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skzsauce01 · 3 years

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Angel Sent From Up Above

Anniversary Request Special

Synopsis: Hyunjin, a new guardian angel, has fallen in love with a human. His human’s girlfriend, to be precise. Angel AU, background college AU and skater AU.

Warning: violence

Word Count: 8.3k

Pairing: fem!reader x guardian angel!Hyunjin; fem!reader x human!Jeongin

“Is she healed now?” Hyunjin asks the moment Jisung flies in. He knows Jisung is probably exhausted from keeping maladies away from you, but he needs the answer now. “Is her flu gone?”

“Yeah.” Jisung’s wings are tinged gray with ruin, but he keeps them on display for all the other guardian angels to see as he walks past them. They are proof that he has been doing his duty. They’ll return to white soon enough anyway. “Your human’s her boyfriend. Why didn’t you try to check through him? He visited a few times even though she told him not to.” Jisung sighs and shakes his head. “What an idiot. He’s going to get sick himself.”

“He hasn't visited recently, so I haven’t been able to check through him. The Archangel’s forbade me going to Earth unless it was something serious. I think he’s worried I'm spending too much time with humans.”

Jisung shakes his head. “I think he’s worried that he’s going to have to Seungmin you.”

“I'm not going to get expelled.”

Jisung shrugs, and ruin falls from his wings like ash. “You better watch out. You checked up on her too much last time she got sick, so he's probably trying to make sure you won't abandon your human. He's banished people for less. Case in point: Seungmin.”

“She's important to Jeongin, so she's important to me."

Jisung sighs. “Sometimes I think you’re more protective of her than I am.”

He says it as a joke, but Hyunjin knows it’s the truth. He cares deeply about you, maybe even more than his own human, but he will never say that last part aloud.

Hyunjin used to believe that becoming a guardian angel was the best thing that ever happened to him. All of his afterlife, he had wanted to be promoted, to be granted the pure white wings and the crown of sun rays. Regular angels had wings and halos but never white wings and golden halos; silver and silver was the “regular” combination.

Watching over a human was considered the highest honor an angel could receive, and everyone clamored to gain the attention of the Archangel. Hyunjin was not immune. He worked as a messenger for years, delivering even the most inane notes between the higher ups. He endured the attacks, verbal and sometimes physical, and kept his mouth shut. Eventually, the Archangel recognized his efforts, and before dawn broke on Earth, Hyunjin was named the new guardian angel of a baby boy, Yang Jeongin.

“You will protect him. You will guide him,” the Archangel said. “He is your responsibility now and yours alone. Do you understand?”

From Heaven, Hyunjin could only look at the wet, wrinkled face of his human. His human. “I understand.”

Then the Archangel flew off, and Hyunjin flew to Earth for the first time to meet the baby. No one noticed him as he phased through the hospital walls nor as his giant wings folded back. Only Jeongin would be able to see his guardian angel.

“Hello there, little one,” he whispered to the swaddled baby. The boy was fast asleep, and Hyunjin gently stroked his face. “I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Hyunjin, your official guardian angel. I’ll always be nearby now, and I’ll always make sure you’re safe. Sometimes you won’t be able to see me, but I’ll always be watching over you. I promise.”

Jeongin stirred awake and stared back at Hyunjin. Two sets of eyes blinked at each other, one full of curiosity and one full of tenderness.

“Go back to sleep,” Hyunjin said. He drew his hand over the baby’s face, and Jeongin’s eyes fluttered shut. “Sweet dreams, little one.”

Guardian angels talked about their humans like parents, bragging about how gifted they were and sharing complaints about what unbelievable thing they did the other day. Hyunjin mostly did the latter. Jeongin was an adventurous child, which was just a nice way of saying that he liked to play with danger. Hyunjin often had to fly in to save him or to redirect the threat somewhere else. The other angels joked that Hyunjin stayed on Earth more than Heaven sometimes. He didn’t mind though. Even with his human’s shortcomings, Hyunjin adored him. He watched from above as Jeongin said his first words, attended his first day of kindergarten, and got into his first fight.

“He’s a troublemaker,” Minho observed.

Minho was a guardian angel as well, but he tended to lurk on the outer edges of the realm as the other angels avoided him for a reason Hyunjin hadn’t figured out yet. Hyunjin liked him well enough and treated him like a mentor, sometimes a friend.

“Hey, you’re not one to talk. Your human started a black market of candy at school.”

Minho shrugged. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Jeongin didn’t end up growing up into a troublemaker, to Hyunjin’s relief. The impulsive streak was still there, but he utilized his judgement more now. There were no car crashes or cases of alcohol poisoning, and when Jeongin asked out girls, it was with daisy bouquets and a suggestion to get lunch. Hyunjin slowly stopped making routine trips to Earth and chose to view Jeongin from the comfort of Heaven. It was there that Hyunjin noticed you.

“I think she’s upset with him,” Jisung abruptly says. “She cried after a video call with him, so if your human starts acting strangely, that’s why.”

The news makes Hyunjin stop mid-step, and he turns to his friend. “She cried? What? What did she cry about?”

“I don’t know. I was too busy trying to lower her temperature. Can you believe that she almost hit—”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I just got back! There is no ‘earlier!’ Besides, we aren't allowed to interfere in anything that isn't dangerous. Heartbreak, if this is even what this is, is temporary."

“Humans do drastic things for love.” The movies has seen while watching Jeongin have told him that much.

“Which we will attend to when it happens. You’re a new guardian; you’ll understand them better over time. Not everything is life-threatening, fragile as they are.”

Hyunjin turns away from Jisung and glances down at Earth. The clouds part, and all of the brick buildings of the university rush towards his eyes as he focuses on Jeongin. He’s asleep at his desk, his lamp still burning bright above him. How long has it been since the video call? Or perhaps he’s just tired from the events of his day. But he looks so small and vulnerable in his chair. Jeongin isn’t fragile — the amount of situations he has gotten out of covered in bruises and blood is astronomical — but he is mortal.

“But she loves him,” Hyunjin softly says, “and he loves her.”

“Exactly. Humans fight over small things all the time, and this is one of those times.” Jisung places a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder to placate him. “Trust me.”

“... I trust you.”

“Good. I need to rest, but we can catch up and see what stupid things they do after.”

The moment Jisung flies off to the rest area, Hyunjin goes against the Archangel’s orders and flies to your apartment. When he peers inside your bedroom window, he spots you sitting in bed in the dark, your phone screen illuminating your face. He phases inside and sits at your desk chair, resting his forearms at the top rail. You can’t see him, but he wishes that you could.

You mindlessly scroll through messages, sniffling every few seconds. Whether it’s from your crying or your illness, he doesn’t know. He can’t hand you a tissue or tell you comforting things or hug you like Jeongin can. When you wrap your blanket tighter around your shoulders, he wraps his wings around himself as well.

Suddenly you throw your phone beside you and let out a heavy sigh. “It can’t get any worse than this,” you say to yourself.

Hyunjin waits for you to say more, but you only stare at the ceiling with blank eyes. He can’t compel you to talk; only Jisung can, but he’s not here. So instead, Hyunjin knocks over the glass of water on your bed when you shift into a more comfortable position.

“Of course it can,” you sigh again and blot as much water as you can with your tissues. You pull another one out of the box with more force than necessary and furiously dab your sheets. “First I get sick, then I miss a homework deadline that I can’t make up because my professor lost his heart thirty years ago along with his hair, then my boyfriend breaks up with me for like no reason, apparently I have an exam tomorrow, and now I’ve spilled water all over my bed, so I can’t even sleep. Thank you, universe. I really needed this.”

He immediately regrets his decision.

“Worst freaking week of my life,” you mumble as you throw away the wet tissues. Hyunjin almost reaches out for your arm when you pass by, but he retracts it just in time.

When you climb back into bed, you draw your blanket up to your chin and begin murmuring numbers. They come out calm and even at first, but they become more tense as time passes. Hyunjin half-listens as he scans the contents of your desk. A laptop, a shopping bag, an open notebook with doodles on the margins, an uncapped black pen, and a pack of gum. He presses his forefinger to the point of the pen, drawing a tiny heart by touch. Then he stamps the heart among all your misshapen stars and imaginary flowers. You might just think it’s an ink smear, but he hopes you look at it and smile.

You hit three hundred and forty-seven before you begin to sound drowsy. Hyunjin stands at the foot of your bed, watching as you finally drift off in the middle of three hundred and ninety-three. Serenity settles across your features.

“I’m sorry for what I did earlier. Good night and sweet dreams,” he whispers. He pats the corner of your bed before flying off into the night.

He needs to see Jeongin.

It was hard not to notice you when you were on a collision course with Jeongin. You were going too fast, and Hyunjin’s wings couldn’t carry him to Earth in milliseconds. With horror, he watched as you sharply turned the building corner on your skateboard and just barely jumped off in time when you saw Jeongin about to make the same turn.

“You okay?” Jeongin asked as he hurried to stop your runaway board.

“I should be asking you that!” you exclaimed as you followed him. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have veered that close to the wall. You’re not hurt or anything, right?”

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Good. I can’t risk getting sued again.” Unsure of how to respond, Jeongin nudged back your board to you. You neatly stopped it mid-roll with your foot. “Thanks, by the way. See you around.”

“Yeah, see you.”

You kicked off, but before you left the area, you turned around and gave him a wave. Jeongin waved back, albeit more shyly than you. After a moment’s hesitation, he yelled out, “Be careful!”

“I’ll try!”

Jeongin laughed and turned the corner, looking at the brick wall with more wistfulness than most people usually did. Before he entered the building, he peeked around the next corner, as if he expected you to come speeding by again. You didn’t.

After that, he noticed you more often, usually swerving around strangers as you cut through campus. Whenever he had the opportunity to say hello, he did so with a smile, and you returned it with a waggle of your fingers before disappearing into the crowd. Once, you nearly crashed into a railing. You laughed it off and gave him another wave along with a funny face. Hyunjin felt something inside him melt. Jeongin must have too since he headed to his next class with the most lovestruck expression Hyunjin had ever seen on him.

It was then that Jeongin began forming a plan.

Two weeks after the first meeting, Jeongin waited in the quad for you to show up. Just as he hoped, you came walking down the steps fifteen minutes later, skateboard tucked underneath your arm. It was supposed to seem like a coincidence, but Hyunjin had followed Jeongin as he scoured nearby skate spots, asking around about you. Yesterday, he had learned where you liked to practice tricks. He got up from his bench, hands hidden behind his back, and approached you with the same moves and confidence he had rehearsed in the bathroom mirror.

“Hey! How have you been?” he called up from the very bottom.

Meanwhile, Hyunjin groaned. Jisung, who Hyunjin had tracked down two days prior to this, also did so.

“You said he was a charmer,” Jisung complained. “Look at him. He can’t even charm dogs with a treat.”

“For your sake, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. Just wait though. It’s going to get better.”

Jisung huffed. “It better. She deserves the best.”

Fortunately, you took it all in stride and waved hello at Jeongin. When you were finally beside him, you answered, “I’ve been good, thanks. You’re not here to sue me, right?”

“No! I was actually wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. If you have time, that is.”

“Really? But I almost killed you that one time. I mean, I’d be happy to, but it’s kind of weird after what happened.”

“I’d rather skateboard than walk, and you seem pretty good at it.”

You shifted your weight to one foot, and Hyunjin chuckled when he saw Jeongin’s eyes wander to your jutted-out hip. Jisung made a noise of disapproval.

“Okay, what is this really about?”

“Skateboarding,” Jeongin said. Then he took a step closer and held out a bundle of daisies towards you. “And lunch, if you want.”

You broke out into a grin. “I am a little hungry right now. L/N Y/N, skateboarding extraordinaire and ramen enthusiast, at your service.”

“Yang Jeongin, also a ramen enthusiast. Nice to officially meet you.”

Jeongin is still sleeping at his desk when Hyunjin arrives. He shifts and exhales when the wind from Hyunjin’s wings create a small breeze but does not wake.

“How could you break up with her?” Hyunjin says. “She’s amazing and wonderful, and you decide that you don't want to be with her? Sometimes I wonder what’s going on in your head.”

Silence.

“If I were human, I would have never done that, but…”

Jeongin shifts again, burying himself deeper into the crumpled hoodie he’s using as a pillow. The table squeaks, and a mechanical pencil rolls off the desk. Hyunjin quietly places the pencil back to its initial place and shuts off the lamp.

“Take care of yourself, and make good choices, okay? I can’t do that for you.”

Instead of flying back to Heaven, he perches on the roof of the building across from Jeongin’s. Jeongin finally wakes up and notices that his light is off. He glances at it confusedly for a few seconds, wondering if he misremembered leaving it on. In the end, he decides it’s not worth the effort and falls into his bed. He didn’t even spare you a thought, a crime in Hyunjin’s eyes.

Then he realizes he may have a bigger problem on his hands.

Jisung.

Jisung is going to be very upset when he finds out about this.

Over the weekend, you brought Jeongin to the quad to learn the basics.

“Put both feet on the board now,” you said as you walked alongside a skateboarding Jeongin. He was borrowing yours to practice, so he treated it with more reverence than a well-used board would need. Even though he was pushing with his back foot, he was going at a snail’s pace.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m going to lose my balance and fall.”

Perhaps it wasn’t reverence after all.

You shook your head. “No, you won’t. You’re not going that fast anyway. You can just step off if you really feel like you are. Give it a shot.”

To his credit, Jeongin lifted his foot a few centimeters off the ground before planting it back. “I’m going to lose control.”

While you did your best to persuade Jeongin to give it another try, Jisung gave Hyunjin a dissatisfied look. “I remember you telling me he was a daredevil. What is happening?”

He didn’t exactly know either. “He’s in front of his crush; give him a break.”

“These two better not end up dating. She deserves so much better than him.”

Hyunjin gave him a dirty look, Jisung gave him a “What? It’s true” type of a shrug.

You step in front of the board. “How about this?” you said. “You stand on the board with both feet, and I’ll pull you along so you can get used to the feeling and be less of a scaredy cat.”

“Okay.”

You took both of his hands and slowly guided him backwards. At the same time, you instructed him to put more weight on one side to change directions. Jeongin was surprisingly stable, and Hyunjin watched proudly as his human suggested that you increase your speed a little.

“See? It’s not bad?” you said. “Keeping balance isn’t that hard, right?”

“Yeah. Also,” he grinned, his meek demeanor completely gone, “we’re holding hands now.”

Your eyes widened as you glanced down at your joined hands, and you let out a delighted gasp. “You sneaky little—” Much to Jeongin’s alarm, you let go and smirked. “If you go past the bench without constantly pushing, I’ll let you hold my hand when you walk me home.”

“Kind of presumptuous of you to assume that I would offer to walk you home,” he teased, resting one foot on the floor. “Or is that what you want me to do?”

“You asked me to lunch with flowers. You were going to.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Then he kicked off, skating past the bench with ease. Still going, he looked over his shoulder and shouted, “Do you want to grab doughnuts before you head home?”

“Watch the lamp!” you yelled as you ran towards him. “Jeongin, stop looking at me and turn around!”

The collision with the lamppost was unavoidable, so Hyunjin simply watched as Jeongin took a flying leap off your board and took a tumble on the concrete. While you fumbled for band aids — Jeongin’s knee was scraped and bloody — Jeongin patted his pockets to check that his phone had not fallen out.

“So doughnuts?” he sheepishly asked.

“Sure. I’ll buy.” You finally found one hidden in the bottom of your backpack along with an alcohol wipe. “Guess you get to hold my hand after all.”

“How are you so prepared?” he asked, nodding to the contents you had unceremoniously dumped out whilst rummaging. “You have tweezers and gauze?”

“My mom made me carry a first-aid kit with me when she found out that I skate to class. It comes in handy.” You ripped open the package. “This might hurt.”

“You can kiss it to feel better.”

You laughed and pressed the alcohol wipe to his knee. “You’re such a flirt, I love it. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, hurts a lot.”

You opted to kiss the band aid instead, causing Jeongin to pout and Jisung to sigh in relief. When you stuck it onto his skin, Jeongin made a big production of being relieved from pain, which made you laugh and shove him.

“No! She’s in love with him,” Jisung groaned. His wings drooped, and Hyunjin swore his halo actually dimmed when you kept your hands in Jeongin’s after you pulled him up. “Well, Hyunjin, looks like you and I are going to be best friends.”

Hyunjin personally saw no issue with that. Like Jeongin, he had been charmed by your antics and your easygoing nature. Protecting his human’s friends, family, or lovers wasn’t part of Hyunjin’s duty, but he felt compelled to watch over you too.

Because if he were human, he would have fallen in love with you too.

In the midst of his lamenting, Jisung flies down and sits beside him on the roof. His wings are still slightly gray, and Hyunjin strangely begins to feel self-conscious of his pure white ones.

“Didn’t the Archangel forbid you from doing frivolous things?” Jisung says in lieu of a greeting. “I saw you at her apartment earlier.”

“I just wanted to check up on her. Not that I thought you lied,” he hastily adds. “I wanted to see for myself. She’s a little… distraught.”

“She got into a fight with her boyfriend. It’s normal.” When Hyunjin doesn’t reply or even make a sound, he grows concerned. “Is it something else? She’s getting sued, isn’t she? I knew it was going to happen someday. When I find that smug richie-rich, I’m going to—”

“Jeongin broke up with her.”

“What.”

Hyunjin repeats his sentence, trying to block the view of Jeongin’s bedroom with his body. Jisung looks like he’s ready to rain judgement onto him, and while Hyunjin is rather good at his job, he’s not sure if he can hold back an enraged guardian angel. Jisung takes several deep breaths before regaining the little composure he can muster.

“I knew I hated him for a reason. I knew he didn’t deserve her,” he spits out, though the venom in his voice wavers. “Why would he even break up with her? She loved him so much.”

Hyunjin shrugs. “That’s what I want to find out.”

“When you find out, let me know. I’m going to see her now.”

Hyunjin stays on the roof until sunrise. Jeongin sleeps without any trouble, and when he wakes up, he looks fresh-faced, no guilt hanging over his head. Hyunjin feels something inside him cracking apart.

You truly don’t deserve this.

“Do you think they’re going to crash and burn?” Jisung asked as he studied you and Jeongin walking through the park, practically glued to each other’s sides. “I think they’re moving too fast. It’s only been a month.”

Hyunjin really didn’t care about that. As long as you and Jeongin were happy, he was happy. “A month is a pretty long time for them. Mortal lives are short.”

“Exactly. They should be more selective about their life choices.”

Hyunjin only rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to you. You were pointing at the tiny carousel in the middle and tugging at Jeongin’s sleeve. You dragged him over and pushed a coin into the slot for the ride. The lights lit up and a carnival theme played while you struggled to wedge yourself between the saddle of an elephant and the roof of the carousel. Jeongin sat on the edge, beside the tiger, and chuckled at your flailing limbs.

Hyunjin suppressed his own laugh. You were something special. Just last week, the two of you had made it official and started dating. You had done it in the sweetest possible way.

You had taken him to a local skateboarding shop to help him pick out his first board. Once he had chosen one — the ‘one’ being a light blue deck patterned with multicolored doughnuts — the staff at the shop sent him to the back to try it out. Meanwhile, you made the age-old excuse of needing to use the restroom when you were actually getting the flowers you had hidden in the back.

Hyunjin had turned into a pile of fluff when you gave Jeongin the daisy bouquet and asked if he wanted to officially be your boyfriend. You were so earnest. Jeongin playfully pretended to think it over, a feat Hyunjin knew he wouldn’t have been able to do if he were in his position. There were no fireworks or confetti when Jeongin finally said yes, but the staff did clap and cheer. Jisung looked on with contempt. Hyunjin looked on with envy.

“You know,” Jisung abruptly said, snapping Hyunjin back to the present, “when her last boyfriend broke up with her, she had ice cream for dinner for a week.”

“Oh.”

“You see why I’m being wary of him now?”

Hyunjin did, but Jeongin was different. His previous relationships always ended well, and on one occasion, he remained friends with his ex. He sighed and decided that a change of topic was necessary so he wouldn’t have to potentially endure a tirade. “Did you hear about Minho’s human? The bank he worked at got robbed, and he got held at gunpoint.”

That caught the overprotective Jisung’s ear. “What? Is he okay?”

During Hyunjin’s recountment of Minho’s recountment, the carousel ride ended. You squeezed out of your spot, hitting your head on the roof, and Jeongin pulled you in for a forehead kiss. The world grew brighter when you smiled, he realized.

Hyunjin shadows Jeongin around all day, hoping to learn the reason for the breakup. Unfortunately, Jeongin doesn’t say anything. He does show some regret though, as he scrolls through past messages and old pictures. When he heads to classes, he opts to walk instead of skateboarding like usual and avoids the quad whenever possible.

In the evening, while Jeongin is chewing on his salad like a cow to cud, Hyunjin pays you a visit. He finds in the freezer section of the grocery store with three pints of ice cream in your basket. From the looks of it, you’re about to add another three to your haul. Peanut butter pretzel sounds equal parts delicious and confusing.

Hyunjin studies your expression, frowning at the same time you do. Your eyes are ringed with red, your jaw tight, and your eyebrows seem permanently furrowed. When he follows you back home, he half expects you to start crying on the way, but you hold fast and manage to open a pint of the salted caramel flavor before the tears finally come. There’s no wailing, just sniffling and the sound of you furiously wiping at your face with the sleeve of your hoodie. In the midst of it all, you find the strength to reorganize the freezer to make space for the other pints. Something about that makes Hyunjin’s heart drop.

By the time your roommate discovers you in the kitchen, the entire refrigerator has been reorganized and the ice cream finished. You sit in a dark room, your finger hovering above the ‘SEND’ button of a message to Jeongin. Hyunjin can see it if he flies above you: “Can you please just tell me why? You keep saying you did something wrong, but I don’t even know what it is. Please let me decide if it’s worth breaking up over.”

“Rough day?” she gently asks as she flips on the switch.

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

“Maybe tomorrow. I just wanna process it right now,” you hollowly say. You grab your skateboard — the same black, paint-splattered one you had last year — and unlock the front door. “I’m going out for a ride, but I’ll be back in an hour or so.”

“Stay safe.”

After you leave, Jisung phases through the kitchen walls and hisses at Hyunjin, “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be with Jeongin?”

He nearly forgot about him. Eating dinner isn’t a dangerous task anyway though. Besides, if Jeongin does get physically harmed somehow, Hyunjin will feel an echo of the pain. Hyunjin glances at the door, and Jisung shakes his head.

“I’ll take care of her. Go back to Jeongin, and make sure he’s okay. You can’t keep leaving him all the time.”

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“Good.”

Hyunjin reluctantly goes back to Jeongin, who is still eating his salad. His resolve from last night is clearly gone as evidenced by his melancholy expression as he scrolls through even more photos. The one of you in mid-air makes him clutch his phone.

“Let me get one of you when you’re really high up,” Jeongin suggested. He was comfortable gliding around on a skateboard now, but nowhere comfortable enough to try any tricks. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from trying to get him to learn. The “pop shove it” was your favorite, solely for the amount of height you could get.

“Okay.”

As you did over and over again for your enthusiastic boyfriend who was unfortunately not that great of a photographer, Hyunjin observed from a rooftop behind Jeongin. Sometimes you looked like you were flying. He could imagine wings protruding from your back, and if the sun hit you just right, there appeared to be a halo as well.

“I got one!” Jeongin exclaimed as he held up his device to you. “Look.”

Hyunjin couldn’t see for himself, but your mouth dropped into an ‘o’ once you took a first glance. A flustered smile made its way onto your face, and everything about you turned soft.

“This looks amazing,” you said. You sidled up to him and rested your cheek against his shoulder, turning your head towards him. “I love you.”

The words hung in the air for a few seconds as both Hyunjin and Jeongin tried to process them. This was the first time you had ever said them, and it came seemingly out of nowhere. Hyunjin recovered first.

“Say ‘I love you’ back, you moron,” Hyunjin whispered, like Jeongin would be able to hear him from this distance. “‘I love you too.’”

“I wanted to say it first,” Jeongin finally said. “Ugh, I had it all planned out too. We were supposed to get doughnuts after this, and I was going to buy you one of those heart-shaped ones.”

You kissed him on the cheek and intertwined your fingers with his. “We can still do that.”

At the doughnut shop, he said the words second, and you kissed him again, leaving a crystal of glaze on the corner of his mouth. Hyunjin licked his lips as if you had left it on him instead.

“Did you find out?” Jisung asks when Hyunjin leaves Jeongin to check up on you. You’re skating around the city, making sharp swerves and weaving in-between lampposts. Jisung is trailing behind you in the sky, but he slows when he sees Hyunjin approaching.

“No, but—”

“Then go back to him. Hyunjin,” Jisung sighs, “I know you care about her, but she’s not your human. Jeongin’s your responsibility.”

“I know but—”

“Go back. And I’m telling you this not as your friend but as your senior. You’re a guardian angel, and you need to take your responsibilities seriously. I’ll get the Archangel involved if I have to. Do you want to get Seungminned?”

The threat of the Archangel strangely doesn’t scare him anymore, however. In fact, the Archangel being involved may solve many of his current issues.

“I’ll find you again when I find out,” Hyunjin slowly says.

Jisung nods in approval before racing after you again. Hyunjin heads to Heaven, not to keep an eye over his human but to become human.

Ten months into Jeongin’s relationship with you, Hyunjin asked Minho, “Is it possible to give up your divinity?”

Minho gave Hyunjin a curious look. “Is being a guardian angel that taxing for you? You haven’t even experienced a full lifespan yet. I know, twenty year-olds are annoying, but it’s not nearly as bad as forty year-olds and their mid-life crisis.”

“I’m just curious. Or, as a last resort,” he added, hoping that Minho would stop being suspicious if he joked about it. “My human’s been making some dumb choices.”

A lie, but Minho fell for it.

“I told you he was going to be a troublemaker!” he cackled. He sympathetically patted Hyunjin’s back. “If I’m being honest, I thought about it a few times. I always get assigned to the troublemakers. Probably because the higher-ups hate me for not tolerating their BS. They’re always playing favorites. Anyway, the easiest way is to get expelled by the Archangel. It’s happened a few times before.”

“Can’t you just ask him?”

Minho smirked. “You don’t think other angels have tried that? He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. It’s supposed to be a punishment.”

“What’s the hard way then?”

“Same thing minus the Archangel getting involved: your wings getting cut off,” he matter-of-factly answered. “The halo will break once your wings are detached. It’s only been done once, by the way.”

Hyunjin absentmindedly rubbed the area where the bones of his wings met with his shoulder blades. All he needed were two clean cuts across his practically impenetrable back.

“How do you do that?”

“With the Archangel’s sword. Another angel has to cut it though; you can’t do it yourself.”

The Archangel would likely banish him to Hell for even asking about his weapon. If Hyunjin ever did manage to steal the sword away, Jisung would never agree to it. He couldn’t just ask any angel to help him.

“How do you know about all this?” Hyunjin asked.

Minho hesitated, something he rarely did. He quickly recovered, hiding his sudden apprehension with his usual devil-may-care nonchalance. “I can’t give away all of my secrets.”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?”

Friends. The word hung in the air like the sun, and Hyunjin knew that Minho would tell him because underneath all of his bluster was loneliness. Because no one liked Minho, or if they did, they still avoided him anyway.

“Yeah, we are,” Minho answered, smiling for a second before a strange expression crossed over his face, pride mixed with a touch of sadness. “Do you really think the Archangel would have expelled one of his favorite guardian angels that easily?”

“Who are you talking about?”

“Seungmin. He asked me to cut his wings for him.”

“I need you to cut my wings,” are Hyunjin’s first words to Minho after not speaking to him for days.

To his credit, Minho is only speechless for a few seconds. The dove in his hand pecks at him for more headpats before he recovers. “Well, do you have the sword?”

“No, but I think I can get it. When I do though, would you do it? You’re the only one I trust.”

Minho sighs and tosses the bird out of Heaven, grimacing a bit when he hears it squawk. When he faces Hyunjin, he smiles the same smile he did when he talked about Seungmin. “It’s always me, huh? I’ll do you one better. I’ll steal the sword for you. The Archangel’s been pissing me off anyway.”

For once, Hyunjin’s thoughts are not on you but his friend. He imagined that Minho would be willing, but perhaps he’s too willing. “Are you trying to get expelled as well? We can go together.”

“No, I like being immortal. I hate all of the BS I get put through sometimes, but the Archangel can’t kick me out. He swore an oath to me a long time ago before he got promoted, and it’s pretty much unbreakable. Besides, even Heaven needs a scapegoat.”

That explains why virtually no angels interact with Minho, Hyunjin being the exception. He has never heard of the Archangel being oathsworn, though it seems likely that the Archangel wants to keep that a secret.

“How are you going to get it?” Hyunjin asks. “How did Seungmin even get it? The Archangel always has it with him.”

“Seungmin was one of his favorites,” Minho reminds him. “He had easy access to him, and the Archangel trusted him enough to let him borrow it for ‘a study.’ Don’t worry about me though. Just wait for me on Earth. Somewhere where no one goes. I’ll find you, slice off your wings, and the Archangel won’t even know what happened to you.”

“That’s not possible. He always keeps it on him.”

Minho shrugs, a gleam in his eyes. “I’ve done it before. Why do you think I’m the scapegoat?”

Seungmin. For Minho and now Hyunjin, being Seungminned didn’t mean being expelled for being frivolous anymore; it meant leaving of your own accord.

“What happened to him?” Hyunjin asked. “Why didn’t the Archangel grant his divinity back? Someone should have spotted him on Earth.”

Minho’s wry grin was back. “You think the Archangel wanted everyone to find out the golden boy of Heaven no longer wanted to be an angel? Plenty of angels already saw him roaming Earth. It was easier to let everyone think that Seungmin was banished. So when they saw him on Earth, he was just a fallen angel, nothing important.” He nudged Hyunjin’s arm, and the solemn atmosphere vanished. “A troublemaking human isn’t all that bad. Like I said, the twenties are annoying, but they’re manageable. Is he one of those partying types?”

“He goes out sometimes,” Hyunjin carefully replied. Jeongin liked hanging out with his friends and you — mostly you, now that Hyunjin thought about it — but he wasn’t getting blackout drunk every night. At least, Hyunjin hoped he wasn’t. He usually watched over you if you were ever in the vicinity. “Speaking of which, I should check up on him.”

Minho said his goodbyes, and Hyunjin flew back to Earth once he saw that you weren’t with Jeongin. You were studying at your desk, rolling a pen between your fingers, reading through a document on your laptop. The desk light casted a warm glow on your face. You frowned, and your lower lip swelled outwards.

He wished he were human.

Just as Minho said, Hyunjin waits for him to arrive in a secluded part of the university campus. The building rooftop is devoid of anyone, and the area surrounding it is empty as well. The evening turns into night, then night into the early morning when the sky begins lightening. Still, Minho has not come.

He distantly wonders how Jeongin is faring and his promise to Jisung. When he’s human, he’ll ask Jeongin directly, maybe in disguise of a survey: “Why did you break up with your last partner?” Even to him, it sounds stupid. However, that’s not the real reason why he’s giving up his divinity, so it hardly matters to him. Jisung is resourceful; he’ll find out eventually.

Finally, when the sun peeks over the horizon, Minho descends from Heaven, a familiar silver sword in his hand. He lands beside Hyunjin, a triumphant smile on his face. But his usual humor has been replaced with solemnity.

“You’re sure about this?” he asks as he rests the blade on the top of Hyunjin’s wings.

He has never felt so sure of anything in his life. “Yes.”

“It’s going to hurt.”

“Then make it quick.”

Searing pain shoots through his body as the sword pierces through the thin skin and into the bone. The process is not as nearly as seamless as Hyunjin hoped it would be, and Minho breathes heavily as he pushes the blade down. Bones snap, feathers drift to the floor, and blood trickles down his back. The pain only grows greater near the end, but Hyunjin grits his teeth and keeps quiet. Dawn breaks when his wings finally fall to the floor, no longer white but splattered with red. Soon they fade into dust, and the remnants scatter into the wind. His golden halo shatters into sunlight. The world dulls as the last of his powers disappear, but everything feels much better than when he was an angel.

“Thank you,” he whispers to Minho, who he cannot even look at anymore. His eyes would be burned.

“You’re fallen, not quite mortal and not quite divine. You won’t be affected by all of an angel’s power.”

When Hyunjin cautiously glances at him, Minho waves the bloody sword at him. “See?”

“Yeah.” He wanted humanity, but this is good enough for him. He just needs you to be able to see him, hear him, touch him.

“I need to go back before Heaven becomes Hell, but find Seungmin if you can. He can help you figure things out. Last I heard, he’s living somewhere in the mountains.”

“Thank you,” he repeats. “Minho, I can’t even put it into words about how much this means to me. Thank you for everything you’ve done.”

Minho pats his shoulder before stripping off his clean shirt. “Clean yourself before you leave. No one wants to witness a walking crime scene this early in the morning.”

When he flies back to Heaven, the last thing Hyunjin sees are his wings, still pure white.

“Hey,” you said as you laced your fingers with Jeongin’s. He had just finished class, and you had waited for him outside the building. Hyunjin had sat on the other end of the bench, savoring the proximity. That was the closest he would ever get to you. “Are you busy tonight? The skate shop just announced — literally an hour ago, those jerks — that they were doing a midnight drop, and I kind of want a new deck.”

“Ugh, I’ve been meaning to buy new trucks, but I have to meet up with my group tonight. Send me pictures though.”

Disappointment only momentarily flooded through Hyunjin. If it was anything like the last two meetups, it would be at the library, and the library was a safe place. Jeongin would be fine there. Hyunjin would be free to shadow you as you went to the skate shop.

“I can get it for you,” you offered.

He shook his head. “It’s fine. Maybe I’ll just wait for a sale.”

“Don’t be surprised if I do get you new trucks,” you warned. You let go of his hand and held his arm. “I still owe you for last month’s dinner.”

Jeongin shook his head again, a smile making its way onto his face. “You don’t owe me anything but a kiss.”

“Flirt,” you laughed as you pressed your lips to his cheek. “Never change, Yang Jeongin.”

That night at the skate shop, Hyunjin hovered above you as you stood in line, chatting with others. There were no unscrupulous characters around, but he stayed with you, only going back to Jeongin when Jisung insisted. However, by then, Hyunjin had already seen you eyeing the shiny teal trucks through the window. Hyunjin knew nothing about skateboards even after all those months, but you seemed pleased by them.

“You’re only getting trucks for sure?” your brand new acquaintance asked. “This is, like, the biggest drop they’ve ever done.”

You shrugged. “I’m kind of on the fence about the decks I saw on the email. I don’t know. Maybe wheels too?”

Meanwhile, Jisung hissed, “Hyunjin, go before something happens. What if a fight breaks out?”

Hyunjin sincerely doubted that one would happen at the library. He lingered around, taking his time unfolding his wings and stretching them.

“Your boyfriend’s lucky,” your acquaintance sighed.

“Nah, I’m the lucky one.”

Daisies, that’s what he needs right now. Choosing the rooftop of a building was not a smart decision, but the access door is thankfully unlocked, and Hyunjin races down all of the emergency stairs. However, with no form of currency on him, Hyunjin heads to the quad, hoping that he can pull up some dandelions for you. You need to be supported, and bright yellow flowers are just the thing.

What he doesn’t expect though, is to find you doing pop shove its at your usual spot. It’s so early in the day; did you even go back to your apartment to sleep?

“Good morning,” he calls as he walks closer. He waves at you, and you can see him! You tentatively wave back and give him a halfhearted smile. “How are you today? You look beautiful.”

“Thanks, and I’m fine,” you politely reply as you take a step back away from him. “What about you?”

Hyunjin curses in his head and takes another step towards you. “I’m good. Really good, actually. I was wondering if you could teach me how to skateboard. I’m new here, and skateboarding seems like an efficient way to get around.”

You flinch at his words, and he desperately wants to take them back. How did Jeongin do it? Why do his statements come out so stiff? “You seem pretty good at it.”

“Are you not cold?” you blurt out. Hyunjin curses again as he realizes that he’s shirtless. His old one was stained, and Minho’s was as well as the result of his cleanup. This isn’t how it’s supposed to go. “You know, I have to get going, but it was nice meeting you.”

“Hyunjin. My name’s Hyunjin.”

“Nice meeting you, Hyunjin.”

You grab your board and immediately head off to the direction of your apartment. Hyunjin is tempted to follow, but he stays where he is. A bad first impression isn’t the end of the world. The only thing holding him back is his lack of a shirt.

He wanders through the quad, scanning the grass for some flowers. Most of them are the white, fluffy dandelions, but he needs the bright yellow version. However, he takes the white ones anyway in case he can’t find any. The wind scatters the seeds, and he—

“Hyunjin, I told you not to come back.”

Jisung.

Hyunjin turns around, dropping his bouquet onto the ground. To his horror, not only is Jisung present but also the Archangel. His sword is strapped to his side like usual, not a blood splatter tainting it. Minho did an excellent job of cleaning up the crime scene.

“Jisung, Archangel,” Hyunjin nervously greets. The Archangel frightens him now. “How can I help you?”

“Jisung, why did you bring me here?” the Archangel asks. “I have other things to attend to.”

“He’s abandoned his human too many times, and I don’t think he’s fit to be a guardian angel anymore.”

The Archangel grasps the hilt of his sword and studies Hyunjin, up and down, back and forth. He circles him, and Hyunjin can almost feel his mortality-divinity shining through his body. Jisung hasn’t noticed yet, but there is no doubt the Archangel hasn’t.

“Normally,” the Archangel begins, “the punishment for not fulfilling your duties as a guardian angel is being expelled from Heaven. But you have already fallen.”

“What?” comes Jisung’s shocked voice.

“It was a mistake,” Hyunjin tries. Minho’s words ring in his ear: He only expels the ones who don’t want to be. “I thought I wanted humanity, but I’ve realized that being a guardian angel is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Please. Grant me my divinity back. I will never abandon my human again. I will swear an oath if I have to.”

The Archangel smiles with no teeth, and a chill runs down Hyunjin’s spine. “I’m in a forgiving mood today, so I will do just as you ask. Your divinity will be granted back, but you will no longer be a guardian angel. I’m stripping you of those powers and those duties. You will be replaced immediately. It was my mistake for tasking you with such a large responsibility when you weren’t ready yet.”

With just a snap of the Archangel’s fingers, Hyunjin’s senses sharpen, and the world comes hurtling at him. Nothing is dull anymore, but everything feels so dark and wrong. You will never be able to see him, hear him, or talk to him again. And he will never be able to either. Power surges inside of him, and new wings burst through his shoulder blades, fanning out once they reappear. A silver halo hangs over his head. There is no physical pain into becoming immortal again, yet he wishes there was something. Everything he and Minho did was erased with ease.

Hyunjin swallows the lump in his throat. “Thank you,” he chokes out.

“You’re very welcome. Come along now. Only guardian angels are allowed to be on Earth.”

Hyunjin follows the Archangel back to Heaven while Jisung goes after you. The Archangel loudly deliberates on who he should be replaced with, and Hyunjin knows that his request was not granted with kindness. The Archangel informs that he will be a messenger again. Hyunjin barely hears him as he takes one last look at Earth. Jeongin is there. Jisung is there. You are there.

Hyunjin avoids Minho’s eyes as he flies inside the realm behind the Archangel and hides among the rest of the regular angels until he is called to send a message. The higher-ups recognize him, make snide remarks about his demotion, and make pitiful faces at him. He barely registers them. There is a hollowness in him, and no matter how many memories he recalls, it isn’t enough to fill the void.

A few weeks later, Jisung approaches him, but even he stays a healthy distance away. “Hyunjin.” The disdain is clear.

“Jisung.”

“You knew about the reason all along, didn’t you? You were there when it happened.”

“When what happened?”

Realization dawns upon Jisung, and he shakes his head in disgust. “I should have known. You weren’t with him that night because you left him like you always did! You could have done something. Make him fall off his chair or something. Make the girl lose her balance. Instead, both of our humans suffered because you weren’t there.”

“What happened?”

“A girl from his group project randomly kissed him, and he thought he had been leading her on and cheating on his own girlfriend, so he broke up with her because he thought that would be the right thing to do instead of just telling her what actually happened. They’re back together now because he finally got the nerve to give her closure. It took nearly a month. They were miserable for a month. All because of you.”

It stings. “They’re okay now, right?”

“They’re fine, no thanks to you.” Just when Hyunjin thinks he’s going to leave, he takes a step forward, lips curled into sneer. “You know, angels and humans aren’t allowed to be with each other. It’s been forbidden for millenia.”

“I know,” he whispers. “But I loved her, and I had to try.”

“She would have never chosen you anyway.”

He never had a chance, did he?

~ ad.gray

Yes, you did! I remembered it and wondered if you were going to come back! Hope you enjoyed this! <3

#stray kids #skz #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin #stray kids angst #skz angst #hyunjin angst #stray kids imagines #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #skz imagines #skz fanfic #skz scenarios #hyunjin imagines #hyunjin scenarios #hyunjin x reader #guardian angel au #anniversary special #20210816

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tiramisiyu · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Xia Yan’s Anniversary/Kiss Date

Not a translation, but rather an unleashing of the many thoughts I had for his date because it made me feel so many emotions and think so many things;;

Wordcount: 2.8k

Date Translation

Preamble

Tears of Themis’ 1st anniversary features one of the most significant in-story events you can view within an otome game - the confession event between MC and respective male leads. The gravity of this confession event, however, is intensified with respect to the ML Xia Yan, as their emotions towards each other is not the only focus of said confession - he must also reveal the heartbreaking truth that his life is likely to end in three years.

In the below sections, I will discuss the significance of various components that comprise Xia Yan’s anniversary date. My primary focuses will be on Xia Yan’s internal struggles, his care for MC, and the nature of the confession, and I aim to ultimately express why this date had such a major effect on me and whoa if you’re still reading this rambling part, I applaud you. I’m really just doing a fancy thoughtdump here.

The Nature of the Confession Event

From the beginning, XY never intended for the confession to be full of pomp and circumstance - and this was out of concern for MC, fearing that she would be too swept up in emotion to make it. Based on how the other guys’ cards look (them being outside and MC’s all dressed up), I assume that there was some ceremony-like aspect to their respective confessions, and I think that this draws a stark contrast to XY’s (who staunchly refused Yang Xiao’s offer to help make his confession just as ceremonial). In XY’s, MC’s not dressed up the way she is for the others, and both have been drenched in rain and are dissolving into tears of sadness as they speak. In addition, their desires are conflicting (rather than a situation where both parties confess and get together, and thus have coinciding interests) - despite what XY has said before, he does not want MC to be with him, while MC wants the exact opposite. It’s not a beautiful or gorgeous scene by design - instead, it’s very raw, very 狼狈 as the two lay bare their own painful emotions, discuss/cry about heavy topics, and show very vulnerable sides to each other, trying to get through to the other person.

Speaking of showing vulnerability, the fact that Xia Yan is so anguished by what he has to say that he has to sit down and cry hits particularly hard because he has always, always tried to put on a strong face in front of MC. Whenever his illness strikes and MC sees it, such as in aquarium date or Neruda poem date, he’ll smile and/or joke about it after. When the two were talking about his posthumous letters during the RRG date, he still had a calm smile on his face. Even when he talked about being shoved into a car trunk to be “disposed of”, he was still calmly smiling. As MC noted, his job has taught him to have extreme control over his emotions, so it’s almost overwhelming, trying to imagine how much sadness pushed him to that point.

Pathetic fallacy also plays a part in increasing the impact that the confession event had. In the days leading up to the last part of the date, storms keep striking suddenly, such that it’s even described as “strange”. Storms are, of course, generally associated with less-pleasant things, such as conflict, anger, depression, difficulty, and so on. The meaning behind why they appeared suddenly or frequently is a little harder to understand, but my assumption for the frequency of the storms (rather than an ongoing storm or gloom) reflects how things could not completely “clear up” (despite uplifts in emotion from time to time) until they confronted each other with their feelings. During the confrontation, not only is the storm still going on, but they’re also harshly drenched in the cold rainwater. It is only after the kiss, after their interests finally coincide, that the storm lifts and the beautiful starry sky casts its light on Xia Yan, who was holding the majority of the conflict/sadness/depression between the two of them. (This is also highlighted in how MC notes that Xia Yan feels slightly cold (during the kiss), and she tries to transfer her warmth over to him, trying to alleviate that heavy emotion that’s wrapped itself around him.)

The Location

The attic of their old home remains an important location for these two, and I pretty much can’t think of a better choice to set the confession. It contains their childhood memories, and it also came into play during Xia Yan’s first birthday after his return (i.e. the idea of continuing to make memories there). It’s also interesting to note that Xia Yan, from his rational mindset, did not intend to see MC… yet he still came to this place - a place that was equally meaningful to both of them, and a place where he’s likely to get lost in emotion. He may be restraining his emotions for MC’s good, yet they still show in small places. (At least, there doesn’t seem to be any logical reason for him to be there, since he wasn’t setting anything up there…)

The Humanizing and Internal Conflict of Xia Yan

I call it “humanizing” because I’ve done some commenting before on how Xia Yan has felt a little superhuman - so many skills everywhere, and rarely a moment of weakness. Now, this date really drives home that he is just human too, with the harsh reality of imminent death hanging over him (especially since we also learn a few more concrete details on exactly what his illness is). This point is brought into attention when he talks about how he’s neither able to be as brave as Schumann (who acted based on emotion) nor as silently strong as Brahms (who acted based on reason). He’s pulled in so many directions for all the things he wants - a desire to stay by MC’s side and do so much with her, whether as family or as something more, versus his rational mindset that tells him to not see her at all, to disappear from her life after, or to push her away even after her confession. There was also his “rationally” created plan in which he would give her the letter and let her decide, yet he still tries to convince her to not be with him.

The Schumann/Brahms comparison shows how he keeps getting pulled back and forth between reason and emotion. He reveals his feelings to MC (Schumann), but wants her to make the optimal decision, which he believes is to not be with him (Brahms). He then kisses her after hearing her conviction (Schumann) and then gives her the gift that’s linked to Brahms. In realizing that he’s not able to stick to either path, he calls himself a coward - but he doesn’t need to be like either person. As MC says, his restraint is a part of his own background, and his emotional wavering is because of his care for MC - all in all, his motivations are because he is Xia Yan, not Schumann or Brahms.

Personal Story Chapter 2 Parallels

In Xia Yan’s personal chapter 2, Yang Xiao sets up the story of 零/Zero and 玛丽薇莎/Marivisa to mirror MC and Xia Yan (respectively). The mention of what will bring Zero and MC happiness is starkly similar in these two situations:

⊳ Personal Ch.2-9

Xia Yan: 因为...这样，零会更幸福... 她不是在牺牲，她只是用自��的方式让零能幸福。Because this way, Zero would be happier… She wasn’t sacrificing herself. She was only using her own methods to make Zero happy.

MC: 但零的幸福就是她啊。But Zero’s happiness is her.

Xia Yan: 她已经无法给零幸福了。 It’s already impossible for her to give Zero happiness.

⊳ Date

Xia Yan: 如果你选择别的男人。。。只要他能给你幸福。我只会带给你不幸，我没有时间了。。。If you choose another man… As long as he can make you happy. All I can bring you is unhappiness. I don’t have much time left…

MC: 你怎么可能带给我不幸，你怎么可能做不到给我幸福。你在我身边，你的存在本身，就是我的幸福。How is it possible that you can only bring me unhappiness? How is it impossible for you to bring me happiness? You being by my side – your very existence – is my happiness.

Yes, the Zero/Marivisa story was intentionally made to parallel these two, so it might feel moot to compare them like this. However, I still really appreciated that they brought this discussion of what brings MC/Zero happiness back, especially since XY’s chapter 2 was very major in developing his character. Back then, MC is vehement in that Zero would have been happier spending all the time he could with Marivisa, as well as even having the choice to spend that time with her. I think that this part was instrumental in Xia Yan eventually deciding to tell her the truth and letting her make her own decision (as he explicitly stated to Yang Xiao in part 1 of the date). However, he still wasn’t fully convinced by what MC said back in chapter 2, so we satisfyingly see this discussion of happiness come full circle by the end of this date, when Xia Yan finally trusts MC to make the best decision for herself.

Xia Yan’s Considerateness

Xia Yan’s enduring consideration for MC displays itself in nearly every single action within this date.

The flashback, when he thinks about MC potentially having to go through what the widow is now experiencing, and how his own happiness for three years isn’t worth that

His conviction to give her the right to decide in this matter that involves both of them, because he can’t be the one to decide everything

He insisted on not making it a romantic event, because he wants MC to make the best decision without having a mind clouded by emotion. He’s also made peace with the idea of not being with MC, for the sake of her long-term happiness. All he wants is for her to know the truth of his feelings and illness.

His decision to still make MC a gift to retain some aspect of the romance in the confession (but he only gives the gift after MC has made her decision, again to ensure that her mind isn’t clouded). I think the concept of the gift is particularly beautiful - the little, happy holograms of them inside the glass, as if ensuring that he will always be by her side in some way; the music that brings back their childhood memories and alludes to an enduring, quiet, and protecting love that puts the recipient first (i.e. Brahms to Clara); and the rainbow, which has its childhood memories and treasure implications that are already mentioned in the date, but it also reminded me of the miraculous double rainbow in his Lost Gold date. That double rainbow was the trigger for Xia Yan to proactively seek out a future with MC, when he took the initiative to ask MC if she could be with him to seek out more miracles. Overall, there are a lot of beautiful memories and implications wrapped up in that music box/snowglobe.

The little comical segment where he worries about the optimal time to deliver the letter, worrying about MC’s sleep or if she’ll be able to eat well.

His stress over what he should’ve done after the letter was delivered, and how he immediately answered MC’s call out of pure worry, despite being so resolute about not answering her calls that he’d turned on airplane mode before.

Their ensuing discussion in part 3 is just full of Xia Yan’s consideration for MC at its peak -

Rather than being ecstatic about MC’s confession, his first instinct is to tell her to take a few days to think about it logically. (But really, emotions aren’t logical to begin with, so it’s not like MC would’ve stopped liking you after mulling it over for a few days, haha)

His immediate apology after yelling that he has to mention his death

His worry about how MC will cope after he’s gone, going so far as to saying that she would be better off with another man

I think that this particular (above) line got a particularly visceral reaction from Xia Yan fans, including myself. Because like MC, our initial thoughts fell along the lines of “How could I ever choose someone else when the only person I like is you? There’s just no way someone else could make me happier…”. Another reaction that I’ve seen among Xia Yan fans (yep, including myself) is how we originally viewed the story in third-person, seeing “MC” in the story, but this date (and this particular scene, where MC says nearly everything that I myself would want to say) dragged us into a first-person position.

The heartbreaking scene where Xia Yan cries from being unable to give MC the happiness that he wants to give her (or so he thinks).

He’s just so painfully selfless. I also really like the line during the kiss where MC tries to transmit her warmth to him, trying to balance things out between them and have him feel better, when he had already written himself off by thinking that his happiness is better off sacrificed for hers.

Jin Xian’s Voice Acting

Jin Xian’s voice acting deserves a whole section to itself, because I think that he did an amazing job of portraying the intense emotions Xia Yan feels during the date. Just going to list some lines that really hit hard - both because of the content, and because of the voice acting that really considered how Xia Yan would be feeling then.

我可以去追她，我甚至可以和她结婚。我可以把最后的三年过得很好，过的毫无遗憾，但是然后呢？她一个人要怎么办。。。谁陪她走出来，谁来照顾她。。。(“I could pursue her. I could even marry her. I could live my last three years happily, without the slightest of regrets. But what about after? How will she cope on her own… Who will be with her as she handles this? Who will take care of her…”) The ups and downs of this section’s voicing really hit hard.

The gentleness with which he speaks about what he plans to tell MC, especially the line 她从来都是这样 (“She’s always been like that.”)

He’s so cute in Part 2!! The tone’s a lot happier and relaxed and it’s really nice to see and hear.

In part 3, the vehemence with which he talks about how the risks of MC’s work aren’t comparable to his established time limit, which then softens into something sadder when he talks about how Yang Xiao’s efforts haven’t extended his time by much.

The intensity when he says 我必须说 ! (“I have to say it!”) (when MC reacts to him using the word “death”), and how he immediately softens his tone after. But then his voice starts to rise again as he worries for how MC will bear his death… and then he takes a break to calm down, and then makes the suggestion of MC finding another man with a near-inflectionless tone that gradually slips into a whisper

His whispering voice makes the impact of 我在乎。。。！(I care…!) hit even harder because it’s suddenly loud, and you can clearly hear the tears in his voice. Once again, he takes a breath to calm himself down and quiet his voice. But even as he keeps talking in a voice that descends into a whisper again, you can tell that he’s still on the verge of crying…

Also the 我也。。。好喜欢，最喜欢你. (I also… like you. I like you the most) line left me screaming with how it was whispered but really strong and adamant-sounding aaaaa

Anyways I could list more but at that point I might as well list Jin Xian’s entire script lmao. He did such a good job!!!!!!

Sound Effects

I’m laughing at myself for including this section - if you turn off the music that accompanies Xia Yan’s card, you’ll… hear some very interesting sound effects [狗头]

They’ve got to make the most of their limited time together, after all, and this is the only date out of the set of four that’s indoors… it makes sense…

Other Thoughts

Two kisses!!

What sort of treatment would leave Xia Yan infected with drugs with prohibited components? What were they even trying to do?

The date was short relative to the other, super-long Themis dates, but I’m personally alright with that because it places focus on the confession itself. It hit all the points that I personally was expecting for Xia Yan’s confession, including his past struggles with the idea of staying with MC, his confession about both his feelings and his illness, and how resolute MC is about staying with him vs. how hard he tries to get her to understand the implications of being him, considering that he doesn’t have much time left.

I think now’s a good time for the two of them to get married if they’re well aware that Xia Yan’s time is limited, so Xia Yan, where’s the ruby ring?

I wonder what implications this will have on the main story - e.g. will the rest of NXX find out about Xia Yan’s illness in Chapter 7.2? Or will they never know? Actually, I wonder if they’ll have MC be aware of his illness in the main story because… that implies his confession happened, which might anger fans of the other boys.

Conclusion

I love Xia Yan and I love this date.

#tears of themis #xia yan #luke pearce #rambles #this whole thing is kinda messy so kudos if you made it through

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sapphicwhxre · 3 years

Text

you

♥︎ pairing: ginny weasley x fem!houseneutral!reader

♥︎ summary: ginny distances herself from you because she thinks you love someone else.

♥︎ requested: yes | no

♥︎ warnings: angst, heartbreak, self hate/comparison, total inconsistency since if you're in the trio’s year you wouldn’t have class with ginny + astoria isn’t in ginny’s year but shush its a fic

pumpkin pasties, chocolate frogs, and all your other favourite treats jumped around in ginny’s bag. the gryffindor girl had gone to help ron woo some mystery girl who he’d taken a liking to and stumbled upon his stash of candies. ginny had called it a fee for her services and decided she’d share her earnings with the girl she loved most, both as a friend and more ─ that girl was you and as far as ginny knew, you were completely oblivious to her feelings.

it was a wednesday afternoon so she could only assume you were having your weekly study session with the gryffindor golden girl herself, hermione granger.

the pep in her step made her red hair bounce on her shoulders, her excitement to see you growing with each one she took. ginny turned the corner, finally at your study spot and she paused. you looked emotional, to put it simply, and you clutched what appeared to be a crumpled piece of parchment that someone had changed their mind about tossing.

there was a nervous gloss to your eyes and ginny thought she should leave, letting you and hermione talk alone. but her curiosity and just the way she cared for you got the best of her.

taking a deep breath and not noticing ginny behind the pillar ─ where she wasn’t so much as hiding, but quietly observing ─ you started to read off of the parchment. “there’s no easy way to say this,” you read clearly, but your shy, quivering smile gave away how you felt about reading what was written. was it a letter? had you written it? “but i love you.”

ginny’s heart stopped. she swallowed thickly, uncertain of how to process the sinking feeling in her chest. you exhaled shakily and smiled, biting your lip and staring down at the words you'd written.

“i love your hair,” you laughed, running your hand over your own nervously. “i love your eyes when you’re happy and the sound of your voice. did you know your nose scrunches when you laugh? it’s adorable. i’ve never met someone who brights up my life like you do. i love how you always know what to say and i love that i can be myself with you. i love your heart, you’re everything i adore. i love when i can look into your eyes because mine fill with the love i’ve only ever felt for you. the only thing more beautiful to me is you. it’s that same look that i’ve never been able to tell if you’ve given me back. my thoughts go cloudy when i’m with you. i love you so much. you’re... you. how could i not have fallen in love with you?"

as she looked at hermione’s angel-like face, ginny felt hot drops of some form of sadness more intense than she even knew possible well up in her eyes. hermione’s lips were parted in awe and she was smiling.

hermione granger, brightest, most beautiful witch of her age. beside you, in ginny’s opinion, but you were right. how could you not have fallen in love with hermione?

you folded up the letter and sighed, no longer reading but still going. “even if you don't love me, it was worth every word. i’ve never regretted anything when it comes to loving you. yours, y/n l/n.”

hermione grinned at you, “that was beautiful, y/n. truly... gods, i didn’t know you had that in you.” ginny fled, not wanting to watch what came next or hear what hermione had to say about how she felt for you. she’d break like the porcelain her skin resembled if hermione said she loved you back... if hermione kissed you, like ginny had only dreamed of.

wiping away the tears that stained her cheeks, she hated herself. y/n loves hermione. she just wished she hadn’t listened. she shouldn’t have fallen for you in the first place or let herself have foolish hope. even more foolish to think she could ever win you over when you could have hermione. older, brighter, and beautiful. she was fool, and now ginny believed had paid the price for it.

but had she stayed only a second longer, she’d have heard hermione’s stunned words. “ginny’s going to love every word, y/n, i know it.” bubbling with nerves, you threw yourself to hug her and squeezed tightly, just as ginny turned to steal one last glance at you. “thank you ‘mione, you’re the best.”

you were inaudible from the distance but there you were in hermione’s arms, giggling and chattering. despite the fact that you were joking about her own crush, ron, the sight only made ginny sick. ginny lost her appetite and made her way to her dorm, instead of the great hall where dinner would be starting in just a few minutes.

the heartbroken girl probably would have thrown up right then and there, had she seen you and hermione walk into the great hall. arm in arm, you were practically shaking with anticipation. of course, she’d incorrectly imagined that you’d be parading in with intertwined fingers and smeared lipstick but through a made up mind, it’d look like all the same.

“where’s gin?” you found a seat next to ron and harry, scanning the table for her red ponytail. through a mouthful of food, ron shrugged and answered, “must have gotten held up.” hermione rolled her eyes with disgust, silently scolding him for his ill manners.

you took the opportunity to tease the two. “never invite me to dinner at your home, save the fighting for your kids.” they both blushed heavily and stammered out how they’d never fancy the other, then immediately spewing out offense at the implication. ron huffed and harry spoke over them, rolling his eyes heavily.

“what about you, y/n? i thought you and ginny would be an item by now,” harry didn't really care either way, but it did seem ridiculous for the two of you to dance around dating for so long, especially since he somewhat saw her as a little sister. and truth be told, everyone was curious about you two.

even ron perked up and hermione smirked knowingly. “leave her alone, it’s none of your business,” she announced.

ron narrowed his eyes and started, “hermione, do you know something?” hurrying to stop them from bickering again, you cleared your throat. “i wrote ginny a letter, laying out exactly how i feel for her. now if you’ll excuse me, i’m going to go find her because i don’t think she’s coming.”

you hopped out of your seat, taking some food for her, and left poor harry alone with the arguing lovebirds to go confess your feelings.

you hummed to yourself, going to knock on ginny’s dorm door. her dorm mate opened the door and looked you up and down, glaring angrily. “what do you want?” she crossed her arms and scoffed. taken aback, you blinked and searched the room for ginny, who was curled up in her bed crying.

“excuse me? get out of my way, i need to see ginny. is she alright?” the girl eyed you, as if scanning you for a lie, and she supposed you were sincere in your concern. “she’ll be fine, just give her some space.”

without another word, the gryffindor slammed the door in front of you and you were left staring at the shut dorm, filled with confusion and a harrowing worry. your hand fell and defeated, you shoved your love letter into your pocket.

you didn’t see ginny the next day in class. or the day after that. she wasn’t talking to any of her brothers, you, or harry and had even turned the other way when you waved her down. it was like she was avoiding you and after a week of it, you came to the conclusion that she must be. ginny’s schedule resided in your mind so you set to confront her after potions. a girl with a mission was a force that should never be reckoned with ─ ginny taught you that.

“it shouldn't be too hard if we get some studying in,” ginny was discussing an upcoming exam with astoria greengrass, a slytherin girl in her year. you rather awkwardly stopped in front of the two and watched them part ways, ginny sending you a scarily pissed off glare. the tension could be cut with a knife and you and ginny blurted at the same time.

“you’re avoiding me!”

“i heard you and hermione!”

anger slipping, ginny avoided your eyes. “well that’s why i’ve been avoiding you. i’m sorry, i know i should be happy for you,” she started to ramble and you stared at her, baffled. happy for you and hermione? “i thought i didn’t care, that i could just push my feelings for you aside. it’s just that when you read that letter to hermione, there was so much... love in your voice. it hurt. i want to be the one you love.”

dumbfounded, you realised that she’d thought the letter was for hermione. “oh fuck, ginny no,” you stumbled, making her step back, assuming you were rejecting her. this wasn’t how you wanted to tell her that you loved her, it was supposed to go better than this. “wait! what i mean is─”

“you made it pretty damn clear what you mean, y/n,” ginny sniffled. “i think it's best if i just─” you cut her off with a kiss. you grabbed her face, kissing her like you’d never tasted something so sweet and you just couldn't get enough. she pulled back, breath heavy on your lips. “but... but hermione,” she whispered and you laughed, eyes fluttering shut and head shaking.

“i was reading it to her to practice on you. it was always for you ginny, it’s always been you.” the smile that you missed all week finally enraptured the lips you’d be kissing as much as you possibly can now that you knew you could. “and besides, she fancies your brother.” ginny thought for a moment and then sighed in embarrassment. but she said nothing as she knew you’d only reassure her and she knew this was how things ought to be.

ginny wrapped her arms around you and melted into your embrace, burying herself in your warmth and tugging you closer ─ though with no distance between you two, the gesture wasn’t very efficient. “so you love me?” she just wanted to hear you say it.

“i love you, ginny.”

“i love you, y/n.”

──────♥︎

#ginny weasley #ginny weasley x reader #ginny weasley imagine #ginny weasley angst #ginny weasley fluff #ginny weasley x y/n #ginny weasley fanfiction #ginny fic #ginny fluff #ginny angst #ginny imagine #ginny x reader #harry potter series #harry potter x reader #hogwarts x reader

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thephantomofthe-internet · 4 years

Text

My Best Friend’s Wedding

Billy Hargrove x Reader, Steve Harrington x Reader (One Sided), Robin Buckley x OC

Word Count: 7,363

Warnings: Crying, heartbreak, true love!!!!!

Author’s Note: Um...hi. So, I’m back. It’s been awhile. How are you? I’m okay, little nervous to post since my last story flopped really badly, but again I’m confident in this one and that you’ll like this story. I sure do! As always, leave some comments if you like it and criticism if you don’t I like both! I love hearing what you think!

Tag List: @hotstuffhargrove @moonstruckbucky @thechickvic @alex--awesome--22 @lilmissperfectlyimperfect @so-not-hotmess @hawkeyeharrington @sunflowercandie @kaliforniacoastalteens @songforhema @spidey-pal @mickmoon @buckybarneshairpullingkink @baebee35 @myrealloveissleep @allfandomxreader

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Steve Harrington was getting married. What a douchebag thing to do. Marrying the first girl to say that she loved him. You’d been doing that for twenty-one years. And he decided to marry a girl that he hadn’t even introduced to you yet. You’d been his best friend since birth. You couldn’t believe it.

He told you on your winter break. Both of you had only been home for a few days. Steve had gone to Gary to train at their police academy and you’d gone to Indianapolis for college. You both returned home for winter break. You were hoping to enjoy a couple weeks back with your best friend. You’d planned your whole break around it. But you couldn’t even get him to leave the house for ten minutes the first week home. You hadn’t met her yet, but you’d heard her voice when you called. Steve said her name was Cathy. She sounded like she was fifteen. She literally answered the phone by saying ‘yellow?’ like a damn character in Valley Girl. What a fucking joke.

To say you were jealous was an understatement. Steve was your guy. Your best friend. Your one true love. He didn’t know that part yet, but it was obvious. You had the chemistry, you had the mutual attraction, and you had the spark, that bit of electricity Steve had been in search of since you were thirteen. You were it. But there Steve was with Cathy. He brought her to dinner. She was a freshman at Ivy Tech. She was studying nursing. She had mousy brown hair and high cheekbones. She looked like Nancy Wheeler, but with a sweeter, easier going personality. She didn’t know that Steve pissed his pants after seeing Poltergeist. She was everything Steve thought he wanted. He’d be bored of her in five years.

You pouted through that dinner and the rest of the break. Steve barely paid you any mind, he was too busy flashing his hot new soon to be trophy wife around. Her round cut diamond ring on its ugly notched yellow gold band flashing in the sunlight on her pale, milky skin making your blood boil. You just knew he bought her a new ring, his grandmother’s engagement ring was much smaller and classier than what she had on. She made him buy her a new ring. God, what a fucking bitch.

You went back to Indianapolis enraged. You flew through the small towns in your crappy car to get back home. Your roommate, Robin, made it back to your tiny apartment before you did, which meant that Billy Hargrove had his feet up on your coffee table. You let out a beleaguered sigh when you saw the soles of his dirty white tube socks waving to you from atop your psychology textbooks.

“Hargrove, feet off the books. They cost more than you do.” You groaned, dropping your army style duffle bag by your door. Billy chuckled, doing as you asked. You felt his eyes run over you, which you didn’t entirely get the point of. You looked the same, although slightly greasier from your long drive home.

“You don’t know my rates, kid.” He replied, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You rolled your eyes, waving a polite hello to Robin, who was watching the scene with a bemused look from the kitchen. You headed to your bedroom without another word, hoping for solace in the solitude of your private space. You felt like dying the second your knees hit the mattress. He was leaving you. He was leaving you for a boring brunette named Cathy. He was leaving you for someone who didn’t even laugh at his jokes. The love of your life was marrying someone else. It hit you like running full force into a brick wall. Your brain felt like it was shaking in your skull, your nose crushed into your face as tears began to carve burning streams down your face and your nose turned red and stuffy. You were very aware of the fact that people were in your apartment, that if Robin was home then she’d call Beth and the three of them would probably spark up and would coming knocking on your door soon. But in that moment, you needed to cry. You needed to let go of every ill feeling that had been clogging your chest since Steve had told you of his plan.

You didn’t know how long you’d been in there for, your only sense of time being the markers of when the stereo turned on and off. When you heard a knock on your door, you didn’t move. Whoever was on the other side would just invite themselves in anyway.

“Hey, we’re going to get some food, you coming or-” Billy’s sentence came to an abrupt end when you lifted your face from the pillow, mascara streaking your cheeks. “Oh shit.” He shut the door fast. You both heard Robin yelling from behind the door for him to hurry up, but neither of you moved. Billy didn’t seem quite sure of himself, as if he didn’t know what to do now that he’d closed the door.

“I’m good, go on Hargrove.” You sighed, wiping hard at your damp and warm skin.

Billy didn’t move. “Are you gonna be okay?” he asked quietly.

“Does it look like I’m okay?” you bit back bitterly. You wished he would leave you be. Billy was the last person you wanted to see you cry, much less to be there to comfort you. He wasn’t your damn friend, you hardly knew him. He was just the guy who hung out in your living room and ate your food. He was Robin’s friend, not yours.

“What happened?” he asked, venturing closer to you.

You let out a sigh. Well, at least he wouldn’t tell Steve about this. “Harrington’s getting married.” You replied, your voice cracking. You needed a drink of water or something, crying had truly drained you.

“Isn’t he your age? You can barely drink.” He scoffed. It was almost refreshing. He seemed to not believe it as much as you did.

“Yeah, he is and he’s marrying a near stranger. They’ve only been together like eight months.” Your mouth turned up in a nauseated scowl. Billy watched your lips as they curled up in disgust. He smirked, trying to hold back a bubble of laughter. You looked so genuinely turned off by the thought, it was funny.

“So he’s an idiot. Why cry over him?” Billy asked, sitting down carefully on your bed. You pulled your legs up to your knees, wrapping your arms around them, tucking your chin behind them.

“Because he’s my idiot…” you muttered softly. Billy raised an eyebrow, egging you on. “I love him. I’ve loved him since I was ten years old…”

“Damn…” Billy breathed out.

“I know…” you replied, wiping your eyes on your long grey sleeves.

“You have awful taste.” He said. You gasped, throwing a pillow at his head. It hit with a smack, sending him falling back a bit, his big callused hands sliding back to support himself. You burst out laughing as it hit, you usually had pretty bad aim so you were shocked when it hit. You clasped a hand over your mouth, your eyes crinkling as you tried to hide your glee. Billy rolled his eyes, but his infamous smirk pulled at his lips.

“You don’t know Steve like I do!” you giggled, dodging the pillow as it came back at your head.

“And you don’t know him like I do.” Billy replied. He didn’t actually aim the pillow near your head, he knew he’d hit you square in the head and he didn’t want to hurt you. Your bedroom door flew open and Robin stood in the doorway, adjusting her leather jacket around her shoulders, the hood of her bright red hoodie poking out of the back and over the collar.

“Nerds are you coming with or are you having a sleepover? Beth and I are starving.” She asked, crossing her arms over her chest with a stern expression. You could see Beth pulling up her long brown hair behind Robin, her emerald green fitted coat buttoned up as high as it would go and her burgundy scarf tucked into it. The weather must have turned on them, the temperature dropping again.

“Geez, yeah gimme a second.” You grabbed your lavender coloured cardigan from its place on the bed next to you and pulling it around yourself as you climbed out of bed. Billy followed behind you, shrugging as Robin raised an eyebrow at him.

From that point on, Billy became your wedding confidant. As the date was set and began to loom closer and closer, he stood by you, listening to you rant about Cathy and Steve and their fucking bliss. You were going to be a bridesmaid, Cathy asked you since Steve’s mother wouldn’t let him make you a groomsman. They were having a June wedding. It was going to happen in Carmel, in the same hall his parents had gotten married in. Steve’s parents were paying for everything, including your awful magenta taffeta nightmare. Billy listened to everything you could come up with, every awful insult you’ve come up with for Cathy. He watched you laugh, you cry, you scream at the sky. For the first time in knowing you, he genuinely felt for you.

In March, you got your invitation to the wedding, along with a note from Cathy. Apparently, all her other bridesmaids had dates and that you should bring a date too, so you wouldn’t be awkward. You wanted to strangle the girl. Billy was sitting on your couch when you walked into your apartment, dropping your heavy book bag on the floor, invitation still held in hand and mouth agape.

“Hey, what’s up?” Billy asked, flicking his gaze away from the magazine in his hands.

You looked up briefly “Shouldn’t you be in class?” Billy was in trade school. He was supposed to be learning to be an electrician. Instead, he had his dirty feet on your coffee table.

“I don’t feel ready yet. What’s that?” he pointed to the eggshell coloured expensive paper in your hands.

“Oh, just my invitation to the Harrington-Bray wedding and a lovely note from the bride herself.” You smirked, kicking off your tennis shoes before joining Billy on the couch. He immediately wrapped an arm around your shoulders and you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“What’s she bugging you about now?” he asked, unable to hide the small, satisfied grin that pulled at his lips as you snuggled into him. He was glad that your attention was still on the invitation.

Yeah, he was utterly fucked over you. He wasn’t ashamed to admit it to himself. He would never admit it to anyone else, but he wasn’t going to pretend that he didn’t have feelings for you. He did. Sometime between finding you crying in your bedroom and now, he’d fallen head over feet into a pit of mushy gushy feelings that he hadn’t had to tackle before and he couldn’t escape. Before you, women fell into about three categories: old ladies in charge, women he could fuck, and women he wouldn’t fuck. But you didn’t fit into any category. Well, I mean you fit very neatly into the women he’d fuck category, but you were more than that. He wanted to make you happy, to help you when you’re upset and to harm anyone who hurt you, and to protect you from harm’s way. You felt precious and special to him, something he didn’t quite know how to tackle. So, he ignored it. He hoped you couldn’t feel the way his heart pounded in his chest as he looked over the invitation you held loosely in your right hand.

“Well, Cathy has informed me that all her other bridesmaids have dates and that, to not stand out, I should bring one too. Because wouldn’t it be fucking loopy if I didn’t have a damn date.” You huffed out a breath, crossing your arms over your chest.

Billy paused for a moment. Then, squeezing his eyes shut, he took a risk, his first in months. “I’ll go with you if you need a date.” He said.

You furrowed your brow “Why would you want to go? You hate Steve.” You asked.

“Well, for one thing watching Harrington make the biggest mistake of his life in a monkey suit will be pretty funny.” He said, earning a smack in the chest from you. “And for another, I want to help you out. You need a date, I’m there.”

You picked up your invitation, looking it over sceptically. “Are you sure? I mean it’s in the beginning of June, I don’t want to drag you away from your finals or anything, I don’t know when you’re done school for the year…”

“Yeah, it’s not a big deal, my exams are in a couple weeks anyway.” Billy replied with a shrug. Even if his finals were during that week, he would’ve skipped them to go with you. He wanted, no he needed to be there with you. He didn’t give two shits about Harrington, he could make mistakes whenever, but he had to be there to hold your hand when you needed him to.

“You’re gonna have to wear a monkey suit too you know.” You said with a small smirk.

“Its fine, I think mine still fits from my dad’s funeral.” He replied. You sat up, pulling a pen from the spirals of one of your forgotten notebooks and checked off the ‘plus one’ option on your invitation.

“Chicken or Steak?” you asked, checking off the chicken option for yourself. “Oh and also? You can’t laugh at me in my dumb dress. I got sent pictures of it and it’s bad. It’s really bad.”

“Steak and I won’t. I’ll be too busy laughing at everything else.” He chuckled, earning another smack in the chest from you before you checked off the plus one card Cathy’s expensive invitations had provided.

For the next two months, you did everything you could to ignore Cathy’s calls. She invited you to the bridal shower and the bachelorette party, both of which you refused with the same excuse. Steve called you twice to bitch you out. The third time he called to complain, you actually fought back.

“Y/N, can you please try with Cathy? She’s trying to be nice.” Steve groaned. You were sat on the couch, having forced Robin to turn down the radio so you could actually hear Steve on the other end. She and Beth were just making out anyway; they didn’t need to have it up so loud anyway. Hearing Debbie Gibson on top volume didn’t make anything more romantic.

“I am trying; I’m in her bridal party aren’t I? I’m coming up three days before the wedding to help her get ready. Isn’t that enough?” you tried, twirling the phone cord around your fingers.

“She was really upset that you didn’t come up for her bridal shower or her Bachelorette party.” Steve replied.

“I had exams during her bridal shower and I couldn’t afford to take the time off work for the party. I’m not rich like your families are Steve. I have rent to pay and classes to pass. If I fail, I don’t have a soft place to land like you do Steve.” That wasn’t exactly the kindest thing to say in the moment, but you were tired of this conversation. You felt like you’d been having it for weeks.

“That’s not fair, Y/N, you know that’s not how my life is.” Steve said.

“Oh really? Then why are your parents paying for your whole wedding? Why is your dad holding a job for you at his company? Why is Cathy already invited to the country club with full membership? Why does she spend her breaks at her family’s ski lodge in Aspen? Steve, you’re not as put upon as you like to act. I’m doing everything in my power to be there for you and Cathy, but my life and experiences are different than yours.”

Steve hung up without a reply, effectively ending the conversation there. You hung up the phone with a slam, crossing your arms over your chest. What a fucking jerk! He didn’t have the right to treat you like shit, especially over damn Cathy. You’d been his best friend for over a decade and you’d been trumped by a little skinny Minnie with no tits. A rich bitch with a collection of tennis skirts and preppy pastel blazers to rival Princess Diana herself. She wasn’t supposed to be his best friend, his choice for the rest of his life. That was supposed to be your job. You were supposed to be the person who made him happy, not some country clubber. And yet your place was glowing in the horizon. Behind the holy Cathy, your spotlight dimmed and left behind to wail your song alone under the ghost light. Except your song was bursting from your broken heart.

You wouldn’t stand for being left behind for some bitch named Cathy.

There was only thing to do. It was something you were avoiding doing since you were twelve years old.

Billy came to pick you up for the long journey to Carmel even though he didn’t have to be there until the sixth. You both refused to stay in Hawkins, too many bad memories there. He was staying in the same hotel as you. You were going a couple days early for your dress fitting and to tote Cathy around. But that wasn’t the reason you were nervous sitting in Billy’s leather seats. You had to find Steve once you got there.

Of course, Billy was nervous too. This trip was going to end in heartbreak. You were going to watch the love of your life marry someone else. And Billy was going to watch you cry knowing that he would never hurt you like this. He would sit there and try to not let it show how much it hurt to watch you be in pain. The ride to Hawkins was tense and silent, safe for Billy’s static filled radio switching between talk radio and the hits of the day, depending on what frequency it picked up. Neither of you try to fix it. You both were too anxious to bother.

When you arrived in Carmel, Mrs. Harrington and sweet little Cathy were at your hotel. You were whisked off to your fitting and then lunch in Carmel. You left Billy in the dust that day, forced to grapple with the town that tried to kill him twice and almost succeeded. He spent the day in his hotel room and you spent your day trying to get to Steve.

Day two was a free day, safe for the rehearsal dinner that night, beginning at the church. You were told implicitly to bring your date to the dinner, as Cathy had laid out a spot for you both at the wedding table. There you met her three other bridesmaids, her sister Jessica, her cousin Ellen, and her best friend Kelly. All three of them looked nearly identical, with matching shoulder length hair cuts and pristine white pleated tennis skirts. All their boyfriends looked the same too, with their pastel polos and white padded blazers. They all shook Billy’s hand as if it was dirty. The girls looked at the pair of you like you were white trash.

You didn’t find Steve first, Billy did. The meeting didn’t exactly go well. You’d gone to the bathroom and when you returned Billy and Steve were staring each other down with the same intensity that they did in high school. You parted them quickly, smiling at Steve sympathetically.

“What is he doing here, Y/N?” Steve asked through gritted teeth.

“He’s my date, Steve, he’s a friend of mine.” You replied simply, pushing Billy away as he tried to come back into the situation. Steve scoffed loudly, but turned away without another word. You turned to Billy quickly. “What the hell was that, dude?”

“I just came over to say hello and he got in my face!” Billy cried, pointing at his back as Steve stalked away.

“Can you just keep your chill for a day? Please? For me?” you whispered, squeezing his hand gently.

Billy’s expression softened instantly and he nodded, swallowing hard. “I’ll try.” He said.

“Thank you,” you said “I’m going to try to talk to Steve, hang tight okay?”

Billy nodded and you headed towards where you saw Steve go. He had headed out the main entrance, to where Cathy would be sent when they were ready to begin the rehearsal. You wiped your sweating palms on your royal blue skirt. You took in a deep breath through your nose and pushed open the heavy wooden doors, to find Steve Harrington practically ripping out his hair.

“Steve?” you asked quietly. He turned to look at you, his expression not changing when he saw you.

“You couldn’t have brought anyone else, could you?” he bit out, pulling his hands through his hair one more time before crossing his arms over his chest.

“He asked, I agreed. He’s not the same guy he was here.” You replied, adjusting your purse strap.

“Bullshit,” he chuckled coldly “He’s still the same douche he was a couple years ago. Nobody changes that much.”

“You did.” Steve went to retort you, but closed his mouth without speaking a word. You pressed on “Robin trusts him, they’re pretty much best friends, and I trust him. He’s been really good to me these past few months. Been my friend while my best friend was missing in action.”

Steve was silent for a moment. “I’ve been busy, Y/N, I had to help plan a wedding.” He muttered.

“And I’m supposed to be my best friend. That doesn’t change when you get a girlfriend. You promised me that, remember? After Wheeler that was our deal. And you broke that with her.” You replied.

“Don’t call Cathy ‘her’. She’s not just some girl.” Steve snapped.

“Why didn’t you introduce me before you got engaged? You had the time, it wasn’t like you just met her. I didn’t even know that you were even seeing anyone seriously.” You replied, matching his tone.

“Because, sometimes a man likes to have his secrets! What, Hargrove over there not keeping anything from you?” Steve cried. The large church doors opened again and revealed Cathy, shuffling in her Mary-Jane’s with a shy expression.

“Honey?” she asked, drawing Steve’s attention and softening his expression instantly “We’re ready to start if you are.”

“Just, give me one second, okay sweetie?” he said, his tone softer and kinder with her. He turned to you with a less than kind expression, nodding for you to head to your group. When you didn’t move, he spoke “You should go with Cathy, go learn your job.”

You left without a word. The rest of the rehearsal went by in a blur. You were put second in line to enter the church, supposedly and were given the role of train fixer before Cathy walked into the church. You were given specific instructions on how to hold your bouquet of yellow roses and baby’s breath in front of you. You went through the walk in and then listened to the pair go over the ceremony with the pastor in charge of marrying them. Supposedly they’d written their own vows. You looked to Billy, who looked utterly bored with the other boyfriends. When the rehearsal ended, you were all told to join the Harrington’s at their home for dinner.

Steve grabbed your arm as you were leaving the church. You hung back without a word as he told Cathy to go on without him. “Look,” he began once his fiancé had passed “I’m sorry I got mad at you. I was out of line. I was just surprised when I saw you and Hargrove together. It weirded me out. But I’m okay now.”

“Look, it’s whatever, you don’t like him and that’s fine. I’m a bit tired, will you apologize to your mom to me? I’m gonna bail on the dinner.” You replied with a small shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself. It was seventy-five degrees outside but you were freezing.

“Are you sure? I don’t think it will be a big deal…” Steve said, his warm hands coming to your bare shoulder, warming your skin and melting your heart.

“Nah,” you chuckled “Besides, you don’t really want Hargrove in your house anyway, right? Just tell your mom we went home.”

Steve laughed “That’s fair,” he released your arm “I’ll see you tomorrow, right?”

“Duh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” You elbowed him in the arm before heading off. Billy was watching from the sidewalk, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes trained on the ground. You ran up and wrapped an arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s blow this pop stand.” You said with a cheeky grin.

“Where’re we going, princess?” he smirked, wrapping an arm around your waist. He usually wouldn’t do that, but then again you didn’t usually wrap yourself around him in public. He took the chance on you pulling away for a moment to hold you.

“Benny’s? If it’s still open, I guess.” You replied. The idea of Benny’s not being open anymore hit you like a truck. How much had Hawkins changed since you left?

Evidently, not that much. The Harrington’s still lived on Pine Street and Benny’s was still open, its owner having been dead for almost seven years. You found yourself in its yellowed dining room, eating greasy burgers and fries while discussing the old days here. You weren’t friends with Billy in high school and you hardly paid him much mind, so all his stories were fresh to you. He told you all about his whoring days and his wild child moments. How he broke into the library to screw around with Diana Krass and denied breaking a window when the police came around. He was the reason the library got security cameras. You nearly died when he told you about catching Melissa Rankers and Caroline Spears writing out someone’s phone number in the boy’s locker room. A ‘For a good time call’ situation. You made him laugh his ass of when you told him it was yours and all the crazy calls you got that year from desperate boys looking for phone sex. He couldn’t top your story about how Tommy Hanson called you after his breakup with Carol and would not believe that you weren’t a phone sex operator. The fact that you knew what his sex noises were disturbed you both. You spent your evening laughing and joking with Billy.

It felt like you were hanging out with Steve. But different. You closed down Benny’s and drove around till almost five in the morning. You barely made it to bed.

You were woken up at ten by your hotel room phone ringing off the hook. Mrs. Harrington, Cathy, Ellen, Jessica, and Kelly were all here in room two thirteen. You had to join them to start getting ready. Apparently, there were mimosas. The call made you feel more exhausted than you felt when you woke up. But you went, grabbing your makeup and the robe the hotel provided, padding over to their room.

The group was rowdy. You were introduced to Cathy’s mother, who hugged you like she meant it. She seemed to have already indulged in a few mimosas before you’d even arrived. You spent your morning mostly drinking and waiting around. They only had one makeup artist and one hair stylist who were styling everyone and no one had decided on how you should look. You ended up looking like a clown, your hair too big and blown out for your face and your makeup hair too bright. And your dress was worse in person. You’d tried it on in the shop, but in natural lighting you got the full picture. Horrid satin and taffeta all the same shade of sickly magenta, with a tulle filled a-line skirt and scratchy puff sleeves and a square neckline. This dress did nothing for your chest and hips, not that your hair and makeup was helping. You pulled a bit of baby’s breath out of your bouquet and tucked it into your up-do. Apparently, you were supposed to bring your own jewellery and hair accessories, so the bit of greenery would have to suffice. You tucked your feet into the matching heels and smoothed your skirt, looking over the other bridesmaids. Jessica looked alright in the dress, but overall all four of you looked a bit like clowns.

And then, Cathy appeared. And she looked just as bad! She seemed thoroughly disappointed, but trying to hide it with a tight lipped smile. Her dress seemed to be modeled on Princess Diana’s, with its off the shoulder cream puff sleeves and sweetheart neckline, but where on Princess Diana it looked royal on Cathy it looked cheap. Her skirt seemed a bit too big to move in and the big bow on the small of her back seemed silly. She didn’t look happy with her dress, but she simply adjusted her veil and fixed her cherry red lipstick, nodding at her reflection. Her mother appeared behind her in a bright purple sparkly number with a matching jacket, complete with shoulder pads. Her eyes were misty. Clearly, this was the most beautiful sight in the world.

Your little group headed downstairs to your town cars and you headed to the church. You hoped Billy had made it to the church on time. You hoped Robin and Beth had made it into town and that no one had stopped them or shunned them for being gay. Most of all, you hoped you could hold it together through this thing.

The ceremony took a long time to start. You contemplated going to find Steve. To tell him how you feel, to convince him to run away. But something kept you right where you stood in the church’s entrance way. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t ruin his happy day. Steve loved Cathy today. Maybe he wouldn’t tomorrow, in six months, in a year or twenty-but today he loved her. And you wanted him to be happy. So you’d shut your mouth and let him have this. But as the ceremony started and you began your walk up to him at the altar, your heart shattered. In another life, that would be you he was waiting for. But it was Cathy. You couldn’t watch them during the ceremony. You kept your eyes on Billy, who was only watching you. His steely blue eyes on yours kept you calm as tears bubbled in your eyes and emotion clogged your throat.

When it all ended, you rushed to get out of the church. Billy’s arm came around you the second he found you. He let you cry into his white dress shirt and ruin it with your makeup filled tears. He held you till your breathing evened out, then he wiped your cheeks and led you to his car.

“Did Robin make it okay?” you asked, your voice hoarse as you adjusted your skirts. Billy stood holding your door, waiting to shut you into the car. He narrowed his eyes, looking you over the same way he did when he first found you crying over Steve all those months ago.

“Is that really what you’re worried about right now?” he asked.

You smiled, your expression still watery. “No, but it’s what I’d rather think about.” You said. Billy frowned, shutting the door and walking to his own, popping it open and climbing in.

“Yeah, they made it in fine. They sat in the back and, according to Beth, they spent the whole time making fun of Cathy’s butt bow. And your dress.” He explained, turning on the engine.

“I look awful, don’t I?” you asked. You weren’t sure whether to laugh or cry, your mind was all over the place.

“No!” Billy corrected, looking into the rear view as he backed out of his spot before turning out of the parking lot. “You look like a beautiful Kool-Aid man.” You smacked him hard in the shoulder, gasping loudly. Billy laughed at this, looking you over. You really did look beautiful, despite the awful dress. Nothing could muffle your beauty.

“Your makeup…um…it ran a little bit. There are some tissues in the glove compartment…” he added, looking away. You flipped down the mirror to look yourself over. Your tears had carved black stripes down your cheeks, washing away your foundation and destroying your blush and eyeliner. You sighed, popping open the glove compartment and pulled out a handful of tissues, wetting them with your own spit and wiping away the makeup as best you could.

“Oh god, I look awful. I can’t believe I walked around like this.” You groaned, rubbing at the garish pink blush painted like rosacea on your cheeks. That makeup artist had something against you.

“You look fine, don’t worry about it. Cathy looked worse than you, her hair looked like it hurt.” Billy replied as you wiped away the bubblegum pink lipstick from your lips. Billy tried not to watch you and your puffy lips, focusing hard on the road ahead.

“I look better, now that I’m getting this shit off my face.” You replied, focusing on getting the shit brown eye shadow off your lids. Once you toned it down, you felt a bit better. They’d already taken all the pictures they needed outside the church, you didn’t need to keep up appearances now.

Billy pulled into the parking lot of the reception hall and let you out quickly. He offered you his hand before you walked in and you didn’t let it go until dinner was served. Throughout the couples making the rounds to the tables during cocktail hour and the speeches before the meal was served, you squeezed his hand whenever you felt yourself getting emotional, grounding yourself to him and to something safe. You made your rounds to Robin and Beth, who looked much better than you. They laughed at your little ensemble and made you do a full spin to really show off the skirt. They laughed far too hard at you, but Billy didn’t even chuckle. As soon as you were done, his arm came right back around you. Robin and Beth exchanged a look that you couldn’t quite interpret. You returned to your seat when dinner was served and sat through a nauseating round of the newlywed game while they served dessert. Billy made sure to distract you when the questions got too lovey-dovey, cracking jokes in your ear and, when in doubt, covering your ears.

But he couldn’t protect you from the first dance. As it turns out, Jessica fancied herself a singer and was tasked with performing the couple’s song. Steve and Cathy went to the dance floor as the slow piano intro to Elvis Presley’s I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You began to flow through the room. Jessica’s nasal voice took the lead vocals, crooning out the opening lines “Wise men say, only fools rush in. But I can’t help falling in love with you…” the song was so cliché for the wedding. You tried to mock it to keep away the emotion, but it was all too much. The tears began to fall as Cathy’s head came to Steve’s shoulder.

“Like a river flows, surely to the sea, darling so it goes; something’s were meant to be…”

Billy’s hand squeezed yours. His heart was breaking, watching you try to hold back tears as Steve and Cathy danced in their own blissful bubble. As the chorus came around again, you broke away, rushing to the nearest exit. You both knew that you couldn’t take anymore. Billy followed behind you without a second’s hesitation.

He found you in the lobby, hands crushed to your face. He wrapped his arms around your neck, pulling your back to him. “Oh, please, leave me alone Bill. I need to be alone…” you sobbed.

“I won’t leave out here to cry alone, Y/N, you’re not alone.” He replied, holding you tighter.

“I love him, Billy…” you cried, turning in his arms to press your face into his chest “Why doesn’t he love me?”

“Because…because he’s an idiot, Y/N, any man would be lucky to have you love him.” He replied, petting your hair softly. It felt stiff from hairspray, but he didn’t care. As selfish as it was, this was the best part of his day. Having you hold him like you loved him.

“What does she have that I don’t have? I’ve been there for him his whole life. And suddenly this girl is his whole world. I’ve spent so long trying to maintain a place in his life and this girl can just show up and get a spot without question.” You muttered. That felt selfish to say, but you felt as though you earned a bit of selfish thinking.

“Because Steve lives in his own world. And we just orbit it. But you? You deserve to be someone’s whole world. You deserve to be the first person someone thinks of in the morning and the last thing they think of at night. You deserve all that cheesy shit because you’re worth it.” He said quickly, pulling you away from his chest to look you in the eye. You looked so small and vulnerable in his arms.

“Why am I always trying to love someone who doesn’t give a damn about me?” you chuckled sadly, running your hands up and down the smooth material of Billy’s suit jacket.

In this moment, Billy had a choice. He could go the easy way or the hard way. Billy chose the easy way most of the time, he coasted through life without trying very often for anything. If it didn’t come easy, then he wasn’t going to work to have it. But today, for the first time since he came back the second time, he chose the hard choice.

“Y/N, watching you moon over Harrington is the single hardest thing I have done in my life, that man is an idiot,” Billy said firmly, squeezing your waist slightly to ground himself to the moment.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to burden you with all of this, I-”

“He’s an idiot for not loving you.” Billy cut you off, silencing you with a look. He looked anxious. You’d never seen him anxious before.

“He’s an idiot because you’re so easy to love. I fell in love with you two weeks after I found out about Harrington and I don’t love girls. I don’t. I didn’t think it was in my damn DNA but here you are, with your pretty eyes and your jokes and your smile and I fell for you so fast. And watching you chase after Harrington, cry over Harrington, rant and rave about that damn asshole killed me! Because he’s not worth it! Look, I don’t care if you don’t love me back, you probably don’t, but please move on from him. You deserve the world, not a stupid spot in someone else’s.”

Billy was out of breath when he finished his little speech, staring into your eyes as your tears dried and your mouth fell open.

“Your…you’re in love with me?” you asked slowly. Your mouth felt dry and arid, your heart was pounding loudly in your ears.

“Yeah, shocking I know.” Billy chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. He tried to pull away from you, but you refused to let go. Your hands came up to his cheek, stroking the skin there briefly before placing a feather light kiss on his lips, tentative and slow. You were unsure of yourself, unsure if you were even in the right mind to make this kind of choice, but all your worries melted away when your lips touched. It wasn’t the fireworks Steve had been describing for your entire adolescence, it was safe and comforting. Your heart filled with joy, you worries fell away. Suddenly, without warning, you were home. You were home in his arms and you were home on his lips. You hadn’t felt at home since Steve hugged you goodbye when you made the trek to college. But home wasn’t with Steve anymore, he had his own home with Cathy now. But home could be with Billy.

He pulled away first, pushing you back by your shoulders. “You don’t have to do this, Y/N, it’s okay I understand-”

“Billy,” you silenced him instantly “I don’t kiss anyone unless I want to. I wanted to kiss you. I want to kiss you. Look,” you sighed, scuffing the toe of your ugly wedding shoes on the linoleum, looking up at him through your lashes. “I don’t know how I feel about anything right now, I’m not certain, but I feel safe with you. I like you. Platonically and romantically. And all I want is to feel safe with someone. So, can we try?”

Billy looked your face over, his big callused hand coming to your cheek, wiping a stray teardrop from your lower lashes. You nuzzled into the warmth of his palm. He moved his hand to under your chin, pulling your lips to his, kissing you harder and deeper than before, wrapping his free arm around your waist, pulling you flush with him.

This was all he wanted. The moment he dreamed of. Thinking about you made him feel weak, like a pathetic child. But having you in his arms, it made him feel like it was okay to be weak. That he didn’t have to be strong all the time. You made him feel strong, even when he was acting weak and vulnerable. He felt secure with you. That wasn’t a luxury he took for granted.

The kiss awoke the last bit of feeling you were missing with him. Billy was golden haloed, bright like the sun and shining. He was solid and present, a lighthouse in a storm. He was your rock. You hadn’t realized that you’d been clinging to him until he almost disappeared. He didn’t know you like Steve, but that wasn’t a bad thing.

When Billy let you go, the smile that spread across your face was impossible to hide. Billy’s expression matched yours, a genuine smile from a guy who rarely did more than smirk. The look melted your heart even more, turning goo into pure liquid.

“Are you sure?” he asked softly.

“Are you sure? You don’t exactly do this every day.” You countered, smacking him in the chest lightly.

Billy rolled his eyes “Oh shut up, I’m trying here.” You smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“Come on, let’s go back in before people start asking questions. I don’t want Cathy in my business, she’s so nosey.” You grabbed his hand, squeezing it in yours.

“Oh, total Carol? I heard her and Tommy talking shit in the back about your dress. Want me to beat him up?” Billy replied, following you back into the hall.

You gasped “No!” Billy laughed loudly, shaking his head. The band had started up again and the leader asked for all the lovers in the room to join the bride and groom on the floor. “I just want to dance, alright?” Billy nodded and let you lead him onto the floor. You wrapped yourself in his arms again, placing your head on his chest and listened to his heart beat.

The day wasn’t perfect, and it certainly didn’t end the way you expected it to, but in Billy’s arms, you felt okay with how it went. You weren’t with Steve Harrington, but that wasn’t something to cry over anymore. Billy Hargrove was here to make you feel invincible again.

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ddaenggtan · 5 years

Text

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever.

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these.

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!!

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them.

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words.

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace.

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling.

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up.

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it.

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved.

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic."

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose.

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall.

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself.

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break.

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed.

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes.

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him.

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out.

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air.

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met.

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality.

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them.

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken.

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow.

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer.

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive.

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat.

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink?

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much.

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth.

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive.

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm.

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.”

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon.

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes.

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.”

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear.

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.”

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth.

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little.

“Warm me up?”

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest.

“Casper, are you ever scared?”

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it.

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit.

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.”

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer.

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.”

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has.

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another.

“Have you ever seen a light?”

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him.

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.”

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning.

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love.

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?”

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth.

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder.

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table.

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that.

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first.

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom.

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back.

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath.

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.”

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table.

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time.

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what.

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers.

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard.

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him.

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though.

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board.

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer.

“Why?!” You demand.

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch.

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.”

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head.

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan.

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself.

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again.

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down.

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang.

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams.

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment.

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?”

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing.

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything.

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot.

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?”

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.”

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though.

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it.

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.”

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him.

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.”

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly.

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants.

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you.

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you.

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”

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florxdexcerezos · 3 years

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ask games from post/634353049340674048 : 1, 8, 12, 13, 28, 29, 40, 42, 43, 45

@professional-beach-bum

1. Who’s the one who’s reckless and always getting into trouble while the other gotta pull em out

Oh, it’s 100% Dom! Ofc Mal’s reckless to an extent, but she talks herself out of the trouble she causes and doesn’t usually see any consequences. Dominic however, gets his ass kicked and ends up in the hospital for about 6 weeks because diplomacy is not his strong suit. Taking Maly along with him anywhere is a solid improvement especially if she’s the one who’s talking.

8. How does one comfort the other when the other is in distress/having a panic attack/crying

Dom’s emotional moments, shall we say, are far, few and in between. But when they do occur, Maly reminds him that she is there and available to give him comfort if he wants that from her. She creates a safe space for them to talk in the privacy of their home. Often, she will end up sitting on his lap and hugging him in a warm little cocoon. There’ll be music in the background to help calm him down. They don’t have to talk about it, but Maly tells him that it might help him if he does. She doesn’t let him sit in his feelings for too long though, afraid he might float away from her, so she tries to make jokes to lighten his mood a bit.

Maly’s anxiety rears its head often. Dom’s best chance to stop it where it stands and ground her. Place his hands on her shoulders, or her arms and reassure her, or remind her that they’re okay, they’re safe, whatever it is that she is worried about. It may not soothe her immediately, but it will have an effect on her. When she is upset, he brings her in tightly for a hug, giving her that warmth and comfort to feel at ease in. It’s privacy and intimacy at the same time. Sometimes talking it out will fix the situation, but often, it will be the physical contact. Soft, reassuring touches to her lower back, brushing her hair, acts of protecting her like hugging her and cradling her to him. Something to remind her she is at home.

12. What do their dates look like

Cute! They’re normally pretty chill, even when they go out or stay in, very relaxed. Dates are their time together to be in each other’s company and be affectionate - even though they’re not super affectionate in public. Something might happen in an alleyway but certainly not in Santa Monica. They have spa dates once a fortnight and they do face masks, Dom does Maly’s nails and hair as best as he can. Maly will feed him pizza while it happens.

13. How does each act when getting drunk

Maly is basically useless. She gets giggly, clumsy, she has no balance and falls face first into walls. She can just about speak, but you’d be lucky if it was English, it’s normally Spanish or Polish. Dom’s had to learn a bit of Polish to try and keep up. She either wants to keep drinking or wants to eat candy/nutella/sugar.

Dom getting drunk is a rare thing. But he goes through stages, the first stage is the most uncomfortable. Emotional vulnerability is not something he can quite easily handle. He gets deep in his thoughts and they’re often sad, and about his past. The subsequent stages depend on a variety of factors but range from happy tipsy to making out with Maly in public without regard for anyone who might see them. Even when tipsy, he still retains a good portion of his control and has a high chance of successfully convincing someone he’s sober, but the more he drinks, the more giggly and loud he gets. A truly beautiful sight.

28. Are either of them mentally ill, if so how do they help one another cope

Both of them are neurodivergent. PTSD, depression, anxiety, all-consuming guilt, probably a few others. They’ve established routines for when this sort of thing happens. How to spot it, how to calm it down. A big part of the coping process is open communication, letting the other person into their head if only so they can temporarily shoo away what is troubling them.

Dom definitely needs therapy, though.

29. Does one have a spot on them where they would melt when the other kisses them there

Maly’s soft spot is on her neck, right where it meets her clavicle. It’s a perfect little spot that a bite there will cause a moan.

I don’t know if Dom has one of those spots, he melts when Maly kisses him pretty much anywhere.

40. Who would fight in honor for the other if someone would insult them

Dom! Though Maly will only take offence to things she believes she’s not, and would most likely go fight them herself.

Maly does get awfully defensive of Dom, but she’s never been angry enough to fight someone yet.

42. How would one react if the other was to die

I think the feelings would be similar even if they did not show it in the same way. There would be intense pain in their chest, to the point they can almost feel their heart physically breaking. They would feel as though they lost a part of themselves that made them whole. Everything would become grey and bleak, there would be no sunshine, no moon or the stars. The grief would be overwhelming and nothing would bring them joy. Things that reminded them of their other half would be cast out. Life would not be worth living anymore, even with encouragement from the one who passed.

Maly would get destructive in her despair. Throw chairs, flip tables, nothing would be safe from a girl who lost the person who gave her life, breathed love into her lungs. She would be distraught that she couldn’t try to save him, and would consider taking her own life before the heartbreak killed her first.

Dom might revert back to who he was without Maly’s influence. Cold, cruel, psychopathic. He had no reason to love a world that stole his forever from him, stole the wind beneath his wings, the light of the moon above his shoulders. His body would torture him, make every breath painful, each step would be heavy, smashing on the ground beneath it. With little to love, and nothing to keep him reigned in, who knew what destruction he could cause?

43. Who dies first

Maly. Live fast, die young.

45. How would they spend their last moments together

If they were dying together, the dream would be that they were on a beach, watching the sunset. No one around them, just the ocean and the seagulls. They would kiss for the last time before going into the ocean and letting the waves bring them away from the shore. Holding hands, and looking up at the beautiful sky, they would spend their final moments together and at peace.

#otp: maly & dom #suicide mention tw #violence tw #mental illness mention tw #ask: anonymous #ask: answered

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profo-und · 5 years

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how my first heartbreak is putting me back together

We’ve all been there I presume, the moment our pure heart faces discomfort in one of the worst ways possible; your first heartbreak. I myself only being 20 years old have been there once, and boy did it sting. It’s so odd; isn’t it? You have no idea how much a person means to you until you have to convince yourself that they don’t.

Growing up, I had never lost touch with anyone so abruptly, whether it was family or even friends in some cases, it always became a matter of distance; I had never found myself desperately seeking attention from someone in order to keep them in my life. So having to cut out a whole person that I’d put so much time, exertion and emotion into was heavy on me.

Our situation however was a bit conflicting, although we had ended our relationship; our bond and contact was consistent; and I can now openly admit to myself that every second of it felt like my chest had the foot of an elephant laying on it. I hadn’t realized that I was slowly losing him, even after he was no longer mine. It was a long and confusing period; but throughout it all I had convinced myself that we weren’t over, that there was still more for us, that all of our mistakes would finally make sense and insert us back into place. It was settled into my brain that it was the two of us against everything,

That definitely wasn’t the case. I was so naïve that I look back and almost want to punish myself for it now. I did however have to deal with the consequences of my stupidity and unfortunately his as well.

Being in love for the first time, you give them so much importance; even if it isn’t reciprocated. I knew I wasn’t the first person he’d been in love with leaving me to question if he really loved me? Which I still think about till this day. And man when that person breaks every single promise they set out in less than a second you feel the pits of your stomach turning in confusion, anger, disappointment and anguish all at once; you cry yourself to sleep every night not understanding why you couldn’t be good enough. And I can honestly say feeling low about yourself because of another’s mistake is the worst part. When me and my ex split I would make extreme unnatural life decisions in order to “fix myself”, to remind myself that I didn’t need him anyway; but that couldn’t be farther from the truth. I needed him so much that living without him hadn’t even been a concept developed in my mind at the time. I became so lost. I didn’t get it, if I had made the right decision about cutting him off, why did it feel like shit? I spent many nights not getting where I could’ve went wrong, and when a good day would come again. I expected myself to wake up one day and go “wow I’m finally over him for good now”. Sadly that isn’t the case. I didn’t understand that things need time to fix themselves. You have to go through a million things before you can completely come to peace with yourself and whomever else it may be.

You may have not forgiven that person, and you may not for a while, there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. I feel like forgiving people verbally doesn’t solve anything if you aren’t sincere about it. There is this whole notion about forgiving people in order to move on, but how, when, and what place in your life you decide to accept someone else’s apology is up to you, you do not owe anyone a single thing. If that person has upset you to your very core, you are allowed to be upset with them for as long as you need, they did that to you. But don’t let it interfere with your thoughts.

For the longest time I had said that I forgave him, that it was all behind me, that I should not still be bothered by it. Nonetheless I knew every bit of me was still facing the lasting effects of what had happened. And so I recently came to terms with the fact that I am still upset about it, and I can take as long as I need to forgive someone if they had the audacity to treat me like a play toy. Its okay to listen to the freestyle comfort inn ending by Jhene Aiko and day dream about keying his car. Its fine to be spiteful for a short period of time, eventually you will get past that feeling, but don’t rush it, do not accept someone’s apology for their peace of mind, do it for yours.

As painful and inconvenient as it was. I need that more than I would’ve ever known. Heres why, I cannot stress enough how much I’ve found room to learn, care and want things for myself.

It is confirmed from someone who found themselves in a very dark place, that you will be okay. These are things you need in order to grow and prepare you for worse things coming. There will be worse things; I know its an odd way to put it, but you’re going to understand that this is just something small to help you become the person you are supposed to be; to make you stronger for larger obstacles so you can handle them with ease.

It’s a process you see, healing from something traumatic does not occur overnight; and you owe it to yourself. It takes a while to practice the good energy you want to lead into your life, but it starts with you; as cheesy as it sounds. You are the main provider for yourself, you must unconditionally want yourself. One of the most aggravating but rewarding things I went through during this period was learning to be on my own. This was a huge learning lesson for me, I had been so used to looking for a companion in him that I completely forgot about myself. I forgot to be my own friend, because once again, at the end of the day the only person who will truly one hundred percent have the power to uplift you, is you.

With that being said, he was the first person I had ever fell in love with, there were good things that a part of me will always carry, and use to apply to other bonds I may form later in the future; whether it be romantically or naturally formed soulmates. Its safe to say that I have become more empathetic when it comes to others, I try to put myself in others shoes; although it hasn’t worked with this particular situation, I really do hope one day it will. I hope one day ill truly sleep with a clean heart towards him. After all he was one of the first to provide me with the discomfort I needed to take my life seriously. The thing that hurt me the most about all of this was that he had someone to reassure him, to love him, to want him. I had to face all of it on my own; I had to convince myself. All I had were Ted talk videos and lots of weed, drugs shouldn’t solve everything, but unfortunately it’s a temporary solution to some sorrows.

All jokes aside it burned; watching him move on with his life after he had created such a huge dent in mine. Even now I can’t fathom how you could to this much to someone you claim to care about, but as time passes it gets easier to forgive them; infact; you begin to be thankful for them. You begin to appreciate the people who you know are insanely infatuated with you, and begin to recognize that one person rejecting you, means room for a million others to accept you.

#writeup

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boogiewrites · 6 years

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Don’t Call Her Annie. Part 2. Advice & Arrests

Characters: Jim Hopper x Reader (OFC)

Word Count: 4300+

Summary: Annette Horowitz is Joyce’s younger sister. She hasn’t been the perfect sibling or aunt but after she finds out Will is missing, she finds herself crashing back into Hawkins to do everything in her power to help, driven by a need to prove herself. She hasn’t been around much in the past 20 or so years, but when she comes back home she finds old friends, old habits and old feelings she’d thought she’d finally escaped. Can she really change or is she just kidding herself?

A/N: I just hit 400 followers! So have 4000 words in celebration!

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Warnings: Angst. Language. Fighting. Fluff. Mentions of gore. Mentions of drug use. Mental Illness. Trauma.

You can check out my other work on My Masterlist.

Tagged folks are at the bottom, if you’d like to be added or removed, just leave a reply and I’ll see it! Any positive feedback or messages are appreciated. Thanks!

With fighting a Demogorgon and being on the run from the government checked off your list of things to do before you die, you find yourself in the calm aftermath of the traumatic experience.

You found yourself with the kids the night Jim and Joyce left to go to the Upside Down for Will. You'd begged Joyce to go in her place. Jim had then yelled at both of you because he wanted neither of you to go.It didn’t go unnoticed by any of the three of you...how strange it felt to be together again fighting. Jim was hit with a wave of nostalgia, the Horowitz girls both yelling, teaming up together against him. He never stood a chance. After Joyce pulled the "I'm his mother." card that you couldn't top, you'd reluctantly stayed behind in the gym with the kids. You had ended up being useful at least, getting them running and stalling and misdirecting Brenner's men as they closed in on the school. You'd seen the Demogorgon emerge from the wall, as you vibrated with fear at the sight. You heard it's shrill noises that hurt your ears even after the fact. You'd been let go of by the uniformed men as they all grabbed their guns to kill it. You'd turned and ran down the hallway as fast as you could. You grabbed an automatic rifle off of one of the bodies near you as you'd hid behind a corner. Your shoes slipped in the blood on the linoleum as you tried to scurry to find the kids after you saw the oozing, heaving beast move to one of the bodies at the end of the hallway.

You don't talk about what happened to you to anyone. Not even your sister, even though you knew she wanted you to. You weren't about to add your problems onto hers. You were a bit too traumatized to immediately want to run away like you normally would at this point. You found yourself staying with Joyce more often than not. With the thought of not being able to spend time with your family again after the close call with Will, you start to realize your time may be better spent with them. You had built in people you felt you could trust, not many people had that. Not just your family, but a new group of people you'd called strangers what felt like just moments ago. It wasn't until faced with losing it all that you realized it's importance.

As the weeks pass, you start to feel like you can function again, leave the house, not have to get drunk to sleep, not jump at every sound you hear when you're alone. You start the painful process of getting yourself back into one piece, dragging yourself out of the depression.

You come back from a ride to clear your head. You see the cars in the driveway, the lights on and laughter from inside. You feel the pull again, the urge to run from the picturesque moment. You see Jim's Police Blazer in addition to Joyce and Jonathon's cars. He'd kept checking in with visits and phone calls. You'd began to find his attentiveness endearing. He’d brought back your nephew and he could’ve never checked on your family again. His obligation was fulfilled, but he’d kept on appearing when you’d start to forget about him again. You begrudgingly admit to yourself that he was a good man, a man you could trust. He wasn’t the man of subtle villainous intentions you’d warped some of your memories into to cope with your infantile heartbreak.

At the end of the evening, you'd been sneaking away to the backyard, leaning against the hidden side of the shed, trying to ignore the feelings in your gut. It'd been getting worse, and tonight you'd found yourself not wanting to turn around when you reached the county line. You take out another cigarette, trying to reason with yourself.

He sees you start to knock your pack of cigarettes against your palm as you slink out of the room, hiding your face with your hair. Your long legs carry you almost silently down the back steps. It's been over 15 minutes since you've left by the next time he looks at the clock. He excuses himself and goes to look for you. He doesn't see you when he looks out of the back door, standing with his hands on his hips, he slowly moves across the backyard, smelling your brand of cigarette smoke. He eventually sees it rising from behind the shed. He smirks to himself, getting out his own pack to join you. You still hid behind the shed to smoke, he was hit with nostalgia and he couldn't help but think about the last time he'd seen you before he left Hawkins.

"Hey." he startles you as you hear him coming around the side of the shed. Jim comes into view, already lighting a cigarette.

"Hey." you flatly reply. He wasn't exactly who you needed to see right now, not when you were feeling so raw. You'd managed to escape one on one conversation with him since he'd helped save Will. You knew you couldn't avoid it forever but you had given it a shot.

"Good to know you still sneak out here to smoke." he says with a grin, exhaling and looking into the woods. You let out a small noise of amusement, shrugging and realizing he was right.

"Good to know you can still find me when I want to be alone." you grin, but look at the ground and move your foot over overgrown grass.

"I can leave if you want. But you've been gone awhile, I had to check on you at least." he shrugs, showing you he wasn't here to bother you.

"You don't have to. I was only partially joking." this time you look at him when you smirk. He'd noticed you leave.

"The past few weeks you've been staying out here for longer and longer." he exhales forcefully, "You wanna tell me why that is?" his eyebrows raise, his voice was inquisitive but not aggressive.

"Of course, I don't," you answer with a huff of a laugh at how difficult you wanted to be for no real reason. "But maybe I need to change that old habit." you mumble, taking in a drag to distract from the pounding in your chest.

"Joyce told me this is the longest you've stayed around before." he adds, motioning with his hands as he talked subtly.

"Yeah, I'd noticed that too." you half answer, keeping your eyes on the line of the forest.

"She’s worried you're going to leave again." his posture mirrors yours, you don't look at each other, your eyes wander.

"She should be," you say quietly, you cross your arms and take a hard inhale. "Don't tell her I said that." you add quickly, looking up at him.

"I won't. Took me too long to earn your trust, why would I break that now?" he nudges you with his elbow, trying to ease your tension.

"Yeah I can't make anything easy." you groan, your head resting on the wall.

"For what it's worth, I think you should stay." his voice drops lower, his hands go to his pockets. "I'm not going to tell you what to do, but, I think you should stay through the holidays. Revisit how you feel after that." he throws his cigarette to the ground, crushing it with his foot. "Joyce would love it if you stayed." he turns his body to face yours, blocking out the light on the telephone pole creating an intimidating silhouette. "And because I've been there before, I know you want to try to make things up to them." his hand rests on your arm, you move your eyes to look at it. "That would be a great place to start." you move your head just slightly to look into his eyes. He pats your arm.

"That's..." you let out a heavy sigh, letting your cigarette die in your fingers. "very good advice," you say with an apathetic shrug. He smiles at you, patting you again as he moves to leave. "I don't want to leave." you say under your breath, a small cry for help. Luckily he hears it. He stands with his hands on his hips, head tilted and patient expression. He knew you didn't share. He also has the natural tendency to be an asshole to people who try to love him, so he feels a deep empathy towards you. Maybe his lingering presence when you were younger hadn't helped you in the way he thought it might. "I get this itch. This pull to leave when things get..." you move your hand to help you express your thoughts. "stable." you nod in agreement with yourself and look up at him. He nods with an indifferent expression of understanding your point. "I get all cagey and feel trapped when I think I'm being, " you use air quotations, "domesticated." you roll your eyes at how immature it all felt to you suddenly. "I know it's stupid but-"

"It's not stupid at all." he says, moving closer to you. His answer catches you off guard, your face softens as his becomes lit by the street lamp as he looms over you. The frown retreats to just your mouth, the ease with which he kept staring into your eyes made you feel small, and that wasn't something you felt often.

"It makes me feel stupid, then." your eyes go a little sad. "It's hard for me to have faith that things will be okay if I stay. I always have this heavy feeling that I'm going to ruin everything for them by just being here, somehow." His chest feels tight as he feels deep, painful empathy for your thoughts, taken off guard by your straightforward admission. Your words were raw but your body language was still reserved. He feels compelled to try to fix this for you but he sees you don't need him to do that anymore. He decides to share a bit of himself with you instead, returning the vulnerability he wanted to encourage from you.

"Like you're cursed or somethin'." he says quietly, looking over your shoulder into the driveway, nodding, his tongue working over his teeth behind his lips.

"Yeah, exactly," you say, your brow furrowing as your lips part slightly with surprise, forgetting to appear hardened for a moment.

"Trust me, I understand." he looks back down at you, his lips tight.

"Maybe you do," you respond, giving him a half smile. You let out one more sigh, trying to start shedding your old habits. "I'll stay." you whisper, sucking your bottom lip into your mouth. Your chest feels tight, you stand and let out a loud exhale before turning towards the back door. He's surprised by the strong wave of relief he feels at your words.

"I think you're making the right decision." he responds with subtle enthusiasm at the news.

"I hope so." you say, turning your head back to him for a moment before heading back into the house. You felt like it might be time to start trying to face the things you'd been running from all these years.

As he followed you back into the house, he realized that he'd asked you to stay for Joyce, but it wasn't just her that wanted you to stay anymore. ========================================================= You sat in a chair up against the wall of the Hawkin's Police Station. Your hands are cuffed behind you, you're injuries are left to dry in the stale air of the room. They'd left you handcuffed to a chair but left the cell open. They're lucky you didn't have any intentions of escaping. You are lost in thought and staring at the ceiling, wondering how long you're going to have to wait here tonight.

He stomps down the hall, putting his hand on the doorframe as he sees you sitting in the cell. He stops and takes a deep breath before approaching you. Your shirt is distractingly disheveled. Your chest pushed out from your hands still in cuffs behind your back, your head bent back, resting on the wall behind you. Your legs crossed at the knee, your face rested in an attractive pose, your annoyance visible just under the surface.

"Jesus, Ann, a bar fight? Really?" he stands in front of you shaking his head. You move your eyes to him, leaving your head against the wall, your mouth pressed together.

"I'm not happy about this either, Jim." you grumble out, your face straight.

He throws a folder on the bed in the small space. He holds your jaw to look at your injuries. "Who put you back here? They shouldn't have let you sit here like this." He sighs and uncuffs you, you smell his brand of cigarettes on him as he leans on your shoulder to unlock your wrists. As your arms are freed, you groan at the feeling coming back to your muscles. "Stay here. I've gotta get the first aid kit." he's mumbling to himself, cursing under his breath.

Here he was taking care of you again. You didn't have the same fondness for the gesture as you did when you were younger. You run your fingers through your hair and find that the small cut on your head has bled out of proportion to the injury. You could feel your swollen lip, you were sure there were other bruises forming at this point. You probably looked bad ass, you thought. You wish that you'd given off that vibe enough earlier in the evening.

He's relieved to see you haven't run away this time, he kneels in front of you and set the box on the bed. You wish you could say this was the first time Hopper had patched you up after a fight. He was such a boy scout.

"Tell me what happened." he says, being attentive to the cut on your head, not looking into your eyes.

"I got in a fight. Obviously." you say with an attitude. He pushes the cotton ball with peroxide on it roughly to your skin. "Ow. That's a bit passive aggressive even for you, Jim." you smirk.

"Stop being a smart ass and tell me what happened." he scolds, going back to being gentle with you, holding your face still with his other hand. "You pickin' fights again now? You're a grown woman, what's wrong with you?" he's mad at you and you don't entirely understand why. You had the strange pang of guilt from his words. You felt insulted and you weren't used to words hurting your feelings. Why did you feel so sensitive and emotional lately? You'd made lots of changes you liked, but this one you weren’t a fan of.

"I'd like it if you didn't talk to me like that." you mumble, you move your lips to frown but hiss as it stings more than you expect. "You don't even know why I got in a fight." you say defensively.

"That's why I'm asking, Ann. Stop being so difficult. C'mere" he moves your head again to start wiping away your mess of makeup and get to your surface wounds.

"They were talking shit about you and Joyce." you mumble as his hand obscures your speech by pressing on your cheeks.

"Half of my job is people talking shit about me. There are no fights you should ever get into on my behalf," he instructs, his voice less angry. He reaches to throw the used cotton balls in the small wastebasket outside the cell. He sighs and rests his hand on your leg. "Joyce doesn't need you fighting her fights either. As someone who has gotten into too many fights on her behalf, "He exhales hard and shakes his head, "Just don't do it, kid. It never ends well when she finds out." You nod and look at the floor.

"If I can't beat up someone for calling you a lazy sonofabitch who's bad at his job, AND if I can't beat anyone up for calling my sister a crazy bitch..." You take a deep breath and look at the cuts on your hands as he touches them. "Then can I beat them up for shoving me?" you ask, your voice going lower, you're hit with just how tired you are.

"Well, they shouldn't have touched you." he says obviously. "Or did you shove first?" he smirks and keeps attending to your wounds as you speak.

"I didn't hit him first." you say in an annoyed whisper of an explanation. "I didn't hit him until he had to call me fat." you let out a noise of frustration. "So fuckin' stupid." you shake your head back and forth, being embarrassed that that specifically was what had pushed you over the edge.

"Wait." he holds both of your hands in his and looks into your eyes. "You beat up a GUY?" he asks, surprised.

"Yeah," you say holding your palms up to show it wasn't a big deal to you.

"What the hell, Annie?" he's holding your face. You stiffen at his voice saying the name.

"Please don't call me that." you barely whisper, your voice giving away how tired you were. He overlooks your words.

"A guy beats you up and they bring YOU in?" he lets out a huff of a laugh. "How the hell does THAT happen?"

"I was the one on top when the cops showed up." you chuckle nervously. "I think they took him to the hospital." you mumble.

His laugh catches you off guard before he stops suddenly and grabs your knee again. "Wait, a grown man called you FAT?" his shoulders shakes as he laughs, looking at you with a confused face for a moment. "What kind of bullshit, playground insult is that?" he says rolling his eyes.

"Yeah. Assholes always do after you turn them down." you roll your eyes at the thought. "Nothing new, don't know why it was the straw that broke me." you shake your head.

"You're not even fat." he says with amusement in his voice.

"It's a lame insult." you let out a small huff of a laugh at his attempt at a compliment. "But little boys get intimated by the curves, so their lizard brains put together an insult about the body they were just trying to get into 5 minutes earlier. Idiots." you let out an exasperated sigh. You change the subject, you weren't fishing for compliments from the Chief of Police. "Was I warranted for hitting him for calling me WHORE-owitz then?" you shrug your shoulders moving as you spoke. "Or for threatening me with a broken beer bottle when he hit the floor after I punched him?" you scrunch your nose as Jim rolls his eyes up to, giving you a scolding look. "ANY of that worth me defending myself, Chief?" your face is flushed with frustration at the memories.

"Now it's hard to know if I'm mad or proud." he finally smiles at you. He finishes wrapping your hands and gently runs his fingers over your knuckles. "As the Chief, I'm mad as hell." he furrows his brow at you, leaning in closer to you. "But as Jim..." he grins, "I'd have paid to see that." You can't help but lift at least one of the corners of your mouth up at his response. "I'm glad you beat him up so I didn't have to." he smiles softly again, working on the last injury, the busted lip. "Can't have guys hitting on one of my favorite girls, now can I?"

"Shut up, Hop." you laugh, your chest bouncing with it. "And I'm not sure if the word usage of "hitting on" was the best choice." you smirk.

"Yeah, you really are bad at compliments aren't you?" he holds in a laugh, his belly moving under his uniform. Your shoulders slump slightly because he's right. You could've just said thanks. You stay quiet as he works on your swollen lower lip. It stings as he cleans it and you squeeze your eyes shut for a second. "I know, I know. Sorry." he says softly, his fingers and eyes moving quickly around your face. The shift to tenderness catches you off guard. You melt into his hands a little too much when he holds the sides of your face to look you over one last time. You fight back the sigh that wants to escape your body.

"I've got a few more questions and then I'm gonna let you go." he says, putting away the first aid kit. He brings you a soda and sits across from you in the cell.

"Fine." you reply. "Interrogate me, Chief." you let out a noise that might've been classified as a giggle.

"When I pulled up your records I didn't expect there to be so much in here, honestly." he smirks, looking in the file.

"Oh great, I love answering questions about terrible memories I want to forget." you laugh out loud, wincing as you hold your ribs.

"You don't have to talk about anything you don't want to." he answers in an obvious tone.

"What do you wanna know, Chief?" you ask, leaning back in the chair, your legs spread out.

"I didn't know you were so active in the Vietnam protests, for starters," he asks, his voice even and genuinely interested. "I didn't know you were involved in any of that." the surprise is evident in his voice.

"I..." you sigh and look away from him, you'd give him most of the story, he didn't need to know everything. "I felt strongly about it. It took too many good people from me. I couldn't sit and do nothing." you explain, meeting his gaze again. You'd given him the answer he wanted, not the complete real one but, close enough.

"Then you went to New York?" he asks, looking at the paper in front of him. He laughs and looks over at you, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "We were in New York at the same time." he seems thoroughly amused by this fact.

"Yeah I kept getting arrested and told them to send you but apparently cops don't work like pizza guys." you snort out a laugh and sit back up, your elbows on your knees.

"Good one," he nods and you humbly accept his compliment this time. "You didn't get arrested in the right places." he smirks at you. "Good at keeping those thefts under the felony charge, though." You let out a loud laugh that catches him off guard. You run your hand through your hair, a charming smile moving across your face as you swing your eyes back around to him. He can smell your perfume as you fluff your hair. He thought about how soft your face looked when you laughed. He became unexpectedly flustered when you locked eyes with him and leaned in closer suddenly.

"I got better at getting out of trouble the older I got, believe it or not." you flash all your teeth in an easy going expression.

"You must have, the charges just stop after that." he narrows his eyes at you. "Life of crime prove too hard for you?" he smirks again, your face falls slightly and he worries he's insulted you accidentally.

"Something like that yeah." you scrunch your nose. Once again deciding how much information to divulge to him. Not that you didn't trust him, you were just battle-worn with worry about people using things against you. "I, uh..." you heavily sigh and see no reason to hold this back. From what you'd heard about him, he might just understand. You take a chance on him and put yourself out there. "I was in a bad place." you say with a nod. "Someone close to me died. I moved on to drugs, things got dark for little while there." you chew your cheek in thought. "The charges stop because I left New York and got sober." you hesitate to look back up at him. You didn't need junkie added to the hurtful things you heard hurled at you tonight.

"I shouldn’t have said that, sorry." his eyes are apologetic and it both hurts and feels good to see it in his eyes for you.

You shrug it off. "You've never purposely hurt my feelings before so I didn't expect you to start now." you mumble, taking another drink of soda.

"I'm glad you realize that at least." he gives you a supportive smile, reaching out to rub your knee again.

"You don’t have to look at me like I’m broken now. It was a long time ago." you cross your arms.

"I'm not. I just empathize is all." he shakes his head at you. "I've had problems dealing with people close to me leaving too." his lips are tight. You knew about his daughter and his ex-wife, Joyce had told you what she knew. You were familiar with the look of someone who had such heavy baggage they have to self-medicate to deal with life going on. You felt oddly connected to him, knowing that he understood.

"Thanks." you say roughly. You were trying, you really were. You notice how big his hand is as it squeezes your large thigh. You gulp at the touch, knowing he didn't mean anything by it, but being affected by it nonetheless. You needed to get away from him. Enough bonding over feelings between you both for one night.

Chapter 3

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secondsofhappiness · 6 years

Text

How Robert Sugden Stole Christmas

I have to say, I have been watching Emmerdale for nearly 23 years now and that was hands down the most batshit crazy episode they've ever done.

This could be a long post...!

First off, I think the premise was clear: delve into Robert's head and offer an insight into him, his past and his future and to try to tie up some loose ends including issues with family, Aaron and his own mental health. That much was obvious and I think they achieved a lot of that but I think it could have been done in a much more simple way with less confusion (some moments baffled me a little) and a little more clarity in storytelling.

We have Rob realising, through his dreams, that his actions cannot continue, being smacked in the face with the possible outcome of his behaviour...

I mean, not only is the inside of Rob's brain INSANE, it's fascinating what it focuses on - high fashion (did you see Charity's HAT?!), guy liner, Jimmy's underpants (what the ever loving hell?!), Aaron in a suit (obvs), Doug's incessant rambling and Dan dancing in a velvet suit. Christ. Frightening.

The thing I adored was that it started with The Sugdens and ended with them too. He woke up to them in his dreams AND his reality. The focus on them as a family was the best part of the whole episode to me. I'll get back to that...

- Aaron would die if Rob didn't change? I mean, I get that in the past Aaron's self harming was an issue and Aaron alluded to his mental health being so bad that he'd end up in a dark place but it didn't make sense to me why Aaron would be dead. Or was this just a way to shock Rob into realisation?

- Seb. Why did Rebecca say he was ill and no longer around? What on earth was that about?

- Lawrence still has feelings for Robert? What was the whole cheek stroking moment?! Are we still there?!

That aside - VALERIE EFFING POLLARD. The fact she appeared sitting on her gravestone, sassing everyone and making terrible jokes at Rob's expense. Perfection. I am SO SO happy she was the returning character and it made me realise how desperately I missed her. She made the first half for me.

Ryan was endlessly wonderful, especially with the wide eyed "what the hell" moments as they progressed and the sass. His one-liners never ever fail to make me smile hugely. Ryan delivers them like no other and I enjoyed the many Jimmy hugs. Again, WHAT THE HELL WAS WITH JIMMY'S underpants? Rob's subconscious is bloody screwed up!

So Rob learned a weirdo lesson. It was all a little heavy handed, abstract and confused but I got their intention - he needed to be shown that his actions have consequences that he normally doesn't see or isn't faced with the reality of.

I LOVED Rebecca's portion of the "lesson" for her words. They were GOOD words. The whole speech about the attraction of Rob, how he has no friends and generally slapping him in the face with reality was so refreshing as it was all about Rob and his character and it was very aware. The show does know who he is and I was so giddy that they really displayed that.

On a hilarious note - Rob in guyliner being kicked into a grave was bloody hysterical, not to mention Chas in her dramatic "mourning mother" outfit. The whole thing was camp and ridiculous and crazy fun even if it was a little too wacky to make that much sense at times hahaha

Then we have the reality. The Sugden scene right off the bat was my favourite part of the episode. We have gotten so used to Rob dismissing his family, showing little interest in spending time with them (unless he wants something or can't escape them) and I've felt so disappointed of late that Rob and Vic never seem to have a sibling relationship. I felt it so deeply in this episode with her teasing and her cuddles. That whole scene was simple but full of such warmth. Rob even gently teased Doug. Diane was a true mother figure and Vic was such a little sister. It was so lovely and watching Rob slowly feel grateful for them ending with a cuddle that clearly meant a lot to him... it was wonderful to me. All I could think was that when they left, who else will visit him? It was very Scrooge-esque. I truly felt Rob's loneliness and isolation in the moment that Vic was perhaps going to leave. What a sad sad moment that was and Rob's teary eyes were gut wrenching.

Then there's the Aaron of it all.

Now, I feel like the episode was designed to end two strands of storyline:

1) Aaron's path to self worth, agency and confidence

2) Robert's path to realisation, a healthy lifestyle and acceptance of his behaviour

I liked the Rob we saw. I LOVED the recognition that Rob has done this before - the whole seeing the light bit - and has a poor record of carrying through. That was EXCELLENT. It's true and it's so important for his character to recognise that.

I loved his line about loving Aaron more than himself. That was so well written and illuminating. It's so unhealthy that he feels that way. We've seen it time and time again. I also really loved the moment he accepted that his relationship with Aaron was intense in good and bad ways. It's so true and it was a WONDERFUL moment of clarity for him. His behaviour with Alex was also crazy illuminating. It's not the first time he has recognise that Alex is "perfect" and what Aaron "should be with". Fine, he's simple and easy to love and just generally inoffensive and good. That's a brilliant thing and Rob sees this as what Aaron should have. Aaron should be with someone who makes him happy and treats him well but we all know Alex isn't it. He's way too plain for him but, for now, he's easy and gentle and the antithesis of Rob and well, isn't that the point?!

The final scene was really something.

This is the progress I wanted for them all along. It's the redemption I wanted for Rob all along.

His strength of character and his self awareness was striking to me and I was so stunned by him this whole episode especially during the scene with Alex. He was like "if you like Aaron, you are insane and a total coward if you don't fight me for him." Jesus. Character development or what

The fact that he OPENLY admitted that he'd be a crying heap on the floor or throwing himself out of the window. The fact his feelings were on the surface of his skin. The fact he let people care for him. The fact that he was honest with Aaron in such a vulnerable way... it was all truly something to cherish as a fan of Rob's character. He has never been given so much insight before and it was so special.

I loved that a few things were made very obvious:

- Rob did this for Aaron

- Rob also did it for himself despite how much it hurt

- Rob is focusing on himself and being better

- Rob is allowing his family in a little

- Rob loves Aaron very very much

- Aaron loves Rob very very much

- Aaron is the person in control of his own life and his own choices (this was really important after the past few weeks of people dictating to him)

- Aaron and Rob CANNOT be without each other in their lives in some way

- Robert has a friend (which we all knew he had anyway but him actively declaring his friendship with Aaron as something so vital and important... lovely)

All of this was so final but in a "mid point" kind of way. It was healthy and a rather lovely way for them to find some peace. It turned an INCREDIBLY complex relationship into something rather simple - we both care deeply but romantic shiz isn't on the cards so we are committed to be friends

This didn't seem like friends in the cop out sense. It seemed very firm and accepted and truthful. Aaron wanted it and it meant a lot to him, clearly. Rob, well, he wants is desperately and means it but the hurt will take a little while to lessen.

All in all, it was bloody weird. Good but weird and emotional and I haven't a flipping clue where we go from here but if there's one thing you can't deny, it's that Danny and Ryan have RIDICULOUS chemistry and their scenes - no matter the subject matter or tone - are forever incredible. Ryan carried that episode and god does he have range - he can flip from comedy to heartbreak so rapidly it's a joy.

So yeah! I'm off to rewatch again as my family are all asleep so I'll no doubt have more random thoughts. I'd love to know what you all think though ☺️

#wow that was long #how Robert sugden stole xmas #emmerdale #robron

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berjhawn · 7 years

Text

Bucky Barnes X Reader - I Don’t Need You

Warnings: Angst, lies, fighting, misunderstandings, heartbreak, ETC

Pairings: Bucky Barnes X Reader

(A/N) This is a one-shot i had playing around in my head. It’s angsty since that’s the mood i was in when i wrote it. I hope you all enjoy it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One sentence… just one little sentence was enough to bring my whole happy world crashing down. I had been working at Stark Tower as a liaison between Pepper and the UN, when I was reassigned to ‘Bucky’ duty by Captain America himself. When Bucky first arrived, he was a little unstable and prone to panic attacks, all of which I was able to bring him down from using different methods. As my mission, so to speak, progressed; as did my relationship with Bucky.

At first the two of us were always together. I don’t know whether that was Steve’s plan from the beginning, putting two emotionally unstable individuals together or not, all I know is that it worked. I fell and I fell hard for Bucky. He was broken and damaged just as I was. I hadn’t grown up in the best of circumstances, hell I spent my childhood begging for food in the center of town, but after a kind old man took me in and put me through school and College; I made it my mission to help others.

Hence, I joined the UN, or the United Nations. I graduated top of my class and became a government liaison. That was many years ago, now. I’ve been a liaison for many different superheroes, starting with Reed Richards and then of course ending with Tony Stark. My job was simple, be the go between for both and keep the chaos to a minimum. Also, I was there to report on any and all tests and secrets.

Anyway, I’m getting off track. Like I said Bucky and I were constantly together, we spent every waking moment near each other. It was inevitable for me to fall for him. It happened about three weeks ago, Steve thought it would be a good idea for Bucky and I to take a day and go to Coney Island. Perhaps it might rekindle some of Bucky’s memories that hadn’t come back yet. So, we went and at first it was magical.

We were having a great time. That was until I said something I shouldn’t have. I was so stupid, I got caught up in the moment and in the spur of it I told him I loved him. His eyes, he looked at me like I had betrayed him. I froze. I didn’t know what to do. It was just like when I was a kid and my mother abandoned me. He didn’t say anything. Like he was avoiding my confession so I decided to take him back to Steve.

The rest of the way back to Avengers tower we rode in silence. My heart was breaking and I just wanted to get him back safely and then I would decide what I was going to do from there. When we arrived, after I climbed out of the cab he grabbed my hand and said, ‘I don’t need you anymore, today proves I can do just fine by myself.’ I froze in my footsteps as he releases my hand and walks into the tower. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was crushed. Tears stung my eyes but I wasn’t about to cry.

Flashbacks to my childhood filled my mind. Abusive words slung at me from every direction covered me making me lose all the confidence I had gained over the past few years. I was broken. I don’t remember how I got home or even how I didn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere. All I remember was waking up the next morning and returning to my original job as Miss Potts assistant. I didn’t try to avoid him, I didn’t make things awkward, I was just being professional. Everything was fine. Even though the very sight of him made my heart hurt I had to be professional.

Then it happened. I saw him with another girl. He was smiling a smile I had never seen before. It crushed me. That was when I decided to leave. I put in my resignation letter with Miss Potts, packed my bags, sold my apartment, and headed back to Paris. I traded in my field work for a desk job. I didn’t want to get attached to anyone ever again.

“And that’s why I’m here.” I say as I look across the room to the Shrink my supervisors requested I go to. The middle-aged woman had her hair pulled tightly back in a bun, and she wore a gray pinstriped pants suit. This was the last place I wanted to be.

“(Name), I’ve read the reports you wrote about your time at the Avengers tower; It seems like you had many friends you could have turned too, so why did you leave without notifying anyone other than Miss Potts?” She asks as she pulls her glasses from her face.

“Miss Potts was my boss; it’s only fitting I tell her I was leaving.”

“And this Bucky individual you mentioned, you didn’t feel the need to tell him you were leaving?” She asks and my heart clenches.

“No ma’am, I figured it was best that I break off contact without delay. That is also why I decided to stay here in Paris. I’m finished with field work.”

“You do realize it’s your superiors who want me to clear you for the field do you not?”

“I do ma’am, but I wish to remain at my desk.”

“I understand your reasons, I will go through my notes and let them know what I think.”

“Thank you,” I say forcing my business smile.

“That is all the time we have for today, I will see you again next week at the same time.”

“Yes ma’am.” I say as I stand and grabbing my coat and purse head for the door. I was not happy. Leaving the therapists office, I step out into the cold winter air and let out a heavy sigh. I hated shrinks, I never believed they worked and I hated the fact that I was to tell a complete stranger about my tortured past. As the cold wind blows I take a deep breath and wince as the cold air fills my lungs. It burned but that was just proof that I was alive.

Turning I decide to take the long way home and walk past Notre Dame. It was my favorite place in the whole world. When I was begging for food I used to go there. The Archbishop and Deacons used to slip me whatever food they could and then on extremely cold nights they would allow me to sleep inside the cathedral. It was the first act of kindness anyone had ever shown me. I smile at the people as I pass by them.

As the church comes into view I remember Philippe, the old man who took me in off the streets. He was a baker, every morning he would wake up early to start preparing the dough. I loved smelling the smell of bread baking. Bread baking was my favorite smell in the whole world. Although he passed away right after I graduated college he left his bakery in the hands of his workers.

Rounding the corner, I spot a familiar face and I smile as I rush over to the flower woman. “Bonjour Marie,” I call out to the redhead as I reach into my purse to pull out some money for her beautiful yellow Roses.

“Ah Bonjour (Name), Je ne vous ai pas vu depuis des années. Comment allez-vous?” (I haven’t seen you in years. How are you?) She replies a bright smile covering her withered face.

“J'ai eu un peu de malchance en amour mais à part ça je l'ai bien été.” (I've had a bit of bad luck in love but other than that I’ve been well.) I reply holding the blooming petals up to my nose.

“Eh bien, je ne vais pas édulcorer et dire que vous allez rencontrer quelqu'un savait. Est-ce que vous aimez cet homme?” (Well I’m not going to sugar coat it and say that you'll meet someone knew. Did you love this man?) She asks and I feel tears sting my eyes as I think of him.

“Oui je l'ai fait.” (Yes, I did.)

“L'amour fait mal. Voilà comment vous savez qu'il était réel.” (Love hurts. That's how you know it was real.) She replies and I nod.

“Eh bien, je serai hors tension. Merci Marie pour la belle rose.” (Well I'll be off. Thank you, Marie, for the lovely rose.) I say as I start to walk toward the bridge. She waves me off with a smile and I grip tightly to my little bouquet as I slowly walk across the Pont au Double bridge. I take one last glance toward the church and smile softly before I turn back and continue my walk home.

Walking into my apartment, I am greeted by the familiar face of a one Steve Rogers and I freeze in my footsteps. “Mr. Rogers? Um, what are you doing in my apartment?” I ask a knot welling up inside my throat.

“Pepper told me you resigned. I have to admit I was a little surprised that you didn’t say goodbye.” He says a sad smile covering his lips.

“I apologize; I admit I wasn’t thinking rationally when I left.” I reply as I close my door and setting my purse and roses down start to pull my coat off.

“Don’t apologize. I’m sure you had every reason to do what you did.” He says and I nod as I hang my coat on the hook and grab the roses.

“Um, would you like something to drink?” I ask as I walk past him to the kitchen to find a vase.

“Ah yes, a water would be nice.” He replies as he follows after me.

“Water it is.” I say as I set my roses down on the counter and grab a glass. Reaching into the fridge I grab a bottle of water and twisting the cap off pour it into the cup. Handing it too him I turn back and reach for a pair of scissors to cut the stems of my rose. “So how is everything?” I ask making small talk as I gently arrange the roses in an antique blue glass vase.

“Well the towers still standing if that’s what you mean.” He jokes and I chuckle.

“I guess that’s a good thing then.” I reply setting the vase on my kitchen table. “How long are you going to be in Paris?”

“A few days,” He replies and I nod.

“Are you alone, or did the rest of the team come?” I ask dreading his answer. I was not ready to see Bucky. I wanted to be alone.

“Tony, Natasha, Pepper, Sam and I came.” He says and I let out a sigh of relief that wasn’t visible on my face.

“You’ll have to tell them I said hi,” I comment smiling softly at him.

“I will, we’ll have to have dinner together.” He offers and I tense.

“I’ll have to check my schedule, but that would be nice.” I reply as I move from the kitchen to the front room. “Would you like to sit down?” I ask as I motion to the couch.

“Ah yeah sure,” He replies sitting down across from me.

“Is it just me or does it seem really awkward?” I ask smiling.

“So, it’s not just me.” He replies and I smile.

“There’s no need to be on your toes around me, please just be yourself.”

“Thank you. Sorry it’s just,” He pauses as he rubs his fingers along the smooth glass, “Been a hectic few weeks.”

“Again, I’m sorry I didn’t say anything about me leaving. I just needed,” I pause as I clasp my hands together. “I missed my home. I grew up in Paris you know?”

“I remember you saying something about it before. I got your address from the UN. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Although I am a little surprised to find you inside my apartment,” I giggle making him laugh before I continue, “It’s a nice surprise though, so thank you.”

“No problem. If I’m being honest, I missed you.” He says and I feel my heart lighten a bit.

“I missed you too Steve.” I reply honestly as I smile at him.

We spent the next few hours talking and reminiscing about old times which was nice. I hadn’t lied, I had missed Steve. Truth be told I had missed them all, but I just wasn’t ready to see them. Steve was enough. As the hours passed I glanced up to the clock to see that it was almost nine and my eyes widen. “Oh my, I didn’t realize it was this late. Um do you know your way back? Should I call you a cab, or if you’d like I have a guest room?”

“Oh um, I think I can find my way back. It’s not that I don’t want to take you up on your offer but I just think, you know,”

“Right, It’s completely understandable.”

“Um how about lunch tomorrow?” He asks as he stands up and walks toward the door.

“Uh yeah, sure, why not? Um, my lunch breaks at one. There’s a little Bistro I like to frequent for lunch called La rose floraison. They have the most amazing food there.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow at one.” He says grabbing his coat and pulling it on.

“I’m looking forward to it. Goodnight Steve,” I say giving him a soft smile.

“Goodnight (Name),” He says returning my smile before he heads off down the hall. As soon as he heads down the stairs I close the door and let out the heavy sigh I had been holding all night long. I lean my back against the door as I slowly slide down the door onto the floor. What was I to do now? If Steve knew I was here, then it wouldn’t be long until the rest of the team knew. Not that Bucky would come even if he knew.

The recollection of his name sent a shiver down my spine. My heart tightens in my chest and I take a deep breath to keep from crying. I look over at the clock and watch as the time slowly ticks by. There was no way I was going to get any sleep tonight. Not with my mind full of the past. Clearing my throat, I push myself up off the floor and grabbing my cell phone head to my room. Sitting down on the bed I reach over and opening my nightstand drawer I take out my sleeping pills.

I set my alarm and plug in my cell phone before I twist the cap of my pills and pulling two out slip them in my mouth. I swallow them down dryly before I lay down on top of the blankets. It was definitely cold outside and it was slightly drafty in my little apartment but I didn’t care. I wanted the cold. I needed to feel numb. As I close my eyes I slowly slip into an all too familiar nightmare.

Bucky’s POV

~Going back~

“What do you mean she’s gone?” Bucky yells out in confusion before running past his friend and up to her room. She couldn’t be gone. Why would she leave? His mind drifts back to the day they had gone to Coney Island and her sudden confession and his heart clenches. It was true that he had rejected her but it was for her own good. He couldn’t love her the way she deserved to be loved. Granted he had rejected her rather roughly but she had been acting just fine since then.

Throwing her bedroom door opened he found all her belongings gone. No trace of her was left. “(Name)!” He yells out as he runs throughout her entire floor in search of her. He feels his heart start to clench and its pace quickens. “No, no, no. (Name)!” He yells again his adrenaline kicking in. Unable to control his body he grabs the closest thing to him and throws it against the wall. He reaches for the next thing-

“Bucky calm down!” Steve yells as he reaches out and tries to restrain Bucky who is thrashing around wildly.

“Where is she Steve? Where did she go?” Bucky cries out pain lacing his voice.

“I don’t know Buck; all I know is she turned in her resignation and left. Even Pepper doesn’t know where she is.”

“It’s all my fault?” Bucky says his body stilling.

“What? Why? How is it your fault?” Steve asks confusion filling his voice.

“It just is okay,” Bucky snaps causing Steve to narrow his eyes at his friend.

“What exactly happened between the two of you Buck? I noticed she was acting strange but I didn’t think it had anything to do with you.”

“That day, the day you sent us to Coney Island; everything was perfect. She was beautiful with the sunlight in her hair and a happy smile on her lips. Then when we were about to get on the cyclone she told me,” He pauses as he narrows his eyebrows. “She told me she was in love with me.”

“Really? Buck that’s great.”

“I rejected her.” Bucky interjects making Steve stare wide eyed at his friend.

“What exactly did you say to her Bucky?” Steve inquires in a serious tone.

“I panicked. At first, I didn’t say anything. Right after that we climbed into a cab and came back here. Then when we got out of the cab I stopped her and,” He pauses as tears start to fill his eyes.

“And?” Steve presses his friend for more information.

“I told her that I didn’t need her anymore. That that day was a test that I passed and I could live normally without her.”

“Jesus Bucky, what were you thinking?” Steve chastises his friend as he runs a hand down his face.

“I wanted her to find someone else. Someone better than me. I’m broken and I’ve done a lot of bad in my life. I didn’t want to hurt her but I didn’t want to see her get hurt because of me either. My brain picked the easier of the two. I didn’t think she’d actually leave though. She acted normally after that day, I just figured she decided to stay friends.”

“Buck, you may have wanted to keep her from getting hurt; but in reality, you hurt her more than anyone else ever could.” Steve shakes his head. He knows this isn’t going to help his friend but Bucky needed to know the truth.

“But why did she wait so long to leave then? Why didn’t she leave the next day?” Bucky asks his eyes full of curiosity and pain.

“Did something happen recently?”

“No,” Bucky shakes his head. “We have barely talked since that day.”

“I’m sorry Buck, but I think it’s safe to say that she’s not coming back.” Steve says blatantly and Bucky nods.

“It’s all my fault.”

“Come on Buck, let’s get you something to drink and maybe go for a run to clear your mind.”

“Please just leave me Steve. I wanna be alone.” Bucky replies his eyes growing cold.

“Are you sure?” Steve asks as he places a hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” Bucky says his voice cracking. “Just leave me alone.”

~Today~

Bucky stares at the building that held her apartment with mixed emotions. He wanted to rush up the stairs to her. Tell her he had been wrong and all he ever wanted was for her to come back but he couldn’t find the nerve. Gulping down a breath of air he stares up at the window Steve said was hers, his entire body crying out for him to run to her but he held himself back. The light was still on and at times he could see her silhouette against the curtains.

He wanted to see more. He wanted to hold her in his arms and tell her he was sorry. Steve had been up there for a while talking with her and he had said that she seemed a little awkward and nervous. Steve hadn’t mentioned that he was in town and that gave him the element of surprise. Steve had made a date with her to have lunch tomorrow and as a surprise he would be there instead of Steve.

There was no doubt she would be upset and a little betrayed but he needed to talk to her. He needed to see her, to tell her that the words he had told her had haunted his every waking moment. She would probably reject him but it was a chance he was willing to take. As the lights of her apartment turn off he takes a deep breath and turning heads back to his hotel room where he would sleep tonight for the upcoming battle tomorrow.

Reader’s POV

I stare at the blank screen before me. My mind wasn’t able to focus on anything work related at all. “(Name), I needed those files regarding the Wakandan royal family on my desk five minutes ago!” My boss Michael Ross yells out bringing me from my stupor.

“Oh!” I exclaim as I look down at the open file showing a picture of the young prince of Wakanda. “I’m sorry Mr. Ross, I have it right here.” I say as I quickly close the file and hand it over to him.

“What’s with you today? You were doing so well.” He asks his deep brown eyes filled with worry.

“Just didn’t get enough sleep last night. I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” I say straightening my back and putting my best businesslike face on.

“Okay, if you need an ear to listen to your troubles, my door’s always open.” He says with a quick wave before he started off back to his office. When his door closes, I let out a sigh of relief before I lean back against my chair my head falling back so I could stare at the ceiling. Damn Steve for showing up and causing my mind to be so muddled. Speaking of Steve. I look at the clock to see that it was almost time for me to go on my lunch break and contemplate sending him a message. I grab my phone only to realize that I had deleted his cell number when I came back to Paris.

“Just my luck.” I groan out as I toss my phone onto my desk and pinch the bridge of my nose. No turning back now. Pulling my cac-card from the reader I place it inside my wallet and standing up I grab my phone and shoving it back into my purse grab my coat. Rolling my shoulders, I slide my chair up to my desk and turning head for the elevator. I give Michael a quick wave signaling that I was leaving for lunch and he nodded.

He gives me a head nod in return as he is on his phone before I climb into the elevator and hit the lobby button. I watch the numbers slowly count down as I try to think about what I was walking into. I thought about somehow running away and hiding but now that they knew I was here that wouldn’t work. Letting out a heavy sigh I hail a cab. When one stops I quickly climb inside and telling him the address fold my hands over my lap and let out a heavy sigh.

It took no time at all to make it to the little café. I hand the cabbie the money I owed before I climb out of the cab and taking a deep breath I head inside. I smile softly as I am greeted by the familiar host who quickly leads me to a table where I could wait for Steve. I order a water as I pull my cell phone out of my purse and start to fiddle with it. A few seconds later I see someone walk up to me out of the corner of my eyes and thinking it to be Steve I fake a smile and look up only to stare wide eyed at the last person I ever wanted to see again. “Bucky…”

“Hey (Name), mind if I sit?” He asks his icy eyes pleading with me. My heart starts to race and my palms grow sweaty as he sits down across from me.

“I thought I was meeting Steve.” I say in disbelief as I stare across the table at him.

“Sorry about that, Steve asked you here for me.” Bucky replies as he leans his elbows on the table.

“Why?” I ask as my throat tries to close up.

“Because I wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I miss you.”

“Why?” I ask again not getting where he was going with this. Why did he miss me? He was the one who told me to go.

“Because…” He pauses his eyes finding mine as they fill with a silent plea.

“Sargent, I have a very busy schedule. I’m sorry but I need to get back. Tell Steve not to contact me again.” I say as I grab my purse and tossing down some money stand up and leave.

“(Name) wait.” Bucky calls out as he follows after me. I ignore him as I continue on down the street headed anywhere but there. “(Name)! Stop!” Bucky yells out angrily making me stop in my tracks and turn back to him. He gulps down a breath of air as he closes the distance between the two of us and before I have a chance to think crashes his lips against mine. At first I fight against him trying my hardest to push him away so I could keep my sanity but just like before I found I couldn’t.

I grip tighter to his coat as his hands cup both sides of my face holding my lips to his. Tears fill my eyes as I with one last surge of sanity push him away. As he stumbles away from me I feel my hand move on its own as it collides with the side of his face. “Why?”

“Why what?” HE asks making me try to choke back sobs.

“Why now? Why did you kiss me? What do you want from me Barnes?” I question as I try not to burst out in tears. “You told me to leave so I did. What more do you want? How much more will you hurt me?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He says a pained expression filling his face. “I told you I didn’t need you cause I didn’t want to place you in danger. No matter what I do I will always have bad people after me and I didn’t want to put you through that. I couldn’t see you hurt.”

“Well you failed there, you hurt me more than anyone else ever could.”

“Then why did you stay after I told you to leave? Why did you take so long to leave?”

“Because I saw you.”

“You saw me what?”

“I saw you with another girl,” I answer and he cocks his head in confusion. “You wore a smile I never saw before. You looked happy with her and it broke my heart. I left because I knew you would never look at me like that. I couldn’t stay and watch the man I loved love someone else. I left to get over you. Why won’t you let me do that?”

“Because I love you (Name).” He replies taking me aback.

“You… you love me?” I ask as I start to take a few steps backwards away from him. “It’s not true, you don’t do that to someone you love.”

“It’s true (Name),” He answers as he clenches his jaw. “When I found out you were gone, I lost it. I went crazy. I wanted you to find someone else who was better that I am; but I never expected you to disappear. I never wanted that.”

“Then what did you expect me to do? Flaunt whoever I met in front of you? I couldn’t do that, no matter how upset I was.”

“The more I thought about it while I sat in your old apartment sulking,” He starts as he closes the distance between the two of us. “The more I realized how much I hate the thought of you being with someone else. It would kill me to have to stand by and watch you be happy with someone else no matter how much better they would be for you. I couldn’t do it. I realized then how much I love you (Name). I really and truly love you.”

“What am I supposed to say?” I ask tears silently falling from my eyes.

“Whatever you want. You can tell me to go to hell, to never see you again; hell, you can tell me to eat shit and die and I will.” He adds making me chuckle slightly at his words. “But if there is even the slightest bit of a chance that you can forgive me, and give me a second chance, the please tell me now.” I contemplate all the emotions and feelings running through my body as I stare up into his handsome face. I wanted nothing more than to tell him I loved him and that I wanted to be with him but what if it wasn’t enough. What if all this was, was just smoke and mirrors? It would probably kill me.

I take a deep breath fully intending to tell him no when I hear myself say, “I love you James Barnes.” He smiles and goes to hold me but I hold my had up stopping him in his tracks, “But I’m scared that this is all just…”

“It’s not what you think (Name) I really and truly love you. I will gladly spend the rest of my life proving it to you. If you’ll let me.” He says as his hands reach up to rest on my shoulders. I stare at him for a moment my eyes searching his for any hint that he might be untrue but there is none. Giving him a hopeful smile I wrap my arms around his waist and hold tight to him. “You better not be lying Barnes.” He kisses the top of my head as he gently smoothes my hair back.

“I promise (Name), I’ll always be here for you; and I’ll say it as much as I can. I love you.”

“I love you too James Buchanan Barnes.”

LATER

“I swear you are never allowed to leave the tower again.” Tony says as he sets a glass of whiskey down in front of you.

“Oh really? Why?” I ask a smile covering my lips as I hold tight to Bucky’s hand.

“Because Frosty here is annoying when he’s sulking. I almost tossed him back into Cryo to lighten the mood around here.”

“HEY!” Bucky argues making me laugh at the two of them as I look around at all our friends. Bucky grips tighter to my hand and I smile lovingly at him as I think to myself that I couldn’t be happier.

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