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#not over that one either because i never let myself process that or truly grieve her because i had to shut that up real tight

stayandot8 · 1 year

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Stay With Me

Genre: comfort-fluff, Depression-Chris

Relationship type: established boyfriend/girlfriend

Important Contents: Chris has depression-like symptoms

A/N: What I would do right now in this current climate of Depression Christopher. It is breaking me inside to watch him like this but this drabble healed a little part it. I hope it can do the same for you. I love you Chris. Take your time. ❤️‍

WC: 1.8k

Part Two l masterlist

His passing seemed to hit him hard. He withdrew from just about everything. He didn’t answer my texts for a few days until I finally went over there and barged into his room. I had heard Chris talk about him a couple times, never anything too in-detail but it was evident that there was affection there. The fans on social media were worried, rightly so. They were conflicted on what seemed to be the new comeback and his strikingly different demeanor in every live he was involved in.

The other members were busy with God knew what. I wasn’t expecting them to know what to do either, they had their own grieving to do anyways. Some of them buried themselves in their work, others made plans to do exciting things. I didn’t resent them for it, not when they had a busy schedule coming up.

“Chris?” I knocked on his door, the hallway behind me dark, showing that no one was home. I listened for any kind of noise coming from his bedroom. There was none. I checked my phone for any response to my earlier messages. None. I thought he might not be home but Changbin said he was in his room when he let me into the building on his way to the gym. I decided to brace myself and let myself in anyway, slowly opening the door.

Chris was sitting on his bed, feet out in front of him, staring at the wall. His eyes weren't really focused on seeing anything and he was hugging his pillow. His laptop was open beside him, still dimly lit and his black headphones discarded near it. His hoodie was pulled up onto his head, covering his (what I highly suspected to be) unwashed curls. No empty dishes anywhere, no faint glow from the TV, nothing. I wouldn’t have known he was there unless he was there in front of me.

“Chris?” I said softly, gently trying to break him of his stupor. “Baby?” I lowered myself onto the bed beside his feet. He lifted his eyes to look at me, mildly surprised.

“Oh hey. I didn’t hear you come in.” His voice… Hoarse. Like he hadn’t used it in days. The bags under his eyes were the biggest indication that his insomnia had only gotten worse. I couldn’t look at him for too long without hearing my heart break in my chest. His face even looked thinner. So I stood to clear his laptop from harm’s way, placing it back on his desk, so I could sit beside him. He didn’t speak. He barely looked over at me.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re okay because I know the answer. I’m just going to sit here with you. I seem to remember you telling some fans of yours that no one should go through pain alone. And since you don’t have a Chan to turn to, I’m stepping in. You don’t have to talk. You don’t have to do anything at all.” I nudged his foot with mine. “But if I can convince you to shower, I can promise that I will join if you want. You won’t even have to bathe yourself.” I tentatively checked his features, just to see if he caught my joke. He did, the corners of his mouth twitched and he blinked slowly to process what I had said. After a longer pause, I softly nudged his shoulder with mine. “Whaddya say?” I brought my chin to rest on his shoulder, trying to keep my eyes on his face. “Because I love you. But you smell like Changbin’s gym socks after a workout.” I got a silent chuckle from that one. He nodded lightly, moving off the bed and heading to the bathroom. I stayed in my place, not knowing if he truly wanted me in there or if had simply convinced him to do it. I sighed as he disappeared and closed the door behind him, silently admitting that I wanted to bathe him. I looked around the room for something to clean, noticing the pile of clothes in his basket. I scooted to the edge of the bed, ready to start a load of laundry to get him some clean clothes when the bathroom door opened again.

Chris popped his head out of the door, sans hoodie, and looked for me with his eyes wide. “I’m not bathing myself.” A ghost of a smile. My Chan was still in there somewhere, buried by his own grief. I chuckled enough for the both of us, dropping the shirt in my hands and closing the bathroom door behind me.

Freshly changed and no longer smelling like lingering sweat, Chris’s head lay on his pillow as he watched the video I had put on the TV. It was some dumb reality show compilation, something so out of his normal stream of consciousness that he wouldn’t really pay attention to what was happening around him. His brows were scrunched with his frown.

“But why would she pick him to send home when he voted for her in the last round? That makes no sense.” I pushed my legs one at a time through the pants he had lent me for the night. I rolled my eyes at him. Of course he would get invested in a show meant to take his mind from everything, even just for a little bit.

“I believe it was because she had a bigger target to take out that round. I don’t remember exactly what happened before this but I know that the next episode was her last. They voted her out.”

“What?!” He looked at me incredulously, like I had just spoiled something for him. I had to laugh at the contrast of his emotions over the past half hour.

“We can watch the full season tomorrow. I promise.” He nodded, my answer satisfactory. He turned off the television and placed the remote on his bedside table. He turned to face me, laying beside him so we were indeed face to face. His eyes were drooping, looking like it was taking all of his strength to keep them open. He kept them on me, bouncing from my eyes to my mouth back up to my nose up to my forehead. He kept this routine until I had to break the silence.

“What is it, Chris?” His eyes stopped at mine, searching them for something it seemed.

“You look like you want to say something.”

“Get out of my head.” I smiled at him sadly.. He was quiet while I weighed my words, debating whether to say them at all.

“Go ahead. Say it.” He took a deep breath, showing me he was ready. I scoured the brown orbs looking back at me for that glimmer he always had. It wasn’t there. That’s when it all came tumbling out.

“I feel helpless. As a friend who knows you, I know that you need space to figure out your grief. I want to grant you that because you deserve it. It’s your given right. As someone who loves you, I’m worried. You worry me constantly but this time is different. I know it hasn’t been that long and you still need time but I can’t help but worry for you. I see what you send to fans. I see what they say. They see you wasting away and they’re worried too. And as someone who wants to spend the rest of her life with you, it's my job to make sure you’re doing everything you can to survive while you grieve. You’re not eating, you’re being distant with the kids and they see it too. They just don’t know what to do. Lean on them, Chris. Lean on me. It doesn't make you weak or small. It makes you human.”

That familiar pinch behind my eyes had me closing them, trying to force them back into the tear ducts they were trying to escape from. I was relying on the darkness of the room, the only light coming from the window and the moon poking through. I didn’t want him to see me cry, not now. Not when he had probably been crying his tear ducts dry for the past couple days. I didn’t want him to feel the need to comfort me when I was there to do this for him. That was just who he was. He would focus on other people all day until he gave out. This insanely unselfish being in front of me needed to be convinced that he was worth taking care of. And that job fell to me.

“Because I need you here.” I said through my tears. The ones that had forced their way out, at least. “I need you here. It’s selfish and insane but I need you here to be everything that I can’t be for myself. I can’t do this life without you. Please don’t make me live this life without you. I will be whatever and whoever you want or need, just don’t leave me here alone. I am using all of my selfishness here. Right now. To ask you to stay here with me. Give me all your pain. Give me every bad thought you have. I want to take it all away from you. Give me everything. I won’t run, I won’t ask you to stop. It’s not too much. Everything will never be too much.” My eyes were burning from staring at him, willing to see the sincerity and imploring him to believe me.

He simply blinked at me. A slow hand reached from his side to wipe the droplets from my cheeks. At least, the ones he could catch.

“All this to say that I love you. And there is nothing I wouldn’t do, nothing you could say, nothing could stand in the way of me being right here. With you. You have always been there for everyone else. Let us, let me, be here for you.”

He took a shaky breath.

“I could never leave you behind.” He whispered.

He took my hands in his and brought them to his lips. Then he tucked them under his chin and closed his eyes. I watched as his breathing slowed and his snores grew from mumbles to loud inhales. His features looked troubled, but at least he was sleeping, his grip tight on our joined hands. I tried to untangle them without stirring him. I was unsuccessful. He stopped his snoring, taking a deep inhale and squirming back into a comfortable position and taking our hands with him. I heard him mumble to himself, so quiet I would’ve missed it had it not been silent in the room.

“Stay with me.”

Always.

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apparitionsxanonymous · 2 months

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Decoration (Part One)

Apparition Anonymous is a collection of fictional stories told from the POV of the Grim Reaper as they guide newly departed souls to the Afterlife. Enjoy, and thank you for reading.

“Fascinating.”

I watched the soul pace the room, looking around. Although there was nothing to see. The room was black, with a window staring out into the void. It was meant to look as cozy as possible for the newly departed spirits. Not that I felt it did its job. The most real things in the room were myself and the other soul.

Even the table was an illusion. I created the beverages to the best of my abilities because the new souls could still taste somewhat.

“Really fascinating.”

The only decor in the room was the giant clock hanging on the wall above the doorway that the spirits enter and exit from. Of course, it wasn’t actually meant for decoration. It had a purpose. However, it did light the room up a bit, which was nice for some spirits.

“This is truly fascinating.”

I narrowed my eyes at the spirit wandering the room with her teacup in her hand. There was nothing to see. I didn’t know what she was doing. And could she think of no other word to describe the place? Was she broken?

Maybe she was trying to stay on my good side, thinking I’d send her back to the Living World? Was this all a sham to butter me up? But then she looked over her shoulder at me, smiling. “I never would have imagined this place.”

Lots of people imagined black voids. That’s what many people saw in their minds when they were meant to picture other things. Not everyone remembers their dreams, either, so they sleep within a black pit in their mind.

“Really?” I replied, attempting to sound fascinated.

Oh, great, now I was using her word.

“The clock is certainly a pleasant touch, but is it possible to get more light here?” She asked.

I shook my head. I wasn’t in charge of that. I was supposed to help the new souls cross over into the Spirit World.

“I think maybe some curtains on the window would help tie this room together a bit more. Maybe a couch over there?”

I furrowed my brows. I couldn’t get a good read on this soul. Was she genuinely trying to redecorate this place, interested in being here? Or, again, was she trying to get on my good side?

She sipped her tea before holding the cup up to me. “This is really good, too.”

“Thank you,” I replied, still confused. Maybe it would hit her in a minute about where she was and that she was dead.

“I’m assuming this is where the bad people go?” she asked.

Ah, now I see. She thought she was in some sort of hell and thought redecorating would make everything better.

“No, there is no place where specifically the bad people go or specifically where the good people go. We all go to the same place. This is the Spirit World for all departed souls,” I stated.

She hummed to herself, taking another sip of tea. She paced again, her gaze dancing all over the darkness of this room.

I didn’t know how I felt about her getting up and wandering around. I have never had a soul do that before. They were always too confused or upset to drink their beverage and talk, let alone explore the room. I didn’t know if she was grieving, and this was part of the process for her. She was aware she was dead, and yet I got the feeling that she thought this was a dream. It was almost as though she assumed she’d wake up and be alive again.

“But can I do anything I want in this room, at least?” she asked.

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “This is a meeting room for myself and any souls who need to talk things out.”

“Oh,” she replied, sounding relieved. She finally moseyed back over to the table, sitting down across from me. She took another sip of her tea before holding onto the mug with both hands tightly. “I thought this was going to be my bedroom.”

I chuckled. Now everything made more sense. I didn’t blame her for wanting to redecorate.

“Do I have a bedroom here?”

I shook my head again. “You don’t need a bedroom. There’s no need to sleep. You won’t even need to eat soon. This place is for you and all the other departed to souls and wander as you want.”

“Oh.”

Clearly, that wasn’t a good enough answer for her.

“You can meet other spirits and be friends with them,” I explained further, trying to sound enticing. “But honestly, many spirits return to the Living World to be with their loved ones.”

“I can do that?”

“You can.”

“So, it’s like a second chance?”

I hesitated. “For what?”

“Life.”

“No.”

She frowned, confused.

“You don’t go back to the Living World to live,” I clarified. “You can go back and forth between the Spirit World and the Living World because you now have access to do so because you’re dead. You’ll be in the Living World as a spirit. No one will hear you or see you. But you can drop subtle hints to let your loved ones know that you’re around and that you’re watching over them.”

Her eyebrows arched up as if something I said suddenly intrigued her.

“So,” she said, “I can be a ghost?”

“Yes,” I replied. She technically already was a ghost, but I figured I’d keep my mouth shut about that one.

She grinned. “Well, that’s pretty cool!”

I pressed my lips into a smile. Most souls reacted in one of two ways when being reminded that they’re dead and that they’re a ghost: excited or freaked out; there was no in between.

Both emotions were difficult to deal with because the ones who freaked out always tried to bargain with me. The thought of being a ghost scared them.

On the other hand, the excited ones…

“Will I be able to walk through walls and stuff?”

I nodded.

She fist-pumped the air, a wide grin across her face.

Yeah, the excited ones immediately planned what they wanted to accomplish as ghosts. They thought about all the things they’d be able to do now that they weren’t able to when they were alive.

It was a silver lining for some but a curse to others.

Thanks for reading. Apparitions Anonymous is updated every Monday and Friday. If you enjoy my work and want to stay updated with my writing journey, please visit my Ko-fi page.

#creative writing #paranormal fiction #short story #writeblr #writers on tumblr

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anonymousexywoman · 5 months

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the first real breakup of a girl who doesn't know how to feel correctly

November 24th, 2023

11:32 PM

There will always be someone in my life who's better than me at everything I try to do. I always say please, but never thank you. And because of that, nothing is ever going to work out for me, never had and never will. Anything I get excited about is doomed in my life's nature to fail. I honestly just need to accept that it's going to feel like this for me forever. I was starting to truly convince myself that maybe you didn't like her anymore but God forbids that someone like me would have the chance of being someone's first choice. To be appreciated, to be cared for, to be loved. What powerful yet fleeting experiences. It doesn't matter for me, because I'm not the kind of person people love. You haven't done anything wrong besides getting involved with me in the first place.

November 25th

2:07 AM

Walk me home, kiss my cheek, then walk away watching me crumble to the ground in sobs. A car that isn't yours drives me away and I'll never see that movie-like scene again. Please don't make me sleep alone.

I don't want to get over it. I don't want to move on. I always have to, and everyone tells me to. I just want to be happy for once. I really thought it would work out this time. If I can't have anything else, just this once, let me have this, and I promise to be happy with that. Please.

12:58 PM

I will replace the time we would have spent together with films that are what we could have been. No matter if you're here or not, as long as I know you, I'll be wasting my time. I wish I never met you at all.

November 26th

1:59 PM

The first snow is falling, and once again I am alone for another winter.

November 29th

1:11 AM

Why do I care so much? I shouldn't be mentally and physically begging for a man to respect me. I'm an angel, he can't have me. When he chases, then maybe I'll take him. For now, I can be anyone's girl, I'm anyone's if I choose to be. I'm not gonna love someone unless they'll make the effort to love me. I refuse to allow you to do that. I don't really know why, but I just don't care anymore.

December 4th

2:44 PM

I understand how I'm feeling now. It feels unfair that I could feel something so strongly and have that emotion stripped from me as if it didn't matter at all.

11:23 PM

As I type this post, I feel more capable of verbalizing this strange emotion I'm feeling. It is almost like an exclusive disdain towards the unfortunately odd functions of my brain and how I cannot process emotions normally due to this. My reasoning for not caring seems logically valid enough, but I really think it is obscure how such intense, passionate, soul-crushing feelings can cease to exist overnight. As I reflect on how I felt before and am unable to resonate with these sentiments, I grieve the loss of a deep and pure love, even if it was only one sided. You told me to move on, and I moved on, but I will not forget those two months when I was 18 years old and fell in love for the first time. I won't, I won't, because if I don't have my love, I have nothing. I won't forget her and what she felt towards you, and I hope you don't either, as much as I'm sure you'd like to, and knowing that you probably will. I know how much you struggle to find something that will make you happy, and I'm sorry I couldn't be that for you.

#vent #breakup

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incarnateirony · 3 years

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Someone dropped this in my submission box instead of ask box, “So I’m trying to genuinely understand what you’re saying is you understand corporate execs at the CW had a hand in the ending of supernatural? I’m not judging not attacking I swear I’m just trying to make sense of it because I had no idea about any of this up till now because I had stayed out of online fandom because well for years it felt big but anyways am I getting this right?”

---

The CW has a hand in everything. Here’s how this generally works.

The authors have ~relative~ freedom on a show. That is to say, the execs really don’t sit there splitting the nuances of the storytelling the fandom is receiving. They generally don’t even identify major markers that any of us would know (see: not even recognizing what the Roadhouse is.) -- we all knew the original ending had TFW at the Roadhouse as framed and spoiled by 15.04 among other details, and the whole “heaven/mental bar” theme from DSOTM, Nihilism, and Last Call all amplified this as an inevitability--but when you ask about “hey, is there a bar in heaven?” and get a “no?” that tells you they don’t even understand *ancient* plot beats like the Roadhouse, much less the ramifications of what it’s supposed to entail. Oh look at that, the roadhouse was just in fucking heaven like we said, but you identified it as a “cabin” because of filming locations and your basic notes.

Corporate has very basic compliance demands. They expect X, Y, and Z. What X Y and Z are across different shows vary depending on their markets. As long as the authors operate within X Y and Z, the corporate face essentially works off of synopsis of pitches and ideas.

This is also why I’ve talked about queer writing history and people being careful what they call queerbait: you don’t know what their X Y and Z are. The WB for example does not really CARE about representation. I’ve blogged about this often. We’re dollar signs. If they can package a new product to market it explicitly as LGBTQ fare, then they’ll turn you into a revenue machine by feeding you that particular fodder. When it comes to legacy shows--which is funny, because when the suit went off in my DM about this, they used the exact same phrasing as me--they’re going to play it safe, especially if they don’t truly understand the returns from the demographics they’re observing.

The space between X Y and Z is where the authors have liberty to push and, the longer and harder they push, the louder the content is allowed to get.

Here! I’ll even quote them directly, somewhat truncated because they ranted for fucking PARAGRAPHS.

“In reference to the media landscape, on a corporate level we do not distinguish fandoms. [...] That said, legacy shows such at Arrow, Supernatural, and even Flash are relics and we never really endeavored to reinvent the wheel on a corporate level, we are more focused on shows that are newer and still in our pipeline to premiere. [...] As for social media like all businesses and brands the engagement itself is key, but the content of the engagement is mostly irrelevant, though every show does have certain keywords that are often used in conjunction with harsher interactions blacklisted.”

The funny part is, they thought they were preaching to me like this was new information, but those of you that have been around my blog will PROBABLY RECOGNIZE this is almost VERBATIM exactly what I have told everybody over the years. Enough I half-suspect some trolls out there will think i wrote it myself and made it up and lob that accusation around. But there’s about 50 people that watched this conversation as it unfolded.

If you guys get mad? You’re still giving them PR. If you engage the content? You’re giving them PR. If you guys get bitchy ENOUGH? They completely blacklist a certain kind of engagement. I have literally been telling you all of this for years.

They don’t care who you are or what you want, just if you’re watching and what they at-best roughly estimate your demographic as desiring. So for example, Supernatural reading as a largely non-urban white demographic in its viewership, especially with a heavier lean in red states than most shows on the network, they presume to cater to what they perceive that demographic wants, rather than individualizing the understanding of the content, because they do not distinguish the shows or fandoms. “Oh, heavier republican white non-urban demographic” is where their understanding ends at, which is why they’re going to be utterly mystified why even my trump-voting republican neighbor from rural Alabama looked at the end result and went “what the fuck?” -- they weren’t expecting a big gay confession, but they were expecting a different sort of final tone.

Of course they’re never going to take that on for themselves and go “wow, we’re giant blazing dumbasses that understand nothing about the show!” -- they’ll, for example, claim they don’t leave network notes, when they’re still the ones passing material along about demographics and expectations etc etc. Their notes are *basic*. They do not leave *extensive* notes. Because extensive notes require extensive understanding of the content.

So for example: Berens spent since S9 slowly gaying up our show. Since they do not pay attention to the fine details of the story contents (lol no bar in heaven lolololol just a cabin lololol), he never got a note to *stop*. But it was not within the original structure plans and didn’t technically fit the demographic notes. The show continued to get aggressively gayed up, and Berens never really signed a note like “hey, I’m gaying it the fuck up” so even fandom reporters were going “THERE’S NO INTENT THERE!!!!!” -- berens operated in his very basic X, Y, Z landmarks to expand content within a story the suits literally do not pay the fuck attention to.

Corporate’s understanding is basic: dudes stabbing monsters and brothers against the world. Play in that box and keep these demographic notes in mind. You’re good.

They’ll NEVER mention blacklisting issues directly beyond what they admitted in the above quote but I DO remind you I have ranted ON AND ON AND ON how much Destiel fandom shot themselves in the goddamn foot with a fucking bazooka with the Chad Kennedy incident years ago. Others like Emily handled it intelligently to inform the *authors*. No, the network will never tell you if they blacklisted Destiel, but I informed you pretty heavily years ago that odds are, yeah, they probably fucking blacklisted Destiel.

Add in paying attention to the things Berens himself liked (if you don’t believe, scroll to Nov 5 on his tl)

Like, listen. berens knows exactly what he did and did the best he could do in the situations that were set up for him. And, frankly, I had been talking about this season as a writer room rebellion all year--just like corporate DID leave them a note in S11 that they couldn’t kill god. But if they couldn’t kill him or cage him, they would find another way. In 17 we said goodbye to Meredith and, in a way, to a MAJOR portion of Dean’s substantial story. In 18, we said goodbye to Bobo, and frankly all the parts that grew into queer Castiel that came with it. 19 and 20 became residual notes of hitting expected plot beats on the head on a rhythm, tying off godforces, and then just sliding into the Dabb subversion of them having learned to grieve, let go, and process emotions-- just the surrounding delivery left the feeling of more ~wanting~ on that front which is understandable.

But these are the kind of things people don’t even ~think~ about. This is WHY I’ve turned myself into a bulletshield protecting Berens’ work for YEARS while people yelled about queerbait not understanding the years of process he used in his unbabysat space to make something unable to dodge.

More posts he liked:

This isn’t a solo story. At the same SDCC he leaned over to my friend and grinned, whispering, “I hope you like what I did this year.” -- he knew. He knew and he fought his ass off but there was an end of the line.

That end of the line having an extra note or two to drop in the finale--never a big gay confirmation, just a “everyone’s there together, assume what you want” --is its own thing. As it is, Jensen even remarked how much of his dialogue got cut in final draft out of 18, and if the brazil dubbing footage leak tells me anything, they got the raw version before it was cut. And before they ADR’ed Dean’s sniffling collapsed against the wall. They had everything right, beyond the fact that there was supposed to be more dialogue from Dean along the lines of, “You can’t go”, or “you can’t leave” (difficult to determine what a ESL person seeing an english draft then yelling in portuguese then translated back to english meant, specifically, but something in that ballpark -- just like “don’t do this” came as “no it’s not” through the translation pipeline), and other similar minor bartering about this. And we’re not even gonna get into Dean’s hilariously loudly ADRed sniffling on the wall. Here, Jensen, breathe IMMEDIATELY into this microphone.

But they’re never going to tell you this. Of course they’re not.

Summarily, corporate had half a year of having to re-manage scheduling everybody’s flights and planners during covid rewrites to stare directly into the huge gay abyss and fuck things up.

It’s all about the unmonitored space vs the monitored space. Of COURSE they’re never going to fucking tell you these things.

FRANKLY I am DYING to see the Portuguese dub of the show to see what the fuck they do with it, all things considered. I’m pretty sure the suit in my inbox that’s trying to vagueblog around things sideways now never accounted for the fact that there’s copies of the raw available in some parts of the world. I’m... pretty sure they thought they were my only leak source in fact.

Either way--it’s not that corporate micromanages and passes constant notes. It’s that they gloss over vague summaries and plans, drop a few base expectations and performance boxes. It’s up to the authors how to kick up dust inside those boxes.

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cacoetheswriting · 3 years

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champagne problems, ch.9

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Nine: illicit affairs: The direct aftermath of Spencer’s confession. A/N: chapter is titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: swearing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, talk of breakup/s, cheating, very angsty, a tiny tiny bit of fluff, this whole series is a real slow burn

series masterlist

A/N: thank you for the continuous love you are showing to this little story! i can’t put into words how much it means to me, truly!! thank you also to those who expressed whether they would prefer this chapter to be happy or painful, you all really inspired me!! ENJOY!

“P-please say something.” Spencer’s plea was barely a whisper.

Time stood still in that moment. His heart was now in his throat, his hands trembling against your soft skin. He could see the sadness in your eyes, the conflict. Hurting you was exactly the thing he wanted to avoid. And as he silently observed the uncertainty cloud your features, his soul ached.

“I-I.. Spencer, I…”

There was a period of time after your breakup where you imagined something like this happening perhaps a million times. Where you wished he’d tell you all of the things he just did. Like a wild dream. A happy dream where you would say you loved him too. He would wrap his large arms around your frame, and never let go again.

This felt nothing like that. This was more like a nightmare.

His voice was ringing in your ears, the confession replaying on loop. You didn't know what to say. You didn't know what to think. You felt betrayed by the man standing in front of you. Betrayed by the words he said.

Most importantly, you felt betrayed by your own feelings.

“Please leave.” You finally uttered, chin trembling.

The sentence came out croaky, broken even, but Spencer heard you. Pain rushed through him, burning his skin inside out. He twitched his nose in a failed attempt at trying to fight back his own tears.

He was prepared for this outcome, he knew it was a possibility. He knew there was a chance you would distance yourself from him. He knew you might get angry. After all, the kiss you shared two months ago didn't compare to what he just weighed off his chest. Especially if you didn't feel the same way.

In this moment however, as he held your face and looked deep into your eyes, his heart was in agony. He wasn't ready to let you go.

“Please leave.” You repeated a little more determined. Your hands quickly travelled to his in an effort to free yourself from his strong embrace.

“Y/N, don’t do this. W-we can talk this out.” Spencer begged, not wanting to let you slip away. “You’re the most important person in my life Y/N. I need you. I-I know that’s unfair. And I know it was unfair to tell you the truth about how I truly feel now, after all this time. I know that. I’m sorry. I am so sorry. Please-e don’t tell me to leave, please. I need y-you.”

“W-what, what about what I need?”

By now, the tears streaming down your face were resembling a waterfall. Everything was heavy, especially your heart. Conflicting emotions circling through you causing your head to spin. You felt like you were losing your mind. As if the room was getting smaller, and the walls were closing in.

“What about what I need, Spencer?!” You cried out, sadness slowly dissipating into anger. Your hands moved to his chest. You pushed him backwards, little by little, struggling to break free. “Get out! Get out! Get out.. Get out...” Your voice faded.

The brunette doctor let his arms fall. Completely defeated he took a step back, giving you space to breathe. Hastily, he wiped his tears away before proceeding to run his fingers through his hair.

An agonising silence filled the room. The two of you stared at one another, both afraid to speak up first. Afraid to somehow make this worse. Salty droplets continued to stream down your face as you tried to organise your thoughts, and your conflicting feelings.

There was no denying you loved Spencer too. You realised now more than ever that you always have. But you also loved Ethan, and you couldn't just walk away from a relationship you tried so hard to build. A relationship that to a certain extent helped you get over the very man standing in front of you.

Which is what hurt the most - Spencer’s impeccably terrible timing.

“W-why didn't you say anything sooner?” You sniffled. “I-I waited for you. After we broke up, before I met Ethan, I waited for you. I-I wanted you Spencer, and you never said anything. You never showed any inclination that you wanted me back. Why?”

The one-worded question lingered in the air. Heavy. Shattering.

Spencer sniffled quietly. A broken look was visible on his features; one to match yours. Tears slowly trailing down his jawline.

“B-because... Because....” He stuttered. Mind racing as he tried to collect his thoughts. Truthfully, Spencer didn't have an answer to that question. He didn't have a good enough reason. “I-I was afraid. I was afraid if I said something I would lose you all over again.”

“How much does it hurt knowing you lost me anyway?” It was the wrong thing to say. You regretted it the second it escaped your lips.

Heartbreak is a whole-body response. Similar to a grieving process, there are a number of stages. A number of reactions. It spreads through the nervous system, the respiratory system, and the endocrine system. It spreads until you’re unable to function.

Your words were ringing in Spencer’s ears. He felt nauseous. The room was spinning. Everything he feared was coming true.

Heartbreak doesn't just affect the heart and brain. It’s a lot more complicated than that.

“Y-you don't mean that.” He whispered, taking a hazy step towards you. “I-I know you don't mean that. Please, Y/N...”

The way he said your name made your heart ache even more. You didn’t want to cause him any pain, just like you knew his intentions weren’t malicious either. Yet, the two of you stood across from one another with nothing between you but hurt.

“I love you. And I-I understand if you don’t feel the same way, but please don’t tell me to go. Please don’t shut me out.” Spencer pleaded. His hands found yours, and he held them close to his chest. “I can’t imagine my life without you. I love you Y/N.” He repeated.

Sniffling, you swallowed your breath. The waterfall ended. Instead, it was replaced by lone wet droplets gradually trailing down your features.

“I love you too.” You expressed in a soft voice before meeting his wandering gaze.

Spencer blinked. His heart fluttered as he registered what you admitted.

“Y-you do?” He didn't think he’d be lucky enough to hear you say those three words again and mean it. Really mean it. Of course he hoped you would. After all, you said them earlier tonight. However, right now it was different. He felt it with every fibre of his being. You loved him back.

“Of course I do! Of course I love you! I always have, and I’m pretty sure I will never stop.” You admitted. The words spilling out of you with such ease you knew it was a sign what you were saying was true. “No-one makes me feel the way you do.”

A deep sigh escaped your lips. “B-but I can’t love you, Spencer. I’m getting married.”

“If Ethan doesn’t make you feel-” He began, but you quickly cut him off.

“You’re the love of my life Spencer. My soulmate. You came into my life at exactly the right time and made it so much richer. You helped me become the person I am today. Our connection is so strong, we can understand each other without a word. We’re combined through heart and mind, and I will never regret the time we spent together. I will never regret loving you.” You revealed. “E-Ethan, however, Ethan is my life partner. He gives me comfort. He’s my right hand. Our bond grows stronger with everyday menial tasks.”

“I could be your life partner Y/N if you just gave me a chance.” Spencer’s hands moved to your cheeks once again, cupping them gently. “You told me you wanted to marry me before, we can do that.”

“Spencer...”

“Y/N, there is no doubt in my mind that I would do anything to spend the rest of my life with you. If you’ll have me.”

It was a proposal. A marriage proposal.

Spencer didn't have to specify, you knew that it was. You knew what he meant. He didn't have to get down on one knee with a diamond ring in hand. He didn't have to ask, ‘will you marry me?’. He didn't have to make it intentionally romantic. His words alone were evidence enough. Spencer Reid wanted to marry you.

“I-I, I need some time to think. I-I can’t just drop everything and run away with you. I hope you understand that Spencer.”

The hazel-eyed doctor slowly nodded his head. “Take all the time you need Y/N. I’ll wait. I will always wait for you.”

And with that, his lips found yours.

Despite the complicated situation you both found yourselves in. Despite the difficult position, and the choice you were now facing. He held you as close as it was humanely possible. Nothing mattered. The world slipped away. Your hands moved around his neck. Heartbeats syncing into one.

Both of you revelling in the thought you found each other once again.

And you know damn well For you I would ruin myself A million little times

A/N: hope you liked this chapter and as always i’d love to hear your feedback! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Gwyncien part 5 (last part)

Thank you to all who supported this short little story! It really kept me motivated. This is the last part. I’m gonna be honest this part is not as edited at the other parts but I finished it and wanted to get it out to all of you so thank you!

Warning: the smallest amount possible of smut at the end.

Gwyn's body jolted as they hit the ground. Lucien let out an annoyed huff while straightening out his jacket. The wards around the House of Wind truly made winnowing in unfavorable. As soon as she stabled herself though, she felt a rush of happiness.

Home.

It was her only thought. She missed this place- the smell, the comfort, the people. She started to buzz with excitement at the thought of Nesta and Emerie.

"You made sure someone brought Emerie here?" Gwyn double checked with Lucien. He simply nodded while giving her a sad smile. The moment was bitter sweet. She was happy to be reunited with her sisters, but she would miss her newest friend. She threw her arms around him in a tight hug. He returned it just as fiercely.

"Thank you for all that you did for me. It means more than I could ever express." She buried her head in his hair and took a deep breath. He smelled of roasted chestnuts and a summers day. She would miss it.

"I know a way you could make it up to me." He said as he pulled away. Gwyn looked at him expectantly.

"Promise me I will see you again soon." A soft smile graced Gwyn's face.

"I promise." She wanted to show her sisters the Band of Exiles castle anyways. They would love it. Lucien smiled broadly before dropping a kiss on her forehead next to her invoking stone.

She finally decided to wear it as all the priestesses do. Lucien took her to Sangravah to see Catrin's grave. She had been so sad and angry that she almost destroyed the stone right then and there. She did not deserve the stone while her sister's body lay cold in a grave. But then Lucien took her to meet the priestesses and children that had rebuilt the temple. The children that Gwyn had saved. They all remembered her and flattered her in compliments and hugs. The called her their hero and said that they were petitioning to make that dreadful anniversary known as Berdara day. In honor of the twins who sacrificed so much to protect those children. Gwyn cried for a week straight after that. Once her emotions leveled out though, she began to wear the stone. The children had been a distant memory that she forgot about while grieving for her sister. Seeing them, happy and healthy, reminded her that the sacrifice was not in vein. She may have failed Catrin but she did not fail those children. It was one more thing that made her grateful for Lucien.

Gwyn took one last look at Lucien before he winnowed away. She turned back towards the door, took a deep breath, and headed straight for the personal library. She was so excited she thought she might throw up. She wished she had kept her composure to walk the entire way there, but as she came closer and closer to the library, her feet began moving faster and faster until she was practically running. The moment she burst through the doors she scanned the room for the two females. She found them sitting side by side, each with a book in their hands. It made Gwyn smile broadly. They both whipped their heads up at the same time- startled. Nesta reacted first, practically throwing herself at Gwyn. Emerie was close behind, and then they were crushing Gwyn in a hug.

"Gwyn!" Nesta cried. Emerie just squeezed her tighter.

Home.

Gwyn felt completely at ease now that she was reunited with her sisters. She had missed them so unbearably that she almost forced Lucien to bring her back several different times. She was afraid that if she came back, she would not have left again. After a very lengthy hug, the girls pulled apart. Nesta was subtly trying to wipe tears away which only served in making Gwyn start to cry herself.

"We missed you." Emerie said softly while running her hand over Gwyn's hair. It was such a comforting gesture that Gwyn forced another hug from the Illyrian female.

"I missed you two more than anything." Gwyn pulled back from Emerie so that she could grab both of their hands. She pulled them over to the couch and forced them to sit down next to her.

"You better explain why you ran off with Lucien and you better do it right now because I am angry with you so I want a good explanation before I start yelling." Nesta warned with a hardened expression. Gwyn squeezed her hand and gave her a small smile.

"Lucien helped me with some things." Gwyn did not even know how to start explaining everything that had happened. She knew Lucien did not want her telling anyone of their ancestry, but Emerie and Nesta did not count. At least in Gwyn's mind they didn't.

"Things we could not help you with?" Emerie asked. Gwyn could hear the touch of hurt in her voice and suddenly felt very guilty. She never imagined they would blame themselves. She should have known better though, especially with Nesta.

"You cannot repeat what I am about to tell you to anyone." She gave them both a pointed look but it got a snort from Nesta.

"Who would I possibly tell other than Cassian?" She rolled her eyes with a slight laugh. Gwyn continued to give her a serious look.

"You cannot tell Cassian or Mor either. They will feel obligated to tell Rhys. This information is dangerous for me and I need to know before I tell you that it will stay between us three." She squeezed both their hands again. Nesta and Emerie shared a look before giving her a concerned one.

"We promise. We would never do anything to endanger you, Gwyn." Emerie insisted as Nesta nodded in agreement. Gwyn took a deep breath before explaining.

"Lucien's my grandfather. After the autumn court high lord killed Lucien's lover, him and a brother hid my mother at Sangravah." Emerie's eyes widened comically while Nesta took this in with a straight face.

"Holy shit. That makes you the only living heir to the day court." Emerie muttered. Gwyn's brows furrowed in confusion.

"The day court?" Nesta inquired on the same topic that Gwyn was confused about. The winged female gave them a sheepish look.

"Shit. I wasn't supposed to say anything." She gave a deep sigh. "Mor told me that Helion is Lucien's real father and that would make Lucien the only known offspring of Helion." Gwyn wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"Does this mean you'll get a real Pegasus?" Nesta pondered. It made Gwyn smile thinking of the tiny Pegasus the house conjured for them.

"I would demand weekends with it if so." Emerie added while leaning back on the side of the couch to fully face the other two females.

"Well anyways, Lucien helped me with some things regarding Sangravah." Gwyn directed the conversation back on topic. She did not want to think about being the future heir to some random court. "I did not ask for your help because I did not want to be dependent on you two. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own. Trust me, it had nothing to do with not wanting your help. There were so many times I almost forced Lucien to bring me back." Nesta looked at the priestess and a smile finally graced her face.

"You are wearing your invoking stone." Gwyn blushed and looked down at her hands. Nesta was one of the only people she had confided in about why she never wore it and she had only done that because she knew that Nesta would understand.

"I am."

"Are you happy?" Nesta asked wearily. The blunt female was not a fan of Lucien's for some reason.

"I am now that I am home. I have so much to tell you, but I might still need to process some of it before then." Gwyn warned. She may not be ready to give them all the answers that they needed or wanted. Gwyn put both her arms around both the females shoulders, tugging them in closer to her.

"You know just by the way, you could have given Az a heads up about your departure. I had to convince him that Papa Lucien did not kidnap you for nefarious revenge plans." Nesta responded after awhile of comfortable silence. Gwyn cringed while Emerie cackled over Lucien's new nickname.

"I figured his shadows told him." She shrugged. It's not her fault if he was being a bad spy master. He should have known Lucien did not kidnap her. Nesta gave a small smirk while nestling her head into the crook of Gwyn's neck. Emerie mimicked the gestured and suddenly all three of them were cuddling on the couch. It made the priestess feel safe.

"Mor said he finally confronted her about their situation." Nesta's eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Gwyn was just as surprised. The Shadowsinger practically ran screaming from emotions.

"How did that go?" The red headed female asked incredulously. She also had no idea why he would chose now when he was finally with Elain to have that conversation.

"Good? I did not get a lot of details but Mor seemed happy." They all sat in another comfortable silence again. There was so much to say on both sides. Gwyn was sure she had missed out on a lot, but they all knew they just wanted to enjoy each other's presence for a bit.

"Hey Nes-" Cassian stopped mid-sentence when he saw the priestess as he strode into the library. A huge smile broke out on his face. "Gwyn!"

"Hey Cas." She gave a small wave as all three girls sat upright on the couch. They all moved over some so Cassian could sit next to Nesta. It was a tight squeeze especially with his wings but they made it work.

"Shit, I have missed you, Berdara. Training is not the same without you. Please tell me you have kept up with it." He berated her like the good trainer he was.

Gwyn gave a short laugh. If only he knew what she had been doing to keep up with her training. She knew he would approve though. She truly had missed Cassian. Nesta and his bickering was a high quality form of entertainment for both Gwyn and Emerie. She also missed his quite encouragement and lame jokes, she would never admit to the latter, though.

"I have missed you as well." He gave Nesta a peck on the cheek which caused a smile to bloom on her face. They were sickeningly adorable.

"Are you coming tonight?" He asked.

"What's tonight?" He obviously did not know that Gwyn just arrived back. They had no time to discuss anything other than her trip.

"Oh I forgot to mention. Remember Balthazar? The guy that helped Emerie and I in the blood rite? Well Feyre and Rhys are throwing him a party in windhaven for not killing us." Nesta rolled her eyes. Clearly, she did not feel that was worth celebrating

"Seems kind of like the bare minimum." Emerie muttered the same thing that Nesta must be thinking. "No need to throw a party for letting us live." Emerie mimicked Nesta with an eye roll of her own.

"Sounds fun.” Gwyn could not stop the sarcasm that flooded her voice. “But I will go anyways.” She relented.

"Really?" Cassian was clearly surprised as he looked at her with raised eyebrows. Gwyn watched as he subtly set his hand on Nesta’s shoulder and rubbed his thumb back and forth. Part of Gwyn felt jealous. She wanted to experience that type of intimacy with someone- with Az. She let out a sigh.

"Yeah. I have had a very enlightening five months. I think I am ready to brave windhaven in a showy dress while everyone schmoozes the high lord and lady." Emerie and Nesta both cheered at that while Cassian gave her his biggest smile. It made her laugh.

"Azriel is at the River house. Want me to take you there?" Cassian suddenly changed the topic. Gwyn narrowed her eyes at him. She most definitely did not want to see the Shadowsinger right now. Besides, she still had so much to discuss with her sisters.

"I can only take so many reunions at once. Perhaps his could wait."

Gwyn had never felt this confident. Her normal anxieties were still there, but it was not nearly as overwhelming as it once had been. She felt a little guilty for crashing Balthazar's "thank you for not killing my sister in the blood rite" party, however, she knew the male would not care much. She glanced at herself one last time in the mirror- only to feel that a stranger was looking back at her. For the first time in front of her friends, she wore her invoking stone atop her head. The color matched her dress very well. It was quite a scandalous dress by her standards even if Nesta had said it had nothing on a few of Feyre's court of nightmare dresses. The neckline went up relatively high while the back dipped down low enough to barely reach her tailbone. It left her entire back exposed. There were very few scars there which made her much more comfortable than some of the dresses with low cut necklines. The waistline came in tight enough for Gwyn to struggle to breathe. Luckily, the skirt was flowy with a slit in the side that showed off one of her legs as well as her dagger which was sheathed to her thigh. It was very unlike Gwyn. She would not wear it again, but once for a grand entrance seemed like as good of a time as ever. Lucien bought the dress for her before realizing how scandalous it really was. He saw the color and was reminded of her eyes which she apparently got from Jesminda. She tried it on once for him which resulted in him stumbling over his words in a very un-Lucien manner. He told her he would return it at once and then begged for forgiveness. It was a bit of an overreaction that had her giggling for a decent amount of time. She told him she would keep it and wear it when she was ready. She knew she would be ready when she could walk out of the door without changing. She allowed herself five more minutes of staring before heading upstairs to the House of Wind. Cassian, Nesta, Emerie, and Mor would all be waiting for her up there. She did not quite expect the reaction she received. All four of them stared at her, wide-eyed, for longer than socially acceptable. Gwyn almost asked if she should change, but then Nesta and Emerie were gushing over the dress, Mor was demanding to know where she got it from, and Cassian gave her a shy compliment. The anxiety released her chest as everyone went back to discussing their original conversation.

It appeared the high lord and lady did not spare a single expense for this party. Food and alcohol was everywhere, music played loudly, and everyone was dancing. The dances were different than the ones Gwyn was used to, but Emerie showed her a few of the steps. She had gotten so good at one of them that a crowd formed around the three sisters as they held hands and danced around in a circle, adding in different kicks and twirls on beat. Gwyn had laughed more tonight than she had since Catrin’s death. Perhaps everything was finally falling into place for Gwyn to live her life unafraid. Exhaustion pulled Gwyn from the dance floor and back onto the dais where the high lord and lady stood- deep in discussion. Gwyn did not interrupt them, instead opting to stand by herself for a moment in order to catch her breathe. She chugged her cup of water that was much harder to find than it should have been. She was not alone long before a male approached her.

She recognized the red-haired fae. She was trying to remember how she knew him, but it just barely kept slipping her mind. Based on his looks, he was from the autumn court which made Gwyn wonder why he was even here in the first place. To Rhysand and Feyre's surprise, the male asked to dance with her. Before she could accept or decline though, her high lord interrupted.

"No." Gwyn's eyebrows raised to her hairline. He did not speak for her. Now or ever.

"Rhys," Feyre began, shifting her eyes from her mate to the quickly angering priestess. "I do believe Gwyn has a voice of her own." The couple shared a look before turning to her. The red haired male looked as annoyed as Gwyn felt.

"Gwyneth, I apologize for speaking on your behalf, but he is not to be trusted. He is dangerous." He continued to dig himself further into a hole. Gwyn was the last person to openly trust a strange male, but she could handle her own. Especially against him.

"And here I thought we were allies." The strange male rolled his eyes with his sarcastic comment. All three of them ignored him.

"Do you see me warning you away from every female in this room?" It was a rhetorical question, but her point was made. "How would you like me to throw Amarantha in your face every chance I got under the guise of protection? If I want your opinion on a dancing partner, I will ask." She was a blunt person, but she was not typically so harsh. The overwhelming pity that Rhysand sent her way brought the ugliness out of her in a way that many others have not been able to do. She could see the guilt on his face. She also saw the flinch when she uttered Amarantha's name and she wished more than anything that she could take it back. Just because he reminded her of Sangravah every chance he got did not mean she had to stoop to his level.

"I apologize. Obviously, you may dance with whomever you chose." He bowed his head to her and flourished an arm towards the waiting male. Feyre was too busy watching Rhysand to add anything more. Gwyn supposed they were having an internal conversation. She stepped down from the dais to follow the male onto the dancing floor. She did not want to dance with him in particular. Truly, she only wanted to dance with Azriel who had yet to make an appearance, but she was curious. That nagging feeling at the back of her mind said that she knew him. He grabbed one of her hands to hold and placed his other at her hip. The placement at her hip was odd. Typically, that was reserved for more intimate dances between couples, but that was not why he did it. Her back was completely exposed due to the dress. He must have figured this would be better for her. She narrowed her eyes at him. He must know Lucien and therefore who she is to him.

"Eris Vanserra." He finally announced as they began their dance. "Pleasure to officially meet you." Gwyn met his stare. It was surprisingly soft. Lucien's brother she realized. This could be good or bad depending on which brother he is she contemplated. She had only heard wicked things about all his brothers except when Lucien was discussing her mother. He mentioned a brother helped him hide her mother.

"We have met before." She said it as a statement of fact, but in truth it was a question. He gave her a wicked grin before twirling her.

"We have."

"Where?" He twirled her once more before glancing over his shoulder at Rhysand. He must be listening in.

"Sangravah." Was all he said. It was all she needed to remember. He came to the services Sangravah held on Sunday's. It was not every Sunday, but enough of them to recognize him. He sat in a pew in the back and watched. He never participated. Catrin complained one time that she felt he was watching her. Gwyn had brushed it off as mere paranoia- she knew better now though. She wanted to respond with a million different questions; however, she was expected to be vague with prying ears around.

"Why?" Was all she could muster. If Lucien was not willing to risk a visit, then why was he? She was searching his eyes for any clues only to discover a hint of sadness that was quickly covered up.

"To remind myself that it was worth it." The music stopped as the dance came to an end, so he moved his mouth to her ear to continue. It would have seemed an intimate moment to anyone watching. Truly, it was only an uncle speaking a secret to his great niece. "That all I had become to save her was worth it."

Before she could respond she felt a sharp tug on her mate bond, a whisper of a shadow on her wrist, and then Azriel launched himself at Eris.

"For fucks sake." Cassian could be heard muttering as a brawl ensued between the pair. Gwyn couldn't help but agree. Punches were thrown back and forth, but once truth teller had been drawn, Gwyn did the only thing she could think of. She lightly scraped her nails on the back of Azriel's wings. Almost immediately he wrenched himself away from Eris to give her a startled look- his wings tucking in tight. Luckily, Cassian chose that time to insert himself into the fight and hold Eris back.

"Do not do that again." Azriel gave her an intimidating look, but she did not balk from him. Not now.

"Do not give me that attitude, Shadowsinger." She returned his stare with such intensity that he finally looked away.

She turned to Eris who now looked much worse than her mate. He was wiping blood from his nose with the end of his sleeve. She quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and gave a tight squeeze. He barely had time to return the hug before she pulled away. Everyone was clearly shocked, but it mattered little to Gwyn. This dangerous and cruel male had gone against his abusive father to save her mother. He had risked his future as high lord by visiting her and Catrin. It was not all that long ago that Gwyn thought she had no family. Then she met Nesta and Emerie and now she had a grandfather who loved her despite knowing little of her and a great uncle who cared for her enough to risk all he had tried to achieve. It made her feel a little less alone in this world.

"Thank you." Was all she uttered before turning back to her mate who had the audacity to be glaring daggers at Eris. She narrowed her eyes at him before grabbing him by his hand and tugging him all the way to the exit. She could see him about to speak so she stopped him.

"No. No speaking. Show me to a private room so I can scream at you for a solid five minutes and then I shall allow you to speak." She was fuming mad at the arrogance of this male. He was in a completely committed relationship with another female and he had the audacity to attack her dance partner. He took her down a long hallway, his shadows twirling around him in chaos. His wings were tense even as his face gave off an air of cool indifference. He took a sharp turn and then they were in an empty bedroom.

"I have been back for a total of six hours and before I can even utter a word to you, you have gone and fought Eris Vanserra of all people? Really Azriel I am starting to get whiplash from you. One second you are proclaiming your love for Elain Archeron and the next you are attempting murder on my dance partner. What would you like from me? Because I was hoping we could start off with a pleasant conversation but I suppose that is too much to ask for?" She was glaring him down which was not something anyone else had ever done. While he was beautiful, his icy cruelty laid right beneath the surface. It was enough for everyone to walk on eggshells around him. Even some of his closest friends. Gwyn had never done that though and she would not start now. He looked down at his feet as his shadows went still. Perhaps they also realized they were in trouble.

"You are wearing your invoking stone." He peeked at the stone that lay across her forehead before glancing out the window. She huffed in frustration.

"This is the first you have seen of me in five months and that's all you have to say?" Her glare turned more incredulous.

"You never wore it before." He paused to glance up at her before continuing. "You look beautiful." Gwyn groaned in frustration. This male would be the death of her. She sat at the edge of the bed in the middle of the room. After a moments pause, he followed suit and sat next to her with a small gap in between them. It was silent for another moment.

"I am sorry Gwyneth. My shadows refuse to tell me anything about you and I assumed the worse when I saw Eris whispering into your ear. The mate bond has become harder to control the longer you have been gone as well." She could agree with that. Her own mate bond had become more and more incessant the longer she had been gone. It was like a buzzing in her mind that would not stop. She wondered how Elain managed.

"Lucien, and I suppose now Eris, are important to me Azriel. I cannot explain why quite yet, but it is important to me that you try to be polite specifically with Lucien. Okay?" It was probably more information than she should give. She wanted to be clear with him. He gave her a curious look. He wanted to ask more that was for sure.

"Okay." He whispered. They both looked down at their hands. His were laid loosely on his thighs while hers were clasped tightly together in her lap. "Elain and I decided it would be best if we stopped..." he trailed off at the end, braving a glimpse at her. She was surprised by this. Perhaps Elain's visit to the Band of Exile's was not to reject Lucien. Almost two weeks ago, Gwyn had bumped into Elain in the castle. Their conversation was awkward and brief, but Gwyn thought for sure that the beautiful female had come to reject the mating bond with Lucien.

"Why?" Was all Gwyn could muster. She suddenly felt so tired.

"After our kiss," he started. His hands ran up and down his thighs and she realized he was nervous. She grabbed one of his hands with her own and squeezed. "Nothing had ever lived up to that. I had been chasing what Elain represented that I forgot what I was missing out on. I don't want Elain now and maybe I never truly did. I know I don't deserve it, but I would like a chance to be with you Gwyn. We can go as slow as you like." His sudden proclamation was hurting her head. It was like sensory overload.

"What makes me different from Elain?" She didn't want him to make this decision solely because they were mated. She wanted this to be different. She squeezed his hand tighter.

"You see me for who I am and you aren't phased. You have never hesitated before grabbing my hands. You didn't even so much as blink at my shadows the first time you saw them. You understand why I hold myself to such high standards and you aren't scared of me." He looked directly into her eyes to make sure she understood that every word was true. He wanted her to see him be vulnerable. His stare was so intense that she had to look away before responding.

"I missed you." She gave him a small smile. "But I have been missing you for much longer than I have been gone. I miss my friend. You were so much more to me than just my mate when it snapped into place and I feel like we lost that along the way. This has nothing to do with what you deserve, Azriel. I want you to know that. But right now I would really love my friend back. We can see where the future leads us later." It was not the speech she planned to give him when she thought he was still with Elain, but it was true. They both still had so much to deal with even now. She wanted to deal with it with her friend by her side though. His shoulders slumped slightly which had the mate bond clenching tightly in her chest. After a moment though, his head lifted and he gave her a brilliant smile. One she had never seen from him before and she realized she would do just about anything to see it again.

"I would love to be your friend, Gwyneth Berdara." He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She let out a content sigh as she put her arms around his neck. Her head rest on his shoulder as his head lay atop hers. His shadows were moving languidly as though they were also happy.

"Can I ask a favor of you though?" He mumbled against her hair. She nodded slightly.

"Can I ask that you not touch my wings in public again?" His tone was almost pleading. She quickly looked up at him putting a couple inches between them.

"Oh gods! I'm sorry. Did it hurt? Nesta mentioned that they were sensitive once and I figured it would be the easiest way to stop you from killing Eris." She didn't mean to be too rough, but she also wasn't familiar with Illyrian wings. He gave her a sheepish look. A slight blush gracing his cheeks.

"Um, that's not what she meant by sensitive." He glanced at her before laying his head on top of hers again to avoid eye contact. "It's just not something that one does with Illyrian wings in public." There was heavy insinuation in his voice, but Gwyn could not figure out why. What could she possibly be missing?

"Well we aren't in public now? Could I do it now?" If he wouldn't outright tell her, perhaps she could threaten it out of him. She brought her hand up to his wing only for him to quickly grab it and push her away. She started to laugh as his face grew even redder. "Az, just tell me. Are you ticklish?" It was just too easy to tease him. He held both of her wrists between his hands to keep her at bay.

"Gwyn, I am begging you, which I never do if I must add, please do not touch them unless you would like to act out a scene from one of your romance novels." He truly was begging. She smiled until his words finally caught up to her. Now it was her that was blushing like crazy. Nesta was going to get an earful for being woefully stubborn with details.

"Sorry!" Was all she could splutter out like a fool. She quickly shoved her hands in her lap. Azriel began laughing very loudly as realization of what she almost did hit her. Oh, how the tables have turned she thought. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her closer, dropping a kiss on her head.

"I truly have missed you, Gwyn. Tell me everything."

Sometime in the future

Gwyn felt a tickle on her bare back. She tried to ignore it and go back to sleep by burying her head further into her pillow. Another tickle brushed against her. She swatted at her back which was more difficult than she wanted to admit considering she was laying on her stomach. One last tickle had her groaning as she finally popped her eyes open. She immediately gave the Shadowsinger a glare.

"I was trying to sleep." She mumbled, her voice still sleep laced. He gave her a charming smile back.

"Keep sleeping. I was just rubbing your back for you." He had the look of innocence perfected, but Gwyn new better.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he looked like that though. She moved closer to him while he laid on his side. She wrapped her arms and legs around him until she pushed him onto his back with her on top. An ornery grin graced his face as she nuzzled her face into the crook of his neck. He began to run his hands up and down her bare thighs. It made her shutter. The warmth from his chest stopped her bare chest from being chilled by the temperature of the room. She loved waking up this way with her mate. She quickly discovered that neither of them slept too often- nightmares always finding them in their sleep. They stayed up most nights playing chess or singing or training or...doing other things. Gwyn was always curious about the scenes she read from Nesta and Emerie's romance books. Azriel was certainly willing to demonstrate for her. After one particular, evening session Gwyn profusely apologized for touching Azriel's wings in public all that time ago. It made her embarrass to know exactly how close she had been to bringing Azriel to his knees in front of all those people. She thought she might never live it down if it had happened.

"What are you thinking about?" Azriel asked while playing with Gwyn's hair. His shadows were wrapping all around her in a way that made her feel safe especially when they were being this intimate.

"You." She immediately answered with a grin while dropping a quick kiss on to his chin.

"I would hope so." He gave her one last devilish smile before leaning up to kiss her. Right as she began to grind though, Az pulled away.

"Sorry, Carynthian. That is not why I woke you." He teased. Gwyn rolled her eyes at the nickname. He loved to call her that simply to remind her of all she had accomplished. She felt he was bragging about her just a little too much.

"Well then why did you wake me?" She lifted a singular eyebrow but he only laughed her off. He sat up with her still in his lap and started to carry her towards their bathroom.

"Nyx's party will be starting soon." He set her down on the counter before getting the bath water ready. Gwyn lifted one of her legs, so that her foot could rest on the counter as well. If he was going to tease her, well then two could play at that game. Even during times like these, both of their competitive streaks came out. It was always a game to see who could get who to cave first. The look Az gave her when he turned around told her that she won this round. Before dropping to his knees in front of her though, he grabbed her face and pressed a harsh kiss to her lips.

"I love you, Gwyneth Berdara." And then she was screaming her love for Azriel, over and over again.

They were both late to the party. Neither of them cared.

The end

#gwyncien #gwynriel #gwyneth berdara #azriel #lucien vanserra #acotar #acosf #nesta archeron #emerie #cassian #eris vanserra #rhysand #feyre archeron

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pradaksj · 3 years

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ghostin || part one. (m.)

↳do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

❧ summary ⟶ ❝Though I wish he were here instead. Don't want that living in your head, he just comes to visit me when I'm dreaming every now and then. ❞

❧ pairing⟶ seokjin/reader

❧ genre⟶ angst, angst, and angst … did i say angst? + a bit of fluff? friends to lovers.

❧ word count ⟶ 20,000+

❧ warnings ⟶ major character death! sad ending. descriptions of grieving process.

❧ a/n ⟶ this is based on both ghostin by ariana grande and the one that got away by katy perry and pluto projector by rex orange county which has a godlike violin instrumental that is a perfect fit for this story. i def recommend listening to the slowed + reverb versions. + i tried to make transitions as clear as possible so please let me know how i did on those :( and lastly ermmm dont stress too much on specific time stamps and ages bc ermmm I just did quick maths for a lot of it LMAO

❧ part of the ⟶ thank u, next series

part 1 || part 2 (final)

2050.

“Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear grandma, happy birthday to you!” the sound of multiple claps echo across the room, symbolizing the start of a new year for you.

Today was your 75th birthday celebration and around you were your two grandkids along with your only daughter. It seemed as the years went by, the need for such grand celebrations weren’t as important as they used to be. A simple cutting of the cake surrounded by the people you love being enough to suffice.

“Grandma! You have to blow the candles out!” your youngest grandson eagerly reminds you, ready to blow them out himself if you didn’t take action soon, “and don’t forget to make a wish and don’t tell us or else it won’t come true!”

“Mm,” you smile warmly, gently closing your eyes and puffing a gentle huff of air, your mind blank of any wishes, for you had stopped believing in the magic of wishes a long long time ago.

“Alright, now to cut it … Jia go grab a cutting knife from the block set,” you hear your daughter command your oldest grandchild, who at this moment was clearly too consumed with whatever she had going on in her phone to even bother listening, “Jia!” she finally snaps her head up at the sound of her mother’s voice raising an octave, “How many times do I have to tell you to stop using that phone so much, not only is it rude but we’re celebrating your grandma’s birthday. The least you can do is have the courtesy to turn off your phone.”

She rolls her eyes in response, “Mom, I’m sure grandma doesn’t mind … right grandma?” she flashes you the toothy grin that you were used to seeing whenever she wanted something, knowing she’s always had a special place in your heart as the first grandchild.

All you can do is chuckle softly, feeling too old to entertain and be dragged into the bickering arguments between your daughter and granddaughter. Carefully you get up yourself and grab a cutting knife despite your daughter’s pleas to sit.

“Look at what you’ve made your grandma do Ji—” but before your daughter could continue with her scolding, you raise a hand as a gesture of interrupting.

“I’m old, but I’m not that old Yeojin, getting up to grab a knife isn’t the end of the world for me,” you sigh, “Now let’s stop with all of the bickering and eat some cake.”

It was odd really, growing up you could never exactly picture yourself getting to this age (not that you weren’t ever hoping to), but like any other person you just always pictured yourself being young forever.

It wasn’t until your first gray hair appeared several years ago that it suddenly struck you that you really were actually aging. From there the wrinkles upon your skin grew to be more prevalent and things you had no problem doing when you were in your teenage years began to consume much more energy from you.

And now that you observed yourself in the mirror, here on your 75th birthday, did you realize that life had really gone by in the blink of an eye.

Of course 75 wasn’t too old of an age, but now retired and living under the light supervision of your nearly 50 year old daughter, you had long ago realized that the days of wild adventures and endless partying were long over. In a way it was time to start asking yourself if you had lived a life you could be proud of and if you fulfilled the promise you made over 50 years ago.

Honestly, you were unsure, but before you could dwell on your thoughts for any longer, the sound of an argument going on downstairs catches your attention.

“Hand me the phone Jia!” you hear your daughter’s voice yell across the room as you made your way into the living room.

“I said no! I’m not twelve anymore, you can’t just make me hand you my things whenever you want,” Jia scoffs in return, adamant on her rebellious stance.

“Considering that I’m the one whose paying that phone bill every month, I wouldn’t exactly call it yours little lady,” Yeojin sternly furrows her brows while her hand continued to remain held out, her patience running on a thin line, “Jia if you don’t give me that phone then—”

“What?” she interrupts, challenging whatever her mother was going to say. With your newly profound headache growing by the second, you grab the keys to your small old Toyota, deciding that you weren’t going to be helping handle this on your birthday.

Their voices, which became nothing more than background noise while you grabbed your winter jacket, were brought back to your attention once you were making your way out the door.

“Mom where are you going?” Yeojin asks before you could run off, “It’s raining and you shouldn’t be driving at this hour of night.”

“And why is that?”

“Because Grandma you’re—” Jia suddenly chimes in, “well you’re um—” old, is what you know your granddaughter wants to say, but out of respect chooses not to.

You sigh, “I’m just going to the diner to grab myself a late night snack while you two continue with your useless arguing. Hopefully when I come back, you two will have realized how pointless these arguments are.”

“Mom—” Yeojin begins, but almost as if a lightbulb went off in her head, she suddenly grabs Jia’s phone while she was distracted in watching you leave, “Go with your grandma,” she commands, and Jia’s eyes immediately go wide.

“Hey you can’t just—” Jia’s about to complain until she sees the firm look on her mother’s face, “But—” she glances in your direction, knowing that just like her mom, she wouldn’t feel too good having you out driving this late at night, especially on a rainy day.

“You cried about getting your permit for months, now is the time to put it to use,” Yeojin sends her knowing look, recalling the number of months that Jia would complain about all of her classmates getting either their permits or license’s while she was still stuck taking the bus.

“Ugh,” she groans, “Fine, grandma wait for me in the car,” she ultimately says. After putting on her shoes, Jia begins to make her way out to the car, but not before her mother stops her midway to tell her to “Drive safe.”

“Mom, I know,” she scoffs, “but don’t expect me to spend hours there or something. We’re strictly going for whatever food she wants and back. No way in hell are we dining in.”

To that, Yeojin laughs. There was no way her mother wouldn’t want to dine in, but deciding she’d let Jia figure that out on her own, instead she says, “Well as long as you listen to whatever your grandma has to say to you then I don’t mind what time you come back.”

“That’s if she doesn’t put me to sleep first,” Jia mumbles to herself, but still loud enough for her mother to hear.

One could say, she wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending one on one time with her grandma, not without her phone at least. Of course that didn’t mean she didn’t love her grandma to death because truly she did, but often she found herself halfway asleep whenever she had long conversations with her. The same old endearing “you and your mother need to learn to communicate” or the “back in my day” conversations were quite repetitive.

“Mm, you need to start putting that attitude of yours under control little lady,” Yeojin shakes her head in disapproval, “I understand that your grandma can be a bit…”

“Boring,” Jia completes the sentence for her.

“Tedious,” Yeojin corrects, “at times, but occasionally she has an interesting story to tell here and there,” she chuckles, “so don’t count her out just yet. You may be surprised with whatever story she has prepared to tell.”

And with that all Jia could do was sigh, preparing for the long night ahead.

“Grandma, we’ve been here for like 2 hours now,” Jia complains, staring at you as you ate your BLT sandwich, the sound of both loud and pleased munches coming out of your mouth, “You’re really telling me you’re not full yet?”

With a mouthful of food in your mouth, you shake your head no. It isn’t until you gulp down your food that you’re able to verbally give a response, “You know I’m a slow eater, plus it’s my birthday. You don’t hear me complain on your birthday, do you?”

To that, Jia remained silent. She guessed you had a point, not like there was much left for an elderly lady like you to do. The least she could do was suck up her complaints, and deal with it. It just sucked that whenever she looked up at the wall clock it seemed like time was moving as slow as a snail.

God, how she should’ve somehow managed to take back her phone. It also didn’t help that those “stories” her mom had mentioned weren’t planning on making an appearance tonight because all you did was silently eat your food and stare out the window.

Honestly, Jia hadn’t expected much but it seemed as if today you were even quieter than usual, not even bothering to make the small conversation you usually did, like asking her how school was going or if she had a boyfriend yet (not that she ever responded truthfully). So in short, you were doing absolutely nothing to appease Jia’s boredom.

All Jia could do was tap her nails against the old diner’s table and observe the other late night foodies around you two.

The first person she noticed was a middle aged man who was eating a burger along with a strawberry shake. Based on his tiresome appearance and the hat he wore, she could only assume that he was most likely a trucker who needed to make a pit stop.

The second person she noticed was not a single person, but a group of three. A father, a mother, and their little daughter. The sight of them tugging slightly at her heart strings, reminding her of a time in her childhood before her parents’ divorce. If only she had appreciated those moments a little more while they were happening.

Deciding that she wasn’t in the mood for nostalgic sulking, she instead focused her attention on the last set of people in the diner. A couple, who was only a couple of feet away from you two, seated in one of the booths rather than at a table like Jia and you.

The young man, who Jia assumed was in his mid 20′s, was seated with a woman who was just as good looking as him. The two of them sat facing across from one another rather than besides each other, the serious look on their faces clearly signaling that whatever they were talking about was of importance.

It wasn’t until she took a clearer look at the woman that she realized she was crying, the sounds of her whimpers becoming clearer once she had taken note of the woman’s disheveled appearance. It looked like she had been crying for hours, her hand holding onto the man’s at the center of the table as if begging him to stay…

“Yejin we just can’t be together anymore,” Jia overhears the man say, and it’s only then that she realizes that the woman is begging him to stay.

“Jimin, all I’m asking is why?” she hears the woman plead, her voice sounding weak and defeated, “I just— I just don’t understand—” she manages to stutter the sentence out, “Does it have to do with what you were telling me the other night? About feeling incompenent with your career?”

He vigorously shakes his head no, prepared to deny the accusation, “No—”

But she’s quick to cut him off, “Because if it is,” she squeezes his hand tighter, “I already told you I don’t care. I don’t care if you’re the poorest or richest man on the planet, okay? As long as I’m with you, I just don’t care,” she repeats, “You’re my person Jimin,” the woman, who Jia now identified as Yejin, with whatever energy she had left, forced a small smile to grace upon her lips.

A small smile that spoke nothing but genuine love for the man across from her, but with eyes that were desperately hoping for a small sign that the man in front of her would break, “You’re all I have.”

The man, Jimin, instead of reciprocating the warm gesture, pulls his hands away, forcing himself to be the ultimate bad guy in this story.

This was for the best he reasoned with himself, not for him, but for her.

The woman in front of him who he loved so much that he couldn’t bear the thought of denying her a future where she’d have to worry everyday about what their future held, even if it meant not being with him,

“It’s for that reason that we can’t….” he clears his throat, “After tonight we’ll be nothing more than strangers.” he says in a voice that hid any feeling of despair he felt, saving the emotion for later when he was by himself.

“Please,” her voice breaks, “Jimin please,” a single teardrop falls from her eye, “Our future, it'll be worth it, I promise. Every stupid stubborn inch of it because as long as I’m by your side we’ll get through anything. And when we’re old and gray we’ll laugh about this stupid conversation—”

“Yejin—”

“No,” Yejin shakes her head vigorously, desperately fighting tooth and nail for her boyfriend of 7 years and her childhood friend of even more, the person she thought she’d been through it all with, “I refuse to—”

“Yejin!” he firmly interrupts her before she could continue, unsure of just how much more he could hear, “Look at me.” Fuck Yejin. Don’t do this to me. Just accept it., was all he could think at the moment, “I’m—” for a second he struggles to say the words, struggles to officially shatter the heart that had trusted him enough to show itself completely bare, “I’m doing this for me. I’m choosing me. And I don’t know what else I can say or do for you to realize that,” how disgusting it felt to spew the lies out of his mouth.

And it was once he said those words, that Yejin no longer fought against what was happening. It was then that Jimin knew, she had finally accepted it.

The two sat there in silence for what felt like an eternity, until Yejin grabbed her keys from the table, mustering the courage to be the first one to leave, but not before planting a soft kiss on top of Jimin’s head, a final gesture of good bye.

Jia, who’d witness the whole heartbreaking scene play out in front of her, struggled to tear her eyes away. But it was once she did, that she had noticed she wasn’t the only one who had paid attention to the break up.

Watching the couple, you looked as if you’d seen a ghost, truly at a loss for words. Never did you imagine you’d witness history repeat itself.

A voice breaks you away from your thoughts, “Grandma, are you okay?” Jia warily asks, concerned with why you looked so shocked.

“Oh,” you blink rapidly as if being brought back to reality, “Yeah, it’s just—” you glance at the booth once again, watching the man sulk in his seat.

His head was leaned against the glass window, dazedly looking at the view outside. By now his eyes were puffy, the emotions he had kept bottled in, now manifesting itself in the salty tears that were now silently falling down his face.

And before you could think twice, you grabbed the extra sandwich you had ordered and began to walk towards his booth, Jia following behind with a shocked expression.

“Grandma, what are you doing?!” she asks in a panicky tone, but before she could stop you from doing anything, you were already standing beside the booth the man was in.

The dirty-blonde haired man turns his attention towards the two of you, a worn out expression on his face.

“You seem like you could use this,” you offer him the sandwich with a warm smile on your face, “a young man like you shouldn’t be in such distress, or else you’ll end up with wrinkles like mine,” you try to joke around, an attempt to brighten the mood.

He lets out a forced chuckle, showing you that despite his down mood, he was still a very polite young man through and through.

“You don’t mind if we…” you stare at the seat across from him, signaling that you were hoping to sit.

He looks as if he wants to say no, shyly avoiding eye contact for a moment, unsure of how to reject a kind old woman.

“Oh it’s just that um—” but before he could spew out an excuse, you were already making yourself comfortable in the booth, your granddaughter hesitantly sitting in the spot next to him, still giving you the “What are you doing” eyes.

He feigns an awkward smile, scolding himself for being so timid. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the kind gesture, for any other day he would’ve been more than happy to receive a free BLT sandwich and make conversation with an elder, but tonight … well tonight he just wanted to sulk in his own misery.

“So what is a young man like you doing out here so late at night?” you ask, the closed eye smile on your face causing your wrinkles to protrude.

He remains silent, unsure of what to respond with, “Was that your girlfriend just now who left?” you boldly ask, the phrase “having a filter” clearly not in your dictionary.

“Grandma!” Jia frantically says, “Sir I’m sorry, we’ll leave now,” she forces an awkward laugh, now getting up from the booth, “she can be a bit pushy—”

“She’s my ex now,” he surprisingly answers, catching not only Jia but himself off guard.

You on the other hand remain with a warm sympathetic smile on your face.

Honestly, he wasn’t sure what came over him to be so straightforward. He’d been holding so much in for so long, he figured that maybe it wouldn’t hurt to talk to a random old lady and her granddaughter for a night. Not like he’d ever see them again, right?

Letting out a bitter scoff directed at himself, he continues, “I broke up with her just now Mrs—”

“Ms. y/l/n,” you correct him, “and this is my granddaughter Jia,” you signal to Jia to sit back down, and she watches the two of you with wary eyes, confused by the sudden conversational exchange between the two of you.

Hmm, well she did want to know why he broke up with his girlfriend, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just sit and listen for a bit. Shaking his hand, she seats herself once more.

“You don’t seem too happy about your break up, for someone who did the breaking that is…” you lightheartedly comment, secretly analyzing his tense posture. Though relaxing just a bit, it was clear that he still didn’t feel completely comfortable sharing the details of his private life. It wasn’t surprising really, you were nothing more than a stranger. It wasn’t like you expected him to be so open, not right away at least, “you don’t mind me asking why?”

“Because—” he pauses for a moment, trying to find the right words, “we—” he sighs, holding back, “we just weren’t meant to be,” he ultimately says with a small sad smile on his face.

You stare at him for what feels like an eternity, a frown now on your face.

“And what makes you say that?” you ask.

He gulps, the intense stare from both you and Jia now making him nervous, “Because she’s destined for greatness,” he longingly states, “and I was nothing more than an obstacle along the way even if she didn’t realize it,” he looks down at the table, “Because all I want in this world is for her to live a long happy life, a life where she can do anything she pleases whenever she wants, without a worry in the world,” he concludes, now sporting a dull expression.

“You—” you clench your teeth, almost looking at him in disgust, “You stupid boy,” you harshly mumble, but still loud enough for both him and Jia to hear.

“Grandma!” Jia’s eyes widen, taken aback by your sudden rude remark, but all you can do is continue to stare at the man in front of you, a pained expression on your face. Almost as if you wanted to cry.

Jimin on the other hand didn’t know what to make of your words. Was he offended? No, not really. Surprised? Couldn’t say he was. Was it deserved? He’d like to think so. “Look—” he’s about to say something until you interrupt him.

“What about you?” you demand pointedly, “Don’t you care about what you want? What about your happiness?” you feel your upper lip tremble along with a rush of emotions that you were sure you hadn’t felt in years.

Anger. Sadness. Fear.

Everything you had kept bottled in for so long was beginning to make its appearance all because you witnessed this young man break up with his girlfriend.

“Grandma I think we should g—”

“No,” you firmly state, your voice slightly trembling, “I’m not going to let it happen again, I can’t,” a single tear falls from your face as you come into eye contact with the young man. God, he looked so much like him.

Wiping the tear away, you quickly compose yourself, “I’m going to tell the two of you a story,” you point towards the boy, “and you better listen good and well,” you turn to your granddaughter, “you too little lady because it’s a lesson that can be learned by anyone.”

Her face twists to one of skepticism, but she silently nods her head, deciding she wasn’t going to push your buttons for she had never seen you act like this before. Jimin does the same as well, now fearing getting on your wrong side.

“Good,” you let out a deep breath of air, unsure of where to start.

This was the first time in your life that you were telling someone absolutely everything, and never had you imagined it’d be in this exact diner with some random stranger (who you’d just happen to be a first hand witness of his breakup) and your granddaughter.

But a part of you couldn’t help but think that maybe …just maybe it was meant to be this way. That coming to this diner and witnessing what you’d just seen was the universe’s way of telling you that just because your fate was already sealed, didn’t mean you couldn’t change someone else’s. And so you continue, “So I guess…” you pause, “I guess we should start at the beginning.”

“It was the year 1992, Nirvana had just released their all too famous album ‘Nevermind’ months prior to the new year, marking the first shift that we’d see in pop culture during the 90’s. People my age were beginning to slowly throw away their mousse bottles and bright colored outfits and opting in for a more toned down look of mom-jeans and oversized band shirts.

I had just turned 17 at the time and moved here to the city of Gwacheon because of my dad’s job. You wouldn’t believe me but back then this city we know now was a snooze fest. It was nothing but government official buildings and a vacant town center that played outdated music.

I remember being so bitter about moving because like any other teen who moved from one city to another, I had just barely begun to make friends in the city before, only to find out I’d have to leave months later.

I remember having a childish frown on my face the whole ride to the new neighborhood, convinced that by having a fit I’d somehow have my way and go back to the city before, but all in all that’s where the story begins…”

“Mom it’s just not fair!” you complain, crossing your arms while leaning your head against the window, watching as the new town you’d have to learn to call home was nearing with every stop, “I was just beginning to get used to that school, I was even supposed to go on a date!”

Sighing, your mom turns from the passenger's seat to face you, a mix of sympathy and annoyance on her face. It’d been over 4 hours already of hearing you complain in the car, and though your dad had learned to mute you out from the driver’s seat, your mom had to endure each and every complaint.

“Y/N you know your dad’s job requires him to move around from time to time, it’s something out of our control, unless you’re magically going to find him a job out there that pays him as much as his current one then be my guest,” she stares at you knowingly, while you stay silent.

She furrows her brows once she notices something about your appearance, “And what did I tell you about lining your lips like that? And that thing around your neck you’re wearing, you’re lucky it hasn’t suffocat—”

“It’s called a choker and everyone my age wears them mom,” you roll your eyes, wanting this conversation to be over now, despite it being you who started it, “times are changing meaning fashion is too.”

“I thought you kids liked the whole poofy hair and leg warmers kind of stuff. And that one man who's always on MTV,” she twiddles her fingers, trying to remember his name, “you know the one who danced as a zombie in that one video, how does it go again—” she begins to snap her fingers, humming the tune, “cause this is Thriller,” she sings.

“Michael Jackson mom, Michael Jackson,” you answer in annoyance, how the hell did she not know his name?

“Ahh that’s his name,” she laughs, “I’m sorry I’m not so invested in that kind of stuff like you young people are.”

You roll your eyes at this, “Mom I’m sure even grandma knows who Michael Jackson is, you’re just—” but before you could go on any further, the car suddenly comes to a halt.

“And here we are,” your dad finally speaks, an exhausted sigh coming out of his mouth.

The moving truck, which was following right behind you guys had made its stop as well and while your parents immediately stepped out the car to begin attending to the family things, you just looked at your new home in a mix of dismay and surprise. It was definitely a nice home, it’s resemblance to the houses around you being a bit uncanny.

Suddenly, interrupting your deep thinking, your car door opens.

Your mom, who for some reason had a complete 180 turn in attitude, now had an impatient look on her face along with an eyebrow raised. “You’re either going to help your dad take out our things or you’re coming with me to introduce ourselves to the neighbors.”

You stare at her for a moment, thinking to yourself which one you wanted to do. Though still slightly pissed off at your dad for his sudden bomb drop of news that you were all moving, you weren’t exactly in the mood to be social right now, let alone with your new neighbors as it would just ultimately mean having to accept the reality of your situation. “I think I’ll just—”

“Come with me? Great,” your mom answers for you, and you only groan in irritation. You couldn’t say you were shocked as this was only expected from her.

Getting out of the car, you begin to follow her to the next door neighbor’s house on the left side of your new home, your mom having come to the conclusion that the neighbors on the right side must’ve not been home due to the lack of cars in the driveway, “And remember y/n, be nice,” she reminds you, noticing the family SUV parked outside the house, she adds, “and who knows maybe there’s someone your age you can make friends with here.”

You stay silent, not sure if whether finding someone your age living inside the house would be a good or bad thing.

At your last house, there was a girl your exact same age who despite being a very kind person, was just a little too talkative. You’d often randomly find her in your room after learning that your mom let her in because she thought that “that’s what teen girls like to do right? Gossip and cut up some magazines in their room.” Not only would you find yourself getting migraines all the time but you were just too nice to kick her out.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The muffled sound of what you could only assume were kids running around and things being thrown made you mumble “Oh great,” to yourself. If your mom got friendly with the neighbors like she somehow always did, you’d find yourself babysitting these kids sometime in the future for free.

Minutes pass and nothing.

Personally you took that as a sign of ‘do not disturb’ but your mom, being the relentless person she was, knocked one more time.

“Mom clearly they don’t want to—” and of course just as you were about to convince her to leave, the sound of the kids screaming and laughing comes to a sudden halt and the door swings wide open.

There in front of you stood a middle-aged woman, probably near your mom’s age, who had her hair completely disheveled and one of her kids (a little girl) in her arms while the other (a little boy) gripping onto her right leg like a sloth holding onto a branch.

Despite her stressed appearance, there was still a sense of motherly tidiness to her. “Hello,” your mom greets with a grin on her face, “we just came to introduce ourselves as your new next door neighbors,” she sticks her hand out for the woman to shake, “I’m y/m/n.”

The woman, who looks a bit confused at first, suddenly snaps back to reality with a “Ohh” expression on her face remembering that the house aside from her having its “For Sale” sign removed not too long ago.

She’s quick to shake your mom’s hand in return, “Kim Yerin,” she smiles, “and these are my twins, Minjun and Yeonha. Say hi you two,” she nudges the little girl in her arms who currently had her head rested on her mother’s shoulder while doing the same to the boy wrapped around her leg.

The two, clearly shy in front of strangers, only stare at the two of you with curious eyes, “And this must be your daughter I assume,” the woman faces her attention towards you, who had just been quietly watching the exchange, and waits for you to introduce yourself.

Your face slightly reddens when you feel your mother nudge you, “Y/N,” your introduction comes out as more of a whisper.

“And how old are you?” she curiously asks.

“Just turned seventeen,” you answer, an awkward smile forming on your face.

And as if a lightbulb suddenly went off on her head, a huge grin appears on her face, “You’re my older sons age,” she chuckles, “I don’t know if he’s come back home yet,” she mumbles looking behind her and your nerves begin to rise as you know what she’s about to do, “Seokjin!” she yells loud enough that her voice echoes across the walls of her home, “Give me a moment,” she flashes you two a smile before slightly closing the door, placing her foot in the ridge in order to create a crack so that it wouldn’t be completely closed. “Seokjin!” she calls for her son again, and soon you hear the sound of feet scuffling down the stairs.

“You and that camcorder, we have guests,” you hear her say.

“Say hiiii,” a voice behind the door says and you soon hear the kids giggle.

Yerin opens the door all the way once again, and to your surprise you come to face a tall boy with a camcorder blocking most of his face.

With the lens facing your direction, a whispered “Woah,” then comes out of his mouth. The sound of the lens zooming in causing your eyebrows to furrow in confusion.

“Seokjin,” his mother says more harshly, making him set the camera down and finally reveal his face. And once he did… wow were you surprised.

Though he was sporting what you considered an outdated mullet, the boy was relatively handsome. Currently dressed in a simple black fitted long sleeve shirt and cuffed blue jeans, the young man stuck his hand out for you to shake, a small smile gracing his lips.

“Seokjin but you can call me Jin for short,” he politely introduces himself.

Awkwardly avoiding eye contact, you return the shake, “Y/N.”

“Seokjin, I was just telling y/n here that you two are the same age, maybe you could show her around school this Monday,” she suggests, and your mom is quick to chime in.

“Maybe he can show her around town right now, I’m sure she’d love that, wouldn’t you y/n? That’s if he can of course,” she adds and your eyes widen at the suggestion. Soon it becomes apparent that both you and Jin are feeling flustered at both your mothers’ intrusiveness.

“I d-d—” you stutter.

“Mom…” he begins, his ears reddening. Unbeknownst to you, you’d soon find out that it was something that only occurred whenever he was nervous.

“I’ll even lend you the car this one time,” his mother says, grabbing the keys from the key rack next to door and handing them to him.

A silence momentarily fills the air, awkwardness seeping deep until Mrs. Kim breaks it, “Well go you two! me and Mrs….”

“Y/L/N,” your mom completes for her.

“Will be here drinking tea inside and waiting for you to return,” she gently pushes Jin, who had just put on his Converse, out the door while your mom begins to make her way inside, “And remember to drive safe Seokjin,” she says for a final time before practically slamming the door shut.

The two of you stand there for what feels like forever, staring at anything but each other’s eyes.

“Sorry about that, my mom can be a bit… pushy,” he says, and you want to tell him that it's fine, that your mom is exactly the same, but the words can’t seem to come out. “So…” he mumbles, barely audible to the ear, “Where should we go first?” he asks fiddling with keys in his hands, which only causes you to look at him in confusion. Did he forget you weren’t from here?

“Um…” you say, and slowly he fits the puzzle pieces and realizes what exactly he had asked.

“Oh right,” he awkwardly laughs, scratching the back of his neck as a nervous gesture.

You notice that he’s still holding his camcorder with the other hand, its small red button still glowing, and so out of nowhere you voice the first question that came to your mind.

“Is that thing still recording?” you ask which averts his attention to the grey bulky object in his hand.

“Oh I must’ve forgot to turn it off,” he says, genuinely surprised at his lousy mistake, “My bad,” he adds and you shake your head in a way to say that it was fine. “So … are you hungry?” he kindly asks, and you think to yourself for a moment … the two of you had to go somewhere as it wasn’t like you could just walk right back in and lie.

Gently, you shrug your shoulders, “Yeah I can go for something to eat,” you say, which by now was the longest sentence he’d heard you speak since your introduction to him.

“Great,” he smiles, making his way towards the Hyundai SUV with you following close behind. To your surprise he walks over to your side and opens the door “like a gentleman” before entering the car himself. You mumble a quiet “thank you,” in return.

It’s once he turns on the ignition that you begin to dread the awkwardness inside the car. It wasn’t that you weren’t a social person because truly you were, or at least you always tried to be. You were just never good at initiating conversations first because honestly, who was? The image of your mom immediately came to your mind, but she was different. That lady could spark a conversation with a plant if she really wanted to.

“And here’s the number one song in the country for a third week straight, Emotions by Mariah Carey!” the radio host announces and soon the famous tune begins to play causing Jin to tap his finger against the driving wheel, clearly a fan of the song.

You on the other hand kept your attention on the view outside, noting how boring this town was. From the dull buildings to the empty streets, everything was just so boring. But you couldn’t complain too much, for in a couple of months from now you’d be well off on your way to a college in the city of Seoul, which even though it wasn’t too far from here, it was still much more populated.

“So y/n,” Jin lowers the music down, “where did you move from?” he asks, an attempt at making conversation while driving.

“Buk district in Busan,” you answer in a short and precise manner.

“Oh…” he simply says, “Did you like it over there?”

The delivery of the question causes you to quietly chuckle to yourself, “Yeah I did,” you smile to yourself remembering the friends you had made over there, but almost immediately you remember that any chance of ever seeing them again was long gone, and a frown soon replaces the small smile.

Jin notices the change in facial expression from you, “Well I’m sure you’ll like it around here,” he attempts to comfort you, “I know things may look a little different, hell maybe even a little boring,” he laughs, “but trust me you’ll learn to love this place,” he flashes you a reassuring smile.

To that you could only feign a look of happiness. Not wanting to be a complete asshole, you try and think of something you could ask him, something to spark a conversation like he was trying to.

“It’s Jin right… “ you ask, and to that he nods, “um…” you hum, “how old are your siblings?” you stifly ask, adding an extra comment at the end, “I heard them being pretty um … hyper… before my mom knocked.”

Immediately a smile appears on his face, “Ahh Minjun and Yeonha,” he chuckles, “they’re four but turning five in a couple of months. They’re a handful,” he jokes around, “but we wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says, referring to him and the rest of his family.

“And they’re your only siblings?”

He nods, shrugging while answering, “Yeah, but I always wanted siblings growing up and so to not only get one but two at the same time was pretty cool,” he glances at you, “what about you?”

You nod your head no, “My mom told me that once she had me and dealt with all the sleepless nights due to me crying all the time, that she knew one was enough,” you manage to joke around, the atmosphere in the car now becoming less tense.

“I think my parents thought the same way, but surprises happen,” he laughs, “I mean it’s probably a good thing that I was pretty old when they were born. It meant an extra set of hands to help around the house especially considering my dad’s always working.”

And at the mention of his father you couldn’t help but grow a little curious. He was the only person you hadn’t been introduced to and despite Jin’s mother being an overall gorgeous woman, you assumed that Jin must’ve gotten his most prominent features from his dad as his mother didn’t really resemble him.

“What does he work in?” you continue the flow of the conversation.

“He’s a finance manager for one of the many corporation companies you’ll find around here,” and to that he frowns, “I’m assuming your dad must work in a similar field.”

You look at the window again, “Yeah,” you sigh, “so I guess a lot of people around here work in the business field.”

“I think that’s what causes this place to be a little boring sometimes,” he comments, focusing on the road in front of him, “The lack of creativity,” and by looking at the buildings and overall aura of the town, you understand what he means, “People here already have expectations set on them, and with the pressure of being successful, no one ever really takes the risk of pursuing what they’re really passionate about.”

“Hm,” you hum, unsure of what to add to that, for Jin had hit the nail on its head.

“Butttttt,” he sings, “when you meet people like me you’ll realize not everyone around here is the same,” and with that he piques your curiosity, the car suddenly coming to a halt.

Looking out the window, you notice you’re in front of an old school diner, it’s neon lights currently turned off because of the daylight. Not that it really mattered, as the bright cherry red and blue color painted walls were definitely enough to grab anyone’s attention.

Through the see through glass you notice a group of guys sitting at one of the booths, staring at the two of you as you both exited the car. A mixture of both excitement (which you assumed was directed at Jin) and confusion (which was probably directed on you) on their faces.

“Come on, follow me,” Jin says, leading you inside to the group of boys who looked around your age.

They’re quick to greet Jin, practically shouting his name across the diner. It must’ve been a regular occurrence because none of the waiters even turned to focus their attention on them, “Somehow I knew you guys would be here,” Jin teases.

One of the boys rolls their eyes, “So are you going to introduce us to your new lady friend?” he smiles, and immediately the spotlight is set on you, both you and Jin standing in front of their booth.

“Y/N this is Yoongi,” Jin points at the boy who asked the daring question, “This is Taehyung,” he points at the boy next to him, “and finally this is Namjoon,” he points at the final boy across from them, “You guys this is y/n. She just moved here from Busan.”

“Ahh Busan!” the black haired boy, Taehyung, says excitedly, “I once had a pen pal from there,” he trivially says causing the other boys to laugh.

“Ahh Taehyung and his pen pals,” Yoongi shakes his head, tapping the boys shoulders, “And how did that one out of the many turn out?” he asks in a joking manner, only causing Taehyung to pout, knowing Yoongi was teasing him.

“Hmm,” he groaned, “It’s only been a couple of months without a reply, that doesn’t mean we’re not friends anymore!”

“Yeah Yeah Yeah,” Yoongi rolls his eyes again, scooting to the side to make space for you, “Well don’t just stand there, sit,” he lightly teases, and you glance at Jin as if to confirm if it was okay to do so. He smiles at your shyness, confident that you’d get along with his friends just fine, it’d just take some warming up on your part until then.

Setting his camcorder down on the table, he takes a seat next to Namjoon while you take yours next to Yoongi and Taehyung.

“So y/n,” Namjoon speaks up, “how are you liking it here so far?” But before you can think of a response, Jin answers for you.

“She literally just moved here,” he glances at the clock on the wall, “like an hour ago,” he laughs, “I don’t even think she’s unpacked her stuff.”

“Well don’t expect too much,” Yoongi says, contradicting what Jin had told you earlier, “this place is a snooze fest!” he dramatically adds, only causing Jin to nudge him with his leg from under the table, “Hey it's true, if it weren’t for you guys I’d be dying of boredom all the time.”

“Which is exactly why we need to show y/n the best spots in town to visit and how to have some fun,” Jin declares and to that, the boys shrug, not minding the new addition to their group.

“Well wasn’t that easy,” you think to yourself, it seemed making friends wasn’t as hard as you thought it would be.

“As long as you’re not some kind of party pooper then—”

“Like there's parties in town to even poop at,” Taehyung interrupts causing Yoongi to look at him with a “Huh?” expression making everyone including yourself laugh out loud.

“You do realize it’s not literal—” but before he could continue, Yoongi raises his hand to cover his face, “You and that camera Jin,” and immediately you follow suit, having failed to notice that Jin had turned on his camcorder. Taehyung instead of covering his face, poses by flashing two peace signs, while Namjoon flashed his dimpled smile once the camera was pointed to him.

“Ahh why do you feel the need to record everything?” Yoongi asks, still covering his face.

“You’ll thank me later,” Jin says, “Come on y/n say hiiii,” he begins to near the camera to your face.

“Does he always do this?” you ask his friends around him, and to that they nod.

“He says it’s his practice for becoming a director in the future, but….” Namjoon playfully scoffs, “I don’t see the point in recording absolutely everything.”

“Because I want to make sure when I find the project I want to create, I’ll have all the film I need.” Slowly you take your hands off your face once you notice he wasn’t going to relent anytime soon, “Come on, you know you wanna smileeee,” he sings, and slowly but surely you smile indeed. An awkward one, but a smile nonetheless.

“Well cheers to a new friendship,” Taehyung flashes you his signature boxy smile, raising his milkshake drink in the air, Namjoon and Yoongi imitating the action. You and Seokjin on the other hand create an imaginary motion as if you had drink in your hands, grateful for the blossoming friendship in the making.

“After that first day in Gwacheon, Seokjin along with his friends showed me the best spots in town, whether it was somewhere to eat or somewhere to simply get a good view, they were showing me things that proved the boring town to be different than what it seemed.

Seokjin would especially be eager to show me his favorite spots, always recording my reactions to first time meals or whenever he’d show me a new location. When I’d ask him why, he’d tell me it was because it was like watching a kid eat candy for the first time.

Soon I’d find myself hanging out with him the most, I’m not sure if it was because we were next door neighbors or maybe it was because he was my first friend here, but it wasn’t like I was complaining. It seemed as if with every time we hung out, I was learning something new about him, never a day too dull…”

“You’re not even blowing into it,” Jin complains, watching as you blew air into the Mario game cartridge, your face getting red at your serious effort, “Let me see,” he says, but to that you stubbornly refuse, continuing to blow heavy puffs of air into it.

For the past hour the two of you had been playing his new Mario game on the Nintendo SNES, but out of nowhere the game completely blacked out.

Suspecting that there must have been built-up dust in the cartridge, you took it as your responsibility to blow air into it.

“Fine,” you hiss, passing him the game.

“Ah don’t be like that either,” he teases, squeezing your cheek with his hand.

“Hey!” you cry out and he raises his hands to his defense.

“Sorry I can’t help it,” he laughs, “they’re just so…” he pauses, “squeezable?”

You flip him off, only making him laugh even more, “Just fix the game already,” you mumble, not actually offended, but pretending to be which he of course was used to by now.

Knock. Knock.

“Seokjinnieeee!” the sound of his younger sister’s voice, Yeonha, fills the room. Immediately she goes to tackle him, and Jin (pretending that she was stronger than him) playfully throws himself on the floor only causing her to go into a fit of giggles.

Then out of nowhere you feel tiny arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, “Y/Nieeee,” Minjun blitzes you from behind, a grin now appearing on your face.

With his arms still wrapped around your shoulders, you get up from the floor and begin to run around the room, pretending to be an airplane soaring across the sky.

“Do that too! Do that too!” Yeonha commands Seokjin, forcibly wrapping her arms around his very broad shoulders.

And soon the two of you find yourselves going at “war” with one other, purposely missing each other whenever it’d look like you two would crash as a scare effect for the kids.

By the time you two were all done, you were out of breath and completely exhausted. “Again, again, again!” you hear the two kids squeal, but you were just way too tired to go at it a second time.

Feigning a sad expression on your face, you say, “I’m sorry, I have to be back for dinner soon at my house, but next time I see you I promise you we’ll do that again for you guys.”

Both of the kids, with a saddened expression on their faces, simultaneously go “Aww.” but completely understand, knowing you were never one to falsify your promises.

“Wait you do?” Seokjin asks, completely believing your lie. Glaring at him, you wink at him in a knowing way, and though it takes him a while, he quietly says “Ohh.” once he understands. Scratching the back of his neck, he says, “How bout I walk you out haha,” he innocently smiles with his eyes closed.

“Byeeee Y/N,” the kids say, their attention already on something else.

Waving goodbye, you and Jin make your way downstairs, greeted by his mom, who had used to the time that you two spent playing with kids to make dinner,

“Already leaving Y/N?” she asks when she spots your backpack in your hand, “I made japchae, I’m sure your mom wouldn’t mind you staying for dinner,” she kindly suggests, but you politely nod your head no.

“It’s fine Mrs. Kim,” you say, “I don’t want to lessen the servings any more than I should.”

“You sure I can always—” she’s about to say something until she meets Jin’s expression, which was one of panic. Subtly he was nodding his head in a way to say that she should drop it, not only his ears, but his face becoming red. Softly chuckling to herself, she drops the subject, “Ahh well have a good night y/n.”

“Goodnight Mrs. Kim,” you dismiss yourself, Jin following right behind you as you make your way out the door.

“Whew I sure am tired,” you say once you hear the door behind you close, now standing on his front porch, the sun beginning to set, “We didn’t even get to work on our calculus homework,” you mention, feigning a chuckle.

Jin shrugs, “I doubt we were gonna work on it either way,” he laughs changing the topic, “So y/n um…” he pauses, feeling a lump in his throat form as he nervously rocked back and forth, “I’ve been wanting to ask you something I just don’t know how you’ll react…”

You look at him with a genuine clueless expression on your face. Moments of silence pass before you respond, “Well go on ahead,” you laugh, “you know you can tell me anything,” you smile at him.

And for a moment it feels as if the words can’t come out, the fear of being denied overwhelming the feeling of hope, “Um well…” he gulps, “you know it’s been a couple of months since you moved here and well…” he avoids eye contact with you, “I feel like I see you all the time…” he continues, and for a small second you become scared … Did you do something? Did he no longer ever wanna see you again? With that thought, you feel your stomach drop, “And well I wanted to tell you that I—”

“Oh y/n honey, you forgot your notebook!” Jin’s mom suddenly opens the door, interrupting the moment and catching the both of you by surprise.

Jin immediately shoots his mom a “What are you doing?” look, but it seems like she didn’t catch onto it as she continued having a huge smile on her face. Oh what a kind … oblivious … woman she could be sometimes.

“O-oh,” you stutter, still in a state of surprise at her sudden intrusion, “Um thank you Mrs. Kim, um I should get going!” you awkwardly laugh, “Um I’ll see you at school tomorrow Jin!” you wave goodbye, practically running back to your house. The last thing you hear before closing your own door was the sound of Jin groaning, “Moooom!”

“Ah y/n you made it just in time for dinner,” your own mother greets you, “For a moment I thought you’d spend dinner with the Kims’ for another night,” she teases, causing a ferocious blush to appear on your cheeks.

“What makes you say that?” you mumble while avoiding eye contact, only causing her to send you a knowing look.

Deciding she’d play along with your oblivious act this once, she shrugs, “Hmm I don’t know, maybe because there’s a special someone you like in that house of theirs.”

Your blush deepens.

“Not true,” is all you can muster, “We’re just close friends, that’s all,” you state, but deep down you knew you could only wish for more.

“Mmm well y/n, time is ticking,” she playfully sings, “if you don’t confess soon, who knows when you’ll get the chance once you’re off at college. Just ask your dad, he had to wait 4 years until I came back to our hometown to confess. Isn’t that right y/f/n?” she turns to your dad, who was currently watching Cheers on the television.

Getting up from the couch, he makes his way over to you two, “What’s this about a boy I’m hearing?” he turns on his “Protective Dad” persona.

To that, you roll your eyes, “Dad,” you laugh as he ruffles your hair, placing a kiss to your forehead, “I need to go do my homework,” you announce, needing an excuse to get to your room and out of this conversation.

Your mom narrows her eyes at you, knowing exactly what you were doing but choosing to act dumb about it, “Then what are you doing here young lady, go get to it!” she commands, watching you immediately turn and make your way up the stairs.

“Ah kids these days,” your mom says under her breath, shaking her head in amusement, silently rooting for the two of you.

“I wouldn’t find out that Jin was trying to confess to me that night until a couple of years later in some random conversation, and when I tell you there were several other attempts on both his part and mine to confess, I really mean it. But it was almost as if the universe was waiting for the right moment to let it happen. I just never would’ve thought that the moment would be one so …. unexpected ….”

“So how is he?” you ask Jin’s mother, placing the care basket you made for Jin on his dining table.

“Well you know it is,” she laughs, “no parent really wants to see their kid high off of anesthesia, especially because he’s just been talking complete nonsense for the past hour and refusing to take a nap. But I prefer this than having him walk around with his wisdom teeth aching him.”

You nod your head in understanding, “You don’t mind if I—” and she nods her head yes, understanding what you were insinuating.

“Go for it,” she smiles, “he’ll probably scold me tomorrow for allowing you to see him in that state, but I’m sure he’ll get over it,” she chuckles.

And without a moment of hesitation, you make your way up the stairs and into his room, the first thing you hear is your name being loudly shouted.

“Y/N!” he slurs out your name, his high pitched laughter following right after.

A grin immediately appears on your face as you watch the boy who even though was usually in a joking mood most of the time, now had that same mood heightened because of the anesthesia.

You take a seat on the corner of his bed, “How are you feeling Jin?” you ask, genuinely wanting an answer.

He shoots you a toothy grin and gives you not one, but two thumbs up, “I’m feeling amaaaazinnggg,” he sings, “especially now that you’re here,” he dramatically winks.

You feel your face redden, “This is the effects of the anesthesia,” you tell yourself, not allowing yourself to have false hope.

“Y/N Y/N Y/N,” he hums, “you’re so prettyyyyyy,” he stammers his words, his swollen cheeks making it hard to take him seriously.

“Really? You think?” you go along with him, to which he nods.

“Veryyyyy,” he adds, “too bad I can’t completely see you!” he exclaims, only causing your brow to quirk in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t see you!” he repeats in a sardonic tone, almost as if you were dumb for not understanding. It isn’t until you notice that the bangs of his mullet, which was usually parted, were now prickling at his eyes, probably causing his view of you to be blocked by certain strands of hair.

Laughing to yourself, you grab one of the hairpins you had on and scoot closer to him, carefully clipping his bangs to the side, “Ta da,” you giggle at Jin’s childlike expression, “Now you can see me,” you say.

“Now I can see you,” he repeats in awe, and maybe it was because of the effects of the anesthesia but for some reason you looked much more ethereal than usual. Suddenly, out of nowhere Jin grabs his camera from the bed stand, and you look at him in amazement.

You let out a breath of disbelief, “How is it that even when you’re high off of anesthesia, you still somehow manage to pull out that camera of yours?” you ask him.

“Because y/n, 50 years from now the world needs to know how pretty you areeeee,” he looks at you like a lovestruck fool, his eyes halfway closed as he points the lens in your direction.

“Who would’ve thought that Jin could be such a flirt?” you think to yourself.

“I’m not!” Jin pouts, and it’s only then that you realize you must’ve said the thought out loud, “I’m only flirty with you because I like youuuuu,” he gushes.

“Jin you don’t know what you’re saying,” you blink slowly, not sure whether to believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Oh but I do!” he barks back like a toddler, “I’ve been trying to confess to you for sooooooo long but I get interrupted EACH. AND. EVERY. TIME,” he complains, and suddenly you feel your heart pound ten times faster, an idiotic smile now forming on your face, “like seriously, every time I get the courage to finally fess up, something just has to happen,” he rambles on, now turning off the camera, something you take note of.

Affectionately, you play with some of the strands of his hair from the back, watching him yawn in the process, “Come on silly boy, I think it’s time for you to sleep,” and surely he does in no time, his soft snores filling the room.

It’s only then that you grab a post-it note from his desk, scribbling something you were sure he’d read the next day. Happily making your way downstairs, excited for what was to come.

That same night when Jin groggily woke up from his nap, he was confused as to why he had a glitter hair pin in his hair, and why his camera had a post-it note attached to it on his wooden desk. Grabbing the camera, he immediately recognized the handwriting.

‘check your footage from yesterday, you can thank me later xx. y/n.’

And it was once he did that he could’ve swore he felt his eyes go as wide as saucers, his mouth gaping completely open. “I-I confessed,” he says to himself, unsure of whether he really believed it or not, “I confessed!” he repeats to himself, this time much more confident and enthusiastic about it.

Deciding he had no time to waste, he quickly ran down his stairs, his mom confusingly staring at him as he began to grab his jacket and shoes, “And where do you think you’re going?” she asks.

“Mom, I confessed!” he excitedly shouts before slamming the door behind him shut, ready to knock on your door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Oh Jin!” your mother greets him, amused by his swollen right cheek, “What a surprise,” she chuckles.

“Hello Mrs. Y/L/N,” he respectfully greets, “any chance y/n’s here?” he politely asks, hoping you were home.

Based on the excited look on Jin’s face she could only imagine that he had only good news to share, and so she didn’t hesitate to call you down, “Y/N!” she shouts, and as if you were waiting for it, your bedroom door opens without a second even passing.

Quickly you make your way down, your mom already having a sense as to what was going to happen by the excited expression on both of your faces. Closing the door once you made your way out, she immediately presses her ear against it.

“Y/N,” Jin breathes out, “I-I confe-OW,” he loudly groans, completely forgetting about his mouth still being sore from the procedure, only causing you to laugh. Even now the universe was finding ways to delay the inevitable.

“You confessed,” you instead say for him, and he nods excitedly, holding his mouth in pain. But it’s only then that he realizes … just because he confessed didn’t mean you automatically felt the same way.

His face reddens.

Ready to make a dash for it, you grab his hand before he could. A touching smile now on your face, “I like you too,” you say, squeezing his hand in reassurance. And immediately you see the relief wash over him, his tense shoulders relaxing.

“I’d kiss you, but I don’t think I can move my lips,” he manages to mumble out, the sudden jolt of pain minutes earlier now making it hard for him to talk.

You giggle at this, then tippy toeing and placing a peck to his lips, deciding that it’d be enough to satisfy the two of you. And without notice your mom opens the door, making the two of you jump in surprise.

“Awwwww, finally!” she pretends to weep, and you’re quick to furrow your brows.

“Mom!”

“And so that was the exact moment our friendship had officially blossomed into something more… I had officially fallen in love with the boy next door. And so we spent the rest of the school year doing whatever it is high school couples do. The occasional hand holding here and there, the timid kisses, but most importantly… despite there now being a shift in our relationship, we still spoke to one another like the best of friends we were before. Because at the end of the day he was still just the boy next door.

But of course soon we’d find ourselves having to confront the looming topic over our heads … college.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door opens.

“It arrived,” you frantically say to the boy in front of you, an envelope in your hand. He motions for you to come in, his heart now beating as fast as yours.

Sitting down on the dining chair, you watch as he runs up the stairs to his room in order to grab the envelope that had arrived at his house a day prior to yours.

The sealed envelopes, which read ‘Seoul National University” in a big blue font along with its famous logo stamped onto it were now being held by your guys’ jittery fingers.

“When are they getting here?” you ask Jin, who had just seated himself.

Glancing at his watch, he answers, “Any second now,” his foot bounces up and down out of nervousness, “I told them to be here an hour earlier than planned because I knew they’d get here late,” he says, patting himself in the back for his trick.

“Well they need to get here faster,” you complain, tapping your nails against the table.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Finally,” you groan, watching the rest of your friends walk into Jin’s kitchen.

“Sorry we caught traffic,” Taehyung lies, munching on his last fry.

You roll your eyes at the poor attempt, ”You’re such a bad liar,” you say, deciding not to press him any further on the issue. “Let’s just get to opening these things.”

The boys nod, taking a final deep breath in, ready to rip open the envelopes.

“Wait,” Jin suddenly demands, “Let me set the camera,” and immediately he’s met with dramatic eye rolls and groans, but you guys allow him to do so nonetheless. “Okay you guys, remember whatever the results are behind these, we all have to promise ourselves that it won’t change anything. It doesn’t make anyone better than the rest, and we’ll all certainly still be friends in college,” he says and you all nod in agreement, for a moment forgetting that whatever the results were inside your envelopes, you’d all still remain friends no matter what.

“Okay, 1..2...3,” you count down, and at the same time you all pull out your decision letters.

“I got in!” Namjoon yells excitedly.

“Me too!” Taehyung says after him, a grin on his face.

“Holy shit, me too,” Yoongi repeats after him.

“Me as well,” Seokjin says nonchalantly, not exactly caring for his acceptance but more about yours as he immediately turns his attention towards you.

Having watched you stay up late studying for the entrance exams for the past couple of weeks, he knew just how nervous you were about these letters and as both your boyfriend and your friend, he couldn’t help but root for you much more than himself.

But it’s once he sees the saddened expression on your face that he knows …

“Y/N…” Taehyung whispers in sadness.

“I—” you slouch your shoulders, looking away from their gazes, “I didn’t get in,” you murmur, your voice signaling that you were on the verge of crying.

Jin is quick to turn off the camera and goes to wrap his arms around you, placing a soft kiss on top of your head and softly rubbing your back in an effort to comfort you. He sends a look to the boys as if to say he thinks it’d be best for them to leave, for now at least.

They nod in understanding, beginning to make their way out until they hear you say “Wait!” and at an attempt to ease the tension, you try and hide the sadness in your voice, “Congratulations, truly,” you send them a weak smile before they leave, and they send you a small smile in return, sad that their friend didn’t get into the college of their dreams.

“Hey don’t cry,” Jin comforts you, giving you more pecks on top of your head, feeling his heart swell more and more by the second.

“I thought I worked so hard,” you sniffle, the tears slowly falling down your cheeks.

“Hey don’t say that! You did work hard princess,” he scolds you, pulling you into a tight hug and tipping your chin up so that he could look at you properly, a soft look on his face while he brushed your hair away from your face, “That stupid school doesn’t know what they’re missing out on, you hear me?” He squeezes your cheek when you don’t reply, “Heyyyyyyyy, don’t ignore meeee,” he teases, placing a soft kiss on your lips.

All you can do is roll your eyes once you feel your cheeks get hot, damn him and his everlasting effect on you. “My dad’s going to be so disappointed,” you mumble, already dreading the conversation. The sole reason you even wanted to get into that school was to impress him, to make him feel that he didn’t have to worry about your future.

“No he’s not,” Jin states in confidence, and you look at him in curiosity, “because your dad is nothing like mine,” he jokes, reassuring you, “Because I’m sure that for both your mom and dad, as long as you’re happy and pursuing whatever it is you want to, they’ll be more than happy to support you along the way.”

“You think so?” you ask him, a small pout on your lips.

“Ah I know so princess,” he gives you a small comforting smile, “Come on let’s watch a movie and eat some popcorn before you go home. I just bought Goodfellas on VHS the other day,” he says, leading you to the living room, the heavy feeling that had been weighing down your chest, not so heavy anymore.

“And so that night I told my parents the decision SNU had made, and just like Jin said they were completely supportive, not even the slightest disappointed. Luckily, the college that did accept me was not at all far away from Seoul National University meaning Jin and I did not have to worry about a ‘long distance relationship’ because trust me, a long distance relationship in the 90s was even ten times more harder to manage than how you kids have it today with your phones.

Honestly, our first year in college passed by in the blink of an eye. I’m not sure if it's because I was always with Jin and our group of friends running around in a big old city with so many more different things to explore, but by the time we reached our second year, we were beginning to ask ourselves where time was going by…. “

“Cheers to our first year!” you and the boys lift up your drinks of Soju, clinking the bottles as a way of commemorating your first successful year in college.

Laughter fills the air while you all talk about the good and the bad of college, from the nightmare drunk stories to typing last minute essays on a jammed computer inside the library. “To think we were all panicking about how we’d do,” Yoongi says, shaking his head.

“I know, but now we have to start declaring our majors soon,” Taehyung mentions, “I still don’t know whether I want to major in sociology or psychology…”

“Me neither, I’ve been leaning towards linguistics,” Namjoon adds, “What about you y/n?” he asks you.

You think about it for a moment before answering, “Engineering Physics.”

“Woah,” Namjoon looks at you in shock, “Good luck to you,” he jokingly scoffs.

You shrug, a certain glimmer appearing in your eyes as you make eye contact with him, “Don’t you find it interesting? The possibilities of there being more than one universe out there, different dimensions, hell maybe even a parallel universe!” you say in excitement, clearly passionate about the field, “Namjoon there’s probably hundreds of you who like to pick their nose just like you!” you throw in the playful jab, making him flip you off while the rest of the boys laugh their asses off.

“What about you Jin?” Yoongi asks his longtime friend, who for some reason tonight was quieter than usual, something clearly on his mind.

And as if brought back to reality he looks at all you with a surprised expression, “O-oh,” he stutters, “um Business Administration?” he says, unconvinced of his own answer.

Yoongi nods his head, “As expected, as expected. Business does run in the family,” and though you know Yoongi meant no harm in the comment, you couldn’t help but notice how tense Jin got after hearing it, as if it only further killed his mood.

“Hey,” you softly whisper into his ear, grabbing his attention while Yoongi begins to talk about something else, “everything good?”

Immediately his expression softens, and he quietly nods yes, not wanting you to worry. But no matter how well Jin thought he was at hiding emotions like sadness or anger from you, any change in his behavior, albeit small or large, was always obvious to you.

Making a mental note to talk to him later, you subtly keep an eye on him for the rest of night, your mind wondering what it could be.

Jin plays with your loose strands of hair while he watches you soundly sleep, your skin warm and slick with the efforts of your earlier endeavors.

It hadn’t been long since he moved into this apartment with Namjoon, and though you weren’t exactly officially living with them, with the number of mornings he’d wake up to having you beside him, he and Namjoon might as well have considered you their third roommate.

Not like Joon was complaining, the breakfasts he’d wake up to you making completely cancelling out the occasional use of his ear plugs for nights like these…..

Trailing his fingers across your shoulders, he traces the curves of your collarbones, savoring the moment. It wasn’t until he suddenly heard you speak that he realized you weren’t asleep at all, “Can’t sleep?” you ask, opening your eyes.

“Y/N, go to sleep, it’s late,” he mumbles in the darkness.

Ignoring him, you move to make yourself more comfortable, “Something’s bothering you,” you simply state, and that he can’t deny.

“Y/N... “ he’s about to begin, but you weren’t having any of it.

“Seokjin,” you say his full name, something you’d rarely done since you met him, “you know you can tell me,” you reassure, squeezing his hand, “it’s my job to listen,” you add for extra comfort.

And for a moment he looks as if he’s contemplating something, not really accustomed to being the one talking.

Especially because if you were to ask anyone who’s ever known Jin, then they’d tell you they’d almost never seen the man in a bad nor sad mood.

Because for the sake of others, Jin had always been the one to remain cheerful when things were bad, the one to crack jokes even whenever he felt down, the one who liked imitating Mariah Carey’s whistle notes in the car while driving, the person everyone could always rely on whether it be for laughs, advice, or just anything.

It was just who Jin was as a person.

He sighs once he’s made his decision to tell you, “You know how we were talking about declaring majors and stuff tonight?”

Silently, you nod your head, and he sighs again, “Well I was thinking about something the other day…” he pauses, shifting his body to the side, leaning his head against his hand and now completely facing you, “Remember that first conversation we had in my mom’s car the day you moved into town, when I was taking you to diner?” He asks the rhetorical question, continuing with his thoughts, “How I said that people usually have expectations already set on them and with the pressure of being successful, no one ever truly takes the risk of pursuing what they’re passionate about?”

You nod again, wondering where this was going.

“It wasn’t until earlier this month when I revisited that conversation in the midst of everyone talking about declaring majors and their future careers that I realized that really I was just talking about myself,” he sighs, and suddenly everything becomes clearer to you, and a look of understanding becomes apparent on your face.

He gulps before continuing, “For so long I’ve been so scared to seriously pursue directing and the world of entertainment all because of my fear of disappointing my dad because Yoongi’s right … business does run in my family and I don’t know if it’s cause I’m the oldest but there’s always been an expectation set on me. An expectation to be the best. An expectation to be successful.”

Slowly, you begin to run your hands through his hair, allowing him to talk as much as he wanted because you knew this was one of the very rare moments that he was going voice everything he had been thinking for so long.

“And so when I hear people like you or Taehyung or even just classmates talk so passionately about what they wanna do in the future I can’t help but wish I had that same courage to to pursue what I want. I mean hell, look at Yoongi pursuing a career in music and producing. I like business, I do, but it’s just not for me, and now just like how you and the rest of the boys are pursuing your dreams, I wanna pursue mine, no matter what it takes. For the first time in my life I want to be 100% selfish, I want to choose me.”

He remains silent after finishing his little speech, a signal that he now wanted your input. He needed to hear something, anything, for he was tired of bearing the weight of his worries by himself.

Gathering your thoughts, you give him a kiss to the lips before continuing, your heart swelling for the man in front of you, “Jin if you want to pursue your dreams then do it,” you grab his hand and kiss his knuckle, “Because I’m just as sure you’ll be successful in the future, plus it’s better to live a life without regrets than with…” you pause, “But I also don’t think it’d be right if I wasn’t rational with you. You’re gonna have to tell your parents, and it’s also important to know that like any other career there is a risk of not making it because at the end of the day that’s how life works and sometimes things are just out of our control… but the real question is if you’re willing to accept it if it happens…”

Jin breaks away his eye contact with you, your words sadly ringing true, “Hey,” you turn his head with your hand in order to have him face you again, now resting your hand on his cheek, “Everything will be okay,” you reassure, “I’ll be with you every step of the way,” you kiss his other cheek.

To that, he smiles.

“Tomorrow,” he randomly says, only causing you to be confused until he continues, “Tomorrow I’m going home and telling my parents what I wanna do. And you’re coming with me… for moral support that is,” he shoots you a grin, and for a moment your eyes are wide in surprise because well… you certainly weren’t expecting him to do it so soon, “Please?” he pouts, making you roll your eyes playfully.

“Like you have to ask,” you say, tightly wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck, a good night’s sleep following soon after.

“If only we had known things weren’t going to go down as smoothly as we thought it was…”

“Dad you don’t get it…” Jin pushes his hair back with his hand, a sign that he was stressed.

His dad scoffs, “What’s there not to get? You’re choosing something that’s a complete risk over something that has a future, a guaranteed solid one at that. Let’s be feasible here Seokjin...”

Silently you watch the exchange between father and son. Yeah, the two of you knew that there’d be some backlash to Jin’s decision from his parents (if not only his father) but to be here for over 3 hours now, watching the two go back and forth wasn’t what anyone had expected. Neither side relenting on why the other was wrong. But time was ticking, and soon one would pop, you just hadn’t expected it to be Jin first.

“I just can’t dad!” he shouts, interrupting his dad, his voice echoing across the walls. Momentary silence followed, enough to hear a pin drop fall, “I-I just can’t,” Jin’s voice breaks, his eyes desperately pleading for his dad to just once in his life understand.

A scornful laugh comes out of his dad’s mouth before he exhales a big deep breath, “Okay,” he monotonously states, and for a moment a flicker of hope appears in both Jin’s and your eyes, but as fast as it came, it left even quicker, “You can pursue your little venture into the world or entertainment and directing, but just know I never agreed to paying for a degree in Film, I agreed to one in Business. And so if you really want it that bad, it’s coming out of your pocket,”he declares, shocking everyone in the room.

“Sungjin,” Jin’s mother, who had only watched the exchange like you the whole time, finally speaks up, in just as much as shock as you and Jin. Paying for college out of his pocket? That was almost impossible.

Jin’s father raises his hand, as if to let him continue, “Be grateful I’m still agreeing to pay for that apartment of yours, I’m not cruel enough to let my own son jump from place to place.”

Jin shakes his head, “No,” he says, and you look at him confused, “I’ll pay for my own apartment as well as everything else you help pay for,” with a hardened scowl now on his face he continues, “and I’ll prove you wrong,” he declares.

His father could only look at him with skepticism until his own expression followed his son’s. The two really were two sides of the same coin.

“Come on y/n let’s go,” he scoffs, getting up from his chair and going to kiss his mom on the cheek, you politely (but also awkwardly) dismiss yourself, following him outside and into his car.

“Why the hell did you do that?” you finally ask, one of the many questions you had running in your head, “and how the hell do you plan on paying for everything out of your own pocket?”

“Because y/n,” he runs his hand through his hair, turning on the car in order to let the ignition warm up, “I want to prove him wrong,” he repeats his reasoning from earlier, shrugging his shoulders in the process, “I’ll just pick up extra hours at work, holiday season is starting soon and my manager being the lazy man he is would rather overwork an employee aka me than hire someone new.”

You pout, “Does that mean no more movie nights?” you whine, making him laugh.

“We’ll still have them princess,” he gives you a peck on the cheek, “Just not as frequent that’s all,” he then follows the kiss with a squeeze on the cheek, “meaning we have to savor them more,” he concludes, the two of you well on your way home, a happy couple once in love.

“This …. This is where our story slowly begins to take a bit of shift. It’s where the bright flowers we once held onto so tightly begin to slowly wilt when faced with the real world, where destiny and fate cross roads, creating and molding choices both within and out of our control…”

“Place your tassels to the left...” the students in the arena follow the command. “and congratulations to the new class of 1996!” the chancellor of SNU announces, and soon the sight of graduation caps being thrown left and right follows.

You feel your throat go sore from the amount of cheering you’re doing on the stands, watching as Jin and your group of friends hug in celebration, following with excited waves directed towards you and Jin’s mother along with his siblings.

Jin’s father, who claimed he was too busy with work, wasn’t able to make it, not that it was much of a surprise to anyone. Ever since Jin declared his financial independence from his dad, their relationship wasn’t exactly a favorable one, not that there was ever much to work with.

But in the end Jin understood his father and he understood why he couldn’t be supportive because like any other parent all Jin’s father wanted was to ensure Jin lived a successful life where he wouldn’t have to worry about finances and whether there’d be food on the table albeit it be for only himself or his future family.

The class song, “Fantasy” by Mariah Carey begins to play, and you feel your stomach cramp at laughing so hard because of Jin’s sudden dancing, the boys soon following his movements. You really had to take him to a Mariah Carey concert soon.

“Let’s go meet them in the parking lot,” Jin’s mother shouts over the chaos of people leaving the bleacher stands.

You nod, following her lead, all while helping Minjun and Yeonha (who were now 10) not get lost in the crowd. Once you make it to the parking lot, you find Jin, who had made it there before you all, and immediately you run to hug him, his siblings following suit.

His mom who's holding his famous old camcorder, records the moment, but once Jin spots it, he’s quick to cover his face by nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck. “How is it that the person always recording things, hates being recorded?” you chuckle, trying to push him off so that he’d have no choice but to be recorded.

“Mm don’t forget being pictured,” he mumbles, maneuvering you in a way that he could reach the camera in his mom’s hands, tackle her into a big hug and successfully get her to turn off the camera.

“Congratulations my Seokjin,” his mom kisses his cheek, ruffling his hair like she did when he was a kid.

Jin, who ditched the mullet about two years ago, now sported a more clean cut look, resembling a comma in the front while still a little lengthy from the sides. In a way it made him look a bit more youthful, not that he had to worry, for that man truly did not age. You were sure that even now at 21 years of age, Jin was going to look like this for the rest of his life because 4 years ago at age of 17 he looked exactly the same. You could only hope your own genes did the same.

“Thanks mom,” he smiled.

“Now for a picture,” she said while pulling out a Kodak disposable camera from her purse, but before she could even attempt at taking a picture, Jin was already getting into his car.

“Ahh later mom, let’s just go eat for now,” he announces, “The graduation boy is really hungry,” he gives her the puppy dog eyes before entering the car.

She rolls her eyes, “Fine. We’ll meet you two over there,” she says, “Come on you two,” she motions to the two twins to follow her back to her car.

“I still can’t believe you wanna drive all the way out to that old diner in Gwacheon as a way of celebrating your graduation,” you say as Jin reverses out of his parking spot, one hand on the steering wheel while the rest of his body was turned to make sure that no cars were passing.

Once he was safely out of the parking lot, he then replies, “Because y/n, there’s nothing better than a nice BLT sandwich on a Saturday night, don’t you think?”

“They’re not even all that—” you’re about to lecture him until he interrupts.

“Ah Ah ah, I’m the graduation boy,” he pouts while driving, “We went all the way to Itaewon to try that Italian food you wanted so bad when it was your graduation day, and you didn’t hear me complain.”

You narrow your eyes at him, damn him …

“Mm,” you mumble.

“Oh I love this song!” Jin, with his right hand, turns up the volume to the radio, “Californiaaaa loveeee,” he repeats after the robot, the music now blasting in the background as he gets on the highway, now on your way back home.

“Passing” you the imaginary mic in his hand, he expects you to sing with him and for a moment you stare at him with a deadpan look until of course you smile at his foolishness, “California knows how to party,” you sing, passing him the “mic”.

“In the cityyyyy of LA,” he continues along, and it goes like this the whole car ride. The two of you going back and forth singing songs from famous artists such as the Backstreet Boys, Boyz II Men, Radiohead, Nirvana, and of course Jin’s favorite, Miss Mariah Carey.

And just like that the day goes by in the blink of an eye, from eating at the diner with his mom and siblings, to visiting your parents until finally the two of you found yourselves sitting on your porch just like the good old days.

Resting your head against his shoulder, both of you stare at the sky above in silence, the stars out and shining bright tonight.

“We really graduated,” you say in disbelief, breaking the silence. Jin turns his attention to you, a small smile on his face.

“Crazy huh?” he interlocks his hand with yours, kissing the knuckles of it, “Time went by in the blink of an eye, and now we’re officially in the real world. Nothing but a tiny speck in such a large universe, almost like the stars,” he chuckles looking back up to the sky, and you gaze at him with a soft look in your eyes. If only he knew how much brighter he shined compared to them.

“Jin…” you randomly say, “I love you,” and though he’s heard it come out of your mouth many many times before tonight, each and every time he did hear it, his heart swelled the same as the first.

Unlocking his hand from yours, he instead wraps his arm across your shoulder, gently bringing you closer to him, enough that you could even hear the sound of his heart beating. Something that not even a video camera could capture. This was a memory you two would just have to remember on your own when you are both old and grey.

“I love you too princess,” he whispers, “I love you too,” he repeats to himself, “You know, I’ve been thinking these days about our future...” you look up at him from your position, childlike curiosity now shown across your face, “I feel like since we’ve always lived moment to moment since we’ve met, I’ve never really asked you…” he pauses debating whether to ask, “what kind of future do you want?”

Softly chucking, you shrug, “You really wanna hear it?” you ask, and he furrows his brows, almost offended you’d even ask, but rather than scold you he simply nods, “Hmm..” you think for a moment, “I picture us both having successful careers and living in the big city while we’re at our peak, getting married on a whim and occasionally traveling the world in search of an adventure,” you pause, “but when the time comes to finally relax, then I’d want to move back here, to where it’s calm and quiet, buy ourselves a house and maybe we’d even have a kid, just one though,” you emphasize.

He arches his brow, “Just one?” he asks.

You nod your head, “After babysitting your siblings, yes, just one,” you repeat with laughter and he himself can’t help but laugh, “I think a girl preferably, but I wouldn’t be mad at a boy, They would probably take after you in looks,” you add, nudging his shoulder.

He blushes for a moment, before faking smugness and winking at you.

You laugh at his confidence before continuing, “And we’d show them the different places this town has just like how you showed me, enough that they’d want to stay here when they’re older,” Jin notices how your eyes glisten as you talk of a time that felt so far away, “And we’d be a small little happy family, supporting whatever it is that their dream will be. And then we’d grow old and grey, maybe have a couple of grandkids running around, and we’d simply be proud of the life we’ve built together—”

And before you could continue on any further, the feeling of his soft lips placed against yours interrupts you, nothing but passion exchanged in the kiss. It isn’t until you’re both out of breath that you break away, Jin immediately framing his hands over your cheeks, “Promise me?” he asks, and you wrinkle in confusion, “Promise me you’ll live a life you’re proud of?”

“As long as you do the same,” you softly answer in return, and silently he nods, “then let’s do it.”

“If only I knew … If only he had been honest with me that night then maybe things could’ve been talked about right then and there before it got out of control…”

Jin crumples the rejection letter and throws it in the trash, frustrated by yet another rejection letter from a directing internship. Tonight he was visiting his parents for dinner while you were out of town on a trip to Busan with some college friends you’d met your freshman year. Taking the opportunity of being by himself in your guys’ apartment, he shredded the number of rejection letters he’d received from several programs in the past couple of months. Too ashamed to show you them.

Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t but feel frustrated. It’d been a year since the two of you had graduated college, and while your career in engineering physics was going great, he couldn’t say the same about his career in directing. Of course when you’d ask how everything was going, he’d feign a smile and say he was still waiting to hear back, guilty that he was incapable of telling you the truth.

Fixing the yellow unbuttoned dress shirt he was wearing over his plain white t-shirt and striped vest, he combs a hand through his hair one last time before leaving, feeling as if his head was about to explode.

“I made Naengmyun, your favorite,” Jin’s mother sets the bowl of noodles down along with several other sides, making sure her oldest son was eating good tonight. She was also trying to mitigate the awkwardness that was in the air tonight, this being one of the very rare occasions Jin and his father spent time together. Over the last year, things still were still stiff between the two, Jin’s father still clearly not accepting of his career choice.

Jin, who didn’t have much of an appetite, stirred with his noodles, hoping his mother wouldn’t notice.

“So Seokjin…” his mothers begins once she seats herself, “how’s everything been going so far?” she asks, genuinely wanting to know what her son has been up to these days.

Jin, trying not to look too uninterested, gives a simple response, “Um it’s been going good,” he casually says.

She nods, “What about y/n?” she asks, always interested in hearing about you.

At this question, Jin seems to perk up more, this change in behavior not going unnoticed by someone else at the table, “Great,” he says, “she’s currently working at a paid internship for some technical writing company that specializes in space and astronomy,” he continues on, “she really seems to love it.”

A smile appears on his mother’s face, happy to know that you were doing great.

“But what about you?” the voice across the table suddenly asks, and Jin is met with the glare of his father, “you seem to have so much to say about y/n, but so little about yourself,” his dad comments, and Jin could physically feel his stomach drop, his words reminding him of what he just shredded at home not too long ago.

“What do you want me to say?” Jin asks, hiding his nervousness through a monotone voice.

His dad scoffs, “That you’re doing something with your life,” he says a little too harshly, “that you’re not living in the shadow of your girlfriend.”

“Sungj—”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jin sneers in the same amount of attitude his dad had.

“Seokjin!” his mother shouts, “That’s your father you're speaking to,” she reminds him, believing that the practice of respect should still be something upheld no matter what, “Kids, go to your room,” she tells the twins, and without question they do.

Jin quickly calms himself down, just wanting to leave before this escalated any more, “It means that I told you that business was the way to go, but no you were so adamant on proving me wrong and pursuing your dreams that now you can’t even guarantee yourself an independent future!” his dad spat in return, his voice now raising with every sentence . The bottled feelings from years ago now spilling out... rapidly at that.

“Why is it that with you it’s always business, business, business?” Jin throws his hands in the air, “I mean really that’s all I’ve ever heard from you growing up! Jin you need to be like this, Jin you need to make sure you do this, Jin I need this from you,” he mocks his dad, “I mean really is that all you care about dad? Meeting your expectations? Following your footsteps?”

“I do it because you’re my son Seokjin! My son, who I thought I raised to think critically, to strive for success—”

“You think I’m not trying?” Seokjin shouts, his voice turning hoarse at the end, “You think I wanted to fail? To have to come to the realization that—” he stutters, “that shit’s not going how I planned it?” Jin’s mother feels her eyes brim with tears, “That while my long time girlfriend is on her way to becoming a star in her field that I’m stuck waiting tables with a useless degree in my pocket! Is that what you want me to say, dad? Is that it?”

He remains silent.

“You think I don’t know that I’ve made a mistake? That I don’t wake up with the dread of knowing that I’m not at all good for her? That while she could be with someone who makes just as much money as she does and actually provides for her, she decides to stick with me? The person who can hardly offer her anything?” rather than feeling a weight come off his shoulders, Jin feels an extra burden get added on, almost feeling suffocated.

“Well then I’m sorry dad! I’m sorry I couldn’t be the magnificent first born son you wanted!” by now tears are spilling out of Jin’s eyes in such a rapid pace that his vision blurs.

All his father can do is stare at him, unsure of what to say or do.

Growing up Jin’s father wasn’t much of an affectionate parent, that role being filled more by his mother than his dad. If anything his father usually kept more of a reserved and stoic personality, his love language shown by the long nights of work he puts in for his family at the office and the constant pushing for success. And so here in this moment, to have his oldest son who he’d push to his complete limit cry his heart out in front of him, probably in desperate need of a hug, Sungjin just couldn’t bring himself to comfort him.

And so instead he simply said, “Goodnight Seokjin,” in the softest voice possible, before making his way upstairs to his bedroom, leaving the words he so desperately wanted to say unsaid.

Jin feels the arms of his mother hug him, her eyes as teary stained as his, “Ah Seokjin,” her voice breaks as she attempts to comfort him.

“I—” Jin hesitates, “I need to go back home mom,” and gently he breaks away from the hug.

“Seokjin…” his mother worries, “Just stay here for the night, I’ll grab your old sheets from the closet and—”

“Mom,” he simply says, a way of finalizing his decision

Knowing she wasn’t going to be able to convince him, she squeezes his shoulder in an effort to comfort him, “Drive safe,” she says.

He nods, just wanting to go home and sleep the night away.

Unlocking the door to your guys’ apartment, Jin was surprised to see you in the kitchen making ramen, your packed bags laid across the couch.

Having heard the door open, you turn to face him, “Hey—” and almost immediately your expression goes from one of happiness to one of concern. Quickly you rush towards him, his puffy eyes telling you that he’d been crying, “Hey, what’s wrong?” you raise your hand to cup his cheek.

Jin simply stares at you with a saddened look, unsure of what to say. “Hey, I’ve realized tonight after an argument with my father that I’m a complete utter failure, and you have no chance at a happy future by being with me.” Is that what he should say? It was the truth, wasn’t it?

“It’s—” he pauses, “It’s nothing,” he lowers your hand from his face, taking off his shoes and setting his keys down.

“Seokjin—”

“Y/N, it’s nothing,” he repeats, his way of telling you that he was serious, “I’m going to bed,” he exhales a deep sigh, making his way towards the bedroom, leaving you standing in the living room by yourself, wondering what in the hell just happened?

The next morning, as per usual Jin awoke to an empty bed, your Monday’s usually having you go in very early in the morning.

Jin groaned as he got up, remembering that today was his day off. God, did he just wanna stay in bed all day, but remembering that the two of you were running low on groceries, he thought might as well make himself useful and do the buying for the week.

Looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, he noticed the strands of his hair he once kept short now getting longer, resembling the mullet he used to have when he was a teen. Not that he hated it or anything, but it was an odd sight to see, and so he grabbed his hair cutting scissors from the cabinet and began to unevenly chop the long strands of hair ultimately resulting in a chopped banged look. To make it look more natural, he ruffled his hair at the end, not bothering to style it.

After that he changed into casual clothing and made his way to the grocery store, relying on nothing but his pure memory for the things he needed to buy.

Humming while pushing the cart full of groceries back to his car, he stops when something catches his eye.

Across the street was the headquarters of one of the internships he had applied for. And maybe it was due to the argument he had with his dad the day before, or the fact that he’d been feeling like a complete utter failure recently, but getting into his car, Jin couldn’t bring himself to drive away and go back home. Instead he got out of the car and began to walk across the street, unsure of what it was he was planning to do.

Ding. Ding.

Jin rings the service bell, that impulsive courageous feeling he felt earlier suddenly abandoning him.

A man, who looked like he was near Jin’s age, walks out of the back office, a tag that read the name “Jungkook” pinned on the left side of his chest, “Hello, how can I help you?” he greets, a small smile on his face.

“Oh um—” Jin becomes flustered, but deciding that there was no backing down he continued on, “I sent in an application here a couple of months ago and I haven’t heard back from anyone, so I was just wondering—”

Jungkook’s face becomes one of nervousness, “Oh I’m sorry sir—” he tries to interrupt but Jin relents.

“If there’d been some kind of delay in the process, and well if there has been, if I could talk to someone because I really need—”

“Sir,” Jungkook repeats, this time halting Jin from continuing, “that position you’re talking about was filled months ago,” he practically whispers with a look of both awkwardness and pity on his face, “maybe your letter got lost in the mail, but there’s not really much you can do by coming in here.”

Jin, clearly in denial, nods his head no, “Please,” he pleads, “I just need to talk to someone for like ten minutes at most, I swear.”

“Sir—”

“Can’t you write down my number or something? Pass it on at least?!”

Jungkook can only stare at the frantic man, unsure of what to say or do, “I-” he stutters, “I can’t,” he ultimately says, not wanting to give this man false hope nor waste his time by writing his name and number down, “I’m gonna have to call security if you don’t leave,” he says, voice wobbling.

It’s only then that Jin realizes how crazy he must’ve looked. Not only was he in casual clothing, but his hair was all messy and he was sure his eyes must’ve been dilated in cause of his desperation.

“I’m-I’m sorry,” he whispers under his breath, hastily making his way out.

What was he thinking? Barging in and demanding things like that…. God he was losing it. Though he knew better than to let his dad’s words get to him, for some reason they were just eating at him.

“... it’s also important to know that like any other career there is a risk of not making it because at the end of the day that’s how life works and sometimes things are just out of our control… but the real question is if you’re willing to accept it if it happens…”

Your words from years ago ring in his head, and he shakes his head in denial. No he wasn’t … he wasn’t willing to accept it and he knew he’d only continue looking like a fool if he didn’t. But he just couldn’t. Because fully accepting it would mean he’d let you down. That the person you said you were sure was going to make it, was nothing but a failure.

And so he walks back to his car, dreadfully going back home, forgetting the words you spoke after.

That everything would be okay, and that you’d be with him every step of the way.

“Since the day Jin and I had met, we had never seriously fought over anything, yeah, we’d occasionally get into a petty quarrel, but never enough to really get us truly mad. Things like which character in a movie was morally correct, or who ate the leftovers from the night before were as heated as our arguments ever got, and even then we’d always forgive each other after a couple of hours of cooling off, but this time… this time it was different. This time it was serious.”

Opening the door, Jin sighed as set down the bagged groceries on the floor, mentally and physically exhausted from everything, personally declaring to himself that this week was just a really bad week for him.

Taking off his shoes, he began to make his way into the kitchen, deciding that maybe a cold cup of water would relax him.

But when he was met with you, sitting on the kitchen isle’s chair with several shredded pieces of paper on the surface of the isle in front of you, along with an unshredded one in your hand, he was sure he wanted to curl up in a ball and disappear.

The look on your face said everything, it was a mixture of betrayal, anger, and sadness all in one. The two of you stared at each other for the longest, words not having to be exchanged in order to understand what was going on, until finally you break the silence and it’s what you ask that Jin swore he felt his soul go cold, “W-Why?” is all you say, your voice weak and fragile.

He gulps down the lump in his throat, the words barely managing to come out of his mouth, “Because y/n I just—” he pauses, unsure of what to say, “I just couldn’t tell you,” he ultimately says, pushing his hair back with his hand.

“But why?” you repeat the same question from before, your voice now growing louder as you get up from the seat, “I just don’t understand,” you add because no, you weren’t angry, you weren’t sad … you were hurt. You were concerned. You were worried. For you had just found out that the man you loved more than anything went to this extent to hide something from you. To hide something so … trivial.

Tears well up in your eyes when you notice the glossiness in his own eyes, “You—” his voice cracks, “You wouldn’t get it,” he states, and this causes you to get defensive.

“I’m sure I would, if you’d just talk to me,” you barked back, coming closer to him, “Whatever it was, it should’ve never resorted to this!” you flail the paper in your hands around.

You don’t mean to yell, but you do. It was frustration that was coming out of your mouth, he had to understand that … right?

Sighing you continue, “Today at work I just couldn’t focus, not when I knew there was something seriously bothering you,” you explain how you’d come to find the paper along with the rest of it’s shredded companions, “So I asked if I could leave early, thinking that since you had the day off I could maybe possibly get whatever it was out of you. Of course seeing that you weren’t here, I did some snooping of my own and well…” you shake your head.

“You’ve been lying to me for months Seokjin…. each time I’d ask you if you’d heard anything you’d say no, knowing you had … and for what? Because you didn’t wanna show me that you got rejected?” you sigh in dismay because despite him not answering you, you knew exactly why he didn’t tell you anything, “I would’ve helped you, you know? We could’ve worked on your resume or make a better project to show, I could’ve helped,” you grab his hand, a way of wanting to show that even now you were still beside him, “Say something Jin,” your voice breaks.

“You don’t—” he looks down at you, “You don’t get it y/n,” he monotonously repeats, removing your hand from his and walking towards the bedroom, a tired expression on his face.

He could feel it… he could feel himself cracking. With every minute that continued to pass in this wretched day, the selfless Jin everyone knew and loved was reaching his breaking point and the last person he wanted to take it out on was you. But you just kept pushing.

“Seokjin!” you force him to turn around by pulling at his hand, “Just talk to me!” you demand.

“And say what!” he finally screams, “What do you want me to say y/n?!” he cries out, tears spewing out of his eyes, “That I completely failed at my dream? That my dad was right, and that film was nothing but a mistake? That I could be working at some fancy company that pays a decent salary rather than relying on tips from a hard day’s work? That when I look at myself in the mirror, I see nothing but a failure!”

“Don’t say that about yourself,” you demand.

“It’s true isn’t it?” he questions, “Can’t you see that I’m not the person you think I am, that you’ve wasted your time being with some—”

“Just shut up already,” you grit your teeth, “... can’t you see I don’t care? I don’t care if you’re the richest or poorest man on Earth, I don’t care if your dad thinks that your career path is wrong, I don’t care if you or other people think you don’t deserve what you have, I just don’t care! What I do care about is your happiness and that shouldn’t rely on meeting other people’s expectations, including my own Seokjin. Because trust me, as long as I’m with you, I’m the happiest girl in the world. I promise you, if there’s one thing that’s true in this world, it’s that,” you lay your heart bare.

By now the both of you are crying, tears silently rolling down from the corners of each other's eyes.

It hurt to see Jin think so lowly of himself, especially when you knew just how much of an amazing person he was.

“Y/N…” he whispers your name as softly as he can, “I’m just really tired, and I just really wanna go to sleep,” his voice breaks.

“Seokjin—”

“Please?” he frowns, his eyes yearning to be closed.

“I’ll—” you pause for a moment, “I’ll see you in bed then,” you ultimately say, sadness looming in the air for the words unsaid.

Silently nodding, Jin makes his way to the bedroom, gently shutting the door behind him and exhaling a deep breath of air, silent muffled sobs finally escaping. A decision already set in his mind.

“A part of me used to think that I should’ve immediately went to bed that night, that then I would’ve caught him crying and maybe we could’ve thoroughly talked everything out that night, but then I think about all of the events that later happened after that night, and that’s when I understand that maybe we were doomed from the beginning…”

It had been a couple of weeks since the argument with Jin and though your interactions were still a little stiff with one another, you were still hopeful that things would get better. They had to.

Sighing, you unlock the door to your apartment, ready to take a nap after a long day of work. Kicking off your shoes, you say something outloud, assuming that Jin was in the kitchen like he usually was whenever you’d come back from work, “Jin take out the kimchi from the fridge for me please,” your voice weirdly echoes across the room, changing your course of direction from the bathroom to the kitchen.

“Jin?” you ask to an empty kitchen, “Hm,” you hum to yourself, maybe he was in the bedroom …

Walking inside, you see that he isn’t there, but what you do notice is the sudden emptiness of the room. The clothes he’d have thrown around no longer scattered around the room, and his little Mario figurines were no longer on the wooden shelf you two had built from scratch …. What in the hell was going on?

“Seokjin?” you shout again, hoping this was some kind of stupid prank on his part.

In a panicked manner, you look inside every possible room in the apartment, from the closets to the restroom, Jin being nowhere to be found. It isn’t until you do a second search of the kitchen that you notice that there was a note on the floor (most likely accidentally falling to the floor earlier).

Eyebrows furrowing when you read the note, you immediately grab your keys, shock and anger acting as your driving force.

“Right when I left, it began to rain heavy... It’s weird … I remember driving with such a rage that night I was sure I was driving recklessly… but for some reason, as ironic as it was, there was an artist playing on the radio that must’ve kept me at bay, Mariah Carey singing Without You …”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The door opens.

“Ah Y/N,” Mrs. Kim greets you, her apron from either cooking or baking still on, “I feel like I haven’t seen you in such a long time,” she chuckles, hugging you in the process. Despite your current dilemma, you feign a smile, not wanting to be disrespectful even if you were in a horrible mood. “Is Seokjin with you?” she genuinely asks, and this causes your expression to be one of shock.

He wasn’t here? Then where the hell was he?

“O-oh no,” you stutter, partially due to the freezing weather, “I thought he was here...” you say, and his mother’s face immediately becomes one of concern.

“No...” she hesitantly says, clearly confused, “Not that I know of,” she furrows her brows, “Oh honey, you’re soaking, come in, come in,” she insists, “maybe we can try calling his job using the house phone,” she begins to ramble, but you stop yourself before completely entering, a sudden thought crossing your mind.

“A-a-actually it’s fine,” you say, “I think I know where he is.”

She tilts her head in confusion, “Are you sure? The rain is only getting heavier, and I’m sure neither Seokjin or your parents would want you driving in these conditions,” she says, noting the dull look in your eyes. You appreciated her concern, for you knew she loved you in her own special way, always imagining that you’d one day be her future daughter in law.

It was only expected really, you’d been in Jin’s life for almost 7 years now, both she and your mom always glancing at your ring finger whenever you’d visit, itching to see it decorated by a piece of jewelry.

If only Ms. Kim knew that that dream was slowly slipping away from your grasp at this current moment …

“Yes I’m sure Mrs. Kim,” you finally respond, “Don’t worry, I’ll drive safe,” you try to say as lightheartedly as possible.

Hesitantly, she nods, allowing you to leave.

“When Mrs. Kim had offered me to come inside, something had hit me out of nowhere and I remembered that it was raining. Pouring in fact. And my mind suddenly went back to the days when we were 17, remembering how he’d knock on my door with a bag of takeout after coming back from the one place you could always find him at on a rainy day… the diner. ”

Water is dripping from all over your body when you enter the diner, from your hair to your clothes, you were drenched in mother nature’s tears. The only thing that wasn’t completely soaking wet was the note in your hand, the one you slammed on the booth’s table he sat at once you spotted him.

He looks up at you with a pained expression on his face, “Everything I do is for you, and this is for the best. Don’t come looking for me, for I’ll be long gone by the next morning’s sunrise. I’m sorry. Yours forever, Jin,” you read the note out loud to him, a mixture of anger and hurt found in your voice.

He remains silent, watching as your fingers trembled in anger, “What?” you rhetorically ask, “Did you think I wasn’t going to come all the way down here to look for you, that I was just gonna accept this bullshit of a letter or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, and call it a day? Is that what you honestly thought?”

After several minutes of continuous silence, your voice rises in anger, “Don’t just look at me, say something!” you yell.

“Y/N,” he says, the volume in which you said it, catching the attention of the late night goers also at the diner, “you’re causing a scene.”

You take a seat across from him, planning on being as loud as you needed to be until you got some answers, “How could I not when my boyfriend of over 7 years decides to pack up his things and leave to God knows where while only leaving some sorry excuse of a note for me.” your voice shakes, “What the hell did you expect?”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, genuinely meaning the two simple words, more than you could ever know. Did you think he wanted to leave you? That he wanted to toss away everything you two had built to the trash? That he wanted to hurt the person who meant the most to him in this world? Of course he didn’t. But he had to be the bad guy in this story. Not for him, but for you. Because he loved you so much, that’d he’d do anything to see you live the life you dreamt of.

“No,” you say, “I don’t believe this,” you fling the letter around in his face, “I need you to tell it to my face, then I’ll believe you,” tears begin to well up in your eyes. There was just no way. The Jin you knew would never do this to you, never in a million years.

“Y/N—” he sighs, but he knows you won’t relent until you hear it from him, “Y/N we can’t be together anymore,” he says, and the words echo in your mind as he continues, “After tonight we’ll be nothing more than strangers,” he says in such a monotone voice, if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was a heartless being.

What you didn’t know was that Jin wanted to cry. He wanted to scream. Every nerve in his body was begging him to break out in tears, but no matter how much he wanted to … he just couldn’t bring himself to break outwardly. Not right now at least. Because right now he needed to be unbreakable.

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” a single teardrop slowly rolls down your cheek, the agonizing ache you felt in your heart now growing because of his words, “Seokjin,” you whimper, “I-If this is because of what you were saying a couple of weeks ago,” forcibly you grab his hand from across the table, your lips quivering in fear of losing the person you loved the most, “then why can’t you see I don’t care? Because to me you’ll always be the tall, lanky, boy with an outdated mullet who first showed me around town 7 years ago with a camera pointed at my face. Because as long as we’re with each other, we’ll get through anything Seokjin …” you squeeze his hand tighter, “You’re my person Seokjin, mine, and mine only,” you try to smile, only causing more tears to spill out of your eyes as they crease.

“Y/N…” just accept it, is what he wants to say because what he was about to say would change how you viewed him, it would make you question everything you ever knew about the person you loved, “I don’t know what else I can say or do for you to understand that I just don’t want to be with you anymore,” he feels the a knot forming in his throat, as if to tell him to stop immediately, that what he was saying would have irreversible consequences, “And I haven’t been for a while…” How disgusting he was.

“You’re—” your voice croaks, “You’re a liar—Seokjin please....” you cry.

He pulls his wallet out and sets the money for his meal down, getting up from his seat in the process, “I truly am sorry Y/N…” is all he can say, before giving you a final kiss on the forehead, his feet fighting against his will to turn around and apologize. To tell you that he was just being an idiot and beg for your forgiveness. But he couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

And so pushing the door open, he took one final glance at you, knowing he’d left his heart with you.

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kill-your-authors · 3 years

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I’ve been thinking about Booker again.

I know I’ve talked about my opinions on him before (and gotten hate for doing so) but I literally can’t let it go so here I am talking about it again.

I have a problem with how Booker’s character arc was handled in the movie. I whole-heartedly believe that the intention was for the audience to feel torn at the ending of the movie, after finding out that Booker betrayed them and that he was going to face a hundred years of exile and as an audience member I want to feel torn. I want to be asking myself, “But if I were in his shoes, can I honestly say I wouldn’t have done the same?” because writing that evokes that kind of emotion in the audience is exciting and it’s what fiction is for.

But we’re not torn at the end. I think everyone who watched the movie and is currently in this fandom has taken a definitive “side” when there was never supposed to be sides. People either over-sympathize with Booker and have either forgiven him or outright excused him for the harm he did, or they have vilified him and think he deserved worse, or that he ought to never be forgiven.

And as it stands, as the movie was written, I lean toward the side that believes, at the very least, he had it coming and deserves what he got.

But I wish that wasn’t the case. I wish the movie had done a better job of revealing Booker’s POV of things. Firstly, that he had no idea they were going to be captured. He believed they were going to give up some DNA, some tissue samples, and believed in doing so, that millions of sick people would either become healthy, or that their quality of life would be vastly improved and as a bonus in the process they would discover a way for him to end his life. In his eyes, that was nothing less than a win-win, and one I could easily see the youngest and least experienced and most naïve member of The Guard believing was the right thing to do.

Nile wasn’t part of his plan, Andy losing her immortality wasn’t part of his plan, Nicky and Joe being tortured wasn’t part of his plan. It wasn’t even part of Copley’s, so how could it have been part of Booker’s? Not only that, but Booker isn’t doing this just for himself. Booker gets called selfish a lot by this fandom, and gets called selfish in canon by Joe - but Booker really believed he was doing this for Andy too. He probably believed he was making the decision that Andy, the leader of their group, would never make because Andy knows she is the one the rest of them look up to to be strong and to cope with their immortality and to lead them on their righteous path of doing good and making the world a better place.

And I know I’ve made this argument before (and gotten hate for it) but I really think they fucked up when they had Booker say in the lab, “What do you know of the weight of all these years alone? You and Nicky always had each other.” I hate this line, because there is no way to interpret it other than that Booker did this because he’s lonely and not just lonely but romantically lonely which is indisputably selfish even if you consider that he’s doing it for Andy too, who had Quynh in her life for longer than Joe and Nicky have had each other, and who has had to live without her for 500 years.

I really wish that at this critical point in the plot, they had Booker bring up his kids. He is the only one (that we know of) out of the entire guard who had children and we know that his grief over losing them is what has driven him to the point of being suicidal because of his conversation with Nile by the campfire. Booker’s backstory is a tragedy. Not only did he watch all three of his children die (and presumably a wife) but they all despised him, and more importantly despised him for his immortality. They blamed him for their deaths. They are the real reason he is so desperate to “end it,” and yet they made it sound like the only reason he doesn’t want to live is because he doesn’t have a romantic partner which in comparison, is nothing and is indisputably a selfish and pathetic (as Joe points out) reason for him to expose the Guard’s immortality to outsiders.

I also think they should have done this because unlike Andy, Joe and Nicky, who all have lost people too, and had to grieve people too - Booker’s memory of his family is fresh. Their loss is still an open wound. Andy says herself that she can’t remember her mother or sisters’ faces. Andy, Joe and Nicky are full of grief too, but their wounds aren’t fresh.

(I also think this would have been good to highlight because it also explains why Nile was willing to let him off with an apology. I hate the implication that Nile wants to let him off with an apology because she hasn’t “learned” yet the way they suggest. I don’t think they’re giving Nile enough credit. Nile has just learned that she will never even speak to her mom and brother again, people she didn’t even get to say goodbye to. She has also just left all of her closest friends behind and the military, which was a vocation that was incredibly important to her due to her dad and she has just listened to Booker explain the toll this will take on her as time passes. When she suggests they let him off with an apology, it’s because she understands more than anybody else in that moment what the grief of losing your family can drive you to do. I know it is also because she is young, and has a good heart, and isn’t the type to hold a grudge, but to act as if that’s the only reason is just not giving Nile enough credit. She’s a marine who less than a week before believed that death was the end of it and here they all are now, alive and safe again, and she’s thinking, “No harm, no foul.”)

And also, Booker is like Nile. He’s “too new” still. Unlike Andy, Joe and Nicky who believe there’s at least a chance every time they die that they’re dying for real, Booker knows he’s got time. He knows he’s got centuries, maybe even millennia to endure yet. Millennia of wanting desperately to die and not being able to ahead of him. As someone who has been suicidal (and I know this makes me biased), who has believed the alternative to death was decades (not even centuries, let alone millennia!) of misery still ahead of me - I can tell you that when you’re thinking like that, death feels like such a gift, to be able to remind yourself, “at least I have the option to kill myself” when things get truly dark. Booker doesn’t have that option. He has to suffer indefinitely.

I just really wish the movie had explored this and I think it’s really unfortunate that what Booker’s going through got boiled down to being romantically lonely. I think Booker’s arc misses it’s own point and therefore the ending in which he gets exiled for 100 years defeats the purpose. We aren’t torn. We aren’t asking ourselves what we would have done in his place, and we aren’t unsure of the answer anyway. For me, this was a make-or-break missed opportunity for this movie. It’s still one of my favorite movies, and these characters are very close to my heart now, but as a writer it missed its mark.

#the old guard #sebastian le livre #joe x nicky #andromache of scythia #Booker #yes I know this meta has been beaten to death #but I'm still not over it

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nrth-wind-a · 3 years

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So I took a couple Romance Drabble Prompts on special request and uh... this spawned. A sort of companion piece to Cantus In Memoriam! Takes place right after Douxie explodes the Fortress in ep10 of Wizards. // @flamekeeperbellroc 1. I’m sorry 2. I hope you (and others!) enjoy! <3 --

Skrael can count on one hand the times he has been defeated in a magic battle, over the course of billions of years. So the very idea that it happens at all is… metallic in his throat.

Or, it will be.

He cannot feel it, yet. He cannot taste it, yet. He cannot feel—taste—anything. Yet.

Because at that exact moment, he is hurtling through the air, feet over head, end over end, and he is not awake to witness it.

A stuttered gasp as wind steals their breath—and it is not by the usual suspect, and that is already enough to push their panic up higher, into their closed throat—and as the air makes their eyes water, makes their stomach drop, rips at their feathers and their hair, Bellroc, Keeper of the Eternal Flame is the one to witness the North Wind at the mercy of his own domain, instead.

That cannot do.

They have to fix it.

They have to fix it, and they have to save- and they have to get- they have to- they have-

Their thoughts, their feelings, their—everything is flying. Too fast, too quick. Anything they feel, think, is merely half-formed as it is torn from them by their fall.

Instinct is a funny thing.

It can be cruel, and it can take from rationality. It can force terrible acts, and it can paralyze and freeze and grip. It can call from deep within.

But sometimes, like the Universe Herself, Instinct can be merciful.

And it is indeed by Mercy’s guidance alone, that Instinct takes hold of Bellroc in the right way. The way that slides itself into their arms, their hands, their body, and moves.

And it moves fast.

They collide into Skrael, and the trees are getting closer.

He is terrifyingly… not, warm, but—his cold does not hurt to touch, so it is warm to him, or will be, when—if?—stop that—he wakes—he will be uncomfortable—

They do not have time to think on this.

Clutching him to their chest, the only thing that comforts them is the weight of their staff in their hand—and there is warmth—and the way they point it downwards, and the way flame jets from it, and the way it slows their descent. It does not stop them, and they do not rise, but they slow—and—and their mind is slow, foggy, and this, even this, is effort they cannot afford to expend, but they pay it anyway, and will always pay it, because—

They will not let something as graceless… as… distant to them, as gravity, be Skrael’s undoing. The North Wind will not be a victim of his own expertise.

As the forest floor approaches too soon—still, too soon, even with their magic and the first prayers they’ve spoken in eons—they drop their staff, meters from the ground, and rotate, hitting back-first the soft, wet grass.

Skrael does not wake, even on the rough impact which sends them sliding, as they curl around him, doing all that they can not to roll, despite the scrapes they take because of it.

As they finally halt, they are still for just long enough to assess… to process—they swallow hard, working to draw in weak puffs of air.

And then they unfurl, lie him gently in the dirt—it is cold, so maybe—maybe it will—maybe he will—

His eyes remain closed.

For so long, all they’ve wanted for him is peace, but—

Not Like This.

Their voice breaks with their mind, and they cannot tell the bounds of either—whether or not their sobs are real or imagined, a product of the spiral their thoughts funnel down as easily as water through a drain—and—and—

Their voice, desperate, filters to their ears, as though there is cotton in them.

“You can’t die.” They are kneeling over him, hands on his chest, and it feels like begging at an altar, and they should hesitate in their next words, for what place could something so undutiful have at the feet of the restless gods? But they say it anyway, because their home is—their fortress, rather, is falling, engulfed in flame. Their Home, though, their real Home, has already fallen, and they cannot parse the meaning of that, here, in this moment because words have multiple meanings and emphases, and they cannot tell if he has fallen, or—capital f, Fallen. And if he has, then—they should have said it sooner, place and time be damned, so they don’t hesitate, as they finally breathe life into the words, “I love you.”

They burst in their chest like an explosion, an exothermic reaction, which they pay for in their rapidly heating eyes, “So if you die—” They swallow, ignore the undignified, nasal noise they don’t even mean to make, “I’m going to—to find you, in the afterlife, and—and revive you myself,” their voice quivers and they do all that they can to keep magma from dripping onto him, “And then… scold you like hell—” they cannot bear to threaten worse, “So come back to me, Skrael. I will—” they gasp, “—will never forgive you if you follow Merlin, and not…” their voice goes soft, “not… me.” It breaks.

They hold their breath.

He does not stir.

A sob reaches them belatedly, barely freeing itself from their throat, which feels as though a vice has looped around it and pulled taught, and they—they want to do something, hit something, shake Skrael to life, kill Hisirdoux Casperan, cry to the heavens so loudly, they’d put Achilles to shame—they cannot deny how… real that story feels, in that exact moment, and they must remember to grieve with Homer in the After, because to write something of a demigod’s grief reaching the feet of the gods, his family, in the far off heavens above must beget a deep understanding of a loss like this—of a cry like that, which shakes realms, upseats goddesses, calls on the Universe and makes Her weep, too, demands She join in the tragedy She has allowed—

A weakened, dry laugh slices their heart in twain. “The very idea that I’d follow Merlin anywhere is truly insulting, my flame. I have half a mind to disobey you, if I thought you wouldn’t make good on your promise.”

Wooden eyes cannot widen, but a gasp can be sucked in, and when it is, it nearly chokes them.

“Skrael.” They breathe, and before he can fully sit up, ashen arms are thrown around his neck, and a hand is on the back of his head, pressing it into their shoulder, and they are warm, and so is he, but he can’t even mind, because he can feel them, and they are no longer weeping.

A second laugh whispers across their skin, for them to feel him this time, as they hear him say, “I—apologize for taking so long. On the subject of that bastard, I… had to give him one last rude gesture on my way out. It would have been utterly remiss of me not—”

Two hands grip his hood and tug him close as lips meet his—meeting his, in relief. It is a salve. For the both of them. One that proves life, proves safety.

Heated lips can feel the cold ones beneath them grow colder, and there is a smile somewhere between them, but they aren’t sure whose it is.

Later, they will find it in themself to care of his nonchalance, but for now, as he draws back, pulls their head to his shoulder, traces his hands up their back, across their shoulders, their biceps, the only thing they can even begin to give a care for, is that Skrael is alive. They are alive. The both of them are—alive.

The castle crashes a mile away, and it should bother them, but it only feels the way his touch does in the pit of their stomach, in the gooseflesh across their skin. The electricity of his cold. The knowledge that he’s survived.

And the knowledge that he loves them, too. Which they do know.

Because the breath he uses to say it ruffles their hair, and the shiver down their spine that it causes, is—release—perfect.

#skraelroc strikes again #also my inability to write less than 500 words which is generous for a drabble already #tw: angst #there is a happy ending I swear #<3 #fic #skraelroc #ok to rb

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girlmounter · 3 years

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URGENT QUESTION TO ALL MY FOLLOWERS, I NEED YOUR FEEBACK!

Okay so here's the situation. I am asking you all to please please read this through and like, maybe tell me if I made the right decision... because I feel terrible about this. I would love it if someone told me if this is correct or wrong and I should've done something else. I'm not a popular blog, so whoever this post might reach (which is not going to be a lot of people) please please take some time out to read this through. I know it's a really long post, but I really really need your opinion on this. If you don't have the time right now, maybe just reblog it and save it for later. It would also help this post reach more people. Also please check the tags for the trigger warnings.

I have been going to a therapist for about 5 months now. My mom, as you probably know by now, is narcissistic and my dad enables her, along with my mom's parents who we live with. I have no siblings, and I just turned 17. Since we live in Asia, all you desi people know how hard society is on us when we go against our parents, who are supposed to be godly figures.

So all along, my therapist, (for confidentiality's sake we'll call him Sam, 21), has been bent on making me talk to them. I dont know why. I've tried explaining so many times that talking to my mom is not an option because 1) NARCISSISTIC PEOPLE DON'T EVER CHANGE and 2) my mom WILL use all my words against me and twist them into whatever she wants and later bring them up to bring me down. You guys with narcissistic parents know this shit too well.

It's not like I haven't ever even tried talking to them, I have! I've done it so many times, with a calm tone, in the most diplomatic way possible. There were times I tried to get the point across by crying and being desperate too. There were also times where I thought anger might work out.

It never did. It doesn't. It won't, because she is not looking for solutions or for mending the bond between us. All she wants is to infantilize me and keep me under her control forever. Mom and dad both want this. They don't ever want to let me out of their sights. They don't let me out of their sights.

A very long story short, I am supervised 24/7, I don't have much of a phone, I don't have friends, I don't have any family members who would support me, I don't have much of a family either tbh. I am monitored like crazy, gaslighted every single day, lied to, manipulated like hell, and babied to the point where it's just narcissistic infantilization and not concern anymore. To them, I'm a baby when it suits them, and I'm an adult when it suits them better that way. She doesn't care about what I think because apparently I'm a liar and to all those people out there who know the smear campaigning and the flying monkeys and the triangulation....yeah. All of that happens on a regular basis. I know I'm not providing any concrete proof and situations but please believe me. Please believe me. My memory is so shot I can't remember anything and i know it doesn't work out in my favor but please please believe me I'm telling the truth...

I have made three suicide attempts, I used to cut and was very badly addicted to it, and now I don't cut, but yeah I'll be sharing the reason in a little bit. Please hold on, this means a huge deal to me. Please don't scroll past this.

So Sam never really even had a smidge of doubt that my mom might be narcissistic, and I wasn't given the benefit of doubt either. After months of research when I myself figured that it might be narcissism, I told him and he went along with it. He does believe me now. But somehow I don't feel very understood. I dont feel better after I talk to him. I feel like my problems are trivial and that I'm just not working hard enough. I feel misunderstood and I never feel satisfied. I asked him for tips to deal with crushing loneliness and panic attacks and stuff like that, but I never receive real answers. When I asked for help with my suicidal thoughts, he just said that it's never an option and that's it. That's the only answer I got. When I asked for help with cutting, the only answer I got was that if I even tried to cut again, I'd lose him.

Like. Is that really how therapy is supposed to work?

Half of the time we just while time away, talking as if we're friends and I mean, it's a paid session. We're not very financially well off right now, what with the pandemic and everything, and we're paying him 2000 INR a week. It's a lot for us because we ain't exactly rich. That's like 10,000 INR a month.

I try to talk, I'm told that I don't stop talking and don't let him speak. When I don't speak, I'm not speaking enough. I dont feel comfortable anymore in a way that I think I should be with a therapist. I have recieved more helpful advice from actual PhD psychologists who are making videos on dealing with narcissism on YouTube. I feel more understood by them than I ever have with him. So many times I have left the session crying and hours later I'd still be stifling tears. So many times I don't feel heard and I feel like if I told him something he'd be angry. Sometimes he snaps and is like way too straightforward and it just doesn't do well with me. He doesn't support a lot of stuff that I support, like anti body shaming, especially for overweight people and stuff like LGBTQIA+ too, really. I'm mocked in an underhand way if I express that I support stuff that he doesn't really like. It's not straightforward but... I can't shake the feeling.

I do sometimes look forward to the sessions, if only because I'll have someone to talk to...but that's pretty much it. I'm not getting anything out of this. He claims that no one will understand me the way he does, and he keeps comparing my life to his, which I don't like. He says that in a way he and I both very similar and he relates to me and then proceeds to tell me about events in his life. He says that I'm his favorite client and now a good friend too, but I feel like that's not how it should be. And I do make an effort to listen to him tell me stuff about his life but...shouldn't it be the other way round?

Now I'm not saying that he is a bad person. I have loads of my own issues too; severe depression, crippling anxiety, overthinking every freaking thing, I'm like 100% sure I have complex PTSD from this childhood trauma, constant pain everywhere, crazy headaches, flashbacks, nightmares, hallucinations sometimes, and major emotion repression. I'm dealing with a million and one things right now and yes that might be causing me to feel worse about this situation than I should. I admit that I'm not exactly thinking about this in a diplomatic way...but somehow it doesn't feel right, and hence this really long post.

If you're still here, thank you so much. Your reading this is doing something that means a lot to me. Truly.

He exercises a lot, and he gave me a whole schedule to follow with the meals I should eat and the exercise I should do and somehow I never feel like I'm doing enough. If I miss out I can't tell him because he always reprimands me for messing up. I dont feel comfortable about opening up and then he forces me to do that and then when I do I don't feel better.

Lately, we'd been talking about how I need to tell my parents to their face what I feel is wrong with their actions, and how without that happening there's no point to our sessions anymore. Straight up went that if I don't talk to them on this Sunday, then we're not going to have sessions anymore.

I tried explaining to him many times how my mom will never change, how I don't want to enrage them further, how I don't want to give her more information on my life that she can use against me again...but no use.

He insisted over and over again on how she has no idea what she's doing to me, and if we just talked it out, my whole situation will be fine. This is just a huge misunderstanding.

I tried so hard to make him understand that that's not how it works for her, she doesn't want to resolve things and she'll just jump at the first chance she gets to use all my information against me, but no. I tried telling him that I have talked to her before and that I also used to think that if I just told her what they were doing wrong, then they would understand and mend their ways, I mean it took me YEARS to convince myself that it was never gonna happen! I tried it so many times and everytime I fell for this trap and everytime I regretted it but he doesn't get that! At all! That they're never gonna change!

Instead of helping me get over them, instead of telling me how to move on, instead of helping me grieve over my entire childhood... he was forcing me to talk things out with them, because if I didn't tell them I would be keeping it inside me and letting that fester would be bad.

I agree that it's not healthy for me to keep things to myself, which is why I talked to him right? And the things which are troubling me cannot be resolved with them because they refuse to change their ways!

The only thing that would come out of that family discussion is me at a disadvantage and them at an advantage by having all the latest scoop on my life and then have my mom (who is a doctor who has also done a course on CBT) psychoanalyse me even more than she does now. I'd be tailed harder. It will get worse and I know it. I've seen it and I promised myself that I would never make the same mistake of opening up to them honestly ever again. And here Sam wanted me to that very thing.

And I agreed initially, I tried convincing myself that maybe it'll work out and after all, Sam will be defending me and everything (even though he did say he would support them if he found them correct) but I didn't feel good about it. I remembered that a therapist is supposed to make you feel more at ease and let you take your own time to process through things and never force a client to do something if they had doubts about it.

And so I texted him today, and I refused. He said we won't have any more sessions, but I said it's fine. Because I don't want to go to him anymore anyway. I think I would rather have no one to talk to, than have someone belittle my experiences and just overall make me feel worse than I did when I first entered the session.

There's more stuff that was related to this, and if you guys want to know something before making your judgement of this situation, please please please ask me, message me, but please just have a bird's eye view on this whole thing and tell me if I made the right decision...please.

I would really appreciate some feedback right now.

Thank you so,so much for sticking with me till the end of this post. It means the world to me, honestly. I couldn't thank you more.

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previouslynebraskan · 3 years

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Why humans are assholes

Hi, my pen name is Gwendolyn, and welcome to my TED talk on empathy

*side note, I suck at writing, and my train of thought is derailed frequently. So buckle up, and I’ll be surprised if you make it with me to the end, as we don’t know organization.

First off, I’ll disclaim something terrible about myself. I’m a Christian. Even worse. I’m a rosary rattler. A Catholic! Oh and you thought it couldn’t get worse? I’m not even a good one. God and I are only on speaking terms when I need him (which is pretty frequent, but not the point). Church feels like an obligation most weeks, and just because I know the rules and believe in the rules, doesn’t mean that I follow them.

Alrighty! Terrible things out of the way. Let’s begin. Humans are assholes. Most people, especially the population of Tumblr, will agree with me. Between human atrocities, selfishness, and down right lack of care, humans are just assholes. I am too. I am human. Ask my siblings. Like any good older sister, I wanted nothing to do with my siblings, and when forced to see them at school, I was unprecedently mean to them. Ask my husband. I am ridiculously selfish, and only do things when it suits me. And yet, there is an entire history of the human race, with worse individuals than myself. And a lot of people might see that, and think, cool, I feel better about myself, because I’m not Hitler. I feel better about myself because I wasn’t a member of the KKK. Well, personally, I don’t. The next disclaimer I am going to make about myself, I’m a self-diagnosed empath. I’ve never been to a therapist. I don’t currently have plans to either, but I’ll let God decide that path later. The reason I bring this up, and the reason I mentioned my religion at the beginning, is because I truly believe that if not for my first disclaimer, my second might not exist.

I am a crier. And I get annoyed at criers. But I don’t cry at reasonable things. No. I cry at other people’s feelings. Let’s bastardize the golden rule real quick. For those who are unaware, “Treat others how you want to be treated.” Now, I’m sure many people recall going through a phase where they could translate that in their still learning brains to “I can treat people however I want because I wouldn’t care if they were that way to me.” Now back to the golden rule. The bastardization is, put yourself in someone else’s shoes. How many of us got told this by their parents at a young age after not playing nicely with another kid? Apparently, God took it upon Himself to write that verse on my heart. And it went something like this: I cried when my mother told me that her grandmother (whom I had only met twice and had no actual recollection of) died. I was inconsolable when my grandfather died. So much so that even now, almost fifteen years later, it still stops me in my tracks, my heart hurts so much. I cried when Michael Jackson died. I didn’t really even like his music that much. I’ve cried at almost every movie I’ve ever seen. My sister’s speech at my wedding included the moment where she had to chaperone me on a date with my then boyfriend, and we went to Frozen. Now yes, I cried at the scene when her parents die in the shipwreck. But it gets worse. Elsa is out there, just ran away, no plans for shelter yet apparently, and she begins to break out into song. At first I’m fine. But then I can feel my heart, as she sings, “well now they know.” I start bawling my eyes out. And all I can give in response to my sister’s quizzical look of “What the fuck is wrong with you???” (Yes I cursed, I told you, not one of the good ones. Fuck off), was: “She’s just so happy!” I wouldn’t necessarily say I was sad at that time. But I could feel the relase that an animated character was expressing on the big screen. I could feel the weight come off of her shoulders, and I cried. I mourned for what she went through, but shed tears of joy that she had found peace. Tonight. I was watching Facebook videos instead of taking care of my nightly routine of getting ready for bed. And a Mengele twin told her story of survival. When she mentioned looking around for her father and older sisters, I felt that. When she said she could still see her mother’s outstreched arms, I could see that. When she mentioned the panic of trying to save her sister years after liberation, trying to find records of what was done to them, her rage and anger. And then her forgiveness. Do you know how strong someone has to be in order to forgive? To let go of the pain in your heart, knowing you’ll never get revenge. You’ll never get an answer. And you just let it go? That strength is super human. This week, as we pass the 20th anniversary of the tragedy of 9/11, my hometown did a wonderful commemoration. I cried. My aunt gave me a look of disgust because I was crying, again. I cried not only for those who lost their lives, but for their families who would never be whole, for the heroes who stepped up, then and now. I am a proud Navy wife. My husband is out sacrificing his time, so that I don’t have to. And so that I can worship my stupid religion that I cling to, so I can walk around saying inappropriate words and wear not enough clothing. But he made that choice. There are a lot who didn’t. Earlier this week, someone posted the transcription of the phone call of flight 93. The moment that he said that the passengers wanted to sacrifice their lives, for the sake of our country, I hurt. And then he asked the person on the other end of the line to pray. Another video this week, an ex soldier, who fought early on in Afghanistan was telling a story about one of his soldiers. They were getting ready for a raid that would likely kill them. His soldier asks, I know we signed up to fight, but why are we doing this? The man’s response was, for the people up in that tower who didn’t. He goes on to explain the story of a young mother. Two kids. Went to work like any other day, and her last attempt at human decency was to hold her skirt down as she jumped out of the burning tower, so the people below couldn’t see up her skirt.

Crpl. Page was a Marine from my state who just passed away. He was two years younger than me. I never knew him. But I grieve for his family and friends.

See the worst part about being an empath in a world where human’s are assholes, is there’s never a shortage of people’s feelings to feel. I’ve been told that you can experience an emotion so strongly that your body’s only reaction to the volume of what it feels is to cry. And that resonates with me. I feel joy to such an extreme when I’m with my family, celebrating time together. I feel the sorrow of people missing loved ones, and their hearts breaking. And there are times when I wonder if it’s a gift? Or if it’s a curse. It’s a gift to be able to go to someone and say, I can feel for you and your situation. I don’t feel sorry for you. I feel your pain as though it were my own. But it’s a curse to feel the attrocities of humanity and just sit and wonder why it had to happen. Why it had to come to this. I got told I was crying for attention. I wasn’t, but that didn’t matter. Supposedly, behavioral psychology could “fix me” if I wanted it. I could be trained to control my emotions, and process them in a way that wasn’t so consuming. It would definetly help my self diagnosed depression. But let’s posit that God made me this way for a reason. He gave me this gift with a purpose in mind. What then? The problem is, I don’t know how to effectively use it without letting it ruin my life. I can never be a therapist, because I would be able to take on the feelings of my clients. And while I do very much believe in tough love, I also belive that if you just have the right push in the right direction, great changes can be made. Would the Holocaust have happened if Hitler had better relationship with his mother? (this is a personal piece, I am reflecting on history classes I haven’t taken since high school. I’m not fact checking this. Don’t at me.) Would Columine have taken place if those kids had been in a better place mentally?

You know what the awful thing is...? Look at all of these events. Look at all of these heart wrenching dates in history. And then look what came out of them. Out of 9/11 came one of the most unified fronts America has had in a long time. Out of World War II came men of valor. A chemical reaction occurs when you take an object, and force it to experience a high degree of change. And that is what gives us assholes grit. Our experiences make us tougher, and make us better. And maybe less of a crybaby in my case. Or more of a cyborg who doesn’t experience emotion for fear of being consumed by them.

Ramble is over. For those of you who persisted and tried to keep up, good job and I’m sorry. For those who didn’t, don’t worry, I wouldn’t blame you.

Some effort is better than none at all, and if all you are capable of is existing today, then I hope you do, and I know you will do it beautifully.

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the-falcon-of-the-fall · 3 years

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An Analysis of Laverre

I’ve been in the Spe fandom for 5 years, and have been around during the early days of the XY arc. The only content I got, like many English speaker fans, were Coronis’s summaries of the arc being released, and theviolenttomboy’s comics based on those summaries. Even though they don’t show much details at the time, I was enthralled by the fast pace, the action, and how interesting X and Y are, especially X. He’s a shut-in, and Y is his ever faithful friend who stuck by him despite him being a hardass at times, while also keeping their friend group together. I fell in love with them as a ship because of how loyal she was to X, an ideal many would want but unfortunately may not have, as depressed people are hard to deal with, shown with his friends having already given up on him begging him to leave his room because they have their own lives. X returns this loyalty with deep care and trust for her, while also considering her needs and emotions.

While I had other ships that eventually fell out of interest, Laverre has staunchly remained as my absolute favorite ship of Spe, and perhaps one of the top faves among all of my ships. It’s because it’s been with me for a long time, but it also resonates with me. I do have depressed friends, some lost and some still present, and I understand the pain it is at times to try to help them, not being depressed myself. I have a long-term boyfriend who faces similar issues X has, who I sometimes can’t understand because I don’t have those same issues. I can relate to Y of the frustrations felt towards X, and sometimes, my friends are too frustrating for me. However, Y has the ability to make it clear when he has pissed her off, and X has the ability to recognize he causes her stress and try to own up to it and change instead of blaming it on circumstances, most prominent when she points out how him running off to fight Team Flare is an incredibly awful decision that endangered him and everyone else to try to back him up, and cause them a lot of grief. He apologizes for doing that to Y, and listens to her for the rest of the arc by communicating properly on what he plans to do.

But even before that most notable moment between the two, during their time with Cassius, X gives Y distance when she finds out Grace was kidnapped by Team Flare and makes it clear she wants to be alone. While it may look like he’s not considerate of her needs, X’s already established to be a bit of a mess, already has pissed off Y by using her Rhyhorn as his new room, and is very mad and stressed about those news too, so him trying to help her with that would make things worse. Not only that, it’s established he has a much better relationship with Grace, with X stated to care a lot for Grace by Y, and we can see that as him venting it out by needlessly Mega Evolving and defeating a wild Pokemon, and being even more snappish. Not only is X a mess who has grief on top of that, he’s going to be biased to Grace, and he knows that won’t help Y whatsoever, who already is acting withdrawn to everyone else.

We can see that Grace tries to drag X into her argument with Y the day before Vaniville gets destroyed, but he refuses to get involved, not only because that is a shitty move on Grace’s part, but because it’s not his own problem. He can’t solve Y’s problems with Grace, only she can. Grace’s her mom. So, he gives her space to process her feelings while he and the rest of the group try to move with their best course of action.

As shown here, X still shows concern for her. Y tells him while she is still upset, she decided to let go of it because the situation right now is dire and she can’t sit around and grieve. All it matters at the moment is to stop her brainwashed classmates from crashing the helicopter everyone’s in.

As shown here, X trusts her to fight them off, while they focus on trying to stop the brainwashing, show in the next panel. She doesn’t keep it bottled up for long either, as she vents out her problems about Grace on Yvette while she fights her, and finds herself feeling better from it, and realizes that she shouldn’t have been so secretive about her stress to her friends either.

While it may hurt, giving space to those who you care about when they are stressed and make it clear they want to be alone is sometimes the best option. Trying to help them when you know you aren’t in a good position to do so is only going to make things worse for them. Let them decide how to solve their stress and how to express it, as they’re the ones in charge of it, but let them know you’re there for them. X understands this and thus gives Y space, but still makes sure she’s fine enough to battle, then trusts her when she makes her decision, even when she admits she’s not completely fine.

Not only are they able to be honest with each other, own up to their faults, and know when to intervene and when to not, they both inspired the other to change for the better. X deeply inspired Y, as seen in their childhood flashback of him encouraging her to pursue her dreams of being something not a Rhyhorn Racer. This radically changed her view of herself from being helpless to the whims of others and to hide her true feelings, to having control over her destiny and to be honest about them. Y is deeply grateful for this, and despite him being a hardass, she sticks by with him because she truly loves him for that.

Y in turn also inspires X, as it takes until the end, where X realized that while people have tried to exploit him and his Pokemon and Team Flare are powerful assholes, he had people who were always supporting him, including Y, waiting for him to go out before the entire mess happened. This makes him realize his view that the entire world is out to get him is wrong, as while he agrees with the misanthropic Emma the world is terrible, there are good people who want to help him. It may have taken years instead of probably a few months for Y, but she has inspired him to change for the better, and he’s grateful for that too.

Interestingly enough, while X is a hardass to Y at times, he never is very aggressive to her, whereas he is towards Tierno and Trevor when they want X to try something out and cooperate respectively, though both happened for one time and both situations were particularly stressful. While he certainly shouldn’t be so aggressive to them, this makes his respect for Y more prominent, as while Y yells and scolds at him all the time to stop being a dick and get out of his room/tent, he doesn’t really do anything as direct as that. This seems to indicate that Y’s extremely important to him, unfortunately for those two, or he knows Y really won’t put up with his bullshit unlike Tierno, who while nice, is firm that he shouldn’t have done that, and Trevor’s very easily scared, though is able to assert himself.

While it’s a popularly held belief X and Y have a sibling-like relationship, I very much disagree and dislike. And it’s not just because there's a lack of Western content from that notion. It also feels very shameful to even like them romantically because of that. The manga itself doesn’t even seem to support it either. Grace may have taken care of X for at most five years and that takes up a big part of their life, but X and Y don’t seem to think they’re siblings. While of course, it varies case by case, kids being raised together starting at the age of 7 is generally not young enough for them to consider the other siblings. Hell, it seems to support there may be some romance going on on Y’s part:

I would never call my theoretical brother that in a serious situation if you ask me. Of course, you can view it as a phrase with deep platonic love, but this wording is most certainly not sibling-like. It also seems to imply Y has been trying to get X out of his room for so long because of her infatuation for X that evolved into pining, though that could just be shipping goggles.

In a previous panel shown here, X also refers to Grace as “your mom” when asking Y if she’s going to be fine after isolating herself from the bad news of Grace being kidnapped, instead of “our mom” or “mom”. That kind of wording is way too detached for someone who is seen by the fandom to be a sibling-like figure, and again seems to say they’re merely just childhood friends who were taken care of by the same woman.

While X’s aggression towards Cassius teasing him that Y’s his girlfriend twice was taken as disgust, it’s quite a common trope. It makes sense in character too, as X’s established to like bottling things up, so it’s not a surprise that he’d also deny that he likes Y. Cassius, while helping them, is still an adult, and X doesn’t like them so doesn’t trust him either. His extreme aggression towards Essentia assuming Y’s his girlfriend is fairly justified in that situation, as they had to separate despite it going against their rules, and X is very aware of how Y acts that it takes only one word and a slight change of attitude to crush her head. While that may be seen as extreme disgust, it’s way more likely he knows Essentia could pretend to be anyone given how she accidentally activated the mimicking people function, and knows she’s a big threat because of her Trevenant and she’s superhumanly fast.

It can be quite easy to say Y has feelings for X, but because X has forced emotional constipation, we can’t be sure if he reciprocates. X’s moments of ship tease is muddled with other factors, like the aforementioned denying Y’s his girlfriend to Cassius and crushing Essentia’s head for pretending to be Y, but there’s one tiny moment that stands out for me:

This is a rather major contrast compared to this:

Despite his acknowledgement of being a great trainer, he gets surprisingly flustered when Y tells him it was thanks to him she’s more honest towards others and herself. X, who while may not want to admit it, is arrogant on top of easily blaming himself for a lot of problems, which is why he felt secure to infiltrate Team Flare’s base. To see him surprisingly embarrassed of changing Y for the better hints he has a special attachment to Y, and possibly surprise from X himself that Y still is grateful for that and knows he can be more than a reckless idiot, even though she made it clear he stressed her and the others out a lot.

To wrap up this very long ramble up, X and Y are an example of two people, with flaws and their own issues, being able to support each other, care for each other, and be the most important people in their lives, even if X is depressed and having sometimes very unbearable flaws. However, Y makes it clear he is not allowed to get away with them just because he’s depressed and has good intentions, and he acknowledges the same. He makes it clear that he trusts and cares for her, and she appreciates and gives that in return. It’s a two-way relationship with honest communication and positive growth for the two of them, of moving as much as they can together from danger and past wounds, even if they never completely heal.

#pokespe #pokemon special #trainer x #trainer y #laverreshipping #analysis #depression

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werevulvi · 3 years

Text

I kinda just wanted to make a rant, to lay out why I feel so iffy about trans women and hopefully get a better understanding of my own feelings and what the fuck is brewing under that surface. There has to be a reason. This post is analytical drivel, not a debate, but by all means, feel free to respond or otherwise talk to me about this. Let's take it from the beginning and then go from there.

Part 1 Detransition:

So, I began detransitioning roughly 2 years ago. That's where my feelings about the trans community as a whole began to shift, and with that my feelings about trans women. At that time, I was still active in a truscum group and came out as detrans there, after having been known and looked up to as a trans man there for over a year. At first I was accepted, but when I started having doubts about wanting to get rid of my beard, and felt like I wanted to embrace my body hair and deep voice... people there started acting like shit towards me. They told me that my biological sex still being female did not matter, that I was essentially a man and had to detrans medically to be considered a woman again. That hurt badly.

Shortly after that, I was also told that because I was medically transitioned, trans women were "more female" than me. That was like the last drop that made the goblet pour over. Fuming, I started saying that I'm more of a woman than trans women can ever be, even if I keep a full beard, because they'll never be truly biologically female, no matter how much surgery they got. I was hurting by their cruel words, so I stuck it where it would hurt them the same. (I’ve always an “eye for an eye” sorta person.) That's when people started telling me that I hate trans women, but I felt like that was a misunderstanding. That I was just acting out, out of sadness, grief, anger, panic, and having my gender denied for the sake of validating trans women's genders.

But were they right?

Part 2 Gender critical thought:

Over time, I got exceedingly gender critical and fell into radblr. I also read/watched content that "exposed" transgenderism as a scam, most of which was articles and youtube videos from conservative right wing people, and Christians. I had joined an fb group for detransitioners, and the creator, a "born again" Christian detrans man, happily shared all the many sources he had on how transgender was all a scam from the start of its movement. I felt somewhat sick consuming those links, but probably equally intrigued. But at the same time, I kept a foot in the trans community, starving for attention, even though I was never good enough for them anymore, unless I lied and said I'm not a woman. What a sick twist of fate, I felt.

Part 3a Sexuality, from a lesbian view:

Sometime around that, I struggled with my sexuality and after a lot on inner search, I came to the conclusion I was a lesbian. I felt as though I was only attracted to the same sex as myself, including trans men, but felt nothing worth praising towards males, including trans women. That led to yet another rabbit hole that I tumbled down into. I became convinced that majority of trans women were lesbophobic predators, and I had some shit luck on dating apps. Most people who approached me there were gnc males; transvestites and trans women. I almost went on a date with a good-looking trans woman whom I had mistaken for female, because I felt guilty for having lost attraction to her the moment she told me she's trans and post-op. Luckily she canceled our date for unrelated reasons. I felt like because she was attractive to me before I knew she's trans, but felt completely uninterested in her after the fact, I couldn't possibly be attracted to trans women.

Part 3b Sexuality, from a bisexual view:

That, of course, is not necessarily a bad thing. But I kept asking myself why. Especially since I realised my error in my sexuality calculations, and upon correction discovered I'm actually bisexual after all. I still find women and transitioned females attractive, and in addition to that also men in general, and some vaguely transitioned males. Except from trans women. That odd little inconvenience stood out as a sore thumb which I couldn't stop scratching. Why? I kept asking myself. Why not trans women?

My question dug deeper than just to attraction. I don't think I feel iffy about trans women because I'm not attracted to them. I think it's the other way around.

I never had to convince myself to be attracted to trans men. I discovered early on in my own transition that some other trans men were really hot. That was it. I later on dated a trans man whom I was head over heals in love with. That confirmed it. I've been questioning my attraction to standard men and women far more than I ever questioned my attraction to trans men. It was that obvious, that clear. However, when it comes to trans women I was always the complete opposite. That no matter how I twisted and turned it, I only ever felt revulsion at the thought of being sexual or romantic with a trans woman. No matter how well or badly they passed, no matter how aesthetically pleasing or how charming their personalities.

I wanna clarify that I'm not at all forcing myself to be into trans women. I'm just trying to understand why, so that I'll no longer feel bad about my lack of attraction to them. Because I cannot accept things which I do not understand.

Part 3c Sexuality, digging for answers:

At first I thought, maybe I'm just not all that attracted to femininity. It's not like I typically get super into hyper-feminine natal women either, and fake tits and faces with a ton of plastic surgery has always made me queezy. No, I seem to have a strong preference for masculinity in partners, regardless if they're butches, other masc bi women, trans men or kinda standard masc natal men. So then it just kinda makes sense that trans women, whom are often hyper-feminine, just don't fit that image. Except... that one trans woman I almost went on a date with... she looked like a butch. I mistook her for a natal woman partly because she had short hair, no makeup and wore what looked like men's clothing, but I could see she had hips and tits, and her face looked naturally female. But I still wasn't into her, because she's trans.

Then I thought... okay, that one checks out, but maybe I'm just creeped out neo-vaginas? Yeah, that must be it! I'm almost equally creeped out by neo-penises too, but most trans men don't get bottom surgery anyway, so it hasn't been much on my mind. But then I thought: okay, but what about trans women who choose to not get bottom surgery then? I am attracted to dick. Nope, still uneasy at that thought. I started comparing men who are just very feminine, to trans women, and noticed yeah I don't actually feel half as iffy about men who are just feminine. A man in a dress and makeup can actually be very hot, to me. And I've always preferred long hair on men. But I prefer them still looking clearly male underneath that, although I don't mind a few androgynous features here and there. But I’m only into it if they don’t act like their affinity for femininity makes them women or non-binary, or if they’re feminine in a way that mocks or sexualises womanhood. So I’m not into tacky transvestites in over-sexualised lingerie. At least try to be tactful and elegant, please. So, it’s not male femininity per se that puts me off. If there’s any femininity I’m actually into, it’s male femininity. Because gender non-conformity is attractive to me. And I love the idea of being a strong female protector and girlboss of a gentle, delicate, feminine man. At least I like fantasising about that. (But enough about my daydreams.)

Part 4a Womanhood, biology and identity:

Somewhere after having gotten that far in my digging, I started getting close to finding my sore spot: trans women's view on womanhood.

As for myself, my own view of womanhood is completely detached from femininity. I'm just like... I can even have a full beard and bass voice, a flat and hairy chest, and still be a woman. Because I'm simply bio female. Trans women tend to very often think that they need to "pass" and with that comes a certain look: high voice, no facial hair, no body hair, big breasts, curvy hips, etc. All of which are features that I'm dysphoric about having on my own body, but admire in other natal women. But on trans women, it's like I feel uncomfortable about those kinda features on them. Like to me being a woman is just dealing with having developed that way, or not dealing with having developed that way. Where as for them it seems to be actually striving for developing that way, and I guess that causes my brain to short circuit. Cannot comprehend.

Part 4b Womanhood, fragility and validation:

My womanhood is kinda fragile. I admit that. I'm quite insecure as a woman, because of my transition and masculinity. I feel like most of my womanhood has been lost, which although I'm fine with, I still grieve. I grieve it because I was a bit of an idiot when I first transitioned and had not yet processed my trauma - not because I regret looking like a man. It's complicated, but basically... I feel as though my womanhood is hanging by a thread, which is my genitals, reproductive system and chromosomes; all of which are either mostly hidden or always invisible.

I'm often met with disbelief and disagreement. People either saying "You're not a woman because you can't possibly be female. You look too male." or "You're not a woman because you medically transitioned. You having a uterus is not enough to make you a woman." and it gets to me. And then there are trans women... some of whom do not even need to put on a wig to be instantly validated as women by just identifying as such. Others thinking that because I look like a man, they refuse to think of me as a woman. And that... pisses me off.

There have been a few trans women who in some utterly failed attempt at being supportive of me have said I'm like a nonbinary person who is half male and half female. That's not a lot better, but thanks for trying... I guess.

Part 4c Womanhood, dysphoria and misogyny:

I think that might be what gets to me about trans women. All of it. This entire list of things. That some of them are lesbophobic predators and have absurd claims of what being female is, that others mock womanhood, and yet others view themselves as somehow more female than I am. The genital factor and the slight creepiness of plastic surgery. Their view of womanhood as an identity and my view of it as a biological sex. I keep ending up in fights with trans women about these sorta things. I can't keep a lid on my frustrations no matter how hard I try to just see them as people with dysphoria and opinions that are different from mine. I cannot find any fucking solidarity between myself, as a dysphoric natal woman, and trans women. I feel like they're making mockery of my sex, my dysphoria and my struggles with misogyny, as well as making me feel like shit about something that I love about my body: my transition. I have no common grounds with them, and whenever they try to find solidarity in stuff like misogyny, I feel like they don't even know what the fuck they're talking about. I have a huge bone to pick with them, on multiple levels, and I don't even know where to start or where it ends.

Part 4d Womanhood, jealousy:

But a lot of it comes from jealousy. And I think it's mutual. I'm jealous of their ability to access female only spaces despite being male, which I cannot access despite being female. I'm jealous of their ability to be accepted as women. And on the other side, I think they're jealous of my reproductive ability, and my female socialisation, which I'm not like super hyped about myself, although I do love my pussy (she gives me great orgasms.) I'm jealous of their ability to claim womanhood without even trying to pass as female, because people are quicker to accept the woman-gender-identity than the woman-bio-sex. But likewise, ironically, I sense that they're jealous of that I can claim the "woman lane" despite looking convincingly male, because I'll always be biologically female, no matter how insible my sex is.

They cannot see me as a woman, because of my transition, without looking at themselves as men, no matter how far they transition. And I cannot see them as women, no matter how far they transition, without labeling myself as a man, because of my own transition. I think that about nails it.

Part 5 Conclusions:

I don't think it's true hatred, but rather insecurities both from myself and from them. Because we cannot both exist as women under the same ideology. One of us has to be considered a man, and neither of us is willing to fold on that. Ultimately... I am a threat to their womanhood, as much as they are a threat to my womanhood. And that tension is so thick... not even a knife could cut it. I guess the sad thing is though, that I think that tension is unnecessary. I am so unlike trans women that we could potentially bond based on how different we are. Because there is a lot of similarity in those differences, if you really think about it.

But no, I do not wish them harm in any way. Despite the vast array of insults I sometimes hurl their way. That is really just in response to them insulting me. I do not think they're doing anything wrong by transitioning, or even necessarily by identifying as women. I think, if they had just been more like "I can see you as a woman despite having transitioned, because deep down you like being female and having a pussy... kinda like I'm a woman because I wanna have a pussy, despite having been born male" I would have been much quicker to embrace them. Because that, I could get behind; but they can't.

So, there is no solidarity. It remains an endless fight. But I feel like it's not just on my part. I have tried. I do try. But they're not willing to meet me halfway, and that makes me go to attack in self-defense, which makes then go to attack in self-defense.

#my stick up my arse about trans women #its hurt not hate #rant #analytical drivel #gender critical #radfem safe #detransition

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akechicrimes · 4 years

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You have the best takes and I was wondering what an actual Akechi redemption would look like? Sending him to prison is a weird take I've seen considering the themes of power, corruption, and manipulation of youth, and quite frankly it's just boring and lazy from a plot/character standpoint. I imagine the first step would be talking to Futaba and Haru (and others who were affected by his actions) but I'm not sure what would happen after that.

ok firstly THANKS i do my best yellin into the tunglr void

second “Sending him to prison is a weird take I’ve seen considering the themes of power, corruption, and manipulation of youth, and quite frankly it’s just boring and lazy from a plot/character standpoint” is the SEXIEST sentence ive ever read re: goro and thank you for putting these words in this particular order i want it framed, truly it makes zero sense whatsoever

third thanks for this super duper cool question because weirdly enough i havent…………….. really thought about it before??? ive seen more than a few really interesting goro redemption arc fics but if i were gonna do one myself………………….. hmmmmmm

ok ok ok ok ok ok i will. do my best. big psuedo revisionist fanfic under cut

a redemption arc needs to address the wrongs and hurts that he’s done, as well as just generally other noxious junk. to rattle them off so we know what we’re working with, he

killed wakaba (unknown circumstances), which hurt futaba

killed okumura, which hurt haru

assisted shido in his rise to power

assisted an unknown number of other douchebags like shido in their rise to power

killed an unknown number of other douchebags

created psychotic breakdowns, involving casualties and potentially some deaths

was generally a shit on live television

lied to sae.

betrayed joker.

and from there he needs to address these in such a way that his character grows and is better for it.

simultaneously i think it’s important to weigh the opposite issues, which are the ways that akechi is either right or has a valid point, the ways that akechi has presumably been mistreated/abused by people around him, and just generally following through on seeing akechi become happier and healthier for having gone through a redemption arc. in no particular order, he:

apparently desperately craves approval/recognition from others, but not in a productive way (sorry the TV audience does not actually love you lmao!!!!!!!)

has some kind of complicated relationship with shido to say the fuckign LEAST, and i think addressing that angle of shido’s abuse is important

really suffers from his inability to be honest with just about anyone; how deeply he’s hidden his true self has not only exacerbated his loneliness, but it’s done so in a way that i think should be really understandable to any one of the thieves, who also need to hide their true selves and feelings when in public

is 100000% correct about how much shido should eat shit and die

does have a valid point about how dangerous the phantom thieves are, and, in irony of all ironies, probably is a good critic and moral barometer to make sure joker doesn’t go over any lines

is canonically the character who is most unafraid to go against joker’s orders

is smart all absolute FUCK while maintaining an attitude of FUCK COPS

so with all that in mind:

i’d say, the engine room confrontation happens as SOON as they enter shido’s palace. not necessarily specifically in the engine room, but that confrontation happens off the bat. the phantom thieves take two steps into shido’s palace and find that they can’t go anywhere–everything’s locked, or off limits, and the whole place is under more surveillance than any palace they’ve ever seen. sojiro was right when he said that shido’s paranoid as fuck.

they try to leave the palace for the day to regroup, and akechi’s there like a guard dog ready to defend shido’s psyche. why wouldn’t he be? he must have planned that perhaps the thieves would retaliate like this, whether or not joker was alive.

that whole very embarrassing breakdown happens. haru and futaba already canonically seem in favor of akechi rejoining the team, so although haru does say she won’t forgive akechi, i do think that doesn’t need to be at odds with them being in favor of him working with the team.

so, say, akechi’s on the verge of being convinced to work with the team, and he’s not necessarily all in on this whole “being alive” thing, and he’s not super convinced that he deserves redemption, but the phantom thieves really really really insisted, because the phantom thieves can and do change hearts, even when they’re not in palaces, and they’ve just changed akechi’s.

cognitive akechi doesn’t show up because i’m using him later.

first thing: akechi, haru, and futaba need to have a talk, which is actually pretty easy and not even irrelevant. go through shido’s palace, get the letters of rec, everyone recognizes akechi. like haru in okumura’s palace, akechi’s practically their ticket into half the ship.

getting the letters of rec naturally brings up okumura and wakaba, imo, because it hammers home that these sorts of scumbags are the kinds of people that akechi was killing. and also that this is the kind of scumbag that okumura was, in life. have haru go through the five stages of grief all over again, like she did back in okumura’s palace, realizing that her father kills his own employees for the first time. have her struggle all over again to reconcile the father she loves with the father who died with the father who murdered and exploited and drove his employees to the brink of death. have akechi face that even the people he killed were people, too.

depending on your interpretation of wakaba, she was either just as corrupt OR she was genuinely a nice woman, but that can be addressed in a bunch of ways–akechi didnt know what he was doing at the time, or he totally did but didnt feel like he had any other choice–either way, some sort of contextualization of wakaba’s role in shido’s conspiracy needs to be unearthed.

say futaba wants to know what her mother was like. say she asks akechi because akechi knew her, maybe knew wakaba better than futaba ever did, because futaba was young and also because futaba never spent a few days literally crawling through her mother’s psyche like akechi did. make akechi tell futaba about the woman he killed with his own mouth. maybe he tells her only the good parts. maybe futaba MAKES him tell her the bad parts. maybe futaba thanks him for it, and akechi figures out that an apology could never be enough.

the point, basically, is to use shido’s palace to have haru, futaba, and akechi come to terms with each other. forgiveness isnt necessarily the point–understanding is more important. haru and futaba come to understand how and why akechi did what he did, while akechi has to sit through several weeks of looking his victims in the eyeballs.

for extra bonus points of making akechi look his victims in the eyeballs, personally i think that futaba would be the most supportive of all the phantom thieves of akechi turning over a new leaf. she canonically tells him that “it doesn’t matter where you start over” and relates his struggles to her struggle to turn her own life around, and honestly i think sympathy would fuck akechi up the most.

meanwhile, in the real world, capitalize on akechi’s position: if he’s deep in shido’s conspiracy, it really only makes sense that akechi could locate the people they need rec letters from in the real world, and use that to find their cognitive equivalent in shido’s palace. show me akechi’s relationship with shido, founded on akechi trying to appease shido and trying to avoid shido’s wrath simultaneously.

maybe shido’s closing in on the phantom thieves in the real world. he suspects that things haven’t gone according to plan. make use of the fact that shido trusts (to an extent) akechi’s word, and have akechi cover for the phantom thieves in the real world.

maybe show me shido actively manipulating akechi with praise. show me the greys of that relationship, like how we saw madarame treat yusuke well, or saw sae at her best and worst with makoto. show me how difficult it is for akechi to continue to help the phantom thieves even while actively engaging with his own abuser.

make akechi a traitor to shido. being a traitor was his role, wasn’t it? to betray the thieves? just have him betray shido back. he’s good at being a traitor, isn’t he? akechi probably volunteers himself for the role. let him capitalize on his ability to lie and outsmart those around him. let him make it up to joker in the only way that akechi feels he can: even more lying.

get all the rec letters. akechi himself hands shido the calling card. confront shido–cognitive akechi is there and just as much of a bitch as always. show me how much disdain shido has for akechi, how little he thinks of akechi, how nasty he is–and how blindly adoring cognitive akechi is in return. it’s gross as all hell, but it’s a final nail in the coffin to haru and futaba’s grieving process, even forms some sort of solidarity.

there’s half a second where akechi is in the position to kill shido. shido’s shadow is down, akechi’s got a gun, he could pull the trigger before anyone could stop him. futaba tells him not to.

haru tells him that he can kill shido if he wants to.

everyone’s like HARU??? HELLO???? but haru says, as far as i’m concerned, this man is just as much my father’s murderer as akechi-kun is. if you want to, i won’t stop you. but i know that it’s harder to survive than it is to die, too.

akechi does not kill shido. they steal shido’s treasure and return to the real world.

at this point in the canon plot, yaldabaoth starts to happen really fast, but bear with me for five seconds–bring sae back on the scene. shido confesses, and akechi’s reputation goes up in smoke. people call him a fraud, people won’t stop talking about shido being his dad, akechi’s name gets dragged through the mud worse than back when the PT were at their most popular.

sae takes up prosecuting shido’s case, and akechi can’t avoid her forever when he’s supposedly a key witness. sae says, i’m going to give you one chance to explain yourself. you lied to him, you tricked me, you pretended to be my partner all that time and then ran rings around me. talk.

so akechi explains himself, even though half that stuff isnt permissible in court. he doesn’t butter her up and he doesn’t use his cutesy prince mask, and for the first time sae sees him as he really is. and sae says, those are some pretty serious offenses, akechi, what are you going to do now?

akechi’s just gone through that whole bonding session with haru and futaba, during which akechi had to realize, ah, shit, i fucked over the lives of these two very nice girls and even inflicted the same trauma that i myself went through onto other people. so akechi tells sae, well obviously i don’t fucking know, i dont have a career, i might be expelled, and i’ve killed a shitload of people and there’s no way that i can make up for that. but if i could, i would want to do something to right the wrongs that i did–i’d want to address the murders i committed, and maybe do something to fix it.

sae says, you’re smart as all hell, what you’ve done is irrevocable, you know your way around the police and its corruption, you’re willing to do better and you know how hard doing better is going to be. i’m the same way. i might not have killed anyone, but i’ve ruined the lives of so many people in the name of my career and a distorted sense of justice. if you want to do better, i could use a person like you. what do you say that when this case is over, we become partners for real, this time?

akechi says, but sae-san, what about your reputation, what about your career, wouldn’t it be bad to have a fraud like me by your side?

sae says, i didnt have you as a partner the first time around because you were stupid. use your head, make it work, and maybe i’ll buy you sushi off the conveyor belt someday.

case number one is prosecuting the shit out of shido. sae said they’d be partners after akechi is no longer a key witness, but at this point, being a key witness is basically like being her assistant. sae’s there every step of the way while akechi gets shoved through the public wringer. i say, make him lose all his public fame and reputation and more, everything that he thought he wanted, and he come out with sae’s respect, akira’s support, and the phantom thieves on his side.

the trial starts to stall because of yaldabaoth’s influence, which then brings us to that whole reveal about yaldabaoth using akechi as well for yaldo’s own ends. yaldabaoth offers the p5 vanilla bad end, in which the phantom thieves continue on and become incredibly famous and eliminate most crime because they just change the hearts of anyone who does anything halfway wrong.

i say, let the thieves deliberate on that one. all of them, not just joker. it’s not actually a very bad deal, necessarily; it’s just vaguely skeevy and authoritarian. let’s say, akechi is the biggest opposer, and points out that if akira goes down that route, akira will be doing exactly the same thing akechi did for so long–using his power for his own self-satisfaction, power unchecked and out of control. let akechi use the fact that he’s akira’s “rival” and outspoken critic to good use. akira tells yaldo where he can stick it.

fight yaldabaoth, win. sae takes akira into custody. akechi makes good on his deal with sae, and both of them work together to use akechi’s testimony, akira’s testimony, and shido’s testimony to nail shido and clear akira’s name.

from there, flash forward to the epilogue in the same way that it happens in canon, except akechi is now sae’s lackey and she’s overseeing his efforts to undo whatever damage he did to all the nameless people he’s hurt over the years. she’s going to become a defense attorney, and akechi’s probably going to become her assistant and later paralegal. both of them are committed to reforming the justice system for the better and addressing their past wrongs.

im actually big fucking mad at how little i had to change about persona 5 canon to make this redemption arc work. @ persona 5 royal meet me in the pit.

#mine #meta #it's not really meta but lmao #Anonymous

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britts-galaxy-brain · 4 years

Text

The Normalization of Toxicity

This will be my last post, and unless some miracle occurs within the greater Tumblr community, my last time on Tumblr in general. I’ve been thinking on giving some sort of final update for a while now just to get some things off my chest. This may be long and/or rambly. I will be linking some resources at the end of this post that have helped me tremendously over the past couple of years.

First off, I would like to express my utter disgust at what this website and by extension the fandom communities in general have devolved in to. I greatly underestimated just how out of control this beast had become. Before I got on Tumblr for the first time, I had heard the rumors but assumed they had been wildly exaggerated. How wrong I was, and yet I remained in denial during most of my time here, including when I was sharing information and speaking openly with people I should never have trusted. That is the only thing I feel I need to sincerely apologize to Lily for. Yes, what she has done and continues to do is reprehensible. Yes, everything I have shared about her is true and I have done my best to keep every bit of this sensitive information as accurate as possible. I absolutely should NOT have shared it with the people I did. All I succeeded in doing was feeding the beast, and contributing to the mental distortions and distresses that causes her to act the way she does in the first place. I did so with the best of intentions, albeit I was tainted with anger in such a way that I was denying at the time. I didn’t handle this well. I didn’t research the audience I was sharing this information with. That was a massive mistake which ended up producing the exact opposite results than what I hoped would happen (either Lily would see the pain she caused people and would be inspired to change for the better, or would be ousted from her position and be unable to hurt others).

I stupidly believed the people who claim to care about this sort of thing were being genuine. They aren’t. These self-described ‘hunters’, at their core, mainly care about fueling the drama they use as an escape from their real life. The worst of them use it as a means to cover up their own closet skeletons and stroke their own egos. In the short time I was regularly involved with all of this, I witnessed an increasing amount of instances that have left me completely dumbfounded. Open predators are defended by some, while the ones who claim to want “justice” do nothing that would actually bring any sort of justice. These people are quickly forgotten within the internet’s short attention span, and they are left to continue to do what they do. People bandwagon around them, reducing the impact these people leave and making it harder for their actual victims to be taken seriously. It’s difficult to know how much of the dishonesty is intentional, or a result of moderate to severe uncontrolled mental illness. In Lily’s case, most of the conversations surrounding her involve debating her political and entertainment opinions rather than things she’s done that actually warrant discussion, and even that has been handled incredibly poorly and has just fed into her self-defenses. I do not excuse myself from feeding into it as well.

On the topic of mental illness, I realized a hard truth during my hiatus. The things we use most as coping mechanisms are actually harming us. I quit social media entirely for a few months, and realized I really was addicted. I also realized the memes and self-deprecating jokes we think are cathartic and helpful are feeding into these negative feelings about ourselves. They reinforce the identities we’ve built around ourselves. “Being trash”, “depressed”, ect become a comfort zone because that is what becomes familiar. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not railing against social media in general, just how we’ve been using it. Think about the last time you scrolled your Facebook feed, or whatever you spend a lot of time scrolling on. You automatically relate to and maybe even laugh at self-deprecating images and jokes. “Hah, I’m so fucking depressed.” “Hah, I’m garbage.” “Hah, I have no friends.” “Hah, I want to kill myself.” Now think about when you see something positive. “Psh, that’s not me.” “I don’t deserve that.” “I’m actually ugly, but okay.” You push against anything positive because on a deep level, it scares you. It threatens the identity you’ve built around yourself, which is the thing that gives you a sense of grounding to the world around you and the role you play in it.

I was an absolute MESS when I first started challenging my own darkness. I hadn’t realized just how deep I had gone. I was horribly paranoid. Angry. Deeply depressed. My memory is still recovering from the several years of constant extreme stress I went through. I’m finally getting stable, which is genuinely the first time in my life I can say that. It felt fucking weird for a while, and it still does at times. It feels strange being comfortable in my own home. It feels uncertain but great that I’m at a point where I can afford my bills and still have some money left over. I’m finding interest in old and new hobbies. I have real goals for the future that I am actively working toward. I have a support system that cares about me enough to tell me the truth instead of enabling my bad habits and behaviors, and it took a long time for me to trust that they truly had my best intentions at heart.

It has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever experienced. I had to break and completely reshape myself. It has taken daily maintenance, practice, research, ect and I have gotten lazy and fallen off the wagon multiple times, but I absolutely refuse to let myself go back to where I was. Never again. It has cost me quite a few people that I thought were friends, and most of my family. I’m still not quite where I want to be with myself, but I’m taking steps to get there and I feel like I’m making real progress.

I guess the point to this is to hopefully send out a message of hope to those of you who want to get out of the dark, and are ready to do so. There are ways to heal, and you deserve that, regardless of your past or what other people have said about you. It’s never too late and it’s okay to hurt and grieve during this process. It isn’t easy, it can take quite a while and a LOT of willpower, but it is doable.

I may check back at some point to see if anyone has any questions or would like advice, but I won’t be discussing Lily any longer, nor will I be resharing any information about her. It’s out there in multiple places if you really want to find it.

That’s all for now. I wish you all the best and hope this reaches someone. - Thought Bubble https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCpuqYFKLkcEryEieomiAv3Q - Therapy in a Nutshell (licensed therapist specializing in anxiety, depression, attachment styles, and trauma-related mental illnesses. Uses neuroplasticity along with other therapeutic practices. This one has helped me the most.) https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCybBViio_TH_uiFFDJuz5tg - Einzelganger (Philosophy channel with a focus on stoicism and individual existentialism.)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCiRiQGCHGjDLT9FQXFW0I3A - Academy of Ideas (Philosophy channel with a focus on self-mastery.)

https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC-tLyAaPbRZiYrOJxAGB7dQ - Pursuit of Wonder (Philosophy channel with a focus on existentialism in relation to the world as a whole.)

#toxic #philosophy #self-help #self esteem #fandom #mlp #mlp fim #thought bubble #update #peet post #lily orchard

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