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#so the majority of us just eat in there or in the band room or the choir room
yutaholic · 3 months
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the show must go on (M)
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PAIRING: Haechan (NCT) + reader (female)
SUMMARY: Your best friend, your ride or die, Haechan has never once left your side, but all good things must come to an end.
WARNINGS: strong language; brief mentions of alcohol and drug abuse; explicit sexual content
NOTES: 7.9k words; this is part three of a rose and her thorns, but can be read as a standalone one-shot
Seattle, 1991
We met in detention. Eighth grade. Not to be cliché, but I knew Lee Haechan was trouble when he walked in.
Takes one to know one.
What I didn’t know was the role he would come to play in my life. I doubt many people meet their soulmate in middle school. I was pretty lucky in that.
The two of us practically lived in detention that entire year. Ninth grade was a little better; we just hung out behind the school instead of inside it. A silly pair of dumb kids wearing matching leather jackets and passing a cigarette back and forth, coughing up smoke and thinking it made us cool.
We thought we had it all figured out. But only Haechan turned out to be right.
He was the one that started the band. Haechan threw us all together and made music out of our chaos and trauma. He was the glue and without him, we would fall apart.
You clambered quietly into the passenger seat and whispered, “They’re asleep.”
Haechan was behind the wheel, but the van was parked on a grassy knoll just off the main highway. “Finally, some fucking peace and quiet,” he mumbled, sitting in a cloud of smoke that poured from his lips. The thick scent of marijuana filled the van from stem to stern.
You followed your best friend’s gaze. His eyes were firmly planted out the window at the black curtain of nightfall painted with billions of little lights. “The sky looks so pretty,” you said in awe.
“I know. It’s crazy seeing stars this bright.”
There was a tiny lull of silence. You were thinking. It wasn’t often you got to be alone with Haechan lately and it was making you crazy - not getting to confide in your best friend.
“I let Mark raw me,” you blurted out.
Haechan snorted. “I heard, but clearly your birth control did its job.”
“I snorted cocaine with Jeno… and fucked him in a dressing room.”
Your best friend looked at you, arching a brow. “So?” Doing crazy shit with Jeno wasn’t new, to be fair.
“What the hell am I doing?”
“What you do best - loving everyone except yourself.”
You frowned. Nail hitting the head every time, but you quickly realized you didn’t want to hear it. “Don’t do that,” you said in a small voice.
Haechan smirked and put the joint to his lips, taking another long drag. “You know me better than to think I’m going to be your conscience and scold you,” he said a moment later. “It makes sense you’re trying to get in as many rounds of fun before the summer ends.”
The summer was winding down. August was half over.
I didn’t want it to end. I couldn’t. Because I knew in my heart when we went home, we would go our separate ways. Forever.
There would be nothing holding us together anymore.
“Haechan?”
“Yes, my love?”
You fought back tears as you asked, “What are we going to do when it’s all over?”
Haechan slapped on a playful grin for your sake and said, “We’re going to get scouted at a concert and get a huge record deal and I’ll eat you out over a bed of hundred dollar bills.”
You snorted. “God, that would be a dream.” You quickly sobered. “What’s the reality?”
Your best friend’s grin melted away and his voice turned to frost. “Go home. Find a minimum wage job. And try not to turn into raging alcoholics like our parents.”
“I thought so,” you sighed, hanging your head.
Haechan reached over and rubbed your arm. “Save the major depressive episode for back home. Let’s just enjoy these last few days.”
“I don’t want to give up,” you said, meeting his eyes again. The fire inside you lit itself with resolve. No matter how small it was. “I want something more for us in life.”
“I know you do, baby,” Haechan crooned, touching your cheek affectionately. “But some things are just out of our control.”
You blinked with the urge to cry. You couldn’t fight it anymore. Regardless of his gentle tone, Haechan’s words sounded final. You slipped out of the seat and to the floor to lay your head on Haechan’s thigh, closing your eyes as he stroked your hair.
After a moment, Haechan whispered, “I’ll never forget you for as long as I live. No matter what happens. I hope you know that.”
The tears slipped down your face as you smiled and said, “I love you too.”
Haechan’s lips twitched. He wanted so badly to not let it bother him, but he couldn’t. He knew damn well when the summer ended and the band came up empty, there would be a permanent wedge of broken hearts and crushed dreams between you.
So, so lonely. That was Haechan’s biggest fear. Losing his best friends would destroy him beyond repair. He would go through life jaded and bitter, like his parents.
Maybe it really was unavoidable. Fighting fate sounded great in songs, but reality wasn’t kind. He knew that better than anyone.
The next morning, you woke in the bed with Jeno’s arm tucked around your waist, his body molded to yours keeping you warm. There was no telling which boy scooped you off the floor and put you in bed, but your money was on Mark. He was having a hard time looking at you and Haechan was mysteriously quiet.
But you knew why.
Tension had settled over the van, the worst of the worst. After the show in Seattle, there were no more gigs to be played. Now, the long drive home would begin, shadowed by defeat and failure.
You resorted to doing what you always did; trying to alleviate the pressure and raise everyone’s spirits. Once the boys were up and actually keeping their eyes open, you had Jeno drive to the nearby state park.
As he did, you drifted between them. They were like strangers, devoid of energy and hope. Mark hadn’t touched his guitar since the final gig. The gentle strumming of his acoustic and the beauty of his softly whispered singing didn’t fill the van anymore, to your dismay.
Haechan curled up in the bed and didn’t say a word. Jeno drove silently, smoking one cigarette after another and blowing the smoke out the window. You started with him, running your hand over his shoulder as he held the wheel. Jeno glanced at you briefly, offering a weak smile that even he couldn’t keep. You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.
You went to Mark next and curled up next to him, hiding your face in the crook of his neck and holding him tightly. Mark was a little surprised, seeing as how the two of you had been working hard to keep your hands off each other, but was over the moon to have you in his arms again. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands up and down your back.
“Won’t you play a little something?” you asked gently.
Mark shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” you assured him, closing your eyes to fight the tears.
Finally, you went to Haechan and sat on the mattress next to him. He just looked at you, his stare vacant and blank. You brushed his long hair from his face and leaned in to trace a few kisses from his cheek to the corner of his mouth, just to see if you could spark a reaction.
Haechan pushed you ever so slightly and said, “That’s not going to work this time.”
You frowned. And gave up. The three were inconsolable and it broke your heart.
Sidling over to the cabinet, you found your notebook and began flipping pages, going to where you’d left off. Your brows stitched when you didn’t find it and that was when you noticed the torn remains of paper in the metal spiral.
“Okay. Which one of you ripped the page out?”
Mark met your eyes and said, “Don’t look at me.”
You called, “Jeno?”
“You know I wouldn’t touch your shit,” he replied calmly.
Leaving you to turn to Haechan, his eyes closed. “Haechan?”
“I don’t give a fuck about your memoir,” he said, hissing your name.
That made you flinch. You understood his anger, but not the vitriol toward your story. Your eyes fell to the notebook and the missing page, and your hands began to shake.
You threw the notebook at the cabinet and it landed in a pitiful heap. Tensing with frustration, you bent your legs, wrapped your arms around your knees, and hid your face, crying as quietly as you could.
Mark moved slowly, grazing against you to pick up the notebook and tuck it back into its place neatly, but he didn’t have the courage to comfort you. Too scared he would make it worse.
It was Haechan that slipped to the floor and enveloped you in his arms, cradling your head to his chest and dabbing at your cheeks with his sleeve.
When Jeno pulled into the park, you breathed in relief. The van was too stifling, suffocating you in all its misery. You hopped out of the van without a word and started marching for the scenic overlook advertised on a giant sign like you couldn’t get away fast enough.
One-by-one, your bandmates whined and huffed, but inevitably followed. They could wallow in their own disappointment, but they couldn’t stand seeing it hit you.
That’s how the four of you came to sit at a lone picnic table, silently staring at the Pacific Ocean, watching the waves ebb and flow in all its unwavering glory.
The tears had dried on your face. Breathing in the sweet, salty air grounded you again, clearing your lungs and your head.
You were the one to finally break the silence. “I need to come clean about something.”
“Go ahead,” Jeno replied, yawning as he still struggled to shake off sleep.
Wringing your hands in your lap, you began, “I’ve been mailing pieces of the memoir to Cassie.”
“That explains the trips to the post office,” Mark said offhandedly. You couldn’t tell if he was trying to be glib or not.
“And?” Jeno pressed.
You took a breath. “She submitted it to a publisher for their… consideration, I guess it’s called.”
Well, that woke everyone up.
“Are you serious?” Haechan asked, his eyes wide.
“Yeah?” You were befuddled by the reaction, glancing around at them. All three of your boys were sporting similar looks of shock. “You knew I was writing a memoir.”
“We knew you were scribbling in a notebook to toss in a bin and find it again twenty years later and laugh at all the dumb shit we did…” Haechan’s tone of disdain was not lost on you.
Jeno’s gawking increased. “Babe, are you insane?”
You felt small on that picnic table between them, utterly confused, and snapped, “No. I’m trying to get us out of this hell!”
Grimacing, Mark asked pointedly, “You wrote about all the very illegal shit you’ve been doing?”
Oh. That’s why they were freaked out. Underage drinking. Marijuana. Cocaine. All very punishable offenses. You shrugged and plastered on your cutest, most innocent smile. “A little?”
“Fuck,” Jeno swore, sliding off the bench to his feet and running a hand through his hair.
Haechan shook his head and chuckled. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”
You rubbed your arms awkwardly.
I was so determined to make it work. It was tunnel vision, so intense I could see nothing else.
“What did the publisher say?” Mark asked, touching your shoulder in comfort. The awkwardness was killing him too.
“I don’t know,” you said, leaning into him a little, desperate for warmth. “I call Cassie at every stop to check on the dogs and she promised to update me on any replies from the publisher.”
Jeno looked to Haechan. “Can they report us to the cops?”
Haechan waved him away, looking more amused the longer he thought about it. “No. She can just say it’s all fiction. Very embellished fiction.”
Mark bobbed his head. “Good thinking.”
You almost laughed. Haechan could lie his way out of almost anything. In this case, it would be in your favor. You glanced around at your boys again. “So…, is everyone mad at me or are we good?”
“We’re good,” Haechan said, patting your head. “For now.”
“Fuck.” Mark sounded exhausted. He leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t know if I could handle losing our music career, but being notorious in a fucking book.”
It was your turn to comfort him, running your hand across his shoulders, feeling the tense muscles under your fingers.
Jeno kicked at a pinecone, watching it skitter across the rocks. “We’d be the fucking losers just known for banging bitches at every stop,” he sneered. Then, the drummer had a thought and raised his brows. “Actually, whatever gets us paid, I don’t really care.”
“Yeah, how does that work?” Mark asked curiously. “You technically wrote the book, but it’s about all of us.”
You made a face. “It’s our story. Of course I’d split everything fairly with you guys.”
Haechan smiled at you ever so faintly.
“I can’t believe our story’s almost over,” Jeno mumbled bitterly.
You perked up. This was as good a time as any. “It doesn’t have to be.”
“What do you mean?”
You got up and spun on your heels, so you could face them all at once. “I was thinking…,” you said, shifting your weight. “We could get a place together and we’d work odd jobs to pay the bills, but we would play gigs here and there. Whatever we could get.”
Jeno simpered. You weren’t clinging to the band. You just didn’t want to let go of them.
“We’d be scraping by a living forever,” Mark pointed out.
“But we’d be doing what we love,” you argued.
“Try loving something that never loves you back,” Haechan said harshly. “You become bitter and miserable. Just like my parents. And yours.”
You scanned their faces. Each had the tiniest bit of hope in their eyes, but their expressions were firmly rooted in defeat. “You guys just want to go home after everything we did this summer and…,” you trailed, a tremble creeping into your voice. “Pretend like it never happened?”
Jeno softened. “Of course it happened. We’ll always look back and remember this as the best days of our lives.” He talked to you like he was soothing a fussy baby. “But best days don’t last. That’s why you look back on them.”
Your eyes burned. More tears would come any moment now and you weren’t ashamed of them. “I just don’t understand why you’re all giving up. Why am I the only one trying to keep us together?”
“Because you’re the dreamer,” Mark sighed.
Haechan snapped, “Stop being so gentle with her,” and Jeno was quick to warn, “Don’t be a dick.”
Your best friend jumped down from the picnic table and approached you. You knew by his tone and his gait that he was about to dress you down and you readied yourself for the blow.
“This is how it’s going to go,” Haechan started, pointing at the guitarist. “Mark’s parents will blow their entire retirement savings to send him to a good college to recover their reputation. And they will never let him date someone like you.”
You flinched.
“Fuck you,” Mark hissed, every muscle in his body tensing for a fight.
Haechan continued, “Jeno won’t be able to hold down a job. He’ll be a regular customer in rehab, then jail.”
Jeno held up his middle finger. “Go to hell.”
Haechan set his eyes on you and a chill ran down your spine. “And you,” Haechan said through clenched jaws. “You’ll meet some guy you can barely stand, but he’ll keep a nice roof over your head. He’ll put a couple babies in you after some miserable missionary and your entire personality will center around the screaming kids you never wanted. Just like your mom.”
Your blood turned to ice in your veins. Planting both hands on Haechan’s chest, you shoved him back and screamed, “You son of a bitch, I hate you!”
Jeno was suddenly caught in a very precarious position. As you stomped off, his first instinct was to go after you, but in the next second, Mark was off the table and charging toward Haechan. So, Jeno had to decide whose life was in the most imminent danger.
And he correctly chose Haechan.
Mark grabbed Haechan by the collar with both hands and crowded into his face. “I’m gonna fuck you up,” he roared, but Haechan didn’t fight back.
He was numb. His face was blank, his eyes cold.
Jeno did his best to wedge himself between them, but he was too defeated. All the thunder was gone from him. “Why did you do that to her?” he asked sadly.
“She has to let go of us,” Haechan replied, looking from Jeno to Mark. “Make her hate you. It’s the only way.”
Mark shook his head in dissent, clenching his fists even tighter in Haechan’s shirt.
You put plenty of distance between yourself and the boys, and the moment you found a solitary bench between trees, you collapsed onto it, buried your face in your hands, and wept.
We have no secrets, Haechan and I. He knows the darkest depths of my soul, and I know his.
I never thought he’d use that as a weapon, but I should have known.
He was the only one that dreamed bigger and harder than me. With it all ending, his heart was dying and pain makes us do horrible things. Especially to the ones we love most.
Because he knew I would still love him anyway. No matter how much he broke me.
Time lost all meaning as you cried on that bench. It wasn’t just Haechan’s words that crushed you, it was the cruel reality of life. You didn’t want to live without your boys. The four of you were too interwoven and connected. Being parted from them would be like tearing at the fabric of who you were.
You were expected to walk around with a gaping hole in your chest forever?
Sure. Most people did. It would account for all the hate and anger in the world.
“My love?”
You lifted your head at the sound of his voice, roughly wiped your wet cheeks, and growled, “Go away, Haechan. I swear to god, I will slap the shit out of you.”
Haechan dragged his feet over to you and said, “Go ahead. I deserve it.”
You refused to look at him as he sat beside you. Your eyes focused on the ocean.
We had the same biggest fear. Becoming our parents. As time went on, the more it seemed inevitable. A cycle that couldn’t be broken. We were fools to think we could be different.
That’s what I was hanging onto. I had to avoid that fate at all costs. Part of me thought that as long as I had my boys, they could save me from it.
“How could you say my worst nightmare so casually like that?” You were still shaking.
Haechan hung his head. “I was trying to hurt you.”
You scoffed, deadpanning, “At least you’re honest.”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, like all the air was sapped from his lungs. When you didn’t respond, Haechan said, “Look at me. Please.”
“No.”
Your best friend sighed loudly and slouched into the bench, resting his head on the back. The two of you sat there for what felt like hours, watching the world pass you by.
“You’ll prove me wrong,” Haechan said tenderly. “You will be the one that breaks the cycle. The rest of us will just watch.”
Still, you said nothing. You hated him.
Because Haechan always ended up being right. It was a gift and a curse.
Mark and Jeno came looking. The latter was the only one brave enough to approach you, holding out his hand without a word. You peered up at him and let your hand slip into his, and Jeno led you away.
Haechan blinked and the tears escaped. He held them back until you left, refusing to cry in front of you. Keeping his hands in his lap, Haechan didn’t bother to dry his cheeks.
Mark blew out a pained breath. “What do we do?”
“You know what you have to do,” Haechan said, cutting his eyes at Mark. “If you don’t stand up to your parents, they’ll make you give her up.”
“I won’t,” Mark started.
“They will wear you down. You know they will. She’s not who they have in mind for their perfect boy. They hate her.”
Mark nodded.
“If you grow a spine, the two of you can at least live happily ever after,” Haechan joked, but there was a bitter edge to his voice.
“What about you and Jeno?”
Haechan stood. “It is what it is.”
The cloud in the van darkened. Jeno and Mark were miserable, and predictably stoic about it. Neither knew what to do with you. As it turned out, you were the rock, not Jeno.
Curled up in the bed with your back to them, you closed your eyes, but had no intention of sleeping. You would just lay there and wait for something to break or change. You’d done the heavy lifting so far. Now it was their turn.
Haechan couldn’t take the silence anymore. He trudged out of the van and slammed the door behind him.
You didn’t bat an eye. At this point, you didn’t have the energy to ask or care.
That wasn’t true. I always cared. Nothing could ever make me stop caring. We are all cursed and that was mine.
When the doors wheeled open, Haechan was sweaty and disheveled. You wondered how much time had passed as he sat on the mattress beside you. “Come with me,” your best friend said, holding out his hand.
You smarted, “Or what?”
“Or I’ll drag you.”
You looked over your shoulder and gave him an obstinate glare, but your curiosity was piqued. The hell had he been doing that got him so shiny with sweat? It didn’t take him that long to jerk off.
A defeated sigh left your lips. He was still your best friend, even if you hated his guts at the moment.
After batting his hand away, you got up and followed Haechan outside, rolling your eyes at the looks Mark and Jeno were sporting.
Gravel crunched beneath your shoes as Haechan led you into the trees, not too far from the van. When you saw what he was bringing you to, you couldn’t help but smile a little.
A camping tent was set up; the one Haechan had insisted on strapping on top of the van in case he found a nice spot. And it seemed he found one.
This was a habit of ours. When the yelling at my house got to be too much, when I couldn’t block it with my locked door or the blankets over my head, I would sneak out the window.
My parents didn’t notice. Hard to notice if you don’t care. Haechan would always be waiting to run off with me to the park. There were safe, secluded areas to set the tent up without fear of being interrupted.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten laid in that pathetic little tent. I’d probably mourn the damn thing when it finally fell apart.
Just as I mourned my relationships.
“How about a night not sleeping in the van?” Haechan asked, unzipping the front flap and holding it open for you.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” you barked, narrowing your eyes at him and crawling inside.
Haechan bit his tongue. Any witty remarks would not be appreciated at the moment.
But given Haechan was allergic to quiet, he wasn’t going to keep enabling your cold shoulder for much longer. Watching you lay on your back and make yourself comfortable over the sleeping bags, Haechan sidled up next to you as close as humanly possible.
“I’m still mad,” you huffed.
“I know.”
Well, with that out of the way, you relaxed. He knew you were upset. Now the groveling could begin.
Haechan rolled onto his side and propped his head on his hand, staring at you and how intensely you were ignoring him. He reached over and stroked your cheek tenderly, and said, “I love you. It’s gonna hurt so much when you leave me.”
You closed your eyes, your heart clenching in your chest. “Then why are you trying to make me leave?”
“To give myself some control over the pain. Maybe.”
You turned your head and looked at him. His hair had grown longer over the summer, its natural jet black. It was cute; falling into his eyes, hiding them behind fluffy strands. You brushed some back with your fingertips so he couldn’t hide. Then you reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his.
Haechan smiled softly.
“I’m not going anywhere,” you told him. “You’re my best friend. I’ll be next to you in a nursing home.”
“Will you still kiss me if I have no teeth?” he asked with a chuckle.
“Heck yes. That would be hilarious.”
Both of you laughed at the sudden mental image of you and Haechan as two little old people sucking each other’s faces.
The rest of the world melted away. Your summer wasn’t coming to an end. It was just another night spent from home inside Haechan’s tent. If you didn’t think too hard, you could convince yourself nothing had changed.
Nothing was over.
You talked for ages, about everything. Like always. The light beyond the tent died and everything went dark, prompting Haechan to light a familiar lantern beside the sleeping bags. Soon, the ambience shifted from birds chirping to crickets singing.
When the atmosphere changed, so did the gravity inside the tent.
He was good at talking you away from the edge. Haechan made you laugh hard enough you forgot your anger and sadness, and he started stealing kisses between words. His hand occasionally traced patterns on the bit of your exposed stomach until it slipped under your shirt and got comfortable palming your breast. That’s when you began initiating kisses and running your fingers through his hair.
Kissing overtook conversation. You were immune to all the pain when his lips were on yours and you wanted more, wanted to overdose on the feeling until your heart was made of stone.
Haechan was my family. He was the only home I’d ever known, the only person who loved me unconditionally like my parents were supposed to. Soul mates aren’t always romantic. Maybe they’re just the person that loves you despite everything.
There was a little hitch in his breath as Haechan deepened the kiss, his arms heavy around you. He needed it too, needed to feel loved again before it was all over.
Your lashes fluttered as Haechan settled on top of you, abandoning your lips to suck and nibble at your neck. Your hands were on his shoulders, having been pulling him to you impatiently. His leg wedged between your thighs, pressing against your sex.
Haechan tugged at your clothes, undressing you while he bruised the base of your neck with his lips and teeth. When you yanked off his clothes and finally felt his naked body against yours, you moaned into his mouth and tangled your fingers in his long hair.
It was so familiar and comforting. With Haechan, everything was okay. Nothing could hurt me here.
He seemed in no rush to touch you where you really wanted him to. Typical. Haechan always dragged things out and made it last. He knew you had all the time in the world and was in no hurry to plow through it. Pun intended.
Haechan sucked your nipple into his mouth and pinched the other with his fingers. You bit your lip and squirmed under him, feeling his hard cock against your thigh. You hooked your legs on his hips and flexed, bringing him flush against you for good measure.
You flipped your positions and Haechan let you, holding your waist as you rolled onto him, straddling his lap. He kissed you even deeper, running his hands up and down your back while you cradled his face and tried to snatch all the air from his lungs.
Haechan broke from the kiss to ask playfully, “Have you been writing about sex in the book?”
You were breathing heavily, flushed and dazed from his kisses. “Yeah,” you rasped, running your hand through your hair to get it out of your face.
Haechan tugged you back down and trailed kisses over your jaw before whispering in your ear, “I need to give you some new material.”
“As if you haven’t given me plenty already.”
“I have competition,” he retorted, brushing his hands to your breasts. “Jeno is a slut with a dragon dick. You have a fat crush on Mark and he railed the shit out of you.”
You snickered. “Who are you then?”
Haechan steered you up and shuffled down until his arms were around your thighs and his mouth was inches from your sex, and purred, “I’ll always be the one that gave you your first nut.”
Though you were about to laugh at that, the next sound out of your mouth was a whimper as Haechan tongued at your folds. You were mindful not to put too much of your weight on him, but his hands on your hips said otherwise, bringing you down to meet his lips.
The sight of his face buried in your pussy, between your thighs, was so arousing you felt your walls clench on nothing.
“Fuck.” You let your head fall back and closed your eyes. Reaching for his hands on your hips, you held on tight and joked breathlessly, “The book will give us more groupies than the band ever did.”
Haechan stopped sucking on your clit long enough to retort, “God, I hope so.”
An involuntary shudder shot through you when he latched back onto your bundle of nerves. You squeezed his hands even tighter, eyes winching closed. Another moan tumbled off your tongue. Haechan didn’t play when he was sucking you dry.
It was probably one of the few things in life he took seriously.
“Mm,” you hummed, trembling when his tongue swirled around your entrance before returning to your clit. “So good, baby.”
Haechan made a noise against your cunt. “You know, you only call me baby when I’m getting you off.”
“Do I?”
“I like it.”
“I like when you touch me,” you said in barely a whisper, biting your lip lest you go into juicy detail.
Haechan would have loved that.
You were so far gone already. Your hands found his hair, your hips bucking against his face. Little nothings mingled with your moans. Haechan kneaded your hips, but as you got closer, he reached up to grab and squeeze your breasts instead.
It felt so good you felt guilty that you weren’t touching him. Releasing his hair, you lilted back and wrapped your hand around his hard cock, feeling it twitch the moment your fingers made contact.
Haechan broke away from your pussy and scolded, “Don’t touch me.”
“Why not?”
“Only think about yourself right now. Be selfish. You’ve earned it.”
You swallowed and let Haechan guide your hands back into his hair, and he bit the inside of your thigh as a warning to do as he said. Your body tensed when he lapped at your clit again and you decided to obey. You would be selfish.
Haechan smirked when you arched away from him, propping yourself over him on your arms and riding his face. He reeled a hand back and slapped your ass, the best way he knew how to convey to you that you were giving him exactly what he wanted.
He lapped at the arousal between your folds, his tongue teasing your bundle of nerves again. Haechan knew that was your weak spot, where you were most sensitive. If he played his cards right, he could have you screaming for mercy from the overstimulation.
“Right there,” you panted, voice pitching higher. "I'm close."
For once in his life, Haechan said nothing. He ate you out like a man starved, suddenly grabbing your waist to keep you in place. He sucked on you until your legs shook and you whimpered his name.
And when orgasm hit, you went higher than where the cocaine took you. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your body shuddered, and you chanted, “Fuck,” like a mantra.
Haechan kept going until you pushed frantically at his head.
“Stop. Stop. Stop,” you begged, fisting his hair and finally earning yourself a reprieve.
Haechan chuckled, slipping his arms under your legs and tossing you to the side. You gladly rolled to your back, staring up at the ceiling of the tent, waiting to come back to your senses.
You felt his hand smoothing its way up your thigh before cupping your sex, feeling all the slick he’d gotten out of you and muttering, “Fuck,” under his breath. His fingers prodded into your pulsing pussy, hooking at your sweet spot, and you writhed, sensitive.
“Put a condom on,” you told him hurriedly, still trying to catch your breath.
As you came down from the high, Haechan crawled over to the other side of the tent and returned with a packet, tearing it open with his teeth. You watched him fit the condom on his hard cock and you spread your legs invitingly when he moved between your legs, grasping your knees and pushing them toward your chest, bending you in half.
You rested your hands on his hips and drew him toward you when he slipped his cock into your entrance and stroked in slow. “Mm, baby, you’re so good,” you mewled dramatically. “The biggest ever.”
Haechan, whose eyes had been on his cock sinking into your tight cunt, tossed his long hair out of his eyes and said, “Fuck you,” with a tiny snort.
You grinned and sank your fingers deeper into the flesh of his hips, tugging him toward you in tandem with his movements. He loved when you left scratches and bruises in his skin. A reminder of you he got to carry around with him for days after.
“Kiss me,” Haechan whispered, rocking into you harder.
Without missing a beat, you lifted your head to meet his lips, but his hands wrapped around your wrists and pinned them to the ground. A noise of frustration left you, because you couldn’t close the rest of the distance with him holding you down.
Nipping at your lips, he taunted, “What’s the matter?”
Rather than answer, you moaned as his cock bottomed out in you again. Your face tensed with pleasure, every thrust making your toes curl. You were still raw from orgasm and his cock hitting you right made a shudder race through you.
Haechan went still. When you peered up at him in confusion, he smirked and said, “Fuck me.”
You hooked your thighs higher up his hips and started grinding into him. Haechan looked down to watch you bouncing on his dick, sucking in a breath when your pace grew more hurried and desperate.
“Please move,” you whined, eyes closed. Sweat formed at your back with the effort, your body burning.
“You’re doing fine without me.”
“I’m never okay without you,” you said breathlessly, out of your mind with lust and emotions. The two were colliding.
Haechan draped over you, slipping his fingers into your hair, and fucked into you at a ruthless pace for that, making you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from crying out.
The last thing you wanted was his name echoing through the woods. You would never live it down.
“Oh god. Oh fuck.” You clawed at his back, trying to find purchase.
Haechan gathered you in his arms and you sat up face-to-face, straddling his lap. Haechan kissed at your neck, crushing you in his arms. You rode him, his hips matching your rhythm.
“Come for me,” Haechan purred in your ear, saying your name silkily. “Again.”
It wasn’t fair that he could snap his fingers and your body would answer. You were so close and had been together for so long, your skin knew his touch. Your heart gave in to his every desire and whim.
Ecstasy spilled over and a moan caught in your throat.
Haechan held you even tighter as you came, biting his lip as he felt you clamp down on his cock, holding his breath to stave off his own orgasm until you sighed his name and slumped against him.
You buried your face in his shoulder and whimpered as his thrusts turned ragged, his groans pitching higher until he released into the condom. You rubbed his back and kissed his neck while he came down, lowering you to the floor gently and landing at your side.
The two of you breathed heavily. Sex broke something in you both that you needed. It felt final.
Like it was the last time.
Haechan discarded the condom and crawled back to you, getting a blanket out from one of the sleeping bags to drape over your bodies. You nestled closer to him, ready to doze off in his arms. Haechan settled a hand on your thigh, the other behind his head. Your eyes fluttered closed as his chest rose and fell with his breaths.
“I’ll never stop fighting,” you whispered with resolve. “And you shouldn’t either.”
He said nothing, but pressed a kiss to your temple.
The next day, the van was on its way home. You sat in the passenger seat as Jeno drove, just as you had when summer - and the trip - started.
When Jeno parked at a rest area, you ventured inside to look for a payphone.
Haechan leaned back against the van, arms folded.
Mark wandered over to him, asking in a soft voice, “How is she?”
“Ask her yourself,” Haechan retorted.
Mark frowned. “You know her better than anyone.”
Haechan’s eyes darkened as he said, “You hurt her and I’ll kill you.”
Mark opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Jeno, who had been hovering close by, smirked at the exchange and murmured, “Says the one person actually capable of hurting her.”
Haechan shot him a glare. “She loves Mark more than she ever loved us,” he started.
Jeno was quick to cut him off, “You know damn well that’s not true.”
“Maybe she’s right about us,” Mark spoke up, glancing between them. “Maybe we should stay together and try to make it work.”
Haechan let his head fall back and groaned. “Pussy power strikes again.”
“Are you done?” Mark snapped. “You are the biggest hypocrite, you know. You’re hoping and praying she’s right. That she makes something happen. You’re trying so hard to look like you don’t care, but you don’t want to lose us.”
Tears filled Haechan’s eyes. His lips pursed.
Jeno cocked his head. “We know that, Mark,” he crooned cutely. “Our Donghyuck cares the most. That’s why he tries so hard to hide it.”
Haechan quickly wiped his cheeks. The tears had escaped too fast. After a pause, getting himself together, Haechan said, “I’m sorry for yesterday. I didn’t mean it.”
“We know that too.” Jeno reached over and squeezed his shoulder.
The two looked at Mark expectantly. His anger faded and he huffed a sigh.
Your voice broke the moment. “Guys!”
“What?” Jeno barked, turning to see you racing across the parking lot toward them.
You could hardly breathe, panting like you’d run a marathon. “They want to publish the book!”
All three of them gaped in perfect sync.
“Are you fucking serious?” Haechan wheezed.
“Yeah,” you said in disbelief, chuckling to yourself. “They want me to keep sending in chapters and they’ll assign me an editor to help organize everything. And then I’ll have to fill in the gaps, but… it’s gonna be a book. An actual book!”
In the next second, you were the meat in a boy sandwich and you couldn't have been happier about it.
Once everything calmed down, Mark shook his head and exclaimed, “This is insane!”
Haechan took your face in his hands and planted a big kiss on your lips with a loud, “Mwah!” Which made Jeno whine, “I was gonna kiss her and I can’t now!”
“I’ll kiss you too,” Haechan taunted, wagging his tongue and reaching for Jeno, making the drummer turn on his heels and run for his life.
You giggled as Haechan chased after him and Mark took the opportunity to wrap you in his arms and bury his face in your neck, enveloping you in a hug. You held him tightly and closed your eyes, breathing him in.
“You did it,” Mark whispered, saying your name in reverence. “You made this summer count for something.”
Tears pricked your eyes.
Haechan and Jeno traipsed back over, pushing and shoving each other with big grins on their faces.
With the celebration winding down, you looked at your boys one-by-one and said, “There’s a couple of conditions.”
Jeno grumbled. Haechan arched a brow.
“I won’t write the last chapters and send them in until you get clean,” you said, pointing at Jeno.
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious.” You planted your feet and stared him down. “You think I’m going to risk this book being a hit and us getting a huge payday just for you to blow it all on blow?”
Jeno sulked.
“It’s a fair condition,” Haechan said lightly.
“I know it is!”
You waited patiently.
“I’m not an addict,” Jeno insisted. “I am a casual user.”
“Then you can casually stop,” you smarted.
He made a face. After a tiny lull, Jeno handed you the bag from his back pocket and you didn’t hesitate to cram it into your own. Its next destination was the nearest toilet.
You turned to Mark. “There’s a condition for you too.”
Mark grimaced nervously. “I’m listening.”
“You have to do what you want with your own life. Not what your parents want.”
Mark visibly relaxed. His eyes went soft. Something happy and content washed over him. “But I don’t know what I want.”
You shrugged. “You have time to figure it out. Change your mind as many times as it takes until you find what makes you happy.”
“Okay,” said Mark, smiling.
Finally, you turned to Haechan. “And you.”
He tilted his head and puckered up his lips.
“You’re not your father, Haechan.”
“You sure? I was pretty quick to cut you down.”
You scoffed. “Last I checked, I’m still standing. Bitch.”
Haechan chuckled.
“She’s right,” Jeno said, draping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you close to press a kiss to your cheek. “We shouldn’t give up on the band already.”
“The book could make some people check us out,” Mark added, optimistic again.
All eyes were on Haechan. He smiled bashfully and said, “And if it doesn’t - if it all fails - at least we’ll know we tried.”
“No regrets,” you finished with a nod.
Haechan suddenly reached into his pocket and handed you a balled-up page.
The missing chapter of your memoir.
You gaped when you realized what it was. “I should have known you took it.”
“I couldn’t handle someone talking so highly about me,” he said under his breath.
“Oh. Only you’re allowed to speak highly of yourself?”
Mark and Jeno laughed.
Haechan did too. Then he sobered and tucked some of your hair behind your ear. “Thank you for believing in me.”
You gave him a puzzled look. “Haechan, you started the band. Don’t you remember?”
“No?”
“We met in detention in eighth grade,” you reminded him, to which Haechan bobbed his head. “You noticed Jeno drumming his hands. You said you saw Mark playing acoustic by himself during lunch. And you heard me singing under the bleachers when I skipped gym.”
“I forgot all that,” Haechan mumbled, his eyes twinkling like they shone with stars. “Damn, I really gotta quit drinking.”
Mark moved to your free side and said, “Yeah, dude. We’re all here because of you.”
Haechan looked at his three best friends, his family, smiling at him, and it almost broke him on the spot. He slid his hands into his pockets and shrugged.
Jeno laughed loudly. “I’ll be damned. All you’ve ever wanted is to be the center of attention and now that you’ve got it, you don’t know what the fuck to do.”
“Yep,” Haechan said with a sheepish grin.
You closed the distance and hugged him, patting the back of his head. “It ain’t over till it’s over,” you whispered for his ears alone and Haechan let go the breath he’d been holding, releasing all the tension and pain in his chest.
Once you parted, Mark reached for your hand and gave it a squeeze. You melted into his familiar arms and flushed when he said, “You are, by far, the greatest person I have ever met.”
“Stop it.”
“Okay.”
“Wait.” You wrapped your arms around his neck and lifted to your toes. “Maybe a little more.”
Mark smiled as his lips met yours in a chaste kiss that he poured his all into.
A kiss that was dramatically interrupted by Jeno, knocking into Mark enough to jostle you both. “It’s not your job to save us, you know,” he chided sweetly.
Yes, it was and it always would be. Because they saved me first.
“Hey, I’m just an instrument of the power of rock and roll,” you said, putting a hand on Jeno’s chest and giving him a playful shove.
“I take back every compliment I’ve ever said to you,” he joked, tickling your sides.
You laughed.
The four of you gabbed and teased each other for what felt like an eternity. The air was lighter. The sun a was a little brighter. Your boys were smiling again and you felt the pieces of your heart snapping back into place.
Hope is a powerful thing. A gentle promise that maybe - just maybe - we could all be happy and whole.
“We’re burning daylight,” Jeno eventually said.
You exclaimed, “Let’s hit the road,” and it was the first time you said it without dread.
Hopping into the van after you, Mark stuck his head out and called, “Don’t forget the trash.”
Jeno proceeded to scoop Haechan up in his burly arms and carried him to the van.
“Very funny,” Haechan deadpanned, but he couldn’t help but grin.
Smiling till your cheeks hurt, you got in the driver’s seat and fired up the engine, pulling out of the rest area and onto the highway, toward the new life awaiting you and your boys.
Everything would change for us. The drive home wasn’t some miserable journey we’d been fearing. It was the final chapter of our summer, but only the beginning of our story.
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Copyright 2020-2024 © yutaholic (formerly zenyukhei) All rights reserved do not copy or translate without my permission!
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chocosvt · 2 years
Text
best friend’s brother
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⚬ pairing: joshua x fem!reader ⚬ word count: 37k ⚬ warnings: alcohol, mentions of unsafe sex/unplanned pregnancy  ⚬ genres: timestep, romance, angsty angst, major feels abt having a crush, lots of flirting, smut, drama, happy tears.
✧✎ synopsis: joshua happens to be your best friend's older brother. he's pretty, and he's got a lot of cool details about him that you pay a concerning amount of attention to, but he’s just a friend (if you could even call it that). still, what does he think of you, anyway? that is—if he thinks of you.
 ✧✎ a/n: this is a rewrite of an old fic that i uploaded in 2016. keep in mind the original version was only 13k! i've made so many changes to this story and i really hope those who read it enjoy it! thank you sm!
⇢ here is this fic’s inspo playlist ⇢ smut section is marked! ⇢ taglist included in final author’s note
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13.
You flipped to the next page of the plastic binder and squiggled a small ‘seven’ inside the margin. Then, your eyes wandered back to the math textbook sitting in between you and your best friend. It was difficult to study on Jennie’s bed, but she liked it that way, and there definitely wasn’t enough room at her desk.
“Okay, this part shouldn’t be too hard,” she said, using the tip of her pencil to trace the question, “we just have to graph this line, and we already know the y-intercept is going to be negative three.”
“This would be so much easier if the teacher handed out graph paper. Look at this grid I just drew, it’s so ugly.”
Jennie leaned over her left shoulder to look at your binder and started laughing. It was probably the saddest grid in history.
“I have a ruler somewhere,” the girl offered, pushing up onto her knees and patting around the bed, “at least, I think I do… or—maybe he took it. Yeah, of course, he definitely has it, stupid idiot.”
“Who? Joshua?” You asked.
She huffed again, sliding back onto her stomach.
“Mmhm, told me he needed it for his physics homework,” she uttered the word in a fancy-established way, as though she were making fun of it, “he never gives back any of my stuff.”
The only thing you could do was swallow and nod your head, meanwhile this awkward smile was slapped onto your mouth. You loved Jennie, you really did, but the only reason you agreed to homework and supper at her house was because of a very specific reason—this was the one night her older brother didn’t have any guitar or baseball lessons, or some outing planned with his friends. And, well, you hadn’t seen him at all since you’d gotten here, but he’d inevitably have to come down for dinner. Joshua, that was his name.
He was about two years older than you, and despite never having a conversation with him before, there was a lot you already knew about him. For example, Joshua always wore the same beat-up pair of white converse sitting in the front foyer. He liked collecting these weird, colourful band t-shirts and he routinely made Jennie bring him a piece of Double Bubble whenever he didn’t have any. It was pretty unimportant information, actually, but not to you.
“Shoot, it’s almost time for to eat,” Jennie announced, looking back at the alarm clock on her bedside table, “my parents will probably call us down any minute. Guess no more homework.” She flipped the textbook shut and cleared all her notes away. “Also, what do you want to do after dinner? My mom said we can walk to the river. We might be able to catch some frogs.”
“Oh, okay. Yeah, we should do that.”
“Totes,” Jennie smiled, “okay, I’m gonna see if they need any help setting the table. Hey, do you wanna grab Josh from his room? Tell him to come down?”
Almost immediately, you shot up onto your knees.
“Me?” You reiterated, aiming a finger at yourself.
Jennie threw on a small wool cardigan from the spine of her desk chair, tilting her head at you in amusement.
“Mmhm. Yeah, you. Who else is in here? Just grab him, ‘kay? And make sure you knock kinda loud ‘cause sometimes he’s got his earbuds in, so he can’t hear.”
Before you could even hope to oppose, she was already out the door and skipping downstairs, and you listened to the sound of her socks sliding against their hardwood floors until everything was silent. Okay, yes, you’d wanted to see Joshua and maybe find an excuse to say even a word to him, but as your docile, thirteen-year old self, asking him to join you for dinner was like…like asking you to take the sun out of the sky—very much impossible. But you were also too worried to not do anything, so you settled for a nervous walk down the hall, where Joshua’s door was covered with posters.
You knocked, though not that loudly.
When there was no answer, your face exploded into heat and you already questioned just leaving him to his devices.
But you tried knocking again, harsher this time, only to be met with the same poster of a woman wearing red, star-shaped glasses. You pressed your ear to the door. It sounded a little too quiet. And for some god awful, stupid reason that you could not compute, you decided to open Joshua’s bedroom door and just waltz right in like it was second nature. Except, there was no one. His room was empty, the shades fully drawn so everything was tinted dark, and surprisingly, it was quite neat for a fifteen-year-old boy. You saw his guitar propped in the corner, and some shiny medals dangling above his bed from baseball competitions.
He had a lava lamp sitting on his desk, purplish and hot yellow, which left a very impressionable dent on you, because you’d always wanted a lava lamp and this cute boy just happened to own one. You even saw Jennie’s ruler sitting next to a massive textbook on his desk, beside a tiny glass and acrylic cube of the solar system.
His room seemed like the most fascinating place on Earth.
“Uh, did Jennie tell you to come in here?”
Shoot!
It was horribly audible, that embarrassing suckle of breath you heaved in through your teeth, and when you turned around to meet the boy who was looking at you so concerningly, you realized he wasn’t mad (which was wonderful, since you already felt on the verge of tears and having this boy snap would definitely be the hand to push you over the edge). He reached out to flick on a light.
“Dinner’s ready,” you told him, your voice shaking a little.
“Okay,” Joshua answered, “are you… looking for something?”
“No, sorry, I’ll leave now. I’m really sorry.”
You didn’t know what you were saying as you stumbled past the boy blindly, but he’d moved to let you shuffle by, even tapped the door open a bit wider for you. By the time you were downstairs, you grabbed a large glass of water and chugged it, knowing that was the first time you’d ever felt this winded—the fact it had made the air simultaneously thicker and harder to breathe. Joshua came down about a minute later to grab a soda can from the fridge, meanwhile Jennie and her parents were adjusting the table.
“Do you like cream soda?” He asked you.
“My mom says they’re not hea—um, never mind.”
Yeah, say that, you thought, and he’ll think you’re a big loser.
“I’ll leave one in the fridge,” Joshua responded with a shrug.
When he popped open the tab to his drink, it started foaming and spilling orange soda onto the rim, which he slurped up quickly over the sink. You just stood there idly, watching him, thinking he was the most attractive thing in the universe, and you didn’t begin to question these feelings until you were standing alone in the kitchen.
What did it even mean to be attracted to someone? And should you really be this giddy about your best friend’s brother?
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14.
You were standing outside, balancing on the edge of the curb, trying not to sway backwards due to the immense weight from your backpack—stuffed with two textbooks, a gigantic binder, and the big thermos that had held your lunch. Jennie was crouched down beside you, twiddling her thumbs as she stared at her phone. Exams were starting in the middle of June, so you two decided to get a leg up and take the study sessions to her house. Joshua was supposed to come around front and pick you up, but he was pretty damn late.
“Bet he’s fooling around in the parking lot w’Hansol,” Jennie grumbled, clicking off her phone and shielding her eyes from the bright summer sun, “I’m gonna melt. It’s so freaking hot out.”
“Do you want to go back inside and use the fountain?”
“No, ‘cause that’s when he’ll show up. He left me here once, y’know? All because I went back inside to get my gym shoes.”
“That doesn’t seem like him,” you said, smiling.
Jennie reached out her hand and you pulled her up.
“Mmhm, he just pretends to be all cute and Mr. Polite when my friends are around,” the girl rolled her eyes, “but he’s so mean.”
Mean? You couldn’t imagine Joshua being mean. You suppose he did order Jennie around sometimes, nagging her to do his chores or grab him another can of soda, but that just seemed like normal sibling behaviour. Besides, there were times when Joshua was plenty sweet, like when he’d come into the basement to bring you and Jennie ice cream (though you might’ve heard his mom urging him to do it, because there’s a ‘guest’ over). With a voice like his, you couldn’t even imagine him yelling.
“Oh! There! Finally!” Jennie flung out her arm to point at the silver-bullet car approaching the curb. “Gosh, took him forever.”
The passenger seat window rolled down, and you recognized Joshua’s best friend, Hansol, who wiggled his fingers to wave.
“You’re late,” Jennie barked through the window.
Joshua turned down his radio ever so slightly, only to shake his head and gesture for her to hurry up and climb inside. When you wriggled into the back, there was hardly enough room between your knees and Joshua’s reclined seat, forcing you to sit the uncomfortable backpack on your lap. Jennie leaned forward before she clicked on her seatbelt, giving her older brother a whack on the head.
“Pull up your chair, dummy. Give the girl some room.”
“Oh—shit, sorry.” He mumbled, and it seemed like Joshua hadn’t even realized you’d climbed into the car until his eyes glanced into the rear mirror, and suddenly, the seat was yanked forward.
Hansol turned around, “are you guys thirsty? I’m trying to convince Josh to stop at Joe’s Corner Store for some alcoholic beverages.”
“Why did you whisper it?” Jennie asked.
“Because it’s illegal.”
“Yeah, no duh. We’re all underage.” She folded her arms.
“Pretend I meant sodas,” Hansol smiled wide and gummy, revealing his rows of brace-covered teeth, “so what’chya thinking?”
“Yeah,” Jennie obliged, “I guess I’m thirsty. Let’s do it.”
Joshua was already at the stop sign, shaking his head.
“No, alright? Mom wants us home by two-forty-five. If we stop at Joe’s then we’re gonna push it, and I just got back car key privileges. Can’t you drink something when we get home?”
You were fully inclined to stay out of their sibling disputes, so you settled for looking out the window instead, watching a sprinkler shower a garden. That is until you felt a nudge against your elbow and Jennie was gesturing at you with her head to say something.
“He won’t say no to you,” she whispered between her teeth.
“U-Um,” you piped up, feeling hotter than the blacktop, “I’m, uh, really… I’m really thirsty too. Can we stop at Joe’s?”
Jennie pinched the back of your hand, murmuring, “y’have to add in ‘please, Joshua’, and sell it too.”
You were blinking at her awkwardly the entire time.
“Um… please… Joshua.”
Even though both directions were clear, her older brother still hadn’t turned yet, and from the way Jennie was clasping her hands together expectantly, you were hoping that pathetic ask was enough. When you glanced toward the rear-view mirror, Joshua was already looking at you. Honestly, you didn’t think you had the power to sway him even relatively, but then he flicked his signal to the right.
“Yes!” Hansol shouted from the front, “I’m gonna mix the cherry slush with the blue raspberry, and no one can stop me!”
“No one wants to,” Jennie remarked.
She then sent you a wink, which seemed unnecessary and kind of confusing because it felt like she was saying, ‘see, I told you.’
At your age, it was easy to take Joshua’s compliance as a gesture much bigger than it actually was, and for some reason, you already knew that. He was just being nice, is all, sweet, like he had to.
You were his little sister’s best friend.
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“A large? Your brain can’t handle a large, Hansol.”
Jennie was standing behind Hansol at the slushie machine, watching him with a judgemental expression as he bent down the little handle and a bunch of icy, cherry red slush fell into his cup. You didn’t really know a lot about Hansol, minus the best friend to Joshua part and the fact his shaggy brown hair desperately needed a trim, but you did pick up that Jennie was always bickering with the boy and trying to get his attention. Most times, you ignored them.
Despite bending to your friend’s plea and asking Joshua to stop for drinks, you didn’t have any extra change lying around, even in the crevices of your backpack. Jennie was using money she earned from her allowance, and Hansol had just gotten payed the other day due to his first job at the bowling alley. You were staring at the glass display of bottles and cans across the store when Joshua came around the corner, holding onto his usual—an orange cream soda.
Pretending not to notice him seemed like a definite way to erase his presence, but you surely weren’t that dumb at fourteen.
“Are you almost ready to go?”
“Yeah, I am.”
Joshua reached into his pocket and checked his phone.
“Five minutes to get home,” he sighed, “it’ll be close—hey, didn’t you say you were thirsty or something? Changed your mind?”
You shrugged, “I realized I don’t have any money.”
“Oh,” Joshua responded, and the silence that hung in the tacky, air-conditioned sweat lodge that was Joe’s Corner Store was suddenly palpable, “I, um, I don’t have any extra on me, sorry.”
The only thing you could do was smile at him, and it must’ve creeped him out or something, because Joshua decided to turn around and go find Hansol who was inquiring about lottery tickets at the front counter. You waited outside while everyone paid, sat down in the shade provided by the cute, kitschy overhang painted with soft green and spring flowers. Joshua came outside first, which you noted from the pair of white converse that had just stepped beside you in the stones. And then, a can of cream soda was lowered to your face.
“Do you want this?” Joshua offered.
You glanced up at him, but only for an instant.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
When everyone shuffled back into the car, Hansol was already jabbering at Joshua to crank up the air while he rolled the slushie against his cheek. Jennie was just about to poke a straw into her cold tea when she noticed the bright orange can in your lap, which you’d wanted to hide from her. It was just that, one time she begged Joshua for about half an hour that he give her the last can of cream soda in the fridge, yet he wouldn’t relent no matter what.
But today he let you have one, no problem.
The rest of the day went pretty accordingly. You weren’t allowed in the basement because Joshua and Hansol were apparently watching ‘scary movies’ that weren’t suited to anyone younger than sixteen, even though Jennie assured you she’d already seen them and they were mild at best. You finished the can of cream soda, and you nearly had a heart attack when Jennie went to throw it in the trash.
“N-No! I, um, I’d like to keep it, actually.”
“Really?” Jennie sounded too surprised. “It’s just a can.”
“I’m—” quick, think up a reasonable lie that won’t mislead her into suspecting you only want the can because of her brother, “I’m collecting cans, like Elsie Bolger. She gets money back from them.”
“Oh, okay then,” Jennie shrugged, “it’s all yours.”
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Because of that dumb lie you told Jennie, you were stuck with a hobby you didn’t even want over the summer, and a gigantic plastic bag lumped in the garage half-filled with tin. Your mom proposed that you start going on ‘neighbourhood walks’ to pick up any extra cans people might’ve throw into ditches or left at the parks, which was how Joshua drove past you at seven in the morning, on his way to baseball practice, catching a glimpse of you wandering through a slippery trench that you’d quite literally fallen into.
Great, you were now probably the biggest loser he knew.
The neighbourhood walks didn’t last too long though, as you came to realize there were a lot of disgusting, unsterile things that got thrown into ditches, besides coffee cups and soda cans.
Your safest bet was to ask the neighbours on your block, and by the end of July, you’d gotten a few people to start saving their cans for you. Additionally, Jennie offered to pitch in, and thus every Saturday you rode your bicycle to her house hoping that she’d remembered to save at least one can so your journey wasn’t futile.
Last week, you’d stopped by on a Sunday.
And not much could’ve really prepared you for that.
That morning, it wasn’t Jennie who answered the door, still dressed in her pyjamas with the little flamingos on them because she would sleep into lunch if she could—nope, it was Joshua. Shirtless Joshua. Shirtless, only dressed in sweatpants, with damp and mussed back hair Joshua. You couldn’t even whimper out one word. It was so obvious that you were trying not to let your curious, adolescent eyes roam that tanned torso of his like he was a dessert pamphlet. Your bike was resting against the garage—you could make a run for it.
“Jennie isn’t here,” Joshua said, “doctor’s appointment.”
“Oh,” you still weren’t looking at him, but at this pebble on their doormat, which was clearly very interesting, “I was supposed to come yesterday, but, uhm… never mind. I’ll just grab my—”
“You’re doing the can thing, right? Like, you’re collecting them to exchange at the corner store? I know about it.”
For some reason, your mind immediately lurched to that rainy morning about two weeks ago, when you were caked with mud and humidity from slipping around in that stupid ditch, rather than the far more logical answer of Jennie simply telling him you were collecting cans because they were siblings and lived together.
Joshua opened the door wider, “she has them in a bag somewhere. I can go look for it—uh, come in, if you want.”
Of course, sweet Joshua would never let you stand outside where it was slightly too windy and slightly too sunny and slightly too fragrant because of the lilac pots beside the front door. You definitely weren’t overthinking that gesture at all, and your mind was definitely working exactly as it should. So, you slipped off your sneakers and took a seat on the couch, waiting in complete, stifling silence as Joshua disappeared into the house. You got so nervous and fidgety that you rearranged the coasters on the coffee table and used the shiny edge of the fake fruit bowl to check your reflection.
Not long after that, Joshua came back to the living room.
“Hey, I’m sorry but I can’t find where she keeps that bag. I checked the garage and everything. You should phone her.”
“No, that’s alright. I’ll just come back next week.”
Honestly, you didn’t want this to be it. Gosh, you’d daydreamed so many different scenarios in which you were alone with Joshua, exactly what you’d say to him, how you’d laugh, and, oh—maybe you’d playfully bump his shoulder, or accidentally brush his hand, and the touch would create this insatiable, romantic spark between you and—all of those things seemed impossible.
As you bent down to re-tie your shoes, Joshua stopped you.
He then walked over to their fridge and pulled out a can.
“Cream soda,” the boy shrugged, “I mean, once you drink it, it’ll be empty and you’ll have a can for your… can thing.”
He tossed the soda to you, which you almost didn’t catch because it immediately slipped between your fingers, but somewhere along the struggle it managed safely into your hand.
“It’s cold,” you said, a very dumb observation to point out.
Joshua opened the front door. And then he smiled at you—just, a dazzling smile, so soft but kind of teasing and seraphic at the edges and made one-hundred percent worse by his lack of shirt.
“It was in the fridge, and fridges’ make things cold.”
The moment felt like it was too much. You were burning up, hardly even breathing as you slipped past him to hop outside and grab your bike off the garage door. That smile, those eyes, his voice, it was all you thought about during the ride home, feeling the sun kiss the back of your neck and imagining the warmth as Joshua.
You didn’t even use the can for your exchange.
Instead, you kept it beside the last one he’d given you.
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15.
Unironically so, the day had just started and it was already shaping up to be one of the worst yet, even worse than the time you got stuck in that child’s swing at the park and lost your shorts trying to wriggle out of it. At least you could partially hide the water-lined eyes and trembling lip by stepping as far into your locker as possible, but that wasn’t going to save you from the bell.
That first physics test had kicked your ass. 
Sure, you wasted last Saturday cleaning out and redesigning your entire room, and maybe you could have stayed home Monday night instead of going to the Laser Tag Center with Jennie, but you still studied. And you still got a whopping fifty-four percent. To make matters worse, this tumultuous feeling had been sitting in your abdomen since breakfast, a twisty type sensation, like someone was squeezing your insides using their fist. It made you sweaty hot, and then colder than ice, and at one point you swore something fucking trickled out of your body when you sneezed on the bus.
Great, just great.
Bad grades, possibly poisoned, holding back a meltdown—it would have been the complete trifecta of misfortune and general misery.
But it became more of a “quad-fecta” when you glanced down the hall.
Joshua was poised at his locker, talking to Hansol, with his arm lounged comfortably around Elsie Boulger’s waist, the autumn-haired sweetheart of his grade whom everyone only had wonderful things to say about. They were laughing, and Joshua suddenly nudged Elsie in closer against his side to pop a kiss on her cheek. You didn’t want to be jealous, because jealously felt awful, like something icky and slimy crawling around in your gut that you wanted to throw up. Jennie said that Elsie was cool, and inspirational (whatever that meant), and that she smelled of a juicy, clean citrus.
Maybe Jennie was in love with her too.
It seemed like the whole world was in love with her.
Or maybe it just felt like that because Joshua had been making an increasingly bigger impression on you as a person.
He sort of became your world.
When the bell to second period started clanging, you made a snap decision to skip and escape into the music room, which was always open and empty at that time anyways. You melted into the first chair you saw. The lights were off, and everything was pleasantly dark in a way that made you feel invisible. No one could hear you snivelling or see those thick blobs of tears on your cheeks, and it occurred to you that this room was a lot more enjoyable when there were no freshman screaming through their trombones.
But then you spotted a silhouette outside the door. Your first thought was that someone had squealed on you, and now a teacher had sought to find the juvenile foolish enough to skip Careers of all courses and send them straight to detention. God, what a shitty day.
Except… oh no, Joshua.
There was nothing you could do to hide. Was he better or worse than a teacher? You didn’t know. Neither had seen you cry, and like he’d even want to console you when you’d just shoved a tissue up your nose and tears were dribbling off your chin.
“…Uh, are you oka—”
“I’m fine,” you cut him off to save the awkward space.
Joshua tilted his head, clearly not believing you because the evidence was sitting right in front of him, pretty damning.
“Well, not to be rude, but I think that’s a lie. And—” he let the backpack slide off his shoulder, “you’re sitting in the dark. I suppose if I turned this light on, you’d want to rip my face off.”
Dabbing the crumpled tissue under your nose, you laughed half-heartedly. You were surprised he was even tolerating you.
“Something like that.”
“Can I sit next to you?”
A pulse of energy shot straight into your chest.
“Why? Don’t you have class?”
He snickered, “don’t you? This is my spare, and the only acoustic guitar in the whole school is sitting in here.”
“… I excused myself,” you tucked your knees close together, and tipped your head to the chair on your right, “you can sit there.”
This was abnormal. This was electric. This was… almost too good to be true. Why should Joshua want anything to do with the girl who probably annoyed him each time she was over at his house, taking up the couch and always giggling at the top of her lungs and drinking all his cream soda? You weren’t really friends, but it could be considered more than acquaintances—enough for Joshua to drop into the seat beside you and then proceed to edge closer.
Rubbing a palm underneath your eye, you heaved in a big breath and sighed out, “I failed my first physics test. I failed it.”
Joshua pulled one foot onto the edge of his chair to tie his shoe, and you watched him shove the loose ends down his ankle.
“Almost everyone fails that test,” he said, “no one really takes it seriously, no one studies, and about four people drop. Guaranteed.”
You swallowed. There was that obnoxious rush of heat again.
“If it makes you feel any better, I got a sixty.”
“Joshua—” your voice wobbled, another tear wetting your cheek, “I got a fifty-four. And you were probably way smarter than me!”
Despite his innocent intentions, that comment did nothing but take any ashes of, ‘it’s not so bad’ and blow them into a wispy scattered dust. Leaning over into your hands, an emotional torrent gushed through you, unlike anything you’d experienced before. It wasn’t doing you any good to keep sitting here. Maybe outside would be better. Some fresh air to get your endorphins buzzing.
Once you got up, so did Joshua.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he stumbled, “I wasn’t trying to be a jerk.”
“I know, I know. I’m just having a crappy day. I mean, obviously. Everything is all over the place and I would so rather be at home crying than here.”
Joshua nodded, his eyes seeming glittery and sympathetic.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make you feel better. I thought having a little sister would make me good at that stuff, but Jennie is like a honey badger when she’s upset. No one can get near her.”
You laughed, and it cleared the weight in your throat. But, laughing also triggered that same trickling sensation you experienced earlier while sitting on the bus. And it wasn’t a little trickle, it felt like it was flowing and—what the hell, this? Of all fucking days, of all moments, your body decided now was the perfect time to get its first period. No wonder you were a mess with icy fingers and toes but a shiny sweat down your back. No wonder you couldn’t handle even the tiniest bit of pressure or stress without feeling like a being made from porcelain glass.
And why the hell did you decide to wear light blue jeans. They were in the laundry hamper and you still pulled them out because the black ones didn’t suit your top the way you wanted. 
That moon-eyed look on your face was as good an indication as any something had happened, if the firmness that had planted itself into your body wasn’t already noticeable. Joshua chuckled a little, most likely confused by your comportment.
“What’s happening? Do you need me to—”
“This is…” you heaved through your teeth, “the worst…”
He tilted his head and pursed his bottom lip.
“Seriously, if you need to go home, or— if you need a ride or anything like that, I’m okay with it. Like I said, I’ve got a spare, so…”
Your gaze wandered back to his face, prompting Joshua to shift his weight from right foot to left as you stared almost through him, like he was a piece of plastic. Even if it was tempting, you couldn’t just whip out the door with that blood staining your pants, because the way your luck was going, someone would step right behind you and how could they not notice a gigantic red patch—Oh my god! There’s something wrong with this girl’s pants!—which would undoubtedly cue everyone rushing out to see you humiliatingly crumble.
You swallowed, fumbled with your fingers, only for Joshua to bite his lip.
“Did something else happen today?”
“Yeah,” you answered, sucking in sharply, “but, I’m not sure if I can… I just don’t want to—Joshua, I—I think I just got my period…”
He was quiet at first, and that small gap between his mouth pressed shut. You were even more rigid than before, almost quivering, and it was quickly dawning on you that maybe he didn’t want to hear about your body and how it was literally leaking blood.
“Oh, that’s it?” Joshua exhaled, almost seeming… relieved?
Were you hearing things correctly?
“I thought you were gonna like, confess to a crime or something,” the boy then rubbed his neck, laughing, “jeez, you were scaring me a bit—but, uh, okay, you’ve got your period, unexpectedly I’m guessing. Have you got any pads or tampons? Or spare cloths?”
“N-No, I—” your unstable emotions, they were spilling all over again and closing up your throat and thickening your voice, “I don’t have those. I-I don’t know what to do. It’s bleeding through.”
He flitted you a careful smile, passing his hand up and down your arm for a moment, “hey, it’s alright. Just relax. Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll grab Jennie from class? She always keeps stuff like that in her locker. Here—” Joshua then wriggled off the black windbreaker he was wearing, “tie this around your waist.”
You sniffled, biting the inside of your cheek before you accepted the jacket, still feeling uncertain despite his hospitality.
“Are you sure I can use this?”
Joshua was already picking up his knapsack from the floor, slinging it over his shoulder while he nodded his compliance.
“Yeah, I can get it back later. I won’t be long, okay?”
“Okay.”
He flashed you another smile, and then slipped out the heavy door which closed with a metal squeal, narrowing the ray of light that had split across the tiles. You breathed out shakily, nose still somewhat runny and your eyes bleary, as you tied the windbreaker tight around your waist. That day was officially awful, you were certain of it, though Joshua had managed to make things a little less messy, and while it could have just been the influx of hormones twisting in your abdomen that influenced your thoughts, you were starting to really, really like him. More than what it was before.
This spark you had—it was growing.
It was turning into something much bigger than attraction.
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You hauled the smooth blanket up to your chin, making no move to help as Jennie crouched by the system box underneath the television. She was trying to figure out something technical, which involved pushing random buttons and clicking her remote every time the screen flickered. It wasn’t like you knew the television any better than she did, so you settled back against the couch, throwing cheeze-it’s into the air and poking out your tongue to catch them.
“This is all Josh’s fault,” she grumbled, wiping her hands along her pants, “he always screws up the settings to play video games, and never bothers to switch anything back.”
“I thought your mom made him draw up an instruction card thingy on how to fix all that,” you answered, flicking another cheeze-it into the air, “don’t tell me you lost it already?”
“He was the one who lost it.”
“Okay, so let’s just ask him what to—”
Jennie held out the remote after tampering with the system box for the umpteenth time, and the television blipped, revealing the proper screen with the little sparkling logo. She nearly sent the remote flying from her hand when she hopped up triumphantly.
“Or, I’ll fix it,” Jennie smiled, jabbing a thumb at herself, “I’m clearly not the most tech-savvy person—and that’s probably why I kept hitting the applause sound affect during the funeral scene at our school’s last play—but I do know my way around some things… even if it took me…”
You checked your phone, “fifteen minutes?”
Tossing the remote onto the couch, Jennie laughed, and remembered to grab her bowl of party-mix off the floor (with everything but the baby breadsticks included because she always said they were most useless part of the snack). You were supposed to watch this movie for your English class, though you couldn’t even remember the name, something about a vendetta. However, before the introduction scene could even play, the door squeaked at the top of the stairs and Jennie immediately pressed pause, groaning.
Joshua bounced off the last step, rubbing his hair.
“Don’t give me that look,” he nagged, “I’m not down here to bother you, I’m just looking for our soccer ball.”
“Well, chop chop. We need to watch this movie ASAP.” Jennie said, craning her neck around to glare at Joshua as he rifled through some storage bins shoved near the basement corner.
“Yeah,” you agreed (not really, but only to back up Jennie), and stuck out your tongue, “you’re making a lotta noise, too.”
“I can’t be any quieter than this,” Joshua responded, taking off another storage lid to sort through the contents, “I still have all my notes from that movie, y’know? Not that I’d give them to you.”
“That’s why I didn’t bother asking,” Jennie retorted through a mouthful of party mix, “I jusfftt knew you’d be a dick about it.”
Finally, Joshua dug out his soccer ball.
“Does mom know you swear like that?” He smirked.
“Does mom know you lied about staying over at Hansol’s last Friday so you could actually meet Elsie at some stupid party?”
The boy stiffened, meanwhile Jennie gave him a falsely sweet grin, dropping another handful of snacks into her mouth.
“I literally payed you to keep quiet about that.”
“Oh, pfft—five bucks! Thanks Mr. Charity.”
You weren’t entirely sure if you were supposed to be hearing this conversation, though neither Jennie or Joshua seemed concerned about your presence. It’s not like you would tell, anyways, and you already knew Jennie had quite the fair share of secrets up her sleeve that she’d convinced Joshua to keep.
“This conversation is over,” Joshua stated with a smile, snapping the lid back onto the storage bin, “oh, and—” he then pointed his finger at you, “I know you won’t say anything, but pretend you didn’t hear about the party. Seriously. I’d be screwed.”
“Okay,” you gave him a reassuring nod, “I promise.”
Joshua positioned the soccer ball under his arm and ran upstairs, to which you heard him softly click the door shut. The moment he was gone, Jennie’s head slumped back into the couch.
“I sense that he’s got a dangerous influence on you.”
“He doesn’t,” you giggled, whacking Jennie harmlessly on her shoulder, “now, just start the movie before I fall asleep.”
“Fine,” the girl huffed, sticking out the remote and clicking resume, though you didn’t miss how her eyes remained on you for that extra breadth of a second, like she had questioned your answer.
You lied, of course. Joshua did have an influence on you.
But you didn’t think it was dangerous.
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A few weeks later.
“Ow!”
Pulling the wooden spoon out from the pot, you shot a scornful look over your shoulder, realizing that it was Joshua who’d just bumped the top of your head with the ladle in his hand. You couldn’t help the harsh expression flickering into a wide smile.
“How’s the sauce? Is it almost done?” He asked impatiently, coming to stand beside you at the burner while breathing in the flavourful smells, wafting up and sizzling from the pot.
You sighed, shaking your head.
“It’s getting there, alright? I’m just stirring it for as long as Jennie told me to. She’s the one who knows this recipe.”
However, it seemed like Joshua wasn’t absorbing a word you’d said, rather he dipped his ladle into the sauce and stole a small amount to drink. You screeched at him, switching the spoon to your latter hand while the other just grazed his shoulder. He’d escaped to behind the kitchen island, continuing to blow at the thick sauce.
“No tasting until it’s done!” You laughed, wanting to sound as serious as possible, but utterly failing because it was Joshua.
“Too late,” the boy replied, licking at his index finger where he made a bit of a spill, “I already tasted it. Sucks to suck.”
Reaching out to the dial, you turned the heat down a little more until the sauce frothed a quiet, bubbling simmer. There was a towel next to the stove that you grabbed, using it to wipe a pretend smudge off your hands, though you lashed it across the island to nip Joshua on the chest, which had been your intent from the start.
“Well,” your arms folded, “since you betrayed my trust and tasted the sauce anyways, what do you think? Missing anything?”
Joshua leaned to the right, tossing the ladle into the sink.
“Don’t think so, but I’m also too hungry to care ‘n—hey, is anyone gonna start making the pasta?” He came to your side of the counter and poked at the rolling machine used to thin the sheets.
You leaned a palm into your cheek, “Jennie said she was gonna start, but then one of our friends rang her up, saying they desperately needed her notes for our English essay. She’s been upstairs for like, almost half an hour. D’you know how?”
He straightened his back, “how to make pasta? Uh…” he flicked the handle on the machine, watching it spin, “I haven’t done it in a while, but I don’t think it’s hard. We just need—” Joshua suddenly spun around, opening the fridge and then delving into another drawer, “eggs, some flour, salt, and, olive oil, I think.”
“Oh, so you’re going to make it?”
Joshua smiled as he organized the ingredients on the island and cuffed up his sleeves, “it’s not that I didn’t want to help. Jennie told me to stay out of the kitchen. But, she’s not here right now.”
Chuckling, your eyes danced after Joshua as he moved over to the sink, switching on the water and cleaning his hands.
“Why’s that? Are you secretly a fire hazard?”
“No, she said I’m a distraction,” he scoffed, using quoted fingers and heightening the sound of his voice to mimic his sister.  
“Really? A distraction?”
You twisted your body to follow Joshua’s every movement, watching as he opened the door to a small broom closet in order to grab an apron hanging off a hook. He nodded his head.
“I find that hard to believe. Jennie’s pretty good at blocking you out, and, well, she’s had lots of practice at it.”
Joshua pursed his lips, blowing at some loose, black hairs that had shifted over his forehead. As he was tying the strings behind him, the boy glanced up, catching your gaze for a very brief, peculiar second before he was back at the island, measuring out the flour.
“Um, yeah…” he exhaled, “she said I’d be distracting you.”
At that, you froze. Even the dreamy smile that was constantly stretching wider and wider from one corner of your lip to the other had flattened, meanwhile Joshua was already concentrated on patting the flour into a bowl shape that would support the eggs. As if directly on cue, the sauce left to simmer in the pot changed from pleasant herbs and garlic to something a bit too crispy and… burnt.
“Shit,” you coughed under your breath, quickly removing the pot off the stove and giving the sauce a thorough stir.
“I think you’re the fire hazard,” Joshua softly laughed from behind, pushing and kneading the sticky clump in his hands.
As much as you hated admitting it, Jennie had been right.
You needed to get these feelings more under control.
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Later in the evening, it was almost supper time. The ribs had just finished brazing in the oven, and the pasta that Joshua went through immense effort to make (as detailed by the speckles of flour on his cheeks and the hairband he borrowed from Jennie to keep his hair pushed back) had been strained and deliciously buttered up.
Joshua whizzed by you in the corridor, still dressed in the apron as though he were orchestrating his own restaurant.
“There’s a little something on your face!” You called out to him, each word clearly sung by a much too happy smile.
“I realize that!” He shouted from inside the washroom, and you heard the sound of water gushing into the sink.
“Oh—” their mom caught you in the hallway, one hand occupied by the sauce pot and the other with a bread plate, “I’m sure I just heard a knock at the door. Do you mind getting it, dear? This sauce is superbly warm and kind of burning me right now.”
“Yeah, sure thing. Please don’t drop it!” You giggled while rushing toward the main entrance, “I worked so hard on it!”
Jennie popped up from the basement, heaving hard and dragging an extra chair as she sighed, “y’mean, you stirred it.”
“Close enough.”
Honestly, you’d never been more excited to eat. When you first began staying the night at Jennie’s house, family dinners terrified you, and no one could get you to speak more than a few words (which basically consisted of saying yes or no to seconds or dessert). But Jennie had been your best friend for a long time now, and her family seemed to adore you like a daughter. Yet, the second you’d pulled open the front door, all that energy and luminance drained from your body so quickly it was almost disorienting.
You were standing face to face with Elsie Bolger. She practically beamed upon greeting you, and presented a glass bowl that was sealed with a plastic film. Inside, you were sure there was strawberries and sliced-up bits of yellow cake.
“Elsie?!” Jennie poked her head around the corner, “oh my gosh! I totally forgot you were coming! I’m such an idiot. I’ll get another chair!”
“Oh, it’s no worry at all,” Elsie assured, “I brought something for you guys, it’s a dessert my mom makes.”
At this point, everyone except for Joshua had filed into the main living area. Jennie’s father took her jacket while their mother accepted the bowl. For some reason, Jennie handed Elsie a fork.
“That’s the special fork,” she said, “the last prong sticks out weird. I think it’s finally your time to use our most sacred utensil.”
God, that stupid fork—you briefly recalled the memory of Jennie almost squashing Joshua down onto the floor a few years ago, simply because he’d managed to swipe it before her.
“You used it last time!”
“That didn’t count!”
“What do y’mean it didn’t count?!”
“Just give me the fork, Jennifer!”
“Ow! Mooommmm! Joshua just punched me in the boob!”
“No I didn’t—my hand—you—you’re such a liar! Mom, she’s lying!”
Jennie actually had lied, though she believed it was a justified lie considering her brother had just called her Jennifer, which was a bridge no one should cross. You were glad that era was over and done with.
“Uh, thanks, Jennie,” Elsie smiled, ruffling the girl’s hair, “and, as I was saying about the dessert—it’s like a strawberry shortcake thing. It has strawberries of course,” she paused to laugh nervously, “angel food cake, and this homemade custard.”
“It looks so freakin’ good,” Jennie salivated.
Her mother lit up in an appreciative smile, “that’s wonderful, thank you so much. Joshua’s just cleaning up—he’ll be out soon!”
“Oh, perfect,” Elsie stuttered a sigh of relief, “I’m ready to eat.”
In that moment, you weren’t sure what you despised more—the half of yourself that wished Elsie had never showed up, or the crushing amount of internal guilt that felt like it was going to destroy you for being so… jealous. Elsie was clearly nervous, and sweeter than sugar, and there was no plausible reason to treat her coldly.
“Is this your first dinner?” You asked her on everyone’s way to the dining room.
“My second,” she said thickly, “I’m not very good at this stuff.”
“It’s okay. Jennie and I will try to steal all the questions, so you can just relax and eat. It’s gonna be really tasty, I promise.”
She looked at you gratefully, “that would be amazing.”
It wasn’t long until Joshua entered the dining room before everyone settled down to pass out plates. You didn’t want to stare, but at the same time, you were itching to watch as Joshua rested his arm around Elsie’s waist and pulled her in for a light kiss as well as a whisper, probably something to ease her nerves. He hadn’t taken off Jennie’s hairband yet, to which Elsie pinched his cheek.
“I like this on you,” she cooed, “it lets us see that forehead.”
“Ah, it’s blinding!” Jennie teased, using her placemat to cover her eyes, “dear god, it’s been ages since it’s seen the daylight.”
However, Joshua pulled it out, giving his head a shake.
“I only wore it when I was making the pasta.”
Elsie raised a brow, her smile tiny but clearly impressed, “oh, you made something? Now I’m even more excited to eat.”
Joshua flushed, and suddenly, he was pointing at you.
“She made the sauce—”
“Ahem,” Jennie coughed into her fist, “she stirred the sauce.”
“Which has to be the most important part,” Joshua added, pulling out Elsie’s seat before taking his own, “critical, in fact.”
“Sorry,” you then whispered to Jennie, who gave your hand a gentle slap under the table as she shook her head lightheartedly.
Dinner went by in a flash—mostly because you hunkered down into the plate and gobbled everything like some neanderthal who’d been introduced to food for the first time. The sooner you finished, the sooner you could escape the table, as well as all the little laughs and sentimental gazes passed between Joshua and Elsie. Her dessert was delicious, but you ate that quickly too, crunching your hand fiercely around the napkin on your lap when Elsie grabbed Joshua’s face to swipe some custard off his lips. Clearing your plate before everyone else was somewhat awkward, though it gave you an excuse to wash up alone in the kitchen.
Afterward, you and Jennie went into her room. The girl collapsed onto her bed with a gigantic huff, groaning in delight about how stuffed she was as she stretched into a starfish. You took a seat at her desk chair, fiddling with some coloured pencils, trying to ignore the laugh you just heard echo from Joshua’s room, followed by a yelp that seemed to be abruptly silenced in the middle. Jennie shoved herself up.
“We can go the basement if y’want,” she offered, “that way we don’t have to hear their dumb playfighting. We can watch a movie. Or if you don’t want to do that, we can take out my paint set and do those Mandala rocks. My mom said she really wants more for the back porch.”
You didn’t respond right away, instead rolling a sky-blue pencil under your palm until it slipped out onto the floor.
“How serious do you think they are?”
Jennie scrunched her nose, “what?”
“I mean your brother, and Elsie,” you winced, sensing how dramatically your stomach had bloated when you bent down to pick up the pencil, “does it seem like they’re super serious?”
“Serious how? Like, I-love-you serious? That’s the only serious I know. Unless you’re asking if they… if they like—if they’re—y’know, doing the thing. Because I have no idea and I really don’t want to know—”
“Never mind—stupid question. Forget I asked.”
Bringing a palm up to your chin, your eyes fluttered to Jennie’s windowsill, decorated with an assortment of different rocks she’d been collecting from her trips to the science museum—pink, sparkly granites that looked like hardened sugar and the tiniest angelite stones, which were an ashy sort of blue. Joshua once told you they were candy and tried to get you to bite one (which you might have done if Jennie didn’t burst in). Then, the watercolour paintings she’d taped over the glass. Your favourite was the butterfly with holographic glitter wings. It stained her floor in an opal tint whenever the sun shone through. Joshua always hated it, because he said he found sparkles all over the house for weeks after she’d finished, even in his backpack and on his pillow.
Jennie rubbed her neck, her face soft and sleepy.
“Can you be honest? I have to ask something.”
Swivelling in the chair, your toes curled, and you nodded.
“Do you like J—”
At random, Joshua threw open the door and came into the bedroom. 
“Jesus Chr-crickets! Gosh, can you knock?!” Jennie shouted, shuffling up hurriedly on the forest colours of her bedsheets.
“I did.”
“No, you didn’t!”
“Not my fault you didn’t hear it.”
Jennie lopped her head back and groaned.
“You’re so—you’re just so—,” she crumpled her hands together as though she were imagining her brother’s head as a squishy grape, “—bleck! I don’t even have the words. What do you want, anyways?”
Twisting in the chair, you noticed Joshua holding onto a cream soda and a squishy packet of blue raspberry  juice that he tossed to his sister. You couldn’t tell if it was obvious or if you’d been intentionally searching for anything odd, but his hair seemed messier, with strands flicked out all over his head, and you were certain Joshua was hiding something when he pulled at the collar of his shirt.
“Mom just wanted me to bring you guys drinks.”
Jennie jammed the straw into her juice.
“Was this the last blue raspberry?”
“I think so—don’t even think about taking the cherry.”
“Woah, I’m not!” Jennie lifted her hand defensively. “Slow your roll, idiot. The cherry tastes like medicine, anyways. You can have it.”
He merely furrowed his brow at the girl before turning to you, sticking out the can of cream soda. Jennie sunk into her pillow with her head propped up, sipping loudly at her juice and narrowing her eyes.
“How come she gets your stupid cream soda? Where’s my cream soda privileges? I’m your blood. I bet you don’t even let Elsie have any.”
Joshua looked like he might snap, “can you shut—”
“It’s okay,” you interrupted, “I’m not thirsty.”
If you were anyone else, it wouldn’t have been a big, dramatic deal to decline wanting a soda, but you knew it would definitely seem questionable and possibly hostile and cultivate the weirdest tension because you always accepted it whenever Joshua offered. Even Jennie was shocked, lifting herself off the pillow to stare at you in confusion, meanwhile Joshua had actually flinched, his head leaning to the side limply as though you’d just uttered some alien dialect.
You gave him a tight-lipped smile.
“Elsie still collects for the recyclable can drive, right? You should give it to her. I can always come down later and get a water.”
Joshua breathed out sharply through his nose.
“I’ll just put it back in the fridge,” he said, almost stuttering in his movement when he turned around, trying to compute the situation.
As soon as the door closed, Jennie cackled.
“Did you break him or something?”
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16.
You whacked the tip of your shoe into a pebble, struggling to track its explosive path down the sidewalk until you decided it was lost for good. But now you wanted something else to kick. Chiefly because you were frustrated. And moody. And hating the supposedly celebratory milestone that was turning sixteen. You didn’t exactly know where you stood in all the changes. Everyone around you seemed to be morphing akin to tree leaves in the midst of autumn, though you felt somewhat like a crinkled, dry leaf—one that always got stepped on just to hear the crack.
And maybe that was normal.
Maybe everyone was experiencing the same sentiments beneath all their new personalities. Except, you didn’t know who to approach or how to express this. Jennie had made friends with these two girls from her health class, and it wasn’t like she’d forgot about you, but there was something to note about how she was suddenly into white-gel tips and miniskirts and drinking an almost obsessive amount of caffeine when she used to express how much she hated all of those things combined. 
If you were to be completely candour, you missed how she was before. Jennie loved critiquing movies and painting in watercolour and could never keep a polished manicure because she loved turning up rocks or bark to catch beetles and frogs. You missed that girl so much.
But, had you changed too? Without being conscience of it?
Folding your arms tightly, you were on the cusp of punting another rock into the sun itself when a silver car pulled in close to the curb, maintaining a barely-there pace to keep in tune with your walking.
The passenger window rolled down.
“Hey!” He called from inside, stretching his neck over while flittering his focus between you and the road, “want a ride home?”
Even worse—you still hadn’t gotten over Joshua. He was eighteen now, less gawky, more piercings, a voice that was smoother than butter, but the same pair of eyes that were deep and calm and undeniably heart aching. His relationship with Elsie was rather intact. You saw them kiss every morning before slipping into your calculus class, and it was only yesterday that you’d been seated behind them during the school’s monthly assembly, a bitter taste in your mouth whenever she leaned into his side to whisper or giggle. He even slipped her an earbud so they could listen to his music instead of the principal’s boring, monotone speech.
When you didn’t respond to him, Joshua cleared his throat.
“Just—I know you don’t always take the bus, and Jennie went home with Marina, and—” his eyes shot back to the road, narrowly avoiding a pothole before he straightened the car again, “um, as I was saying, I can drop you off at home. I don’t have guitar today.”
You kept nibbling a sore patch on your bottom lip, trying inconceivably hard to pretend he wasn’t there. It was for his own good, honestly. One slip-up and your anger would pull you under.
He continued steering the wheel with one hand, the other resting almost irritably against the top of his backward baseball cap. He sighed.
“Okay, I can understand ignoring Jennie, but what did I do?”
Still, nothing.
“You’re making me look like an idiot.”
That one almost got you to smile.
“Or some weirdo who’s trying to seduce you into his car. Please, I’ve gotten the silent treatment before, and it fucking sucks. Especially when I don’t know what I did. If you don’t want a ride then—”
You finally slapped your fingers onto the handle and pulled the door open with a gigantic huff, to which Joshua stopped the car. He watched you collapse into the passenger seat, maneuvering your bag to your lap while you pressed your shoes to his dashboard. Neither of you uttered a word as he steered away from the curb. While Joshua allowed the wheel glide under his palm, he shot you a speculative glance through the rear-view mirror, teeth sunk into his lip like he was contemplating.
But then a minute or so passed, with the boy drumming his hands restlessly at the stop light, and you knew he’d ask regardless.
“Did you have a bad day?”
The silence stretched itself thinner.
“Look, that’s understandable. I can get not wanting to talk as well. I’m only being annoying ‘cause I care, actually.”
Your head tilted in the direction of the window.
“I know I’m not the first person you’d run to with all your problems, so I won’t ask you to spill them. But I’m not completely useless when it comes to advice n’ all that. I’ve gotten way better at it.”
He eased his foot over the gas pedal as the light changed. And you heard him chuckle before heaving a sigh of disbelief.
“I guess I’m not gonna get one word out—”
“You know what I don’t get?” Slipping your shoes off the dashboard, you shuffled up in the chair and rolled the window further down, feeling a gentle breeze massage the edges of your face, “I don’t get why everyone is being so fucking insufferable. Like, everyone. Even my teachers. I’m on the verge of failing calculus right now, just because Mrs. Panek is so awful at teaching. She boasts about her low class averages like it’s something to be proud of. She only pays attention to the geniuses, thinks everyone else isn’t trying hard enough.
Oh, and it makes me so mad whenever Jennie blows me off to hang out with Marina. Like, it was literally just a few months ago when she told me she loves laser tag, but suddenly it’s not her anymore, and now she’d rather fucking blaze with Marina in the washroom before class and talk about how hot her art teacher is. I mean, she used to like slasher films and stupid crystals and weird, nerdy science-y stuff which makes me think Marina’s brainwashed her. And if I have to see that one couple shove their tongues down each other’s throats on the stairway right outside the library one more time—I’m gonna fucking lose it! You didn’t just get your hormones yesterday! I’m so sick of—of everyone!
But then I’m confused too. About myself. It’s been fifty-one days since my last period. I was so scared, I bought a pregnancy test, even though I’ve never even had a boyfriend. Can you believe that? And I can’t even change comfortably in the locker room now since some girl made fun of the fact that my bra is like—it basically looks like a middle-aged woman’s bra, but I just wear them because of comfortability, y’know? But the funny thing was, that got to me, so I bought a new bra, and it’s so stupidly itchy. I’m wearing it right now and my chest feels like it’s gonna burn to bits if I scratch it again—”
You slipped a hand up the back of your shirt, undoing the clasp to the undergarment, which you squirmed off and threw out the window.
Sucking in a long, quivering breath, you felt the heat tingle across your face and melt your cheeks. With an elbow digging into the car, you rubbed two fingers against your temple, which was now pounding terribly as though someone had clocked it using their fist. A salty taste hit your tongue, and you realized that a few tears had trickled down to your jaw during the rant—that Joshua had pulled his car into the empty lot just beside the lake, overlooking the stillness of the water.
And that’s when you tightened every bone in your body, twisting your head around painfully slow to gauge his expression.
But he didn’t appear anything other than relaxed.
“W-What’s wrong w’you?” Came your very slurred, clogged-with-emotion question. “You should be telling me to get out.”
Joshua huffed, furrowing his brow.
“You’re asking me to punish you for feeling like a teenager?” He pulled up his knee, extending his elbow across it. “Why the hell would I do that? You clearly had some stuff building up.”
“I basically cursed out your sister. And I just threw my own bra out the window—there’s no way you should be calm about this. ”
He rolled his shoulders in a shrug.
“She’s not exempt from criticism. Just because she’s your best friend and my sister, doesn’t mean we have to like her all the time. And, yeah, can’t say I was expecting that. But now you’re not itchy and uncomfortable and shit, right? I’d probably do the same.”
Turning back to the window, you sought for the breeze and sunshine, closing your eyes wetly and inhaling deep. Joshua was right, you were merely human, and sometimes things irritated you. And like anybody else, you let them accumulate and fester and take up space in your chest where you were supposed to feel weightless.
“Well…” you exhaled, flicking the zipper on your backpack, “at least I’m not pregnant. I really thought, maybe I was… I dunno.”
Joshua groaned as he stretched an elbow behind his head.
“It’s probably stress. You should talk to your doctor.”
“I really just feel like falling into a hole, if I’m honest.”
He smiled at you, “want to do something?”
“Like what?” You responded tentatively.
Without bothering to elaborate, Joshua kicked open his door and whipped it shut before proceeding to your side of the car. He folded his arms on the open window, causing you to move back ever so slightly because he didn’t seem to care about how closely he leaned forward—you just knew there was a dangerous spike in your heartbeat when his gaze ensnared your own, almost pulling you into his warmth like a riptide.
“Get out,” he said, smirking, “and I’ll show you.”
And that’s when you remembered: Joshua was oddly exceptional at skipping stones. You followed him down to the rocky shoreline, in which he politely extended his hand for you to grab when you nearly face-planted your way to the water instead. He instructed you to start collecting stones that were tiny, flat, and smooth, which you organized into a pile beside your shoe. At first, you let Joshua demonstrate, closely monitoring his stance whenever his wrist sharply flicked and the stone would practically bounce its way across the calm sheets of water, leaving the neatest ripples to disrupt the surface, almost hypnotic.
“I’m not going to be good at this,” you told him.
He shook his head.
“Not about being good or bad. It’s just, a mindless task, something to relax you. Or, think of the rocks as your… problems, or—yeah, think of them as all these little irritations you just expressed to me, and each time you throw a rock, you’re getting rid of some stress.”
You breathed out hopelessly, wearing a flustered smile.
“Fine. Who knew you were so full of wisdom?”
“Wisdom is one of my many attributes,” Joshua grinned, sending another rock to dance across the water, “as you’re just understanding.”
Picking up a round, purplish stone, you flipped it between your fingers, getting a feel for its weight and texture.
“Well, doesn’t that also mean you’re getting older?”
“Nah, I think I’ll stay forever young. Isn’t that a super power?”
“No, that’s like flight and stuff. Invisibility. Heat vision—”
“Oh!” He snapped his fingers at you, “heat vision—I want that.”
“Why?”
“Because you can like, burn stuff with your eyeballs. It’s in the name. I’m guessing you didn’t watch a lot of cartoons.”
“No, I did,” you laughed, “it’s just that, heat vision isn’t usually what people would pick. Like, it’s not the first thing in their minds, y’know?”
“Okay. So then tell me what you’d want.”
“Um... flighhh—no! Actually, telekinesis.”
“Oh, so mind-reading?”
“Why’d you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“You said it so disappointedly.”
“No, I didn—you’re just wasting time so you don’t have to skip that rock in your hand. It’s easy once you get the hang of it. Try it, at least.”
Of course, you weren’t expecting much from your first throw. It vanished straight through the surface in a depressing plonk. You weren’t sure if he was mocking you, but Joshua tossed his rock next, accomplishing three perfect skips before it bubbled under the water. He retreated a few steps back, rolling up his sleeves and scanning the shore for another suitable rock. Your eyes drifted after the boy like they were attached by a lure. Everything he did felt necessary and gentle.
“What if I can’t get it to skip even once?” You complained.
The next attempt didn’t fare any better, and served to prove your point. That’s when Joshua decided to hand you his next rock.
“I can show you again,” he offered.
You broke into laughter, “I’m standing exactly like you stood!”
“No, I’ll guide you, is what I mean.”
At first, you were still a little hazy on what he intended to do, but then you immediately understood the very second Joshua moved behind you, and every single nerve in your body had positively lit up like the flashing lights on a pinball machine. For some embarrassing reason, you couldn’t calm down no matter how slowly you breathed, and this visible shudder wracked down your spine as Joshua pressed himself against you and slid his fingers to your wrist. His touch was like silk. His voice beside your ear was warm and delicate and you were burning ash. You didn’t process a word he’d softly spoken. You breathed in mint and aftershave.
In fact, when he helped to guide the angle of your wrist and the stone made one very prominent hop across the river, you hardly noticed.
Because then Joshua had squeezed your waist with both his hands, giving you an excited, innocent shake. For you, your world nearly went black. It was merely a teaspoon of what it could be like to have a relationship with him, and it was intoxicating you dauntingly fast.
“—told you it wasn’t that hard!”
He was away from your backside, already picking some more stones into his palm when you caught the end of his exclamation.
“W-Well, you helped…”
Dammit—you sounded so stupidly breathless—
“Just do as I showed you, n’ you’ll be stress free in no time.”
But little did he know, you’d already forgotten all about that wild rant in the car. Now, your mind couldn’t conjure up any sort of thought other than what it would be like to know Joshua the way Elsie did—to whisper in his ear and kiss the edges of his kitten mouth and nuzzle your head into his shoulder while you listened to his music. To constantly breathe in his scent and feel his hands anywhere you desired. He mumbled something else to you, though you didn’t quite catch it.
You were floating far too high.
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Rather than home, Joshua drove you back to his house. He’d told you his parents were going to be out late for a business dinner and you already knew Jennie was staying the night at Marina’s—not that one single part of you cared. Spending time with him was better than heating up some artificial, frozen dinner in the microwave while you waited in tears for your mom to return from her placement in the city.
Joshua toasted a sandwich for you, and you observed him with adoring eyes as he busied himself about the kitchen, washing and slicing the ingredients. He set the plate down in front of you, then filled up a glass with some juice.
“No cream soda today,” he frowned, reading the large bottle of juice, “Ocean Spray’s the special…. uh, Very Berry or something like that, with no artificial flavours or colours.”
“You’re such a restauranteur,” you laughed, forcibly stopping your feet from swinging under the island like a giddy child waiting for their ice cream sundae. He excited you in ways that should be magic.
He flipped the dish towel over his shoulder and winked.
“I want all these compliments going into my tip, ma’am.”
Joshua settled with leftovers from the fridge. Neither of you really spoke while eating, but there was no pressure in the air that suggested you might need to—it was cool and quiet. The boy flicked through a few texts on his phone meanwhile you slumped back into the chair with a satisfied puff, one hand rubbing along your shoulder blade.
“Are you also a massage therapist by any chance?” You whined. “I have a knot like, right around here, and I can’t get it at all.”
He slurped some noodles into his mouth that had been hanging from his chopsticks, and swallowed with a peculiar smirk.
“Pushing your luck just a bit, aren’t you?”
You felt an invisible jab against your stomach.
“I am?”
But the boy just huffed, shaking his head.
And you that’s when you realized the jab against your stomach had actually been fear. Joshua had a girlfriend. Joshua was in a happy relationship, and just because he’d kindly comforted you didn’t mean it was deemed suitable to edge the situation beyond that. In that moment, you’d shrunk in shame. It had just been so… reassuring, and validating, to pretend this boy could be more than just the brother of your best friend who only looked out for you because it felt like an obligation.
You were about to apologize when Joshua beat you to speaking.
“D’you wanna go my room?” He asked.
Hardly able to breathe, you uttered out a very quiet okay.
Joshua didn’t close his door all the way, instead leaving it about a quarter open. You took a seat at his desk chair, hands folded in your lap.
His room hadn’t changed much over the years—the walls were still the same dark grey, there were more medals hanging above his bedframe and he’d taped up a few new posters, but he’d kept the lava lamp and his acrylic cube of the solar system. Teeth rubbed over your bottom lip as you watched Joshua pick his acoustic guitar off its stand in the corner. He returned to his bed, propping one leg on the edge.
“This is my favourite one to play,” Joshua said, plucking a few strings, the sound which resulted softly tuned and as pleasant as birdsong, “the wood’s Nordic cherry. It’s such a deep and rich colour, don’t y’think? I had the lacquer redone a few days ago.”
“It’s really pretty,” you agreed, keeping your feet on the floor.
He was tying together a song, swaying his body back and forth to match the gentle nature of each chord. There had been a number of school assemblies where they asked Joshua to play the guitar, mostly to accompany the choir or the band. You always thought he was the best part, even if you had to watch him from between heads and shoulders.
You were lucky enough to sit at the front one time. He’d frequently whisper to the percussion player whenever the principal was speaking (usually Hansol, who was either awkwardly holding his symbols or maracas or whatever instrument the conductor trusted him with), leaning over his guitar with his earbuds dangling out from under his collar. It had intrigued you to know what they were saying. And then there was the way he’d chuckle quietly to himself afterward, licking his lips and proceeding to put on a bored face as his eyes swept into the crowd. You assumed he must have been looking for Elsie.
“What d’you think of the melody?” Joshua asked.
Clearing your throat, you stated simply, “calm.”
“Right? I thought it would be nice to play something like this.”
You didn’t say anything more, but glanced down into your lap with a smile that was imploring to burst at the seams. It brought you to wonder why Joshua did the things he did for you—give you rides home when it would’ve been easier to breeze right by, submit his favourite drink again and again because there was something about the way you glowed when you had a cream soda in your hand. Lend you nothing but normalcy at times where you or your body felt nothing but normal, listening to all your quarrels about the confusion of growing up, feeding you dinner and reminding you of all the ways there was still tenderness and compassion waiting to smooth the soul of its roughness.
Tapping your ankles together, you mumbled his name.
Joshua lifted his hand from the guitar.
“I can’t hear you if you’re gonna whisper,” he said before slapping the spot beside him, “come here, right next to me. It’s fine.”
And so you rose up cautiously from the chair and took your place on his bed, sitting atop your hands to stop their apparent fidgeting. He strummed his guitar once, almost like a prelude to your demure smile.
“I just wanted to say thank you.”
Joshua looked at you, raising his brow.
You shifted again, sucking in a breath, “like, for tolerating me today, even when I was being kind of an asshole. I guess I just needed someone to talk to but I didn’t know who. It’s just—I feel like I can talk to you, I guess. Even though I probably overshared and said a lot of things I shouldn’t’ve said, especially about myself…” you chewed into your cheek, angling an embarrassed glance toward the floor, “so, I’m sorry about that, but I’m glad you listened to me anyways. Really, thank you.”
He watched you for a moment with his delicate eyes, until he decided to remove the guitar from his lap, leaning it against the bed. His thigh pressed slightly into yours and you tried not to squeak.
“You can come to me, y’know?” he said softly, folding his arms low across his chest, “you’re not some stranger. And I’m also not a judgemental jerk, so if you have to be a bit dramatic, I don’t care.”
A small huff of laughter left your chest, and you nodded to show how much you appreciated the sentiment, because words just wouldn’t perform the right justice. Closing your knees together, your brow stiffened, and you thought it was a good time to ask the question.
“D’you think that I… that I’m different? From when you first remember me? Or that I’ve changed a lot?”
“Of course you have,” Joshua answered so obviously that you cocked your head back and nearly bulged your eyes out at him, “when I first met you, you wouldn’t even look at me, or speak, really.”
“Can you blame me for that?”
“No,” Joshua chuckled, “I know you were shy. Most of Jennie’s friends were like that. But if you’re worried on whether or not you’re seeming fake, or coming across as an asshole for thinking Jennie switched up on you—whatever it is that you’re wondering—it’s okay. It’s fine. You’re not doing anything wrong. You’ll probably meet different people and someone will say you changed, too. It’s not a bad thing. In fact, just about everyone’s thinking the same things.”
You swallowed, heavy and bitter.
“What if—what if Jennie like, forgets about me?”
Joshua shrugged, “I can tell you confidently that won’t happen. She’s stubborn. Just give her time. She probably feels pressure to make it seem like she’s maturing by doing what feels grown to her. I promise she won’t forget about you,” he smiled, “you’re not someone people forget.”
And your whole body seized up with laughter.
“Please forget that I threw my bra out your car window.”
He grinned at you, splaying his arms behind him and nudging his knee against yours. A surge of heat throbbed throughout your face.
“I said I don’t judge. We can always go back and get it.”
“Nope, no way,” you sighed, “I’ll stick to my middle-aged woman undergarments. But it is an unfortunate fifty bucks down the drain.”
“Seems like you’ve got it all figured out,” Joshua said.
“Oh, and—is there a chance you cannot mention any of this to Jennie? Like, even the fact I was here? Is that okay?”
The boy nodded his agreement, “yeah, ‘course.”
It’s not that you wanted to start keeping secrets. But today had been important, and special, and sometimes it felt necessary to keep such moments between you and whoever else was concerned. A day geared to end horribly had turned into a memory so perfect you wanted to encase it in amber, take it into your dreams even, and preserve it until the end of infinity. Maybe you meant more to Joshua than you initially thought.
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You stood at your locker, wriggling in the textbook that you’d nearly forgotten in the geology classroom. The lunch bell was going to ring any moment now, though your teacher had wrapped up the lesson early and dismissed everyone with very little homework (which you were most likely going to procrastinate because the newest drama you’d picked up definitely wasn’t going to watch itself). Just as you were about to close the door, you noticed Jennie walking down the hall, thumbs tapping a flurry on her phone while she chewed something that was undeniably a stick of Double Bubble. You panicked, and nearly sank into the locker.
But she strutted right past you, not even glancing up once or forcing a greeting under her breath, and you truthfully couldn’t decipher if she hadn’t noticed you or was clinging to her phone as a scapegoat.
Not that you wanted it to be either of those things—your relationship was already wearing thinner by the day, and you always wondered which interaction between you two might end up as the last.
Jennie stopped at her locker down the hall, seemingly typing out a few more texts before she finally tore her gaze from her phone and nudged the door wide open with her foot (she always forgot her combinations), beginning to rifle around inside. And for a moment, you weighed the options of approaching her. She looked especially gorgeous today, with her long midnight hair in loose curls, almost falling to the belt that wrapped around her white-buckle skirt—you were still adjusting to her in such attire. For the five years you’d known her, she was always wearing knee-length shorts and Joshua’s plethora of old soccer jerseys.
It felt unnecessary, practically performing deep breathing exercises at your locker just to ruminate a conversation with the girl who was supposedly your best friend. You decided to give it a shot.
No harm, no foul, right?
“Hey Jennie,” you said, clutching your hands awkwardly.
She tossed an orange folder to the top shelf of her locker, her eyes remaining forward as she replied, “I don’t know where Joshua is.”
Visibly, your entire body stuttered, like a printer trying to force out its last bits of ink. Without hardly any breath, you stood there stiffly.
“I’m not, uh, I wasn’t looking for him,” it came out sounding like a question, “I thought I’d ask you about our geology homework.”
“Oh. What about it?”
She’d pulled out a small tube of lip gloss, quickly running the applicator across her mouth before stuffing it back into her bag. You struggled to comprise a response, watching the girl readjust her hair in the magnetized mirror, hardly paying you a lick of attention. It felt like a slap in the face. You couldn’t help touching your own burnt cheek.
“Well, I—”
The lunch bell rang, and almost instantly, the halls gushed with students, the static of everyone talking at once remarkably loud. Before you could inch out another word, Jennie had slammed her locker door shut, swinging a black lunchbox over her shoulder.
“Text me about it,” Jennie said, already beginning to walk away and disappear into the crowd, “I’m going to see Marina right now.”
No—it wasn’t just a slap, it was a brutal, fist-flat punch.
You didn’t really know what to do, frozen in place until the tenth grader with the locker right beside Jennie’s came trudging up and barely muttered an ‘excuse me’ before grabbing at their lock.
During lunch, it was usually less hectic on the second floor, so you grabbed your plastic-wrapped sandwich and headed upstairs, trying inconceivably hard to ignore the trademark couple who were too busy devouring each other’s tongues and groping. You went back to the geology classroom. Thankfully, it was empty, and so you took a seat at first counter on the left while bracing through the overbearing amount of mayonnaise your mother had slathered across the bread.
When the door creaked, there was an electric burst in your chest, thinking it could be Jennie who’d finally come to decide that hanging out with the purple-haired, face-studded Marina wasn’t as interesting as you (even though you assumed it was probably better—she had a pet tarantula for god’s sake, and her own car). But you definitely weren’t disappointed to realize Joshua had entered the geology room instead, shouting a goodbye to Hansol before the door heaved shut.
You didn’t want to smile so eagerly, fearing that it might weird him out, though you were helpless to stop the automatic stretch which always appeared at the sight of him.
Turning around on the stool, your eyes fluttered.
“What’re you doing in here?”
He paused, scanning the classroom almost frantically.
“I forgot my pencil,” Joshua answered, approaching a desk and picking one up that clearly wasn’t his, about as short as his pinky.
“Yeah, right.”
“I have my physics in here, first period.”
You folded your legs and smirked, “but you don’t even sit there.”
“How would you know that?”
Tilting your shoulder to the right, you directed Joshua to the black surface of the workbench, where his name was poorly etched.
“Okay—I didn’t do that,” he laughed, “it was Hansol, with a pair of scissors, and I literally begged him not too. He didn’t care, obviously.”
You squirmed back around on the stool.
“Right, and that’s not a random pencil someone just forgot?”
“No, not at all… that, and I might’ve seen you slip in here before I walked Elsie to her Envirothon meeting. But make no mistake. I didn’t come back here for you.” He was acting fidgety as he said it, and though the room was dark, you wanted to believe he’d blushed.
Nonetheless, Joshua slid onto the stool beside you, his fingers attempting to untangle the wire earbuds he’d just pulled from under his collar. You watched dotingly while he struggled, only to surprise the boy as you pulled your seat closer and batted his hands away.
“Let me, since you’re lacking the dexterity for this.”
He huffed, leaning his head to the side, his fawn eyes bouncing to every corner of the room as though looking directly at you was a sin. But once you’d loosened all the knots, Joshua seemed to relax.
“So,” you edged back on the stool, “are you excited?”
Joshua scratched his ear. “Excited for what?”
“You graduate this year, dummy. Are you not excited?”
“Oh, yeah. I guess I am. I made some applications a few weeks ago, and I already heard back from one. It’s not my ideal choice, though.”
Leaning your elbows onto the table and squishing your cheeks between each palm, you exhaled a big breath.
“You’ve got good grades and all that. I wouldn’t worry.”
“Mm.”
“What about Elsie? Didn’t she want to go far away?”
Joshua’s adam’s apple pointed sharp against his throat.
“Um, she’s not sure yet. We haven’t discussed it much. She said, like, if I moved really far, she’d figure it out and come with me.”
Your eyes popped wide, and you tried to dim your surprise.
“Oh, wow. She must really like you—I mean, that’s obvious. You guys are dating after all. For a while now, I guess. Over a year.”
“Yeah.”
As Joshua thrummed his knuckles a few times on the table, you sensed he wasn’t exactly keening to examine the subject, not to mention the way his voice had thickened and the rustling of his knee was a bold spelling he was uncomfortable. It was nothing to take personal, yet that didn’t stop the little fissure which struck somewhere deep in your heart and made the air harder to breathe. Joshua had said you could come to him—you merely wanted him to know that he could trust you, too.
Sitting in closer against the table, you smiled at him.
“I may be a bit younger, but I can still give advice.”
Joshua furrowed his brow playfully.
“What d’you mean by that?”
It was surprisingly difficult to push the words past your teeth, almost like your body was issuing a mechanism to stop yourself from saying anything you might regret, anything that might scare him, or nudge him to develop the inkling you were beyond interested in him.
“I want you to trust me like I trust you.”
Each his pupils dilated further than they already had in the shadily lit room, and it was so apparent that you had to clench your fist, dig in your own nails until it stung to ensure you weren’t dreaming.
His answer was simple.
“Alright.”
You rubbed nervous, excited circles against the indents on your hand.
“There’s a prom party at the end of the month,” Joshua said, pulling out his phone as it vibrated, “You should come. I know Jennie’s going.”
“Uh, that sounds fun. I think.”
Slipping off his seat, Joshua grinned.
“Come find me if you decide to go—anyways, Hansol wants to get a burger and apparently I’m the only one he knows with a car. See ya.”
There were so many butterflies in your stomach, you tried not to cough one out as Joshua made his way toward the door—forgetting that stupid pencil of course. He liked writing all his notes and homework with pen, and you hated knowing such a specific, trivial fact.
“Yeah, talk to you later.”
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It didn’t take much contemplation for you to agree to the prom party, even if you had yet to configure a ride or the location or how you’d get your hands on some alcohol (because you definitely weren’t going to enjoy one of those things sober), hence your decision to entreat Joshua for his phone number. 
It was only to ask about the details.
You learned the party was going to be hosted at Jeonghan’s house, probably the most popular senior in the entire school, and that there was a very strict designated driver policy. Well, at least you could scratch one bullet off your list, leaving just the ride and the alcohol. There was no way you were going to ask Joshua to be your escort—like he’d want to have his little sister’s friend stuffed in the backseat, it would be a total mood kill. 
Jennie was apparently going too. You’d try to avoid her if you could help it, even if it meant locking yourself in some washroom that reeked of liquor and smoke and impulsive decisions laced with vomit.
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By the time the party rolled around, you were having a severe case of thought seconds, unable to sit still and constantly checking your phone and wondering how many times you could possibly change from the black skirt back into your shorts before you decided something. Chan, a boy from your English class, was kind enough to offer a ride—even some alcohol that his older brother had swiped for him. He texted that he’d be outside your house around nine o’clock, though it wasn’t until half an hour later that his car crunched into the driveway.
“Sorry,” he apologized the instant you opened the door, “I got busted—my mom found the beer in my backpack and got all mad. She thinks I’m still in my bedroom. I had to sneak out the window.”
Clicking on your seatbelt, you threw the boy a perplexed look.
“Uh, are you sure that was a good idea? I can probably just try to mooch off people. I don’t want you to get in serious trouble.”
Shrugging, Chan ignited the engine and set his navigation system to the party’s address, seeming disproportionately unconcerned.
“No, but I wasn’t going to bail. My brother said he’d take most of the heat, anyways. Oh—I really like your skirt by the way.”
“Thanks,” you replied, inching closer to the window.
Because you didn’t know him all that well, the car ride was a little awkward, your ankle twisting in these back and forth circles conveying just how nervous you were. Only the placid voice of the navigation system broke the silences, until Chan cleared his throat and lowered its volume.
“Did you hear the big drama that’s going around?”
Your ankle paused, and you looked across the glove box.
“I don’t think so.”
“Oh, well I have the scoop. So, basically—wait, you know Elsie Bolger, right? The Envirothon girl? And Joshua Hong. I mean, I think everyone knows them ‘cause they get around and stuff. And you’re friends with Jennie so you probably know Joshua.”
“Yeah, I know both of them.”
Chan only kept one hand on the wheel, his other motioning around like he was giving some sort of speech, “okay, so they broke up, right? On Wednesday. Apparently, it was after school, and Elsie was like, sobbing, asking why and what went wrong, ‘cause it was him who broke the ice about it. I heard Joshua was saying that he saw her more like a friend, but Elsie kept adding pressure that there was another girl. Not that he was cheating or anything, but I don’t think he loved her, so I kinda agree with Elsie. There has to be someone else he likes—or, shit, maybe even loves. I think it’s that choir girl with the long arms. ”
He threw you a curious glance, as though he were anticipating your angle on the situation, though you couldn’t express much apart from an unhinged jaw and a stutter that fell to hot breath in your chest. When your tongue tapped the roof of your mouth, it was dry, and Chan must’ve thought you looked nauseous because he offered to roll a window down.
“I had no idea,” you admitted, smoothing your hand over a crinkle in your skirt, “I really hadn’t heard anything about it, so…”
“Really? That’s surprising. Who’s side, though?”
“What?”
Chan opened his window an extra inch and smiled.
“I mean like, who do you think was right? Joshua or Elsie?”
Honestly, at that moment, the idea of yanking the door open and bailing onto the dirt road seemed extremely tempting. How could he expect you to answer a question like that? When you were younger, you used to daydream about this: Joshua at long last detaching from his girlfriend, in which you could somehow swoop in to take her place and dust out his memories of her like you were cleaning a closet. But now that opportunity had actually presented itself. And you felt miserable.
Why would Joshua even decide that a party was what he needed right now? Why wasn’t he at home, heartbroken and grieving?
Chan snapped his fingers.
“Well, who’s side?”
“I-I don’t know,” you stuttered, “and I don’t want to choose.”
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“Student cards, please.”
At the end of Jeonghan’s long driveway, a booth had been set up by the student council. You didn’t know the girl who’d asked you to present that pointless card you never thought would be useful, but once you flashed it to her, she grabbed your wrist and pressed a stamp to the back of your hand. It seemed that the night was really starting to take shape around ten o’clock—indecorous music echoed from the house and smoke was curling up into the blackness, courtesy of an impressive fire that crackled in the backyard. You weren’t sure what to do without Chan, who was already halfway along the driveway when you caught him.
“Please don’t wander off on me,” you sighed, taking a skittish look around the property filled with strangers, “I mean, I’m not gonna tether you to my side the whole time, but you are my ride.”
Chan pulled open the double doors to Jeonghan’s home, and a burst of heat welcomed you, steadily fanning your face. He obviously wanted to be inside, though you would have preferred to stay outdoors where it was cooler and a bit quieter and the likelihood of a guile senior cornering you against some table or couch was far lower.
The boy glanced around, stretching his neck to peer into the different rooms, “I won’t wander. I’m just looking for someone…” he mumbled, paying you next to no attention as he pardoned his way into the adjoining kitchen. Not wanting to be abandoned, you followed him.
“Oh—look, there’s Seungkwan!” Chan exclaimed, pointing his finger into the room past the kitchen.
Again, you hurried after him, squishing between two seniors who were nonetheless unenthusiastic at hearing your apology, and you were half-expecting to get a solo cup thrown at the back of your head. The friend Chan had met, Seungkwan, was gathered with a few others at this little counter in the living room, each whom you recognized from your grade. Seungkwan wasn’t one to drink, so when he asked if you wanted his cup of hard lemonade, you took it almost immediately and used it as an excuse to not fully join their conversation. Instead, you meandered more around the outside of their circle, surveilling the room and trying to catch any familiar face that presented itself. Well, not just any face.
You were specifically hoping to see Joshua.
Since Chan had told you about his breakup with Elsie, your whole demeanour shifted, and a fog had creeped its way into your brain. You couldn’t think about anything but him. Even standing next to the speaker responsible for blasting a salacious song about messy sex and drugs wasn’t doing much to distract you. Jeonghan’s house was considerably large, therefore Joshua could be anywhere. And you had yet to understand it. Was he intentionally glossing over his own misery by forcing himself to enjoy a party? Or was he happy to escape a relationship that he might’ve never truly wanted in the first place? That didn’t seem like him. He definitely loved Elsie. You needed him to be okay.
“Can you not just stand there? You’re blocking the way.”
You had no idea who they were, but this girl who was vastly taller than you appeared, holding onto the hand of a guy you assumed to be her boyfriend—either that or a quick, meaningless hook-up.
Without uttering a word, you stepped aside and let them pass.
And then you looked back at Chan, staying true to his vow and steering clear of drinking. Hovering beside him the entire night like a shy puppy wasn’t going to make you feel any better, nor would engaging in synthetic conversations with people you barely talked to at school, so you decided to break your own promise and wander. Your guesswork of the house led you out a random door, into the backyard where the bonfire was sparking and jouncing as students threw in more wood. Sipping at your hard lemonade, you examined everyone as best you could, though it was practically impossible to decipher all the blurry faces.
The very second you stepped off the deck onto the grass, someone’s arm was sliding around your shoulders, and as you were being tugged against this body you realized that Joshua had found you first.
“Aww, so glad y’could make it!” He slightly fumbled the pronunciation of his words, dragging them with a laziness that could only indicate he was inebriated, or teetering on the heated edge of it.
It took you a moment to regain your footing.
“Almost forgot y’were coming—” he paused to laugh, rubbing one hand beneath his nose, leaning on you heavily, “but I saw you n’ I remembered! M’so happy to see you, soso happy.” Joshua’s arm then tightened around your shoulders, like you were his support crutch.
“I’m, uh, happy to see you too,” you answered.
If it weren’t for the deep breaths you were subtly taking, you might as well have fainted. Joshua had never treated you like this in all your years of knowing him—even the moments when he’d come home late at night, tipsy and wobbly and Jennie would have to cover for him come morning. The fact was that there had always been an unspoken boundary between you, an invisible line, which now seemed completely erased as the boy pressed at your shoulder blades and urged you forward, something about meeting his friends, his face glowing with the surge of alcohol and his eyes completely clouded. This confused you further.
Because even though he was drunk, this was so unlike his character. You suspected that breaking up with Elsie must have shattered him. All his pieces hit the floor and he just left them there, broken.
“Are you doing alright? I, uh… I’m just wondering…”
Joshua stopped, unwinding his arm from your shoulder to fix his hat, combing back the thick hair underneath with his fingers.
“Oh, yeah. I’m fine. Fan-fucking-tastic,” he replied, seeming unconscious of the words leaving his own mouth.
“Well, that’s… I mean, that’s good. I’m glad to hear that, really glad, because I just—I heard some stuff and—” you nervously wet your throat with another sip from the solo cup, feeling your body shake, “it’s not my business or anything! Like, not at all, and I don’t want it to sound like I’m prying, or that I don’t believe you, but I—”
“Jeonghan’s just over there,” Joshua interrupted after fixing his backwards cap on, “we have a couch outside. Come sit w’us.”
He slid an arm around you again, pulling you forward.
And you stepped alongside him, shrinking yourself as much as possible to avoid colliding with another intoxicated body, smelling the fresh charred wood and smoke that desiccated the night air. Your little heart was beating so fast that you had to talk with a second pulse.
“You do? T-That’s cool. But, like I was saying, I guess I just want you to know that I’m sorry about what happened with Elsie. And I really hope that you’re okay and everything. I’m here for you, so—”
It happened in the blink of an eye. One minute you were occupied with speaking, and the next, Joshua’s warm, soft lips had pushed to yours, effectively shriveling your next thought as he held your shoulder. The kiss was transient. Before it could even click, Joshua had already pulled away like it was nothing at all but a hair to the wind.
“I said I’m fine, ‘kay?” Joshua slurred, and you looked into his eyes with enough intensity to burn a hole, “I’m g’nna take you to the couch. We can sit down and stuff. Jeonghan’s there.”
“Okay.” You agreed quietly.
However, as you made your way to the couch propped close by the bonfire, desperately scanning the crowds and ensuring no one had seen that unpredictable moment, you caught glimpse of a face that was so familiar it made you weak. The hard lemonade nearly dropped from your hand and soiled in the grass. Because Jennie was practically glaring at you from the trees, her arms folded and her mouth uncordially slanted.
You didn’t know what to feel any more.
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It was definitely an old couch, one that Jeonghan’s parents were probably on cusp of throwing out, especially with all its patches and prickly seats and burnt spots from cigarette butts. You were wedged against the arm while Joshua drank beside you, spreading out his legs and pretty much exiling you to as little space as possible—not that you really blamed him considering his lack of awareness right now. Jeonghan was decent, though you knew he would never even be talking to you if not for your connection with Joshua. So, the senior seemed to deal.
He chucked another log onto the fire, and a big swoop of sparks and ashes puffed upward like a volcanic breath. Once Jeonghan dusted off his hands, he sat himself down on an old table and cracked open another beer. Your lemonade was one sip away from being completely empty. It still felt a little strange to be drinking something that wasn’t cream soda.
“Pass me that,” Joshua asked, slumping forward and gesturing to the beer his friend had just drank from, “or pour some into my cup.”
Jeonghan chuckled, guiding him back by the shoulder.
“I think you’ve had enough, Shua,” he answered, “you had some fun. Now it’s time to mellow out a little. You’ll thank me when you aren’t stuck in the bathroom throwing up your guts an hour from now.”
“You suck so fucking much,” Joshua complained, crumpling up his solo cup and then proceeding to toss it over his shoulder.
“I suck, yeah, yeah,” Jeonghan clearly didn’t take the comment to heart, instead knocking his fist atop Joshua’s head, “I’m gonna take a lap around the house—” he suddenly pointed at you, “make sure he drinks a glass of water or something. Or at least keep an eye on him until Hansol comes back. And don’t let him mooch. You got all that?”
With a stiff, tiny smile, you nodded.
“Sorry to dump the man on you. I’ll be back soon.”
Even though you hadn’t been getting along spectacularly well with the senior, you still wished he could have stayed. You felt unprepared to console Joshua, and that it wasn’t exactly your place to start controlling his alcohol when he was evidently going through something. But, then again, your concern outweighed the uncertainty, and you found yourself grabbing the boy’s shoulder, gluing him back to the couch when a girl had shuffled by with a bottle wrapped in a brown bag. He threw his head back, sunk lower into the cushions with a groan.
“I’m sorry,” you squeaked, “I’m just doing what Jeonghan said.”
“What do y’have left n’here…” he asked vacantly, pulling at your arm and looking into the solo cup, “what is this? Can I have it?”
“There’s hardly any left. And—”
“Mm, you’re gonna say no, right?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond before he was already pushing his weighted body off the couch, stumbling slightly. “Get some myself then… w-whoa—”
“How about you just sit down? Please Joshua?”
You stood up too, planting your hand on his lower back to stabilize his toppling movement. It didn’t help that one of his friends walked by, her and Joshua exchanging a quick dap before she giggled something unintelligible. She let Joshua have a swig of her drink, and you almost fumed at her in a blind rage, because how could she not care enough about him to see that alcohol was far from what he needed? In less than a second, you’d ripped the drink away and thrust it back.
“Okay, relax,” the older girl tutted condescendingly, “this is a party, y’know? Why don’t you have a sip yourself and calm down?”
“I’m just—”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m leaving. Later, Josh.”
Like some sort of animal guarding its territory,  you watched her until she disappeared into the crowds, and it was only then that you exhaled long and slow, realizing Joshua had already collapsed back onto the couch. You sat down as well, though at the very edge.
“Where’s Hansol?” You asked.
Joshua folded an arm behind his head, “dunno.”
“Well, once he comes back, I’m going inside.”
The boy’s head fell in your direction, the fire flooding his eyes with sunset orange as he questioned, “why are you waiting for him?”
“Because I don’t want to leave you alone.”
“Why?”
You shot him an anxious but stern look, “why d’you think?”
“I’m seriously fine.”
“Uh, you’re seriously not.”
Joshua laughed, a hiccup caught in his throat. His gaze traveled away from your face and back toward the fire, extremely dilated.
“It’s not even your business, so I don’t get it...”
“I know that—” for some reason, you felt yourself getting emotional, and your knees started tapping together as the nerves expanded, “but you saying that doesn’t make me not worried. I know if it were me, you’d be acting the same way. Wouldn’t you?”
Joshua was silent for a moment, but then he tensely swallowed and pushed his way back up the couch. He looked at you with the most clarity you had witnessed from those eyes all night, and suddenly, his hand had come to rest on your bare knee, squeezing it gently. He wanted to say something. It was loaded on his tongue like a bullet, but then—
“Uff—I’m back!” Hansol plopped down on the couch, sprawling out all his limbs and placing a water bottle behind Joshua’s head.
His hand was already off your knee.
And you were already making your way inside.
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Honestly, you never envisioned yourself as the type to hide away in a washroom at a high school party, sat on the floor with your arms folded like some woeful delinquent who thought they were too unique for the world. Too unique? Not exactly. A woeful delinquent? Yeah, pretty much. You hadn’t bothered asking Chan to leave. The last you saw of the boy he was enjoying his time examining Jeonghan’s record wall.  
Almost three hours had passed. One in the morning was just around the corner, and somehow the party was still twirling with energy.
Just Dance, that was the song, the only Lady Gaga hit on the entire playlist that somehow made the walls shake whenever it played. The heat was thick enough for you to force open the bathroom window where breeze was faint, but you leaned into it regardless. Not many people were concentrated to this side of the house—mostly because there wasn’t anything out there aside from a generator and some trees. You would hear voices occasionally, though you could never deduce what they were saying. Jennie and Marina had walked underneath the window at one point. You had pulled back so quickly that your head spun.
This had all been a mistake. Almost as if the universe willed to prove your point, an obnoxious knocking berated the door, prompting you to uncomfortably swallow and call out a hoarse, “occupied!”
But the doorknob continued to jiggle, and then there was more pounding that jerked you hastily and fearfully to your feet.
“I said occupied!” You shouted, pacing a few steps forward and wondering what was the best possible item in this washroom to defend yourself—most likely the can of hairspray (you made a mental note).
After you still refused to unlock the door, the stranger left, and you assumed they were either left partially deaf due to the music or were off their rocker on whatever drugs and alcohol had managed to circle around the house. Brought back to sitting on the floor, you checked your phone again, groaning at the red sliver of battery you were prolonging.
Hungry, tired, sweaty, and slightly sick, you contemplated lying flat across the rug in an attempt to fall asleep. It wasn’t a good idea, but you didn’t care. The thought of closing your eyes was heavenly, and before you could pick a verdict they were already fluttering shut, the music beneath you sounding incredibly distant, turned to a soft echo that seemed like it was pushing through layers of concrete.  
Someone else came to the door.
When they knocked, you were convinced it was the stranger from earlier. Now, you were angry, angry enough to unveil whoever this person was (and pray the first thing they didn’t do was projectile vomit all their nights liquor onto your shirt). Yet, when you saw Joshua’s face through the mirage of dark, crimson colours mottling the corridor, you wished it could have been that stranger holding down their stomach. He looked a little more focused, though his hair was mussed up in spikes and his cheeks were visibly blotched pink in the mugginess. One of his hands braced against the doorframe. Joshua wasn’t sober, just steadier.
“Can I come in?” He asked, keeping his head angled to the floor, rubbing the tip of his nose with a knuckle.
“Were you looking for me?”
“Jeonghan said he last saw you going into the washroom.”
With a reluctant sigh, you grabbed Joshua’s arm and pulled him inside, kicking the door shut with your foot. Whoever was in charge of the music had opted to play the song even louder, and you heard the living room crowd belting along to every lyric, even from upstairs.
He sat on the edge of the bathtub. You joined him.
Joshua then leaned forward, elbows on his knees. For a moment, you questioned if it was right to ask him about the kiss—you were burning to know his intentions, drunk or not. The boy proceeded to grin.
“What?” You were intrigued—tempted to laugh, even.
“Nothing,” he chuckled, shaking his head, “I just—I feel numb, or something. Like, I feel everything: how hot it is, sweat on the back of my neck, the chills in my fingers, but at the same time, I don’t really feel it.”
You sniffled, twisting your ankle in nervous circles. Joshua leaned back a little less, though he dragged a hand through the thick strands of his hair, and you now understood why it was so messy.
“Where’s your hat?”
“Lost it,” he smiled.
“We should switch places.”
“Why?”
“So you can be closer to the window. There’s a nice breeze.”
Once Joshua had slid over, you two sat in silence, listening to each rhythmic thump. He pulled one of his banged-up converse onto the edge of the tub, propping an arm across his knee while he stared into the moonlight. You wanted desperately to know each thought in his head.
Then, he was suddenly looking square into your eyes.
“Did I kiss you?”
With a careful nod, your fingers clenched.
“Fuck, that was just a stupid, stupid accident. I’m sorry. I thought I dreamt that for a second—I keep fucking up.”
An accident? A stupid, stupid accident?
No, that makes sense. Of course it’s an accident.
But it hurts. God, it really hurts.
He was drunk. That’s why. You already knew that!
Why is it so much harder to breathe?
Your eyes are stinging. Pull yourself together, holy shit.
He really doesn’t see you like that. It’s obvious, always has been.
Don’t you dare cry. Pull it together. Pull it together.
Pull it together!
“Hey,” Joshua tapped your arm, “I’m really sorry.”
“No, I—” you pushed off the edge of the tub, leaning against the clam-shaped sink instead, taking a second to blink and force back the wetness at your tear ducts, “it’s fine. I get it. I’ve just been sitting on the floor for like, the past three hours. I need to stand a bit. But— I’m just thinking, maybe you should go home. It’s been an intense week.”
The older boy agreed, nodding his head as a lopsided smile touched at those perfect lips. You nibbled your inner cheek.
“I don’t know why I came, I just—” Joshua threw his hands up defeatedly, “Elsie and I, we wanted different things. She was amazing, and I have only good things to say about her, but I…”
You weren’t sure if you could handle this. It didn’t help that your mind was still whirling from his earlier apology, thoughts and emotions spinning and spinning like a spool of slippery ribbon coming undone. But at the same time, you wanted to be there for Joshua. He must be unraveling about this heartbreak because he trusted you, though, as he stumbled and continued correcting himself and paused every minute or so to look deeply at the moonlight, you began believing that Joshua had forged his relationship with Elsie as some sort of distraction.
And this sparked a flicker in your dark eyes.
Was it easier to be with Elsie than it was to be with you?
But you didn’t say anything. Instead, you stood there silently, letting Joshua reminisce, gulp back his tears, pick up those shattered pieces he’d dropped that bitter Wednesday afternoon—as he should be doing, rather than stuffing his heart into an ice bucket and letting it numb. His smile reflected as less broken by the time he’d finished.
“Well, I sorta unloaded. I hope it wasn’t too much.”
“No, you needed to do that. I’m glad you did.”
Joshua finally stretched his leg off the edge of the tub, meanwhile he raked through his hair again, flopping it all over the place.
“I’m glad I did, too,” he admitted, steadying his gaze on you.
Your lower back pressed further against the sink.
“I mean, you’ve listened to me complain about pretty much everything under the sun. Even your sister. You’re just caching in.”
“Should I be caching in more often?”
“Wow—perfect Joshua Hong has more stuff to get off his chest?”
He huffed, “since when have I been perfect? Like, ever?”
Whoops, that had been a revealing slip of the tongue. You crinkled your nose and swung your smitten head toward the window.
“I didn’t say perfect.”
“But you did, though.”
“You’re hearing things.”
Joshua rolled his shoulders, capitulating to you easily.
“Whatever,” he said, finally rising from his seat with a smirk that felt familiar, “I’ll take the compliment, even if it supposedly didn’t exist.”
At that moment, you thought he was going to leave the washroom, and once again you would be left to sit on the floor until Chan overwhelmed your phone with texts, asking where you were. There was no way he could still be admiring the record wall. He’d probably moved onto something else obscure yet alluring. Jeonghan’s house was just as pretentious as the senior himself. But Joshua didn’t disappear.
He grabbed your shoulder, and you froze.
“Thank you, I should say before I forget.”
The mould around you crumbled away.
“Oh yeah, for sure, um—no big deal,” you mumbled awkwardly while pulling him into a hug, losing your words in a mere instant.
His arms curled around your waist, firm on each side, and there was a soft squeeze to your body that left you breathless. Your right hand landed at the back of his neck, fingers moving almost instinctually toward his black hair, feeling each lock slip through, a bit tangled and damp with sweat. Shit—your heart had never raced like this before. He could probably sense it against his own chest. Joshua had started pulling away, and so you replied with a slow, obviously unwanted retreat from his body. For some reason, Joshua left a hand on the hip of your skirt, which he seemed to be looking down at for a notable time.
You should kiss him.
Kiss him, kiss him, kiss him. Don’t let him go. Pull him against you. Lick into his mouth and move his hand back to your hip. Show him he doesn’t need to distract himself anymore because you’re right here.
Except—you did none of that.
Joshua said thank you once more. And he slipped back into the misted, red lights that glowed outside in the corridor.
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You had never gotten into a fight before, though you’d been a witness to one or more at school. The first fight—which your principal incessantly referred to as an ‘altercation’—was three years ago on the green, when two senior footballers had gotten into a shoving match that resulted in the meeker having his cheek rubbed against the dirt for a solid five minutes. The second fight was a year later, between two girls who were opting to practically pull the other’s hair out in the locker room.
But you, yourself, had never gotten into an actual fight.
Maybe sixteen was the year you’d throw your first punch.
You just never anticipated that the girl on the potentially-receiving end would be Jennie Hong, a former best friend since the age of twelve, now converted to a thorny stranger who’d gotten the tiniest sip of popularity and clung to it with stunning avarice. Ever since your falling-out, you always assumed this day would pull itself out from the leaves—essentially a disinterring of what had killed the friendship—though you hadn’t expected it here or now. It had only been a weekend since the party. Jennie couldn’t even keep her burning remarks until two-thirty.
Instead it was lunch, at the base of the staircase outside the library, just without its centrepiece couple to clog the path. Nobody was really filtering through at that moment, but you could already imagine how the tight space would bubble with a crowd once someone caught wind of the shouting. How the hell do you throw a punch, anyways?
“You know what—I don’t have to answer to you. It’s not like you’re my boss or anything.” Right, and when was the last time Jennie actually responded to a text message? She let the friendship fizzle.
“No, I’m not letting this slide, because what you did was one of the shallowest things I’ve seen—like, ever.”
“Ever?” You gawked, feeling an instant sharpness in your gut.
Jennie exaggeratedly rolled her doll eyes, and for some reason, you contemplated how it might feel to grab a stinging handful of her stupid, silky, coconut-smelling hair and rip it flat out.
“Yeah, ever! My brother just went through a huge break-up with the love of his life! And, you see this little window, so you come in and take it. I legit saw you kiss him. It made me think how selfish you are.”
“What is wrong with you, Jennie? That’s not how—”
“That’s basically what our friendship turned into. You’re fucking obsessed with my brother. You were supposed to be my one friend that wasn’t, but guess I was wrong. Joshua doesn’t want you, at all.”
For a quiet, hollow moment, you were speechless, meanwhile Jennie had this tart yet overtly prideful countenance, like she had so tactfully shone a beam on how horrible you were—an announcement to let the entire world know her ex best friend was the textbook definition of fake. You had noticed a few faces peeking through the doorway up the stairs, and this heat began stifling over you like smoke from a fire. She wasn’t going to listen or even reason with anything you could say.
“I-I don’t care what you think you saw. I’m not shallow, or selfish, and the fact that you have to like—even convince yourself I did something wrong is showing that you—you’re—you’re basically—”
“You can’t even say it!” Jennie threw a ridiculing finger out at you and cackled. “I’m right. I’m so fucking right about you.”
“No, you’re not!”
“Kitty got claws?”
“Shut up, Jennie!”
“No, I won’t. I have every right to feel hurt ‘cause of you! The truth is, you just like Josh ‘cause he’s the only boy that’s ever paid you any attention, so you obsess over him, thinking he’s gonna what? You’ll finally lose your v-card or something? I never wanted to think y’were just using me to know him, but that’s exactly what happened!”
You couldn’t stand listening to her, and tried to drown out the cacophony of her voice instead, rubbing harshly at your ears while you blurted, “just shut up! Shut up, shut up!” like it would make her vanish.
“Then do something to make me stop!”
And that’s when you felt the crackle skip down your wrist and bumble at the tips of your fingers. Could you really punch Jennie? The girl whom you’d once laughed with and cried with and spent a memorable chunk of your earlier adolescence figuring out the world with? God, you had never hit anything in your life, unless you counted the time you accidentally struck your mother in the jaw when she’d been trying to blow raspberries on your tummy. But that wasn’t intentional. And Jennie used to be a real outdoorsy kid, digging up snails and shaking beetles off bark. She wasn’t afraid to get her nails dirty.
You took a few steps toward her, and Jennie’s eyes widened. The slight lagging of her expression indicated that she genuinely hadn’t expected the slightest action from you, though, you’d lost the urge to strike her as quickly as it festered up. Besides, someone must have relayed the argument to the staff, because you heard the blips from the on-duty teacher’s walkie-talkie at the top of the stairway. An entire crowd of students had bunched behind them, watching a little too excitedly.
“There a problem here, girls?”
Surprisingly, Jennie was the first to cough.
“No.”
The teacher then glanced at you, folding his stout arms across his chest and pushing up the glasses on his red nose.
“No…” you repeated dully, your eyes trailing off to the side.
You took back everything you said about bad days.
This was officially the worst.
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Monday.
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: hey.
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: something happen at school today?
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: jennie wouldn’t talk to me in the car.
[ don’t answer | 3:28 pm ]: thought you might know what happened.
...
[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: are you taking a nap?
[ don’t answer | 4:30 pm ]: or is it physics? i can help.
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Tuesday.
[ don’t answer | 3:20 pm ]: am i an idiot or were you avoiding me?
[ don’t answer | 3:25 pm ]: did i do something?
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Thursday.
[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: i’m trying to give you space rn.
[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: just thinking about you.
[ don’t answer | 5:50 pm ]: hope everything’s okay.
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Sunday
[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: im sorry. messages were being weird.
[ ______ | 2:30 am ]: i don’t think we should talk any more.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: why?
[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it looks weird.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i don’t want to make you uncomfortable.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: i’m not sure what happened bu
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: *but if i did something please tell me.
[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: it has nothing to do with you.
[ ______ | 2:34 am ]: im just trying to respect jennie.
[ don’t answer | 2:34 am ]: are you talking about that fight? call me
don’t answer is calling…
call declined at 2:34 am.
[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: why not? idc what jennie thinks.
[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: well i do.
don’t answer is calling…
call declined at 2:35 am.
[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: joshua don’t i won’t pick up.
[ don’t answer | 2:35 am ]: this is easier if we talk.
[ ______ | 2:35 am ]: i don’t want to do that right now.
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: find me tomorrow at school, ok?
[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: where?
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: physics, at lunch.
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: my grad partys coming up soon.
[ ______ | 2:36 am ]: excited?
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: yeah.
[ don’t answer | 2:36 am ]: one sec. sending a picture.
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: IMG.124_313
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: new amp?????
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: early gift from vernons mom lol.
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: no way she fucking bought u that!!
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: she loves me more than him.
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: im not getting you anything like that, sorry 
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: nah nah your presence is enough.
[ ______ | 2:37 am ]: u want me there??
[ don’t answer | 2:37 am ]: obviously wtf.
[ don’t answer | 2:38 am ]: are you gonna skip bc of my sister?
[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: did you fall asleep? or are you avoiding the q?
[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: sorry, phone died.
[ ______ | 2:43 am ]: i don’t want stuff w jennie to ruin your day.
[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: you’re not gonna ruin anything.
[ don’t answer | 2:43 am ]: what if i told you
[ ______ | 2:44 am ]: told me what?
[ don’t answer | 2:44 am ]: that i want you there more than anyone else.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: why do you keep disappearing?
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you’re such a liar lol.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: you’re coming, ok?
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: i’ll make you promise me tomorrow.
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: you can’t make me do that.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: we’ll see.
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: yeah we will.
[ don’t answer | 2:46 am ]: ngl i’m tired. but find me on monday.
[ ______ | 2:46 am ]: i know. goodnight.
[ don’t answer | 2:47 am ]: goodnight.
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1 month later.
[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: hey, answer me asap.
[ ______ | 6:50 pm ]: need extra thoughts on what i should wear.
[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: wear whatever you want.
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: but how formal is it?
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: could i get away with like……
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: a really nice camisole and jeans??
[ joshua h. | 6:53 pm ]: yeah.
[ ______ | 6:53 pm ]: what are u wearing?
[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: dress shirt and slacks.
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: that’s at least noticeably formal!!
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: i’m going to wear my skirt.
[ joshua h. | 6:54 pm ]: okay lol. see u there.
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: this frjdsy, right?
[ ______ | 6:54 pm ]: whoops **friday
[ joshua h. | 6:55 pm ]: yeah. come at like 8-ish.
[ ______ | 6:55 pm ]: will do.
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How were you supposed to feel about Joshua leaving? Honestly, you tried not to ruminate on it. Your relationship had definitely evolved more than it ever had these past few months, and now that you were finally shaking off the thick chrysalis of being his “little sister’s best friend”, Joshua would be coasting away to university. New people, new experiences, new environment—how were you going to ensure you were the thing that stuck? That, when he was in the midst of some homecoming party with a girl sliding her fingers down his arm, in the back of his mind he was thinking of you to an annoying degree.
You didn’t know how to do that.
It felt awkward to even muse about such a thing as you stood in the Hong family living room, occasionally scraping a few pieces of crackers and cheese off the platters organized on the island while everyone buzzed and mingled around you. Jennie was somewhere. You didn’t know where, but at that point you didn’t care any longer. The fight had wedged you two apart for good. Thankfully its details hadn’t circulated much, and if Joshua had any indication the precise details of the fight, he was very polished at hiding it. His mother had swung by a few times to talk with you, and you always saw Joshua’s seraphic eyes in hers.
“Every time I walk past, you’re glued to this spot,” she smiled genuinely and gesticulated with a wave of her wine glass.
“Oh, just enjoying the crackers,” you replied, “and, um, the cheese. But it’s okay. I don’t mind people-watching.”
“Need anything to drink?”
“I’m good. Thanks, though.”
She squinched her face for a moment, “I might offer the wine, but you are by far underage. Of course, I’m saying this like you haven’t already drank before. Most teenagers find a way. Jennie uses Joshua who uses his older friend, Seungcheol. I’m not condoning it, obviously.”
“Obviously,” you grinned, flitting a wink at her.
“Oh, I miss you,” she half-exhaled, half-laughed, grabbing onto your shoulder with a touch of comfort you’d almost forgotten. “I’m still trying to figure out how to handle Jennie’s new friends.”
With a distant hum, you agreed, “that makes two of us.”
Someone suddenly called her over from the next room, and she politely dismissed herself, fitting in a graceful comment about your outfit before she strode away. And that was when you started feeling… disheartened, a bit empty, dreary about the future and how you were supposed to wake up relatively excited for school knowing that Joshua’s kind, sweet, stupidly pretty face wasn’t going to be there. It felt like a kick in the teeth, and it hadn’t even happened yet. Did he care that he was going to be leaving you here to sink further into your loneliness?
As you picked at another cracker, Hansol came up from the basement with Jennie following suit. They were holding extra paper plates and cups, and you watched from your peripheral as Hansol kept the door open for her with his foot. He was graduating too, though his family hadn’t glamorized it as much as Joshua’s, to which you figured the boy was dually enjoying the praises he got in the mix. Jennie and Hansol walked off together into another room, talking animatedly and constantly brushing shoulders and smiling a little too gleefully for two people who just got sent to the basement for some cardboard and plastic.
Where the hell is Joshua?
You got here at eight, and hadn’t seen him once.
Well, if he didn’t want to be found, then you’d just follow the very obvious trail that lead to his bedroom, the door cracked open and the aging, peeling poster of that lady with the star-shaped sunglasses still staring at you just as placidly as always. When you thought about it, she was the only one to ever see you stop and stare at his door over the many years, watching your wonder of him turn into a crush, and then whatever you called it nowadays. Using your foot, you tapped the door open slightly, exchanging a nervous glance with the star-shaped glasses lady.
Joshua hadn’t even noticed that you’d entered. He was squatted in the corner, wires snaking around his feet, some plugged into a few outlets on his amp. Of course, this is what concerned him right now.  
“So, you’ve been up here, playing around with a bunch of wires, instead of like, enjoying the graduation party you forced me to come to.”
He flinched, at first jarred by your presence, but you noted Joshua’s relaxed smile as he rose up while sweeping some dust off his hands. You stood in one place, like roots were sprouting from your socked feet into the floor, hands fiddling behind your back.
Standing near his desk, Joshua gestured to the lava lamp.
“Do you want that?” He asked as a bright, yellowish gob of liquid floated gradually upward, merging into the purple.
“Why would I want it?”
“You said something to me once about always wanting a lava lamp. I don’t really need it anymore.”
Rolling back your shoulders, you chuckled. “I said that like, two years ago. And I think it’s a staple of your room. You should keep it here.”
“Good point,” he answered, reaching for a soda can on his desk.
Cream soda, obviously. Some things never change.
You sighed, though it ended up whisking out your mouth in a much sadder tone than you intended, and for a second your heart skipped a beat because you didn’t want Joshua thinking his graduation party was insipid or boring. If anything, you were reminiscing, and it just wasn’t in your nature right now to be especially pert when you knew he was leaving. Not to mention, you hated him in a crisp white dress shirt that he’d clearly been fiddling with because the sleeves were too long and the fabric was too stuffy. He’d cuffed the material up to his elbows and undid a few buttons that unveiled a deep amount of his skin.
Were collarbones intended to be that attractive?
“Everything okay?” Joshua questioned, tilting his head.
You leaned against the desk with him, the room hardly aglow in the dull heat from his lava lamp. Honestly, you did kind of want it.
“Well, you’re going off to university…”
“I am.”
“So, you won’t be here. Like, at all.”
“Are you forgetting the entire summer before I leave? And reading week? And Christmas? And whatever else? I’m not ‘gone’,” he quoted with his fingers, “you have my number, anyways.”
You scoffed, smiling at him to lighten the tension. “Pfft, yeah, like you’re even going to be hitting me back. You know you won’t, right?”
Joshua merely shook his head in disagreement, folding his arms.
“Never mind any of that stuff. I don’t mean to make it about myself—” Jennie’s face scorched across the canvas of your mind like a lightning strike, that comment about you being selfish, “how are you feeling? I mean, shit has been… a little different for you this year.”
The boy bit his lip softly as he agreed, and his eyes almost glazed over for a particular second, as though he were flicking through heavy pages of old memories. Was he thinking about Elsie? You really hadn’t spoken to her since their breakup, apart from an excruciatingly awkward encounter in the girl’s washroom where you basically expressed your empathies to a brick wall. She had been scrubbing every cell of her hands with soap, smiling and nodding and probably wishing you’d just dissipate. Since then, you hadn’t seen the autumn haired girl much.
“Yeah,” Joshua hummed, tilting his head in your direction, “I guess it has been different. But… good different…” his eyes stilled on you like they were focusing a picture, and you swore his gaze drifted up from your legs, your hips, ever so briefly along your chest and to the sort of frozen expression painted stiffly and crookedly to your face.
What the fuck does that mean?
“So… you’re ready to leave?” Experimentally, you adjusted your hand on the desk, having your fingers slightly overlap with his.
“Pretty much.”
He stared at you again, and this sitting, small frog in your chest charged into a hop as  Joshua’s ring finger slid overtop your pinky, hooking the two digits together. Nervous was an understatement—you felt downright nauseous, the dry-mouthed, heart-hammering, sweat-slicked kind where fainting seemed like a possibility if you didn’t go into cardiac arrest first. Despite the guileless brushing of your fingers, Joshua’s face hadn’t budged that much. He was about as easy to read as a stone tablet, only if someone used scissors instead of a chisel.
But was it right to doubt yourself? This could be the perfect moment served on a silver platter. Maybe you didn’t know what you were doing, or how to kiss someone, or how to look at this boy’s sweetly plump lips without feeling tingly and dehydrated, but if you didn’t just make that fucking move you’ve been waiting on like a birthday wish then—
“Oh, yeah! Totally forgot to mention this but—”
“Wait, Joshua—”
He had taken a step away from the desk, and without thought, you latched onto his shoulder in an attempt to reel him back.
The boy turned around almost automatically, unable to purse another word past his lips as he realized the seriousness that had desaturated your aura, feeling the shaky hands that pulled down the smooth front of his dress shirt, arms now curling their way around his neck. You had pressed him in close against you, not a flicker of space between, and Joshua still hadn’t said a word as you touched your lips to his in a light contact. Unsure if you should continue, you almost stepped away, surprised to consequently feel two firm hands on your hips which guided you back in, his lips now eagerly pushing against yours.  
But it quickly dawned on Joshua that he needed to go slower for you, and there was an almost grateful, relieved breath into his mouth when he extended each kiss into a gradual pace. Working softly, letting you pause to take in as much air as you needed, occasionally smiling against your mouth whenever he added something like an experienced touch of the tongue that you clearly enjoyed and responded to. Almost blinded by the desire you felt, you were immediately desperate for more, having Joshua sit down in his desk chair while you climbed onto him.
“Wait—” he huffed between your kisses, accepting each one and nipping back too, almost like he couldn’t stop himself, “wait just a sec.”
His calloused hands landed on your bare thighs. You couldn’t help but twitch the instant it happened, losing another fleck of sanity, chills dancing up your spine when his fingers inched further to play with the short, black hem of your skirt. To your displeasure, Joshua suddenly abandoned that idea all together. Almost like he’d contacted something burning hot, the boy chose to grasp your waist instead.
“What?” You mumbled breathlessly against his neck, exploring the skin with licks and bites.
This was something you had never done before, something you didn’t even know you were capable of, but the desire was flowing out and you didn’t know how to stop it. His addicting scent fluttered around you, making it beyond difficult to concentrate. Joshua’s fingers then grazed your cheek, pulling your face back toward him where he slotted your mouths together once more, wanting to kiss you harder but knowing he needed to stop. You sensed it too—he was confused and apprehensive.
Swallowing the lump in your throat, you leaned back on his lap and frowned. “Is there something wrong? You don’t want us to?”
Joshua reached for your face again, moving you back in.
“Listen,” he said, using that satin-dipped voice of his which could only indicate he was about to let you down gently, “it’s not that… I just—you’re beautiful, and thoughtful, and as much as I want to—” he sucked in a breath that seemed deeply regretful, moving his thumb across the crest of your cheek with such fragility as he admitted, “I can’t, and I feel like I shouldn’t. I’m so, so sorry. I really am.”
“So… what does that mean? You don’t like me?”
It was akin to pinpricking a balloon—just the slightest puncture had instantly deflated you, and there was a horrible, useless feeling that soaked into your bones as this boy caressed your face so tenderly.
“No, I like you. Fuck, of course I do,” Joshua whispered, sitting up further in the chair, black tresses slipping into his eyes, “but—”
“I’m just your little sister’s best friend, right?” Damn it, tears had glistened up as you said it. “Well, not even best friend. She fucking hates me, thinks I’m pathetic or whatever. And, is she even wrong? I mean, I’m literally sitting on her brother’s lap thinking he—you’d actually want me.”
“Slow down—” Joshua reached for your wrist as you squirmed off his lap, but you flinched away from it and wiped your cheeks instead.
“Please, you don’t have to leave. I mean, I’m not gonna hold you here, and— okay, I didn’t mean to make you cry. Fuck, I’m so sorry—“
He pushed out of the desk chair, reaching toward your face.
But you stepped back at the same time, maintaining the equidistance.
“What did you mean to do, then?!”
“I-I don’t know, honest. I really don’t know. Just—not this.”
Everything was fucking sweltering and stinging and you had never hated yourself more for thinking Joshua saw you as anything else but that dorky sidekick to his sister. And, you didn’t want to hear him elaborate or try to sugar coat his truth because that would only shove the knife further into your back. You wanted to leave, chiefly because you knew he wouldn’t follow, though nothing had ever hurt more in your life than when you slammed his door shut for the very last time. As you hurried down the stairs and anxiously buckled your shoes back on at their front door, Jennie had wandered into the corridor holding onto a plastic cup, at first extremely confused to the tears caked over your face.
“Um… should I get you a tiss—”
“Actually, you were right.”
Jennie perched an eyebrow, then scratched at the bracelets on her wrist. She was too stunned by the situation to bother responding.
“Your brother doesn’t want me, at all.”
And just like that, you were out of their house in an instant.
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This could be a good thing, exactly what you needed, even.
Age thirteen was the first time you had seen Joshua, and for some unshakeable reason, your brain decided that he was the only boy worth fixating over—coursing enough serotonin and dopamine through your receptors like a drug that seemed harmless enough to keep injecting until one day, it just wasn’t. Joshua wasn’t even that great. What did he do anyways, apart from having eyes as captivating as the fine details of an oil painting, and a voice that sounded what a daydream felt like, and this seemingly genuine attentiveness to your life that made you forget the blizzard that often whipped around it?
Right, Joshua was not all that.
There must be other people out there who could elicit that rush, and maybe you would have met one or two of them if you hadn’t been so tethered to the older brother character who’d pinned you as this one-dynamical permanent friend. And that’s why you had come to the conviction that he needed to be cut from your existence, not just in physicality, but in thought. The second you got home from the party—letting your bicycle crash against the asphalt driveway because it was a fossil anyway—you took every single can that you had kept over the years, shovelling them into your knapsack while trying not to blubber.
Flinging the bag over your shoulder, you saddled onto the bike and pedalled off toward the quarry near the edge of the town. There was a huge, earthy hole dug into the middle, and most people had decided to start treating the pit as a trash site. It was nearly pitch black by time you arrived, so you had to balance a tactical flashlight on a rock, your enlarged shadow cast along the big, graffitied construction boxes sitting opposite to the hole. You grabbed a soda can out from your bag and twisted it into the dirt, pausing for no less than a second as his pretty face eclipsed your thoughts, perhaps one last opportunity to weigh the scale.
No—follow through, don’t be doubtful.
Crush the can. Crush the crush.
Using your heel, you stomped the soda can, hearing the metal contort and crack like you had squeezed out its breath. Then, with a gust of the leg, you sent the flattened semblance of a disk sailing through the air into the pit, which seemed as deep and infinitely dark as the sky. You did it again. And again. Crush and kick. Crush and kick. Until there was nothing left inside your bag, emptied down to its dust and crumbs.
It would have been an incredibly victorious, fulfilling moment.
If only you had not been crying so hard the entire time.
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[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: this is my fault, and i’m sorry.
[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: i shouldn’t have kissed you back and messed with your expectations. but it’s not that i don’t like you or think about you.
[ joshua h. | 11:45 pm ]: bc i do. i just don’t know what’s right.
[ joshua h. | 11:46 pm ]: can we talk again? please.
[ joshua h. | 12:58 am ]: i’m sorry. i hurt you. i’m so fucking sorry.
[ joshua h. | 12:58 pm ]: i’m still gonna be here for you if you need me.
[ joshua h. | 12:59 am ]: goodnight.
Are you sure you want to block Joshua H? You will not receive any of this user’s messages.
Yes.
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17.
Being seventeen was relatively new. Jennie Hong was no longer in your life. She was past a point of dislike and stuck on indifference. You heard from your mother that it was worse to be meaningless to someone than to be hated, and… you agreed. Chan, the boy responsible for driving you to Jeonghan’s party, was your boyfriend, and you two had started dating at the beginning of September. He had an oddly thrilling personality, a small group of friends, wasn’t too clingy or detached, and, well, he certainly tried at your relationship. Chan was the perfect amount of normal—balance, could be a better word, someone you looked at and sensed their life was exactly where they needed it to be.
Contrarily, your life had never felt like that, though that could have been due to Jos—him. Just, him, because you firmly decided that he was to remain a blank, faceless cut-out in the branching cloth of your memories. Right now you were with Chan, and he was lovely.
“What if—for the spaceship scene—you have her ride in on one of those harness thingies? And just get her to hold a cardboard painted  ship. We have the budget for a harness-pulley system, right? All it takes is some rope and muscle, really.”
“We’re not doing that, Chan. I appreciate that you want to lessen the burden of my stage coordinator B.S, but after the Peter Pan incident last year, harnesses were fucking stripped from any future production.”
“Oh! That’s right. Wasn’t that what’s-her-face’s fault?”
Seungkwan rolled his eyes, “basically, yeah.”
Theatre wasn’t exactly your school’s forte. It was proven year after year, beginning with the tragically iconic incident of the mattress pile toppling in the Princess and the Pea. The most recent incident—referred to ominously as the “harness” incident from last year’s Peter Pan production—nearly sent the theatre’s jewel, Lee Seokmin, straight to the hospital, though he was kept content with a hot fudge sundae and a coupon book. How that worked was beyond your understanding.
You had known Seungkwan since middle school, and it had always been his dream to be appointed stage coordinator. While it was bestowed to him under hapless circumstances, he was taking the school’s original production, Lost on Planet Smeckle, to an almost concerning degree of seriousness, constantly walking around with a pen spinning between his fingers and an “inspiration” notebook tucked at the elbow which you assumed was rather void. In truth, it was a particularly hard job to get suspended from. Jennie used to operate the sound panel for the plays. You swore she almost never hit the right button or was either incredibly delayed at doing it, and she was never admonished once.
“Are you going to contribute any ideas or not?” Seungkwan quipped, leaning back in his chair with an ankle propped on his knee.
Squishing up the sloppy remainder of your sandwich into its plastic wrap, you chucked it at him, knocking the pen out his hand.
“Like I know how to spice up Lost on Planet Smoogle—”
“Smeckle!”
“Smeckle—whatever it is. You’re asking the wrong girl.”
After sliding his pen back with his foot, Seungkwan seemed to agree that you were impracticable, therefore illuminating Chan as the rubber to bounce any incoming ideas off. Lunch was nearly over anyways. You decided to let the boys hash out whatever they could.
“I’m going to the library.”
Chan reached for your hand, fluttering his eyes sweetly.
“I’ll come find you after chemistry, okay?”
“Sure thing,” you smiled, leaning down to give him a peck.
Speaking of the library, it had finally dawned on you that the couple who routinely opted to swap spit on the staircase were gone and  graduated. While you had never been fond of them, they probably had the strongest relationship in the entire school. Chan occasionally joked about taking their place—it always earned him a thwap to the forehead.
Honestly, you weren’t sure why you escaped to the library, because hanging out with Seungkwan and Chan felt… right. They offered the company you always longed for in high school—a small, concrete group that was free of toxicity, the type of friends to groan with you about how unpalatable the cafeteria food was, stand with you outside your classes when the teacher was notably late and giggle about that stupid rhetoric of skipping after fifteen minutes. They were normal and familiar and that was all you could ask for. Seventeen was boring. Good boring.
A few minutes had gone by as you picked through the spines.
You kept sliding out and re-shelving the books without any actual intention of having them stamped. But then you pulled out a thick history novel that was at eye level. It revealed a perfect gap into the next aisle—exactly where Jennie and her friend Marina were standing. It surprised you so abruptly that you had flinched, cramming the book back into place as though you were restoring a bewitched, sacred artifact you definitely shouldn’t’ve touched. You should have left too. Except you didn’t, instead hovering close to the shelf where you deeply inhaled the scent of dusty paper, eavesdropping their conversation.
“Is that the one about the Galapagos finches?”
“Nope, dunno what it is—oh, there, barn owls. Not quite.”
“Maybe I should switch my topic. I fuckin’ hate biology. You think if I paid you ten bucks and half a joint, you’d write my project?”
“Yeah, no way. I’ll help you, though.”
“C’mon! You’re the only one I know who’s getting a ninety-five in bio. The teacher fucking loved your poster on those weird frog things.”
“The poison dart frog? Those are cool. I always went to their exhibit at the nature museum with my brother. You can get them as wooden toys with a stick. They sound like the actual frog.”
“Pfft, the nature museum. You’re such a loser, Jen. Ah—since you mentioned him, how is that dude, anyways? Mr. Beautiful.”
“Joshua?”
“Mmhm.”
Okay, this has to be your exit. Even just hearing his name feels like a tiny scalpel running the length of your heart. It’s been months and that chapter has closed. You’ve sutured your own cuts and moved on.
“He’s doing pretty good.”
Wait, pretty good? You paused. Pretty good, how?
“Uh, classes are fun. He really likes his roommate. Remember Jeonghan? He’s got an apartment with him. Life’s good for that idiot.”
No—what the hell are you doing? You don’t care!
“Okay, nice. Has he gone to any like, crazy parties? Everyone says the parties at uni are unmissable and you’re guaranteed to eat an edible without even knowing it. I’m not sure if that’s good, though.”
“Uh, yeah. He’s been to a few.”
Is it just you or did someone slick this part of the floor with glue?
“Got a girlfriend yet? I wouldn’t be surprised with those daydreamy eyes of his and the deceivingly angelic voice.”
Your breath stilled, lungs contracting, nerves simmering. Jennie hadn’t answered yet. It felt like time was viscous and nearly unmoving. At first, she chuckled, sliding a book back onto the shelf until it clicked.
“A girlfriend? Don’t think so. And never say those things again.”
In one gigantic exhale, the air gushed out your nose. If not for the bell startling you into reality, you might have slid down against the shelf due to anxiety, melted into a puddle even for the janitor to scrub away.
Something inside you had embarrassingly given.
It could not happen again.
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Your fork sliced into the edge of orange, mashed sweet potato until it clinked against the plate, stainless steel scraping porcelain as you dragged it up and set the prongs onto your tongue. Chan was cutting rosemary asparagus in half to your left, keeping his eyes fixed on the stalks that were glimmery in butter and sauce. Picking up her wine glass, your mother took a slow, savoury sip. She watched the both of you.
Dinner was always so fucking awkward. Your mother had insisted she throw something together despite the fact she’d come straight home from work, still confined to her button-tight blouse and knee-length pencil skirt she hated, stalking around the kitchen in her clicky heels. She had met Chan once or twice before, though he never stayed for dinner. It was her opportunity to finally pin him in place, and it was going horribly.
Maybe it was weird to think, but some people just weren’t good with mothers—not purposefully or accidentally or by unimaginative curse, but in a way that was rather ignorant. Everyone’s house was their house, and unfortunately, that was Chan. If you had known this was her plan, you would have dragged him upstairs, pushed him down in your swivel-back chair, flipped around the for-emphasis chalkboard and instructed him on exactly what not to do. Yet, there hadn’t been the opportunity for that.
“So, any ideas for college or university? A gap year maybe to secure some money? I know that you’re very interested in performance and theatre.”
“Oh, yeah,” Chan agreed, bits of green flashing in his teeth as he spoke with a full mouth, “I want to be like, a really amazing dance teacher, but work my way up to it doing tons of gigs—,” he paused to chug a gulp of water, “and um, I don’t know. I want to be like Usher or something.”
“Really?” Your mother remarked, her wine glass settling onto the coaster with a light thud. “Usher? I guess he’s more your generation.”
“Yeah, probably,” Chan answered, also placing his cup back on the table, completely missing the coaster, “there’s this one song I really love, it goes like—”
Oh no. You braced a palm against your forehead, hardly watching from the edge of your vision as Chan sat up straight and pitched his hand.
“Shorty got down and said “come and get me”, yeah, yeah, I got so caught up, I forgot she told me, yeah, yeah, her and my girl, used to be the best of homies, next thing I knew, she was all up on me scream—”
You grabbed onto his arm, disguising it as a sincere, thoughtful touch despite your nails teething down on his skin.
“That was really great. Thank you, babe.”
“Well, I just—I hadn’t got to the rest of it yet.”
“No, I know,” your nails clawed a little deeper, “that’s fine.”
It was best to stop him before he entered a whole performance number in your dining room, to which you could picture him tripping over his own feet and tearing a photo frame off the wall, or elbowing the fine china teapot that had been a gift from your grandmother. He didn’t have the best spatial awareness, or awareness of anything, really. Your mother was sitting back, smiling, one leg folded over the other with her head in a slight tilt that seemed deceivingly warm and intrigued. She wasn’t going to say it, but she didn’t have to. Chan was below your standards.
“You know, that’s good.” She pointed a finger at him. “I’d love to see the full routine one day. You’ve got that…” she swirled her hands around as though she were clearing a crystal ball, “that star factor. Very cool.”
“Thank you.” Chan grinned, setting his elbows onto the table where he then hiccupped quietly into his hands (it was more of a belch, but you were admittedly trying to water down how insensible he was in even your own mind).
If wizards were real, you were dying for one to zap you with the end of their wand, preferably into a pile of sparkly ashes.
Somehow, dinner came to an end. While Chan excused himself for a bathroom break, you stood at the sink with your mother, dutifully polishing the forks she’d set into the dry rack. It was silent for a minute or two. At least her heels were finally off, though bits of hair from that slicked updo were beginning to tickle her face while she scrubbed away at the plate. You really didn’t want to discuss what happened anyway. But after you organized the cutlery into the drawer, your mother gave you a look that felt loaded as she let the soapy water drain.
Well, here we go.
“You know, I don’t dislike him as much as you think I do. There’s definitely character. He’s just… far below you, in my opinion. And I wish I could say I understand why you’re dating him, but I don’t.”
Opting to stay silent, you wiped down the puddles around the sink.
“I won’t throw up all my inklings onto you now, especially when I know the kid’s down the hall, doing God knows what—and I can tell by this little shoulders-buckled, lip-tight thing you’re doing that you don’t wanna talk about it. Gosh… at least we’ve got leftovers for tomorrow.”
“Mmhm.” You hummed, just to acknowledge you’d heard her.
“Oh, you know who I liked? That brother, the brother of that girl you used to be best friends with. Jennie and… J-something. They both had names with J’s. Their mother is in such better shape than me. Help me out here. I know damn well that counter’s dry by now.”
Crossing your arms, you rolled the very corner of the dish towel between your thumb and pointer finger, feeling his name rise along the back of your throat like it was being summoned out, against your will.
“Joshua.”
“Yes! Him! I adored that one. I always thought he liked you, too.”
“Mom! I don’t think we should be talking about this.”
“It’s true! I mean, he drove you home from school all the time. He always bought you things. And he had these eyes that were just… he looked at you different, so deeply, like he truly cared about you. I just—I know he’s older, two years or something, but I felt safe whenever you said you were with him. I kept waiting for him to come here for dinner.”
“I said we shouldn’t be talking about this and you’re talking about it!”
“Okay well I—”
The bathroom door squeaked open from down the corridor.
Both of you sealed your mouths shut.
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It was 10pm, and Chan was asleep at your side, the two of you miraculously cramped onto the twin size bed shoved against the wall with the sheets pulled a generous amount onto his half. Not that you cared. It was warm in your bedroom, and the heat from your hard backs pressed together was making you slightly sweaty. To feel uncomfortable in your own home was one thing—but in your own bedroom? The place you had perfectly cultivated over the years to always feel comfortable? Part of you wanted to crawl out from your own skin like that was something humans did. Chan was a great friend. Maybe it should have stayed like that.
Or, maybe it was just late, and you were too warm to think with clarity.
Wedging out your phone from beneath the quilt, you took a cautious peak over your shoulder, only to see the dark, dim outline of Chan’s shoulder bone digging into yours. Then, you turned back to your phone.
Instagram. That was usually what you did when you couldn’t sleep. A filtered and superficial glance into the very uninteresting lives of people who thought they were interesting was certain to make you tired.
A picture of Seungkwan with his empty script book.
Oh, there’s Seokmin eating ice cream with his girlfriend.
Marina? Since when did you follow her? Apparently, you did. Probably when you thought it was still possible to mesh yourself into her friendship with Jennie and become the triplet friend group everyone was envious of. Except you strongly disliked Marina. And Jennie hated you.
You two still followed each other.
@jennie.hg commented on @marinascapilatti’s photo: “HOT. SMOULDERING. FUCKING SEXY AS FUCK.”
@marinascapilatti replied to @jennie.hg: “LMAO. love you sm babe!!”
For some reason, you clicked on Jennie’s profile. Thumbing to the bottom, you realized she hadn’t removed the old pictures of you two together, even if they were from two or more years ago. Jennie had never been one to constantly delete pictures and reshape her account as she got older. She liked the memories. The beauty of an archive. Letting people know exactly who she had been because that was never a concern to her.
You opened a picture she had posted on your birthday three years ago.
@jennie.hg: a lot of u ppl know this girl. she’s my best friend or something. since sixth grade. it’s her birthday. so if you don’t wish her a happy birthday then you’re dead to me and you suck! xo.
That day, people you had never spoke to more than once or twice said happy birthday to you in the halls, or in the lunch line, on the way into your next class, even in the washroom. You decided to look at more comments on the picture, pausing on one in particular.
@joshua_hong_1230: it’s your birthday? happy birthday!:)
Fuck. Were you really about to do this? With your boyfriend asleep beside you, so close that he was crushing you into the wall?
A deep, deep sigh.
Yes.
First, you had to unblock him, convincing yourself it would only be for a moment or two as you quickly gleaned his account (out of curiosity and definitely not the emotion tugging your heart in a very sensitive direction). Pressing onto the most recent picture, you bit your lip.
404 likes. 51 comments. @joshua_hong_1230: clink.
Him and his university friends crowded around a restaurant table, half-emptied glasses of alcohol and dinner plates everywhere. You only recognized Jeonghan who was right beside Joshua in the photo. On his other side, a girl you had never seen before. She was leaning into him closely, her hair tousled in pretty, effortless manner that somehow reminded you of Elsie. Continuing down the rabbit hole, you opened her profile. Her name was Daphne. She was in biomed. Cute sundresses that hugged her shape in all the right places glowing from her feed. 
As much as you wanted to believe you were genuinely interested in this Daphne girl’s life, you weren’t. What you really wanted to know was obvious. In fact, it slapped you in the face, filled you with shame and embarrassment and now you were stuffing your phone beneath the cold side of the pillow hoping it would disappear.
Stop thinking about him.
Stop comparing yourself to everyone in his life.
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Valentine’s Day seemed to come out of nowhere. One minute you were scalding your tongue with the taste of disgustingly hot cocoa, attempting to stick together a gingerbread house using prayers and pastry icing, and peeking between your blinds at the carollers who were singing the loudest version of Silent Night that you’d ever heard. But then you had blinked, and suddenly everything was pink. Roses were being sold in the front foyer (you specifically told Chan not to purchase one because you knew that under your care, it would wilt in a week) and the number of cinnamon hearts you’d smelled on people’s breath was almost concerning. Not to mention the Stupid Cupid Dance was tonight.
At first, you didn’t want to go. Most memories you recalled of the dance were actually quite pleasant, though Jennie had still been your best friend then, and jumping around manically with her while student council showered the crowd with candy grams eased the sting of not being with him. However, Chan was oddly passionate about going. He didn’t swoon to your idea of staying home with a movie and some cheap sugar cookies. In fact, he even offered to accompany you with your dress shopping, though you both got insanely bored halfway through the process and decided to play games at the arcade instead. The best outfit you could muster was a long, oversized dress shirt with a stylish belt to wrap around the waist, alongside some thigh-high pink socks.
It was… definitely something.
The dance was roughly two hours away. You were lounging across your bed, twirling a cherry-flavoured sucker against the inside of your cheek. Chan was sitting on the floor, still trying to fix his tie.
“Do you want me to look up a tutorial or something?” You asked in a bored tone, temple feeling sore from leaning against your fist.
With his tongue curling against his lip, Chan declined. “No, no, think I’ve almost got it… just gotta slip it up and under and… there!”
You could hardly choke out a lukewarm congratulations as you completely spread out across the bed sheets, blinking up the ceiling with the sticky taste of cherry on your lips. Chan edged off the floor and sat beside you, prompting you to raise your head onto his lap.
“Dunno if it’s a good thing to bring up, but your mood is a little… it’s not doing too great, babe. Is there anything I can do?”
Obviously, you wanted to skip the dance. It’s not that you believed it would be unenjoyable with Chan—he did have the tendency to wander and was easily absorbed into conversations with friends, almost exiling you to stand there stiltedly the entire time—but other than that, he was a fantastic dancer and you loved watching him (you had never once danced with him at a party because you felt more like a hindrance to his spotlight). Besides, the gym was only so big, and since Jeonghan had graduated there was no one else at the school to host blow-out parties.
“What if we just didn’t go?” You mumbled around the sucker.
“Uh—no! We have to! Seungkwan’s gonna meet us there.”
“I know, I know. But we can do something fun that’s not the Stupid Cupid Dance! Like, um—we could—there’s always—how about we go the river? It’ll be a little chilly but we can bring our jackets. I think fresh air is what I need. You could teach me to skip rocks.”
Chan’s hand fell into your hair. It felt sympathetic.
“Skip rocks? What makes you think I can do that?”
Pushing yourself up, you groaned, “I don’t know, Chan. I just don’t want to go. Can we make a compromise at least?”
Your boyfriend paused for a moment, slumping against the wall and pursing his lips like he was tediously wracking his brain.
“We can stay for two hours. Then we can go to the river and throw rocks, or whatever it was—the thing you just said.”
“Yes, thank you, thank you!”
He seemed surprised at how ecstatic you behaved, his hands  rather delayed as they climbed up to your hips, responding to the hug you had draped him in. You pressed a kiss against his cheek, then a swift one to his mouth, knowing he could taste the cherry and how sweet it was.
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“The song—the song, they’re changing the song!”
“Yeah, I know, I can hear it—”
“Can you hold this? And this? And my phone—last time it flung out of my pocket and I got big crack in my screen protector.”
“No, Chan—can you wait? It’s almost time to go—”
“I promised that I would do this dance with Seungkwan!”
“So you’re leaving me alone?”
“No, no, no—just—it will be fun! And I’m really good at the dance for this song. Watch me and you’ll see. Thanks, babe! You’re the best!”
“The promise you made to Seungkwan,” you sagged, attempting to hold his suit jacket, drink, and phone all in one severely cramping hand, “what about the promise you made to me?” Walking over to the bench in the gym corner, you set all his possessions down one at a time, gritting your teeth. “I love how much I matter to you, babe.”
You squinted at the exit across the room and attempted to maneuver your way toward it, twisting and wriggling and tiptoeing around everyone until this girl had stepped backward into your way. She flicked a straight curtain of hair over her shoulder and you smelled tart perfume—almost nauseating—as she talked with her friend.
“I feel like these parties were so much better when they weren’t school-sanctioned! No one in student council is stepping up. Why do all the seniors suck this year? Where is everyone with surgeon parents?”
“I know. People were moving the tiles in the girl’s washroom at lunch so they could put Vodka bottles up there. It was so funny.”
“Someone will snitch and they’ll make us do the breathalyser thing—no way they’re doing that to me! It’s like, my right or something.”
“Hey guys, pardon me, I’m going that way.”
“You’re going where?”
“That way, to the exit.”
“You’re trying to leave? Are you going to the washroom? They make you write down your name, y’know, on this clipboard, and they time you. Isn’t that fucking stupid? Like, if you take an extra minute to piss or open a tampon, they’re going to call your parents.”
“Um, that’s—”
“Like, ouuu, I’m so scared. Hey, are you rich by any chance? Not even rich—just like, you’re moderately above average and it’s likely that you have an inground pool? Or, you know someone who is rich?”
“I don’t, sorry…”
“Fuck—it’s whatever.”
“Can you move now? I’m leaving.”
“Oh, yeah—sorry. But you heard the thing I said right, about the washrooms and the clipboard? I hope you’re not going piss!”
Her and her friend were now too far behind you for a response to be meaningful. Your head was throbbing, almost like there was gun powder sitting in your skull instead of a brain, awaiting the flare to thunderously ignite. You tried to slink past the vending machines on your way out, hoping to be inconspicuous and unimportant.
“Uh—excuse me, young lady. I can’t let you walk out. It’s a little loud but I know you hear me.” The teacher started waggling her finger.
“Sorry.”
“Where are you going? Washroom? You’ll need to write your name down on this clipboard as well as the time. I know students have been complaining about this, but it’s a rule and no one is exempt.”
“No, I don’t need the washroom. My head hurts.”
“At least four other girls have told me that, then I saw them all together with this big bottle, stumbling around the track field when I was supervising. Just hold on a moment, I’ll radio a teacher to go with you outside. That way you can get some fresh air, and we know you’re not up to anything that’s against the rules. Can I have your name?”
“Is it for the clipboard?”
“Yes… I have a pencil—here.”
“Well… I don’t need someone to go with me outside.”
“It’s the rule. We need to keep track of all students.”
“I don’t have any alcohol. Or cigarettes.”
“I understand that, but—hey! Hey! You are not allowed to go anywhere unless—young lady, this is not okay!”
You heard the blip on her walkie-talkie as she attempted to alert some other teacher. She’d been following you to the doorway at the front of the school, though she stopped the second you were outside, picking up your pace until you were almost sprinting away from her. It was hardly rebellious—in your eyes, you saw it as less than pathetic. You had decided to turn cheek and flee from her like you had been sent to your room.
Chan wasn’t anywhere close to the boyfriend you had been convincing yourself he was. You didn’t even take his phone or dump his things on the floor or break up with him in the middle of the dance floor as some sort of hedonistic, petty revenge that wouldn’t bare any significance a year from now. Everything had felt so colourless and dull lately. You couldn’t tell if it was your own fault or not.
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Balancing your feet at the very edge of the curb, you wondered why February had to be such an awful month. Nothing good had happened since it started. And now it was chilly and wet and dark outside, with big lumps of grey, dirt-speckled snow spilling hideously all over the place. You had left your jacket inside. The thinness of your long dress-shirt let the cold prick you like little razors, and you were beyond tired at pulling up those thigh-high socks which kept shrinking down your legs. February felt like it was asking to be punched in the face.
It seemed like just yesterday you were standing in this exact spot, beside Jennie, squinching through the brightness of a summer sky. You remembered waiting for her brother to appear around the corner in his silver car, his stereo vibrating with different songs each time, the interior smelling like mint gum and foam cleaner. Hansol was always in the front seat, sticking his hand out the window, singing confidently into the oncoming breeze with the boxiest grin on his face. You remembered the intense nervousness you felt accidentally catching Joshua’s eye in the rear-view mirror—how your fingers curled from the anxiety.
The air was too cold for you to stand still. Once a shudder wracked along your arms, you decided to keep walking, kicking a pebble that had melted out from another mushy pile of snow. Upon reaching the end of the sidewalk, extremely bright lights flooded behind you and the pebble was somehow swallowed up. An engine was guzzling heavy at your side and you contemplated crossing the street despite the pixelated red hand glaring at you. Then, you heard a window roll down.
“Are you the type of girl I can p—”
“I’m seventeen,” you interrupted, refusing to acknowledge the man who was eyeing you a little too excitedly from inside his vehicle.
“Well, I have a nice warm truck right here, in case you want to hop inside if you need a ride anywhere. I can unlock the door for ‘ya.”
“I said I’m seventeen.”
“I’ve seen lots of women like you when I wa—”
“I’m not a woman, I’m a teenager.”
You looked at him once through the inky shadows and saw that merely the outline of his face was visible, with slight glints hollowing what you suspected were his eyes. Something in your chest wobbled. The second the walking-man appeared, you hurried across the street with your thumbs tucked deeply into your fists. Too afraid to continue home alone, you swung into the corner store with the spring-painted overhang you had loved so much in your past, pretending to need something. You paused at the slushie machine—the greatest contributor to all your after-school brain freezes and headaches. An ‘out of order’ sign was taped to the glass. From the peeled, slightly stained edges of the paper, you assumed no one had bothered stopping by to repair it in months.
There wasn’t anything you could buy anyways. Joshua had always bought you a drink or a bag of mostly-air packaged chips when you stopped here—either that or he would give you something he bought for himself. At times you would sit beneath the overhang together, bracing through salt and vinegar flavoured chips that stung the soft, cushioned inside of your mouths, drinking soda, throwing the little stones at your feet. For the first time in a long while, you admitted it.
You missed him.
When the clerk disappeared underneath the counter to dislodge another magazine he had most likely read for the hundredth time, you slipped out the door delicately. You then removed your phone from its very convenient spot (tucked between your bra, obviously). For a moment, you studied the number that you had once blocked in the dusk of summer—certain it would never be touched again no matter how much you could be hurting, crying, or grieving the pieces of love you had somehow lost along the way. And you stayed true to that certainty. You didn’t unblock Joshua’s number, rather you just tempted yourself with the idea of it, like smelling a piece of cake but never taking a bite.
Of course, it was unsatisfying. But you pretended it wasn’t.
The river had to be nearby, the sort of thing you could always tell was getting closer and closer because the water sounded like busy wind in tree leaves. It started appearing over a distant crest, which you eventually came to pause at, staring down unto the bank and its large slabs of rock that were now frosted with snow. This was the place you were supposed to be with Chan—if he hadn’t completely ignored your compromise. The fact he wasn’t texting you, worried sick or even an inch concerned, engendered you to think you weren’t really anything to him at all. He didn’t want to be tethered by a girlfriend, that was obvious.
You stared for a little longer, growing colder and stiffer, tracing the places you stood when Joshua had been showing you how to skip stones. But then you started hearing footsteps crunch in the snow, and as you squinted down the bank, you sucked in a dry, freezing breath.
“Jennie!” Your voice cracked. “What the hell are you doing?!”
The girl stopped abruptly, and her shoes sunk awkwardly into the snow, her face visibly flushed in the street lights shining down on the shore. She seemed almost embarrassed to be caught by you, though it should have been the other way around, considering your last words to her were about her older brother rejecting you whilst sat on his lap.
“I’m walking to the corner store!” Jennie shouted back, burying herself deeper into the brown coat draped over her shoulders.
“Why?!”
“Why does it matter?!”
“… Uh, I dunno!”
“If you keep yelling, you’ll start an avalanche somewhere!”
“You’re yelling too!”
Somehow, you successfully managed your way down the riverbank without slipping on a hidden piece of ice. Jennie huffed as you approached her, shaking snow clumps off her sneaker.
“Why don’t you just take the sidewalk?” You asked.
It felt inconceivably strange to look at her face this directly after the fight—to gauge the slow unfurling of maturity in her cheekbones and jawline—to realize how tall she suddenly was—even her impressively long hair which surrounded her like a rippling, black sea. She took a moment before answering, leading you to believe she had studied your face as well. The thought made you uncomfortable yet pleased.
“Why are you dressed like a Dollar Store hooker?”
You couldn’t help but guffaw at that—her humour hadn’t evolved much.
“I went to the Stupid Cupid Dance.”
“Oh—that.”
“Why didn’t you go?”
“Uh… I don’t know,” Jennie shrugged, her eyes drifting along the dark expanses behind you, “I didn’t have anyone to go with.”
“You don’t need a date—”
“No—like, I know that. I don’t have any… friends, I mean.”
“That’s not true. I see you with people all the time. You’re popular as shit. What about Marina? Is she sick?”
“No. We haven’t been talking lately. I don’t think I missed out on anything, anyways. You already left, and by the looks of it, the dance was so bad you didn’t even want to stay to get your jacket. I don’t know how you’re not freezing your tits off. I’m cold, and I have a coat.”
“Yeah, I am cold, but I didn’t wanna go straight home ‘cause this weirdo pulled up beside me at the crosswalk. I was actually supposed to come here with Chan—he clearly had other things that mattered more.”
“Your boyfriend’s kinda lame.”
“Okay—yes, you’re right. Ouch, though.”
“I mean, you tend to like lame guys—my brother, for example.”
The nausea in your stomach dropped. It was a very sickly swirling of butterflies and the slight urge to vomit onto the snow, though you tacked a smile upon your face that definitely wasn’t as soft as you thought. Jennie then blew a strand of hair from her eyes, beginning to shake her head at you. It seemed that she wasn’t bitter, just confused.
“Well, he rejected me,” you stated simply.
She huffed in a gloomy breath, “I know.”
It was quiet again.
“I don’t like him anymo—”
“Oh—just stop, okay?” Jennie exhaled deeply through her teeth, and her gaze burned into yours like a flaming arrow. “I always suspected you had a crush on him. I don’t care anymore. I just wanted reasons to be mad at you since we were growing apart, and there wasn’t even a good explanation for it. I thought if I made up a reason to just—I don’t know—hate you, then it would make me feel better about us. We aren’t friends anymore and that’s fine. That’s what happens. That’s life.”
You struggled to swallow. It felt like the cold air had somehow frozen your throat, and now you could only stare at Jennie, speechless.
“He was so angry at me,” the girl continued, brushing something wet and shiny from her pink-stained cheek, “when I finally cracked and told him about our fight. I mean, he’s been like, ‘mad’ before, but never angry. Until then. Almost yelling at me—just, a bunch of emotion all over his face and stuff. I knew he was in love with you. He never wanted to say it, but he didn’t have to—like I said, he’s lame.”
For some reason, you couldn’t help chuckling.
“Oh yeah, he loves me—like a friend.”
“He just didn’t want to pressure you.”
“Jennie, I was in your brother’s fucking lap, kissing him. He didn’t pressure me at all. And he said something like, ‘I can’t do this, I shouldn’t do this’, and he didn’t even try to stop me from leaving. How could I have made it any clearer I wanted him?”
“Okay—well! My brother is an idiot, then! I don’t know what else to tell you—he got cold feet, he was worried about a long-distance relationship, it all felt too soon, he wasn’t sure how I’d react—I don’t know what he was thinking. I just know he had feelings for you, and if I somehow interfered and ruined it for you two, I’m sorry. But at this point, I don’t care what happens. I honestly never did. Just don’t pretend that you’re not still in love with him ‘cause you think I’ll be mad about it.”
After a tired, musing sigh, you broke off from her eyes and stared across the river, rubbing at your cheeks that were numb and stiff. It was then you realized how fucking insufferably cold you were, to which Jennie unzipped her long brown coat, gesturing for you to huddle beside her underneath it. You didn’t hesitate—not even for a second.
“It’s atrocious out here,” she breathed unsteadily into the lashing wind, “my house is closer than yours. You can warm up there.”
“Didn’t you need to go to the convenience store?”
You heard the smile she fought to supress as she huffed, “I lied. I was just taking a walk. I don’t know why I lied about that.”
“When it’s this cold?”
“Shut up! You have no room to talk right now.”
“I know, I know. But, really—you could have just stayed home.”
With a secure grip on her far shoulder, you both made baby steps up the riverbank, back toward the street. Jennie clutched your waist.
“I’m tired of being at home. I don’t have anything to do there.”
You giggled, “why not watch a movie? Or play a video game?”
“It’s not fun by yourself.”
“Well, we should do that—watch a movie or something. I wanted to stay home, anyways. And we can make big mugs of hot chocolate.”
“I think we have marshmallows,” Jennie said while smiling.
For some reason, you thought you could cry. There seemed to be a distant, swelling sting pressing at the back of your eyes, enough for you to sniffle and thickly swallow, though the tears never actually fell. It was just… nice… to talk with Jennie again. She was the one part of your life that you believed would always stick, and having her slip so rapidly from between your fingers had been a tough knife in your back. You weren’t positive if after tonight things would still be this cordial. Maybe you two would wake up again, knowing there was nothing left but dust in all the cracks and crevices of your friendship. It was impossible to say.
Right now, however, she was the person you needed most.
You sensed it was the same for her.
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Joshua came home at the beginning of June.
A little less than a year had passed since you last saw him at his graduation party—the day responsible for birthing your abruptly decided choice to weed him from your life. It was easier to commit to such an extremity knowing he was hundreds of kilometers away. Yet, that didn’t mean it was easy exiling him. How were you supposed to forgot about someone who spent the last five years comfortably burrowing in your head and heart? And—right when you thought it was possible to finally cut the remaining wire, he pulled back into the Hong driveway in that silver bullet car like he’d never left. As easy as a cool breeze.
You were walking to the corner store that day, knowing they had a help wanted sign currently hanging in their window. It seemed like a simple gig, it’s just that you wouldn’t be allowed to ring up cigarettes, lottery tickets or beer. Passing Joshua and Jennie’s house was almost inevitable, though you had officially accepted the portrait of their driveway without that silvery, shiny car. So, when you casually flicked your head left to glimpse their house across the street, you were stunned and even horrified to see the vehicle once erased from your thoughts.
It was reversed into the driveway. The trunk was popped open, and judging by their open garage, someone was lugging suitcases into the house. You didn’t move for a solid minute. Instead, you watched the trunk, as you swore that someone was digging through it. And then you saw a hand touch the top edge, running along its chrome embellishment before beginning to slam it down. You knew it was Joshua before you even saw the person’s face—he had very particular ways of doing things. At first, he didn’t notice you while adjusting the duffle bag strapped over his shoulder and the backpack hanging off his other arm. The lanyard to his car keys was cutely dangling from his mouth.
His eyes impetuously scanned the street, whisking over you like the dull detail nobody was moved enough to highlight—until something about him jerked and suddenly he was squinting directly at you. He slowly took the car keys from his mouth, continuing to observe you from across the street, most likely attempting to fill in the differences of your face and figure—decide if it was even you, he was squinching at.
Immediately, you felt sick to your stomach.
Every single emotion, thought, and feeling came stampeding back through your bones and your skin and your blood. It was almost suffocating—like witnessing a tidal wave of your own secrets looming so far above that you needed to crane your neck to find where it stopped. In your next breath, you were walking away, refusing to look back.
The worst part was feeling Joshua watch you.
The worst, worst part was knowing you weren’t any less in love with him than before he left.
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[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: if ur heading to the house now I prob won’t be home for another half hour. stupid dentist appointment!! >:(
[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: do you not have a drill in ur mouth rn?
[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: you’re being such an irresponsible patient!!
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: she left the room. and I like the drill.
[ _____ | 2:14 pm ]: weirdo alert
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: RUDE!!!
[ jenn-E | 2:14 pm ]: see u soon <3 garage door should be open
[ _____ | 2:15 pm ]: okay! byebye <3
You slid the phone back into your shorts pocket, continuing down the sidewalk with one eye pierced shut. The sun was beaming on you so intensely that you felt the warm sting along your arms and legs, and there was probably a sweaty shine brighter than the north star reflecting off your forehead. Sometimes summer was insufferable. It felt like there was nothing you could do to cool down. There better be ice cream in the fridge, you thought, or a whole package of popsicles. As you drew nearer to the house, you saw that the garage door was indeed open. Then you started walking hurriedly into their driveway.
It was too goddamn hot out.
“Yeah, I’ll try that next… Mmhm… I thought it went the other way?... No—the other, other way… Dude? Are you fucking stupid?... I didn’t mean that, I didn’t mean it… Never mind Jeonghan, I meant it.”
Oh no. Joshua wasn’t supposed to be at home today. His car wasn’t in the driveway, so you hadn’t anticipated marching straight into this astonishingly awkward predicament. You forgot about the old couch they kept in their garage. Jennie used to quip and demand for Joshua to play his guitar there since she couldn’t stand the noise of him railing on the chords. He was speaking to someone on the phone—Jeonghan, his roommate—though he was wearing his earbuds so Joshua hadn’t heard you come in. For a snap-instant, you contemplated turning the other way and making a very understandable sprint back home.
“Okay, just send me the chord progression you’re thinking of then… Oh? Wait, I have my guitar, listen to this… Good, right?... If there’s tweaks then—yeah, yeah, exactly… Just send me it and I’ll—”
Well, it was too late for that, anyway. Joshua had finally noticed you standing like some ghostly apparition who definitely thought they were invisible by the garage threshold. His eyes widened in shock, and you couldn’t help but crack a tiny smile as he attempted to push his roommate off the phone. You sighed, walking toward him slowly.
“I have to go—‘cause, I do!... No I would never do that, I really need to go, though… Send-me-the-chord-progression-okay-bye!” He chucked the last sentence together so quickly it sounded like one word and proceeded to pull out his earbuds.
You had no idea what to do, what to say, or how to piece together an expression on your face that wasn’t strained. He cleared off the coffee table of its old magazines and thick newspapers, to which you sat down across from him with clammy hands clutching your shorts and the largest lump in your throat. God—you hadn’t seen his face in nearly a year, and what a beautiful face he had. His hair was the slightest bit copperier, like it had been sun-kissed, and his skin seemed to have tanned as well. Even his cheeks had maturely sharpened out. You had trouble staring at him, especially his eyes, because you knew exactly how they made you feel—it was a drink of something warm and sweet and glimmery.
“So…” Joshua started to lean back, plucking a few soft strings on his guitar, “I’m still blocked, y’know? Just in case you forgot.”
“I haven’t,” you reminded him in an instant, trying inconceivably hard not to let the dopiest fucking smirk take over your face.
“You hate me?”
“No.”
“Do you want to hate me?”
“What’s the point of this?” Discretely rubbing off your palms, you managed to lock eyes with him, though only for a second.
Joshua shrugged, quirking his head at you.
“I’m trying to figure out why I’m still blocked.”
“Because I needed to get you… out.”
“Out of what?” He chuckled. “Your life?”
His question, you didn’t answer. These weren’t exactly things you wanted to admit aloud, let alone to the face of the person who was the subject. It seemed embarrassing, and maybe it shouldn’t be—maybe you should just own how you felt during those moments because you deserved the chance to finally just breathe. Stop holding things so tight until they popped into an explosion like the fight with Jennie.
“Yes,” you sighed after the brief silence, “I was hurt, and I was angry, and I didn’t want to sit in those feelings. That’s it.”
Joshua nodded, “because of what I said to you that day.”
“Essentially, yeah.”
You weren’t sure if he was going to apologize again. It hadn’t done him any good the last time, so you assumed he wouldn’t bother. For a moment, you contemplated asking him about what Jennie had told you that night at the river, when she revealed that he supposedly loved you.
Nothing ever left your mouth. The timing wasn’t right.
“So, do I get unblocked or not?” Joshua huffed.
Your feet crossed shyly. “Um, I’ll think about it… how’s school?”
“Uh, it has its ups and downs, highs and lows. I’m guessing you didn’t come here to ask about that. Jennie’s not home until later.”
“I know. She’s at the dentist.”
Joshua smiled, sitting up straighter and setting his guitar aside.
“Well, I’m glad you two patched it up. That doesn’t always happen. Not that there’s anything wrong with drifting away. I wasn’t sure if Hansol and I would keep talking. He’s in South Korea right now.”
“I heard, from Jennie.”
“Yeah,” the boy sighed, “they text and stuff.”
“Are you bothered by that?”
“No…?” Joshua replied ambiguously, scratching his head. “I haven’t decided yet. Hansol is cool, anyways. I’m not worried. But what about you? How’s your life been since I hit the city?”
At that, you leaned back against the coffee table and laughed, covering your mouth with a nervous hand. Upon first glance, it had been a boring yet deleterious mess—convincing yourself that you were happier and better off despite the very conspicuous hole suckling like a whirlpool in your chest. But if you looked a little deeper, it had been a journey of acknowledging said mess. You didn’t know how to explain it to Joshua.
“It was interesting.”
“Really? That’s all I get? I think you’re skirting the question.”
“Obviously,” you giggled again, “it’s a long story and not one you’d want to hear right now. I’ll tell you some other time.”
“Fine,” he succumbed, shoving his hands in his pockets, “did you get a boyfriend? Is that why you don’t wanna say anything?”
The heat engulfed you instantly, almost as though you were back outside and suffering under the density of those sun rays. The relationship with Chan had ended after the dance. He was utterly confused about the reasons why, prompting you to feel a bit of pity as you broke up him with him on his porch the next morning. Joshua tilted his head curiously, something a little playful and glinting in his eyes.
“I had a boyfriend,” you answered simply, almost whispered.
He started grinning, moving into an engaged position with his elbows on his knees. You quivered subtly at the closeness.
“Of course. Who?”
“Just, someone from my grade,” you prevaricated.
The boy’s gaze had fixed on you indefinitely.
“Who?”
“Someone.”
He gripped your shoulders—“Who?!”
You were burning up, and pushed him back—“Someone!”
Joshua collapsed against the couch, beginning to cross his arms while making a tsking sound with his teeth. The urge to excitably laugh hadn’t left the back of your throat, and you couldn’t stop mumbling around it as Joshua furrowed his brow at you. Having him touch you so suddenly struck a match. Your feelings hadn’t subsided in the slightest.
“I don’t think it’s important who. And, besides, you don’t deserve to know right now. We broke up back in February.”
“So, I don’t get to just know things about you now?” He asked, melting further down the couch. “I have to earn it?”
“Mmhm.”
He smirked, “fair enough… why’d you break up with him?”
“I didn’t say that I broke up with him.”
“Okay,” Joshua shrugged, losing his transient half-smile, “but we all know you did. Why? He didn’t treat you well enough, yeah?”
Your hands clenched together, pressing uncomfortably.
“We can talk about it later… what about you? Girlfriend?”
“No.”
You raised your brow and decided to poke at him, “wow—even with those eyes? Or does your sweetheart act not cut it anymore? Have you resorted to drugs, Joshua? It’s okay, you can tell me.”
“Oh, you’re so fucking funny,” he pretended to laugh while pushing his sneaker gently against your knee, “I just didn’t want one.”
Suddenly, your phone buzzed. Taking it out from your pocket, you saw that Jennie had sent a text about how she was heading home now. You swallowed tautly, glancing up at Joshua who seemed to realize what the vibration was. He looked rather disappointed, and you felt it deep in your gut too. There was so much more to talk about and joke about and this little sliver of time in the cool, shady garage had whipped past in a mere blink. But at least there was more transparency. Jennie knew and there was no reason to play coy. The whole summer and all its vibrance was still at your feet. You didn’t have to rush anything.
“It was nice catching up with you,” Joshua said, pulling the guitar back onto his lap, “shoot me a text whenever you decide to unblock me.”
“You won’t ignore me? Even with your big fancy university lifestyle now? Greasy takeout and bags of coins for the laundromat?”
“Never,” he smiled, winking casually, “by the way—”
Turning around in the doorway, you tilted your head at him.
“You look really pretty.”
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18.
Joshua’s October reading week was nearly over—he’d be packing his suitcases tomorrow morning and escorted back into the city alongside some help from his father. You’d been invited over to their house for sushi night, to which you were currently fighting Jennie off with your chopsticks for the last yam tempura roll. She decided to let you have it, muttering something along the lines of, only because you’re the guest.
It had been roughly three years since your last dinner at their house, and while it was a bit nerve-wracking, you relaxed continuously throughout the night (which could be also attributed to the saké that Mrs. Hong let you pour a decent-sized cup of). Jennie slipped back into the dining room once she grabbed a soda can from the fridge, leaving you alone in the kitchen to decide between the last fried wonton or vegetable spring roll. You sighed, pinching your chopsticks in thought.
“Save room for dessert, y’know? They gave us ice cream.”
Joshua approached the sink, rinsing off his plate and emptied glass under the water. He’d drank more from that saké bottle than you, indicated by the peach-pink glow traversing his cheeks.
“I know, but I’m greedy. I haven’t eaten sushi in forever.”
He came beside you (who still couldn’t decide) and opened one of the drawers to remove some spoons for the ice cream. Joshua then proceeded to pick up the last golden-fried wonton with your chopsticks and dropped it onto your plate. You gaped at him as he nudged a quick kiss against your temple, watching the boy now pull open the freezer.
“I hadn’t made up my mind yet!”
Joshua shrugged, “now you don’t have to. The wonton is good, anyway. It’s got this slightly sweet cream cheese filling.”
“Blah, blah.”
Mrs. Hong entered the kitchen, exchanging a few words between you and Joshua while she cleaned her dishes. She said that her and her husband would be going upstairs to their bedroom for a movie.
“You and Jennie are welcome to do anything. Joshua—I’m guessing you’ll be in the garage? Or will you start packing tonight, dear?”
“Uh, I’ll start tonight. Makes it easier.”
“Okay, perfect. Here—I’ll help you take out the ice cream.” She took two of the bowls, but stopped in the doorway, “are you coming?”
“Yeah, I will,” Joshua replied, “in a sec.”
Once she left upstairs, you felt Joshua’s body push against your spine, his hand tapping your chin and lightly guiding your head to tilt back onto his shoulder. His parents didn’t know of the relationship and neither did yours. Only Jennie was aware. She had been easy to tell.
“I want to do something with you tonight,” Joshua whispered into your ear, his breath warm and ticklish, “after hours, of course.”
“Like what?” You asked in a soft, hushed tone, smiling against your bitten lip. The depth of his eye contact was so exhilarating that you wanted to pounce on him right then and there, refraining by a mere hair.
His hands drifted down to your hips, squeezing them.
“Nothing too special. I’ll surprise you.”
“Okay,” you lilted, “I like surprises. Sometimes.”
Immediately pushing up to meet his lips, you kissed him, lifting a hand behind you to run your fingers slowly through his hair. Put simply, the relationship had ignited just before Joshua left for his second year of university. He came to walk you home from a night shift at the corner store, the both of you kicking pebbles down the sidewalk and dancing around the topic that was so evidently dying to burst. That’s when you decided to ask him about what Jennie had said.
“Was she right? Were you in love with me?”
“Honestly, at the time, I don’t think I could have given you a straight answer. I knew that I felt something, but I wasn’t sure if it was right. You were always in the back of my mind. I thought about you more than I’d care to admit. But when I look at you now, I can definitively say I loved you... I love you, still. ”
Since the fading aurora of that late summer night, you two started dating. It was a fairly covert operation, yet that made it all the more alive and electrifying. The topic of the graduation party had consequently resurfaced—Joshua said he was just overwhelmed by his feelings for you, and that he crumbled in the moment. You didn’t care about the incident though. He was kissing and holding you now.
“Okay, let’s meet Jennie back in the dining room,” you giggled, pushing him away from licking and teething a mark to your neck, “and I’ll let you know what I think of this very crispy looking wonton.”
This year you and Jennie would be graduating. She had offered to do your nails and make-up, which were skills she had picked up from hanging out so frequently with her old girly-girl crowd. You had met some of them—the actually genuine ones who you could imagine holding back your hair during a wicked hangover or offering their most treasured life advice through a bathroom stall at a party. Jennie had maintained some of her interests from them, though she still liked the things you had originally known her for. It was a wholesome change.
“What style of nails do you want? Personally, I like the really pointy stiletto ones because it’s so easy to scratch people.”
“Of course that’s why you like them,” Joshua rolled his eyes, spooning some mango ice cream into his mouth.
“Maybe you could practice a bit on Joshua,” you laughed.
“Yes!” Jennie exclaimed, reaching over to ruffle her older brother’s pretty, mussed hair, “that’s so perfect, isn’t it, Joshy Woshy?”
He swatted her hand away, “I told you to stop calling me that. I don’t call you Jennifer anymore.” A gradual smirk crossed his lips.
That was the cardinal sin. Never call her Jennifer. You opted to stay quiet and finish your deep-fried wonton while they bickered and sniped at each other. At least it wasn’t about the fork with the oddly-dented prong this time. That always tended toward a wrestling match.
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nsfw warning. 
skip to next divider if wanted!
“Shit, right there!”
Your hand flung into the darkness, bumping against the glass of the backseat window, its condensation wiped off in a messy, uncoordinated smudge. It felt too fucking good—his tongue, pressing up your most sensitive area, indulging slowly in each swirl and kiss and flick as if he would never get the opportunity to taste you here again. It was sometime past one in the morning, his car stalled in the empty lot overlooking the river bank, one single lamp post scattering the windows with a distant, glowing tint. You breathed in deep, closing your eyes.
“You like it that much?” Joshua laughed huskily, readjusting the leg cast down his shoulder. “You’ve got tears all over your face, baby.”
“Just give me more,” you whined in impatience, thrusting your hips toward his mouth with frustration, sensing his hovering breath.
He smirked, placing his thumb just above your clit and pulling back against the skin to expose it more clearly. Everything between your thighs had been generously drenched with your arousal and his spit.
“Are you sure? Think you can take cumming again? I won’t give you a break this time.” There was a teasing nature about his voice.
“Fuck, Joshua, I don’t care! Just keep licking me, please!”
“You’re so fucking whiney,” he murmured, suddenly jerking your body further down the upholstery, “I’ll let you drown me, then.”
In the next instant, his face was stuffed back into your heat, the touches of his tongue and the relentless slurping shooting every nerve in your body to starlight. You couldn’t help but thread your fingers into his wavy, sweat-dampened hair, holding him there as he practically drank you, feeling the pleasure tick higher and higher and higher. Even your hips adapted a mind of their own, attempting to grind against his face so that you could engulf him as much as possible. He caught onto your clit again, sliding his tongue directly into its most sensitive golden spot.
“Fuckfuckfuck,” you moaned into the thick air, “like that, like that—hh-holy shit! M’g’nna cum, Joshua! Please, keep going!”
At that point, you didn’t even know what to articulate. A sheen of sweat had soaked through the thin t-shirt you wore to dinner, your skirt left in a pile in the passenger seat as it had been ripped off earlier. Joshua focused relentlessly on that one perfect spot until you tipped over the edge. The scream broke down in your throat before it could even hit the mugginess around you, not that anyone would have been able to hear you given the time. Contortions twitched through your face while your hips spasmed. And Joshua took it. He took everything. He was most definitely smirking as he slurped your pussy like ice cream—even pinned down your wrist when you began to weakly push and nudge at his head.
“Holy fuck, yy-you’re crazy, Jos—nngh!” Your voice wilted at the sensation of his tongue curling inside of you, wriggling just to ruin you a little further. Half your consciousness was floating in an intangible dimension behind your eyelids. “M’gonna be so fucking sore.”
Once he was satisfied with licking clean the mess between your thighs, Joshua ripped apart the buttons on your pale shirt, kissing up your stomach, your chest, pushing his slick lips onto yours and digging his warm tongue into your mouth. You grabbed his pants, helping tug them off while tasting every bit of yourself.
“I need t’fuck you so bad,” he whispered into your ear, his honeyed voice becoming coarser with desire, “while I still have your taste on my tongue—” your leg was then stretched over his shoulder again, “I need to be inside you more than anything—” he guided himself in with a single thrust, your gasps flushing together, “all these things I wanna do to you, all these things I wanna make you feel—” your nails carved into his back, dragging in scores across the muscle, “I want you t’keep crying for me—” his hand pressed into the slippery car window, leaving an imprint in the fog as he fluidly moved his hips against you, staring down at your wet, breathless face, “I want you to know how much I’m in love with you when I fuck your pretty body like this.”
Your lips trembled into a reverie-like smile. Gripping gently at the back of his neck, you sunk him down for a slow, thorough kiss.
“Love you too…” you whimpered, “ss-so much…”
The desperation and strength of your lust had just been too surmounting in the moment. Joshua hadn’t pulled out onto your stomach like he usually did, opting to keep himself nested inside as he shuddered and let his body release. When you came around him, there was next to nothing you remembered apart from the stars that twinkled through the open sky-light of the car and the intense convulsion you experienced while gazing at them. Joshua laid against you while he caught his breath. You couldn’t stop staring at the world above that resembled a beautiful black beach. There was something so spectacular about it—something so comfortable about quirking Joshua’s head toward the roof in order for him to see what you were seeing.
He nudged your temple with his nose.
“I didn’t plan for the stars to be out. I got lucky.” He answered in between warm breaths.
You turned to look at him with a faint simper. The tingles and throbs of pleasure were still pricking you, fading ever so gradually.
“I like to think they popped out just for us.”
He chuckled, “to see us have sex in the backseat of my car?”
You mushed a hand into his face, “don’t ruin the moment!”
“Sorry, sorry,” Joshua apologized, to which you stopped squishing your palm awkwardly into his cheek, “you’re right, they’re shining for us. Um, and, you’ve got your morning after, right? You said it was in your bag or something.”
“Yeah, I’ve got it. We probably shouldn’t be that careless.” You laughed.
“Probably. But you feel so good.” 
“I know,” you poked out your tongue playfully, “let’s just not make a habit of it.”
“Fair enough.”
“It’s getting pretty late, though. Don’t you want to be home at least a little early? Catch more sleep before leaving?”
He shook his head nonchalantly, then notched you closer against his bare skin by the hip. The motion prompted you to shiver at the sensitive feeling of him still deep inside you, a soft breath exhaled from between your lips. Joshua decided to sweep his fingers delicately up and down your face to relax you, knowing your nerves were rather burnt out.
“It’s alright. I have time with you now. That’s what I care about.”
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Present.
It wasn’t the most ideal day to be moving cardboard boxes of your appliances, pictures, and whatever else miscellaneous belongings into the building— especially considering the three staircases you had to climb. Unfortunately, you couldn’t control the weather, and that seemed to be proved almost spitefully as a fat, cold raindrop spat directly onto your forehead. With two boxes balanced against your chest, you let it dribble down toward your eye, until you spotted Jennie hopping out the front door to the complex and whined for her to wipe the droplet away.
“At least all the super heavy stuff was moved up yesterday,” she tried to include something positive, flipping up the hood of her plasticky-green raincoat, “this is just the knickknacks. I hope.”
“Mostly—hey, can you grab that box with the lamp? It’s sitting behind the passenger seat. Oh, thank you—you’re a gem.”
“I know,” Jennie chirped, poking out her tongue.
By the time most cardboard boxes were moved into the apartment, you had experienced one downpour and another ditzy, sweet-smelling rain shower about half an hour later. The bottoms of your feet were aching. You kicked off your wet shoes onto the welcome mat and proceeded straight to the fridge, pulling out the first drink you saw—an orange cream soda. Officially toasting to your first apartment with some fancy alcohol would come later, when you weren’t damp and hungry and ready to chew someone’s head off like a dog with a meaty bone.
Joshua then pushed open the door, carrying what you assumed was the last box. He walked over to the living area, pausing for a brief moment as he decided where amongst the brown sea of cardboard it should be placed. You watched him balance it atop another big box.
“Please tell me there’s no more,” you pouted, leaning all your weight against the island countertop, “I’m about to disassemble.”
“Disassemble?” Joshua laughed, toeing off his shoes beside yours on the mat, “are you a Polly Pocket or something?”
“Yes, I am. You’re in a relationship with a piece of plastic.”
“Hm, I can’t believe I’m just figuring this out now.”
He opened the fridge, peering around inside. There wasn’t much to look at apart from some bagged vegetables, cheese, a single carton of coffee creamer, and the orange soda cans. You had opted for takeout tonight, but Joshua insisted that he should cook something special—a little market area was just down the street, anyway. He ended up grabbing a soda can, cracking it open over the sink with a satisfying hiss.
“Well, we live here now,” Joshua said, rubbing his hand down the back of your jacket, “was it a pain in the ass? Yeah. But we have a home.”
You straightened out, peeling yourself off the counter. The terrace was most definitely going to be your favourite part come summertime. Joshua liked the floor-length windows for the sunlight.
“Do you think you can buy garlic bread? Or—no—focaccia? The rosemary kind like we had at that restaurant in the fall? Don’t you remember how good that was? We couldn’t even eat our dinner.”
Joshua grinned, his hand lingering at your lower back as he brought the soda can to his lips, “I remember that place. I’m pretty sure I could make the focaccia too. Probably not too hard… anything else?”
After taking a sip from your own drink, you raised a brow.
“What do you mean?”
“Is there anything else you want for dinner?”
You smiled at him, leaning back against his chest.
“I’ll have to think about it.”
Suddenly, Jennie had poked her head through the door, waving you over with a hand. You exchanged a quick kiss with Joshua and approached her, to which you were abruptly dragged outside into the corridor, yelping. Jennie reached into her pocket for a moment.
“What’s this all about?” You grumbled.
The girl then shoved a tiny pink and white box into your chest.
“Oh my god—Jennie, I’ve told you! I’m not pregnant!”
“Like you actually know!” She rebutted, folding her arms and moving her soaked feet about nervously. “From what you’ve been telling me, it seems at least likely. You need to try it. And tell me!”
Taking a few seconds to glance over the box, you could only upend a gigantic sigh. Sure, you had told Jennie that your period was running late (but that wasn’t particularly rare for you), and you also complained about urinating more than usual. Besides, you and Joshua were fairly careful. You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t swallowed a plan b pill the following morning. Massaging at your sore temple, you decided to just capitulate and shove the box in your pocket.
“I can’t believe you’re making me do this.”
“All you gotta do is pee on a stick, babe.”
“I know what I have to do—” you gesticulated with a wildly flailing hand, puffing out an exhale, “I just think these changes or irregularities or whatever you want to call them are a coincidence.”
“Blah, blah, blah. Just take the test.”
“Obviously, I will.”
“Thank you,” Jennie said, patting your shoulder, “I just don’t want this to sneak up on you—in case it’s true! Note I said in case!”
“Yes, I did note that,” a smile managed to plant on your exhausted face, “I’ll try it, okay? Are you staying for dinner?”
“Nah,” the girl waved her hand dismissively, “I’ll let you two enjoy the first night here, alone. But I will be returning, and I will be expecting Joshua to cook me an entire meal like he’s doing for you.”
“Aw, Hansol still hasn’t found his way around a grill, huh?” You giggled, recalling the last time you visited them for supper and the boy had somehow charred everyone’s burgers into measly black pucks.
“His mind wanders,” Jennie sighed hopefully, “he’ll get there.”
“I believe that too.” You agreed while taking a step forward, wrapping your best friend and her crinkly raincoat into a hug. She returned the embrace. Both of you were practically leaning on the other for stability, clearly beaten from those heavy, clunky boxes and the number of steps you’d taken since lunch. You stayed like that for a minute, until there was a mutual choice to lug your weight off each other.
“Sleep in tomorrow!” Jennie sang as she continued waving goodbye from down the corridor. “Get him to make you breakfast, too!”
“Obviously!” You called back, smiling and admittedly a bit teary.
When you returned inside the apartment, Joshua had already pulled out some things from the boxes. All the paintings were leaned up against the wall while a few of the kitchen appliances had been organized onto the counter. Looking outside, you saw it was starting to brighten up between the clouds, the still drops on the windows glistering.
Joshua then collapsed onto the couch he’d cleared off.
“So, what was that all for? Gossiping about me?”
You huffed innocuously and plopped down beside him.
“Imagine a world where we have nothing better to do than gossip about you? Can you imagine it? No? Me either, sweetie.”
He pulled your hand away from shaking his jaw.
“You’re annoying—what was it?”
Digging a hand into your pocket, you touched the edge of the pregnancy test, though you hesitated before revealing it. The more you thought into the possibility, the more your heart started pounding with the idea that it could be true—maybe you really were pregnant. No, you had to swat the anxiously bubbling feelings away. Cross the bridge when you get there. Heaving a big breath, you flicked the test onto his lap.
Joshua merely stared at it, until he picked up the box and began reading the label. His mouth fell open in a stutter, but then it closed and he quirked an eyebrow at you because his words just weren’t conjuring.
“Um, yeah. Jennie thinks I might be pregnant. So… that’s something fun I can try tonight. Dinner and a pregnancy test.”
“Are you actua—I mean, d-do you think you are?”
Pressing your head back into the couch, your eyes drifted along the ceiling in search of some concrete answer that just wasn’t there.
“I… don’t know…” you finally said, looking to your boyfriend who was glancing at the test again, “I told you about my period being late, but that’s happened before. And I’m having to pee a lot more than usual—I get headaches now and then. I just—maybe I am!” You slid further down the couch, biting your lip. “How would you feel if it was positive?”
“How would I feel?��� He echoed, leaning forward to set the test on the coffee table, his hands clasping and rubbing together. “Obviously I’d be fucking ecstatic, sweetheart. But, I mean, this is your body, and—”
“Really?” That caught you by surprise.
You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest, angling your body to face him properly. “This is something you want? Like, I know we’ve glossed the topic before and we both agree that, yes, this is in our future. But… you’re okay if it… happens now?”
Joshua scooted closer to you, fitting his palm perfectly against your cheek. His gaze poured so intimately into yours, and it felt like an invisible thread was connecting your stream of thoughts and emotions.
“If it happens now then I’ll be even more excited,” his dampened hair brushed your forehead as you softly pushed your lips together, fingers skimming through his hair, “we’ll start with dinner, and we’ll see what happens afterward, okay?” 
He kissed you again, pulling your body closer and firmer into his chest. “I love you.”
You nodded appreciatively, whispering, “I love you, too.”
Of course, you had no idea what was going to happen with the pregnancy test, and even if you could somehow see into the future, what was the point of spoiling things for yourself? What was the point of knowing the punches if you were better off getting hit, anyway? You just needed to be patient. You needed to take each second, minute, and half-hour at a time, because the universe always seemed to have a place for you, even when it felt like you were floating alone at the farthest perimeters of its arms. Joshua got up from the couch, grabbing his wallet off the coffee table and slipping back into his shoes. He was going to the market. At least the sun was starting to make its golden blips down onto the earth after all the rain, so he wouldn’t be walking underneath darkness.
Right, dinner first.
That was how this whole thing started, anyway.
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✧✎ TAGLIST: @02psh / @ally-127 / @astersg4rden / @aunty-tiger-potato / @boowanie / @celestialpearls / @dokyeomblr / @gventaken / @hesbambi / @honglynights / @hyuckworld​ / @j4d​ / @joshuahongsfuturewife / @joshuas / @junhuilov3r / @kellyooo13 / @koishua / @lovelywoo / @quicksilverster / @rae-blogging / @sseastar-main / @ucantstopthefunk / @woozes​ / @wonwoonlight​
Could not be tagged: @lovelacejun / @manamiyx / @notscoupy / @soonchanshua 
✧✎ a/n: OKAY. I’M SO HAPPY THIS IS DONE. this fic wouldn’t have taken me so long if 2021/2022 hadn’t been as busy as they were!! again, i just want to fork out a massive apology for my inactivity! i hate producing so little writing but knowing ME and my undying urge to write questionably long fics, i somehow created a very counterproductive system LOL. 
anywho, i honestly loved every opportunity i had to work on this fic since it follows the reader as they grow up, and, coincidentally, i also grew a lot during the literal fucking year it took me to finish this. there are so many new scenes compared to the og version and i personally adored writing the side-arc between reader & jennie:_) and i tried to add some humourous stuff too since it got a little angsty at times!! i hope anyone who finishes this fic develops even the slightest bit of joy that i felt while writing it. THX SO MUCH! LUV U.
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shinjisdone · 3 months
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To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 9)
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In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…
[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]
Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age
Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)
Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)
Part 4 is here - Thorfinn unwittingly opening his heart as he realizes he does not want you to die
Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)
Part 5.2 is here - other sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)
Part 6 is here - meeting Canute and becoming his guard - Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond
Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge
Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn
Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned
Tag list:
@luopenis , @jinsecho , @mitsureigen , @theknightssecrets
Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]
[This part will specifically mention: Slave woman purchased just to be killed, meeting with Leif, Thorfinn not giving a sht about Leif :( , and you are like??? bro that is LOVE, he loves you!!!!, THORFINN U IDIOT, Askeladd and Thorfinn dueling, Askeladd snapping, lots of plot-driven dialouge, Askeladd spittin facts, lost Thorfinn]
No, I Don't Want It, I Don't Want It, I Don't Want It...
No more was this a viking band - the majority has been killed by their own leader.
This was now the newest vessel of the youngest prince of Denmark. Leading of what remained of the men with Askeladd being his right-hand man.
Sailing along with all the tricks in the book that he had, all of which he had learned in his life felt like it was meant for a moment like this, for a future king like Canute.
And you had no choice but to go along with it if you wanted to keep on living.
Askeladd seemed more alive than ever. Youthful even as he grinned and spoke and chatted with Thorkell and Canute as if he had been waiting all his life for an opportunity like this. You and Thorfinn had never seen him this upbeat before, unless he was with Björn.
The man in question was still on a mat, resting though.
So in his usual fashion, the older man confidently stood on the boat with his typical shit-eating grin while crossing his arms. He spoke with carefreeness to the prince as they neared a dock in York. Left and right a crowd congegrated at the incoming ship, whispering among themselves on the return of prince Canute.
Yet as loud as their curioustiy was, deadly silent was the arrow that pierced the vulnerable chest almost precisely.
A thud ensued and a scream from your direction caused a commotion from the docks. The ship hurried to land and brought the wounded royal quickly to aid. While few ran over to him, another hurried away from the scene.
Clothes were ripped apart as someone abruptly stopped from taking out the arrow. The weapon was deep but what truly caused many to gasp and back away, was Canute himself approaching the dying woman.
You watched with a glare of anger (or perhaps pity? Indifference? Shock? Disgust?) as Askeladd casually trailed after Canute while letting out the obvious elephant in the room that someone apparently wanted him killed.
The leader made sure to purchase a slave with a form and stature similiar to the prince to act as bait. He ordered you to cause a commotion on land to have the culprit panic and escape from the scene - and then have Thorfinn silently get rid off him. To show the assasins that Askeladd is well aware of their presence and capable of taking them all out.
He has his tools for it, after all.
"Play the dumb but genuine witness," He grinned as he pointed at you before shooing you and Thorfinn out of his sight. Do your part and you'd all safely arrive at York. For now.
The perpetrator was cut down and the commotion that was supposed to bring the attention on the dying woman unfortunately was also brought to Thorfinn.
Still with his arm in a sling, he found himself surrounded by a few guards who also shadowed the culprit but put the blame on the young blonde instead. You hurried to him but even so, your own acting wasn't really able to save him.
"As if!" One pointed out, "You're just a kid, just like him! Obviously you two are in this together so you are trying to save his skin!"
"I told you, it wasn't me. It was him, he had the corssbow in hand."
Still, the guards were not relenting, drawing their swords at the two of you. Behind them was a much smaller man who called out, though his voice was way too meek compared to the spitting insults of the guards.
One insult too many and one step too close to you, and Thorfinn took one out with a single biff. As intimidating as the men seemed, they quickly turned tail and ran off at the sight of his two daggers.
"Thorfinn Karlsefni!"
The young lad who took Thorkell down with just two knifes - gossip turned real at the sight of the beaten blonde.
The scene clearing out so fast left you a bit relieved - perhaps speechless even. Would tension like this cease so quickly in the future too, whenever the name 'Karlsefni' was uttered?
Still, one stayed - the little man in the corner you had noticed. His green tunic was well kept for someone his age, short with half of his light hair already gone on his head. With his moustache spikey but kept short as well as his shining but wide eyes, you doubted this old geezer could pose as a threat.
"...Thorfinn...?" He muttered in a horse voice, "Thorfinn...Son of Thors? Are you the son of Thors?" With each word, he gingerly approached. You watched as Thorfinn merely rose a brow before his own eyes widened.
"...Uncle Leif?"
You watched with bated breath.
The hand on your weapon had long ceased shaking and resting upon it yet still; It was balled into a fist at your side.
Your eyes darted between the two men and their exchange of the past. With your back to the wall behind you and Thorfinn resting on the edge of the dock as this 'Leif' never seemed to stop talking about Thors.
About Iceland.
About family. An 'Helga' and an 'Ylva'.
"That does not concern me." Thorfinn uttered as he got up and adjusted his arm sling, "I am asking you about Vinland. Father wanted to go there and I want to know if you did anything about it."
"But Thorfinn," Leif stepped closer, his arms open as his eyes threatened to tear up again, "You don't need to be here. You want your revenge but what about your mother? She's been getting worse and worse ever since you got taken from us. Ylva has been worried sick as well, you could go back and see them. I'm sure Helga will feel better-!"
"I said that doesn't concern me!"
Swiftly the blonde spun back with dagger in his good hand. His face had quickly contorted into sheer rage once again. "I'm here to take my revenge! Nothing else!"
Seeming to lose air, Leif sobbed as his voice shook. "It's been enough! We've lost you since you were six, Thorfinn, six! You have been in this hell long enough, we can go back home! Go back to Iceland!"
You could feel it. Feel the familiar ire ooze out of Thorfinn. A hatred unrivaled and unequalled in a way you have never seen nor felt in your young years.
"Enough?" His tone was akin to a growl, like a switch.
"It will never be enough! Have you not seen it, how Father died?! As long as this damn bastard is eating, breathing and shitting, it'll never be enough! You hear me?!"
He tried to take a deep breath and in the next moment, grasped your hand and marched back to the boat with you in tow. His grip was tight enough to hurt you. Yet that was the least of your concerns.
Looking back, you could see the man tear up.
"I'll stay...I'll stay right here until you change your mind!"
Never have you heard of such absurdity before.
"I won't give you up, Thorfinn!"
A man from the past - a mere, old, harmless merchant - insisting on bringing someone back home, someone like Thorfinn. To have looked and searched for him. Embracing him tight like a son and weeping at the sight of him. Alive and safe.
"Let's go back home! Please!"
Such bravery, such determination for someone like Thorfinn. That is love, is it not?
You'd certainly feel loved if someone like that was searching for you.
"Let's go back to Iceland!"
I Don't Want It But I Know No One's There...
The day is quick to be over and morning approaches yet again.
Today at noon is the meeting with the king and all his investors and allies. Askeladd insisted on being there as well but you couldn't care enough about the details of high and mighty masteries.
About spying, about rumors, about hired assassins and slaves only to get rid of them...
You would love to say that Thorfinn shares your sentiment and he does but still approves on playing a puppet while you stay rigid and firm on the stage. Not moving.
You simply had watched. Watched as bands fought over a prince, watched as he tamed them like beasts, watched along as the band was reduced to mere three people that serve a royal now. Watched as Thorfinn continued to play along and along and along...
He was as focused as ever today. Today he insisted on getting his duel and revenge.
You sat still and watched. Perhaps a part of you adjusted his arm sling yet again. Out of kindness, out of pity, out of fear, anger, exhaustion...
You just didn't want him to die.
Gods, would it be awful. Would it be foolish if he were to die now.
Though it was noon, the sky was dark. Clouds forebode a storm or blizzard and Askeladd complained about the awful timing. How it had to be so close to the meeting...that two stubborn idiots insisted on dueling him now.
You went up the hill, next to Canute and Thorkell. Both of them said nothing as you invited yourself to their company.
Thorkell, who almost crushed you. Your shorter, younger body that of an insect compared to him, as well as in his eyes.
Canute, who was too bashful to glance at you. Someone who grieved and cried while clinging on your sleeve now seemed like a different, stronger person than you.
And the second dour fool...Björn crawled up the snowy path with nothing but a sword and his wound. He needed to go first and Thorfinn seemed to grant him that wish, watching from the sidelines.
Though the duel was quickly over. So fast and one-sided that it could barely be called a match, let alone a battle. Even as Askeladd held a sliver of shine and love in his eyes as Björn died in his arms, as he confessed his wish and reciprocated it with his own...as he gave him the final but merciful blow to send him to Valhalla...none could find it in their hearts to really feel anything for the old man anymore.
"...Awfully sorry to have kept you waiting, lad." He threw the blood off his sword with a clean swing after he covered the body.
While walking over to Thorfinn almost like in a trance, your eyes never left the snow sullied in blood nor the body growing ever so cold or the sword in Askeladd's hand.
"I shall be witness to this duel and as the prince here, I shall also be the one to decide when it ends." Canute spoke in a loud tone, it was hard to believe he only used to mumble. You didn't look back but felt thankful that he went out of his way to ensure Thorfinn's safety.
Even if that meant not satisfying him and his lust for vengeance.
And here you were in front of Thorfinn, yet again tugging and adjusting his arm sling - which he had also wrapped his dagger around, refusing to have it any other way while dueling the older man - to make sure it stayed put and firm. Firm enough to not have the weapon fall out of its grip and to not have the stubborn fool injure his arm more than needed.
He watched silently, his glare the moment he laid eyes on Askeladd today not yielding. Not softening at the sight of you as they ususally do.
Wordlessly you tug and tie and press the dagger deeper into the grip. Though your work is done, and even needless to an extent, your cold hands stayed on the sling. Cold, bare hands red from the chilling winter day. Hands that have seen and caused chaos gingerly carressed the sling and bandages alongside the blade. Your eyes never left it and neither did Thorfinn's.
No one commented a thing. All waited patiently for both men to begin.
Slowly, ever so slowly and reluctantly, your hands glided down his sling and swung back to your sides. Finally, you looked back at him and stared into his hardened eyes with your softened ones.
"...Don't die. Please..." Was all you could muster after an enduring silence. Thorfinn only left you there as he went up to Askeladd.
The sword is thrown into the snow.
Daggers in both hands, one broken.
Still, as he stood there, ready and unarmed with his neck so delicate and vulnerable, Thorfinn got pummeled nicely; One fist after another as he was headbutted, kicked, uppercutted, held by his hair and biffed until his face was red, blue and black. It was hard to watch.
Thorkell and Canute chatted about bets and strength. The giant of a man teasing you even for probably being the type to bet it all on your loyal friend and buddy Thorfinn even as he is getting the daylights beaten out of him. You refused to talk to him.
You never uttered a word during the duel nor to the other two, yet Canute could easily tell how tense you were with each punch Askeladd threw at Thorfinn. You were just watching with bated breath and a racing heart.
Even though this one-sided brawl was easily, so, so easily in Askeladd's favor, the leader grew more and more frustrated with each swing.
A fool. An idiot. Stubborn and small-minded, braying like a blind animal and lashing out in the most childish way he has ever seen. A real warrior.
How he wished he'd just get into his thick skull, use a bit of his brain! Just a damn bit for once, that complete moron!
Yet as he kicked him for one last time, having the young man fall head-first into the snow, knocked out cold, he rose his sword over his head, only to quickly raise his other arm the moment he heard stomping through the snow.
Canute had called out to you as you rushed towards the man with your own blade - cutting into his hand as he stopped the weapon from piercing through his chest.
Your glare was as dark as thunder and so akin to Thorfinn's. It made him laugh and just as frustrated.
"Calm down now. I didn't even harm a hair on his head." Askeladd gestured to tip of his sword dug into the snow, right next to Thorfinn's head. Swiftly, the man grabbed your own blade, pushing you away with a shove and shaking the blood off his palm. He eyed you with a matching scowl. "Don't get worked up over an fool like him. He'd just cause you trouble."
You paid no attention to his words. Throwing your weapon aside, you were fast as a storm, kneeling by Thorfinn's side and turning him around, holding him in your arms.
"Thorfinn! Thorfinn!" As you attempted to waken him, Canute followed close behind you, yelling out that the duel was over. Askeladd did not reply but instead, took a seat on a few bricks of an abandonded bridge. With a scoff he watched the young blonde regain conciousness but even as he awoke in your arms, the simpleton just jumped to his feet despite his injuries and whipped his head around in search for his prey.
Even as Canute explained the outcome and even as your hands and arms supported him like a mother, as Thorfinn looked dumbfounded at your hurt gaze at the sight of his blue, bloodied and pummeled face...he was still looking for Askeladd.
His blue eyes watched as you tried to wipe the blood off his nose, at the mere graze of your touch had the young viking jump in pain. It must hurt so much to see him make a fool of himself time and time again. Nevertheless, he keeps on crawling back to Askeladd and it sickened him.
For the first time in a long while, Askeladd called out your name in a calm and placid manner.
"Don't waste your enegry on an moron like him. He keeps on getting these injuries because of his own stupidity...you're better off without him."
At that Thorfinn let out an offended groan - Askeladd gestured to his outburst with an unimpressed sneer. "As I said. The idiot brays, then takes out his weapons and thinks himself the hunter as he charges head on while going for my neck. He thinks he's already won...by just roaring out a little victory chant and throwing himself into battle, just like all these self-proclaimed warriors do. They've all lost sight of the nice things in battling."
"Björn was right...I hate all warriors like that. Bastards that take, rampage, pillage, kill and then rob an entire culture of all that they had. Especially those Nordics...those vikings." Taking a deep breath, he called out calmly once again. "Laddie. Let me tell you...how to really murder an abhorrent bastard."
Don't Let Me Go, I Have Nothing Left To Lose...
His eyes never left him. Nor you.
The tale was as old as time for him, funny even in a way. A past that shaped him and all his actions he has done and will ever do but simply reciting it all brought a few chuckles out of him from the memories. The treatment. His mother and her belief of an returning king. The never-ending mountains of ash. The fools of half-brothers he used to have. All the wealth from the murder. The soft 'Why?' as his father met his end.
He didn't even think he'd remember that much!
But it all did happen...he remembered the respect he earned and how he dug her grave in Wales. It is all still there, he hoped.
The kid knew how to kill him now...he wondered if he would actually suceed after hearing his advice.
"So you know now, Thorfinn if you listened to me of course. I've managed to kill my most hated enemy within two years and still here I stand about ten later. Use your wits for next time, you damn numbskull." The man had long stood up and marched over to Björn's cold body. He threw one brief glance over his shoulder to Thorfinn - who was simply fuming in his own blood.
"Shut it!" He got up as briskly as he could from your arms, "Shut up, bastard! I'll, I'll kill you! Until my final breath, I'll rip out your heart! I will definitely-!"
Another clang. The sword hit the snow, it's tip dug deep within the earth. With more fiersome intent than him feigning the final blow on Thorfinn. If you were not mistaken, you reckoned to hear the metal crack.
"Damn it all. You're really pissin' me off."
In an attempt to control his anger, Askeladd balled his shaking hand as he scowled like a wounded beast at Thorfinn. The latter was startled, you noted.
"...You talk about killing and killing and killing. Yet you haven't achieved a single thing. Look at you, lad. You're covered in blood, snot and saliva, it's disgusting. You had so many, so many chances to kill and gut me yet you never used your damn brain for any of them! Look at you!"
With a sudden shout he pointed at him. You and Canute could not help but jump in fright. "You're quick, you're strong, you're talented! I can't deny that...and still you insist on going off on your emotions and losing each little duel you so wholeheartedly persist on! Keeping on losing your cool and brainlessly charging forward. You had so many chances, Thorfinn, and you had equally as much chances to get killed for your brainless behaviour if it weren't for them!" His digit went to point at you. Your breath got caught in your throat.
"If it weren't for the only damn friend you got in this messed up world, you'd be long dead! You owe them more than I owe you! And still...they're gonna end up being the death of you, too."
With a sharp gasp, Thorfinn once again swung his dagger at him. However, he struggled to catch his breath. "Don't bring them into this! This, this is between you and me! It always has been!"
"Don't be laughable, boy!" Askeladd bellowed at him, "It always has been until they arrived! Little dog that you are, you clung onto their hip since then and today as well! Your little attachment will get you killed, fool!"
Oh, how long Askeladd had waited to say that straight to his face! Thorfinn's attachment to you will end up killing him! And what good does that bring when a corpse can't avenge his father?
You watch with a darting, wide gaze between the men. Thorfinn kept denying it, throwing his tantrum with the same threats as before - the same threats he has been spitting his way since he was six years old - only for Askeladd to point out every. Single. Thing. He has ever done for you, sacrificed for you and only you. For your survival. For your honor. Everything. He can't fool him, boy.
"It all started with your absurd, small 'trades'. Yes, I've seen it as you threw them that bunny as amends. I've noticed you bringing in the horses, fix your gear together, having each other's back on the battlefield as you barely even acknowledged our existence. You think I haven't been paying attenton aside from our duels?"
He saw it in the early dawn of spring when you hunt and Thorfinn shared his prey with you. He witnessed it in the deadly cold night of winter when you are huddled and cuddled close together. He saw it when Thorfinn's dear dagger is in your hands as if it was nothing and the lad doesn't see anything wrong with it. Damn it, he sees it in his smile! He smiles when near you, at you and is brought only by you!
Boy, you are laughable!
"And when I told you to go fetch His Highness from Thorkell's men in an exchange for a chance to kill me, you just had to turn around and save their skin. You are as predictable as I thought, Thorfinn." Askeladd couldn't help but snicker, "I've given you so many chances and you all threw them away the moment your little friend just seemed to be in danger. You can't even focus on your goal, idiot, you kept on prioritizing a life that won't help you achieve it. Maybe if they'd never joined, you would have long gotten your revenge."
Askeladd calmed down enough to grin and jest, "But no," He feigned disappointment and shook his head, "You still refuse to have a bit of your wits about you. When I threaten your friend's life, you throw yourself in front of them. When I tell you to fight Thorkell the Tall, you do so only to be the one to chop off my head. And now...you are here. And so am I. Really, you've helped me along the way, Thorfinn...you've been an useful tool."
The young viking stepped back with a choked breath and a gut-wreching hole in his stomach that seemed to take his heavy heart.
"You're like a dog chasing after food. I should be thankful to Thors."
Everything seemed grow hazy around. The cold, the figures talking away, the ground underneath him. The air seemed more piercing with every breath he so depserately struggled to fill his lungs with, fill it to live but that seemed like a task too great for him. Pain shot through his broken arm and his legs gave out as the snow softened his fall. Everything dislimned before him as if all this never happened at all.
You caught him before he could fall into the snow and suffocate. His body freezing and heavy against you. The second dagger slipped out of his hand.
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tomkaulitzssgirl · 7 months
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Words can hurt | Bill Kaulitz x Male Reader
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requested by: @billsjum6ie <3
“i’ll tell you one last time bill, i’m not coming to this dinner thing with your band. i’m tired! i just came back from work.” you complained as you prepared yourself a meal while bill was trying to stop you in every way.
tokio hotel had organised a dinner all together since it was a night where they had free time, and he wanted you to meet the george, gustav and the staff. you had already met tom of course.
“c’mon! i’m asking you nicely. it’s not like you have to do something, you just need to sit down and fucking eat!” bill protested grabbing the stirring pot from your hand and throwing it in the sink.
you gasped at his gesture, he really became a child when you guys argued and he always wanted to be right.
“it’s not just that! i have to talk and be active when in reality i just wanna go to fucking sleep, bill! i don’t understand why you’re making such a big deal out of this, i’ll meet them some other day!” you threw your hands in the air as you talked, before rolling your eyes and turning your back to him.
“because i want you to meet them today! it’s important to me, but you only think about yourself like always.” he folded his arms to his chest, leaning against the counter and looking at you with an air of superiority.
your eyes widened and you let out a sarcastic laugh, looking at him incredule, “i only think about myself? me? yeah right! because i’m the one who doesn’t have time for their partner since work comes first but expects them to cater to his every need!”
“yeah well at least i don’t complain for being tired when all i do is sleep and work in a damn pub!” bill yelled, the vein in his neck growing bigger.
you were speechless as you heard what he said, you couldn’t believe it. your own boyfriend had shamed you for your job, knowing exactly how much of a failure you felt for not being able to find anything related to your major.
you scoffed losing the appetite, so you turned off everything you were using to cook and stormed off the kitchen, leaving bill alone. he knew he had fucked up.
the next two days were spent in total silence.
bill tried to talk to you or even touch you, but you would simply ignore him giving him the silent treatment. you usually didn’t do it, you were always ready to talk things out, but this time he had crossed the line.
his words hurt so bad and made you see him in a different light. he was the person that had to love and make you feel worthy, but now he had become the reason of your overthinking.
one night, after an exhausting day at work where people seemed to get on your nerves more than usual, you went back home.
the house was silent and usually bill would be on the couch waiting for you and trying to talk, but he was nowhere in sight.
you shrugged it off thinking he would’ve been with his brother, so you just walked up the stairs to go to your room.
you opened the door, surprisingly finding him there, laying on the bed. his body was trembling and you could hear sniffles so of course you understood he was crying, but what confused you was the suitcase at the edge of the bed.
you walked to him, your heart aching at the sight. no matter how angry you were, you couldn’t stand seeing him cry.
your hand touched his back, making him jump up at the sudden touch. his eyes locked in yours and he began to cry even harder.
putting your pride away, you just hugged him while sighing, kissing his forehead. “it’s okay.” you whispered, closing your eyes.
“i’m sorry…i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean what i said, i was just angry.” he sobbed in your shoulder, completely broken. you nodded pressing your lips together.
“i know, i’m sorry too. we argued for a stupid thing.” you put a lock of his hair behind his ear, stroking his cheek. he smiled softly.
“what’s up with the suitcase though?” you asked pointing at it.
“y-you know my ex used to not talk to me and leave for days before deciding to come back s-so i thought you were going to do the same thing.” bill looked down at his hands while playing with his rings as he said that.
you shook your head frantically, taking his hands in yours and holding them tightly, “i would never do that. i’m sorry that i even made you think about it. i was just angry and i reacted like a kid. i promised i won’t do that anymore, okay? next time, we communicate in a calm way.” you wiped his tears away.
bill nodded at you words, his cheeks pressing against the palm of your hand as he closed his eyes.
suddenly, you started tickling him knowing how much he suffered it, and he started laughing.
“stop! baby stop!” he laughed while trying to take your wrists. you did it some more before he blocked you, getting on top of you.
“i only want to see you smile.” you whispered before biting your lower lip.
bill looked at you with pure, genuine love in his eyes before pressing his lips against yours passionately.
you know what happened next.
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amourisms · 1 year
Note
idk if you’re inactive but i love your writing.. i would kill for some dumbification with dick
maybe it can start like a hatefuck👀
ohmygosh i'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get to this but i hope you enjoy :)
blue.
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summary : dick can get a little animalistic when the person he finds most irritating wears his colour.
pairing : dick grayson x fem!reader
warnings : hate sex, dumbification, pet name ( princess ), manhandling / overall rough sex, degradation, fingering, unprotected sex, bit of praise, overstimulation, hickeys n marking, cum eating.
wc : 1.7k
a/n : its 4:27am but i just rly wanted to get this out so major apologies if its a little sloppy. sidenote can you tell i’ve got a major thing about being spoken to in the third person in this?
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everything about him set you aflame. although half the time you struggled pinpointing whether it was a fire filled with hate or lust which unbeknownst to you, was a feeling dick was conflicted in as well. even now when you were dancing and flirting with his best friend, wally west. 
it was just another small celebration with your group of heroes as dick sat on the couch of titans tower’s living room, keeping his conversation with donna and roy in the back of his head as his teeth gritted at the sight of the person who irritated him most all over his best mate. yet out of everything, the fact that it was wally next to you and not him was deemed the most annoying thing you've ever done. especially when you were wearing such a dress that framed your body so perfectly that it somehow made you even more picturesque with hints of your blue bra being shown. so when you left wally briefly to go freshen up in the bathroom, his unmistakable grip on your arm stopped you before you could even reach your destination. 
he dragged you to one of the many bedrooms within titans tower and quickly locked the door after pulling you inside. "you and wally, huh?" dick had asked with a tone concocted with jealousy and anger though that's exactly what you wanted from him.
"what about it?" you seethed back at him, confused as to why he cared. he took a step closer, backing you in the door behind you and making you shrink under his harsh gaze. 
"what about it is that i hear your soft calls of my name and your pretty little moans in the dead of night when you think no one's awake, just to find you flirting with my best friend right in front of me." 
feeling a little embarrassed now knowing that he's heard you all those times, almost made you back down. though something in you just wanted to piss him off, "you catch the times i screamed out wally's name too?". you were lying but staring him down as he did you, dick was starting to have small doubts. 
your faces remained inches away, until in a blur of your own thoughts you decided to close the gap and kiss him. dick reacted quickly, kissing you back intensely. his right hand was gripping your hip roughly whilst the other relaxed in your hair. you had bought a hand to lay flat on his chest as the other found his on your hip to drag down to your pussy. dick smirked into the heated kiss as his fingers ran up and down your clothed slit, feeling the lace of your underwear and more importantly how wet for him you were even through the fabric.
lifting your legs to attach around his hips he bought you to the bed, tossing you on there with ease. he took the moment to take off his shirt, revealing his alluring torso then he wasted no time in bunching up your dress to your waist, revealing your blue lace underwear. nightwing blue. 
"christ, y/n, you're such a whore." he scoffed, but he couldn't help but manage to get harder knowing you were wearing his colours whilst flirting with his best friend. it made him feel like you would always be his, his to use like his own personal fleshlight, and that's exactly what he intended to do to you tonight. 
his fingers moved underneath the bands of your panties, and as much as he hated taking his colour off you he loved seeing your pretty glistening pussy more. his middle and ring finger ran long strokes up and down your slit, teasing you, as he bought his body on top of you he began to suck marks on your neck. just at that moment, dick plunged a finger into your sopping cunt in a singular smooth motion making you gasp. 
as he added another finger, he continued sucking on your skin moving down your neck, careless of the marks that were sure to be left in his wake. after all, he was determined to show everyone you were his. 
your breathing was heavy and whimpers were being squeezed out of you as his long, slender fingers skilfully found your sweet spot inside you. his thumb began to work your clit, his fingers finding a pace that coaxed moans out of you effortlessly. "you're much more tolerable like this," he told you as your brain couldn't even register what was happening anymore besides the blinding pleasure of just his fingers, "all soaked and dumb for me."
with that, your orgasm came crashing, and a smirk grew on dick's face as you clenched around his fingers. "you're so easy to please," he spoke softly as he continued to finger-fuck you through it. as you came down from your high, dick removed his fingers from your pussy, leaving you with an achingly empty feeling.
your mouth couldn't comprehend anything your mind was saying only allowing for a "please…" to leave your lips, though he seemed to understand you.
"don't worry, princess, i know how much of a slut you are," he began as he unbuckled his belt and removed his pants, "i know how much you need it."
your mind was in a haze as dick began repositioning himself, so when he laid down on the bed your brows furrowed in confusion until he grabbed you and positioned you over him, "show me just how much." he told you nonchalantly.
your hands rested on his shoulders as you began to drop down on his cock, filling you up perfectly. you sat atop his pelvis for a moment, adjusting to his size in which he took the time to take your dress straps off your shoulders and pushing the fabric covering your tits down so he could see your matching nightwing blue lace bra. just the sight of it made him groan. he couldn't define what it was in his head, but you in his colour just seemed so right. 
when you finally adjusted to him, you gathered up all the power left in you – which granted wasn't a lot – and began moving up and down on his cock. already riding on your knees was restrictive and now considering your sensitivity you just didn't have it in you to go any faster. 
growing tired of the pace dick gripped your hips and began slamming you down on his cock with his hands, "poor baby, can't even ride like the slut i know she is" he spat harshly.
even with his extra assistance and mindless babbles rolling off your tongue, it still wasn't enough to please dick. remembering you all up on wally west of all people? he needed to take all this pent up frustration he had with you out, and with that he planted his feet on the mattress and began thrusting into you at a brutal pace. 
your head rested in the crook of his neck with a hand gripping his shoulder and another planted firmly on his chest, allowing him to hear your angelic sounds even louder in his ear. the sound of it all was so pornographic with skin slapping against skin, your cries of pleasure and his deep groans. you were glad all the rooms were soundproof although a little part of dick wanted everyone to hear. 
nothing in your mind was coherent, your thoughts were stuck in the overwhelming pleasure dick gave you and that was the only word you ended up being able to say. his name came out of your mouth like a mantra. it was him and only him, and hearing you stuck on every word besides his name his earlier doubts had completely dissolved. you were his and you knew it. 
dick's thrusts were unfaltering, much alike the stream of curses and calls of his name escaping your cluttered mind. you were completely thoughtless on his cock. 
a muffled string of m's left his lips as he took note of your completely fucked out state, "you're taking my cock so well, baby." he would take a picture of this moment if he could. the lewdness of it all only made him go harder and faster. you cuddled up in the crook of his neck as one of his hands explored every crevice of your body whilst the other traced the marks littered everywhere above your breasts. to him it was ecstasy.
he could've sworn he hated you half an hour ago, though he couldn't deny how mesmerising you were right now. "that's my girl," he cooed in your ear as you were still whimpering at his every thrust, "spewing nonsense like the brainless whore she is." the knot in your stomach wound tighter and tighter and your walls only clenched around him tighter making him murmur a small "fuck…".
you called out his name as you came, your eyes shutting and your sensitive pussy spasming around his cock. your hands had managed to move all over his torso and was now gripping tightly onto his hair and bicep, especially now that his thrusts were relentless.
he flipped the both of you over, grabbing you with ease and tossing you on your back as he now was chasing after his own high. he was still ramming into your poor, aching cunt making your mind blind with such a level of overstimulation. one hand of his began groping your tits through the material of your bra as the other drew circles on your clit. it wasn't long before your third orgasm of the night washed over you leaving you to yet again spasm and tighten on his cock. 
a deep groan came from his throat this time as he muttered "gonna, fuck– cum" he told you in a broken sentence. with that he pulled out and laid his cock on your stomach, cumming on your tits. seeing his length reach your belly button was almost enough to make you cum for the fourth time. 
your head was still dizzy, though you could feel his slender fingers lightly trace stray lines on your chest. "open" he told you softly as he brought those same fingers to your lips that were now covered in his cum and as you did what he said, he pushed his fingers deep into your mouth letting you suck them clean.
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bunnystalker · 3 months
Text
rotted
a month after the s.t.a.r.s incident and wesker's timely disappearance leaves you by yourself on the fateful day of the raccoon city incident.
cw; graphic depictions of gore and eating flesh, zombies (obviously), body horror, gun violence (referenced and actual), major character death (you're already dead).
a/n; you're married to wesker, this follows the canon timeline.
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october 1st, 1998. the day of the sterilization of raccoon city. your last day alive.
alive as can be, that is.
your flesh rots off your body. the t-virus runs rampant in your veins, leaving you brainless and very, very contagious. your bite is a mark of death on the living. and yet as fast as they run, you catch up.
you rip flesh from bone, unable to register the screams of the living. nothing in your body functions properly anymore.
and it's all his fault. your beloved's fault. he released the virus in the arklay mountains, but he had no clue you'd be among the first to get infected. when discovered, you got locked in your apartment with the doors and windows boarded up.
he finds out too late- a last minute trip to raccoon city to get you out before they sterilize the entirety of arklay county. you're already dead. he's been so irresponsible with you. you lie on your side on the cold linoleum floor of your kitchen, blood draining from you to form a large dark puddle.
minutes. he has minutes with your corpse before you begin to twitch and convulse with the false hope of life. he doesn't know what to do. he can't just put you down- that's not right. you're not some animal- some thing to discard like trash. he can't-
your corpse emits a low groan. your irises are drained of all color as you sit up, bullet holes in your chest from someone trying to defend themself. their corpse lies not far from yours, partially eaten. blood slathered on your lips from their wounds, their gun still in their hand.
"dove," he starts, voice quiet and unwavering. nothing feels quite real for albert in the moment. the smell of death is everywhere, the theme itself overwhelming in your tiny apartment. he looks around your ruined apartment- blood on the walls, obvious signs of struggle that came from you, then your victim.
his sense of urgency returns. he has to leave unless he wants to die here, alongside you- which he only considers for a moment. he rushes to your room, relieved to find it mostly intact and finds a tote bag you kept around, though it mostly went unused. an afterthought, like you were. he grabs your perfume, the bottle half empty and somewhat old, and places it in the tote bag amongst other things that might contain traces of your dna- your hairbrush, your toothbrush, even dirty clothes from your hamper. he's trying to get keepsakes, to contain his memories of you in items you once owned. the last item he takes from your room is a framed photo of you two together.
he doesn't bother using the front entrance. you've likely gotten up and started to wander around, hungry for flesh to feed on, and he refuses to be a snack for the undead even if it is you. as he climbs onto the fire escape, ripping the wooden boards out of the way, your corpse pushes the door to your room open.
"a…l…" you groan. he can't take this. seeing you mangled and rotted, your lips practically melting off of your face. reluctantly, he takes out his gun and checks the chamber. he turns the safety off and cocks the gun before shooting you squarely in the head, grey matter splatting on the hallway wall behind you. you stumble back and go stiff when you really, actually die.
your little life, gone. the fires of the city burn hot and albert really, really doesn't want to leave you here again. how could he do that to you the first time? you were supposed to be the love of his life. he takes a final glance around your room from the fire escape, your wedding band glimmering on the nightstand.
he curses himself as he hurries back inside to grab it, sparing you another wistful glance as he slips it in his pocket and finally leaves your apartment for good.
luckily for him, he makes it out before the sterilization bomb ever hits. he has the next eleven years planned out perfectly in his mind and the absence of you has already started to wear at him.
he goes to rockfort island for the t-veronica virus and brings your things with him. everywhere he goes, so does your stuff. truthfully, before running into chris and claire, he had been moping. grieving. he slept with a shirt of yours pressed to his nose, your wedding ring on a chain around his neck. he keeps your toothbrush beside his. to say he missed you, and still does, is an understatement.
he should have died with you.
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ladykailitha · 1 year
Text
The People That See You Part 3
The next week saw Eddie carrying a white paper bag to D&D. He tossed it at Brian with a wink. “Just a thank you from Steve,” he said with a grin.
He had talked to the guys about his friendship with Steve and how even though he couldn’t say why or how, Steve had saved his life. So Jeff and Gareth had grudgingly agreed not to make fun of the former king of Hawkins High.
Brian reared his head back in confusion until the smell hit his nose. “Holy shit.” He ripped into the bag. “He didn’t.” He pulled out a soft cookie dusted in cinnamon sugar and took a large bite.
Gareth and Jeff looked at each other in confusion.
“What are those?” Jeff asked.
“Snickerdoodles,” Brian mumbled around a mouth full of cookie. “Like only the best cookies on the planet.”
He dug another one out and broke it in half for Jeff and Gareth to share. He offered one to Eddie but he declined.
“I’ve been eating them nonstop for days...” he said with a grin.
“Official taste tester?” Brian asked with a wink.
Eddie blushed and shoved a large strand of hair into his mouth.
“Holy shit!” Jeff said. “It’s soft and buttery, but not too sweet.”
“Yeah,” Gareth agreed. “You say Steve made these?”
“Yup!” Eddie said, popping the ‘P’.
Jeff looked down at the table. “Do you think he’d be willing to make brownies for the next session?”
Eddie grinned. “I don’t know, I’ll have to ask.”
Jeff looked up. “But you’ll ask?”
Eddie just winked at him.
*
Steve came thundering down the stairs. “Hey, guys, I hear you requested brownies?”
The entire Hellfire Club was there including Steve’s nuggets.
“Steve!” came the chorus from the party and Corroded Coffin. The three that were strictly Hellfire just looked at him in amazement.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Steve said with a grin. “I was trying out something fun with walnuts and caramel.”
There was another chorus this time of oohs and awws. All but one.
The other girl of the club other than Erica, folded her arms and glared at him. “I’m allergic to nuts.”
“Tiffany, right?” Steve asked and she nodded tersely. “I gotcha. I’ll be right back.”
Steve set the two large plates he was carrying on the table with the other goodies (no food food near the character sheets) and turned back around to hop back up the stairs.
Tiffany raised an eyebrow at Eddie who just shrugged. A moment later Steve was back down the stairs another plate in his hands.
“I made these for Robin,” Steve explained, handing the plate to her, “but I can always make more for her later and I would hate to see you left out.”
Tiffany lifted the tin foil and gasped. Underneath was a plateful of the most delectable chocolate chip cookies.
“Did you make these first?” Tiffany asked.
Steve smiled. “Sure did. It should be all safe and if it’s not, bill my dad.” He winked at her.
She laughed as did everyone else.
Steve looked around at the cramped space and winced. “Not a lot of room in here, is there?”
Gareth frowned. “We make do.”
Steve waved his hands. “Oh absolutely. I’m just saying you don’t have to.” He half shrugged.
Eddie tilted his head. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I have a large finished basement, no parents, and full kitchen,” Steve said. “You guys could have it at my place. At least it would see some fucking use.”
Everyone turned to look at Eddie.
Eddie smiled. “Let’s vote. All in favor of having D&D at Steve’s?” Eddie laughed when all of the junior members raised their hands as well as all the Corroded Coffin bandmates, thereby absolutely killing the majority.
“The ayes have it,” he said turning back to Steve. “Looks like you’ve got yourself a deal. When can we invade your home?”
Steve thought for a moment. “Not next week, Robin’s got a band thing, so the week after?”
Everyone nodded.
“Great!” Steve said and then waved goodbye.
Gareth turned to everyone else. “What just happened?”
Dustin sighed. “You accidentally activated mom mode. He loves taking care of people. And his house is huge. And it has a swimming pool out back, too.”
Even the ones that would have voted against it were starting to see the benefits of having it over at Steve’s.
Eddie smiled and if he went a little easier on them as a result, well that was his secret to keep.
*
Their first session at Steve’s they were greeted by the smells of something warm and hearty coming from the kitchen.
He ushered them into the front room. “Hey, Dustin, can you show them where they can set up? Eddie’s already down there fussing with his throne.”
“Will do!” Dustin said and motioned for everyone to follow him.
Tables were laid out for the to sit as well as for snacks. And everyone who could contributed to the snacks and drinks. So the table for treats started to fill up and then the main table where Eddie was waiting at the head.
Just as everyone was getting settled Steve came down to check on them.
“I’m glad everyone made it okay,” he said in lieu of greeting.
“Aren’t you worried the neighbors are going to call the cops?” Gareth asked.
Steve shrugged. “I’ve had full on ragers without a peep from the cops, so...no?”
Everyone shared impressed glances.
Steve walked up to Eddie. “When do you guys usually break?”
Eddie shrugged. “Depends on how far they get in the story.”
“Do you think you could give me a heads up of about twenty minutes?”
Eddie pursed his lips. “Could do, I suppose. Why?”
“I’ve got a lasagna in the oven and will need to pop it back in for twenty minutes so it’ll be warm for whenever you guys are ready.”
“Like Stoffer’s?” Tiffany asked.
Steve blinked. “What’s that?”
Even Dustin raised an eyebrow. “You know, the pre-made stuff from the store?”
“Oh, I’ve never had that,” Steve said looking uncomfortable. “I used my grandma’s recipe.”
Brian turned to Eddie. “If you don’t marry him, I will.”
Eddie turned bright pink and hid his face behind his hair.
Steve leaned over and whispered in Eddie’s ear. “You’ll have to ask me out first.”
Eddie dropped the hair and looked up into Steve’s eyes. Yeah, he knew that Steve liked boys. Even had a crush on him, if Brian was to be believed. But it was quite another to be on the receiving end of the Harrington charm.
So before he could answer, Steve was already back up the stairs.
“Did Steve just hit on you?” Will asked.
Eddie cleared his throat. “Previously our intrepid party was traveling down a treacherous mountain pass, with large rocks on either side, towering above them like stone giants, silent and stern.”
Part 1 Part 2 Part 4
Tag list: @itsfreakingbats @colorful565 @swimmingbirdrunningrock
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marleyybluu · 1 year
Text
The Prettiest Girl
Pedro Pascal x black!reader
Summary: You start to become riddled with insecurities but your husband Pedro sets it right
Warnings: just fluff, Pedro being the best husband, talks about body insecurities, post-partum insecurities. lmk if i missed any.
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You’d thought highly of yourself for a good majority of your life, credit to your mom for always speaking of you in a beautiful, she was the one that helped you build your confidence to the point you were tipping arrogance but never crossed it.
How you carried yourself is what really impressed Pedro, you held your head high, and you spoke like you were so sure of yourself that it reeled him in and kept him there.
You two grew together, falling and apart and getting back together more times than you could count but that’s what happens when you’re young and you’re not healed or matured from previous relationships. It’s all the same.
But the next few years felt like they were out of a movie. You were married and after a while of it just being the two of you you soon had three goblins running around your house screaming about how much they all hated each other one minute and cuddled up on the couch watching a Disney movie the next.
You were beyond happy.
For the most part.
It was a well-kept secret that you were slowly becoming insecure over the years, you didn't know the toll that having one baby would take on your body and then you ended up having another one and then another. The baby weight just piles on and pulls you down, and you found yourself in front of the mirror constantly finding new things to hate.
If it wasn't the stretch marks it was the cellulite, if it wasn't your rolls touching it was the extra skin that sagged courtesy of your pregnant belly.
It's not the body you were used to. You had seen moms who had five kids and had "snapped back" so when would it be your turn?
And you wouldn't dare utter a word about this to Pedro.
But he could sense a shift in the way you dressed, even the way you would sit on the couch using a pillow to cover you which you never did.
Tonight was no different, after asking Pedro to put the kids to bed you showered and dried off. Doing your usual routine of toners, serums and moisturizers. You avoided looking in the mirror once you lotioned your body.
A new habit you picked up.
When you were finished with that you put on a tank top and some shorts that rolled up due to your new thick thighs, which even you had to admit was the one part of your body you didn't mind.
Pedro burst into the room, gently closing the door and locking it. "If I have to read The Hungry Caterpillar one more time, I will eat that book myself." He chuckled to himself but quickly frowned when you didn't laugh, he caught you examining yourself in the mirror with a concentrated, yet worried, look on your face.
"Pedro, honey... do you still think I'm pretty?" The question slipping from you without a thought to filter it first. His eyebrows came together. Why on Earth would you ask him that?
"Of course, I think you're pretty. I think you're smokin' hot."
You sighed pulling the band of your shorts to cover your lower stomach.
"Even after the kids?"
"Especially after the kids baby, are you kidding me?"
Pedro hurried over to you, scooping you up in his arms, staring at your reflections. He pressed a sweet kiss on your neck. "I tell you every day how beautiful you are, and if you don't believe it then maybe I'm not doing my job right."
You shook your head, you did appreciate the compliments he gave, they were the only thing giving you even an ounce of confidence in yourself. "You're doing your job just fine, trust me."
"Then why are you standing here doubting your beauty huh? I'm still in love with you, baby, what the hell would change that? I still think you're the prettiest girl on the block that rejected me more times than I could count."
That earned a small giggle from you. He rested his head against yours and smiled. "The pretty girl who could look me in the eyes and I'd melt in seconds, the one with the sweet mahogany skin that I love to kiss all over... every single inch."
You leaned into him.
"I love your body just as much as I used to if not more. I mean this body keeps me warm and happy, it carried our three beautiful blessings that I cherish with all my heart. This body, this face, this person that I married is all I think about baby. You're my muse.
You were blushing, you looked down to hide your face but he took his finger and pressed it under your chin tilting your head back up. "You are my fucking world."
You carefully spun around in his arms. "I'm too lucky."
"Mmm," He groaned pecking your lips, you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, your legs wrapped around his waist.
"I'm about to show you how lucky I am."
tags: @skyesthebomb @one-sweet-gubler
decided to feed the Pedro girlies just a little crumb. I just missed writing about him a bit🤧
if you liked this fic, feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs are super appreciated.
peace and love
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lewis-winters · 4 months
Note
3 and 6 for the positivity meme?
I'll answer this backwards because my answer to no. 3 got long.
6 - what's a headcanon that you'll die on that hill?
Lewis Nixon III was a theater kid and has done drag in his life. This is forreal. The ghost of Dick Winters revealed this to me in a dream.
3 - what are some fics you go back and read again and again?
oh I love this question. in the last ask I did say I left out some creators and now is my time to redeem myself! (also another reminder that I desperately need to finish this massive fic rec post I have been steadily adding fics to since January BUT ANYWAY)
under the cut!
all of @churchkey's Winnix and ToyeMalarkey fics! god do I love them so much. I re-read A Spell of Riot once a year since it was completed.
and of course @anthrobrat's Bob, TP, and Gen Kill fics!
all of BristlingBassoon's Winnix fics - Queen for a Day inspired my "Lewis has done drag" conviction and When we met, you'd never expect this series is just. divine.
@marycontraire's Contact Tracing. of course.
make it up as we go along - Joe drives his cab, Chuck plays Call of Duty, and Babe just wants to pass Biochem; their apartment is like Grand Central at the best of times and that’s without the two possible fugitives they decided to harbor in the guest room; Luz’s life is turning into a terrible romcom about a coffee shop; Harry’s friends are bad at running a bar but they’re trying their best; somebody got punched in the face; and someday there will be a New York Times Bestseller about all of it.
Or, the interlinked soap opera-worthy drama of a group of millennials in Philadelphia, told day by day.
Lie if God is Sleeping - Gene flipped the puzzle over to read the back. “My name is Edward Heffron,” he read aloud. “I killed a man, and now I’m paying the price. 18,000 pieces. It will take approximately seven days to complete me. For experienced players only.”
What the fuck was a curse this nasty doing in a Philadelphia used bookstore?
rivers always reach the sea - my favorite webgott canon era series fic ever
Situation Normal - Winters and Nixon move to the city, reunite with some old friends and find themselves adopting a new, four-legged one.
By Small and Small - Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.
Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.
Dear Lover - A group of friends who supervise soldiers' mail are secretly very invested in one Major Winters' letters to a woman he seems to be having a secret affair with.
all or SJtrinity's Band of Brothers (webgott) fics and The Pacific (sledgefu and andyeddie) fics
Green and Gold - Merriell has dark magic and a guilty conscious. He never considered how the war would change them.
The American Sublime - "Tactician that he is, he finds the likelihood of still being loved by someone who, thanks to him, has just awakened to a wicked hangover and a face full of cold piss next to nil."
Dick Winters and Lewis Nixon billet together at a farmhouse in Holland for a rare few weeks of peace and privacy, while Dick struggles to process his promotion and his time away from Easy Company. Set during the first minutes of Episode 5, "Crossroads."
Cows. Wildflowers. Feelings. Handjobs.
Black Ink on Some Blue Lines - It’s been sixteen years since the letter was written, but it never found its way to the one it was intended for. The thing about secrets is they eat away at you, not all at once but slowly over the years, and you begin to wonder, to play out the what if scenarios in your mind. Instead, David buried it away and pretended like it never existed. He should have killed it, he thinks to himself, not buried it while it still had breath in its lungs.
In which David remembers his evolving relationship with Joe over the course of the war and decides to deliver a letter.
Baby You Can Drive My Car - Everyone has their thing. Perco takes watches. Nix scrounges for liquor. Welsh continues his never-ending quest for anything that will please Kitty Grogan. Even Eugene robs abandoned apothecaries with only a touch of guilt, making off with as many bandages and sulfa packets as he can carry. And then there’s Speirs, sweeping behind them like a shadow and carrying away anything they leave behind that sparkles or shines.
Babe steals cars. He’s getting pretty good at it.
Come in From the Cold - In which Smokey Gordon's coffee shop 'Bastogne' saves lives by lending cutting instruments and offering a steady supply of caffeine and sugary goodness. The shenanigans are just a by-product.
Call me 'sweetheart', Please? by @mariamegale - A not-relationship in the making. (baberoe)
anthroposcene, interrupted - Three months ago, Ray Person was a Philosophy major at Harvard. Now, he's dodging Runners trying to get from St. Louis to Cambridge without a) starving, b) dying by accident or c) offing himself. However, three's company, and it comes in the form of a dog with no bark and a taciturn Marine Staff Sergeant who's last name is Not-Pitt, which has gotta count for something.
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batllethinker · 10 months
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Wandanat fic recs
Shades of green by ariesfriend 18+
Just good ole smut, bottom Nat because she's the best, kind of an au because Wanda wasn't snapped, fwb arrangement
Crimson and all its colors by wasted_potential_007
Angst, Wanda gets taken hostage by a red room copy so imagine Nats recovery but Wanda, it's unfinished and doesn't really have a satisfying ending but it's a good read
Rose by terrifier
Hanahaki disease, angsty, there's no actual confession so Wanda almost dies until Nat comes in, very last minute
May the Gods Strike Me Down If I Forsake You by LetheOblivion
Wanda gets freed from the raft, major trauma, very sad, a long road to recovery, major hurt/comfort (unfinished)
I don't see what you see (but I want to) by orphan_account
Wanda has an eating disorder, Wanda and Nat finally talk about it, some sweet cuddling
Terminal by scarlet_black
Wanda has cancer, Nat is sad, they make the best of it, major character death in both endings
Words from the heart by fanfictionisthegame 18+
Professors Wandanat, very whory, very long, finished, feel like I should put a tw for abusive Maria, it's mostly just fluff and smut tho (there's a part 2 too)
Something new by novoaa1 18+
They try anal
Sour girl by dollylux 18+
Wanda is severly traumatized, Nat is her neighbor, they become friends and fuck later (read tags)
The Scarlet Witch is Only a Child by Elfie_the_anonymous_turtle
Post aou, Nat is just mean and Wanda lets herself be tortured, not sure if there will be a relationship but there's obviously a great start (read tags)
Uses by Alex Moss 18+
Nat has comphet and tries to fuck Bucky, then Wanda fucks her
Business as unusual by Cinnamonsweatsocks 18+
Mob boss Nat, Ceo Wanda and their (slightly nd) assistant/gf R, what more could you ask for. I also really love their whole dynamic, with my beautifully switchy Nat, which is totally underrated
the sound of love's marching band by romanovasquinn
Nat has a panic attack and Wanda comforts her, very sweet and domestic
I'll still love you (even after we decay) by orphan_account
Angst, hurt/comfort, EDs, Wanda just grieving Pietro, slow burn and it has not been updated since last year so
Aching for you by venushill 18+
Abo au, friends with benefits Wandanat with very obvious feelings for eachother, Nat goes into heat and it's good
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beaker1636 · 3 months
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Alphabet Game Bonus - Christmas Celebration
AN: So I made a group Christmas mini story, it is full of Motionless jokes between the guys. I wanted it to be lighthearted Christmas with the boys and to also give everyone a bit of a laugh as we remember some of the jokes that are in the fandom :) I hope you all enjoy. I know it is a bit of a joke chapter, not as serious but I had a request for Christmas with the guys and that made me think of this. Hope you Enjoy!!
“Why did we agree to host Christmas here while I am actively moving in again?” Lottie asks, turning towards Vinny who is standing next to her with a box in his hands.  Questioning why she let him talk her into this, and why they decided to move her in a week before Christmas rather than waiting for the holiday to die down.
“Because we are all helping you and are here, so it made sense to do the gift exchange after we get all your stuff in here,” Chris says with a smile, walking in the room with a box as well behind the couple. “But we can move dinner to our place and do the gifts there if you would feel better, Carlotta,” he adds.  Knowing Mia may not be the happiest about it last minute but she would understand.
“No, it’s fine.  I’m just overwhelmed with the move is all. Thank you for helping us with this.  I appreciate all of you guys,” she says, turning towards all the guys who are bringing the last of the boxes into the dining room.  The girls have all stationed themselves in the various rooms of the house to help unpack things, helping Lottie have one last thing to worry about during all of this.
“That’s what we are here for,” Mia calls from her place in the kitchen.
“Why don’t we stop and order the chinese that we agreed on, we can take a break once it arrives and do our Secret Santa gifts.  I can handle doing the rest of this alone,” Lottie says with a smile, her way of telling all the guys to go find their girlfriends so that they can stop and get going on everything else.
When they all wander off to do that she turns towards Vinny, pulling him into a kiss for a moment.  Relishing in the happiness that she does feel about taking this step with him, moving in together, things have been going great with them since their trip with his family awhile ago and the two of them have felt a lot closer.
“Busted,” Naomi jokes as she walks into the room, catching her best friend off guard, making Lottie flip her off with a smile before pulling away from Vinny, everyone making their way to the living room getting ready to eat dinner together.  
While it isn’t homemade, nothing special they all enjoyed it.  It was fitting for them, all any of them ever have cared about is the friendship and bond they have made together.  A lot of people would think that the band would want nothing to do with each other while not working but they genuinely love and care for each other. When someone needs help with anything they join in and get it done, much like they all did today.  
Carlotta looked around the room, watching everyone gathered, many people sitting on the floor due to not having enough chairs and could almost tear up.  Not having a stable relationship with her own family makes her appreciate this that much more, they wouldn’t have done this for her especially so close to the holiday but her friends all did.  Making sure that they were there to help with what she needed, and she hasn’t even been part of the group that long.  
Vin can tell that she is thinking, getting lost in her head so he reaches out to grab her hand, squeezing it and letting her know that he is there for her without saying it while they listen to Chris tell some sort of story, that has a majority of the room laughing.  Everyone was laughing and smiling as they enjoyed the time together, finishing up their meal before moving on to the Secret Santa game.
“Okay, I’ll give mine first.  We all stuck to the joke gifts right? Hopefully.  Anyway I drew Vinny,” Chris said, handing Vinny a gift box with a smirk on his face.
“Do I even want to know what the fuck you came up with?” Vinny asks as he starts to open the box.  Pausing before letting out a laugh and pulling out a T-shirt. “It says, I’ve got these two plastic forks with a photo of plastic knives.”
Everyone instantly starts laughing, remembering the time Vinny said it and Chris had to correct him, that he had knives.  Another funny memory that they have all amassed over the years, that always makes them laugh when they talk about it.  
“I love the fact we all agreed to basically roast each other with our gifts.  Okay, well I drew Ryan and yeah, I was kind of an asshole,” Vinny says, trying not to laugh as he hands his over to Ryan.
Ryan opens the box and immediately has a grin on his face when he closes it for a moment to let out a laugh. He then reopens it and pulls out a little kids toy watch. “The card says because you are always late and oversleep.” He says with a grin. “You aren’t wrong, maybe I won’t miss my flight now, thanks man. Now my turn, I pulled Chris.”
Chris takes his package while rolling his eyes, hoping that he won’t get anything too stupid but also hoping that he will just for the fun of the entire thing.  “Of course it is a Jizzerless in White hat, why would it not be,” he says with a shit eating grin.  “We need to keep this tradition for next year, honestly.  I love it.  I’ll have to share it on twitter later. And that means Justin and Ricky got each other.  And I for one can’t wait to see what that will bring.”
“Justin can open his first,” Ricky says without hesitating, handing his over to the taller man with a shit eating grin. “I promise it isn’t that mean, well maybe it is but.”
“Nah, why don’t you go first Rick.  I insist,” Justin responds, giving him a bag too while staring him down. 
“Just do it at the same fucking time, problem solved children,” Ari said with a laugh, watching the two fight like toddlers.
They both turn and look at her with a look before doing so, both glaring at the other after opening their own and realizing what it was.  Rick pulled his out of the box for everyone to see, it being a thing of movie theater butter and salt for microwave popcorn.
“You dick, it is not the same thing,” he groans with a slight smile on his face.
“Yeah and you got me a large box of popcorn so you also were throwing that argument in my face, so you are just as much a douchebag for this too,” Justin says, laughing when it hit him that they both thought of the same thing to give each other.
This is the one that made the entire group laugh, everyone recalling having to hear about the popcorn argument they had, and that they still whine about off and on to this day.   Both of them are too stubborn to agree with the other despite the fact it does taste very similar.
“Did you girls do this too or did you do something different?” Chris asks once everyone settles down, turning towards Mia with a smile. “I would love to see how you roast each other like we did.”
“No, we all exchanged books instead, figuring we would leave the fun for you.  Though now I am regretting that we did not do that as well because this was hilarious honestly. We already handed the books out earlier today when we were taking a break from moving things.  I will say that it will be fun watching them read some of mine because we all know my tastes are darker than the others,” Mia responds with a smirk.
“Yeah, but you all got stuck with some of my hockey romances and I know that isn’t your cup of tea.  So I would say we are slowly going to be even,” Lottie responds with a smile, her fingers threading with Vinnys.
“And I gave all of you the demon series I liked, I have a feeling that we all are going to be messaging each other going what the fuck is wrong with you, reading this shit,” Naomi says with a laugh, meeting her friends eyes for a moment before looking away.
“Listen, after you all made us read that chapter of Haunting Adeline out loud awhile ago I don’t think any of us want to know what exactly it is you are reading so you can keep that to yourself,” Ryan says with a laugh, squeezing Ari’s hand.
Everyone continues to laugh and enjoy the night, enjoying all the inside jokes that were brought back with the gag gifts they all got each other.  This is what it is all about, spending the time with those that they care about, enjoying being with one another and laughing with one another.   Being part of their own family that the boys have created with their band and have eventually added the girls into it, and nobody would change that.
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c-estmabiologie · 7 months
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brave on time (Stray Gods fic)
I finished Stray Gods! Time to write about Freddie because I'm love her! Warning: Pretty major mid-game spoilers
Also on AO3
Dying was the easiest thing Freddie had ever done. It’s everything that keeps happening now, in the after-dying part (is afterdeath a word? You know, like afterlife?), that’s really hard.
She can hear Grace moving around the apartment, can pinpoint exactly where she is and what she is doing by sound (she really never takes those shit-kicker boots off except to sleep): now she is closing the door behind Apollo and dragging the deadbolt home; now she is opening the fridge and staring at a bunch of leftover takeout that she doesn’t actually want to eat; now she is outside Freddie’s bedroom door; now she is pacing; now she is back at Freddie’s door.
Freddie feels her heart splash in her chest every time Grace stops just outside her door. She almost calls her in because she wants to imagine that it could be so simple: Grace would just come into her room and flop onto her bed next to her and they wouldn’t have to talk about anything tough at all, not like death, not like literally going to the Underworld and back, not like why she’d let the Furies take her in the first place.
And that had been the easiest thing in the world, letting a Fury’s blade slice into her gut. It hadn’t even hurt that much. When she pressed her hands against her belly now, there was nothing. No phantom pain, no scar, no proof that she'd launched herself into harm's way at all.
But why’d you do it, Freddie?
No, she isn’t ready to face that question down. Not because she doesn’t know the answer.
The answer:
I died because I started a band so I could hear you sing almost every day. It was the same summer you were thinking of moving out of state because you wanted something new, and the first time I ever thought I might lose you. I never told you how much it meant to me that you changed your mind. I died because the first time we sang together in school choir our voices fit together like stacked bowls. My voice was higher then, but you always had range. When we sing now we still fit like that. I like that I chose a band name that you hate because it gives us something stupid and familiar to argue about where you always let me win. I knew I liked you before I was sure I liked girls. I died because you have been like a sun to me. I didn’t want to make things weird when we had such a good thing going, so I was happy just to be beside you, in your orbit, and bask a little in your glow. I died because you’re a muse and you’re amazing at it. You’re taking, like, a cosmic shift in your reality in stride and just killing it. And you’re taking me along for the ride? It’s more than I could have imagined and not just because I literally never imagined this particularly weird scenario. I died so you could keep being amazing. I saw you stepping up to be a freaking Idol with god-like powers and couldn’t let that stop just because some divine retribution showed up to end you. I died because I wanted you to keep singing. I died because I love you.
She knows the answer, of course she does. It’s just too hard to say. Much harder than dying was.
But what if she were brave enough to say it? Maybe not all of it — some of her thoughts are too naked and vulnerable and should definitely just stay thoughts — but what if she said the part about love out loud? Who knows, maybe Grace has been secretly pining after her all this time, wondering if it would feel weird if they kissed or exactly right, maybe even thinking about her and pressing her palm against herself…
She knows Grace well enough to know that the worst possible outcome is just that she only loves Freddie as a friend and will only ever love her that way. It would sting but it wouldn’t be a shock or anything — she’d played this possibility out in her head before enough times and broken her own heart over it that feeling it for real would be familiar. They could still go on as Grace and Freddie: besties and her declaration would linger like a message written in the condensation on a mirror. It might pop up every now and again, like a nice reminder, but it would be easy enough for either of them to wipe away.
Freddie sighs. Grace isn’t outside her door anymore, not that Freddie had expected her to wait outside forever. She’s pretty sure that Grace has left the apartment completely even though she didn’t hear her leave. There’s that strange sort of stillness that you only get when you’re the only one home. It was fair for Grace to leave — she still has to prove herself to a pantheon that she wasn’t a murderer before the week is up, after all. It’s not like she can sit around the apartment all day just in case her friend decides she’s chill with everything that just went down. She’ll be back eventually, just like Freddie will have to come out eventually, if only because she’s alive again and has to do the sort of living people stuff that means leaving her room (she already kinda has to pee).
There’s also the matter of the eidolon inside of her, returned life ( immortality, Freddie, you’re technically immortal now if you want to be ) with an unfair price. Freddie hates the bitter part of her that’s ungrateful for being alive and breathing and needing to pee. She hates that she has to go through the motions of living when she’d already accepted being dead. She’d made the greatest sacrifice for Grace and Grace’d been like no thanks, I need you with me . Which is its own kind of love, she guesses, selfish and just as unfair as the other, more romantic stories of heroes going to the underworld.
“What the hell, Freddie,” she says out loud to herself, to the band posters on her wall, to the tidy spines of the books on their shelves, “you should be freaking out a little more. You’re a muse.”
She rolls over onto her stomach and presses her face into a pillow so she doesn’t have to look at it. It all looks exactly like it did before she died. Nothing has changed except her. 
She doesn’t know what to do about being a muse. Should she be packing up her room and shipping herself off to Olympus? Should she be out beside Grace, interrogating gods and trying to solve the last muse’s death? (if she’s being truly honest, that’s where she wants to be.) Grace had been forced into this just as much as Freddie had, but she’d made it look so straightforward and cool. Freddie doesn’t think she has that kind of effortless way in her that Grace has. But she could figure it out. Grace had been a muse for like four whole days before giving it up, so maybe she could share some tips when she gets back. But that also means that she’ll have to actually talk to Grace. 
“You can do this,” she says with her face still smushed into the pillow, feeling decidedly unmagical and a little bit sweaty. She hears the jingle of keys in the door. She hears the squeak of it swinging open and remembers the can of WD-40 that she’d bought three months ago that was still sitting under the sink, waiting for its day to un-squeak the hinges, just like she always remembers when she hears the door open. She hears Grace’s boots cross the floor. 
She can do this. 
A gentle knock. She can do this. 
“Freddie?” Grace’s voice is a single bowl waiting to catch her. Freddie pushes herself back up to sit on the edge of her bed. Presses her sock-feet into the floorboards. Every second in the space after the question feels so much harder than anything she’s ever done. Still. She stands up to open her door to Grace.
She can do this. 
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aloneinthehellfire · 2 years
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The Past Will Always Catch Up To You
Raining Hellfire : Season One | Season Two
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Word Count: 3462 words
Warnings: swearing, fluff, mentions of homophobia, forced coming out, mentions of trauma from S1, eddie being adorable as always
[A/N: It's ma birthday so why not start season two! Thank you all for the support from the first series, I hope this chapter isn't disappointing :)]
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The Past Will Always Catch Up To You
It had been around 10 months since you discovered the secrets of Hawkins. 10 months since you fought what had lurked in the dark. 10 months since El saved lives and disappeared. 10 months since you met Eddie.
And in those months, you couldn’t have been happier. You and Eddie spent almost every day together after that, learning more and more about eachother until it felt like you knew eachother completely. Well, almost completely. Neither of you had shared much about your families. But, you both preferred it that way; it was a comfortable mutual understanding.
Eddie finally gave you your Walkman back, holding a suspicious smile when he handed it to you. You still haven’t figured out what he was smiling about.
You attended the majority of his band’s rehearsals. Eddie was afraid you were going to be bored and would always have a selection of books for you to read just in case. However, you don’t remember ever picking up one of those books much less reading the titles; you were genuinely captivated by Corroded Coffin. The way they always gave 100% even though it was just a practice. Despite the fact that they were playing in a garage, you always felt like a member of a huge audience staring up at them on stage.
He even told you about his mysterious club that he attended every Thursday night. Eddie was slightly embarrassed to tell you about ‘Hellfire Club’, mostly because it was for Dungeons and Dragons, yet was pleasantly surprised at your excitement. You told him about the Party, about how the kids you babysat from time to time were obsessed with it.
There were so many happy memories you had collected throughout ‘84, and you were ecstatic to have been able to share them with the boy you were certain you were in love with. You were grateful for those memories, especially since not everything had been rainbows and sunshine over those months.
You still had nightmares from the Demogorgon. Barb died and El sacrificed herself, that guilt always bubbling away inside you. And every now and then, you swore you could feel something breathing down your neck, whispering in your ear. And you couldn’t tell anyone about it.
You didn’t want to involve Eddie, it was wrong to drag someone else into this Upside Down mess. And the Party had finally got Will back and were happy again. You couldn't ruin that with more talk about the trauma from last year. So, you didn’t have anyone in your life you could speak to about it.
No family, no friends...
You didn’t even have a best friend anymore.
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“Y/n!” Dustin’s voice echoed in the Wheeler kitchen, slightly muffled by the pancakes he had shovelled into his mouth.
As you entered the room, you saw that the Party was all together, happily sat with their sweet-tooth breakfast.
“Hey, guys. Another campaign happening?” You ask, setting the empty mixing bowl you were holding onto the kitchen island. You had borrowed it from Karen earlier in the week so you could bake a cake. It wasn’t for anything in particular, you were just really craving chocolate cake.
“Mmm-mm, mm-” Dustin was trying to communicate but seemingly forgot the mound of pancakes he had stacked and then attempted to eat all at once.
“Translation?” You looked to the small boy sat closest to you.
“We’re going to the arcade before school.” Will smiled, using his fork to prod at the barely eaten pancake on his plate. He looked tired lately and you wondered if he was kept up by nightmares of the Upside Down. He wouldn’t be the only one.
“Yeah. Why don’t you come join us?” Lucas smiled, leaning toward you. You swore that this boy flirted just for the hell of it.
“Ah. Well have fun. Without me.” You quickly added, raising your eyebrow at Lucas who still had a smirk on his face. “And can someone please beat Dustin’s high score on that ‘Dig Dug’ game. It’s all I ever hear about.”
You roll your eyes sarcastically, earning a chorus of nods.
“Hey!” Dustin finally swallowed the last bit of pancake, “I don’t talk about it that-”
“Yes you do.” All the boys said, shaking their heads.
“Anyway, it’s too late, someone already beat it.” Lucas added and then he leaned into you, lowering his voice, “And he’s being a wuss about it.”
“I heard that!” Dustin pouted.
“Mike, can you let your mom know later that I’ve returned her bowl?” You ask, placing it in its respective cupboard and shaking your head at Lucas and Dustin’s argument.
“Why can’t you?” He questions, dumping his plate in the sink.
“I… I won’t be here later.” You say, giving a quick goodbye and walking out of the room.
“What was that about?” You heard Lucas stay and you slowed your steps.
“I don’t know. Her and Nancy had some sort of fight.” Mike mumbled, clearly uninterested.
“About what?” Dustin’s loud voice sounded out and you winced.
“Who cares? Let’s just go to the arcade instead of discussing girl stuff.”
You heard a few mutters of agreement as you continued to the door, leaving. For once, you were glad that Mike was a minor narcissist.
Stepping off the porch, you smiled at the crunch of leaves beneath your boots, taking in a breath of the fall air. It was your favourite time of year. The weather wasn’t too cold or too hot. Leaves were scattered all over the ground, coloured with amber hues. The sun shining behind the naked trees beamed warmth in the autumn breeze.
Placing your Walkman upon your head, you pressed play and blared Journey through the headphones, treading along nature’s carpet as you headed toward the school. The songs played from their Frontiers album, one you had grown to love since its release.
A tap on your shoulder made you jump, turning quickly and stepping away. It may have been 10 months but you were still very afraid of the things that went bump in the night.
“Sorry.”
Steve Harrington stood in front of you, his hands stuffed into his jacket pockets as he avoided your eyes.
“Harrington.” You sighed, sliding down your headphones. “What’s up?”
You and Steve had a better relationship than you did last year. You no longer saw eachother as the enemy, merely just nuisances if anything. In fact, you were both on your way to becoming good friends.
Until Nancy ruined it all.
“We need to talk.” He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with an exhale of breath. “It’s about Nance-”
“No.” You put your headphones back in place and strode away from him. You weren’t in the mood.
“Dude! Come on!” He ran after you, pulling you to a stop and miming for you to remove your headphones again.
“I’m not talking about this!”
“Then don’t talk, just listen. Like, one minute, I promise.” He pleaded, searching your eyes for an answer.
“Fine.” You finally breathed, the headphones resting on your shoulders once again.
“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “I get why you two aren’t talking anymore, I really do. But…”
“But what?” You ask impatiently when Steve’s voice trailed off.
“You need eachother.” He said.
“No, Nancy made it very clear that she doesn’t need me.”
“She’s just upset about Barb-”
“So am I, Steve!” You raise your voice and he jumps a little from your burst of emotion.
“I know-”
“No, you don’t. I was ready to help Nancy through that, I really was. Because I thought she needed someone, just like I needed someone.” Your voice broke a little and your gaze shifted to a particular leaf that had spiralled down from its branch and landed on your foot.
“I thought you had Eddie.” Steve’s voice was sympathetic. He wasn’t being rude, he sounded more confused than judgemental.
“I did. I do. It’s just… how am I meant to talk to someone if I can’t actually tell them anything.” You sigh. You knew that getting into a relationship with Eddie meant you had to keep the Upside Down a secret. You just weren’t prepared for how lonely you would feel.
“Look,” You continued, having to tilt your head to reach his eyes, “Nancy and me… it’s all broken. I tried, Steve, I really did. But I said one thing that she didn’t like and suddenly I was the villain.”
“Maybe you weren’t listening to her-”
“She said everything she wanted to.” Your voice was cold, strings of sentences pulling at your brain as the memory flooded in.
“She didn’t mean it.” He shook his head but he sounded defeated, like he didn’t believe his own words.
“You were there, Steve.” You point out, showing no emotion, “There was no uncertainty in her voice when she said that to me.”
“I…” He gave up, slumping his shoulders, “I’m sorry.”
“For what, exactly? Just standing there while she made me feel shit or being the one who told her?” You spat.
He was silent, shock laced in his eyes.
“See you in class.” You murmur as you walk away.
You didn’t hate Steve, not even a little. You knew why he didn’t speak up when Nancy was making you feel worthless. He was in love with her, it only made sense that he be there for her, not you. You just couldn’t forgive him for what he did.
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[EIGHT MONTHS EARLIER...]
“Hey, Nance.” You look up from your book to see your best friend walk into the room, head hung low.
“You lied to me.” She whispered, so quiet you almost missed it.
“What?” Your heart sped as you discarded the book in your hand, sitting up straight.
“Do you even like Eddie or are you just playing him, like you were playing me?”
Mouth dry, you attempt to speak but were met with nothing but a breath.
“What- what are you talking about?” You managed to speak, shifting uncomfortably on your bed.
She just stared at you, a look of confusion and disgust.
“Robin Buckley.” She finally spoke, her voice as cold as her expression.
It felt like your heart leapt into your throat, restricting your breathing. How did she know about that?
“You kept that from me.” She added, “I thought you were my friend, I thought… I thought you were-”
“Normal?” You blurted as the room went silent. Nancy didn’t speak. She didn’t try to argue with your choice of words.
“Wait!”
Steve burst into the room, panting. He came to a halt and bent over, trying to catch his breath. “I can explain-”
“You.” Standing up, you walked over to the tired boy, eyes seeing red, “You told her.”
“No, listen. I just meant to-”
“Yes. He did.” Nancy regained her confidence, crossing her arms. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been lying to everyone.”
“And why do you think that is, Nancy?!” Anger coursed through your veins, “Do you see how you’re treating me right now? Like you want my head on a spike to carry around town as a warning to others if, god forbid, they don’t fit into ‘Nancy’s perfect little world’.”
She just scoffed, turning her head from you. Steve cleared his throat awkwardly, shuffling into a space where her could intervene if anything got violent.
“Guys! Calm down, okay?”
Nancy sent him a glare and he stilled, his expression conflicted.
He finally let out a sigh, turning to you but avoiding your eyes. “Y/n…”
“No. No, stop it.” You shook your head in disbelief, tears threatening your eyes, “Why are you taking her side?”
“You’re…” He glanced at Nancy again, “You’re just... over-reacting a bit.”
“I can’t believe this.” You felt your chest tighten as the first tear dropped from your eye. “I trusted you…”
“Look, Y/n.” Nancy’s face fell into a softer expression as she watched the drop of sadness mark your cheek. “I can’t keep doing this with you… It’s like- like I don’t even know who you are.”
“Because I like girls?” You finally said it. You finally spoke the words that were avoided like a plague.
Nancy took a step back. You had to admit, that hurt.
“There’s nothing wrong with… that.” She shrugged, wrapping her arms around her torso.
“There isn’t, huh? Then why are you acting like it’s some sort of disease.” You took a step forward and watched her take another step back before she even knew what she was doing.
“I-”
“I like girls, okay?!” You yelled, making Steve jump. “I still like boys, too. Not that it even matters because I’m some sort of freak now, right? You can’t even look at me! Just because I had a crush on Robin Buckley? You act all high and mighty but you’re just as fucked up as the rest of us, Nancy Wheeler, don’t even try to deny it!”
You weren’t even sure what you were saying; you were blinded by fury, pain.
“Bullshit!” She screamed, hesitating before closing the space between you.
“Really? Then how come Miss Perfect can’t even admit that she’s miserable in a relationship that she just sees as a convenience?” You lowered your voice, aware that Steve was still in the room. “We both know who you really want.”
“I should have seen it coming.” She finally said after a beat, resting her shoulders and raising her chin, “Makes sense to go both ways when you’re a whore.”
A gasp was heard from the corner of the room, echoing in the tension. It felt like Nancy had reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.
“Get out.” You ordered through tears, a familiar feeling flooding through your body as your hands shook.
“Y/n-” Steve tried to… you didn’t even know. You didn’t care. You just wanted them gone.
“Get. Out.” Voice laced with venom, Steve looked to Nancy who opened her mouth, only to close it again when she clearly had nothing left to say to you.
Instead, she stormed out without so much of a second glance. After a beat of silence, Steve looked defeated as he followed his girlfriend out of your house and left you standing in your room.
Alone.
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“Hey, beautiful.”
Eddie grins as you run up to him, catching you in a hug. You always felt safe in his arms. The scent of green apples clung to you as you pulled away, looking up at him.
“Hey. Ready for another year of this?” You waved your hand towards the building in front of you.
“Hm.” He turned his body, studying Hawkins High with squinted eyes, “You know… I think it’s gonna be my year.” He concluded with a nod, looking back to you only to find you holding in a laugh, “What?”
“We’re in October.” You laughed as he playfully shoved you.
“I meant the school year, dumbass.” He chuckled, “Plus, I’d say this whole year has gone pretty well for me so far.”
“Oh yeah?” You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his waist and staring up at him with your chin on his chest. “How so?”
“Well…” His arms found their way around you, “I finally found the design for Hellfire Club.”
“Wow, okay I see- wait. You did?” You straightened slightly but neither of you let go of eachother. It only surprised you because Eddie had been struggling with a design concept ever since he made the club.
“Wanna see?” He asked, still refraining from moving away from you.
“Obviously.” You said and he chuckled. Reluctantly, he let go and shuffled to his bag, pulling out a t-shirt and showing it to you.
“I mean, I’ve literally had to draw it on an old shirt but I know a guy that can print me actual designs-”
“I love it.” You stared down at the shirt in your hands and started to trace the lettering with your fingers. It had Hellfire Club written on it (obviously) and in the centre there was a design of some sort of horned devil, decorated with objects from Dungeons and Dragons. It was so freaking cool.
After a while you looked up from the devilish art and saw Eddie admiring you.
“What?” You giggled. Lowering yourself onto the grass. You had a few minutes to kill before the first bell.
“Nothing.” He just smiled, claiming the spot next to you and resting his arm around your shoulder.
You both turned to eachother at the same time. You have known Eddie for 10 months and still, he made your heart race in the most beautiful way.
“Yo! Y/n!”
“Y/n! Y/n! Y/n!”
“Guys, leave her alone! She’s clearly busy?”
“Busy? Oh…” “Ew. Are they gonna suck faces?”
You sigh, sending an apologetic look to your boyfriend who was trying to keep in a laugh.
“What’s up, guys?” You ask the four boys in front of you, squinting against the sun.
“We… were… at the… arcade.” Lucas tried explaining, out of breath, “Why did we even… run here?”
“Dude. Exercise more.” Mike looked at him while Will giggled behind him.
“Dustin?” You looked to the boy who had decided to sit the other side of you on the grass. You figured if anyone was going to explain, it was him.
“We were at the arcade trying to beat the new high score but we got nowhere with that, like who can beat 751,300 points? That’s impossible!” He exclaimed, laying down on the grass with a grunt.
“That’s your big news? The exact thing you told me this morning?” You lifted an eyebrow as Eddie chuckled beside you.
“No! There’s more.” Dustin sat up so quickly you thought he’d get whiplash.
“Is there?” Lucas questioned with a high voice, still panting.
“Yes. We were trying to beat the high score when this car literally sped by the arcade so fast we thought it was on its way to investigate paranormal activity, you know like in Ghostbusters minus the sirens, and we haven’t seen the car before so we thought it had to be him-” He paused for a second, tilting his head and looking down at the shirt in your hands, “That’s so freaking cool!”
He took the t-shirt from you, any intention of continuing his train of thought disappeared.
“Thanks, man.” Eddie smiled, looking at you proudly.
“Yeah. Okay, so there’s someone new in town and they can’t drive. Why is that important?” You furrow your eyebrows, ignoring the small boy next to you who was holding the shirt against himself and posing.
“I really want one of these.” Dustin shared, just as Eddie reached behind you and snatched the shirt back.
“Hellfire only, sorry man.”
“Hellfire? Like a club? I’m in!” Dustin said excitedly.
“No, you’re not. It’s a high school club.” You sigh, rubbing your temple.
“Curse age.” Dustin shook his head solemnly.
“Maybe someday, man.” Eddie reassured, patting your friend on the shoulder.
“Can we get back to the matter at hand!” Mike yelled, causing everyone to quieten. “Thank you.”
“I’m still confused.” You groan, resting your chin on your palms, elbows digging into your leg.
“Whoever the crazy driver is has to be ‘Madmax’!” Lucas exclaimed. That caught your attention.
“Madmax?” You glance between the boys, stilling your movement. Eddie noticed the sudden change in your demeanour, sending you a concerned look.
“Yeah. He’s been crushing all the arcade games, how can someone even be that good?” Dustin sounded upset but also slightly impressed.
“No way.” You whisper.
Before anyone could respond, a Camaro came screeching around the corner, barely missing a few pedestrians as they came to a dangerous stop. They somehow parked perfectly into a spot outside the school.
“It’s him!” Will spoke up, stepping from behind Mike to get a better view. Everyone had crowded into a small group now, each of you wanting to satisfy your curiosities.
“Let’s find out who this sucker is. Apparently, they should be our age.” Dustin nodded as you all turned to him. “What? Keith told me.”
“Explains the driving.” Eddie muttered, making him snort out a laugh.
The passenger side door opened as a small red-headed girl exited the car. She slammed the door shut, clinging onto her skateboard.
“Ah. That makes more sense.” Dustin noted as Lucas slapped the back of his head.
As they argued, the girl turned to the group, locating the quarrel she was hearing. She shook her head, dropping the board but caught herself when she focused in on one particular person in the group. You.
“Who is that?” Lucas and Dustin asked before glaring at eachother.
“Do you know her?” Eddie asked you, noticing the look you were sharing.
Your words were caught in your throat as you tried to make sense of what was happening.
“Yeah…” You finally breathed, something you didn’t recognise twisting in your stomach.
“How?” Mike looked confused, glancing up at you.
The girl snapped back into focus, hopping onto her board and skating away toward the Middle School.
“… she’s my sister.”
[A/N: So... how are we feeling? *insert evil laugh*]
Chapter 1: Secrets, Secrets, Secrets... ->
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taglist: @gnnnne / @beepisbeep / @paintballkid711/ @eddiesbirdie/ @livasaurasrex / @darktimelegends
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moonlight-prose · 2 years
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✦BOYS LIKE YOU | WHITE LIGHTNING AND WINE✦
a/n: yeah....so with the enabling of @karasong and me watching stranger things i've finally realized i am in love with this guy. of course me being an au addict i had to shove him into an au. so i hope y'all enjoy the start of this electric love story! i haven't been this nervous to post a fic in awhile, but i'm worried i didn't do him justice. this was also edited briefly between the hours of 4-5am so there's probably many mistakes.
summary: bandmates don't fall in love - there was so much evidence behind it (take stevie and lindsey), but there was something about eddie munson that made your heart throb.
word count: 6k
pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader (nickname baby is used but no description is given.)
warnings: explicit so MINORS GO AWAY, cussing, pining, mentions of alcohol consumption, smoking, mentions of drugs, masturbation, pillow humping (don't look at me), voyeurism, a tiny bit of angst.
next chapter | masterlist
He could remember the first night he saw you.
Standing amidst the crowd, watching the band with an expression he would later come to see every night as you played, and for a moment he swore your pupils were the same as a cats. Either that or his own eyes were playing tricks on him. Really he only caught your stare for a fleeting second before his turn was up—his fingers practically dancing across the strings. The rest of the night was a blur of alcohol and getting high in the dressing room, but that one moment…yeah that was seared in his mind.
One day later you showed up—funnily enough—standing on his front door stoop, the Hellfire flier in her hand. The words Wanted Drummer were shoved back in his face as you handed it to him, a determined glint in your eyes that told him—you weren’t leaving until he gave you an audition. Sure…they were looking for a drummer, but he wasn’t sure if you wanted to be an unknown band. Although he learned quickly to eat his words when you just so happened to be…the best fucking drummer he’d ever heard.
He barely even handed you the sticks before you were mimicking the intro to Van Halen’s Hot for Teacher. His guitar following your lead minutes later. Eddie was embarrassed to say he got hard watching you—hair flying and eyes shut—as you went on instinct alone. He’d seen drummers before, even allowed them to audition, but you…the way you became possessed by the music. He couldn’t even call it such a simple word like hot, because that sight alone was so much more. Why you wanted to be a part of his band…he had no idea.
Although with his recent luck he learned one thing. You don’t question when talent was shoved in your face, ready to follow you on the path of rock and roll.
Two and half years later and the small garage band Hellfire became well—an overnight sensation. People claimed it was Eddie’s guitar solos that could draw people to tears and send an audience roaring that did it, but even he had to give a majority of the credit to you. The only drummer who could keep up with his fast paced playing and still keep going long after he finished. Even after so long, you could still impress him with your skills. Your power was music—that now stood clear to him—but if he had to describe what other power you possessed it’d be impossible to explain. 
You were a god in the shape of a woman and he was seconds away from worshiping at your altar.
The crowd's echoes filled the air behind you as the band exited stage left. You shoved your drumsticks in your back pocket of the leather pants they almost didn’t let you wear, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A one hour show had somehow turned into three, leaving you both exhausted and exhilarated; high on the energy of the crowd. The others couldn’t say the same. Eddie looked like he was ready to pass out as he wrapped a cold towel around his hands—attempting to avoid cramps in his fingers. Although knowing him, he’d be up just as long as you. Steve collapsed on the couch, his shirt dropped on the ground and Robin…well you never know where she went off to after shows.
A part of you wondered if she secretly had a girlfriend, but you weren’t one to make assumptions.
“Great show guys!” You bit down on your tongue as Jeffery, your manager waltzed in the door. His hair was bigger than Eddies and he always wore a velvet red tux to shows claiming he needed a signature style. Really a part of him envied the four of you, never having been able to get his own band from the 70s off the ground.
Jeffery was an asshole.
It didn’t take a genius to see it.
“Thanks Jeff,” Steve mumbled into the couch cushion, his eyes shut tightly.
You wanted to bet he’d down a shot of vodka, smoke a blunt and pass out for the night. It was his nightly routine.
“Listen, I wanted to talk to you guys about your next show.” Jeff pulled up the chair in the corner of the room. “Steve, Eddie, you guys are doing phenomenal. I already told Robin about what she could do better and Baby—”
“What we could do better?” you cut him off. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean Jeff?”
He floundered for words, his eyes darting to Eddie who smirked to himself and Steve who was already passed out. “I just mean…well in terms of your clothing…”
“Don’t tell me…I don’t fit the heavy metal standard of the 1980s. No wait, I mean I don’t fit the feminine standard of what Jeff wants.” He’d said it before with enough conviction to have you ready to lug your platforms at him. “Jeffery, you can stick your standards and shove them up your ass.”
Eddie laughed. Clasping his hands together he leaned forward. “Jeff man, Baby’s style isn’t important. We dress how we want to dress because the music is the most important thing.”
“Yes but the sale revenue on records—”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m pretty sure if Steve went on stage in a fucking leotard it wouldn’t help us anymore than it would hurt us.”
“Looks are not everything,” you said, loudly propping your platforms on the coffee table. “I’m sure Robin told you the exact same thing.”
Jefferey fumbled for words again, his eyes darting to Steve as if asking for any semblance of help. “She didn’t exactly give me a response.”
“Oh?” That made you curious. You were nearly certain that what Robin had to say was a variation of what you and Eddie were already telling him. The incessant need to constantly change who you were to fit in drove you up the wall, but hey…it was the 80s.
Although you supposed that didn’t make it any better.
“Jeff—” Steve sat up, his eyes bleary with lack of sleep. “We’re tired and we’ve got to hit the road in exactly…”
“One hour,” you finished for him.
He thanked you. “One hour. And Eddie is driving which means the ride will be horribly bumpy—”
“Hey!”
“So please, give us some time to rest.”
Biting back the smile when Jefferey finally relented, getting up from his seat, you felt a wave of ease push all the weight off your shoulders. For a week you’d be stuffed in the bus with the three people you were closest to; sleeping in motels along the way. Thankfully your next show wasn’t for another two weeks. Which gave you exactly five days to explore the city of New York once you arrived. Somehow Jefferey managed to book Hellfire to play at CBGB—a once in a lifetime opportunity.
The night was going well and you weren’t one to let Jeff of all people to deter it. So, with a huff you stood and reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table. Right where you left them. Steve would fall back to sleep and Eddie would most likely get high until he could sleep. You swore he suffered from insomnia, but just never bothered with figuring it out—either way he’d fall asleep soon. Which left you to wait until the leftover adrenaline left your system and you could knock out until the sun came up fully.
“What’s on the agenda once we hit the road?” you asked, inhaling so deep you could feel the burn at the bottom of your lungs.
Eddie shifted to the couch where you returned to your seat, flopping down beside you and stealing the cigarette from between your lips—the red lipstick stain on the bottom of it now transferring to his lips. You’d thought of smearing his lips in red a different way…many times. But nothing ever happened on the nights where you got high together, where space wasn’t an issue and he smelled like you the next morning. Your perfume, mixing with his cologne—a scent you’d like to personally bottle.
The stirring in your stomach at seeing him take a long drag and blow it out of the corner of his mouth was what made you break eye contact. Heat spread up the base of your neck and into your cheeks.
Bandmates don’t fall for each other. It was a rule more than anything else.
For as long as you’d known Eddie you held the makings of a crush that you never let get too large. Admiring him as a guitarist and frontman was one thing. Wishing you could have him as more than simply a friend was an entirely different thing altogether. In a way, this friendship was better. You could quell the ache in your body that increased simply by being near him; forget for a moment that he was who you longed for. So, you took another drag of the cigarette and did what you did best.
You forgot for a brief amount of time about those vexing feelings.
“There’s a hotel an hour away from the city we’re stopping at.”
“Fancy I hope.”
He laughed, tapping the side of the cigarette—the ash falling onto the sleeve of his jacket. “It’s… Yeah I’m not gonna lie to you Baby it’s a shithole.”
Spluttering, you coughed to rid yourself of the damn burn that built up in the back of your throat. Laughing and smoking at the same time never went well for you, but when it came to Eddie you knew he’d suffer the same fate as you. One look in his direction and sure enough…he was laughing too. You hadn’t even started on the blunt you knew he kept in his right pocket, stashed between the last few cigarettes in his pack, yet you were giggling like you were high.
A part of you blamed how close he sat to you—his thigh pressing tightly against yours.
“Please tell me it has a cheesy name to go along with it.”
“I unfortunately can’t tell you that.”
The pout formed on your lips before you could control it. “I’m going to take a wild guess and say it’s called Motel.”
“You would be correct,” he replied. “I wanted to rent out a castle, but in the middle of nowhere they’re hard to come by.”
Laughing, you shoved him as he exhaled a cloud of smoke. Dangerous didn’t even begin to describe what this relationship was—a friendship on the very edge of becoming something more. You would be lying if you said you didn’t want anything out of this. For weeks tabloids had begun asking you the big question. Were you in a relationship with your bandmate? Did you love Eddie Munson as more than a friend? What was the scoop? That’s part of why you avoided the topic of your relationship with him; also because the thought of finally admitting what you felt terrified you to your very core.
Did you love Eddie? No. You didn’t.
You cared about him as a friend, bandmate, someone who you gave your sunsets and sunrises to. But love has always been a delicate word with a lethal meaning. Considering it was a journey on its own. One you were not yet willing to take.
“We better get ready to go,” Eddie said, tamping the cigarette out. “Hey Harrington.”
The mumbled response from Steve let you know he’d need some incentive to get up and actually head out to the tour bus. Eddie glanced at you, a knowing smile on his face, before reaching for the glass of water that was placed on the snacks table. It may have been awful of you to do this, but there wasn’t really another option. When Steve fell asleep, nothing could wake him up. You backed up as Eddie crouched beside him, the water glass tilted dangerously above Steve’s head and with one last tip of his hand you watched it spill onto his hair.
“What the fuck!” Steve shot up, knocking the glass out of Eddie’s hand and watching it fall to the carpeted floor. “You two really couldn’t have let me sleep?”
“We’ve got to go man.”
“I get Eddie being a dickhead, but Baby…really?”
You shrugged, grabbing your leather jacket that was draped over the back of the chair. “I want to sleep in a bed tonight Stevie. Not on a couch.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, dragging himself to a standing position and yanking on the jean vest he was wearing before. He looked half dead and you were partially glad Eddie was driving.
It took thirty minutes to track down Robin, grab your belongings and load up the instruments, but eventually you were sitting in the front seat of the old run down tour bus. You were surprised the thing was still running—given how long it belonged to Eddie. The engine made odd sounds here and there and the tapes sometimes got stuck, but that simply made the experience better. You wouldn’t trade anything for sitting in the front seat, singing along to the songs that Eddie chose.
Yanking the worn down cardboard box that held the band's collection of tapes you found the one you wanted, popping it into the player as Eddie turned onto the highway. Steve snored in the back, passed out on the pull out couch as Robin was holed up in the back, curled beneath a blanket that nearly swallowed her whole. This was the life you chose for yourself. A whirlwind of traveling with people who became your family, and playing as much music as possible. David Bowie’s voice echoed softly through the bus, singing Ziggy Stardust as you left the city behind and headed towards your next destination.
Your boots were traded for sneakers, the leather pants switched out for loose jeans and an oversized t-shirt that said Hellfire on it. Eddie made them long before the band became famous; you made sure to keep it in perfect condition.
“Any stops along the way?” you asked, glancing out the slightly dirty window as the moon began to shine over the darkened highway.
“None tonight,” he said. “Although when we get into the city there’s a record store that’s like a museum. They house some of the greatest records known to man and even have some limited editions that aren’t made anymore.”
You smiled, watching him talk with his hands as he explained about which records he was looking for and which demos the band could cover. All the while Bowie continued to play, the ambiance of the night solidifying the memory in your mind along with all the others that were stored in your head. There’s a reason why it was so easy to fall in love with Eddie Munson. It wasn’t the guitar playing, or the way he looked. No, it was this—his passion that bled into everything he cared about; a magnet drawing in everyone around him.
Tape after tape was placed in the player—the conversation never dying. You could talk to him for hours on end without fail and still have more things to talk about. It’s a part of why you got on so well together. But tonight you could feel the exhaustion begin to weigh on your body—the drowsiness hitting you suddenly.
You could vaguely hear Jimi Hendrix in the background strumming on the guitar, the bus continuing to bump along the road as your eyes shut. Eddie glanced over, seeing you settle further into the seat and attempting to burrow beneath your own jacket. Steve and Robin stole the remainder of the blankets—a tradition that continued to happen each time you all hit the road. He would be up for a while and so he managed to slow the bus down in order to wriggle out of his leather jacket.
“Dammit,” he muttered, turning the wheel to avoid the random ditch on the side of the road.
He loved driving the bus that you affectionately named Clank due to its excessive noise. However, he didn’t love trying not to crash the bus which became more of a difficult feat than he originally planned. Originally it was simply used to travel between neighborhoods in order to play the smaller gigs they got. Nothing fancy. But after they got signed and started traveling further and further away from Hawkins, the bus became their home. Clank was a member of the band and everyone was adamant on not giving him up.
Draping his jacket over you with one hand, he managed to keep the vehicle stable. All the while he popped another tape in the player—another Bowie song. Slower than the last few that played. According to the map that was taped to the dash on your side, it wouldn’t take too long to arrive at the motel. He longed for a hot shower and a good night’s sleep before the routine started up again.
Glancing over at you one last time a faint smile showed up on his lips as you slept soundly; the sight, one he’d keep with him like a polaroid in his wallet.
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The engine died down as he pulled the keys out—startling both Steve and Robin. Fifteen minutes ago he managed to roll down the window and smoke a cigarette, but he was already in need of another one. He decided halfway through the drive that it was Steve’s turn the rest of the way. Turning towards you, he saw you still sound asleep—the exhaustion of the show too much for you to take. He knew how you felt. Part of him didn’t want to wake you up, feeling guilty about breaking your sleep, but he knew you’d wake up in pain if he allowed you to keep sleeping in the crappy chair.
Shaking your shoulder, he whispered your name, trying to be as gentle as possible. His hand cupped your cheek, thumb running along the skin and that seemed to be what woke you up. You groaned, eyes fluttering open to meet his own and Eddie swore he’d never seen a prettier sight in his life. He wanted to kiss you. Whisper how much he cared for you against your parted lips, but knew that, that would be entering dangerous territory.
A place he swore to stay away from.
Shifting, you felt a slight pain hit your neck—the awkward angle you slept in causing stiffness in your limbs. You should have waited until you got here to fall asleep. Although seeing Eddie’s eyes as your first sight after the small nap pushed away the slight annoyance, replacing it with a flurry of butterflies. You didn’t expect him to be that close to you, but there he was. Smiling at you—his thumb pressing into your cheek softly enough to elicit a sigh from you.
“Hey sleepy head,” he said, pulling away much to your disappointment. “We’re here.”
“Where’s here exactly?” Steve asked from the back, his voice deeper from sleep.
“The motel.”
Robin groaned as she stood, reaching for her bag and heading out the already open door. “This place is a shithole,” she called from outside.
You grinned, knowing that if it was her saying it…then it was absolutely the truth. Grabbing your bag, pillow, and blanket slowly you followed Steve out of the bus—nearly turning right around as you saw the state of the motel. Sure it wasn’t the Ritz but it certainly had…no appeal. The outside looked as if it hadn’t seen humanity in decades and you weren’t so hopeful about the interior. You spotted Robin talking to the manager, her instrument bag strapped to her back; she never went anywhere without her bass guitar.
“This place really is a shithole,” you muttered, staring at the half broken sign that flashed the letters MO.
“At least it’s got a cheesy name.” Raising an eyebrow you watched Eddie slip on his jacket that had been on top of you. “You’re gonna tell me MO isn’t a cheesy name?”
“I rather like the name.”
“Well there you go Baby.”
You threw a last glance at Clank, hoping he’d stay safe until the morning hours—protecting your drum-set—before heading inside. Steve tossed you the room keys, Robin having gone up already to pass out for a few more hours. You however must have gotten your third wave of energy that made your nerves jump. But even you knew that most of it was due to the way Eddie kept looking at you—glancing back to make sure you were still there. The feelings you continued to shove down never stayed down for long. In fact, they grew the longer you were near him.
“You and Eddie are sharing adjoined rooms.”
Stopping, you felt your heart rate spike. “What do you mean?”
“There’s a door connecting it.” Steve yawned, the dark lines underneath his eyes now showing prominently against his skin. “I’m going back to sleep. Try not to be too loud.”
“What do you think we’re gonna do Harrington?” you called after him, lips turning up into a smirk.
“Don’t know! Don’t care!”
You laughed, spinning around to face Eddie who was shoving the small black notebook he carried around into his back pocket. For two years you’d seen him scribble all kinds of things in there. Whether it be song lyrics, words, numbers, but you’d never truly know what was inside of it. You knew not to ask. For him it would be like asking to see the inside of a diary—the inside of a soul that should never truly be viewed by another human being. That was solely for him.
“Shall we Munson?”
He nodded, a smile flashing across his face as he trailed after you up the stairs. The motel was only two stories and you and Eddie’s rooms were next door to each other. Saluting at him, you swung open your door to see a single queen size bed with one nightstand and a desk on the other side of the room. The curtains were frayed at the bottom, the window slightly cracked, but it would do for the night. You dropped your bag on the bed, pulling out the sheets you traveled with everywhere and the extra pillow you had.
You were never one to trust the bed inside of motels that could be the star of a horror film—this one in particular bearing a resemblance to a motel you’d seen before. So, you stripped the bed and threw on the queen size sheets you brought, your two pillows going on top. It wasn’t much, but it would do.
The door that was nestled in between the bathroom and the closet creaked open behind you, causing you to jump.
“For fucks sake Musnon!”
He laughed, his head poking into the room. “Don’t worry I’m not here to murder you.”
“You scared the shit out of me!” you said, tossing a shoe at him. It hit the wall with a thunk, making him laugh harder.
“Should I keep it locked or…”
Shrugging, you thought about the possibility of keeping it open all night. You’d shared a room with him before. Hell you shared a room with the entire band before, all crammed in tight together, but this felt different. As if the line you’d both been walking on was suddenly hazy. Until you could no longer tell the difference between dating and just a friendship. You glanced at him, seeing the same look in his eyes that he’d worn the first time he saw you play—the look you dreamed about at night.
“Up to you,” you said, reaching for the t-shirt you slept in.
The bathroom door shut softly and you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. You could see the tiredness in your eyes, your red lipstick now gone from when you’d put it on earlier. The show was a success, each song performer perfectly, and that alone is what made up for the exhaustion. What made you smile even though you felt like you’d still feel this way tomorrow. You began to wash your face and arms, cleaning yourself of the day’s grueling activities. You’d shower in the morning, too worked up to actually do anything except lay down tonight.
Eddie had left the door cracked a tiny bit open—a bold move on his part—but one you found you didn’t mind. His bed was probably mirrored to your own, far enough away to not see you or hear you. Good enough, you thought.
“Goodnight Eddie,” you whispered as you fell back into the bed, your eyes trained on the pale white ceiling.
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An hour and a half. That’s how long you’d been staring up at this fucking ceiling, trying to go to sleep. You couldn’t figure out why your mind still raced, your body more alert than it had been this morning. All you knew was that if you didn’t sleep soon, you’d be in hell tomorrow—having to drive at least a quarter of the way to the city. You couldn’t drive the bus on no sleep. Not after the last near accident you got in after the show in Kentucky; sleep deprivation going on the third day.
Letting out a frustrated sigh, you kicked the blanket off, your mind going back and forth. No matter how many times you tried to focus on just sleeping, it continued to fall back on the one thing you couldn’t stop thinking about. Eddie. For some unknown reason you couldn’t stop yourself from replaying the conversation on the couch. There was nothing special about it, nothing different from every other conversation before, but every time you thought about it…your heart raced.
You sighed again. “Fuck it,” you muttered.
Dragging the t-shirt up, you slipped off your underwear and felt how wet you were. The thoughts of him, of what you wanted to do with him, continued to play in your mind, causing your insides to tingle. You were an impatient person with a voracious need for relaxation and you didn’t hesitate to slip your fingers in between the axis of your legs. Sighing softly as your fingertips ran up your slit with a gentleness only you could give yourself.
You were practically dripping into your palm as you quickly found your clit, circling it slowly with measure strokes. It wouldn’t take you long at all to get off. Only you felt something shift in your body—the incessant need to be filled—and knew that tonight might be harder than others. Biting down on your lip to smother your moan, you pressed harder on your clit, sliding your slick up onto it with practiced ease. Heat spread from your chest down to your stomach, your muscles tightening with each swipe of your fingers, but it wasn’t enough.
Whimpering, you sunk your middle finger into your pussy and felt your walls immediately clamp down. The slick sound of you pumping into yourself echoed off the walls and you should have been embarrassed at it. Should have stopped, but you couldn’t. Not when the orgasm was building up in your veins.
Adding a second finger, you sped up the thrusts of your hand, pressing your palm down on your clit for the added friction. By now you would have been closer than before. Only it just kept building and building; the pleasure mounting until you couldn’t discern where it started and you ended. Three more thrusts into your pussy and you were ready to scream in defeat—the pleasure fading the more you tried to grasp for it.
“Fuck,” you spit, trying to keep quiet, fearful of Eddie hearing you.
You were panting by the time you got to your knees, your slick coating the top of your inner thighs. The room felt hot, but you knew it was the built up adrenaline in your veins causing it. Still you yanked off the t-shirt, discarding it to the side as you reach for the spare pillow you brought. You’d only been so desperate to do this a few times before, but tonight you couldn’t turn away the opportunity. It had been weeks since you got a room to yourself; the budget only gave you enough for two rooms maximum.
Straddling it you felt the seam press against your already soaked pussy, your pulsing clit pressing against it lightly and you wanted to sob with relief. If you had the time, you’d bring yourself to two maybe three orgasms, but tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight you simply needed what would be the equivalent of a quickie. You wondered why you didn’t find someone after the concert; a cute guy to help you scratch that itch that was building up in your body.
Except then you saw his face in your mind. His brown eyes that stirred your insides up and made you want to tell him the truth about how you felt.
“Eddie,” you sighed, rolling your hips down and biting back a moan as sparks jolted up your spine.
Your breath stuttered, catching in your throat as you continued, the seam of the pillow running against your clit better than your fingers could. Your eyes fluttered shut, hands running up your naked body to toy with your own nipples. Suddenly your mind formed an image of him. Of his hair spread out on the bed as you rolled your hips not against a pillow but against his tongue that eagerly lapped at your pussy. A moan escaped you—soft enough to remain silent—and you bit down so hard on your lip you swore you tasted copper.
It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered when you could feel the building orgasm starting to grow again in your body. Your walls clenching down around nothing as you tugged on your nipples. Hips stuttering and heat filling your body, you welcomed the nearing release. Begged for it. Your movements became quicker—more stunted—as you chased what you desperately needed; his name, another breathy moan on your lips.
“Fuck, fuck,” you whispered, falling forward onto the bed and digging your nails into the sheets.
The bed springs were squeaking slightly, the breath leaving you in pants, but you couldn’t give a shit. Not when you were right there. You imagined what it’d be like to see his face between your thighs, to hear his moans as he sucked your clit into his mouth. Fuck, you even pictured him pressed you down further until his nose was buried in your pussy—your slick coating his face. You couldn’t breathe; your chest tightening with each short thrust of your hips.
“Cum for me Baby.” His voice rang in your head and finally the taught string snapped, flooding your body with a white-hot bliss.
A choked moan of his name left your lips, but you cut it off by clamping your hand over your mouth, quieting your noises so you wouldn’t wake him up. Even as your thighs shook and your pussy pulsed, your orgasm rushing through you, you continued to remember that this wasn’t supposed to happen. You shouldn’t have let it get this intense. Not when he was asleep in the other room.
Finally you felt your walls stop clenching around nothing, the steady thrum of pleasure in your body dulling down until you were able to gather your bearings again. You sighed in contentment, feeling the exhaustion return after so long and knew it wouldn’t take you long at all to fall asleep.
Only you never truly noticed the man standing (practically leaning) against the wall as he tried to remember how to breathe. Eddie had gotten up when he heard his name, thinking you were having a nightmare. You got them frequently over the years—even though you liked to pretend you didn’t, but now he was the one who couldn’t move. He knew it was wrong to watch as you brought yourself to an orgasm; knew that he should have shut the door the second he saw you naked kneeling in your bed.
Except…then you said his name again.
His brain short-circuited as he watched you play with yourself, your hips grinding down on the pillow like you were desperate for it. Fuck, he was desperate for it—the apparent bulge in his boxers now painful from being ignored. He couldn’t tear his eyes off you; the goddess he believed you to be now proven before his very eyes. When you fell forward, your eyes fluttering shut, he nearly interrupted you to ask—almost beg—if he could taste you. Worship you on his knees and pray like a penitent soul.
Stumbling back, he locked himself in the bathroom, images of you flashing in his mind. This was wrong. All of it felt wrong. But that didn’t stop him from yanking down his boxers and wrapping a hand around his red and leaking cock. He leaned a hand against the wall, biting into his arm as he furiously pumped his length, practically tasting his release on the tip of his tongue. The way you fought against making any noise pained him. He wanted to know what you sounded like, how you felt. Eddie was trapped under your spell, but there was nowhere he’d rather be.
“Fuck Baby,” he sighed, swiping his thumb along the tip of his cock, spreading his own precum downwards.
He could feel the tendrils of his orgasm begin to wrap around his body, shoving him forward with every pump of his hand. Biting down even harder, he knew the skin would bruise. It was inevitable at this time. But he felt no pain—the pleasure numbing his brain as he did whatever he could to chase the release that nearly made his body float. Your voice whispering his name filled his mind; the sight of you coming undone bringing him unspeakable amounts of pleasure. And with a final pain grunt, he felt his balls draw up, his cock pumping out cum all over his hand.
Eddie’s eyes shut tightly, his hips jolting forward as he imagined filling your pussy—imagined the sight of him leaking out of you afterwards. He stroked himself until pain replaced the pleasure and even then he continued until he couldn’t take it anymore. Groaning, he watched the last of his cum dribble out onto his hand, falling onto the toilet below—his body nearly shaking from the overstimulation.
It was only when he finished cleaning up, heading back out into the room and catching sight of you curled up in bed did the guilt start to settle in his stomach. The shame of what he just did now nagging at him. He should have walked away. Ignored the sight of you and he wasn’t sure what to do now. How could he look you in the eyes tomorrow? How could he laugh with you about trivial things when he knew what you looked like at the peak of pleasure?
He wanted to throw himself off the roof, burrow in the room and never come out. Running a hand down his face, he tried to calm his erratic heart beat. Except nothing would shake him out of this. Tomorrow he’d sit in the bus with you, he’d try to keep himself busy, because as much as he liked to ignore it…he knew for a fact that he couldn’t handle a world where you rejected him. And maybe that was the truly fucked up thing about all of this.
He loved you so much he was scared shitless to even admit it to himself.
Dropping into the bed, he stared at the clock that hung on the wall opposite him. He’d have to be up in a few hours with everyone else to start driving again. A never ending routine that he loved wholeheartedly, but even he knew tomorrow would be a different kind of hell. Tomorrow he’d have to once again pretend like the feelings he kept buried deep weren’t there at all. Only this time it was worse, because he finally knew something he didn’t before.
You liked him too.
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unclewaynemunson · 1 year
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Okay how about a stranger things / queer eye crossover?
Obviously Eddie is their hero because he has been through literal hell and back and doesn’t exactly have his life together. He watched a friend be brutally murdered in front of him in his living room, he's been wrongfully accused of being a satanic serial killer, he nearly died in the process of protecting his friends, and his home got completely uninhabitable. He needs help. A lot of it. And the fab5 are SO ready to give it to him.
Bobby builds him and Wayne a supercool new trailer from scratch. He gets both of them their own bedroom that perfectly fits their vibes and makes the living room completely different from the one they used to have to wipe away the bad memories and make it into a safe space where they can hang out together and invite friends over. Wayne isn’t allowed to see how it progresses through the week, but no one can keep him away. He wants to help Bobby with the project and doesn’t take no for an answer. They end up becoming best buddies in the process. Bobby, also having ran away from home as a teenager, can relate to Eddie quite well, so he gets very emotional when he sees that Eddie has this relative who has always looked out for him and had his back.
Tan is very excited about expanding Eddie's wardrobe from washed-out band shirts to higher quality blacks. He genuinely loves Eddie's edgy style and loves giving him the means to elevate his wardrobe. Eddie is also down to try some new things so Tan gets him in heels and a badass black skirt with fishnets at some point, which he ROCKS. He also takes Eddie to a fashion designer so that they can design a new Hellfire shirt and Corroded Coffin merch together while doing some bonding.
Jonathan is HORRIFIED when he finds out that Eddie's only grooming product is a 13-in-1 shampoo/soap/face wash/shaving cream/toothpaste/body milk/motor oil kinda thing. That doesn’t stop him from swooning over Eddie's locks non-stop. He never even suggests cutting Eddie’s hair: he fixes up his bangs a little bit and gives him some good oils for curly hair that give him a major glow-up. (He also tries to talk him into a proper skincare routine but everybody knows it’s not gonna last more than approximately 1.4 days)
Antoni literally cries when he sees the Munsons’ sad tiny kitchen and has Bobby swear he’ll give them something better in their new home. Eddie has the weirdest eating habits, he loves completely gross combinations like honeycombs in orange juice or chocolate with cheese. Antoni is slightly concerned but mostly impressed by his boldness. Eddie isn’t a bad cook per se, but he’s very experimental and completely unhinged in the kitchen, so Antoni tries teaching him some guest-friendly meal that won’t make anybody’s tastebuds implode. Eddie isn’t that into it but he tries his best to impress Antoni because, let’s be honest, Antoni is hot and exactly Eddie’s type.
Karamo teaches Eddie that he needs to heal on the inside as well as the outside. He takes him outside of Hawkins, to a Lord of the Rings convention in the city, somewhere he can be himself completely and leave the ugly comments he still has to deal with everyday behind him. Eddie doesn’t exactly like to talk about everything that happened to him, but Karamo takes his time to break him down and build him back up again. He also invites Eddie’s band/D&D friends to join them for a while, in order to make Eddie talk to them about his traumas, and to show him that his friends will always support him. It’s tough for Eddie, but in the end, it really helps him trust his friends and himself again.
At the house reveal, Eddie sees Wayne cry for the first time in his life. His uncle just BREAKS when he sees Eddie’s awestruck face; he can’t stop sobbing and he needs Bobby to hold him. Eddie himself can’t stop grinning the whole time. Everybody he cares about is there and the trailer park almost seems like a beautiful place.
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theclaravoyant · 6 months
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AN ~ Missing Moment set in the immediate aftermath of the storm. Spoilers for Eps 1-3. Angst.
For @fictober-event’s Fictober 2023 prompt: “Is it over? Is it really over?"
Masterpost of my Fictober OFMD fics
Fandom: Our Flag Means Death Characters/Relationships: Izzy Hands, The Revenge Crew Tags: Canon Typical Violence
Doldrums
Finally, it ends, with a sickening crunch.
For a long moment afterward, the only sounds are the howl of the sea, and their own heavy breathing. The last of them standing, and one of them only just.
It’s Jim who breaks the silence.
“Is it over? Is it really over?”
They look askance across at him, strong but uncertain; keeping it together until they feel they’re safe enough to panic. Good. They’re not.
“No.”
Izzy clears his throat. It feels like he hasn’t spoken in years. Blackbeard’s - Edward’s, Edward’s face is scored permanently into his vision, behind his eyelids. But he has work to do.
He looks up and around at the ship. It’s all but demolished. The sails are shredded. The deck is awash with rope and wood all splintered and rotted and burnt. It’s in an even more sorry state than their pathetic little band of a crew - if that’s even possible.
“Anyone injured?”
They all look at him. Ha, ha.
“‘Sides the obvious.”
Nothing major, they decide. They’re bloody and bruised and mentally devastated but they’ll live.
“Right then. Get him below deck.”
“Are you sure? Not- you know-”
Overboard? That, that he can hardly stomach, and if the crew see the horror and sorrow in his eyes they don’t mention it. Small mercies. But it’s not out of mercy or heartbreak he has them hold onto him. It’s not for his own sake, or Stede Fucking Bonnet’s. No. They’re stranded out here in the middle of the ocean with no sails and no steering. He knows what it might come to, and he tucks that thought quietly against his chest. It pierces him between the ribs like a knife he can’t pull out again. Please, not that. If there’s any shred of goodness left in this God-forsaken world, don’t let it come to that.
As it is, it’s hard enough not being able to carry his captain to rest. He’s left to hobble behind the crew balanced between an old mop and a quivering, crying Fang. He prepares himself to dredge up enough bastardry to make sure they do a decent enough job laying Edward out in one of the more hidden store rooms, but they don’t need the encouragement. They remember their friend too. They appreciate that it shouldn’t matter that he’s comfortable, but that for some reason it does.
“Can’t believe he’s dead,” Frenchie murmurs. The box in his head isn’t shutting as easily as it used to. He’s too fucking bone-tired for that. Plus he feels kind of relieved, and he hates it.
Izzy hates it too. He draws himself up as tall as he can and pulls away from Fang. So help him he will force himself to stand and commandeer the mop and he will snarl that ghost of a leg into submission with everything he has.
“No,” he corrects them, “he’s not.”
“Fuck do you mean, he’s not?” Jim challenges. “He better be.”
He holds up a hand.
“Blackbeard is not dead. We did not kill him. He was washed overboard in the storm and we don’t know what happened. He fucked off to Bermuda. He is not dead.”
Frenchie nods. He follows. Archie and Fang are confused. Jim glares, resisting.
“If we killed our captain, that means we mutineed,” Frenchie explains. “If we mutineed, we can’t be trusted. Any pirate worth their salt will leave us to die or kill us themselves. It makes sense.”
It seems to sink in for them, then. Not that it makes anything better.
“So… what do we do?”
“Find something to eat,” Izzy orders. “Find me a fucking leg. And pray for a miracle.”
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