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eggtoasties · 3 years

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Chapter 2: II. Adagio

Read Chapter 1: I. Allegro

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsuro x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Kuroo used to think the best sound in the world was a volleyball hitting the court on the other side of the net. Now, he has other things on his repertoire.

They were both called to the music room during study hall. As Kuroo walked towards Jouda-sensei, he watched as their teacher tried to cajole her into something, unable to catch their words at a distance. Arms crossed, she sent Kuroo an unimpressed stare making him respond with a nervous grin as he came to a stop.

“I was hoping to set you two up for lessons during study hall,” Jouda-sensei said, nodding between the two of them.

“No offense,” she said, quickly glancing at Kuroo, “but I’m paid to do this outside of school. Also, I don’t really have time to meet every single day—shouldn’t Daisuke be doing this? I’m sure he,” she jutted her chin towards Kuroo, “and I will both get called to other teachers and clubs during study hall so I don’t know if this’ll work out,” she huffed.

Eyebrows raised high, Kuroo said, “Wow, didn’t realize I was dead meat to you already, first chair,” resulting in a pout from Jouda-sensei and a glare from her which made him nervously snicker. He put his hands in his pockets, subtly wiping away at the clamminess of his palms.

“Aw, come on now, you know Daisuke-kun isn’t…” Jouda-sensei trailed off, trying to find the words, “the best at teaching. But,” she said brightly, “you’re the leader for a reason! And it doesn’t have to be every day—just coordinate with each other and other people to set up a rotation. I just want Kuroo-kun to be set up with good habits from the start.”

Sighing wearily and nodding, she faced Kuroo as Jouda-sensei left them.

Slouching in what he hoped was a nonchalant pose, he flashed a grin.

“So, are you gonna charge me by the minute?” Kuroo arched his brow. “Because I don’t really have the funds for that. Plus, I’m pretty sure you’re not allowed to sell anything on school grounds.” Readjusting his backpack straps and slightly loosening his tie, his eyes met hers quickly before finding a place over her shoulder. “But, if you don’t have time or whatever that’s--” he stumbled over his words, “I’m sure I can figure something out.”

Rolling her eyes, she loosened her school tie. “Yeah, I’m going to charge a thousand yen a minute and if you don’t pay up, I’ll have my goons knock your kneecaps in.”

“Didn’t realize being captain,” she shot him an amused grin and he bookmarked it for later, “of the orchestra came with your own henchmen. Maybe I should’ve started way earlier,” he drawled.

“Yup,” she said cheerily, popping the ‘p.’ “They do all my coursework and bully people out of their lunch money so I can add it to my secret treasury in the cave underneath the school,” she said conspiratorially. “Also,” she began, facing fully towards him. “It’s nice to meet you—I really don’t mind helping you out, it’s just that with my last year of high school things are hectic with exams and applications and I really can’t commit to everyday,” she explained.

His shoulders relaxed with a breath he didn’t know he was holding, previous tension dissipating with her explanation. Kuroo nodded and held out his hand. As she grasped it, he raised a brow at the strength of her small grip and brightly painted nails.

“I get it.” Kuroo finally said. “I’m a third year too and it’s hard enough as it is without having to teach a newbie every day,” he said, semi-fondly thinking of Lev, “—all good.”

“Alright, well,” she said, swaying on the balls of her feet, “let’s get started.”

She had him play open strings so she could assess his posture and Kuroo was not accustomed to being the center of such intense concentration. Sure, he’s served a million times in games where he knew every eye was on him, but she seemed to scrutinize every aspect of his body. The distribution of his weight on his legs, the angle of his shoulders, the slope of his wrists, finger placement, and even his face—there was something to adjust. To be fair, she did say his face looked like he was constipated, but he figured it was because one should always look serene during such a cultured activity.

A gentle tap to the shoulder, a tap to his left inner wrist, her hands guided his body as he became accustomed to the instrument. She stood slightly behind him to his side at one point and gently held his right arm and set another hand on his shoulder to show him how the bow should move. He’s used to his body—Kuroo would say he has a better understanding of what his body is capable of than most people but, gentle movements to work with a foreign object was completely new territory. She’s not teaching him how to read a volleyball midair and figure out what the best millisecond worth of contact is. She’s not grabbing his lanky arms to show him how to position for a block—this is completely different.

He figured it’s one thing to adjust to new innovative plays mid-game and another to feel so entirely helpless and clunky. Although she’s only been patient and gentle, he can’t help but feel unsure and awkward in his body as he tried to follow her instruction. Maybe, Kuroo thought to himself, I should cut Lev some slack.

“Can you feel how your arm hinges at the elbow, but the elbow itself stays still?” she asked, lightly grasping his elbow and guiding his forearm. His skin tingled at the contact through his shirt and he repressed a shiver.

He’s used to physical contact—from his teammates. High fives, hugs, and fist bumps. But from a stranger…it’s different. He’s hyper aware of the calluses of her left hand when she taps the bare skin of his wrists and although each touch is light and fleeting, a part of him wished they’d linger for a little longer.

After a while, she grabbed her instrument and mirrored his movements, showing him the angles of her body in relation to the violin and bow. He stood in awe of the confidence of her actions, drawing a rich deep sound from the strings unlike the scratchy wobbly sounds he’d been producing.

She taught him two scales, explained basic music concepts he vaguely remembered from piano lessons and before he knew it, study hall was coming to a close. Head full with new information, shoulders a little tense, he absentmindedly fixed his tie while they packed up.

“Don’t feel discouraged during class,” she said. “Everyone around you has been playing for years longer. Just keep practicing and you’ll get there.” Adjusting the books in her hand she asked, “Why’d you decide to take orchestra?”

“I needed art credit. Can’t sing, can’t draw, didn’t want to do something on the computer and I didn’t know what band music was,” he shrugged. Immediately, he internally cringed at his explanation.

“Wait, actually--” Before he could try and amend his previous statement, he’s cut off by her laugh.

“You chose well,” she said. Then leaning towards him, she dropped to a faux whisper, “orchestra’s better than band.”

Kuroo felt heat creep up the back of his neck while she laughed so he tilted his head to the side and covered it with a smirk. “I don’t know about that,” he said cockily.

She snorted which did little to calm the confusing beating of his heart and he couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she didn’t take the bait. Oh well, he thought, better try harder.

“You’re the one who enrolled in or-ches-tra,” she said, over enunciating the syllables. “Unless,” she sing-songed, “you feed into the stereotype that athletes are,” she pouted and batted her lashes, “stupid.”

He guffawed at her boldness but revelled in the glint in her eyes and the smug way she held her head.

“It wounds me that you would insult my intelligence without even knowing me,” he sniffed and wiped away a fake tear while she stifled a giggle. “I cannot believe my music teacher—my classmate—my captain has a bias against athletes,” he frowned and tilted his head. Pausing for a beat in contemplation, he sighed and continued lazily, “You must have been one of those kids in elementary school who always got picked last in gym.” He shrugged before delivering the final blow, “So you had no choice but to turn to music.”

He kept his face neutral as he studied her reaction. Her eyes narrowed at him and he broke out into a grin.

“It’s okay to admit it, I promise I won’t ask you to do something impossible like catch a ball or something,” he said, waving a hand placatingly. He caught the corner of her lip twitching despite the deadpan stare she tried to maintain.

“Give me your number,” she said, pulling out her phone.

“Woah, woah,” he said, dodging her attempts to force her phone in his hands. “If this was all an elaborate ruse to ask me out,” he dodged a jab to his side, “you didn’t have to get Jouda-sensei in on it too, who would’ve thought our little prodigy had it bad for the volleyball captain?”

“First of all, study hall is ending, but it seems that you were too preoccupied with trying to flirt with me to notice,” she said as Kuroo crossed his arms indignantly. Was he trying to flirt, he wondered. “Also, you’re forgetting that you’re the one who needs violin teachers,” she explained impatiently, finally getting him to accept her phone.

“Plus, if anything this just shows that you’ve been planning to confess to me for the past three years, but you were too nervous so you used your arts credit as an excuse to talk to me when everyone knows there are easier ways to get the credit,” she rambled as he punched his number in. “Also, you have a stand partner and a section leader—both of whom are not me, so I bet you,” she pointed an accusatory finger, “roped Jouda-sensei into this cozy little arrangement,” she said triumphantly.

Kuroo stuttered. “Maybe you should be a writer—what is up with your imagination?” he asked disbelievingly.

“No, no,” she said breezily, waving a hand absentmindedly, “I just figured you out, no need to feel embarrassed.”

Shifting his weight to one foot and running a hand through his hair, Kuroo’s lip quirked. “Guess you caught me,” he shrugged nonchalantly, extending their jest, “I’ve been in it for the long con, but,” he dropped a little lower to her height. “I never lose.”

Kuroo wanted to stab himself. It’s one thing, he mentally berated, to say those lines in the shower. Another thing entirely to say them to a human being? So used to provoking people just before they really got annoyed, he figured he got too comfortable. While his friends were used to his sarcastic quips and little agitations, not many people threw it right back at him. Should I apologize? Am I going to fail orchestra? Yamamoto was right, I should’ve taken sculpture I should’ve—

He was broken from his internal panic when she gently pushed his shoulder. “Well, seeing that the volleyball team has never won nationals, that seems to be a lie.”

Completely forgetting his previous anxieties, his mouth gaped open. “W-we’re definitely making it to nationals and we’re definitely going to win this year!” he nearly yelled. “A-and since when do you keep up with the volleyball team! This is more evidence that you’ve been trying to get my number for the past decade!”

“Who said anything about the past ten years!” she screeched. Kuroo watched his phone in her hand with concern as she waved her arms in disbelief. “And Yaku’s in my homeroom, idiot. He talks about the team constantly,” finally shoving his phone back to him.

Sighing a little in relief he checked his messages. “If I’m so wrong about you lusting,” she rolled her eyes so hard all he saw was white, “after me for all these years, what’s this!” he exclaimed, presenting his phone screen to her face.

It was a message from her that read: “Tetsu-chan, I think you’re so, so, so, so, sO cute!!” with several brightly colored heart emojis trailing after the message.

She immediately lunged for his phone to which he responded by smugly holding it above her head, pouting a little when she wouldn’t try and jump for it.

“Y-you planned this!” she yelled, making a move to grab at his sleeve.

“Nope,” he said languidly, smoothly side stepping her advances. “You just think I’m so, so, so, so, cute!” he said brightly as he placed his phone in his back pocket.

“I’m going to break your kneecaps in your sleep,” she grumbled.

As the bell rang and study hall ended, he sent her a little wave as he walked to his next class.

“Looking forward to it!”

Nearing his next class, he felt a short buzz in his pocket. Pulling out his phone he grinned at the texts. Nothing like riling people up on a Tuesday morning to get his blood pumping.

After he had left her standing in the music room, cheeks tinged pink and arms crossed, she sent him several texts. Many of them listed the ways she was going to abuse his kneecaps—he wasn’t quite sure why she was so fixated on them—poking fun at athlete stereotypes, and how he’d better practice every day.

They spent the day sending each other sporadic insults without heat which eventually devolved into actual questions about each other.

How did you start playing the violin? When did you start volleyball? Do you play in orchestras outside of school? What’s your position? How should I practice? What are sports practices like? What class are you in? What’s your favorite food? What’s your favorite color? What do you mean you bought a chemistry set for fun?

Kuroo was in his history class when he realized he was barely paying attention to the lesson. Expecting his usual meticulous notes when he looked down at his notebook, he saw he had hardly filled half a page of information. Too preoccupied with the little thrill of excitement that came with each text, he couldn’t help but discreetly check his phone every few seconds. He tried paying closer attention to the lecture, but tapped his foot restlessly, itching to see how she responded.

The school day ended in a blur and he found himself in front of the club room door. Violin case in hand, he swung open the entrance and proudly stated, “I learned scales today.”

“Fukunaga and I took choir last year and learned scales too,” Yaku responded. “Stop looking so proud about it, it’s literally a basic,” he commented offhandedly as he put on his uniform.

Chest still puffed, Kuroo didn’t let it deter him. “I’m reading music!”

Kenma grimaced over his phone when Lev seemed impressed and Fukunaga tried to stifle his laughter behind his hand.

Pulling top from behind, Kuroo asked, “Yaku, do you know the concertmaster?”

“The, huh?”

“The first chair violinist. Our year, in class 3-B?” Kuroo clarified. “She’s about this tall,” indicating with his hand, “her favorite color’s blue and she really likes fruit tarts?”

Ignoring the questioning glances from his teammates, Kuroo waited expectedly. Yaku paused. Eyes widening in recognition he brightened.

“Yeah! She’s been in my homeroom for the past three years, she’s nice. Smart, big on music, does a bunch of music competition thingies!”

“Thingies?” Kuroo mocked. “How old are you?”

“Shut up you glorified bean pole! I don’t know what she does in her free time, why are you so interested all of a sudden?

“She’s my violin teacher! I just wanted to make sure she wasn’t a serial killer or something,” Kuroo mumbled, tying his shoes a little forcefully.

“Okay,” Yaku drawled out, not believing his teammate. “I know the theatre club always asks her to be in their pit orchestra, but man their funding really got cut over the years, I wonder how they’re going to build the set this year, I mean they’re really trying to out-do themselves and—”

He stopped when he noticed the rest of the team staring at him in varying states of confusion and disbelief.

Yaku sniffed. “I have other interests and friends outside of volleyball, thank you very much…” he said, turning his head.

“Wow,” Yamamoto said, slowly shaking his head from side to side. “Yaku-senpai doing Shakespeare or something, could you imagine?”

“Yaku-senpai would definitely play the jester or something,” Lev chimed in. “But he’s so small would the audience even be able to see him on stage?” He wondered out loud.

Facing away from his bickering teammates, Kuroo hid his flush in the collar of his warm up jacket and willed for the heat to subside. He thought about what Yaku said—not about him being secretly into theatre, which Kuroo would definitely use in the future—but about having other friends outside of volleyball.

He knew he wasn’t as shy as he used to be, thank god, but he realized he had always kept his inner circle small. Not entirely on purpose, but those he spent the most physical proximity to tended to also become close friends—thinking fondly of his parents forcing him to meet Kenma.

He remembered how he nearly threw a tantrum when his Tou-san told him they were visiting neighbors down the street and that they had a son his age that he could play with. The thought of leaving their home—which hardly felt like home at the time of their move—to meet some stranger had filled him with such trepidation he had promised he’d practice the piano harder if he could just stay home.

However, his Tou-san gently grasped him by the shoulder and made him carry the box of oranges to Kenma’s. Multiple hours of awkward stuttering and silent game playing finally bloomed into a tentative friendship with the introduction of a volleyball and Kuroo figured that now Kenma’s more of a brother than anything else.

Outside of his team and casual school acquaintances, Kuroo thinks of Bokuto. A pleasant surprise when they met at a Tokyo training camp. With Bokuto came Akaashi and with Kuroo came Kenma and Kuroo never felt the need to expand beyond his core group. But meeting her—is different.

Different in that she stumbled into his life outside the court and he’s not sure if his fingers had ever been this sweaty from texting all day. He wondered if she’s a sign that he should actively try and meet new people but he quickly discards that idea and chalks it up to serendipity.

“—hey cut it out!” Kai yelled at Yaku lunging for Lev who was holding a volleyball in one hand, “To be or not to be, will Yaku-senpai ever grow again?”

Snapped out of his musings, Kuroo raised two hands to the group, “Alright, alright,” he tried to placate while Kai held Yaku back and Yamamoto cried tears of laughter.

“Keep going, Lev!” Yamamoto egged on.

“Too sleep, perchance to dream,” Lev continued, “that Kuroo-san will finally fix that rooster’s head of his.”

Amidst the collective roar of laughter, Kuroo snatches the volleyball from Lev’s hand and throws it at him.

Head lolled back against the train window, grimacing at the pull of his worn muscles, Kuroo stretched in his seat. Next to him, Kenma absentmindedly scrolled on his phone, sporadically showing Kuroo funny tidbits to pass the time on their nightly commute back home.

“Kuroo,” Kenma said as quick fingers typed out a text, “why are you taking this orchestra credit so seriously?”

Pausing for a bit, not-so-subtly reading Kenma’s text, he responded.

“I had a lesson earlier today and it seems like,” he ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t know, a disservice,” his voice rose up as a question while his brows drew together, “if I don’t give it my best shot when everyone else is so much better.”

Kuroo shrugged at Kenma’s contemplative nod.

“Anyways,” Kuroo continued, “she said thirty minutes of daily practice for a beginner will go a long way and she said we’d only really focus on the stuff for the concert so hopefully I can manage by then.”

Pausing his scrolling, Kenma looked up at Kuroo and blinked at him.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at Kenma, having a growing suspicion of where his friend’s thoughts were, but ignored it in favor of watching him scroll through his phone.

Other passengers shuffled around them, coming and going onto their train and Kuroo looked out the window, frowning slightly at the last remnants of sunset fading away to cool indigos.

“Y’know, Kenma, I don’t think I want to just do volleyball for the rest of my life,” Kuroo said softly, breaking the stillness between them.

“No shit,” Kenma responded instantly over the animated beeping of his game. “Your joints definitely can’t take it for the rest of your life.”

Scoffing, Kuroo rolled his eyes. “Please--I mean, I’m going to go to college and still play, but,” he shifted his gaze towards the ceiling of the train car, “I want to learn more things.”

“Yes,” Kenma said slowly, “that makes a lot of sense.”

“I like learning new things, I always want to know more and I don’t know,” he pulled at his shirt collar. “With violin--it feels like I haven’t sucked at something for a while.”

With that Kenma snorted, thinking of when Kuroo tries to play video games with him or that horrendous volleyball club promotional poster Kuroo made that yes, he did take a picture of before crumpling and throwing it in the trash.

Kenma’s game pinged as Kuroo hugged his violin case between his legs.

“Plus,” Kuroo continued, “she said music is kind of like math with the rules and the counting, and when it all comes together like pieces of a puzzle it makes your hair rise and I feel like that’s kinda like volleyball too.”

“You get goosebumps when you solve a math problem,” Kenma repeated slowly.

“Missing the point there, but yes.” Contemplating a bit he added, “More when I balance a chemical reaction, but yeah, why?”

Kenma paused his game and set it on his lap, lips twitching.

“You’re not allowed to judge me,” Kuroo complained.

“I am,” Kenma responded quickly.

“Well quit it.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

Kenma popped the knuckles of his fingers and unpaused his video game.

“No.”

They sat there for a beat, each thinking about the unknowns--the unknown power of this new boss guarding the princess in the tower and the unknown of the near future, where game plays are traded for textbooks and the hopeful future of featherlight, fleeting touches and sweet, sweet melodies.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo x you #kuroo tetsuro drabbles #kuroo tetsuro imagine #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #kuroo imagine #kuroo fanfic #kuroo tetsuro fanfiction #kuroo tetsuro x you #kuroo tetsuro x reader

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1252

A - Appearance.

What are you wearing? I have a gray turtleneck and brown shorts at the moment.

What are on your feet right now? I never wear anything for my feet when I’m at home.

What color are your fingernails? I say this a lot on surveys but mine are never painted. Nothing against them, I’ve just never felt the need to spend on something like my nails.

What does your hair look like right now? I have apple hair at the moment to temporarily get rid of my bangs, which I am more than sick of at this point.

B - Best Friend

Who is your best friend? Angela and Andi.

What was the last thing you two did together? The last time I saw Angela we went to the BTS pop-up store. I haven’t seen Andi since January, but when we hung out that evening we just had Korean barbecue and we also parked somewhere in UP to just talk about life in my car. My breakup had been fresh at the time and back then I just needed someone to whom I could vent.

What is (s)he doing right now? I’m sure Andi’s doing something with Leigh, maybe having a video call or something since I think they tend to have one every evening. I’m not sure what Angela’s up to but considering her replies have been a bit slow tonight, I guess she’s somewhat busy at home.

Are you talking to her/him online right now? Angela just replied to something I sent her around 15 minutes ago but the exchange wasn’t meant to be a full-blown conversation, if that’s what you mean.

C - Crush.

Who is (s)he? Eh, I don’t have a crush these days; too obsessed with work to figure out what I find attractive lmaooooo. I do have a main celebrity crush and I might just cite them instead so that I can at least fill this section out.

What does (s)he look like? Curly hair; mismatched eyes; moles underneath his right eye, on his nose, and on his lower lip, and the widest smile I’ve seen on any person.

What was the last thing you two talked about? He’s a celebrity crush...

Does (s)he make you smile? Yes.

D - Dad

What’s your dad’s name? Edgardo.

What does he do for a living? He’s an executive chef for a luxury liner company. He hasn’t worked in a year and a half due to the pandemic and has stayed in the country this whole time, but we’ve *very* recently been informed that he can go back abroad in around two weeks! Of course it will suck letting go of him again after having him back for such a long time, but I’m just glad the family can finally be on track again, financially speaking. It had been something I’ve been worrying silently about.

What was the last thing you two did together? Had dinner last night, but we did that with the whole family too. We don’t really do things that’s just the two of us.

Do you get along better with him than your mother? Yes.

E - Ebay.

Have you ever bought anything from ebay? No. I’m not sure we have eBay here anyway.

Do you just shop around when you’re online? I don’t really shop ‘around.’ I usually have an idea of what I want to get myself, and it’s just a matter of finding the right shop from which to buy.

Do you know anybody who is addicted to it? I know a couple of co-workers who love shopping, like Gabi.

Have you ever sold anything on it? I’ve never tried selling, but I’m actually in the middle of doing something for the very first time – I’ve decided to get into trading! I got my BTS Butter album yesterday but didn’t get to pull the photocard I was vying for – the pull I got, though, was of the most popular member, which means it would be a very easy trade. I put the trade offer up the other day and I finally got a match yesterday.

F - Facebook.

When was the last time you logged on? Like five minutes ago. I constantly check it.

How many friends do you have? Just checked and it says I have 686. I wanna get rid like half of them though.

Do you hate when your facebook chat messes up? Hmm, that doesn’t really happen.

Who was the last person to leave you a wall post? Angela.

G - Google.

Do you Google everything? Yeah, I think I look up a random item or phrase at least once a day. Doesn’t hurt to learn a new thing each day. :)

What was the last thing you Googled? The K-Pop group g.o.d., since my teacher mentioned them in our Korean lessons earlier.

Would you ever trade Google in for Bing? No, I haven’t used Bing in like 12 years.

What do you Google the most? Synonyms, I think, since I’m constantly writing for work.

H - Hair.

Do you like your hair? It’s a love-hate relationship most days because I hate how thick and frizzy it can be...but I recently had mine trimmed all the way up to my neck and for some reason it’s taken on a wavy form, which I didn’t expect to come out at all. And I’ve found that it actually suits me quite a bit, so I’m enjoying my hair for now.

What color is your hair? Black.

What does it look like right now? Slightly damp since I took a shower not too long ago.

What kind of shampoo for you use? Just a normal Dove one.

I - Ibuprofen

When was the last time you took ibuprofen? I don’t think I’ve ever taken it? I usually take paracetamol...idrk the difference either. Do you rely on it for everything (cramps, headache)? I only ever take medicine for headaches/migraines.

Are you so thankful people made it? I mean sure, I’m glad there are those who have been able to create products that can instantly relieve pain or discomfort, but I’m not obsessively grateful.

Do you have any right now? I don’t think we have any.

J - Jobs.

Do you need a job? Nah, I already have one.

Where do you work? Media/PR industry.

Where would you work? I wouldn’t change jobs/industries. This is where I wanted to end up in, and I’m really really glad and fortunate to have landed here on my first shot, right out of college, and during a pendemic.

How much money would you like to get paid? An additional P5k (~$100) would probably be more satisfying, but considering my parents aren’t the traditional Filipino parents who suck 100% of my earnings right out of me the second payday comes, I’m able to enjoy a substantial chunk of money to myself, give them a portion of my earnings, and still be able to save.

K - Kissing.

Who was the last person you kissed? That would be my ex.

Will you next kiss be a mistake? I have no idea when that would be and with whom it will be shared, so I won’t be able to give you a definite answer.

Do you kiss someone everyday? Other than my dogs, nah.

Who was your first kiss? The aforementioned ex.

L - Love.

Who do you love the most in your life? My best friends. I’m also doing a whole lot better in the self-love department these days, so that too :)

Have you ever been in love before? Yeah.

Does it make you so happy when you feel the feeling of love? Sure. It feels light and comfortable, especially when it’s shared.

Why is this word so hard to describe? Because everyone feels love differently. < There we go.

M - Mom.

What is your mom’s name? Abigail.

What is she doing right now? She was watching The Good Doctor the last time I checked on her like five minutes ago. It’s her latest obsession.

Where does she work? She works in the food and beverage department of a 5-star hotel in the city.

Do you two shop together a lot? I rarely do my shopping with either of my parents.

N - Netflix.

Do you have Netflix? Technically, I guess. My dad pays for it and we have a family account.

If not, what movies would you order? I don’t think I’ve ever ordered a movie before. Before streaming on Netflix, I just used to get illegal torrents lol.

Do you rent a lot of movies? I’ve never rented a movie. Was too young for it, I think.

Do you have the tool where it just downloads to your tv? No.

O - Ohio.

Is this the state in which you live in? I don’t even live in the US. Never been there either. < Same.

Is Ohio State your favorite football team? I don’t like football.

Did you know Ohio Is For Lovers? I’m not familiar.

Have you ever been to Ohio? See first answer in this section.

Q - Quitting.

What was the last thing you quit doing? Practicing on Duolingo. I had an extremely short period of using the app again a couple of months ago, but I lasted all of two days hahaha I had been trying to get back on learning Korean, but I enrolled in official lessons not long after that anyway so it didn’t make sense to continue the stages in the app.

Do you need to quit talking to someone right now? Nope. The people I’m talking to right now in between this survey are all welcome conversations.

Would you ever quit school? That wasn’t an option for me and I never would’ve done it anyway.

Don’t you think quitting is stupid? No. Sometimes it can be the strongest thing you can do for yourself.

R - Reading.

What was the last book you read? Does my Korean lesson textbook count hahaha...if not, I haven’t really read anything in years.

Do you own a lot of books? I do, but they are all books from my childhood and teenage years. It’s been a while since I last updated my bookshelf.

Do you have a library card? No, haven’t had one since Grade 1.

Have you ever read a book that changed your life? Without Seeing the Dawn was pretty influential to me, but I dunno about ‘life-changing.’ I need to read more to find the book that would have that effect on me.

S - Safety.

Do you always wear your seat belt? I do these days. I didn’t really practice it when I used to drive to school, whoops. Always forgot to do it.

When riding a four-wheeler do you wear a helmet? I rarely get to do that.

Did you ever wear knee pads and a helmet when riding your bike? Nah. I can’t ride a bike either. Do you always think safety first? In COVID terms, yeah. I have a face mask and shield on as soon as I find myself outdoors.

T - Talk

Who was the last person you talked to? Reena. Who are you talking to right now? Nobody. It’s just me, this survey, and some music in the background.

Who did you last talk to before you went to bed last night? Angela and Reena, if I’m not mistaken.

Do you need to talk to anybody right now? No, I’m good.

U - US ARMY

Do you support it? I don’t know enough about it to have a bold opinion, considering I’m not even from the US and it’s been a while since their army has had any strong contact with my country.

Do you know anybody who is in the army right now? I think one of Angela’s uncles has a high position in our national army.

Don’t you ever wonder why their camo doesn’t match anything? Not really.

Would you ever go to the army? No.

V - Virgin.

Are you a virgin? Nope.

When did you lose your virginity? I was 18.

Do you wish you would’ve waited? Nah, it felt right when I did it the first time; and I maintain that stance now even though I’m no longer with that person.

Do you think you could have stayed a virgin until marriage? I could. Sex isn’t a big deal to me.

W - What.

What are you doing right now besides this survey? I’m also listening to mono. and taking bites from my doughnut every now and then.

What are you craving? Spicy tuna salad, but it can wait. Andi got me my favorite truffle baked macaroni because it’s CM Punk day today :D :D and that’s able to satisfy my savory cravings for now.

What do you need to buy? Shelves.

Why are you taking my survey? I’ve mentioned this before but I like categorized/themed surveys, so alphabetical ones are always fun for me.

X -Xanax

Do you know anybody who is addicted to Xanax? I don’t think so.

Have you ever taken it before? No.

Do you even know what it is? No, actually.

Have you ever suffered from anxiety or depression? I’m sure I have.

Y - Yourself.

Name. Robyn.

Age. 23.

Do you smile a lot? Sure, I’d say that’s common these days.

Z - Zebra.

Are you addicted to zebra striped? Not really.

Do you own anything zebra striped? Nah. I have some stuff that come in black and white stripes, but not zebra print. Is anything on any of your websites zebra striped? No.

#survey #surveys

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achlysmiseria · 3 years

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Chapter 1: =My First Day at a New School=

Being in a relationship with a serial killer kinda sucks. But before that, maybe I should start by introducing myself or something. I don’t know. There’s nothing special about me. My name is Perseus Alexander Moore. I’m an eighteen-year-old guy in his twelfth year and I’m distinctive in most groups but I’m not famous or rich or smart. I’m just those guys you normally see in school except I don’t exactly go as ‘normal’ since my hair is styled in an afro which makes it easy to distinguish in a group of people. This is the start of how I made the greatest mistake of my life.

Today I will be going to a new school. It had to be arranged since I moved into my older brother's place. If you’re wondering why, a big incident took place, which I have to live with my whole life but we’ll talk about that later. After changing into clothes for the day, I crept out of my room and went downstairs and the first thing I came upon was the sweet smell of pancakes and bacon filling my nose. My nose scrunched up which made me stop but not because of the smell, but because of the person right in front of me.

Eric Ulysses Moore, my big brother. He’s a successful hematologist oncologist here in this small city of Asheville, North Carolina. He’s got the same curly brown locks as mine except it’s not long or styled informally. We both look somewhat alike but since he’s blessed with our dad’s genes, who is a tall man, he has much darker skin than me and I was told he was taller than me when he was my age.

While my brother cooked breakfast and I’m standing at the kitchen door, I felt like I should just tiptoe out of there but he turned and saw me. “Good morning, Perseus,” he greeted with a smile. “Had a good night’s sleep?”

“Yeah,” I blandly replied. “I also have to go. I might be running late.”

“School doesn’t start at seven-thirty. Eat something first.”

“I’m not hungry,” I said but of course, he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. He served a plate and pointed his eyes to the vacant chair, gesturing I should sit down.

“Look,” my voice was leveled. “I don’t want to deal with you right now. I have to get going.”

“Perseus,” he called back. I ignored him and ran out the door. I brought out my earphones and plugged them in my ears, momentarily escaping from this hell called reality. I grabbed my skateboard and I skated through the busy streets.

Normally, my mom would kill me if I did this. My mind being preoccupied with the music playing, words popping up in my head for lyrics, guitar chords I could possibly use for a song I’m writing while I pass busy streets, small comments in my head about the places I pass will definitely make her want my head.

The trip would have been really quick if I hadn't had to go through so many huge groups of people hurrying to their destinations and most of them are too oblivious to notice what’s around them.

Once I reached the gates of the school, I was somehow —what’s the appropriate word— disappointed.

Right in front of me could have been a grand building but the gate alone is covered in graffiti and the paint is tearing off. The building itself looks like it’s about to collapse, given a few years or even less. You might even think it’s haunted. Students filed into the entrance and it gave me second thoughts. What if I just skipped school today? I thought it would be nice. I could just go home and go back to sleep but then, I have to deal with Eric. And to think of the possible scenarios when I enter these gates: probably new friends, or more jerks who are looking for trouble. I swallowed the anxiousness and the excitement growing in me and I walked in.

Entering the building, I felt like I was a kitten that trespassed a lions’ den. In the hallway, everybody turned their head towards me and I tried my best to stay passive.

Luckily, when I got enrolled here, they gave me my schedule and the room numbers so I didn’t have to ask around. I reached the room for my first class, which is Conservatory of Music. Then I noticed there was this note taped on the glass window of the door. It said: Class will be in the Music Room. I raised an eyebrow. Music Room, I thought. I looked down at the paper I had in my hand and scanned it. It didn’t have any directions for the room. I buried the annoyance that’s building up in me and looked around just in case no one could see how stupid I look and with my luck, I found three guys walking in my direction. The guy on the right had copper-red hair, freckles across his cheeks and nose, and a mischievous grin on his face and is probably one of the people I will never trust my life with when handling matches or sharp objects. The one on the middle had emo/scene slick black hair and it was long on one side so it hid his face. He looked reserved at first glance since he had his head lowered and even if his friend on the right had his arm locked on his neck, he didn’t complain. The one on the left took me aback. I was looking at a much younger clone of Brandon Routh when he played Clark Kent or Superman. He’s this tall guy with glasses, shiny black hair swept to the side, and a jacket. His facial features are almost perfect and I don’t think his face is familiar to acne or a single pimple. The guy on the right saw me. His hazel-green eyes shone and his grin widened. “Hey,” he waved. “You must be new.”

“I am,” I had to keep a straight face. The redhead kept smiling but when he faced the note on the door, he frowned. “Damn,” he snapped his fingers. He faced his friend and yelled to them, “Upstairs, guys. Prof switched rooms.”

“I told you he would,” said the guy with the glasses. The ginger raised his hands in defeat but still cracked a smirk. “At least we found this guy,” he gestured his hands to me. “If we didn’t think to check this room, he would be late than we already were.”

“Yeah, yeah shut up, Michael.” The other two faced me and studied me from head to toe. Superman said, “You were lucky. This campus is huge.”

“That’s what she said,” the guy named Michael snorted, which earned him a smack on the back of the head, “You’re so mean, Xavier.”

“And you’re being an idiot,” replied Xavier, who had a more Asian look than everybody else I've seen.

I felt inept. I’m standing in the middle of a playful conversation of strangers I just met and they didn’t really mind me there. Or how late we were.

“Hey,” I spoke up. “Aren’t we supposed to get to class?” The three of them stared at each other then realized it with a start. Some of them cursed and then we ran to the Music Room.

Fortunately, we reached class before the professor arrived. The place was huge and I think we were more than fifty students here. We were going to be seated on the floor and our bags were piled onto each other at the back. But what’s enticing are the instruments in front of us. I was tempted to grab a guitar and run but the professor finally entered the room. Before I could look around for a place to sit, someone already grabbed my hand and pulled me down.

“Sorry,” said Clark Kent. “I didn’t get to introduce myself. I’m Nicholas Taylor but call me Nick.”

“I’m Perseus Moore,” we held out each other’s hand and shook it. Behind Nick, Michael’s head popped out and he beamed. “I’m Michael Johnathan Carter. Most people call me Michael or Mike. You pick. I don’t care.” We shook hands and I faced their other friend.

“I’m Xavier Hernandez,” he said politely. “It’s nice to meet you, Perseus.”

“Yeah,” I tried to smile. They seem nice, I thought to myself. We started talking in our small circle and then Nick asked, “Do you play any instruments?”

“I play guitar,” I replied. Michael’s grin got even wider if that was possible and then he scooted near me. “What songs can you play?”

“Erm,” I moved a bit farther from him but I was saved when the professor got our attention. He’s a guy that looked like he was supposed to go to a Rock concert but got lost and ended up in a classroom full of teenagers. Instead of the usual teachers’ uniform, he wore this black band shirt of Korn, had a few piercings on his lips and eyebrow, plus tattoos all over his arms. “Good morning class,” he greeted. I thought we would respond with the habitual bland greeting but the place roared with excitement. Everyone was just yelling at the top of their lungs so the teacher had to silence us. “After a summer break, you all are still very loud.”

“We love you, Sir Ramirez!” Michael yelled and it just ignited another round of cheers. Again, we were silenced but I’m surprised one finger from the teacher made everyone quiet.

“I am also glad to see you all again. Most of you have moved up which is great,” Sir Ramirez congratulated us. “I was also informed that we have a new student joining us. Where is he?”

I just sat there, not planning to do anything for anyone to catch my attention but Michael grabbed my arm and raised it for me. Quickly, I yanked it away and glared at him. “Thank you, Michael. Now, please come up front.” The first thing I thought was, What is this? Grade school? But I obeyed and walked over to his side. “Introduce yourself.”

“Hi,” I started, I could feel my palms starting to sweat. “I’m Perseus Moore.”

“Do you play any instruments, Perseus, or are you just here to learn a thing or two?”

“I can play.”

“Awesome,” Sir Ramirez clapped his hands. Everyone started muttering to themselves and I didn’t like it at first until the prof asked, “What instrument do you play?”

“Guitar, sir.”

He smiled and walked over to the corner where the pile of goodies are and picked up a maroon Gibson SG then handed it over. My eyes widened at the guitar and I looked up at him for confirmation. “Give us a show, Perseus.” He signaled me to start and with barely any practice for the past month, I played Thunderstruck by AC/DC. The students went wild and I think everyone on this floor, and possibly the one under and the one above us, could hear them singing the song.

Sir Ramirez raised his hand to stop me in the middle of the song and I did. Everyone had this look on their faces which I can’t comprehend and my heart was pounding against my ribs. “So,” the professor starts. There wasn’t that much emotion shown on his face and I wasn’t comfortable with that. “I can’t tell you how much I’m impressed.”

“You are?” I blinked. “I mean, thank you, sir.”

“Of course I am. It’s been a while since I’ve seen someone with this much grit and how much the whole class enjoyed it.” Then everyone started screaming like their favorite basketball team won. Makes me wonder how their voices haven’t cracked yet. I would never last that long. When they settled, Sir Ramirez clapped his hands and everyone joined him. With an awkward smile and my pulse beating in my throat, I bowed. Nick and the others cheered and they were joined by everyone else. When I got back to my seat, class started and at that point, I happily thought that this was going so well so far. Boy, was I wrong.

After three classes, it was finally our Lunch Break. I hated the other classes since the teachers after Conservatory were snobby, nosy, and irritating as hell. They lose their cool easily. I’m only grateful that Nick, Michael, and Xavier will be in the same classes as me since they’re the only people I know.

While we were walking to the cafeteria, Nick said, “You were great back there.”

“Thanks,” I tried to sound more confident than I am.

“Wanna join our band?” Michael smiled. “We’re missing a lead guitarist. And you don’t seem to be part of anything yet.”

“You’re recruiting me?”

“Of course,” he placed his hand on my shoulder. “We’ve been talking about it. You in? Please say you are.”

“Stop that, Michael,” Xavier spoke up. “You know we have to talk to Morpheus first about this.”

“Who?” I turned to him.

“He’s our band leader and frontman,” Nick replied. “The guy’s awesome and super chill. He would love to meet you. But we need to know if you want to join us as well or otherwise, he’d think that we forced you to.” Then I heard Michael comment, “What is this? A cult?” Xavier flicked his fingers in the middle of his friend’s forehead and it made a sound, probably shaking his skull. Watching them alone, being whoever they are, saying whatever they want and their closeness to each other makes me think about their offer. I faced Nick who had an expectant look on his face. “I’m in.”

We reached the school’s outdoor covered court. It’s after passing the cafeteria. I’m telling you now that this is the only place that’s pleasant in the whole school. Instead of seeing trash littered everywhere, the court was clean and there were trees aligned on the side of it. Under one of the trees, there was this Blond holding an acoustic guitar. Michael ran to him and gave him a tackle-hug.

“What the hell, Michael?” He exclaimed as the others just laughed out loud. They sat up again and the redhead tugged on the guy’s sleeve. “We found a lead guitarist, Morph.”

“Hi?” I waved. The Morpheus guy studied me with his sky blue eyes and frowned a bit. He stood up and I realized he’s way taller than Nick which only made me anxious about my height. Gee, thanks. He circled me, like a lion studying its helpless prey. Morpheus turned to his bandmates and asked why I should be in the band. They explained it to him with enthusiasm while I just stood there not even getting why he’s asking them instead of me.

“So,” the tall blond turned to me. “I see that you got yourself some fans now.” Looking over his shoulder, Nick and Michael had huge grins on their faces, excitedly waving their hands while Xavier is also smiling but not like the other two. My eyes went back to Morpheus and I shrugged. “I never meant to. They just asked me to play.”

“Can you perform in front of something bigger than a bunch of students in one room?”

I could’ve answered him with an eager ‘Yes’ but in the pit of my stomach, my anxiety starts poking me. Morpheus patiently waited for my answer while I thought, A bigger crowd? That would be awesome but if I’m not good enough… Then what? I mentally slapped myself in the face. I looked up to him and said, “Even if it doesn’t take me anywhere, I can.”

Morpheus gave that a thought which lasted longer than I wanted to. My friends had their fingers crossed and I quietly hoped I would get accepted. Morpheus’ lips slowly curled into a smile and happily said, “You’re in.” Then they started clapping their hands. Michael locked his arm around my neck and yelled, “Finally! Someone decent enough to play for our band.” That comment got him a smack on the head and he just laughed it off. Xavier ruffled my curly hair and spread his arms out. “Welcome aboard Erebos.”

“Erebos?” I raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, yeah,” Nick said. “A friend named the band. She said that it’s the name of the primordial darkness in Greek mythology or something like that.”

Just then, their faces lightened up. I followed wherever they were looking at and found something I wasn’t expecting. Walking towards us was a girl with straight hair as dark as midnight, autumn tanned skin and she had a gray jacket wrapped around her waist since the school uniform for girls had short skirts. Michael ran over to her and held his hand out for a high-five. “Hey, Babycakes!”

Babycakes?

She scowled and pointed a finger at him. “How many times do I have to tell you to never call me that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Michael tries to imitate her British accent. “Did I touch a nerve?”

“You always do.” She crossed her arms and her eyes found me. I flinched, probably because I’ve been staring at her for too long, looking stupid, and got caught. Nick saved me though. He placed a hand on my shoulder and told the girl, “I’d like to introduce you to our new lead guitarist, Perseus Moore!”

“Perseus?” She raised an eyebrow. She studied me from head to toe and as I watched her, I noticed her eyes were gray. They remind me of fierce storm clouds or bones when reduced to ash. My heart started thundering against my chest when her eyes met my golden brown ones. She then looked up at my hair and asked, “Is that natural or are you just looking for attention?”

“What?”

“Your hair. And your eyes? You’re not wearing contacts, are you?”

“I could say the same to you,” I commented. A shadow of irritation passed over her face and then I realized my mistake. Morpheus cleared his throat and got her attention. “You’re not going to tear his face off, are you, Kass?” Xavier spoke up. She faced him and cracked a smirk, leaving me wanting to melt into a puddle for some reason. “I don’t have a reason to,” she faced me and held out her hand. “I’m Kassandra Cyrillus. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I shook her hand. “I could say the same thing.”

“Not when you really know what you’re talking to,” I heard her mutter. That took me aback. What is she talking about? I faced Nick who looked somewhat nervous when she said that and when I looked back at Kassandra, she still had the same expression except I recognized the look on her face. Like, she had the face of someone who got away with murder which is stupid because that’s impossible. Or was it?

“Now, now, Kassandra,” Michael interrupted my train of thought. “Stop scaring away the new guy.” She gave him a look which made him raise his hands in defeat and then she faced me. “You all have the same subjects later on, right?”

“Yeah,” we replied in unison. She didn’t give any reaction but handed Morph a bag. “I’ll see you all later then,” she looks over her shoulder a bit and walks away. When she was finally out of our sight, I turned to my bandmates who were looking at the bag. When they opened it, it was filled with snacks and a big pack of potato chips. They all had an evil grin on their faces and they closed the bag again. “It’s cool how she could smuggle some junk food here in school.”

“She must’ve paid the school guard to let her in,” Nick joked. My eyebrows arched. The image of Kassandra burned in the back of my mind and I can’t help notice how she looked so innocently malevolent. Two words I never thought would fit together. Morpheus saw how confused I was and placed his hand on my shoulder. “You look lost.”

“I don’t understand how things go around here,” I said with genuine honesty. “Is it just me or is Kassandra plotting something evil?” They looked at each other which is concerning for me like it’s a tough subject they don’t want to tackle. “Did I say something wrong?”

Nick snaked his arm around my shoulder. “Nah, dude. It’s just that, Kassandra had this reputation here at school, so it tends to make her judge and mistrust people she meets at first glance. Be a little patient with her. She’s actually a great person to be with,” he smiled. With that, the school bell rings for our upcoming classes. We walked to our classroom and went on with our day.

Finally, school was about to end. I just had to end this last class: Literature. My bandmates were left behind since they said they needed to talk to our Math teacher. When I reached the door of the classroom, I expected a bunch of students sticking their noses in books but instead, I found most of my classmates were off their seats, just being chaotic as usual.

“You’ll get used to it,” said a familiar voice behind me. When I turned around, I found Kassandra. She had a black backpack slung on one shoulder and the strap had a metal pin of a badly drawn smiley face with X’s for eyes and it had its tongue stuck out, the logo of the Grunge band Nirvana. “Nice pin,” I complimented. “Somehow matches your personality.”

“Don’t flatter me, Perseus,” her voice laced with bitter sarcasm. “And if you want small talk, I suggest we go inside and sit down. Unless you want to block the door, I’m not joining you.”

I stepped aside and let her in first and muttered, “Sorry.” Following her to the back of the classroom, I sat on the vacant chair beside her. There were more vacant seats other than this but I just felt like I needed to sit next to somebody I at least know if I get called. Now and then, I would steal glances of her just to see her doodling on her notebook. Well, I just think she’s doodling. The first thing that caught my attention was that she’s writing in Greek? Second thing I noticed were the symbols Aδης. What do they mean? Like I know. I wanted to ask her but everyone started to make a commotion when Michael entered the room.

Kassandra let out a soft laugh when she saw her friend being flirty with the girls who were head over heels for him. “Always a tosser,” she muttered and closed her notebook. “Then these girls would fall for every banter. Can you believe that?”

I realized she was talking to me so I answered, “Er, yeah. They’re being a little too extra.”

“Michael’s always extra,” she shrugs. I then noticed her lips were curled up into a small smile and I kind of felt good about that. She looked at me and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” I looked in the other direction. When they were seated, the professor entered the room. He’s a pudgy man with a scowl on his face and has more hair on his chin than on his head. I could hear a lot of the students around us snickering and then they all burst out laughing when the teacher sat on his seat. Confused, he tries standing up and then realizes the problem. “You insufferable brats!” He yelled at us. When he tried to walk out of his desk, everyone was laughing except for me and Kassandra since the chair was stuck to the man’s rear-end. I mean, it’s literally glued to his butt. Honestly, it’s an old trick in the book but I think getting someone to do it right in front of you makes it funny. He started yelling things I don’t think would get him a promotion, or probably let him keep his job. Nonetheless, we continued class while the professor was seated, and ever so often, you will hear giggles when he tries standing up.

“Now,” he pats a stack of papers on his desk. “This will be your homework for two weeks. Read it carefully and I don’t want anyone submitting anything stupid, understood?”

Everyone jeered and groaned. Kassandra and I stayed silent then I glanced at her just to find her reading a book under her desk. As the papers were being distributed, the professor said, “You all will be partnered” —everyone cheered— “by the person beside you.” The excitement died and it just made him smile smugly. The school bell rang for dismissal and everyone quickly raced to the door.

“Wait,” I looked at my seatmate. “Who am I partnered with?” We stared at each other. It seemed like time suddenly stopped for some reason. Our eyes locked and I don’t know how, but I could see this shadow behind her gray orbs. What could it be? A weird gut feeling tells me that this person in front of me was someone… someone who you shouldn’t get on their bad side or you’re screwed. Kassandra smiled and answered, “I suppose you’re stuck with me, Phrixus.”

#=PLMR=#original story #chapter 1 #novel series #novel #romance #music #greek mythology #angst #teen author #rock music #book 1 #band mentions #author #2000s feels

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neocity-sarai · 4 years

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Tattoos Together

❈ main concept: childhood best friends to lovers!

❈ pairing: mark lee x reader

❈ alerts: fluff, angsty angst, language, parties, mentions of drinking/smoking, mentions of the dreamies/other idols

❈ song reference: “tattoos together” by lauv

Vancouver has always been home. Since you were a child, Vancouver has been the place to be. Years of dinners in the city, biking around Granville island, and field trips to the Victoria gardens were the norm, just little secret spots you go to when you want a getaway- an escape from school, work, whatever it is you’re doing. At age 15, the Lees moved into the light blue house next to yours, the one with overgrown weeds in the yard. The one with the crooked, leaning mailbox in front of it- daisies painted on the rusty metal. A young girl, an artist, used to live there until she moved to Paris for her next exhibit- leaving the lonely, periwinkle house behind. That day the Lees moved in, your parents baked more muffins than usual (on purpose) so they could welcome our new neighbors by enticing them with food. The saying goes that a way to a person’s heart is through their stomach right? When dad is done packaging them up into a neat little box, he shoves it into your hands, “Y/N. I hear the Lees have a son about your age, go introduce yourself.”

Glaring at your father, you set the box that was tied with a small yellow ribbon on the table before saying, “I’m sure they can manage just fine without the muffins. Why do we have to go greet them now? they’re probably tired from moving.”

Mom gives you a stern look, her jaw tightening, “Don’t be silly, it’s a nice gesture. Come back before dinner is ready.”

Before you can even protest, your parents are shoving you out the door, still careful not to crush the perfectly wrapped box. Stepping over the stairs, you finally manage to make it to the door. Here goes nothing? The cherry red door swings open lightly after you linger my finger-tip on their doorbell, opening up to a pretty woman- her facial features defined of asian descent. Her dark hair is tied into a loose braid, her pink sweater tucked into the waistband of her culotte pants. The woman smiles at you, the corner of her lips upturned, “Ah- you must be Y/N. I just got a call from your mother.”

You try to hide the shaking of my hands, handing her the box of warmed muffins, “Uh-hi Mrs. Lee. My parents made some muffins to welcome you to the uh- neighborhood.”

The woman’s eyes crinkle until her eyes stretch thinly, “That’s so nice of you! Thank you, I’m sure Mark will enjoy these!”

You question,“Um- Mark?”

Her laugh is light and airy, “My son-Mark! Wait here, I’ll get him.”

You wave my hands at her, motioning my refusal, “No worries, I-I have to get going for dinner..”

She doesn’t wait to listen to my words before turning away from the door to scream Mark’s name. A few minutes later, a boy wearing a dress shirt over his black t-shirt comes stumbling down the stairs, a pair of black headphones hanging off his neck. His glasses rest on the bridge of his nose as his jet-black hair sits as a messy pile on his head. It looks like he hasn’t combed it in days. Mark shouts, “What? What did you need mom?”

Mark’s mother clutches him by the arm, shoving him into my view, “Meet y/n. She’s the daughter of the family next door.”

At first, no words come out of Mark’s mouth, his doe, boyish eyes as wide as saucers. Mark’s mother hits him in the back, causing him to cough abruptly, “Uh-yeah-my name’s Mark. W-what’s your name?”

Mark’s mother laughs again, leaning down to whisper into his ear, “I already said her name is y/n!”

Redness creeps up to Mark’s cheeks, his nose tinted a slight shade of rose as his dark irises bounce everywhere but at me.

You smile anyway, “It’s y/n.”

He gives me a small smile and a nod, eyes set on the ground. His mother speaks up again, “I’m really sorry y/n, my boy’s really shy around pretty girls…”

Mark lightly hits his mom in the shoulder, “Mom! Don’t say that! You’re embarrassing me!”

His face is as red as a tomato, glasses sliding farther down his nose only for him to push them up with the tip of his index finger. I laugh at their cute relationship, holding out a hand to Mark, “It’s nice to meet you. I hope we can be friends?”

Mark stutters once more, his eyes wild with energy, “I-i’d like that very much-h, yeah.”

After you tell Mrs. Lee goodbye, you give Mark a nod before turning back on to their driveway. The both of them stand in the doorway, Mark’s voice reprimanding his mom in the house behind me. Maybe it wasn’t so bad meeting the Lees after all. That night, you go to bed, replaying the vision of Mark’s embarrassed smile in your mind.

Age 18 (senior year)

The next several years breeze by. Ever since Mark Lee enrolled into Everlane high, he wasn’t as shy of a freshman compared to the day you met him all those summers ago. Over the years, he grew a lot taller, his face a lot mature, yet still adorably awkward at the same time. He became a smart student, one favored by many of the science teachers- causing his friends (Jeno and Jaemin) to roll their eyes playfully whenever Mrs. Scofski would praise Mark for solving a chemical equation on the white-board. Mark was a basketball captain along with his best friend Hyuck, the two always tag-teaming during the school’s games. Due to Renjun’s forcing, Mark joined the student body as a reputable member. He became a biology tutor for kids who had found science class difficult or just fooled around without paying attention (Jisung and Chenle being two of those kids). Quickly, Mark was showered as Everlane’s golden boy, your neighborhood’s ideal son. He was doted as smart, popular, and mr. perfect to all the girls in the area- no matter how much he always denied it when you told him so. After your first meeting, your parents would frequently eat together, alternating households. The Lees also force Mark to walk you home from school, in fears that you would be kidnapped by a random stranger. At least he was good for one of many things- telling you that he’d swing his basketball at any person who would come even close to you.

Most days after your homework sessions, you’d plan new adventures with each other. your week went like this: on Mondays, you went walking along the water, skipping rocks on the bay until the sun went down and could see the glitters of the city sky-line. In the spring, the sky would melt from a tangerine orange color into a musty silver. On Tuesdays, you’d get clam chowder at Phil’s on 2nd avenue, Mark always ruined his shirt ( you would forbid him to wear white on Tuesdays) and then you’d sit on this abandoned rooftop above an old department store. Up there, the air always felt cold so that you would have to blow your warm breaths into your hands, lean your heads on each other’s shoulders as Mark let out his high-pitched laughs. On Wednesdays, it was maple waffles before school in Gas town, the steaming clock chiming delicate music by the hour. Thursdays were meant for taking stupid photos, listening to dusty mixtapes, and hanging out with the rest of your friends. Last Thursday, you would all go to the Capilano suspension bridge and sit on a treehouse’s edge- causing Hyuck to scream from the heights. Jaemin always quieted him down with a bone-crushing hug or a playful kiss, earning a look of disgust from Renjun. You always wanted gelato after that. On Fridays, all of you would stay in for a movie night at either Mark’s house or yours- Jeno punching Chenle to stop him from making fun of the ghosts in the horror movies you’ve been watching. It never works. Saturdays were like Mark’s public appearances at Everlane high’s party scene, one call and you all would be at someone’s house party. You’d never really enjoyed them though: too many people, too much dirty dancing, and the burning stench of vodka stung your nose. The only reason you would stay is for Mark and the boys. Sundays, your family and Mark’s get together for either dinner or lunch- switching off every week. Your parents would even play a betting game to choose who gets to wash dishes, Mark groaning every time his family loses rock-paper-scissors. Spending time with the people you loved made the days go by faster as you never particularly had bad days in the extreme. Piles of homework and grumpy teachers didn’t hold a candle to what you’d get to do every day- if it meant spending time with Mark. When you go to bed each night, you would feel content- happy, even.

Monday

You still think back to the moment when the boys were eating lunch in the cafeteria, like you did everyday. Chenle was talking about how he’d earn himself detention because he was messing around with chlorine in chemistry in order to make Jisung laugh.

“You’re such an idiot, Chenle. That’s going on your record, you know?” Jaemin scoffs.

Holding his sandwich in one hand, Jeno sweeps his coffee-colored bangs out of his eyes, “What do you expect? it’s Chenle- it’s like he’s powered on candy all the time.”

Chenle slurps up his gummy worms in an exaggerated motion, “I’ve already been through 6 packs of these since this morning. I feel so sick.”

Narrowing his eyes, Hyuck rests his chin on the palm of his hand as he pouts his lips, “Poor baby, eat more and you’ll be blowing up the toilet in no time!”

Chenle squints his eyes at the blond-haired boy, tossing a gummy worm at him, “Hyuck! Stop it!”

Hyuck continues to laugh as he clutches his stomach, Jisung stealing the candy from Chenle’s fingers before stuffing it into his mouth. I pull Hyuck up from his side, “Hyuck, you’re going to fall, sit up!”

Due to his lack of breath, Hyuck stares into my eyes, his golden irises gleaming, “You’re here to catch me though.”

You push him back down, palming my hand onto his face, “Stop reading cheesy rom-com lines. It’s so not cute, cringey at that.” Before Hyuck can finish whining, we’re interrupted by Mark plopping his food tray on the table. Jaemin says, “Someone’s late. Where were you?”

Mark looks like he’s out of breath, heaving and panting as he cards his fingers through the crest of his raven hair. “You guys aren’t going to believe this but, I think Cassandra likes me.”

Jaemin raises a skeptical eyebrow, “You mean Cassandra as the cheerleader who got kicked off the team for drinking last year?”

Suddenly, you stop paying attention to the conversation anymore. All you feel is the weight of your heart sink, my limbs feeling heavier at your side. Hyuck looks at you, noticing your fallen expression before clutching your hand under the table, giving it a comforting squeeze. It seems like Jeno sees it too because he glances from you to Mark as Mark excitedly explains his story. “Yeah, I was just finishing up some tutoring with Roberto from last period and Cassandra gave me her number after that! Isn’t that sweet?”

Jaemin nods disinterestedly, “Yeah, sweet I guess.”

Among the group, you have only ever admitted your feelings for Mark to Hyuck because he cornered you about it one day. Yet, it seems like Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun have caught on from their pitied faces. Mark drones on about how “totally cool” and how athletic he thinks Cassandra is. The difference is you don’t play any sports and you don’t slap coats of makeup on your face every-day before school, nothing like Cassandra. You shake your head at the ping in your heart- a small glimmer of hope that Mark would ever feel the same about you. By the time lunch is over, classes feel longer than usual. They drag on, your teachers’ words in one ear and out the other. You text Mark that you have to stay over for school so he can walk home without you- a blatant, utter lie. Instead, you opt to put my headphones in and take the long route home. Plopping on to the surface of my comforter, you hear the familiar ring of Mark’s text tone.

[2:55 P.M.] (Marcus Lee <3) Y/n? Did you get home okay?

[2:55] Yeah, I did. Thanks Mark.

[2:56] (Marcus Lee <3) Hey, are you okay? You seemed a bit down today? Like you know you can tell me anything right?

[2:56] Yeah. I know. I’m just a bit more tired than usual. Stayed up last night writing Mr. Gillion’s paper..

[2:57] (Marcus Lee <3) hahahah ewww. That doesn’t sound fun… Do you want to go into town and get churros later?

[2:58] I think I’ll pass today, I got some homework to finish. I hope you have a good day though :)

[3:00] (Marcus Lee <3] hahaha okay. I guess I’ll have to take my mom on a churro date then hahah. See you tomorrow! ;)

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to hang out with Mark. Still, you couldn’t forget about the way Mark’s eyes sparkled when he talked about Cassandra, the way his voice cracked from the excitement of talking about it. How can you expect him to know? To reciprocate? It’s not like you were dating, you have no right to be jealous of Cassandra- a pretty girl, someone who had football players falling at her feet. Even if you had told Mark the truth, what if he didn’t feel the same? It would make these awkward, not to mention with your friend group. You shouldn't.

Tuesday

In all honesty, you had forgotten about yesterday’s lunch conversation. That was until the reminder hits you like a slap to the face when you see Cassandra’s arms wrapped around Mark’s neck as he laughs into her shoulder. Renjun and you had been walking to art class, the crack in your heart widening by the second. They fit so well, the way Mark’s basketball jacket matches Cassandra’s cheerleading uniform, the way his teammates and her friends hang out together in a pack. Renjun whispers to you, “Are you okay?”

You nod at him, trying to conceal your emotions, “Just fine, let’s head to class.”

When you pass Cassandra and Mark along with their cluster of friends, Cassandra’s voice comes out in a squeaky tone, “Hey, y/n.” When you turn to look at the pair, you see Cassandra’s hand daintily resting on Mark’s stomach, his eyes wide as saucers when he realizes you and Renjun are in front of him. You hear Renjun mutter an ‘ugh’ after curtly waving to them. Mark leaves Cassandra’s grasp, motioning towards you both, “You guys going to art? I’ll walk with you-”

Before you can answer, Cassandra wraps her thin arms around Mark’s waist, “We have to go help Felix with the party stuff remember?”

Mark scratches the back of his neck before glancing back at her and you with Renjun, his mind in a state of conflict. To make it easier for him, you smile at him, “You go, looks like you’re busy.”

Walking faster, Renjun drags you by the arm as we breeze past the crowd of athletes and cheerleaders. Renjun rolls his eyes again, “I don’t get why he likes her so much, they haven’t even been friends for that long and you’re right-”

You cover a hand to his mouth, “Renjun, it’s okay. I’ve accepted it by now.” You try to convince yourself at the very least.

After art class is done, lunch time seems to come in a hurry. Everyone takes their usual seats, Hyuck on your right with Renjun on your left. Jeno, Jaemin, Chenle, and Jisung sit around you three in a circular formation. Jaemin speaks first, “So, what, are Mark and Cassandra dating now?”

Jeno shrugs his shoulders before stuffing a quarter of a cookie into his mouth, “Don’t know and don’t care.”

You say, “Looks like it, they were pretty intimate in the hallway this morning.”

Renjun and Hyuck make disapproving faces, Renjun quips, “I don’t know. I feel like this is happening so fast and he told me that he really-”

“Shut up!” Hyuck screams at Renjun, throwing a limp french fry at him.

“Ew, what the hell was that for?” Renjun’s eyebrows are furrowed with disgust, patting the fabric of his white denim jacket from any salt crumbs.

Hyuck’s eyes go wide as he makes a zipping motion on his lips, his blond hair gleaming under the dim lights, “Don’t say it- she needs to hear it from him!”

Renjun shoots back, “But it’s so obvious, what difference does it make?”

“What are we talking about?” Chenle’s face contorts with confusion, Jisung looking at him for any hints.

Jaemin glares at the pair, “Shh, let’s just all move on.”

You say, “I’m with Chenle, what are we talking about?”

Hyuck places a firm hand on my shoulder, his honey blond hair casting shadows on his forehead, “Nothing, it’s not important.”

As you eat, you spot Mark walking over to all of you, his black backpack slinged over one shoulder before setting his food down. “Hey, guys. We can squeeze in two right?”

Hyuck looks at Mark, his eyes furrowing with bewilderment, “Two?”

“Hey guys!” Cassandra’s preppy figure pops out from behind Mark. She looks more done up than before: red lipstick, long platinum-streaked hair in a slicked pony-tail, and the tightest cheer-leading uniform she could fit herself into. She plops herself down in between Mark and Hyuck, taking off the container of her salad before looking around our table. I sense Renjun and Hyuck give me a look while the other boys continue to eat in silence.

“So what did you guys do today?” Mark asks. Jaemin gives him a short response while Jisung explains how the class pet mouse made it’s escape during second hour, earning a chuckle from Mark. You get an odd feeling in your stomach when Cassandra looks at Mark so lovingly at your lunch table. The boys’ dynamic seems almost disrupted every time Cassandra butts in to say that she doesn’t think Jeno’s jokes are funny. As lunch finishes up, the school bell reverberates through the cafeteria walls- a signal for the next class period.

The next class is statistics with Mr. Midas. Out of the group, Mark and Jaemin are the only ones in the same class as you but it doesn’t help that they’re seated as farway as possible. On the bright side, you’re seated next to Chan, one of Mark’s basketball teammates. Over the course of the year, Chan has always been a kind deskmate by helping you when you’re confused with a problem or sharing his study guide with you. Sometimes you notice he scoots closer to explain a formula and asks you if you’re uncomfortable with his sudden closeness, to which to his relief, you always reply no. Chan is just as handsome as Mark, someone well regarded in the school. No one could resist his flirty charm, the way his chestnut hair curls to one side of his forehead and the way his hoodie falls past his waist a bit. You discover how Chan is really passionate about producing music and running your high school’s channel as a radio dj. When Chan smiles, it makes you happy to see how his eyes crinkle into crescent moons, and how his teeth gleam white when he smiles about the flower you drew him at the corner of his notes.

“Are you doing okay, y/n?”

You give a reassuring nod, “I’m doing okay Chan. Thanks for asking.”

He quirks up his brow, a scar slashing it at the end, “You don’t look okay though. Listen, if you don’t want talk about it, you’re all good, I just-”

Pausing him with the hold of your hand, you continue, “if you don’t mind, I’d like to talk about it.”

He gives you affirmation, you say, “Have you ever felt unrequited love?”

Chan shakes his head no, leaning back in his chair, “Maybe when I was younger but not now? I’m truly sorry y/n. Whoever it is, anyone who doesn’t see how funny and beautiful you are doesn’t deserve you period.”

You hold your tongue for a bit due to the fact of Chan’s comment catching you off guard. Freezing, he realizes the bluntness of his words, “Oh man, you just said unrequited love and I biffed it right? I didn’t mean it that way-no, wait. You are funny and very pretty so, uh-yeah.”

Bursting into laughter, you put a hand to your mouth causing Cassandra and Mark to look at you from across the room. Soon enough, you tear your eyes away from the students staring at you to focus your attention on Chan. He’s laughing too, his voice full of brightness and mirth. You respond, a light cloud of pink floating your cheeks, the room feeling a bit warmer, “I really appreciate that Chan. Thank you for making me smile today.”

A smirk graces Chan’s face as he says, “Happy to do it, whenever you want really.”

Statistics goes by extremely quickly when you’re sitting next to Chan- it’s like he’s telling you a couple of jokes and then it’s over. As the bell rings, Chan nudges you with his elbow as he packs up his bag, “So, I uh-this friday, we’re having our championship game and this party after? I was wondering if you want to come?”

You hesitate, thinking you might have plans with Mark, yet you decide he would probably hang out with his girlfriend over you anyway.

“I’d love to come. On one condition.”

Chan raises his eyebrows, “And what’s that?”

“You have to win the game.”

Chan throws up his hands almost hitting you in the process, “Well, duh! I’m not going to let you down, I promise.”

Friday

For the past couple days, you haven't heard from Mark. No texts, no calls, and no plans out in the city. You were hurt that the boy you’d call your best friend would ignore you just because he got a new girlfriend, your years of friendship overlooked just like that. When Friday rolls around, you attend the Everlane versus Brisbane championship basketball game. You decide that you’re there to cheer on Chan, the boy who’s taller than the rest, his purple jersey hanging against his muscular frame. You spot Cassandra giving Mark a kiss on his cheek on the court, you have to look away at the sight. By the next hour or so, you’re surprised at how long Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin have been screaming. Each of them held a poster for each Hyuck, Jeno, and Mark- their jersey numbers adorned with dollar store glitter and messy handwriting. When Mark makes a slam dunk in the basket, the crowd goes ear-deafeningly wild, cheering out Mark’s name like a repeated mantra. Shortly after, Hyuck makes an attempt to pass the basketball to Mark; the ball missing Mark’s hands before Chan dribbles it to their opponent’s basket. The cheerleaders dance to the thrum of the crowd screaming Chan’s name over Mark’s, causing Mark to grit his teeth with irritation. For a while, the back and forth of swaying bodies goes on until the Everlane team makes the last shot before the final countdown. When Jeno makes the last point, you’re certain you’ve lost your hearing by then. The cheers ring in the gym, causing the alarm to blare with victory. After everyone exits the gym, you see Mark, Chan, and Jeno being tossed into the air in a sea of fellow players and short-skirted girls as pompoms explode upwards. You decide to wait with Chenle, Jisung, and Jaemin in the empty parking lot, waiting for Renjun to pull his car around. Jeno and Hyuck jog to you all first, their basketball duffels hanging from their hands, bodies are drenched with sweat. Chenle says, “That’s some fine work out there gentleman if I do say so myself.” Hyuck does his signature handshake with Chenle, a reckless grin smeared across his face, “I knew we’d win. Brisbane can’t take down the undefeated.”

Jeno gives him a firm nod, slinging his arm around a pleased Jaemin. You smile at the boys, “Congratulations guys, you all killed it on the court.”

Hyuck and Jeno smash you in a sweaty hug, “Aw, thanks y/n. You did well cheering for us.”

You laugh, “Get off, you guys are sweaty!”

Before Hyuck can smear his sweat onto your shoulder playfully, a voice stops you in your tracks.

“Y/n!”

It’s Chan. A damp towel hangs off his neck, his nike headband wrapping his forehead under his bangs. “You ready to go?”

You shout, “Just give me a second!”

Hyuck and Jeno give you a knowing look, “Where are you going with Chan?”

You reply, “Oh, we’re just carpooling to the party at Felix’s house.”

Renjun asks, “Also, where’s Mark?”

Hyuck shakes his head in contempt, “He’s heading to the party with Cassandra.”

Jaemin mutters, “Of course he is.”

Of course he would. Mark is one of the captains on the team, why would he be excluded from the after-party? The ache in your heart pings again, you feel sick from the thought of Mark making out with Cassnadra at some gross party. You wouldn’t be able to handle the tears. Though, Chan had invited you, not Mark- who he didn’t even mention it to you, the least you could do is be courteous. What kind of person gets invited to something and cancels so last minute?

You say, “You guys get to the party and I’ll meet you there, okay?”

Renjun’s eyes crease his concern, “You do know that Mark and Cassandra will be there though right?”

You nod, “Yes. But we won’t mind them, let’s just go have fun tonight.”

After parting, you jog over to Chan who’s tossing his duffel into the trunk of his silver Lexus, his hair damp from the game. He turns to you, grinning, “you ready?”

You smile at him, telling him yes before launching yourself into the passenger seat. Chan turns the ignition, his car interior smelling like cherries from the air freshener that hangs above his head. As Chan drives, the street lamps glow on the side of the road as the moon peeks between the rainy clouds. He rolls your window down, your skin shivering at the cold chill of the night. “So, there was something I wanted to ask you?”

Turning to him, you face the chestnut-haired boy, “You remember stats class a few days ago?”

You reply, “I do?”

“Mark was looking at you the whole time. When you guys hadn’t texted in several days, he asked me if you and I were a thing during practice.”

You quirk your brows up in surprise, “And what did you say?”

Chan smiles to himself, letting out a breathy chuckle, “I said no. But, I was definitely interested.”

You allow yourself to feel nice, to feel like Chan likes you for who you are around him. Chuckling at him, you flip your hair in a sassy manner, “Well, I’ll definitely keep that noted.”

When you arrive at the party, the small two-story house looks like a sight straight out of one of those coming of age movies. The small house is jam packed with people, some hanging out on the lawn as they sip their drinks as music shakes the walls. You spot Renjun’s car from the side of your eye, meaning that your friends had gotten there before you and Chan. Upon entering the house, it’s like a warzone within it. Some people are peacefully talking by the lounge area as they feast on snacks. Some are in the kitchen mixing a plethora of colorful drinks together while also playing a form of beer pong. Girls run up and down the stairs with their friends, some with boys trailing behind them with a trance in their eyes. Some are grinding on each other on the dance floor, sensual music thrumming at the source of the boombox.

The first thing you see are your friends sitting in the corner by the backyard door, Mark on the loveseat with Cassandra practically on his lap. You instinctively grab Chan’s hand so you don’t break down right there. He gives you a surprised glance, “y/n? What’s wrong?”

Instantly, you let go of his hand as you cast your eyes down towards the floor. When you don’t answer, he sees a view of your friends laughing along with Mark and Cassandra. You feel a large hand cover yours which causes you to look up at Chan, “It’s okay y/n. Just stick with me.”

You nod, leading him to the drink table in the kitchen. When he leans down to sniff a large bowl full of sour juices and cubes of fruit, his nose scrunches in disgust, “ugh, jungle juice.”

Out of random courage, you swipe an empty cup from the tower as you shove the metal ladle of jungle juice into it. Downing it despite Chan’s protest, you feel a surge of electricity light your lungs on fire as the beat of your heart quickens from the liquid courage. He laughs, keeping his hand on the small of your back, “You surely make reckless decisions when you’re bothered by something.”

You giggle back at him, “You drink something too, you’re a winner tonight after all.” Chan reaches from a glittery purple bowl that pops with bubbles, “a toast to that, y/n. A toast to that.”

before he downs the liquid in one go. You feel his body jolt from the energy too, a smirk plastered on his face, “Wanna go play a game with some of the boys? Only if you want to, we can talk upstairs too.”

Shaking your head in refusal, you hang on to Chan’s shoulder, “Let’s go have fun.”

Chan grabs your hand, his metal chain bracelet cool on your wrist as he leads you past your friends, Mark, and Cassandra before opening the backyard door. Mark moves Cassandra off his lap, her eyes as cold as ice before she angrily gets up to get another drink. The rest of your friends sit in their circle in awe, glancing down at Chan’s hand enclosed on top of yours. Coolly waving to them, you say, “I’m outside if you need me.” before you meet eyes with Mark- his lips pressed into a frown, his irises shot with hurt. You ignore the ache that grows on the wall of your heart. You tell yourself, Mark’s ignored you all this time because he doesn’t feel the same way and never will. After being outside on the patio for a while, you meet some of Chan’s radio-club friends as all of you play a game of sorry. For a moment, Mark and the others aren’t on your mind, just the fact that Chan is pulling you into an enthusiastic hug after winning a round. You turn to Chan, “Hey, I’ll be right back. I have to use the bathroom.”

Chan smiles at you before he presses a lingering kiss to the crown of his head, “Sure thing. I’ll be here.”

You’re not even surprised that Chan kisses you, whether or not it’s the alcohol, you don’t mind it. When you head back into the house, you feel an arm grab your wrist and spin you around. Your friends are still sitting where they had when you passed them except Mark is the one boring his eyes into yours as he grabs your shoulders, “We need to talk now.”

Before you can say no, he pulls you to the quieter part of the kitchen, you say with bitterness, “What do you want Mark? I have someone waiting for me.”

Left without any patience, Mark lets out a huff, “Are you and Chan together?”

You sigh, casting your glance at him, “Seriously? It’s none of your business. Second, it’s not like you told me that you were with Cassandra.”

Mark uses his hand to comb back his black hair, making it even more messy, “Y/n. That’s because we’re not together, it’s just complicated and I haven’t had the time to tell you why or how we-”

“Stop right there. You ignored me for days Mark! You never texted or called! What was I supposed to do? Pine after you when you’re chasing Cassandra around?”

Mark’s doe eyes flash with pain, his hand tightening around the sides of your arms, “No! That’s not it! I didn’t mean it that way, I’m just trying to figure out what to do..” You shove Mark off you, his hands sliding off your arms, “Well save it. I’m done with you playing around with my feelings!”

Mark calls after you, tears streaming down your face as you try to make your way to the bathroom without being stared at. It takes all three minutes of some Chris Brown song for you to stop heaving. You feel sick to your stomach, so much for a fun night. You text Chan to meet you outside in front of the house, avoiding the corner your friends were comforting Mark at. Chan finds you leaning against his car, “Oh my god, are you okay?”

Giving him the only smile you can muster, you explain, “Listen, I’m so sorry. You invited me to this party and I just-I’m here being a cry-baby and everything. I’m just going to walk home now. I’m sorry.”

Chan shakes his head in definite refusal, “Nonsense. I’m driving you home. I’m about done anyway.”

You ask hesitantly, “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

The night drive back to your neighborhood gives you peace of mind. Chan rolls all the windows down as soft music plays from his radio, slowing the bounce of your heartbeat. He’s got one hand on the wheel and one hand rested on yours by your knee, you feel comfortable with Chan. It’s the same feeling that flutters in your stomach when you’re close to Mark and right now, you hate the thought of the black-haired boy that consumes so many of your thoughts. Before Chan’s tires screech to a stop in front of your porch, he turns to you with concerned eyes, lips pressed into a pout. “Come here, y/n.”

You waste no time collapsing into the space on his wide chest, his hands stroking your hair down. Resting his chin on your head, you close your eyes to the rhythmic beat of Chan’s heart as the soft patter of the rain is enough to drift you to sleep. You pull away from his chest, looking up at the shadows in Chan’s eyes, his hair falling near his eye-lids while he glances at your lips before looking down to his lap. He says apologetically, “I’m so sorry. I’m not trying to take advantage of your feelings right now. I’m really not-”

You cut him off with your hand pressed to the curve of his cheek, “Can I kiss you?”

He doesn’t waste time to grip the back of your neck, kissing you harshly as he bites the bottom of your lip. You sigh into him, fisting the fabric of his jacket when he moves in even closer to twist a hair behind your ear. When you detach from him, you can’t control the burst of tears that shakes your body. The alcohol blurs the vision of Mark and Chan together as your mind throbs from the effect, leaving you dizzy. You apologize to Chan over and over again, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes. Instead, he kisses his lips to the side of your temple as he urges you to get some sleep. Like the gentleman he is, he walks you to the front door, draping his basketball jacket over your shoulders. Your home is dark- due to the fact that your parents are out of town on a business trip in Toronto so you just flop onto your bed in defeat. Mark’s ringtones shoot off from your phone, notifications of several apology texts and missed calls. Not wanting to check any of them, you toss your cell phone into the grey trash bin that sits by your desk. Going to sleep feels especially difficult when alcohol still surges through your veins and you can’t control the sobs that erupt from your throat. You hear Mark’s car pull up on his driveway, not wanting to see him whatsoever. On your bed, you almost feel him looking up at your window to check if you’re awake- for once, you’re glad it’s curtains are securely shut.

The next few weeks are pretty miserable besides the fact that you’re getting closer to Chan. You don’t acknowledge Mark’s presence anymore. By Hyuck and Jaemin, you’re told he comes by to the lunch table to check if you’re there. You still hang out with your friends separately rather than in your usual group- the web that connects you slowly falling apart. It’s difficult when you have art with Hyuck and Renjun, stats with Jaemin, and ceramics with Jisung, Chenle, and Jeno- as you try to take paths opposite of Mark at the same time. Later on, you explain everything that’s been going on between you and Mark to Chan. He takes it surprisingly well by comforting you and listening to your anger, how he’s willing to let you heal before you two start anything. How could Chan be so patient with you? He says it’s because he really likes you and would rather be there for you as a friend first. When you get home, your parents give you a lecture about starting things with Mark, how they want to have dinner with his family but can’t. Of course, they feel sorry once you explain to them what really happened.

Now, the weather outside seems a lot sunnier, yellow pollen from the peonies float in the air as you make your way out of the double doors. The time is nearing for spring break- a well needed barrier from Mark, from everything. Before you walk your way home, you’re stopped by Hyuck and Renjun. Renjun holds an envelope in his hands before giving it to Hyuck, both of them trapping you, “Y/n. We’ve been looking all over for you.”

You say, “I’m going home now, can we talk tomorrow?”

Hyuck narrows his eyes at me with contempt, “No, of course not. Just hear us out.”

Renjun speaks up too, “Do you have plans for spring break? I’m assuming you don’t because you mentioned a few weeks ago that you didn’t. We’ve got 8 tickets to Victoria island.”

You reply, “And.. your point is?”

Hyuck crosses his arms, rolling his eyes, “The point is to make up. Our group is in shambles because of all this lovesick drama. A trip is a perfect opportunity to mend things.”

Laughing, you cackle at his suggestion, “If you expect me to go then that’s hilarious. I’m not going.”

Hyuck throws up his hands in frustration. “How can you kick it if you don’t even know what will happen?”

Raising your eyebrows defiantly, “Do you remember what happened when Mark and I were in the same room? Hyuck, it’s not happening.”

Renjun grumbles, flicking the envelope in my face, “Fine! We won’t invite Mark then! We just want you to come with us and then we’ll see what happens from there okay?”

Hyuck socks Renjun in the shoulder with a fist before shouting, “How can we not ask Mark?”

In response, Renjun shoots a frigid glare at Hyuck as if he’s threatening him with his eyes, “We’re just not going to ask him! Y/n, will you come?”

You pause for a moment as you stare back at the pair. You raise your voice to make yourself crystal clear, “I will only go if Mark doesn’t. Simple as that.”

Renjun bobs his head in agreement, “Deal. No Mark.”

When you walk away, you still hear Hyuck berating Renjun for his decision only to be shut up by some snarky comment that comes through Renjun’s lips. The sound of their voices falling away.

First day of spring break

By the time spring break begins, you find yourself standing in front of Renjun’s van with your suitcase packed full of your things. You’re greeted by Renjun, Hyuck, Jaemin, and Jeno first. Of course, Jisung and Chenle are seen scampering across the school parking lot with their duffel bags messily unzipped, some shirts hanging out of the top.

“Didn’t I tell you to pack the night before?” Renjun scoffs at the pair.

Chenle pokes his tongue at the older boy, wrapping his arm around Jisung’s broad shoulders. Jeno holds his hands up in the air before bellowing, “shot-gun!” straight into Hyuck’s ear- causing Hyuck to throw a whiny fit. Once our suitcases are in the back of Renjun’s car, he leans on the side of his van as if he’s waiting for something. Jaemin says, “Okay, isn’t that all? Why aren’t you closing it?”

Renjun has a wicked grin plastered all over his face, “Not everything and not certainly everyone.”

You all turn to face Mark, circles under his eyes, his hair unruly as if he hasn’t gotten sleep in 3 whole weeks. Shoot a menacing face at Renjun, you whisper at him, “You told me Mark wasn’t coming.”

Renjun gives you an evil, sinister smile, “I crossed my fingers behind my back.”

Having the extreme urge to strangle Renjun on the spot, you ponder about Renjun’s extreme lengths to reach his goal of making up. Before you can walk away from the car, Hyuck drags your hand back to the door of the van, “Ah-ah- y/n. You’re not going anywhere.”

The whole car ride to the ferry is awkwardly silent due to the fact you’re mercilessly squished between Hyuck and Mark. Personal boundaries don’t exist in the car, your legs are practically on top of each other as Mark steals side glances at you from the corner. Getting to the dock port seemed less stressful than you’d imagine it to be. Renjun had parked his van at the base garage of the ferry before unloading everyone's belongings.

Just as easy as it was to get on to the boat, it was easy getting off too. You’d make your way down to Renjun’s car, Renjun driving it down a ramp and into the pathway that opened into Victoria island. You have to admit to yourself, Victoria island looked even more gorgeous than you had remembered last time you came with your family. During springtime, all the beautiful flowers in Butchart gardens would bloom pinks and purples, the greenery would turn a lush, healthy evergreen, and the city would stay lit for the tourists. It was the perfect place to have a vacation, one with friends at that. Jaemin and Renjun booked a small cottage house for everyone to stay in, one straight out of a fairy tale storybook. The cottage ceiling looked like it was made with hay and lime-green vines, beams of cedar-wood reinforced the walls of the structure. It had a white picket fence that surrounded a small rose garden near the entrance; white lilies floating in an old, peeling fountain. Finally entering the house, you were amazed by the impeccable interior:various paintings of Victoria island, a kitchen that was big enough to seat 10, and bedrooms slacked with ivory/gold wallpaper. Like ants scattering into their units, the boys jumped on their beds that they ‘claimed’ while you and Mark stood in the middle of the hallway. Watching all of them make a clamorous reaction over who got the best room was like watching families seize their buttons during family feud. By observing them, you’ve come to realize that there were only 7 rooms instead of 8. Realizing this, you glance over at Mark who was in turn staring back at you before racing towards the end of the hall- flying to the surface of the bed. Both of you landed on it at the exact same time, faces extremely close together. Hastily, you sit up in an attempt to push Mark off the bed that you claimed first, “Mark Lee, get off my bed now!”

He incredulously stares back at you, “Your bed? This is mine!”

You exclaim, “You’re trying to take my bed now? I clearly jumped on it first!”

“No, you didn’t!”

Bickering back at forth, you and Mark don’t even realize the rest of the boys practically flailing in the doorway, Hyuck saying in a sing-songy voice, “Or.. you could shareee!”

In unison, you and Mark shout, “Hell no!”

You get up first, shoving a pillow at Mark, “Fine, you have it! I’ll room with Hyuck.”

Hyuck clicks his tongue, “Oh no you’re not, y/n. Nada. No bueno.”

Before you can argue with Hyuck or chase him out of the room for that matter, you hear Mark speak up from behind. His voice is shy and quiet, his face a shade of beet red, “You just take the bed. I’ll take the floor.”

You turn to face him as you’re about to reprimand him for such a stupid idea until you realize that it’s probably the best decision to make at the moment.

After dinner that night, everyone had settled into their respective rooms. You had changed into a hoodie and sweatpants after you had showered. You sat on your bed, texting Chan goodnight before shutting it off to charge on your nightstand. Mark had stumbled into your shared room with one pillow and a thin fabric cover-(hardly a blanket) before setting it down on the carpet. Seeing Mark in this state, it reminds you of the old days. The way that his headphones sat comfortably on his ears, his black hair matted with drops of water, and his toned frame covered with black pants and a black tee. The hollows of his cheeks make his face more prominent, his lips the color of a strawberry slice. In one swift motion, he wraps the thin cover around his body before turning on his side, “Good night, y/n.”

Unable to say anything, you shut off the lamp- casting darkness all around you. “Good night, Mark.”

You almost forget that Mark’s there in the room with you until you hear the tick of his teeth chattering and the breathy huffs from how cold it is. You sit up to take a look at his shaking figure, the thin material doing no justice as a blanket. You believe that the air bnb manager hadn’t put extra blankets or control instructions for the ac system as you had all looked for them earlier. Deciding to wrap one of the thicker blankets that’s draped over your legs, you almost trip towards Mark’s shuddering body before patting it against him. Before you turn to go back to your bed, you feel a hand curl around your fingers, Mark slightly opening his half-lidded eyes at you. “y/n?”

Pausing, you touch your hand to Mark’s cheek, “Mark, you’re freezing. You should have told me, this blanket cover isn’t any better than a piece of paper.”

Mark shifts his body closer to face you now, his hands still wrapped around yours, “i-i didn’t know.”

“Do you want more of my blankets? I’m kind of used to the cold.”

Mark says, “No, if I take them, you’ll catch a cold.”

“Mark, I’m fine, really.” You insist on letting you help him, the boy shivering from the icy temperature.

His eyes become stern, his muscles stiffening, “y/n, I said no!”

Pausing, retract your hand from Mark’s as the warmth slowly is replaced with cold air. You give him a gentle nod this time, “I-okay.” Mark sits up from his place, fingers running through his messy hair, an earbud still plugged into his left ear, “What I mean is, I don’t want you to get sick. It’d be my fault.”

Instead, you walk back to your spot on your bed, “Look, don’t take this the wrong way but, you can come warm up for a little. Just before you go back to sleep, I promise- I won’t touch you.”

In the dark, Mark’s eyes glint like swirling, black orbs as he nods at you, getting up to take a spot next to you on the bed. He leans back into the pillow by your head, the coolness of it feeling like a cold cloud. Sighing with content, he submerges his body under the warmth of the comforter, careful not to over step his boundaries with you. When Mark lies next to you, you can seem to shut your eyes. Instead, your heart beats out of your chest when you hear Mark whisper. “y/n?”

“Yes, Mark?”

He says with a heavy heart, “I miss us.”

Propping my elbow on your pillow, you turn to face him, “I miss you.”

You choke on your words, your head throbbing with dizziness when you realize what you had just admitted to Mark. You seem visibly gulp, his eyes tracing the crease where the flowery wallpaper meets the ceiling. His voice comes out shaky, “y/n..I-I like you.”

Mark’s earbud sings the words of a beautiful, familiar tune:

Said I never fall, i’d never fall and then I fell for you mhm

Back against the wall, against the wall, and against the wall, that’s how it felt with you mhm

When those words fall from Mark’s lips, all the oxygen from your lungs makes an exit and threatens to not come back in- you’re left stunned. Mark turns his face to you to see your reaction and you stare back at him, eyes widened. Before you have the chance to say anything, Mark presses his lips to yours, rising from the pillow as his nose knocks against yours lightly. You find yourself kissing him back, harder than when you kissed Chan the night of the party. The kiss is full of yearning, almost full of struggling sadness to trap the right feelings- Mark’s hand snakes a hand around your jaw in order to stabilize you. He keeps kissing you aggressively, his eyes squeezed shut in pleasure as his tongue swipes your bottom lip. You pull away first, fire thrumming in your lungs as you place your hand on his chest, “Mark, you have a girlfriend. We can’t.”

Mark shakes his head slightly, “I’m not dating Cassandra.”

You make a face at him, “What do you mean? Because if I’m a rebound, I don’t want to be.”

Mark chuckles, a smirk snaking on his swollen lips, “Trust me, you’re not a rebound. And, I meant what I said about liking you.”

“Mark, you can’t just tell me you like me and then kiss me like nothing’s happened. I saw you and Cassandra with my own eyes.”

Mark sighs before gazing back at you with his obsidian-colored eyes, his skin glowing from the moon that shines slightly through the window curtains, “I’ve liked you since the day you brought those muffins to my house. I thought you would never see me as more as a friend and I tried to use Cassandra to get over you. I never wanted to burden you if you didn't feel the same. Clearly, it didn’t work. Not even partially. I’m sorry.”

You press your forehead against Mark’s, pressing a lingering kiss to the shape of his lips as you use one hand to pull the hairs on Mark’s nape- causing him to groan before reciprocating.

You whisper to him, a beautiful sound to his ears, “Why are we so difficult? We’re such idiots.”

Placing your head on Mark’s chest, both of you collapse on to the bed, sleep washing over your minds. You hear Mark giggle before putting his right ear bud into your ear, the sound of a man’s voice humming:

One weekend in Portland, you weren’t even my girlfriend

We were walkin’ and talkin’

Then somebody said.. let's get tattoos together, something to remember

If it’s way too soon, fuck it, whatever

Give me shapes and letters

If it’s not forever, then at least we’ll have tattoos together

Mmm, ‘cause I love you

When you wake up the next morning, you and Mark are greeted by Jaemin and Renjun cooking breakfast in the kitchen as Jeno, Hyuck, and Chenle play mario kart on the old television in the living room. Jisung is setting the table with eating utensils while also stopping to look at his Nintendo switch every few seconds. Aside from reddened faces and teasing, the boys had already suspected of your making-up based on the blush that coats both of your faces. That afternoon, you call Chan on the phone through facetime, letting him know that you and Mark had made up. Chan tells him how happy he is to hear it, telling you that he’s always known how much Mark had liked you and that he didn’t hold a candle to how Mark would talk about you to the basketball team. You apologize out of worry that you’ve hurt Chan but like the gentleman he is, he tells you that you’ll always be good friends especially when he’s good friends with Mark.

The next few days are like dreams. Together, you, Mark, and the boys go gallivanting across Victoria island through the sea towns made of floating boathouses and seafood restaurants. You bring your polaroid camera with you, capturing memories of Hyuck dropping his ice cream, selfies with Jeno and Jaemin, and seagulls chasing Renjun- all in a few frames. Even one morning, all of you had the spontaneous but rather, stupid decision to get matching commemorative tattoos, each of them a different flower on your wrists to commemorate your friendship. Each afternoon meant picnics at the Goldmere Provincial Park or whale watching tours out on the cobalt waters that were foaming with white. Other days you’d all visit the aviation museum or opt to sample the best chocolate fudge at Roger’s after a small hike.

On the last night of your trip, Mark had made sure that he wanted to take you down Tiffany avenue before meeting up with the boys for dinner. He’d told you to dress nicely in which you all did, leading you by the hand down the shopping street as your tulle skirt wavered behind you. When the both of you came to a balcony that overlooked the water, the ocean looked so vast like it could swallow you into the great swirls of turquoise and aquamarine as white ocean spray crashed on the sharp rocks. The sky turned a lavender shade that bloomed into a twilight pink, the sun barely touching the tips of the mountains. Mark had placed an item in your hand from his pocket, a pair of cherry earrings he had bought in a souvenir shop when you weren’t looking. It reminded you of the song on Mark’s playlist from several nights before:

Yeah, your cherry earrings are my favorite

It looks so good I had to save it

I’ve been hopin’, prayin’ we last forever

‘Cause there’s nothing better than you and I

A week ago, you told Renjun that in any circumstance, you would never go anywhere if it reminded you of your feelings for Mark, of your friends, of everything that had happened. Now, you’re glad to be able to let go, you’re able to feel the cold wind on the cliffs- Mark right by your side. Being wrapped up in the tight security of your boyfriend’s arms, (yes, Mark had asked for real this time) along with your best friends, you’re careful to not let go of them now. There’s no place that you’d rather be.

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usehername779 · 4 years

Text

Dead B,

Yeah, I typed “dead”. It was supposed to say “Dear”, but “dead” is actually more fitting. This letter will never be sent, and almost 99.999% will never be read by you- but here we go anyway.

Our relationship started in high school. We played phone tag using your sisters cell phone. I would hide upstairs in my bedroom to talk to you. Quietly, hushed, nervous, and young voices. We were in exactly what I would call puppy love. High school romance at its best. Full of excitement, equal parts awkward and equal parts naivety. You were obviously nervous when we went on our first date. I gave you wrong directions, you almost didn’t come over. I don’t even remember what we did. I think we saw a movie. Something about vampires attacking in a frozen ice storm. I remember we held hands and you tried to make a move. We saw that movie twice, it was terrible.

The summers we spent together are a blur now. Bowling late into the night. So many car rides blaring music and breathing in smoke. The house parties and bonfires. The sneaking in late, snuggling in close, clothes off, young lovers sex. I remember quite vividly your dad snoring, and holding my breath walking so quietly in order to not wake up your mom. Christmases, family vacations to the water park, the race car track, so many meals eaten at the table with your parents. We used to walk to the gas station to get snacks and waste time. Hang out in the garage or ride bikes. Oh, you were so cool. I would give off sex vibes and lure you in all the time. Graduation came and went.

You moved away to pursue your education, leaving me behind. I didn’t really know what else to do besides follow you. You were such a big part of my teenage years. I would visit you, living in your sisters basement. I was jealous of you, and her fantastic life in the city. I wanted it to be us. When we finally found a place together in the royal city and felt the pressure to get engaged, I didn’t feel so alone anymore. I missed you.

We were too young to get married. We had no idea what it meant to be in a marriage. What it meant to support another person, to be a partner. We never talked about anything important. It was always sex, video games, fights about friends, stupid teenage shit. We weren’t adults, B. We were kids. That first apartment was lonely... but exciting. I didn’t have a job right away, but you understood. You snuck my cat into the apartment, Junebug. It was so sweet.

We moved to a house after that, I tried to enroll in college but I didn’t really know what I was doing. You got a raise, you were on a path. I was lonely. I went from job to job. Always working with animals. We got Luna at this house with a long view. I missed home and family and friends, and you were so closed off. I couldn’t talk to you, you didn’t know how to listen. We were kids, B. We were kids.

We moved again, this time to our new owned house. I wanted roots, I wanted love, I wanted memories. We worked hard, painting, remodeling. We got another dog. Tried to play our parts. I had big dreams for that house. I wanted to spend days at the lake. I wanted to raise a baby there. I wanted Christmas there. I wanted to have our life, finally. But, it didn’t happen, B. We were kids. I was so depressed I would listen to music to soothe my soul. I found an online chat room for depression and talked to a stranger- you blew up. I just needed anyone to listen. I tried to take the pills, I took them all the time, I didn’t know who I was anymore. I couldn’t handle life anymore.

And that’s when I was hospitalized.. twice.. almost three times. And I never felt more alone. You didn’t know how to help me. We were kids. How could you know? I missed my family, my friends, my dad. I needed support from my husband, but you didn’t know how to be a husband. I didn’t know how to be a wife. We were kids.

The divorce was messy. You know the story. I just wanted to see my mom. I missed home. I just wanted a few days. But then you told me you were putting my stuff on the curb. I didn’t expect that. I want you to know I wasn’t leaving you.. that wasn’t my intention. I just ran home to my mom. I was a kid. I needed to run home to breathe. But you cut me off and changed the locks, took the money, broke my heart.

I called you for months. I slept on my moms couch, would wake up, and call you. You ignored me, you were mean to me, I tried so many times to try and meet you so we could talk but you cut me off, B. Why? Why would you just cut me off like that? No chance for resolution. It wasn’t until I came back unannounced. I found the locks changed, and you, with your guarded mean eyes. I know you were hiding something. Her things were there. How could you? We spend our entire teenage years together, grew up together, and you just leave me like I’m dust?

Sometimes I feel like I can’t forgive you. Why should I. You could have given me an ounce of support, but chose not to. And here I am, the fucked up one. You have this life with her, your son. He looks like you. I’m angry. It should have been us.

But we were kids. And I’m glad it isn’t us.

I have a life now. One that doesn’t involve you in the slightest. My husband, he loves me. We talk about the wind in the trees, our insecurities, our love - it’s so big it fills our whole house. And when I’m scared or worried or filled with joy- he’s always there. And we have a beautiful daughter. She lights up the room. She lights up our hearts. She is our world. And I love her more than my entire being.

I heard about your dad, I’m sorry he died in such a drawn out way. Weird that it was similar to my dads passing when I was 13. I bet you thought about me when you were going through the process. I thought about reaching out to you, but I didn’t know what to say. I’m sorry.

Time flies, and I’m sure you still think about me when you think of Taylor Swift. Just like I think about you when I see BMX bikes. Next July would have been our 10 year wedding anniversary. Crazy to think about. I’m sorry for all the nonsense we went through. But, I’m glad it’s brought us to where we are now. You seem happy, I hope you are.

I want you to know that I’m happy. I love my little family, and they mean the world to me. Interesting how going through so much brought me to where I needed to be. We aren’t kids anymore.

Thanks for the resolution,

#letter to my ex #letter to my past self #letter #open letter #exhusband #ex boyfriend #divorce #relationship trauma #therapy #spilled thoughts

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zairapvrker · 4 years

Text

Teeth: Vampire!Luke // Chapter 6

Author’s Note: writing this gave me three migraines and two breakdowns followed by an existential crisis, but at least it’s out! i’m so so so so so sorry for the long wait.

Summary: Luke knows the rules and his boundaries, he has respected them for centuries. He knows he should stay as far away as possible from every human on his path. But that was before she came along.

Warnings: mentions of death, unedited.

masterlist | chapter 5 , chapter 7

Luke made his way through the populated hallways of the high school he’d condamned himself to attend, huffing in annoyance every few steps. He swore to himself the last time he did this to never ever try and pursue this kind of torture again - but he couldn’t really argue with his motifs after all, they were the same as forty years ago. Her.

For God’s sake, it’s not like he needed to be here - hell, he was born way before high schools were even concieved by the human mind and surely received a more than proper education - but she was, so he was.

“Stupid, moronic, unbearable teenagers” he murmured frustrated, avoiding a freshman who almost spilled the contents of his water bottle on him while tripping on air in an attempt to rush to his classroom. He hadn’t had a good night, usually he would unwind reading while waiting for sunrise, but he couldn’t deny that scaring the hell out of the creep that had dared put his hands on Bea hadn’t been fun. They guy deserved to walk away with far more emotionally scarring memories of the encounter in Luke’s opinion, but Ashton had interveined before the blond could have his true fun. His friend was more adamant than him in keeping a low profile and causing as little trouble as possible, and the fact that he’d enrolled in high school was already enough attention in Ashton’s opinion.

He scoffed, his train of thought interrupted as she walked into the classroom along with one of her new friends, Calum, he believed. Just before sitting down in the seat right behind the blue-haired boy’s, Bea spared him a small smile. Luke believed that if his heart was still beating, it would’ve stilled for just a split second. He didn’t like how human she made him feel, how everything he thought he’d finally suppressed for forever, came back with just a smile. This time was going to be different.

I hadn’t slept well, of course. I was already drained of all energy and emotion the second I stepped into the house. Then, of course, I had to deal with my mother’s questions, concearn and worry. It was far too late for my liking when I finally made it to my bedroom and even later when I could lay down on my bed after a trip to the police station and probably the longest shower of my life. However, sleep did not come my way as easily as I had hoped it would’ve. I could still feel the guy’s hands on me, grabbing and pulling and I could still see the fury in Luke’s eyes - somehow frightening yet comforting, foreign and absolutely familiar at the same time. Tossing and turning was all I managed in between short and troubled sleep breaks in which nothing but dreams of him saving me, over and over again through the centuries, kept me restless.

So it was no surprise to me when just after ten minutes of lesson, my mind slipped back to those dreams, my head hiding into my crossed arms and my eyes closing as the voice of my Physics teacher was washed away slowly.

I found myself wandering around golden decorated corridors, with paintings hanging in every corner and soft, distant music accompaining my steps. I caught my reflection in a mirror and stopped to stare at myself in disbelief. I let my hands caress the deep purple shiny fabric of my dress, a spectacular ball gown which reached the floor and had a very poofy skirt thanks to the heavy layers of fabric weighing me down. My hair was twisted in a very complicated updo, leaving space to dangling earrings. I let out a short surprised sigh as another hand sneaked around my waist, holding me close. “You look breathtaking” lifting my eyes to find his in our reflection, I smiled. It was like everywhere I went, there he was. “Thank you” I murmured back, his lips opening into a smile as well. Truth be told, he looked far more breathtaking than I did. As soon as he hooked my arm through his and guided me to the ball room, I felt like just a spectator, as if I was remembering a memory far far away. Rationally, I knew it wasn’t possible that this was something I had lived, I knew it couldn’t be me the one dancing around with Luke at a party in the Victorian England. Another part of me, the very irrational one, was telling me a whole other story. It lasted very little, the peace, the fesivity, the light conversation and atmosphere. I realized it felt like disaster followed us, everytime I saw him in my dreams. This time I was being dragged away, screamig his name, before I fell to the ground hurting, silent, as he ran towards me. Everything went black.

I woke up wincing lightly, hoping no one had caught it. I found Calum looking at me from over his shoulder quizzicaly, before turning around quickly. “Ms. Longford, is there a problem?” the teacher’s voice called. So much for not being noticed, I thought. Sitting up properly and emerging from my hiding spot behind Calum’s back, I shook my head. “No, everything’s alright”

Luckily, the bell interrupted whatever he was going to say next, as students started walking out of the classroom. My blue haired friend looked at me as if he wanted to ask something, but apparently let it go. “I’ve got to run to my next class, see you in English?” he asked as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Yeah, see you later” I smiled, earning one back before he walked away. As I quickly packed my stuff, I couldn’help but frustratedly sigh at the headache that was starting to creep from the back of my head. I still had too much time of school left for this inconvenience.

“Come with me” this time, unlike every other time, his voice didn’t surprise me. I turned around, finding him there looking at me with a grave expression. “Why?” and as much as I wanted my voice to sound firm and sure, I couldn’t help but find it shaky and light. His expression softened a bit and he just offered me his hand, surprisingly, I didn’t even have to think twice before grasping it in mine. He dragged me out of the classroom, not caring for the looks people were giving us, not even when we walked past Michael and Ashley - both having weirded out expression plastered on their faces. “Luke, can you at least tell me why am I following you? I needed to be there for my History class, we were going to start a new chapter and I really can’t afford to ditch-” “You can afford to ditch, you haven’t been absent one day” he interrupted me as he took a sharp turn for the back exit that lead to the football field. “And how would you know?” I stopped dead in my tracks, both out of breath for having to keep up with his freakishly long legs and fast pace and the accuracy of his statement. He stopped too, turning around in the middle of the path caved in the grass by generations of students who didn’t want to take the long walk to the field, and looked at me dead in the eyes. “Because I observe you”

“What?” I let out kind of shocked, but he didn’t answer rather started marching towards the bleachers once again. “Hey, no, Luke!” I tried to let go of his hand, but he was holding it too tight. “For fuck’s sake, can you at least let me breathe? I may come to school everyday but I sure as hell don’t partake in every gym class” I complained, almost panting an embarrassing amount, as we reached the bleachers and I finally plopped onto the nearest seat.

“Sorry” he just said, barely seeming so from his tone. I flashed him a very little amused smile as he sat down next to me. “What have you dragged me out here in the freezing cold to talk about?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest to hug my jacket closer.

“I now realize I probably shouldn’t have” he said staring straight at the empty field in front of us. I did too, waiting for him to say something. “I just can’t keep watching you being like this” he admitted, almost whispering. “Like what, exactly?” I asked, defensive. He looked at me briefly but intensely, as if to ask me to think twice about what I’d just said. “I’m perfectly fine” I stated firmly. “I’m just...” But I soon realized I didn’t really know what was up nor how to finish my sentence. “How is it any of your business anyway?” I asked. “I barely know you”

He scoffed. “Oh, you do know me, you just don’t realize it yet” “What’s that supposed to mean?” it was safe to say I was highly confused by now, yet I couldn’t let myself drop the argument. I had too many questions regarding the dreams that had plagued my nights for a month now, the fact that I felt like utter shit almost every day, how I seemed to trust him so easily and every reason why seemed to be him. But it just couldn’t be.

“You know what? You’re right. But you’ll figure it out by yourself, you always do” he said, not moving an inch. “I just don’t want it to end like it always does” “You talk like you know something I don’t” I let slip, just above a whisper. “It’s because I do” he smiled at me, and I swore it was the most familiar smile.

“Do you want to go study?” I asked, tired of being cold. “Since you made me ditch History” he laughed lightly, then nodded. Shortly after we were in the only classroom we found unused, the one where the school band practiced. I sat down at the first free desk and watched as Luke sat at the piano, taking a book out of his bag and started reading. Every few minutes my gaze shifted from my notes onto his figure, still focused on the pages he was reading, and had to force myself to keep my concentration. “Do you play?” I asked, giving in to the curiosity. He looked at me from over the rim of the book, nodding slowly. I smiled, secretly hoping he would understand what I meant. Luke shook his head, smiling softly, before letting go of his novel and finally letting his fingers dance on the piano keys.

As he played I couldn’t help but observe him, how he was lost in the music and how peaceful he seemed, opposite to how he always appeared. Beautiful as a broken angel. Suddenly, I felt my heart beating way too fast for it to be normal, almost producing a ringing in my ear, as a sense of déjà vu overtook my mind. Only this time, the scene unfolding in my head belonged to a different time.

“I lied” he stopped playing as soon as the words left my mouth, facing me with a questioning look. “Maybe I do know you” his eyes sparkled with a light I couldn’t quite place, before he said “We’ll see about that”

I had only just finished to get my friends off of my back for seeing me ditch class with Luke, having to endure questions and sly remarks all the way to my house - after having accepted Calum’s ride - when my mother decided to keep asking about the day. I brushed her off, feeling a little guilty only when understanding that she was worried. Strangely enough the events of the day had kept my mind quite busy and off of the fear. But now, a new question needed answers.

Maybe Luke was just crazy and messing around with me, maybe I was loosing my mind or maybe, just maybe, he was right. All I knew was that I needed answers and he was the only one who could give them to me. With a new sense of determination and the knowledge that as soon as I closed my eyes dreams would come to me, I laid down on my bed, trying to fall asleep.

The scene that presented itself to me wasn’t so distant like the others. No Shakespearian theaters, Victorian ball rooms, not even the reoccurring propaganda for The Great War or the bombs flying over the night sky followed by the deafening alarms. No, this felt more familiar to what I was used to seeing every day: an high school. The banner that hung up high above the school entrance read “Congratulations class of ‘84!″ So this was graduation day? Soon after I spotted what my gut told me were my friends, sitting on the stairs before the glass doors, I walked over to them: once again my own will faded away as I stood back and watched. Conversation flowed easily between the group, but I excused myself rather quickly to go look for someone, instantly knowing who. I didn’t need to wander through the deserted hallways for too long, following the soft melody that was echoing through the walls. It brought me to the music room, where I found Luke sitting on a desk strumming along on a guitar. The same he’d played for me today.

“I knew I’d find you here” I heard myself say, resting my shoulder against the door frame. He looked up and flashed a smile in my direction. My eyes wandered across his figure, lingering for a second too long on the way his white shirt hugged him perfectly. “Why aren’t you outside with the others?” he asked with a sly smile. I watched as I saw myself blush a little. “I was looking for you, why aren’t you?” he shrugged in response and came closer to me.

Resting his forehead against mine and his hands on my hips, he whispered softly “We need to get out of town before sunset” “Why do we always have to run?” I asked. “So that we can be together” came his answer. “I know” I murmured. “I just wish it was easier” shrugging, I let my eyes lock with his blue ones. He just planted a soft kiss on my lips, acknowledging the feeling. “We’re going to make it this time” he assured me. I simply nodded, but that didn’t ease the feeling of hopelessness that coursed through me. It was a carefree afternoon, the one I watched unfold between the group of freshly graduated teens, spent mostly at the fun fair organized by the school for the event. Still I felt it was too soon to say goodbye when I watched Luke drag me away from the group and to his car, before starting to drive.

We’d made it into the next town over by the time the sun had started to set, somehow the air in the car was thick and heavy - but not from the summer heat. “We should’ve been further away by now” he murmured as he sped up just a little. “It’s alright-” “No, it isn’t” he cut me off harshly. “Listen Luke, I’m sure this time is going to be different. They’re going to leave us alone-” “They never do, Beatrix!” he shouted angrily, leaving me speechless. I faced the other way, looking out of the car window, trying to hold back my tears. “I’m sorry for raising my voice” he said, sounding small. “I just can’t afford to lose you again” “You’ll never lose me” I wiped a fallen tear. “You quite literally can’t” I laughed softly, turning around to see the small smile that had formed on his lips.

It was night time when we stopped in the first motel on our way and settled into the room. The worry seemed to have dissipated just in the slightest, but all my senses were highly aware as I watched this version of me get into bed along with the golden haired boy. “I wish it had been me, that night” I heard myself whisper in the dark. “Don’t even say it” “But I do” I sat up. “I’ll always do” “You don’t know what you’re talking about” he sat up as well, looking at me. “Spending the rest of eternity like this, condemned to this life” he spat out the last word as if it’d been venom. “Watching you slip right out of my grasp just as we’re so close to happiness...” his voice broke and I saw myself looking for his hand and finally holding it in mine. “Then change me” I suggested, my voice faltering. “It’s not what you want” the harshness he was trying to mask was still prominent in his voice, putting a stop to the conversation. But before anyone could add anything, everything started going downhill as usual.

As a fight ensued between Luke and the mysterious man that had barged into the room, I tried to offer some aid but was immediately told to run, so I did. However, I didn’t make it as far as I had wished - only getting to the lower floor and hiding behind the ice dispenser. “You can’t hide forever!” sing-sung the voice of a woman, hearing her steps come closer and closer. I grabbed an empty bucket and tried to hit her with it as soon as she cocked her head around the corner, but she didn’t even falter and swiftly turned around, effectively kicking me to the ground. Almost unconscious from the pain I watched, powerless, as she pressed a knee down on my chest, leaving me breathless. “You’ll both never win” she murmured before stabbing me. I had seen this all before, how he managed to find me just mere seconds before the life would leave my body, how he crouched down to listen to me beg him to find me in another life and how he promised to. But I had never seen how he‘d stay there, near me, whispering he loved me again and again. I had never seen the despair of a man who had just lost everything so clear in his eyes.

I woke up trembling, damp from the sweat and panting. This could not just be a dream, this out of every other nightmare felt way too real to be just that. I noticed how, like the first time I started dreaming of him, my body still felt stiff and was still hurting from the injuries inflicted to me in the dream. And what was he going on about? What did I mean with change? I tried to calm down a little, sipping a bit of water from the glass on my nightstand, before deciding that this was entirely too strange to ignore. Somehow, someway I knew Luke and he knew me.

Not even thinking about how to find him, I put my shoes on and grabbed my jacket before sprinting out of my room and down the stairs, yelling a “Be back in a while!” to my mom and not even waiting for an answer as I slammed the front door shut behind me.

tags: @keithseabrook27

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olivcrfm · 4 years

Text

hello! this is my stupid naive child with a heart of gold oliver ! i’m very excited to about him, so pls give me all of your affection & plots 🥺 i wrote like a whole novel under the cut because i had this man for like a year now, so please bare with me

chicago’s very own oliver park-davies has been spotted on madison avenue driving a maroon jeep wrangler , welcome ! your resemblance to charles melton is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty fourth birthday bash . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re withdrawn, but being empathetic might help you . i think being a cancer explains that . 3 things that would paint a better picture of you would be lazy mornings in bed, getting the job done at the last minute, & a soft voice . ( i stole the test answers for my college finals to impress my parents ) & ( cis male & he/him) + ( hailey , 19 , she/her, cst)

— “ basics ! ’ 〉

full name. oliver park-davies.

nicknames. oli, ollie, park, davies obviously lmao.

age. twenty-four.

date of birth. june 26.

occupation. singer/songwriter.

sexual orientation. bisexual.

birthplace. new york.

zodiac. cancer.

spoken languages. fluent in too many languages thank you.

— “ backstory! ’ 〉

oliver park-davies was born in chicago to two extremely loving parents, and his seven other siblings of which he was the oldest, they were this gigantic loving family, and everybody wanted to be like them

okay well when i say loving i mean that’s how they appeared on the outside, his family was very broken, his parents constantly on the edge of divorce, him and his siblings didn’t get along at all, and in the park-davies house there was always something to argue about

the park-davies were billionaires, this was due to their extremely successful business endeavors, and knew when and where to invest their money they had enough money to buy whatever they wanted whenever they wanted, they never looked at the price tag, to quote ariana grande, “they want it, they got it.” their business headquarters is in texas! and oliver’s parents constantly just left him n his siblings in chicago while they went to texas

but he spent his summers their and it’s basically home away from home

his parents often tried to basically bribe their kids to love them because they were honestly the worst, they often emotionally abused their children, and neglected them, and the only time that their parents did want anything to do with them is when they needed to make a public appearance

was very much the rich kid that raised by nannies and butlers rather than his actual parents, and in a weird way he sorta became this surrogate parent for his siblings, he was the one they looked up to and came to for advice that sorta thing

oliver,,,just needed something anything to take his mind of it, so immediately he threw himself into studying and books, and to quote matilda, “the books gave him a comforting message...you are not alone.”

his parents ended up figuring out that their son was smart, like hella smart, by 10 he’d mastered latin, and by 11 he was already reading at college level

bUT despite being able to graduate college by 12 at the rate he was going he wanted as normal of a childhood as possible, and so he continued with his regular grade level, and tried his best to be ‘normal’

honestly his love of books got to the point that his room essentially turned into a small library of it’s own, it got to the point where his parents reluctantly gave him his own room to house all of his books

books weren’t the only thing that oliver found his passion for, when he enrolled in his school’s choir, he realized his love for singing

he wanted to share his music with people without having the recognition, so he uploaded a lot of his music to soundcloud under an alias ( vc: conan gray / cavetown i can’t decide yet lmao rip )

he gained a massive following, that not even he expected, which would seem like a great thing if he wasn’t expected by his parents to take on the family business

one day his parents sat him down and he saw it a good a time as ever to tell his parents about the success he hoped to gain from singing, his parents cut him off immediately and told him that his father was suffering from cancer

due to his revelation his parents ostracized him more than they did before, and slowly but surely he began to be iced out, no longer showing up in appearances, and just avoiding any press altogether

as his father got increasingly more sick, oliver began to realize the mistake that he made, and on his death bed oliver promised his father that he would do as both of his parents wished and take over the family business

oliver had the scores to get to any school that he wanted and decided on business school at columbia, where his father was an alumni, the agreement that he had with his mother was that once he graduated he’d begin shadowing his mother to learn to run the company

the school and the city itself was immediately overwhelming to my boy who came from not so humble beginnings in his small town, and he was unsure of where he belonged in this huge school

until!!!!! he found friends!!!! and they made him feel accepted!!! and it was great!!!!

once his friends heard his voice and of his dreams they encouraged him to join the university’s men’s choir, and was prompted by the director to join the university’s theatre department, where he appeared in a overwhelming majority of the school’s plays and musicals

he was discovered one night at this open mic thing he went to and it was great! he was signed to a record deal with a label! and my bby’s dreams were finally coming true!!!

lmao but the one condition that he did have for his label was that he had to graduate school first, and it was accepted

he graduated early! because of course he did only because he stole the test answers because his grades were sorta declining and finals were coming up sooo

his mom was expecting him to come back to texas and maintain the family business, but he pulled a whole uno reverse card, and ended up disappearing from whatever world it is that him mom lived in

he became pretty successful in the music industry, coming from this cool indie artist that only about a few hundred people knew about to this seemingly overnight sensation

my bb is still v e r y unused to the attention, mostly because his parents never gave it to him and he was like, adoration???? attention??? care??? what’s that

has recently started a band! consisting of people he met a columbia, so him, a guy friend, and olivia dkfsjdkj guy friend remains unnamed because it’s a wc

— “ personality / headcanons ! ’ 〉

is a huge dork that just loves to make people smile and when he sees people genuinely happy his heart melts a little bit inside

is very much the shoulder to cry on for people, and even if he doesn’t know you he’ll sit and listen to your whole life story and just try to cheer you up because that’s just in his nature?

has started his acting career! first it was just cute small little cameos in movies and tv shows, but now it’s turned into him getting his own show!!! he couldn’t be more excited tbh

remember how i said that he’d sit and listen to a stranger cry? if he shows even the slightest bit of emotion that isn’t happiness he starts malfunctioning and just trying to make the people around him happy

he’s honestly probably said, “alright i have to go back to being funny again.” to himself so many times before??? he’s so broken on the inside but has just put up so many barriers

despite the many walls he has to protect himself from other people, he’s just the nicest purest soul, he treats everyone like his family, and just has the insatiable need to be liked dkkfkdkd, pls be fragile with my boy thanks

ollie is left-handed

loves singing show tunes and has gone to too many shows on broadway????

has a special room for playbills because he likes getting them signed and they’re very important to him

hates talking about his family and will probably cry if you make him bring them up lmao

he’s such a himbo ... just kind , beefy , and stupid

he often just dumbs himself down, not because he thinks he’s better than other or something weird like that, buuuut he feels like people will judge him and make fun of him like others did when he was younger

— “ wanted plots ! ’ 〉

some potential wc i’m terrible at thinking of these so please don’t feel limited by this list!

best friends!!!!

roommates!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! think this, this, this, this

guys he can hang out with sdksdflfkj idk a close knit group i’m thinking of ross, chandler, and joey or smth he’d be joey obvi

romantic plots can fuck me up any day of the week

i’m a slut for a good exes plot

unrequited crush, it can be that he has feelings for someone way out of his league, or someone has a crush on him and he’s just oblivious

someone who broke his heart n inspired his music

band members!!!! would’ve had to attended columbia

someone who he’s a good influence on

bad influence, he’s too good corrupt him do it cowards

former / current hookups

ex friends

straight up enemies

smth like one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen

#wealthyhq:intro #please love him #i have had him for like a year now #and i am so excited to play him again #abuse mention #cancer tw

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quippingwithquyne · 5 years

Audio

This is un-edited for now. I am leaving it as a Stream of Consciousness until then.

In 2013, I stumbled upon a cheeky video called Disney Dudez by Todrick Hall in collaboration with the boyband IM5. It was cheesy but in an absolutely enjoyable way. I remember that Dalton Rapattoni (Cinderella/Prince Henry) and Will Jay (Mulan/Shang) stood out the most to me; Will Jay for his great control and Dalton for his purpose voice. I don't know if a term yet exists for this concept but for now, I call it a “purpose voice.” After a recent manic episode, I finally found a way to articulate how I’ve always felt about music and why my support and love for Dalton’s music still hasn’t wavered. To this day, his music is able to make me feel things and think long and hard about it. I like to think of my voice and songs as a mosaic of inspirations, whether it be celebrities, musicians, friends, family, or memories. He didn’t help my find my voice but Dalton’s influence since 2014 has heavily impacted my journey through finding my own voice and purpose as a singer-songwriter, which is why my “re-imagined” cover of his song “Heaven” was important to me.

A purpose voice is almost like a purpose statement. When we apply for some colleges, we are expected to articulate exactly what makes us stand out from the thousands of applicants who want to succeed in the same field of interest. To me, it’s the same difference as seeing someone who’s singing for the attention versus using it as a vice to strip into a vulnerability that connects with the audience. Some artists have the luxury of being able to write their own lyrics to tell the audience their story with purpose. Others may have difficulty doing this with covers of other people’s songs but even so (and like Dalton), they sing it with their own purpose that may or may not have anything to do with the original version.

And then there’s a purpose song sung with a purpose voice. These are usually the profound tear-jerkers or emotionally driven songs like “Shallow” by Lady Gaga, “By Now” by Will Jay, or one of my favorites: “Music” by Jojo (stylized “Music.”) “Music” is quite literally about Jojo’s purpose and why she does music. It starts out talking about singing as a young girl to escape from overhearing her parents’ arguments, then later on growing up poor, watching her mom at work, and singing the troubles of poverty and hardship away. Music is the subject the love song is dedicated towards and the way Jojo articulates her lyrics is chilling. She is parched and longing for a sip of music to hold onto during hard times. The last part hits home for those who have lost a loved one and she dedicates the bridge to her late father, “went on the road to make my daddy proud / but I lost him and so I sang to the crowd / my only hope is that he’s looking down thinking, ‘oh my god, my daughter’s doing it now.’” There’s almost never been quite the song that describes the relationship between music and musician. I think “Music” does this so well in making it as holy grail as water is to survival. Overall, this song exemplifies the perfect matrimony between meaningful lyrics sung with vulnerable conviction – purpose.

Somewhere in Sunnyvale, Texas and approximately fourteen years ago, a nine year old boy was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. It was difficult understanding every emotion he experienced as he grew up no matter how many times a doctor or his mother would explain. His grandma later gifted him guitar lessons and he enrolled into a nearby music camp, School of Rock, where he and his peers and mentors discovered he could sing. He formed the band Fly Away Hero and it was clear music saved him every time he performed. At age fifteen, he ended up in a boyband where he was singing things he didn’t like and after a few years, he left to reunite with Fly Away Hero and sing with his whole heart again. This was the era in which I discovered Dalton Rapattoni.

I was going through a writer’s block and had not yet been aware about my bipolar disorder at the time but I remember watching these pixelated videos of a carefree Dalton rocking out with some of his best friends and instantly became hooked to his songwriting style. “Hercules” was one of the most inspirational songs that kicked the fire of my songwriting spree that spawned my debut album “It’s a Wacky World” (still available on iTunes and all other streaming platforms!) Whenever I get excited about anything, I scream it to the heavens and I must have done it so much, made so many covers, painted so many obscure memes about Dalton to the point where it could have been an obsession. The parasocial relationship became a nice banter-and-exchange when I met him in Texas at his EP release party. It was a magical moment for me. He moves like he was born for the stage in a way that television or YouTube could never fully display. After that Texas trip, I definitely made some posts for attention and had to remind my fangirl self that he’s human, too. But like my respect for Charlie Puth, Ed Sheeran, Beyonce, and other inspirational artists, my dreams about Dalton were closer to sharing the stage and nothing more. I knew nothing about his actual personality but I felt so connected in our music styles, songwriting style, and artistry. It was like his music breathed life into mine again.

I didn’t understand why I struggled so much inside. I thought I possibly had ADHD or was just plain stupid compared to my peers in schools. I didn’t get the best grades but I was well-read and teachers still described me as “smart.” Music was where I felt like I could go anywhere with it despite it not giving me anything back in return other than a mental dose of amphetamine. It wasn’t until I talked to one of my doctors about my thoughts about ADHD, to which he said, “actually…it’s bipolar disorder.” You never know what you have until you ask and I was always afraid to ask but the manic episodes were becoming more and more frequent. Years later, I started shutting myself in my room and locking the door whenever I pleased. My very Asian parents had never let me lock the door before 2018 and while some will think it’s controlling, I was used to that. However, I was in my early twenties now so they stopped questioning my choices to lock the door.

I started writing again. Even though years have passed since I flew over to Texas to meet Dalton, I felt even more connected to him upon learning about his bipolar disorder. I was always curious about what “Heaven” was about (but honestly, I’m curious about pretty much all of his songs) and perhaps there was some deeper meaning than learning how to pray again after a breakup with a “heavenly” girl. Maybe it isn’t his purpose song but it was his first solo single and it hit home for me when I listened again in 2018. I had the same feeling that I felt when I listened to “Music” by Jojo. Whatever it means to Dalton, I interpret it as his ode to music (“I found my heaven in you, coming back to your embrace.) It is 2019 and I experienced another writer’s block so I returned to binge his music once again. I sung Heaven in harmony with voice but this time, with purpose. It fulfilled a long ago dream of sharing the stage with him, even though it wasn’t real. I locked my bedroom door, closed my eyes, and felt like I was just sharing a moment with someone who understood my struggles and coped with them through a similar outlet.

Dalton mentioned years ago that perhaps maybe we could share the stage sometime and I don’t think it’ll ever come true but “Heaven” is as close as I can get. I was just overjoyed enough to receive such kind words from him. I wrote It’s a Wacky World after taking some inspiration from the Fly Away Hero “Lost and Found” era and I like to think that my writing spree catalyst – his music – will always somehow be a part of me. It definitely started out sounding like his work until I found my own voice and I think I found something that works for me that incorporates Charlie Puth, Ed Sheeran, Max Milner, and of course, Dalton Rapattoni. I know I found my purpose voice so thank you, Dalton. I hope that my future works can do the same for others well.

#dalton rapattoni #heaven #cover #nobodys home #im5 #disney dudez #dalton #quyne #acoustic #harmonies #harmony #american idol #fly away hero #flyawayhero #flyawaydalton #fly away dalton

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supacutiepie · 7 years

Text

Shance Fluff Week: Seas/Stars

*Shrugs* IDK either i missed yesterday and threw this one together?

It’s cute though! A little off point but still good!

Lance and Shiro had been dancing around each other for years, and Lance has one more chance before summer ends and Shiro slips away from him.

The end of summer was rolling in on bondi blue waves and crisp breaks against the sand.

For a whole two months, everyone was able to get together and enjoy spending a scorching summer together while getting away and finally being able to do this whole “vacation” thing right.

Veradero was gorgeous, and the Fuente family had been more than willing to accommodate all four of Lance’s best friends (“in the whole big wide world, no! the universe!” so claimed Lance when he begged his parents to let everyone stay). Lance had a big family as is, but with the four new additions everything was even more excited and hectic and it was wonderful.

It was the last chance to give them one more summer before the real world kicked them in the tail- also a flimsy excuse for Lance to spend an entire summer with his biggest crush.

Ever since he was a freshman he’d had a crush on Shiro., the charming and handsome adopted brother to his arch nemesis (they dropped the rivalry around sophomore year after…certain…incidents and revelations). This year Shiro was a senior when the rest were Juniors- except Pidge who has only partly a Junior due to duel grade enrollments. Smart little gremlin.

After this summer, Shiro was moving miles and miles away to go to an aeronautics school. It was Lance’s last chance to spend time with him for good- and he would be damned before he wasted an opportunity. An opportunity that went on for weeks as they danced around each other all goofy smiles and blushing cheeks. To everyone else, Lance’s family included, it was obvious who was oblivious- BOTH.

But no matter how each day felt endless and it seemed they had all the time in the world- the air was getting cooler and the sun started setting sooner.

Opportunity was calling, and Lance was damned to ignore it.

He had a plan that had no consequences planned. Whatever comes he was Not chickening out. He had spent an hour staring into his mirror telling himself over and over that he was not a chicken, he was a charming and suave gentleman with a romantic heart and amazing idea

This was totally an amazing idea…

“Uhm…no offense Lance but this doesn’t seem like a good idea?”

Shiro was whispering and hyper aware of the sounds in the full house as Lance shushed him and waved his hand about wildly.

Only a few minutes ago he was peacefully reading on his phone while he waited to get tired- when Lance interrupted and claimed, “dude there’s something really cool happening but everyone else is asleep and it’s kinda lame but you should come see if you want…”

Normally, Shiro was averse to the idea of sneaking out in the middle of the night for unknown surprises, but one look at those big hopeful eyes and he melted. He was a weak man. So here he was sneaking out a window with the boy he was hopelessly smitten for grinning like an idiot because 1. Shiro agreed to go wherever it was they were going and 2. He was dumb enough to go out the window to avoid the creaky door (“Oh my god I can’t believe you just fell on your ass haha” “Lance!” “I’m serious! we totally could have gone through the door oh my gooood”)

And here he is now, following behind Lance as they wind their way through town towards the rockier parts of the coast. It was a pretty night though, with a calm wind and the humidity enough to keep any chill away. Somewhere he could hear music but for the life of him he couldn’t place it. Lance obviously knew the way too, taking turns that got them to what looked like a semi-abandoned house. It was dark and had some partly dismantled lights hanging off the side…

‘Lance? Are we supposed to be here?” Shiro peeked around the corner while Lance barreled ahead into the backyard.

“Uhm? Probably not but it’s cool. This is my Tio’s place but he’s always here and there for work and stuff. We mostly just drop by when we want to get away from the house or need some extra space. Besides were just using his beach so it’s fine. Come ooon!” Lance started pulling on Shiro’s wrist and practically dragged him through the sloping yard that dipped into a low rock shelf and sand beyond that.

If Shiro was frowning or had anything to say otherwise, it vanished when Lance grabbed his hand. Stupid feelings and stupid face for getting all warm and he knew he had a dopey smile but that’s just what Lance did to him.

Oh god what that smile did to Lance. It had to be criminal to be so cute and good looking all at once. Lance knew this path inside and out, but with Shiro following he was a fumbling mess and his butterflies were threatening to spill out his mouth already.

Oh sooner or later…just give me a little more time.

Lance lead them past the rocks and onto a very small beach that was his uncle’s own private property. The family used it all the time for cook outs since it was right on the water and had a dock that lead straight out into the open sea. He’d been coming out her since was ten, it meant a lot to bring Shiro here.

“Anyways! Here we are! Kind of at least.” He stopped on the shore and looked out at the wide open ocean that glittered under a half moon. It was otherwise pitch black out and he couldn’t gauge how Shiro would react…

Apparently it was good because Shiro had linked their hands and come to a stop beside him. His palms were just as clammy as Lances…

“It’s kinda dark…what are we looking at?”

Well I for one could stare at you all day soooo

“Not yet! You have to get in the boat,” Lance started to pull them towards the old dock. “You’ll see just wait!”

Shiro followed behind obediently, slightly mesmerized by the way Lance’s hand fit into his own so easily. It was a quick decision and his heart had almost leapt out of his throat when he clasped their hands together. But Lance hadn’t pulled away! He’d even tightened the hold!

He was still a little dazed when he realized what Lance had said, ”Whoa wait…we’re getting on a boat?” He stepped up onto the creaking wood and Lance turned his head to look at the taller man.

“uhm, yeah? Is that okay? I promise it’s safe! And technically we aren’t actually gonna be out on the water since its tied to the dock…” he was sounded less sure with each word and Shiro rushed to put him at ease.

“Oh! No no it’s fine! I’ve just you know…” he rubbed his neck and shuffled, “I’ve never been on the water at night. So you know…”

Lance seemed to perk up immediately, “Great! Come on then, just gotta take it slow and trust me…”

Take it slow and trust me? What the hell Lance that’s so lame…

While he was internally dogging himself, Lance helped Shiro get into the small wooden rowboat that his family always kept tied up. It was practically ancient, with peeling blue and white paint and chipped edges. But it was precious to him…

“Ok so, I’m just gonna put a little more line out and we’ll be good to go!” he made himself as chipper as he could while Shiro sat on the otherwise of the boat and watched. “I’ve been coming out here since I was a kid. First my sister brought me, but when she moved I just started bringing myself. And well, “he knotted the rope tight and sat back on his side with a shy smile, “You like the stars, right?”

Shiro nodded, a little lost for what he was supposed to do. The fact that this was something so special to lance was rattling his brain around. “Yeah, uhm, yeah. Been looking up since I was little too.”

Lance giggled at that before pointing a finger up and grinning ear to ear until his eyes crinkled, “Well then you should probably look up now?”

So Shiro did, and all at once he forgot what was going on.

Above him were hundreds, no, millions of stars.

The boat was rocking gently on the waves, and Lance was watching Shiro with a love-struck expression- because Shiro was gaping at the sky like a kid on Christmas. “Pfft, there it is. You nerd.” Lance shuffled until his laying in the bottom of the boat with his feet prodding at Shiro’s legs. “Come on man it’s easier to look when you do this.”

Shiro shook himself and nodded, “Right right..sure…” it took some rearranging and the boat canted a little too far right for his liking but lance was laughing and that made everything alright.

They were shoulder and shoulder in a cramped boat watching the stars and listening to the waves and it was more than either could wish for. So they laid there and thought in silence for what felt like forever.

Eventually though he had to ask, “Hey Lance, this is amazing. I’m glad you brought me with this time…but how come?”

Lance quirked his mouth before twisting to face Shiro on his side. “Oh, right yeah of course,” he flashed his signature grin but it melted into something more shy and genuine, “And uh..well…you know? I just thought it would be nice and uhm…well I just thought it would, wait no uhm..actually..’ he was fumbling over what he wanted to say now that he had the chance. Years he’d been pining, and he thought that NOW he would just magically be able to say something? He was an idiot…

“Lance- take a breath.” Shiro laughed and reached out to poke the others shoulder before settling back and waiting.

Lance nodded and took a few breaths before barreling on,” Look Shiro...you’re gonna be leaving soon- and I’d hate myself forever if I didn’t at last try to show you…show you uh..” he huffed and sat up suddenly. Pulling his knees to his chest and looking out at the dark water as he frowned and second guessed himself.

Shiro followed suit though, sitting up and worriedly trying to see Lance’s face- did he do something wrong? Maybe he misread whatever this was? Or…maybe not? “Lance?”

“I think you’re pretty great you know?” Lance didn’t look at him but he made his voice loud, making himself wince. “Like…you’re so You! And you’re gonna be gone and holy crow I’m..I’m gonna miss you a lot.” He hated that that made his start getting misty eyed but it was the truth. He was going to miss Shiro, no matter what they were to each other…or weren’t or whatever.

“Oh…Lance hey..” Shiro slung an arm around smaller shoulders and hugged Lance, “I’m gonna miss you to Lance. I know I’ll be a ways away but we can still talk!”

Lance rolled his eyes and leaned into his arm chest,” Yeah but…you’re gonna have a lot of people to talk to… and I’m just little old me…” he gestured with his arm at the sea and stars, “That’s why. I wanted to show you this, give you something to remember me for? Other than being your brothers friend who always got to close…” he pouted at the boat floor and let his hand drop. “I wanted to impress you. And this place meant a lot to me and you..mean..a lot to me too.”

Shiro’s eyebrows had hit his hairline long ago, and they’d crashed landed a few times too.

He tightened his hug and reached out for Lance’s hand again- his heart threatening a reappearance that finally he was going to allow.” Lance. Look at me for a minute.” Those blue eyes were watery and he felt his stomach roll, desperate to make Lance happy again.

“Lance. You are one of the most important people to me. No matter how far I go I will Never be any less amazed by you. This This is amazing! And it’s me you showed it to and it’s my favorite place in the whole world because it’s yours and it’s beautiful and…you are too.” Shiro pulled their joined hands up so he could wipe away a single tear with his thumb.

Lance was seconds away from a blubbering mess. Beautiful? “Shiro?”

Shiro shook his head and smiled with as much feeling as he could, “We’ve been tip-toeing around each other for years. I hope I’m not wrong but- Lance am I wrong? Is there something here?”

The waves rocked and Lance shook his head as fast he could before a happy snort of laughter left him, “Tip-toeing, more like waltzing…and yeah. I think there is?” He tightened his grip and leaned further against Shiro.

Shiro exhaled with obvious relief before pulling his hand away so he could cup Lance’s cheek as softly as humanly possible. “okay…good” he laughed, ‘That’s good. Does that mean it’s okay if I kiss you? Because you look like you wanna cry again and I don’t-“

Lance laughed and nodded even more enthusiastically, “I swear to god Shiro you better!”

They both laughed before Shiro pressed the sweetest, probably most chaste kiss to Lance’s lips but it didn’t matter because Lance was over the moon with it.

They kissed and giggled for another hour or two, letting the waves cradle them safely tucked away from the rest of the world. They didn’t have much time right now, but they were okay, so long as they were together here with the sea and stars to watch over them.

#shancefluffweek #shancefluff2017 #shance #some minor language but it's practically harmless #that good cute stuff thats been plaguing me for months

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nct-thedreamchaser · 7 years

Text

Falling In Love Again [Part 1]

Words: 2320

Genre: Fluff, Romance, Light Angst

Pairing: Jeno x Reader

Request: Omg hello I’m from SG too hehe, I assume you have your O’s/ N’s this year? Good luck! 💕 Meanwhile, could I request for a Jeno scenario where he has a crush on a dance senior in SOPA? thank you 😙

A/N: Wew! After such a long time, I am finally going to upload the first part of my Jeno fanfiction! With the length and progress of the story, I assume that this is going to be at least 2 to 3 parts long! There was not really any specification of genre but considering that it has to do with a crush, the genres stated above were probably the most common? Nevertheless, I hope you guys would enjoy this one as much as I loved writing it! :) Once again, thank you for requesting! :) The request box is still open, but you guys would have to wait a little while longer as I have 2 more fanfictions in queue now! The rules can be found HERE and happy requesting! ^^

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The day started off on an extremely boring note. In the morning, there was Advanced Math and Chemistry, back-to-back, and they were also known as the two subjects that I did not like at all. Despite the fact that I was actually good at it (I don’t know how either), I just had no interest. Strangely, for some reason, the only subject that I actually liked was English and Geography, simply because it was a breeze for me.

Furthermore, my best friend was Mark Lee Minhyung, who had grown up in the United States. Technically, he was a year older than the entire class. However, because his father had relocated to Seoul and he was born in the second half of the year, he had to join a grade lower. He was a pure, simple and very loving hyung who loved to teach me English and Geography, which explained why I loved those subjects. As a repayment, I would teach him Advanced Math and Korean to the best of my ability.

Now, my name is Lee Jeno and I was a student at the Seoul School of Performing Arts, or also known as SOPA. It was easier to say that we were the one of the richest and most prestigious schools in the nation. Furthermore, I had an immense passion for arts, especially in street and hip-hop dancing. Sure, my parents were not the best of supporters, but I worked hard for the scholarship, and eventually enrolled into the school through my talent and academic grades combined.

We were just like any other ordinary school, except the fact that we tended to graduate with diplomas of our various art forms, on top of our academic grades. Yes, we took the CSATs, or also known as the College Entrance Exams. However, the only thing different about it was that we took our art form as an additional subject. Hence, it was definitely more difficult because we had to juggle both our passions and our school work, which could render us being in school from as early as 8am, all the way to 11pm.

Luckily, all of us had an immense passion for the arts, which helped us to encourage one another and made sure that none of us fell behind in our classes. In other words, the school was not just filled with groups of the various forms; we were one family.

One that helped me in particular was a senior named Y/N. Okay, she was not really a senior because we were of the same age, but she was born in the first half of the year which rendered her joining one grade higher than me. She, too, joined the same art form, except that she was majoring in Contemporary dance and it was something that I could never do. Till this day, contemporary dance never failed to amaze me, especially with how much grace and flair they had when they pulled off the dance moves on the floor flawlessly.

It all started simply because she lived in the same neighbourhood and I had always taken notice of her. Why? That was because she was always at the porch either listening to music or painting on a canvas sheet. From far, she was a talented artist too and could paint all sorts, from people to cities to scenic landscapes. It was mind boggling to how she could do so much.

However, that was what made me so attracted to her in the first place. She was young, but she was beautiful and a mere wisp of a girl. Her skin was slightly tanned but smooth, her hair wavy and her eyes were dark brown in colour. Ever since then, there were times when she looked in my direction and smiled, only to realise that I would actually go to the extent of choosing to study at the porch whenever she was there.

One day, I decided that I was going to muster the courage to talk and say hello. To my surprise, she welcomed me with open arms and was a chatterbox, unlike me. That was definitely a relief as it helped to fill the gaps in our conversations since I was not much of a talker. Over time, she began to tell me more about herself and slowly but surely, I did the same, only to realise that we had similar interests. No, it was not just dance which brought us together, but video games and the love of tag. Hence, we found ourselves going to each other’s houses to battle it out with a console during the holidays, or running in the wide open spaces from dawn to dusk. As I got to know her more, the more I had begun to fall for her.

Soon, we grew up to become teenagers and she only became even prettier, and was probably one of the girls who had a long line of boys chasing after her, to my dismay. No matter how hard I tried, she saw me as a best friend and nothing more. We were not in the same class or level, but we never failed to make it a point that we go to school and have lunch when we had a common break. Therefore, our bond still had the chance of becoming more tight knit than ever before.

Unfortunately, this was the time when she had managed to get a boyfriend by the name of Lee Taemin, a senior in the dance major as well, and he was none other than one of my biggest rivals. Obviously, I was crushed at the news and what made it even more painful was the fact that she seemed to forget I existed. Whenever I called, it always ended up with a, “Hey Jeno! Sorry, I can’t—-” and the typical reasons just seemed to surround Taemin. He was not the man for her, and I tried to tell her, but she remained stubborn and instead thought that I was jealous, which strained our friendship at times.

However, Taemin could only hide his true colours for ever and soon, he was seen to be flirting with other girls during our breaks in between dance practices. It was only then when fate decided that it was enough for her, and she indeed walked in to see who he really was. At that point, he was holding onto another girl in his arms and kissed her passionately. This angered her beyond words and it only resulted in him getting pulled out and becoming involved in a very heated and aggressive argument with her. I wanted to step in as the argument went on, but Jaemin had said that it would be of no use because it was not my place.

I was merely a pillar of support and was obliged to be happy for her and support her through the way, no matter how crazy, dangerous or heartbreaking it might be. There were many times when I had wanted to stop her but Jaemin always prevented me from doing so, giving the look of disapproval all the time. He always had a philosophy and one of it was so that she knew a little bit more about Taemin on her own, because it was her judgement by her own right. I never had a part to play, and hence, Jaemin only recommended that I continue being her shoulder to cry on.

It was lunch time now and it was every student’s favourite period. The food was always good and it never failed to impress, but I soon got bored eventually and resorted to home cooked food. Every morning, I would wake up to aid my mum in preparing my lunchbox for school and honestly, it was way more delicious, especially with the fact that I had a chance to make my own lunch. I was also the student who preferred to avoid the crowd, hence, I would head over to the field and sit at the benches under the trees to enjoy the tranquility of nature and the peace and quiet it offered.

However, there she sat, and her eyes were obviously red and puffy from crying. She had a whole travel packet of tissue and it was probably easier to count by the dozens when it came to the tissues used. She looked into the horizon as she hugged her knees and it was heartbreaking to see her that way. Y/N was probably the most confident girl that I had ever known, but now, she looked vulnerable, lost and extremely heartbroken.

Then, I took a seat next to her and called out her name, but it only resulted into another possible cycle of crying all over again and it was obvious how her eyes welled up all over again. I did not know what to do at that point, so I placed an arm around her and rubbed small circles into her back. My heart was palpitating against my chest now, but that was not something that I could show now.

“What happened?” I asked curiously, even if I knew what it was about.

“That jerk,” Y/N replied in between sobs, “He cheated on me, and yet, he blamed me for being annoying and that I should not be bothered with his personal life. In fact, he just announced to the cafeteria that his love for me was fake. It was just a stupid bet that he had made with Kim Kibum and if he succeeded, he would get 500,000won. I’m such an idiot!”

At that point, I was beyond shocked and I was way more than angry. “Angry” was probably an understatement, but then again, I felt bad for the fact that it was partially her fault for not listening to us sooner. Unfortunately, when I brought that up in a somewhat teasing manner in hopes of lighting up the mood, I was only shot down with her staring daggers into my soul and a hard hit on my shoulder, causing me to wince in pain.

There was no other form of comfort, so the only thing I could think of was to keep silent for now. She continued to cry and my sleeves were soon drenched with her tears. Seeing her like this caused my heart to tear, but all I could do was to hold her tight; words would never work once again. She was stubborn, and I knew better than to push a stubborn person out of her own thoughts and feelings.

Therefore, I resorted to actions, especially with the realisation that my lunch break was almost over. I attempted to give her my food, but she only shook her head and said that she had no appetite to eat. So I gave her my handkerchief. Her tissues were running low and knowing her, she was probably going to cry for the rest of the day. She looked at it at first, confused as to why I was giving it to her, and I decided to kneel in front of her to dab the remaining tears from her cheeks. She looked at me with tears still in her eyes and I only smiled a reassuring smile, telling her that everything will be alright.

Soon, the bell rang and I knew that was my cue to go. I wanted to drag her but before I could do that, she said, “I’m not going for any other lessons today. I can’t, especially when Taemin and I are in one of the same classes together.”

I nodded in understanding and gave her a warm embrace, before grabbing my lunch box and headed back to the classroom blocks.

“Jeno-yah!! What do I do with your handkerchief, don’t you need it?”

“Nope. In fact, I think you would need it more than I do. Keep it, and return it to me when things get better alright? Please go home and get plenty of rest. I’ll fill you in for today.” I said with a smile, and waved her goodbye as she headed in the opposite direction to the administration office. I could tell that she was trying her best to hold it in, but reciprocated my gesture anyway.

At that moment, I got a text message and opened it, only to realise that it was a message from Y/N. It read:

Thanks Jeno-yah. You really are one of the most genuine and comforting juniors that I have ever met. Sorry I did not say much today and did not have the energy to say thank you. But really though, thanks for the company today. I don’t say this enough, but I am so grateful to have you as a friend. Good luck for the rest of the day.

I smiled when I read the text, but a bitter feeling crept up in my heart when I saw the words “junior” and “friend”. That was simply because it meant that my love was not going to be reciprocated at all. Nevertheless, I decided to plan something special for her to cheer her up; a movie, ice cream and a walk along the Hangang River because it was all the things she loved to do when she was stressed, upset or just needed to find some peace of mind.

It was only right I do so, I felt. She had always been there for me, in the toughest of times when I was alone, scared and she stood up for me when I was bullied for my amateur dancing skills and mocked for the fact that I was only accepted because of my good grades. She was there to be my strength, a shoulder to cry on and the pillar of support and encouragement that I always needed. Without her, I doubt I would have made it so far.

Now, it was my turn to do the same.

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theliterateape · 5 years

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A Model United Nations: This Curfew Is Bullshit

By Erik Lewin

When I was seventeen, I had an opportunity to go to Washington DC to attend the national Model UN conference. It’s exactly as the name suggests—a three day pretend UN proceeding, where high schools from all over the United States represent the interests of countries from around the world. I wasn’t even in my school’s Model UN club, but the prospect of a trip with my friends, Ricky and Dean, was too fetching to pass up, and they managed to sneak me into the club’s enrollment.

This club was run by an esteemed professor whose knowledge was vast and diverse from decades of historical study. Dr. Sheehan was of an older time, his oak desk surrounded by cedar bookshelves featuring every political treatise of importance in the last century. He was immersed in his fascinations to his own detriment, however, when it came to keeping rascals like myself off his roster of students.

Washington DC had a crisp, refreshing bite to the air in early autumn. I’d never been before, and was a bit dumbstruck at seeing the major American monuments in person, which rose from the ground like Roman ruins.

We checked into the hotel and were sternly warned by security not to smoke and to keep the noise down. We assured them it was no problem, then promptly lit cigarettes and played our boom box full blast. It felt very freeing, like a glimpse into college life without any of the work.

Dr. Sheehan told the group to convene in his hotel room for preliminary instructions. I sat on the floor next to Dr. Sheehan’s TV, stuck my arm behind the dresser, felt around for the cord, and yanked it out of its socket. Ricky and Dean snickered when I showed them the plug in hand—a symbolic disconnection. We found out which countries our school would represent at the conference—there were over one hundred nations and we would be in charge of two. Incredibly, Ricky, Dean and I would be representing—the great US of A! We were put in charge of the most visible and influential nation in the entire conference.

After the meeting dispersed we were forced to return to our room.

“This curfew is bullshit,” I said, sprawled out on the bed.

“What can we do? There’s security in the lobby,” Dean said.

“I don’t think it’s insurmountable,” I countered. “What would our great forefathers do?”

“Erik may be right,” Ricky said, blowing a smoke ring and squinting into the peephole. “I don’t see anybody out there. The hall looks clear.”

At that pronouncement, we changed into loose button-down shirts and stuffed our pockets with mints, cash and smokes.

“Let’s do this,” I said, stepping out into the hallway. “Follow me,” I said, opening the door to a nearby stairwell.

We materialized in a corner of the hotel’s grand lobby. There were several men in grey uniform with walkie-talkie’s and rubber wires around their ears. I brought the guys out slowly, like a military ambush, setting my sights on the front door. We were spotted but high-tailed it out, until safely on a block in the city. We hopped in a cab, shouting to the driver, take us to Georgetown!

Georgetown was a full-blown college town with girls, coffee shops, record stores, bars and clubs. It felt like Ferris Bueller’s Day Off; first we checked out this great punk band in a music venue, then took in an open mic at a coffee shop with cute girls reading poetry, and finally settled on a college bar that didn’t scrutinize our cheap, fake ID’s.

We ordered whiskey sours for our amateur palettes. There were little parties, college kids taking shots and dancing around tables. We didn’t work up the guts to talk to any women, but certainly got drunk, staying until closing. It wasn’t far back to the hotel, and fortunately we didn’t have to pull a Macgyver to get back to our room. We didn’t wake until early afternoon, totally missing the morning session of the conference.

“Oh man, the last thing I want to do is go to a meeting,” I said, trying to brush the whiskey breath out of my mouth.

“I’m so thirsty, toss me that water bottle,” Ricky said.

“Maybe we should rally and get with the rest of the team,” Dean said.

“That’s just the hangover talking,” I suggested. “What we need is some good food, fresh air, and a little hair of the dog.”

“I can’t deny that makes a lot of sense,” Ricky agreed.

“Whaddya say, Dean? Let’s get back out there,” I said, shoving open the blinds to reveal a patchy grey sky and wan sunlight. “It’s a beautiful day.”

We carried notebooks to portray an air of engagement, and this time found it quite simple to walk out of the hotel.

After a time we passed some interesting storefronts. “Here’s a place!” Ricky shouted.

It was an old smokeshop, replete with artifacts; ceramic mermaids, wood carved bull horns, an oil painting of a boat amidst a raging sea.

“Djarum is the best,” Ricky said, strangling us with musky clove.

“Let’s wander around,” I said.

And we did. It was a glorious day in the nation’s capital. We picked up beverages and laid out on the lawn, toasting the Washington Monument as it glinted in the sunlight. I fleetingly wondered how things were going at the conference; not well to be sure, given that the delegation from the United States was busy drinking malt liquor out of brown bags on Capitol Hill. The entire Model UN was probably falling apart.

“I’ll be right back,” I notified the guys, following the sound of a floating saxophone. There were people in suits rushing along the periphery of the park, as well as some more bedraggled types asking for change, but in the midst of this activity an older African-American man in a multi-colored, Rastafari hat was blowing his horn—I was pretty sure it was Coltrane—and I stopped to admire him. His clothes were tattered, but the way his eyes closed while he played, as if in prayer, mesmerized me. I swigged from the bottle of Old English and left a couple bucks for his tip jar. He took the horn out of his mouth and thanked me. I told him what we were doing there and he smiled. A very attractive women in an elegant business outfit walked past, her heels clicking on the sidewalk.

“No shortage of beautiful women out here,” he said, stroking his chin.

“I wish I knew what to say to them,” I said.

“Aw, young blood, that’s easy!” He leaned in and lowered his voice. “It’s the simplest thing in the world. Here it is. Ask a woman how her day is. That’s it. That’s the magic.” His eyes were open and honest; we shook hands and he retreated to his spot, where he poured more sweet, timeless notes into the afternoon.

I rejoined the guys on the lawn, lazily drinking our bottles while the real world circled. I lit a cigarette, warding off imminent slumber, wondering why I felt more warmth toward that sax player than any connection whatsoever with this conference.

In the end, we never attended a single session of the Model UN; the United States was in absentia on every vote, its delegation in a drunken haze for three days, its status on the world stage regressed from superpower to third world country.

But what nags me now isn’t that we shamed our school, or badly lost the stupid conference; it’s that I was offered immense opportunity and went about systematically wasting it. It was practically a pastime. I wasn’t willing then, but I’ll tell you what—where’s the Model UN for forty-somethings? Sign me up for that! Let Dr. Sheehan know I’m ready—only twenty-five years too late. But that sax guy has stayed with me. We spent only a moment together, but I think that flunkie kid he met was the real me—a helpless moth to the flame of beautiful notes played.

#United Nations #Georgetown #high school

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nocturnalimpression · 6 years

Text

This is gonna be a long post so sorry in advance, but it's 2am and dysphoria is hitting me hard, so I figure it's the perfect time for a story. This story will contain BRIEF and non detailed mentions of suicide, but I find it to be a happy story over all.

Alright so, I am currently 20 years old. I came out at 17, but looking back, I've always kind of known that I was trans. I remember being really young, I'm talking maybe 5-7 years old, hanging out with boys in my neighbourhood and feeling out of place. The only time I really felt comfortable and truly happy was when I was with my best friend.

She and I grew up together. Literally. We were born a few months apart, but our mothers had been friends since high school. They were both mothers to us, and we saw eachother as siblings. We were friends since the day we were able to create memories.

I remember being around 6 years old. My friend, who will be refered to as A, and I were playing in the dirt in her backyard. I don't remember exactly what we were doing, but there was a lull in thw action of whatever game we were playing. A was standing beside me pretending to cook or something, and I was just kind of standing there silently thinking, something I did often and still do. I vividly recall looking up at A and thinking "she's so fun and I'm always happy with her. Why don't I feel like that with boys?"

(Obviously my thoughts weren't that clear at that age, but that's the basic gist of what was going through my head)

Fast forward a year or two. I'm with my male friend in his backyard. He lived across the street from me, ans had a massive fort/treehouse type thing. We were walking from his back door toward the fort, and this feeling came over me. I started to wonder if he ever felt the same way I did about relating more to girls than boys. My young, dumb, anxiety filled brain wanted to ask him, but didn't know quite how to go about it without sounding stupid. Somehow I settled on "Hey _____? Do you ever wonder what it's like to be a girl?"

Tgis os the point where, when I look back on these early years, I wonder if what he said paved the way for my internalized fear of my own feelings.

He reaponded with a simple, but powerful, "No. Why would I want to be a girl? Girls are stupid! Why, do you want to be a girl?"

Not wanting to embaress myself, I said something to the tune of "Haha no I was just messing with you."

In hindsight, that was probably the moment I disconnected from reality, because from that day on, I started to become something that I'm not sure I can ever quite recover from. I started doubting myself constantly, and hating myself for every thought I had that didn't match up with what the other boys were like.

In elementary school, I had this constant feeling that I was outside myself. Like I was watching a puppet version of me living out my life. I felt like I had zero control over everything and anything that happened. I would get bullied for dumb stuff, like being German or having a higher voice than the other boys. I never really felt hurt by anything, because no matter how brutal the other kids could be, it didn't feel like they were saying/doing anything to ME. They were attacking this version of me that wasn't actually me. I started to develop a talent for lying and acting.

I still saw A fairly often, but nowhere near as often as I wanted. When I was around her, I felt like she would grab the real me and pull me back into my body. I wish I'd shown her how much I appreciated and needed her, because come high school, we stopped hanging out all together.

Suddenly, my only anchor to reality was gone, and I was permanently dissociated. My lying got worse, or better in a way. My parents would tell me constantly that I should enroll in the drama classes and become an actor because of my "natural talent". I wanted too, and I probably could've done something great had I listened to them. Instead, I listened to my guy friends, who told me drama and acting was girly and gay. Clearly I wanted to avoid those titles, as the last time I expressed my interest in femininity, it didn't exactly go too well.

So, my link to reality is gone, I'm in a permanent state of dissociation, I secretly hate myself, and I can make people believe just about anything I tell them. A recipe for disaster if I ever saw one.

I know, I know, not a very happy story. Just sit tight a little longer. This story gets a lot worse before it starts to get better, but it DOES get better.

I'm now around 14 years old. All my friends think I'm on drugs at all times, and I've begun to develop a serious case of depression, while my anxiety has grown exponentially worse. My high school bullies love to practice their insults on me, since my only response was laughter, hiding the pain I really felt from everyone. I took up smoking cigarettes, and regularly put my body through any kind of abuse I could. I would run full speed into brick walls, get people to hit me with the biggest sticks they could find, set my clothes on fire during lunch hour. You name it. Why? Partially for the laughter and attention it got me, bust mostly, secretly, to punish myself anytime I had thoughts that I deemed wrong.

Then, a small miracle. One of the bullies I mentioned previously, came out to everyone as bisexual. My school was incredibly intollerent, violent, and hateful. Especially towards lgbt peeps. But all of a sudden, one of the most popular boys in the school, not just our grade, admits that he is bisexual, and everyone is completely fine with it.

Before, I felt like I was drowning in the sea, caught in a raging storm, but suddenly there was a raft. Tge storm was still raging, maybe even growing, but at least I had something to grab onto.

And boy did I grab tight. About a month after the boy came out, I went camping with my (new) best friend. He was a brother to me, and had seen me on the rare occasion that I came back to reality from the dissociation and lies. I came out to him on that trip. Not as trans, I didn't even know that transgender was a thing yet. No, I came out as bisexual. I will truly never forget that conversation.

We were walking along a river in the forest, looking for lizards and snakes and the like. There was a brief moment of silence between us, something that rarely happened, and without thinking, I heard myself say "I have to tell you something."

Immediately I started panicking, thinking of anything I could say aside from what I knew was about to fall out of my mouth. Foetunately, I wasn't quick enough, and as soon as he turned around, I basically vomitted the words "I'm bisexual."

Now, technically that was true, but I didn't know that yet. I was freaking out, as we had both made some honestly horrible jokes at the expense of the gay community. He was quiet for a few seconds, which felt like days, but eventually he looked my dead in the eyes and said, "Well, I guess I'm not homophobic anymore."

His words, combined with the genuine care in his smile made me want to fucking cry. And I did, later that night. I hugged him, and just to put him at ease, made a joke that I will not repeat, because it was disgusting and horrible, but it was exactly what we both needed in the moment.

A few months later, I came out as full out gay to our entire friend group. This clearly was not the case, and I knew it was a lie. By then I had realized that I am in fact bisexual, but remember, I am still in the midst of that raging storm of lies and hate. My basic thinking was:

I feel most comfortable around girls.

Girls like boys.

If I like boys, girls will want to hang out with me.

I do like boys, but also girls.

I can pretend to only like boys very easily.

And so I did. Admittedly I went way overboard in the first few weeks. I had never actually met a gay guy, so all I had to go off of was the stereotype we all made fun of back then. After the first 2 or 3 weeks of trial and error, I had everyone, including family and teachers, fully believing I was gay as fuck. And my plan, kind of worked perfectly. My best friend, the one from the camping trip, got a girlfriend, and she ended up spending more time with me than him. She introduced me to her friends, which opened a world that had previously been unknown to me or any of the boys I knew.

High school boys were immature, rude, competitive, and aggressive. High school girls, however, were so incredibly diverse. Every girl I met was different in nearly every way, but had a sense of familiarity with eachother. My depression vanished in a matter of days. My raging storm calmed to a light breeze. These girls would paint my nails and convinced me to give up the buzz cut in favour of the long hair I had always wanted. They introduced me to makeup and music other than rap. The artists showed me the beauty of drawing, and the drama girls taught me how to truly hone my lying into acting. I felt at home with them.

Unfortunately, but predictably, my plan backfired, and crumbled like a brick house in the path of a tornado. After about a year, the "light breeze" began to pick up speed again. I started hating myself more than ever. I was so damn close to what I'd always wanted, but I realised the closer I got that rather than my path to happiness being clear, there was a glass wall in my way. I was allowed to embrace the femininity that I once had to hide, but I was sti'll just another boy to those girls. I wasn't truly one of them as I wanted so desperatly to be. Worst of all, I had started catching feelings for a girl, but couldn't possibly act on them or express them at all without ruining not only the illusion, but all the friendships I had just finally found.

I'll save you the details, but in short, all this came to a point and I ended up attempting suicide. I was sent to a psychiatric ward, and my friendships, both male and female, began to erode.

Instead of watching everything I lied so hard to achieve turn to dust, I decide to use my new acting abilities (sharpened in drama classes that the girls talked me into) to fool the doctors, nurses, and psychiatrists into letting me out before a single one of my issues had been addressed.

Don't ask me how I managed it, because I still don't have a clue, but I did it. I somehow managed to convince everyone I was perfectly fine, and was released after only a week and a half. This was the first in a line of horrible mistakes made by yours truly.

So, I return to school. I expect I'll have to tell everyone why i missed a week and a half of school, and showed up with a mostly true story. I never got to use my story, however, because my school counselor had already managed to inform the entire school that I was "suicidal and extremely depressed". While that was true, that is the furthest from how I wanted everyone to find out.

To save time, I'll skip over the events that took place in those few weeks, to my second admittance to the ward. This time, I was filled with rage and wanted not only my own death, but the death of anyone who got on my nerves. This is when my anger issues started to take root.

My raging storm had developed into a devastating hurricane, and my raft was torn to splinters. Only this time, I wasn't at the mercy of the storm, I was the storm. At one point, the ward staff had to call 3 security gaurds in to get me to return to my room without anyone being injured. I was so lost in my rage and hatred that I milked the shit out of it, and got off the idea that 3 buff ass dudes were needed to return my 90 lbs butt to my room out of fear that I was actually going to make an attempt on someones life. Not my proudest moment to be sure. This is when my friendships were nearly all dying, if not already dead. I ended up making some friends in the ward, who helped me get to place mentally where the staff felt I was safe to be released.

A month later, I was in a new ward. An adult ward this time. With no one my age to talk to, and having very recently become anti social (the real definition, not asocial or shy, though I am very introverted), I turned to the bookshelf as my only companion. I found a book about lgbt definitions and information, and decided to read it for no real reason. I was skimming through pages rather quickly, not really reading or retaining anything, just sort of looking at the ink on the paper. Eventually a saw a word I had never heard before; Transgender.

My curiosity got the best of me, and I started to read the paragraphs. Almost immediately, I realized that I connected with what I was reading. I read the entire book that night.

The next day, my mom came in for a visit. It was my 17 birthday. The first thing I said to her when she walked into my "room", was "mom? I think I'm transgender."

Without a hint of hesitation, she simply looked at me and said, "okay."

After 17 years of hating myself, doubting myself, and punishing myself for something I didn't understand, my mother was able to accept it immediately. I'm not exaggerating. We spend the day discussing it, and she had absolutely no problem with it at all. She supported me not just from day one, but from minute one. It took her a few months to get used to she/her pronouns, and she did get frustrated at my changing my name every few weeks, but she never stopped supporting me. It's been 3 years since I came out. I have exactly one friend whom I didn't meet until I dropped out of highshool, and I have my mom. And you know what? I'm happy.

I struggle still, obviously, with anger, depression, anxiety, antisocial personality, and now gender dysphoria, but thanks to the two amazing women in my life, I'm working through it all. I'm getting better. And my transition has finally begun.

As a side note:

This story ended up being WAY longer than I originally intended. I started with the intent to only talk about the time I asked my friend if he ever wondered what it was like to be a girl when I was like 7 or something, but it kinda spiraled into my life story. So I want to give a little detail to my friend A from early in the story. We've grown apart and haven't seen eachother in years, but we do still consider eachother friends, and as crazy as it may sound, she came out as a HE around the same time I came out as a SHE. We literally swapped. Neither of us knew the other was trans until well after we came out, so we had a good laugh about it. Life is crazy hunh?

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