#sorry for the wall of text tumblr wouldn’t let me add a line break that wasn’t a mile long | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

weepingvoidpenguin · 4 years

Text

The Gods’ Blessing (Pt. 5)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Summary: In your world, everyone had a soulmate. That’s just how things went. Everyone had some sort of Indicator that their other half was out there, be it telepathy or a red string that connected these two strangers. Yours was one unspoken of, in fact, you’d never heard anyone say that they had the same Indicator as you. And because of this rarity, you longed to meet the person who could gift you with what you lacked, maybe not so much so to be with the person but more so to finally see what others took for granted. Yet, you held onto the hope that one of your best friends was your Meant-To-Be but he has his eyes on another girls and the little green monster slowly engulfs you at the deterioration of your hope.

Warning: Like 1 F-Bomb, angst, reader being reckless

Word Count: 4.3K

Author’s Note: I’m literally so sorry this took so long to come out but I lost motivation to write and randomly got it back and now I know where I want to take this story so I’m dedicating some time to this series again. ALSO I wanted to thank EVERYONE from the bottom of my heart who has asked to be tagged or complimented my writing it means SO MUCH and helps me continue to write. Everyone who has requested to be tagged will be; I’m just dumb and didn’t know I could privately respond to asks and I didn’t want to spam my page with answers so... yeah I know, I’m dumb lol ENJOY

(CAN SOMEONE PLEASE TELL ME HOW TO FIND THE ORIGINAL GIF FOR MY STORY BECAUSE WTF I SPENT LITERALLY 30 MINUTES LOOKING FOR THE RIGHT ONE BUT COULDN’T FIND IT AND I USED THE SAME TAGS AS ALWAYS AND YES THE GIFS ARE STILL THERE SOMEONE HELP PLS AND THANK YOU) (AND ALSO LITERALLY CAN’T ADD A READ MORE LINE BECAUSE I COPY AND PASTE FROM WORD SO IM SORRY TUMBLR IS JUST TRYING ME TODAY)

You let the thunderous knocks at your door rack for nearly five minutes before you trudged out of bed with your blanket still encased around you. You kept your eyes glued to your carpet, watching as your feet slid along the floor on your way to the door. Your hand hovered over the knob as hesitation ceased your actions.

What if it was Peter at your door? Your heart twisted at the thought and you couldn’t stop how your hand shot out and grasped the handle. Damn how your body could betray you.

You noticed how your actions slowly became less your own over the past few days. Naturally, you could sit, lay, stand, eat, drink and etc. on command but whenever the thought of the brunette boy shattered its way through the walls you’d created, your hands flew towards your phone every single time. You had desired Peter, desired for him to reach out to you and clear the air, answer the questions consuming your mind, just talk to you in any way. Maybe his words wouldn’t make you feel better but at least his voice would soothe the storm brewing in your stomach.

You had skipped school the last two days, claiming to have a fever to your mother who, as a doctor, knew better. But she was an understanding woman and gave you the time she suspected you needed to deal with whatever was bothering you. She’d tried to get you to talk but each attempt was met with silence and isolation so she left you be, only occasionally leaving a warm drink on your nightstand.

You hadn’t just isolated yourself from your mother though; you’d completely disregarded the messages you were getting from MJ and Ned. You tried to keep away from your phone, in all honesty. You wanted to disconnect, to just feel what you felt and ride the wave until the waters soothed themselves. But with the amount of times you’d checked your inbox for a new message from Peter or merely went back to read old texts that used to bring a smile to your face, you’d say disconnecting had failed miserably. In fact, every time you checked your phone only made the sinking feeling in your stomach liven with a fresh ache and you’d lay right back down.

Your window remained locked now. For the most part. Some nights, for about an hour or so, you’d unlatch it, idiotically hoping that somehow Peter would be aware of your actions and know that you, in a moment of weakness, wanted to see him again. That your silent invitation had been noticed and he would come running to you. But, of course, it didn’t work like that.

You were released from the deep constraints of your thoughts with another set of rapping on the door. You sighed and brought yourself to look through the peephole only to be met with an eye already glaring through it. You let out a quiet shriek at the expression strewn about MJ’s face and slowly unlocked the door.

She didn’t wait for you to open it though, taking matters into her own hands and flinging the entryway open to storm through and slam shut behind her. You stood frozen, watching as she glowered with her arms crossed over her chest. You two stood in silence like that for a few moments and she continued to stare, waiting for you to give an explanation for your behavior for the past few days.

She knew better than to think you were sick. Even when you were sick you always messaged her back but this mood was something she had yet to experience in all her years of friendship with you.

“So?” She practically snarled and you gulped.

You scanned her up and down. She was entirely on the defense here. Her arms crossed, foot tapping on the ground and the disapproving look of the century plastered on her face all scrambled together to serve you one very pissed off MJ.

She waited for a response, not breaking her composure for even a fraction of a second. The anger radiating off her body was more than you could handle in the moment, especially when it was accompanied with the sorrow encasing your very being.

Her expression softened in the slightest as she studied you, noting how you couldn’t meet her gaze, not that it had been a warm one to begin with but still. Your hair was in shambles and the deep, dark circles under your eyes conveyed more than you were willing to bring yourself to admit. And when you finally looked up at her she took your desperate embrace with ease; all of her anger diminishing as she held you.

“Hey,” She soothed, running her hand up and down your back through the blanket, “what’s going on?”

You looked up at her, only slightly pulling back from the hug, “There’s something I have to tell you,” ~ That first day that you had kicked Peter out of your apartment he didn’t go on patrol that night. He was too distraught. Instead, he trudged home with his head hung low and his thoughts drowning him in regret.

He’d been weak that afternoon. He couldn’t help it. It’d been so long since you two had hung out together alone, aside from the rare occasion last week, and so much had happened within that time.

That first night, when the two of you kissed and the stars had come to life for the first time in his existence, everything in those few moments had been perfect; no, better than perfect. The world had burst to life under your touch and suddenly his years of yearning and longing for you had made sense. The world had been right and just for once. For one goddamn minute.

And then, because of that moment that he hungered to relive again, he’d lost you. Maybe permanently.

How could he have been so stupid? How could he have just given in to the desire pining for your touch? He couldn’t have helped it. The way you looked, the smile gleaming on your face, the way you were straddling and hovering above him; it all called out to him. You called out to him. His eyes traced down from your eyes to your neck and then lower to the bit of exposed cleavage in his face. He blushed in the moment, feeling guilty for letting his mind wander to those treacherous places that caused his imagination to spiral. And, oh, how his thoughts spiraled.

That need to touch you, to hold you, to kiss you, to be with you had made him weak in the moment. But had it really been so wrong to give in? After all, you are his soulmate and if it were okay to touch anyone the way his body had urged him to, why not the person that he was meant for and was meant for him?

No, it hadn’t wrong to give in because from the look that glazed your eyes and elicited your body when you connected, he knew you wanted to give in too. He knew you wanted to be with him just as much as he wanted to be with you.

And that’s why he wanted to go over that day. He had planned to tell you everything. He even had his suit in his backpack to show you but then it all went wrong. He’d prematurely exposed the truth but in a way that made it seem secretive. He hadn’t meant to be secretive; he was just scared.

Plus, he finally had the girl he’d been working to get for the past few months and he had to just throw that all away. At that point, his feeling for Liz were real just miniscule compared to the ones he attempted to drown out for you. Not to mention, Liz liked Peter as he was without the hero complex but (Y/N) liked Spider-Man, a literal superhero.

Maybe that had been the reason that (Y/N) had kicked him out so quickly. Was she disappointed that her mysterious hero had turned out to be none other than Peter Parker? Was being Peter really that bad in her eyes? No, (Y/N) loved Peter . . . platonically.

But Liz . . . Liz liked Peter, not Spider-Man. (Y/N) didn’t want her shy best friend, she wanted her mysterious hero. (Y/N) didn’t like Peter for who he was, only who he presented himself to be. Her feelings were solely based on a hidden character under the red and blue suit. She didn’t want Peter Parker. She couldn’t want Peter Parker. Peter Parker wasn’t enough for her and he never would be.

He shook his head at the thoughts, hating how his conclusion could tug at his chest so fiercely. Nonetheless, he let himself fester on that idea until it became his mentality.

(Y/N) was not interested in Peter. ~ You could hardly communicate everything that had happened over the course of the last few weeks to MJ with all the tears and sobs interrupting the story. She caught onto the gist of it, though. Peter was Spider-Man, Spider-Man was her soulmate, Peter was with Liz, etc.

She let you cry until you fell asleep that night and she stayed with you the next day so she could force you to go to school, even if it was Friday.

Her alarm woke you up the next morning and you groaned as you shoved your pillow over your ear to drown out the sound. MJ rolled around, cutting the alarm off and cuddling closer to you before shoving you out of bed.

“What the hell?” You asked, reaching out for the pillow that was pried from your hold.

MJ held the cushion just out of your reach and dangled it in the air, “Good morning!” She cheerily shouted, very unlike herself.

You groaned in response and shoved the blanket over your head just for that to be ripped away as well. “Get up, you’re coming to school,”

A huff escaped your lips as the sunlight shone even from behind closed eyelids. You wanted to argue and stay home but you would just get hell for it and end up going to school anyway so you used that time of argument to get ready instead. MJ had woken you up early enough to let you shower, as you hadn’t recently, and made breakfast while you got ready.

In the stillness of your room, you observed your reflection in the mirror. Your eyes were still puffy from the crying and there was a slight dry rash from wiping your nose so much but other than that, you looked practically normal. You ran your hands down your body, hating that you put in a little extra effort in your looks to catch Peter’s attention. In the midst of shamefully admiring yourself, you caught a glimpse of the pictures tacked onto the wall behind you. You whirled around and your gaze landed on the brightest of them all. A picture of the four of you sitting in the grass, MJ on one side of you and Peter on the other. You removed the tack from the photo and smiled down at it. The picture had been taken the first time you all hung out together, the same day you’d told MJ about your feelings for Peter only to be met with a knowing look from her. She could read you like a book that woman.

“Hey, breakfast is ready-” MJ burst through the door and cut herself off at the sight of you. “What’s that?”

“Do you remember this photo?” You asked, holding it up for her to see. Her eyes softened and she had a small smile, “I have this same picture in a drawer somewhere,”

“Do you remember what I told you that day?”

MJ looked up at you, her eyebrows furrowed as she waited for an explanation.

“That’s the day I told you that I thought I liked Peter,” She looked down at the photo and handed it back to you, “It’s like . . . since the beginning it’s been him. It’s always been him.” You placed the photo back in its original place, “And now I know why,”

Later that day in the cafeteria, the table had been full of tension. MJ throwing glares at Peter, Peter brushing them off his shoulder, your head crammed into a textbook, Ned trying to break the tension and Liz having no idea what the hell was going on.

“You guys are so cute together,” MJ cheerily spoke up after a while, looking at Peter and Liz’s interlocked fingers.

“Thanks,” Peter stated bluntly, his gaze fixated on MJ.

“I just didn’t think you would end up dating a guy like that, Liz, but now that I’m looking at it, it makes sense,”

“A guy like what?” Liz raised an eyebrow, concerned there was something about Peter that she didn’t know.

“A liar-”

“MJ, can you help me with this equation?” You interjected, hoping she hadn’t heard what MJ said.

“I don’t know why you’d need my help, you’re the best one here at math,” she slyly retorted, not once breaking her eye contact with Peter.

“I’ll help you,” Ned spoke up and the both of you exchanged worried glances. It suddenly dawned on you that Ned probably already knows Peter’s secret; which means, he already knew about you as well.

“Anyway,” Liz spoke up after a few tense moments of silence, “I’m throwing a party tonight at my place, everyone’s invited!”

“And why would we-”

“Sounds fun! We’ll be there!” You spoke up quickly, glaring at MJ to shut her up. She rolled her eyes but sat back in her chair and complied.

You’d kept your head down for most of the lunch period but had to snap your attention up to keep MJ tamed. Your gaze wandered over to the direction you felt a pull coming from and was surprised when you met Peter’s gaze. You were almost frozen, caught in a mixture of crying, panicking and keeping it together. Still, you couldn’t pry your attention from Peter so you dwelled in it instead.

He looked tired. The dark circles under his eyes were more apparent than usual and his hair appeared to lack a bit of life, the curls on his face falling flat rather than their normal bounciness. You let yourself study the man before you and that’s when it happened again.

Instead of his normal physique, an outline of his person took form and the wounds on his body glowed to catch your attention. He had a few cuts and scrapes here and there, some bruises on his shins and forearms, not to mention the busted eyebrow that you’d failed to notice under what you assumed was makeup. You squinted your eyes at this and Peter seemed to catch on to what was happening. He grew uncomfortable under your gaze and forced yourself to retract it, fighting the urge to reach out your hand and place it over the split skin on his face. Not that he’d appreciate it.

You sighed and closed the textbook before shoving it in your bag and standing up seconds before the bell rang. MJ followed suit and walked you to your next class, knowing you usually take the route with Peter and punched your shoulder lightly when it was time for her to go.

“Meet at my locker after school? I need help picking an outfit and we can stop by your place to pick some stuff up,”

MJ nodded in agreement and you turned to enter the classroom but walked into a hastily walking Peter. You reached out your hand to steady yourself and grabbed his forearm which, unfortunately, was not covered in fabric.

The warmth in your fingertips soon sprawled all over your body and you could moan at the ease it brought along with it. The ache in your heart subsided and the strength of the pull towards him tripled until you really were being shoved against him, your chest pressed against his own and his arms wrapped around you as if to keep you there.

You wanted to pull away but the fact that Peter was even holding you right now soothed the agony in your bones and you needed this for just a few seconds more. You let the sensation overtake you, submitting yourself to its enticing comfort and when Peter’s hands gripped the back of your shirt tighter to pull you deeper into him, you let him.

This was right. Being with him was right. How could it not be? How could being with your soulmate be wrong? The two of you were literally made for each other as were all soulmates but there resided something deeper between both of you that caused a very physical gravitational pull to one another. Though you’d heard of instances similar to that, you’d never heard of it being physical, only an emotional pull. And that physical pull somehow forced you two into each other’s arms where you were fighting the urge to give in.

With the little strength that you could muster, you pried yourself from him and you exchanged a worried glance with each other, “Did you-”

“Feel that? Yeah,” he said, bewildered at what just happened.

“So, you didn’t-”

“Pull you? No. And you didn’t-”

“Suddenly forgive you and throw myself into your arms?” You spoke with venom and cocked your head to the side, the little distance between you allowing some of your anger to return. “No,”

Peter wanted to roll his eyes and brush off the comment, he really did but he could see through you. The pain you tried to hide was laid barren for him, he couldn’t miss it if he tried. It shouted for his attention, demanding his explanation and wanting nothing more than to dissipate and leave you at peace. But he couldn’t grant you that. He couldn’t bring himself to beg for you when you didn’t even want him; at least, not the real him.

You finally walked away and took your usual seat in class, forcing your gaze down so you wouldn’t accidentally make eye contact with Peter as he took his place next you. You chuckled at that. ~ Liz’s house buzzed with energy, most of the people already arrived and under some kind of influence. You had to give it to her, she knew how to throw a party. Not that you’d been to very many of them considering MJ was your best friend.

MJ appeared beside you with two cups in her hand and offered you one, “Oh, I figured you were going to chug them down simultaneously,”

“Don’t tempt me.” She laughed and you took a gulp from yours, finishing it off in a few seconds, “Maybe you would like to do that, though,”

You smiled sheepishly, “I’m gonna get another one,”

“Make sure you leave some for everybody else,” she hollered over the music.

You giggled and sauntered over to the table, ignoring the beginnings of a lure coming from your left. You plucked one of the cups up and brought the brim to your lips, letting the liquid burn its way down your throat and rejoined MJ.

“Hey, so I was thinking,” you started, keeping your focus anywhere other than where it wanted to be, “where did you hear that story about the gods and the stars and all that?”

“Huh?” She shouted over the music and despite the volume of the noise, you could still filter out Peter’s voice through it all.

You grabbed MJ’s arm and pulled her towards the door, “Outside!” You shouted and she followed.

Once the fresh breeze hit your face, you took a deep breath in, attempting to clear out any negative emotions. MJ took your hand and led you away from the front of the house where quite a few people were still crowding around and settled on the rooftop. She grabbed a ladder off the floor and held the ladder while you climbed up.

“What were you trying to say?” She asked once you two had gotten comfortable.

“I was asking about where you heard the story about being chosen by the Gods,” you stated, taking a sip from the cup and already feeling a slight warmth in your cheeks. This cup was definitely stronger than the previous one.

She cocked her head a little and raised an eyebrow in confusion.

“You know! About the Gods’ choosing a few special spirits to have this intense love or something,”

“What are you talking about?”

“Like, about my Indicator and the stars and my soulmate,”

Her eyebrow remained raised in your direction.

Now it was your turn to get confused, “The story you told me when we were all at your house watching movies. The day I went on the first date with Brad,”

“Dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she admitted, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes, you do! You’re the one that told me that story, how could you not remember it?” you practically yelled. “When I got mad because of Liz and Peter and went to your room, that’s when you told me!”

“I remember you being bothered but I figured you needed a breather so I let you have it,”

Was it MJ that had told you? You scoffed, yes, of course it was. Who else would it be? She was the one that walked into the room and comforted you. “MJ, stop playing,” you scolded.

“(Y/N) . . . are you feeling okay?” she asked and you glared at her in response. “Dude, I swear I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You shot up from your spot and struggled to find footing so you raised your arms to balance yourself. You had drunk a little more than you thought but managed to steady yourself. MJ held out a hand to you in caution, raising them to catch you.

“Something’s not right,” you said, taking a small step back from your friend. You were certain it was MJ in the room with you, the memory was clear as day.

The reason you had even brought it up in the first place was because you wanted to know where she heard the lore from considering you’d never heard anything like it. You had been ashamed of your Indicator because you’d never come to know of any other person who had the same one as you ever. Not even in the history books. It was just completely unheard of. So, why would MJ know the legend?

“(Y/N), sit down.” MJ ordered, her words concrete.

“No, no, no, no, this doesn’t make sense,” you spoke aloud, your mind trying to understand the events of that night. You took half a step back from MJ as if the added distance would deny her truth. And it was her truth. You could always tell when MJ was lying, years of friendship could attest to that but her words were genuine and her confusion was too.

“Stop moving, (Y/N),” she growled, slowly coming closer to you.

You created the same distance from you as before and she stopped her movements altogether, her eyes glued to the back of your foot. You tried to wrack your brain around it but no matter how you tried to understand it, it just didn’t make sense. How would MJ know the lore for your Indicator when you’d studied extensively to try and find something-anything to make you feel less alone in your path. How had she just randomly come across such information and why hadn’t you asked her right then and there where she heard it from?

“(Y/N)!” You heard your name shouted from behind you and whipped around, the force of the action causing you to tip over the edge of the roof and your heart stopped as you watched MJ jump out to catch you.

The fall was quick but scarier than any rollercoaster you’d been on. It elicited the same sensations but held more finality to it.

“(Y/N)!” MJ screamed from above but you kept your eyes glued to the ground when a figure swung into your line of sight and clung onto you in midair before landing on a patch of grass on the side of the house.

The action had knocked the wind out of you and you struggled to regain your breath, your eyes glued to your feet and how they rested against the ground. MJ flew down the ladder and raced with Ned to get to your side. She hadn’t even reached it before she started yelling at you.

“Are you fucking crazy?” She yelled, kneeling by your side and encasing your face in her hands, failing to draw your attention to her.

Your body shook uncontrollably, the fear from before just now catching up to you. But it wasn’t the fear from nearly dying. It was from whoever the hell you spoke to in MJ’s house.

“Can’t you see she’s scared?” Peter yelled at MJ and you winced. You’d never heard Peter yell like that before.

Peter picked you up and placed you in his lap, his hands attempted to center you in on him but you merely looked through him. You were out of it and you couldn’t bring yourself to come back to the present.

“(Y/N),” Peter whispered, worry and fear laced in his tone, “Are you okay?” It took a minute of letting the fear make its course through you before you zeroed in on Peter’s expression. It was the warmth coming from his hands that brought you back.

“Who was she?”

Tag List: @the-ducks-umbrella @free-pool-trash @wherewecomealive @eridanuswave @watson-emma @imjuliabtw @powerstrangerdacre @chess-anon @le-yona @dear-selena @becausewelie @myr5heart @michaels-endtime @lastupidebichette @yetmeema @bisexualfangirlsblog @akabaneyuriko @allthings-sandy @foreverpark @courtmarie2016 @maya-t-13 @copxland04 @lostinwonderland314 @theolwebshooter @alainabooks143 @dark-night-sky-99 @shameless-dani @memequeend @chewymoustachio @thewayilookatbacon @rvgrsbrns @jaimewho @sexysamsungl @stitchers-in-stitches @spideyyeet @mira-9-rose @racewife2004 @eternallyanxiousandstressed @lost-xim @notavintagecliche @peteysbaby @awkwardnesshabitat @lushalternative @deans-1967sbaby @phrogtheguitarist @xwackk @theatergeek2000 @elenatalia @littlechillies @l-a-a-e @a—1—1—3 @herondalism @jxhnnysbxby @jessyballet @astralnyx @the-nonsenseblog @ornella0910 @parkeret @utterlyconfused-tm @oh-whatabeautiful-parker @fishswimbetterunderwater @reysclana @notavintagecliche @homosexualjohnwayne @procrastinatingmurder @delicately-important-trash @honeybutterparker @chelsxxsworld @herstolenheart @petalduck @utopiamiroh @roses-raindrops-and-writing @qxeen-of-hearts @beansat3am @buckysjuicyplums @champagnesugamama @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @primsa-the-pretend-avenger @used-avocado @martinafigoli @ramblingsnfandom @zofty15 @colorfulartbywriters @keitkeat

461 notes · View notes

ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

Text

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || Also on AO3

Chapter 50: Jon

“Do you have anything to declare?” the rather bored-looking man behind the counter asks without looking up from the paperwork.

For a brief second, Jon oscillates between how would you react if I told you what was in my pocket and yes, I declare this to be a complete waste of time, but he’s anxious to get this over with, so he simply says, “No, nothing.”

The man rattles off a few more standard questions, which Jon answers with only about half his attention. His eyes keep wandering over to the gates, just a dozen or so yards away. It’s so close, he’s almost there…

“Right, that’s everything,” the man says at last. He stamps Jon’s passport and pushes it, along with the requisite forms, over the counter. “Welcome to London. Next!”

Jon moves towards the down escalators, awkwardly attempting to stuff the papers back into his bag as he walks. Well, technically walks. He’s moving at a fast clip that doesn’t quite count as a run but could probably keep up with one. Part of his brain wanders off down the path of linguistics and semantics, trying to figure out what distinguishes a run from a fast walk, but most of it is preoccupied with what’s on the other side of those gates. Through the portal, down the stairs, outside and to the Tube station; he’s not thrilled about it, actually, but under the circumstances, it’s the best he’s going to be able to do.

Damn Julia for destroying his phone. Again. Nowhere has pay phones anymore, either. God, they’re going to be so worried, he promised to check in and he didn’t and now he’s a whole day overdue from what he originally said would be the latest he’d be back. The trains should be running, even this early, he should be able to get home before they have to leave for the Institute, and if he doesn’t he can just go the rest of the way to the Institute and meet them there…

He’s tired, he’s jet-lagged, he’s stressed. He’s used up too much of himself, given in to the Eye more than he should, and it’s overwhelming. He’s learned virtually nothing useful on this trip and he just wants to be home. He feels like he could sleep for a week. Or at least like he wants to.

When this is all over, he promises himself. When it’s all over, after the Unknowing, if Elias is still around, Jon will insist on vacation time for himself and his team members. They need the downtime, and Jon won’t lie, the idea of getting to spend a few weeks with just Martin and Tim is appealing. For the moment, though, he’ll have to settle for a few hours.

He would dearly love to take the day off. But Elias has made it clear that he wants them to think time is of the essence, so he can’t tip his hand and stay out too long. Maybe they can come in late. On second thought, though—he glances quickly at the outsize clock on the wall—he’s not going to make it home in time for much more than a quick nap, if that, before they have to leave. Maybe he should just go straight to the Institute, use the phone in the Archives to call and say he’s back, and curl up on the cot he still keeps in the storage room. He can at least get some rest, maybe—

“Jon! Jon!”

Jon’s head jerks up and whips around. He doesn’t have any checked luggage, so he just kept going and he’s crossed the line from the passengers-only area to the public area, but he hasn’t been paying attention to much around him. There’s a bit of a crowd, but not so much of one he can’t see Tim and Martin watching him from a few yards away.

Jon breaks into a run, never taking his eyes off of the two people he’s wanted most to see as they do the same towards him. He somehow manages to avoid tripping on a small child dragging a rolling suitcase and flings himself into their arms.

For the first time in almost two weeks, he feels some of the tension leave his body. Martin is soft, Tim is solid, both of them are warm, and he’s safe here. The song the Primes danced to, the night the three of them moved into their house, floats through his head, and he clings to Tim and Martin and inhales the scent he’s come to associate with home. For a long time, they just stand there clutching one another.

“Melanie’s right,” he says at last. “Jet lag sucks.”

Tim and Martin both laugh, a little desperately. Jon laughs, too, and looks up. Martin has at least a day’s worth of stubble growing on his chin and Tim’s shirt is inside out. It looks like they just rolled out of bed and came straight for the airport, or…oh, God. “Tell me you two haven’t been sitting here waiting for me since yesterday.”

“We thought about it, but no,” Tim assures him. “The Primes called and said you’d be coming in this morning.”

“We got them one of those throwaway phones,” Martin adds. “Honestly, we should’ve done that a long time ago, but…it’s a long story. We’ll tell you about it when you’ve had a chance to get some rest. You look exhausted.”

“So do you.” Jon looks from Martin to Tim and back again. “I’m sure we can take a half-day without anyone getting too upset. Do you think Sasha and Melanie will handle things for us?”

“Sasha owes us,” Tim says. He eases back but keeps one arm around Jon; Martin does the same. Jon shifts his arms so they’re behind Tim and Martin’s waists. “She’s taken a fair bit of time off these last couple weeks—and it’s for good reason, so don’t think I’m saying otherwise. But she owes us. I’m sure she’ll hold down the fort for a couple hours.”

“I’ll text Melanie when we get to the car and see what she says,” Martin offers.

They walk out of the terminal together and to where Tim has parked his car. Jon half-expects they’ll talk on the way home, but they don’t; he really is exhausted and he can tell they’re tired, too, so the ride is made in silence. None of them speak when they get to the house, either. They just head inside, where Tim and Martin pull Jon into the bedroom and none of them really bother to change into their sleep clothes, just shuck their outer layers and collapse into bed together.

Jon is plagued by his usual nightmares, plus a couple new ones, but honestly, at this point he’s used to them. He wakes up abruptly, but not screaming, and is momentarily disorientated by the brightness of the room and the awareness of another presence in the bed before he registers that he’s back where he belongs, safe and secure between Martin and Tim. Well, between is stretching it a bit; among might be a better word to use. They’ve somehow managed to end up in a tangled pile of limbs and extremities. Jon’s cheek is pillowed on the soft, warm fleshiness of Martin’s upper arm, his neck fitting easily into Martin’s elbow, and one of Tim’s legs is hooked over Jon’s hip. He normally doesn’t like the sensation of skin against skin, or at least he hasn’t with anyone he’s ever been with, but this feels…right.

Something clicks into place, all at once, and it makes his breath catch in his throat. When he called to talk to Tim and Martin because he needed to hear their voices, he didn’t expect to get so relaxed and comfortable that he stopped thinking before he spoke, and as soon as he heard the words love you both slide out of his mouth he panicked and ended the call before giving them a chance to reply. He’s spent as much of the last three or so days as he can—when he can spare the brainpower for it—turning his feelings over and over and trying to analyze them. He doesn’t doubt he meant those words, but he’s been trying to parse out what he meant by them and what it means for them all. Everything he’s been through between then and now has meant he’s been a bit stressed, a bit on edge, and hasn’t really had a lot of time to think about it clearly.

Now, though, he thinks about the safe and secure feeling he gets when he’s in their arms like this, about the desperate way he’s mentally cried out for both of them every time he’s been in danger, but also about the moments of deep and utter happiness they’ve shared over the last year, the nights they’ve laughed so hard they start crying, the afternoons they’ve spent with Charlie in their kitchen. He thinks about falling out of Helen’s tunnels into their arms and the perfect moment of joy when he saw their faces in the airport. Most poignantly, he thinks of the yawning chasm that seemed to open up the minute he crossed beyond the security barrier when he left London two weeks ago—the empty blackness that separated him from Martin and Tim—and for the first time, everything coalesces into pure certainty.

Love you both. Of course he does. He loves both of them with a depth he’s never felt before, and it scares the hell out of him because he runs the risk of losing them both to what’s coming. At the same time, it fills him with a sense of utter peace, because he has them now.

He wishes they could just stay like this a little longer, but an alarm he hasn’t realized someone set goes off and both Martin and Tim stir with varying noises of dismay. They’ve got to get up, got to get to the Institute. Still, Jon clings to them both for a moment more before, reluctantly, he climbs out of bed to go take a shower.

Tim drives them to work, and none of them argue.

Sasha meets Jon with a huge hug when he walks in. Surprisingly, Melanie offers him one, too. It’s a bit stiff, but it feels genuine, and Jon takes it willingly.

“I’m sorry you’re trapped here,” he tells her. “But for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here.”

Melanie shrugs. “My choice. Maybe one I shouldn’t have made, but still…my choice. Glad I can help. Now tell me what I need to do.”

Jon’s more grateful to her than he can express. Looking around at the Archives, at the assistants, at his family, he can see now what he wouldn’t let himself see before: Sasha’s hunger, Tim’s exhaustion, Martin’s strain. They’re all on edge and they’re all walking a fine line. Melanie hasn’t fallen as hard as they have; she’s still just a regular assistant. Still a bit of an outsider looking in. She’s far enough away from all of this that she can…well, she can’t walk away, but she’s at least not having her soul sucked out of her body with every step she takes. And she’s choosing to be here, choosing to help. She’s someone he can trust to protect his people without reservation or hesitation.

And if what the Primes have said is even half true, which it seems to be, she can probably handle herself almost better than the rest of them.

“For starters, I’d like to hear what you’ve been up to while I’ve been gone,” Jon says. “Then, perhaps, I can tell you what I’ve been up to. We—we need to make plans.”

“War room or downstairs?” Sasha asks. “Either one should be fine. Elias left sick about twenty minutes ago, so we can all convene without him knowing.”

Jon is startled. “How do you know?”

Melanie looks gleeful. “Sasha went up to tell him you were back and that you’d be in later today and all that, and while she had him distracted, I distracted Rosie and mixed laxatives in with the creamer she was putting in his coffee. A lot of laxatives.”

“The whole building heard him, practically.” Sasha smirks. “Rosie wanted to call him an ambulance, but he insisted he’d be fine to get home on his own and that he just needed rest or something like that. I didn’t read his mind,” she adds, evidently catching something in Jon’s expression. “Or hers. Manal told me.”

“See, this is why I drink tea,” Martin says with a straight face.

Jon is torn between wanting to laugh and wanting to scold them both for recklessness. Instead, he says, “If you’re sure…let’s go ahead and do this up here. The seating’s a bit more comfortable.”

Melanie turns on her heel. “I’ll go get them.”

Jon ducks into his office only long enough to grab a couple of things, then joins the others in the War Room. There are a couple of additional pins on the board and a new color of string; considering it stretches from London to Beijing to start bouncing around the States, Jon guesses it’s tracing his journey. The whiteboard has a list of the most common names and places they’ve seen in the statements, with tally marks indicating how many statements they’ve come up with for each, but Sasha begins erasing it with the explanation that they’ve already made a more permanent copy of those notes. They’ve also set up a secondary tea station in the room itself, which Jon appreciates, since it means Martin doesn’t have to be out of his sight for the length of time it would take him to brew tea for them all.

God, the separation anxiety is terrible.

Melanie arrives with the Primes just as Martin finishes up the tea; Jon Prime crosses over to where Jon stands, smiling wanly, and pulls him into a hug. “I hope your trip went better than mine,” he murmurs in Jon’s ear.

“I doubt it,” Jon mutters back. Jon Prime sighs regretfully and lets him go.

He gets a hug from Martin Prime, too, and then they all settle into seats in a rough semicircle around the boards and single desk. Jon brings the mug of tea to his lips and inhales for a moment. Jon Prime is right, it doesn’t taste as good when Martin doesn’t make it. “Right,” he says at last. “Fill me in. What have I missed?”

“Not much, honestly,” Tim says. “A few live statements, Elias being a dick, and…whatever that mess was on Tuesday. But we haven’t been able to find much about the Unknowing.”

Jon is instantly on edge. “Tuesday? What happened on Tuesday?”

“Pick something,” Melanie mutters, with just a bit of an edge to it.

Martin sighs. “Peter Lukas was here.”

“What?” Jon barely manages to stop from dropping his mug. “I-I thought—I thought the deal was that he had to stay away from you.”

“The Institute doesn’t show up in those pictures in the Light, apparently, so there’s no way for the Keeper to actually know he violated the contract,” Martin says. “Unless someone tells him, which, well, if I can figure out how to find him, I’m going to. I got it on tape, at least, so there’s evidence. But yeah, apparently he had a meeting with Elias and made a trip down here first.”

Upset, Jon reaches over to touch Martin’s arm lightly. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll admit it was a bit rough, but that’s just because I was already kind of…not at my best. I took a live statement two days in a row,” Martin admits, wincing under Jon’s look. “But anything he did to me, I got over pretty quickly.”

Jon doesn’t like the emphasis Martin places on the word me, but when he turns to scan the others, he realizes the one who looks the worst off is Martin Prime. Jon Prime meets his eyes, and his lips flatten. “Peter Lukas trails the Lonely after him. I wasn’t here,” he says softly. “Martin woke up alone and…”

“It was a bit touch and go,” Martin Prime says. “But we’re all right.”

“Where were you?” Jon asks his counterpart. It’s not like him to go haring off around London, especially during the day.

“Hill Top Road. Your team found a statement I remembered…when Martin brought it to me the first time, I remember being tempted to investigate but feeling very strongly that I shouldn’t. I had the same feeling this time, so I went,” Jon Prime answers. “I thought I might get some…useful information.”

“Did you?”

“Not about the Unknowing.”

Jon waits a second, but it’s obvious Jon Prime isn’t going to say further, and he decides not to push him. Sasha evidently comes to the same conclusion. “I feel bad that I missed all of this, but I was out for the afternoon. My uncle called and wanted to talk to me, so everyone told me to just go.”

“Is everything all right?” Jon asks.

“Depends on your definition of ‘all right’,” Sasha replies. “He’s being released next week. Which is great, and I’m actually quite excited about it. But he also—he had a statement.” She points at the shelves. “Tape’s in there if you want to listen to it later, but short version, the Corruption killed my parents and grandparents. Uncle Wade and I probably had a lucky escape ourselves.”

“Sasha, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault. Anyway, that was basically all that happened with us while you were gone. What about you?” Sasha pushes her glasses up her nose with her middle finger. “Did you learn anything useful while you were gone?”

“Maybe? Not by actually following Gertrude’s path, though.” Jon takes a sip of tea to brace himself, then sets it on the desk and takes a deep breath. “Did Martin and Tim tell you about what I found in Chicago and Pittsburgh?”

“Fat lot of nothing,” Melanie says. “Except for the fact that Gertrude Robinson managed to not actually get charged with anything after being arrested.”

“Essentially, yes.” Jon glances from Martin to Tim and back, knowing they’re going to be upset. “As you know, then, I planned to take the bus from Pittsburgh to D.C., then fly home. I should have been home yesterday. But…well, the bus I was on made a stop to allow us to stretch, and I was…accosted.”

“Jon,” Tim says, “did you get kidnapped again?”

“Only a little,” Jon protests. He knows how feeble it sounds, but it does at least get a surprised laugh out of Martin. “I’d—I’d had a feeling I was being followed since I landed in Chicago, but by the time I got to Pittsburgh…I’m sorry I didn’t say anything while we were on the phone on Monday, but I-I didn’t want to worry you two unnecessarily. But by then I was sure. I had hoped the cop that was stalking me would be left behind, but no, he was still after me when the bus stopped.”

“You got kidnapped by a cop?” Martin’s voice rose a bit in pitch.

Jon shook his head. “No, by someone chasing that cop. Alleged cop, anyway. You recall that statement last year, the—the anatomy professor with the students with the strange names?”

“Wh—oh, yeah, the Stranger statement. First live one after…” Martin waves a hand around the room, indicating the Primes, the timeline on the whiteboard, and his own scars.

“Well, apparently one of them was hiding out as a Chicago beat cop. Must have recognized me, or at least spotted the Eye’s influence on me. But he didn’t actually manage to get to me. I got kidnapped—or escorted, as she would have it—by Julia Montauk.”

Sasha’s eyes widen. “Robert Montauk’s daughter?”

Jon nods. “She’s working with Trevor Herbert. The vampire hunter. He’s still alive…somehow. They’re over in America hunting…monsters. Mostly.” He shivers slightly, remembering the smug sneer on the man’s face: The line gets blurrier every day. Could he…no. No, he won’t think about that.

Martin and Tim both reach for Jon’s hands at the same instant. He clasps them both, grateful for the connection. Melanie frowns. “Fill me in. Who are these people?”

“Robert Montauk was a serial killer, but he was also working with the Dark,” Sasha tells her. “Julia Montauk was, well, his daughter. She gave a statement a few years back. Trevor Herbert was a man who spent basically his whole life hunting vampires. Or at least that’s what he calls them. There’s this whole…thing. We thought at first he died of lung cancer, like, literally in the middle of making his statement, but apparently he survived.”

Melanie taps her finger on her mug. Her eyes go vacant for a moment. Before Jon can continue, though, she turns to Jon Prime. “So is he part of the End or the Hunt?”

“The Hunt,” Jon Prime says, looking surprised. “Why do you ask?”

“I thought so, but the whole cheating-death thing made me wonder, that’s all.”

“A lot of—of avatars have cheated death, in one way or another,” Jon Prime says slowly. “But it’s their patrons, I suppose, keeping them alive. One more favor.”

Melanie hums. “’S irrelevant, I guess. Anyway, I’m up to speed now. Go on. You got kidnapped by a Hunter and—the daughter of the Dark?”

“She’s with the Hunt now, too. I got their statement while we waited for Max Mustermann to—well, regrow a body.” Jon shudders a bit again. It was all a bit grisly. “They obviously didn’t know anything about the Unknowing, but I was hoping Mustermann would.”

“Did he?” Martin asks softly.

Jon sighs. “Mostly what we already knew. He didn’t even know when it was set to happen, just ‘when things are ready.’ I’d have tried more questions, but Trevor and Julia decided they weren’t going to get anything else useful out of him and dispatched him.”

Tim sighs, too. “So you got a net total of…nothing.”

“Not quite. Julia and Trevor offered me a—a thank-you of sorts, for helping them catch Mustermann. Apparently they’d been after him for some time.” Jon lets go of Tim and Martin’s hands and reaches into his pocket. “I made a deal at the time. Bring this back to England, promise to dispose of it after, and I’d get all the information I needed.”

Jon Prime chuckles slightly. “That sounds familiar.”

Jon pulls out the folded page he’s been carrying for two days. Martin eyes it apprehensively. “Jon…what did you do?”

Melanie leans forward. “Is that—leather?”

“Technically, I think leather has to be tanned first. It’s just skin.” Jon studies it. “There’s a book—Mary Keay had it. It’s got pages on it with—it’s hard to explain, but the pages are sort of…possessed by the spirits of people who’ve died. Technically, mostly people she murdered. Gertrude Robinson knew how to do it too, and…she bound Gerry into it. Uh, Gerard Keay.”

Sasha’s eyebrows shoot up. “Gertrude Robinson murdered Gerard Keay?”

“No.” Jon reconsiders. “Not technically, but I’m inclined to hold her responsible. She had to have known how little time he had left—his cancer was incredibly advanced when he was admitted to the hospital. But I-I don’t think violent death is necessarily a prerequisite for being bound into the book, just…fresh death. I wouldn’t know.”

“You’re right.” Jon Prime massages his temple with one hand, eyes closed. “I would rather not know those details, but unfortunately I do.”

Martin Prime slides a hand between Jon Prime’s shoulder blades and rubs gently; Jon Prime leans into him and sighs, almost inaudibly. Martin studies the page in Jon’s hand. “So what did he tell you? I—I’m guessing you…summoned him.”

“Nothing yet,” Jon answers. “Like I said…he promised to tell me everything he could if I would just bring him back here, and then burn the page after we’re done.”

He unfolds the page, takes a deep breath, and begins to read aloud. As the last time, the air grows thick and heavy, and the words taste bitter on his tongue. He aches with sympathy for the dying—technically the dead, but reading it, he feels there, the same way he does when he reads the statements.

“‘And so Gerard Keay ended,’” he concludes, lowering the page. And just like last time, there the figure is in front of him, with no clear idea of when he appeared or how he got there. Martin makes a strangled noise of surprise. Jon can’t help but smile a bit as he makes eye contact with the specter. “Welcome home, Gerry.”

Gerry grins and makes an ironic little half-bow. “Archivist.”

“My friends call me Jon.” Jon waves a hand around him. “And speaking of…this is my team.”

He introduces each one of them in turn, including the Primes. Gerry is particularly startled to see them. “Time travel? I didn’t know that was possible. How’d you do it?”

“Spiral,” Martin Prime says succinctly. “Not the best option in the world.”

Gerry studies Martin Prime for a minute, then gives Jon Prime a meaningful glance with a raised eyebrow. Jon Prime rolls his eyes, but there’s a fond smile on his face as he kisses Martin Prime’s temple. Martin Prime relaxes a little, and it occurs to Jon, all of a sudden, that he’s jealous, at least a little bit.

Turning back to Jon, Gerry folds his arms across his chest. “All right. I suppose you’ve got questions.”

“Just one,” Jon answers. “How did Gertrude plan to stop the Unknowing?”

He knows what the Primes did, but he’s hoping against hope Gertrude might have had a different plan. Blowing up a factory will work, but he’s afraid to let Tim get that close to an explosion in the name of revenge. Unless there’s a way to do it long-range…

“Don’t know,” Gerry says casually.

Melanie throws up her hands dramatically. “Great! Just great. Big help.”

“Hey, now,” Gerry protests. “Okay, I don’t know exactly, but…Gertrude reckoned it couldn’t be stopped ahead of time. It could be delayed, but nothing we could do would actually stop it properly. Even the Dancer could be replaced. But once it starts, it might be vulnerable.”

“Vulnerable to what?” Melanie presses.

“I dunno.”

Melanie lets out a string of profanity that would have had Jon’s grandmother washing his mouth out with soap and salt water. Sasha hides a laugh behind a cough. “Seriously, she never said?”

Gerry’s eyes twinkle. Jon’s pretty sure he’s enjoying teasing them. “She did say she had something that might disrupt it.”

Sasha rolls her hand in a go on gesture. “What?”

“Not long before I went into the hospital, she told me that if something got her first, I was…” Gerry pauses, and there’s a flash of pain in his eyes. Jon realizes he really, truly did care about Gertrude, in his own way. “There’s a storage unit on an industrial estate up near Hainault. She said she rented it under the name Jan Kelly, and hid the key somewhere in the Archives.”

Jon remembers the key he found under the floorboards with Gertrude’s laptop. “Oh. Uh, I think I found that, actually.”

“Well, it’s in that storage unit,” Gerry says. “Whatever she thought might disrupt the ritual, stop the Unknowing, that’s where it is.”

“But you don’t know what it is.” With a sinking feeling, Jon realizes it has to be some kind of explosive.

“No,” Gerry answers. “When I asked her, she said she’d show me when we got back to London. Mind you, she had this weird look in her eyes, like it was some kind of joke.”

Melanie sighs. “So we’ve got a net gain of…a storage unit.”

“Hey, at least I know where to go now,” Jon points out. “It’s something, at least.”

Gerry looks around at them, then turns to the Primes. “Did it work when you did it?”

“It did,” Jon Prime says quietly. “But we lost a lot in the process. We were hoping there might be another method.”

“I reckon if there was, Gertrude would’ve had more than one plan set up,” Gerry says. “She was like that. Never put all your eggs in one basket unless you only have one basket, or you’re damned sure of it.”

“Or you don’t have that many hens,” Sasha says.

Jon sighs and nods. “Thank you, Gerry.”

“Sure. Glad to help what I could.” Gerry studies Jon thoughtfully. “Don’t forget what you promised.”

“As soon as we’re done here.”

Gerry nods. “I think I’m ready to go now. Thank you. For bringing me home.”

“Of course. Uh…I dismiss you,” Jon says, a bit awkwardly.

Gerry sighs in relief and smiles. He gives a wink and a thumbs-up to Martin and Tim, and then he’s gone.

Jon sighs, too. He folds the page back up, then goes over to the metal trash can in the corner, drops it in, and fishes out the spiderweb lighter he keeps finding in his pocket even though he has definitely quit smoking. “Right,” he says, mostly to himself, then lights the page on fire.

None of them speak while the page crumbles away to ashes. Once it’s done, Tim exhales heavily and slumps in his chair, rubbing at his temples with his eyes closed. “Christ, that hurt.”

“Hang on.” Martin grabs Tim’s mug and brushes a hand gently against his cheek before hurrying over to the tea station.

Jon barely stops himself from dropping the trash can and hurries back to Tim’s side. “Are you all right? What’s wrong?”

“I’ll be okay. Just—lot of power, you know? It’s getting harder and harder to stop from seeing the marks without trying, and the—the page itself was bad enough, but watching it burn—I don’t know why, but it was painful.” Tim takes a few deep, slow breaths. “I’m okay, Jon, honest.”

Jon doesn’t move from Tim’s side until Martin comes back with the tea and slides it into his hands. After a few moments of inhaling the tea, with Jon on one side of him and Martin on the other, Tim finally looks up and manages a smile. “Sorry for worrying you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tim.” Jon takes a chance and brushes the hair on the back of Tim’s neck lightly. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit drained,” Tim admits. “Should be okay tomorrow.”

Jon Prime sighs. “Tim, if you’re using your abilities…whether you mean to or not, you’re going to need a statement to really recover well.”

Melanie half-rises from her seat. “I can go try and grab you one. Then you can, I don’t know, read it while we go look at this storage unit?”

“We can do that later,” Jon says, waving her to sit down. “Look at the storage unit, I mean. As for the statement…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the tape Tim locked in his desk drawer weeks ago, the one labeled in Gertrude’s distinctive handwriting with nothing more than a date and location. He holds it up to show everyone. “This is the statement we’re pretty sure is my father’s. Anyone who wants to can leave…but I think it’s time we listen to it.”

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonmartim #(yes both are applicable here shut up)#Gerard Keay my beloved

15 notes · View notes

jiminshoney · 5 years

Text

Where You Belong (Part 3)

Word Count: 10,773

Warnings: language, cheating, brief mentions of black mirror’s black museum episode (spoiler ig if you haven't seen it?), a cliffhanger, and angst but you knew that

[ tumblrs a jack*ss and links are broken, pls check my blog to catch up on the first three parts ]

Your body betrays you by waking you up agonizingly early, before your alarm has rung and before the sun has even had a chance to rise. The glaring numbers on your phone reveal that it’s barely 5 AM. You groan into the cushions beneath you, frustrated because you have to be at work in three hours and you were just robbed of a potentially meaningful last hour of sleep.

Opening a single eye to look back at the device’s bright screen, you can’t ignore the top notifications which continue to blink and beg for your attention. 15 missed calls and a somewhat impressive 28 unread texts all from Jungkook. It’s more than he sent in the month alone.

Your first thought is to ignore them, you want to ignore him, it’s too early to even think about processing what he has to say or replaying last night’s events. A sharp pain spreads through your chest, stretching until it meets your rib cage where there lies an almost forgotten void. There’s always those few seconds the morning after something terrible has happened, a moment of ignorant bliss, until your mind and heart remember and everything hurts again. The ache reminds you why last night went the way it did.

You don’t know that you can handle whatever he has to say, though you are curious...

Curious if someone who’s still in love and terrified of losing their girlfriend sends 28 texts and calls 15 times. Is that what it meant? Was he scared, desperate, remorseful? Or did he only offer a pathetic apology in twenty-something streams of the word sorry?

Driven by curiosity, you press a thumb to unlock your phone and open all the unread messages from last night.

From: jungkook♥ [5:19 PM]

Y/N

Can we please talk about this?

can you jus t come back please??

From: jungkook♥ [5:21 PM]

hello?

Y/N please answer

From: jungkook♥ [5:22 PM]

please pplease please

From: jungkook♥ [5:27 PM]

Where did you go

????

Im outside just tell me where you are

From: jungkook♥ [5:30 PM]

If not can tou answer?

Please answer the phone

From: jungkook♥ [5:32 PM]

fuck

Hello? Where did you go

Tell me where you are

From: jungkook♥ [5:33 PM]

Its fine if you decide to hate me for the rest of your life btu let me talk to yo about this first

Just give me a chance to explain everything

I mean there is no excuse but i wanna talk about this

From: jungkook♥ [5:35 PM]

pick up!!

From: jungkook♥ [5:37 PM]

I am begging you rn justsay something

Im outside, Please?

From: jungkook♥ [5:40 PM]

If its too soon i get it just let me see you for a second

If its too soon just tell me

but atleast tell m where you are?

From: jungkook♥ [5:45 PM]

Do you want the apartment? I’ll leave nd get a hotel

From: jungkook♥ [5:50 PM]

???

ffs just let me know you’re safe ok?

Please thats it

From: jungkook♥ [9:36 PM]

I love you y/n. Whenever you see this, you don’t have to call me back jus let me know that you’re somewhere safe alright?

“You love me? Right.” After a click of your tongue you chuck the phone back onto the table. Out of sight, out of mind, you think with a throw of the blanket over your head.

His messages didn’t offer any relief, all they’ve done is overwhelm and mildly irritate you because he acts as if you at least owe him the status of your location and quite frankly- you don’t owe him shit.

How dare he act worried about you and have the nerve to type out that disingenuous four-letter word like- I know you just found out my coworker sucked my dick but goodnight, love you. The audacity! Why should you have to tell him where you ran off to when he cheated on you and hid it for a week? Oh so well, as one may add, because there hadn’t been a sliver of suspicion. Had Taehyung not even been a factor, would he have ever told you? It’s unlikely and no one will ever know. It’s possible that he may have after much much time had passed, so maybe you’ll possibly tell him that you are in the safe confines of someone-who-actually-loves-you’s home… after much much time, of course.

All of this quickly reminds you that you don’t have any of your things. Your hygiene products, clean work clothes, fresh underwear, makeup, etc. You didn’t even have your purse after abruptly leaving your apartment.

A frustrated groan escapes you because now you must figure out how you’ll properly get ready for work the way you normally do. The last thing you wanted was to go back and run into Jungkook. Some days he left bright and early at 5:30 AM and you can take your chances and hope it’s one of those mornings, but it could just as likely be a day he’s decided to sleep in until 8. His app is finished so he shouldn’t have any standing reason to go in early, if not for the fact that he missed nearly a week of work, so he may. The odds were 50/50, it’s better to not risk it.

There’s also the option to call out of work, to stay in and sulk until an hour that he absolutely couldn’t be home, pack all your things and run away to a small town where nobody knows you until things get better. While tempting, you’re realistic and know that you cannot just uproot your life because you’re sad. The mere thought of having to go out and put on a brave face in front of the world today while you felt broken inside was tiring in itself, but sulking seemed exhausting. It wouldn’t make you feel any better, so you might as well go on like it’s any other work day. You could just shower here, pull your hair in a bun, stop at a Target for clothes and other necessities on the way and everything would be fine. At least you’d be able to busy your mind with something other than the fact the love of your life shit on a three year relationship for another woman no less.

-----

Around 9 AM, your work phone rings loudly against the desk. It sends your heart racing into a frenzy because the only person who ever called was your boss, and she only called for impromptu staff meetings or more specifically- to fire someone.

“Y/N~” To your surprise, the lobby receptionist’s voice sings at your pickup.

“Hyerin, good morning!” You smile, thankful that you aren’t losing your job too.

“You have a guest down here waiting for you.”

“What..?”

Your poor heart doesn’t get a chance to relax, there was only person who came to visit you at work. A person who shouldn't be visiting you right now.

“Mhmm! He brought you coffee~!”

“He?” Your jaw clenches, there could be no way. Jungkook could not be ridiculous enough to show up to your job first thing in the morning. He specifically said he understood if it was too soon for you! Why is he doing this? “I-- tell him I’m not in today!”

“He would know I’m lying!” Her hushed voice scratches against the receiver, tickling your eardrums uncomfortably.

“Then tell him I’m busy.”

“But he’s being so patient,” She says, her once melodious voice becoming sympathetic. “Shall I have him wait a few minutes?”

“Just tell him I don’t wanna see him, okay?”

“Oh but Y/N! I said he brought you coffee! Don’t be impolite and just come down, okay?”

Her end briefly goes silent before the endless dial tone beeps to indicate she’s hung up before you could utter another excuse. You mentally curse her because her greatest quality is that she’s the kindest person on earth, but her worst quality is that she’s the kindest person on earth and can’t tell unwanted guests to go away. In her defense, she doesn’t know that your boyfriend has been unloyal and you have a very valid reason for not wanting to see him.

On the way downstairs you are fully prepared to pour coffee over Jungkook’s head and curse him out for showing up to your place of work uninvited under the current circumstances. It’s disrespectful and he’s crossing a line by being here, you couldn’t wait to send him on his way. He couldn’t force you to talk if you didn’t want to. Though, that reaction would surely cause a scene. You will instead kindly let him know he’s being unprofessional and ask him to leave.

You practice the words again and again, it’s a must in order to not break the moment you face him. After all, the last time you saw him you were a bawling mess with mascara smearing on your fingertips and telling him you hated him while feeling like you might pass out. You couldn’t be the weak one this time.

Walking down the hall from the elevator your heart is still racing but you feel a sense of confidence even if it’s mild and fake, you’re just ready to get it over with. He’s leaning up against the front desk, distracted in a conversation with Hyerin as you approach. Heart thumping, the back of his head becomes clearer, strands of ash brown hair…

Your feet freeze against the marble flooring, “Taehyung?”

He swiftly turns at the sound of your voice, shoulders visibly relaxing when his eyes land on you. “Hey!” He pauses to turn, grabbing two concealed drinks off the edge of the reception desk, and closing the gap as he walks to you. “You left without saying anything.”

You should feel relieved but your mind and body hadn’t aligned, heart still shaken up over thinking he would be someone else. “Y-yea… I’m sorry. I left you a note, it was really early.”

“Oh! My fault, I didn’t see it. I came to make sure you’re okay.” He quirks a brow, letting you know his statement is indeed a question.

Not well given everything that’s happened, but that’s obvious. It wasn’t lunch time yet so it was possible in a few hours you’d be ready to slam your head into a wall but you’ve survived so far.

“I’m fine, Tae.”

His lips fall to an exaggerated frown, he is unconvinced and unimpressed by your attempt to not even sound dry. “How are you really, Y/N?”

You sigh, he would not be Taehyung if he didn’t at least try to get more from you. “Well… I’ve already cried once at my cubicle, I’m wearing $3 concealer that does nothing for the bags under my eyes, I have a minor headache and I just nearly had a heart attack because I thought you were Jungkook but other than that I’m okay, really.”

“You cried?”

You open your mouth to speak but get caught on an answer. Maybe you shouldn’t have slipped that part out not only because it’s embarrassing but now he’d just worry more than you knew he was. But it’s too late and the confession was made.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

A month or so after Jungkook you’d also gotten a job, specifically the one you had now. Like Jungkook it wasn’t at all what you wanted to do. The first few weeks after graduating were hard, all of the places you really wanted to work just weren’t calling back or would immediately send the dreaded thanks but no thanks email. Your mom had forced you to stop being so nit picky and apply wherever you could, passively sending you links to job openings she would spot online herself. Eventually you scored a job in the corporate world- lucky enough to make a decent amount of money, get home early, and not work weekends. Not so fortunately, you were stuck in some boring entry-level position in a finance department. It was the last thing on earth you wanted to be doing but you’d felt obligated to take it because up until that point your parents were helping with rent and other money related responsibilities.

The only person who really knew how you felt back then was Jungkook. At first you claimed it was different, like you’d said to him then, at least he was doing something related to his dream career. But no, really, he got it. He understood the fear you had of not being able to move away from this, the weight of life’s responsibilities, the overwhelming desire to just do what the hell you were passionate about, he knew it all too well.

On your first day of work he printed one of the hundred-something selfies you two had taken on graduation day and bought a frame for you to prop on your desk. He’d told you not to peak and to assemble it once you got to work, obviously you didn’t and couldn’t resist temptation, and the surprise was a short note he wrote on the back.

Baby, Congrats !!!

I know you’re not excited but I will be excited for you because I’m really proud of you still. You always remind me that bad days are temporary when I complain about work, ha ha, I want to remind you that too. I know nothing is perfect right now, a lot of things suck, but you still have me. I look forward to the future because I still have you. We may not have our dream jobs but we have each other so hopefully we can live our dream life soon. Just hang in there!

I love you more than anything - Jungkook

You couldn’t stop grinning the first time you’d read it. It was hard to find the words to say to him, hard to express your gratitude and how thankful you were you had him, you could only text him and say I love you so very much and that was enough for him.

Seeing that photo of your younger selves first thing in the morning was aggravating to say the least. You’d immediately slammed the frame down, picking at the back to take the pieces apart, intentions to tear the picture in half. But when you yanked it free from the slot and blue ink came to vision, you paused and read what he’d written less than a year ago. Tears were brimming before you realized. You didn’t have the guts to rip up the picture then, instead you shoved it in one of your drawers to be forgotten until you stumble upon it another day.

Taehyung looks at you worriedly, and it’s the same look he gave you yesterday before he turned your world upside down. A look you can now identify as the I-have-bad-news look.

“I saw Jungkook on my way here.”

“Okay?”

“He asked me if I’d heard from you.”

“Oh God... Taehyung please don’t tell me you told him I spent the night at your place.”

“I told him.”

“Why!? Why would you do that!?”

Hyerin’s only a few feet behind him, so as her head turns and her prying gaze briefly catches your eyes you glance around the two of you quickly, checking that no one else heard your brief outburst.

“I- I didn’t realize- I don’t know? I’m sorry?”

Taking a deep breath in you close your eyes to calm yourself. You don’t mean to yell at him, he hasn’t done anything wrong or gone against verbalized wishes. You know this. You’re just on edge, emotional, and you didn’t want Jungkook to know where you were.

“Is it because it’s me? You didn’t want him to know you were with me?” He asks.

“What? Taehyung, oh my God, no! It’s not about you.” You try not to raise your voice anymore, though you were sure you were probably scowling at him, annoyed with his assumptions.

“Forget I asked.” He’s good at keeping his voice level, manages to not react after you, but you can tell he’s just as annoyed with you when a muscle tenses in his jaw. “Which one do you want?”

He raises the two drinks in his hands, one’s holding a clear plastic cup with dark liquid chilled over ice, and in the other he has a large paper cup, presumably the same dark liquid but hot. It’s a harsh reminder that you’re being snappy with the wrong person. No matter how irritable you were, he didn’t deserve the back end of it. All he did was give to you, even now when you keep being rude to him.

“Tae, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s okay.”

“No, I’m sorry. I just got upset because… I’m not ready to talk to Jungkook and I don’t want him knowing where I am.”

“If you’re worried he’s gonna pop up on you, I don’t think it’s like that. He seemed really worried and I think he wanted to know you’re safe.”

Yeah, you think, that’s exactly what he said.

You finally take the hot coffee from his hand, finding a way to divert the conversation away from Jungkook.

“Thank you for this.”

“Of course. I have to leave soon. I’m shooting this guy for his acting portfolio. Then my friend is working a fashion shoot afterwards and invited me to help so I’m not sure when I’ll be done. I wanted to give you this.” With his free hand he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a shiny gold key. “Just got it copied.”

He smiles widely, giggling as you hesitantly take the key into your own hand. You don’t know why he’s gushing about this but it has butterflies floating in your stomach.

“Is this to your apartment?”

“Where else? I mean- this isn’t me asking you to be my roommate but... I wanted you to have somewhere to go even if I’m not home.”

“Tae! You didn’t need to go copy a whole key I- I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything.”

-----

Taehyung’s apartment is empty when you get there after work, and while it’s not surprising because he did say he had work you still feel disappointed. Leaving work you were eager to get some alone time, but not like this.

All your coworkers actually showed up today, and being that it was the day after New Year’s, everyone wanted to talk about how great their New Year went. The universe was making a mock out of you, you were sure of it. A few of the girls priorly knew about your plans with Jungkook and had hopeful heart eyes as they asked about the cruise, and while the actual night was fine, yesterday was not something you even wanted to think about.

You’d always find a way out, excusing yourself to go make copies or apologizing because “I really need to finish writing this report.” Your sweet coworkers, they understood. Saying, “Right, I need to respond to a few emails” before running back to their own cubicles and leaving you alone. That is until a new question popped in their mind that’d have them strolling back over.

You were the only woman in your office with a standing long-term relationship, they all loved to live vicariously through you while struggling with their own love lives. You knew you’d break their hearts when you’d finally have to tell them the truth. At least for today, you omitted that bit of the story. Not only for their sake, but also for yours. It’s embarrassing to say the least.

You’re not sure yet what it says about you to be someone who got cheated on. Will people wonder what you did to push him that far? Will they pity you? Will they figure you must be a bad girlfriend and did something wrong?

Did you do something wrong?

Making your way to the kitchen you decide to scavenge Taehyung’s fridge for something to eat. Your stomach started grumbling a few hours ago after you made the silly choice of skipping lunch. Looking back, you’re not sure why you did because the persistent headache you’ve had since morning is likely due to the fact that you haven’t ate anything. Unfortunately for you and your pain his fridge is empty of anything edible, only stocked with a carton of milk, a pack of bottled water and a single bottle of wine.

“How do men survive like this?” You mutter, deciding to at least continue to hydrate your organs if you couldn’t feed them. You slump onto a chair at his small dining table thinking, Jungkook’s fridge would also look like that if it weren’t for me.

Across from you, his shiny macbook seems to wave hello, and beyond that you notice his camera bag is on the chair. If his camera is here then he can’t be at a photo shoot right now. Unless his friend told him not to bring it, then again why would you tell a photographer not to bring their camera? It’s possible he’s already been home, but you haven’t a clue where he’d be now.

The laptop shimmers in the light, begging for your attention once more, quietly reminding you about the interesting contents it holds.

“I know.” You grumble aloud. More to yourself because you are aware it’s an inanimate object that can’t actually communicate and it’s your own conscious taunting you. Yes, the pictures, I know.

The tempting voice asks if you’re even a little bit curious, if there’s a small part of you that wants to know what Taehyung saw in Jungkook that night? How he knew it before you, how he knows when he doesn’t even really know. It’s in the pictures like he’d said, and you could easily pass your fingertips over the smooth surface, you could open the lid, you could see for yourself.

But wouldn’t that be an invasion of privacy? Snooping through his laptop while he’s not even here just to see the way Jungkook interacts with some girl feels selfish and wrong. He probably has a lock on there anyway.

Oh but dear, the laptop says, he wanted you to see them after all! You could look through his camera, they might still be there. Taehyung wouldn’t mind at all! You should check!

It’s tempting, you think back, but I don’t know…

Don’t you wanna see the face of the woman who he found room in his heart for?

The words are way too personal, a blatant throw back of Jungkook’s confession. Another reminder that you definitely aren’t talking to a laptop and this is just conflicting dialogue in your own head.

Maybe there is a part of you that wants to know. It’ll probably hurt but you won’t stop wondering if you never look. Even just once.

You move from one seat to the other, placing his bag onto the table carefully. You’re gentle as you pull the Canon from it’s compartment, the weight of it shifting into both palms reminds you that if you do anything wrong your friend just might kill you because this baby costs (literal) thousands.

Thankfully, as the camera comes to life his, presumably, last photo taken appears on the small square screen which means you don’t have to press a million buttons just to find what you’re looking for. You scroll through the first photos, dozens of group shots of people wearing different hot pink garments, wondering briefly what the photo shoot was for. Eventually you land on close up photos of a younger guy, the head shots for Taehyung’s friend, you’re close. Until finally, there’s a photo of an older man and woman holding two thumbs up, the festive backdrop giving away they’re at a holiday party.

This is it.

You take a moment before continuing to scroll, preparing yourself mentally because you aren’t sure when you will finally land on a picture of the two in search, but you will reach them and when you do, you must contain your emotions.

It’s fine, it’ll be fine.

Moving on, you’re slower this time, carefully scanning each passing photo to be sure not to miss Jungkook. The first few ones, or rather last several, are group shots with the same old man as before, until they become more candid.

The first time you spot him, he’s in the background giving some guy a hug.

There’s another photo of him at a table, not alone, but not speaking to anyone. He’s completely unaware that he’s being captured in the background which makes his oblivious doe-like daze a little adorable. He’s so cute, you think. Also oblivious to the smile that’s perked on your lips.

That is until you skip to the next photo and noticeably feel it drop when you finally see her. Somehow, you just know. There’s a second woman in the photo who seems to be talking with her hands, Lia’s smiling and making eye contact, but Jungkook’s eyes are on Lia.

You pass it, moving onto something else. There’s another. This time, they’re the focus of the photo, sitting at a table with another you haven’t met, all engaged in laughter.

You skip a few more, until the next one with them is again in the background. He’s smirking but you can’t see her face because she’s sat at an angle and her hair’s in the way.

The next photo is captured from behind, but you know it’s them because of her red dress and the fact you can recognize Jungkook from any angle by now. One arm around his shoulder and her head leaning into him, what warranted her to come this close?

You pass many, many more photos until you see them again. A posed picture, with the same guy from the laughing one, and like this you can really get a good look at her. You’re not too prideful to admit that she is beautiful and she holds an enticing look in her eyes. Maybe that’s her special feature, but other than that what’s special about her? Past the pretty face and perfect smile, what separates her from you? What was there under her surface? How’d she win over Jungkook?

The next pictures you go through are mostly boring, just photos of everyone at the party eating and conversing. But there’s one common factor in all of them with Lia and Jungkook, he was always looking at her. Most of the time smiling while he did so. And most of that time, she was looking at him too.

There’s something obvious there, that maybe Taehyung also saw, they have a connection. That, even if you hadn’t known him, you would think they had something going on too with all the ridiculous googly eyes. But with that, because you know him, there’s something else you see- That he is absolutely fascinated by her, drawn to her, intrigued. Whatever special thing she possessed, he’s latched onto it and it’s pulled him away from you.

Tears begin to well and you have to set the camera down to wipe them away harshly. It’s annoying, this marks the third time today, and if you let yourself cry now it’ll only worsen your headache into a migraine. You don’t want to cry over him, he doesn’t deserve it. Crying means you care and well, obviously you care. You love him, but he doesn’t deserve that either. Why should you still love him after what he’s done to you?

It’s useless to keep rubbing your eyes, your knuckles pointlessly tug the skin just for them to become wet again. You didn’t want to cry but your body was intent on releasing it’s frustration.

It’s not fair that after so much time together this other person just gets to come in and move his heart- quite literally, like he said, making room inside of it. It’s not fair that just two months ago he said to you he couldn’t see himself with anybody else just to fall for another girl who knows how long after. Maybe it’d happened before he even said it. The fact that he was willing to explore how he felt about her should’ve been a dead giveaway that he was in denial at the time. Maybe you were too.

Could it be that she’s the reason your relationship spiraled in the first place? After he started work that’s when the distance between you two started to extend. There were a lot of other things you thought it could be. You thought he was depressed over the new job, closed off from you because he was closed off to the world. And at the time, you tried your best to be the optimistic one. You tried to lift his spirits and be encouraging but maybe it wasn’t enough. Where did you go wrong? Where did you fail at making him happy?

Why weren’t you enough?

You desperately want to know what it is about her- what is it that Lia has and you don’t?

Is it all because he felt you weren’t reciprocating his efforts to fix things? Maybe you didn’t try hard enough. You should’ve done more- you should’ve been more affectionate and caring. You should’ve loved him better.

You flinch at the soft thud of the door closing, jumping out of your seat because it’s startled you. It’s just Taehyung, standing there silently with a harsh expression of worry.

“You were crying.” He says plainly, a hint of guilt in his tone.

“No.” You lie, wiping your face once more and forcing a laugh.

He shakes his head as he makes his way to you, setting a white to-go box on the table before standing in front of you.

“You think I’m stupid? Your eyes are red.” His voice is unnecessarily gentle as he cups your face in both hands, thumbs wiping away left over traces of tears. The sound of his voice alone makes your entire chest warm- you hate it. “Also, I saw you.”

“I’m fine.” You push his hands away because his affections are way too much for your weakened heart to handle. He seems displeased. “What’d you get?”

He glances at the table and then back to you. The pierce of his brown eyes makes your lungs constrict, even his gaze is difficult to hold.

“Fried chicken. You saw the pictures?”

“O- y-yea…” You force yourself to look away- if you breathe properly maybe you can talk without sounding like a moron. “I’m really sorry for going through your things I just got curious and I shouldn’t have but that’s-”

“It’s okay, Y/n.” He assures you, “Are you okay?”

Your mouth forms to say yes and he already knows the lie to come, fixing his question before you can.

“I mean you’re not okay. I’m asking if you wanna talk about it.”

“It’s okay.” There were too many layers to uncover, between your emotions and the pictures and your anniversary and what really happened at that party, “It’s a lot.”

He shrugs at your words like they don’t matter, “I’ve got some time. And I’ve got food.”

“Tae-”

“Tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I’m just confused. But I don’t want to ramble and get upset.”

“Why are you confused?”

“I just… I don’t understand Jungkook. I don’t understand why he likes that girl. I don’t understand why I wasn’t good enough. I don’t understand why he was so good to me if there was someone else, even after what happened, all the way until I found that he fucking let her-” You stop there, unsure what words to use to explain what happened other than the disgusting frank description that was there in your mind. Your stomach was already churning, you couldn’t say it.

“He let her…?”

“They… you know…” You vaguely wave your hands between your bodies, back and forth from the direction of your mouth to his crotch, hoping he caught on to the innuendo and wouldn’t force you to be explicit. He’d already successfully tricked in you into saying more than you originally wanted to.

“Ahh, wow um…” Surprised, he understands, but uncertain with himself if that’s really what you meant. If only he knew just how bad it gets.

“Yes, and I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Alright, alright.” He holds his hands up defensively, letting the topic go at once.

At some point over the last few months he’d stopped being passive and tried harder to pry information out of you when you were being closed off. Not too forcefully, but it was silently appreciated. You’d become grateful for his willingness to listen to whatever was weighing on your mind no matter the topic, it was always followed with thoughtful responses and advice. Now though, it’s a bit more frustrating. Something about this was different. This was not something that was easy to open up about and you wished he would say OK and let it be.

You know there’s an elephant in the room and at some point the healthy thing to do will be talking about it and having that conversation with him, your closest friend, but today wasn’t it.

He makes his way to the farthest side of the table, “Well, I’ll have to eat dinner with you quickly because I have to go check on a tenant downstairs. Their heater isn’t working and as you can imagine in the middle of winter they aren’t happy about it.”

“If you have business to take care of it’s fine. I need to go back to my apartment anyway to grab some things before Jungkook gets home and then find a hotel somewhere.”

“You’re being ridiculous, you don’t need a hotel. And you should at least eat first.”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry.” Your prolonged headache would beg to differ but you didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. You’re not sure how to respond to his first remark because it’s obvious you don’t have anywhere else to stay. You’d stay here, but only if he offered. You weren’t going to ask since you had no plan and it’d be quite the favor to ask someone to crash at their place for an indefinite period of time. “Ah, also, I don’t have my key… would you mind helping me get in?”

“Not at all.” A moment of silence drags on for a minute too long as he stares at you sadly, worrying his bottom lip, until he speaks up again. “You sure you don’t want to eat something?”

“I’m sure.”

With that, he heads over to the cabinet below the kitchen sink and pulls out of a bulky rectangular safe. Upon unlocking it there’s nearly a hundred keys organized on rows of hooks- a key to every room in the entire complex. He plucks yours straight from the center and then begins to count towards the bottom before he pulls another one.

After locking everything back up and putting it in it’s discreet place he places the keys in your hands silently. One reads 503, the other 705.

“What is this?”

“There’s a furnished room on the top floor. It’s clean, it’s got running water and it’s all yours.”

“Huh?”

“We only use it for tours because it has extra square footage compared to the other one bedrooms- don’t tell anybody that. Also, please do not lose these because if Mr.Lee finds out I’m doing this-”

“I understand!” You sputter, gripping the cold metal tightly. “Thank you, Taehyung.”

He beams at you, “It’s no problem. You still have a key here so don’t feel like you’re not welcome to visit.”

To visit, right, not to stay.

You weren’t going to ask him, no, but you do feel disappointed that he hadn’t offered. And maybe that’s selfish of you to think considering he’s risking his job just to offer you a private place of comfort and here you are wondering why you can’t stay with him.

You can’t help but feel this is his subtle way of getting rid of you, which is fair, your moodiness is probably annoying. Still, he’s being nothing but kind and going out of his way for you, and yet for some reason it’s all making you sad.

-----

It’s been exactly 10 days since you’ve seen Jungkook, which is impressive considering you both return home to the same complex every day and have yet to cross paths. For the first time ever you were thankful for the difference in your schedules, by now assuming that he was likely back to his usual 10 AM to 6 PM shift and that’s why you two hadn’t. But, you’d be a liar if you said you didn’t wish to see him every day.

There were countless times you had to stop yourself from calling him, thinking I just want to see how he’s doing. In the morning, on the way to work, in the evening, on the train, at night- especially at night, especially when you had to lay in bed alone. Other times you instinctively pressed for 5 on the elevator, only remembering you were on the wrong level when the doors opened to familiarity, you would consider for a moment getting off and just going back home, but deep down you knew better than to make that mistake. Your self control was also impressive.

In your own defense, your moments of weakness were absolutely valid, you two had been inseparable since that first day of sophomore year over three years ago, you never went more than two days without seeing each other. Well, that’s not entirely true. There was the winter break before you started dating, and his family’s week long vacation two summers ago, but you still talked every day so it’s not the same.

This last year in particular your lives were built around each other- you freaking moved in together. Every day for a year you woke up and he was there, you went to sleep and he was there, right next to you. Even your body knew that something was missing as it tossed and turned at night, falling asleep had become difficult. Unless you cried, but you tried to minimize that to every other day.

The spacious apartment did not help your loneliness either, you tried to find comfort and treat it like a get away, but really it was unfamiliar and lacked personal touch. You didn’t even feel like a guest in someone else’s home, the space felt outside of reality, outside of your norm.

The only time things didn’t feel so odd were when you were with Taehyung. In his space he provided the consistent comfort you craved. The only problem was that the past week just so happened to be a week he was packed with gig after gig after gig. He’d been very busy with his photography and while he did his best to call you throughout the days and make sure you were simply surviving, the physical time you spent together had dwindled down significantly. Another hard pill to swallow since you’d gotten used to seeing him every day too.

Your loneliness was becoming suffocating.

Thankfully tonight some of the girls from your job made dinner plans that you were included in, which turned into an impromptu trip to a nearby karaoke bar afterwards. It was a nice break away from your usual routine to go out and spend time with friends rather than sitting inside alone on a Friday night. It was also the most you’d laughed all week.

Your plan for when you got back to the apartment complex was to go straight inside, change out of your work clothes, quickly go through your bedtime routine before your mind had a chance to start wandering through every reason you had to be sad, and go to sleep. That all becomes impossible the second you step into 705 and are welcomed by it’s freezing cold draft, it feels like you’ve just stepped back outside into the winter night.

The thermostat claims the heat is on, set to 70 degrees, but the current indoor temperature reads as 42 degrees fahrenheit.

“Jesus Christ, not me.” You groan at the ceiling, letting your bag thump to the ground before bending over to fish for your cell phone.

To: Tae [9:42 PM]

Please tell me you’re home :(

You hold the phone in your hand for a few minutes, waiting for his message to pop up on the screen but his reply is not immediate. You begin to worry because he’s typically a quick responder as long as he’s not working, and though it’s late maybe he was still at a shoot, or he also decided to go out tonight. Either way, you’d have to figure out what to do because there was no way you could sleep in this place tonight.

From: Tae [9:47 PM]

I’m here

Sorry about that I was making tea

what’s up angel?

A-Angel?

You’re not sure that he’s ever called you that before and don’t know where it’s come from and your face may be heating up at the pet name but there’s more important matters at hand.

To: Tae [9:48 PM]

Uhh hate to bother you but… I think the heaters broken

From: Tae [9:48 PM]

Nooo You’re the third person this week :(

From: Tae [9:49 PM]

I’m sorry, do you wanna sleep here?

Do you even have to ask?

---

When you arrive downstairs moments later he welcomes you in with a tight hug, as if it’s been months since he’s seen you but it’s only been three days. Regardless, the affection is much needed as you’ve been deprived of all physical forms, you feel yourself wanting to reach back out as he pulls away.

“I still have hot water, do you want me to make you some tea?”

“Hm, I’m okay, but thank you.” You were still fairly stuffed from dinner and the several virgin margaritas you enjoyed during karaoke.

Leaving your bags in the living room, you follow his path into the kitchen. Sure enough, there’s a kettle on the counter next to a small box and mug, he moves quickly to clean up the small mess and put things back into their place.

“Well since you’re here, do you want to watch a movie or anything? I think there’s a new episode of that weird sci-fi show you like.”

“First of all if you’re talking about Black Mirror, it’s not weird, but yes there’s a new interactive movie.”

He glances back to roll his eyes at you before dusting scraps into the trash bin. “You made me watch an episode where they trapped someone’s consciousness into a teddy bear… it’s a little weird.”

“There was so much to take away from that episode and that’s still all you talk about!”

When season four had first come out, you and Jungkook nearly finished it within a week, but life got in the way and you never got a chance to finish. One day you decided to just complete the season without him and enjoy the finale with Taehyung who’d never seen the show. You thought it’d be fun, thinking he’d provide insightful commentary, instead, he couldn’t get passed how cruel it was a character couldn’t express sadness beyond “Monkey needs a hug.”

“Would you rather talk about the guy who literally got off on murdering someone?”

“He-- no, please.”

He’s smiling as he walks back over to you and you can’t help but giggle because okay it is kind of weird and maybe you should’ve chosen a different episode to introduce him to but it was still really good!

“I’ll let you show me another episode, preferably one less dark.”

For whatever reason, he pulls your head against his chest to rest his own atop yours and wraps you back into his warmth. This time your heart immediately starts to race, nervous about the random affection, though your arms don’t hesitate to wrap around him either.

“It’s okay, I actually just wanna go to sleep.”

“Oh… okay...” He holds you tighter, sounding a bit disappointed.

You squeeze him back, a way of silently apologizing. You expect him to pull away then, but he doesn't, and neither do you because even with a jumping heart being like this was too comfortable. He was always so warm, and so cuddly, and his clothes always smelled like lavender. Which would confuse your brain at first when you’d get a whiff of him, the light fragrance so contrasting to that of your favorite- a warm blend of citrus notes and amber on Jungkook- but you also adored whatever floral fabric softener Taehyung used because you found it calming. In fact, you could stand here forever because the combination of all he had to offer was that relaxing. So relaxing that you can’t help but ask-

“Tae…” You release your hold so that you can step back and look at him but he doesn’t let you go, only slides his hands to the lower part of your back providing enough space for eye contact, responding with a yes? “Can I… sleep in your bed tonight?”

“I guess so? I don’t mind taking the couch.”

“No, I mean, with you.”

“Uh-” You catch the way his eyebrows almost raise with widening eyes before he can stop the reaction. You worry about the implications of your words.

“Unless it’s weird. Is that weird? I’m sorry.”

“No!” His hands abruptly fall away, swiping at the back of high thighs as he creates room between you two. “Not at all, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m- it’s just hard sleeping alone, you know?”

“Y-yeah, it’s alright.”

Not long afterwards, after you both had changed and freshened up, you found yourself sitting up in Taehyung’s bed with your back against the wall. It seems silly to you now that you’ve never slept together let alone even stepped foot in his bedroom. But before all this, things were different, and even though you’re only friends it definitely would’ve been inappropriate taking all things into consideration- Taehyung’s feelings, your relationship, maybe even your fleeting non-platonic thoughts about him.

Now, you don’t question it too much, it’s not inappropriate or weird. You’re the only one making it a little weird because you keep thinking about the fact that Taehyung still likes you, or at least you assume so, and that he could use this opportunity to make a move on you. Deep down you know he would never, he’s too respectable for that. Maybe you’d let him- ONLY because you’re vulnerable! He knows that. Which is why he shouldn’t, he’d be taking advantage of that. He won’t, but you still wonder if he will. Even as he rambles on about the earl grey tea his mom bought from Europe, a small yet very expensive Christmas present. There’s a reason why this French tea company is so special, but you wouldn’t know because see, you’re being weird.

How Jungkook would feel about all of this? What’s he up to anyway?

“Y/N? Are you listening to me?”

You’re startled by the sound of your name, but you nod furiously. “Of course, Tae. You were saying your mom and… amazing French company, great story!”

He shakes his head disapprovingly, “That’s how I know you weren’t paying attention. My mom bought the tea in France but it’s a Singaporean company!”

“Oh, see! I was close! I just missed that one little tidbit.”

He squints his eyes at you, knowing you’re telling a tale. Letting out an exaggerated sigh he rotates on his side to face you and props his elbow to rest his head in his palm. “Alright, what’s wrong? Spill the tea. No pun intended.”

“I know you’ll think I’m an idiot but I’m gonna say it. I miss Jungkook.”

“No I won’t!” He sits up fully in bed, seeing that the thoughts that plague you are deeper than he anticipated. He mirrors your image, crossing his legs before reaching to hold both your hands. “First of all you’re not an idiot and I would never think so little of you. It’s okay if you miss Jungkook, it’s expected. You don’t just forget about someone you love overnight or even within a week.”

Was that true, though?

“Why not? He did.”

Whether in the blink of an eye or months before you realized, he’d forgotten about you, forgotten what you meant to him, forgotten what you two had. Or is it that he didn’t love you anymore and that’s what made you so easy to forget?

“Didn’t I already tell you he’s a dumbass?” He grins, but you can’t find it in you to laugh, the insult doesn’t even make you feel the slightest bit better.

He sighs, rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands. “Can I ask you something?”

You nod.

“Do you want to save your relationship?”

Your hands pull away, not because of him, but almost as if to brace yourself for the weight of reality as you press them into the bed on either side of you. You hadn’t really thought about that, your thought process never got that far. Would Jungkook even want that?

“I don’t know that it's possible. Jungkook told me he likes Lia, and if that’s true, then it’s serious. He isn’t easily swayed by pretty faces.”

Taehyung snorts, “Who said anything about her being pretty?”

Your arch a brow at him, unsure if he’s trying to insinuate something. “Well I saw her, she is pretty but… that’s just it, that's not the point. He actually needs to get to know someone if he’s gonna pursue them. I told you before how in college there were so many girls interested in him and he didn't like any of them. Not even me. Not until he knew me.”

“And now he likes her…”

“Exactly.”

“But that’s not what I asked. Put him aside for a moment and stop thinking about what he feels. What is it that you want?” He asks, pressing a finger into your knee.

What I want? That is still a lot to consider. A lot that you haven’t gone over. You’ve only focused on the current distance between the two of you, and keeping it that way until you felt strong enough to face him. You’ve only gone through past memories, you hadn’t thought of what the future held nor what you wanted it to.

“I don’t know, Tae. It sounds ridiculous but I can’t envision my life without him. The idea of going back to him feels daunting because I don’t know how to forgive him for what he did or how to trust him after this. Or even, how I could allow myself to love him. I don’t have answers but it’s like if I don’t then what? Where do I go and who do I become?”

“You don’t become anyone, if not just a better version of yourself. You don’t need him to have a complete identity.”

“That’s easy for you to say-”

“I know it’s easy for me to say,” His rebuttal is sharp, almost defensive. “No I didn’t just spend the last three years of my life with someone just for them to shit all over our history, but I’m right. You were somebody long before you even met him and you will still be somebody without him, if you choose to let him go.”

“I know that, but it’s not just easy for me to say, okay, bye Jungkook, and go on and be content with being alone.”

“You think you’d be alone?”

“Well, yes?”

It all circles back to what you first said, you can’t envision life without him. Even if you try, there’s nothing there, you, but nothing more. Maybe that should be enough, but that blank image in your mind feels empty, life would be lackluster and dull, something would always be missing.

“That’s not true.” He looks down for a moment, finding a loose string on his comforter to tug on. “You have me.”

At that, and as his eyes finds yours, the air in the room starts to thicken. The statement feels too direct. You know he means that as a reminder of his loyal friendship, you know it’s his way of saying hey I’m here, but it feels like something more.

“As long as I’m alive, you’ll always have me.”

“Hm, like forever.” Your own gaze slips away this time, unable to stop yourself from chuckling at the boundless promise of his words. An older version of you may have believed him, a version of you that believes love is timeless, the version of you with a committed boyfriend. You want to believe him because Taehyung is honest, he wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. But words like this have been spoken truthfully to you before and look where it’s brought you.

“Jungkook and I are not the same.” It’s almost embarrassing how well Taehyung knows you, how spot on he is about what you’re thinking. “There was a point in time Jungkook couldn’t even see you, he didn’t see you then and he doesn’t see you now. Me?” He stops himself, you can tell by his tone that he knows he’s crossing a line again, about to walk past usual boundaries, about to say something he couldn’t have said before today, but he says it anyway. “The way I’ve felt about you has never changed. Every day I still feel what I felt the day I first met you… Even when you’ve confused me, even when you’ve cursed me, even when you’ve pushed me away, even when you defined the line in the sand and made it clear we could never be more than friends, even when you don’t see me… I feel it. So yes, like forever.”

You’re too afraid to look at him because you think you might crack the way you once had months ago, when a flood of emotion for him overtook you, when you considered giving into him.

“And I’m not asking you to- I’m not saying anything other than I’ve come with you this far and… whatever you do, nothing's gonna change.”

You have no words for him, nothing coherent, at least for now. You nearly throw yourself at him, sprouting up from your position on the left side of the bed to wrap your arms around his neck. He reacts quickly, thankfully, because as he falls sideways onto the mattress with a huff you realize you could’ve sent him tumbling backwards to the floor which would’ve been bad for the both of you.

You feel the soft laughter rumble beneath his chest as he tightens his hold around you, “Thank you?”

You’re overwhelmed with both gratitude and frustration, so much so that you think you could cry. How did you get so damn lucky to have this man in your life? It wasn’t fair. Logically, and karmically, it was not fair. Even as he said and listed reasons he’s had to pull back, to change his mind, to drop you, he hasn’t. He genuinely loves and supports you unconditionally and you don’t know how the hell that happened or why but there’s one thing you are certain of.

You are more than lucky, you are blessed to have Taehyung. And you hope that this friendship is eternal because you can’t imagine having to lose him too.

----

“Do you remember the first time we ate here?”

“Of course I do.”

You’d spent the first half of your Saturday lounging in bed, or rather Taehyung’s bed, all by yourself because he’d had an early morning shoot for… something you don’t remember because you were half asleep when he’d said. You’d stayed that way for a while, grumpily, because you were starving and too lazy to go out and eat and too stubborn to order delivery. By lunch time when your hunger hit peak aggravation you sent him a very aggressive text message in all caps to PLEASE BUY SOME FUCKING GROCERIES YOU DON’T EVEN HAVE BREAD. He promptly responded with a slew of laughing emojis, then letting you know he was already ten minutes away and to meet him downstairs.

He’d taken you the short walk to the taco truck around the corner, the very first place you hung out, a very telling choice after what he said last night.

“You never did thank me for showing you the best taco place in town.” He flicks at his bangs dramatically, turning a shoulder to you in faux offense.

“That’s because it’s not. I mean, it’s good but my favorite is this restaurant up north.”

“Why have you never taken me then?”

“They closed down last summer.”

“Must not have been too good.” He looks at you pointedly, flicking at his silky strands once more. You raise a fist, pretending like you might hit him, though you’re laughing at his obnoxiousness.

“I promise, you would’ve loved it.”

Just then, a lady pokes her head out from the wide window, calling your name for your order. Taehyung is first to run over and grab the small bag, though you take it back from him, offering to carry it on the walk back.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“What was your first impression of me?”

“Oh…” His question comes as a surprise, but you don’t think much of it, reflecting back to the day last spring. The very first time you met. “I thought you were very polite.”

“What about the first time we ate back there?”

“Well,” That question takes a little bit more digging. You have to remember the things you talked about that night, how you felt, how he seemed. “You seemed so… so… normal. Like, before that, I guess I kind of put you on a pedestal, I don’t know. You just seemed so composed and confident and like you had everything together but then we talked and you opened up to me and it was like ah, we’re not so different. It was refreshing.”

You look over to him and smile, he smiles, but he keeps his gaze towards to concrete as you continue up the block.

“Why do you ask? What was your first impression of me?”

“That you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.”

You instantly stop in your tracks, it takes him a second to register but when he does the balls of his feet scratch against the gravel as he turns around.

“Stop it.” You say, squinting your eyes suspiciously at him because why is he trying to flirt and joke around right now it’s making me blush! “Tell me.”

“That’s it?” Even his eyes frown at you, confused why you won’t accept his answer.

You roll your eyes and push past him, taking a right at the corner as you continued ahead. His legs are long so it doesn’t take anything of him to catch up, and he asks why you don’t believe him.

“I thought you were attractive but I gave you a better answer than that.”

“Wait-” He takes a few skips to jump in front of you, forcing you to come to another stop as he blocks the way. “You thought I was attractive?”

“What? I said you were handsome.”

“No, you said attractive.” He says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Oh my God, did I?

“I- it doesn’t matter, it’s basically the same thing.”

You step right, he steps left, you step left, he steps right, refusing to let you go around while he dons a ridiculous smirk that you try really hard not to look at.

“What!”

“Don’t you wanna know my first impression?”

“...yes.”

“Don’t judge me.” He points a finger at you, waiting on your nod before he continues, tucking his hand back into his coat pocket. “When we were standing in the elevator together, my heart was beating so fast because I was so nervous, but I thought you were mean! You kept giving me short answers and you glared at me when I was just trying to be helpful!”

“Come on, you asked me where I lived, give me a break.”

He giggles, “I was just nervous and talking out of order. But then you relaxed after I told you who I was, and you even laughed at something I said and…”

“And…?”

“I felt really warm. My heart, my insides,” One hand moves from the left side of his chest then down to his abdomen. You can see that he hesitates, biting on the corner of his lip nervously, but he looks back to you and sees the harsh expression on your face. “It’s stupid.” He forces a laugh and continues to walk home. You’re only about 10 yards away, the front entrance is visible not far beyond him.

He’s misread your reaction, misunderstood your furrowed expression. You weren’t frowning at him because of judgement or because you thought it was stupid, you were frowning out of pure confusion because he’d described the same feeling he’s given to you.

And it was so simple, such a simple feeling, a simple word. But, warm, yes, you understood. You felt it too that very first day, you felt it the first time you hung out. You feel it when he looks at you, when he talks, when he hugs you, just being next to him in itself was like sitting by a fire. You were never sure what it was or what it meant, you never looked too much into it, but if the sentiment was mutual shouldn’t you tell him you feel it too?

You run ahead to catch up, he’s still standing outside the door, presumably waiting for you to go inside.

Taehyung had said before that you always know what to say, but you disagree. Maybe when it comes to uplifting others kind words come naturally, but you aren’t good with words themself, at least not when it comes to sharing and expressing your emotions.

That is precisely why you cup his face into your hands as he turns to you, unbothered by the tacos that get smushed somewhere between your arm and his chest, raising onto the balls of your feet and pulling him down the distance you couldn’t close to press your lips into his.

You’re not entirely sure why you’re kissing Taehyung, or rather you can’t explain why. It’s impulsive but it feels right as that familiar feeling overtakes your entire chest, replacing the vacant ache you’d grown accustomed to over the last week and a half and overwhelming you with so much desire for more. And at first, he gives in to you. His gentle hands find your hips, head turning as his mouth opens in sync with yours to deepen the kiss.

In that moment you place words on the purpose. Kissing him said way more than your grateful hugs ever could, and that was all you’d done before. But this wasn’t even about saying thank you, this was about admitting that maybe you felt the exact same way. This was easier than facing the fact that there really was no reason to keep suppressing your emotions. But then he abruptly pulls away, eyes wide as he sounds frightened when he says your name.

Your heart sinks because he’s looking at you like you’ve just done something you should not have done. Heat creeps up over your ears, this time because you’re actually uncomfortable, completely embarrassed because maybe you just made a mistake.

Your open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out, stuck on shock, you don’t know how to even begin saying sorry.

“Jungkook is inside.”

Wait… what?

If you couldn’t speak before, you definitely couldn’t now as all the air escapes your lungs, frozen and unable to breathe. You want to believe that you heard him wrong, or that he didn’t even say Jungkook’s name. But you’re too terrified to even look and confirm. You still aren’t ready, you don’t know what feelings will come up just by seeing him. Worst of all, you don’t know if Jungkook just watched you kiss Taehyung and you cringe at the thought.

You look right, and sure enough, on the other side of the clear glass Jungkook stands there just feet away looking right at you. The way your heart picks up speed is almost painful, you can tell by the disgruntled look on his face he’s seen everything.

TBC

#taehyung scenarios #jungkook scenarios #bts scenarios #taehyung x reader #bts imagines #bts fanfic

53 notes · View notes