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mxigo · 1 year

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soul sick | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: It’s hard enough watching the male that holds your heart pine for another woman, one that is the definition of beauty and grace, but to watch him fall for another yet again after you feel the mating bond snap into place is its own hell. A hell that makes you dangerously ill.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: you get ready to go out with Azriel after his check in with the Illyrian camps, but things don’t go as planned.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing. a relatively tame first chapter

WORD COUNT: 3.7k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

NEXT CHAPTER

a.n. if i get anything wrong i’m blaming it on my shit memory and the fact that i haven’t finished acowar and haven’t read acofas and acosf. really just going off what i remember and what i’ve read in other fics. enjoy!

It has been three months since Feyre’s sisters were Made and subsequently brought to the Night Court. You’ve done what you could in aiding their transition to fae life, even getting as far as calling Nesta a friend, cold façade and all. But while you have gained a friend, you’re beginning to lose your best friend, and the male that you love, all at the same time.

It first started with him checking in for a second after the two of you had come back from being out and about in Velaris, then it turned to him apologetically explaining that he already had plans with Elain for the evening, and now, you hardly see him at all anymore.

It’s become more often than not that he spends his time with Elain, leaving you on the back burner, as a second thought to his plans now. You have other friends, yes, but you don’t remember a day where you haven’t at least sent notes back and forth to each other since you became close. It’s like you’re missing a part of you, something that is supposed to be there but isn’t anymore, and your body knows it. Why did it have to be him? She has a mate waiting for her for crying out loud, one who you can tell just genuinely wants to know her, and Azriel is entertaining her, knowing full well what her position is.

Guilt eats at you for these jealous feelings, knowing that the girl has been through so much when her entire life was ripped away and was literally turned into something that she was taught her entire life to fear. You want to be accepting and carefree about the situation, but it is literally impossible when you catch him looking at her with the intense adoration that you have yearned for decades for, and she has simply swooped in and stole him from you.

But tonight, you and Azriel have plans to go out into Velaris for the night for dinner. It’s your tradition that you’ve had for years to catch up after his return from his visits to the Illyrian camps, something to help him unwind. You just hope that for a single night that you can forget about it.

The new dress you bought just yesterday is a beautiful deep burgundy color, the hem falling just above your mid-thigh, long-sleeved, and the neckline plunges lower than what you are used to wearing. You were able to find a pair of nude heels that fit you perfectly in a corner shop. You were even successful in keeping your hair styled for the occasion. It was safe to say that you looked stunning, and there was a glimmer of hope that it wouldn’t be left unnoticed by him.

The heels’ click echoes off the paneled hallway as you scramble to finish getting ready, knowing that you need to leave. You stride into your bedroom, beelining for the jewelry tree on your vanity. Considering the colors that you’re wearing, you think a gold set would be the best, and you know exactly which to wear. Gently, you pick up the teardrop Alexandrite earrings and necklace that Azriel had bought you after one of his trips to the Summer Court. The gem’s color shifts between purple and green depending on the light source, easily making them your favorite pieces.

It hurts a bit when you try to put the earrings in, meeting a bit of resistance as it’s been a while since you’ve last worn any, but you’re able to get them through without too much trouble. The necklace thankfully clasps easily around your neck, the pendant falling in the middle of your chest. The delicate gold glitters in the candlelight, making you smile at the memory of Azriel giving it to you. With a shack of your head, you snap out of the memory’s haze, misting yourself with perfume as a last thought before leaving your bedroom.

The click of your heels echoes off the buildings lining the road as you make your way to Rhys’ townhouse to meet Azriel for drinks before dinner. The night’s cool breeze causes your flesh to break out in goose bumps, but it feels nice over all.

The door unlocks as you turn the knob, and the house becomes alight as you enter. The candles flicker to life to bring the house into a cozy atmosphere, and even the fireplace roars to life to stave off the last of the early spring chill.

The grandfather clock in the foyer chimes, signaling the turn of the hour at seven o’clock. Your heart flutters, excitement filling you knowing that he’ll be here any minute. You make your way into the kitchen, pulling out Azriel’s favorite whiskey and your favorite liqueur, grabbing two tumblers out of the cabinet to set it all out on the table.

Minutes tick by as you wait for him to winnow into the kitchen like he always does, a soft smile on his face as he holds out his elbow like the gentleman he is to winnow you wherever you want to go. You settle into a cushioned seat in the adjoining living room, picking up a book that has been left out and flipping open to the page that you had left on.

Those couple of minutes turn into five, then into fifteen, and then by thirty minutes, you’re constantly glancing between the clock and the kitchen, anxiety eating away at you. Azriel has never been late like this before, and if he’s ever late, it’s only by no more than five. Your stomach rumbles as hunger makes itself known, and you set down the book on the table to stand up. Maybe something happened that’s causing him to be late, but there’s a little voice that’s whispering to you, saying that he’s forgotten about you, that he’s preoccupied by a certain sister.

You shake your head, setting the book back into its spot to stand up and head back into the kitchen. You pour a drink and watch as the dark amber liquid swirls into the cup before settling around the ice. More minutes pass as you finish the drink only to pour another, still waiting, hoping that he will pop into the room, spewing apologies as he tries to explain why he was so late.

But it doesn’t happen. Instead, it is Rhys that winnows into the kitchen, startling you so bad you nearly fall off the stool.

“Mother, Rhys, give a girl a warning before you snap in like that,” you joke, righting yourself up. Your eyes meet his, and you’re confused because he’s confused, staring at you like you are crazy.

“What are you doing here? Are you meeting someone?” he asks, his head tilted slightly as he stares still.

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, but you want so badly to be wrong about what’s happening.

“I’m meeting Az here. We’re supposed to be going out tonight like we always do when he comes back from the camps, but he’s late. Have you seen him by chance?” A look passes over Rhys’ face, and you recognize that look immediately, your face dropping, heart hammering as you wait for those few words.

“Oh, sweetheart, he left the House with Elain,” he whispered, like you would shatter at just those words, and you suppose you do.

Your breathing stutters, and it’s like the world goes fuzzy, the sounds muted as your breaks cracks. Never in all the years have you been friends with Azriel has he ever forgotten about your nights out when he comes back, let alone either forgetting or just flat out choosing to spend it with another female and not tell you. And of course, it’s with Elain.

Your lungs shake as you take your next breath, reality coming back into focus as you realize that Rhys is still in front of you, worry etched across his face as he too realizes what has happened. You knock back the rest of your drink, and your hands shake as you pick up the glasses to take care of them and to put the bottles away. In an effort to try to get Rhys to go away, to be alone, you put on a fake smile, looking at him.

“Oh, well, I guess I shouldn’t have expected that we’d be going out tonight without checking in with him to see if he was free. That’s my mistake, but thank you for telling me, Rhys. I’ll clean up here and I’ll get going,” you try, but he just shakes his head.

“Nonsense. Leave it, I’ll take care of it later. Let me take you home.”

“Honestly, Rhys, I’m ok. It’s just a misunderstanding on my part. And my home isn’t far from here at all, and the night is nice. You don’t need to winnow me,” you insisted, already done with rinsing out the glasses and putting them away. But your voice is shaking ever so slightly, sick to your stomach, and you know that Rhys notices.

He grimaces, debating with himself on what to do.

“If you’re sure,” he asks, raising an eyebrow, and you nod. “I’ll talk to him when he gets back.”

“No! No, you don’t have to do that. Seriously, Rhys, it’s not a big deal,” you beg, and finally, he relents.

He nods once before stuffing his hands back into his pockets.

“You’ll let me know if you change your mind, right,” he asks.

“Of course,” you promise, and he pops back out of the house, leaving you to truly process the situation.

He took Elain out instead. He left you, that same voice whispers, louder this time. Tears sting your eyes, and a half-sob rips out of your lungs, a hand flying up to your mouth to prevent any more from leaving. But you’re fruitless in your efforts to contain your emotions as tears start spilling over, splattering onto the table.

You leave the townhouse in a flurry, harshly wiping at the tears. The house goes dark behind you and the lock snicks shut, leaving you in the night’s chill. Then all at once, your face crumbles as your emotions make themselves known. You try to reason with yourself that there’s no reason to be upset because it was true when you told Rhys that you never did confirm with Azriel if he didn’t already have plans, you just assumed.

But you never have to check in, he has always been there.

“Fuck,” you whisper, walking down the cobbled road back to your townhouse, furiously wiping away the stray tears.

The walk back is quiet for the most part, and you’re thankful that you don’t run into anyone. You would never let yourself live it down if someone saw you in the state that you’re in. You almost make it back, but as you look up, your heart drops and your veins fill with ice as you recognize two figures walking your way. They are so enraptured with each other that they haven’t noticed you yet, so you quickly move over to the edge of the road, hopefully giving yourself enough space that they don’t see you.

You continue walking, arms crossed, and hair falling around you to shield your face, and you’ve just passed them when you spare a glance, making eye contact with him.

Fuck. You walk faster, eyes trained on the ground.

“Y/N?” he calls out, but you keep walking, quickening your pace.

“Y/N! Hey, wait,” he shouts, and this time catches up with you.

A calloused hand closes itself around your arm, effectively stopping you. You whip your head around to face him, and he looks at you in confusion. His form towers over you, and you’re so close you can smell the cologne wafting off of him. You watch as his face crumbles while he looks you over, and it almost seems like he’s panicking.

“Please, just allow me a moment to explain,” he begs, but you shake your head, eyes screwing shut to prevent him seeing the frustrated tears.

“It’s fine, Az, really. I just wish you would have told me instead of having Rhys be the one to tell me where you were,” you whisper, your eyes now trained on his chest, still avoiding his eyes.

If there’s one thing you hate, it’s confrontation. Even if all you want is for someone to feel what you’re feeling, and to confront them about what they’ve done, you can never bring yourself to do it, to hurt them like they had hurt you. So right now, you just want him to let you go so you can let yourself fall apart and piece yourself back together in the comfort of your home.

He is helpless as he sees you put up your walls, trying to keep your emotions in check by shutting them off entirely. It’s something that he’s never been on the receiving end of, and it crushes him to know that he’s who caused this.

A cold whisper ghosts over your wrist, and you look down to find a shadow caressing you anxiously, but it only makes you even more upset, the corners of your lips forcefully tugging down and eyes burning. Blood thunders in your ears, and you can feel your hands shaking, and no doubt Azriel can feel it too, which just makes you panic harder.

“Please, let me go I just want to go home.”

“Y/N,”

“No, Az. Just—”

“Azriel? Is everything ok?” A soft, ethereal voice breaks the moment, your eyes snapping over to the culprit.

You’re horrified as she walks over, the object of your ire making herself known. She looks absolutely breath taking dressed up, and you can’t help but understand for a moment why he would choose her over yourself. She’s absolutely perfect, and you’re… not.

She stops just behind him, placing a delicate pale hand on his back, looking up at him with worried eyes. His gaze snaps from you to her, and it makes you sick as you watch his face soften for her. You take the moment of weakness to rip your wrist away, giving yourself a step to breathe.

Azriel looks between the two of you, confliction painting his face as he tries to decide what to do, but you don’t give him the chance.

“I used to believe that you wouldn’t go as far as this, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

He reels back like he was physically slapped, looking back at you in astonishment.

“What is that supposed to mean,” he begs, his eyes wide as his grip grows tighter around your wrist, but if you say what you want to say, you’re going to irreparably damage your relationship with him. Despite how you feel, that’s the last thing that you want.

You sigh, closing your eyes and shaking your head, just wanting the conversation to end. “It doesn’t matter. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”

You spin around and high tail it away from him. Although you just want to be left alone, it still makes your heart break even more when he doesn’t try to come after you.

The guilt eats at you again knowing that you ruined his and Elain’s night, but that selfish part of you is glad that you did and made him feel like shit.

Thankfully, you make it back home before you lose it, sobs racking your body as it all comes out. The pain of being pushed aside for someone else yet again comes to a head from tonight’s events. In a fury, you rip off the dress and heels, slinging them somewhere to be found later. You all but drop your jewelry onto the vanity, letting it clatter against the dark wood top. Tears still pour out of your eyes as you rifle through your liquor cabinet, pushing to the back to grab a bottle of dark and strong whiskey, but you slam the door shut as the thought of whiskey being Azriel’s favorite pushes itself to the forefront of your mind.

So instead, you crawl into bed for the night, staining your white sheets with your black-tinted tears.

Heavy thudding at your door drags you from sleep, making you groan as you have to peel open your eyes. The sun is blocked out by the thick curtains, confusing you even further as you try to figure out what time it could be. A headache makes itself known, pulsing behind your eyes causing you to groan as you sit up. The thudding continues, and you can’t help but snap.

“Give me a Mother-damned second! Fuck!” You slip from the sheets, stumbling across the room to get to your dresser. You pull a pair of pants and a t-shirt from a drawer, throwing on them on as you make your way to the door. You pray it’s not Azriel, but it’s more than likely it is. He’s the last one you want to see right now. Hopefully, he’s smart enough to stay away for a little while so you can cool off, allowing the whole situation to blow over.

You yank the door open, squinting at the bright sunlight, but they snap awake when you see Mor and Cassian in front of you instead, the latter standing against the door frame with his arms crossed.

“Uh…” You’re at a loss for words, guilty for the way that you had screamed at them.

“Get ready, we’re going to lunch, and you’re going to tell us why Azriel came home like his fucking puppy died,” Mor says, inviting herself in and grabbing you to lead you to your room. You look back at Cassian, eyes begging for help, but he just shrugs. Bastard.

The blonde immediately starts riffling through your wardrobe, picking through dresses and outfits, but you’re not sure what she has in mind. You allow yourself to flop back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling. Cassian’s footsteps announce his entrance as he takes a seat on your love seat.

“What’s this?”

You pick your head up to see Mor holding your dress that you left in a ball on the floor. Your face flickers for a moment before you reign it back it, allowing the emotionless mask to take place.

“Nothing,” you whisper, letting your head fall back onto the bed.

It’s silent for a moment as Mor and Cassian look between themselves then back to you. It’s obvious something happened between you two last night, and the story won’t come easy from either of you.

The bed dips as both of your friends sit on the edge, one on either side as the flop down next to you. They remain quiet, but the tension and everything that you’ve been feeling makes your chin tremble, and you bite your lip to try and conceal it. But the tears sting at your eyes anyways, making the ceiling go blurry.

You sit up, digging your elbows into your knees, heaving a great sob. A small hand rests itself on your back, rubbing in circles as you allow yourself to finally fall apart.

“He fucking stood me up,” you choke out. “We always go out when he comes back from the camps. I got dressed up and everything, waited at the townhouse for a half hour just for Rhys to show up and tell me he wasn’t coming. Then I ran into him with Elain on the street on my walk home.”

They’re silent as they let you recount what happened last night, Mor’s face twisting as she watches one of her closest friends fall apart in front of her.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” Cassian whispers, but you just shake your head.

“It’s fine—”

“No, it’s not fucking fine. He’s either blind or just outright stupid to not see what he’s doing to you.” Cassian’s face is set in a scowl as he thinks about his friend’s behavior after Elain came into the picture.

He knows that his brother has a history of fawning over unavailable women, but for him to entertain one who already has a mate, one that lives with them and wants to engage with her nonetheless, makes him question if Azriel is really that ignorant to the entire situation. It’s not exactly a secret that you harbor feelings for the shadowsinger, but he has been oblivious to the way that you look at him, and Cassian can only imagine how you are with him when no one else is watching.

Mor’s heart breaks while she is helpless watching your face crumble and tears drip off your chin. There’s been a lot that has brought you down, but nothing like this. You keep a strong face around your friends, always trying to be a happy and fun person to be around, letting yourself be the shoulder to lean on when they need it.

Although Mor was the first obstacle between you and Azriel, she was always a good friend to you since you first joined the Inner Circle decades ago. Her warm and confident nature brought you out of your shell when she introduced you to everyone on that fateful night at Rita’s, which in turn brought you to Azriel.

You let your feelings ruin it all, the voice whispers, if you had just kept your feelings in check then you wouldn’t be in this position.

Then, with a deep breath, the mask comes back.

You wipe your face of the tear tracks, sniffling to try and clear your sinuses before looking at Mor and Cassian with a watery smile.

“So, what were you guys saying about lunch?”

A look passes between your friends before looking back at you.

“Well, we thought today would be a good day to try that new place on the Sidra for lunch,” Cassian answers, a slight smile on his face.

“I would love to. Will you two help me pick something to wear?”

“What else would we be here for, angel,” Mor giggles, standing up and taking you with her.

I’m so lucky to have them as friends.

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #angst #azriel angst #mxigo.acotar #mxigo.azriel #mxigo.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist.soulsick #mxigo.masterlist #mxigo.masterlist.acotar

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jqhotchner · 3 months

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wedding bells

“…pardon my interruption…”

he stares at his mom and sister blankly. they couldn’t be serious. this was beyond the definition of fucked up. this wasn’t some movie. this was his life. this was your life.

he couldn’t possibly ruin your wedding. no! he’s already ruined your happiness enough. you deserved to get married to the man you love. that’s no longer him.

he was heartbroken, sure. but he deserves this. he deserved to suffer. you deserve to walk down the aisle like you deserved to do all those years ago. he knew this was the wedding of your dreams.

he knew from the moment he saw the church. this was the church he was gonna marry you. the church you picked out.

“no. she doesn’t deserve this!” harry shakes his head.

anne rubs her sons shoulders. “did i ever tell you about my first love zac?”

he frowns at his mother. he shakes his head as his mother takes a deep breath.

“i met him a few years before your father. i was deeply in love with him. he was the one,”

both harry and gemma stared at their mother shockingly. they had no idea she loved someone before their father. they always thought their dad was her first love.

“he was american. only visiting distant relatives for the summer. we fell in love instantly. god was he the most amazing generous man. when summer ended he begged his parents to stay, just for me. how romantic, huh? except it ended there. we tried to keep in touch sending letters. but after awhile the letters slowly went away. i assumed he moved on. that was until three years after you were born. he came to visit. hoping that i was still there. and i was. but i had moved on and married your father and had two amazing kids. unfortunately he didn’t come to reconnect. he came to tell me that he loved me and would never stop. but he was sick. very sick. it’s why he stopped writing the letters because he thought it was best that he let me go. he knew his illness was terminal. he had a about three more months left. but he couldn’t die without telling me how he felt. in that moment we both knew we wasted so much time. we could have been together but he let me go and i didn’t ask questions or try to call him. anything! i just let zac slip though my fingers. and if i would have just called him and checked on him, maybe ask him questions, maybe we would have been together instead. don’t do what i did baby. don’t let her slip through your fingers.”

harry sheds tears. “but what if—”

“then we’ll be right here to pick up the pieces again.” gemma whispers.

harry nods. he gets out of the car, runs to the church, and takes a deep breath before opening the door. and just like the movies everyone stares at him. including you.

he just stands there. everyone starts to whisper. harry didn’t know what to say. but he knew if he didn’t speak he would look like even more of an idiot. but something happened. he said nothing but you ran.

everyone gasped. harry didn’t know what to say or do. he couldn’t speak. he thought you were gonna slap him for ruining your wedding, run back to the podium, and get marry.

instead you surprised him. you grabbed his hand and ran out of the church. leaving everyone speechless.

“i can’t do it. i can’t marry someone i don’t love. i—harry you broke me. you broke every fiber of my heart. but i love you. i always have and i always will. and—i don’t wanna marry anyone else but you.”

“then let’s get married, darling.”

again i have no idea wtf this is but here is the final part to wedding bells :)

#harry styles x black!reader #harry styles x reader #harry styles fake ig #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles #harry styles imagine

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hyubcore · 2 years

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little wonders / mark lee fanfiction

on paper, mark lee seems like the perfect boy; he’s charming, kind, caring, and cute. you see no flaws as you get to know him over the summer when he moves in across the street.

however, he fails to let you know that he’s dying before you start to fall for him.

wc: 17473

tags/warnings: gender neutral reader x mark lee, angst, romance, fluff, terminal illness, mcd, sad ending, read this to feel something i guess

disclaimer: this is a work of fiction. i am not affiliated with sm entertainment or any members of nct. this is for entertainment purposes only. it is also not my intent to romanticize any illnesses, i apologize if i offend any readers in any way; please read with caution as this story is not for the faint of heart.

Who is he?

The first wonder occurs at your doorstep.

He stands tall, short, straight dirty-blonde hair covering his head, a black t-shirt along with tattered jeans covering his body. You don’t need to get any closer to notice something about him is different from the others surrounding him. Just by the way he moves, the way he stands—there’s something within him that brings him down. You want to know what it is. You want to know who he is.

You watch him as he slowly unpacks the boxes from the moving truck that sit in the driveway. Another woman, petite in size, and affectionate towards the man, helps him as he tries to lift each box out of the vehicle and into the house. There are moments where he sits on the driveway, taking in slow breaths, leaning against the house. He tilts his head back with his eyes shut. You wonder.

Who is he?

The first wonder is answered when he knocks on your door that very night. Seeing his face up close changes all the things that had been running through your head regarding him before. He has gentle, bright eyes that causes a tightening in your chest, for their brilliance is too much to bear all at once. Not only that, but the small smirk that forms upon his lips as you open the door. You suddenly can’t breathe.

“Hi,” is all he says. He has a raspy and deep voice, one that you would be okay with listening to for forever. “I’m supposed to give these to you.”

He hands over a plate of hotteok. The sweet scent of the dessert makes your stomach grumble. You hesitate to accept the plate, but reach over to grab it once the man in front of you coughs subtly. He smiles bigger as you examine the treats.

“Thank you,” you tell him. He nods. Your chest tightens even more as you watch him.

“I’m Mark, I’m living right across the street. you hope you enjoy the hotteok.” His voice is even raspier, but you still like it. He coughs again before leaving the front porch. As he walks away, your dog begins to bark. You pick him up before you wave to the man—Mark—but he doesn’t see you.

What is he doing?

The second wonder crosses your mind when you see Mark laying outside in the complete darkness, arms and legs stretched, no shirt on his body, looking up at the stars. He doesn’t move at all. As you watch from your bedroom window, your curiosity only grows more unbearable.

It’s late enough for you to get into trouble, but something about the cold draft that comes through your window every so often tells you to force Mark inside. You make your way down the stairs, and once you reach the final step, you grab your jacket from the coat hanger by the door and walk outside. You’re right; it is cold, too cold to be laying in the grass with no sort of coverage.

As you slowly walk across the street, you hug your arms to keep warm. Your nose already feels stuffy and your ears red from the chill. Not only does the cold air make you shiver, but the pure and utter silence that enveloped the atmosphere around you was rather frightening.

“Mark?” you speak. Your voice is piercing in the silence of the night. Mark doesn’t move for a moment, until he finally lifts himself up on his forearms. “Are you okay?”

He shifts in his spot, looking over at you. You can tell he’s in a daze, and you suspect he might be high, especially after he coughs a few times.

“I had an argument with my dad. I came out here to get some air. Sorry I worried you.”

You purse your lips, then sit down next to him. “It’s okay, I just noticed from my window. You looked pretty comfortable.” You both chuckle.

“Yeah, I used to do this a lot back home too. My dad and I aren’t necessarily best friends.”

You feel awkward, immediately being dished out to, however, you also feel comfortable sitting there with Mark. Even considering the fact that you can barely see his face, the sound of his gritty voice in the dense air brought you a sense of safety, despite the topic of conversation. You don’t want to push, but you also don’t want to ignore him.

“I’m sorry to hear,” you say instead.

“It’s okay. You should try it sometime—just go outside and stare at the sky. It’s best at night, there’s no cars or screaming children or anything.” Mark looks up as he speaks, setting his eye on the orion constellation above the two of you. “See the three dots there? That’s Orion. You learn a lot about the universe when you stare at it all the time.”

You chuckle, looking up to where Mark points. You clearly see what he’s referencing—it’s just about the only form that makes sense in the endless mixture of stars and galaxies. “I see it,” you say quietly. He smiles at you, and you smile back, then you both look up again. You wonder what’s up there, if it really is just particles of dust, being born and dying in just seconds, or if there was some life beyond humanity.

“You think there’s anything else out there?” you ask. “Like, life, I guess.” You immediately regret your question; it’s way too deep and philosophical for your first conversation; but Mark’s already looking at you deeply, likely wondering what goes on behind your eyes to ask such a question upon only meeting two days before.

“No,” Mark answers. “Even if there is, it doesn’t concern us as of right now. So I just ignore it.”

You nod, and Mark looks back up. You know then, he’s lying. He knows there’s something else out there.

When will I hear him sing?

Months pass, and ever since the first night it happened, you find Mark sitting outside every night. You wonder each time if it’s truly because he’s fighting with his father, or if he actually just enjoyed being outside at night. During the day, though, you’d see him in the same spot, writing in a little notebook.

The first time you notice him writing, you pretend to just be taking the dog out, but really, you want to say hi to Mark. He looks up at you immediately, and you wave, and he immediately puts the notebook to his side. You walk over, and he smiles at you brightly. Seeing him feels different from the last time you saw him, which was in the darkness of the late night. Now, you see all his features, his comforting eyes and smile.

“Are you okay with dogs?” you ask as you approach the lawn. Mark nods, opening his arms to your pet, and you let go of the leash for him to love on Mark. The wholesome sight sends a warmth through your chest.

“What’s his name?” Mark asks.

“Chewie,” you reply. “My dad likes Star Wars a lot.”

Mark laughs as he scratches behind Chewie’s ears. “Your dad is cool. So are you, Chewie.”

You chuckle at Mark’s baby voice he uses toward Chewie. You sit down next to him, and Chewie immediately sits in your lap comfortably. Mark reaches over to pet him, and you suddenly get nervous, having his hand so close to you. You look down and admire it; it seems so weird in the moment, to be admiring something as random as his hands, but the way his fingers were sculpted was like high art; you thought for a moment, maybe Mark isn’t real. You wonder who, or what, put him on this earth, right next to you. You feel lucky.

There are also periods of time where Mark’s never be outside, even when there are clear and sunny skies. That surprised you the most. Before, he could be outside for hours, whether it be raining, freezing, or way too windy to even keep the notebook on the ground. It had worried you, for the outdoors seemed to be his favorite place, it seemed to be his safe space.

Several weeks pass, and you feel worried for some reason. You don’t know him too well, but it feels like those scenarios where the coffee shop worker always sees the same old man, then the old man suddenly stops coming to get his daily cup of jo and muffin, and you just know the outcome yet never do anything to find the truth; you hope Mark is alive; deep down, you know he is, but part of him isn’t. He’s not outside anymore where he feels safe.

You decide to make hotteok one day. You bake with your mother as you watch reruns of your favorite crime show on TV. The baking process is a lot more difficult than you anticipated, but you power through it, and you think about the smile you’ll see on Mark’s face when you give him the plate of treats.

Once you finish, you run across the street and knock on the door, unable to keep still from excitement. Your spirits are crushed a little when Mark doesn’t answer the door. It’s his mother, and you realize then you’ve never introduced yourself to her.

You greet her kindly, and she smiles warmly back at you.

“I made hotteok for you guys,” you say sweetly. “I’m sure it won’t be as great as yours, but I wanted to do something nice. Is Mark home?”

The smile on her face suddenly fades as she reaches out for the plate. “Yeah, yes—he’s just been a little sick, is all. Want me to get him for you?”

Before you can answer her, Mark appears behind her, and immediately notices the smell of the hotteok. “You made some?” he asks. You nod and smile at him, and he smiles back, holding your eyes in his gaze for a moment. Your insides suddenly feel like jelly.

“Are you doing okay?” you ask, concern evident in your voice. Mark nods, running a hand through his hair.

“Yeah, just a little cold. I’m okay,” he replies. You smile, and his mother walks away with the hotteok.

“Well, I’m about to take Chewie on a walk, if you want to join. If you need to rest though—”

“I’d love to,” Mark interrupts. You weren’t planning to take Chewie on a walk, but there in Mark’s presence, you needed an excuse to be around him longer. His appearance is like a drug; once you look at him, there’s no looking away.

The two of you make your way down the sidewalk of the neighborhood, Chewie leading the way. The grass is a vibrant green, some houses decorated with flower gardens at their fronts. The sight entirely brings more happiness to the atmosphere.

You eventually reach a local park where there’s a wide field of grass, along with benches here and there. You find one beneath a tree to give some shade. You pick up a stick for Chewie as you claim your seat.

Mark sits while you take Chewie off his leash. You throw the stick, and he runs far from you, fur bouncing as he sprints. He eventually comes running back with the stick in his mouth, and once he reaches you, he jumps on Mark’s legs. Mark pets Chewie as he lets out a bark of glee. You smile at the sight.

“What have you been doing the past few weeks?” you ask, starting a conversation. Mark sighs as he looks out at the view of the grass and the trees before us.

“Nothing important,” he replies. You throw the stick for Chewie again. “Watched a lot of true crime podcasts, that’s for sure.”

You both chuckle softly.

“Also figuring out stuff for school. I might be going to university in the fall,” he informs. You nod, crossing your arms as a cool breeze comes through. Mark notices, and unzips his jacket. “Are you cold? You can—”

“No, it’s okay. I don’t want you getting sick again,” you laugh, putting a hand on Mark’s arm. He freezes under your touch, and you suddenly freeze too. “So what are you going to study?”

Mark looks up. “Music. Songwriting, performing, and composing.”

You’re surprised at his answer, however, it finally starts to make sense. He was probably writing lyrics in his notebook all those days out on the lawn. “That’s amazing,” you reply. “It takes courage to do that stuff professionally. I’m excited for you.”

Knowing Mark has a passion for music immediately interests you. You suddenly wonder about all the lyrics he’s written and all the melodies and chord progressions he writes along with those poetic lines. You wonder about the stories behind these songs. You wonder about it all.

But most of all, you wonder, when will you hear him sing?

Do I like him?

Weeks pass, and it becomes routine for you and Mark to take Chewie on a walk every morning. There’s some mornings where he’s still sleeping, or he’s just not feeling up to the trek; but either way, it’s something to look forward to every night as you lay your head against your pillow. The summer was uneventful, up until Mark came into town.

It’s just another summer evening, and Mark texts you he was going to take me somewhere. You wondered what that somewhere was. Despite getting to know each other more and more over the past several weeks, you didn’t have any clue where he may be taking you. Either way, you dressed nicely, hoping to impress him a little more than usual.

You’re rather surprised when Mark drives you into the town. It’s quite busy, and so you wonder exactly why he’s brought you here, but either way, an excitement bubbles up inside you.

You walk the streets of the town, beneath the somewhat-dark night sky, moon shining bright thanks to the cloudless sky. Mark walks slowly, sure to look at every window of the small shops, nodding and smiling to every vendor along the sidewalk.

“Why exactly are we here?” you ask under a laugh. Mark doesn’t answer for a while.

“Don’t worry, we won’t be here long.”

You finally come to a stop, and it’s at a set up station, selling some sort of treats. The scent that fills your nose is rather familiar.

“Hotteok,” Mark cheers as he looks at me with a grin. You smile at him, then you both begin to laugh. He leads you closer to the stand. You impatiently wait as he pays for the food, your stomach growing more hungry, anticipation thriving. The scent reminds you of the moment you first met Mark up close; the fresh sight of his bright eyes, his marvelous smile; the first time you ever wondered about him.

You think about it, and sure, before that day, you wondered about Mark; people like Mark. Boys you thought didn’t exist. Boys who cared about your interests, your life story, your favorite foods; and boys that were cute. Mark is all of those things, it just seems too good to be true.

Mark completes the payment before handing you the snack. You immediately delve in, savoring the taste of the sweet treat. Mark guides the way back to the car, but asks you at each storefront if you want to go inside. You end up going into one small shop, which was a bookstore. In high school, you loved to read. You were always finishing exams early just so you could read an extra chapter of the novel you had in your backpack, and people may have judged you for reading in the library during lunch instead of sitting with friends, but you didn’t care. Books were your comfort.

You find a signed copy of your favorite book, and Mark notices your excitement.

“This is my favorite book of all time,” you inform him as he stands next to you. “But look.” You point to the signature, smiling excitedly. Mark holds out a hand, gesturing for you to hand it over, and you do exactly so. However, your heart begins to race as Mark speed-walks to the cash register.

“Mark, are you—”

“Shh,” he replies. You shove him on the shoulder, and he chuckles as he pulls out his wallet.

“Stop it, you don’t—”

“Yes, I do. I want to.”

You roll your eyes as you groan. The lady behind the counter hands Mark the receipt, which he immediately crumples up and puts into his pocket before handing you the book. You’re speechless, and you smile small, evidently flustered by Mark’s gesture.

“Mark, that was too nice. Thank you, truly,” you say sincerely.

“Don’t worry about it,” he replies. “Gifts are my love language, in a way.”

Love language. Is he in love with you? You can’t help but wonder.

“Where to next?” you ask once you reach the car, sitting in the passenger seat. Mark starts the engine before answering.

“My beach.”

“Your beach?” you ask with a small chuckle.

“Yes. It’s all mine.” Mark looks over at you, and you smile.

You drive down the main roads which soon turn into back roads, and you then realize why Mark had said my beach. The sands and water are completely secluded from the rest of the area. There’s no possible way anybody else could ever find it without taking a good 10 minute hike, but Mark knows exactly where to drive to avoid the thick forest that separates it from the rest of town.

Mark leads as you progress closer to the trillions of soft granules lining the beach. He seems to know this place inside and out.

He coughs. “I’ve been coming here a lot lately. The beach is more calm than anywhere else.”

You nod. You both find a spot in the center of the shore, which is a good distance away from the water. You can still feel slight mists as the tides roll in, though. The sensation, combined with the calmness of the night and Mark’s presence, is intoxicating, in a way,

“It’s nice,” you comment. You look around, and to your right is a large, rocky cliff. There are several rocks lining the bottom of it, the trail ending once it reaches the water. Behind you are the patches of dry grass. And to your left is the mound of sand combined with the meadow.

“Any updates on your music?” you ask Mark.

“Writing. Playing. It’s all the same,” Mark answers without enthusiasm. “How about you? What have you been up to?”

“Well, I’ve been worrying about you.”

Mark stays quiet. So do you. Except you're doing the thing that you always do, which is admire his being right beside you. You examine the way he stares at the waters before the two of you. His eyes are squinted, studying each foamy wave that crashes onto the shore, measuring the height and time difference of each swell; watching the moon as its reflection on the water grows brighter as the sky grows darker.

He finally stops his examination on the landscape and looks towards you.

“You brought the book,” Mark notes.

“I brought the book.” You laugh.

“Read me your favorite part,” Mark commands, and on instinct, you flip to the very last page.

“Maybe he is that flower that suddenly bloomed on the rhododendron bush I thought had died long ago; maybe he is that cloud, that wave, that rain, that mist. It isn’t only that he died, or how he died; it is what he died believing. And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.”

You both sit in silence for a moment after you close the book. Mark looks out at the water, and when you turn your head towards him, he looks down at his lap.

“Sorry if it’s depressing,” you apologize. “It’s just…it’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Mark interjects. “But you spoiled the ending.”

You both burst into a harmonious laughter. You jokingly smack yourself on the forehead. “I didn’t know you’d want to read it!”

Mark shakes his head. “You can read it to me. We can come here every weekend and you can just…read. I don’t know.”

You sit quiet for a moment as you imagine his idea; your heart races, your stomach becomes filled with butterflies, and you can’t help but let a foolish smile grow upon your lips. “Yeah, we can do that,” you answer. “Might take a while. This is a big book.”

Mark takes the book from your hands, flipping through the pages, stopping every few seconds.

“We can do it,” he says, the small, sincere smile still visible upon his lips.

“Okay,” you say.

Am I in love?

The first time you go to read on the beach, you sit far apart, and Mark stares out at the water as you speak. He sits silent, letting you flip the pages and giving you water when your mouth gets dry from speaking. When you get too tired to talk, you put the book down and just watch the water.

After the first time, you sit closer and closer each visit, until once you get to the third part of the book, Mark puts his arm around you and keeps you close, looking over your shoulder at the pages, reading along with you. You get tired again, and Mark takes the book from your hands and continues reading.

“You’re a lawyer. You’re the chair of the litigation department at Rosen Pritchard and Klein. You love your job; you work hard at it. You’re a mathematician. You’re a logician. You’ve tried to teach me, again and again. You were treated horribly. You came out on the other end. You were always you.” Mark closes the book after that paragraph. He sets the book next to him, and he looks over at you and smiles.

“Who are you, Mark?” you ask. “If that paragraph was about you, what would it say?”

Mark remains quiet for a moment, and you can tell he’s thinking. He stares down at his feet as he digs his toes in the sand. “You’re a musician. You love your craft; you work hard at it. You’re a songwriter. You’re a writer, in general. You write about the world and yourself and all the little things it brings. You struggle, but you keep trying. You think you want to give up, but you don’t. You’re always you.”

You smile, and you grab Mark’s hand. “What about you?”

You think hard. “I don’t know what I am.”

Mark puts a hand on your arm, caressing the surface of your skin. “You’re you, and you’re beautiful, kind, and compassionate. And funny, too. And beautiful, if I didn’t say it already.”

You shove your face in your hands, blushing hard, heart pounding, stomach flipping and turning. “Mark,” you groan.

You look up, and Mark licks his lips before biting down on his lower lip, the ends of his mouth curling up just slightly. You become entranced by the sight of him, so evidently enthralled by your presence, and you wonder. Is this what it feels like? You had never been in love, you’ve never been loved, not in the way people are supposed to be loved. Your parents loved you, but no one you weren't related to had ever been in love with you. At least not to your knowledge. Who knows, maybe Mark was in love with you the entire time, and you just didn’t know, until now.

You think for a moment, he’s going to kiss me, and you think maybe you should insist instead, since it feels like forever where his lips aren’t on yours. Instead, you stay frozen, and Mark just looks into your eyes, intoxicating you with his glare. He doesn’t kiss you; instead, he pulls you closer, until you’re resting your head in his lap, looking up at him and the stars. The billions of lights and galaxies up there. You can’t find Orion’s belt, or any of the other constellations Mark begins to point out—but you see Mark, and he sees you—and that’s enough.

Is this what love feels like?

Mark asks you out the next week after taking you out for hotteok and shopping. You figured that was a date, but Mark didn’t say so, until he specifically asked this time, Can I take you out on a date?

You go to the beach again, but this time he brings a picnic basket filled with various treats and snacks. He also brings a bottle of champagne, even despite both of you being underage. You never loved the taste of champagne, but you sip on the glass Mark pours for you anyway.

“White or red wine?” Mark asks as you take a sip from your flute. You chuckle as you set it down on top of the picnic basket.

“This is champagne, right?” you laugh. “But I like red, typically. My family has never been a white wine drinking family, so I haven’t had it too much.”

Mark nods as he takes a bite of a strawberry macaron. “Good to know.” He reaches out the macaron towards you, and you happily finish off the last bite. The sweet, fruity flavors on your tongue bring a smile to your face, and Mark smiles too as he notices your growing grin. Your heart skips a beat when he winks at you. He hands you another macaron, and you take a sniff of it as you’re unsure of the flavor.

“Café latte,” Mark comments. “My favorite.”

You take a bite, and you immediately understand why it’s his favorite. “This is amazing,” you comment. Mark chuckles.

“I know. That was the last one.”

You immediately hand over what's left of the macaron, and Mark declines. You shove it in his personal space, until he’s scooting away from you, and you grab his face and shove the treat in his mouth. He tries to fight you off, but fails, and you end up in his lap, arms on either side of his body. There’s suddenly a silence between you two that you can’t escape, but you don’t really mind it; Mark is the most comfortable space you’ve ever been in, and you’re glad he chooses to spend his precious time with you. You want to tell him this, however, you feel it’s too corny or sappy, and you know Mark might just laugh at you.

“Thanks for that,” Mark says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you look up at him. He looks at you longingly, and your heart starts to ache. You want to touch his face so badly, but you respect the fact that Mark likely doesn’t want that; and even if he does, it’s too early to be touching him so lovingly. You know you like Mark, maybe you’re even in love with him. But you don’t want to rush things. Even if you both had numbered days, even if the world was ending in just a week, you wanted to feel every joyful emotion that came with falling for someone, especially someone like Mark; you wanted to enjoy every special moment; you didn’t want to fall in all at once.

Mark taps the cover of your book, and you pick it up, opening up to where you left the bookmark. You only mark one passage this evening; “Why wasn’t friendship as good as a relationship? Why wasn’t it even better? It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified.”

Is this the end?

You and Mark don’t read for almost two weeks. It’s almost August, and you know life for Mark is probably becoming more hectic as he prepares for school, so you try not to bother him. However, those two weeks, not texting or calling or going to the beach, were some of the most painful days you had ever lived. Part of you wanted to go over to his house, just knock on the door or throw rocks at his window, just to remind him you were thinking about him; but your pride got the better of you, and you kept your distance.

Until one weekend, you decide to knock on his door, just to make sure everything is okay; the intrusive thoughts remind you of the dark coffee-shop-old-man scenario. You need to make sure Mark’s alive.

“Hi,” you speak, holding on tight to the towels beneath your arm. Mark slowly blinks, most likely awaiting an explanation as to why you're standing before him. He looks tired; his hair is unbrushed, there’s a little stubble on his face, and he’s still in his pajamas. He coughs before wiping his eyes. “I’m going to the beach. Your beach, if you want to join me.”

Before you know it, Mark is in your car. You’re both quiet, and you try to focus on the music playing from your phone, humming along at some lines. Mark stares out the window. You try to reach over for his hand, and he lets you hold it, but he doesn’t reciprocate much.

“I’m sorry for kind of ghosting,” he says before clearing his throat. “Life hasn’t been easy lately. I just couldn’t see you.” You nod, even though it’s hard to understand his words, for they’re so vague. You figure it’s something having to do with college tuition, or something of the sort. It was stressful, for you had thought about that too, being out of high school for two years then. You could see why that would distance him.

“It’s okay,” you answer with a subtle grin. He does the same.

“Let’s go. I need a distraction.”

And you drive away. You’re driving down the busy streets and then the quiet, empty streets. You feel happiness and relief grow inside you, knowing Mark is no longer isolating or shutting you out. You squeeze his hand.

You reach the shore after several more minutes, the familiar sound of waves crashing and wind blowing through the trees filling your ears. It brings immediate comfort, carrying the various memories of quotes you loved so dearly being read by Mark as you sat on his lap.

“Can we swim?” Mark asks, and for some reason, he speaks with sadness. You say yes to the idea, for he asked, and you want him to be happy.

Soon enough you’re in the water, and it’s rather warm, despite the overcast skies. While you walk out deeper, Mark lags behind in the shallow. You walk back, hooking your arm around his, taking him with you.

The waves grow bigger once the wind picks up, sometimes swallowing your body beneath the water; meanwhile, Mark tries to stay above. You swim back towards him, since he apparently likes being in the shallow, and jump on his back. He lets out a laugh as you wrap your arms around him.

“Don’t let me drown,” you scold. He grabs onto your legs, walking further out into the water. When waves roll over, he turns around so your backs crash against them. Eventually, you jump off his torso, and he turns around so he’s facing you. He glares at you for a moment, then looks down at the water. He looks so calm, so peaceful, just standing right in front of you. You wish you could kiss his full, soft lips. You just know Mark’s a good kisser; you can tell just by the way he carries himself, how he speaks, the habit he has of licking his lips every so often.

Time passes, and you try your best to relax out in the water, even though the waves seem to be stronger as each minute passes. Mark starts drifting further away from you. You keep an eye on him, for the waves become stronger, and Mark gets farther, and you become more worried. You try to swim to him, but his body just gets smaller and smaller until it eventually disappears. You shout for him, and in the distance, you can see him coughing, struggling to keep above the surface.

“Mark?” you shout. He makes it out of the deep end, but once you finally reach him, he’s limp and weak. You drag his body back to shore as he lets out short coughs, water coming up each time, until he finally stops. When you lay his body on the sand, his eyes are still, and you feel his body freeze.

“Mark,” you panic, trying to keep him conscious. “Mark, can you hear me? Look at me, Mark, please.”

You put your ear to his chest, and there’s no movement or sound, and you panic even more. You look around, but there’s not a single other person in sight. You put a hand on his cold cheek, lightly slapping him, trying to get him to regain consciousness, but to no avail.

“Mark, please,” your eyes are welling up with tears as you panic. You remember what you learned ten years before in your CPR certification course; CAB; compression, airway, breath. You straddled his torso, putting all your weight into your palms as you pump his chest. Your tears fall right onto the sand, and you quickly try to wipe them away from your cheeks. You then tilt back his head, opening his mouth just slightly, pausing before leaning down to put your lips to his. You breathe hard, trying to get any and all life back into him. You were right; his lips are soft, but you didn’t want to have yours on them at that moment; you wanted to kiss him, really kiss him. Not try to save him from dying.

“Mark, come on.” You wait a moment for him to wake up, those seconds feeling like hours. You start to pump his chest again, until finally, water spurts up from his mouth as he coughs.

“Mark, hey, it’s okay. I’m here,” you comfort him as he coughs harder and harder. You give him space as he turns onto his stomach, holding himself up by his forearms. You grab his shoulders for extra support as he tries to catch his breath.

“I can’t,” he heaves in between coughs. He starts breathing heavily and quickly, and when he barks up another cough, there’s blood covering his forearm. You immediately panic again. He starts breathing heavily again, his eyes shut, head hanging loose towards the ground.

“Mark, we have to go to a hospital, can you make it to the car?” you help him stand up by wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You look over to him, and his face shows no emotion, but his eyelids are heavy and blood drips from his mouth. As you look at him, you brush a loose strand of hair from his face. He nods slowly, grabbing onto your free hand tight as he struggles to stand. He starts coughing more once we reach the car.

Once you’re settled in the car, you scramble to find a water bottle, but there’s nothing. “Just hang in there okay,” you tell Mark. He looks at you slowly, and you can tell he needs to say something. You grab his hand, squeezing tight. “What is it, Mark?”

“S-severance Hospital, go there,” he says, his voice gritty and dry. You nod, squeezing his hand again. He doesn't squeeze back.

Why did he lie?

They had to admit Mark into the hospital that week. You go to see him every day, and it’s hard, for he doesn’t seem to improve at all over the last few days. You still don’t know what’s wrong with him, but you figure he just was still coming down from his cold, and nearly drowning didn’t really help his recovery.

It’s a week since Mark was admitted, and you're sitting next to the bed where he rests, and he watches whatever series the hospital has on their TV. He looks like he’s hurting. There are tubes connecting him to the machines next to the bed, along with a nasal catheter, and an obnoxious beep comes from the vital monitor with each beat of his heart.

“Do you know when you can leave?” you ask Mark, grabbing his attention again. He slowly turns his head to look at you.

“No. Hopefully by the weekend.” He pulls the covers over his body more, getting more comfortable beneath the sheets. “You should head home. You’ve been here every day.”

You stand up so you can sit on the bed, putting one arm over Mark, brushing the brown locks of hair behind his ear. He moves his legs to make room.

“I need to know you’re okay.”

He looks the opposite direction from you, letting out a short breath. You grab his hand and hold it. His fingers are cold and dry beneath yours, and he turns his head towards me again and smiles small. He glances at your hands, and suddenly, his expression drops. He’s sad again. You wonder why.

“They said you saved my life. You gave me CPR,” Mark notes. You smile and nod.

“I did,” you answer. Mark chuckles.

“How was it? Kissing me,” he asks, and you roll your eyes, shoving his shoulder gently. He smacks your hand lightly, and you shake your head, showing how utterly sick of him you were in that moment.

“It was disgusting.” You purse your lips and Mark frowns. Your heart skips a beat, for he looks so cute with his pouty face. You want to actually kiss him, but you just don’t know if he’d reciprocate, or if that’s how he truly thinks of you. “And it wasn’t a kiss. I was trying to save you.”

Mark’s frown fades, and he looks at his lap, then up at you, then back at his lap again. “You should try and save me again.”

You smirk, and you don’t catch yourself leaning down to kiss him; he grabs your face, caressing your cheeks with his thumbs. You shiver under his touch, the feeling electric; like he was sending his energy through you right through his fingertips.

“But you’re not dying right now,” you whisper, your lips just inches away from his. The tips of your noses touch, and Mark moves his hands from your face to your shoulders.

Mark’s smile fades.

“I am.”

You chuckle, cupping his face in your hands. “Shut up.”

Mark looks at your eyes as his hands fall from your shoulders. “I am. I’m dying.”

As if on cue, the doctor bursts through the door, and you quickly pull away from Mark. He looks at you with a certain gaze, and your heart feels heavy. You stand from the bed, and Mark reaches for your hand.

“Nice to see you again, Mark,” the doctor greets. He looks at the machines standing next to the bed, examining the different components. “Are you feeling any better?”

Silence grows in the room once Mark answers no. The doctor doesn’t seem shocked. You look at Mark, your eyebrows furrowed, lip quivering.

“Well, it seems you’ve gotten worse since your last visit. You’ve been taking all your medications and doing treatments, right?” The doctor shows great concern in this conversation. The look on his face is a mixture of worrisome and angry. Meanwhile, you're completely confused. You feel the need to leave the room, so you start towards the door, until Mark calls for you. You turn around.

“Would you like to be alone? I can come back,” the doctor asks awkwardly. You shake your head, leaving the room. Mark calls for you again. You reluctantly turn back, and the look on his face breaks your heart. He looks at you with a look that reads, I need you, and you feel your heart sink into your stomach.

You stand next to him, and the doctor quickly exits. Mark sits up, grabbing your hand, looking at you with sorry eyes.

“I have cystic fibrosis. It’s why I moved here—to participate in a clinical trial. I’m not going to school, I’m living in this hospital to do the trial.”

You sit down on the bed, looking ahead of you at the floor. The air seems to leave your lungs, and you struggle to catch your breath.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, voice barely audible. Mark looks at you, and there are tears in his eyes. He tugs on your hand, and you look away as you feel tears welling up too quickly to hold back. “You should have told me.”

Mark bites his lip, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“I’m sorry,” Mark says. “I just wanted to be more than my sickness. I wanted to feel like a person to you. I’ve never felt the way I have with you.”

You look at Mark, and he smiles at you, but you can’t smile back. “You’re more than just a person to me,” you assure him. “But you should have told me.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Mark repeats. “Before, I never let myself fall for anyone, because I thought I’d be dead the next day. But I couldn’t not fall for you.”

You sigh, a small smile forming on your lips. Before you can process it, Mark’s face is just inches from yours, holding your face in his hands. You bring your body closer to his, leaning into his space. You think, finally, he’s going to kiss you, but you’re wrong. He just sits there, breathing you in. You lean in closer, but he just pulls farther back. You sigh as you stand.

An uncomfortable stillness envelops the room. You wipe your eyes as Mark watches you closely. You breathe in deep, then grab Mark’s hand.

“I think I should go home,” you say softly. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Mark nods. “I think that’d be good. Just get some rest.”

Once you reach your car, you sit there for several moments. Then, you let it all go; you cry hard, loud, and violently. As you think about Mark laying in that flat and uncomfortable bed, trying his hardest to simply take a breath, tears fall from your eyes and the beating in your chest speeds up. Before you can allow yourself to get any angrier or upset, you drive off, going fast through the roads to your home. You sit in your car again, staring at the garage door in front of you. You start to wonder. You wonder about Mark.

Should you fall out of love?

Can you fall out of love?

Is it okay to be mad at him when you love him?

Why did he lie?

What will you do without him?

You don’t see Mark until a week after he was released from the hospital. You spend those days alone, processing the fact that someday, there will be no more Mark; even though you had only known him for a few months, the idea hurt you immensely. You also spent that time cursing yourself for being so upset. Of course Mark was going to die someday; so were you. You both were going to die. You wondered why you were so distraught.

To your surprise, when you visit Mark for the first time after the hospital, he isn’t in bed. Instead, you find him in the room next to his bedroom. The walls are a pleasant gray color, and the sun shining through the window adds more color and light to the room. The space is pretty empty, minus a few more machines that you assume are for Mark’s treatments, the oxygen tank that sends air to Mark’s nose, and right against the wall—a piano. Upright, black, and polished. And before it sits Mark, his eyes scanning the keys, but not playing them. You close the door behind you, which grabs Mark’s attention. He barely smiles as he glances up at me.

“Hey,” you greet. You walk closer to him. He makes space on the piano bench, and you take a seat next to him.

“I’m sorry,” he says, voice dry and quiet.

“For what?”

He slithers his hand slowly towards yours then he grips onto your fingers. “You know why.”

At first, you don’t know what to say. There isn’t even much to say.

“It’s okay,” you rub his shoulder, then reach your hand across the span of his back, pulling him close. “It’s okay.”

You sit in silence for a moment, just looking at one another, waiting for the other to speak. Mark then looks down at the piano keys, then back at you.

“I wrote you a song.” Mark says out of the blue. Your heart begins to race as you process the fact that Mark has sat down by himself, that notebook in hand, thinking about you and what words to conjure up that describe how he feels for you, imagining singing it right to you.

“W-why?” you ask, your voice breaking up as you speak.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

You smile as blood rushes to your cheeks, and you hang your head, hiding your face in your hands. Mark doesn’t touch you, but when you look up again, he’s still watching you with the soft smile he always has. You cover your lips as you can’t control the grin on your face. He puts his hands on the keys, just about to press down, until you put your hand on his, halting him from proceeding.

“Wait,” you interrupt. “I’m not ready.”

“What do you mean?” Mark laughs.

You let out a deep breath. “What’s the song about?”

Mark chuckles. “You, silly.”

“No, I mean, what about me, I—”

“Just listen.”

Mark puts his hands back on the keys, concentrating on the correct placement, then he presses down and the room fills with the sweet sound of an A major chord. You wait for Mark to sing, and it seems like forever until he finally starts to sing. The sound of his voice sends chills down your arms and spine.

Our lives are made

In these small hoursThese little wonders

These twists and turns of fate

You feel a warmth rush through your veins soon after, and goosebumps on your arms and thighs begin to rise. Mark sings, and you try damn hard not to cry, because his voice is oh-so comforting; it is the warmth of the sun on a spring morning, it is the smell of clean linen, it is the hug from your mother after a long day of school; it’s everything good in the world, wrapped up in the soundwaves of this single person’s vocal chords.

Time falls away

But these small hoursThese small hours

Still remain

He repeats the melody several times before playing the last few chords, repeating these small hours, these small hours still remain, and the chords become quieter and quieter, until Mark’s fingers lift from the piano keys.

More tears fall down your face as you look at Mark. You reach for his hand, slowly gripping onto it. You feel his flesh beneath your fingers, and you let out a sigh of relief, because he’s here. You see him and you feel him, and he’s alive.

He finally looks at you, and there are tears in his eyes too. He looks down at your lips, then back into your eyes. You feel your heart start to crack, for you can tell just by the look in his eyes that he’s tired.

“Thank you,” you say finally. He grabs your hand and holds it tight, and your heart fully breaks at that moment. You stand up from the piano bench, turning away from him, letting the tears fall fast and hard. You thought you cried all that you could in those several days where Mark was still in the hospital, but you were wrong. You were so wrong; your eyes can’t seem to stop watering.

You hear Mark get up behind you. He quickly stands, then walks in front of you, putting his hands on your cheeks, wiping the tears that just don’t seem to stop coming.

Mark takes you in his arms as you cry. You let out all the emotions you have felt since the day you met him, all the confusion you felt since he told you he was dying. All the sadness you’ve felt since you realized how much you love him, the pain of thinking this could be the last time he holds you, or this could be the last time you smell his scent, or the last time you feel his arms around you.

“I’ll be okay,” he whispers to you. That only causes more sobs to escape. You suddenly can’t breathe, for your cries have become too much, and your face is buried in the curve of Mark’s neck and shoulder. You hold him tighter, feeling his torso on each centimeter of your arms.

“This trial,” you finally say, lifting your head from Mark’s shoulder. “It’s gonna keep you here, right? You won’t—you’re not gonna be dying anymore, right?”

Mark wipes your tears and tucks the strands of hair that cover your face. “I hope so. We really hope.”

“What’s hope? It’s gonna work, right? I mean, it’s science, it’s supposed to help, it’ll keep you here—”

“It’ll work. It’s not as simple as taking a pill every day, but it will work.”

Mark smiles, and he pokes your cheek, and you smile, too. His eyes travel from your gaze, to your nose, then your lips, then your neck, until he burrows his face in the crook between your shoulder and neck. You wrap your arms around his waist and pull him close.

He continues his path to the back of your neck, and before you know it, he's pulling your face closer to his—slowly but surely. you sharply breathe momentarily, trying to comprehend Mark's actions.

"Y/N," he says as your foreheads touch. "I want to kiss you. Just this once." He looks down at your lips. You try to answer, but when you open your mouth to speak, nothing comes out. Your heart has sunk so deep within your chest, and your throat hurts so bad from crying that you simply can’t talk. Instead, you nod.

Mark brings his hands down along the length of your arms, then around your waist. He looks up at you again, your lips now just barely touching. You place your hand on his soft cheek as you pull him closer. And then, without hesitation, he kisses you. You let him do it the way he wants to, which is smooth, soft, subtle and effective. You hold onto the kiss as he tries to pull away. But eventually, his lips are disconnected, and he whispers, "Just once."

Contrary to what you expected for your first kiss, your heart slows down to a steady pace, and you feel relaxed. Less worried about what Mark just revealed to you; given you can feel his lips on yours, and you can feel his hair and skin beneath your fingertips. You feel him, he’s alive, he’s there with you.

You want nothing more in the world then but to kiss him more. Just one more time. One more chance to feel his lips against yours, one more chance to hold his delicate face in your hands, one more chance to just feel him. But Mark glances down to the area of your chest, and rests his forehead on your shoulder. You pull him closer, his head buried in between your neck and shoulder, and his arms wrap tighter around your torso.

He finally looks up at you again, a shooting pain runs through your chest.

He places his hand on your cheek. “‘I’m sorry.”

You wonder, what will I do without him?

Are you still in love?

Every day for the next two weeks, you show up at Mark’s house at the same time. Each visit, he’d be laying in bed, either sleeping or writing in his songbook. As each day passed, he talked less, he didn’t smile as big, and his eyes became more sullen.

There’s one week left until Mark would go to the hospital indefinitely to start the clinical trial. His mother would often be packing bags, preparing for his stay.

“Welcome.” His mother opens the door one day and you slowly step in. You told her you would help her gather Mark’s things and organize them for his stay, as much as she said she didn’t need the help, you wanted an excuse to be around Mark.

“Mark is upstairs,” Mrs. Lee instructs. You smile at her before you walk up the stairs. Once you reach the next floor, there are multiple rooms, and you go to the only familiar one where Mark rests. His room is completely silent, other than the barely audible piano music playing from a small speaker next to his bed. He lays on the bed, eyes nearly shut, covered in blankets.

Once he hears you step in the room, his eyes seem to light up. To your surprise, a smile forms on his face.

“Hey, Mark.” You walk closer to the bed. He doesn’t speak. He just smiles. You sit down in the cushioned chair in the corner, but Mark immediately motions for you to come near him. You kneel next to the bed, where there’s a single machine keeping track of Mark’s vitals. The noise starts to become more and more familiar to you.

Mark attempts a deep breath, but it’s shorter than anticipated. He turns over onto his side so he’s facing you. You help him become more comfortable by adjusting the pillows behind his head, then tucking the blankets over him further.

“Is this okay?” you ask him as you place your hand on his shoulder. He nods.

“Perfect.”

Neither of you speak as you sit down again. The music slowly fades out before beginning a new song. It’s a slow and peaceful song, and you can tell Mark is focused on it. As he brushes his fingers over your hand, he presses against your arm along with the melody of the song. you laugh, and so does he.

Once the song is halfway over, Mark’s mother walks in. She has a small plate in her hands, and suddenly, the scent of hotteok fills your nose. You look at Mark, and he smiles again. Mrs. Lee sets the plate on the table next to the bed, and Mark immediately reaches for the food. you grab one of the cakes for him, tearing off a piece and putting it to his mouth. The corners of his lips turn up as he chews. You take a piece for yourself.

Time passes, and you eat the remainder of the hotteok, listening to the music pouring from the speakers. Mark closes his eyes now and then, but you hold his hand again, and he opens his eyes again. And in between all that, he has coughing attacks, and then complains about a sore throat. You give him water each time.

You can tell Mark has grown to be rather drowsy, but he still asks you to sit in bed with him. You gladly crawl under the covers, and the whole time, he’s smiling. You take note of the way his eyes brighten when he grins, for it makes your heart pound out of pure love and admiration. If you could keep him here and make him smile for the rest of his life, you would.

You’re both beneath the duvet, and Mark’s small body is curled up next to yours. He practically covers you entirely, for he is now laying right on top of you. His body weight is light—and you know it’s a bad thing. As you run your hand up and down his back, you feel his ribs through his skin, along with the short breaths he takes. He starts to drift off, and he’s aware, because as soon as his eyelids begin to fall he picks up his head to look at you.

“Y/N.” His voice sounds the same whenever he repeats your name, but each time, it’s something new. Your heart still races and your stomach always tingles.

You brush a strand of hair from his forehead, continuing to stroke his brown locks. “What is it?”

He looks down in embarrassment, but you gently place your fingers below his chin, and he picks his head up again. He blushes as you look him in his eyes.

“Can I kiss you again?”

His question makes the air in your lungs vanish. Again, you lose all ability to speak, and you just end up staring at him like an idiot. But, you don’t need to answer this time, because Mark goes ahead and kisses you without warning. You move your hand back down to his waist, wrapping your arm around him. He places his hands on both your cheeks which sends your whole body into a shudder. The feeling of him being this close to you is one you wish you could experience many times after this, but you know that isn’t the case, so you savor each millisecond and the touch of his fingers on your face and our hearts beating right along with one another.

Mark stops the kiss for a moment, only to give you one last peck. You keep your eyes closed as he pulls away.

“Can I just…I don’t know,” Mark trails on, flustered. You grab onto his hand to reassure him that he can talk to you. “Will you let me just, touch you?”

You nod.

And his fingers are brushing against the features of your face—your dry lips, the area beneath your eyes, the edges of your eyelids, all along your hairline, then his hands are rustling the strands atop your head. The feeling is soothing and sends you into a calm state. You softly close your eyes, and Mark continues feeling you. His touches move from your head down to your neck and collarbone. His thumb grazes over your throat, which tickles, and you let out a small chuckle. He then traces the length of your clavicle, which leads him to your shoulder. He pulls down your t-shirt to reveal more of your skin. you don’t expect him to start to softly kiss the area. The action causes me to shiver, especially when his hands sneak beneath the hem of your shirt. His hands explore your body as you feel the goosebumps rise all over your arms and your legs.

“Y/N,” Mark says for the umpteenth time. He takes his hands and places them on your shoulders. He rests his head on your chest. “Find someone better than me, okay?”

“That’s impossible.”

Mark sighs. “Find someone who will live long enough to love you.”

“You will live long enough. You’re going to be a part of this amazing trial in just a few days, right? You’ll be fine,” you reassure. “You were the one talking about hope. It’s gonna work.”

Mark sighs before he purses his lips. He nods.

Mark eventually falls asleep, and he’s still resting on top of you. You gently get up and place his body in a comfortable position, covering his shoulders with the blankets, and adjusting the cannula to his nose, making sure he’s getting the oxygen he needs. Once he’s still again, you make your way out of the bed. You kneel next to him before you leave.

You softly brush your fingertips over his face, tracing his hairline, feeling the soft hair behind his ear, down his jawline and neck. You feel the area where his pulse beats, and when you feel the rhythmic oscillation, you feel the worry and anxiousness lift off your shoulders. You take note of how he’s slowly breathing and how his pulse continually beats beneath your fingers.

Once the outside sky turns into a dark void, you tell yourself that Mark should rest without admiring him. You stand up, bending over Mark's face. You place a soft kiss on his forehead, and you wonder, am I still in love?

Should I have fallen in love?

You wake up the next day with five missed calls from Mark. You immediately feel relentless worry bubble up inside you. Your heart paces as you call him back, praying it’s Mark who answers, and not his mother. Your heart stops when you hear his husky voice tell you good morning.

“Mark,” you breathe. “Are you alright?”

“I’m okay. I just need you to do something for me.”

You pause. “What is it?”

“Take me to my beach. Just one last time before I leave.”

Hearing him say last time makes the temporary excitement in you vanish completely. The way he says it—you can tell he’s sad. But you don’t want him to be sad. So you put on your best outfit, throw your book into your bag, and drive over to Mark’s home.

He’s already sitting out on the front lawn. You jump out of your car to see him. You notice he doesn’t have his little oxygen tank, and he’s breathing on his own.

“Hi Mark,” you greet, sitting next to the boy. He looks at you but he doesn’t smile. You try not to think much of it. “Do you wanna go?”

He nods. So you hook your arm around his and help him stand, grabbing his oxygen from the garage where he set it before, and eventually getting him into the car.

As you drive, he stays quiet, which you expect due to his rather glum mood. You reach your hand over towards him, placing it on his leg. He softly covers it with his beautiful fingers, brushing his thumb over the back of your hand. You glance at him, and he’s looking down at your hands.

“You’re okay,” you tell him, almost more so reassuring yourself rather than him. You don’t necessarily know what’s bothering him—other than the fact that his days are numbered if this trial doesn’t work—but you reassure him anyway. You know it’s what he needs.

You reach the bumpy back roads which indicates you’re almost to your destination. Mark occasionally starts coughing a lot, and you worry, but you’ve learned that’s normal for him. He gets over it within a matter of seconds. At one point, you look over at Mark, and you can tell he’s studying the trees and bushes and small buildings we pass by as we drive. His eyes are slightly squinted, the window slightly rolled down for fresh air. All you can think is he is so damn beautiful.

You take one last turn before parking right before the stretch of woods. Mark slowly gets out—slow enough for you to exit and help him. He takes your hand, and you walk.

You lay out your beach blanket, and you help Mark sit down, positioning his oxygen right next to him. You sit next to him closely. Once your feet sink into the sand, it seems as if Mark sinks deeper into sadness, and you sink further into guilt. All you wanted was to reassure him, to remind him how he’d make it out of that hospital; but none of it seems to work.

You grab your bag and pull out the book, your book, and gesture towards Mark. He smiles and nods, and you open to the page you both left off on. You have reached Part V, The Happy Years. You brought your annotation kit, for you and Mark like to mark your favorite quotes and write down all your thoughts.

“…he too felt that his relationship with Jude existed to no one but themselves: it seemed something sacred, and fought-for, and unique to them.”

“Mark that one,” Mark says. You nod, grabbing a sticky note sticking it to the page. He puts his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer as you continue reading.

“That one too,” Mark says. And he repeats it throughout the night as you continue to read. You read and read and read, until the sun sets, until Mark has to hold his phone up to the book so you can actually see the words on the pages.

“But now he knows for certain how true the axiom is, because he himself––his very life––has proven it. The person I was will always be the person I am, he realizes. The context may have changed: he may be in this apartment, and he may have a job that he enjoys and that pays him well, and he may have parents and friends he loves.”

You read almost 100 pages that night, until you close the book, looking up at Mark.

“I’m really tired,” you comment. Mark pulls his arm from around your shoulders.

“Me too,” Mark says. “I have to get to the hospital kinda early tomorrow.”

You put the book back into your bag, and you stand before helping Mark as well. He lets out a breath as he straightens his back. You grab his oxygen, carrying it to the car for him. He lets out a deep breath as he sits in the passenger seat. You put a hand on his forehead, and he turns his head towards you, and you kiss him tenderly. He barely reciprocates, but you don’t get upbeat about it. You know he’s tired.

“Do you feel okay?” you ask before you drive away. Mark looks over at you, and his eyes are dull and sullen.

“Spend the night with me.”

You look at him for a moment, then you nod. “Okay.”

You help each other set up a mini fort in the piano room, which ends up just becoming a pile of soft pillows and fluffy blankets. Mark throws some pillows at you jokingly, and your heart feels relief as you witness Mark’s true lightheartedness seep through the true pain he was in.

You tell Mark to rest while you go to the kitchen and get some snacks. You meet Mark’s mother who is already making popcorn in the microwave.

“Hi Mrs. Lee,” you greet. She smiles at your appearance.

“Hello, dear,” she replies happily. The microwave beeps immediately after she speaks. As she takes out the bag, she walks over to the island in the middle of the kitchen where all of Mark’s supplements are sorted out.

“Want me to take those up for him?”

She nods. As she closes the caps to the several pill bottles, you can tell she’s sad. you want to say something, but you don’t know what.

“Thank you, dear.” She looks up at you with a glint in her eye.

“It’s no problem, Mrs. Lee.” you ask as you walk closer to her.

“No, thank you for making my son happy again. I swear, the minute he realized how serious this sickness was, he was so…sad. He was so closed off. He stopped his piano and singing. He barely spoke to anyone. He knew if he became attached to anyone, leaving them would hurt too much. You really changed him.”

You don’t know what to say. You feel like crying a little. So you don’t say anything. You just smile.

“He adores you so much.”

“I love him,” you spit out. You can’t catch yourself saying it, but it just comes out, and Mrs. Lee looks surprised for a moment. “I know we’re young, and maybe we don’t really know what love is, but if love is a feeling, I think it’s what I feel for him.”

There’s a long pause, but you focus on the growing scent of popcorn to distract yourself. Mrs. Lee slides the bowl of pills over to you before patting your back. “Go have fun.”

So you walk up the steps again, and you already hear the sound of the piano coming from the room. You smile to yourself as you listen from outside the door. Although it does sound dark and solemn, it’s fast paced, and you can hear a slight energy behind each note. You can tell Mark hasn’t played like this in a while.

You crack the door open, not wanting Mark to notice you. Even as you begin to creep inside, he continues to play like there’s no tomorrow. You feel your smile growing bigger and bigger the further into the song he gets. You walk towards him, no longer caring if he notices. You watch his fingers press down on the keys repetitively.

Instead of turning around and looking at you again when he finishes, Mark stays staring at the keys. You place the bowl of popcorn on the ground, then wrap your arms around his chest, resting your chin on his shoulder. He sets his hand over your arm and softly strokes it.

“You okay?” you ask him with a soft tone. He then starts to stand again, facing you. He softly nods with a small smile, which you can tell is fake, before standing on his toes and placing a light kiss on your cheek. He walks over to the pile of blankets and pillows. You grab the popcorn and join him.

He grabs the laptop from beside where he spreads his body to rest, and you do the same. His head is nuzzled up on your shoulder, hands resting either on your chest or your stomach. He turns on a movie, which you assume is his favorite. Dead Poets Society. You don’t have to look twice to see how happy he is to be watching it.

While he has his focus on the movie, you’re focused on Mark. As he chows down on the popcorn, you make sure he’s okay; you place a kiss on his forehead, and sometimes, he’ll kiss you straight on the lips. Each time, his lips are salty from the popcorn, but you don’t care, because it’s Mark you're kissing.

It’s about the middle of the movie when Mark suddenly closes the laptop and sets it away. He rests against your body again, letting his weight sink into your side. He groans a little before he crawls on top of you completely. He has one leg on either side of your waist, and he grabs your face in his hands, looking right at your lips, but he doesn’t try to kiss you. You wrap your arms around his small body and pull him closer.

“Y/N.” You hold his hand, for you’ve learned that when Mark says your name this way, he’s going to say something important. His eyes glisten from the streetlight slipping through the blinds of the window above you. He looks down, letting out a sigh. Picking his head up again, he says, “you’re so beautiful.”

He kisses you—just once—softly and delicately. But he keeps his face close to yours, so your foreheads are touching along with your noses. You run your hand up and down his spine, feeling each vertebrae, taking note of his slow breaths. Eventually, Mark lets his body fully collapse on yours. You wrap your arms completely around him so he’s even more close to you. His arms are now loosely around your neck, stroking your hair.

You roll over to where he’s on his back and you’re straddling his waist. He puts his hands on your hips, stroking the length of your thigh, up and down, and the feeling makes your breath hitch a little and the butterflies in your stomach release. You wanted Mark so badly then, you felt your whole body tingle.

“I love you, Mark.”

He pauses as he looks up at you. You hear him swallow hard, and his heartbeat speeds up as you place a hand on his chest. The feeling of each thump beneath your skin reassures you. He’s here, he’s alive, he’s with you, and he’s Mark. You want to see him fully, in his purest form, so you tug at the hem of his sweatshirt, and he sits up to pull the cloth over his head.

“I love you, Y/N.” He pulls you closer, kissing you deep and tenderly. You let yourself lay on his side, keeping one leg wrapped over his lap. He pulls away from your kiss and looks at you longingly. “Can I?”

He gestures to your shirt, and you nod, ridding yourself of the clothing. When he pulls you closer and your chests touch, an electric field seems to form between you, keeping you both within each other’s orbit, unable to pull away. He caresses your back as you touch all over his torso. As each second passes, your heart becomes more eager and your stomach grows more tingly. Mark touches your hips, and you feel like you want to implode; you want him touching you all over, but such a thing is impossible all at once. You want a thousand years to spend with him so you can explore all of him, you want him all to yourself, you never want him to let go; your selfish need to have him all over you was a craving too insatiable.

“Mark,” you exhale. “Please, fucking live. You can’t die.”

Mark lets out a deep breath through his nose as your foreheads touch. He frowns, and you kiss him softly. He’s going to cry. You can feel it in the air, you can see it in his face.

“Mark, don’t cry.” You take his hands from his face, holding them tightly. Tears are forming in your eyes faster than you want them to. Then they suddenly attack completely, falling like waterfalls down your cheeks.

You swallow hard. “We have now okay? I’m here, you’re here. It’s okay,” your voice cracks as you speak. He nods slowly. “We have this right now. And you’re gonna get better from the trial. Just keep looking at me, okay?”

Mark looks down. “I’m so tired,” he breathes. “I’m tired of everything. I need this to work, I’m so goddamn tired.”

“I know, Mark, but it’s gone too far. I’m in love with you. And if you give up, I’ll fucking die, I think. So you have to keep going. Even though you’re tired.”

Mark sighs, his breath shaky as it leaves his lips. You blink slowly, pressing your forehead against his. He puts a hand on your cheek. “I shouldn’t have let you love me.”

You purse your lips. “We both knew, Mark. There wasn’t any stopping it.”

“We should sleep,” Mark suggests, obviously not wanting to talk about the topic any longer. He lays himself down on his back, pulling the blankets over his body. You stay sitting up as you watch him. “Lay down, Y/N.”

You follow his instructions, resting your body next to his. You immediately begin to feel your body and your mind grow more and more tired. As you close your eyes and let out a breath, Mark pokes at your side, grabbing your attention again. You look over at him, and he’s facing you as he rests on his side. Instead of touching him, you admire him—his round eyes that glare at me longingly, his cute nose, his pretty lips, his velvet skin. His eyelids slowly droop as he looks at you.

You can tell he doesn’t feel like speaking. He just wants to be there. So you let him do that. Mark crawls closer to you, bringing your faces close together again. You close your eyes as you feel his hands on your arms, stroking them slowly. You hold your breath, and you stay frozen, for Mark seems so precious and fragile at this point—you don’t want to break him any more than you already have.

You open your eyes for a moment to see Mark’s are shut. You sneak your arm behind his back, bringing him closer. You do it gently, just like the way you kiss him after. Slow and gentle. You hold on to the kiss as you take in the feeling of his lips—soft, sweet. He barely kisses back, and you know it’s because he’s so drained. He just wants to let go. He wants to get the heartache over with. He just wants to be done.

You pull away, and he looks up at you.

“Y/N.”

You worry.

“I’m sorry,” he says. You shake your head.

“You have no reason to be sorry. Just rest, Mark,” you instruct him.

“I shouldn’t have let you love me,” he says again.

You wonder. Maybe I shouldn’t have fallen in love.

What does he dream about?

Mark was admitted to the hospital on November 21. You visited him for the first time on November 22. He made sure to show you around the facility, for he already knew you would be basically living there along with him. It was a nice hospital, if hospitals could be considered nice. There were decorations on each door for the patients, which you could tell were all like Mark—18-24 years old, all living with CF, participating in the drug trial. You imagined a utopia where the trial worked and Mark would be part of some life-changing scientific study; you imagined reading the peer-reviewed journals of the entire experiment that would save millions across the globe, including Mark, who you loved so dearly.

But that was early on. You only saw Mark a few days after he first was admitted, as it was Christmas time, and for winter break, you always visited your family out of state. You facetimed Mark every day, though, and he’d update you on all the things he cared for most; he started reading your book by himself, and he was writing songs every day. He never mentioned how he was feeling, or how the trial was going. He got his first dose of the drug on November 25. You texted him immediately when you woke up that day.

How do you feel?

i haven’t had the drug yet, so still like shit lol

Oh, well let me know when you get it! I’m so excited for you!

<3 i miss u

I miss you too. One more week!!!

You’re walking downtown with your family one night after dinner, when you go into a souvenir store with your cousin, where you find lots of various gifts for Mark. You end up buying him a bracelet made of crystal beads, all a dark green color that reminds you of him. You also buy him a sweatshirt. You noticed him wearing sweatshirts in all your facetime calls, giving him one more couldn’t hurt, and you could rest well knowing a piece of you was with him at all times, enveloping him in warmth like the hugs you wish you could give him over and over.

When you get home, the first thing you do is wrap all the little things you bought and found for Mark. You decide to write him a little letter as well, which you fold up into the gift bag. You leave for the hospital as soon as you get home, not wanting to waste a single moment longer away from Mark.

Your heart is beating fast when you grab your visitor's pass, but your heart beats even faster as the elevator moves up the several floors. You haven’t seen Mark in exactly 9 days, and for you, that was 9 days too long. You practically run to his room as soon as you’re in the unit, and his door is closed like normal, and you smile to yourself when you see his decorative name tag on the door. Mark. You can’t wait to say his name again, you can’t wait to see the smile on his face as you say it.

When the nurse opens the door for you, Mark is fast asleep, lying on his side. Some Marvel movie is playing on the television, but you can’t decipher which one. You take a seat on the chair next to his bed. You scoot closer, putting your hand over his, stroking his hair with your other hand. His eyes slowly flutter open, and you smile, witnessing him in his peaceful slumber brings a certain lift to your spirit. You wonder what he dreams about; if he has weird dreams like the rest of us, or if he has lovely dreams, or nightmares. You hope not. He suffers enough, and you think to yourself, if you could crawl inside his brain and fend off any negative thoughts that might seep in during his slumber, you’d do so.

“Mark,” you say. He smiles as his eyes open just enough to see you. He immediately tries to sit up and reaches his arms out. “Mark, Mark, Mark.”

He hugs you, eventually pulling you off the chair and onto the bed. “Hi,” he says, and you giggle as you lay on your side, facing your boy. He smiles too, holding your face in his hands, and god, you missed the feeling so bad. You put your forehead against his and close your eyes.

“Hi,” you whisper. Mark doesn’t hesitate to kiss you. His lips are warm and gentle, and your heart skips a beat as he kisses you deeper.

“Did you—”

You can’t get another word out because Mark keeps kissing you. You don’t mind, but your curiosities are eating you alive. You need to know if he’s feeling any better, if the drug is working yet, if he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning by his own lungs. Mark kisses you deeper, then resorts to small pecks, and you can tell he’s short of breath.

“Did you get the drug? How are you feeling? Is it working?”

Mark smiles. “Yes. And I’m okay. Just have some nausea, but that’s one of the side effects.”

You nod as you reach down for Mark’s hand, holding it tight. “What are the other side effects?”

Mark sighs. “Rash, respiratory infection, headache, dizziness. To name a few.”

You furrow your eyebrows and purse your lips. The list Mark just relayed doesn’t sound good, but you try not to worry. “And you’ve been feeling okay?”

Mark nods as he laughs. “Yes, yes. I’m okay. You don’t have to worry.”

“You were dying just two weeks ago, I’m going to worry, you know.” You’re relieved when Mark lets out a chuckle. You’re just not sure the extent to which your jokes can go, and you figure just about as far as they can go, given Mark’s days were just numbered, so he must know not to be hung up on dark jokes. Except you weren’t really joking; you were terrified with your life of how Mark was feeling.

“You gotta understand, I’m gonna have bad days. Doesn’t necessarily mean I’m gonna die, though.”

You sigh as you nod. Mark kisses your forehead, and you smile. “I brought you some stuff. From vacation.”

Mark puckers his lips in interest, and you laugh at his face, because it’s just too cute. You reach over to the table where you set down the gift bag, and you and Mark sit up as you hand him the bag. He reaches for the sweatshirt first. It’s simple, just the classic tourist-style design, but he still smiles and holds it close to his chest anyway.

“I sprayed my perfume on it so it smells like me,” you inform, chuckling under your breath. Mark holds it to his nose, and he immediately looks over at you lovingly. He takes out the oxygen cannula from his nose before pulling the sweatshirt he currently wears over his head, revealing his bare skin, and you hate yourself for it, but your mouth waters. His body isn’t anything special—except it is, because it’s Mark’s. You lick your lips and bite down to hold back any giggles that fight to escape your vocal chords. Mark puts the sweatshirt on, and you smile as it fits him loosely, he looks so cozy and cuddle-able.

“Cute,” you comment. “Now open the rest.”

Mark follows your command, reaching inside the bag and pulling out the various little things you found for him. The first was a bag of seashells you found on the beach, both big and small, and Mark pulled out one that must have caught his eye. He admires it closely before putting it back in the bag. He then pulls out the bracelet you bought him, and he immediately puts it on the same wrist that has his hospital band. You grab his hand and hold it up, looking at the bracelet on his skinny wrist. You kiss his knuckles, then pull him close to you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says sincerely. “You’re the best. And this sweatshirt is really comfortable.”

You chuckle, and you both fall asleep there, and you dream of a world where Mark never leaves it, where he’s just as constant as the air you breathe and the water that runs on earth; he’s your axiom of equality; Mark will always be Mark the same way x will always be x, and you find comfort in this. Regardless of if the trial works or not, whether Mark dies tomorrow or Mark dies in 20 years, you know that he will always be. Mark is the axiom that drives you mad, that consumes you, that has become your entire life.

Isn't he lovely?

The hospital is a lively place during the holidays. You know it’s for the saddest reasons, though—so much despair ran through the halls of that place, and it couldn’t have been any better during the holidays, while the rest of the world was out celebrating with loved ones. You felt bad for Mark, as you remember him saying once that Christmas was his favorite holiday. So, you made a commitment to him, to bring Christmas to his little room there in that behemoth of a building.

You brought him some fairy lights, colored red and green, as well as a little Christmas tree to put in the corner of the room. You also bought some silver tinsel, and, of course, wrapped some Christmas gifts for him to put beneath the tree.

“You don’t have to do all this,” Mark tells you as you wrap the tinsel around the railings of the hospital bed.

“I know,” you say. “I just want to.”

Mark chuckles, and you kiss his forehead.

“I’m going to shove this cheesy Christmas stuff down your throat no matter what. It makes me feel better about you being trapped here, so deal with it.”

Mark shakes his head and throws his hands up. “Fine, fine. But can I help at least?”

You throw him a wad of fairy lights. He smiles as he begins to untangle them, then he stands from his bed, plugging them into the outlet. Glowing red and green light fills the room, evening out as you help him tape them up along the walls. You can hear him breathing heavily as he reached up to put the lights into place, but you kept your worries to yourself, as you knew Mark didn’t like how much you worried about him.

“All done,” you breathe as you sit down on the bed. Mark joins you, resting his head on your shoulder. You turn your head to give him a kiss. He looks up at you with a glint in his eye, and your heart breaks a little, seeing how cute he is the way he looks up at you. He holds the world in his eyes, and for a moment, you lose yourself in them.

“We should go to the roof,” Mark suggests. You chuckle as you grab his hand.

“But I just decorated your room all nice. You wanna leave already?” you ask jokingly. Mark slaps you playfully.

“We’ll come back. But the roof is really cool, and it’s a full moon tonight.” Mark bounces his leg anxiously as he awaits your reply. You smile as you stand, pulling him up behind you. He claps his hands excitedly as you let him lead the way.

You have to take the stairs to get to the roof, and Mark struggles once you reach the higher floors, taking rests every few steps. He looks up at you momentarily each time, like an apology, but you just smile back at him. Once you finally reach the top, he excitedly yells, and his voice echoes off the open atmosphere. You laugh as he inhales a deep breath and walks toward the edge of the building. You follow behind him closely.

“I fucking love it up here. I feel like I’m really breathing,” Mark explains. You look over at him endearingly. “Like I can feel every single air particle in my shitty pair of lungs. Try it—just breathe.”

You chuckle before you actually listen to Mark’s command; you inhale deeply, noting the feeling of the crisp air going into your airways. You lift your arms up as you exhale, and Mark laughs happily.

“Isn’t it lovely?” Mark asks.

You nod. “You’re lovely.”

Mark rolls his eyes before pulling on your waist. “No.”

“Yes,” you mock him, and he shakes his head, looking out at the skyline beyond the borders of the rooftop. You admire the beauty of Mark’s face in that moment. So serene, so happy, so content with life, despite the situation he was in. You think to yourself in that moment how much better he deserved. He was such a curious, wonderful, kind human being, and the universe gave him such an awful situation to be in.

Mark turns his head towards you, looking at you with love in his gaze, and you smile bright. He looks at your lips before holding your face in his hands, leaning in slowly, pausing for a moment before kissing you. You smile as his lips meet yours, and he smiles too, until your kiss is broken.

You kiss under the moonlight, and you kiss more under the fairy lights of his room, until the nurses interrupt to take Mark’s vitals and check on him. At one point in the night, Mark has a cough attack, and his throat begins to hurt, so you both decide to halt the making out and simply read instead. You read aloud to Mark. He points to the book at the parts he wants you to annotate—one quote reads, “Friendship, companionship: it so often defied logic, so often eluded the deserving, so often settled itself on the odd, the bad, the peculiar, the damaged.”

Will my wonders come to an end?

Mark Lee died in the hospital 3 days after your last visit. He succumbed to high counts of liver enzymes, which destroyed his liver cells, and his heart stopped beating at 4:39 am. He was alone, and they didn’t find him until 5 am.

You go to visit him that morning, and you don’t get past the unit doors when you see Mark’s mother crying with a nurse in the waiting area. Your heart immediately falls in your stomach. You can’t breathe. You don’t need to speak to any doctor or nurse to know what happened. You imagined this day several times, as ashamed of it as you were. But you realized, no amount of imagining this occurrence would better prepare you for when it actually happened.

You hear Mark’s mom crying from the opposite end of the doors that separate you and the unit. You don’t hesitate to walk up to the doors, pounding on the glass, rattling the handle trying to open it. It’s locked like always, but you yank on the handle and kick at the door, until the nurse finally lets you in, but immediately puts her hands on your shoulders.

“Can I see him? Please, I need to see him, I have to, I have to see him—”

“Who are you here for, hon? I can’t let you see anyone like this,” the nurse explains.

“Mark. Mark Lee, I need to see Mark.”

She shook her head. Mark’s mother walked over to you, wrapping an arm around you.

“Mark’s gone. He died this morning,” she said between sharp, short breaths. She started crying harder, although you could tell she had been crying all day. You closed your eyes as the breath was knocked out of your lungs. You fell to the floor, reaching over to the garbage can sitting against the wall, vomiting into it as you tried to catch your breath. The nurse kneeled down and rubbed your back, and a few more nurses came, one of them supplying you with a towel, another bringing another box of tissues.

“Mark’s liver enzymes got too high, and his organs failed. I’m so sorry, honey. Can I get you some water?” the nurse said. You started to cry, then. You felt a pain grow in your chest as you let out a strong sob. You grabbed onto the arm of the chair next to you. The nurse rubbed your back as you cried. Mark’s mother soon joined, wiping the tears from your face.

“Can…can I see him, please? I just want to see him,” you sob. The nurse purses her lips, and Mark’s mother sighs.

“They took him already, dear,” she said. You bring your hands to your face to subdue your cries as you realize, he’s really gone. You don’t get to say goodbye. Your hands shake as Mark’s mother helps pull you back up to your feet. You start to speak, but nothing that comes out makes any sense, your voice mutters a jumble of nos and gods and pleases, until you go quiet, and all you can say under your breath is Mark, Mark, Mark.

Mark.

Mark who ceases to exist in that very moment. Mark, who would never again kiss you, never again touch you, never look at you with the stars in his eyes, never sing to you or write songs about you. There is no more Mark. All that is left of him are memories and the little wonders of him.

Is there anything worth wondering about anymore?

You’ve become a member of the black sea today. This ocean consists of nobody but Mark’s closest friends and family, and you.

Everywhere are pictures of him. There is one which looks more recent than the others—his hair is dark, he’s smiling, his eyes are glowing, and his cheeks are full and red. He looks as alive as he ever could. As if he hadn’t been battling that sickness all his life. Like he was okay.

You sit alone, and you stare at the three photographs Mrs. Lee has given you. One is a baby picture. The baby in the photograph has the same brilliance and happiness as the Mark you always knew.

Another, he’s probably in his younger teenage years. He’s simply playing the guitar, and he’s completely concentrated on the strings. You wish you could have heard him play more.

The last one is evidently recent. It appears as if he’s somewhere tropical, from a vacation he recently went on, because he’s wearing a flower-shirt and the sun is beaming down on him as he grins from ear to ear. He looks so happy. You wish you could have been there to see this moment in person. You had only seen him smile a fair number of times, and your heart hurts as you think about all the smiles you could have seen before then. All the happy times when he thought he could live with the trial ahead of him. The moments where in the back of his mind, he knew, there’s a chance. You can survive. You can stay.

But happiness could only last until those new drugs caused the chemistry lab inside of him malfunction, until they forced his organs to shut down, until his heart stopped beating and he ceased to exist.

The sky grows more and more vibrant as the sun begins to set. You realize that you're still sitting on the couch, frozen in your seat, staring at the photos of Mark, when the boy himself is laying across the room from you. You try to get yourself to gain the courage to see him and pay respects to his family, but it’s almost as if you're glued to the sofa. The funeral home is quiet and eerie. You look over to the other room, where most of the people are gathered, sharing drinks and snacks, sharing hugs and condolences. You look up at the box across the room that holds your boy. Tears fill your eyes, and you set the photos on the table in front of you. You stand, and your legs shake; but you think about the boy resting across the room. You knew deep down he deserved a better send off from you. You can’t even recall your last conversation that you had; now, you have a chance to remember.

“I love you, Mark. So big. I love you so, so big.” You start to cry, and you kneel down next to him as you wipe your tears. “I’m sorry the world failed you. I’ll never forgive the universe for this. Just…please rest easy, my love.”

Next to Mark sits a framed photo of him. It’s evidently a school photo, maybe one of his senior pictures. On the table sits a notebook and a yearbook. You look through the notebook, and it’s full of prose, and you then realize, it’s his songs. You recognize the one he sang for you. You cry harder as you see your name written across the top.

“Goddammit,” you curse. “I miss you, Mark. I’m going to miss you so bad.”

“I love you,” you say a moment later. You cover your mouth as you turn your back towards him, walking quickly towards the other room where you find his mother. A look of concern grows upon her expression as she sees you crying.

“Can someone just go in there with him? I don’t want him to be alone, but I can’t, I just can’t—”

Mrs. Lee pulls you into her arms. The person she was speaking to immediately leaves, going back into the other room where Mark rests. You let out broken sobs as she holds you. “I miss him so much.”

The room becomes less full as time passes and you hug Mrs. Lee. People were evidently beginning to leave, and as you watch people begin to exit the building, you feel a sudden pain shoot through your heart. Everyone was leaving Mark. At some point that day, Mark would be alone again, the way he was when he died. You want to yell and scream at everyone not to leave. You don’t want Mark to be alone ever again.

“Dear,” Mrs. Lee says softly. “We have to leave for burial.”

You shake your head as you cover your eyes. “No, I don’t want him to be alone again. Please,” you cry. “I can’t watch that. I’m sorry.”

She wipes your cheeks. “I understand, dear. Go rest. Mark would understand, I know. He wouldn’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

You inhale a deep, shaky breath. You look down at the ground, then you feel the metal chain around your neck, and you touch the locket charm attached. You pull the necklace from your neck, handing it to Mrs. Lee.

“Can you put this with him? Or keep it? It’s nothing special, I’ve just worn it almost everyday for years, I just want a piece of me with him.”

Mrs. Lee smiles. “Of course, love.” She hugs you one more time. “It reminds me, here, take this with your photos.”

She went over to the table with all the pictures of Mark and all the little pieces of his life displayed on the surface. She goes under the table and pulls out a book, and you immediately recognize the cover, and you feel another sob threaten your throat.

“This is for you. He read it every day, and always talked about you while reading it, too.”

Your heart falls into your stomach as you flip through the pages, every single one highlighted or marked or annotated. One page you flip to, the text reads, I am Willem Ragnarsson, and I will never let you go. He has it highlighted, and beneath it writes, I am Mark Lee, and I will never let you go.

You look up at her, and then you look towards the door, and you make your way out of the building. The sky outside is covered with clouds. You look up, but there’s just gray. No color whatsoever.

It’s still a pleasant day outside when you go to his beach. You cry the whole drive there. You don’t stop crying for what feels like forever. Your eyes hurt, your throat is sore, and your chest throbs in pain with each heartbeat. You try to focus on what’s around you, but it’s hard when all you can think about is Mark, all you feel is Mark, all you hear is Mark.

You lie down on the cold sand, clutching your book in your arms. As you watch as the sky become a mixture of blues and oranges and pinks, you flip open the book. You go to the end of the book, just to see if he ever made it that far. He circles a paragraph.

Or maybe he is closer still: maybe he is that gray cat that has begun to sit outside our neighbor’s house, purring when I reach out my hand to it; maybe he is that new puppy I see tugging at the end of my other neighbor’s leash; maybe he is that toddler I saw running through the square a few months ago, shrieking with joy, his parents huffing after him; maybe he is that flower that suddenly bloomed on the rhododendron bush I thought had died long ago; maybe he is that cloud, that wave, that rain, that mist. It isn’t only that he died, or how he died; it is what he died believing. And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.

The side of the page is full of Mark’s writing.

If you outlive me, if this trial doesn’t work — what will I come back as? Maybe a cat, like Harold says here. Maybe I’ll be a dolphin in the ocean on our beach, even though I’ve never seen a dolphin there. Maybe a crab. Or a fucking branch or something. Maybe I’ll be a flower in a vase in my mom’s living room. Who the fuck knows.

You smile as you read the annotation in his voice. You miss him. So much.

You read those last few pages, until you reach the very end, where the bottom is not blank, but is full of more of Mark’s writing.

Y/N,

“The axiom of equality states that x always equals x: it assumes that if you have a conceptual thing named x, that it must always be equivalent to itself, that it has a uniqueness about it, that it is in possession of something so irreducible that we must assume it is absolutely, unchangeably equivalent to itself for all time, that its very elementalness can never be altered. But it is impossible to prove.” This is my favorite quote from this book. I understand why this book is your favorite. It’s now my favorite, too. Seriously, I won’t ever forget this book. I wonder why it’s your favorite, though. It’s so sad. Are you secretly incredibly depressed? Nah, you would tell me, or I’d know. I know we talk about me alot, with my shitty lungs or whatever, and we never talk about you and I never got to know you the way I want to, but I feel like, in a way, through this book, I now know you so wholly. I know that you are you, you are always equal to you, like x = x, and you are unique, and I love you. Thanks for showing me this book.

I am Mark Lee, and I will never let you go.

#nct #nct fic #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #nct fluff #nct smut #nct angst #mark lee #nct mark #mark smut #mark fluff #mark angst #mark fic #mark lee fic #mark fanfic #mark lee fanfic

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sushis-wild-imagination · 2 years

Text

Over a Decade

SeungCheol x reader

Words: 10k ish (Longer than my college essay for sure, damn)

Summary: Non Idol AU, Childhood best friends to lovers, horrible slow burn, angsty, fluff, everything, no smut though, I can't do it. Slice of life, dad coups

TW: mentions of heart attack and physical abuse.

Im so excited for you to read this!

Over a decade Series

General Masterlist <3

Seventeen masterlist

“Don’t let go of his hand, he’s older, he’ll look out for you” your mom says to you putting your little hand is his.

“I’ll protect her” a young Seungcheol, around the age of 6, smiles at your mother widely with one of his front tooth missing. Feeling a sense of responsibility with his chest out. He was 2 years older to you and the son of your mom’s best friend. He was automatically your best friend and you were his.

You were off to run an errand for your mom, SeungCheol wanted to tag along.

“Will you be my friend when I am taller?” You ask him not letting go of his hand.

“Only if you’re not taller than me” he nods at the end of the sentence.

“What if I’m taller than you?”

“No way” he shakes his head.

“I’ll try to be shorter then, I want to be friends with you forever” your younger self says as you reach the watch repair shop your mom had asked you to go to pick up her old watch.

“Forever? My mom says if you want to be with someone forever, you’ll have to marry them”

“Ill marry you”

“Okay” he says smiling.

You get the watch from the repair shop and SeungCheol does most of the talking. He lets go of your hand to take the watch from the lady. Out of reflex end up holding the sleeve of his shirt instead.

“What are you? A baby?” He teases you. “No” You whine at that.

“Can a baby jump this far?” You ask and let go of his hand the first time in all this while to show him this jump you’ve been practising. It was more of a leap that tackled his little body too.

“What are you doing?” He asks pushing you off. He dusts himself off and helps you get the dirt out of your shirt too.

“I think I jump very well, like a grasshopper”

“My mom told me grasshoppers fly”

“Really?” You ask, your little hand reaching for his hand again to continue walking back home.

——

“Don’t let go, please please” you beg him. He was teaching you to ride a bike and you were trying your hardest not to fall or look back.

“You’re doing okay, I haven’t let go, you’ll never learn otherwise”

You could feel him holding on and letting go to teach you how to balance. After a bit, his voice became distant. You knew he had let go so you turned to check and crashed on the road as soon as you did.

“Yah, you were doing fine, are you stupid? Why’d you look back?” A 10 year old Cheol asks you, looking at the wound on your elbow and knee.

“How does a person fall from this height and hurt their knee like this?” He exclaims. The cuts were a bit deep.

“I’m not stupid, it’s just a scratch, I’m not even crying” your 8 y/o self exclaimed. It was a deep cut as if you fell on to glass.

“Wait here for me” he says rolling his eyes and disappears for a few minutes.

He comes back with a few bandaids and alcohol rubs.

“I told you to keep going, I don’t want to teach you if you’re this scared,” he whines.

He nurses your wound and puts a bandaid on it.

“There, now focus, y/n please” he begs. You knew he was a little annoyed because when he was playing around, he’d never call you by your name, it was always grasshopper. It was a cute nickname he had given you when you were 6 and it just stuck after that. But when he took your name, you knew things were serious.

You nod softly without looking at him. He looked out for you even when he was annoyed at you. Isn’t that what friendship really is?

——

You were playing the sandbox at the park, your mom had told you Cheol was going to a summer camp for a month, and you were too young to go.

As a 11 y/o it made you feel angry that you couldn’t go along and like he was leaving you behind, you were convinced he was gonna make new friends there and forget about you. It made you scared and angry, emotions you couldn’t identify at 11.

“Go to summer camp, play with your new friends” You get pulled up by the hoodie you were wearing to stand up and meet his eyes. He was much taller than you were.

“Yah, what new friends”

You start crying. “The new friends you’ll make you’ll forget about me” you see him shaking his head.

You were now sitting outside a convenience store eating ice cream with SeungCheol, after you calmed down. He dragged you to a store to get you ice cream.

“I will never forget you, stupid” he says and that makes you smile also gives you reassurance.

“Its literally a month, you can’t possibly forget someone in a month”

“I made you this” you hold out your hand in a fist.

“What is it” he asks, trying to pry your hands open. It was a bracelet with a grasshopper charm.

You see his dimples and that makes you happy.

——

“Do you want to hear something?” His 16 y/o self asks you, sitting at his keyboard bench in his room.

You were sitting on his bed hanging out reading a random comic from his collection.

“I’ve been listening to IU’s Hold My Hand recently” you say without giving it a thought.

His fingers glide over the keys creating a very soft tune.

You loved his music and his voice. He had picked up a few instruments when he was away. He looked very passionate about it. It made you feel happy too, watching him play.

He takes a breath before humming a tune.

“You’re getting this feeling, you’re trembling inside, how long will you merely steal glances at me?” He sings.

It suddenly felt too personal. You were at least 4 feet away from him but it didn’t feel that way. It felt like he was in your head. You shake off the thought.

After a little playing, he plopped himself on his bed where you were reading your book. “What are you on” you scoot over a little more to give him space.

You were on your stomach reading while he was on his back. He looked sleepy, he had already closed his eyes.

You went back to reading the book, when you finished the comic, you put it aside and saw Seungcheol softly snoring. He was dead asleep.

He broke the first rule of friendship. Never sleep when your friends are around. You’ll definitely get pranked.

Bingo!

You locate a sharpie on his night stand, but since you were trapped on the inside of the bed you had to go over Seungcheol to reach the sharpie.

You were totally hovering over his face trying not to fall on him while you reach the marker. You curse your small arms.

You hear him shuffle under you and out of reflex quickly grab the marker and go back to original position. Hoping he didn’t wake up.

You quickly take a look to see if he’s still asleep, he was.

You open the sharpie to draw a mustache on him and some whiskers. You also write ‘stupid’ on his forehead.

You were trying so hard not to giggle.

You were again hovering over him to draw on his forehead. The last stroke of the letter woke him up.

You were caught in the act. “What are you doing?” he asks in a sleepy voice.

You end up giggling not being able to keep it in for any longer.

He holds both your wrists in one of hands and you couldn’t stop laughing. He opens the camera on his phone to see what you did to see a mustache and doodles on his face.

“Oh you’re so dead come here” he says and terror takes over. He was definitely going to draw on your face and you had to get out of his hands.

He opens the sharpie with his mouth and goes to draw on your face while you scream playfully.

“No no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” You chant while he tries to draw on your face. It got playfully violent.

“What's this noise” his mom walks in to see SeungCheol literally straddling you with a sharpie cap in between his teeth and his hands restraining your hands. This looks bad.

“Auntie, help” you

“I’ve made some snacks for you. Nice mustache, SeungCheol” she comments and leaves shaking her head.

You hear SeungCheol do a fake evil laugh while you go back to squealing. Your eyes were tearing up and your sides hurt. It was that much fun.

“Guess you get a mustache now,” he says, grabbing a pen to draw on your face.

——

“Do you like this?”

You were walking back from school with ice cream in hand. He was a senior with half a year to school and you still had one.

You shake your head making a face. You tried out this weird new mango flavored ice cream at the market. He takes the ice cream cone from you and hands you his normal chocolate one that he had picked out.

These kind gestures had become a habit now. You just had that kind of a relationship. You didn’t even need to acknowledge it after a while.

“I had to ask you something” you stop and turn to him licking his- your ice cream.

“Hmm?”

You take a deep breath before you ready yourself to ask the most absurd thing you’ve asked him.

“Can I kiss you?”

He stops eating and puts his hand down. He was shocked and flustered.

“What?”

You recently got over your crush on SeungCheol considering he was graduating and going away for college in a year your crush would be useless. You ended up liking this boy from your class for a while now. Him being your first kiss terrified you. You just wanted to get it done when someone your comfortable with. You were over your little crush on SeungCheol that comes and goes. You finally liked someone, it gave your butterflies.

“I can explain”

“Please do” he says flustered about what you just said.

“You know how I like this boy in class right, we’re going to the arcade next weekend, I think he’s gonna kiss me” your voice fades.

“And..?”

“And I don’t want to look like I don’t know what I’m doing” you look away not being able to face him. You hear him laugh out of the absurdity of the request.

“This is the weirdest thing I’ve heard coming from you y/n, and you’ve said some WEIRD things, are you crazy?”

“I don’t want to look like a loser”

He doesn’t say anything and continues walking shaking his head. “You’re acting weird” he mutters to himself. You have to run a little to catch up. You tug at his arm when you do. You were walking next to the stream that’s on the way back home, you could hear ducks behind you.

“SeungCheol, please! I feel comfortable, plus its not like we have feelings for each other, it’ll just technicality” you try to justify your demand, like you're trying to convince yourself more than convince him.

SeungCheol felt butterflies in his stomach when you asked him that. He’s liked you for a while now, but gave up confessing because he kept telling himself its just a crush and he’ll get over it plus the fact that he’s moving away for college. He was too lost in thought to respond to you. He kept eating his ice cream and almost finished it but your rant wasn’t over.

“Listen, you haven’t had your first kiss either right? Isn’t this a win win for the both of-“ you are suddenly whisked by the waist, closer to him.

He inched his face closer and you were now second guessing your demand. It’s as if he wanted you to second guess your demand, to intimidate you enough for you to realise how absurd this request of yours was and how much you probably didn’t want it or would possibly regret it.

You could feel his hot breath on your face. His eyes fluttered between your eyes and your lips. He got even closer enough to close the distance between your lips but he didn’t.

“Is this what you want, y/n?” he whispers, that was enough, he was that close, just trying to make you realize it isn’t something you want.

Will your crush on SeungCheol come back if you do what you wanted to? Possibly yes.

Will you regret it? Mostly not.

You close your eyes tightly and bring both your hands to pull his face to yours to kiss him.

It wasn’t short enough for a peck nor was it a proper kiss. It was somewhere in between but you couldn’t keep track because you were so embarrassed.

This leaves him in a shock, you could feel him freeze under your hands momentarily processing what had just happened. You pull away, not too much, just enough to catch your breath.

Your eyes met, you were embarrassed, he realized what had happened.

You could feel his arms tighten around your waist in attempts to pull you to his height and closer, you were already on your toes. One of your hands now sliding down to hold the collar of his uniform to keep yourself from losing balance. His neck pushed down to kiss you again. Like he wanted more.

That gave you a sense of relief. You really wanted to do it right so you try to think of everything what you’ve seen on tv. You forget about the ice cream you were holding, you got some chocolate on his cheek in the process.

You swore it was longer than you thought, but also shorter than you wanted it to be.

You slip away from his grip and take a step back.

“Um” you didn’t know what to say, you hug yourself. “I got chocolate on your cheek” you say and take your hand to his face to wipe the chocolate from his face to cover up the awkwardness.

“You taste like chocolate” he mutters under his breath.

“Should I eat a chocolate before I kiss him?” You switch the subject completely to avoid awkwardness but that hurt him a little bit. He could see it didn’t mean anything beyond practice to you.

The rest of the walk was awkward.

That was your first kiss. You were more than okay with the fact that it was SeungCheol and not the boy you liked.

——

You were on the way to the hospital. You just had a frantic call from SeungCheol about his mother collapsing and he didn’t know who else to call. His dad was out of town and it would take him at least 6 hours to get here.

You were out shopping with a few friends, it was about 6pm, you dropped everything and got in a cab. You were worried for him.

The hospital stunk of bleach and alcohol, people crying about their loved ones, patients walking around. It made you very anxious. Last time you were at a hospital you were 10 and you had lost your dad in an accident. You had weird feelings about the hospital.

Your eyes look everywhere for his familiar face. You see him crouched on a seat next to the emergency operation theater and rush there.

“SeungCheol” you kneel in front of him. He looks up at you, his eyes were red like he had been crying before. You’ve only seen him cry twice. One when you were watching a really sad movie and when his adopted dog died. It scares you to see him cry.

You sit next to him now to rub his back in comfort.

“What happened?”

“They're saying it was a heart attack” he somehow choked out.

“What?” He nods and looks back at his hands on his lap.

You slid your hand in his. “Its okay, shes here now, they’ll take care of her, everything will be okay” you reassured him softly.

“What if it’s not okay? Its my fault”

“You could’ve never known, its not your fault”

“I was listening to music so loud, I didn’t even hear her collapse, I don’t even know when it happened y/n”

You get why he blamed himself, if it was too late to bring her in, he’d get eaten up by the guilt. You didn’t know what to say to that. All you knew was to reassure him everything will be alright and pray that it really will be.

Then you waited, his father would only reach by midnight and you were there for those 6 hours, waiting with him. You called your mom too, she arrived in an hour to help with other hospital documents.

You stayed there with him until his father came in.

You and your mother stepped away to give them some space. You decided to grab a sandwich.

“I’m worried about him, mom”

“He’s a strong boy, he’ll be okay, they will all be okay” she assured you.

You were back in the hallway where you left seungcheol and his father.

“What do you mean you didn’t hear your mother collapse, Choi SeungCheol?”

This make your head snap towards their direction. Seungcheol was looking at the ground with his hands behind his back, getting yelled at. It startles you a little. You’ve never heard that man yell. He was worried for his wife.

“I'm sorry, if something happens to mom today” he voice fades out and he takes another deep breath, his voice was shaky. “It’s my fault, I’m sorry dad”

“I don’t want you here, go back home. I’ll call you when there is news” you hear his father say sternly.

“No dad, please let me stay, I won’t be able to forgive myself if something happens, let me stay”

“Go home” you hear his father say again.

“Take him home” your mom says to you and you immediately go to his side to drag him away from his father for a bit. They’d probably get into a fight if this continues.

“Cheol, we should go” you tug at his arm. You don’t dare talk to Mr. Choi. He was scary right now.

He lets himself get dragged away. “Let’s go home, your dad will take care of it, don’t worry”

You get a cab and go back in silence, occasionally giving his hand a squeeze of reassurance. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him like if you did and he needed something and you won’t be able to provide with it immediately worried you.

You go back to his place, looking at everything there was uncovered in the kitchen and some food on the floor. She probably collapsed with a plate of food in her hand.

You make him sit down and get him some water.

“You should go wash up” you say, not letting your eyes leave the messy kitchen.

He nods and goes back inside dragging his feet. You decide to clean up the food on the floor and check if the uncovered food had gone bad. It had not. It was almost 1am now.

“Are you hungry or do you just want to sleep?” You ask him when he comes back. His eyes were the same bloodshot, like he bawled in the shower. You try not to point it out but it broke your heart. You know what its like losing a parent, you wouldn’t wish such heavy emotions, such a loss, grief on anyone. It scared you for him.

“Did you clean up?” it snaps you out of your thoughts.

“Yes”

“You didn’t have to”

“Its alright, its the least I could do”

“Do you want me to stay over?”

“Um.. I want to be alone today”

“Yes, no, of course I understand, I was just asking in case you didn’t want to be alone” you nod. Not sure what to do with your hands, you fiddle with them.

“Let me walk you home, its too late, its dangerous” he says grabbing his jacket.

You nod and he walks you back. You were finally at your door.

“Will you be okay?” You ask him with the saddest look in your eyes trying not to touch his face. Skinship had become awkward now that you were grown up plus all these feelings.

He nods to that. You had a feeling he was going to cry his eyes out when you close the door. You were worried.

His phone rings in the middle of the conversation. He hurriedly picks it up. His mom was out of danger.

“Mom’s okay” he says putting his phone down and grabs you in a hug resting his face in your neck. You were shocked at first but you settle into it.

“Thats a relief” you sigh.

“That’s a relief”

His hug was particularly tight but you didn’t mind it.

You suddenly feel his body jolt, like he’s sobbing his eyes out. He was overwhelmed. You felt horrible for him. It really broke your heart.

You try to pull back to see his face but he doesn’t let you, he only holds you tighter.

Maybe he’s embarrassed. He was clearly scared. You didn’t probe into it and just give him the comfort he needed running your hands through his hair and rub his back. He calmed down after a few minutes.

“I'm sorry, I’m getting snot on your shirt” he says sniffling.

“Ewwww” you respond jokingly as he pulls back.

“You owe me a tshirt”

“You already have TWO of mine” he chuckles.

——

It was your regular movie night with SeungCheol at his. You had promised each other that since he went to college, every time he comes home you have a movie night.

“What are we watching?” He asks and today you weren’t particularly looking forward to it. You had just broken up with your boyfriend of 1 and a half years, he had cheated on you. You’ve been moping around for quite some time. You had suspected that your mother must’ve spoken to SeungCheol to get you out of the house when he came back.

“A little birdy told me you’ve been acting weird all week” he says as he settles next to you. “What's wrong?” He asks facing you and resting his head on his arm thats on the backrest of the couch.

“Did you talk to my mom?” He nods.

You sigh and put your face in your hand. “It’s nothing” you shake it off and grab the remote to put on an episode of something.

He takes the remote from you, “I’m right here, talk to me” he pushes.

“My boyfriend cheated on me” you say very nonchalantly. Like it meant nothing but it was eating you up all week, you didn’t cry about it once so far.

“What an asshole” he exclaims, “Forget about it, I always knew he was trouble, just study well and get into a good university y/n” he rants sitting next to you.

You remembered what happened over the last 2 weeks. You went out with your boyfriend, Eunwook, on your 1 year anniversary. He told you he fell out of love with you and even cheated on you. He came clean.

But he also somehow brought up that you weren’t fully emotionally available to him either. You were surprised he caught on to it. You started dating him after your feelings for SeungCheol had come back. Your now ex, was only supposed to be a distraction from the fact that SeungCheol was going to university, and away from you, but slowly he grew on you and made you completely forget about SeungCheol and your ancient feelings for him.

Eunwook cheating on you only gave you a lot of self doubt and questions. Did you deserve that? Was it just Karma? You weren’t emotionally available and you still used him to forget about someone else, you felt guilty and deserving that he cheated on you. You felt horrible that you did that to him, it would be hypocritical of me to be hurt about him cheating, you thought to yourself.

“No, I don’t blame him, I started it and I fully deserve it”

“Y/n… no one deserves to get cheated on” he softly says trying not to touch your face but also wanting to push back the strand of hair that was disrupting his view.

You shake your head and turn to look at him with your hands in your lap playing with your fingers. You didn’t realize when your eyes had well up like that. You felt a drop hit your cheek. You had very mixed emotions. You weren’t sad about the break up, you felt like you had no right to be. You didn’t know what to think.

“I used him to forget” you say softly.

“Forget what?”

“I used him to forget you”

——

You were all huddled up around the fire with some beer in hand, alcohol made you very sleepy, you were the ‘sleepy’ kind of drunk. It was one of the first times you were drinking, you still don't know how much alcohol you can take.

You ended up going to the same university as SeungCheol and in turn hanging out with his friends. They always shipped you and SeungCheol and teased both of you because it seemed like you were dating. But all you were best of friends, regardless of your constant crush on SeungCheol, you just knew each other a lot better than the others and that comes off as 'very close/almost dating’ sometimes.

You were 2 beers down and already started to feel sleepy. You were leaning to one side, almost falling off your chair. Luckily SeungCheol was in the next chair so he scooted over to give you something to lean on. You ended up resting your head slightly on his shoulder and becoming more comfortable. All this while all your friends were already in conversation. Such gestures had become very normal between you and SeungCheol.

“Is she asleep?” You hear Jeonghan say.

“She’s out” You heard SeungCheol respond by patting your hair a little as if to check if you’re out. You pretend to be asleep to eves-drop on the conversation.

“Tell me, honestly, you look like you’re in love with her, SeungCheol '' Jeonghan attacks out of nowhere. There was a lot of silence after the question so you didn’t know if that meant he was hesitant or if it meant he was in love with you.

“I just… I care about her, a lot” he exhales. “I don’t know what it is, all I know is I care for her”

“Are you sure she’s not in love with you?”

“Not anymore” referring to your last relationship and how you used your ex to move on from your stupid crush on SeungCheol.

“I don’t know if it’s just me, but looking at the both of you, from a third person’s view, you look painfully ignorant to each other’s feelings” both of them chuckle at sipping on their beers.

“Maybe, maybe not”

“Have you at least thought about dating her?”

You hear Seungcheol chuckle. You could feel his body move which made you move too because your head was on his chest now. He put his arm around you to get more comfortable.

“I think I won’t have to date her at all, we could just get married and it would still make sense, we know each other that well”

It knocked the wind out of you. You try to remain composed. But Jeonghan chokes on his beer.

“You know what I mean right?”

You really do end up dozing off after that conversation you hear.

You get a feeling of getting poked in the cheek that makes you open your eyes. It was still dark, like dawn. You groan and stop the hand that was poking your cheek.

“Let's get you in a tent before the mosquitoes make you their dinner and their breakfast” you hear SeungCheol say and you nod half asleep.

You lazily get up while he checks what tent to sleep in. Turns out there was only one tent left. Someone puked in one of the other tents and that had become unusable.

“C'mon” he takes one of your hands with his free hand with a can of beer in his other hand.

“Are you sober?” You ask him, the soju had made you bold. You’ve liked him for a while, your feelings had come back recently and you didn’t know what to do with them. You never acted on it. You were scared you’ll ruin things.

“I don’t think so, why?” He asks not letting go of your hand he had in his.

“Will you remember anything from tonight?”

“I hope not, I don’t think I want to remember Go Eun puking in the tent” he says and both of you shudder at the thought.

“Promise me you’ll forget this”

“Forget what?”

You get on your tiptoes as much as you could holding his shoulders. Maybe the beers made you bold.

“Lets get married, Choi Seungcheol” You whispered referring to his conversation with Jeonghan, before you kissed him.

His eyes widened a little but his hands immediately went to your waist like a reflex, like he’s done this before.

He had, he was your first kiss.

He kissed you back. It was sweet, right next to the bonfire. You just wanted to take a chance even if neither of you remember it the next day.

He kept his promise, he didn’t remember a thing.

——

You recently moved to Seoul, to find a job as a Designer. You had just turned 20 and you decided it was time to move to a bigger city. Plus Cheol was already in Seoul so it made it easier to have a friend.

SeungCheol was the biggest sweetheart. He helped you find an apartment in his apartment building because to quote him he wanted you “within 5 minutes radius” of him. You were new to the city so it worked out well.

“I’m gonna make some tea, you want some?” He was helping with assembling the couch for you.

You’ve been assembling furniture all day, he even got some of his band mates to help fix it up.

“Thanks for helping” you tell him as you fix him a cup of tea along with one for yourself..

“Don’t worry about it” he says as he screws in the last screw and plops himself on the couch.

You hear him sigh. “Are you tired? I can do the bookshelf myself” you tell him bringing him his coffee.

“I'm not too tired, I think a nap would help though”

“You can nap on the bed after we fix it up”

“I just hope it's cozy” he says as you both finish your tea and enter the bedroom with the parts scattered on the floor. You end up listening to music and assembling the bed. Once it’s done, SeungCheol had this ‘brilliant’ idea to jump on it to check if it's made well.

You were now on your old bed jumping to ‘check’ the bed for god knows what. But it was fun regardless.

Thak!

You hear a loud noise of wood breaking the bed sliding to one side making both of you fall on the mattress that slides towards the wall on one of the sides at full speed.

SeungCheols hands went to guard your head that was very close to hitting the wall. His hand got squished between your head and the wall. You both groan in pain.

Your back had also hit the wall with a little of SeungCheol’s weight squishing you against the wall.

“This was a bad idea” you say rubbing your head and his hands that were on the back of your head.

You didn’t realize how close your faces were. Last time your faces were this close, you kissed, twice.

You could see his eyes flickering between your eyes and lips, you knew what was going to happen. Somewhere you wanted it to. You were just staring at each other in silence for a good half a minute.

It had been a while since the last time you kissed and honestly you missed it.

He cleared his throat and pulled back. You didn’t know where to look.

��Um.. yeah.. that was a bad idea”

“Yeah yea yeah it was, it's okay I can.. sleep on the floor or something” you say as your voice fades out.

The doorbell rings and he literally runs out to get it. It's probably the food you had ordered.

You sigh. Maybe you should’ve just kissed him or let him kiss you.

——

Your phone chimes around when you leave work and you check it to see a picture of a leg that's completely bandaged. SeungCheol had sent you the picture. You immediately call him up. “What did you do?”

“I tore a muscle at the gym,” he says chuckling.

“Yah, why can’t you be careful, what's the point of building all these muscles if they can’t even handle a tear” you argue on the phone and tell him you’ll drop by after work.

You rush back home after work and even stop by to get some ingredients for dinner in case he doesn't have any in his fridge.

“Are you in pain?” You ask him when you enter. You knew his code so he didn’t have to move around to open the door. He was sitting on the couch with his leg propped up on the coffee table with a pillow.

He only groans to answer that question. He had no energy, his face was sulking. “I brought you dinner” you say and hold up the bag full of food.

“I could just order, you didn’t have to do this”

“Let me take care of you, for once” you’ve always felt like you haven’t given him back enough, or paid him back enough for his kindness and all the times he’s looked out for you.

You hear him chuckle.

The TV ran in the background creating some kind of white noise.

You were done with dinner and you stepped out to see SeungCheol passed out on the couch. It must’ve been a tiring day. You placed the food on the table and sat next to him to wake him up.

He only groaned in response.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says as he takes a bite of the food.

“Do what?” You ask genuinely confused. “Help a friend when his legs don’t work?” You ask giggling.

“No, I mean, take care of me”

“I’ve been thinking, when I was cooking, you’ve taken care of me so many times, if this is my only chance to repay you for all the kindness you’ve shown me since we were 5, I’d happily do it SeungCheol, so I really have to do it” you explain.

The air suddenly became very serious.

“Okay then you owe me a lot more than just a dinner, I think I’d like a couple of race cars and some gold” he jokes and you laugh.

“Sure, I’ll bring them in tomorrow sir” you act out a quick skit giggling.

“For real though, you’ve helped me a lot, so let me take care of you instead” you say facing him.

He softly nods and goes back to his food. After he’s done with the food, there was a bit of awkward silence between the two of you and SeungCheol can’t stand them, so he decides to joke.

“Time to go to the bathroom” he announces, teasing you. You groan.

“Do you HAVE to?”

“I’ll actually pee my pants Y/N”

——

“You okay?” You hear Dokyeom as over the music, he hands you a can of beer.

You nod at him.

You were at a party with a few mutual friends. You nervously nod at him. It was a little too many people, it freaked you out a little bit.

Dokyeom knew about your stupid little crush on SeungCheol over the years. It was ‘painfully obvious’ as he put it. You totally tried to deny it and dodge it but it felt nice to talk to someone about it.

You and Dokyeom became quite good friends once he had your secret. Aside from the fact that you were the same age. You finally decided - no, Dokyeom blackmailed you that it was time to tell SeungCheol. You promised Dokyeom you’ll confess at the party today. You were very nervous. This could possibly put your friendship at jeopardy and the thought of losing him as a friend was awful.

“Are you ready to come clean?” Dokyeom asks you

You visibly sigh over the music and chug the can of beer he handed you in attempts to get drunk as fast as you can. You can’t do this sober.

After dancing around a bit with Dokyeom and a few more friends, you see SeungCheol weaving through the crowd to get to you from a few meters away. Your heart started to beat out of your chest, you didn’t know if it was because of the dancing or SeungCheol.

You see a figure following him through the crowd, he was holding her hand. You swallow getting a weird feeling already. You weren’t ready to confess but it was high time. The secret was pushing you under. It got weird every time you saw his face.

“Hey guys!” He said and came up to you first to give you a hug. You returned a quick hug and pulled back as fast as you could, you were nervous. After he greeted everyone, he pulled the girl next to him to the front a little and introduced her.

“Meet Ji Nah, My girlfriend”

You freeze. His what? Dokyeom clearly saw the color drain out of your face. He immediately put his hand around your shoulder, slowly nudging you to snap out of it.

All you could see was the smile on SeungCheol’s face when he introduced her. He was happy. His dimples shined.

Dokyeom introduced you to her on behalf of you because you could barely say anything. They looked good together, they looked happy. That’s all you could think of.

“Im gonna go get another can of beer” you say fake smiling and excuse yourself.

You end up going to the bar and ordering yourself some shots instead. You really needed to get drunk or you know you would just cry of regrets. Like what if you had confessed earlier? Would things have been different?

You shrug the thoughts and focus on the 4 shots lined up in front of you. You were down two shots when you feel someone come up behind you. It was a familiar face. SeungCheol.

“Hey! Are you enjoying yourself?” He yells over the music.

You nod without being able to say anything, you didn’t know what to say or if you open your mouth nothing is going to come out.

You down the other two shots on the table.

“I'm sorry I didn’t tell you about Ji Nah earlier, I just wanted to be sure” he confessed. You shake your head this time. It was odd you didn’t say anything but SeungCheol didn’t seem to detect anything.

Just like clockwork your phone rings and you excuse yourself to take it. You didn’t say a word to SeungCheol and you sigh of relief about that. You go out of the club to get some air.

“I was looking everywhere for you” you hear Dokyeom’s voice while you had your head tilted up to push back the tears to where they came from.

“Oh hey” you greet him back, trying super hard to not choke up.

“I'm sorry about his girlfriend, no one knew” he apologized that he pushed you to confess.

“It’s okay, timings have always been off for us, maybe its just not meant to happen, maybe it’s a sign from the universe that its not going to be good if we get together and someone up there is only trying to protect me from something bigger” you rant.

You were heartbroken but ranting helped you to keep the tears in check so you don’t have to go back to the party with your mascara all over your face.

“Do you want a hug?” He asks you and you nod.

He wraps you in a very comforting hug and apologizes again. You reassure him that it’s alright and you’ll get over it.

Will you really get over it? You really hope so.

———

You enter SeungCheol’s apartment with some stuff your mom sent over for him. You knew the code so you walked in, but on second thought, maybe you shouldn’t have.

Him and his girlfriend were having a screaming match.

“Ah, there she is,” his girlfriend exclaims sarcastically looking at you waltzing in the apartment.

She sighs and picks up her purse. “I’m leaving, Please don’t try to contact me” she leaves but also softly bumps into while doing so. What was that about? You were so confused.

“What was that about?”

“Leave Y/n” he says sternly.

“I just came to drop off this food my mom made for-“

You made eye contact with him and he looked furious. You had never seen him this angry. It made you stop in between your sentences.

“I said leave”

“Let me know if you need something” you say softly, leaving the food on the coffee table. You turn to leave.

“This is all because of you” you hear him say behind you.

“What?” It was almost like you didn’t hear him right.

“I have to constantly keep taking care of you, it was obvious she misunderstood”

There was silence for a bit. You didn’t realize he’d blatantly blame you like this.

“Then tell her that and don’t try to take care of me, I’m not a child, I’m sick of you doing it just to rub it in my face later, like some kind of leverage” you say out of frustration.

“We had a date that day”

You were horribly sick that night, to a point where you’d have to go to the hospital to get your fever reduced. You called him first to see if he was available because he lives in the same apartment building as you, it would’ve been way easier and faster. You did not know he was an a date with his girlfriend, Ji Nah and he had to leave her hanging to come to you and take care of you.

“You did not have to come that night to pick me up, I would’ve asked someone else if you weren’t available” you tell him. “You could’ve just told me, I only called because I thought you were home, literally 2 stories above me”

“You were sick, I was worried”

“Oh, I’m sorry I fell sick on your date day” you say sarcastically.

He was getting on your nerves. You were not gonna get blamed for his shitty relationships. You were already weirded out by the fact that he was dating someone. You had third wheeled with them one time and it made you sick to the stomach. Your feelings for him have always been on and off, they come and they go. You never intended to break them up though. In fact you even distanced yourself from them and got yourself a boyfriend. After all this, him blaming you for breaking them up really pissed you off.

“I care about you y/n more than anything, it's in my blood to drop everything to come to you at this point, that's all I’ve ever known” out of context it’s probably the sweetest thing he has said to you.

“Doesn’t mean you get to blame me for it, this is on you, don’t try to ‘win’ a fight with me because you lost one with Ji Nah, its not gonna make you feel any better”

You step out of the building thinking some spicy food could help you with all this stress. Were you too harsh? Maybe. It pissed you off that he’d blame you like that. Its now raining but you decided to walk anyway because it was close and it was only drizzling.

Two women walked away from SeungCheol that day, but he only wanted to fix things with one of them.

You hear footsteps behind you rushing towards you. You turn around for safety reasons. It was a little late in the night and that scared you.

“Y/N”

You almost let a squeal out. “You scared me”

He quickly apologized for that but you still don’t know why he came out behind you. He let you in his umbrella so you don’t get anymore wet than you were.

“What do you want” you crossed your hands over your chest.

“I’m sorry I was angry about something else, I was angry at myself”

“Okay good, thanks” you were still mad, the apology didn’t make anything better.

You turned to leave again. You needed to cool off.

“No wait, I’m not done, listen to me” he says as he grabs your arm to turn to look at him. His hand slid down from your elbow to your palm as he talks.

“I didn’t mean what I said, I don’t blame you, its my fault, I messed up”

“Exactly you could’ve just told me that day SeungCheol, I have other friends I could’ve asked, you don’t have to play savior everytime”

He pulled you a bit closer as the drizzling rain from earlier became a little stronger that made you stand a bit closer under his umbrella. He instinctively push his umbrella to your side to shield you from the water dripping from the umbrella itself in turn getting soaked himself.

“It’s not about that”

You pull him into the umbrella closer to you by his shirt so he’s not getting rained on.

“Y/n” you hear him sigh. He was standing so close now you had to look up a bit to talk to him.

“I messed up because I was in love with someone else the whole time”

“What does that even me-“

You felt a pair of cold lips on yours before you could even finish the sentence.

That was the first time he acknowledged he might actually be in love with you.

Your first reflex was to kiss back and you did exactly that. You got so carried away you even let the umbrella tilt to a side soaking the both of you. His arms were completely wrapped around you and you forgot how much you missed this. You had kissed this boy twice before and everything only left you wanting more.

You suddenly realize something in the middle of this kiss that felt like you wanted it to last forever. You pull away slowly trying to savor everything but also feeling horribly guilty about something.

This was all so confusing. The timings have always been so horrible for the two of you.

“I have a boyfriend, Cheol”

——

You find yourself in front of SeungCheol’s apartment door. You were scared to go to your own home, because your boyfriend, ex boyfriend of 2 months, knew your address. You didn’t want to risk it.

You had just returned from your now ex’s apartment after you breaking up with him. He found out you kissed SeungCheol and cheated on him a while ago and he had been using that to abuse you over and over for the past 2 weeks.

But you had decided today was the day you leave him for good and prayed you won’t get beat up.

You were scared of him, this wasn’t the first time he had been aggressive. It was usually very verbal and recently escalated to physical intimidation. He was always insecure of SeungCheol, he would even ask you to stop being friends with him. He was sweet in the beginning, maybe it was because he was trying to woo you but soon enough he got comfortable and you saw a side to him you wished he didn’t have.

This time, he had struck you, with the ring on his finger that left a scratch on your face, leaving it to bleed a little. Your cheek was stinging by the time you left his apartment somehow. You were scared for your life and really thought something very dangerous and traumatic was going to happen to you today. Heck, you weren’t sure you’d get out of his apartment alive.

‘SeungCheol, promise you’ll take care of y/n’ you hear your mother’s voice in your head. “He’ll help, '' you mutter to yourself before ringing the doorbell. The door clicks open.

“Y/N, what are you doing he-“

He is stopped mid sentence looking at your bruised face. You didn't know what else to do, or where to go, but how do you tell him that?

His body freezes.

“Did he hit you?” You couldn’t even look at SeungCheol’s face. You could hear the rage.

“We’re going to file a complaint”

“Wait wait, I don’t-“ he ends up dragging you to the police station. All this scared you. You didn’t want to file a complaint because that would mean asking your ex boyfriend to keep seeing you if you do sue him. It was too much.

You end up at the police station, you were hiding behind SeungCheol bunching his sleeve in a fist. All this made you so anxious you were trying to put on a brave face.

The police end up taking a few pictures and issuing a restraining order against your ex boyfriend. They ask you to repeat everything that happened. SeungCheol was always by your side squeezing your hand encouraging you to tell them everything. You were being so strong, you were surprised but you figured it had something to do with SeungCheol’s presence.

After all the fiasco, you head back. You walk in silence, you don't know what to say to him. You pull at his sleeve to stop him and make him look at him. “Hmm?”

“Thanks for helping” you say to him softly looking over.

“Thanks for coming to me” he pets your head.

It was almost 8pm now. You pass a convenience store and you were suddenly pulled into it. “We need to clean you up” he said and grabbed some medicines and bandaids.

“Sit down,” he says, reaching a bench nearby, opening up all the medicines. He holds your face ever so gently like you’d break if he put any pressure.

“This is going to sting” he said and slowly dabbed at your wound. You winced.

“Why do I feel like I’ve done this before?” He chuckles to himself.

“You probably have”

——

You end up going back to his place for the night. You didn’t want to feel alone. You were scared your ex boyfriend would come back.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” you say, wearing a pair of his oversized pajamas.

He was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come back out. He had already washed up. Neither of you said much, it was comfortable silence though.

“Do you want to eat some ramyeon?” He asks you straight up and you were so flustered, considering the sexual innuendo around it.

“Yah, what are you saying?” You blush.

“What? You don’t want it? I’m gonna make some for myself, I’m not sharing” He teases.

You follow him into the kitchen to watch him make some ramyeon.

He starts cooking the ramyeon while you chop some veggies for it. “You’ve been very strong today” He says and everything goes silent again. You only hear the boiling of the food on the stove.

He was right, you’ve been strong all day. It’s like you’re consciously avoiding to think of it. You nod, not taking your eyes off the spring onions you were cutting. Regardless of the concentration you had on the chopping, you end up hurting yourself.

“Waah, yah, why are you this clumsy?” He pulls your hands toward the sink to wash it first.

You wanted to sob, you were tired. It was a long day. Being strong all day only meant you’ll break down when everything’s quiet. You were never strong. People only hurt you when you let them. You shouldn’t have gone over, none of it would’ve happened. Without realizing, you are now sobbing into your elbow, putting it over your eyes to try and stop the tears or at least hide your face from SeungCheol.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that” he says not sure what to do.

“Come here” he snakes his hands around your waist to hold you, rubbing your back to comfort you.

“I was so scared,” you say into his neck with your hands on your face. He understood that you needed to get that sob out of your system, the one you’ve been suppressing for hours now.

He pulls back to take your face in his hands, but lets it go immediately assuming it hurts and put his back down on your lap to hold your hand instead.

“You’re safe now” he says making eye contact, that reassured you more.

You nod. He puts his forehead to yours. His face was so close to yours.

“It’s not your fault”

“It think it was”

“Do you trust me?” He says and you nod. “Then trust me, its not your fault, some people are just horrible, you didn’t deserve it”

You sniffle and he pulls back. One of his hands goes to fix your hair and push it off your face. His fingers trace the prints his hands left on your face.

“Does it hurt?” You could see his heartbreaking for you.

“A little, it’s okay, it’ll be okay tomorrow” you try to smile.

“Do you feel better?” You nod again.

“Great because you’re getting snot on my shirt” you smack his arm. “Stop” you clean up the snot on your face with your hands and jump off to wash your face.

You come back after washing your face and feeling better. SeungCheol had set up some music on his phone when you re-entered the kitchen.

You end up having a dance party in his kitchen to cheer you up. “Dance with me y/n” you take his hand smiling you goof off to SNSD songs. Giggling and laughing showing off his cute dimples you loved so much. He has always tried his best to cheer you up.

By the end of the night you were swaying in his arms feeling the safest you have in a long time. Occasionally also eat the ramyeon you made.

----

You and Cheol decided to make a trip back to Daegu to see your parents for Chuseok. It was a chilly night and you back from your favourite restaurant. It was a little awkward between you and Cheol after your break up with your ex. You were both single and clearly head over heels for each other but neither of you wanted to believe it or make the first move. You would occasionally flirt but you would also get immediately weirded out or chicken out of a pick up line midway. He'd randomly hold your hand, and you didn't mind it. Neither of you knew what to name it, but you knew something was going on.

His mom wanted you to drop by to take a jar of food for your mom. You ended up hanging out in Cheol’s room like the old times for a bit.

“Who was your first love?” He asked you and you were puzzled why he asked you this suddenly.

“Suddenly?”

“I was thinking about mine, so I thought I should ask yours” he shrugs.

“What about her? Did you get to confess? Did she reject you?” You ask out of curiosity. You were also slightly jealous.

“I never told her” he shakes his head. “Were you scared?”

“A little bit’, he gestures with his hand. “What about your first love?”

“Mine?” You didn’t expect to confess this so you were flustered. “What about him?”

“Did you tell him?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Do you regret not telling him?”

You sigh and nod. It felt weird to talk about him to him but it also felt like a weight was being lifted.

“Everyday”

Maybe it’s still not too late. He’s here, you’re still friends, you just got out of a horrible relationship. Will he reciprocate? What if he doesn’t? Will it get too awkward? But the last time you had a conversation like this, he confessed. Had his feelings changed? Was that a lapse in judgment? Is it too soon? But this is Cheol, the number one man in your life, always. He's safe.

Your thoughts kept you occupied.

“What are you thinking about?”

“You” you answer without realizing.

“I'm right here, why are you thinking of me?”

He had a confused look on his face.

“You were my first love, Cheol” you say picking up an old photo of the both of you in the trunk of his dad’s car by the side of his table. Cheol, his dad and you went on a road trip to camp by a river in the suburbs that day. You thought riding in the trunk would be the most fun thing. Of course, his dad didn’t let you because it wasn’t safe.

“I was in love with this boy” you chuckle point at him and his bright smile in the picture.

He was flustered and shocked, but a smile crept up his face after a while, like he was proud.

He quickly opened up a drawer and pulled out something that left your jaw wide open. No way he still has that grasshopper bracelet you made him.

“Why do you still have that?” you say with your hands over your mouth in shock.

“How could I throw away something my first love gave me?”

Silence.

Did you hear that right or are you hallucinating? It was your turn to freeze.

“What?” you choke out after a few seconds.

“It’s true, I really loved you y/n, even when we were 10”

“Last time, when you kissed me,” you start, gathering courage out of thin air, knowing damn well it makes both of you uncomfortable, you were grateful both of you swept it under the rug and never spoke of it again.

“Um.. yeah, what, what about it?” He mutters scratching his ear. You could barely hear him, despite being a foot away.

“You said you were in love with me” you were fiddling with your thumb again, looking down at them.

“I did”

‘Way to make it awkward, y/n, just come out with it’ you think to yourself.

“Do you.. do you by any chance, still feel the same way?”

Crickets.

You were ready to get heartbroken again. In a fraction of a second your thoughts had gone to the most extreme of thoughts like moving away and never seeing him again because you couldn’t bare this confrontation.

You wanted to kick yourself. You prepared yourself in a second for the worst case scenario but you couldn’t believe what you heard.

“I do”

“You.. do?”

He walks over a little to close on distance.

“I think I’ve been in love with you for a decade now, as much as we’ve tried to run away from it, the way our timings never matched up and it was frustrating, but I’ve been in love with you since you kissed me the first time, y/n”

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you, Seunghcheol?” you ask louder this time.

He responds by whisking you up in his arms.

No way the timing is finally right, you couldn’t believe it.

You were finally going to kiss him, one you were longing for, for over a decade. This wasn’t practice, you weren’t going to forget it tomorrow, he WANTED to kiss you. You WANTED to kiss him.

A lot changed from the last four times you kissed and it felt a lot more real. You could do this anytime you wanted to. No more stealing glances, no more wishing to kiss him when you look at him playing video games, you can just do it.

Your hands around his neck, you could feel his breath on your face. His lips almost touch your-

“Seungcheol”

You hear his mom call out and that immediately breaks you away. “Damn it” you heard him say under his breath. You giggle putting your forehead on his shoulder.

“Coming!” He yells out and you eyes meet. He titled his head to gesture a “Lets go” and you were beaming a smile.

You get the jar full of food from his mom and he insists on carrying it for you. You don’t fight it. You were the happiest you’ve been.

His mom looks down at your intertwined hands and gives her son a raised eyebrow. Your first instinct was to let his hand go but seungcheol had a tight grip on your hands. It made you blush furiously.

You both walk out of the house with the jar in one of his hands and you completely hugging his other arm, because you could. You walk in silence, unsure of what to say but both your smiles were enough to keep you company.

You walk past the infamous stream. He stops at his tracks and stands to face you. It was cold so his hoodie cap was up.

“Do you remember this place?” He asks.

“I do, this is where I kissed you”

“Wrong”

You were confused.

“This is where I fell in love with you”

You couldn’t handle the cheesiness, you end up giggling a little.

“Its true, when you asked me if I could kiss you, it really stopped my heart, you had no idea what you did to me y/n”,

His hands were around your waist once again. As embarrassed as you were you couldn’t break eye contact with him. He was captivating under the moonlight.

“Just like you have no idea what you’re doing to me now”

That was the last thing he said before leaning in to finally kiss you. You shared the softest kiss. The one you were waiting for, for so long.

You rest your forehead against each other when you pull away.

“I love you” you whisper.

“I’ve been waiting for this for over a decade”

——

Epilogue

“Choi Gae Ul, why are you crying?” Seungcheol asks your 5 y/o. She was sobbing her eyes out holding what looked like a photo album.

You look closer and it was yours and Cheols marriage album. Your daughter, Gae ul was absolutely dejected about not making it to yiur wedding, and telling a 5 year old that she was born after the wedding was not logical to her.

“Mommy looks so pretty” she says in between her cries. That melts your heart.

“She does, doesn’t she? Dada got very lucky” he says pulling her into his lap. The whole scene in front of you makes your heart full.

The door bell rings and you see a friend of yours, Mingyu bring in his son for a playdate. They went to the same kindergarten and lived in the same apartment building. You'd often let the kids play together.

You had promised Mingyu and his wife to babysit for a few hours while they go on a date. It was the sweetest thing. You immediately agreed. You wave him goodbye while Bo hyun, his son runs into the house to greet his best friend.

You sit next to Seungcheol, resting your head on his shoulder, already feeling exhausted because your daughter thinks, if the sun is up, we all have to be up. She woke the both of you at 6:30am.

You see Cheol yawn and that triggers a yawn of your own. You make eye contact again and you playfully hit his arm. "Stop looking at me, now we're gonna keep yawning" like a relay race. You hear him giggle.

Sundays were the best, you got to hang out with your two cuties and forget everything about work.

You hear two tiny people running up to you holding hands lugging around your marriage album.

"Mommy, mommy, can I marry Bohyun when I'm older?"

You and Cheol share a look.

"Uh oh"

------

Stop this is the cutest thing I've written. Cute little detail: Gae ul means 'stream' in Korean.

#svt #svt fanfic #svt seungcheol #svt scenarios #seventeen #seungcheol #seungcheol x reader #scoups #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #caratland #carat #carats #idol!reader #idol x reader #svt dad #scoups dad

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nightingaelic · 1 year

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How about fallout 4 companions reacting to sole who is a young teen but they never knew until they took off their mask?

The metropolitan ruins of the Commonwealth had one advantage that the wider wasteland didn't have - plenty of places to hide. It was sometimes safer for travelers to duck between the urban canyons of the bygone world, pick their way through its shadowy rubble on the way to caps or glory, squeeze between crumbling walls when danger pursued them. It was commonplace to say "the ruins swallowed them" when someone on a trip went missing, and "Boston spat them out again" if and when they finally emerged.

The sole survivor was damn good at this. In fact, they were nearly as much of a phantom as the Silver Shroud, appearing at the strangest times in the most unlikely places, and disappearing again just as fast. Some Goodneighbor ghouls even took to calling them the Shroud, whenever they stalked into town like a feral cat. It didn't do them any favors that they always wore a hood over a gas mask, jumped at sudden noises and refused to let anyone close to them. It earned them odd looks, and glances of curiosity, exasperation, and sympathy for those they shared their road with.

Their companion had assumed some of this was normal vault dweller behavior, as many vault dwellers were ill at ease without a roof over their heads, but things fell into place one hot day in the summer. The shoreline was sweltering under the sun, stinking of algae and flotsam, and finally even the sole survivor had had enough. They threw their hood back, unbuckled their gas mask, and emerged the picture of tragic youth: Tired eyes in a full face, blinking in the unfamiliar harshness of the light.

They caught sight of their companion's realization and lifted their chin up. "Don't start," they said.

Cait: "Oh, hell." Cait sucked a breath in through her teeth. "You'd better start explaining some things fast, little chicken."

"No idea what you're talking about, Cait."

They tried to keep walking, but Cait grabbed their shoulder and spun them around. "You waltzed into the Combat Zone all by yourself? Took on my contract, thought you'd just tell a grown woman what to do with her time?"

"I did in all the raiders, didn't I?" The sole survivor shook her off. "And taking on your contract wasn't my idea. Tommy couldn't wait to get rid of you."

"Why, you little..." Cait balled her hands into fists. "Don't make this about me. You think you're a big shot, walking around the Commonwealth like you own the place? I'm taking you back to Goodneighbor, and then you and I are through."

"And you'll go back to the Combat Zone? Please." The sole survivor put their hands on their hips. "You'll get bored, and then you'll come looking for me again. I guarantee it."

Codsworth: Codsworth tapped his claw and flamer arms together anxiously. "Are you sure it's safe? I know this beach looks deserted, but you never know just who might turn up."

"Relax, Codsworth," the sole survivor replied. "I'll put it back on if we see anyone. It's just too hot to keep it on for the whole day."

"I shall keep an eye out." Codsworth rotated two of his eye stalks around to cover all directions. "Do you recognize this beach? I believe we visited it before the bombs fell, once or twice."

"It's changed." The sole survivor stooped down to pick up an empty mussel shell. "More junk, obviously, but it's wilder than it used to be. Like the ocean's reclaiming it. I wonder if anything valuable ever washes up."

"Perhaps we can ask Sturges to build you a metal detector," Codsworth suggested.

"Maybe." The sole survivor smiled at the bot. "Or maybe he can show me how to build one, myself."

"A fine idea."

Curie: Curie gasped. "Quoi!? You never said you were so young."

"On purpose," the sole survivor grumbled.

"This is nothing to conceal." Curie took their face in their hands. "I... I suppose I can understand why you have done this, but you shouldn't hide such things from me. I thought we took care of each other."

"We do!" The sole survivor gently pried themselves away. "That wasn't what I was worried might change. It was the how of it. People... people get protective of me, and they don't need to be."

"Mon chou." Curie smiled down at them. "Of course they are. You are still small, and in this world, this is a rare thing."

"Well, that doesn't matter." The sole survivor unshouldered their pack and sank down to sit in the sand. "Everything that happened to me in the vault still happened."

Curie sat down next to them. "Yes. Je suis - I am sorry. What you have been through is too much."

Paladin Danse: "How-" Danse shook his head. "You... impossible."

"No, it's really me." The sole survivor sighed. "Here we go."

Danse started in. "Why didn't you disclose this at our first encounter? Why were you drawn into a fight with ferals in the first place? How did you manage to conceal this from Scribe Haylen, when she checked you over?"

"I didn't know who you were, I was hoping to get some supplies out of the ordeal, and I told her I had stunted growth thanks to being frozen and malnourished," the sole survivor counted off on their fingers. "What else?"

Danse's eyes blazed. "Was any of it true? The vault, the Minutemen, your search for the Institute?"

"Yep, all of that's true." They met his gaze and frowned. "Unfortunately."

The Paladin's anger and suspicion abated somewhat. "I... that's... my apologies. I thought you and I had an understanding, when it came to being forthcoming. I was honest with you."

"You were, and we do." The sole survivor tapped their fingers once more before letting their hands fall to their sides. "I thought you might refuse to talk to me again, if you ever found out. So I didn't say anything."

The answer caught Danse by surprise, and he chuckled. "Why would you ever think that, soldier?"

Deacon: Deacon shut his gaping mouth and pressed his lips together tightly.

"That's right," the sole survivor said, their voice smug.

They continued down the beach a ways together, and pretty soon Deacon's silence began to bother the sole survivor. They kept glancing over at him, like they expected him to start spouting his opinions at any second. Finally, they drew up short by a rickety dock and got directly in his way. "Say something," they demanded.

"There is literally nothing I can say that will top you revealing yourself as a teenager," Deacon replied. "Seriously, my hat's off to you. I wish I'd thought of that, first."

Dogmeat: Dogmeat gave them a hesitant whine, so the sole survivor stuck their hand out. The German shepherd sniffed it over carefully before deciding they were still the person he had attached himself to at the Red Rocket Station, and he came away with his tongue lolling.

"Good dog," the sole survivor praised. "I know I never take it off, but I think we're safe here. Let's keep going."

Mayor John Hancock: Hancock blinked, and then kept blinking. "Did I get a bad batch?" he muttered, partially to himself. "You look like you're aging backwards."

"I promise I'm aging in the same direction as everyone else," the sole survivor assured him. "And technically I'm 220-some years old, so I've got you beat for sure."

"Oh, that can't be right." Hancock squinted and walked a little circle around them. "You're just a kid. Huh."

"Problem?"

"No. Maybe." Hancock sighed and took his hat off to scratch his head. "We get younger than you out and about on their lonesome in Goodneighbor sometimes, but that doesn't mean the wasteland's a kind place to them. My miscreant half is telling me you'll be fine, but my responsible mayoral half is saying we should go back."

The sole survivor crossed their arms. "And what about your fun half?"

Hancock grinned and plopped his hat on their head. "That half's just impressed. You're a real survivor, kid."

Robert Joseph MacCready: "Oh, I'm gonna start." MacCready tipped his hat back and rubbed his face. "You can't be older than what, 12? 13? What are you doing running around without someone to keep an eye on you?"

"You're here, aren't you?"

"You hired me." MacCready felt around his pockets for his caps. "You hired... how the hell did you scrape together 250 caps?"

"Does it matter? I paid your fee, you're here now." The sole survivor scowled. "The job doesn't change just because I'm younger than you thought I was."

"Yes it does," MacCready argued. "Not only are you a vault dweller, you're a kid who doesn't know what they're doing even without factoring in everything that's trying to kill you on the road. Trust me, I grew up in that life. And don't even get me started about how stubborn kids are in thinking they know everything."

"I know I don't know everything, that's why I hired you!" The sole survivor threw their hands up in exasperation. "It was either keep wandering around alone, or hire someone who knows how this world works. Why are you acting like I'm crazy?"

"You're 13. Every 13-year-old is a little crazy." MacCready pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't believe this. Hancock and Daisy are never gonna let me live this one down."

Nick Valentine: "Aw, kid." Nick's eyes dimmed slightly, his telltale sign of mournful contemplation. "You're the saddest thing I've ever seen."

"That's a huge compliment coming from you," the sole survivor retorted, smirking halfheartedly. "Gonna try to take me back to the office?"

Nick surveyed the beach. "Eventually, maybe. Right now we're okay. If a mirelurk queen pops up though, you and I are gone."

"Well that's a given." The sole survivor's smile widened a little. "You never realized?"

"You spun me quite the story when you came asking for help," Nick replied. "Masterful misdirection. Now that I think of it though, Ellie mentioned something about how you seemed more naive than the average vault dweller. I really should give her a raise."

"You should." The sole survivor sighed. "Come on. I'll tell you the whole story while we're waiting for that mirelurk queen to notice us, if you want to hear it."

Nick offered them his hand. The sole survivor studied the detective for a moment before taking it. "Well hop to it," the old synth said with a smile. "I'm on tenterhooks."

Piper Wright: "You can't be any older than Nat," Piper breathed. "How did... never mind. We're heading back to Diamond City, now."

"No we are not." The sole survivor planted their feet in the sand. "I have things to do up the coast, and I'm not going back until they're done. You can go if you want, but I won't be going with you."

"Oh yes you will be." Piper seized their wrist and held it up. "I'm already responsible for one preteen, and the only way I get any sleep is if I know she's safe inside the Wall. I don't need your sudden death to mirelurks on my conscience, Blue."

The sole survivor twisted their arm loose and took a few steps back. "So don't let the mirelurks get me."

Piper lunged to grab them, but they darted around her arms and took off down the beach. "Get back here!" the reporter yelled, taking off after them.

Preston Garvey: Preston's eyes had gone as wide as the brim of his hat. "I made you the general," he blurted out.

"You did." The sole survivor shook their head. "I told you not to."

"But you didn't tell me why!" Preston put his hands up, overwhelmed. He turned back and forth on the sand, unsure of where to start. "The Abernathy farm, Tenpines, the Corvega factory... Christ, the deathclaw at the museum... how?!?"

The sole survivor looked just as bewildered as him. "Luck?"

"This can't be happening." Preston ran a hand over his face. "I've got... I've got to tell... wait, does Sturges know? Does anyone - does Mama Murphy know? Because if they knew and didn't tell me, we're gonna have a big problem."

"Breathe," the sole survivor advised him. "Are you mad at me?"

"No - yes - I don't know!" Preston hit the sand with a thump and wracked his brains. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"Well at first I was scared." The sole survivor sat down next to him. "And then I worried it would send you into a crisis, like the one you're in the middle of. But this had to happen at some point."

Strong: Strong snorted. "Puny human."

"Hey." The sole survivor pointed up at him with a stern look. "I said don't start, and I meant it."

"Tiny!" Strong roared with laughter, holding his belly. "Too little. Need to drink milk."

The sole survivor rolled their eyes. "Yeah, that's what Preston said, too. Good for my bones, or something."

X6-88: "You appear to be of an insufficient age to be traveling the wasteland alone," X6-88 replied.

"But I'm not traveling alone, I'm with you."

"I am a relatively recent addition." X6-88 placed a hand on their shoulder. "Standby for relay."

"No!" The sole survivor ducked out of his grip and stood their ground breathlessly. "You have to do what I tell you to, right? Don't take me back down there. Something's off about that place."

"My mission is to protect you," X6-88 said. "Institute protocol states that children are not permitted to leave the facility until they are of a certain age. You do not appear to meet the requirements, and therefore my mission necessitates our return."

The sole survivor took off running, meandering a bit in the wet sand. X6-88 gave pursuit, easily outpacing them despite the heat. He locked an arm around their waist and ignored their struggling while he tried to call in the relay request again.

"Stop!" the sole survivor shrieked. "I'm not safe down there, X6-88!"

The Courser paused his communication attempt. "Explain."

BONUS!

Ada: "I was just thinking it was a wise decision to cover your face," Ada replied. "Not everyone you meet in the wasteland can be trusted."

"R... right." The sole survivor hung the gas mask from their belt and nodded. "You live and die by first impressions, out here. Especially if you're my age."

"May I ask why you concealed your age from me?" Ada inquired. "We are relatively recent partners, but our mission to find the Mechanist and help the Commonwealth is still the same."

"I don't know. Adults get weird around me." The sole survivor shrugged. "I guess I view you as an adult, thanks to your voice module. How old are you, Ada?"

"That question does not have a simple answer." Ada indicated her frame's various parts. "My components are largely from pre-war robots, but the fastenings and hardware holding me together are varied. I was assembled in my current form about seven years ago, but I have gone through a few upgrades since."

The sole survivor giggled. "So in one way, you're as old as me, maybe even older, but in another, I'm older than you. I like that."

Porter Gage: Gage swallowed his surprise and raised an eyebrow at them. "Didn't say nothing, Overboss."

"But you're thinking it." The sole survivor rounded on him. "I'm small, but I'm dangerous. The gangs all know it. You know it."

"Sure," Gage agreed. Internally, his mind raced. Did any of the gang leaders know? Had Colter known? How the hell was he going to salvage this?

"There it is." The sole survivor shoved their weapon up against his chest. "Second thoughts, Gage?"

"Well can you blame me?" Gage shot back. "Here I am, thinking I've finally got someone with their head on straight who's still scary enough to keep Nuka-World in line, and you're not even tall enough to ride some of the rollercoasters in the park. What do you want me to think, huh?"

The sole survivor pushed him back a step. "I survived the Gauntlet, the Galactic Zone, and the fucking Safari Adventure. Think about that before you start panicking, bloodworm."

Old Longfellow: "Frolicking fog crawlers." Longfellow spat out the drink of water he'd just taken and re-screwed the top on his canteen. "You're just a kid."

"And?" The sole survivor crossed their arms. "I can still out-shoot you, grandpa."

"Cannot. Look, you've got arms skinnier than bloodbug's."

They stuck their tongue out at him. "At least I don't need to be half a bottle deep in bourbon just to get out of bed in the fucking morning."

"You watch your mouth," Longfellow warned them, wagging his finger. "Didn't anyone teach you to respect your elders?"

"Sure, but you need to be respectable, first."

Longfellow roared with laughter and clapped them on the shoulder. "Not bad, kid. Not bad. You're alright. Course, we can't go looking for Shipbreaker until you grow another foot or two. Come on, let's go."

The sole survivor ducked out of his grasp and shook their head. "Uh-uh. You promised me shrimp for dinner, and I'm not going back to Far Harbor without one."

Elder Arthur Maxson: Maxson stared at them, dismay and fury building in his chest. They had deceived him, deceived Paladin Danse, deceived all of the officers and put themselves and his soldiers in harm's way. Brotherhood law dictated that a betrayal of this magnitude warranted punishment. At the very least, a stripping of rank and removal of duties.

The sole survivor stared back at him, defiant. "Well?"

Suddenly, Maxson was looking at himself. A child thrust into an unwanted role, set upon enemy troops and deathclaws and super mutants well before they were ready to do so. He loosened his fists, took a few deep breaths, and wondered if Elder Owyn Lyons or his daughter Sarah had looked at him in the same way.

"At ease," he murmured, taking a step back. "It appears... we have things to discuss, Knight."

Desdemona: Desdemona looked them over with the air of a disappointed manager. "I didn't say anything."

"You're going to." The sole survivor put their hood back up and scowled. "Something about not accepting agents unless they're at least 16."

"At least 17."

"Whatever." The sole survivor dug their boot into the sand and unearthed a piece of driftwood. "What does it matter? We have the same enemies. I'm going after them whether I'm in the Railroad or not."

Desdemona said nothing. She didn't doubt their words - plenty of people sought revenge on the Institute without the Railroad's help - but she couldn't help but recall the laundry list of missions she'd sent them on since they had tracked her down. Raider dens, known synth reconnaissance locations, even a deathclaw nest. Something in her chest clenched tight, and she closed her eyes.

"Tell me the truth," she said, trying to shut out the sound of the ocean surf so she could focus on them. "If you take away the years in cryo, how old are you?"

The answer took a few moments. "I'm 15," the sole survivor insisted. "Almost. In about a month."

Desdemona frowned, then shook her head. "We're going back to HQ. You can make your case to the rest of the agents there."

"Make my-?"

"You're too young to be working with us at all, but you know too much now not to be involved." Desdemona turned away. "I can't make this kind of decision by myself. Let's go."

#fallout #fallout 4 #fo4 #companions react #12 days of ficmas

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wolfpants · 8 months

Text

Terrible People, a Drarry Fic (Chapter Five: A Game in the Wild)

Terrible People | Chapter 5/9 | Rated E

Fic by @wolfpants art by @getawayfox 💘

Tags: EWE, minor Harry/Charlie, past Draco/Zacharias, background relationships, romance, romcom, meddling friends, beaches and beach holidays, cruise ships, clubbing, summer holidays (in september), truth or dare, adults playing games designed for teenagers, Harry is in a silly goofy mood, Draco has a dog called Hermes, Healer!Draco, Sports Media Mogul!Harry (but really he just sits around all day buying art from Sotheby's), Drarry in their (late) 30s, pining, FWB, FWB to lovers, smut tags in the work

What happens when Harry and Draco end up on the same Muggle gay cruise? They certainly didn't plan for it to happen (but their friends might have). They're stuck with each other for a week, they might as well make the most of it, right?

Featuring a holiday-long game of Truth or Dare, a very ill-judged FWB proposition, decades-long pining, lots of gin, and a small pair of green swimming trunks.

🍸🛳🩴☀️🕶

Harry bites his lip. “I had a few other crushes, later on.”

Draco holds his breath. He’d hate to make assumptions—he never does, not anymore—but the air between them is certainly potent with… something.

Harry’s arms wave beneath the water. His gaze is bright and open.

“A few? From my watch, I’d say you had plenty,” Draco hears himself say after a beat.

“Are you calling me a slut?”

“Yes,” Draco says imperiously, and to his dismay, Harry splashes him again, right in the face.

Harry swims close. Plops himself on the ledge, right beside Draco. Their thighs brush, warm and wet and shocking.

Draco crosses his arms over his lap and lifts his chin in the air, blinking against the water dripping over his cheeks from his eyelashes.

“Okay, I think I’ve had enough of this truth.” Harry stretches behind Draco, grabbing his drink from the pool’s edge behind Draco’s head. “It’s your go.”

“Truth.”

“You can’t keep picking truth, you weaselly little Slytherin. You’ve got to do a dare at some point, you can’t keep—”

“Fine,” Draco says sharply, cutting Harry off. “Fine. Dare. I can do a dare.”

He can. So long as it’s not—

“—dare you to kiss the most attractive man in the room.”

Fuck.

read chapter five: a game in the wild on ao3

#terrible people #drarry #drarry fic #drarry smut #draco/harry #harry/draco #drarry fanfic #hp fanfic #draco x harry #harry x draco

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ginnyw-potter · 4 months

Text

A recap of 2023

so this is the year I wrote. I wrote more than I have ever done and so I thought it would be nice to look back on 2023 and look a little further back as well.

I used to write fanfic, I think I started about 14 years ago. I am not a native speaker and my English definitely needed some work then. I also have so many qualms about my old writing (I apparently hadn't found out about paragraphs yet), but we all have to start writing somewhere.

I stopped writing little by little, feeling burned out and completely stopped in 2018 (for various reasons). I don't think I wrote anything at all in 2019 or very little. In 2020 I dipped my toes in again with a few oneshots.

End of 2021 is when I started writing again and finally came back to writing Harry Potter fanfic. I started out with a longfic of 70K words! It was a struggle and I think it's like a muscle that wasn't being used. A Guiding Light is the fic that got me back in and I posted it throughout 2022.

And then I started two new fics because I was inspired again. I started posting those at the end of 2022/start of 2023. Knight of Mine and Peverell's Progeny have both surpassed the word count of Guiding Light with ease. It was never my purpose to get to a certain word count, and it is not what I focus on, but going from nearly 0 words in 2020 and slowly increasing, it's amazing to see myself putting out so many words.

And as well this year I focused less on what things I think people want to read and got a little more self-indulgent and it is so rewarding. It really makes me enjoy writing it even more.

My mental health has been shit before and it really took a nose dive in 2018, but this year I finally started feeling like myself again. My anxiety has gotten so much better and in turn I have been sick way less (although I did knock it out of the park at the start of the year with about 5 weeks of various illnesses) so I feel like I can enjoy life more in general. I am not sure if my writing helped me get there or if I am writing more because I am feeling better. All in all, I think writing has been helping me get through various things and it is one of the only things I enjoy doing consistently.

I haven't kept exact track of how much I wrote in the last year but based on my AO3 statistics as they are today (26th of Dec), I think it's safe to say that 2023 has surpassed all the others before.

You can see the majority of what I wrote, 414K of a total 541K, has been posted in the last year. It's crazy to think about. A lot of people found my writing as well this year and it's been so amazing getting that feedback ...as well as crazy paternity guesses with emojis, begging me for horse smut (that is still a no-you know who you are) and bribing me to update early... they really do make my day and some of you are too funny for your own good.

Looking ahead a little, I want to see what else I can achieve in the upcoming year. I am not setting any specific goals for myself other than continuing to work on my ongoing fics and not starting too many new ones (*pushes Pirate AU back under the bed*) Buut I am curious how much writing I actually get up to and so I made myself a little tracker.

Bullet journaling is the only other hobby aside from writing that I seem to be able to do consistently. I just kind of fell out of it in the summer of 2022 and finally picked it back up again for 2024. I think when I wasn't writing, it was a good different outlet for me and I still enjoy it. It simply slipped out of my habits, especially when I moved out on my own last year and I was too focused on keeping up with chores and other stuff. Now I am a little more organised, so I do hope to keep it up. It will also force me to do something else than writing once in a while, which is probably healthy for me.

This tracker looks a little chaotic, I know, but i wanted to get everything on one page. Maybe next year I can tell you exactly how much I wrote.

And word counts are nice but I think improving is also important and I do feel like I have managed to learn a lot of things this year and I will continue to do so in the coming year. I take great inspiration from other people's writing. I always get inspired when I read an especially good fic (which often ends up with me starting a new WIP, send help) and I discover new ways to put in descriptions or how to phrase something a certain way. And talking to other fic writers on here, or discord, is also where I learn a lot. A ton of you are so talented and it is such a joy to be able to discuss things, pick your brains and get feedback. Sometimes I just learn things by reading along to someone else's discussion. Sometimes you find answers to questions you didn't know to ask!

I also want to thank my beta readers, who have read so many words this year. They are so FAST and then apologise for being slow. I cherish them so much.

If you read up to this point, thank you! If you've read a fic of mine this year, thank you as well. If you left me kudos or comments, recced me... you get a little kiss on the forehead.

If you have achievements of your own this year that you are proud of, do share them! (Reblog or send me an ask, I want to hear about it!) Let's celebrate all the work you put in!

#writing #fic #personal

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spiderrrling · 2 years

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Living After Midnight Chapter 3 (Eddie Munson x F!Carver!Reader)

Pairing - Eddie Munson x F!Carver! Reader

Word Count - 3.6k

Warnings - None, just an unbetaed chapter

A/N - yeahh this is a proper series now, itll keep updating on Thursdays and will be about 6 ish parts long? that might change, i just really like these two and ill keep writing it until i finish their story

Masterlist | Taglist

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Summer of 85...

The intense blaring Indiana July heat had finally arrived, the kind that made the asphalt bake and hair stick to the skin with sweat. Unpleasant for everyone involved. She had planned to spend her summer hiding away in Bauman’s books, the tiniest little bookstore tucked away in the back of Starcourt Mall.

She really enjoyed the company of books and on slow days she could hide behind the register reading. And, if she was really lucky, Robbin would bring over ice cream at the end of her shift and they would sit and people watch. It was simple, easy, and a good plan that she hoped would work out in her favour by the end of the summer.

But as always, life had other plans. It was the middle of June and school had just been out for a couple of weeks, and she was fully enjoying having two months before she inevitably had to enter her senior year at Hawkins High, when someone she didn’t expect walked through the doors to Bauman’s Books.

The soon to be three time repeating high school senior, the familiar stranger Eddie Munson. Who was somehow surviving the Indiana heat beneath his leather jacket and denim vest, with his messy curly hair hanging around his shoulders.

She knew Eddie Munson, well she knew of Eddie Munson. It was difficult to not know someone in a town as small as Hawkins, but it was exceptionally difficult not to know who Eddie was. He was infamous around Hawkins High and around town. He ran what had practically become the school's club for outcasts and nerds, the Hellfire Club.

But she didn’t really know Eddie Munson, she only thought who she was through the perceived image of him from others with peering eyes.

He strode into the small bookstore not saying anything, instead he headed for their small and limited game selection and carefully scanned the shelves, disregarding what he would have called cheap party games.

She tried to ignore him, to act as normal as possible but her eyes kept daring over the edge of the book she was reading to look at him as he flipped through a couple of adventure books with his brows knit tightly together.

With a dissatisfied sigh Eddie walked over to the desk and she pretended to be surprised as he did. “Can you order books? To here?”

“Sorry?” If she was being honest, she had been a little lost in thought looking at him and hadn’t fully heard what he said, but her response did seem to make him smile. “If there is a book I want, can I order it to here?”

“Yes! We should be able to do that for you, is there anything in particular you are looking for?”

“Lore and Legends, its the new Dungeons and Dragons manual.” Eddie seemed almost a little shy to admit that so openly to her. But she simply picked up a pen and noted down his request. “An order can take anywhere between a week and a month to arrive, if you put down your contact information we can notify you when your book arrives.” She explained to him, and he seemed to be hanging onto every word that left her mouth.

“I’ll just come by.” He simply said and nodded. She was a little puzzled by his response and wasn’t sure what he had meant at first, but he just flashed her a smile and disappeared out the door and into the rest of the mall.

That had been what she labelled Day 1

On Day 3 Eddie had returned to the store, but he didn’t waste any time scanning the shelves this time, instead he walked straight up to the register to ask if the book had arrived. It hadn’t.

“Between a week and a month, do you want to leave your contact information with us?” She asked him again. He gave her a curt no and walked back out of the store.

Then on Day 5 he returned again, this time he had his own book tucked under his arm. “Got anything for me today?” His eyes almost seemed to light up a little as he talked to her. “Nothing yet. But you do know they say patience is a virtue right?”

Eddie responded with a dramatic frown. “Contact information?” She asked for a third time.

“You know, I’m starting to think you just want my number.” He laughed and she couldn’t stop herself from blushing a little bit. “If you want it, you can just ask.”

“I believe I have asked.” That only made Eddie laugh more, this time he gave her a quick goodbye before he headed out the door.

Eddie returned again the next day on Day 6, the same book in his hands as the day before. This time she simply shook her head the second he walked into the store and made eye contact with her. In return Eddie dramatically pretended to swoon. “I’m going to go crazy waiting for this book you know.”

And then he did something she never expected him to, he jumped up on the counter.

“Ok if I stay?” To which she couldn’t bring herself to say no, besides she had come to like their small banter more and more.

And it continued like that for the next coming days, Eddie would walk into the store, and then he wouldn’t leave. Spending his afternoons and sometimes mornings in what others would call a daft little bookshop. Eddie quickly became a patron of Bauman’s Books.

And slowly their small pieces of banter changed into friendly conversation, he’d ask her about the book she was reading and he would patiently sit and listen as she talked about it. Or he’d ask her about which book she would read next and they’d spend what seemed like hours walking amongst the books discussing them. And at times, if she got lucky she would get to hear him talk about his plans for upcoming dungeons and dragons adventures, it was actually quite fascinating.

It didn’t take long before she found herself looking forward to her shifts and hoping Eddie would show up, she would feel her heart skip a beat when she heard the entry bell ring hoping it would be him.

As the days ticked by she got more and more excited for her shifts, starting to look forward to them, hoping that Eddie would stop by and spend more time in the store. There was something about him, the way he carried himself or the way he spoke had her developing a little crush.

However, the end of Day 14 arrived and Eddie hadn’t been by. He had stopped by every single day for the past week and they had formed some sort of companionship, where she found herself really enjoying being around him.

Yet, six hours later she had been sitting in the bookstore, a little ashamed she had agreed to cover Abby’s shift just in case Eddie would show up early, and yet he was nowhere to be seen.

Feeling a pang of disappointment ringing through her, it was clear he didn’t think about her or their friendship the same way she thought about him, and this just proved it. But maybe it was for the best she thought, having this wakeup call now and not later.

The mall was slowly becoming void of customers as it crept closer to closing time, and she decided it was time to close up the store. Her back was turned to the door as she heard the little bell ding.

“Sorry we are-” Closed, she was about to say closed. But as she turned around Eddie stood in the doorway to the store. And she couldn’t bring herself to finish the sentence. His curly hair was a mess and it looked like he had just woken up and ran all the way there. But he was also soaking wet and his hair was sticking to his face.

“Sorry I’m late sweetheart, have you seen the storm outside?” Storm? When she arrived that morning the skies seemed clear but she hadn’t been outside since then so she simply shook her head. The way he used the pet name so casually made that pit of anxiety in her stomach both ease up and clench tighter. “Got anything for me?”

“No, not yet but it should be any day now.” She was totally and utterly distracted. He did show up, after all even if it was during closing he was still there now leaning against the counter looking at her with his big brown eyes that she couldn’t look at for too long or she would drown in them.

“Well, mind if I stay here? It beats the weather outside.” Eddie flashed her that smile that made her a little weak in the knees. “Only if you help me close up.”

And he did, no questions or complaints. Or rather, lots of questions but no complaints. Eddie helped her pull down the shutters covering the front of the store and she locked up. “Thank you.” She smiled his way and toyed with the keys in her hand.

As they headed outside they could see the storm had picked up a lot and it was properly storming. The rain was coming down hard and soaking the streets with water.

“Will you get home all right?”

“Yeah, I have my bike so I should be fine.”

“A bike?” He raised an eyebrow at her questioningly. “You plan to bike in this weather? Absolutely not.” Eddie insisted on the matter. “I’ll give you a lift home, its not a big deal. Get your bile and I’ll pull up the van.” He said and ran off into the rain soaked parking lot before she could argue with him.

Besides she wasn’t sure if she wanted to argue with him, it meant more time spent with him, in his car.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” She tried to change his mind, now a little terrified to get into his car with him. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll get soaked, and the roads are slippery.” Eddie shook his head and proceeded to take her bike from her. “You know, this really is just a safety precaution.” He laughed as he loaded her bike into the back of his van.

“If you go missing, then who is going to give me my Legends and Lore book? Or recommend new books to me when I run out?” Eddie spoke as they both got into his car, and she slid into the passenger side and bucked in her seatbelt. The rain was properly drumming down against the windshield and it was almost difficult to see outside.

She looked around the car trying not to be obvious. If she was being honest the car was a mess, but in a charming way. She could spot at least three books in the back of the van along with a blanket and some pillows. Along with a heap of empty cans and food wrappers. And by her feet laid an open shoe box stuffed to the brim with cassette tapes. Scanning the titles she could see some of them were albums or collections, but some were mixtapes by Eddie’s own making, and she immediately became curious as to what could be on them.

“One of the other sales assistants I suppose.” She looked over at him, but his eyes were completely focused on the road as he drove, his hands wrapped tightly around the steering wheel. “No, it wouldn’t be the same thing.”

“When do you work tomorrow?” Eddie had parked outside her house and finally turned to look at her, leaning in just a little bit. “Afternoon, from five until closing.” She responded.

“Good.” He flashed her that same grin as before and there was a brief moment where it looked like he was about to lean in further and kissed her, his eyes fixated on her lips for just a brief moment. But of course he didn’t.

Eddie simply helped unload her bike, the rain soaking both of them, turning their hair sticky and shirts clammy, but neither of them cared. Eddie didn’t drive off until after he saw she had gotten safely into the house.

Five P.M the next day rolled around and she was clocked in and ready for her shift.

The shiny new cover of Lore and Legends peeked out from beneath the counter, Paul had done inventory during the morning shift, and it had finally arrived.

The only reason why Eddie came by the bookstore every afternoon. She did consider hiding the book for a second, just so she could prolong his visits by a little bit. But some part of her also wanted to see how he would react when the book finally arrived.

And then the nervous wait began, the seconds ticking by so slowly. There were only a few customers in the store that she spent time tidying her over as she waited.

She was sitting behind the counter as he walked in, a grin plastered to his face as he saw her and she couldn’t help but return it. She was happy to see him, even though it would be bitter sweet.

“Are you ready?” She asked and he stopped dead in his tracks looking at her with wide eyes and slowly nodding, not fully sure what she meant. She reached beneath the counter and pulled out the book, proudly presenting it to him with a smile.

Never in her life had she seen someone so excited, running up to the counter and taking the book from her hands, turning it over to admire the cover. His excitement had rubbed off on her and she couldn’t help but also be thrilled on his behalf it had arrived.

Eddie quickly paid for the book, but instead of leaving he opened up his new book and pulled out a pen, ready to start taking his notes as she ran around the store helping the other customers. But as long as she was there he struggled to focus on creating a new campaign.

His eyes kept wandering from the page to find her standing talking to a customer. He so admired that spark she got in her eyes when she lost herself to her thoughts and ideas. When she got so enraptured with what she was talking about it was impossible for him to look away.

The end of her shift finally came up and she was exhausted, the storm from last night had cleared and the blue summer sky had made its return, along with the heat. The air was now humid and clammy from the rain.

She had noticed Eddie had left at some point, he hadn’t even said goodbye this time. She gave Abby a quick goodbye and she started heading home for the day.

But before she could make it out of the mall someone yelling her name caught her attention.

"Hey! Wait up!" Her head turned at the familiar voice and soon she was face to face with a familiar curly haired boy. His notebooks and new manual tucked beneath his arm. He had stayed? He must have seen the confusion on her face and laughed. "I couldn't focus in there, too many people."

She was still too stunned to speak, not knowing what she should say. "Why am I here?" She nodded slowly in response to his words. "What are you doing now?"

"Now?"

"Now."

"Nothing?" Her answer sounded more like a question than an answer. "Good."

Eddie broke out in a massive smile. "I have something I want to show you, come with me?" Eddie said and offered up his hand to her, and before she could second guess herself she took it.

She had imagined holding Eddie's hand more times than she could count at this point. But actually holding his hand was totally different to anything she could have pictured. His hands were rough and calloused from years of playing guitar, and they were bigger than she expected.

Eddie was practically pulling her along out of the mall and to his van. It had been less than twenty four hours since she was in his car last, but it looked completely different. She could tell he had cleaned it out.

"And you're not kidnapping me?" She looked over at where he was sitting, she had no idea what was going on and it felt surreal. "No promises." Eddie winked and started the car.

She kept quickly glancing over at him as he drove, trying to figure out where he was taking her.

“Ok great, I am being kidnapped by Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson, this is not how I expected my day to go.” She laughed as Eddie turned into a little dirt road and he laughed in response. Even though Hawkins was a small town, there were always places to hide away, new locations to discover to disappear.

When Eddie finally stopped the car, she realised they were standing at the base of Weathertop Mountain. "Come on." Eddie jumped out of the car, running around to the other side to help her down.

The hot summer air had cooled off for the night and turned sweet as she stepped out of the car. The night sky slowly painted various shades of reds, pinks and oranges as the sun started to set.

“Did you bring me out here just to hike up a mountain?” Eddie nodded slowly and offered his hand out to her as they began walking. “Just trust me will you.” He said and rolled his eyes at her jokingly.

They walked in silence for a bit, seeing the night sky slowly being pulled over Hawkins once more. Eddie’s hand didn’t leave hers. A shiver ran down her spine whenever she would feel his fingers brush up against her palm. Making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

“Do you actually think I’m a freak?” Eddie finally broke the silence between them and he turned to her as he asked the question. “Just you said it earlier in the car and I was wondering-”

“Well, you kinda seem to have been stalking me over the past two weeks.” She laughed quietly to herself. “But no, I don’t think you’re a freak.”

“What do you think of me then?”

“Of you?” Eddie hummed in response and she paused for a moment. Hesitating before she gave her answer. “I think you’re something special.”

“I can’t tell if you’re insulting or complimenting me, Carver.”

“I guess you’ll never know.”

They quipped back and forth between them as they hiked their way up the hill, the summer night air finally settling in. Making her shiver a little from the cold.

“So what are you so desperate to show me you’re having me hike this massive hill?”

“You’ll see, patience we’re almost there.” She caught a glimpse of his eyes, they looked almost black in the dim night light. “And then you’ll understand why I made you hike all the way up here.”

Finally they reached the top of the hill, both of them slightly out of breath from the long hike. He was still holding her hand in his and she had to desperately resist the temptation to lace her fingers with his. Desperately wanting to feel his fingers intertwined with hers.

“So what is it you’re so serious about showing me.” They stood so close she could hear his breaths and feel the heat radiating off him. Eddie’s eyes met hers and with the hand not holding hers he pointed upwards before lifting his hand further to tilt her chin slightly upwards, making her eyes leave his.

And that's when she saw it, the starry night sky above them was absolutely breathtaking. They were far away from the rest of town so that the sky wasn’t disrupted by the light pollution. She could see the stars so clearly from where she was standing.

Constellations mapped out against the dark blue backdrop, just gently illuminating the night. The moon was hanging low in the sky, not quite full but still breathtaking.

It took her a couple of moments to notice that while she was staring up at the night sky, he was looking directly at her. She met his eyes once more and time seemed to still as they stood there below the night sky.

“So is this what you wanted to show me?” Eddie nodded slowly as she spoke. “Most beautiful view in all of Hawkins”

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re looking at me when you say that.”

“Yeah.”

And with that Eddie leaned in and closed the short distance between them, his hand still on her chin tipping her head back ever so slightly so his lips could meet hers. It was a gentle kiss, his lips barely brushing over hers, worried that if he did too much he would ruin the moment.

That had been the first time he had kissed her. She tried to keep count, but that didn’t last more than a couple of days before it became impossible.

They stayed up on that hill for hours, exchanging laughs and kisses beneath the stars. Sitting in the slightly damp grass as they fully enjoyed each other's company in private for the first time.

And still, the very next day. Eddie came strolling through the entrance to the little bookstore tucked away in the back of Starcourt mall.

“What, I can’t visit my favourite bookseller anymore? Eddie faked hurt for a moment before he strolled over to the register where she was standing. "I cannot believe this, guess I'll just have to place another order so you'll continue to accept my company."

"Yeah, will you be leaving your phone number with us this time?" She quipped back at him as he jumped up to sit on the counter and Eddie simply laughed at her comment. "Fair play, fair play."

Tag list - @pastel-abyss-x @fayetheenthusiast @obi-wanakenobi @starbemo @chloebeansack @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm @xbreezymeadowsx @prettytoxix @magicalxdaydream @emmaginanni @ghoulsgon3wild-blograveyard @kaydencegilr0y @eateraa @munchabunch @eddie-munsons-girlfriend @emmaginanni @chloebeansack @satorix

Mutuals (let me know if you dont wanna be tagged) - @uglypastels @catparkers @thisishellfire @eddiemunsonsthrone

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