#there was another time someone like? spilt chemicals on his pants and he had to take them off bc it was like. acid or some shit but he wasnt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

generaldevi · 6 years

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The Coffee-Machine

Rating: Teen Up

Characters: Donquixote Rocinante; Trafalgar D Water Law

Warning: None

Length: ~ 1800 words

Cross-posted here and on AO3

Law hated these inevitable nights of sleeplessness and pure terror. Nights when everything in his body and mind was screaming danger and panic. He was not even sure what was causing this. He might have assumptions but no evidence…

Law did not remember much of his childhood, he did not remember much before being sent to an orphanage together with children sharing a similar fate. He only remembered screams and fire. Fire and heat and pain and screams. Mostly screams. Maybe it was good that he could not remember? Who knows what those memories might have done to him. Probably worse than these… sleepless nights.

In the end, Law was not sure what was worse though. Not being able to sleep and therefore distracting his mind with studying and working as hard as he could. Or the creepy and general feeling of being unwell that got a hold of him after he finally managed to sleep.

Whenever Law woke up from a nice and long sleep he felt disorientated. Sometimes he was confused where he was. Why was he laying in a king-sized bed in a giant room? Why was he not in a small and stuffed room shared with three other boys in the orphanage? Where were Penguin, Shachi and Bepo? Confused he would look around, trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes, while slowly starting to panic. It was not much different this time. Noises had woken him up. But what noises?! They were coming from the adjacent room. Curiosity won over panic. Slowly he got up, raising to his feet with a dizzy feeling in his head.

The room itself was decorated nicely. Bright colours, expensive looking furniture. There were pictures on the wall. Pictures of him with his friends, of him graduating school of him being with another person…? A tall blonde person was hugging a grumpy looking Law from behind, while showing the peace-sign with his fingers. The picture looked kind of goofy and out of place compared to the tidy and clean and minimalistic bedroom.

His mind needed a few moments to process the pictures. Right. Cora-san. His goofy, clumsy boyfriend. Just as he remembered who the people on the pictures were, the sounds from the other room got louder. A loud bang, something was bursting, someone cursed, another bang. That sounded like spilt liquid. What was happening?

Law frowned. Slowly he walked towards the door, opened it and immediately took a step back. It was bright, too bright. His eyes were still used to the gloomy light of the bedroom. The TV was on, the lights were on, illuminating the room and hurting his eyes. He took a deep breath before opening his eyes again, slowly adapting to the brightness.

“Cora…?” He asked, before walking through the living room into the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe, watching the ongoing scene with confusion and amusement at the same time.

Corazon, his boyfriend, his partner, was kneeling on the floor. There were shards of glass and porcelain surrounding him. “Oh, Law- fuck! I hope I did not wake you up!” The Blonde looked up with a sorry look on his face.

“I eh- let me quickly clean everything and then-“ He hissed as he grabbed one of the bigger shards a bit to careless. Dark, red blood was slowly trickling down the shard and dripping on the floor. “Damn it!”

Why did something like this always happen whenever Law finally managed to get a nice amount of sleep?! “You did not wake me, mh. Do not worry. Just let me see.”

He took a few careful steps towards Rocinante, watching out to not step into the glass, before crouching down next to him. “The cut is not deep, mh.” Slowly he put the bleeding finger into his mouth, sucking on the smaller wound, while looking up to his boyfriend. How fast the pale skin of Rocinante was blushing~

Rocinante flinched. “Are you still drowsy?” He tilted his head a little bit and tried to free his finger from the other one. Law was barely awake and already started to tease him! “I will make you a-“ He stopped before slowly looking towards the kitchen counter. Oh right. The reason why he had been loud earlier. While trying to prepare Laws coffee he had knocked over the coffee machine, breaking it while doing so. In addition, he had destroyed two cups and pushed the box containing the coffee powder off the counter. Shards, broken pieces of the machine and brown powder was covering the floor.

“…?” Law followed the others stare and his eyes widened in shock.

From all the things Corazon could have broken. From all the things the other one could have destroyed during his attacks of clumsiness… why did it have to be the coffee machine?!

The realization that he might not get any coffee until they fixed the machine hit him hard. It woke him up better than any brown liquid had done in quite some while.

Slowly he turned his head to his beloved boyfriend. Rocinante shuddered. “Law. Sweetheart, I-“ “Yes, Cora-san?” “Uhm, how about… you take a shower and I will.. clean this mess and we order a new… machine online? I pay the express delivery so that you have a new one by tomorrow.” “Coffee by tomorrow. No coffee till tomorrow.” “Yes… until then, mh.. you will survive, won’t you?” By now it was probably less of a routine for Law and more of an caffeine addiction. But the other one was the soon-to-be doctor. Rocinante had learned the hard way that arguing over Laws caffeine-intake would end not only fruitless but would also make him spent many, many lonely nights on the couch.

“Do I have any other option?” Law got up with a sigh. Hopefully a shower would be enough to get rid of his dizzy (and slightly moping) state.

“Do not break anything else while cleaning this!” He said, huffing in annoyance before moving to the bathroom. Internally he was still cursing his klutz of a boyfriend. He could have broken literally everything else and Law would have been in a better mood…

Rocinante felt bitter and sad. He knew that Laws pissed mood now was his own fault, but still… Why did it have to be that damn machine?! For a moment he kept sitting on the floor, sulking at his own ineptitude.

When he heard the running water he jumped to his feet (and nearly fell down again). He should hurry! Maybe he had enough time to … make up to Law...? Oh yes. He already had an idea!

Law enjoyed the warm water running over his body. Usually he preferred to take a quick shower and get dressed immediately after. It simply held no appeal for him to waste his time with something futile like relaxing.

But today, mostly to give Corazon more time, he decided against hurrying up. What did normal people do in a shower. People that like to relaxthere? Did they do something special? He had no special products to use for his body and skin. Why should he?! Most of them were useless anyway. Praised products and special ingredients just to get money from the less educated. With basic chemistry knowledge you knew that it was mostly advertised garbage. Then again, people always liked to spent a small fortune on something that was supposed to make them look better and younger.

Before Law realized his thoughts were wandering off. Too high prices for surfactants, silicone-based polymers as well as parabens and alcohols. Alcohol… there was an assignment he had to finish for one of the organic chemistry courses. The last subject of his basic medicine courses. He should also get a new lab-coat. Maybe he could soon dissect some corpses again? Corazon disliked him cutting open animals. It did not help, when he mentioned that they were already dead when he had found them. Fur. Winter clothes. He needed a new hoodie. Should he get that yellow one? Corazon did really like it, if he wore color instead of his usual dark style.

His mind was jumping from one thing to another, until he realized that he might have spend more time in the shower than he initially intended to. Law did not feel relaxed.

Well.. Corazon should have had enough time by now! If there was a simple coffee grain left on the floor…!

He got out of the shower and put on some briefs as well as grey jogging pants. He looked over to the pile of clothes laying on the wardrobe. Corazons clothes. Probably the things he wanted to put on after his shower. If the kitchen accident had gotten in the way of him taking a shower? Probably. A sly grin appeared on his face when he took the pale-blue Hoodie with a polar bear print on it. He put it on and looked in the mirror shortly. Corazons Hoodie was way too big for him, but Law did not mind. It was his now. That is what Corazon got for destroying his most important thing in this apartment!

When Law got out of the bathroom the lemony smell of their cleaning supplies hit his nose. There was something else. He took a deep breath. There was a well-known and well-liked scent hidden under the chemical stench of detergents. Coffee? Coffee!

Rocinante was resting on the couch, he heard Law opening the door and then… nothing for a few moments. He turns his head, leaning a bit over the couch watching Law. He had to chuckle when he saw him walking into the kitchen just to immediately turn back again.

No coffee there. Law looked like a bloodhound hunting his prey. The thought was as amusing as horrifying. Law ignored his lurking boyfriend; his eyes were focused on the three cups on the table.

“…!” Coffee! He walked towards the table, took one of the cups and immediately took a sip. Sweet heaven. Coffee, no sugar, no milk, just plain, black liquid filled with his favourite molecule, Methyltheobromine. Corazon had gotten him coffee from the shop nearby! Blessed be his boyfriend! “I am sorry I broke the machine Law. I hope this will last you till tomorrow!”

Law placed the half empty cup on the table before throwing himself in Corazons arms. “…!”

The Blonde laughed before pulling Law close, wrapping his long arms around him and placing small kisses on his still wet hair. Law had used his shampoo again! His scent on the other one! He liked it!

The dark-haired closed his eyes and nestled himself against the taller one, humming in enjoyment. If Cora-san knew, that his heart was racing, and his cheeks were burning because of the sweet favour he had done? Law enjoyed coffee, he really did. But if there was something in his life that he loved, it would not be that brown, addictive liquid. It would be his Corazon.

Slowly he looked up into the face of Rocinante. Yes. Cora-san knew.

#CoraLaw #Corazon x Law #Donquixote Rosinante #Trafalgar Law #OPfanfic #generaldevi

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yueqqi · 6 years

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Lost Requiem - Chapter 1

Summary: A man from New York seeks a new life after a terrible mistake that locked him in eight years of imprisonment, only for him to be greeted again by the gates of Hell.

A/N: Since I’m a broke-ass tryna get by as a computer science student juggling a part time job, I can’t donate to the Kickstarter. BUT, I’m going to try and help with the social media goals as per the RE:H Kickstarter page, so I guess here’s a new fic serial.

New York City, New York, August 2nd, 1995

Pain exploded like a spilt pot of hot chowder against his cheek. He stumbled back, barely catching himself against the table where other inmates had long abandoned since the fight broke out.

A chant. “Oh, fuck! Fight, fight, fight!”

Another fist swung out, tattooed with gentle black strokes forming lilies, and he ducked before it could connect with his face again. With a grunt, he threw all of his weight forward and latched onto the taller man’s waist.

The other man swayed from the sudden force. Success?

He found himself winded with the sudden loss of altitude as he was slammed into the hard, cold floor with a massive block of muscle on top of him.

A disappointed voice yelled into his ear, “Dammit, you weak-ass lawyer boy! I woulda thought you get better at this shit after eight years!”

He snapped, “Maybe I woulda if I got a degree in sumo wrestling like your dumbass self, Brandt.”

The weight lifted from his back, and a fresh breath of air entered his lungs. The man sat up, reaching a hand up to test the swelling that rose on his cheek. He let out a hiss.

“Yo, ‘zekiel, sorry ‘bout that bruise,” the same gruff voice apologized. A large hand offered itself for him to take. As he took the hand, the crowd of people dispersed as everyone returned to their lunches.

“Thanks. And it’s not much of a problem.”

Brandt was a tall, buff man with a shaved head at least five inches taller than Ezekiel’s six feet. A terrifying man with a terrifying stature and a terrifying gaze, he was the most feared inmate at the Lincoln Correctional Facility. Like Ezekiel, he wasn’t in prison for the right reasons.

In fact, most of them weren’t in prison for the right reasons.

If Ezekiel could legally take a look at every inmate’s profiles, he was sure they’d all have the same background. A poor kid of a minority, born and raised in the ghetto part of town. Could be the Bronx, like him, or other areas in lower-town Manhattan, or immigrated from an even poorer town outside the States ridden with war, drugs, and grime. A family of a single parent and a couple kids; sometimes both parents were in the picture, but rarely could they climb above the vice of poverty because of the poor pay and the cost of surviving.

Like him, they were caught in the wrong place at the wrong time—that, or they were forced into the life of crime just to feed their families.

Like Karael.

Brandt’s boisterous voice interrupted his thoughts, “So, how’s it feelin’, bein’ the nasty dealer finally gettin’ out today?”

A chuckle escaped his lips. “Eight years late, but I can’t complain; coulda been a full twenty-five. It’s just about damn time.”

Ezekiel was grateful, though the taste of ashes still lingered on his tongue at the thought of it; just eight months ago, his case was appealed to the judge again, and it was by a stroke of luck that the first judge who gave him a sentencing had been transferred to another court so he had a chance, however slim, to crawl out of this hellhole. After weeks of looking over the court transcriptions from his case file, the new judge was sympathetic enough to see that an all-white jury plus the original judge’s spoken words all led to an unfavorable outcome: as Ezekiel figured, bias outweighed the evidence supporting his case in the end.

A simple, formal apology was made and the judge gave the prison’s executive director the order for his release; of course, the paperwork was an “issue” and his release was postponed for eight months. Seven years turned to eight, and both Ezekiel’s and his family’s patience was wearing thin until finally: the long-awaited release date.

Still, an apology wasn’t much compensation for the stolen eight years, nor was his quiet release later in the day in which he silently bid the others farewell and only hoped that they would stumble upon luck as he did.

The dusty silver sedan waited for him the second he stepped into broad daylight in fresh clothes: a pair of jeans, a white cotton shirt, and a cheap, black zipped hoodie. He didn’t know what happened to the leather motorcycle jacket he wore when he was arrested, but as much as his heart ached for it, it was a remnant of the past he had to leave behind.

A young woman no more than twenty-five with her once curly hair braided in cornrows long ago now straightened and shoulder-length stood leaning against the car hood in a pinstriped button-up shirt with navy trousers, the passenger door left open as an older woman in her late forties sat in the seat in a familiar sweater and pants. Upon hearing the barbed wire fence buzz as the prison guard opened it for Ezekiel, both women looked up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, the same viridescent as his own.

The younger of the two bounded up to him with wide strides—Ezekiel didn’t remember her being this tall—and embraced him tightly with a tearful eyes. She whispered, “Welcome home, Ezekiel.”

He laughed, reaching up a hand to ruffle her hair. “Easy there, Duma, we ain’t home quite just yet. You’re not so short anymore—ouch!”

Duma punched him in the arm none-too-lightly, but grabbed him by the hand to pull him to the sedan. The older woman, Hasielle, grinned at the two as she stood, latching onto the car to balance herself so she didn’t sway, and waited for Ezekiel to approach before she pulled him in for a hug.

Ezekiel smiled warmly as he wrapped his arms around the shorter woman. He greeted softly, “Hey, Ma.”

Hasielle pulled back for just to moment to reach up and pat Ezekiel’s cheek, where the bruise had already formed from earlier. Eyebrows knitted together, she said, “They haven’t been treatin’ you nicely here, huh? You need to eat more too, you’ve gotten so skinny!”

“Well, I’m always lookin’ forward to your chicken and rice; I’ll even help cook.”

Hasielle smirked, “Well, I’m supposin’ you need practice after awhile. Let’s make it a competition tonight. You in, Duma?”

His sister paled at the mention of cooking. “You want me to burn down the house?”

“Chemistry, cookin’, all the same thing, aren’t they?” Ezekiel challenged, eyebrow raised.

“It’s chemical engineering, Ezekiel. And I’m not doing anything with cooking for the program I’m in, anyways. I’d burn the whole city down on accident!”

“Well, you better find someone who can cook for you, Duma,” Ezekiel chuckled. Duma’s cheeks reddened.

“Shut up, you.”

Their mother’s eyebrows rose, “My, my! Has my daughter found someone?”

“No, Ma! Not yet! The next person I’m gettin’ married to is science herself.”

Amidst the warm laughter, a hollow ache still pervaded a part in his chest. Once, they were a family of five, then four when he turned seven many years ago. And again, one was missing.

They all stepped into the car; Duma was driving since Ezekiel needed to reapply for a driver’s license and Hasielle’s condition had worsened over the years: after years of fighting through her anemia to juggle three jobs to support the three of her children, she finally took a break from working once Duma was able to help support them both after getting through college at MIT on a scholarship.

Once the chuckles died down and Duma turned down the road toward the city graveyard, Hasielle glanced in the side mirror at Ezekiel, where he sat in the back, and commented, “Hon, your hair’s so short.”

“Is it?” Ezekiel reached up to rub at his head, feeling the prickliness of his cropped curly hair between his fingers. He supposed it was a lot shorter compared to how he kept it years ago, but he had gotten used to his hair being this length.

“I miss your old hair, but I’ve been seein’ them old-style movies, like Victorian-era and older. Just a thought, but maybe you should try growin’ out your hair longer. I remember you tellin’ me awhile ago in a letter that you’re workin’ on a novel as a new start to your life, so maybe gettin’ a new start in style might help too.”

A new start, huh? A new life… Sounds nice.

“Maybe I will.”

The car pulled into a parking space at the mausoleum some miles away. In spite of the sun that beat down on them, the place still seemed awfully dim and quiet—as expected, Ezekiel supposed, yet it was unsettling not unlike the prison at night.

As Duma pulled out the wheelchair from the trunk of the car for Hasielle, Hasielle spoke, “Ezekiel, Duma and I are goin’ to see Pops in the yard. Why don’t you go on ahead to the mausoleum first and we’ll see you soon?”

He was speechless for a moment, before given his mother a quiet nod. Ezekiel left the two and walked in long, slow strides toward the large, Grecian-style mausoleum, steps ginger and uncertain. The place was eerily quiet when he entered, the door shutting silently behind him, though the sunlight filtering through the skylights and brightening the marble floors created some imitation of a welcoming aura. To his left was a small alcove with a sign hanging above it, Flowers.

Ezekiel shuffled into the small shop, where a short old woman waved at him from behind the counter. He smiled, a bit stiff, and waved back before he turned to observe the array of flowers sprawled through the expanse of the shop.

He had no idea what to buy for his brother. In fact, he didn’t even know if his brother ever liked flowers—they were never that close especially during their last few years spent together before Ezekiel ended up behind bars.

In the end, Ezekiel settled for white lilies and baby’s breath. White for purity, but also white for a blank sheet, for possibilities. Paying for the flowers, he left the shop and ducked into the nearest corridoer while keeping an eye out for the signs designating alphabetical order.

Q-T. Thomas. Timmison. Torvald.

Travis.

A framed photo of a young man with a smiling face, a mustache forming on his upper lip, stared back with similar verdant, yet faintly honey-colored eyes at Ezekiel. Ezekiel let out a soft breath as he placed the flowers in the vase attached by iron-wrought wire to the wall beside the box of ashes set into the marble wall, engraved in a delicate font.

Karael Travis, December 22nd, 1969-February 17th, 1991

Loving son and brother who always did his best

A whisper, deafening in the echoing silence, “Long time, no see, you poor bastard. Just what did you get yourself into when I couldn’t be there to catch your fall?”

#this next chapter will be covering the events over the next year up til the intro to re:h #red embrace: hollywood #re:hollywood #killhollywood #vampires #fanfic #my writing

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taekookismylifeline · 6 years

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(yoonseok) - trust my heart when it beats for you

ao3: (x)

Summary: Jung Hoseok has had an awkward Thing for Min Yoongi for four years of his school life. He is certain that the only thing that gets in the way of them and everlasting love is the fact that Min Yoongi doesn't know he exists, but that all changes due to one drunken text message: a pick-up line. Ready to flee to another country under a false identity in mortification, he finds himself ruining their blossoming friendship and confessing when Yoongi asks why Hoseok had tried to flirt with him. However, things take a turn after his confession when Yoongi starts to (awkwardly) flirt back.

Pairings: Yoonseok, Taekook and Namjin

Chapters: (1), (2), (3), (4), (5), (6), (7), (8), (9), (10), (11), (12), (13)

Chapter Fourteen - if you don't want me, i don't want me either

“So,” Jimin began after screaming his name across the field and running towards him. He threw a ball up into the air and caught it effortlessly as he sat next to Yoongi on the bench at break. “Rumour on the street is that Taehyung is interested in someone. He posted something on his Snapchat. Know anything about it?”

Yoongi shook his head, his mind blank. Usually, it would be a right laugh to talk to Jimin but after the event in the library, he wanted nothing than to stare at a patch of grass and wordlessly ponder over what had gone wrong. If only he had rectified his mistake and corrected himself, corrected Hoseok. He should have explained that he was just scared, scared of Hoseok entering his world and then leaving without them ever truly understanding each other.

“Hmm...” Jimin mused, throwing the ball again then hitting it with the palm of his hand so that it rolled onto the patch of grass that Yoongi was attempting to lose himself in. “I guess I can go ask him...” Yoongi saw Jimin peer at him, obviously waiting for Yoongi to ask him to stay, but upon receiving no protest Jimin gave in. “Say, what’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” It was an effort just to talk, his throat was painfully constricted with unshed tears. “Just tired.”

Jimin frowned at him and Yoongi prayed that his feeble excuse deemed satisfactory, but to no avail. “You sure?” Jimin dragged the ball from under Yoongi’s feet with his sports trainers he was always so insistent on keeping clean. “You look a little down. Did something happen? You fail a test, or something?”

Yoongi shook his head, glanced at his phone. Jeongguk had messaged him ten minutes ago that he would meet him at the bench but had not showed up. Namjoon had left to retrieve a drink from a vending machine.

“No answer? Really?” Jimin tilted his head back and exposed his throat, tossing the ball back into the air again. “God, you’re the second person to do this to me today. ‘Seok, you know him right? Hoseok? He was being really annoying before school, being all moody. He and Tae were talking and shut up when they saw me – they always do that – so I thought it was about Taehyung’s secret girlfriend or something.” Jimin rolled his eyes in mild annoyance and then pouted. There was a small side of Yoongi that wondered whether Jimin really even cared; he seemed to have an extensive network of friends all over the country.

And then Jimin’s words processed inside of his mind and snapped at his heart strings. Hoseok was saddened before school, this image seemed like a complete opposite to the Hoseok that had turned up in the library and looked as if he were performing a painfully unfunny comedy act. What had happened in that space of time?

What was the truth behind Hoseok’s words? Did he truly mean for them to be friends? Why was Hoseok sacrificing himself for what he believed Yoongi wanted? Why did he mean so much to Hoseok?

He realised that Hoseok would never know how much he meant to Yoongi if he never fixed their situation. But how would he go about doing it? How would he ever face Hoseok again?

“Hey, are you even listening to me?” Jimin called to him, laying a hand on his shoulder and jostling him with an amused smile on his face. “Earth to Yoongi! I need to tell you something, you might be interested.”

Yoongi looked towards Jimin instinctively upon receiving contact, Jimin was reaching into his pocket for his phone. “First of all, are you free this weekend?” Jimin was grinning at him rather cheekily as if he were trying to be cunning.

Yoongi nodded in response; he hadn’t even thought about what to fill the time of his weekend with, having only focussed on getting through the first week without Hoseok.

“Great! So you’re coming with me to a club on Saturday, there’s a party there – don’t worry, someone I know knows the owner so we can get in – and I’ll introduce you to someone.” Jimin was talking quickly, a sign that he was enthused.

A sense of trepidation immediately fell over him. “No. You’re not dragging me out again to meet some random stranger. It was fun the first few times but eventually you see the bad sides of all those clubs. Last time that girl – who you said was ‘chill’ – spilt her drink over my jeans and insisted I take them off to get the stain out-” Jimin’s hysteric laughter enfolded the last of his words and swallowed them. “It’s not funny,” he tried again but failed utterly when a laugh of his own slipped out of his mouth.

“Okay, okay,” Jimin digressed, his shoulders still heaving with laughter as he clung onto the nape of Yoongi’s neck. “This time’ll be different, I swear,” a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes and he winked. “This time you might want to take your pants off.” He hooted with laughter while Yoongi sat, not being successful in pretending to be unamused as a smile itched at his mouth.

Jimin thrust his phone onto Yoongi’s hand and gestured for him to look at the screen. It was a Facebook profile, Jimin had pulled up a picture of a girl posing with a boy who was tagged with the same name, brother and sister. “They’ll both be there – it’s up to you which one you want.” Jimin smirked knowingly at him, Yoongi frowned. “After all the girls I’ve tried to set you up with I realised eventually that there might be a reason why you’re not interested. Him, he’s bi,” Jimin pointed at the boy frozen in the picture, “so it won’t be a problem.”

Yoongi was in too much shock to form a response which Jimin misinterpreted as Yoongi being too overwhelmed with joy to talk. “Exactly, I’m amazing! So, you’re coming. You want his number?” Fortunately, Yoongi wasn’t numb enough to comply so he shook his head.

“Oh, wow, so it’s just a one-time thing? Never knew you had it in you, Yoongs!” Jimin clapped him on his back as father would do to his son. Yoongi wasn’t particularly thrilled with the comparison that he had drawn in his mind as he imagined the concern etched into the lines of his own father’s face if he could see that scenario that Yoongi found himself in. “His name’s Jinsoo, by the way, I’m sure you’ll be needing it.” Of course Jimin had to add a suggestive wink which caused Yoongi to purse his lips in distaste.

“I’m not going to sleep with him,” Yoongi stated to which Jimin raised his eyebrows dubiously as if to say, ‘sure’. “I’m only gonna go because I’ve got nothing better to do.” Yoongi was extremely glad when Namjoon crept up on Jimin out of nowhere, having snuck behind the bench, and caused him to jump.

“You scared the fuck out of me,” Jimin whined and let out a shaky bout of laughter, a hand over his heart. Yoongi scooted over so that Namjoon could fit himself in between the two. “Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted,” he glared at Namjoon who deftly ignored him, cracking open his can of drink, “I was telling Yoongs about the guy who wants to meet him.”

“Which guy?” Namjoon inquired before snapping his fingers, “oh, that guy!” He gave Jimin a disapproving look. “Didn’t I already tell you that he wouldn’t be interested?”

Jimin tutted and shook his head. “Ah, ‘Joon, that’s not quite true now, is it? Yoongs just told me that he’s interested in meeting him.”

Namjoon almost spilt his drink as he jolted and turned to face Yoongi, his expression alarmed. “What? But what about-”

A feeling of panic surged through him and he cut across Namjoon, “nothing.” Namjoon furrowed his brows, eyes scurrying over his face as if he could solve the mystery without words. Jimin was watching him from behind Namjoon, a teasing smile on his face provoking the reckless side of him. Jimin always held that power over him ever since they had met when Jimin dared him to smash a chemical tube which let out a foul smelling steam and set the fire alarm off.

“I’m going on Saturday, I haven’t been out like that in ages.”

“That’s my boy,” Jimin approved with a smile packed full of mystery. “Come along will you, ‘Joon? You can finally hang out with ‘Seok and Tae, they’re both coming. I’ll talk to ‘Guk – speaking of, where is he?”

Namjoon was watching him warily, apparently having guessed that Hoseok and Taehyung would no doubt be tagging along. Yoongi’s fists tightened, his nails dug into his palms and started stinging, but he didn’t unclench his hands as the pain felt good, refreshing, even. “I don’t know,” he answered. “He might be down at the courts.”

Jimin sighed before vaulting over the bench, he threw the ball at Yoongi who caught it on an instinct. “Okay, I’ll go talk to him! See you later!” He lifted his hand to gesture goodbye and then began madly dashing across the field, around the corner of the school building and out of sight.

Namjoon turned to him straightaway, not giving him time for a breather. “What happened? Why didn’t you tell Hoseok what’s going on?”

Yoongi turned his attention towards the mud stains that were smeared on the ball. “I was going to,” he started, hating the sound of his voice, “but he came in and told me that he understood how I felt and that there would be ‘no more flirting or kissing’. He told me that he was fine with being friends.” Yoongi shrugged. “I couldn’t say no. In the moment it just sounded like that was what he wanted, and I just went along with it.”

There was the sound of a large exhale next to him and he knew that Namjoon was struggling on voicing his disapproval. He would have liked Namjoon to have done so but at the same time he most likely would have broken down. To have the voice of reason spit at him would be the end of the world.

“Yoongs, I’m sure you’re aware that Hoseok only said that because he was sure that it was what you wanted?”

“He said that he’d get over me,” Yoongi retorted, bristling slightly. “That was what I feared the most, you know that, and he admitted it. That’s why I did it.” He was gripping the ball too tightly, it shot out of his hands and rolled onto the floor.

Namjoon dropped his eyes to the ball. “Do you really believe that someone who has liked you for over three years would just drop you like that?” His voice was quiet, meaning that Yoongi had to focus his attention on Namjoon just to hear what he was saying. “I understand how you feel, I think we all feel insecure with ourselves from time to time,” he was speaking from the heart. Out of all the disappointment and disapproval, this hurt Yoongi the most; to hear Namjoon voicing his fears.

“But you can’t make someone else’s decisions for them. You decided that Hoseok wouldn’t like you after the first few weeks of talking but that wasn’t your decision to make. In my personal opinion, I think those first few weeks made Hoseok more attracted to you than he already was, and I don’t think that’ll fade anytime soon.”

Yoongi’s hands were cold on his lap but Namjoon’s words brought a hot flush to his neck, warming his skin. A knot of tension uncoiled somewhat in his stomach. “Thank you,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed. “Do you think I can fix it?”

He lifted his gaze to look at Namjoon who looked affirmed. “Of course. I wouldn’t do it online, though, I’d do it in person,” he advised. His eyes watched Yoongi’s face. “You’re not going to meet that guy on Saturday, are you?”

Yoongi shook his head. “No, I just knew that Jimin wouldn’t stop going on about it.”

Namjoon chuckled. “True, he’s very insistent.” Yoongi smiled back, his shoulders feeling slightly lighter now that some of the tension had decreased. “So, talk to Hoseok before Saturday, okay? That way you can enjoy yourself.”

When Yoongi nodded and vowed that he would do Namjoon’s bidding, he sincerely believed that he meant it, but as the days went by he found that chances to get Hoseok on his own were slim to none. Whenever he would spend time in the basketball court he would look to the fence and find that no one was sitting behind it, clearly ogling him or watching with a stupidly gorgeous smile. Although they took the same route to classes, he was certain that Hoseok had discovered another route to avoid him or that he would arrive early or later to his own class. Yoongi couldn’t even speak to him in the classroom as they were in different sets for Maths, English and Science, in fact, the only lesson that they shared was History which next took place on last lesson Friday.

In the end, he didn’t want to have to the next few days to talk to Hoseok, so he had to go against Namjoon’s advice. He opened up the Messenger app and cursed when he saw the green icon next to Hoseok’s name disappear. He should have asked for Hoseok’s Kakao but he hadn’t wanted to seem too into it in case their relationship fizzled out, which he supposed was ironic. He would have to wait until Friday to approach Hoseok.

The news that Jeongguk had wished to bestow onto them was, as he had predicted, about Taehyung. He told them on Tuesday afternoon that on the weekend, on the bus ride home, Taehyung had asked him to the party on Saturday, but instructed him not to tell anybody or bring someone with him as it was ‘a small gathering’. Yoongi had voiced that Taehyung’s way of being smooth really wasn’t discreet at all, but Jeongguk didn’t seem to have heard him as he was too busy staring at the back of Taehyung’s head in the canteen. He and Namjoon had exchanged amused glances.

“Do you think he’s gonna ask you out, then?” Yoongi had asked, directing his gaze at his carrot sticks when seeing Hoseok’s head bob out from behind Taehyung.

Jeongguk shook his head, palming a few of Namjoon’s apple slices. “I don’t know, I don’t want to assume that he likes me, but if he keeps doing what he’s doing I’m probably just gonna make a move.”

Namjoon, in return, took Jeongguk’s bag of crisps whilst nodding his approval. “Please do, I haven’t even seen you two in action, but if it’s as sappy as Yoongs tells me then you’d be doing us a favour.”

Yoongi had laughed when Jeongguk shot Namjoon an unimpressed look, a hint of a smile playing on his mouth. “Oh, right, like you can talk, when you got rejected by Seokjin you were sad for days – you wrote poetry, and now you’re together I think you still do,” he had crinkled his nose.

Namjoon spluttered helplessly as the younger happily took back his packet of crisps and offered some to Yoongi who accepted them thankfully.

“Are you talking to Taehyung?” Yoongi had inquired. “Outside of school? Like, on an app or something?” The reluctant look on Jeongguk’s face told him everything that he needed to know. “Then how are you gonna get to know him before you do... whatever on Saturday?”

Jeongguk’s cheek bulged from where his tongue was wandering. “I’ve been thinking about talking to him, but I don’t want to seem desperate.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes. “‘Guk, he was the one who almost choked on his own drool just looking at you, I think you’re okay.”

Jeongguk laughed, a satisfied smile curving onto his face. “Okay, so I’ll message him tonight, then.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but watch fondly and think of the first time that Hoseok had messaged him after asking to hang out. He had been more confused than anything, not sure as to why Hoseok who he had only known for two hours wanted to talk to him outside of school hours, wanted to meet up. He missed it immensely. The crisps had lurched dangerously in his stomach and he had had to excuse himself to head to the toilets.

Friday arrived unceremoniously. Yoongi’s mum wished him the best in his studies, he climbed onto the bus and went to school, and he attended lessons with an ever increasing feeling of dread pouring through his veins. Eventually, History, the last lesson of the day, arrived and the gnawing inside of his skin had never been so grating. He wanted to talk to Hoseok. It was strange that he had gone 6 years without ever knowing the boy but after spending only a few weeks together he didn’t know where or what he was without Hoseok. It was petrifying, yet, he found that he didn’t much care anymore.

Hoseok had arrived before him, sitting in his usual position with his textbook in front of him, his eyebrows knotted together in concentration and his lips parted, tongue sticking out slightly. Yoongi’s heart slipped through his ribcage and plummeted. He hadn’t ever seen anything so beautiful.

He took out a laptop and slowly strode over to Hoseok, not wanting to disturb him, not wanting to destroy the perfect picture of beauty. He set the laptop down quietly but obviously not quietly enough as Hoseok paused in his work and sat up. He smiled, oh god, Yoongi had forgotten how gorgeous that smile was.

“Yoongi, hi!” He chirped and pushed his notebook over to Yoongi’s side as Yoongi took a seat and returned the greeting. “I think I’ve perfected an essay structure, I looked online for one and kinda copied it, but it should be okay,” he seemed bashful, as if the structure’s worth relied solely on Yoongi’s opinion.

Hoseok wasn’t acting strangely at all, it was almost as if Monday hadn’t happened and neither had any of those times that Hoseok had deliberately avoided him. Yoongi wanted to believe that nothing had changed, that Hoseok still thought that he was beautiful and that the kiss in the bus stop had progressed their relationship further. Everything was ruined, though, when Yoongi read over the structure and found it impressive, he voiced his thoughts and handed it back to Hoseok who grinned at him before dropping his gaze too quickly and openly avoiding the touch of Yoongi’s fingers.

The pain that Yoongi had experienced on Monday was nothing in comparison to the agony he felt now. His heart was screeching with every beat and skin itched as if it wanted him to scratch itself from his body, Hoseok must have thought that he was repulsive.

“Okay, so,” Hoseok cleared his throat and focussed on the book in front of him. Yoongi watched him defiantly, trying to gain his attention but to no avail. “We’ve finished the first paragraph, which is the introduction, but I think we need to add a criticism of this viewpoint here...” Yoongi must have heard what Hoseok was saying as he fingers were moving along the keys and typing out the words but he didn’t process them.

He knew that Hoseok was intent on keeping their relationship professional, student to student but it wasn’t a compromise for stranger to stranger, Yoongi wanted neither. He wanted everything. He wanted every smile, every touch, every glance, every laugh. He wanted to be selfish. He wanted Hoseok and he wanted Hoseok to want him. Maybe that was why Hoseok couldn’t stand to touch him.

“Are you going to that party on Saturday?” The question ripped out of his throat and burst into the air that was being occupied by Hoseok’s insistent tangent of facts. He must have interrupted Hoseok mid-flow as Hoseok finally looked at him, his eyes startled. “Sorry,” he added lamely.

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Hoseok looked away again and Yoongi ground his teeth in frustration. “Yeah, I am. Did Jimin tell you?” Now that Hoseok wasn’t on the territory that he must have promised himself never to stray from, school work, he seemed less confident, less polished.

“Yeah,” Yoongi answered. He wanted to spill everything in that moment but he was discouraged by the fact that Hoseok was refusing to look him in the eye.

“Oh,” Hoseok seemed unsure on what to do with his hands. He settled with flicking his pen from side to side. Yoongi found himself watching its movements until his vision blurred. “Are you going?”

Yoongi nodded, realised that Hoseok couldn’t possibly see him because of his refusal to look at him, then voiced his answer. “Yeah. With Namjoon.”

“Oh,” Hoseok said again. “I’m going with Taehyung.”

“He’s going with Jeongguk,” Yoongi blurted, remembering too late that their last discussion of the topic was before the kiss and before he had fucked everything up. It was him this time that refused to look up when he saw Hoseok look up at him in surprise.

“Yeah,” Hoseok admitted, his voice slightly warmer. “Yeah, they’re going together.”

Hoseok’s tone had ignited something in his stomach, and he didn’t care if he was imagining it or not, he grasped hold of the hope that was fluttering thinly in front of him. “You’ll be alone?”

He almost jumped when Hoseok looked up from the textbook and met his eye. His expression scrunched up into one of disbelief. “No, actually,” he scoffed causing Yoongi to recoil. “I’m meeting someone there, she’s a friend of Jimin’s. I’ll be with her the whole night, if it goes well.”

Yoongi was certain that he had been impaled. He didn’t dare breathe, feeling something rank and wet fill up his lungs. Hoseok was flaunting this piece of information in front of him, whether it was true or not didn’t particularly matter as of this moment because Hoseok was playing with him.

Something sour churned in his stomach, it burned his heart and pumped through his veins, boiling under his skin. He wasn’t angry, ‘angry’ would be an understatement. He was furious, shaking with rage. He wasn’t thinking when the words poured out of his mouth like scalding sludge. “Oh? I’m also meeting one of Jimin’s friends, he seems nice enough. I’d show you the messages but I don’t think they’re... appropriate.”

Yoongi had longed for Hoseok to look at him, but not like this. Hoseok was easy to read, his expressions weren’t guarded at all and the emotion swimming in his eyes might as well have been his Facebook wall status of ‘I’m feeling...’

Hoseok’s eyebrows were pinched so tightly it looked like they were going to collapse into his nose bridge, and his eyes blazed with a fire of such intensity Yoongi almost forgot that Hoseok’s evident fury was directed at him. “Right,” Hoseok snapped and didn’t speak to Yoongi for the rest of the lesson.

As soon as the bell rang Hoseok sprang up and grabbed his books off of the table, he wasted no time in cramming them into his bag and he strode away, out of the door and out of sight. Yoongi felt it all crash down onto him, he felt his ribs splinter under the pressure. He had fucked up again. He had given into his impulsive feeling of anger when Hoseok had taunted him and had only resulted in pushing Hoseok further away.

Why had Hoseok taunted him in the first place? Was it because he had asked whether Hoseok wanted company at the party and he had grown offended when figuring out that Yoongi wanted to spend time with him? It was understandable, to him it would appear that Yoongi led him on by promising to like him and then rejecting him after a kiss, but it hurt even so.

He was beyond frustrated with himself, how dare he feel sorry for himself when he was the one who insisted on fucking everything up? Still, an underlying rage buzzed through his veins. Hoseok might not have been lying, after all, Jimin had tried to set up all of his friends with someone at least once.

Yoongi wasn’t simply angry, he was catastrophically jealous. After Saturday, Hoseok could have found himself a girlfriend who was captivating and stunningly beautiful. After Saturday, Hoseok wouldn’t look back and Yoongi would be left behind in the dirt. But there was nothing he could do to stop it; he had no right to tell Hoseok not to meet the girl, Hoseok wouldn’t listen to him anyway, why should he?

If Hoseok was going to take up Jimin’s offer, why shouldn’t he? It was evident that whatever he and Hoseok once had had burnt up in lights of the bus last Sunday night.

He made up his mind.

Min Yoongi: hey

Park Jimin: heyy Park Jimin: u still up for sat? u don’t have to meet jinsoo if u don’t want too Park Jimin: NJ says I shouldn’t pressure u or whatever

Min Yoongi: no, it’s fine Min Yoongi: I’m all for it actually, I’d love to meet him Min Yoongi: just don’t tell Namjoon

Park Jimin: oooh good! Cuz ive told him all about u, he’s interested too ;) Park Jimin: mmkay sure thing, ill distract him when introducing u two Park Jimin: u want JS’s No?

Min Yoongi: thanks Min Yoongi: no, it’s alright

Park Jimin: I knew it, I told him that ur mysterious Park Jimin: he likes it Park Jimin: so u wanna get sum d or a relationship or wat

Min Yoongi: I’m not having this conversation with you

Park Jimin: rude! I’d bet u’d open ur heart to NJ Park Jimin: oh JS says to wear red btw Park Jimin: thinks itll look good on u

Min Yoongi: what am I a doll? Min Yoongi: wait Min Yoongi: how many pictures have you sent him of me?

Park Jimin: ur his doll now Park Jimin: hmmm.... not many Park Jimin: 10?

Min Yoongi: wow, that’s creepy. All without my permission Min Yoongi: I can barely remember what he looks like

Park Jimin: hahahaha don’t worry Park Jimin: (10 pictures attached)

Min Yoongi: thanks?

Park Jimin: do u think he’s hot?

Min Yoongi: sure I guess

Park Jimin: he says thx u are too

Min Yoongi: um Min Yoongi: stop being the messenger Min Yoongi: I’m gonna go now Min Yoongi: see you both tomorrow

Park Jimin: hahaha sorry Park Jimin: meet u at yours @7 so I can take u Park Jimin: JS says see u cutie x

#yoonseok #yoonseok fanfiction #yoonseok fanfic #yoonseok fic #sope #sope fanfiction #sope fanfic #sope fic #taekook fic #namjin fanfic #bts fanfic #slow burn #bts angst

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