#no coma. crying throwing up | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vonev · 9 months

Note

Hey there! Can you do a Miguel x spiderwoman reader where during a mission Miguel accidentally hurts you pretty badly while trying to get you out of the way of the anomaly, leaving you in a medically induced coma for a couple days while you heal? I wanna see an incredibly gentle, guilt-ridden Miggy visiting you when you wake up and treating you like you’re made of glass

Calling (just to save you, I'd give all of me)

Miguel O'Hara x reader Oneshot

Words: 6.06k (yeah i know)

Warnings: Graphics depictions of Violence, Angst, Blood and Violence.

Summary:

A mission gone wrong, some crying, more suffering, rocky relationships (emphasis on the rocky part)

And after all of it, you prevailed. With him.

Tl;dr: Miguel is a crybaby

It was a normal Tuesday night at the headquarters. 11 pm to be exact.

God knows why you stayed as long as you did—having to juggle missions upon missions the entire week because Miguel decided to loosely throw them at you.

Capturing what seemed like an endless sea of anomalies.

“You’re our most capable.” He had said, not even facing you when he once again sent you off on another job to fend for yourself.

Trying to ask to be replaced was met with a sounding “No.” from the big guy himself, so you stopped trying altogether.

Less questions, more work.

Even if the side of your ribs were bruised from the last encounter with a previous anomaly.

Whatever. Bringing your injury up would just have you end up being demeaned and insulted like a school kid who skipped last week’s homework. At least that was what you assumed.

You grew tired of it eventually, wanting to have more than 6 hours of sleep per day and being able to actually live your life—the birthday cake for a friend sat comfortably inside the fridge of your apartment lingers on your mind as you swung through the familiar sight of the city; another rendition of New York, another variant of an anomaly.

That wasn’t to say you didn’t enjoy the thrill and adrenaline that came with the job—no, you loved it. No one ever told you how fun being a superhero can be (aside from the decades of trauma you had to go through) and being able to propel yourself into the air with webs as the people below you gawked at your presence.

The New York breeze hit your figure like a welcomed embrace, the moon winked at you behind fading beds of clouds. You continue slingshotting yourself down the streets, deja-vu splashed in your face with how eerily similar the roads were to the ones back home; shaking your head, you let out a soft sigh and relish in the cold night’s wind.

Today’s mission: an unknown entity that plagued Earth 1610, the only information you were given via a loosely thrown together email from Miguel was that the entity could possess powers greater than we all understood—but with a limited amount of time, you would (hopefully) capture it just in time before it discovered its full potential.

You’d think with how smart the boss-man was, he wouldn’t send a sleep-deprived Spider into such missions with how severe things could turn if everything went wrong.

“I’ll send him an email to complain later, for sure.” You promised yourself; because you were supposed to do just that days ago when tasks started rolling in for you without breaks.

Solo-tasks, might you add.

A cherry on top of the already spoiled cake, salt on the wound, a slap to the face. You grunted, and an alarm sounding from nearby caught you by surprise amidst the (somewhat) quiet of the city. In the snap of a finger, you flung yourself in a different direction, changing the tides in the waves while the wind that hit your face came to a halt once you landed on a roof belonging to a rather tall building.

The viewing angle from above gave you a clear look into what had transpired underneath.

You squint, arms folded neatly in between your thighs as you crouched over the ledge of the building; from what you could see, nothing was amiss—everything looked to be in place. Letting out an annoyed scoff, you were about to turn on your tail before the ear-piercing sound of glass shattering into pieces hit your eardrums.

You immediately snapped around, and panic ensued when the people on the streets started screaming, running amok like wild animals scattering away into their safe spaces. You, on the other hand, now have to clean up the mess—you had no clue where this universe’s Spiderman was, nor did anyone brief you on it.

Nonetheless you approached the bust-up shop with a wavy heart, praying to something out there that there weren’t any critically injured persons. As you stalked near the front of the shop, you could hear loud banters inside; curious, you stare into the messy excuse for an interior: broken decors, smashed up shelvings, and items sprawled out across the floor inside.

You took the opportunity and shot yourself up to the ceiling, both your soles and fingertips clutching onto the surface, cautiously crawling further into the shop.

“Please—” a voice yelled out, “Just let me steal your ATM machine!”

Your lips part, dumbfounded.

“No! Ey! Get away from—” You finally managed to grasp the scene that played out in front of you.

The store manager was running around with a bat in his hands, and the other person that seemed to be wearing a costume with black spots, a jean jacket slung over his shoulders and a rather cute bucket hat. To your surprise, the man evaded the attack when a black hole had been summoned under the manager’s feet, causing him to fall into the portal and out of another one…

…Right above you.

You yelped at the sudden contact on your back, the manager’s weight had you both falling face first into the shards-filled floor; his body cushioned by yours.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.”

The man behind you rolled off, allowing you to take a step and collect yourself as you slowly stood up. Debris started filling up your senses, and the pain from having been cut by thousands of glass shards made you wince in response. You pushed it all down, needing to finish the job as soon as possible so you could flee from more missions when you go back to the headquarters.

You even considered retiring from your spot in the team.

Speaking of spots…

You peered up, eyes catching onto the odd appearance of the man in front of you, who was still attempting to find a way to escape with the ATM. If you hadn’t been as irritated and grumpy as you were, you’d have found the situation hilarious.

“You gotta let that go, big man.” He whipped his head around, eyes darting around before locking in on you. “I’m sorry, I can’t—wait, you look different from my Spiderman.” His head tilted in confusion; you only rolled your eyes in retort, not wanting to drag your already long day out. Webs shot out of your wrists, launching them toward the direction of his foot.

Watching in disbelief as another hole appeared right where his foot would’ve been, the webs flinging into the black void and you felt the substance land on your back, knocking your balance forward.

“What the,” confused, you feel around for it, your fingers finding the source, tracing the substance behind you. “How did you fucking do that?” You glared him down, seeing his stature falter and hands thrown up into the air in defense.

“Whoa whoa, language!” He wagged a finger at you, giving you his head shake of disapproval.

“Shut up.”

“That’s just plain rude, young lady—hold on, you’re a lady right?” Your eye twitched in annoyance.

“Has anyone ever said you’re way too chatty?”

He was fidgeting with his hands, looking away and feeling nervous, unsure of how to respond to your jab. Before he could get another word out, the bottom of your feet connected with his chest, sending his body back against the wall with a loud ‘thud’ watching as he fell on his backside.

“Oof.”

He let out a soft grunt, rubbing the sore spot on his butt; right before you did a chain-attack, he caught your foot with another one of his black holes, your foot now appearing on the other side of the store and out of sight.

“That wasn’t very nice. Listen, I just need some money, let me go and—” He threw the ATM onto a pile of cans and started rolling it out of your way, pushing the huge machine as fast as he could. Pulling back your foot in time, your calf connected with his face, making him trip over the cans comically with his arms flailing in the air.

You quickly reached down to fetch your trap to secure your win.

That would be too easy, though.

Side-stepping a portal of void that almost ate you up, you winced at the pain that shot through your ribs due to your rapid movements. Biting through the pain, you maneuvered to where his body laid and tackled him to the ground once more when he tried to stand up; from then on, it was a cat fight. With you trying to get him detained and him attempting to pry you off of him.

Suddenly, another hole manifested beneath the two of you, watching in horror as you both fell through and landed harshly on top of the rooftop you originally occupied prior; the back of your head collided into the concrete ground; a poor excuse for a cushion.

It fucking hurt.

You were pretty sure you smelled blood.

He tried to get up, but you tumbled the two of you near the ledge of the building; in the midst of all the actions, he found dominance over you when he had your upper body hanging off the ledge with his grip on the collar of your suit. Blood thumped through your eardrums along with the loud horns of traffic, your heart racing in a million miles, if anyone looked up, they'd think you were insane for getting yourself in the situation.

Maybe you are.

Call for backup.

It would be so easy; the gizmo hugged your wrist, just one push of a button and someone will be here—

Too late, his grip on you wavered and you plummet into the air.

Fuck.

You quickly attempt to shoot more webs to find purchase on something, anything.

But terror washed over you the second you realized you had conveniently run out of webbing fuel—being the dumbass you were, you had completely forgotten to get it refilled before the mission at the station back in headquarters.

Closing your eyes, you braced yourself for the impact; your body going limp to soften the blow.

You let out a loud yelp when something flew out of the air beside you and clashed against your body, but you don’t feel the shock at the contact—instead, the warmth of a large arm wrapped around your midsection and you feel the cold wind whiplash you.

Opening your eyes, you were (pleasantly) surprised to find that Miguel caught you just in-time, right before you could suffer any more blunt injuries. You almost cried at the sight of him, his name teased the tip of your tongue, wanting to wrap your arms around him for a hug; you pulled yourself back just in time before you could react on your impulse.

You were still mad at Miguel, you have to act like it.

Before you know it, he came to a halt around a corner into an alleyway and swung down to place you down gently on the ground, your feet now free from the feeling of being dangled in the air. His eyes flickered over your face, then down your body; his arm still pressed into your waist as he squeezed your flesh out of instinct.

Bad move, the squeeze, no matter how gentle, pressed into your bruised rib. The pain sending a wave of shocks throughout your torso, you immediately pushed him away with a small hiss. You couldn’t see it, but hurt flashed through his eyes when you forced yourself out of his grip, his arm falling back to his side; unknowing of its purpose.

He wouldn’t willingly admit it, but the rare moments he would get to feel the heat of your body against him sent him to heaven: like that one time your shoulder pressed into his at the cafeteria, the times your naked fingers would brush over his skin, when your back used to press up on his during missions back in the days he went with you. Sinfully, he would recall that specific time your chest pushed into his torso during a stealth mission, the temptation to take you right there and then a devilish thought that circled his mind.

(Don’t ask what he had done in the shower after the mission debrief.)

That was part of the reason he had stopped frequenting jobs with you, even when you came into his office and invited him; you were met with rejections after rejections, soon enough, he noticed that you stopped trying—and the painful gnaw at his chest reminded him of your growing distant attitude with him, too. Miguel refused to let his personal life interfere with his business, and the last person he would want to hurt was you.

Unknowingly, he had done exactly that whenever he would gradually push your presence away.

Having meals weren’t the same anymore, not when you stopped showing up to his office everyday with his favorite food like a routine, he’d eat less and less as the days passed by; without you there to continuously pester him, he found himself reverting back to his old habits—working after late hours, not sleeping enough, not eating enough, barely talking to anyone unless absolutely necessary.

He had came to the realization that somehow, long ago, your presence had become such a grounding part of his life; the gentle yet persistent reminder that he deserved love and care too, to stop hogging all the responsibilities alone and share his burden with someone who he can trust, and it all manifested into you.

Miguel recognized he royally fucked up when you both barely see each other face-to-face anymore, you stopped showing up to debriefings, the only time he’d get to remotely speak to you was when he sent you off to missions.

He knew he was harsh, yes, but he fully believed in your capability to handle yourself—but while he was relentless, he still cared.

Hence why he arrived and interjected your mission, wanting to extend a helping hand.

“Fuck—what are you doing here?!” You shouted over the loud traffic, emotions taking control of your mind, before Miguel could protest, screams broke out from beside you both. “Shit, let’s get this over with, big man.”

You paused, momentarily forgotten that your webbings ran out of fuel and mentally slapped yourself in the face.

As if he read your mind, he fished out a tube from behind him and threw it your way. You caught it just in time and practically rushed to throw the lid off, tipping the mouth over to allow the liquid flow into the web gadget integrated into your suit. You threw a mumbled “thanks” his way and chucked the tube out of sight.

“Come on,” you nod toward the opening of the alleyway with an arm raised and pull yourself upward with your web.

It was supposed to be an easy job: brawl with the anomaly, win the brawl, capture it.

But this one was starting to grate your nerves—and you were sure Miguel felt the same too, you could sense the rage radiating off of his huge stature like sirens; chasing down the guy who had re-introduced himself as the Spot when you caught up with him earlier, unintentionally finding himself falling in and out of accidental portals he materialized.

“Stop running!” Yelling, you proceeded to jump into the portal he went through, he was always barely a hair away; yet as clumsy as he was, managed to get away every single time.

“Stop chasing me!” Spot shouted back, tripping over the back of his foot and almost falling into one of the portals entirely.

He managed to barely swerve out of the way when Miguel lunged at him from behind, his claws swooping in the air where Spot used to be. It became a constant back-and-forth; you would shoot yourself closer to him and Miguel would come from his back, essentially cornering him, then Spot would narrowly escape; rinse and repeat. Exhaustion crept up on you eventually, nagging the back of your mind as you tapped into your adrenaline to stay awake and alerted of your surroundings.

Miguel noticed it, too, and he went even harder—the intensity of his ferocity grew when he realized he had to end things soon before someone gets injured; he prayed to God it wouldn’t be you.

Somehow, more portals had opened up, and all you could do was avoid falling into them; the possibility of coming face first into the asphalt roads were too high for you to take the chance. Miguel almost got caught in one; hardly dodging a portal that conjured on the wall he stuck to. But unlike you, he was willing to test out his theory, reeling his body back to prepare launching himself into the portal. And he did just that—his reward? A high-five of his face with another set of walls.

He grunted, out of the corner of his eyes, he spotted you latching onto Spot’s back; desperately trying to push him down onto a solid surface. You both spun into another portal and crashed on a different rooftop, Miguel rushed over with claws ravaging the innocent bricks he crawled on; when he went up, he saw the two of you gasping for air on the ground.

You clutched the side of your rib, an indescribable amount of pain overtook your senses; you were pretty sure your ankle was broken when it was caught on a pole. Spot got up earlier than you, and was about to speed off before he felt a large hand tugging at the back of his shirt.

It all happened so fast: reeling in a punch, the adrenaline pumping in Miguel’s veins, Spot’s utter shock at the face of Death himself, the supposed impact of the fist with the other’s face…

…Only for the force to be directed to you in the heat of the moment when a portal happened to manifest where Spot’s face would’ve been.

It was an accident, really, an unintentional line of actions from Spot— he was way too out of it when he figured he was about to go through his final moment; his portals shot out in panic, lucky for him, it was the reason he evaded Miguel’s death fist.

Unlucky for you, the other end of the portal had been right in front of you the whole time; yet in the midst of you processing your surroundings, you hadn’t realized quicker that your senses were screaming for you to dodge out of the way.

The conclusion? You, having just been punched in your guts, falling down a building amongst the New York you shouldn’t have stepped a foot in if you knew the outcome at all. The gust of wind pumped in your ears as you fell, and fell.

No worries—you’ve got your handy-dandy webs, right?

Oh how you wished you hadn’t been wrong.

Miguel had snatched a random refill off of his own shelf when he was about to depart, not bothering to check for its content after his recent use; just shy of a quarter, barely enough to last an average Spider’s fill an hour of webbing. In his defense, he had been distraught when Lyla popped in earlier to warn him of your vitals: most specifically your injuries. He would’ve never sent you out in the first place if he knew you suffered from broken ribs.

But all you knew was that you somehow fucked yourself over.

Panic ensued.

And now, you suffered the consequences of his actions.

“Miguel!” A call for help; he was your last hope.

The fall wasn’t a particularly long one, and you normally would breeze through the impact and pain like a champ—except you have never fell from a building with ribs that squeezed your organs tight, ankle that would most likely not support your landing even if you tried, the adrenaline you lived off of now benched on the side leaving you stranded for some form of strength to pull yourself together in the span of a few seconds.

Your shoulder hit the ground first, then your head; the harsh impact created a string of reactions to your already abused body: pain shooting up your nerves, the corners of your eyes dimming despite the bright lights flashing around you.

Unbeknownst to the three of you, policemen started showing up once someone reported a supposed break-in at the shop you investigated; the sound of blaring sirens filled your eardrums like honey whilst the flashing of red and blue assaulted your blurry sight.

Barely able to distinguish what was happening in front, you attempted to prop yourself up on your elbow; but the more you tried, the more lights started diminishing in your vision. Breathing has never felt so difficult, either.

Miguel was a step too late when he came to you; after having realized what had occurred, he dropped Spot in an instant like a hot potato, prioritizing saving you instead of proceeding with the mission’s objective. He was aware of the policemen being present at the scene when they started noticing your slumped body in the middle of the road, crowding together to watch as you struggled to lift yourself up—they all stood and observed, no one reached out to help, none.

He was by your side right away, his one hand supporting the weight of your head while the other clutching at the hem of your mask, lifting it over your eyes.

His hand felt…wet.

As if things couldn’t possibly get worse: he watched the stiff expression on your face contorted with pain, you seemed to have recognized him as you slowly reached a weak arm out to caress his face, your thumb gently glossing over his cheekbone, your touches light like feathers. His mask concealed the despair in his features, the hues of red and blues still shone on his back as everyone else stayed aside and spectated.

Your hand soon dropped to your side, unmoving, your head now heavier than ever in his hand.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

Miguel held your small, delicate hand into his, the tears teasing the corner of his eye as he watched your life slipped by those eyes of yours he’d grown to adore.

“You can’t live like this, Miguel.”

Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, trailing Miguel’s tiny movements on the desk. His fingers delicately move across the keys on the keyboard, imputing password after password for locked files.

“Seriously,” Lyla sighed, rubbing her temple. “You’re starting to worry me.”

“Nothing to worry about, Lyla, get me the decoded files from yesterday.” Miguel ignored her pestering, choosing to focus on his work and his work only.

That was his routine for the past 5 days or so.

After the entire slip-up in Earth 1610, Miguel had been busting his ass to hunt down the anomaly for every hour he was awake; granted, he did take care of other responsibilities too—babysitting Mayday on Monday, depatching teams to bring back more anomalies, and visiting you every day.

And also dealing with that kid he found out to be the Spider-man from Earth-1610.

He hadn’t missed a single day of visiting you, who still laid in the hospital bed at the infirmary he cleared out for you.

Everyday. On the clock. 5 am when he woke up, when lunchtime struck, and in the late hours of night when he should be spending on getting enough rest.

Lyla had been there through it all, watching Miguel’s tormented back every single minute he was awake as he continuously starved himself off of the bare minimums.

Food, water, sleep, you name it all.

And as his assistant, his well-being was her number one priority—hence the constant pestering that would be swatted away, food that went cold despite Peter having brought them in hours ago upon Lyla’s request and his growing concern for his friend in the chair. Jess’s occasional visits to check up on Miguel, wondering if the day she stepped in would be the day she would see his lifeless body on the desk with how much neglect he reflected on himself. Even the new recruits dropped in to say hello, just to see that he was doing…okay in his book: which was not okay in everyone else’s.

Everyone was worried.

About you, of course, and him too.

The situation had clearly taken a heavy toll on him.

But Lyla understood more than anyone else that it wasn’t because of his work, his dwelling traumatic past, or how he barely had any rest for the past 120 hours.

No one else knew of his infatuation with you except for her—and that was only because she snooped through his things, finding the little knit-knacks he kept from all those times you came and dropped it off: the tiny Miguel plushie you made when you impulsively decided to take up knitting that one time, the shirt of yours you had forgotten to take back when you visited his office at late hours, soaked from the rain outside and sneezing everywhere.

“Hey Mig—“ sneeze. “I came to see y—“ sneeze. “I—“ and you sneezed.

“For the love of God,” Miguel turned around, seeing your soaked clothes that cling to your body, and having to turn away for just a tiny moment to compost himself when he caught sight of your curves.

Groaning, he pulled out one of his drawers and shuffled through and fished out a new shirt—undoubtedly his with how large it was.

His shirt was a sight on you, fitting perfectly yet still draping over your thighs just slightly when you went to get changed.

The image of you that night burned into his head, forever engraved in his brain.

Then there was the polaroid picture of the two of you when you had forced Miguel to “take a selfie with me!” when you picked up a weirdly shaped camera from a thrift store in your universe (something something you saying to be smart and conserve money). “It’s called InstaX, it—here, let me show you” and snapped a picture.

In the picture, his expression was one of annoyance, and you were squeezed against his shoulder with a toothy grin on your face.

Lyla saw how Miguel would come back with tiny frames that he thought would frame the film perfectly, but ultimately was defeated when he decided to just stick it in-between the pages of his files labeled: Classified.

She was the only one ever to know the content inside: mostly pictures of Gabriella’s (poor) baking, first day at school, when Gabriella won her first competitive soccer match; and then there was you.

She knew how important you were to him; yet to her complete and utter confusion, Miguel always kept to himself about his little (big) crush—even though she could clearly tell you were just as interested as he was, too.

He was the densest man you had the pleasure of knowing.

He never made a move; and now, he might never get another chance to.

Now you were reduced to a sitting duck, once a shell of what you were; your body laid in the bed he frequented more than his own, the lively demeanor that you carried with you before turned into a tune of stable heartbeats beeping from the machinery installed next to you: the only indicator you were still alive.

Guilt was the only thing he knew for a while; when he’d step into the shower as the cold water bit the skin of his back, like he was willingly punishing himself for allowing that incident to happen.

Everywhere he went, whatever he did, he was only reminded of your face.

“If only I had been there sooner.”

He’d say to himself while he peered down at your figure, not there but, there. You were barely hanging, and part of him knew that it was your determination to fight through whatever battle was going on inside your head during the coma.

“Por favor,” his hand held yours, careful to avoid the IV’s that pricked your skin, forehead sticky with sweat after having just come back from a specifically tough mission that day.

“Concédeme este deseo.”

He would whisper sweet-nothings to you, praying to himself at night by your bedside that you’d wake up one of these days with that smile he yearned for. And for someone to finally share the extra empanadas he would always bring in, to hope that one day, you’d get to share this joy with him.

The joy of eating together again.

So imagine his surprise when he walked into your room tonight, and found you sat up with the metal frame supporting your back.

You were awake.

And most importantly, you were alive.

He had never sprinted so fast in his life; the warm pack of empanadas he brought from the cafeteria drop to the floor, the gentle ‘thud’ catching your zoned out self by complete surprise, your face softened once your gaze landed on Miguel; who was frantically patting your face and checking your vitals to confirm that yes, you are here.

Your hand reached up to palm his that lingered on your cheek, his eyes finally settled on you, slowly taking in the fact that you were now right there in front of him.

“Miguel,” a small knowing smile tugged at your lips, your eyes the most gentle he’d ever seen. “It’s okay, I’m right here.”

He was still so afraid, so afraid that you would just slip by his fingers again; so he held onto you for dear life, fingers gripping your one cheek and hand with the others.

“Estoy tan contenta de que estés aquí,” You whispered.

A soft quiver of his lips; barely there—that was when the dam broke, and his tears started flowing down his sullen cheeks.

You panicked, wondering if you had butchered your Spanish so bad you shamed him to tears.

“I’m…I’m sorry?” You tilt your head in confusion and worry. Miguel only shook his head, a small chuckle emitted from him; as if he knew what you had been thinking.

“Don’t be sorry, silly.” He looked up at you with those earnest eyes of his; ones that melt your heart and warm your soul. You’d taken a liking to him early on; though you weren’t sure when it started, only where it started: during a mission, when the two of you grew physically close, so close.

His breaths fanning down your face, your breathing grew heavy with each and every second; that was when you knew you were in too deep.

You would know it’d take heaven and hell to pull you apart from this man.

There he kneeled, lips on the back of your hand as his thumb gently caressed your cheekbone, enjoying the way hues of red spread out on your cheeks.

There was no way of escaping it now: the pent up tension of a confession teasing the air around you both, and soon, one of you was bound to crack.

“I have something to tell you—“

“I have something to say—“

Only that you both did it at once, together.

Miguel stared at you, lips slightly parted with the ghost of his words and eyes widened, then he cracked into a fit of roaring laughter—and you joined in.

Laughter filled what was once a room only occupied by the sound of your heartbeats on the machine, the two of you clutched each other’s hand, the high soon dying down to mere giggles; as if you two were high-school sweethearts with muffled chuckles thrown at each other in the back of the class.

You two were in your own little world, a bubble that secured around your bodies, forever molding the shape of what once was and what will be.

Wiping away the happy tear in your eye, you stared at Miguel’s devilishly handsome face, and the gorgeous smile you oh-so-rarely get the privilege of seeing. The muted rhythm of his chest rising and falling, in sync to yours, like two lovers on the dance floor—not even the sky could stop your love for each other.

“I love you.”

You blurted out; sure, you were 98% certain Miguel reciprocated your feelings, but that small node of anxiety still tugged at the back of your mind, terrified that you misunderstood his gestures all these times.

But wouldn’t the words he whispered to you during your sleep be all washed away if that was true?

It was a risk, and you took it; it was now or never.

“I—“ Miguel stammered, his heart screaming at him to just lean in and—

—kiss you.

His lips were nothing like you’d ever imagine; it was all the best parts multiplied by infinity: soft, full of all the love he had to give, and passionate.

The kiss lasted for what felt like eternity—part of you wished it did, and you’d be content to die like this, your lips forever engraved on his.

Miguel swore he heard the choir sung to him, albeit with crooked notes; but maybe because he did.

He slowly turned around, and you, who also does the same.

His colleagues had been quietly watching all this time from behind the doors: Peter with Mayday in tow as she cooed at the sight, Jess and that motherly smile of hers—Miles, Gwen, Hobie and Pavitr all stood with heads peeking through the gap of the doors. Even Lyla was there, although she simply floated over Peter's shoulder, joining in on the choir; their mouths agape with barely harmonized tunes of a holy song slipping out of their mouths. Amateur at best, unbearable at worst.

Pavitr carried with the vocals, as always.

They only stopped once they realized they had been caught; thinking that you two were in too deep to notice that there were more guests coming.

“What…are you guys doing here?” Miguel asked, his tone more of a threat than a genuine question.

“We got some food—“ Peter perked up, but was instantly cut off by Hobie.

“‘o watch some sappy romance, ‘ey boss man?” Hobie high-fived Lyla's glitchy hologram, the latter wearing a smirk too wide for her face and nodding aggressively.

“Do the shoulder trick!” Miles yelled out; Gwen looked at him in horror then back to Miguel, this time, it was her who was shaking her head aggressively while crossing her arms into a giant X shape.

Miguel snarled at Miles, not appreciating the cheesy suggestion of a pick-up line while everything went so well for him before they all busted in.

“Remember to host a Sangeet bro! Oh Gayatri is super good at doing Henna—“

“Hey I wanna be the flower girl!” Gwen piped up.

“No, Miguel told me long ago Mayday would be—“

“She’s not even old enough, Peter, can she even throw a fistful of flowers?” Gwen crossed her arms in protest.

“I’ll have you know she’s an extremely capable baby, right, Mayday?” Peter looked down, only to see that Mayday had once again been chewing on his pink robe like always, blabbering with spit foaming at her mouth.

“Oh Christ—“ Jess chuckled at the absurdity of the sight, a hand on her hip and the other tracing soothing circles on her belly; just as Miguel had been doing it with your hand the entire time.

Miguel pinched the bridge of his nose, a frustrated sigh knowing that the special moment between the two of you had been ruined by a bunch of nosy gremlins.

Your hand went up to remove his hand from his face, and even with how (incredibly) noisy the room became with banters and bickering thrown around; it was all quiet with him, only the stable heartbeats of you both reached your ears.

For once, your life was complete.

Miguel glanced into your eyes, the adoration swarmed your orbs; behind them, he could see far into the future where you both exist, always beside each other like glue to a paper—with you on his hips and his on yours.

And at last, Miguel had found what he had been missing from his life.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Author's note: Thank you so much for this suggestion Anon, it's my first one ever and I hope i did not disappoint u.u, I LOVED writing this and it got me tearing up reminiscing some fictional (sexy) mexican man. Hope u enjoyed!

ps: pls excuse the spanish i only have spanishdict as my holy grail (pls also DO correct me if needed!)

635 notes · View notes

starsandhughes · 10 months

Text

Penalty Box— Cruel Weather (Part Three)

requests based off this ask: how the boys react to sissy being physically hurt

warnings: panic attacks, crying, swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of dying, mentions to throwing up, coma, mentions of medication, lmk if i missed anything!

word count: ~4.5k

General Series Masterlist

part one — part two — part three — part four

a/n this chapter is mostly trevor centered

— — — — — — —

Trevor woke up in a leather recliner in the back corner of Y/N’s hospital room with an IV in his arm, presumably filled with sedatives to calm him down. The weight of the world fell off his shoulders when he heard the now comforting steady machine beep of his girlfriend’s heartbeat. He looked over and softly smiled when he saw that the breathing tube was out and replaced with a nasal canal.

He slowly got out of the recliner and dragged the IV pole with him to the chair next to Y/N’s bed. He bent down and softly kissed her forehead before sitting down and grabbing her hand.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see you laying in a hospital bed,” Trevor whispered. “I’d like it better if I saw those pretty eyes of yours, sweet girl.”

Trevor sighed and felt his eyes watering. He missed Y/N. An unbearable amount. There was only a small period of time where they went without seeing each other. Or, talking, since he does go on extended roadies.

It was killing him.

Trevor didn’t get too long alone time before the rest of the worried mob rushed in. Quinn was ahead of everybody, but Jamie was a close second. Quinn joined Trevor on the side of Y/N’s bed, and Jamie positioned himself at the foot of her hospital bed with both hands on the rail. His head drooped down and tears began to fall.

“I thought I lost her,” Jamie spoke through tears.

Trevor got up immediately to comfort his friend. Quinn took his place in the seat next to Sissy, but not before noticing the IV bag following Trevor.

“Z?” he spoke up. Trevor turned to him and Quinn motioned towards his IV.

“Oh… I uh… apparently had such a severe panic attack and was fighting with the nurses that they had to sedate me instead of giving me an anxiety pill,” Trevor explained. “I’m glad they called you when I asked. Actually, that was all I was asking.”

Everyone had filed into the room by now, so Ellen went to find a nurse for Trevor to check him over one last time before removing the IV. Trevor was glad to be rid of it, but he wasn’t glad about the nasty bruise it left behind. It was tender, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to.

“How are you guys?” Trevor asked the group.

“We made it through the night,” Alex said. That answered Trevor’s question perfectly: not well.

“Barely,” Quinn admitted. He spoke so low that Trevor barely caught it.

“I couldn’t hear anything after Quinn said that Y/N died. I guess it was an anxiety or panic attack… I don’t know. I’ve never really had one. All I know is that Jack had to stop me from running out of the house,” Jamie opened up.

“I threw up,” Quinn added to the sharing.

“I cried on the roof,” Cole said.

“I just… felt numb,” Luke said.

No one really wanted to open up, but it needed to be done. They were all in the same boat.

“At least she’s breathing better on her own,” Jack said in an attempt to shed some light on the situation. The monstrously fucked up situation. A nightmare.

The second official day of Y/N in a coma was proving to be worse than the first day. Especially since her heart stopped the night before. Every moment there was a fear that it would happen again, and that she wouldn’t pull through that time. Every beep on the machine was like a sigh of relief. It meant she was alive. It meant there was a chance that she would wake up.

After a while, Cole asked if he could have some time alone with Y/N. He and Alex were the only two that had not gotten a chance to speak to her in hopes that she could hear them. They were the only two that hadn’t gotten a chance to get everything out without everyone being around.

“I don’t know how everyone else did this,” Cole huffed out a fake laugh. “I guess it’s not too different from when we’re talking to you and you’re too distracted to listen to us.”

Cole sat on the edge of her bed and brushed her hair back, despite the fact that it was already tamed and perfectly in place.

“It was weird not watching a movie with you on facetime last night,” Cole continued. “Turc and I didn’t know what to do. Z offered to show us the list of movies you have planned for us to watch, but I said I wanted to keep the surprise. So you have to wake up before next week, okay? I know you wouldn’t want to get too far behind.”

Cole closed his eyes to keep himself from crying. He knew he should get serious. He knew that he needed to get everything out just in case something like last night happened again. He wished he didn’t have that fear. He wished he didn’t feel like he was holding his breath every second waiting for something to happen.

“My life changed when I met you. All of ours did, but I’m not here to talk about them, am I? I’ve known Jack for a while, but I didn’t meet you until we all went to NTDP, and I wish I met you sooner. You’re like… Wonder Woman. You’re compassionate, yet stubborn. And you will go to battle for the people you care about, which is honestly everyone you meet.

“I can’t think of another person less deserving of this than you. Especially because of the time of year it happened. Only Z and Jamie will be with you until we play against the Ducks, and I think that’s what gets me the most. Besides the whole… well, you know. I love being your best friend number two, and no matter what happens, no one can ever take that away from me. From us. I hope you know half the league asks us about you every day. Suzy demands that he gets hourly updates.”

Cole was saying anything and everything to keep from breaking down, but it was no use. He couldn’t get any words out now from how hard he was crying. He climbed off the bed so that he could lay his head down on the mattress and sob. Jack tried to run in, but Cole turned him away. He needed to cry it all out. Y/N’s constant saying that “the break will be harder the longer you keep everything in” was proving to be correct. He hadn’t let his feelings out all the way, yet. And the break was brutal.

The person that Cole did eventually let in was Trevor. Trevor got it. Trevor got him. Trevor sat down quietly next to him and waited to be needed. It didn’t take long for Cole to need a hug, and Trevor was happy to give it to him.

“We’ll make it through this,” Trevor told him. “I promise. No matter what. We’ll all still have each other.”

“But we might not have Sissy,” Cole sniffled.

“Careful, or I’ll tell her you used your once a month Sissy passes,” Trevor tried to joke. It fell flat, unsurprisingly. “I’m choosing not to think about losing her. I know our girl. I know my girl. She’s randomly flown to Van Couver to see Quinn and forgot to tell me. It scared the living shit out of me, but she came back. She always comes back.”

“She always comes back,” Cole repeated, more to trick himself into believing it.

“That’s right, buddy. She always comes back.”

– – –

Right outside Sissy’s hospital room, Alex was freaking out. He was struggling so hard at the idea of talking to Y/N like it might be the last time he’d ever talk to her alone again.

“I can’t! I can-” Alex was cut off by him choking down his own cries. He felt like he needed to scream. Jack and Quinn sat on either side of him and did their best to comfort their friend. “I can’t talk to her like I’m going to lose her. But if we do, and I don’t, then…”

“It’s alright, bud,” Quinn said, putting his arm around him. “She knows. She always knows.”

Quinn was interrupted by his phone ringing, so he stepped away and let Jack continue to help Alex. He was better at playing Sissy anyways.

“Matthew?” Quinn answered, confused. “Did I forget to update you?

“I’m outside the hospital,” Matthew said, not really answering his question. “I couldn’t stand it anymore. I kept hoping that she’d facetime two days ago, even though I knew she wouldn’t. I already talked to my coach. I wasn’t playing well with her on my mind. I need to be here.”

Quinn understood. He more than understood. He understood more than Matthew did.

“It just… it wasn’t a call I was expecting to ever get. And I really didn’t want something worse being told to me over the phone,” Matthew elaborated. “Can you come get me?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there in a couple minutes,” Quinn said before he hung up.

Quinn told Jack that he was going to get Matthew so that he could subtly let Trevor and Cole know. He really hoped that him being here won’t take away anyone’s ability to be vulnerable, but Matthew was just as important to her as almost anyone else, despite him not being in the “group,” for lack of a better term.

When Quinn returned with Matthew, Cole and Trevor were out in the hallway.

“We thought you might want a moment alone with her,” Jack told him.

“Just don’t confess your love to her. She might leave me for you,” Trevor joked. He was proud of himself for getting a small smile out of the clearly distressed man.

“I’ll hold back, just for you,” Matthew countered before entering the room.

Matthew’s breath hitched when he saw Y/N. Not so much as a picture was sent to him. Quinn told him that she looked worse with a tube down her throat, so he was glad that she was just left with a nasal canal now. He sat down next to her, but he didn’t hold her hand. It didn’t feel right to him. It felt like it would solidify the idea of her dying.

“Hey, little mouse,” he sighed, tearing up. “It’s uh… your rat. Or I guess sometimes you call me Ratty, or Matty, or Matty Rat, Matty Ratty, anyways– whatever you’re in the mood for calling me, it’s me. Fuck, this is hard.”

He was crying silent tears now. Y/N really was in a coma. He knew it before, but seeing her makes it a hundred times worse. He’d known her for five years. He played along to her silly little school girl crush. He bought her flowers for her sixteenth birthday because she asked him to come to her party! He watched her go through her teenage years, hell– she still is one, and now he’s praying that she’ll make it through the night. He’s praying that she’ll wake up.

“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. I was trying to still be a leader for my team, but even the coaches knew I wasn’t playing like my usual self and let me come here. I can’t even imagine the pain everyone else out in the hall for you is in. Especially Quinn and Trevor.

“You don’t deserve this. I’m sure if you can hear, you’ve heard just about everyone say it, but it’s true. I don’t think anyone else would drop everything and fly to Calgary just because I’m playing against one of your friends, and I know you do that for everyone else, too. You’re a light, little mouse. For everyone. It’s getting too dark without you, so you need to wake up, okay? You’d do anything for the people you care about and that’s what we all need. You.”

Matthew finally caved and took a hold of Y/N’s hand. His tears were dropping more fiercely now, and her touch helped a little. He smiled when she squeezed his hand. Quinn told him that she might do that and it’s all subconscious, but Matthew couldn’t help but hope it was because she heard him.

– – –

The parents went to acquire lunch for everyone, and while they were out, the boys all went into the hospital room. Cole, Alex, and Jamie didn’t really know Matthew, so they were happy for the distraction of younger teenage Sissy stories from before they met her. Jamie especially, because he didn’t meet her until a few months ago. And yet, they already loved each other. That’s how special Y/N is.

“Wait, so she actually fell over the couch trying to talk to you?” Cole laughed. “How have I not heard this?”

“Because Mr. Boyfriend here doesn’t like discussing the little mouse crush era,” Matthew laughed.

“That sucks, Z, because I need to know everything,” Alex said.

“You know some of it,” Trevor mumbled. “Even when she moved to Michigan and met all of us, she still fawned over him at first.”

“Wait, you’re the Matty she couldn’t stop talking about?!” Cole shouted. “This makes so much sense!��

“She practically begged him to come to her sixteenth birthday party,” Quinn told the group.

“She tripped when he came through the door,” Jack snicked.

“You went?” Jamie asked. “Weren’t you in the league by then?”

“I was playing in Calgary,” Matthew explained. “It wasn’t too long of a plane ride and the date worked out, so I couldn’t bear to say no to her.”

“He bought her flowers and I got nothing,” Jack added, jokingly sounding bitter.

“I could go buy you something from the vending machine down the hall; would that help? Clearly, you’re still upset over your lack of a sixteenth birthday present,” Matthew teased him.

“It would,” Jack said. Matthew laughed and pulled out his wallet to give Jack his card. “Thanks, Matty!”

Silence lingered for a bit when Jack left. It started with Trevor. He stopped smiling and brought his girlfriend’s hand to his lips and lightly kissed each knuckle. Everyone saw it and just couldn’t find a reason to laugh anymore.

“She squeezed my hand,” Matthew said. “I know it doesn’t mean much, but there’s hope, right? It was after I finished speaking. So who knows? Maybe she’s getting closer.”

Trevor sent him a small smile and nodded his head, which was the best he could offer.

“I hope she can hear us,” Trevor said. “I hope she knows how loved she is.”

“She knows,” Alex said, mirroring Jack’s words to him. “She always knows.”

What Trevor didn’t tell the group is that Y/N squeezed his hand after Alex finished talking. Maybe Matthew was right, maybe she is closer to waking up.

– – –

After everyone left, Trevor was too drained to stay up. Luckily, the nurses were kind enough to keep the recliner in the corner of the room for him, so he laid it back and tried to get settled to get some sleep. He stayed on his phone scrolling aimlessly for a while before eventually passing out.

Sleep wasn’t kind to Trevor. He was plagued by endless nightmares, none of them allowing the sweet release of waking up. Over and over again he saw and heard Y/N dying. One mirrored the actual event of her flatlining, in another she woke up and died in his arms, and another she didn’t even make it out of the car. After a second showing of the actual event he witnessed the night before, he finally shot himself awake. He was panting, and he was sure that a scream escaped his lips. He wildly shook his head to try and find Y/N, and the sound of her heart beating steady brought him some ease.

He walked over to her and sat down to grab her hand, “Just keep that heart beating for me, okay, sweet girl? That’s all you gotta do.”

Trevor smiled to himself when she squeezed his hand again, but he tried to not get his hopes up. It didn’t mean anything. It was mere coincidence.

What did mean something was the soft groans that escaped her lips.

“Y/N?” he asked urgently, standing up. Nothing. “Sissy?”

His hand was squeezed again and he heard muffled sounds coming from her. He swore he heard her say “don’t call me that.”

“If you’re awake, I need you to open those pretty little eyes for me, sweet girl,” Trevor said softly as he stroked her hair. “I know it hurts, but I need to see them.”

She groaned heavily, but began to flutter her eyes open, “you’re bossy.”

Trevor collapsed into his chair and heaved the biggest sigh of relief. He took her hand in both of his and held it up to his lips, pressing a firm and lingering kiss on them and allowed the tears to fall.

“You’re awake! Oh my god, you’re awake!” Trevor said through tears.

— — —

Your mind was muddied, but you knew the sound of your boyfriend crying well enough to know that that is what you were hearing.

“Why wouldn’t I be awake?” you slurred. Your vision was less cloudy now and you could see the situation you were in.

Hospital bed. Leg suspended in a sling. Shoulder wrapped and on a pillow-like thing. Feeling extremely groggy. In pain. Trevor’s crying.

Trevor’s crying.

You brought your hand up to Trevor’s face and cupped his cheek, wiping a tear away with your thumb, “Why are you crying, my love?“

“You- you… you,” he was starting to get worked up.

“Shhhh,” you cooed. “It’s okay. I’m okay. What happened?”

“I saw you die! Your heart stopped beating and the world ended and I couldn’t do anything and I keep hearing the flat line and–”

“Okay, okay, it’s okay,” you said. “Come here.”

“You’re hurt, Y/N/N. Bad. I don’t need to be in this bed with you,” Trevor said.

“Is anything on my upper body besides my shoulder injured ?”

“No, but–”

“So come here.”

Trevor slowly crawled into the small space between you and the bed rail.

“Lay down on my chest,” you whispered to him.

He carefully laid down on your chest, being mindful of your IV, and wrapped his arms around you.

You took deep breaths as you rubbed his back. Yeah, you were the one in the hospital, but your boyfriend just told you he saw you die and you weren’t about to let him suffer.

“See? It’s beating now,” you said low and you stroked his hair with your good arm.

“It’s beating now,” Trevor sighed in relief.

“It’s beating now,” you reaffirmed.

“I need to tell a doctor that you’re awake,” Trevor said.

“We can tell them tomorrow,” you said back. “I just want to lay with you before the real pain sets in. We can talk about whatever happened tomorrow.”

You didn’t know how long you’ve been in the hospital, but you did know that Trevor was incredibly tense and terrified. You were worried out of your mind about him. It didn’t matter how much pain medication was surely in you, even your clouded mind could tell your boyfriend wasn’t okay. You rubbed his back up and down until his tears ceased and you felt him relax against you.

“I thought our forever was going to get cut short,” he said sleepily.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” you said.

“I love you, forever.”

“I love you, always.”

— — —

You woke up early the next morning to a nurse going near Trevor to probably tell him off.

“Don’t touch him,” you scolded her.

“You’re awake!” the nurse jumped. She wasn’t expecting her coma patient to be awake. “Unfortunately, this does mean we’ll need to run some tests, so he will need to get up.”

“Can you give us an hour?” you pleaded with her. She gave you a playfully scolding look, but agreed. She gave you another dose of pain medication when you said you were in some pain, making sure to emphasize that Trevor was not that source, and left. Trevor slept through it all.

You found yourself humming and slipping your hand up Trevor’s shirt to softly scratch his back. You had an hour before chaos began and you were going to cherish every second of it.

“I love it when you sing,” you heard him mumble into your chest.

“Good morning to you, too, handsome,” you laughed lightly. “Thank you.”

You felt Trevor nod his head and cuddle up closer to you, placing his head back over your heart. You had a feeling he might need to do that a lot.

“My love, can you check what time it is? The nurse gave us an hour,” you said sleepily.

Trevor groaned but he carefully got off of you to check his phone. His sleepy eyes were soon filled with panic, “Oh shit! Shit!”

Alarmed, you tried to sit up, but you felt a jolt of pain and cried out. Trevor rushed over and eased you back down.

“Are you okay?! Do you want me to get a nurse? I should–”

“Z! Why did you say oh shit?” you cut him off.

“I didn’t immediately tell Quinn that you woke up, and when he finds out that I didn’t–”

“Quinn’s here?” you asked.

Trevor sat down on the edge of your bed and grabbed your hand, “Everyone’s here, sweet girl. They all flew in. Half the league’s been asking for updates. You’re famous, kid.”

You didn’t know how to take that. You were in pain, sure. Apparently you died which was already too much to think about. And now virtually everyone you know is asking about you? It wasn’t fun to think about. It wasn’t fun to think about how many people have worried over you. Trevor was a mess, and you couldn’t even begin to think about everyone else.

You’re the go to person. You vow to make every single person you hold dear, every single person you love, feel safe and loved. You’re the person people go to for support. You have people to go to, but who do you go to when everyone else is struggling with you?

Eventually your hour alone with Trevor was over, at apparently five am, and he had to be kicked out for testing. He freaked out a tad— okay a lot— but he settled for waiting outside in the hall with the door open and you periodically telling him that you were still there. That didn’t last long. A nurse accidentally caused your heart monitor to fall off your finger, causing the flat line to sound again, which caused Trevor to scream. You tried to call out to him, but your voice was too weak and his voice was too strong.

“Help him!” you shouted at a nurse.

You hated what happened next. Trevor’s cries and screams died down, and you were told that they put him in a room after being lightly sedated to calm him down. They explained to you that it happened two nights ago, as well.

“If he stayed in that recliner last time, he needs to be brought in here again. Or he’ll wake up and freak out again,” you told the nurse. “Trust me on that.”

She ended up listening to you, since he did spiral himself into a panic attack just because you were out of his sight. You didn’t know he actually had one, you thought it was just screams. You wished you were right.

You had just enough energy left in you to wait for Trevor to be placed in the recliner. He was out of it, he barely classified as a human at this point. You watched as he got settled and the nurses left, and when his eyes closed, so did yours.

You didn’t know how long you were asleep, but Trevor had drug his IV to your bedside and parked himself in the chair next to you.

“Are you okay?” you asked groggily.

“What? I should be asking you that” Trevor said, dodging your question.

“Z,” you said seriously.

Trevor just looked at you. He looked so guilty. He looked so broken.

“Jack told me that the second you open your eyes, I need to be strong for you if none of them are here. None of them are here yet today and instead of being strong, have an IV with sedatives to not have a panic attack,” Trevor said quietly. “Not even pills, Y/N! An IV bag!”

“Okay, okay,” you got out quickly. “Trev, what you saw is scarring. You never should have seen that, and I’m so sorry that you did. We’re gonna be a bit of a mess for a while it seems, but we’ll be a mess together. We can take turns being the strong one.”

“I need to take care of you,” Trevor said. “You’re hurt, Y/N/N. Bad. You’re going to need help doing everyday things. I can’t be a mess when you need me.”

“Yes you can, Z,” you told him, rubbing his hand with your thumb. “I don’t want anyone holding in anything for me, because that’ll make the break so much harder. Just because I’m going to need help physically doesn’t mean we can’t help each other mentally.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think all of us are going to need help mentally,” Trevor admitted.

You gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand, “Good thing I’m awake then, huh?”

Trevor smiled back, but you could tell he really didn’t mean it.

“Jack was playing your part, don’t worry. He held us together for a while.”

“It’s a twin thing,” you joked.

“That’s what Jack said,” Trevor laughed lightly, making you actually smile.

You could tell Trevor was still uneasy, so you had him lay down with you again, but this time he got next to you. You couldn’t lean against him, because moving was agonizing, but the touching of shoulders and your unbroken leg between his was enough for you. He caught you up on everything. He didn’t like it, but you needed it. You needed to know what happened to your friends and family while you were out. All of it absolutely broke your heart, but you were ready to heal with everyone. Physically and mentally. Together.

He told you that almost everyone had a moment alone with you. You wished it was like the movies because you wish you could’ve heard them.

“Do you remember what you said?” you asked Trevor.

“You want to know what I said?”

“I want to know what everyone said. It might help us all get through this.”

Trevor checked his phone, “Visiting hours start in an hour. Why don’t we just lay here together until they come and at some point you can hold one on one therapy sessions?”

It was a reasonable request. You were exhausted, and Trevor had already been through so much in the last three hours. Trevor put a movie on his phone, The Hunger Games, and you laid your head on his shoulder and drifted off to sleep again.

———

reblogs appreciated! it helps spread fics <;3

#penalty box series: imagines #penalty box series #trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras angst #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #cole caufield #cole caufield imagine #luke hughes #matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #quinn hughes angst #hockey imagine

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they-call-me-emmy · 5 months

Text

The Past is The Past 4

Parts 1, 2, and 3 on my account <3

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: Tara was faced with her 3 ghostface, and this time got so seriously injured she was in a coma. When she wakes up, she has no memory of the past 3 years...including you, her girlfriend.

Notes: Imagine this as our gals scream 7...since Jenna apparently quit and left me fucking DYING

Warnings: Uh, injury, violence, blood, our boy ghostyface with knives. Coma and memory loss if thats even a warning. Swearing. Uhm. Shitty 7th grade writing.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Stop," Tara said slowly. "What?"

"Y/N was your girlfriend...I thought that was implied." Sam said, giving Tara a look of confusion.

"Implied?! I thought she was like, my best friend or something!" Tara couldn't believe Sam had left this out of the equation.

"Well, she's barely considered a friend now, so girlfriend is a ways away." Sam shrugged.

"WAIT! So this girl, she knows everything about me, she's hugged me, probably snuggled with me, kissed me, and SHIT HAS SHE SEEN ME NAKED?!"

"Oh, ew, Tara!" Sam faked gagged. "I don't know! And I really don't wanna talk about my sister's sex life!"

"She's probably bathed with me...oh my fucking god..." Tara collapsed on the couch, groaning and rolling over, shoving her face into a pillow.

"Alright drama queen." Sam sighed. "That's enough. Please."

"How much has she seen?" Tara slowly slid onto the floor, holding her face.

"We need to start a grocery list!"

"Has she dressed me?!"

"Are we out of eggs?" Sam began, ignoring Tara, who was now fake crying on the carpet.

"OH LORD WHAT IF SHE'S HAD HER FINGERS IN ME!"

"TARA ENOUGH!" Sam shouted, throwing a pen at the girl. "If it bothers you OH SO MUCH, call her and ask!"

Tara made a face of disgust and horror, gagging. "Ask her? How would you react if someone called you and asked if you'd fingered them before?!"

"Then don't, I don't care."

"I won't." Tara mumbled, pulling herself off the floor and up the stairs to her room.

I'm shitting myself, i needed a break from serious stuff.

IM A SLUT FOR COMMENTS! COMMENT PLEASE!

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you

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purgatorysanctuary · 2 months

Note

Not to sound crazy but I absolutely adore the way you portray Vox and Alastor. Plz plz plz 'bore' me with your headcanons about Vox and whatever radiostatic ones you can throw in there, I am very interested. I love the AU you've come up with and would love to know more :)

Awhhh!! Thank you!! Haha! I’m glad I’ve interested people!!

I’ve got a LOT of Vox headcanons and a TON of things to say about him! StaticRadio?? Hmm,, Ig that more so leans into how I interpret Alastor!

Regardless, I’ll humor you with some of Vox’s physical attributes!

Vox is fully technology, he lacks a single organic component within his body. He is made entirely up of wires, cables, metal, programming, rubber, and much more! He’s fully machine! His neck is even made out of wires, very very sensitive wires!

Now, it’s a cruel twist of fate. Vox loves technology, so he ultimately became it. However, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows. It’s actually horrifying.

Vox can barely feel anything physically. He can’t feel the touch of someone’s hand, or the fabric of his suit. He can’t feel the biting frost of the night, or the beating rays of the sun. His face is a screen, I took away his mouth. He can’t make any of that manifest into anything physical. He can barely feel anything. He’s sensory deprived.

Which is torture, because my Vox is a very sensory person. He loves touch. He loves feeling. Tasting. Smelling. He can’t do that anymore. He doesn’t even need to breathe. He can’t even cry, it’s all pixels on his screen.

Vox doesn’t sleep either. He shuts down, it’s more akin to a coma. His only solace is plugging himself into the system! Every day he believes he won’t wake up tomorrow. He’s never certain when a day is his last.

All of this sucks deeply, it’s horrible. Yet, Vox’s emotions overpower him. He feels deeply. All the time, just emotionally. Hence why it’s so easy for him to glitch and overheat. He is invincible, yet extremely fragile.

That’s sort of Vox as a whole. Invincible, yet fragile. His persona and charm are impenetrable walls. Yet, Vox is very vulnerable when it comes to friends. He barely has any. Due to the fact no one cares about Vox. They like Overlord Vox and what he provides.

Vox has a lot of masks he wears, haha. You never know when he’s being genuine. Ever, really.

In the end, Vox feels like a monster. He lost his humanity the most out of everyone, really. He wonders.. what sick shit did he do to validate stripping him of whatever made him human?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox #vee answers #headcanon #headcanons #hazbin headcanons #hazbin hotel headcanon #here you go!!

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taestefully-in-luv · 1 year

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Our Time | JJK (Six)

Summary: After an accident and being in a coma for three months, you finally wake. But the last nine years of your life have been completely erased. You rely on none other than your best friend, Jungkook, to help regain your memories and yourself. But what happens when the truth of your missing time starts unraveling and it isn’t all it’s made out to be?

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem Reader (Detective!Jk x Graphic Designer!OC) side pairing: Seokjin x Reader

Genre: crime au, fluff, heavy angst, smut, romance, darker themes, amnesia au. Best friends to ???

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: ANGSTY chapter ahead. swearing, frustrations of amnesia, detailed descriptions of anxiety and panic attacks, mentions of blood, mentions of child abduction, lots of crying, confrontation, allusions to infidelity within marriage, feelings of betrayal, mention of suicide/death, obvious alcoholism, umm I think that’s it.

a/n: happy valentines day💕 (I haven’t slept yet so its still vday for me hehe) this is not a romantic chapter at all but I hope you still enjoy it. Thanks for those who have been patiently waiting for this chapter since ive been dealing with a lot lately. Well, I hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! Send an ask if you want to be added to the taglist or just want to chat :]

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Generally speaking, light can serve as a symbol of life.

When there is light, it touches and beautifully blinds with bright, shimmering hope. But for you, your eyes have cast any ray of shining light away. And your entire view has been enveloped in the arms of darkness.

If light is a symbol of life but you and your soul are being carried on a ferry across the river of Styx towards the underworld…then is it safe to assume you are no longer living?

Have you truly died on the inside?

And this is your stygian reality?

Because now, in your world, light no longer exists.

You’re thankful for those people who know how to naturally calm others down. Those people who remain collected during a crisis. Those people who can snap someone out of there demise even when they’re rattled as well. Those people who remind you to breathe even when they’ve forgotten.

Well, Subin is not one of those people.

“He knows we’re coming, right?” Subin aggressively tries to exit the parking lot of the market, her eyes going everywhere yet you aren’t so sure she’s even seeing properly.

“I—I talked to the nurse, s-she said to come now. The doctor should be free…fuck, I hope.” You look out the window, your head spinning while your chest grows tighter and tighter.

Breathing with calm, even breaths is hard.

It’s even harder because Subin is tense, her fingers wrapped tightly around the steering wheel as she tries to catch her own breath.

She’s always been the type to cry when others cry. Panic when other’s panic. So on and so forth.

You try your hardest to take a breath before speaking, “Can you drive?” You rest the side of your head against the window, your vision looking blurrier and darker. “J-Just pull ov—”

“—Shit, I’m so sorry, y/n.” Subin’s voice shakes, her eyes trying so hard to stay focused on the road. “I’m okay. I’m okay. You’re okay?” She quickly glances at you, “You’re okay, right?”

You rest your palm against your rapid heart, eyes squeezing shut at the pain and discomfort your chest is feeling. You need to breathe. Relax.

“I-I’m fine.” You say as composed as you possibly can. “Water? Water? Do you…do you have water in here…?” You tiredly lean your head back, chest rising and falling quickly. “I feel sick.”

“Sick?” Subin clears her throat, though she’s panicking herself, she tries to get her shit together. “Like how?” She glances at you again, “I think there’s a bag behind your seat. Throw up in it if you need to….”

“Water, Subin.” You feel your throat closing in on you, “Do you have—”

“—Um,” Subin keeps one hand on the steering wheel while the other frantically feels the sides and below her car seat. “I think there’s a bottle…” She continues to search, the car slightly swerving but you hardly notice. “Here!”

You manage to open your eyes, sudden relief filling your veins when you see a half empty bottle of water. Subin pushes it towards you before she’s urging you to have some.

“Drink slowly.” She keeps a worried eye on you while driving as quickly as she can to the hospital.

The moment water begins trickling down your throat, you feel the dizziness that’s consumed you start to subside.

With half of that bottle of water in your system, your vision is less blurry and less dark.

Literally speaking, darkness doesn’t have a veil over your eyes any longer.

But figuratively speaking, not even an ounce of light shines in your world at all.

You still can’t breathe. Because how could you?

How could you with the knowledge you currently have?

You’re convinced you’re having a heart attack…Doctor Lee, however, isn’t convinced about that.

“You’re just panicking.” He tells you softly, his eyes trained on your expressions. “It’s okay. This is completely normal, y/n.”

You quickly shake your head, refusing to accept that it’s only your emotions here that are the problem.

“This is normal…” He reminds you again, a gentle hand patting your back. “Once you accept that this is normal, it’ll get easier to control it. You’re overwhelmed and that’s okay.”

“I-I can’t breathe.” You manage to tell him, fingers tugging at the collar of your shirt. You wish you could tear off your clothes, your skin, all the feelings that bombard you.

“You can breathe.” Doctor Lee brings his hand towards his own body, he motions upward now with both hands as he urges you to inhale deeply. “You’re breathing right now. You’ve been breathing this whole time…even when it was hard, you’re still breathing, y/n.”

He’s…right. Since the market, since the car, since waiting for Doctor Lee to show up in this tiny room—you’ve been breathing the entire time.

You try to nod, swallowing hard but it hurts.

Actually, it seems the physical pain is disappearing while emotional pain begins to sink it’s teeth into you. Pain is pain, you realize.

“Good,” Doctor Lee keeps his focus on you, “Can you give me a deep breath?”

You nod, trying your hardest to inhale a breath but it’s sharp and poisoned.

Your eyes slam shut, your entire body closing in on itself.

“Try to let go of a long breath for me,” Doctor Lee’s voice is soothing, “Feel everything. Gather all of it…and let it go with a long, long breath. Can you do that?”

Feel everything and let it go? How could you do that?

“I can’t.” You shake your head, eyes still slammed shut. “I just can’t.”

“You can.” He tells you, voice still calm. “I’m not asking you to sort through all your emotions right now and just let them go. No,” Doctor Lee sighs out for a moment before he’s pulling his chair out right in front of you and taking a seat. “I’m just asking you to recognize you have them and release them for a moment. That way you can gain more strength for when you eventually have to grab them again. You can’t get stronger if the panic you feel burdens you, y/n. Let’s breathe…”

You open your teary eyes, teeth digging into your bottom lip as harsh breaths make your entire body grow weaker. Doctor Lee looks pleased just at the fact you’ve opened your eyes. He nods his head with a tender smile before he starts breathing with you. In and out. Slow and rest assuring.

You aren’t sure how long it takes for you to have calm breaths again.

Doctor Lee doesn’t rush you. He gives you time and space to collect yourself. He’s aware that you are here because some memories have flooded your brain. And he’s aware that it had you drowning. He has told you countless times to reach out to him the moment something like this begins. You guess he anticipated this kind of reaction.

“Just in case, I still want to run some tests. I’ll get nurse Choi to do labs.” Doctor Lee is scribbling onto his clipboard, but his eyes are still on you. “I know today has been scary for you but I’m sure your results will be fine. It’s always better to be a little more precautious, don’t you think?”

Your limbs are weak, draped over this uncomfortable chair as you give Doctor Lee a noncommittal nod. All of your energy has been drained from your body. Leaving you weak and helpless.

Doctor Lee’s pen comes to a slow stop, his lips turning down as he eyes you. “Hey,” He calls out slowly, your eyes barely lifting to him. “I’m afraid it’s going to be like this…overwhelming. Scary. Emotionally, physically draining.”

You stare at him with empty eyes.

“But this is a good sign, y/n….” He says and you can tell he isn’t necessarily happy to say it. “Your memories are in there and they’re going to start leaking out…and it won’t always be easy.”

You muster what little energy you have to scoff to yourself, “No kidding.”

“It just…it means that the chances of all your memory returning is a lot greater. They can all return to you.” He says much softer. You don’t respond though, making Doctor Lee sigh out in defeat before he’s placing the clipboard down. “This first time will probably be the hardest. It’s the first time you’re receiving new information.”

Your eyes meet his when he says that. Your brows slowly pull together as you think about it. “Well, kind of.” You admit to him. “I remembered a cat…” the space between your eyebrows creases further as you try to make things make sense in your head. “Actually…I have a question.”

Doctor Lee nods immediately, his attentive eyes on you. “What is it?”

“Is it possible to remember some things but not others?” You ask, but shake your head as soon as you ask it. “I mean…for example, I remember a cat that I shouldn’t remember. I only remember the cat though. I don’t remember anything else about the timeline of this cats life. You know, the things happening around this cat.”

Doctor Lee furrow his own brows, trying his best to make sense of what you’re asking.

You try to explain further, “I remember this cat. But I don’t remember that at the same time as this cat, I was also married.”

It seems it finally clicks, his mouth falling a little open as he nods. “I understand.”

“It’s just…the thing I remembered today…I remember certain details but there’s so much still missing.” You pause, the gloomy pressure once again in your chest but you take a deep breath. “Is it…” You meet Doctors Lee’s gaze again. “Is it possible that my brain blocked out an entire person in my memory? But I…” You can feel the tightness returning. “I….I have memory of this person existing within things but I don’t have actualrecollection of this per—person.”

You shouldn’t feel ashamed the moment you see Doctor Lee’s eyes fill with pity.

“You know,” He clears his throat, blinking away the pity he feels for you. “The brain is truly such a complex thing. Your memories might come to you with no warning and things might not always make sense. Eventually, you might be able to piece some together. And yeah, I’d say it’s entirely possible not to have all the knowing details when you remember an event.”

“Then—”

“—But don’t be discouraged that things will always stay that way. Like you’re going to live your life solving some puzzle.”

Your eyes sting the moment he says that. You’re realizing how true that feels for you…like you’re just a player apart of some game. But you aren’t even sure you have all the puzzle pieces to even play.

“As overwhelming as it is, this is a good sign. Your memories will most likely return. And maybe even soon.”

You realize he’s saying this as if it’s a positive.

But you aren’t so sure that you even want them to return anymore.

“It might take Nurse Choi a little while to get your labs started…she’s doing some rounds right now.” Doctor Lee takes a look at his watch, “But I can grab your friend from the waiting room if you’d like me to? You’d be less bored waiting in here.” He smiles.

Though you cannot return his smile, you agree.

You know Subin is in this tiny room with you. You watched when one of the nurses brought her in. But even still, you jump in your chair when she calls out for you. Her worried eyes glued to you but you’ve barely noticed. Too busy sorting through the things you’ve seen in your head.

“Are you…” Subin’s voice is delicate over the harsh and rough thumping of your heartbeat. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

You are okay. Because you weren’t experiencing a heart attack.

But are you okay? No, not at all.

You keep staring at nothing and Subin can do nothing but worry in the chair next to you. Her eyes anxiously darting around while you tap your foot against the floor impatiently.

“y/n…” Subin says your name softly, her concern overflowing. “You—”

“—Exactly.” You give a curt nod, “They must be real.”

Subin frowns when she realizes you aren’t listening to her.

“They have to be real because…” You tear your gaze away from the abyss and bore your eyes into Subin’s. “She said my name, Subin.”

Subin tilts her head, gears working in her head but her confusion only grows. “What?”

“I just…” You drop your eyes back to the floor, focusing on nothing again. “I keep thinking that maybe my brain is making up the things I saw in my head.” You say quietly, your words feeling heavy on your tongue. “It wouldn’t be a first time…” You try to reason, more to yourself. You recall the boat, the lake, the scream, the shadow…what was real and what wasn’t? “I keep trying to think that my brain is just throwing out theories again.”

Subin shifts in the uncomfortable chair, “What…what do you mean?”

You sigh, a hand rubbing at your face tiredly. “I’m thinking of reasons.”

“Reasons?”

You drop your hand to your lap, an uneasy expression falling over your face as you glance at your friend. “A reason not to hate Jungkook.”

Subin’s eyebrows immediately pinch together, “W-Why?”

You close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to take a deep breath. You hate that your heart feels miserable in your body right now. It’s screaming and it’s crying. Your heart’s loud, pathetic sobs are bouncing off the walls of your ribcage and you don’t know what to do to put it to rest.

“I have nothing.” You whisper. A heavy feeling begins clinging to you like a cloak you cannot shrug off. “I have no excuses for him.” Your voice cracks, eyes still closed. “I know why I blame him for Haru and I know why we divorced.”

“What? Why?” Subin is suddenly more alert. You hear the way her chair screeches across the tile as she brings herself closer to you. “Are you sure? What…what is it?”

You finally open your eyes, head tilted back as you stare up at the ceiling now. “Nabi.”

It’s silent for a moment. You wonder if Subin heard you or not so you finally turn your head to face her but she looks even more confused.

“Nabi?” She finally gets the name out in question. She tries to think about it but after a moment she gives up. “Who’s that?”

“The girl from that café you like.” You tell her, “She was our server the first time we went together.”

Subin sits back in her chair, her brain trying to understand what you’re saying. “Okay…a girl from the café is why—”

“—I knew I knew her.” You cut her off, eyes going back to nothing as you focus on Nabi. “She was so familiar and I had no clue why. But she said we didn’t know each other. And I am almost so certain she never heard my name.”

Subin shakes her head, leaning towards you. “And then what?”

“Then I ran into her at the store and I saw so many things.” You get the words out quickly and stop just as fast. You saw a lot of things. Too many things. “I…” You try to speak again but your throat is burning and you heart is crying again.

“You think she had something to do with Haru?” Subin asks you, concern clear in her voice.

“I…” You pause again. Your chest is feeling tight all over again but you can’t risk losing your ability to breathe now. “She also has to do with my failing marriage.” You keep your eyes low.

“Your marr…” Subin’s words get quieter before her hand goes to your shoulder, “Are you saying that Jungkook knows her?”

You scoff, trying your best to remain calm. But your voice betrays you, “Considering he was cheating on me with her then yeah, I-I would say so.”

You’re startled when Subin is standing from her chair, concerned eyes forcing themselves to you, “Woah, woah. You don’t really think…” She shakes her head, rejecting the entire idea. “No, you are not saying Jungkook—”

“—I don’t want to be saying that, Subin.” You snap at her, your eyes growing watery as your voice shakes. “But that’s what I’ve—I’ve seen. M-my brain showed me so much and that’s why I…why I keep thinking maybe they aren’t actual memories. That I don’t actually know her.” You feel you are starting to lose control again, your breaths coming out faster. “But Subin,” Your face twists and your heartache is seen. “She said my name. She knows my name. She knows who I am.”

Subin takes a seat again, unsure of what to say.

“If we know each other…then it means maybe what I saw was…” You swallow hard but not choking on your words is fucking hard. “It was m-maybe real then.”

“But I mean…are you really sure though?” Subin rests a hand over your shoulder. “I’m sorry but…is what you’re seeing…you know, reliable?”

You feel yourself grow weak and small in this chair. Your body slumping over and slightly sliding down as you try to think of a proper response.

“I mean,” Subin’s fingers give you a comforting squeeze, “I’m not saying we shouldn’t trust what you’ve seen…but it’s a tricky situation.”

You know you are dying inside. Truly, even if a flickering light that might have been keeping you alive until this moment has shut off. Because you wish you could agree with her and let that thought alone comfort you. But again, you aren’t ignorant. And you won’t start now.

“No, they’re memories.” You tell her, eyes on the ground. “I know they are. I feel them.”

Subin’s hand drops from your shoulder, a sad and soft ‘oh’ spills quietly from her mouth.

You try to straighten up in the chair, letting a deep sigh roll off your body. “But until I talk to Jungkook…I can’t really confirm it. Even though I know. I need to talk to him.”

“Can I…” Subin scoots her chair closer to you again, the legs pushed against the legs of your chair. “Can I ask what you saw? Why you think that…that Jungkook was having an affair? And what does it…” She softly trails off, her voice clearly unsure.

“And what it has to do with Haru?” You finally face your friend with sad, blood shot eyes. “He was with herwhen Haru was supposed to get p-picked up.” You continue to stare at Subin, her heart breaking when she sees how you try to hold back tears. “Isn’t it crazy that I know that? That I know about Haru? But I don’t fucking…” You stop when your throat burns too much, words refusing to leave your mouth. You fight through it regardless and finish what you are saying with broken words and a broken heart. “B-But I don’t f-fucking know him?”

Subin eyes you with pity and you’re sure you’ve received this all before.

“I remember seeing them together. Multiple o-occasions.” You admit to your friend, voice shaky. “It’s hard to tell though…from my memory if it was in person or pictures, videos, I don’t know. I know I confronted him and he just…” Your expression twists miserably. “He could n-never prove to me that my assumptions weren’t—weren’t right.”

“But that doesn’t me—”

“—M-Motel rooms…so many f-fucking secrets, Subin.” You finally properly choke on your words because of a quiet sob in your throat. “A pregnancy test?”

“A what?” Subin’s face falls, “A preg—no, maybe you—”

“As much as I want to believe Jungkook w-wouldn’t…” You slam your eyes shut and finally, several warm tears manage to fall from your closed lids. “But there is so much evidence against him and he could n-never fucking prove...”

“Okay, okay.” Subin’s sweet voice turns even more soothing, her hand returning to your shoulder. “I’m so sorry, y/n.” She whispers, “Seriously…I wish this wasn’t…”

“No,” You straighten up again, your hands desperately wiping at your face. “I won’t mourn y-yet when I haven’t talked to Jungkook.”

Because somehow…even with your bones screaming the truth at you.

You still want to believe in him.

At least until you are forced not to.

~~~

Subin parks right in front of your house, her worried eyes going between you and Jungkook’s car that is also parked here.

“We left for the grocery store and came back emptyhanded…” Subin nibbles her lips, her concern growing. “What if he’s like ‘why don’t you have my chips?’ or something…”

You slowly turn your head to eye Subin, eyes narrowing at her before you deadpan, “Then I’ll just ask him why he cheated on me.”

Subin’s mouth immediately falls open.

“Or something.” You say before unbuckling your seatbelt. “Anyway, thanks for taking me to the hospital…might end up there again,” You glance out the window towards your home. “Depending how this conversation goes…”

“y/n…” Subin’s hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you from opening the passenger door to get out, “I just…want to say again how sorry I feel…” Her hand slowly drops when she notices your distant gaze and then she quietly clears her throat. “I hope it’s not what you think but regardless…I’m here for you.”

You finally meet her eye and you can see her sincerity but the best you can do for her right now is give her a small nod of appreciation before you’re opening the door.

And even though the car door feels heavier than you recall, you still get it open. But your body almost refuses to move. Once again, your brain is sending signals. Telling your body not to go in there. Because you won’t like it. Your brain, mocking you again. Keeping secrets from you because it’s playing some kind of sick and twisted game.

You’d think your brain was helping you, because of all the signals, but you know that isn’t the case. You know it’s just trying to get a scare out of you because why else would it keep your memories away if not to play with you?

“Hey,” Subin calls out softly, “You can do this…”

And she’s right. You can.

Walking through your front door, you have to keep reminding yourself silently over and over to stay strong. Though the urge to break down, falling to the floor while misery consumes you wholly is strong but you don’t. Because you can’t. It would be a bit premature to have the full on meltdown your body is begging for because you still need to face Jungkook.

The moment you close the front door and begin slipping your shoes off, your nose is suddenly invaded with a savory aroma. You glance up, eyes in the direction of the kitchen when you finally realize Jungkook must be cooking. It smells good, you guess. But no matter what is cooking in the kitchen, it’s not good enough to take away any of the pain you are currently feeling.

“y/n?” You hear your name being called. Jungkook’s voice is one you’re used to, one you find comfort in, one you love—so why did you flinch? Why is your body warning you? Signals from your brain again? That fucking dickhead brain of yours. You stand up straight again, eyes still in the direction of the kitchen when you try to take one long, deep breath.

“y/n!” You flinch again. Frozen in your spot, unable to make your feet mood forward. You stare at the wall ahead and anticipate Jungkook turning the corner and seeing you. You anticipate seeing his face and you anticipate the instant dread you will feel upon seeing him.

“y/n!” He sings your name cutely this time.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You finally let out an incredibly shallow breath because Jungkook finally appears from the kitchen, his face lit up in excitement when he meets your eye.

“Hey!” He walks towards you, his hand sliding across the top of the sofa as he gets closer, his eyes glancing around. “Subin in the bathroom or something?”

You need to breathe.

“—Well, since you’re making me my favorite homemade cookies,” He continues chatting with a grin, excited glint so obvious in his eyes. “Which are a dessert. I figured I could make dinner.” He turns to look towards the kitchen, sheepish expression on his face. “I’ve made this dish a hundred times but…” He turns to meet your eye again, his hand lifting to scratch the back of his neck, “Only after we were married. So it will be new for you. But um,” He looks down, sheepish smile still on his face. “It’s actually Haru’s favorite.”

You haven’t moved a single muscle.

You haven’t said a word.

You have barely had an audible breath.

Still, Jungkook looks happy in his own world when he brings up your son.

Your son that you can’t even remember.

“I figure I could share some more stories tonight…about us, Haru…” Jungkook keep his eyes on his feet, still scratching the back of his neck. Almost looking shy. “Well, of course if you think you c…could…” Jungkook trails off when he finally lifts his eyes towards you but he isn’t met with same you that left for the store a few hours ago. He’s met with a you that he almost recognizes. Like he’s seen this expression before. On the you, that only he really knows.

“y/n?” His brows slightly pinch together, confusion draping over his features. “Are you…” He glances around again, “Where’s Subin? And where’s the things from the store?”

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

You didn’t realize you were capable of being a coward.

You want to move your feet. You want to open your mouth to speak. Hell, you want to blink. But you aren’t capable of anything. Except being a fucking coward.

Because you are afraid. You’re terrified. For more reasons than you can count.

You’re imprisoned, once again.

“Hey,” Jungkook studies your face, his concern evident. “What’s going on?”

Feeling a bit hesitant, Jungkook still walks closer to you. His concern only growing because you still don’t move, you still don’t make a sound, you still stare at him with wide eyes.

You stare at him and you only have one repeated thought that wanders around in your head. How easy would it be? How easy would it be to live ignorantly? The thing you have always refused to do. How easy would it be? How easy would it be to pretend your ‘memories’ are just theories that you brain is throwing out for fun? How easy to only trust Jungkook. And not yourself.

“y/n…” Jungkook’s eyes fill with worry. “Are you…” He lifts a hand towards you and you watch as it rises towards your face but your entire body jolts when you hear a loud slapping sound. Your dry lips finally part and you’re blinking repeatedly. You shoot your eyes to Jungkook’s face, only to see his expression completely twisted.

He stands frozen in front of you, hand still hangs in the air as his eyebrows pull together and his jaw hangs slack.

Your eyes go from his face to his hand when you lower your eyes to stare at your own hand.

You slapped his hand away.

Your brain sent signals to your body and that was the result.

So, no. To answer your question—it wouldn’t be fucking easy.

You both stand here, shocked by your own action.

Jungkook’s confusion only grows deeper, his hand slowly lowering to his side again when he takes a small step back. “Oh.” He says softly, the hurt is in his voice and it makes you wince. Or cringe. You aren’t sure which.

You try to open your mouth so words can force their way out but instead you notice the feeling of pins and needles start to poke at your skin. Your fingers, your toes, your lips. Confused, you bring your fingers to your mouth, fingers barely grazing over your bottom lip where it tingles uncomfortably. You drop your hand, curling your fingers in and out as you try to make sense of what’s happening.

You stare down at yourself, your chest rising and falling quickly.

When did you start breathing again?

And when did you start breathing this rapidly?

You glance around, feeling trapped because you’re sure this room is closing in on you. Everything is beginning to feel close and suffocating, like the walls are inching closer and closer, caging you in so you can suffer. Harsh, heavy breaths are pushing past your lips now. Panicked eyes going everywhere but Jungkook. Your throat…it’s closing in on you. Just like your walls. Your throat is growing smaller and smaller, your hands quickly flying to your neck and chest, as you touch yourself desperately.

“y/n.” Jungkook is in front of you again, his eyes totally focused on you and his worried eyes grow antsier. “Hey, what is happening?” His voice sounds rushed, panicked even. “Talk to me.”

You can’t talk though. You can’t swallow your own spit. You can’t even breathe.

“y/n.” Jungkook reaches for you again, both his hands on your arms but you flinch immediately, your blown out eyes landing on him when you shove him off.

“Don’t fucking touch me!” You scream out, voice shrill and uneven. “D-Don’t fucking touch me, Jungkook.” You take several wobbly steps back, your breaths still rough and rapid.

Jungkook’s hands hang in the air, holding nothing but the ghost of your body he once knew.

His eyes are boring into the empty space and you see how utterly hurt he looks.

But you don’t have it in yourself to feel compassion for his confusion. Because right now, you only see Nabi’s face in your mind, along with Jungkook’s right next to her.

You wish you could control how your mind and body are feeling right now because if it were up to you, you would be calm and confronting Jungkook with ease because you are supposed to trust him. But you can’t control your anxiety, your panic or your dread.

Slowly lowering his arms, Jungkook tries to find your eyes with his and you notice the fear plaguing them. “y/n…” He tries your name, the word falling soft and cautious from his lips. “What’s going on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, tingly lips and fingers making you feel even more strange as quick breaths force their way out of you. You need to relax. Fucking relax. You need to get it together so you can dismiss the images in your brain and fall into the arms of the man in front of you because you love him and you trust him. That’s right. Get this conversation over with so you can move on. Because surely, your brain is wrong.

“Um,” You pry your eyes open but your vision is a bit blurry from unfallen tears. “Okay…” You take several deep breaths, trying your hardest so you’ll be able to speak.

“Take your time.” Jungkook says in a whisper. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

You will be okay. You hope.

“Jungkook.” Your chest still rises and falls with each deep breath. “I-I have to…” You pause, tongue darting out to lick your dry lips. “I…I ran into Nabi at the store.”

Your words aren’t rushed as you say them, in fact, everything feels slow. Even Jungkook’s eyes widening and the fear inside them only grow fiercer seems to happen slowly. Like, the world around you is in slow motion until suddenly it’s not. Jungkook’s eyes quickly shoot down to the wooden floors as you see his mind working in overdrive.

“I know who she is.” You find the courage to say, “I ran into her before…she s-seemed familiar. But today, I suddenly got mem—”

“—What did you see?” Jungkook quickly looks at you again, panic written all over his face. “You probably didn’t—”

“—Did you cheat on…did you ch…” You stop, the words too painful as they sit on your tongue like a knife slicing it apart. “J-Jungkook were you having an—”

“—No!” Jungkook suddenly walks closer to you, his hands desperate to reach for you but he doesn’t. Perhaps, he’s afraid you’ll slap them away again. “Fuck, y/n, I—”

You see his anxiety clear as day and somehow it only makes you feel worse. Your breaths grow slower and something close to despair throws its arms around you and holds you close. “Jungkook,” You don’t want to ask it. You don’t want the answer. “Were…were you with her when Haru was taken?”

Jungkook’s rolls his lips until they’re set in a firm line across his face, his eyes closing for a brief moment and you notice regret sticking to him.

“Were you?” You repeat.

He opens his eyes again and with a quiet voice, he finally responds. “Yes.”

You suck in a sharp breath, but you try to remain as calm as possible. “Okay.” You give a curt nod, “And…have you gone to motels with her?”

He glances up briefly, jaw clenching, “Yes.”

A stab to your chest, “Okay. B-Before Haru was taken…were…” Your throat burns like acid sticks to the walls, “Were we having problems in our m-marriage?”

Jungkook’s expression twists, scrunching in panic, perhaps. “Yes.” He admits with a shaky voice.

You give a small nod before asking the question that makes or breaks this. “Were you seeing her because of a case?”

Jungkook immediately looks at you, wide, panicked eyes and you see how they fill with tears. His mouth drops open but only a shallow breath comes out. You wait for his answer. Need his answer. He quickly shuts his mouth, head turning to the side as you see him struggle to even look at you now, “No.” He finally says, the word pushed out as if he was in agony. And maybe he is.

He said no.

And just like that, you have your answer. Just like the past, he offers nothing more to ease your mind. No proof that there isn’t an affair happening. You stare at him. Lips parted and eyes blinking slowly.

Your breaths are calm. But you feel weak. Like his simple answer drained every bit of life out of your body. You almost wish you could scream, cry or even through something from the rage that must be inside you.

But it feels like there is nothing inside you.

This betrayal only has you feeling empty.

“You…” Your voice cracks, thick tears bubbling over and falling from your eyes. “You were…”

“y/n.” Jungkook finally looks at you again and he sounds terrified. “Please, please, I am begging you, to please trust—”

“—Trust you? Fine.” You cry out, “Tell me exactly what was going on then. Tell—Tell me everything!” You take a step forward, your voice clearly begging. “Explain the fuck-fucking situation, Jungkook. So I can fucking believe you.”

Jungkook stares at you, confliction in his eyes like how you’ve gotten used to.

“You can’t, right?” You scoff, tears wetting your warm cheeks. “You couldn’t then either. Y-You just can’t fucking tell me the truth, right?”

Jungkook finally breaks. His lips twisting, eyes shutting in frustration and you see his own tears. “y/n please…” He begs too, his hands going to his face, rubbing his tired eyes. “Fuck, please…you need to just….y/n…please just,” He chokes on his words, a quiet sob in his throat. “I can’t d-do this again, please…I can’t do this y/n.” He cries into his hands. “I fucking can’t. I can’t. Fuck fucking everything.”

You watch as he cries for himself. Feeling bad for himself. Pity for himself. Instead of being honest with you, he does this.

“Please trust me. Don’t trust what you’re see—”

“—You’re asking me to trust you but not myself?” You ask in almost disbelief. You might not remember everything but it seems your feelings from that time are still so alive inside you. And that’s what you’re going to trust. “You want me to believe you but not believe prior accident me? That d-doesn’t sit right with me.” You tell him.

“y/n…” He wipes at his eyes and his nose before trying to look at you, eyes afraid and pathetic, “Please don’t do this again…I can’t do this without you again,” He shakes his head, bottom lip quivering. “Please, my love.”

You take a step back, feeling overwhelmed. “D-Don’t call me that.”

It feels strange to be called that by him. Strange yet familiar. And you thought the oddness that accompanied the term of endearment is because you just aren’t used to it yet. But really it’s because he isn’t supposed to be calling you that. Not anymore.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, not an ounce of pain felt. “You know,” You cry out in a whisper, “I don’t remember everything. But,” You try to speak through your tears. “But this heartache feels all too familiar. You need to leave…”

And somehow the despair in Jungkook’s eyes and the terror and look of defeat on his face also feel all too familiar.

Because you have both been through this before already.

~~~

It’s been a week since running into Nabi and confronting Jungkook. A week since you’ve cried. A week since you’ve felt anything rumbling inside your body. A week since you’ve left your house. A week since you’ve ate a proper meal. A week since you’ve felt anything beyond an empty despair.

Lying in bed at dawn, you lazily poke at Haru’s robot, the cold plastic on your fingertips. You poke it in the chest, over and over, soft yet determined.

“Do you have a heart in there?” You quietly ask it, somehow disappointed when it doesn’t answer you. “You…” You softly grip the toy, bringing it closer to your chest when you sigh out. “You don’t sleep either, right?”

And in the last week, the only one you’ve really talked to is this robot. Haru’s robot. You believe the comfort you feel from talking and holding this toy is because deep down you feel its familiarity with it being your sons. But also, you find yourself relating to this robot. Both empty, skin cold like plastic and neither of you having the ability to sleep. Only the option to ‘shut down’.

You glance towards the window, the sun rising again like it always does. And you wish it didn’t. You don’t want to see the sun, you don’t want to see any light. How could the world keep on going when for you, personally, it’s ended.

Your phone has been going off all week, your friends and parents expressing their concern for your quiet mood. Your parents don’t necessarily know what’s going on but Misuk and Subin have a better idea, considering Subin was there for the first half. You have asked for space and you’ve manage to let them know every night that you’re still here. Even when you kind of don’t want to be.

Jungkook hasn’t reached out even once.

You don’t want to talk to him but the fact that he’s quiet…it feels even more solidifying that he’s guilty.

And the fact your heart is broken beyond repair and it is so completely familiar to you…tells you he’s been guilty since then.

It hurts. It hurts more than you ever thought possible. Because even with missing memories, you feel how badly this hurts. Even though you don’t fully recall your actual relationship, you feel it. How real it was. How beautiful it was. How tragic it was.

You can feel the pain as if you actually never forgot it.

And that’s why you’re choosing to trust yourself.

You barely react when your phone goes off, eyes lazily sliding over to the device that lays abandoned on the other side of the bed. You debate checking it. But for whatever reason, you reach for it and see it’s only a text from Misuk asking if you’re free today.

You aren’t necessarily ready to face anyone quite yet but still, you tell her yes. You have received a few more memories that you’re piecing together like a jumbled up story and you’d like to talk about them.

“Are you…” Misuk eyes you over, pity all over her face as she leans back into the sofa, “You know, eating?”

“Sometimes.” You shrug, “I made an iced coffee today if that counts.”

“It doesn’t.” Misuk sighs out, “Why don’t I order us something? Subin should be here any second so I don’t want to ask her to pick something up when she’s this close by.”

“If you’re hungry, sure.” You shrug again. You keep your eyes lowered, fingers picking at your cuticles.

It’s only a few minutes later when Subin has joined you and Misuk on the couch. Her antsy hands running up and down her thighs as she waits for you to answer her question.

“So?” She softly urges you to respond.

“Yeah,” You reply quietly, eyes on your lap as you look completely detached from the conversation. “My memories were right, I guess.”

You hear Subin release a long breath before she curses, “Shit…”

You shrug, “I guess my miserable life before the accident continues, huh?” You chuckle bitterly, eyes losing focus on anything.

“At first you were.” Misuk whispers, “But lately you had gotten…I don’t know, maybe—”

“—Well, I’m actually probably more miserable than before. Because I have to rediscover everything and feel each little thing…one,” You start picking at your cuticles again, “By one.”

“y/n…” You can hear the pity in Subin’s voice.

“And this time, instead of feeling upset about my probably dead child, I can just feel guilty for not even remembering him. Mother of the year.” You rip back a piece of skin from the corner of your pinky, blood immediately pooling but you don’t care. You move to the next finger.

“y/n.” Misuk says your name in shock, “You don’t believe that for one second.”

You snap your head up, “Believe what?”

“That Haru is—”

“—I don’t even fucking know him.” You spit out. “And maybe it’s best that I never—”

“—You don’t mean that!” Subin cuts in, a soft disappointment in her voice. “I know this is hard and…” She stops talking when you narrow your eyes at her.

“You know how hard this is? Oh, do you?” Your lips turn up at the corner before you nod your head, “This happened to you before? You know what I’m going through?”

“Hey,” Misuk’s voice is scolding, “You know what Subin means.”

“Do I?” You scoff. “Let’s be honest guys,” You look between the two of them. “Do either of you even know me anymore? Do I even know you anymore? You said it yourself,” You look back down to your hands, “We barely speak anymore.”

“We barely speak because of you.” Misuk points out coldly, “You shut us out. And you’re trying to do it again! Like, wow here we go again.”

Your brow arches, almost looking amused. “Again?” You spit the word out. “Well, sorry Misuk, sorry that things fucking suck and I’m not here smiling for you. Again. I barely recall the first time this all happened and you’re mad I’m fucking reacting. Mad that I’m mad. I’m sad. I’m fucking heartbroken!” You cry out the last line. “I love you but maybe let’s not act like a bitch when neither of you know what the fuck I’m going through, hm?” You raise your brows at her with icy eyes.

Misuk’s brows furrow but you see something flash across her face. It’s not anger. You don’t even think she’s offended. Instead you see understanding. She slowly nods her head, glancing at Subin before she clears her throat. “Okay, I’m sorry.” She says quietly, “You’re right…you’re totally right and I’m sorry. I guess…” She pauses.

“We just miss you, y/n.” Subin continues for Misuk, “We’re afraid to lose you again. That’s all. But you’re right, you shouldn’t have to act like everything is okay when it’s not.”

Misuk nods, eyes searching for yours, “And it’s not.” She says softly, “I really am sorry.”

You continue to stare down at your lap, lips pressed into one another.

“If you’re able…why don’t you tell us what you do remember?” Misuk tries to get you to open up again instead of shutting down. You know this. You want to answer…it’s why you let them come over in the first place.

You nod, eyes still lowered. “Okay.”

Subin reaches over and gives your shoulder a squeeze, “Whatever feels manageable. Don’t push yourself too much.”

Finally lifting your eyes towards your friends, you decide to fill them in. “I’ve been remembering a few things.” You admit. “Not actual memories? I don’t know how to explain it. Not…you know, movie scenes in my head but I remember certain things because it’s like…I just know. Does…does that make sense? No, it probably doesn’t, right?”

“Like you’re remembering facts rather than images?” Misuk asks and you immediately nod your head quickly.

“Yes!” You say with a bit of enthusiasm. “That’s exactly it. So, basically…just things I know about our—Jungkook and I’s—marriage.”

“Oh.” Subin’s eyes are eager to know more.

“Misuk was right. It was rocky.”

“I knew it.” Misuk curses, “You never really outright said it but…I kind of figured. You never were the type to admit something like that since you’re the type to solve things by yourself.”

“I guess I didn’t really solve anything.” You feel your body grow heavier. “I asked Jungkook if things were rough before and he admitted that it was. Since then, it’s like little facts are showing up in my brain out of nowhere…like his admission unlocked some part of my memories or something…”

“Were you two just fighting a lot?” Subin asks.

You try to think about it. It’s not like you remember a specific argument but you know the answer is yes. “Yeah.”

“But you think he was having an affair with…” Misuk glances at Subin, “What was her name again?”

“Nabi.” You say. “But our problems were starting before that, I think. I know we were fighting all the time. I just know. I also know he was keeping things from me. He was barely home anymore and I felt…” You chew on your lips, unsure of what exactly it was since you don’t know everything. But one word keeps popping up in your mind. “Unfulfilled.” You say, the word somehow resonating with you like you’ve said it before.

“Yeah.” Misuk agrees quietly, “You mentioned something like that in the past…way before Haru’s kidnapping.”

“Misuk,” You suddenly find her eyes, “Why did I lead you to believe Jungkook was wronging me somehow?”

“You mentioned someone else.” She tells you, “But you didn’t give me any detail. But you were so…sureabout something and I believed you. Your expression.” Misuk frowns, “I knew something serious must have had occurred because I had never seen you like that.”

You glance back down at your lap, your focus on your hands again. “I see.” Then you lift your eyes again, “I remember that at that time I was suspicious of Jungkook. Of the affair. I know I dug deeper and found things that I wish I never had…” You recall the memories that hit you at the market. “Eventually I confronted him and just like now, he was unable to give me an explanation. And I was right.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Misuk huffs out, eyes going to the ceiling. “That’s terr—”

“—And he was with her. When Haru was taken. I don’t know how I know, but he was supposed to be picking Haru up from daycare. I don’t know why I wasn’t able to but I know that it was something I needed from him…something for him to do to make me feel like he was a part of this family. But he failed.” Your words grow quieter with each syllable. “And I know that for the first time in my life,” You stare at nothing, eyes growing watery. “That I hated someone. With my entire being.”

It's quiet. Neither of your friends having the courage to say anything to your words.

You try to clear your throat and blink back any tears in your eyes before looking at them again, “But still, so much doesn’t make sense and there’s so much still missing.” You feel your heart grow weaker as you chuckle humorlessly, “And Jungkook hasn’t tried to reach out to me even once…which just feels like more proof.”

“I can’t imagine Jungkook even looking at someone who isn’t you…” Subin whispers, “He…well, I guess we don’t ever really know what goes on. I find it hard to hate him but seeing what he’s done to—"

“—I know I truly hated him then.” You cut her off with a shaky voice. “And I think I hate him now, too. But,” You search both of your friends eyes with desperation so depressing, “If I hate him this much it’s because I also,” You choke, “Love him this much too, right?” You ask the question so innocently and delicately as your voice cracks.

You let yourself feel your own question and for the first time since a week ago—you cry. You let tears fall and you let your body break. “Because—Because I do. I love him so much that its hurting me. I…I can’t even b-breathe because I love him. I can’t—can’t sleep because I love him.” You shoulders shake as you sob loudly. Almost like a child. “I can’t remember my own child be—because I love him.” You slam your eyes shut, mouth hung open as you choke on your sobs. “My brain c-can’t show my memories because I love him. He’s—he’s the only thing my b-brain wants to think about.”

At a loss for words, Misuk and Subin feel their hearts breaking in their chests. This is more devastating than the first time. They realize, you were right, this is more miserable.

~~~

It’s been three weeks since Jungkook has seen you. Since he’s seen you, his light. The only thing in this entire world that could possibly make him feel alive. The only thing in the entire universe that could make his heart beat again. You’re the only one keeping him from going insane or ending his own life. He had always held onto the hope that one day this will be behind you guys.

And then he can touch you again, hold you again, openly love you again.

But mostly, for you to love him again.

His apartment is how it always is, TV blaring with the news on. The blueish light illuminates his entire living room and lately it has been his only source of light. You, his true source, no longer rising in his sky.

It’s around four in the afternoon when Jungkook’s phone starts going off, the vibrating making his coffee table buzz. He rubs his eyes with a fist before setting his nearly empty beer bottle down to the table and reaching for the device.

Jimin.

Jungkook rolls his eyes before answering, “I told you to leave me alone.” He slurs into the phone.

“Are you fucking drunk again?” Jimin doesn’t hide his disapproval. “Going to pull this shit again, Jungkook?”

“Fuck off, Jimin.” Jungkook brings the phone away from his face and ends the call.

Not even ten seconds pass before his phone is buzzing again in his hands. He groans loudly as he answers it again, “What the fuck do you—”

“—Just fucking listen, you moron.” Jimin cuts in, “I’m already risking everything by being in contact with you. And now you’re back to your old ways.” He scoffs, “If you fuck this up, I swear I’ll come to your shit apartment and kick your ass myself.”

Jungkook drunkenly chuckles into the phone, “You don’t have to help—”

“—Help you?” Jimin scoffs again, “I’m not doing this for you and you know it.”

“Whatever,” Jungkook grumbles while reaching for his beer again and taking a swig, “What do you want?”

“Lee Jaesung.” Jimin says.

Immediately Jungkook leans forward on his couch, something more serious falling over his face before he asks, “What about him?”

“Well, he was the only thing getting us closer to this shit.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook sets the beer down again, “Does he have new information?”

“He’s dead.” Jimin informs with a bite to his tone, “Guy was found in his apartment. Apparent suicide.”

Jungkook grits his teeth, “Fucking bullshit.”

“I know.” Jimin sighs, “You’ve been MIA and I need you to get your shit together if we’re going to—”

“—Count me out.” Jungkook slurs into the phone, “I’m done.”

Jimin is quiet for a moment before he’s chuckling into the phone, “You’re really back to this, huh? You’re sad, Jungkook. I told you years ago you were going to ruin your marriage. Didn’t I?”

Jungkook grips the edge of the couch cushion, eyes growing darker as he watches the bright TV screen. “Shut up.” He seethes, “Don’t bring up—”

“—You ruined your entire life you fucking drunk.” Jimin spits at him, “Fix your shit then call me.”

Jungkook keeps the phone to his ear despite the fact that Jimin has hung up. It slides down his cheek and eventually falls to the floor as he continues to stare at the bright screen of his TV. He is here again. And it’s not like he can’t not believe that he’s back to this because it never feels like he ever wasn’t like this. This is just who he is now. It’s the him that he knows. And when you woke up knowing the him he used to know…it almost felt like he could be that person again.

Having to tell you about Haru again…heartbreaking.

But having to see you experience that same betrayal and heartache…pure utter torture.

Jungkook drunkenly reaches for the TV remote and shuts it off, the room going completely dark. His closed blinds and heavy drapes block out the sun that isn’t you. He is in darkness because in his life there is no light.

Because you aren’t here anymore.

“Yes, well, believe it or not…” You sigh into your phone, small smile on your lips. “I’m actually getting out of the house today.”

“To eat a real meal?” Misuk asks knowingly.

“Kind of?” You laugh. “I’m in the mood for coffee but like, not from my coffee pot.”

Misuk tsks, “Fine. But at least buy a cookie or something too.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You tell her, “I found a cute café not too far away. Not a full menu place with servers like the one Subin likes—not that she even wants to go there anymore—but this place is like a little hole in the wall. Good reviews too.”

“I wish I could ditch work and join you.” She whines, “But I’ll have to stick to break room coffee.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“Oh, it is.” She laughs, “But okay. I hope you enjoy the café.”

“Me too,” At this point you hope you enjoy anything.

But the world is still dark.

And you’re hoping a nice outing with a good caffeinated drink could offer a little shining light in this complete darkness that consumes you. Even if it’s temporary.

“I’ll talk to you later, Misuk.” You say before you’re both hanging up.

You look ahead, eyes on the building in front of you. You didn’t tell Misuk you’re actually already here but too afraid to get out of your car and walk inside. You aren’t sure why you’re afraid. Maybe it’s because it’s your first real outing since memories started coming to you. Maybe you’re afraid the more places and people you see, it will trigger more to unlock.

And you’re afraid of more truths that you wish would stay hidden would reveal themselves.

It’s hard but you finally manage to get out of your car and force your legs to take you inside. But the moment you step inside and you’re greeted with the smell of coffee and baked good, you immediately relax.

It’s not a busy place at all. It’s small maybe the size of your living room and kitchen combined. Just a long counter with cookies, cakes and breads that smell delicious and an artsy menu board hanging on the back wall with a long list of drinks. And along one of the walls and all the windows is small, round tables with chairs.

You take a breath before walking to the counter and a girl with bright eyes greets you with a heartwarming grin. When you tell her you’ve never been, she happily gestures to the menu and begins telling you all her favorite drinks. And she claims you must try their chocolate cookies.

“Hm,” You weigh all your options, feeling tempted by the lavender tea she mentioned. “Okay yeah, I’ll get that.”

“And a cookie too?” She smiles.

You can’t help but chuckle, it’s as if Misuk told this girl to ask you that. “Sure, a cookie too.”

“Okay!”

After you pay, the girl motions towards a wall with a bookshelf, “Feel free to browse. I’ll have you order up soon and I’ll call for you.”

“Thanks.” You smile.

You decide to take her up on it, eyes browsing this bookshelf while your fingers brush against the spines. There’s some books you recognize and a ton that you don’t. You can tell which books are popular and which aren’t—the dust giving it away.

After several minutes of looking over book titles, the girl calls you over since your drink and cookie are ready. You excitedly go to the counter, hands reaching for the items and your nose is being blessed. You can tell this cookie is about to change your world.

“Thanks!” You say before excitedly and quickly turning around to find a table when you literally run into someone. This needs to stop happening to you. It wouldn’t be such a big deal if—

“Ah, Hot! Hot!” An unexpected voice yelps, “Hooooooooly shit, that’s hot!”

“Oh my god, I am so sorry.” You stare at a broad chest, a button up shirt completely soaked as you begin to panic. “Are you—Are you okay?”

The man in front of you starts airing his shirt out, trying his best for the hot liquid to not burn his chest, you’re sure. “Ooooooh,” He whistles out, “That hurts.”

“Oh my god…I’m…I am so so—”

“—No worries,” He starts laughing, still airing the shirt. “It kind of feels like that first moment when you get under a hot shower.”

You stare at his chest, completely panicked…he’s not going to press charges, right? Is that a thing? You could have seriously burned him! “Are you okay? Seriously—” You finally rip your eyes from his shirt to get a look at him.

“Seriously,” He laughs more, “I’m okay.”

You gaze at him, his smile is spread across his face while he looks down at his shirt now.

“Good thing I keep extra shirts at work.” He says before glancing back up and locking eyes with you. “No harm here.”

You feel guilt sink it. “Oh my god, I hope I didn’t ruin your shirt…will it stain?”

“You’re worried about this shirt?” He laughs loudly while his eyes crinkle cutely. “Wow, my mom would be so happy that at least someone cares about this thing. It was a Christmas present…and I’m pretty sure it was actually meant for my brother.”

You can’t help but snort, “Oh.”

“Literally only wearing it because I’m hoping something will happen to it and I can finally have a reason to throw it away.” He smiles, “And finally,” He looks up at the ceiling and pumps the air with his fists, “I can get rid of it!”

You watch him, unsure if he’s serious or just trying to make you feel better. But either way…it does make you feel better.

“Is it still hot?” You find yourself asking, eyes back on his wet chest.

“Nah,” He waves you off with a goofy grin, “Now it’s sort of just sticking to me uncomfortably and it’s cold now.”

“Oh.” You suddenly feel bad again.

“Which is great because the sun is unforgiving today, don’t you think? So hot.” He begins fanning himself, grin still on his face before he glances down to the package in one of your hands. “Is that a chocolate chip cookie? Those are the best here!”

You look down, “Oh…oh yeah. Um, it is.”

“You should probably eat it, maybe you’ll finally smile. They’re that good.” He winks at you, “Or if you drowning in guilt over here, you could always let me have a piece too and we can call this whole,” He motions between you both, “thing even.”

You stare at him for a moment, completely taken aback by his energy. He’s still smiling and it feels infectious, like you want to smile too.

And you do.

Though it is small and timid. You do.

In all this overwhelming darkness that has wrapped its arms around you, suffocating you in an unwanted embrace…all you really need right now in your life is some sort of light getting shed so you can finally see something besides your own despair.

You just need some light.

And little do you know that a bright, bright light is coming into your life.

And that light has a name.

And he goes by Kim Seokjin.

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