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softlyjiminie · 4 years

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black swan | one

⇢ pairing(s): professional dancer!park jimin x figure skater!reader.

⇢ word count: 4.8K.

⇢ rating: 16+, mature.

⇢ genre: angst, eventual smut, fluff, e2l, fake dating!au, corrupted idol!au, dancer!au, figure skater!au.

⇢ summary: a life of skating was all you’d ever known, your heart craving the feeling of ice beneath your feet and the light brush of cool air against your skin under thousands of sparkling lights... what a shame, if only you’d known that one night, one accident could rip you from the life you’d grown to love, leaving your career in the unsteady hands of the prince of ballet, park jimin.

⇢ warning(s): please read for this chapter! angst, just a lot of vmon fluff, sports injury and mentions of blood!

⇢ author’s note(s): eeeep here it is everyone!! the first chapter of my new series!! ive worked super hard on this so im nervous and excited to share :( i hope you guys love it! feedback is greatly appreciated <3

⇢ series masterlist | next

alive.

if there was one word that you would use to describe this feeling, it would be alive. from the second the toepick of your skate touched the ice, your body would always come to light, energy surging through your veins as you drifted across the smooth surface of the rink. you belonged here, you were born here. this was was where you felt at home.

although the space was littered with other skaters, you believe yourself to be alone— the music of your heavily practiced routine filling your mind while you ready your position...head down, arm outstretched and fingertips pointed. rolling your shoulders, you clutch your hand to your chest as the chords of your original soundtrack blast through your thoughts, with a half turn you bend at the back, catching your skate while you twist your body into a layback spin— holding your skate to your head. “catch foot,” you whisper, following the notes of the song— butterfly. it was a short contemporary piece composed by your trainer which you had insisted on using for this competition. as the music flows, you release your grip on your skate and allow it to hit the ice, holding your arms out in a poised manner.

gliding across the ice, you dive into your next movement— the cantilever— bending at the knee and leaning backwards, skates out-turned. you know that move after would require the support from your partner, so you skip it in favour of saving it for the eyes of the judges. hydroblades were always a signature between he and yourself. the song hits a climax in your head, piano notes wafting through lost memories, tangled with practices of routines and you tumble effortlessly into the remaining steps like a flowing waterfall that never stops— the triple axel is the jump that comes after, a difficult manoeuvre through the air...but well known in the skating community as only a few have landed it in contest. skating forward, you put your power into the jump, leaping forward with only two and half rotations, saving the third for the competition and breathing a sigh of relief when you land backwards— just as planned. you move with the grace of a pure white swan, silently slipping into every move, spin and jump as you focus on only the sounds of your blade against the ice.

completing another full turn, you head straight into a sit spin— curling in on yourself as your body lowers to the cool surface of the ice. during a spin, you fyour blades dig into the ice as you come to a halt, exposing yourself to the world once again. breathing laboured from exertion, you outstretch your arms once more and imagine the final chords of your musical piece, ending your routine.

your attention is captured by a round of applause to your left, making you whip your head in search for the sound. a sweet grin graced your lips as you recognise the two men clapping away, causing you to skate over and rest your palms on the boarders of the rink.

“taehyungie,” you sing, leaning over the barriers to ruffle at the thick mass of unruly black locks that curl just above his eyes. the boy only laughs as he grabs your wrist and pulls you in for an awkward hug. his body is warmer compared to the ice, bringing you a sense of homely comfort that you recognise as familiar. “i missed you at practice just now,”

taehyung himself rolls his eyes making it his turn to ruffle your hair. “oh please, you hardly need me! you make a two man routine look good on its own!” he rambles excitedly, body leering over the barrier as if the ice is calling him. taehyung’s dark eyes flitter up to meet yours, an amused chuckle emulating from his lips at your jokingly unimpressed expression. “if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you were a solo skater—“

you huff, letting the corners of your lips twitch up into a small smile. “you know that i couldn’t ever do this without you, tae— i need you on the ice with me.” you poke at his cheek affectionately, your body lighting up as you spot namjoon, both yours and taehyung’s coach behind the latter. your skating partner catches the change in your expression, turning around to greet namjoon with a warm hug and kiss to the cheek.

yourself, taehyung and namjoon had known each other for as long as you could remember. you’d met taehyung at your very first skating lesson, in a beginners class when his hair was wild and untamed, a little boy with missing teeth and big bright eyes. as a little girl, you’d thought he’d gotten lost on his way to an ice hockey practice. at the time, namjoon’s father ran the skating company you started under— leaving his son in charge of the beginners class.

the three of you had grown up together; taehyung was your first kiss— promptly realising he wasn’t into girls right after you’d stolen a smooch on the swing set in your backyard after a practice (“yeah...YN, i’m gay.”). and even in high school, the two of you stalking namjoon around hallways as you teased a blushing taehyung about is growing crush on the lankier male. you cradled you’re jubilant friend as he cried when namjoon left for college, his light dimming a bit but you remembered crying harder when the three of you were united four years and a plethora of competitions, medals and skates later.

“well if it isn’t my favourite pair of skaters,” namjoon greets, tucking his hands into the pockets of his bomber jacket that proudly shows off the logo of your skating company. “practicing again, YN?”

you see the amusement dancing in your coach’s eyes, he wouldn’t have put it past you to see you on the ice so early in the morning. you’d never relented with your skating, having pushed yourself to win two olympic medals by the time you were nineteen. you were an image of perfection in the skating world, not a scandal or downfall in your entire career— most would find such an achievement quite daunting— losing friends was made easy because of it... but you knew that you had taehyung and namjoon and the love of your family and company, you knew that with that you could achieve anything. “i have to, if i want to be better than taehyung...” you tease and tug on said male’s sleeve. “help me get him on the ice?”

namjoon presses a kiss into the depths of taehyung’s deep ocean locks, sending him off with a whisper that makes him run off to grab his skates before the elder approaches you. “little ice princess, i think i have a gift for you...” namjoon sings sweetly, pulling his phone from his back pocket as you lean over the barrier excitedly.

“you think?”

“i know.”

the elder holds out his device for you to see, the screen lighting up as an unfamiliar caller ID flashes across it. you raise your eyes hesitantly while your coach nods, smile reaching his eyes as you answer the call. a group of beaming faces decorate the screen and your own eyes dance across each and every one of them, recognising them as the boys and girls of moonchild skating company.

“YN!” the skaters cheer, waving excitedly amongst a sea of claps and giggles. “good, luck!”

“thanks you guys,” you whisper sweetly, sparing an appreciative glance at namjoon, you blow kisses to all of your fellow skaters thankfully. you note some of them to be from different ranks in your company; from beginners to juniors and some from different areas of competition— although your heart jumps slightly at the sight of one in particular. “jungkookie...”

“noona!” the boy cheers, scrunching his nose excitedly at the mention of his name. your heart melts as he looks to you with sparkling doe eyes, the younger boy having a special place in your heart— he came to the company bright eyed and shy, there had been a lot of doubt about jungkook’s abilities on the ice because of that. but as soon as he stepped foot on the rink, everyone’s worries drifted away— each of his movements were silken and seamless easily making him one of the best solo skaters in the senior rank, although he was slightly younger than you. you remember catching him after practice one day— he had yet to decide if he wanted to sign up with namjoon and he’d only stayed behind to watch you run through your routine with taehyung. the bumbling boy couldn’t help but blush when he’d been caught with yourself and your partner yearning for him to join. he did so in the end... because of you, because you had inspired him to pick up skating after you won your first gold medal. it just so happened that little jungkookie was a fast learner. “did you like the surprise? i thought it would help with your nerves— i know you get butterflies in your tummy before you perform! so do i! especially when i see you— uh! i mean!”

jungkook’s ears burn as bright as his cherry red hair, the shade only feeling as your melodious chuckle wafts through the phone’s speakers. “i loved it kookie, thank you.” you hum, batting your lashes at him, despite the presence of the other skaters on the call. you knew he had a soft spot for you, it was hard to miss his longing gazes and the tightening of his jaw when tae put his hand on your waist for lifts. it was sweet. “good luck to you in your regionals as well, you’ll do great... okay?” you’re quick to remind him, as you note taehyung returning from the locker room.

“t-thank you noona! we love you!”

the skaters give you one last cheer and round of applause as taehyung slips into view with a boxed grin and sweet wave. namjoon ends the call, ruffling his lover’s mop of hair before ushering the two of you onto the ice, ready to run through your routine one last time.

putting together the perfect routine, is like making the perfect breakfast. the eggs you begin with, a sweet yolk dancing on your tongue like the starting moves that give the judges a taste of what you’re capable of. next were the pancakes, drenched in syrup— like light movements through the air, packing a punch with the saucy moves between yourself and your partner to show off your finesse and finally, there was the—

“orange juice.” taehyung’s timbre voice cut through your thoughts like a knife as he place a glass of freshly squeezed juice in front of you whilst disrupting your mentally mapped out routine. blinking rapidly under his stares, your gaze switched from the piles of food he’d set on your plate, to the amused but scolding glare he’d spared you. “drink it, it’ll keep your sugar and energy up for today.”

“thanks taetae...”

you nod gratefully, leaning forward and taking a gulp of the bitter yellow liquid as if it’ll wash away the nerves beginning to bubble in the pits of your stomach. nonetheless, the skater beams brightly at you before he scoffs down a mouthful of his towering breakfast— as he always did before such events. you, however, couldn’t bare to eat— not with the devious stares of the other female figure skaters who eyed your plates. you knew it was a tactic to throw you off guard, the canteen of the hotel was much like a high school back in the day, with cliques and squads all out to get each other. it was always like this before major skating competition but your mind is too busy being filled with anticipation of getting on the ice and showing off once more.

namjoon appears after taehyung has eaten more than half his plate— resulting in him stealing bits and pieces from your own. “don’t look so nervous, YN,” the elder chides from over his steaming cup of coffee, hand running through his dishevelled purple and blonde streaked locks. “you’ll do great, both of you will.” your coach spares a knowing glance to taehyung, who blushes through munching the rest of your pancakes and so; you can tell by the light bruises on the neck that he and taehyung had a rough encounter in the night before.

joon was never allowed to mark taehyung above the waist, because the younger loved to wear costumes that glittered and showed off his open chest. you knew from experience that the marks would be below the waist where no one could see— like their own little good luck ritual. glee consumes your skating partner as namjoon nuzzles his nose into his dark hair, the distraction letting you slip under the surface of worry once more.

‘no, you’ve got this.’ you think, flickering your gaze anywhere but your plate in order to clam the race horse of thoughts in your mind. you finally settle on staring at the news report playing on the small digital TV hanging in the right hand corner of the cafeteria. park jimin, arrested for speeding. the report flashes across the screen, images of bright blonde hair and dark eyes hidden by thick black shades passing by with faint sounds of camera clicks.

you shake your head, grateful to never had experienced trouble like that. sure, you’d dealt with reporters and trash paparazzi but, joon and tae— they’d always gotten you through it. it was just nice to not be alone like him...

park jimin.

taehyung had a mind of brilliance.

you sit in the stylist chair, hair slicked back and curled away from your eyes— the momentum of free hair would have disrupted your skating or thrown you off balance, but god was kim taehyung a miracle worker. he always knew how he wanted you both to look for performances, the makeup artists bidding to his every need. you could even find him helping out with the beginners class performances— adding glitter to baby cheeks and braiding youthful hair.

today, your friend had decided the look you would go for; would be faded baby blue shadow dancing across your lids and blending softly with cloudy whites and silver sparkles. your liner was sharp, winged enough to cut the diamond edge of the gemstones that were dotted at the corner of your eye— taehyung was smart, co-ordinating your makeup look with the pretty silver dress namjoon had scouted out just for you.

the article of clothing itself, is backless with long sleeves that form tear drops at your pointer finger as they fade from silver to a cool grey, much like the skirt of your dress. smaller gemstones and pearls align at your waist and chest, that glistened under the cheap light when namjoon had first revealed the outfit to you. you had cried when you thumbed the flowing layered skirt, thanking your boys endlessly for the beautiful dress but taehyung had only giggled — knowing that it matched his silver to white shirt, tight fitting and glittering with layered sleeves (which he loved so much).

now, you laced up your skates— nerves peaking once more. the white leather sat comfortably against your heal, having broken in the skates amiss your training. you knew that the current pair were already on the ice, eliciting cheers from the crowd so you forced your jitters into lacing up and securing your skates. a double not would suffice.

“you’re both going to do amazing, remember whatever happens out there... i’m proud of you.” your coach reminds with one last dimpled smile before you’re due on the ice. taehyung pecks both of your cheeks and leads you away from your team of staff— who clap excitedly for you while your names are announced.

squeezing his hand, you slide smoothly onto the ice with taehying and close your eyes, breathing in the sharp scent of coolness and fresh air and taking in the squeals of your names. “you look great,” your partner comments easily, smirking as you circle each other on the rink. you open your eyes, noting the white-ish glow the ice gives to taehyung’s honey skin and grin. “we’ve got this.”

“we always do,” you nod back in affirmation, confidence flaring as the announcement finishes (you had always felt more at home on the ice, and tae knew once you were out there, your worries would melt away with the music). you push yourself into position with tae, your foreheads pressed against once another’s, so close that you can feel his warm breath fanning across your face. it’s all for the dramatics but you know that the crowd loves your chemistry. piano chords drift through the air, signalling the start of your routine, your hands roam across taehyung’s body like you’d practiced countless times. when the beat picks up, taehyung twists you in his arms, fingertips reaching just above your head while your own hands follow his to link them.

you begin to pick up momentum, skating with each other in arm as the first verse picks, with hands on your waist, taehyung picks you up gently, holding you off the ice for just a second as he skates into a half spin before placing you down. resuming your movements across the rink, you separate and tumble into your next move— they lay back spin. the pair of you synchronise your moves, holding your skates to your head as you twirl into the lyrics of the song.

‘is it true? is it true?’ the lyrics reverberate in your mind, body following taehyung’s lead into the next steps. his fingertips are light on your arms to keep them poised, both of you extending your right legs as you glide across the ice. ‘you, you, you...’ your partner lifts you once more into his arms, pushing you into the air for you to fall gracefully into a double salchow— taking off with the back inside edge of your right skate and landing on the outside of the opposite skate. the crowd bursts into applause, making you grin subtly at your partner before interlocking your fingers once more for a partnered arabesque spirals.

your hand grips taehyung’s firmly, letting your bodies move naturally with the music as you hold your legs in outstretched positions. the chorus bursts through the arena as the air below your arms blows away any worries, you fall back into taehyung’s arms once more for a lift above his head— your legs stretched out into a galloping motion before he swiftly prompts you into a death spiral, holding onto your arm as he twirls your body lower towards the ice.

when the chorus ends, you’re back to skating side by side, wowing the crowd with your movements— like namjoon said you would. completing a paired sit spin, movements mirrored perfectly, a feeling of dread feels your stomach. the ice changes beneath your skates— rougher on this side of the rink than others which sends ripples of worry through your veins at what is to come next. a triple axel jump, they were difficult to land and yet a specialty of yourself and your partners. you knew in your heart that if you landed this jump, the competition was yours but the buzzing feeling in your mind knew that something was wrong. to others, the ice carried you gracefully across the rink, but you knew something was out of place. catching taehyung’s eye, it’s as if he feels it too, but you can’t miss he jump... not when it could cost you the chance of a win.

putting your trust into taehyung, the man you’ve known for years— you curl into his chest as his strong hands support you into propelling you into the triple axel jump but to your dismay, the ice catches beneath his toe pick, taehyung misses a fraction of a beat as he forces you into the air. fear spikes in your chest— you weren’t ready, not to land, not for the jump, not for the music to push through with a climax.

and certainly not for the crunch of your bones.

excited cheers die down to fearful gasps and screams of horror, while taehyung picks himself up from the fall. the world is too loud, the lights are too bright and paramedics rush past him as he shakes himself off. wait, paramedics. pupils blown wide the skater rushes to his feet, pushing past men in orange suits with medical kits strewn about— he hears the faint call of namjoon from over the barrier and the announcers up ahead but his focus is on you.

the loudness fades and a ringing sensation builds up behind your ears— the world is black and you can only catch momentary flashes of taehyung’s worried face above your own. you’re confused, you can’t hear him as he mumbles through his sudden onslaught of tears. you cringe as they drip onto your face, an urge to wipe away the wetness taking over you— but when your fingers are brought back to your eyes, you notice the colour of crimson decorating your finger tips.

a muffled cry leaves your small frame as pain shoots through your leg, you can’t find the source but suddenly reality comes rushing back. you can hear the rushed voices of paramedics as they shuffle you onto a gurney, you can feel the stickiness of blood from somewhere on your head trickle down your back— soiling the pretty dress namjoon worked so hard to find, the throbbing pain in your left leg becoming too much to bare as you cry out for anyone, anything.

it hurts, god it hurts.

“stay with me, YN, keep th-those eyes open for me? okay baby?” you hear as your vision sways, but the voice is familiar— timbre and warm just like taehyung’s. his cool hands cup your face, brushing through your hair as he limps off the rink with your gurney. “p-please stay awake? baby please...” you know that he’s crying and you know that you’re crying too, but you’re too tired, to sleepy to comply with his wishes. the world is still dark, briefly brightening when you see namjoon from the corner of your eye. he’s gone again and the buzzing world is replaced with the scent of disinfectant and hand sanitizer. there’s arguing, yelling but you can’t see from behind closed eyes.

“she needs surgery!”

“what she needs, is us!”

when you come to, one last time you lock eyes with taehyung’s trusting brown ones, watering on the edge of tears. “i won’t leave you, i promise.”

and with that, you slip away again.

there were certain sounds you liked to hear. like the sound of your skate cutting into thick ice when you landed a jump, taehyung’s sweet singing after a long day of practice or the old romcoms you had playing in your hotel room after a day of competing.

the incessant beeping filling your senses was not a sound you liked.

“it’s my fault, joon. you should have seen her face... it’s like she knew and she trusted me to—“ taehyung cuts through the beeping with a voice filled with worry, his jubilant demeanour having been lost somewhere. your head begins to pound as you remember his skittish sobs, but the memories are blurred still.

namjoon’s voice enters next, interrupting the shaking voice of his boyfriend. “it’s not your fault, how could you have known she’d fall like that? you tripped taehyung, something wasn’t right.”

“but she felt it, we both did—“

“then i’ll take it up with the board, we’ll sue, we’ll— we’ll figure out what happened.” your coach reasoned with his lover, a silence sweeping over the room. you yearned for the comfort you felt eminate between them but when you lift your arm, you realise you’re unable to move— the wires and plugs and breathing machines keeping you strapped to the bed. panic rises in your chest, blocking your air as you struggle to breathe— taehyung is the first to rush to your side, lifting your mask and cradling you into his chest as he whispers sweet nothings into your ear.

namjoon is on your other side, rubbing a large palm up and down your back and out instantly feel comforted by their presence. hot tears roll down your cheeks, burning in your oesophagus as you claw at the base of your throat.

“shhh, little princess it’s okay— we’ve got you.”

a cup of water is brought to your lips which you quickly gulp down, the cool liquid soothing the ache in your throat. blinking, you cling tightly to taehyung’s cable knit sweater— hesitant to speak due to your unused voice. “wh-what happened?” you manage, unsure if your whispers can be heard above the pounding of your heart. “where...where are we?”

“you were in an accident,” namjoon spoke lowly from above you, taehyung instantly squeezing you closer as memories of the incident flashed behind both of your eyes. a low whimper left your childhood friend’s lips at your wince— squeezing you again as if he could drain your pain away. your coach swears he feels his heart break at the two of you hurting, pressing the buzzer for the nurse as tae cradles you and sliding onto your hospital bed to wrap his larger arms around you both. “something went wrong with the ice and, you fell—“

your fingers curl tighter in your friend’s clothes, as you remember the pain shooting up your leg and burning in the back of your skull. taehyung avoids your eyes this time, pressing his lips to the top of your head. “they checked you for a concussion and your leg...” his baritone voice an octave, a cool quiet seeping into the room. “your leg is broken, but with one more surgery and some physical therapy— you’ll be back on the ice in no time!”

your heart plummets in your chest, you knew what injuries like that did to figure skaters. sure you were young, you had time to recover but even the slightest pause in doing so could cost you your entire life, your career. the pair of lovers that surround you share a grim look, knowing the thoughts that are rushing through your mind.

“we have the best doctors for you, YN, with a few months—“

you blink up at tae with fiery eyes filled with tears, resisting the urge to shove him away. “i don’t have a few months, tae! training for the olympics is what i should be doing!” you hiccup, starting to choke on tears you refuse to let shed. “i need to be out there on that ice, or i’m useless, i need to—“

you make movements to step out of bed, sucking in your lower lip as a dull ache rests in your bones. the pair are quick to pull you back into bed, but your hands scold them with slaps as you push them away. you have no right to be angry at them, but you know that they understand. taehyung seems to be calmer now, despite the hurt that tickles his puppy dog features at your resistance, he does his best to comfort you.

but a prominent scowl yearns for the curve of namjoon’s lips, your coach falling deep in thought.

“you’re suspended from skating.”

“wh-what?” you stammer, eyes burning with a fresh set of tears for the third or fourth time that night. this time, your partner stands, looking to his lover in confusion and standing with his hands resting on your shoulders comfortingly.

he speaks hesitantly. “now joon...”

“no, taehyung,” your coach sighs, remaining stern. it kills him to make this choice, but there’s no other way— at least not for now. “LN YN will be suspended from all physical skating activities until she has made a full recovery with a hired physical therapist...” the words pierce straight into your heart, tearing you apart from the inside. you want to scream and cry and kick and protest but you’re too numbed from pain and betrayal to speak or move. “legal action will be taken up with the board responsible for the competition but until then, you will not touch the ice. understand?”

you blink, numb.

“YN, i said, do you understand?” namjoon repeats, steeling his gaze. he hates this, he hates hurting both you and his love.

you nod once, looking away whilst tae rubs circles into your shoulders. his lover mentions something about a coffee before slipping out of the room... and that’s when you breakdown. you cry, heavy ugly tears with a running nose that you’re sure stains your best friends sweater as he rocks you back and forth into the night.

you cry until your spark is dull, you cry until your chest burns and until your eyes are dry. you cry because you’ve lost your purpose in life.

⇢ taglist ! ( comment, like or dm to be added! )

@periminkle @ggukkieland @aishots @ownthesunshine @codeinebelle @taeass @trviahope @singular-itae @preciouschimine @yoongismykink @idiakh @honeyspillings @kimsdior @chimshoe @cypherft-v @tangledsparkles

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plutoandmoon · 3 years

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I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it / The 1975

I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it is The 1975’s second studio album. This iconic alternative album was released in 2016 and continuously has over a million streams combined. In addition, the English rock album has received variety of awards from being on the 100 Greatest Albums of the 2010s to reaching the Gold platform in the United States. The 1975 incorporates all sorts of new sounds into this album such as synth-pop, disco, electronic house, and R&B to deliver the overall mood of all 17 songs.

The introduction to the album, “The 1975”, is incredibly beautiful. It sounds like the beginning of a coming of age trailer that captures all the overwhelming emotions of the film and story.

Love Me is quite a legendary song in terms of how catchy the lyrics are and the musical layers of the band. I’m not sure how to properly describe it but it reminds me of a new age of 80s music with the electric guitar, synths, and drums. I do love the use of trumpets too to emphasize certain notes. The guitar solo is the perfect session to have a full jam out in your room. I really love that piano sound in the beginning and end of the song that sounds futuristic.

The beginning of UGH! sounds like an intro to a 2000s coming of age movie. It reminded me a lot of Clueless and Mean Girls. Again super catchy lyrics and melody.

The instrumentals of A Change Of Heart make me think of that slow dancing part of a junior high prom/dance. The way I visualize it is the main couple slow dancing underneath the bright light around their classmates after they just won prom king and queen. I love the electronic vocals and the piano synth used in this song. Again it still has that 80s feel to it that is perfect for this album and band.

I’m not sure why but the guitar rift in She’s American gives me Michael Jackson vibes. This song feels very American for some reason LOL. Again, it makes me visualize a scene in a coming of age movie where the main character is running and feels lost on what to do with her life. Catchy lyrics and melody. Personally don’t think this is their strongest song as it just feels similar to the others above but still a good song.

If I Believe You is very different from the songs we have listened to so far. I love Matty Healy’s vocals in this song so much and the production is literally beautiful. It is a very R&B inspired song with the slower pace tempo, back up vocals, piano, and drums. The 1975 still incorporate their own unique style in the song with the usage of electronic elements with the high hats, reverbs, and futuristic sounds. The middle of this song with the trumpet (3:30) is very jazz inspired. It is a beautiful intermission of the song. It is musically layered filled with so much emotion and sensation. The pizzicato from perhaps violins and harps really up lift this song. It adds an angelic layer to it as Healy continues on with the lyrics “If I am lost / how will i find myself?”. For me, the addition of these instruments makes me feel as I am ascending towards heaven or a higher awakening. One of The 1975’s most underrated songs in their whole career.

Please Be Naked is a perfect transition from If I Believe You because it sounds like the ending of a chapter and an opening to a new one. When looking at it through a coming of age lens, it appears as if the main character has said goodbye to their old past, old version of themselves, and everything that does not serve them. They are coming to terms with the reality of life and looking forwards for a new and higher purpose. Although there are no lyrics to this song, it is keep to pay attention to the instrumentals and the dynamics of each note. You can also hear the sounds of someone walking, closing the door, opening paper, etc that adds layers and meaning to the song. It is not another simple lofi or instrumental piece but rather it is an important one for the album and the 1975’s message. It tells a beautiful story over 4 minutes if you choose to really listen to the main character’s journey.

Once again, the introduction of Lostmyhead sounds like the continuation of the story from If I Believe You and Please Be Naked. The beginning is heavily rock inspired with the overwhelming guitar, piano synth, electric guitar solo, and much other sounds. I believe this is the point in the character’s journey where they are probably overlooking a building or a crowd and thinking to themselves that this is a start of something new. They are going onto this journey and not looking back anymore. I also love the use of string instruments here and how at the end of this song, everything finally drops. It is like we have finally bursted this bubble and allowed everything (emotions, purpose, life, etc) to hit us. You can hear this with the aggressive drum kick, the crescendos of the violins, and how dynamic everything else is. Then the song slowly crescendos and all we are left to hear is the futuristic sounds.

The Ballad of Me and My Brain has a very interesting introduction with the background vocals being manipulated with their dynamic and pitch. This song is heavily influenced by rock and synth pop as Healy’s vocals are more aggressive.

Somebody Else. The most iconic songs in our generation, the 1975’s career, in alternative pop music. Everything about this song is perfect from the lyrics to the musical production to simply everything. This song can put you into two moods: dance or sadness. You can visualize yourself dancing to this at a party/club or blasting this in your car at 2am as you sob. The versatile of this song is something that I believe many over look. Like you cannot just ignore the most help advice ever “Get someone you love / get someone you need / fuck that get money”.

Loving Someone is another LEGENDARY song from the 1975. I love everything about it from the lyrics, melody, musical production, and the execution of it. The introduction of the song is unlike anything you have heard of. It sounds like Matty Healy is rapping (perhaps) but it sure does have the influence electronic and indie pop. The flow of Matty Healy’s verses is very different from all the rest of the songs on this album. It shows how musical diverse the 1975 is and how they executed this new style perfectly. The ending is cute with the piano (sounds like ones we used to play as a child) and the monologue softly being played.

The self titled album song sounds like another intermission in the band’s album. This instrumental sounds to focus more on futuristic electronic sounds. It could be another story that Healy and the band is explaining to us through a coming of age lens. It sure is more optimistic than the other instrumental songs we have heard from the band in this album. I love how more towards the end, the overall pace and tone of the song is changed up as it has more of a dance feel to. Listening to it more, it sounds more of a song where everything is at a peak and peace. Where you can just jam the fuck out and not care about anything at all.

The Sound sounds like new beginnings. This could be why it is put in towards the end of the album. With the optimistic beat and melody, it could be referring to a new perspective on life. It does sound similar to a few of the 1975’s songs at the start of the album and that is due to the synth pop style the band is famous for. Overall, it is quite a catchy song and a nice one to jump around to.

This Must Be My Dream has a really unique intro. It really gives the song a 80s/90s feel to it. I believe the band uses a dream like bell sound for the melody. This song feels dreamy hence the title of the song. Towards the end of the song where the breakdown begins, it feels like the part where the dream starts to slowly warp and then the main character is reflecting on what just happened.

I believe everyone holds the song, Paris, in a special place in their heart. It is such a cute song with the melody, instrumentals, lyrics, and vocals. I would definitely listen to this song in my own room and sway alone under the flashing lights pretending I’m at a dance with my lover. The chorus after Healy says “How I would love to go to Paris again” is very dreamy with the echo background vocals and the synths. It is quite a slow song though so for me, I feel like 4 minutes and 53 seconds is drag for the song (that is just me because my attention span is short …)

Personally, I find Nana to be boring. Perhaps because of how slow it is but other than that, it seems like a nice song.

She Lays Down is another soft slow song but this time it is just Healy’s vocals with an acoustic guitar. I think it is a nice and beautiful way to end the album. It is a huge contrast to how the 1975 began this 2nd studio album. They began with their intro (The 1975) and Love Me, that immediately set the overall mood and tone of the album. It was very electric and energetic, while She Lays Down is a more mellow and reflectional piece. Overall, this album is a memorable work of art as many associate these songs with their teenage years. Some songs to mention are If I Believe You, Please Be Naked, Somebody Else, and Loving Someone. The 1975 is a powerful band with Healy’s vocals, lyrics, and style. Hopefully they will be able to create more music as similar to the ones in “I like it when you sleep, for you are so beautiful yet so unaware of it”.

#new music #music #music review #music blog #pop music #pop #pop culture #spotify #the 1975 #i like it when you sleep #alternative #alternative music #indie pop #somebody else #loving someone #if i believe you #i'm new at this

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damn-stark · 3 years

Text

This Town

Chapter 13 of Dark Temptations

A/N- Hehe 🎢

Warning- ANGST, sweet fluff, violence, long chapter, just slight bit of explicit content, but nothing major.

Pairing- Dark!Poe x Skywalker!reader

(Let me know if want to be tagged)

————

“I thought we had more trust in each other, than to be hiding secrets from each other, Ben.” You argue in a sharp distasteful whisper. “Especially things like you talking to Rey through a force connection!”

Ben keeps looking down at the surface of the table and continues to hide his face behind his hair, giving no indication of what he truly was feeling. You hoped it was shame though.

“Because you do trust me right?” You ask in a much softer and hesitant tone, sitting back down in your seat on the booth and turning your head to try and meet his eyes that you notice only widen at your comment. “I know I’ve been absent for the past couple of months, but you still trust me right?”

“I do!” Ben quickly interjects, making you just as quickly press your question.

“Then?”

Ben simply shrugs and that causes your anger to heighten, making you stand from your seat abruptly and storm off to the cockpit of the Falcon. Where the silence is only imaginative and the company brings peace to your mind.

“Hey, junior.” Your uncle Han greets as he looks at you over his shoulder. “Are you doing okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod stiffly. “I’m fine. How much time until we reach Lothal?”

Your uncle Han looks back out to the transparisteel and shrugs. “Not long, now. Why? You excited for the grand meeting?” He asks sarcastically.

You scoff and cross your arms over your chest. “Super, can’t you tell?”

Your uncle Han looks back at the feigned excited expression you managed to express on your face and he laughs. “Well that makes two of us.”

“I told you already, Han that you didn’t have to come, I’m fine with Ben and y/n.” Your aunt Leia argues from the co-pilot seat.

“And what was I supposed to do at base? Sit on my ass and wait for you to return?”

“Exactly.”

You can’t help the genuine smile that grows on your lips at hearing them both bicker so lightheartedly. It has been so long since you’ve seen them both and even longer since you heard them bicker like this. The last time you had seen them it was so little and you were barely in the mood to talk. Not like that has changed much.

“Where’s chewbacca? Why didn’t he come?” You question curiously, from the corner of your eye catching as artoo and Ben joined everyone in the cockpit.

“He had to stay at base,” your uncle Han answers, “but he sends his greetings to the both of you,” he looks over his shoulder again and looks from Ben and you. “He says he misses you both, he says he can’t wait until you two join us out on runs again.”

You quirk your brow and smirk. “He does?”

“Yes.”

You snicker and hide your smile with your hand. “Well when you see him tell him I miss him too. Just like I missed you too uncle Han.”

He instantly spins back around to look away from you and tries to act nonchalant about your comment. “I knew that.”

From the transparisteel, you see your aunt Leia's reflection roll her eyes at the behavior her husband displayed and even after years still couldn’t really take. She tried to comment on it, but he was quick to change the subject as the ship jumped out of hyperspace and saved him from having to hear any more of it. “We’re here kids, get ready.”

Wanting to meet Ben’s gaze as a force of habit to silently pick at his fathers doings, this time you restrain yourself since you were angry he had hid that he was talking to Rey through a weird force connection in the past couple of months. Instead, this time you look out to the incoming scenery of Lothal; noticing that it was unchanging since the last time you had been here with he who shall not be named. The fields were still dry and beige, the sky was grey as if it was going to pour at any moment. The rock spirals were still scattered around the planet, the town was the same and just as old—this time instead of landing in the middle of nowhere, you had the pleasure of arriving on a landing pad by the elegant white castle. This time you were greeted by overdressed guards and droid butlers. It was overwhelming. You wanted to go back home already.

“Artoo, if you could be a friend and hold one of my lightsabers, yeah?”

The old droid reveals a small opening and takes your lightsaber, beeping back an assuring response once the saber has disappeared inside him. You offer him a small smile and then lift your head to watch the scenery painted outside the castle, not being able to help but be in awe at how everything outside looked like from inside the castle; it was clear, you could clearly see the fields, it wasn’t like how you imagined it would look like from so far in the ground. The castle was almost made entirely out of thick glass, which explained why from afar the building looked white and elegant.

Albeit the calmness that such a scenic view brought, was ruined by the sound of the advisor's voice bringing back your realization of where you were, and why in fact you were here. “General Organa, if you could please stay standing here until I announce your presence to Lothals Governor.”

“Of course.” Your aunt Leia agrees sweetly, proceeding to watch as the tiny woman marched into the intended gathering room and did as she said in a loud booming voice that was heard even with the golden doors closed.

“Governor Starwind, may I formally present to you, the General of the resistance and Princess of Alderaan, General Leia Organa! And her Husband General, Han Solo!” The doors swung open and Ben and you were left out on getting presented (not like you would want to anyway), instead you were finally given permission to enter, letting yourself fall behind your aunt and uncle, as Ben walked in first, for just in case. Instantly at that moment the presented couple stepped inside, getting welcomed by another booming voice.

“Welcome, Generals! Please come on in and welcome to Lothal and my humble home.”

Pfft.

Lastly you walk in with Artoo beside you, lifting your gaze and at that instant moment finding amongst the crowd, the person you’ve been dreading, and wishing to every damn star that you wouldn’t see; Poe Dameron, in all his glory. Who just like this town, was unchanging, his choice in black clothes, choice in leaving his helmet over his face and everything else. You couldn’t see his face, but you imagined that too was not different, he probably still had his scar and the same brown eyes, the same face that never left your damned memories.

Curse him and this stupid town.

And just as you imagined he would, Poe's visor found you and followed your every step, not for any second leaving you and only making you squirm and fight the urge not to run and hide beside Ben, like a frightened child. You were the one that had to rip your eyes away and look at who you were here to help protect, being grateful at the fact that you couldn’t see his face.

At least for that you were grateful for. Being here on the other hand not so much, you still had to sit through a long meeting that was of no importance to you really. You were only left to listen and ignore the burning sensation that was caused by someone’s stare.

This was going to be a long day.

——

“I’m unlike my other predecessors, I care for my planet, for my people and their well being, we’ve been mistreated for far too long, I want to see peace fall upon Lothal.” Governor Starwind continued in that formal voice that was beginning to sound so dreadfully monotone in your ears. Any more time inside this elegant glass room and you’d probably die of boredom; it was not fair that Ben got to patrol outside and avoid hearing this meeting.

“And we’ve promised that you will get that with us and only with us, with the Resistance—”

“Commander Nomad, please,” the Governor cuts Poe off, “I will not accept slander of any kind, we are at a formal meeting, I’m sure you’re used to those. I have enjoyed hearing what The First Order has to offer to try and convince Lothal to stay, but let’s keep this professional. Alright?”

You don’t look to Poe, but you figure he nods since you don’t hear his modified voice respond out. All you think about while the meeting drags on is the fact that Poe was addressed as Commander and not General; such a drastic change was strange, and suspicious. It made you wonder too long on how it could’ve happened, why? You wouldn’t get answers, but you could wonder and keep yourself busy until you heard the holy words that woke you up.

“As of now, it’s late, you all must be tired, we will reconvene tomorrow to discuss further,”

You hear your uncle Han groan beside you at the words that made you dread tomorrow as well, it was a mutual feeling that you expressed with a single shared look.

“There's a banquet in the great hall, and some live music if you all would like to visit there to calm your minds.” The governor finishes, making everyone around the long table stand up, stretch their limbs, and start to head out while you beamed at the sound of food and getting to leave.

“Damn, I thought it was never going to end,” your uncle Han says as the three of you walk out and meet up with Ben in the hall. “I felt like I was going to just knock out, or die there.”

Your aunt Leia scoffs and shoots her husband a glare over her shoulder, not having the energy for a quick witty comeback and instead focusing on the great hall you had been welcomed into. Seeing as you did walk in that it was ten times more lively than the meeting, there were more people in fancy attire then there was in the meeting, the music as promised was a live band playing music you would hear at a cantina at times past midnight when everyone was already half wasted. The great hall was great indeed, as it seemed to have an opening that led to two other huge rooms lit by bright, elegant chandeliers.

Overall it was all overwhelming, but you stuck through—“come on kids, let’s present you two to the Governor and try and make a better impression.” Your aunt Leia instantly instructed, already guiding all of you towards the Governor in the back of the room, not waiting for a single argument, or the chance for any of you to explore on your own. Instead pulling you instantly in front of the Governor that looked young and quite charming, not compared to others you’ve met. “Governor Starwind, I would like to introduce my son and my niece accompanying me.” She looks at Ben beside her with a proud smile. “This is my son Ben solo.” She looks at you and keeps her smile, “and my niece, Y/N Skywalker.”

The Governor offers all of you a small charming smile, bowing his head slightly before his eyes drift from Ben and you, unknowingly showing a glimmer in his purple eyes as he stops to focus on you—“I've heard stories of Jedi as a child, and when I heard that not only one, but three Jedi were joining me today, I couldn’t help but feel like a little kid once again. It’s a pleasure having the three of you.” His eyes drift to Ben for a moment, but they end up back on you, shooting you a crooked smile. “And I am confident to say that what I hear of your beauty is not a lie, it must run in the Skywalker family.” His eyes flicker to your aunt Leia and he offers her the charming grin.

“Oh,” you breathe, trying to hide the fact that you were flustered. “Why thank you, but I can’t take all the credit, it seems that what I’ve heard of the Governor of Lothal is all true.”

The Governor chuckles and his face shows how suddenly flustered he felt. “Oh well all good things I hope?”

Before you could answer with a response that would surprise even you, Poe’s familiar voice interrupts you. “Governor Starwind,” he pauses and his head tilts to you, but you avert your gaze. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but I seem to have a message from General Hux that he says is rather significant.”

“Oh,” Starwind looks away from Poe and turns his attention back to you to offer you an apologetic look. “I’m sorry to cut this short, but I do hope I find you later to continue our conversation.”

Your eyes fly to meet his, before briefly flickering to see Poe’s visor already looking at you and you can’t help but smirk and glance back at the Governor and bat your eyelashes. “I’m looking forward to it, Governor Starwind.”

He smiles and nods, letting you and your party walk off, not at all letting yourself have one last look at Poe. Instead hearing Artoo comment on what had happened; something that led your uncle Han to agree with an over exaggerated mannerism. “The droid is right, If the two of you needed a room, all you had to do was ask.”

You choke on your own saliva and slowly drag your eyes to him. “I was simply talking to him.”

Your uncle crosses his arms over his chest and nods slowly. “Sure kid. It’s okay to admit something if you want, I can give you a few pointers since well I wasn’t too bad at—”

“Dad.” Ben cuts him off. “Please leave her alone.”

Your uncle Han lifts his hands as if offended before he counters Ben’s comment. “What did I do?”

You chuckle and just roll your eyes, letting them continue with their unnecessary argument and focusing on the people dancing to the upbeat music, wishing Finn was here so you had someone to dance with, if even just to one song; but no, he had to stay back on the Island to continue with training. Maybe it was a good thing since Rey was there, Finn could watch over her while Ben, nor you couldn’t.

But you still would like the company. Even if you had to remember you weren’t here to mingle, you were here on a mission. So instead you kept yourself busy and walked around the great hall, eyeing the place and enjoying the droid by your side as your company. Unaware of the shadow watching you close and following you as far away as he could as to not be suspicious and spotted. Even if it ached him not to fall by your side, he lingered behind. Also unaware of the other presence searching for you around the feast, and the extra pair of beady eyes watching not only you but every other guest suspiciously.

“You know,” you tell Artoo as you eye the food with your mouth watering. “I’m quite hungry, let’s break away from the patrol and get something to eat, yeah?” You don’t wait for a response from someone who can’t eat and head to the food tables, carefully looking at every piece of food and taking too long to choose something to eat. An action that let the unexpected happen.

“Can we talk?”

You don’t dare look to your side once you recognize Poe’s voice and feel his body beside you, instead you go stiff; even if you had heard his voice before, even if you knew he was here you grew stiff, because for the first time since you left him behind and he said those cruel things, he was finally addressing you personally, he was talking to you. You didn’t know what to do, Ben wasn’t around to help you, nor was anyone else, it was just him and you. That sole fact made you grip onto your plate so hard that it broke in your hand, it made you feel as if your heart was going to rip out of your chest. Your breathing hitched and you parted your lips.

But you didn’t dare acknowledge him. “Come on Artoo, I’ve lost my appetite with that horrendous foul smell that suddenly hit my nose.” You put the broken plate down and turn on your heels with your head held up high, ignoring Poe and trying not to look back, instead paying all your attention to Artoo. “Yeah, of course you can come back home with me, I’m sure my dad would love it too.”

Artoo expresses a happy whir and you try to smile, but can’t manage one, whatever blissful daze you had built to be here and not look so grim had been destroyed by Poe’s interaction. It’s like you went through a glitch that left you with how you were before you left the Island. It was mind numbing and you only broke from your stupor when you joined Ben and your uncle Han.

“So has Luke made you two Jedi Masters yet?” Your uncle Han asks curiously, trying to break the tension that he even felt surround the small group.

“Not yet,” Ben answers, making you scoff and add a witty quip.

“Actually Ben is already Master, uncle Han.”

“Really?”

“What?”

“Yeah,” you smile innocently, “Ben is the master at lying and hiding truths from people.”

Ben scoffs and shakes his head, while your uncle Han is left bewildered at your unexpected remark.

“Come on I said I was sorry, I just didn’t want to worry you.”

You shoot him a raging glare and scoff, folding your arms over your chest and internally trying to calm yourself down. “No, save it Ben. You had all the time in the universe to tell me. And you never did!” Unknowingly you raise your voice to a sharp tone that was beginning to turn heads and worry Ben and his father alike. “After I kept asking if you were okay, you lied! I’m not a child, nor a wounded animal for you to be treating me as such!”

“Hey kid, calm down.” Your uncle Han tries to diffuse the situation, trying to grab your shoulder as you ripped your arm from its folded position and pointed your finger at Ben. When you feel the sudden touch on your shoulder, you snap your gaze away from Ben to look at the sudden touch. “I’m sure whatever Ben did can wait to be discussed for later.”

Feeling as if one word went through one ear and fell out the other you spin your attention back to Ben and continue to snap at Ben. “What if something had happened, and you were gone, huh? I wouldn’t have a clue of where you are because you kept things Ben! I thought we could trust each other.”

Ben’s own anger begins to rise at your claims that you threw at him, but his anger didn’t cloud his mind, he was rational about the situation and knew that adding more fuel to the fire would cause an explosion, so instead he stormed off with nothing to say. Leaving you to stare at the empty space where he once stood. Letting your uncle Han step in to try and check on your sudden outburst. “Kid, are you okay?”

You inhale and exhale deeply, nodding to say yes, but not at all assuring his worry. He wanted to press deeper into the subject, but you cut him off before he could try. “I’m going to get some fresh air, I’ll be back later, or just go to the room.” Without waiting for a response you walk past him, but don’t make it far as Artoo began to follow you. “It’s okay buddy, I’ll be fine, I just need some time to cool off, okay? Stay here and watch after aunt Leia, and uncle Han.”

The droid assures you and rolls back to where he was before, letting you maneuver your way through the crowd until you made it out of the great hall and to some balcony in the far end of the hall. And just as you stepped out you got out your comm and contacted your father. You didn’t have the chance to take a nice breath of air, you just stepped out and instantly contacted him.

He, who didn’t take long to answer. “Hey, kid, I’m surprised you called. I would’ve thought you were having too much fun to check in.”

You laugh softly, but can’t manage a smile even if you wanted to. “I just….It’s night time here already, I just wanted to say good night and check in on the current prisoner.”

There's a moment of silence on the other end, you wait, having no other option and instead rest your hands on the balcony’s railing; hearing him only minutes later. “She’s been good, nothing suspicious has happened and she’s been cooperative. I think she was being sincere when she said she meant no harm. Finn seems to be having more trouble than Rey.”

You scoff lightheartedly and shake your head even if he couldn’t see. “Well, that’s good….you let me know if she acts up, okay?”

“Promise.” He pauses again and talks in a softer, more assuring voice. “Are you doing okay? Do you need me to read you a bedtime story like when you were young, or something?”

You snort. “No. I just wanted to say goodnight and that I can’t wait to go back home.”

“Ah, well goodnight little sun, I love you.”

Tears well up in your eyes at his words, but you restrain yourself from doing so, albeit you let it be known that you were holding back tears when the crack in your voice gave you out. “I love you too.” And just like that the call ended and you were left with an aching throat and a cloudy vision. Left looking at the city below and the town in the distance.

Anger and fear still clouded your mind, but you tried to calm that by putting your head in your hands and talking to yourself. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m okay,” you sigh and look back at the sparkling city, drawing in a shaky breath and taking a moment before you slowly released it and rested your head back in your hands to try and avoid the echoing voices in your head. “I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m….” You suddenly pause at the sound of the tinted glass door opening behind you, you don’t lift your head and instead slide your eyes to the corner to see only a pair of black boots a couple feet behind you. You don’t speak and just lift your head from your hands to stand up straight. Instead you slide to the side to try and make it to the second door to leave, but of course, before you could try doing such an attempt you’re stopped by the voice of the man you expected it to be.

“Wait, please.”

You grow stiff and tighten your grip on the railing of the balcony, looking away from him as you saw him come to your side.

“Can we—”

“Leave,” you hiss, “get out and leave me alone.” You keep your eyes away from him and keep them on the raining night sky, hearing no indication of what you had asked. “Just leave,” your voice unwillingly cracks and you grip onto the glass railing harder. “Fine I will.” You push yourself away and try to leave, but a hand instantly catches your wrist and stops you. The unexpected grasp makes you gasp. But still not look back.

“Wait please listen to me.” He tries again, letting you know he removed the helmet off his head by throwing it across the balcony. Revealing a much softer, and less monotone voice. “Just listen for a minute.”

His voice however didn’t give you the serenity he expected, instead it infuriated you even more, causing you to snatch your lightsaber from your side and whip back to ignite it and threaten him with the end of the blade inches from his throat. “I told you to leave me alone!”

Poe’s eyes widen and he lifts his head so no part of his skin would touch the burning blade, he slides his eyes from the green blade and then looks back at you, not recognizing the anger that glazed your eyes. You kept trying not to get a better view of his face. Yet you just knew his dark eyes watched you. You hear the same voice that enraged you seconds ago and calmed you months ago. “If that’s what you want?”

You draw in a breath and hold it, trying to keep the same angry mask on your face. Albeit not maintaining it long as Poe tries to step closer to the end of the blade, and causes you to instinctively deactivate it and step back until your heels touch the railing and your hilt falls out of your hand and down to the castle. You run and hit the edge, throwing your hand out as if that was going to get it back. “NO!” You bellow, wiggling your fingers, feeling those tears that had been itching to fall out, roll down your cheeks. “No.”

Before the lightsaber hilt was out of sight, you see the lights of the castle and the city reflect on it as it comes flying back, albeit not to you (of course) but to Poe’s hand. When you look back at him, again you avoid looking at his face and look at your lightsaber in his hand and take a fearful step back as he tries to hand it out to you.

At your attempt however, you had already gotten to a dangerous edge and when you step back your body loses balance, causing you to almost fall back, but not managing to do so as Poe’s hand wraps around your wrist and pulls you to him. Instantly remarking on your dangerous actions. “Fuck Princess, be careful.”

Your breath hitches and you pull away from him, snatching your lightsaber from his hand and yet staying in your new spot.

“You welcome.” He retorts, not at all getting the answer he wanted. “Will you listen to me now?”

With your eyes still on the ground you shrug, “I guess.”

“Good,” Poe mumbles under his breath, stepping towards you and trying to cup your cheek, but receiving an instant decline. “Right, well, I just wanted to say that I-I I’m sorry.”

You gasp and your eyes fly to his, feeling your eyebrows furrow and your heart race. Your mind couldn’t comprehend what he was saying, or really didn’t want to. It was unexpected for some reason.

“I’m really am sorry, what I said to you before you left, I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

“Why?” You cut him off, fully seeing his face now and realizing that he had grown a beard, that more bags were under his eyes and his eyes expressed that same exhaustion. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months, he looked terrible; yet you wanted nothing more but to feel his face under your fingers, and got lost in his eyes. As much as you wanted to forget what you felt, to replace what you felt with hatred, you couldn’t, your heart still ached for him and made flips the moment you saw just the smallest bit of him; “why are you telling me this? I don’t want to be played again, so if that’s what you’re trying to do, just leave or I’ll call Ben. I’m sure he’d love to have a few words with you.”

Poe parts his lips, but nothing comes out, he just keeps looking at you with that same star struck face. He tries to get close again, but you step back towards a wall this time. Hearing as he managed to find his voice. “No, I don’t want to hurt you again, I promise,” he sighs and you notice his eyes are filled with tears. “I'm just sorry. That day you left, after you asked me to go with you, I said horrible things that I regret every damn day. I didn’t mean them, I didn’t, but I still said them and I’m sorry. I just…” his voice cracks and he pauses to collect himself, not for once breaking away his gaze, instead, taking a step towards you that you let him take while you froze in your spot because of what came out of his mouth. “I just wanted you to leave, and I couldn’t find another way to make you leave. I’m sorry.” His frown deepens and his eyebrows knit together, he swallows back the lump that kept forming in his throat and takes another careful step towards you.

“But why did you say those things, Poe? The things you said, they...they hurt me.” You finally share softly, mirroring the same long expression.

“Because would you have left if I didn’t?” He questions making your eyebrows furrow. “Tell me you would have left if I didn’t. That you wouldn’t have gone back for me.”

Just as you were going to say ‘no’, his last comment caught you off guard because it was true. You would have gone back for him. He knew that.

“I know I broke your heart, I know that I hurt you in more ways than I can ever know, but just know I’m sorry.” He continues softly and sincerely, taking that final step towards you and slowly reaching to cup your cheek, smiling softly as you let him be so near without turning him away. “Knowing I hurt you, hurt me too, deeply. And I thought I was going to forget, forget what I said, the way I saw your heart break through your eyes. And I didn’t, I wanted so badly to forget, forget the way you make me feel, how you would treat me like no one has for a long time. I thought I was going to forget and just return to myself before I saw you again, but my love, you-you took part of my heart along with you that day.” A wobbly smile spreads on his lips and he cups your cheeks with both hands, roaming his eyes all over yours to try and see what you felt. But you hardly knew; you wanted to be angry, but at the same time you felt a light of happiness that had been lacking from your life lately. You simply just let tears show your feelings. You let him continue.

“The other part you took years ago,” he expresses a soft huff of air and tears finally escape from his eyes.

You sigh. “Poe.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he reveals, “you don’t have to forgive me, I just wanted you to hear me, I just needed to see you.”

A smile finally breaks on your lips and you carefully reach to cup his face, gently stroking his cheek and part of the scar that ended on his cheekbone. “I….I understand why you did it. I do.”

More tears stream down his face, but you're quick to wipe them off. He expresses a sigh of relief and grabs your hand to press a soft kiss on your palm, smiling wider as he sees the bracelet around your wrist. “You’re still wearing it.”

“Everyday.” You assure him.

He stays quiet and his eyes keep roaming your face, he only manages to speak minutes later as if he couldn’t believe he was speaking, or you were here. “I missed you, I missed seeing your face, I missed your touch, I missed kissing you. Stars I just fucking missed you.”

You grin shyly and scoff. “Oh gosh, Poe.”

“What? It’s true.”

You look at your bracelet and then look up at the stars that seem to show a glow that you’ve haven’t seen from them in months. You look back to Poe and see a sort of color return to your view, and a warmth return to your body. A peace. “Truth is Poe, none of my feelings have changed, not since the day I met you, even after years I still feel my heart race just the same. With you everything just makes sense, you...you’re the light to my stars, everything shines brighter when I’m with you.” You smile softly and feel the salt of your tears on your lips, Poe expresses a soft chuckle as his own tears keep slipping from his eyes. “You completely stole my heart the day I met you, and I know I was young and a little naive, but I know that you completely captivated me that day. I’ve never felt the way I feel for you with anyone else. Never.”

Poe expresses another soft chuckle and his eyes fall to your lips just like yours do with his, he leans in but stops and looks back to you. “I really am sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” You reassure him, continuing to look down at his lips but not giving in to the temptation. “But you have to know that I can’t leave—”

“Please, don’t. Let’s just not talk about that right now, okay? I just want to be with you for however long I can without getting mad.”

You sigh and nod. “Fine.”

He grins and pulls away. “I should leave you for now then. Can I meet you in your room later?”

You smirk and nod. “Please do.”

Poe grins wider, showing you a child-like grin as he summons his helmet to his hand. “Okay, good, good. Go see your family before they send an army out for you.”

You scoff. “They won’t but okay, I’ll see you later.”

Poe nods, walking back and clumsily hits his back on the door before he pushes it open and nods again. “Later. I’ll see you later.”

——

“No I’m sure, yes,” you assure Artoo, “I am perfectly fine being on my own.” You walk back further and further into the room and just peak your head out of the door, adding an assuring smile big enough so Artoo could leave you alone. “tell Ben I said goodnight, okay!”

Artoo shoots you with an annoyed, sassy answer that you just shrug off. “I know you’re not my messenger, but I’m still mad at him. Soo please do it and annoy him.” With one last feigned smile you finally close the door and face a beautifully moonlit room. An unemotional straight line forms on your lips however, as beautiful as the blue light reflected on the elegant white themed room. You trace your fingers along the dresser before heading to the balcony, quietly shuffling throughout the room and going unaware of the person hidden within the shadow of the room that finally decided to make himself known and sneak up behind you, covering your eyes and instantly making you freeze and hold in your breath.

In the sudden darkness that took over your eyes, you tried to reach your hand towards your lightsaber, or your comm to contact Ben, but you were frozen, feeling the breath of the mystery person behind your ear and feeling their hands slide down to your neck. Without the force you’re unable to detect anyone’s presence, you’re left completely blind.

The first thing that manages to squirm through to your mind is realization and then the signal to feel your arms and legs. So you move your hands to claw your nails onto their arm and attempt to flip them. But before you could, a voice stops you as it registers in your head. “Princess, it’s me, it’s me. I’m sorry.”

Your eyes widen and you rip away from Poe, grabbing onto your chest to exhale out your shaken deep breaths. “Poe! What the hell?!” You exclaim loudly.

Poe rubs his wrist and shrugs, “what do you mean? You told me it was okay to come to your room!” He protests.

Your eyes narrow on him and you scoff. “Yes, but not scare me half to death! I could’ve killed you!”

“I just wanted to surprise you.” He claims in a much lower voice, pulling his sleeve and seeing your nail markings on his skin. “Ow.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby.” You roll your eyes as you move to sit on the corner of the bed to kick off your shoes. “It’s your fault for sneaking up on me.”

Poe sits beside you and just scoffs. “Whatever.”

His comment makes you turn your head to offer him an amused look, scoffing and throwing yourself back on the bed as your boots are successfully off. “So, what do you want to do?”

Poe shrugs as he twists his body to look at you laying there and staring at the ceiling. “I don’t know, you tell me. We could talk.”

“About?”

“About how you’ve been? How…” he hesitates for a moment and looks to the balcony, hiding his pained expression. “How Finn is doing? Or I don’t know we could do something,” he looks back to you and smirks. “We can skip the talking and do something fun, I can finally give you what you want.”

You blink and slowly lift your head to meet his gaze, noticing his smirk. Poe takes off his jacket and throws it on the floor, followed by his shoes, continuing to fully turn around and crawl on the bed with you, examining your body before moving to be on top of you; placing both hands on either side of your head and tilting your head with the tip of his fingers so you’d be facing him. “Stars you’re beautiful.”

Your lips part and your eyes flicker down to his lips before you blink to look back up at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and repeating your previous actions. Wanting to speak, but instead keeping to yourself as your mind raced with so many thoughts—“was this something I want?” “Him?” “Yes.” “But not like this.” “Not here.” “It’s something I wanted before and he fills a void in my heart.” “But is this how I want this to go down?” “No.” “Yes.” “He keeps the voices at bay, yet not the temptation to act out what’s been asked of me.” “I want this. Forget everything and everyone else.” “I love him.”

“Do you want to do this, sweetheart?” Poe asks for assurance.

You let your eyes wander back to his lips and a smile tugs on your lips before you lean in and make the first move by crashing your lips with his. Instantly getting bambered with the feeling of relief and longing, passion and desire. You pull away only to give him a soft clear answer. “Yes, I do.” The answer makes a happy, boyish smile grow on his lips before he leans in to press a kiss on your lips, sliding his tongue on your bottom lip to part them and deepen the kiss, making his lips tug wider as he leans in closer and moves one hand to cup your cheek.

Whatever doubt you had before completely disappeared. Joy replaced the feelings that were missing and more desire burned within you. This moment was truly like no other. You were unmistakably happy with Poe.

Said man pulled away, but stayed close, taking a moment for the both of you to catch your breaths as he began to leave a trial of soft kisses all the way down to your collarbone, taking a bit of skin between his teeth and beginning to gently suck on it before you pushed his intentions away. “Don't you dare do that again. Last time I had to wear anything that had a turtle neck so Ben, nor my father would see the hickey.”

Poe licks his lips and chuckles. “Fine not there then,” his smirk deepens and he slowly slides his hands to the bottom of your shirt to basically rip it off of you. Leaving you shirtless and nude, your bare chest glowing under the moon light that shone inside. Poe’s pupils blew up and his smirk faltered as he went breathless. “Truly beautiful.”

A soft smile grew on your lips and you grabbed his face to pull him in for a passionate kiss, feeling his bulge rub against your thigh and a fluttering feeling in your stomach—yet as much as you didn’t want Poe to stop kissing you, he desperately pulled away to once again press kisses down the premises of your skin, until he stopped on your breast and repeated what he had intended to do on your collarbone.

Causing you to knot your fingers in his hair and gently tug on his hair as he sucked on the skin. You felt at that instant that your heart was going to rip out of your chest, even if so little had happened so far. You ached for him as he was taking his sweet old time, pulling away from you and shooting you a smug grin. You rolled your eyes at his expression, proceeding to move your hands down to his hips to pull his shirt off him, feeling your eyes widen in more desire, and worry as you finally saw his bare chest and torso.

His body was beautifully carved, his abs were perfectly toned and ripped through his skin; his chest and biceps were beautifully tan and glowing with the light of the moon reflecting on his bare skin. You ran your hands over his skin and little goosebumps grew all over his body. He smiled and tilted his head slightly so he could follow your fingers running over the premises of his warm and soft body. His smile however faltered, like yours did in fact, at the moment you stopped at each scar that was littered all over his body. They weren’t big scars, just small ones, like puncture wounds—“Poe,” You whisper, “what happened?”

Poe places his knuckle under your chin and lifts your head so your eyes could meet his, and he could assure your increasing worry. “Just old scars baby, I’m fine.”

Your eyebrows knit together and you part your lips to try and argue, but he cuts you off by pressing his lips on yours and deepening it by the second. Neither of you want to pull away, but you have to express your thought. One he had said first the day before you left, and one he had said today, but one you had yet to express.

“Stars, I missed you.”

Poe smiles softly and leans in to whisper by your ear. “I missed you too, my love.”

You grin like you haven’t done in a long time and can’t help but think in the deepest part of your brain, “this wrong. Being with Poe. Confessing everything and having sex was wrong. But it was a good mistake. Even if I knew it was going to cost me. A lot.”

Your battles that you were pushing aside, were only going to brew deeper after this. But it’s a consequence you’d deal with.

——

“So what? We’re supposed to act like we hate each other now or something?” Poe asks, combing his hair back with his fingers as he hesitated to put his helmet over his head.

You scan the hall you’re walking down and shake your head. “No, we just don’t talk, like yesterday, pretend like we don’t know each other.”

Poe scoffs. “It’s not that easy, you’re tempting.”

You roll your eyes and can’t help the smile that tugs on your lips, you scan the area to make sure no one is near to grab him by the arm and pull him towards a dark dead end hall. An action that Poe snickers to and gets all too cocky about what he thought was going to go down. “Princess, I knew you took risks, but here, really?”

You narrow your gaze on him and slightly tilt your head. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, aren't we going to have a quickie before returning?”

Your eyebrows pinch together and your eyes study him before you chuckle and shake your head. “No, no, I’m too sore and well we’d probably be caught, Ben and Artoo should be looking for me shortly.” You cup Poe’s cheek and smile sweetly, “I just wanted to say that I like the beard.”

Poe smirks and strokes his chin, “really? I thought you would.”

You roll your eyes and hit his shoulder playfully. “It suits you, just like you without one. I like either.”

“Noted.”

Poe’s hands go to your hips and he leans in to take you in for a heated lingering kiss, slowing down only to gently bite your bottom lip before completely parting away and look at you with a lingering look. “I'm going to miss you.”

You smile and stroke his cheek one last time with your thumb. “I’m going to miss you too.” You walk back and look back to the clear main hall, peaking your head past the wall and looking to both sides to check that the ghost was clear for you to walk out without being detected.

“Come with me.”

You grow stiff at Poe’s words and slowly pull away to stand up straight and keep your back faced to him.

“We can be together without having to hide. I can help you.”

You ball your hands into tight fists and look down to talk to the ground. “Help me with what?” And just like that, all color left from your view and darkness took over everything again.

“What you’re dealing with, Supreme leader Snoke can help.”

Kill the spare. Do it now, he’s there. He’s open.

“We can be a good pair, just you and me” Poe continues, making anger begin to boil within you.

“Poe.” You warn softly. “Please stop, or you’re going to ruin everything.”

“Ruin everything? Baby, we make each other happy,” Poe grabs your arm to turn you to face him, cupping your face to lift your head so your eyes could meet. So you could see the desperation behind his eyes. “I can see that, why can’t you? You're struggling but I can help.”

Your gaze doesn’t falter, but your hand does. Slowly you uncurl your fists and discreetly reach for your lightsaber as your mind was overcome with the tempting voice of “your grandfather”. Happiness seeps away from your mind, face and is replaced by nothing but that same numbing blankness that has overcome you entirely in the past months.

“I can correct what I did wrong. If you come, Master Snoke can bring back Jacen. We can overthrow Snoke and we can rule over the First Order, change it to our will and finally win this war. Together. Be with me.”

Kill him. Kill Poe Dameron. Now!

“I’ll kill him,” you whisper under your breath as an unusual evil smirk unknowingly tugs on your lips and that same sinister darkness grows in power within you. You pull your lightsaber from your side and slide your thumb to the activation button, moving your hand to cup Poe’s face and offer him a sweet smile that he couldn’t help but mirror; his filled with joy, unlike yours—“I,” you say out loud, “I will—”

Before you could finish your sentence however, you’re suddenly pulled back forcefully and hitting your ass on the ground with a painful thud. In that quick and sudden action, what had possessed you broke away and you were fully back, looking up to see Ben throwing Poe to the wall and lifting him off his feet with the force, proceeding to slowly close his hand as he began to force choke Poe.

“Ben! Leave him alone!” You exclaim sharply as you stand to your feet and run to Ben to try and pull his hand away, but ultimately getting pushed back by said man. “Ben! Please!” Your eyes water and you try to plead again. You knew you were meant to act like you didn’t care for Poe in front of other people, you knew that the voices inside your head told you to kill him, but seeing his life hang in the balance, watching the fear in his eyes broke you in different ways. “Ben! Leave him alone!”

“No!” He growls, dropping Poe from the death grip and stepping closer towards him to swing his fist over his face. You tried to stop him again, but Ben was physically stronger, without the force you were useless in your attempts. All you could do was try to see if you shouting at the top of your lungs would knock some sense into Ben. Even if you knew it wouldn’t—“we trusted you and you killed him! He loved you, he treated you like family and you betray him by killing him!” Ben exclaims, anger clearly in his voice and actions, the veins on his neck clearly showed as he shouted to Poe with that one single emotion. He was hurt and it was painfully clear. “Then you proceed to break my cousins heart and break her trust too! I should kill you!” Ben throws Poe another punch that makes you wince and Poe groans before looking up to Ben with a wide-stricken expression that he tried to hide his fear and own hurt behind.

“Then do it.” Poe groans, not even trying to fight back.

You take a step closer to the pair and plead again. “Ben, please leave him alone.”

Said man looks over his shoulder for a second before glaring back at Poe and continuing with a surprising comment. “But I won’t because the best punishment is you drowning in your own guilt,” Ben smirks and let’s go of Poe to stand up slowly. “I want you to remember everything you’ve done because I know that’s your weakness. You try to act tough, scary, but I know what you aren’t. You’re nothing, but a child, in a mask.”

Your eyes widen at his insult and Poe stays quiet, parting his lips and just that.

“And if you have any ounce of respect for Jacen, or me, I want you to leave my cousin alone. She’s gone through enough pain because of you. I don’t want to see you close to her again, because if I do, I’ll make sure I’m the last thing you ever see.” Ben finishes, fuming out of ears and pulls his foot back to land one last hard kick on Poe’s side, shooting him one last burning glare before turning around and grabbing your wrists to pull you away without a chance to check on Poe’s wounds.

You part your lips to argue, but Ben catches your before you can. “Don’t you dare try to defend him, or I’ll turn back and actually shove that lightsaber in your hand through his chest.”

You gasp and glance at the lightsaber still in your hand, instantly putting it away and choosing to stay quiet on that matter instead. “When are we going home?”

“Later,” Ben reveals, still bitter. “Theirs one last meeting and after we should be good to go.”

You hum softly and from the corner of your eye you see a masked Poe pass by the both of you. Not daring to even look your way. You want to go after him and talk, but you’d be a fool to do so. You had to watch him from a distance now, leave with many things left unsaid, even if he was only feet away, you had to fight the temptation. You had to pretend he wasn’t here.

“Where’s Artoo?”

“In the great hall with my mother and father, the meeting is taking place there.”

Your eyebrows knit together at his response. “The great hall? Why there?”

Ben shrugs and let’s your wrist go once he sees Poe enter the great hall and not be a threat to you anymore. “I don’t know, but it’s there.”

You both enter the hall yourselves and try to walk towards your family, but in that exact instant something stops Ben, and has you bumping into him. He grows stiff and looks back to the doors as they close, and the windows as the curtains cut off light from beaming in. You want to protest Ben’s actions, but a sudden hologram of an odd masked man in all black cuts you off. “I’ll keep this short. We the people are tired of you. The resistance and the first order, we don’t want to be in this petty fight. We’re tired of getting overworked and not paid enough. We don't want to be ruled, we want to rule. Our own planet.” The curtains swing open again, blinding you with the light, but yet demonstrating something outside; multiple battleships now littering the sky as they come out of hiding—“so I fortunately I report that now, we have to get rid of all of you. For good. No more light or darkness. Just peace.”

And with nothing else to add, the hologram cut off and five soldiers in the same all black outfit came out of hiding from within the walls, all surrounding everyone, even the governor. Ben grabs your hand to try and rush towards his parents, but explosions outside the castle stops him from moving. The castle rumbles and then a blazing and blowing fight breaks between the soldiers and everyone inside. Ben snaps from his stupor and grabs and urges you to follow him, ducking and avoiding blasts and punches from the armored-soldiers.

“Don’t look back and just reach my parents no matter what!” Ben shouts to you, both at the same time activating your lightsabers to deflect blasts and swing at the armored-soldiers.

Your eyes search all over the place and grow desperate to try and feel any spark of force within you. But nothing, you’re left with nothing, just jumping as the castle rumbles again and a window explodes as an explosion hits the side of the castle you were on, causing the building to tilt and your fear, and anger to rise. You slide slightly to the side but firmly grip onto Ben, spotting his mother and Artoo a few feet away. He quickens his pace and pulls you along, reaching his mother and not hesitating to be protective and curious. “Where's dad?”

“I sensed something was off, so I sent him to the ship he should be here soon! One of you help, Artoo break the window to be ready to jump when Han comes.”

You instantly nod and join Artoos side, stabbing your lightsaber through the thick glass and slowly, but surely attempting to melt a circle on the window. You try to avoid turning back at the sound of blasts all over, and screaming echoing in your ears, but you remind yourself that not only will you provide an escape for your family and you, but for these people too. That keeps you motivated to keep trying to cut the window. Albeit, all until another explosion hits the whole wall at your side gets blown in, making you flinch as debris flies past you and the force of the explosion sends the tower to tilt more and for you to almost slide out if it wasn’t for Artoo wrapping a cord around your wrist.

“Thanks bud,” you smile, digging your heels into the floor and picking your lightsaber off the floor; “you’re always there when I need—” you suddenly stop and your eyes widen as they focus on one single scene playing across from you. It takes you a moment to break from your stupor as your face expresses pure fear at what you see, but once you do, you’re slightly bending your knees to begin to run towards Poe getting badly hurt by three of the shadow-like, special all black uniformed soldiers. But before you could take your first step, arms wrap around you and you’re pulled back into a firm chest. When you look back you see no one other but Ben holding you back.

“No! Leave him, the Falcon is here we have to go!”

“No!” You bellow, kicking your feet and trying to break from his hold, feeling angry tears roll down your cheeks. “I need to help him!” The gleam of a vibro-sword catches your attention and that same fear from when you lost Jacen sparks in your brain, that same adrenaline. You feel it makes you stronger. This time you were.

Were you faster though?

Without the force could you save Poe before the blade punctured his body?

“No Ben, Poe needs me!” You cry, wiggling your arm out and throwing your elbow back to hit Ben’s jaw. Causing his grip to loosen, and giving you your chance to escape, instantly breaking into a full sprint towards Poe. Feeling your heart pump wildly in your ears, and your chest heavily heave, tears mixed with sweat, and your attempts to avoid being hit, or shot felt like a breeze. However nothing felt greater than jumping over your last obstacle and jamming your lightsaber on one of the special soldiers back as you landed on the floor.

The two soldiers trying to hold Poe down, stop as they see you throw their comrade to the side and you hear Poe utter your name in a surprised gasp. “Y/N?”

You offer him a faint smile and whisper, “I made it in time.” After one last short lingering look, you take out your other lightsaber from your side, flipping it in your hand so you could swing it and activate it, so the blade could scratch one of the soldiers helmet, making their hold on poe fall and letting him grab his blaster to swiftly shoot their other one at his side.

Leaving Poe ultimately ripping his helmet off and showing you the soft and shocked mixed expression on his face. “You came back for me?”

The corner of your lips tug into a smile, and just before you could speak your thought out loud, another loud, impactful blast hits the castle and this time you’re sliding off the castle that’s now hanging by a thread, while the top floor off you were on, hangs on its side. Before you could fall off the castle and free fall into the sky, you come to a skidding stop and manage to stop yourself on the rubble of the broken wall, staring out at the rubble, broken and tilting ceiling, fire and chaos hundreds of feet below. Poe however didn’t stop himself in time and hung from the side of the castle. Looking up at you with a fear-stricken look.

You instantly reach for his hand to try and pull him up, but in the dark temptation hits again, harder than ever. Kill him. Let him fall and you’ll get your brother back. Your family will be complete. You’ll end this war. Kill him. Let him fall.

“Y/N, pull me up.”

Your gaze snaps to Poe, and you meet his brown eyes, blinking to break from the cloudy daze and using both hands to pull him slightly, ignoring the blinding pain in your head and trying to pull him up with all the strength you could manage. “Poe, you’ve got to help me a little, you’re too heavy.”

Poe nods, heaving as he dares to look down before holding to your arm and helping you pull him up. “Okay, okay.”

“Drop him,” a real voice whispers by your ear, making you jump and snap your head over your shoulder to see one of the shadow-like, special soldiers beside you, it’s helmet caved in by the impact of your lightsaber, and showing a yellow eye.

“What?” You gasp.

“Drop him. I know you want to. You feel it, don’t you, Skywalker.”

Your hold on Poe weakens and your eyes remain wide, unable to blink out of the terror you felt by his words. “Wh-what. Who are you?”

They come closer and lift their helmet to just reveal their pink lips. “Your solution. Drop him.”

“Y/N!”

“To make myself legit, I’ll say this, you’ll find your first key to bring your brother back, in Dagobah.”

You gasp again, feeling your eyes fill with tears. The soldier drops its helmet and steps back, you keep looking over your soldier and let something completely cold take over. In one moment you feel Poe’s hand, the next you feel nothing, but a cold breeze. You’re lost in a dark cloud, and feel nothing but anger.

But it all disappeared in a snap as the sound of your name coming from below snaps you back and out of whatever faze you were stuck in. “Y/N!”

Instantly you fall on your knees and get close to the edge, feeling the heat of the fire below burn your face and the breeze howl in your ears. You throw your hand out and scream for him with the tears streaming down your cheeks, and complete heartbreak expressed in your eyes. “POE! NO!” Again you try with all your will to reconnect to the force.

But nothing. You feel nothing but failure. You see nothing but a disappearing figure as Poe is falling down and covered by the black smoke. Leaving you numb and broken. Leaving you to hear no one but the same soldier return to your side to grab the back of your shirt and pull you to them, proceeding to only whisper in your ear, “long, live, the Dark side.”

Before you could fight back, the soldier hits the side of your head hard and has your concinosess fading to black.

You’re only left to feel the breeze hit your body, see the blue sky above you, feel the sun rays dry your tears and warm your face, hear the wind howl in your ears and the soldiers' words echo in your ears after they throw you out of the broken window.

The last thing you feel is your body crash onto something hard that stops the feeling of yourself falling. You hear Ben's voice echo in your ears, but you block it out as a numbness takes control of every part of your brain. You hadn’t fallen into unconsciousness like you thought you would, so you weren't saved from hearing the soldier's voice in your mind. “Long, live, The dark side.”

You weren’t saved from seeing Poe’s face haunt your mind.

A/N- haha :)

Tagged- @thescarletknight2014 , @softly-sad @golden-guide, @abysshaven , @a-dorky-book-keeper @kit-jpg , @zoeyangels, @algenforthewin, @leilei-draws , @throughparisallthroughrome

Permanent taglist- @ms-dont-care , @commondazy , @paintballkid711 @dankfarrikdin

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blbabysworld · 4 years

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June Comeback

1st:

Twice - More & More

Boy Story - I=U=WE

2nd:

Victon - Mayday

3rd:

Stray Kids - TOP (Japanese)

Gidongdae - Party Like This (pre-debut single)

5th:

Bang YeDam (Solo) - WAYO

F.able (Debut) - Burn It Up

8th:

Super Junior K.R.Y. - When We Were Us

Ha Sungwoon - Twilight Zone

Eunkwang (BTOB)

9th:

WayV - Awaken the World

WJSN - Neverland

E'Last - Day Dream (Debut)

10th:

DIA - Flower 4 Seasons

N.Flying - So, Tong

Heize - Lyricist

Jun.K (Solo; 2PM) - This is not a song, 1929

11th:

Momoland - Starry Night

12th:

Blackpink

15th:

IZ*One - Oneiric Diary

17th:

D1CE - Draw You: Remember Me

Stray Kids - GO

Nature - NatureWorld: Code M

Cravity - Cloud 9

18th:

Weki Meki - Hide and Seek

22nd:

Seventeen

29th:

AB6ix - Vivid

30th:

CIX - Chapter 3. Hello, Strange Time

TBA:

Momoland

Golden Child

Weeekly (Debut)

Cho Seungyoun;WOODZ (Solo)

Hwasa;Mamamoo (Solo)

Sunmi (Solo)

NeonPunch (Only 3 members)

98 notes · View notes

formashimataichi · 4 years

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Chihayafuru | Why read it?

This is a comprehensive, non-spoilers review I made of the series on Goodreads recently, and I thought I would leave it here for potential readers as well. As the series will come to a close within the next year or two, there’s no better time to pick up Chihayafuru than now. The following review covers: a basic summary of the series, a brief explanation of karuta, highlighted aspects of the narrative, and common misconceptions. Enjoy!

Chihayafuru primarily follows three childhood friends—Chihaya, Arata, and Taichi—and their journey through karuta, a Japanese sport inspired by one hundred classical poems found in the famed Hyakunin Isshu. The trio bonds over karuta as children before they're inevitably separated due to a number of circumstances, until their paths cross once again in high school. Their efforts to rise to the top of the sport's hierarchy in Japan parallel to their personal relationships with each other, as well as their insecurities, hopes, and fears for the future as they grow up. REP: visually disabled SC. TW’s: verbal parental abuse.

Karuta (or more specifically, kyogi karuta) is a Japanese card game. The poems of the Hyakunin Isshu are transcribed onto two sets of one hundred cards each—the yomifuda, or reading cards, have a full poem transcribed onto them, while the torifuda, or grabbing cards, have only the second half of a poem transcribed onto them. Each player has a territory with twenty five cards, and the object of the game is to grab the correct torifuda as soon as the corresponding yomifuda is read. There are also a few more complex rules, but ultimately, whoever clears all of the cards in their territory first wins. Karuta is a game that tests memorization, agility, hearing ability, strategy, stamina, etc.

The following are aspects of the series that I think really make it stand out!

The expansive cast. Karuta is an all-ages competitive sport. People from all walks of life compete against each other, so there's a broad range of characters introduced across the course of the series: old doctors, married women, high school teachers, elementary students. It makes the personal experiences and learning points of the various characters all the richer. The appearances of background characters are also consistently recurring, which makes the fact that the cast is so expansive even more enjoyable, because no one is truly forgotten or cast aside.

The emphasis on teachers. An experience Chihayafuru especially explores in depth is that of teachers, both literal and figurative. They are constantly brought into focus: as competitors capable of displaying as much persistence as their juniors, as mentors who do their best to nurture the younger generation, and as people of a past era fighting to hold onto what grasp of the present that they have left. Their insight is invaluable to the younger characters that the series primarily focuses on, and they can hardly be called backseat players.

The exploration into parent-child dynamics. Although the angle from which Chihayafuru explores parents and their influence on their children is a little different, it's also a just as valuable portrayed experience that I adore. There are parents who give their everything for their children, parents who don’t understand their children’s ambitions but support them as best they can, parents who demean those ambitions and create everlasting insecurities, parents who use their children’s ambitions for their own gain, etc. I think in that sense, there’s at least one parent-child dynamic that every reader could potentially relate to and find catharsis in reading about as these relationships grow and change.

The series' refusal to treat karuta as insular. A lot of sports manga have a tendency to focus almost exclusively on the sport in question, with no thought given to the characters' real-life problems, their families, or their future after high school. Chihayafuru, rather than making karuta the object of its story, instead makes it the narrative medium by which the characters' life stories are told. It's a series about people and their problems more than it is a series about the sport, which is what best sets it apart. The characters are constantly faced with the reality that they will have to confront their future and the need for a career at some point, because karuta isn’t a sport that pays nor one necessarily super-famous in Japan.

The use of poetry to parallel the events of the narrative. On the surface, karuta is just another card game; but what makes Chihayafuru special is that the poems being read at different parts of the story actually further contextualize what is happening. Although the course of the story can be understood without looking up what each mentioned poem means, there’s no denying that looking up the meanings adds so much more to the experience. It's one of the best Easter eggs the series has to offer, and it also lends further understanding to why players must cherish the cards for what they mean in order to truly love the sport. (Also, if you are into classical poetry and/or the use of nature-associated metaphors to illustrate life, this will definitely appeal to you!)

The analysis of the human psyche. There are several types of relationships and personal problems Chihayafuru explores. In particular, the friendship between Chihaya, Arata, and Taichi is complex. Their love triangle is deeply entrenched within each of their individual relationships with karuta and their individual insecurities, which is what makes it stand out to me as one of the best of its kind. Each of these characters undergoes expansive development as an individual, and yet the three of them are also inextricable of each other in terms of that development and their goals. There’s extensive exploration into what it means to truly love a sport, whether natural talent or hard work is more valuable, how ambition and success achieved at the cost of loneliness is to our own detriment, and whether the expectations of an older generation will define all that we are capable of becoming.

The exploration of playing as an individual versus as a team member. Karuta is a sport that can be played in teams (up through the end of grade school) or individually. Both aspects of play offer different insight into the nature of sports in general, about the characters' personal goals or desires, and about their complex relationships with the support systems that surround them, or lack thereof. There’s a huge emphasis put on the fact that ultimately, while experiences garnered while playing alone are valuable, karuta cannot exist on the backs of isolated individuals alone. Human camaraderie is necessary in order for the sport to thrive. One of my favorite quotes from the series is regarding this complex theme: Team matches are solo matches. Solo matches are team matches.

The women! Among its equally (or more) famous peers, Chihayafuru is perhaps the series that emphasizes on uplifting of women and women's friendships the most (an advantage lent to it by the all-ages, all-genders nature of the sport). There's a vast cast of female characters, and Chihaya and Shinobu in particular are protagonists whose strength is never undermined by the fact of them being women or the object of someone's affections. The women of the series are strong, air-headed, determined, lazy, ambitious, lost. There’s a vast array of experiences illustrated by them, and they’re allowed to embrace their womanhood while also refusing to be limited by it.

Here are some misconceptions about the series that I have seen encountered by both dedicated and casual readers (or viewers):

It's a series with little emotional payoff. As I mentioned before, Chihayafuru is most prominently a series about people and their problems. The personal journeys the characters undergo span hundreds of chapters. I've noticed before that some people give up on the series as a result, because their favorite character isn't where they want them to be within whatever span of chapters, but I want to encourage potential readers to not give into this inclination! This is a series where you need to be in it for the long haul, because the emphasis is that these emotional problems characters face are not ones that they can solve within the span of a few months. Sometimes, they take years (aside from the first volume covering a flashback sequence, the main narrative takes place over the course of three years).

Perception of the love triangle. A lot of people tend to zero in on the love triangle and make it their focus of reading, and especially for readers who attach themselves to Taichi, this often leads to disappointment in where the narrative leads (as he is a character who struggles immensely on his journey towards growth and self fulfillment). It's important to remember that each member of the childhood trio is their own individual! Issues tied to the love triangle are certainly important, but readers often miss out on crucial emotional development for characters because they're too focused on who they think Chihaya should end up with, when that's not even remotely the point. The narrative almost always emphasizes that at the heart of it all, Chihaya, Arata, and Taichi will always have each other. What matters more than the outcome of the love triangle is whether their friendship will ultimately heal and thrive, and whether they will grow as individuals who can support each other rather than act like crutches for each other.

This is not a series about sports! This may be a confusing thing to say, and it may not even be something that other Chihayafuru fans would agree with me on. But again, I'll reiterate: Chihayafuru is most prominently a series about people and their problems. Some matches can span several chapters, while others barely last a few panels. The focus is not so much on the sport as it is on what the sport or match is doing emotionally for the individual. In that sense, it's a bit different from its contemporaries, where almost every important match is covered in detail, from one move to the next. Although there are plenty of moments where karuta matches are covered in detail, don’t be surprised if there are moments where they proceed too fast, and think to yourself why showing the whole match may not have been necessary!

These are the main points that I could come up with, but if you have any questions, feel free to send me an ask on my blog. I hope any part of this can convince you to read Chihayafuru, as it’s a wonderful story that offers a lot of layers to dissect to its audience. There’s always something new to discover with it, and that’s what makes it special.

#chihayafuru #ayase chihaya #mashima taichi #wataya arata #wakamiya shinobu #meta #i'm just tagging them all so it gets spread gjfkgjfkdhl #but uhhh. i hope this is comprehensive #also if you disagree with anything pls send me an ask!#rather than reblog onto it with an essay or something gjfkjhlgdf #since this is a recommendation post i want to keep it clean #and as accessible to others as possible

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inspired-by-the-music · 4 years

Text

For You

Chapter 7: Love

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Laying with Taemin should have been uncomfortable because a) I always slept alone, b) I had never been so (willfully) close to another person, and c) we hadn’t known each other long enough to justify my wish to stay so close forever.

When I pointed out in a whisper that we had only shared our first genuine conversation under the moon a few nights ago, I saw the outline of Taemin’s frown in the dark. His voice created small vibrations in his chest (where my head laid over his sky blue pajama shirt) when he asked, “Do you think I’ll have to love you for years before my feelings count?”

As evidenced by the ragged breath that fell from his mouth, I hurt Taemin’s feelings without even trying. All that kept me from apologizing immediately was the fear that whatever I said might deepen his frown; so, instead of speaking, I felt around for his hand, pressed my freezing palm against his— warm— and threaded our fingers.

“I really want to know what you think, Lei.” He gave my hand a reassuring squeeze.

What did I think?

People rarely asked me, yet I tended to overthink my position on a given issue until I had exhausted every possible opinion. Maybe I was preparing for the occasion that never came— when somebody other than Lucas may value my outlook— until Taemin decided to wear my ribbon.

Although I had thought of little other than Taemin since that night in the garden— or maybe it started that night by the lake— I had no concrete thoughts. That’s why I stuttered, “I— I don’t know. I want you to love me or like me—”

Taemin said, “I do,” and I imagine that should have been the happiest moment of my life.

So why wasn’t it? Why did that ache in my chest return? Why did I long for him as if he were worlds away when I was in his arms? When would this— our bond— feel real?

“Then I want to believe you when you say that—” I didn’t pause to consider that I sounded like I was calling Taemin a liar— “but it sounds too good to be true.”

Taemin must have realized that there was nothing he could say. We were at another impasse. Silence fell over us, and I didn’t want it to stay, so I spoke through the discomfort.

“You have to understand who you are to me, Taemin.” Calling him an idol— stripping him of his humanity in such an intimate setting— was the worst thing to do.

Tracing my thumb along his knuckles, trying to feel that he was real, I carefully continued, “You are somebody I’ve admired for years. Yours is a voice I cherished long before you had anything to say to me. I loved you before I met you, and—” I hoped he wouldn’t think less of me for believing, “the problem with dreams coming true is that you always wake up or the dream becomes a nightmare.”

Taemin must have been shocked by my honesty. Seconds or hours or eternities passed quietly before he said, “I think that you should learn to enjoy dreams— if that’s what we are— as they happen. I think you can ruin the night if you spend the time worrying about what could happen when the sun rises.”

Of course, it occurred to me before that worrying achieves nothing. On some level, I always knew that I could benefit from learning to live in the moment— finding that balance between being a successful idol and being a happy person. Yet, it was as if Taemin had turned on the light with his gentle warnings that were always prefaced by the phrase, “I think,” because he was too humble to boast, “I know.”

I already decided that I didn’t want to be lonely.

Then, as silence fell again, I decided that I didn’t want to be incapable of appreciating beauty until it had faded out of my grasp. That’s why I lifted my head from Taemin’s chest: I wanted to admire him. I wanted to really see him clearly.

I didn’t expect that he would be looking at me as if patiently waiting for me to return his gaze.

Before I could sort through my thoughts, I was saying his name. “Taemin, I just really want you to be here when the sun rises.”

If he was as shocked by the mid-night declaration as I was, he certainly didn’t show it with that radiant smile. “Okay,” was all he said before holding my head against his chest where I heard it: his heart was soaring, racing, beating for me like mine was for him.

. . .

Interviews— although often uncomfortable— were never as unbearable as a solo artist as they were as a member of SuperM. Part of the issue was that, without my phone, I couldn’t scroll through social media to educate myself on the popular topics of gossip.

It wasn’t so shocking when the first interviewer asked if Lucas and I were a couple. That question had been following us for years and (I guessed) the rumors about our supposed undying love were amplified by LX2’s existence.

I was winded, however, when the rumors started to stray from Lucas. Almost daily, in my place between Ten and Mark (or English line, as the fans called us, since our knowledge of the language facilitated the American interviews), I sat with my hands clenched into tight pale fists, jaw set, as I waited to discover which member I was alleged to be sleeping with this time.

The interview started, as they usually do, with a relatively unoffensive question: “Who from Korea do you keep in touch with while you’re on tour?”

The host was a middle-aged man— bearded and wearing glasses and a t-shirt— who twitched with every frequent sip from his coffee mug. He listened with feigned interest to the other members who answered with some variation of the fact that they stayed in contact with the members of their individual groups (except Baekhyun, who replied, “Super Junior’s Donghae,” just to watch my fists tighten in their place in the lap of my black skirt), before fixing his stare on me.

“What about you? You’re a solo act outside of SuperM, right?” It was promising at first, the realization that he had done some research, but my hopes that maybe— finally— I was participating in a legitimate interview crashed with the following question. “Do you have a boyfriend back in Korea that you text every night, you know, just to tell him, ‘hi, I love you, I promise I’m not hooking up with any of my superstar bandmates?’”

Questions like that made my blood boil. He didn’t want to know my answer. He didn’t care who I talked to or who I loved. He just wanted to watch me squirm as he pried into my personal affairs.

“Yes,” I said as calmly as possible, “I am a solo artist. No, I do not have a boyfriend in Korea—”

He raised his eyebrows, probably, in preparation to ask if my boyfriend was touring America with me, but I continued, “When I’m on tour, I try to find time to talk to Joy of Red Velvet or Amber Liu. If I need advice on something related to my performance, I’ll waste no time in calling Girls’ Generation’s Taeyeon.”

Why didn’t anybody ever ask about my friendships with those girls? It seemed wrong that everyone should be so fixated on my romantic relationships — of which there had only been one that was held as our precious secret— when I would have been more than happy to share the friendships that shaped me as a person and as an artist.

That interviewer seemed to share Baekhyun’s recently developed interest in making me as uncomfortable as possible. He asked the group, “So, was it hard to teach your new girl all of the choreography? Just how long did it take her to get it?”

In situations like that, I liked to think that I was somehow misunderstanding the question or mistaking the tone. Sometimes, that was the only way to keep myself from snapping. Sometimes, that was the only way I could sit there, legs crossed, without shattering my perfect posture and perfect smile.

Ten’s temper was as bad as mine— worse, actually— so I didn’t fully succumb to my irritation when he rolled his eyes at the question. I didn’t acknowledge that I had a right to be uncomfortable, that the interviewer was truly being rude, until Kai leaned forward to tap Mark on the shoulder and request, “Translate, please.”

As soon as Mark translated the question, Kai replied in rapid-fire Korean that I couldn’t quite keep up with, “That’s a stupid-ass question. Lei isn’t in the group just because she’s a girl or because she’s pretty or because she’s popular. She’s here because she’s talented. And we’re not here to answer stupid questions that belittle our members.”

We all stared at Kai as he sat back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting his lips. Ten and I, wearing twin stunned expressions, looked (along with the interviewer) for Mark to translate Kai’s answer.

“I — uh—” Mark stuttered— “Kai said, no offense— I added that part— but that question is kinda— no, really disrespectful to Lei.”

Ten agreed, jumping at the opportunity to strike the interviewer with his sass. “Yeah. For us NCT guys—” he gestured to the other NCT members— “although some of us are older, Lei is, like, our senior because she debuted first. We didn’t have to teach her anything. She teaches us.”

Mark translated Ten’s comment for the others, and Lucas and Taeyong murmured in agreement.

I shook my head despite the affection swelling in my chest. “No, that’s not true. You guys teach me a lot.”

The interviewer’s stare was all that kept me from saying that Taeyong taught me about leadership, integrity, and honest communication. Ten reintroduced me to the joy in dancing, which (for me) had become less of a soulful expression and more of a mechanical execution of choreography. Lucas taught me so much— too much to describe with words— but the most important lesson was to laugh like nobody is watching even though somebody was always watching. Mark reminded me that people— some people— even in the entertainment industry are good just for the sake of being good.

And I loved them for that, so I declared, “I love my members,” including (of course) Taemin, Kai, and Baekhyun (even though he was a little demon). I meant it so earnestly that I forgot to consider how my words could be perverted.

“Yeah, but which member do you love most?” The interviewer winked.

Gathering from my glare at his perversion of “love,” the interviewer redirected the question to the other members, asking, “So we all know it’s happening— who’s sleeping with Lei?”

Granted, I was technically sleeping with Taemin. We would never admit it in an interview, but we had fallen into the habit of falling asleep in the warmth of each other’s embrace. Maybe, then, my blush was caused by the embarrassment of a) having such an intimate aspect of my life aired publicly and b) having it questioned with so little understanding and respect.

Before I spoke my mind, Mark said the stupidest sentence in recorded history: “Look, man, as bandmates we’re all involved with each other, but we’re not, like, involved.”

Ten started growling, “What—” before I cut my eyes away from Mark to tear into the interviewer.

Of course, he didn’t shrink under my stare or burn from the flames flung by my narrowed eyes. It didn’t matter that he seemed to delight in my reaction; I spoke the truth not for his benefit but for mine.

“Aside from being disgusting— the fact that you can only look at me and see my worth as some sexualized creature— it’s appalling that you spread these rumors with absolutely no regard for how it affects my image and my career. These guys—” I shrugged in reference to the other members— “are expected to priorities their relationships with their fans above all else—”

“Don’t you think that’s a little ridiculous, though?” The interviewer slurped into his microphone as he took a sip of his coffee. “Don’t you think these guys should date if they want?”

Yes. Of course, I did. They deserved to do whatever would make them happy.

“What they do is none of my concern.” The words were diplomatic, but my tone was not. “It is a problem for me, however, that this narrative painted by those, like yourself, in the media depicts me not only as a disgraced idol but— more importantly— as somebody willing to squander artistic opportunities by sleeping with everybody in a band. Learn to respect me as a woman, an idol, or a human being. Take your pick.”

My hand raised to detach the microphone from the collar of my white button-down top cut just above the navel, but it paused when he asked, “If the standards are so harsh on idols— especially women— don’t you think you’re obligated to challenge the standard?”

His question— spoken so casually as if he weren’t advocating mindlessly for the impossible— should have stunned me silent. It didn’t.

“No,” I said not because I was the perfect idol, not because I wanted to uphold that illusion in that moment, but because I was emboldened by the reality, “I am an artist, not a revolutionary.”

Before the interviewer could challenge me further— before I could act on the pulsating desire to rip the microphone off, throw it onto the ground, and stomp it under my unnecessarily high red heels, Mom intervened with the muttered excuse that we had other events to attend. She even thanked that bastard for his time.

I know that was her job— I knew that then— but I felt too angry, too betrayed, to look in her direction afterward. Our relationship wasn’t even remedied in the car when she returned mine and Lucas’s phone with the instruction, “Behave from now on. And brace yourselves for the incoming social media storms when that interview is broadcast.”

Lucas was so thrilled to have his phone, his true best friend, returned that he dropped his arm from its protective place around my shoulders.

Instantly my screen lit from notifications of fans’ reactions to that interview. It must have been a live broadcast. Not quite ready to face praise or criticism, I locked my phone and shoved it into the narrow space between mine and Lucas’s body.

With my face burning from the realization that there would be no opportunity to edit or retract any part of my outburst— not that I really wanted to— I rounded on Mark, who sat right behind me (beside Taemin who, of course, sat beside Kai).

“What the hell was that about, Mark?” My imitation of his voice was so accurate that in the seat ahead of me, Ten threw his head back in a bitter sort of laughter. “‘We’re involved, but we’re not involved? What kind of stupid shit—”

Taemin had been smiling when I first turned around, but his expression turned to one of complete bewilderment. His understanding of the incident must have been limited by the interview’s language barrier. He whispered to Kai, “What’s wrong?”

As Kai (who had been donning a scowl that rivaled mine since his outburst) tried to explain the situation to Taemin, Mark stared at me with eyes so wide and guilty that I would have forgiven him instantly if I hadn’t spent so many years swallowing my frustration that I could no longer package my emotions back into their appropriate internal boxes.

“I’m sorry,” Mark stuttered, “I didn’t mean to say something so stupid—”

“Well, you did!” Ten whirled around to yell at him, brows angled and ears crimson. “If that’s going to be your contribution in interviews, I’m kicking you off English line!”

Mark argued, “You can’t kick me off English line! That’s not how it works! As long as I know English, I’m on English line—” he laughed nervously and reached for my shoulder— “right, Lei?”

Usually, I probably would have laughed along with Ten before siding with Mark. Even in that moment of rage, I worried that I was being too harsh on Mark. It wasn’t really his fault that the media (and that interviewer in particular) was so problematic. Still, that concern didn’t prevent me from crossing my arms, turning around and tugging sharply out of Mark’s reach, and fixing my gaze on the back of Ten’s seat.

As if sensing that I wanted nothing more than to go deaf to Ten’s bickering and Mark’s incessant pleas for me to “please turn around” and forgive him, Taeyong tossed me a pair of earphones and an apologetic grin— if you can really call it a grin.

Even after I plugged the headphones into my phone and tried to drown my anger in the music flooding into my ears, I rolled my eyes when Mom’s voice raised to snap, “Be quiet back there! I’m on an important call!” before saying into the receiver, “I’m back, Heechul.”

I could only vaguely hope that neither she nor Heechul would say anything loudly enough for Baekhyun, sitting in the passenger seat (one of the perks of being the leader), to hear.

Although Amber, Joy, and Taeyeon had brightened my day with their support, I didn’t feel like running to the pool with the guys when we returned to the hotel. While they were immersed in excited chatter, I beelined to the elevator, rejoicing when Baekhyun told Lucas (who must have been trying to follow me), “Give her space. If she’s anything like Momager, you don’t wanna be around while her temper is flaring.”

I wanted to be alone, but not because my temper was flaring. My furious blush had been abandoned in the car hours ago. Mostly, I was sorry for snapping at Mark— too sorry to look at him or even think of him without picturing the pained expression that settled on his face when I yelled at him— and bothered that my relationship with Taemin had been so misconstrued by that gross interviewer.

Bothered wasn’t a strong enough word, but I don’t know how else to describe how I felt. It wasn’t quite anger; my face would have been burning still, and I would have been grinding my teeth and balling my hands into fists as I pressed my back against the cold wall. It was more like sadness (but without the pain in my chest) because tears were blurring the edges of my vision, and my lips were trembling.

The tears weren’t quite ready to fall, so I was standing there with hands ready to catch them when he forced his way through the closing elevator doors. I don’t know if the doors were even closed before Taemin had his arms wrapped around me.

Because I hadn’t expected him to be so close again until the moon rose, I gasped at the contact, too stunned to return the affection. It was over as soon as it started, over well before the sounding of the chime announcing that we had arrived on our floor.

Neither of us spoke until we were inside the room, safe from prying eyes. Although we were still wearing our clothes from the day of interviews, although the sun had not yet set, Taemin sat on the bed we called ours— which was still unmade because we had to run downstairs after ignoring our first alarm that morning— and opened his arms for me.

The version of me who crawled to him wasn’t the same person I had been for most of my life. The version of me who was comfortable with wanting Taemin, who didn’t feel weak for leaning on him— she was a good person. I wished to be her all the time. I was hurt by the outside voices that said I couldn’t be.

Taemin didn’t ask me to explain why tears were swimming in my eyes, but I did. “I know that we can’t tell other people what we have. I don’t want to waste my breath explaining things nobody can understand anyway. But why do people who don’t even know us have to try to take what’s our and make it into something— something less than what it is?”

Taemin’s fingertips that traced the skin below the hem of my shirt were uncharacteristically cold; they made me shiver. “I don’t know,” he mumbled, “and I’m sorry that happened. I’m sorry I can’t carry more of the burden for you.”

I looked at his face and saw it in the tensing of his jaw: the frustration that he hadn’t been able to understand when I was under attack, the bitter knowledge that (even if he had known) he couldn’t have defended me without arousing suspicions that we were in a relationship.

Unlike the Lucas rumors that, despite persisting through years of rejection, carried no real weight because they were untrue, rumors about Taemin would have been suffocating because, to some degree, they were true. How would I be able to deny an outright allegation against us? Even if my words lied, my face would convey the truth that Taemin was my first love.

I was going to tell Taemin that he didn’t have to carry any burden for me— I only wanted him to hold me like this every night to brace me for the next day— but when I looked at him, I couldn’t speak. He was dressed as Taemin the idol, and for a fleeting second, I transformed into the version of myself who couldn’t believe that he was real and in this place with me.

“They can’t take what’s ours, though.” He linked our hands, smiled brightly, and he was real. “And that means nobody can make it less than what it is.”

Taemin pressed his forehead to mine. I imagine that he was giddy with the realization that our relationship— although unconventional and undefined (‘soulmates’ who weren’t ‘dating’)— was as significant to me as it had always been to him. I imagine that he might have kissed me if Mom hadn’t knocked on the door.

As I leaped from the bed to answer the door, Taemin snatched something from his suitcase, slid into the bathroom, and locked the door.

I carefully swallowed the red-hot anger I had been harboring toward Mom (since she thanked that interviewer for his time) before opening the door. She was on the phone again, but she held it away from her ear when I ushered her into the room.

She sat perched on the edge of the still-made untouched bed, placed the phone by her side, and said, “You know, Lei, as your manager, I have to discourage you from ever repeating your behavior from that interview this morning.”

Had I been able to find my voice as I stood there, staring down at her with tightly clenched fists, I would have wanted to spit back that I would say exactly what I said that morning every day for the rest of my life because it was true. The thing is, though, I think that kind of honesty was a once in a lifetime thing. The circumstances that prompted that outburst were a perfect storm; placed in an identical situation tomorrow, my voice might fail me.

“But as your mother—” a bright smile overwhelmed her stern expression— “I have to say that I’m very proud of you for standing up for yourself!”

When Mom flew off the bed to throw her arms around me, I wrestled with the thought that maybe she struggled to find the balance between mom and manager as much as I struggled to find the balance between human and idol. I thought she was a good mom and a good manager, and I might have told her if she hadn’t released me to grab her phone from the bed.

“There’s somebody else who wants to speak to you too.”

From that mischievous glint in her eyes, I should have expected Heechul’s voice to burst through the speaker when I held the phone up to my ear.

“KID—” he would always call me ‘kid’ no matter how old I was— “I AM SO PROUD OF YOU! NOBODY HAS EVER BEEN AS PROUD AS I AM OF YOU—”

I smiled as I held the phone away from my ear, squirming at the realization that if Heechul was congratulating me, I must have been a rogue idol.

Had anyone been paying attention to us, they would have noticed that Taemin and I walked to the pool together. Of course, we were careful not to hold hands or allow our gazes to linger, but whenever Taemin was near me, I felt that there must be some outward evidence of our bond.

I knew that it was better that the others were too engrossed in their volleyball game (except Ten, who sat on a sun chair in a well-shaded corner) to notice us until Lucas and Kai wildly beckoned for us to join the game. Yet, although I hadn’t so much as whispered to Lucas that there was something between me and Taemin, I was always slightly disappointed when none of these people— who were my closest friends— noticed what (to me) was impossible to ignore.

Taemin, clad in black swimming trunks, dashed to Kai’s side, but I explained my reluctance to join the game. “I don’t wanna get my hair wet.” Really, though, I didn’t want to shed my denim shorts.

As I walked to claim the seat next to Ten, Baekhyun cupped both hands around his mouth and yelled, “Lei! Bring me a drink!” and pointed to a small blue cooler.

When I held a freezing Sprite out to him, standing a safe distance from the edge of the pool because I expected him to pull me into the water, I teased, “You should really use your manners, Baek. ‘Please’ and ‘thank you’ are nice words.”

He swam over to me, opened the drink, and winked. “Thanks. Ya know, you should follow your own advice and go thank Ten over there.”

I wrinkled my eyebrows at Baekhyun as he gulped the drink down in one sip. “Why?”

“Ah!” Baekhyun beamed at the can as if it contained the best drink he had ever tasted or as if it had been his first drink after months of wandering through a desert. I rolled my eyes at his theatrics, and he laughed. “Oh! Because he came up with the best plan to get Momager and Donghae— Momhae, as I call them— together!”

Miraculously, nobody turned their head at Baekhyun’s hollering. I blinked at him as if that were an adequate defense against his devilish smile and feigned ignorance as best as I could. “What?”

Knowing that he had done enough to get under my skin— he had done enough to flash his hand without showing all the tricks he held up his sleeve— Baekhyun shrugged. “Why don’t ya ask Ten about it?” He suggested before swimming back to the volleyball game, leaving the Sprite can empty at my feet.

After tossing Baekhyun’s trash into the bin, I sat next to Ten. Pulling my sandaled feet onto the chair, I tried to study his expression to gather whether he actually knew about “Momhae.” Because he was wearing huge black sunglasses that covered most of his face, I couldn’t piece anything together.

I didn’t even know if Ten noticed me until a smirk tugged at his lips. “Like what ya see?”

I hadn’t even been looking at Ten like that, yet the suggestive lilt of his voice painted my face a pale pink. Maybe Ten couldn’t see my blush through his sunglasses, but I tore my gaze away anyway and sat back in my chair, arms crossed over my short cropped t-shirt.

Ten lowered his glasses to delight in my reaction to his teasing. Something about that sparkle in his eyes annoyed me— emboldened me to reply, “No, not really.”

Realizing that I wasn’t playing along with his flirtations, Ten’s jaw dropped (maybe to ask what was wrong with me), but I didn’t give him a chance to speak. “You shouldn’t be talking about my mom’s personal affairs with Baekhyun of all people.”

Ten only said, pitch high from confusion, “What?”

And I realized that Baekhyun tricked me into bringing Momhae up to another member. When he waved at me (just before Taemin launched the volleyball at his obnoxiously large head), I thought I could have murdered Baekhyun.

Ten knew absolutely nothing about Mom and Donghae. He probably hadn’t considered anything about Mom’s life outside of being a manager until I opened my big mouth. Now, he was looking for me to explain my outburst, and I only had time to briefly thank God that I hadn’t mentioned Donghae’s name before Lucas plopped down onto the foot of my chair.

I could have barked at Lucas for shaking his head like a wet dog and soaking me with pool water, but I was too grateful that he had come to dig me out of this awkward situation with Ten. Once he opened his mouth, however, I realized that Lucas was there to worsen matters.

As if Ten wasn’t sitting right there, still staring at me, Lucas said, “Dude, Lei, I’ve been meaning to tell you since, like, the start of the tour that Taemin likes you.”

Had I not known, I might have been as shocked as Ten, who sat up so quickly that his sunglasses fell onto the ground. “What? Taemin likes Lei?”

When my instinct was to hiss for Ten to be quiet, Lucas narrowed his eyes at me. “Wait. You’re not surprised enough. Did Taemin already tell you he likes you?”

I never stopped being surprised by how perceptive Lucas was. Usually, that trait made him a remarkable best friend because it enabled him to know when I was troubled without requiring an awkward exchange of feelings. In that moment, however, I wanted to kick Lucas for somehow knowing everything.

I didn’t lie exactly. “I don’t think Taemin likes me.” I didn’t think; I knew.

Neither Ten (who just liked to tease everybody) nor Lucas (who just wanted to know every intimate detail of my life) was satisfied by that response. When they continued to pester me about Taemin, I had to adopt the same tone I used in the interview to scold, “Cut it out, guys. I still have to sleep in a room with him tonight and for the rest of the tour, and you’re making it weird!”

My heart was still racing after they ceased their demands for more information. I was so overwhelmed by the fact that I had almost shared my two deepest secrets— Donghae’s love for Mom (which was directly related to her true identity as the idol who never debuted) and my love for Taemin— that I retired to my room early without apologizing to Mark, which was the entire reason why I walked down to the pool in the first place.

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jasonbehrs · 3 years

Text

i wanna read every word, chapter 3 + epilogue

by airauralintensity (aka me, jasonbehrs!)

“Have you ever fallen in love with someone you’ve never met?” “Uh, do you mean like we’ve-been-doing-long-distance-slash-online-dating or like I’ve-been-crushing-on-the-cute-barista-at-the-library-cafe?” “Ummm, more like I’ve-read-their-poems-and-sure-they’re-very-talented-but-their-handwriting-alone-makes-me-smile.” “… That’s oddly specific.”

fandom: kpop, super junior characters: eunhyuk, ryeowook; guest appearances by the rest of sj-m and yesung ship: eunwook genre: romantic comedy themes: alternate endings, strangers to lovers, handwriting, identity reveal setting: college chapter: 3+4/4 word count: 5.8k

read it below or on ffnet, aff, wattpad

~~~

He and Ryeowook haven't hung out alone before, but he's sure this won't be awkward. Their only real link may have just been Yesung, but Hyukjae likes to think he successfully ingrained himself into that entire friend group in time. He tells himself that he and Ryeowook would have had a solo hangout at some point. Ryeowook's crush situation just expedited it.

They had agreed to meet at the quad but didn't specify anything beyond that, so Hyukjae chooses a bench with high visibility so that Ryeowook could find him easily. He crosses his legs and balances a laptop over one knee and a notebook over the other, figuring he could get some work in while waiting.

Not long after, the other plops himself right next to him and pulls out his own work without even saying hi.

Hyukjae keeps his face down as he smiles to himself. So Ryeowook's feeling just as apprehensive about this as he is.

Something about that realisation makes him brave enough to break the ice. "Ah, my favourite person under 5'2". How do you do?" he snarks without pausing his typing.

In response, Ryeowook uses a single finger to tip Hyukjae's notebook onto the ground without remorse.

"Okay, I deserved that," Hyukjae admits with a chuckle as he bends to pick the notebook off the ground and put it away. "So… did you bring one of the love notes?" he asks once it's apparent they didn't really have anything else yet to talk about aside from that.

"Of course!" Ryeowook rummages through his bag and pulls out what Hyukjae can only presume is the poem scrapbook he's heard the others talk about.

"Um, is there a problem?" Hyukjae asks as he eyes how Ryeowook holds the book to his chest with both hands, making no move to hand it over.

After a long moment, Ryeowook looks at him with hard eyes and a blush on his cheek. "You have to promise me you'll be careful with it. Like, if you want to look at one more closely, then tell me, and I'll take it out for you. Actually, you'll have to clean your hands first, too; I'm worried about oils. I'm pretty sure I have wet cloths somewhere in this bag…"

Hyukjae has heard the others call the scrapbook "a little extra." He privately agrees, but seeing the way Ryeowook is so protective over the thing makes him think perhaps Ryeowook himself is, in fact, a lot of extra.

He wisely leaves those thoughts unvoiced and instead motions for Ryeowook to hurry up. The other hesitantly hands over the book, and Hyukjae makes a big show of settling it calmly on his lap.

It would have been funnier if Ryeowook hadn't legitimately sighed with relief at his action.

Hyukjae lets it go; and with more interest than he expected from himself, he opens to the first page.

"Where did you get these?!" he yelps before he could help it.

"What? Why are you yelling? What!?"

Hyukjae can only distantly hear the other, however, as he is far more preoccupied with the absolute whiplash of recognising his own handwriting in the scrapbook. Page after page is filled with his rejected songwriting assignments, now forever immortalised thanks to Ryeowook's tender care.

Ryeowook flicks him in the forehead, and he struggles to collect himself. "Um, I mean. Um. Wow! This looks like an impressive collection," he stutters out awkwardly. "And, uh, actually! I don't think you ever told me the whole story?" he blabbers, knowing full well he actually has heard the whole story but needing to redirect Ryeowook's attention towards anything other than him right now.

So he sits there and lets Ryeowook gush over Poem Person, identifying that he is slightly uncomfortable with the knowledge that said person is actually him.

Sassy, doting, health-nut Ryeowook is wistfully waxing poetic over him, over his words, over his handwriting (a concept so baffling he actually has to stifle a chuckle in real life lest he hint to Ryeowook he is not actually paying attention).

He nods absentmindedly and offers encouraging smiles at what he hopes at the right places, but his mind is more concerned with figuring out: What the fuck is he gonna do?

~I think I must be broken somewhere. Since when did I start not welcoming even myself?~

The answer, apparently, is string Ryeowook along.

Ryeowook may have initially been hesitant about getting Hyukjae's help; but now that he has it, he has bolstered his efforts to track down and meet Poem Person. Hyukjae is astounded at his forward and creative ideas, stuff like signing up to audit the class one day or even straight up coveringthe chair in chalk so that he could easily spot the person walking around campus.

"Honestly, I need a sidekick, someone to help me pull these things off," Ryeowook explains one day while they're brainstorming over lunch.

Well, Ryeowook's brainstorming.

"I'm also kinda hoping you'll be close enough to the student to act like a wingman when we finally do meet. First impressions are everything, you know."

Hyukjae, for his part, is busy trying to maintain his poker face.

He didn't come clean to Ryeowook in the quad that day because he didn't want the awkwardness. Hyukjae was not mentally ready to hear that his brand new friend had been harbouring a crush on and had been engaging in borderline-stalker behaviour over little ol' him, and he suspects Ryeowook wouldn't have taken the news very well in the moment either.

Now though, he's just trying to maintain the status quo.

It's no secret that Ryeowook had built up an idea of what Poem Person is like in his head. What's the harm in letting him have a little crush on a figment of his imagination?

So yes, he continues to plot with Ryeowook, he continues to bother Donghae by tossing scrap assignments at him in class, he continues the whole ruse.

The harm, as Hyukjae is quick to discover, is that he grossly miscalculated the effect the lie would have on him.

It starts with a text.

Are we still on for tomorrow at 2?

yep. the student union still good?

Yep, see ya there

"Who are you texting?" Siwon asks as he plops beside Hyukjae on their apartment couch, his attention mostly trained on his own phone.

"Huh? Oh, just Ryeowook. I told you about him; I'm helping him meet this guy he has a crush on."

Siwon raises an eyebrow but doesn't look up from his phone. "Oh? You were smiling at that phone like someone agreed to go on a date with you."

Hyukjae stiffens. "I was not."

That makes Siwon look up. Hyukjae valiantly meets his gaze, but he breaks eye contact just a moment later.

"... Right."

Curiously, fear follows shortly after.

Hyukjae doesn't even notice it at first. It was too subtle compared to the overwhelming confidence he gets from being around Ryeowook. With the way the other talks about him, to him, without knowing it's him… it's a heady feeling. (Case in point: The day before a modern dance midterm, Ryeowook texted him a photo of a recent Hyukjae original along with a copious amount of heart-eye emojis, and Hyukjae felt so energised that his professor pulled him to the side after his performance and concernedly asked him point-blank if he had started taking steroids.)

Ryeowook doesn't just see the best in him. He guesses at Hyukjae's flaws and turns them into superpowers. He paints an image of Hyukjae in colours that he wasn't even aware existed. It's an instant ego boost.

It isn't long, however, until Hyukjae stops hearing musings and starts hearing expectations. Ryeowook believes in a vibrant, exciting, romantic persona; someone smart and adventurous who can enable him to be as silly as he has the potential to be.

Since when was Hyukjae any of those things?

He isn't afraid of Ryeowook's wrath when the jig is eventually up, no. Wrath he could handle; wrath he deserves. Instead, he is afraid of the disappointment, the unimpressed "Oh." that Ryeowook couldn't help but let slip once he processes the truth. Hyukjae wouldn't be able to handle seeing the light in Ryeowook's eyes—the light that used to be reserved for him even if the other didn't know it—dim.

And finally comes realisation.

"Don't you think you're being a little unfair?" Hyukjae asks him one evening. They got to-go meals from the dining hall and moved as far west as they could without leaving the campus entirely. The sun is due to set any minute now, and they wanted the best seats possible.

"What do you mean?" Ryeowook asks with furrowed brows still trained on the skyline.

"You've spent so much time thinking about this guy, analysing his mood and habits and whatever. You'll meet him for the first time, but it won't really be the first time for you, you know? You'll know all this stuff about him already whereas you're a complete stranger to him. That's gotta be, like, a power imbalance or something, right? That's not fair to either of you. You've mentioned before that you don't necessarily want to date Poem Person, but that's not even a good basis for being friends with him."

Ryeowook glances at him from the corner of his eye and smirks. "If Mi were here, he'd have a lot to say right now."

Hyukjae chuckles as he lets the other change the subject. "He'd actually have only one thing to say, and I don't want to hear it."

Ryeowook hums but doesn't say anything else, attention still mostly on the sun's slow descent to the horizon. Hyukjae would have liked an answer, but he gets it. He just sprung all that on the other without any preamble, and Ryeowook probably needs time to think. Hyukjae isn't entirely sure what he wanted to hear anyway.

Ryeowook doesn't speak again until the sky finally begins to bleed red, a threatening promise for the end of the day. "You have a point, of course. I'll constantly be comparing the person he is to the person I made him out to be, even when I don't mean to, but… Something tells me that won't matter as much in the long run." He chuckles, low and with disbelief. "I couldn't tell you why; but I feel like even if I told him the whole story, even if the first things I ever say to him are the questionable antics I've engaged in just to meet him, he wouldn't run away."

And he would be right, of course. Look at where Hyukjae is now.

"You're thinking too highly of him," Hyukjae says. He means it as a way to distract from the mortifying ordeal of being known, but it comes out bitter without his permission.

Ryeowook smirks. "Is that what this is about? Are you jealous? Ooooh, are you lonely?" he teases. "Don't worry, I pay back my debts. Just tell me as soon as someone catches your attention. I can't promise forever, but I can promise a first date, for sure." He winks.

There is a long moment between when the sky finally turns black and when the streetlights flicker to life, one conveniently spotlighting the pair with its glow. It mocks Hyukjae with its inevitability.

~This night blesses the day we meet. The moon is open in the sky, and the stars smile.~

"Hyung, I'm bored."

"Okay."

"Entertain me."

"In a minute, I'm reading something for class."

"What's it about?"

"The cultural impact of Black youth on the interfaces of music and body expression in early 1970s New York City."

He appreciates Ryeowook's offer to swing by and keep him company while he studies in one of the many lounges strewn about academic campus, but he'd appreciate it a lot more if Ryeowook would actually let him study.

Ryeowook blinks. "I understood all of those words individually."

Hyukjae drags a hand down his tired face. "I'm basically in the same boat, so please? I'll do whatever you wanna do as long as I can make it to the third page of this article today. I really need to participate in tomorrow's seminar or else I'll have to take a make-up quiz."

"Fiiine," Ryeowook whines, but he thankfully starts scrolling through his phone in silence.

After a few minutes of quality reading, Hyukjae hears Ryeowook rummaging around, so he languidly raises his eyes to see how the other is choosing to preoccupy himself.

He shoots up out of his seat, barely taking the time to set his laptop down properly in his haste. "What are you doing with that!"

Ryeowook looks up from where he is crouched besides Hyukjae's open bookbag, holding a notebook in his hand. "Oh, did you need this?"

"For what? No. What?" Hyukjae spouts in rapid fire, thrown-off by how Ryeowook responded to his question with one of his own.

Ryeowook's eyes light up. "Excellent! I thought you needed this for your homework," he comments as he lets himself fall backwards onto his butt. "I was just gonna read your handwriting while I waited. I can't believe I never thought to check yours out before. I've basically gone through everyone else's in the friend group."

Hyukjae could kick himself for letting such a good excuse slip right out of his hands, but the room seems to have gone in slow motion as Ryeowook proceeds to open up the notebook to a random page. Like a man possessed, Hyukjae dives straight for Ryeowook's lap, successfully knocking the notebook out of the other's grasp in the process.

…

"Hi," he says over his shoulder when the silence has gone on for too long. Ryeowook raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Hyukjae chuckles awkwardly while he manoeuvers himself out of Ryeowook's lap with as much grace as a baby deer on ice. He quickly snatches up his notebook while Ryeowook is still prone and simply observing his movements, and then he doesn't know what to do next.

Ryeowook takes over from here, standing up calmly and striding right into Hyukjae's personal space. Despite having several centimetres on the other, Hyukjae cannot help but feel small under the other's assessing gaze. "There is clearly something in that notebook you don't want me to see."

Hyukjae eyes the room, trying to calculate his odds. "Yes," he hesitantly confirms.

Ryeowook narrows his eyes. "Is it about me?" he asks with an edge to his voice.

"No." The half-truth comes out much quicker, thankfully.

Ryeowook purses his lips then nods. He takes two steps back, and Hyukjae almost does something silly like reach for his waist to keep him nearby. "Alright, here's what's going to happen. I'm going to let you finish your homework without intruding on your privacy. In return, you'll buy me boba and bring me a notebook I can read the next time we meet."

Hyukjae sighs with relief and readily agrees to those terms.

A few days later, he confidently hands over Siwon's old notebook from their shared Psych 101 class and a medium taro boba.

Ryeowook opens up to the first page then laughs in Hyukjae's face, high and bright. "This is your notebook?" he manages to ask through his cackles. "No wonder you didn't want me seeing it. You must have known I was going to make fun of you."

"Why? Why?" Hyukjae demands, affronted. It may not have been his handwriting, but still.

"It's like your handwriting is Jekyll, and you're Hyde. I look at this, and I don't see you at all."

Hyukjae looks over Ryeowook's shoulder to see what he's working with, and he can't help but agree. Siwon's handwriting is neat, consistent, and in perfect lines straight across the page. Rich kids and their calligraphy classes, dammit.

Nevertheless, he tries to salvage the situation. "Come on, you know I'm a neat person."

Ryeowook snorts, but he nods his head in agreement. "That may be true; but if someone had to write a list of things about you, 'neat' wouldn't even make it in the top 50."

"Can you think of 50 things about me?" Hyukjae teases as he slinks back around to Ryeowook's front, effortlessly plucking the notebook out of the other's hands in the process.

Ryeowook crosses his newly freed arms in front of his chest and smirks. "Yep. 1 would be that you're a brat, and 50 would be that your feet smell."

"Yah! My shoes don't breathe!" Hyukjae whines. "I want 50 nice things," he continues above Ryeowook's snickers.

"Oof, that'll be tough. How about just 5, and you get to pick what movie we watch next?" Ryeowook haggles.

Hyukjae rolls his eyes but agrees. He'll take what he can get.

"1: You're not half-bad at impressions. 2: You like strawberry and chocolate, but only as separate flavours," Ryeowook starts, counting off on his fingers as he goes. "3: You're great at charades. 4: Everybody likes you because 5: you know exactly what to be, do, or say when the situation calls for it. You're not just flexible as a dancer, but as a person, and it's the best thing about you."

Hyukjae doesn't fight the toothy grin that stretches wide across his face. "You think so?"

Ryeowook nods very seriously, but there is an undeniable glimmer in his eyes. "Absolutely. With a lack of other suitable candidates, it's your best quality by default."

~I don't know why you keep staying with me. I lack so much for you, and I'm sorry about that.~

It would be easier to stop being in love with Ryeowook if the other didn't actually seem to value his company and insights.

There are days when they've hung out and talked about anything and everything but the song lyrics, when Ryeowook will bake Hyukjae strawberry scones and give him meaningful feedback on his choreography. They're both witty but in different ways, so they're always cracking up; and in those moments, he can't help but imagine he's already told the truth, that Ryeowook has already accepted him, and that this is what they could look like together.

But then he looks into Ryeowook's eyes and the warmth he sees there burns at a different temperature than the warmth he feels, and Hyukjae is painfully reminded that is not the case.

He can only take so much.

Despite knowing in his gut that it's the absolute wrong call to make, Hyukjae retreats. Stuck between yearning for Ryeowook yet fearing facing him and being frustrated with himself for equivocating on what to do, it's easier to just not do anything at all. He cancels more, begs off group hangouts, throws himself into his dance rehearsals. He even attempts going to the gym once just to keep his mind occupied and off of the problem.

Honestly, life could get better.

As he presses 'ignore' on the nth call he's received from Ryeowook that week, he offhandedly notices that blowing the other off feels way worse than lying in the first place. Let's see him spin that into a positive.

Hyukjae's doing great on his passive, brooding agenda until a few weeks later when he accidentally looks up from where he was perusing just as Henry enters the music library. By virtue of the youngest's classical performance degree, the two of them share the most colleagues and classes of any pair in the group.

He is honestly lucky it took so long.

He offers a stiff nod in acknowledgement and hopes that that's that, but Henry wanders over to his aisle with too much nonchalance to have not been intentional.

He doesn't leave Hyukjae in suspense for too long. "Ryeowook-hyung won't stop baking, you know."

"Huh?" Hyukjae asks dumbly, thrown completely off-guard from the unexpected comment.

"Seriously, he won't stop. You could get drunk off the stench of vanilla extract permanently in the air of the apartment."

Hyukjae realises with regret that he's never had a good opportunity to hang with the group at Ryeowook and Mi's apartment. "Oh. That's good, I guess."

"It would be better if we were allowed to eat any of it," Henry says, flicking through the records in front of him. Hyukjae almost believes it's a fake, idle action, but sometimes Henry nods and writes something down on his phone after inspecting an album.

"Yeah, it would be," Hyukjae offers at last for lack of anything better to say. Despite the stilted and tense atmosphere, he feels compelled to continue the conversation.

Henry nods again, but Hyukjae could tell that's for him. "I think he's saving it for someone that he expects to come by, but who else would come aside from any of us, you know?"

It is unclear if Henry includes Hyukjae in that 'us,' but Hyukjae doesn't dwell on it. Something much more pressing is on his mind. "What kind of stuff is he baking?" he asks, very afraid of the answer.

"He's been experimenting. Caramel chip cookies, cinnamon-lemon cupcakes, strawberry scones… But you know him. It's all low-fat, protein-enhanced flour shit; pretty sure he'd get kicked out of the nutrition program if it weren't," Henry says with a chuckle, but Hyukjae can't bring himself to laugh along.

Those all sound perfectly delicious, and something worse than vanity tells him that that's on purpose. The thought fills Hyukjae with so much more guilt that tears press against his eyes.

"Um, t-thanks, but I gotta—I gotta go," he stutters out through unmoving lips. What it is he's thanking Henry for, he has no clue; but he's far more preoccupied with exiting stage left from this scene as soon as humanly possible. "It was good to see you again," he adds as a reflex, already two steps further down but still facing Henry.

Henry raises his head from the jewel cases just as Hyukjae reaches the end of the aisle, and the slight smile he gives is so loaded with patronisation, pity, and perception that Hyukjae turns on his heel and runs.

~Longing is a beautiful pain I thought I could endure.~

After a whole class of not paying attention to a single minute—instead, wondering if maybe he should just get out with it, all of it: the deception, his feelings—Hyukjae leaves to find Ryeowook waiting right outside the door for him to exit.

"You don't normally get up this early," he comments in surprise, walking up to the other before he could help himself.

Ryeowook shrugs. "Well, I needed to talk to you, and I realised I didn't know enough about you. I don't know where you live, where you normally like to hang out; all I knew for sure is that you had class in this room at this time, so… Anyway, can we talk?"

Hyukjae's immediate instinct is to come up with an excuse, any excuse—he spent a whole class thinking about what he would do next time he faced Ryeowook but still hadn't settled on an answer—but Ryeowook reads his hesitation for what it is and makes the decision for him.

"Actually, we're going to talk whether you want to or not! Starting with: why have you been avoiding the group, avoiding me!" he yells. Hyukjae winces from Ryeowook's harsh words and high tone but can't bring himself to say or do anything more to stop the tirade. He's in no position to ask for leniency.

"I turned it over and over in my head, and I realised: I didn't even do anything! Are you mad at me because I didn't take enough time to get to know you? Are you tired of helping me? Why are you—you should have used your words and said something—whatever it was that was bothering you!—instead of just ignoring me like that!"

Hyukjae only notices that Ryeowook's volume and impassioned speech is attracting attention from other students and faculty in the hallway because he's avoiding the other's gaze, but he knows Ryeowook would be embarrassed about it later.

He hurriedly ushers them back inside Bomnal 235 despite Ryeowook's protests. The other angrily shrugs off Hyukjae's touch as soon as possible and stomps to the rear right quadrant of the room to sit, crossing his arms and legs in one fluid movement and pouting cutely.

Well, Hyukjae would think it was cute if he noticed it. His attention is instead captured by Ryeowook's choice of seating. If Ryeowook practiced the same seats code of conduct, then…

Without really thinking about it, he moves up and slides into his own seat, exactly behind Ryeowook's. He can tell the other is surprised he doesn't sit next to him, but Hyukjae focuses instead on the half-baked plan that formed in the time it took to ascend the stairs.

Ryeowook is petulantly turned towards the front, sure that he's said his piece already and waiting for Hyukjae to talk. Instead, he feels something light and crunchy hit the back of his head. "Yah!" he yelps, turning to glare at the offender, who is steadfastly scrawling something down on his notebook.

"You're doing it again. You're ignoring me instead of talking to me. If you're just gonna sit there and do homework, I'm gonna lea—YAH!" He's cut off by another bunched up piece of paper hurtling right for him, which he angrily swats away in mid-air. "What are you doing!?" he demands, but Hyukjae just throws another wad of paper at his desk instead, his aim perfectly allowing the paper to land right next to where Ryeowook's notebook would have been if he were in class... almost like he's done it dozens of times before.

Ryeowook frowns and picks up the most recent paper and smooths it open before gasping.

He would recognise this handwriting anywhere.

Unfolding my only crumpled wish You and I are in it

He quickly lifts his eyes back to Hyukjae, who refuses to meet his gaze even as he throws another wad of paper at Ryeowook's desk. Ryeowook picks up the first one that bounced off the back of his head and scrambles to find the second one which he had swatted away.

In this very short moment I'm just following my feelings

With trembling fingers, he finally opens the first one, which reads, "Didn't you say you'd recognise my handwriting anywhere?"

He looked up with cloudy eyes to see his desk slowly being overrun with scraps of paper and Hyukjae continuing to write on. Ryeowook slowly walks up to the paper pile and begins opening them one by one.

I'm sorry it turned out this way.

On each paper is a single sentence,

Honestly, I thought you were a lot of extra.

a confession, sometimes, or a timeline.

The sun set, that streetlight flicked on, and I knew it for sure.

As he reads the pages in no certain order,

You thought so highly of me, I was flattered and burdened all at once.

he literally pieces together Hyukjae's story,

What else was I supposed to do except throw them on his desk and annoy him?

from when he first realised the truth

It was so embarrassing to see all my rejected song lyrics immortalised forever by your hands.

to why he had avoided the other.

I didn't mean to hurt you, but I didn't want you to hurt me either.

As he continues reading, Ryeowook couldn't help but feel there is something missing, something that ties the whole narrative together. Alas, even after he finishes all the pieces on his desk, he couldn't figure out what.

Far past the point of anger and instead seeking to simply, finally understand, he looks to Hyukjae, who finally meets his gaze.

Without Hyukjae's constant scratching at his notebook paper, the classroom is loudly silent. He underhand tosses one final wad of paper to Ryeowook, and Ryeowook reads the intention in the action and catches it easily. He opens it up to read a final set of lyrics.

I still can't say the words Those words that make my voice run dry I love you more than anyone else

Ryeowook couldn't breathe. "You love me?" he asks with trembling lips, voice no louder than a whisper but reaching Hyukjae all the same.

Hyukjae slouches into his seat, hands outstretched and anxiously tapping his pen on the table. He keeps his head turned to the side when he nods. "I couldn't help it."

"And you lied to me."

"I'm sorry."

"Were you ever gonna tell me?'"

Hyukjae snaps into an upright position. "I wanted to!" He looks Ryeowook in the eye, trying to express as much sincerity as possible. "By god, I wanted to. But the way you talked about Poem Person… That's the guy you deserve. He wouldn't have led you on for weeks because he's a coward," he spits out.

"But he did."

"But he shouldn't have."

"But he's telling me now."

"But he wasted your time!"

"Why are you talking about yourself like that; he's you!"

"You didn't know that until five minutes ago!"

Ryeowook takes a moment, and Hyukjae forces himself to match the lowered state of tension that results. "It's not so hard to believe, now that I know the truth," the other says after a beat.

Hyukjae doesn't know how to respond to that, so he doesn't. Ryeowook rolls his eyes. "You've heard me go on and on about your impulsiveness and emotional depth and whatever." He gestures to the pile of papers in front of him. "That's what this all seems like to me."

"I can't possibly have been what you expected, what you were hoping for," Hyukjae argues, trying to force the situation into a boiling point. He just laid himself bare in front of the person he's in love with, and none of his worst-case scenarios have come to fruition yet.

"I was hoping to meet the person with the lazy H's and the perpetually rose-coloured glasses, that's it," Ryeowook maintains calmly, but Hyukjae doesn't feel calm at all. He just keeps tapping, and Ryeowook sighs. "What I expected doesn't even matter. I knew there was a real person behind those notes, someone who came with all the complexities being a person entails. All my daydreams were just that; and even if every single one of them were wrong, and for some reason I couldn't handle that disappointment, that's on me. How I reacted to finally meeting you was not your responsibility."

"Are you?"

"What?"

Here it comes. "Are you disappointed?"

"Hyukjae."

The soft tone of Ryeowook's voice makes his heart clench, and Hyukjae shuts his eyes in self-preservation.

His anxiously tapping hand is stopped later by an equally soft touch, and he looks up in shock.

He hesitates to recognise the warmth he finds in Ryeowook's kind, earnest eyes. It's different from what he's seen before, but he doesn't want to categorise it any further than that. Has he imagined this temperature so much that it doesn't look out of place?

Ryeowook can see the moment Hyukjae focuses on him again, and he brings his other hand to squeeze both of Hyukjae's in turn.

"How could I be?" he asks, and he means it.

~I'll hold your two hands and confess, I pinky promise. Thank you for coming to me.~

EPILOGUE

Mi hums to himself as he turns the key to the lock of his apartment front door, arms laden with grocery bags…

… Which he allows to drop to the floor in shock as soon as he catches sight of the couple making out on the couch.

Ryeowook and Hyukjae break apart at the noise, heavily panting and cheeks flushed. Neither of them stop staring at him, and he cannot stop staring back.

Mi has so many thoughts running through his head, like Since when has that been a thing? and I can never sit on that couch again, but the one that comes out is, "What about Poem Person?"

If possible, Ryeowook and Hyukjae's cheeks flush even further, and Mi's incredulity slowly makes way for glee as he expects their response.

The caught pair turn to each other, communicating hurriedly through eye contact and muscle twitches alone before facing Mi again.

"Um, well, long story short…" Ryeowook begins.

"It was me," Hyukjae finishes.

Mi can't help it as he begins crying real, happy tears.

The gender has finally been confirmed.

~This happiness I noticed can be our starting point.~

~~~

A/N (6.14.2021): Wow, hasn't this been a ride! Eternal thanks everyone for reading and commenting; thanks Dorcas for your support; and thanks Amy for being my sanity check. If you hadn't already noticed, SJ lyrics were abound in the fic, whether in section breaks, narration, or dialogue! Were you able to recognise all of the songs? :D

Also, now that you've read the whole story, I'd love to know: Did you notice that neither Eunhyuk nor Ryeowook ever feel guilt for their brands of dishonesty? As written, do the chapters progress in such a way that it is sensible—maybe even natural—despite the lack of it?

If you did notice, did that impact your reading experience at all? If you didn't, does knowing now change anything? And ultimately, in a story whose crux is deception, is guilt necessary for redemption?

Share your thoughts in a review, comment, PM, DM, whatever!

#super junior #super junior fanfiction #ryeowook #eunwook #eunhyuk #jaso*#iwrew

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kpopmultifan · 4 years

Text

Scheduled New Releases: October 2020 - Week 5

This list will continually be updated when MVs, iTunes/Apple Music & Spotify links, & additional new release information become available.

Seunghee x Jiho x Binnie (of Oh My Girl) - I Know! (OST Digital Single) “Start-Up” OST Pt.4 Release Date: October 25th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

TXT (Tomorrow x Together) - Minisode 1: Blue Hour (3rd Mini-Album) Title Track: Blue Hour [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 26th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

DKB - Growth (3rd Mini-Album) Title Track: Work Hard [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 26th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

TWICE - Eyes Wide Open (2nd Album) Title Track: I Can’t Stop Me [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 26th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

Himchan (formerly of B.A.P) - Reason of My Life (Solo Debut Single) [MV] Release Date: October 26th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

CIX - Chapter 3: Hello, Strange Time (3rd Mini-Album) Title Track: Jungle [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 27th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

Super Junior-K.R.Y - Traveler (1st Japanese Single) [MV] Release Date: October 28th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

P1Harmony - Disharmony: Stand Out (Debut Mini-Album) Title Track: Siren [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 28th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

JBJ95 - Jasmin (4th Mini-Album) Title Track: Jasmin [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 28th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

DRIPPIN - Boyager (Debut Mini-Album) Title Track: Nostalgia [MV] [highlight medley] Release Date: October 28th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

PENTAGON - Daisy (Japanese & Chinese Versions) (Digital Single) Daisy (Japanese Version) [Lyric Video] Daisy (Chinese Version) [Lyric Video] Release Date: October 28th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

CL - +HWA+ / +5STAR+ (Single) Track: +HWA+ [MV] Release Date: October 29th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

Jung Yonghwa (of CNBLUE) - Shall We Kiss (OST Digital Single) “The Spy Who Loved Me” OST Pt.1 Release Date: October 29th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

Mino (of WINNER) - Take (2nd Album) Title Track: Run Away [MV] Release Date: October 30th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

Raiden x HYO (Hyoyeon of Girl’s Generation) - Think About Me (feat. Coogie) (Digital Single) [MV] SM STATION Release Date: October 30th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

Gaho - Running (OST Digital Single) “Start-Up” OST Pt.5 Release Date: October 30th [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

PRISMA - BREAKOUT (Debut Single) [MV] Release Date: October 31st [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

NTX - The Opening: Herma (3rd Pre-Debut Single) Title Track: Magic Shoes [Performance MV] Release Date: October 31st [Apple Music/iTunes] [Spotify]

#new releases #release schedule

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anywhozits · 4 years

Text

All I Really Want: Chapter 2

Rating: T

Pairing: Kristanna (at some point lol)

Verse: 90s High School AU / frozen retelling

Read on AO3

This wasn’t Anna’s first rodeo. During her freshman year at Arendelle Prep; hell, even during eighth grade and if she were drunk enough to admit it—that one time halfway through 7th grade when she really, really wanted to smooch Charlie Blower that 9th grader who she ran into in the hallway, she went to these kinds of parties.

The classic Arendelle Prep rager. Rich parents out on some kind of business trip. Way too much vodka. Cheap beer. Hot tubs. Silly games. Maybe a bonfire or two which like, totally wasn’t dangerous at all.

This night was the same as others before it. Bebe Shelley’s parents were out in Cabo for some reason with the “law school buddies” or “law firm buddies” or whatever her gross-ass dad called the ring of people he did lots of coke and called up prostitutes with. Well—not like that last part would happen with the wives present. Or would it.

Anna shuddered—literally—at the thought.

Gross. No. She didn’t want to think of any of that super messed up shit. She couldn’t believe Ashley even told her all of that. But maybe it was a coping mechanism or something.

Her driver, the most illustrious Kai, her aid in everything mischievous she had been up to ever since that 7th grade party where she had succeeded in smooching Charlie Blower, pulled the car up to Bebe’s house.

She took a deep breath. She was nervous for some reason. Probably because she knew Bebe’s sister Ashley would’ve invited the entire junior class and Anna had an inkling she super wanted to smooch tonight, too. And the juniors were the most totally hot grade in the upper school right now. Like, everybody knew it. Even the teachers. She’d heard Mrs. Adamson talking about it in a hushed voice with Mrs. Ingalls at convocation last week.

They were hot. Smoking hot, really. Like, smoking hot period.

And it helped that these were the boys who already were super into freshmen like her. Their first dance of the year, glowdown, was filled with her and her friends finding any way to grind on them. And they liked it too. Clearly. Anna felt that they liked it.

But somehow she made the stupid mistake of starting a grind off with Bebe that distracted from her goal. Sure, she’d won. Twenty-four guys compared to Bebe’s seventeen. But she hadn’t done anything else with them.

So she hadn’t secured herself that man she told herself she wanted since high school started. High school meant romance and drama and maybe a little bit of learning or something, too. But she wanted a high school boyfriend. She wanted someone to light up her life and her heart and she wanted everything that came with having that. She just wanted… someone. She wanted love. She wanted someone to love her.

The car came to a stop. Kai gave Anna a knowing ‘see you in the morning’ nod before ushering her out of the car. She opened the door slowly but slamming it suddenly, confused as to why she didn’t hear the familiar sound of the door banging closed behind her until she remembered that her best friend sat in the seat next to her.

“Wait! Kristoff—sorry. I forgot—” Anna shook her head. “Nevermind. Are you ready?” Anna was just so used to arriving to these kinds of house parties alone. Kristoff usually avoided them, unless Anna was the host, of course, but tonight Anna had begged and begged him until he finally gave in. All she had to do was jut out her lip and give him those classic puppy dog eyes. Rest assured he would do whatever she asked.

“Yeah. I’m ready.” His face was morphed into an extremely dissatisfied pout. Anna imagined he probably regretted agreeing to this whole situation, but she was thankful he came anyway. If this night didn’t go the way she planned, then she’d be happy to instead spend the night with him jumping on trampolines and running around to beat of the Smashing Pumpkins’ guitar riffs.

Kristoff’s drunken air guitar talents were legendary. Every time.

“Um… you sure?” Anna had tried to walk a few paces ahead of him but Kristoff remained firmly planted on the driveway. “You’re not moving at all.”

“Right,” Kristoff said. “Moving. Gotta… move.” Eventually he picked up his pace, shuffling his feet to catch up to Anna. She turned to face him, then, smiling wide at one of the people who consistently lit up her world.

His black Offspring skull t-shirt billowed a little bit in the slight wind of an Orange County January. Anna noticed a little hint of his sketchily acquired Nirvana tattoo sticking out from the sleeve of his left arm. But literally just a glimpse. The curve of the smiley face’s chin.

She thought it was damn awesome that at sixteen years old he already had two tattoos. Like he somehow had the balls to sneak out and find someone who would do that to minors. Someone he ended up befriending, even. He had a connection.

Naturally she’d debated getting one herself, but she still felt too young. Yeah, Kristoff and Anna were in the same grade, but he was basically two years older than her. Somehow, she was only reminded of this when she caught sight of his tattoos. What Anna deemed the ultimate symbol of maturity. Of… advanced age. Of those two years between them.

When Kristoff reached her, Anna grabbed hold of his hand, and they walked hand in hand to the intricately carved mahogany door of the Shelley household. Anna pressed the doorbell, hoping the chime would ring over the S Club 7 blasting through the surround sound.

Thankfully, Ashley pulled open the door. “Ohmygod, Anna!” Ashley bounced up to Anna and hugged her with such force Anna thought she might burst. She could feel the stark, well—hard proof of Ashley’s boob job. A sixteenth birthday present that had set off an endless stream of gossip. “And you brought your friend… Christopher, was it?”

“Kristoff.”

“Right. Well—welcome, Kristoff! Glad you could make it.”

Anna shrugged and clapped her hands together. She felt a jolt of excitement shoot through her. A party! A party was just what she needed to forget about her shit week. Elsa hadn’t called back after Anna had left her at least twelve or thirteen messages and her parents had done nothing but ignore her. But what else was new on that front…her parents were a lost cause. But Elsa. Elsa was busy, though. At her boarding school. Studying hard, probably. And there was also the three-hour time difference. Anna knew that. There were loads of reasons why Elsa didn’t call back. She couldn’t be disappointed.

She wouldn’t be.

So, Anna smiled through it. She tried her very best to swallow the tremble in her voice. “I need something to drink.” Not one crack. Not one break. She always did such a great job hiding.

“You know where to find those,” Ashley added with a wink. She ushered Kristoff and Anna to the kitchen and made a beeline for what appeared to be the dance floor.

Anna skipped—literally skipped—to the kitchen, Kristoff stumbling behind her and nodding nervously when she handed him a shot of vodka. He took one whiff and scrunched up his face. He wasn’t usually a shot guy but Anna brought it out in him.

She knew he had some stuff he wanted to forget, too.

“Threetwoone!” Her countdown was decidedly not a countdown. Both Anna and Kristoff grimaced intensely when the liquid stung their throats and then chased the vodka heavily with some Sunny D.

“Another one?” Kristoff asked, feeling nothing. What a heavyweight. Anna remained incredibly jealous. A couple months ago, Olaf told Anna that she could never go shot to shot with Kristoff and her own stupid dumb naïve stubbornness made her do it. That night had ended so poorly. Probably. Well—no way it could have ended any other way. Anna didn’t remember anything past shot number nine. Her throat burned for days from all the barfing she did.

But tonight, she figured she’d keep to a limit. A few drinks behind Kristoff at all times. Except for now… “Let’s do it!”

So they did. Switching to a chaser of Hawaiian punch this time. Kristoff had definitely poured at least a shot and a half into their red solo cups, but Anna was grateful for it, honestly. Now she felt the perfect amount of buzz for her Junior Boy Hunt. That sounded like an okay name for this quest. Junior Boy Hunt. Had some mediocre ring to it.

She’d keep it for now.

Kristoff took one more shot and then grabbed himself a beer but not before pouring Anna a vodka cranberry.

“Thanks, Kris,” Anna said. “I’m going to take a lap, I think.”

“Okay. I’ll be here, probably. Or… looking for Olaf. I think he said he might come.”

Anna nodded and smiled at him, thinking to herself that this was where and how Junior Boy Hunt began. She held the red solo cup so tightly her knuckles started to turn white. She massaged her lip between her teeth in sheer resolve. Her eyes roamed over the crowd of people on the dance floor.

They all seemed mostly paired off.

Then she looked at the living room. Also pairs.

Jesus. Was this some kind of a hook up party and she didn’t get the memo to arrive early enough to secure her place?

Whatever.

She pivoted in her Vans to run outside, but right as she did, she bumped straight into someone and the entirety of her vodka cranberry spilled all over the front of her shirt. “Ooof!” She yelled, laughing just as she always did when she did something clumsy. Because. Classic Anna, let’s be real.

“Whoa!” The mysterious human wall grabbed her shoulders to stabilize himself. But then he ran his hands along her arms and held onto her hands right as he stared into her eyes and then Anna realized oh shit this human wall was a guy who was actually really, really hot and maybe this was, like, fate or something because hot DAMN. He wore a pink Lacoste collared shirt which seemed to make his bright red hair sparkle. His most striking feature—by far—was his eyes, filled with a beautiful, engulfing green that swirled in a shocking mixture of mischievousness and confidence. She’d never in her entire life seen eyes that color. Like… an emerald. It captivated her. She didn’t want to move. “I’m sorry about that… oh, fuck. Your drink… on your…” His eyes drifted down to her white tank top. He was definitely staring at her cleavage. Anna puffed out her chest a little bit in response.

“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I get distracted by—um, I run into people a lot. I mean, I’m really clumsy. I guess. It’s not because you’re hot or anything. Well, you are hot, but I don’t… that’s not why I ran into you, it’s more just because I wasn’t looking—I didn’t notice you were hot until, well, right now, and—”

“I’m Hans,” he said and Anna exhaled. So she hadn’t made a complete fool of herself with her rambling. Those little blessings. “Westergaard.”

“Anna Larsen.” There was a slight twinkle in his eyes when she said this.

“You go to Arendelle Prep?”

“Yeah. I’m in Bebe’s grade.”

He chuckled. “Fresh meat.”

“Yup! And you’re a…?”

“Junior. Ashley’s my good um… friend.” Except the way he said that made Anna think maybe they were something more than friends and it made her nervous. “I’m sure she could give you a new shirt.”

“Oh, I don’t really care about the stain.”

“It’s a little see-through.”

Anna blushed. Hard. She definitely had cheeks the shade of ketchup and it only made it worse that he still held onto her hands. Thank the Lord she had bought a new metallic green bathing suit last week.

“You know, I think I recognize you from somewhere,” Hans said. “Are you on the volleyball team?”

She blushed again. “Yeah. I am. Volleyball, basketball, and track, actually.” Technically track season hadn’t started yet, but she found it important to mention anyway.

“My friends and I… we like watching the volleyball games.”

Anna laughed nervously. She could feel it… now was the time to be bold. Now was the time to really put the Junior Boy Hunt plan into action. “So, um… wanna get me a new drink? And you can… um—meet me outside?” Anna tried her best to be assertive. She wanted him to know she was interested and more than anything else she needed him to know that she was mature. She was a freshman, sure—fresh meat or whatever he had said earlier, but this wasn’t her first party, and this wasn’t her first time making out with somebody the first night she met them.

“Vodka cranberry?”

“Make it a vodka soda this time. Don’t wanna ruin any more clothes.”

He laughed at her and she went giddy. Her heart fluttered a mile a minute. Okay. Not too shabby. Junior Boy Hunt was already a resounding success. She spun around to watch him walk to the kitchen and stared longingly at the way he poured her drink. Kristoff had disappeared somewhere, probably looking for Olaf. She’d meet up with him later. No worries.

So, then Anna skipped excitedly outside, finding a perfect spot next to the fire where she could see herself spending the rest of the night with Hans. What a thrill. She couldn’t wait.

She discarded her tank top, pleased enough to have a solid vodka-cranberry soiled excuse to show off her new bikini, fixed her braids, and pulled down her jean cutoff shorts. Biting her lip while she tried to determine how much of her abs would peek through while sitting on this chair.

Laying herself out in as Barbie as a pose as she could, Anna found her footing. Her body glistened in the light of the crackling fire, her freckles on display. Her shorts low enough on her hips to showcase her small waist and her voluptuous booty. Well. Not that he would really be able see her booty since she had to use it to, like, sit on. But still. She looked enrapturing like this and she knew it.

She counted down the seconds until she figured he would come back with their drinks and see her like this. Thrilled.

But then.

“Oh, hey, Anna,” Kristoff said, sliding into the spot next to her on the patio couch.

Anna shot to attention, emerged from her Barbie pose, and scooted a little bit away from him. “Oh. Kristoff. Hi.” Her eyes darted about, trying to see if she saw Hans anywhere. She didn’t want him to be turned off by the fact she now spoke to a guy like twice his size. Hans didn’t know that Kristoff was just a friend. And what if, seeing her here… he thought that it meant she found somebody new. That she didn’t want him. Because that wasn’t the case. Like, literally at all. Obviously. Anna had… maybe a couple times considered smooching Kristoff. Maybe a couple. Well, technically handful was the better word to describe how many times she’d had that thought. But that didn’t mean she liked him liked him. She just liked him as a friend. And sometimes it was hard to separate friend feelings from romantic feelings and… besides.

He definitely thought of her has a friend. A little sister he had said once. And it still made her stomach sink even thinking of the night he said those two words.

“You couldn’t find Olaf?”

“I’m not so sure he’s here. I looked all over.”

“Oh, well…” Anna started panicking a bit. She knew Hans had to be on his way, and if her big brother or best friend whatever the heck he was to her cock blocked her like this she would be pissed. Her eyes beat back and forth and back and forth. She didn’t see the flash of Hans’s red hair anywhere. For now, she was safe. But only for now. “Listen—”

Kristoff smiled softly. “Have I ever told you how cute you look in braids?”

The comment made Anna blush and momentarily forgot her mission. “No.”

“Well, you do. You—”

But then she saw Hans walking through the sliding glass door. And she got desperate. “Kristoff, um… I think it’s best—I need to—”

“Anna!” Hans somehow squeezed his way between the two of them on the couch. Kristoff recoiled and exhaled in a pout. “Got you these.” He handed her not one but two vodka sodas. For himself, he had chosen some generic looking beer bottle. “Thought you looked thirsty.”

Anna was happy to double fist. She felt like she needed some added liquid confidence for this next part of her quest.

“Who’s this guy?” Hans said this in a way that made it seem like Kristoff didn’t sit so close to him that their thighs rubbed together.

“That’s Kristoff. He’s my friend. Um…He was just leaving.” She’d explain everything to him later. But for now she felt bad.

Kristoff slouched, and his eyes shot to the floor. He looked so dejected that guilt churned within Anna’s stomach. But slowly he got up, nodding, not quite looking into Anna’s eyes when he said, “Yup. I need to… um. Bye.”

Anna exhaled slowly. Everything would be fine once she explained it to him. He probably already knew what the deal was.

So, she tried to put that thread of guilt out of her mind.

“Sorry about that. He’s great, I promise. He’s just… he gets overwhelmed at parties like this.” Anna moved in closer to Hans, trying to recreate her earlier pose. She took a sip of one of the drinks, placing the other one carefully on the floor. It was strong. Hans had blessed her with a heavy pour. She took a couple more gulps of the vodka and then cleared her throat. “So… where do you live?” Anna mentally kicked herself. What kind of a way to start the conversation was this?

“Newport.”

“Oh—um. Beach or Coast? I live in Newport Coast.”

“Beach. Port streets.”

“Awesome,” Anna said, exhaling. Trying to decide what her next move was. She took a few sips of the vodka soda, thankfully feeling a bit more buzzed. He had to have put at least two shots in it. “I—um—my family has a beach house on the Peninsula. Not too far from the Fun Zone, um. If you’ve ever been.”

“The Fun Zone?” His whole entire face lit up and he instantly became even dreamier. “Sure I’ve been. First ferris wheel I ever went on.”

Hans’s hand found Anna’s upper thigh and she instantly felt both a pressure down below and a heart heaving thrill of excitement the second he did. His eyes fell to her bikini again.

And then. Right then.

Anna knew she had him in the palm of her hand. She didn’t feel nervous anymore.

“The ferris wheel is great,” she laughed, effortlessly. “We used to go there all the time when I was little. My dad spun me too hard on the Drummer Boy and I threw up next to the trash can. Like, I was so close to making it an elegant barf that nobody had to clean up or anything but nope. I failed. Literally… adjacent to the trash can.”

Hans laughed now. Heartily.

Yes. Nice work, Anna. You’re funny. You’ve got this. Two points to Anna in the Junior Boy Hunt. And then, while still laughing, he moved his hand a little further up on her thigh. Two more points. “My sister made it to the bathroom. Barfed in the toilet. And I think that moment really set us on our life trajectories. Class Act Elsa and Hot Mess Anna.”

He laughed again. She had to give herself at least five points for that one.

“Elsa’s your sister?”

“Mmhmm. She’s like a super genius. Goes to this uppity boarding school in New England and will probably end up at Harvard or something after she graduates in May,” Anna said cheerily, chugging her drink. Willing herself to forget those unanswered phone calls. “And… meanwhile here I am.” She sipped—more like slurped—her drink at least thrice. “Hot.” Sip. “Mess.” Sip. She gulped. Time for a redirection. “Do you have any siblings?”

“Twelve.”

Now Anna laughed. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. I’m the youngest of thirteen. All brothers.”

“I’m jealous,” Anna said. Meaning it wholeheartedly. She’d love to have a house that full. But then she noticed Hans looking at her sideways and she recoiled. “Is that weird?” Hans didn’t answer her, he just ran his hand along her cheek. So slowly, so delicately that Anna felt herself shiver. “Must’ve been chaotic, then. Going to The Fun Zone as a pack of thirteen kids.”

“Yeah, my brothers were assholes about it. Always trying to force me on Scary Dark Ride.”

“What? You’re telling me you were scared?” Anna cackled. Literally cackled. “That ride’s so lame! Like, totally not scary. At all.”

Hans’s voice got lower, edging on husky when he said, “Maybe I’ll let you force me on it sometime.”

Anna’s heart almost stopped right there. He wanted to go out with her, like, on a date? Probably? That was a date, right? He meant this as a date? The two of them going to The Fun Zone. Maybe he meant in a group. Like a group of them would go and a group of them ride the ride and then get some ice cream and hang out at her beach house or something. But then Anna took a few more horrid burning sips of her drink and decided… fuck it. “You mean like a date?” She scooted even closer to him somehow and pushed her upper arms against her top. She didn’t have the biggest boobs. Well, definitely not compared to Ashley and her fake-ass ones, but she still knew how to show them off. And Hans seemed interested, so…

She tucked a loose strand of hair around her ear and chugged the last bit of one vodka soda as she waited for his answer.

But it never came.

Instead, she felt the warmth of his lips covering her own. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her on top of him, so she straddled him with ease.

“You’re beautiful,” he said between kisses.

Her heart fluttered at those words. Damn did it feel good to be complimented like that. To feel, even if only for a few minutes, that she was the center of somebody else’s world.

Anna could say nothing but, “You’re really hot. Like, really hot. Hot damn hot.” She laughed. Rambling again. “Okay I’m gonna stop talking now.”

She grabbed onto the back of his head and pulled him in closer, so they kissed deeper, tongues fighting for dominance.

He was by far the best kisser of the maybe seven-or-so people Anna had kissed in her life. There was something startling about it, honestly. Nobody else could measure up.

Hans knew what he was doing. He really, really knew what he was doing. And as his hand squeezed her ass, Anna let out a delighted moan. Shit. Yeah. This guy knew.

Eventually they transitioned to the porch swing, and then to the hammock, and then to a patch of grass by the hammock, and then the trampoline, and finally the hot tub. Both vodka sodas were finished now, the empty cups sitting by the fire, next to the pile of their discarded clothes. Anna still straddled him, kissing him deeply, thoroughly enjoying the new sensation the hot water provided.

It seemed the rest of the party-goers had cleared out of the backyard. Only the sounds of TLC kept them company. And maybe it was all the alcohol or maybe it was the sense of utter euphoria she felt after these hours with Hans, but damn kissing Hans almost felt like chasing waterfalls…. And that definitely meant that she had at least one million points in the Junior Boy Hunt.

But she wanted to take it a little bit further. To secure her spot. Maybe she needed a billion points to win her own game. “Um… are you sleeping here tonight?”

“That was the plan,” he said, crooning. “Are you?”

“Yeah. Duh. Always.”

“Your parents don’t want you back home?”

Anna laughed in spite of herself and rolled her eyes. “My parents are happy I’m not there to bother them.”

Hans grabbed hold of one of her braids and twirled it in his fingers. “Can I say something crazy?”

Anna nodded.

“I think I love you.”

Her jaw dropped. In a totally unladylike way as her mom would say if she even cared enough to criticize her daughter. Anna did a double take. “Wait, what?”

“I think I love you, Anna,” he repeated. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight. Those absolutely brilliant green eyes. Her heart skipped a beat and what she felt in that moment—that pure, raw, unadulterated pull toward him and only him… it must have been love.

“Oh—wow. I… um—” She blushed, slowly growing more confident. Love. Yes. This was love. “I think I love you, too.”

Their lips met again, more passionately, more purposeful. She felt hot all over and not just from the… you know—hot water of the hot tub and all that.

She had certainly received a billion points. No doubt about it.

And they stayed outside for the rest of the night. The two of them. They moved from the hot tub and back to the grass, back to the couch, back to the trampoline. They watched the stars, they split a bottle of wine, they made s’mores.

They fell asleep wrapped in each other’s arms.

And Anna knew this was love. This was exactly what love felt like.

To be someone’s world and someone’s rock and someone’s other half.

She loved love. She loved Hans.

This was the best night of her life.

#frozen #kristanna #hansanna #hanna #fanfic #fanfiction

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