILED DATE YOUNGJAE TRIED TO SET ME UP ON THAT I HAD NO INTEREST IN CONTINUING THESE BLIND DATES. I DON’T NEED ANYONE’S HELP IN FINDING ME A RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE I DON’T FUCKING WANT TO BE IN ONE AT ALL IF IT’S NOT WITH HER. GET THAT THROUGH YOUR FUCKING HEAD.”

Once those last few words fell out of Mark’s mouth, the entire room fell quiet. Yugyeom and Jinyoung were stunned—Mark was a very soft-spoken and timid individual. Most people who were newly introduced to him could get a couple of words out of him if they were lucky. A lot of his patients at the hospital could go on and on in conversation and he would simply just him or nod his head as a way to communicate with them.

However, whenever it came to his friends and family, the eldest boy could talk up a storm. Mark was a very kind-hearted person; he was known for having a lot of patience and understanding—but he also had a huge temper. It took a lot for something or someone to piss him off; especially because he didn’t want anyone to look at him in a negative light. Normally, he could keep his ill-feelings at bay, but there were a few occasions where he allowed himself to yell or grunt in frustration.

Your relationship was a very touchy subject. Sure, it’s been over half a year since that night where you told Mark you no longer could handle being suffocated in your toxic relationship and usually most men were known to bounce back after a week. But Mark wasn’t like most men and you weren’t just any ordinary woman. You were the love of his life—his soulmate, his best friend, his person, the one he wanted to settle down, start a family and spend the rest of his life with.

He was devastated when you told him you were leaving and he even tried his best in to getting you to change your mind. He made so many promises of bettering himself in order to be a boyfriend you were proud of. He repeatedly told you that he would be nothing without you and that he would do anything in his power to get you to change your mind, but it wasn’t enough. Mark was well aware that his job play a huge role in your breakup.

Most of his time was spent at the hospital—but you were very considerate and understanding that his career was one of his main priorities other than his friends, his family and you. However, during the small amount of free time that he had, Mark had a tendency of spending that time either playing video games, going out to bars with his friends or playing with his dog Milo. As his girlfriend, you’ve witnessed how exhausted he could get from work; he was constantly on his feet for ten to twelve hours a day.

It was only natural for him to want to relax and unwind doing the things he was interested in. You wanted to be there for your boyfriend in whatever way you could, but you also had your needs and desires—not necessarily sexual, but there was a point in your relationship where you went weeks and even months without being intimate with Mark because he was always so tired and never had the energy to love on your body in the ways that he used to.

There was a time—a long amount of time in your relationship where the two of you could never keep your hands off of each other to the point where your friends would purposely have to sit between the two of you on nights you would all go out together in attempts to get the two of you to stop kissing or simply just showing any kind of affection towards one another. Unfortunately, towards the end of your relationship, you were only getting a peck on your lips if you were lucky.

Your relationship no longer had the spark that would send flames to your entire body just being around him—you no longer felt butterflies in your tummy whenever you looked at him. Sometimes when you’d gaze at him, you felt as though you were looking at a stranger, not the man you spent four years of your life with. You never understood where it went wrong; it just felt like the love and adoration Mark had for you just stopped out of no where.

He no longer called or texted you on his breaks to check up on you and see what you were doing, he stopped complimenting you on your outfits or if you did something new to your hair and the two of you could no longer hold a conversation for longer than five minutes without it feeling forced. You wanted to believe that he was just acting like this because work took up his entire being—physical and mental health. But he would go out with his friends right after a shift and sometimes he’d stay out for hours on end. It made you wonder if you were the problem.

Maybe he stopped loving you or your relationship became a chore to him and was no longer a priority to him as it used to be. The constant need to be around each other, the comfort you felt from being wrapped in his arms and the happiness that came from just knowing that he was yours no longer existed. It disappeared completely along with any kind of feelings you harbored for him and you didn’t think there was anything that could bring it back.

The thought of no longer having Mark in your life; no longer waking up to his devastatingly handsome face—no longer getting to kiss his pretty, pink lips, and no longer being the lucky person who got to love him—it slowly tore your heart apart, but what could you do? You felt as though the only reason why Mark continued to stay with you was because he grew comfortable with the routine in your relationship. Having to go out and start another relationship with someone new wasn’t something you even wanted to think about.

Deep in your heart, even if the two of you were going through , Mark Tuan was the only person you saw yourself wanting to get married to. All you ever wanted and could ever need was Mark. He owned you entirely; your mind, your body, your heart and soul—it was all his and it would always be his. But you couldn’t continue going on like this. Your relationship was slowly tearing you apart; it was suffocating you to the point where you felt as though you were going crazy.

Every now and then, you’d find yourself going back to that fateful night where you told him you were leaving. It took you weeks to come to that decision; hell, even months really. Every time you built the courage to finally give up on Mark entirely, you’d look at him as the two of you were lying down in bed and time to time, you would cry. He seemed an entire world away even if the two of you were just inches apart.

He might have been in the bed with you—but it genuinely felt like the bed was so spacious and empty. However, as you would gaze at him while he slept soundly, there was a little voice in your head begging you to wait a little longer. Something told you that things were going to get better and your life would turn out miserable if you were to break up with him.

You prayed and prayed that the voice was telling the truth; you wanted your relationship to work so badly. He might not have been giving you much attention these days or treating you the way he used to, but you would rather continue to stay with him and try your best to fix your crumbling relationship than to be happy with anyone else. When he saw your luggage lined up at the door he didn’t even flinch. It’s as if he knew this was coming; and it didn’t seem to bother him one bit.

That’s what hurt you the most; his blank expression only confirmed your worries—he no longer loved you or cared enough about you to even ask why your bags were packed or where you were going. He just simply stared at you for a couple of minutes before tilting his head in the direction of your bags.

“Where are you going?” He didn’t seem the least bit bothered by the fact that you were seconds away from walking out of his life completely.

“I’m leaving you.”

The words were bitter on your tongue—there were a few times in your relationship where the two of you argued and it would end up with him sleeping outside on the couch—but that’s the worst it’s ever been. This was the first time you were actually throwing in the white flag; you were mentally exhausted. You refused to continue fighting for a relationship that was barely even existing anymore. If you were to continue putting your time and effort in to Mark knowing that he no longer did the same for you, you would probably develop some form of depression. You loved yourself too much to allow him to continue breaking your heart and taking advantage of your love.

“Why?” You scoffed—he had to be joking right? Did he think that the two of you were okay? Was he fine with the fact that your relationship was no longer what it used to be? Did the lack of intimacy or time spent together not bother him at all—the way it was quickly ruining you?

“You don’t love me anymore. I don’t know when you stopped—but all I know is that you did. Our relationship turned it to this toxic partnership. I don’t know what happened or what went wrong, but I’m so fucking unhappy Mark. I look at you and I don’t see the love of my life—I don’t see the aspiring nurse I met all those years ago who showed me and taught what love is. All I see when I look at you is a shell of the person you used to be. You’re like a stranger to me Mark and I hate—I fucking hate that things turned out like this and what’s killing me the most is that it doesn’t seem to bother you. You hardly make time for me—for us. It’s like you have to force yourself to genuinely enjoy being around me these days. Go look at your missed calls and all of your text messages. It’s all me. I’m practically begging for your attention and any kind of reaction out of you and nothing—literal nothing. I don’t know what to do anymore; I don’t want to leave Mark. I don’t want to be without you. But why should I continue putting in effort to a relationship that is just moments away from ending completely—“

“What makes you think that I no longer love you—wait—don’t answer that.”

He took a deep breath in before walking towards you and doing the unexpected; he brought his hands up to cup your cheeks and gently placed his forehead against yours. This was the first time in such a long time that you were this close in proximity with him—having him hold you, touch you, looking at you in such an apologetic way; you honestly didn’t know how to feel. You wanted to be happy; anytime Mark would touch you, kiss you, hold your hand or your waist, wrap his arm around your shoulder—any form of intimacy with your boyfriend always made your heart flutter. Unfortunately, you felt nothing and it broke your heart.

“I know, I haven’t been all that great these days, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend and I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner. I’m so fucking sorry baby—so fucking sorry. There’s no excuse—I can’t say it’s because of work or come up with any other logical reason. I guess I just got used to us doing our own things. I was content just having you around. I don’t know how I went so long with the distance—or being absent even if I’m physically there. I just—fuck, I know it sounds wrong but I just assumed because I plan on spending the rest of my life with you that a little bump in the road wasn’t going to do anything to hinder our relationship. If I knew that it was going to cause you to question the love I have for you and even get you to pack your bags with the intention of leaving me, I would have done something—“

“But you didn’t Mark. You knew something was wrong but you didn’t do anything about it. You just assumed that whatever we were going through was normal. News flash—it wasn’t. Our relationship is falling apart at the seams Mark. Did it not occur to you even once that the distance—the fact that we could no longer hold a decent conversation, that we haven’t had sex or been intimate in the last few weeks—it’s not normal? You obviously never put my feelings in to consideration. I’m dying Mark—mentally, you’re breaking my fucking heart.”

You allowed yourself to take a quick breath; you could feel your tears continuously building up at the brim of your eyelids. As much as you didn’t want Mark to see you cry because you didn’t think he deserved it—it was too hard for you to keep your crying at bay.

“The love you have for me—that’s a joke right? You no longer love me. I don’t know what you think you feel for me but it’s definitely not love or at least it’s no longer love. If you still loved me, you would continue to show me and tell me like you never failed to do before. Showering me with your love, attention and care shouldn’t stop just because you have me—I don’t care if you’re used to our relationship or if you’ve grown comfortable where you don’t feel the need to contact me or check up on me—I don’t even care if I’m not your main priority. I’m completely understanding that your job takes up your time and energy, but I need you to know how shitty I feel every time I see you staying up to play video games or going out with your friends. I never wanted to be that girlfriend; I want you to be happy—your happiness is all that I care about, but it would be nice if I could be your happiness. Tell me Mark, when did you stop caring about me? When did you stop caring about my mood, my thoughts, how I was feeling, how the state of our relationship was? I can’t even remember what your lips feel or taste like, does it not bother you at all?”

You saw him inch closer to you; you assumed he wanted to try and pull you back in to his embrace but you found yourself stepping back. When Mark saw you try to get away from him, that’s how he knew it was over. Once you were to get everything from off your chest, you were going to leave and there was nothing he could do about it.

He could continue to persuade you to stay—he could promise you that he’d change and that your relationship would return back to what it used to be, but there was no use. Hearing to confess how lonely you felt; how heartbroken he made you and how you didn’t even feel like you were in a relationship with him at all shook him to the core—he knew you were leaving, no matter how hard he’d try to get you to change your mind. You were the kind of person that when you set your heart to something, it would always prevail. A break up was no different.

“Y/n, please. I can’t—I can’t do this without you. I need you. I’m nothing without you. If I lose you, God I don’t think I’ll ever love again. You’re it for me baby, I mean that. You’re all I could ever want and need for the rest of my life. I’ll do better, I’ll be a better boyfriend—I’ll make up for all the lost time and I promise you, we’ll be okay again. Please baby, find it in your heart to forgive me. Everybody makes mistakes, we’re only human—“

As soon as he felt your dainty fingertips cup his cheek ever so gently before you placed a kiss against the corner of his mouth, it felt as though his soul left his body. You didn’t have to say anything; your actions spoke volumes for you. Your fingers were featherlight on his skin; it took every bone in his body not you pull you closer to him and hold you as tightly as physically possible. He didn’t know he was able to actually feel his heartbreak. Whenever someone would describe suffering from a broken heart, he thought they would be hurting mentally, psychologically or spiritually but right now, he could feel his heart crying—begging for you to give him one more chance.

“Y/n—please—“

You could have sworn your heart sank to your stomach once you heard his voice crack. Your bags were already packed and you made the decision to finally leave months ago, why were you suddenly regretting your decision? You mentally prepared yourself for this reaction although you’d be lying if you said you expected him to break down and beg you not to leave like he currently was right now. If anything, you expected complete silence—with the way he’s been acting in the last few weeks, you just assumed he no longer cared about your presence or being in a relationship with you. To see him on his knees crying and begging for you to change your mind—you wanted to just say fuck it and pull him in to your embrace.

He was trying—he promised he would change and do better; you wished his words could be enough for you. There were so many doubts in your mind telling you that he was all talk. That—he would try and put more time and effort in to your relationship, but it wouldn’t last long. He would get tired of having to prioritize you—tired of having to please you. You couldn’t put yourself through all that unnecessary pain again—the pain of not feeling good enough for him to want to spend and make time for you.

You couldn’t force him to love you the way he used to—you loved Mark, God, did you love Mark. Honestly, you would do anything to make him happy; you would sacrifice your own happiness to make sure he was always smiling and thriving. But during the distance, since you didn’t feel like you had a boyfriend to love, you began to fall in love with yourself. While you were losing Mark, you were finding yourself.

“I have to go Mark. One day, you’ll see why I made this decision—why I felt as if this was the only choice I had. I love you Mark. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I don’t love you. I don’t think you will ever be able to fathom just how much I love you and how I would go to the ends of the earth just to make sure you’re well taken care of. Your happiness and well being is all I care about. You are all I care about—I just—I need time to heal. I need time to grow and to rediscover happiness. I need to learn to live without you. Who knows, maybe being apart will lead us to want to come together again. I love you and you love me—if it’s meant to be, we will find our way back to each other again. I’m really going to miss you. Please take care of yourself.”

With one more kiss on his lips, you took your luggage and left. Mark couldn’t describe just how heartbroken, helpless and genuinely miserable he was now feeling. He wanted to run after you and yank your bags out of your hands—he knew he could try harder to get you to stay, but he didn’t want to make things worse. The first few weeks were the hardest; Mark felt as if he could die from a broken heart. He couldn’t eat—he had no appetite.

His mind kept replaying the way you left so easily—taunting him like a bad dream. He felt like he was having a nightmare that reoccurred every single day. He couldn’t stop thinking about you—how you were going about the entire breakup, where you were staying, if you were suffering even half as much as he was or if you were regretting your decision even just a little.

As the months went by, nothing changed—even if he tried his best to move on, he felt in his chest that there was no getting over you. He meant what he told you on your last night together, he was genuinely afraid that he would never be able to find closure nor would he ever be able to fall in love again. He didn’t want to be in love again if it meant with someone else. You owned Mark entirely; his mind, his body, his heart and his soul—they all belonged to you and they always would.

Jinyoung and Yugyeom knew it would be best to get their older friend out of there before Jackson said even more things he probably shouldn’t or before Mark grew physical.

“We should uh—we’ll get going here. Mark, man I’m genuinely sorry this happened tonight, we shouldn’t even have come here. I should have tried harder to stop him but you know how Jackson gets when he’s drunk. I’m really fucking sorry dude about everything. You know what Jackson said isn’t true and I’m sure he doesn’t even know what he said. He’ll probably wake up tomorrow morning completely brainless about everything—“

Mark gave Jinyoung a sad smile before pulling him in for a hug. If anyone understood what Mark was going through, it was Jinyoung. Mark wasn’t the type to tell people of his problems—no even the people closest to him. If something bad happened to him, he would suffer all by himself because he didn’t want other people to worry about him.

However, Jinyoung was the only one Mark allowed to see him in such a vulnerable and fragile state. Sure, Jinyoung also tried to set him up with one of his friends, but that’s only because he wanted Mark to get another chance at love. He hated seeing Mark so sad—so dejected and moping around, living but not really existing. Although Jinyoung really liked you for his older friend and believed that the two of you were soulmates, he also believed that if you still wanted to be in a relationship with Mark, you would.

No matter how hard relationships could be sometimes, you never give up on someone you picture spending the rest of your life with. If you genuinely love someone, you’re going to fight for them even if the battle can be too much to handle. He saw Mark through so many phases of depression and grief; he’d witness Mark finish bottles of wine in one sitting while crying at every single thing that reminded him of you. Unlike Jackson though, he wasn’t going to force Mark in a relationship if he didn’t want to be in one. He was a grown man—he could make his own decisions himself. The last thing he or anyone in his situation needed was for his friends to get involved in his personal life.

“Jinyoung, do you think you could do me a favor? I um—I think I want to be alone for a couple of days. Do you mind telling the other guys to let me be for a little while? I just—tonight was too much for me. I don’t want to get angry with any one of you. I can’t say how long I plan on being away I just—I don’t need this right now.”

There was so much Jinyoung wanted to say—he didn’t think it was a good idea for Mark to be alone and he wished Jackson just kept his mouth shut, but he also knew that nothing he could say would get Mark to change his mind. He nodded in agreement—not wanting to make the older boy even more upset before motioning for Yugyeom to pick up Jackson’s sleeping figure from the couch.

“Promise me you will call me if and when you need me. Oh, and please look after yourself. If you’re not going to allow me to come and check up on you can you at least make sure you’re eating all your meals and getting enough sleep?”

“I promise. Let me know when you get home alright? Thank you Jinyoung, I really don’t know what I would do without you.”

Mark didn’t know if he liked it better now that the three boys were gone. He might have been angry with Jackson’s obnoxious outburst, but now he was alone with the thought that you might be seeing someone else. You did mention that you would always love him; but if you missed him the way you claimed you would, wouldn’t you have come back running to him a long time ago? There might have been distance between the two of you while you were still together, but no longer being in a relationship was a extremely different scenario.

At least while the two of you were still together, he knew you were his and that he could come home to you. But now, he didn’t know anything that was going on in your life. For all Mark knew, you could have moved to another state or even another country—and now Jackson’s words were messing with his mind. Were you seeing someone? Did you already move on to somebody else and if so, did you see a future with that person? Did your mind ever wander over to Mark and how he was doing?

His skin began to crawl at the thought of you being intimate with someone else—he knew he had no right to, you were no longer his to get jealous over and he was the reason why you could now go out and start dating whoever you wanted. He wanted to scream—he was already doing so bad as it was, why did Jackson have to make him feel even more shittier than he currently was?

He found himself looking through his cupboards for any kind of alcohol, he honestly didn’t care at this point. Mark was not a heavy drinker; he never understood why his friends enjoyed wasting their money on alcohol only to get drunk, not remember a single thing and wake up with an extremely painful hangover. He wanted to take his mind off of you and the only way he could do that was if he was inebriated.

These last few months, his mind seemed to be filled with the thought of you every single day, but never did he feel like he wanted to stop thinking about you. Now that he knew there was a chance you had another man in your life, he wanted to completely rid you from his thoughts—at least for the time being. When he found a bottle of tequila way in the back of the cabinet, he released a frustrated sigh. Mark hated tequila—it had to be one of the worst kinds of alcohol there was. Not only did it taste nasty, but it felt even more horrible going down.

At this point, he didn’t care—it was all he had and he was going to take what he could get. He pulled off the cork and took a few big gulps. It made him gag a little—drinking straight from the bottle wasn’t something he was used to. Especially because tequila was meant to be either mixed or taken as shots, not to be consumed like it was water. He could feel tears building up at the brim of his eyes at how hard it was to drink it, but slowly and surely, he could feel himself getting lightheaded and moments away from completely being plastered.

When his vision grew hazy and his movements slowed down, he decided he would make his way to his room with the intention of falling asleep. It took him a while to get up from the floor and he was grateful that Milo was fast asleep in his doggy bed. He loved his little puppy more than anything and for the last few months, Milo was his own personal therapist. He made Mark smile when Mark didn’t think he was capable of that motion anymore.

However, he didn’t think he was in the right mind to take care of himself—let alone a dog. Walking in the direction of his room felt like such a hassle. What usually took him a good ten seconds felt like hours—his feet were heavy against the hardwood floor and finally, once he opened his door and flopped on top of his bed, he hummed in content. Luckily he was already changed in to his pajamas before the guys came over so he didn’t have to do anything. He didn’t realize just how much tequila he consumed; his eyelids felt heavy and he was dozing in and out of sleep.

Right as he was about to completely enter dreamland, he felt something vibrate. The buzzing noise sounded so far away, even if he knew his phone was nearby. It was probably just Jinyoung telling him he was home now—it could wait until the morning. He continued to try and fall asleep; ignoring the constant buzzing that seemingly wouldn’t stop. With a grunt, he went on the search for his device, moving his hand all around the bed until he found it. He knew whoever was trying to get in touch with him didn’t seem like they were going to stop anytime soon, so he rubbed both his eyes in attempts to break him out of his exhausted and drunken haze before checking his notifications.

Once he saw your name, he had to do a double take—there was no way you sent him a message, he had to be hallucinating. How high was the percentage of alcohol in the tequila? His mind was definitely playing tricks on him—or maybe he was actually asleep and it was his conscience coming up with what he wishes would happen? He abruptly sat up; causing him even more dizziness, but he had to make sure he was actually seeing what he thought he did. Seeing your name in his phone after seven months of not hearing you sent so many emotions and feelings to his chest and he felt overwhelmed.

Was he happy? Sad? Angry that you took so long? Excited? He couldn’t help but feel as though something was wrong. Were you okay? Did something happen to you? Did you finally come to the realization that you missed him and that you were willing to give your relationship another chance? A part of him—probably the part that was still upset with you for breaking his heart told him to ignore the messages—he wanted to lie and say he didn’t care anymore and that he was genuinely going to do whatever he could to forget about you completely. But who was he kidding? There was no getting over you. Ever. His heart begged him to click on your contact and that’s exactly what he did.

Babe: Hey. 12:54 A.M.

He mentally cursed himself for not changing your name in his phone but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. He didn’t have the right to call you any term of endearment anymore, but once he were to change your contact to your actual name, it cemented the idea that things were actually over and he wasn’t going to give up on you just yet. Until he were to find out you were seeing someone else or that you had no intentions on getting back with him ever again, he was going to continue holding on to that tiny string of hope that one day, you’d be back in his arms again.

Babe: I’m sorry it’s so late. I mean that in more ways than one. 12:54 A.M.

Babe: I—I honestly don’t know where to begin. Let me just start by saying I’m sorry. I’m so sorry Mark. And I miss you. I miss you so much. 12:56 A.M.

Babe: I know it’s been a while and I don’t know why I felt like I could just text you out of nowhere. I understand if you’ve moved on or if you want nothing to do with me anymore. 1:02 A.M.

Babe: I’m not going to lie and say that I made a mistake breaking up with you. I knew it’s what was best for the two of us at the time. But I will admit, I’ve thought about you every single day since I left. I’m sure you’re wondering what took me so long to come to the conclusion that I’m still so in love with you—which, I am by the way. I love you and I don’t think I ever really stopped. 1:05 A.M.

Babe: If you’re in a relationship or seeing someone else, please disregard all of these messages. I hope you’re doing well and I hope you’re taking good care of yourself. Well, Goodnight. 1:06 A.M.

Maybe months go by, maybe years from now And I meet someone and it's workin' out Every now and then, he can see right through 'Cause when I look at him Yeah, all I see is you

What if I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye? And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you? Ooh yeah What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told ya? What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever and ever and ever?

As soon as you sent the last text message, you allowed a couple of tears to fall but brought your hands up to your mouth in attempts to prevent yourself from sobbing. The last thing you needed was to wake up the man who was currently sleeping in bed right next to you. You felt as if you made a complete mistake trying to get in contact with Mark—you should have just left him alone. It was you who initiated the breakup in the first place.

You’ve stayed away for seven months; what person in their right mind would respond to your messages and want to take you back with open arms? You had to be crazy to think Mark still wanted anything to do to you—he probably deleted your messages as soon as he received them and you couldn’t blame them. If the roles were reversed and he did to you what you did to him, you would have blocked his number entirely. You placed your phone back on the nightstand and turned over to look at Minho; releasing an exhausted sigh before gliding your finger along his cheek.

Trying out a new relationship and seeing someone new sounded like a good idea in hind sight. He was a friend of a friend’s—your friends tried to set you up with so many different guys similarly to Mark and his group of friends. They hated seeing you so sad and heartbroken yet they didn’t understand why you were still so hung up over Mark when you were the one who decided to call it quits. Minho was very soft spoken and gentle; in a way, he resembled Mark and that’s why you felt you were attracted to him.

He was quite the gentleman—he’d always ask you how you were doing, he’d ask you if you were okay with him kissing you and holding your hand and you were sure your friends must’ve told him about your past because he was very adamant on taking your relationship at your pace. Looking at him right now, lying in your bed made you realize just how quickly things were going between the two of you and you didn’t know how you felt about that. It took you a while to sleep over Mark’s apartment and he didn’t see yours until five months in to your relationship.

However, you were beginning to believe you were rushing things because you missed having someone around all the time; you missed having the presence of someone you loved—you missed Mark. You also assumed that you were acting this way because you wanted to force yourself to like Minho so you could completely move on from Mark, but you didn’t understand why you wanted to get the thought of him out of your mind completely.

The more time you spent with Minho, going on dates with him, calling him when you couldn’t see him; you’d find yourself picturing Mark in his place. You really missed how Mark used to treat you like you were the most important person on the planet. You missed holding him and being held by him, you missed playing video games with him and coming home from a long day of work with a table full of your favorite food. Even if you were doubting his words when he told you he was going to do better, you wondered how life would be like if you did give in to him that night.

As much as you liked Minho—or at least felt like you did, a huge part of you believed that you were only staying with him for his sake. He was such a nice guy who genuinely seemed to care about you, but nobody was ever going to be Mark. You weren’t going to ever care or love anyone the way you did with Mark and you didn’t want to continue leading him on knowing that your heart belonged to someone else. You decided that you were going to call it a night, you didn’t expect Mark to get back to you any time soon if at all for that matter.

After placing a gentle kiss on Minho’s shoulder blade, you curled up in to your pillow and slowly closed your eyes. Unfortunately, you couldn’t find it in yourself to fall asleep; your mind was too busy thinking about whether or not Mark read your messages and if he did, how he felt about hearing that you missed him and that you still loved him. Taking one last look at your phone, you felt your heart swell up as a small smile rose on your face.

Mark: I’m all yours. 1:36 A.M.

What if I never get over? What if I never get closure? What if I never get back all the wasted words I told ya? What if it never gets better? What if this lasts forever and ever and ever?

I'm tryin', but then I close my eyes And then I'm right back, lost in that last goodbye And what if time doesn't do what it's supposed to do? What if I never get over you? What if I gave you (what if I gave you) everything I got? What if your love was my one and only shot? What if I end up with nothing to compare it to What if I never get over? Oh, if I never get over What if I never get over you?What if I never get over you? Oh, what if I never get over? Over you

#got7 imagines #mark tuan #mark tuan imagines #got7 #got7 mark

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anxious-shapeshifter · 3 years

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A Question Worth Asking

There’s a question I’ve struggled with since the beginning of all of this (“this”, of course, being my gay awakening, and the subsequent fallout I’ve had with the LDS church).

Long before I found out I was gay, I’d already tucked two labels under my belt — asexual and aromantic (which could arguably now be called “demiromantic”). The implications of those labels were rather moot before factoring in being gay, as it isn’t exactly a sin to not marry or have sex in the mormon religion, though choosing not to marry or have kids is frowned upon.

Right then, it’s a problem now that I’ve found myself in a same-sex relationship. Now I’m actively sinning...or not? To quote the church’s own words, here’s how they’ve defined exactly why same-sex relationships and marriage are contrary to God’s plan;

“Sexual purity is an essential part of God’s plan for our happiness. Sexual relations are reserved for a man and woman who are married and promise complete loyalty to each other. Sexual relations between a man and woman who are not married, or between people of the same sex, violate one of our Father in Heaven’s most important laws and get in the way of our eternal progress.”

- From Same-Sex Attraction, Gospel Topics in the LDS Library app

The important law mentioned at the end of the paragraph refers to the law of chastity, which is defined as follows;

“Chastity is sexual purity. Those who are chaste are morally clean in their thoughts, words, and actions. Chastity means not having any sexual relations before marriage. It also means complete fidelity to husband or wife during marriage.”

- From Chastity, Gospel Topics in the LDS Library app

I’m asexual, and also don’t like the idea of sex. That’s just the way I am, and I don’t plan on changing that...I can’t change that, really. The relationship I’m in is strictly romantic, and by that definition, wouldn’t it therefore be “morally clean”?

Unfortunately, the church seems to care little about any kind of split-attraction model (despite the fact that they mention it on their website), and so I find myself in some kind of gray area. I don’t know what they think, and at one point I cared. I can’t tell you how many times I consulted the website, desperate for answers as to whether or not my salvation was at stake.

Sex is regarded as some sacred, intimate ritual that both asserts the love between two partners and holds the power of procreation, to bring other beings into this world. This is not an incorrect statement, but religion has drawn lines in some odd places, and it leaves one with a lot of questions if you delve too deep.

For one, what changes between premarital and married sex? Sure, marriage often equates to commitment, but beyond that, you can’t claim that all sex outside of the bonds of marriage is a loveless, selfish act.

Is all sexual activity between a married couple only motivated by the need to procreate? Must all sexual activity between a married couple have procreation as a forethought in order to be considered “morally clean”?

How does the perspective change when infertile couples are brought to mind? If they are married, but unable to bear children for one reason or another, must they abstain from sex because it won’t be “fruitful”, and therefore not “morally clean”?

Both of these questions have answers, actually, as the church has very clearly stated that “it [physical intimacy] is ordained of God for the creation of children and for the expression of love within marriage.”

Ask some of my previous teachers in the church, and they can tell you all about how wonderful sex is as an act of intimate love in a marriage. I’m sure it is, for those folks who enjoy that sort of thing. I’m all for people expressing their love for each other, but that includes those of us in the “same-sex attracted” category.

If a gay couple is legally married, then how come their sexual intimacy is still considered a sin? They’ve committed to each other, just as any straight couple would. Is their love not also legitimate?

As it turns out, no, according to the church. Gay couples have an additional box to check, to quote; “Homosexual activity is a serious sin. It is contrary to the purposes of human sexuality. It distorts loving relationships and prevents people from receiving the blessings that can be found in family life and the saving ordinances of the gospel.” (Chastity, Gospel Topics)

Ouch. “Distorts loving relationships”? In what way? More importantly, suddenly sex is only about procreation. If you can’t bring children into the world, you’re fresh out of luck because that’s the only “morally clean” way to have sex, apparently.

The church’s reasoning behind these things begins to twist in on itself and fall apart, because you cannot tell me that 1) Sex is an act of intimacy and an expression of love between two married people; and 2) Sex is only for procreation, all other purposes are immoral. Unless I’m missing some implicit piece of information in here? Is sex only permitted when the couple wants to have a child, and that act itself is the expression of love mentioned? Again, this leaves out couples unable to have children due to infertility or other uncontrollable circumstances.

And then there’s that last sentence in the quoted paragraph above, the statement that gay couples are missing out on the “blessings of family life” when they choose to love who they love. A rather ludicrous statement, because adoption is a thing that exists! There’s lots of children out there without families, so why not encourage more people to adopt? (There’s the whole bit about how mormon culture seems to frown on adoption vs birthing your own kids, but that’s an essay for another day)

And I’m back to the reason I began writing this; by church standards, is my own relationship an act of sin?

I am “chaste”, by standards listed above. I have no sexual relations, but I also completely lack a sex drive to begin with. My relationship is solely romantic, and a happy one. We love each other and respect each other’s needs and boundaries, we take care of one another. Neither of us desires to have kids, and, to be frank, I don’t think either of us would be in a physical condition to make that a possibility, if it were one.

If I’m frustrating my own human sexuality, is it because of my same-sex relationship, or because of my lack of sexuality? Would I still be committing a sin by remaining alone? There are two potential answers, one being that the sin lies in the same-sex relationship, and the other that the sin is my refusal to engage in sex and have children.

It can’t be the former, then. It was explicitly stated that engaging in sex with people of the same sex is a sin. Being LGBTQ+ in and of itself has been reinforced numerous times as not sinful, because that’s an identity we can’t choose. They got that right, at least.

So refusing to have sex is my sin, then? What a conundrum that puts me in. You’d think that would make the church all the more happy — a person with no sexual desires whatsoever, therefore less likely to think “impure thoughts” or act on wrongful urges.

But no, I’m still in the wrong. I have to have children! That is my ultimate purpose in this life — bar any other interests or desires, accomplishments, enlightenment — humanity’s destiny is to continually birth the next generation, to pass the torch. It sounds so...primitive? Animalistic, almost?

If I don’t follow in the footsteps of my predecessors, if I don’t have a posterity to carry on the human race, then what am I if not subhuman? Am I even human, lacking the sexual desires that I’m supposed to have? What am I?

Let me reel myself back in again to finish this essay off. The contradictions only seem to persist in church teachings on this topic, which is disappointing in this day and age where an abundance of information is available to learn from. Will it ever be addressed, in my lifetime or in 100, 200 years time?

I’ve unraveled a few of the strings for myself in the process of writing this, but it leaves a lot, if not more, questions to be answered. Is it something I can hope to untangle in this life? I wish I could say with certainty that it’s possible. In the meantime, I’ll follow the thread that feels right to me.

#theo's essays #this is one of my longer ones. buckle up!#essay #exmo #exmormon #ex religious #lgbtq #misogyny

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iamnotbrianmay · 5 years

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The A Experience

Summary: The three times Roger's bandmates said 'I Love You' to him, and the three times he said it back.

Notes: I fucking loved this chapter, writing it, planning it, and reading it over and over. I don't know why but I feel like it's the best thing I have ever writen for this story, even if it's just a time skip chapter. Now, I know what you might all be thinking, you are missing stuff, Maria. What about the Moving in? Or the healing on the part of Roger? But I feel like those things deserve their own fanfic, you know? So what I'm going to do is that once I finish this story I'm going to write their stories. I have planned them out completely already, don't you worry.For all of you who want to know their lenghts:

- Moving In - Three chapters (about 10k - 15k) - Aftermath - Five Chapters (18k - 20k)

So yeah, I hope y'all are as excited as I am for these stories.

the taglist goes as follows: @seven-seas-of-why, @twotitsjohndeacon, @dancindeaky, @gee-uloser, @mozzarellamazzello, @mozzie-s, @deracine-dogma-deux, @shutupanddontjudge, @warping-reality, @demianhill , @zodiacal-dust-and-curls

Three Months After the Incident;

Surprisingly, Deaky is the first one to say ‘I Love You’ to Roger.

It’s Friday night, and instead of being out with his friends he’s stuck at the flat with a fever. He’s lying in his bed sick and miserable, trying not to feel like the world is ending when he gets the text message that sets the night off.

—Bri: rogieeeeeeeeeee

Roger groaned as he heard the annoying ping! of his phone. He recognized the text-tone he had set for Brian— it was that alone that motivated him to turn over and grab his phone. As he quickly unlocked it his fever-addled brain reminded him that he would have to text back while looking at the painfully bright screen; something that would not help his current pounding headache.

—Bri: why didnt you coem?

Roger frowned as he read the uncharacteristically bad spelling and grammar in Brian’s texts. It was also missing the ever present addition of ‘—Bri.’ a gag that the older man was adamandant on using ever since Roger had complained about his texting style. Then he remembered that Freddie had taken Brian to the newest bar in town, an over the top place called Verona which Freddie seemed to adore, and left him and John to fend for themselves.

As far as he knew Brian never got drunk, or at least had never had gotten drunk until Roger came into his life, which was something he was not happy about. Not that Roger didn’t like when Brian had fun or went out to clubs with Freddie and John, but he couldn’t help but worry that he was a bad influence; that his actions were mirroring Tim’s.

He blinked a few times, trying to will away the drunken typing, but when he looked back the evidence was still there— as clear as day, and a painful as poison. Roger typed out a quick reply, not wanting Brian to think that he was ignoring him.

Taylor: r u drunk?

Roger started biting his lip nervously, thinking about what would follow next in the line of things that he was going to infect Brian with. His feverish brain was all too happy to provide him with answers; everything ranging from his horrible clothing and love for k-pop (of all things!) to things like smoking, sometimes even the occasional joint or other, somewhat more than harmful, substances.

Brian’s answer wasn’t comforting at all.

—Bri: ts nice!

—Bri: would be nicre if u were heer

Roger shut his phone off without answering. Unable to get comfortable, he threw the covers off and wobbled into the kitchen. So what if he was sick? He was in desperate need of a drink— maybe two—something that had been strictly forbidden by the other boys in the house now that his body was shivering with fever and he was taking medicine for his rattling cough and sore throat.

They had been performing in an outdoor stage a week ago when Roger started to feel this way, light headed and extremely hot. As the night went on he felt progressively worse and by the time they had finished playing he was feeling like death warmed over. After their final song the small restaurant crowd had cheered and while the others had felt high with the adrenaline rush, Roger just wanted a hot drink and a place to rest, like a coffin.

The next morning he had woken up with an aching throat, runny nose and a fever. He felt as if someone was sitting on his chest and was unable to get out of bed without feeling like he was going to pass out. Sleeping alone didn’t make him feel any better; since he had moved in he and Brian didn’t need to share a bed anymore, quite possibly the only negative of his new living situation. Living with them all also meant he had a front row seat to what he had done to the older man and he wasn’t sure he deserved to share his bed anyways.

Roger unscrewed the lid from the bottle of cheap Vodka he had stuffed deep into the back of the pantry and poured himself a glass. He knew his bandmates would give him a hard time if they found out about it, but at this point he didn’t really care all that much. He only stopped when the glass was half full, clear liquid twinkling in the kitchen light, promising some relief. Roger put the cap back on and stuffed the bottle back where it belonged.

His plan to get shitfaced was regretfully cut short when he turned around to find John standing in the doorway, his head tilted to the side and his arms crossed over his chest. His stare wasn’t angry or annoyed, but a mix of curiosity and concern. “I could have sworn we told you not to drink while sick.”

Roger’s fingers twitched as his grip tightened on the glass, a little afraid that John was going to take it away from him.

“I needed a drink,” he explained.

John sighed, nodding for Roger to follow him into the living room, and for some strange reason he followed. They sat on the couch together, legs crossed, then John said something that surprised him, “If you can give me a valid reason as to why you need a drink I will let you finish that glass. I might even join you.”

Roger’s eyes widened, and he was about to ask what had come over John before the younger man interrupted him.

“We will talk about that, or about something else if you want to, until Freddie and Brian come stumbling through the door, after which we become four drunks instead of two. I promise I will do this, but you have to give me a valid reason.”

Ever since Roger had moved in John, though quiet and often introverted, had been extremely supportive, keeping him standing on his own two feet when he started to feel like the room seemed was spinning out of his control. In moments exactly like the one they were having right now. He was staring at Roger with a patient smile, one hand resting lightly on his knee and the other extended so that Roger could put the glass on his palm. It seemed like a fair trade, a reason for a drink. So nodded in agreement and handed John his vodka.

The younger man smiled, placing the alcohol on the table before turning back to Roger and started idly tracing circles on his knee. Roger sniffed twice (damn his runny nose) and thought about what to say. Fuck it he thought, before letting the words pour out of him. It was as if someone else was talking, telling John about his worries and his guilt, but he was still very much present as he watched his friend react to all he was saying. He could the various emotions in his eyes, his expression changing from neutral to angry, then flickering again to sadness. Roger heard his own voice, the tone in which he spoke, soft and sad and urgent— even if he wasn’t quite in control of the words he was saying. What he noticed most of all was how tenderly John reached out with a tissue to dry the tears (when had he started crying?) that were sliding down his cheeks as he spoke.

When Roger returned from his— well he didn’t quite know what to call it apart from an “out of body experience” but that didn’t seem quite right— he looked away from John. Suddenly he was aware and ashamed of the fact that, one, he didn’t quite know what he had said, and two, probably had over-shared to someone who didn’t want to hear his personal battles. It had been different than when he had told Brian, he had been hyper-aware of every word he was saying and how Brian would hear it; making sure that he didn’t make a fool of himself. With John however it was almost as if his mind had switched to autopilot, and he remained unable to act on anything beyond registering John’s emotions and thinking ‘Oh god, what am I doing?’

One moment he was trying to justify his reason for a damn drink, the next he was ripping open his chest, everything bared before John’s eyes. He prepared himself for anger, or disgust, or maybe even John telling him what he most feared; that he was right. He would tell him that he needed to back off; keep as far away from Brian as possible. Instead John, the least touchy-feely member of their group, leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Roger’s shoulders. Putting one hand between his shoulder blades and one on the back of his head, then resting his head on the side of Roger’s neck.

He didn’t know if it was the fever or if he’d always been that soft, but the gesture was enough to break Roger. He gripped the back of John’s shirt and was unable to stop the hot tears that escaped. John simply held him, didn’t pull away or complain about the puddle of tears and snot he was probably making on his shirt; he just let him cry for as long as he needed to.

When he finally untangled himself from John, the younger man pressed their foreheads together, and smiled at Roger, “Y’know, I love you, Rog.” he gave Roger’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

That made Roger chuckle, the last few tears that had been left in his eyes streamed down his face, and neither of them bothered to dry them, “I love you too John, don’t know how we’ll break this to Freddie and Bri though.” John smiled, glad to see even a glimmer of his friend’s regular self.

They stay like that for a few minutes, eyes closed and foreheads pressed together before John pulled back. Roger wanted to whine at the loss of contact, but John took his hand in his instead; it wasn’t quite the same, but it was still comforting.

John took a deep breath, “You aren’t like Tim, you do know that, right Rog?”

Rogers eyes flew open and he looked at John, his grey eyes watching him, his expression serious and sincere. Suddenly Roger feels a flush of anger.

“How can you say that?”

John seemed unfazed by his anger, “I find it quite easy to tell the truth.”

“John—”

“Roger,” His tone is not angry, but he cuts off Roger’s rebuttal. Roger resentfully closes his mouth, his body trembling slightly as John continues. “You are not him. You will never be him. And just because you showed Brian how to enjoy more than one drink does not mean that you are following in his footsteps.”

“But John—”

“Did Brian ever refuse a drink?”

Roger hesitates, “No, but–”

“Did you force him to drink?”

Roger frowned, “Kind of—?”

“Oh bullshit!” John snapped, “You didn’t force him to do anything, Roger. Brian is soft, yes, but he can also be a stubborn son of a bitch. If he wanted to stay sober he would have, be it by telling you to fuck off or by sipping on a coke or something.”

“If I’m not a bad influence then why is he keep drinking more now?”

John shrugged, “Simple, he likes it.”

“That’s why,” Roger insisted, “I did that! Brian liking alcohol is my fault! Just like it was Tim’s fault that I began smoking.”

The silence that followed was deafening and John’s hard stare softened, “Look, Roger I know this will be hard to believe, but Brian had actually tasted alcohol before you came around. I will not sit by and let you torture yourself for something that is not your fault! This isn’t something that anyone can be blamed for alright? Brian is just going out and doing things normal twenty-one-year-olds do. If anything, you helped him loosen up, brought him out of his shell a little. It’s a good thing! ”

“Deaky…”

“No, I’m serious. As long as it doesn’t become a destructive habit, I don’t see any harm.”

Roger thought about that for a moment, “As long as you help him quit if it gets out of hand…”

John scoffed, “Of course we will! That’s what family is for.”

He said it so matter-of-factly, Roger yearned for that kind of belonging. Warmth filled his chest at the thought of someday being part of their family, someday being called Deaky’s brother, or Freddie’s “constant annoyance”. Maybe even Brian’s significant other. But for the time being he would happily settle for friend, roommate, and bandmate. “Now, about that drink...”

John groaned, “I was kind of hoping that you had forgotten about that,” he reached for the glass, taking a swig before handing it to Roger, “but a promise is a promise.”

Roger brought the glass to his lips but hesitated, “Wait, do you think anything bad will happen if I drink while on this medication?”

John shook his head, “Naw, it’s over-the-counter stuff. Not strong enough to kill you, but it’s strong enough to get you hammered faster than usual.”

The grin that spread across Roger’s face was mischievous, to say the least, “Perfect.”

The funny thing was that when Brian and Freddie finally stumbled in an hour later, they were the ones who had to get John and Roger to bed, not the other way around.

Five Months After the Incident:

The next one to say I love you to Roger is Freddie.

The flat was silent when Roger woke up, except for the quiet snores coming from Brian’s side of the room. He rolled over and frowned once he saw the ungodly hour at which he woke up. Still, he was feeling much better after recovering from that god-awful flu and couldn’t help but smile at Brian’s strangely adorable snoring.

Deciding he might as well get up and make some coffee, he peeled back the covers and moved around the room as silently as he could to avoid waking the other man.

As he slowly shut the door behind him and turned towards the kitchen he realised that he wasn’t the only one awake. Usually the most likely to sleep in ‘till noon, Freddie, was deep in concentration; scribbling on a piece of paper, shoulders hunched and hair tied back into a low ponytail. There was soft murmuring every few seconds and Roger decided to clear his throat to avoid scaring him when he walked into the kitchen.

Freddie man turned around, and Roger was quick to notice his watery eyes his slightly red nose. He rushed forward then, placing a hand on Freddie’s back, “Fred are you okay? You haven’t caught my cold have you?”

Freddie made a gesture with his hand, “No, no I’m fine Roger. I don’t know what came over me.”

Okay now Roger was really worried about him. “You don’t cry easily.”

“I know.”

“And when you do, you do it in private.”

“How is it you know so much about me already and we haven’t even recorded our first album?”

“I notice things” Roger shrugged. “And we’ll get there soon. But don’t change the topic, Freddie. What’s wrong?”

The older man bit his lip, looking at Roger with misty eyes before he seemed to accept that Roger wasn’t going to back off until he got an answer. His brown eyes flickered back to the paper on the table and Roger followed his gaze.

It was quite messy, doodles and lyrics seemed twined together in a cacophony of colours and notes, but the song was there. And in between the doodles of flowers, hand-holding, and the disturbing picture of someone with their eyes, mouth and ears covered, were some of the rawest lyrics Roger had ever read.

He could hear the sad notes of a ballad, the sweet puring of John’s Bass and Brian’s Red Special, he could sense the sadness behind the piece, and for some reason dreaded getting to the end.

Then he read the last line and it all made sense. ‘... ‘cause regardless of the words I’ve said, I’ve never had the courage to say I’m sorry.’

He could see how the hands which were intertwined resembled his and Brian’s hands. One had the tell-tale scar that Roger bared on his thumb and the other hand had its nails painted white. The flowers on the sides seemed random enough, but Roger had been around Freddie enough to know anything Freddie drew was seldom random. And only after close inspection did Roger realise that the man looked like him, long blond hair, feminine features, and suffering in silence. He’d known Freddie had a knack for drawing but this was...

They were both quiet for a long time, and Roger wondered if Brian or John would wake up before they managed to say what was on their minds. The words seemed to be stuck inside of him and he found himself unable to drag his eyes away from the paper. Roger wasn’t sure he could speak to Freddie even if he wanted to.

In the end Roger he didn’t have to.

“You know, I never said sorry for what I did to you.” Freddie said quietly.

When Roger finally turned towards the older man he couldn’t help but feel pained, because his friend genuinely believed that it had been his fault, somehow. That somehow Freddie was expected to know that one of his oldest friends was an asshole behind closed doors; and that the world was small enough for Brian’s old crush to be his ex.

“You didn’t need to,” his voice came out as a pathetic croak, and Roger cursed himself internally.

“Of course I did, darling,” he whispered back, “of course I did. If it wasn’t for me you would have asked Brian on that date of yours. If it wasn’t for me, you would have had a nice night, if it wasn’t for me he wouldn’t have—”

Freddie looked away, hastily brushing away a tear that had broken free.

“It was my fault that night went so horribly wrong and the worst part is that I never had the balls to say I’m sorry.”

For the first time in his life Roger Taylor was happy that he woke up at six in the morning and that he had decided to stay up instead of rolling over and going back to sleep. God knows if they would be having this conversation otherwise.

Roger was glad for the quiet of the apartment, for the fact that right now they were the only ones awake. It was only because it was so quiet that Freddie was able to hear the words Roger whispered next.

“Freddie, look at me.”

The singer hesitated before turning his head around, and Roger kneeled beside his chair so that they were at the same level.

“What happened that night was my fault as much as it was yours.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but Roger brought a finger up and placed it across Freddie’s lips.

“By which I’m saying that it’s not your fault at all.”

A loose floorboard creaked in one of the bedrooms but Roger ignored it for the time being, knowing he needed to get this off his chest.

“It’s taken me months to realise it, but what happened that night wasn’t anyone’s fault but Tim’s.” Roger finally lifted his finger off Freddie’s lip, “It took me months ‘till I realised that, and it may take you months to realise that too, but that’s okay. I’ll be here to remind you if you ever doubt it.”

There was a short silence before Freddie smiled, “I should be the one comforting you.”

“Nah,” Roger said, for the first time in months not feeling like a fragile mess.

“I’ve had more than my fair share of comforting words. Now it’s time for me to comfort you. This friendship goes both ways right?”

Freddie blinked owlishly, which was a very rare expression for him. “What did we do before you came into our lives, dear?”

“Crash, burn, and tease poor Brian mercilessly?” Roger shrugged.

They both started laughing at that, Roger leaning forward to put his head on Freddie’s lap and Freddie running his fingers through Roger’s blond locks, “Seriously Freddie, you don’t have to sorry.”

“But what if I want too?”

Roger considered that for a moment, “Then I guess I’ll take it. But only if it’s the last time you say that to me, deal?”

“The last time ever?”

“No dufus, about this particular topic! I’ve known you for a while now, give me some credit. You’re bound to fuckup something sooner or later.”

There was a short breathy laugh that filled Roger’s heart with love, and then Freddie bent down to press a quick kiss on his head. “I’m sorry, darling. For everything.”

“I know, Freddie.” Roger answered, “And it’s okay, I forgive you.” It was odd how much lighter things felt between the two of them.

For a second Roger wondered how he had gotten so lucky, how he had managed to find this small home away from home, this group of people which he understood so well. His boys, who he could fight with and insult, only to make up a few hours later as if nothing had happened. Roger also wondered how he had survived before this, before them.

“You know, I’m starting to have these really cheesy thoughts about how much I love you,” Freddie whispered as he resumed running his hands through Roger’s hair, and Roger’s feelings seemed to be amplified by three hundred.

“Oh good god,” he said teasingly, his words slightly muffled, “ you and John!? Now we’re really going to have some explaining to do to poor Brian!”

Freddie smacked his head playfully and Roger chuckled. “I love you too, Fred. Very much.”

There was another long moment of silence in which Roger considered closing his eyes and drifting off. He wasn’t comfortable, or particularly sleepy, but Freddie’s hands worked like magic on him, and the only way he managed to snap out of his haze was when Freddie spoke again.

“Okay, I know Brian said pestering you was completely off limits, but honestly darling I’m dying to know.”

Roger regretfully lifted his head to look at him, “What’s up?”

“Are you in love with him?” Freddie asked, “Or do you at least like him a little bit after all this time?”

Roger realized he didn’t feel uncomfortable talking about this with Freddie. Maybe it was the honest curiosity in the man’s voice, or the way that they seemed to be baring their souls for each other to see this morning, but Roger let out a dreamy sigh.

Then wrinkled his nose at his reaction.

“Freddie you have no idea,” he groaned, getting up and sitting up on the other chair so that he could look at the older man. His voice was no longer dreamy, it was rather like he was annoyed at himself, for betraying his feelings so easily, “I think he’s making me stupid! I really can’t find another explanation for what I feel. It’s like he walks into a room and it becomes brighter, he plays guitar and it sounds perfect, and he smiles— oh god, don’t get me started on his smile.” His head hit the table with a soft thunk.

Freddie chuckled, “You really are fucked, aren’t you?”

“Beyond belief,” he answered, matter of factly. He looked back up, “Honestly, Fred, it’s gotten ridiculous! That man could ask me to roll around on the floor like a dog and I wouldn’t even bother to ask what for.”

At that Freddie laughed loudly, throwing his head back and bringing a hand to his chest, while Roger sat across from him feeling pathetic, “It’s absurd, it really is.”

Freddie looked at him slyly, “Then tell him.”

Roger could feel his heart start to race, could hear the heavy beat. The thought of being Brian’s something terrified him beyond belief, made him feel like he was standing on the edge of a precipice, one step from plummeting to the ground. His palms actually started to sweat. Roger often thought of relationships being somewhat similar to base jumping. You put your life on the line to jump into the great unknown, all the while your actions or a faulty parachute could mean the difference between life and death. How could you do that when you don’t know how it’s going to end? Roger felt like he couldn’t rely on himself not to mess things up epically. For one, he didn’t really know how to be in a relationship. For another matter, did they ever really go well? Looking back at his past experiences, Roger just wasn’t sure.

He couldn’t do that to Brian, could he?

He couldn’t risk starting a relationship, all the while lugging his emotional baggage, his uncertainties, and his broken way of handling romantic feelings. Hell, Brian himself had admitted didn’t know what he was doing! It was terrifying and tempting at the same time because while he wasn’t sure he could give Brian what he deserved, god how he wanted to try.

“You’ll never know until you do,” Freddie said. Oh god, Roger didn’t realize he’d said that last part out loud. “I may be a hopeless romantic but I care about my friends. You and Brian have something darling, don’t you think that’s worth the risk?”

“You think?”

“I know,” Freddie stated, “and I also know that whole ‘If you really love them, let them go’ thing is absolute bullshit, and I will murder you if you try to do that to Brian.”

“You wouldn’t murder me,” Roger said confidently.

“And why not?”

“Simple,” he replied, getting up to make them both some coffee, “who is going to help you choose your outfits? Deaky? Brian?”

Freddie made a face, “Goodness, you’re right, I can’t murder you. I’ll find another way to get you Taylor!”

Six Months After the Incident:

Unsurprisingly, the last one to say I love you is Brian.

They’d just finished recording the first song for their album after hours and hours of recordings and lyric tinkering. But by the end of the night Seven Seas of Rhye was finally ready. Which meant they only had nine more songs to record before their first album would be complete.

Brian and Roger were under direct orders not to go inside the flat that evening unless they wanted to hear things that might scar them for life, so after recording they took off to find a nice place to eat. Somewhere they could celebrate this (significant!) small victory, their one step closer to fame and notoriety.

They walked around downtown, searching for somewhere that looked decent but cheap enough for them to properly celebrate, and in the end they settled for an 80’s themed restaurant. The bright lights and colours drew them in, and they stayed because of the smell wafting from the kitchen.

The place looked promising, with reasonable prices, great music and greasy food that seemed perfect for the occasion. Rogers stomach started growling at the prospect of a burger and fries. They slid into a booth, and he started tapping a rhythm on the rubik's cube themed table.

“D’you think we would have fit in more in the eighties?” Brian asked randomly.

The question took Roger by surprise, but he didn’t have to think twice about the answer, “Are you kidding me? Of course not! Are you crazy? What would people in the eighties think about four gays in a glam rock band? The press would have eaten us alive!”

Brian laughed, then shrugged, “I guess you have a point, but our music fits the era quite well, don’t you think?”

“Oh, perfectly,” Roger agreed, “And so do our stage costumes. But then again, I’d rather not be closeted and miserable, thank you very much.”

“What concert would you have liked to play in?”

Roger raised his eyebrows, “Is that even a question? Live Aid, of course.”

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin?”

“‘Cause of Led Zeppelin.” Roger could imagine himself on that stage, playing for millions of people, and breathing the same air Led Zeppelin had done a few hours before, “I could kill a man to be there.”

“So could I.” Brian agreed.

The waiter arrived with the menus, interrupting their conversation, and started talking to them about the daily specials. They ended up ordering the chef recommended hamburger with cheese fries and a milkshake to share. He smiled and left them alone to discuss whatever they had been before he had arrived, walking away with a suggestive swing to his hips, and a wink towards Brian.

Roger could see the man’s appeal, his sandy blond hair, large brown eyes and long limbs. If his heart hadn’t been completely enamoured with Brian he might have even thought about asking for his number. But how could he? The guitarist was right there, looking like an 80’s god in his loose white shirt, chocolate-brown curls framing his face. Brian, however, seemed very affected by the waiter’s attention, Roger could see a blush blooming across his cheeks.

The younger man could hear his heart, and Freddie for that matter, screaming in protest as he placed his hands over Brian’s, “You could ask for his number, you know? I don’t want to stand in your way.”

Brian frowned and tilted his head in confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Roger nodded his head towards the counter where the waiter was leaning, talking to the chef, presumably about their orders. “About blondie over there. He looked like he was interested in getting more than just your order.”

“Yeah well, he should know better than to hit on someone who’s clearly taken.” He said indignantly.

They both fell silent, the implication of Brian’s words finally hit him, and the night rapidly turned into a game of who could blush the deepest shade of red.

“ Oh god, that’s embarrassing. I’m sorry Roger. And rude, definitely more rude than embarrassing. I know we’re not, you’re not not my anything yet but I sort of— I don’t know what came over me, Rog, I’m sorry.”

The thought came unbidden Brian’s so cute when he’s jealous and Roger couldn’t contain the giggle that bubbled up in his throat. It was a nervous little thing, and it escaped him without his consent. But once he started he couldn’t stop, even though he knew how embarrassing he must sound; because of all the things he could have done, his body decided to start giggling like a twelve-year-old school girl.

And as much as he loved the way Brian was looking at him amusedly, like he had hung the moon and stars, it was very much not funny. He looked like an idiot, he sounded like an idiot, and he couldn’t stop the bloody thing from escaping his lips. He tried covering his mouth with his hand, but to his dismay Brian just seemed to think that was cuter judging by his expression.

“Oh Lord,” He said between giggles, “I hate myself.”

That seemed to be enough to make Brian join in. He started to giggle quietly, trying to cover his face with both hands, and failing miserably to contain the sound of laughter. Maybe it was how tired they both felt, maybe the lack of sleep from trying to work, study, and record an album was finally catching up to them, or maybe it was the emotional exhaustion from trying so hard to repress their feelings for each other’s sake. But by the time the waiter came back with their food they had barely said another word, yet their stomachs hurt and their eyes were wet with tears caused by laughing for so long.

They managed to contain themselves long enough to thank the waiter, but once he had left Brian looked at him with twinkling eyes, and a mischievous expression. Roger wiped his eyes, “Brian, no. Please stop. It hurts.”

The older man put his hands up, “I’m not doing anything! I was just trying to apologize seconds before you had your hysteria attack.”

“Yeah well,” He tried to defend himself, “you started laughing with me!.”

“Couldn’t help it,” Brian said, “You’re just way too cute.”

Suddenly Roger didn’t feel like laughing anymore. He blushed madly, looking down to his greasy burger and french fries. Brian seemed to sense his change in mood, and instantly tried to make it better, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me tonight. It seems I can’t help but put my foot in my mouth!”

“It’s fine, really Bri” Roger said as he stuffed a fry into his mouth, “I’m just not used to being the one blushing.”

“Oh,” Brian raised his eyebrows, “How so?”

Roger rolled his shoulders “Well, I’m usually the one doing the flirting, and not being a mumbling, blushing, mess. I guess you’ve changed me, Brian Harold May.”

“Have I?”

“Greatly,” Roger looked up at Brian through his lashes, the older boy was looking at him with curiosity, “I didn’t think I’d ever want to have a relationship with anyone after— well, you know.”

He stuffed another fry into his mouth, chewing and swallowing it before continuing.

“Ever since I came out of that shithole I’ve been a shag and run kind of guy. Never thought I would like someone as much as I like you.”

“And that’s why you’re trying to set me up with the waiter?”

Roger shrugged, “I don’t think I deserve someone like you. I don’t deserve you waiting for me, taking me out, indulging my tantrums and moods. I’m not worth all of this, Brian.”

Brian May never cursed openly in public, so when he felt the guitarist grab his hand and say “that’s bullshit”, he knew he was in for a rant. Roger braced himself for an angry explanation of what the guitarist thought about what Roger had just said. Maybe with a few ‘Deaky warned me about this’ thrown in there, but what he received was much better than he had expected.

“I love you, Roger Taylor,” he started, and Roger snapped his head up so fast he nearly got whiplash, “I love you for everything you are, and everything you aren’t. I love the way you play drums, the way you care for people, the way you smile, the way you giggle at the most inappropriate times. I just so happen to find you the most interesting person on the face of earth. And if that’s not worth waiting for, I don’t know what is.”

“Brian, I—”

“No, let me finish,” Brian interrupted him, “I know this might seem silly, or straight up delusional, coming from someone you only just met seven months ago, when you pretended to be my boyfriend, but I think I think I’m falling love with you. No, I know I am. So stupidly ass-backwards in love that I am willing to wait for you. And if I have to wait fifty years for my first proper kiss, or my first proper shag, then so be it.

I waited three years for someone that wasn’t worth it, I can wait a hell of a lot longer for someone who is worth everything.”

That was the first time in Roger’s life that he was left truly speechless. Sitting in the middle of the night, eating the best french fries he had ever had, looking at Brian May as the other boy stared at him like he was the most precious being in the universe. He felt as if he had forgotten how to speak, forgotten how to move, how to breathe, how to think.

His brain was short circuiting as he tried to find an answer to what Brian had just said, and then when his brain seemed to fail completely he opened his mouth and let the words that first came to mind spill, “I...I love you, too.”

“Good,” Brian leaned back and popped a fry into his mouth, “that’s all I could hope for.” He grinned.

“But I’m not ready yet.” Roger cautioned.

“And that’s okay.”

Roger blinked once, “Are you kidding me?”

Brian raised an eyebrow, “Does it look like I’m kidding?”

“No.”

Brian took another sip of the milkshake, “That’s because I’m not. I was serious about waiting for you to come around. I’ll wait for as long as you need me to wait, as long as you love me too.”

Roger mulled over the idea of Brian’s love; his unorthodox, patient, unselfish way of loving. He’d wait for Roger until he was ready. That was...wow...he felt like he was floating, like the ground and all of his troubles were thousands of miles away as Brian smiled encouragingly back at him. He felt his heart flutter with something that felt suspiciously like hope.

“You really don’t mind?” He asked again

Brian shrugged, “I’ve survived twenty-one years being single. I think I can manage a few more as long as I get my daily dose of cuddling.”

He could tell Brian was joking about the last part by the glint in his eyes, but Roger smiled nonetheless, and nodded, “ I may, on occasion, need to hop in with you and take you up on that.”

“Good.” Brian grinned.

They ate the rest of their meal with an easy banter between them, chatting about everything and anything. Roger felt his shoulders relax, and his mind completely invest itself in the conversation. Brian animatedly talked about stars, and guitar chords, then about songs about stars, and Roger couldn’t help but feel that even with all the drama that had resulted, he had made the right choice by swiping right.

In the end, when the restaurant was closing and it was late enough for them to deem it safe to go back home, Roger was exhausted. They walked hand in hand, talking and laughing. And then when they got to their building Roger pulled Brian aside.

All it took was for him to look into Brian’s hazel eyes to make a choice. He stood on the tip of his toes and kissed the corner of Brian’s mouth. It was short and chaste, but Brian looked as if he had won the lottery.

“What was that for?”

“Reassurance.”

“Of what?”

“Of what’s to come, dummy. Now open the door, I’m freezing!”

#the a experience fic #Brian May #roger taylor #Maylor #John Deacon #freddie mercury #deacury #slash #Sharing a bed #fake dating #fanfic #fluff

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theepitomeofamess · 6 years

Text

*yeets this at you from within the void*

Strictly for Convenience pt. 10 (aka the finale)

word count: 3276

Ao3 link

Previous parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

taglist: @shattered-raine @insert-epic-blogger-name-here @ilylogan@reallyanextrovertipromise @ladynightmare12 @allsortsofgeekery@awkwardangie410 @th3okamid3mon@shattereddreamsamongotherthings @februaryfun @izlaria@keeshy-ekho @a-ghosts @virge-of-a-breakdown @doepuffsss@lyre-lyre-numb-desire @vexation-virgil @detective-lemon@nightwhisker17 @shadycomputerduck @randomfanderfriend@ab-artist @penguinkool @another-sandersidesblog@iamdefinitelynotanalien @spectralheartt @aroundofaceapplesauce@downrightdanny @rainfallen9 @theunoriginaldaisy @izzynuggets

y’all i honestly don’t know how to thank you for reading along and enjoying this, it means so much and I wish it wouldn’t end (i also wish that any of the endings i came up with would do you guys justice but that just wasn’t possible) so without further ado, enjoy the final chapter!

They spent that night together. They shared a bed, never left each other’s arms, did everything short of actual intercourse - Logan held that barrier firm, and though Patton couldn’t see why, he respected it. He was too happy to question Logan’s motives. He was too fully engulfed in blissful warmth, strong arms and lips that had worked themselves soft. Patton learned every hair on Logan’s head and Logan could name each and every one of Patton’s freckles. Patton fell asleep in Logan’s arms, Logan to the smell of Patton’s hair, and neither of them could think of anything they’d experienced - anything they’d ever heard of - that was more perfect.

And Patton, for the second morning in a row, woke up smiling until he realized that he was alone.

A letter sat on the pillow next to him in place of Logan, there sat a letter addressed to “My Beloved.”

Patton tore it open to read, but he couldn’t read it without his glasses. He shoved his glasses in front of his eyes, but it was too dark to make out the words. He stumbled over himself getting to the window, throwing open the curtain, and though it was too bright to be comfortable for his still sleeping eyes, he could finally read Logan’s neat script.

I’m sorry. I’m sorry for last night, I was not in my right mind. I’m sorry that you were forced to spend this portion of your life with me, though I am sure you’ll forget it soon enough. I’m sorry for loving you and for making you think you love me in return. I’m sorry.

I made a promise, though, and I am keeping it. I promised that I would ensure that you are safe and happy and loved as you should be, and I am keeping that promise. I wish that I could keep that promise by staying with you, but there is no way that I could ever love you as you should be loved. It is killing me to leave you this morning, but I swore that I would keep this promise if it killed me, and so I am keeping it. I know that it may hurt at first - Heaven and Hell only know how much it hurts me to keep writing this - but you will get past it. I have left you in the safe arms of your family, and I know for a fact that you will be far happier with them and whoever you choose to replace me than you could have ever been with me. I hope that you will respect my decision, and that the only time we meet again will be to split the fortune that is owed you. By then, I will be a hollow shell of a man, and you will be glad that I left you to find your true love.

Yours entirely, yours eternally,

Logan Foster.

Patton didn’t know if he burst into tears because of anger or sadness or frustration or despair or something in the middle, but he was crying before he got halfway through the letter. By the time he was reading the name, he was on his knees, bawling. The letter was on the floor in front of him, he was crumpled in on himself, hugging himself close as he tried to keep himself together so he didn’t fall apart as he felt his insides shredding to pieces. His tears rained down onto the letter in front of him, staining it with sorrow.

He knew that it was Virgil who found him while he was still sobbing. He knew the gentle touch well, especially in combination with the sobs that made him feel like he was going to be sick. Virgil was always the one that found him and held him when he had a breakdown. There wasn’t usually a big reason.

He heard the paper shift as Virgil picked it up to read it, sighing to himself before passing it off to Roman, who had just come in. Patton just barely heard Roman curse Logan as he bent further over himself, arms gripped around his midsection as he felt his chin against his knees, his forehead against the carpet. He heard Roman shut and lock the door, keeping everybody else out. He and Virgil were the only ones who knew both Logan and Patton well enough to figure something out, and they could go and find Dexter if they needed his help.

“I thought that everything was okay,” Virgil sighed, still gently holding Patton, hand drawing soothing circles on his back. When he’d seen the two of them going upstairs last night, holding hands and Patton unable to stop smiling, he’d thought that they’d finally worked things out. He thought that Patton was finally going to be truly happy.

Virgil liked Logan - he did - and he could hear in the letter that he thought he was doing the right thing. That didn’t stop him from swearing that if the moron didn’t make amends, then he would kill him the next time he saw him.

Patton wasn’t sure when his sobbing turned to shaken breaths, how long it took for the shaking to stop and for the lack of any feeling to take over. He had no idea what he was planning to do when he got up and got dressed. There was still something burning in the pit of his stomach, but it was quiet now. It wasn’t lashing out. I just needed to move, to go.

Patton didn’t quite remember Virgil and Roman asking where he was going when they heard him asking for a car to be brought around. He didn’t quite remember telling them that he was “going to find my moron” and that if he couldn’t be found he’d be back before midnight. Neither of them tried to stop him, instead offering to go with him for moral support. Patton denied with a slight smile. He couldn’t remember what exactly made him smile - maybe it was habit, maybe it was Virgil and Roman, two of the most important and loved people in his world, maybe it was something else. Either way, he smiled as he got into the car and rode away from his childhood home.

Roman stood outside, watching the drive for longer than he probably should have, thinking back to the last day he and Virgil stayed at Foster house, the night that Logan had pulled him aside.

“Listen,” he’d started, leaning forward toward Logan. “I like you. I can’t believe I’m admitting it, but I do. That being said, if you ever turn, if you ever do anything to hurt him-”

“You’ll kill me,” Logan smirked, obviously just tipsy enough on wine and whiskey to be open. “You and your husband and your brother and his husband. Yes, I’ve heard this speech before, and from a much more intimidating source. Don’t worry, I can’t exactly outrun you.” Roman winced as Logan pulled up the leg of his pants to reveal his prosthetic. “You have nothing to worry about, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever mean enough to him to hurt him. Not in any permanent way.”

“I don’t know if I’d go that far,” Roman tilted his head. “You seem to be growing on him.”

“It’s easier to act that way when he has people that he loves around, namely you and Virgil.” Logan took a deep breath, his gaze shifting slightly to stare at something behind Roman where nothing existed. “Your brother… is everything good about this world. Aphrodite couldn’t dream of being so beautiful, Apollo himself couldn’t begin to shine as brightly. I knew that the minute I saw him. I’ll never deserve him. I’ll keep him safe for as long as he needs, but only until he finds someone much closer to being worthy of him. Something as cold hearted as me…” Logan took another deep breath and another swig from his glass of whiskey. “You won’t have me in your hair for long. I promise.” Logan finished his glass and marched for the door to the others before Roman could get in another word.

It was that exchange that made Roman’s big brother instincts kick in and start worrying not only about his precious Patton, but Logan as well. Now, watching the road Logan had snuck down like a thief in the night, the road Patton was taking to track him down, Roman could only wish for them to work something out, for them to be happy.

It didn’t take long for Patton to reach Foster house. Nothing much had changed - everything was still in bloom, saturated with color and life as the sun shone bright in the clear sky. The only thing that seemed out of place was the taxi pulled up in front of the door. It didn’t stay, though. It started away as Patton approached, revealing an obviously frustrated Dexter standing on the other side of it.

“Finally. I knew you’d show up,” he called out as Patton got out of the car.

“How long have you been here? I thought you were-”

“I heard him leaving and knew that somebody had to keep him where he could be found. I was only a few minutes behind him.” Dexter led Patton inside to the library as he explained, the sound of someone talking to himself echoing into the hall.

“I dreamt last night our love return’d,” Logan muttered to himself as Dexter led Patton to the open door to the library. He was shelving books, reciting to himself absentmindedly. “And, sooth to say, that very dream/ was sweeter than its phantasy,/ Than if for other hearts I burn’d,/ For eyes that ne’er like thine could beam/ In Rapture’s wild reality.”

“I tried talking to him,” Dexter whispered to Patton, “but he doesn’t listen to me. Good luck.” Patton stepped forward into the library, Logan’s back still to him as he kept stacking, kept reciting from memory.

“Then tell me not, remind me not,/ Of hours which, though for ever gone,/ Can still a pleasing dream restore,/ Till Thou and I shall be forgot,/ And senseless, as the mouldering stone/ Which tells that we shall be no more.” Logan bent over his desk, fingernails finding their way to his lip as he looked over something.

“I think I remember that one,” Patton announced, stepping closer into the library. Logan nearly jumped out of his skin. “You read that to me once. You thought I was asleep.”

“I thought that you were going to do as I said,” Logan muttered, wiping the blood from his lip with a bandaged hand.

“When have I ever done that? Also, what did you do to your hand?”

“It’s no-”

“He punched the wall,” Dexter interrupted, leaning against the doorway.

“You punched a wall?”

“It’s the only way he’ll let himself have any sort of emotional release. You wouldn’t believe how many times he’s broken-”

“Dexter,” Logan’s voice cracked, edging on a shout. “Do you mind?” Dexter shrugged, silently wishing Patton good luck one last time before closing the door behind him. “You should have stayed with your family.”

“Did you honestly think that after what we’ve been through, that after last night, I’d just let you go that easily?”

“You’re not bound to me,” Logan reminded him. “I made sure of that, that we weren’t ever properly together so you can leave without feeling obligated to stay.”

“I know that I’m not obligated, but I am going to stay because it’s what I want.”

“I thought that we both knew that this was strictly for convenience, that it wouldn’t-”

��What about this is convenient, Logan?” Patton’s voice was steadier than he’d imagined it would be. He thought that he would be screaming already. “What has happened that you imagine is convenient?”

“I was trying to make it convenient for you by giving you a safe place to stay that was acceptable to your parents until you found a person and place that you loved. I was trying to make everything convenient for you, not me.”

“And by trying to do that, you’ve only made things more complicated. You could have made everything easier for both of us if you would just accept that we love each other and make each other happy. Why can’t you just accept that?”

“Because I know that I don’t - I could never deserve you. You wouldn’t stay happy - I could never make you as happy as you can possibly be. I’ve seen you at your happiest, and I couldn’t-”

“You don’t know that! When do you think you’ve seen me at my happiest when you weren’t-”

“Two years ago, Christmas at Hemingway Manor.” Patton shut his mouth, taken aback by the answer. He hardly remembered that night. “We were only introduced, I doubted that you’d remember. In fact, I counted on it. I saw you, though. I fell for you that night. I saw you dance the night away, watched as you laughed and twirled and glowed brighter than all the thousands of candles that lit the place. I saw you and I loved you, and when I realized it was you that I was engaged to, I made a plan to ensure your happiness. I can’t make you happy like that - I never could - but I could make you comfortable until you found a way out. And I still stand by that plan. It’s hit some bumps in the road, but I still believe that someone else will be so much better for you. I never wanted to hurt you, but while I was trying to stay away you were...” Patton sighed as Logan pressed his palm to his forehead.

“Okay,” Patton thought out loud. Shouting wasn’t going to work with Logan - all it did was get him more worked up which led to more shutting down. “Here’s what we’re going to do. You and I will stay together, live together like none of this mess ever happened, like a normal married couple would, until our one year anniversary. That gives us, what, nine or ten months to live together? If by then one of us has fallen out of love with the other, then we’ll separate. If not, then we won’t, and you’ll have to accept that we’re happy. Deal?” Patton put out his hand for Logan to shake, smiling only enough for Logan to know that there were no hard feelings.

Logan couldn’t find it in him to say no. He went over Patton’s proposition again and again in his head, but he couldn’t find a way that it wouldn’t work out. He knew that Patton would come to his senses sooner or later, and sure, he would always feel guilty for taking up a year of his life when he could have been anywhere else, but if Patton was so determined to have his way…

“All right. Deal,” Logan conceded, taking Patton’s hand to shake. He only wondered for an instant why Patton’s grip was so strong until he was yanked forward, Patton’s lips pressing to his to seal the deal. Patton wasn’t a fan of the metallic taste of anxiety on his lip, but he was too glad to have him close to care. He would find a way to help him with that - he had time. He wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

Patton couldn’t stop smiling. The evening air of Spring was light in his lungs, warm on his skin. In the field in front of him, he could see all five of his brothers, his parents, a few of Logan’s friends standing in the field. Logan was standing in front of the same priest that had married them, his light grey suit and blue tie matching Patton’s perfectly. They stood just at the edge of the forest, and the bluebells were in full bloom.

Renewing their vows had been Logan’s idea. He’d brought it up the night of their anniversary when they got back from what was deemed Patton’s victory dinner. They were just at the front door when it started snowing and Patton stopped to watch. The suggestion had barely processed in Patton’s mind when he turned to see Logan down on one knee, enveloping Logan’s fingers in both of his hands.

“Will you allow me to be yours forever, for us this time?” He didn’t get a verbal answer like he’d been anticipating, instead immediately tackled into the snow by an ecstatic Patton, crying and kissing him and hugging him close. Flakes of snow crowned his curls and Logan swore for the hundredth time in his life that he had never seen anything so exquisite.

He swore the same thing for the two-hundredth time when he saw Patton settle beside him in front of the priest.

“Logan,” Patton smiled up at Logan, recalling the vows that he’d worked out days earlier, “you did everything that you could to get me to leave you. You challenged me, tested my resolve, and swore that it was all for my happiness. A year ago, I was at my happiest when you agreed to my deal. I grew happier every day after that, I got to see you every day, I got to make you happy, and I fell more and more in love with you. I am never going to leave you, I will never let you think that you’re not enough because it’s you that has made me the happiest man on the face of the earth, and I will spend every second of my life trying to make you feel something close to how you make me feel.” Logan reached out, taking Patton’s hand in his, cheeks dusted a glorious shade of red. He straightened his back when the priest told him it was his turn.

“I am not often wrong. Ask anyone who knows me, I don’t make mistakes and am usually right about things. I still think that I am right in that I will never deserve you. However, you have proven yourself right. Every day for the past year you’ve proven yourself right because every day I swore to myself that you would come to your senses and be gone by the next day. I still think that you should have, that I should have stayed away from you so you could find someone that deserves you. Nonetheless, allow me to admit for the first and hopefully last time: You’re right, I was wrong, and I acted like an idiot. And yes, you do have permission to hold that over my head for the rest of our lives now that we’re stuck together by choice.” Patton laughed, causing Logan to break into the widest grin Patton had ever seen on his face. “I love you, Patton Foster. I love you, and I cannot imagine my life without you in it.”

“You may-” Patton already had his arms around Logan’s neck, their lips pressed together before the priest could finish the line. He felt lighter than air, Logan’s bear hug the only thing keeping him from floating away on cloud nine. The small audience cheered, Dexter and Remy both whistled, but Patton was already long gone. Pulling away only slightly, all that Patton saw was eyes glittering with endless galaxies and a smile that could cure any disease. All he heart was the tempo of Logan’s heart and the slight chuckle of disbelief that rose in his throat. Engulfed in the scent of ink and bluebells, Patton giggled as Logan hugged him closer, picking him up off the ground to twirl him around.

Nothing could be better.

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another-tiny-ant · 5 years

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Life at the moment...

I’ve realised that what I’ve posted here recently hasn’t been positive. I’ve been down, and not coping well. So I’ve decided that I ought to take some time to reflect, as this often helps me to clear my mind and carry on with my day. So here we go...

University lately has been difficult. I am living in a flat that is dark and depressing, even on a good day. But more importantly, I am surrounded by people that seem to dislike, or even despise me. Perhaps that’s too strong. But then perhaps it’s not. Sat in my room, attempting to work, but unable to clear my mind, or overcome that fatiguing sense of hopelessness that seems to overwhelm me, liking a breaking wave, as I open the door to that flat, I can overhear my flat “mates” talking about me. You can guess that it is nothing positive that they say. And it’s hurtful. But worse, it’s isolating. These are the people I have to pass in order to get food, or go to the loo, and everyone tells me that these are my closest uni friends. It makes me want to hide in my room and not ever come out, and feel crushingly alone. But I suppose the worst part is how familiar it feels. I have had rumours spread about me many, many times before. I have had friends turn against me innumerably too, and never really understood why. And here we are again. The cycle repeats.

I suppose what gets to me is that feeling that this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I dragged myself through school and college on the basis that university was going to be where I finally found the friends I’ve been missing, and it would all be sunshine and roses. Looking back now, that was always naive. But I wanted to believe it. I really wanted to believe it. Because that way, I’d just been unlucky. Nothing that had happened to me was my fault, I’d just never been mixed with the right people. We’re all just floating around in space and the stars hadn’t aligned for me yet. And I keep telling myself that this is still the case- things will get better. It’s just crushing when you’re reminded that this crap isn’t over yet.

The flat is certainly a major part of my experience at university. But it’s not the only part. On my course too, I’ve failed to make friends or find people that I fit in with. I’ve tried. And I've got to keep trying. But it does make me wonder why this has always been my experience. Is this my own ‘failure’? Am I just difficult to get on with? Do I expect too much of people? Have i just been unlucky? Or am I the problem? I’ve struggled in my attempts to join societies too. Perhaps this uni is just not where I belong?

Having pinned all my hopes on my university experience, I suppose academia became an important part of my identity. But without any support, or even interest, from the teaching staff, and increasing self-doubt, I feel that I’ve lost some of this identity. And what uni seems to have really ‘taught’ me, is that a lot of academia is utter bullsh*t. Academics often just brown-nose each other and themselves, studying things that are often irrelevant to real, lived lives, and all this founds an exclusive, privileged club, from a higher class to which I do not belong. So I sit down to work on an assignment, and instead just end up questioning what the point is to it all. After all, no one really cares what I write. And it’s hard too. Especially for me, as reading and everything takes me longer. The result is that I don’t seem to be sure of who I am anymore. And it was that self-assurance that always kept my head above the water in school. No matter what they threw at me, I always could look myself in the mirror and recognise what I saw. I think it’s easier to pick yourself up and dust yourself off when you have that knowledge. Now, I'm not so sure.

So... what now?

I've been really considering giving it all up. But i think I would only beat myself up for ‘failing’ later on down the line if i walked away tomorrow. So instead, I’ve decided to stick this year out. There it is. In writing. Decision made. Deep breath.

But how can I survive this year? Because to thrive, you have to first survive. Set realistic goals.

I’ve decided too to get the f*ck out of that flat. That dark, festering, pit of hell. Where to go instead, I’m really not sure. I’ll try and find a spare room and see where things go from there. Perhaps I’ll make some friends. Perhaps I won’t. But I’ve realised that it’s worth the risk; it really couldn't get worse than it is currently. To be alone would be better than to be lonely. I know there is a difference. To be alone is to feel sure of oneself, and be happy in oneself, even when there is no one else there. This has often been a choice for me, and it’s got me through. When I can’t deal with people, or their bullish*t anymore, I fly solo. That’s how I survived school. I turned up, got the marks, and left. Being lonely, however, is entirely different. Being lonely is being self-doubting. Comparing yourself to others and needing others to validate you. At least, that’s how i differentiate the two, based on my own experience. I would never judge, let alone berate, anyone who told me they felt lonely. I would be concerned, and want to be supportive. But for me, whenever I’ve felt lonely, has been when I've been the most down. Choosing to see myself as alone however, is liberating. It becomes a choice I’ve made. I’m not going to compare myself to others, or shrink away from people anymore. I’ve chosen to be alone, and there’s no shame in that. I feel like this change in attitude makes the situation liveable. So that’s the attitude change I’m trying to make. I've done it before, and I’ll do it again. And maybe then, things will get better. In order to make that change happen, I know i need to get out of that flat. The temporary fix is to live at home for now, and go back only when strictly necessary, and for as little time as possible. That’s what I’m doing at the moment.

So that’s step one. But there’s another attitude that needs changing. I need to stop being a bloody pessimist. It’s probably one of my worst traits. Being pessimistic is not only sapping for me, but also for those around me. And let’s be honest. It hasn’t been all bad. I’ve had some good times. Perhaps my company then isn’t my company now, but things change. Best of all though, is that I've met my lifelong companion. He is the diamond amongst billions of grains of sand, and somehow I’ve managed to stumble across him. I’ll be forever grateful that things worked out that way- despite only knowing him for less than a year, I already can’t comprehend how I lived for so long without him. If I gain nothing else from university than his company, it will all have been worthwhile.

Step three: get the work done. Force myself to sit down and work it through. And find the passion again. Because i have always had a thirst for knowledge. I must not let them take that away from me. And hopefully the course will get better.

Step four: do things that make me happy. Sounds obvious, but I rarely make the time. So I’m going to, from now on. I'm going to be creative, see my boyfriend, see my family, play with my dog, make memories, and do all the other things that will enrich my life. And look forward to things too, like spending Christmas with my wonderful boyfriend, and lovely family, and use this to motivate myself to get through the work. Strike a balance.

In the long term, who knows. After this year, I may take a year out, and go travelling with my boyfriend. And maybe I’ll come back to uni afterwards. Maybe I won’t. But I’ll always have that option; I won’t have failed, I will have chosen to walk away. If I feel like university was unfinished business, I can go back for a year and put it to bed. I’ll have that option. Maybe I’ll decide that by third year things will have got much better, and I’ll be happy to stay on and finish the degree in one go. Who knows. But what I have to keep reminding myself is that I have options- “adventure is out there!”.

So through all that rambling, what I'm trying to say is that I need to be, and stay, positive. I need to change my attitudes, and liberate myself in so doing. And then things may fall into place. Equally, they may not. But either way I’ll be more resilient to cope. And throughout all of this, I know i have the support of a wonderful family and a loving boyfriend, and that is honestly priceless.

As my mum always says, “see the flowers, not the mud”. That can be hard when things turn grey. Especially in winter. But there are flowers, if you look hard enough. Appreciate the little things, and the little victories. Be kind, and do no harm- not just in how you treat others, but in how you treat yourself. You too, deserve that kindness. And don't ever stop fighting.

🖤🐜🖤

#lifeonthelog #anothertinyant #selfcare #selflove

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taeliciousdaelicious · 6 years

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Dance With Me {1} || zyx

Genre: Fluff (though it might get a little hot—)

Pairing/s: YouxYixing

Description: Yixing was attempting to learn the tango. You just happened to be one of the tango instructors in the dance studio he frequents in. Me attempting to write a mini-series. *dabs*

Parts: {1, 2 , 3, MB & PL}

Word Count: 1, 984

You found him with his arms raised up awkwardly in the air and it took you a moment to realize that he was doing the posture required for tango. You paused at the open doorway, unable to help it as you quietly peeked in. The familiar opening notes of El Tango De Roxanne played in the quiet room. You watched without sound as he tried to practice the dance without a partner. You knew it was difficult to do so and soon, he was discovering it for himself as well. Sighing in frustration, he stopped halfway to the routine and went to his phone, pausing the music playing from the speakers connected by Bluetooth. You were just about to leave when he looked up and caught your eyes through the mirror.

“Um, could you please leave? I’d like to practice al—“ He paused open getting a clearer look of your face. “Oh, Miss Y/N! I’m so sorry! I didn’t recognize you because the lights were too dim.”

Zhang Yixing is one of the instructors of the dance studio you work in. While you taught tango, he taught hiphop. You never really crossed paths unless there was a general meeting or you happen to assist other instructors in their classes or presentations.

You chuckled a bit, saying, “It’s okay. It was rude of me to snoop, anyways. So, you’re practicing tango, right?”

He nodded, smiling slightly and his cute dimples showed. You tried not to get too distracted by them as you heard him answer, “Uh, I am. Now, I feel awkward because a professional tango instructor is in front of me and I’m pretty sure my dance earlier wasn’t up to my usual caliber.”

You shook her head gently then, leaning against the door frame. “It’s understandable. Tango is done with two people dancing. Be glad I recognized the dance even though you’re doing the routine alone” you half-teased although it was true. It’s quite hard to guess tango if it’s danced by a single person who doesn’t have enough skills. Yixing obviously had the potential in being a fantastic tango dancer and given his background in dancing, has the good foundation for skills development, too.

“May I come inside the room?” you asked politely, noticing Yixing drifting off into space again. It seemed like he did that a lot, even when he’s in dance classes. No, you don’t stalk him in class. Sometimes, you pitch in and help your fellow instructor every once in a while whenever they need class demonstrations. You just so happened to be quite versatile when it comes to various dance genres.

He looked up in surprise, jolted out of his reverie. Slowly, he nodded and you tentatively moved inside the room. You opted to lean against the wall right beside the door, thinking this as a comfortable distance for him.

“You can come closer, Miss Y/N. I don’t bite” he joked. You quirked an eyebrow upwards in reply, not really expecting that from him but not entirely surprised. You’ve seen how much of a tease and joker he could be around people he was comfortable with.

Chuckling to yourself, you retorted just as playfully, “I don’t exactly have a reason to move closer towards you, MIster Yixing.”

He blinked in a daze for a few moments before a light dusting of pink spread across his cheeks. “... Right. I actually need your help for this routine since you’re a tango instructor. I thought i asked you already, that’s why I said that. And I mean, you don’t have to say yes. I’m fine if you decline due to reasons.”

You couldn’t help it. A giggle escaped past your lips as you pushed yourself off the wall and approached him. “Relax, I’d actually like to help you so you can stop fidgeting” you told him reassuringly, stopping just a few steps away from him. Crossing your arms, you asked, “So, what kind of help do you need, Mister Yixing?”

He was slightly taken aback by how you simply addressed him using his first name and an honorific. He knew you were like this with everyone but seeing as you looked almost the same age as he is, it felt a little... weird for him for you to speak like that to him. Also, he figured you would be a little more relaxed since you’re both alone. It confused you for a moment because you were just being professional so why did he look bewildered? Of course, you were only doing that since it was strictly a colleague-to-colleague interaction at the moment. However, he offered you a dazzling smile that had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“You can call me Yixing if you want, Miss Y/N” he told you. “I, um, actually needed help with the tango routine because... I don’t have a partner.”

You raised an eyebrow at him in incredulity. Practicing tango without a partner? It was obvious he knew how ridiculous it sounded, too, because he was grinning sheepishly at you. “You mean to tell me that you’re doing this routine but you don’t have a partner yet?” you said slowly, trying to understand and see if you got that right. Wordlessly, he nodded. You let out a low whistle. “Zhang Yixing, how the hell are you going to push through with this performance if you don’t have a partner?”

“I was actually on a hunt for a partner” he admitted, his eyes wide at your use of his full name. He had only talked to you for a few minutes and you already had him scrambling as he tried to keep up with your unpredictability. “However, no one seemed to be skilled enough to keep up with the routine.”

“What do you mean ‘not skilled enough’? Dude, that’s like, your average tango routine!” you said in indignation, not realizing how informal you were with your speech until you saw his eyes widening. Cursing yourself mentally, you hastily added, “Sorry, it just slipped. I didn’t mean to be—”

“It’s okay” he said politely. “I really don’t mind. I think it makes me more comfortable if you’re slightly more casual around me. We’re colleagues, anyways, and we look just about the same age and yeah, the routine was average so I was really wondering why no one wanted to partner up with me.”

You smiled at him in amusement before saying, “Well, we are of same age, though you’re older by at least half a year. So, what are you going to do if you don’t end up finding a partner before your dance presentation?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. It was obvious he had thought about this and the end result of his mulling wasn’t good. “I guess I’d have to change my routine and probably end up doing something else entirely” he answered. “I really wanted to do the tango, though. I just want to show people that I can dance other genres, not just the hiphop, hard-hitting stuff.”

You looked at him for a long moment, contemplating. He was still standing there, frozen under your otherwise out-of-it gaze as you thought. Then, your eyes refocused on his face as you tentatively said, “Well... if you want, I can help you practice while you look for a partner. Then... if you don’t find anybody else, I’m willing to help a colleague out.”

His face was blank for a moment, his usual expression, before his lips cracked into a wide, delightedly relieved grin. “You have no idea how much weight was just taken off my chest” he said, the tips of is ears turning red. You kept the small smile on your face as he continued, “I’m really grateful for the help but I want to be really sure that you’re okay with this and everything because— “

“Yixing, it’s fine. Really. I like helping out people” you told him sincerely, playing it off with a light shrug. That didn’t remove the grin off his face, though.

“Thank you so much, Miss Y/N” he finally said, flashing you his million-watt smile. And you had to laugh at his expression; otherwise, you’ll turn into mush because that was how soft he could make you with just his angelic smile and cute dimples.

“You’re welcome, Yixing” you replied, his name easily rolling off your tongue. You had started walking backwards, keeping your eyes trained on his face. “For now, you should rest. I’ll let you know when we could start practicing together and when I’m usually available.”

“You didn’t get my number” he said in confusion. You breathed out an amused laugh and replied, “There are other ways to keep in touch other than getting someone’s number, Zhang Yixing.”

And with that, you left the confused and bewildered man alone in the practice room.

It was three days after when you managed to find the time to talk to him. It was lunch break and like the last time you saw him, he was practicing alone. You frowned because why didn’t anyone want to step up to the challenge of learning the tango routine? Besides, wouldn’t they consider it a nice bargain if your partner is as handsome as—

Okay, don’t go there, Y.N.

“Hey. It’s Y/N.” You made a beeline towards the stunned man, who stopped in the middle of a spin and flashed him a smile.

“Sorry, I’ve been really busy and my beginners’ tango class was frustrating me. They weren’t progressing like I hoped. I’ve tried every method I knew to motivate them to work harder but no such luck. Oops, I think I’m rambling already. I’m sorry. Again...” you awkwardly trail off, unsure on how to transition from this atmosphere to a professional one so you could start the routine.

He smiled and saved you from further embarrassment as he said, “No, it’s okay. Do you want me to start with the routine so you could distract yourself from that stressor?”

You nodded gratefully, finding the gesture oddly sweet and stepped back as he started dancing to the routine. You could guess how some positions would go based on how they progressed but you still listened intently to Yixing when he started teach you the sequence of the dance.

“I would say you did a fantastic job but it is expected from a tango instructor. Still, great job, Miss Y/N. I’d like to think we make a great team” he said, his dimples making an appearance again as he smiled. You both were panting after practicing the parts that you’ve finished learning. It may not be complete yet but you knew that the end result would be absolutely satisfying.

“We are a great team” you agreed in a light manner, nudging him slightly. You smiled and started walking backwards, away from him. “That concludes our session for now. Are you still going to practice later?”

Yixing seemed to hesitate to answer before finally nodding. “Yes, I am. After my last hiphop class at six-thirty. You don’t have to join me if you’re busy. I think I got the hang of it already. Practicing with you just helps polish how the moves should go with a partner.”

You nodded in understanding then and abruptly stopped. He looked at you curiously before you beamed at him widely and said, “Well, do you like spicy tteokbokki?”

He looked stunned for a moment. “Um, yes. Why—?”

“I’m free by seven in the evening since that’s the dismissal of my last class” you said simply.

He smiled, illuminating his angelic features as he replied, “I hope you like cola, then.”

You turned on your heels to walk away. “I’m holding you to that, Zhang Yixing” you called over your shoulder. You didn’t look back to see his reaction. You just continued on your merry way, humming the tune of his tango piece under your breath.

Just popping by to wish everyone a Merry Christmas!

#exo #exo lay #lay #zhang yixing #exo yixing #yixing #kpop #mini-series #fluff #tangodancerAU #colleaguesAU #dancersAU #lay yixing mini-series #merry christmas y'all

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chellyfishing · 7 years

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telling a violent story vs using violence as a story

i really want to write this essay but as usual i don’t have the spoons for doing it justice so it’s pretty much just extemporaneous word dumping. anyway.

every story has a different tone about where they draw the line with violence and death. you can probably think of a lot of examples of both ends of the scale. there’s a misconception that being higher up on the violence/death end of the scale is more adult and more realistic, which ps is bullshit thanks bye. if anything it’s a sign of immaturity but that’s sort of beside the point atm.

the point i wanna make is this: it’s not a secret that i have strong feelings about killing off major or otherwise sympathetic characters. i have an opinion about this that differs from the majority in that i don’t like a character dying in order to motivate another character. it’s tacky. it’s cheap. it’s boring. it’s overdone. and a character can motivate another character while like. still being alive? weird right? live characters always present more options than dead ones. (obviously discussions of character death but also #rape mention ahead.)

to me character death should be a result rather than strictly a catalyst. think about ASoIaF, which is much more violent and upsetting than my typical tastes lean but credit where it’s due, GRRM knows how to do character death. when you know they’re coming, it becomes incredibly obvious. choices, circumstances, motivations all come together to create this unavoidable moment. nothing exists in a vacuum. in ASoIaF, death is a result and a catalyst, but not purely for character motivation; rather, it changes the game itself, leading to a domino effect. ned’s death at the end of AGoT is unavoidable, and it turns things on their heads (heheh) for everybody. the red wedding is built up to for a long time, and obviously that goes on to have huge repercussions. so, counterintuitively, one of the most violent stories in the zeitgeist right now is, for the most part (not a perfect record) is telling a violent story without necessarily using violence as a substitute for a story.

contrast with GoT, which throws in rape and gore like glitter to accent their teenage/twenty-something boy hypermasculine wank power fantasy. GoT is at the other end and it’s super gross and disturbing.

one of the best-known and most prolific offenders of “death because death” is joss whedon. it seems to be the only way he knows how to create shocking “plot twists” and heavy emotional drama. and the worst of the worst sins was tara macclay on buffy. the thing about joss is that he thinks he’s being incredibly clever surprising his audience with this stuff. he’s said as much himself. there is no effort to build up to it. it’s just, well, nobody’s died for a little while so idk find something to impale someone on. tara’s death was everything death in fiction should not be. first of all she was a lesbian, and one in a happy relationship to boot. need say no more. second of all she was literally caught in the crossfire. the bullet that killed her was meant for someone else and it just happened to strike her down instead with no effort or chance to save her. third, it had to happen so willow could be evil for a bit. and fourth, most obnoxiously, that episode was the first and only time amber benson appeared in the opening credits. this was done deliberately. i wish i could find the quote but alas. to the best of my recollection joss said they wanted to do something like this with another character, possibly jenny calendar, but were unable. it was fully planned well ahead of time to “trick” the audience, which is kind of... sad? that you feel the need to resort to a meta trick like that to maximize shock value? (oh, and don’t even fucking start me on dr. horrible’s and penny. ffs, joss. that didn’t even fit the fucking tone. fuck.)

there are more examples (i am looking directly at you, the 100) but i think those two pretty much put the cap on that point.

death in a story can be important and moving without making the audience feel cheated. HIMYM is largely a light-hearted romantic comedy, but it’s also one about transitioning to adulthood and what that means. and unfortunately, adulthood often means unexpectedly losing loved ones. the death of marshall’s father was surprising, but less than to motivate marshall in some way, it’s more to clarify that adulthood means loss as much as it means gain. it means change more than anything. also story-wise it was a good choice of character, as marvin had deep important connections to a character we loved without leaving a gaping void full of what might have been.

wynonna earp is another story that knows where to draw the line. most of the “victims” are cartoon villains who are inhuman and already dead. the framing of the story leaves us no reason to have sympathy for these literal monsters. when a more sympathetic or humanized character has to go, it’s because there’s no other choice, and each time rather than being a motivator for wynonna, we can see instead the psychological toll it takes on her. she is someone who is surrounded by death, the one with this burden to make the hard decisions and pull the trigger. she killed her father on accident when she was just 11. she’s forced to kill beloved shorty, who is pretty much family and one of the few people who didn’t think she was trash, in order to save him and potentially a lot more. levi and fish were mercy kills that forced her to confront the fact that these monsters truly were once human. and in the finale she gets a double whammy: willa’s betrayal leaves her once again turning her gun on a family member and fatally pulling the trigger. we’re even relieved to see her shoot bobo, not just because she has to if she ever wants to break the curse but because again there’s another dimension to it, maybe even a tinge of mercy. bobo is not exactly sympathetic, but he is someone with dimension, someone we know. willa pretty much had to go story-wise, if nothing else she was a threat to wynonna’s position as the heir and the show is called wynonna earp. but her death also tied into the themes of the show: how to make and live with hard choices, how to stand up and be the one to do the unthinkable because you’re the only one and you have to, whether you want to or not, how to be the one who bears the hate of the very people you’re sacrificing everything to save.

and of course, i can’t not address harry potter, which i think is hit or miss. surprisingly i think cedric’s death was well-done and important, because it was shocking without being done for shock value, and because it was a result: a result of cedric being honorable and good and at the wrong end of the wand of a man who feels nothing about killing anything not useful to him. and ironically, it should have been a catalyst, but it wasn’t, but that’s its own story: the warning everyone failed to listen to, at their own peril. some deaths were organic in that jkr herself went against her plans once she realized what made more sense for the story. iirc, she’s on record as saying arthur weasley was originally meant to die when he’s attacked in ootp, but she spared him at the last minute. he didn’t need to die, it wouldn’t have added to the story, and killing arthur weasley is like joss whedon-level bullshit. on the other hand, she initially intended to let snape live (again iirc) but here she backed herself in a corner. snape was another result. it became obvious that according to the story there simply wasn’t a feasible way to save him, even if in context his death was for nothing. and of course la pièce de résistance, dumbledore, who is GRRM levels of inevitable and necessary.

i feel different ways about other deaths. they mostly happened for the sake of happening, to remind us it’s a war and people die in wars and she wanted faces and names we knew. that’s fair, as it goes. and i don’t begrudge the fact that she didn’t stop to dwell over some of them, because again, war, chaos, you don’t have time to grieve as it happens. but like. fred? i feel a little cheated. lupin and tonks? especially transparent and... unfulfilling. it was like bringing them together was done only to produce teddy, and then they became more useful dead first so harry would be more important to teddy and also because lupin needed to be there with harry in the woods alongside the rest of the marauders. i think of all the deaths these ones are the ones that bother me the most. just... really... meaningless.

also, the movie feeling the need to go a step further and giving us a nice close-up of lavendar brown’s very dead face because... aesthetic? it’s more ambiguous in the book, and even pottermore can’t seem to decide which way to go. it’s so irrelevant that people can’t agree it even happened.

death isn’t the only kind of violence in fiction or necessarily even the worst, but it is the one that’s always on hand like a tissue to grab as you need and the one that is abused by unimaginative writers who just... can’t think of how else to move the story forward. i do think there is a place for stories that involve rape, because it’s real and just like any other group survivors need to see themselves acknowledged as being real and more than their trauma. i don’t really feel too comfortable speaking for survivors here tbh but i do know that all of us need stories to keep us from feeling isolated and unworthy. but i cringe at the idea that it’s just something that happens to women and therefore let’s add it here, here, here, and here. using it as a turning point for the survivor like assault is enlightening and transformative is gross. using it as a turning point for someone else, usually a man, is A WHOLE LOT GROSSER.

also i just realized i didn’t get into tarantino, but i’m too tired for the kind of analysis his work requires. anyway one of the things i liked about kill bill, for example, is that the violence is so over-the-top that in places it’s comical. the whole film is just so extra. afaik that’s what tarantino was going for.

quick shout-out to snk: my favorite comedy. when this first came out it was hailed as The Best Thing Of The Year, it was SO GOOD, so quality. anyway so i finally got around to watching it. i watched it twice in relative succession in fact. and i laughed a lot. you can ask @second-stringer, she was like “oh my god, i’m in a room with a sociopath.” snk is so extra, but i... don’t think that’s what it was going for. i think it was going for shock! and drama! and plot twists! and look at all that blood and gore and dead people! this is obviously Very Mature! i feel so cool and grown-up watching it! and (sorry, not to get passive aggressive at my mutuals who were into it at any point, this is honestly about conversations i had with or read between people not on tumblr/in other contexts) the general trend was the raves were coming from the younger and frequently male audience. like it was the usual kind of thing where you couldn’t be like, are you... serious? didn’t you find it kind of... ridiculous? because you would be mobbed by rabid fanboys eager to mansplain that i don’t know i stopped listening. anyway, the steep decline in worship for the series over time leaves me feeling smug and satisfied. i actually might still watch it out of morbid curiosity and in the hopes that it’s as funny or, prayer circle, even funnier.

in conclusion, bobby has an email from me that includes a lot of yelling, “DON’T KILL THE LESBIAN. DON’T FUCKING DO IT.” this is my contribution to the cause.

#deep thoughts #this got long

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dadduu70 · 7 years

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Black Dog

Around the middle of 2014 my mum was diagnosed with a stomach tumour, the discovery was as a result of an examination following some blood loss. That in itself was bad enough but the tests revealed an even darker passenger. Leukaemia. Being the only sibling close it fell to me to be the oracle for all the voices that grabbed at the information before they tried to figure it out and digest it. It came to a point where I dreaded hearing the phone ring because I would have to go through it all again. During the period of chemotherapy, my life had to somehow fit in around what others expected of me and I also had to deal with what was happening by myself. On September the 15th 2015 around 11am I suffered a massive saddle PE. This is where a large blood clot forms across the opening to the lungs, shaped like a horses riding saddle. I was unable to breath and was rushed in to hospital. I was in the high dependency unit for the first three days before being moved onto another ward. I was hospitalised for a week. I am on daily mediation now and will be for the rest of my life. All the time I was in hospital I wanted to come home but when that day finally came, it was not the relief I needed. Something had changed in me; I was scared of my own body and I was unable to comprehend that I had almost died and although it wasn’t exactly denial, I couldn’t accept what my own body had done to me. That first night I just tried to relax before thinking about going to bed. I remember going into my room to get ready to sleep and standing at the foot of the bed unable to move. I was so very tired and wanted nothing more than to sleep but all I could think of was what would happen if I had another embolism. I became light-headed and it felt like my whole body was a mass of pins and needles. There weren’t any nurses doing their 15 minute checks and I knew I was on my own and there was no one close enough that could help if I needed it. Over the next few days I noticed small changes in my behaviour. I found it almost impossible to concentrate on anything. I would sit down to watch a film or TV show and the credits would appear and I would have no recollection of what I had just watched. I figured it was just because I was so tired after the PE and my body adjusting the new medication. But it wasn’t just the television that I was having trouble with. Anyone that knows me knows how important music is to me. I started to find that every song I once identified with would make me cry. It wasn’t the lyrics, or what the song meant to me because they had never had this effect on me before. But just the intro was enough to reduce me to tears. I found this quite upsetting because I couldn’t understand what was causing such an extreme reaction. I began to try and ignore it, to put it down to what I had just been through and what was going on around me but I think I knew in my heart that it wasn’t that. I started to notice more and more changes. I would slip quickly into very dark moods, it wasn’t a gradual thing, one minute I was fine and the next I just lost the desire to do anything and things just seemed to spiral into a general apathy. I wouldn’t eat for days and I would sit on the sofa in silence just staring out of the window. Hours would pass but I didn’t notice the passage of time until the sky would begin to darken. I lost interest in my writing and the poems I did write were very dark, very negative and each time I wrote, I would burst into tears once I had finished proofing the words. Usually my poems are a form of catharsis for me, but these poems did not have that effect, I felt detached from them, as if someone else had written them. When I read those poems now, I do not cry but I do finally understand them. I didn’t tell many people about how I was feeling, partly because I didn’t want to burden them with my problems and partly because I don’t find it easy to trust people. I don’t have many friends because I struggle to make them. My childhood experiences damaged my view of other people’s intentions towards me and with family there always seems to be a line you can’t cross. Mental illness is still a massive taboo and I don’t know if it’s because we don’t want to be seen in a negative way or if we’re frightened it will change the dynamics of the relationship but I have never been able to discuss my emotions with them. However, there were people outside of the family circle that helped me more than they realise or I can express. Just knowing they were there if I needed to talk was a great help. Funnily enough, it was someone I didn’t know that well that became my biggest supporter and the greatest help. I think because we weren’t that familiar with each other I felt able to be almost totally honest with him and when I say ‘almost’ I mean that I was 100% honest with him about how I was feeling, but I didn’t talk about the reaction that his concern had on me. We would have conversations over WhatsApp, the phone and also skype and when we chatted, he made me forget what was going on. I don’t mean forget in a ‘bury your head in the sand’ way, but he showed me that it wasn’t all darkness, that I was strong enough to get through it and that he was there if I needed him. He showed incredible strength and compassion and not once did I feel I could not trust him. Our conversations were not like big motivational speeches, they were just regular chats but they meant the world to me. He allowed me to say exactly what was on my mind without fear of judgement and I looked forward to chatting with him because of how it made me feel. I appreciate that sounds selfish, but I needed a degree of selfishness in my life at that time, I was not strong enough to cope with everything on my own and I truly think he saw that. Many times, when the conversations ended I would feel lost again and would more often than not ball my eyes out. But, the difference was, I wasn’t crying because of what I was going through, I was crying because someone cared enough about me to talk to me for hours on end with no thought for themselves or their time. At the start of November I had been back at work for about a month (In hindsight I know that I went back too soon, but I refused to accept that anything was wrong) The weekend came around and on the Saturday I started to worry about going back into work on the Monday. Every time I thought about it I broke out in a sweat and my skin felt like it was on fire. I would berate myself and tell myself to pull myself together and stop being so pathetic but the more I did this, the worse I felt and the darker my mood became. The following week I did not go into work, instead I went to see my doctor. I explained everything to her. I didn’t know what to expect but I had convinced myself it was nothing to worry about and I was being stupid. When she told me it sounded as if I was suffering from depression the colour must have drained from my face because she looked genuinely concerned and asked if I was ok. I couldn’t focus my eyes and my ears were filled with the sound of my blood pumping through my veins. I had no idea what to say. Hearing her say those words made it real, made it something I could no longer hide from or ignore. She produced a plastic glass of water for me and to this day I have no recollection of where she got it from. Once I managed to regain some composure she started to tell me what my options were. The best and most practical option for me was to attend some CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) and she said she would make the necessary referral. When I returned to work I spoke to our support staff and arranged some counselling while I waited for the CBT referral to come through (I didn’t get dates until early this year 2015) The counselling was a new experience for me and one I was sceptical of, I knew what the problems were so I didn’t understand how talking about it would help and after 6 sessions nothing had happened to change my initial thoughts. If anything, I was even more anti counselling. One of the questions they would ask was whether you have thought about suicide or attempted it, to which I always replied that I had no suicidal thoughts, but that wasn’t strictly true. Although I never once thought about ending my life, I did wonder what it would be like if I was no longer here, if I was in a place where there was no pain, no depression no mistrust of my own body. But I don’t think I could ever be strong enough to write that final paragraph. The CBT had much the same outcome as the counselling although towards the end of the sessions I did come to the realisation that I needed to fight my depression in a way that worked for me, so I guess the CBT had some part to play in that, in making me face it and in forcing me to find a way to deal. It wasn’t some big epiphany, no chorus of fabled angels, but I just knew I was strong enough and I knew I had the love and support of my friends. But this is just my experience; for some people, the CBT and/or counselling really can help but I think once you accept the depression it’s a lot easier to deal with it to a point where you’re back in control. Although my depression has affected me in ways that will probably last for some time and there are still days where I can feel it clawing at me I know that how I felt last and early this year is now in the past. I know the signs now and if they started to come back I would be in a much better position to act on them much sooner. So here I am a year later and I am in no doubt that I didn’t do this entirely on my own. There are people and experienced I thank for being there for me during that time, for caring enough to try and help. I have learnt a lot about myself over the last year, not all of it good, but in some ways I am better for it. When I think about the ‘what if's’ of the whole situation I can see that things could have been a lot worse for me. If I am honest, I am here now partly because I decided to fight back and partly because of the man I now call my brother, without him I do not think I would be the person I am now and I wonder if I would be here at all. For me, love wears purple.

#depression #blackdog #fear #PulmonaryEmbolism #leukemia

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homevestorsfranchise1 · 7 years

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Insider Interview: Ernie Hughes

We are excited to welcome Ernie Hughes to the blog! Ernie has over 12 years of experience with HomeVestors®, but his relationship with the company and its founders goes all the way back to 1973. Ernie currently works as a Regional Business Developer for HomeVestors and he brings valuable insight to our readers. Let’s dive right in!

How did you first get involved with HomeVestors®?

I went to work for HomeVestors of America in July of 2005, but my history with the founder, Ken D’Angelo, runs much longer and deeper. Ken D’Angelo and I started in a small East Dallas real estate agency, Ken in 1972 and me in 1973, working for 2 brokers and 8 agents total. Ken and I developed a fast friendship. In 1974, Ken started his own small real estate agency and I joined the venture as a partner in 1975.

Real estate franchising was relatively new in those years and Red Carpet Realtors was one of the early pioneers in real estate franchising. Ken had bought a Red Carpet franchise and together, we built the agency into one of the top RE agencies in the Dallas area. In May of 1978, we switched to ERA (Electronic Realty Associates). ERA was big for us at the time providing the newest technology in 1978 being able to transmit pictures with dot matrix facsimile.

Sometime in 1975, Ken and I went on a listing appointment together. We explained to the selling couple the process of listing their house, finding a buyer and closing the sale might take 4-6 months for them to get their money from the sale. The couple looked at each other and back at us and said, “But you don’t understand, we need to sell our house today. Ken and I quickly realized that we could buy houses at a discount by offering time and convenience. We purchased that house for about .60 cents on the dollar.

In 12 months from 1976-77 we purchased 88 houses at a deep discount and along the way realized the opportunity of helping people out of situations and Ken and I into the house buying business instead of working strictly for real estate commissions.

We formed a company named Equitex out of our residential real estate offices in East Dallas. By then, Ken and I had opened two real estate agencies with about 100 agents. We realized it was more profitable to buy houses at a discount and then sell them to other real estate investors. In late 1978, we purchased the ERA master franchise for South Texas at about the same time we met Ken Channell, current co-president of HomeVestors. The two Ken’s went to Houston to sell and train ERA franchisees.

In 1989 Ken started the company, HomeVestors. Ken and I had split our partnership in 1985 but remained good friends and participated in joint ventures together. Ken passed away in January 2005. Ken D’Angelo had a passion for teaching people, ordinary people how to make money investing in real estate through buying, selling and holding properties for long term wealth.

Ken’s guiding principle was helping people whether it was an investor that wanted to learn the house buying business or a homeowner that was faced with an “Ugly Situation.” There were a number of occasions that Ken would not let the seller walk away from the sale of their house without money in their pocket even though the lender or numbers would not have warranted it. Ken was a giving persona.

I was recruited by Ken Channell in June of 2005. It’s important to know something about the history of how HomeVestors started since its beginnings go back further than 1996 when it became a franchisor. In December of 2016, HomeVestors celebrated its 20th year as a franchisor, but the concept started 40 years earlier in 1976.

My current role with HomeVestors is a Regional Business Developer (RBD) working with Development Agents throughout the U.S., helping DAs recruit, sell, mentor and train new franchisees.

How has the Development Agent evolved over the past decade?

My role started as a Franchise Systems Manager (FSM) coaching and mentoring franchisees. A franchisee would know that when the phone rang at 11 AM CST every Friday morning, it was our scheduled coaching call. It was as important then as it is today that when you schedule a call with a client, you call on time, every time. If I was going to be late, or could not make the call I would notify the franchisee in advance and they would pay me the same courtesy.

Calls were seldom cancelled or delayed. It is extremely important that you do what you say you are going to do. That’s the first step in building a relationship with franchisees. They need to know that they can count on you to keep your word.

It is extremely important that you do what you say you are going to do. That’s the first step in building a relationship with franchisees. – Ernie Hughes

The Development Agent started in 2008 but really had not gained traction or momentum until 2010 after Fred Deluca of Subway fame and his holding company, Franchise Brands provided the opportunity to Co-Presidents David Hicks and Ken Channell, which in turn guided the company to the success it has achieved today.

The big difference over the last 10 years is that the HomeVestors model has changed. The change has been very significant and is the biggest contributor to the growth and success for HomeVestors of America, Inc. as a franchise selling company. HomeVestors dramatically decreased the entry level costs and added Development Agents, local franchisees that coach and mentor new franchisees helping the new franchisee build a profitable business.

The real estate market is cyclical, prices go up and down. Prior to 2008-09, subprime lending was prevalent in all RE markets across the U.S. Subprime lending was the cause of the real estate crash. At the time, institutions were lending to many borrowers that did not qualify for loans. Additionally, real estate prices dramatically increased due to speculative buying by investors.

HomeVestors franchisees who adapted a blend of exit strategies not only survived the crash but thrived in a new real estate buying and selling environment. Franchisees and independent investors who did not adapt to the change in market conditions went out of business. Generally they were unable or unwilling to change their mind-set to meet market conditions. An extreme seller’s market morphed into an extreme buyer’s market seemingly overnight.

How has your approach to coaching evolved since you first started?

My coaching has always been straightforward and direct; I let people know what they need to do to be successful. I believe the biggest change in my coaching style is that I ask more thought provoking questions of franchisees and DAs. I work to help them discover the answers to the questions I ask, sometimes with a little guidance. I tell franchisees what they need to know and do to be successful, not always what they want to hear.

What is your preferred real estate investment strategy? Why?

I prefer the wholesale model, buying and selling with nothing more than a clean-out and clean-up of the house and sell to an investor. Exercising this model gives the investor a quick in and out with little financial risk other than the purchase and clean out costs. The key to this model is to buy at the right price and stick to the marketing plan until the house is sold. The risk to novice investors using this model is they don’t put enough effort forth to make the sale happen. They list the house in the MLS thinking that is all they need to do to make a sale and in some markets it works, depending on supply and demand.

I like this model because you can buy and sell houses in a relatively short time frame and it is the quickest and easiest way to make deposits in the bank account. Using the wholesale model allows investors to do multiple transactions monthly. Then it allows the franchisee-investor to cherry pick those houses that really make sense to rehab to retail and maximize their profit potential.

What’s the difference between a HomeVestors franchise, and just investing in real estate on your own?

There are several major differences between the HomeVestors model and being an independent investor. First, the Brand Name, HomeVestors, is trusted by sellers, evidenced by 75,000 houses bought by our franchisees since 1996. Second, the leads generated by our HomeVestors and AdVestors marketing team are by far the highest quality, according to our franchisees. Our investors say that these are the most profitable lead sources available. Third, HomeVestors has a system to follow. There are no reasons for anyone to “reinvent the wheel.” When an individual buys a HomeVestors franchise, they generally leave Success Systems Training with the confidence that they are not alone and that they can be successful following the HomeVestors system.

Being an independent investor can be very lonely and costly, especially for the inexperienced. There are many minefields and pitfalls you have to avoid as an investor. Having a local mentor and coach you can rely on makes a huge difference. You not only have the support of your local development agent and other franchisees in your market, but you also have the support of other franchisees in markets around the US as well as the corporate office.

Every month we have independent investors in attendance at our SST in Dallas. Some of these investors have been buying houses for years and state that traditional lead sources have dried up for them. MLS, REO’s and foreclosures are practically non-existent.

Is there one lesson that you have learned through trial and error during your real estate investment career that sticks out to you?

Like so many other investors, I fell prey to the “Fear of No” in the early days of my house buying career. I learned several very important things: 1) Fear is a great motivator, 2) never assume anything, 3) You can always go up on your offer but never down.

When I attend a buy appointment, I visualize making an offer, the seller accepting my offer and writing the buy contract. I use the “assumptive close” and I arrive confident in my intention that I’m there to buy the seller’s house.

What is the biggest mistake you see novice real estate investors make?

Overall, the biggest mistake you can make is not creating rules to ‘play’ by. Albert Einstein stated, “You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else.” Since investors pay others to perform a variety of services for them, we recommend that franchisees set expectations rather accepting less than what is expected.

Exit strategies should be deliberate and you should stick with the exit until the house is sold. For example, if an investor intends to try to wholesale their house for the first 30 or 60 days, then they want to start a rehab 90 days into the loan – they are losing money by flip flopping on the strategy. Ninety days of interest and points can be costly, time is money.

We encourage new franchisees to use the wholesale model to build cash flow and reserves. They leave training saying they are going to wholesale the first year and then buy a house to rehab to take to retail. Generally, new franchisees/investors overestimate the after repair value (ARV) of a house and under-estimate repairs.

What is the most important piece of advice you have to give to a real estate investor considering a HomeVestors® franchise?

The most important piece of advice is the same advice Ken D’Angelo gave investors for decades and the same advice I give today: 1) Never stop generating leads, 2) Never stop buying houses, 3) Never stop recruiting investors, and 4) Never stop recruiting money. The other piece of advice: Follow the System.

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