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wrienne · 10 months

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My Cheating, Amnesic Fiancé 2

Chapter 13: The Plan

I barely slept that night. Partly because the stuffy summer weather had a tendency to crawl into my room and partly because I was so concerned I hadn’t been able to get food down my throat. My stomach was growling furiously where I lay in my bed, upset not only over my skipped breakfast and lunch but also dinner, yet simultaneously, the mere thought of food sickened me.

After all, how could I even think about eating when (Y/N) was missing?

When the 8 am alarm woke me the next day, I doubted I had gotten more than two or three hours of actual sleep. And it felt. My eyes stung like I had thrown acid in them as I washed and got ready for the day - for the meeting - and a pressure underneath my forehead was building steadily up.

Determined to get at least some cereal into my body, I went to the kitchen. Jimin, Namjoon, Hoseok and Seokjin were up and about, but they sent me nothing but hasty smiles as I entered their view. I considered asking Seokjin if Yoongi had returned to their room, but refrained in the end. Even if he wasn’t back, he wouldn’t miss dance practice that day, which meant he wouldn’t miss me.

I think I’ve fallen for (Y/F/N).

My grip around my bowl and spoon tightened as I recalled the events from the day before. Because frankly, (Y/N)’s status hadn’t been the only thing keeping me up all night. I could still not wrap my head around the scenes that had unfolded in the kitchen or in Yoongi’s studio. What the fuck had he be trying to do? I mean, he must have known it would provoke me hearing something like that. It would have provoked anyone.

Despite my anger, however, I couldn’t deny the shame I felt for having punched Yoongi in the face. It ruined the taste of my breakfast. Yet, I was too stubborn to acknowledge it. And so, I forced down the contents of my bowl before my stomach could find the time to protest, then headed out - and toward our dance studio.

Although I would normally have taken a van together with my hyungs, none of them said anything as I unlocked the door and headed out. It was fortunate since I doubted I would have an adequate response, but I was still a bit disappointed that not even Jimin or Taehyung asked me to stay.

During the taxi ride, I browsed the news on my phone. More details surrounding the ongoing investigation regarding Phoenix Inc.’s involvement with the former president had surfaced, and I was disgusted to discover several articles plastered with pictures of (Y/N)’s parents getting off the plane. (Y/N)’s father, who usually portrayed a positive image, bore an uncharacteristically cold guise, while her mother, who seemed to always have her shit very closely and carefully kept together, looked more distraught than I had ever expected to see her. Sympathy rose in my chest; if I was having a difficult time with (Y/N)’s disappearance, they, as parents, had to be on the border of losing it. Plus, with all the uproar rising from the scandal with Phoenix Inc, I couldn’t even imagine being in their shoes.

The dance studio was empty when I arrived. After turning on only the minimum amount of lights, I let out a breath of relief as I got out of my sweatshirt, which was wet from the pouring rain outside, and went to turn on the computer as well as the speakers. When I was done, I connected my phone to the right cable and turned on an old R&B song I felt I could always lean on even when my body wasn’t feeling good.

As the beat began, I felt every muscle in my body relax. I stretched and performed some swift exercises to get my heartbeat and circulation going for a few songs before I went back to the first song and began dancing in earnest. Within seconds, I was gone in my own world, and the experience was so liberating I lost all track of time. It felt like only a few minutes had passed when the door opened and all the lights came on.

My hyungs poured into the dance studio, one by one, and though we greeted each other like any ordinary day, things had definitely changed. The fact that Yoongi and I pretended like we hadn’t seen each other didn’t exactly help. The atmosphere was a lot tenser than normal, and the choreographer must have noticed, for he kept telling us to raise our energy levels. I tried to keep up a good facade, but I was getting so annoyed that I was frankly glad when I told the choreographer I had to leave for a meeting. I felt my hyungs’ eyes on me as I grabbed my water bottle and sweatshirt, particularly Namjoon’s, but did my best to ignore it as I left.

By the time I reached the boardroom, I could overhear small conversations from within the boardroom even though it was still a few minutes left. My heart sank to my feet when I heard Yi-Jae’s bright laughter flutter through the air, and I froze outside the doors, which were slightly ajar.

This was it. I had to do it; I had to speak up for myself.

Inhaling deeply, I gathered myself and slid through the doors. A long table stood in the center of the board room, allowing room for up to sixteen people. Around the end of the table that was furthest away from the door sat three people: Bang Si-Hyuk, Yi-Jae and her head manager, Jung Joo-Sung.

I had never liked Yi-Jae’s head manager. He was needlessly strict about things and had been rude on more than one occasion, both toward me and other people around Yi-Jae. I couldn’t even say anything in response to his behavior either since he was the younger brother of the CEO of ESStar’s company, INU Entertertainment.

All small talk was strangled as their eyes immediately turned my direction. Fighting back a wave of awkwardness, I bowed before I spoke. “Hello.”

“Ah, shut the door after you, Jungkook.” Bang Si-Hyuk gestured toward the chair next to him and opposite Yi-Jae and her manager. “You can sit here.”

Obeying, I hurried over and bowed again before Jung Joo-Sung, who regarded me critically over his frameless glasses, before I sank down. Although I rarely felt cold even when I dressed lightly, a chill crept over my frame, forcing me to put on my sweatshirt.

I felt the weight of Bang Si-Hyuk’s eyes on me. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine,” I lied, resisting the urge to take my hand through my hair.

It was quiet for a beat before he continued. “We discussed a bit before you arrived.” He clasped his hands together on the table surface. “And we’ve decided that your--” he looked from Yi-Jae then back at me, “--engagement is going to be officially confirmed.”

Before I could say anything, Jung Joo-Sung interjected.

“Indeed,” he said in a sharp tone I had gotten adjusted to during the previous few times we met. “There’s been plenty of rumors about you two being engaged already. It won’t stir up any trouble if we announce it.”

“I can’t get engaged to her,” I blurted, horrified at the mere thought of it.

A flash of hurt crossed Yi-Jae’s eyes. Nearly drowning in an oversized gray hoodie, Yi-Jae looked thinner than usual. In fact, I could clearly see a difference in her physique compared to last time we met, which was when she’d dropped the pregnancy bomb on me. Her chin and cheekbones were more pronounced than half a year ago, and no amount of makeup in the whole world could hide the dark circles underneath her eyes. On first glance, I would have never been able to tell that she was six months pregnant.

“I don’t know if it’s my child,” I added when Bang Si-Hyuk’s gaze turned inquisitive.

“Don’t be stupid,” said Jung Joo-Sung with a low snort. “Of course it is.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back into the chair. “I spoke to Kang Shin-Ho yesterday. He confirmed that Yi-Jae cheated on me from the time they were filming the drama to March this year.”

Jung Joo-Sung furrowed his brows and glanced to his side, where Yi-Jae sat. She stared back, completely stunned for what had to be seconds before she reacted.

“He’s lying!” she insisted. “I’ve never done more than speak with him and that was only during filming.”

“He showed me their texts from January,” I said and pulled up my phone. “He even sent me some screenshots of when they agreed to hang out.”

“This is serious,” said Bang Si-Hyuk solemnly and his eyes settled on Yi-Jae. “Is this true?”

Yi-Jae looked desperately up at her manager, but he didn’t budge. Finally, she let out a long sigh and stared down into her lap.

“Alright,” she murmured, her throat thick with emotion. “But that was only because things were going bad between Jungkook and me. I… I would have never reached out to Shin-Ho-oppa otherwise.”

I knew I should have felt bad, especially when she looked at me with tears in her eyes, but I felt nothing. I wasn’t mad at her for cheating on me; I wasn’t relieved that she finally admitted that transgression. I wasn’t disappointed that she’d lied to me; I wasn’t sad that she’d resorted to being with another guy because our relationship wasn’t working out.

In that moment, I just felt empty.

“So, the child…” started Bang Si-Hyuk.

“It’s Jungkook’s,” blurted Yi-Jae with a blush. “I’m a hundred percent certain. I’ve never been with another man.” Her blush deepened.

“But what if it isn’t?” I asked.

Yi-Jae stared at me in disbelief. “Don’t you trust me?”

I shook my head.

“Well,” began Jung Joo-Sung and turned toward Bang Si-Hyuk, “even if it isn’t his child announcing their engagement before the child is born or the rumors get any worse will be the best option for both of our companies. Just imagine the outcry if the child is born and it really is Jungkook’s.”

I wanted to butt in and tell him that it was 2018, but I couldn’t. Not with Bang Shi-Hyuk nodding as solemnly as he did.

“I see your point,” he said. “But what if you’re wrong? If the child isn’t Jungkook’s, your image will crumble. What does your CEO have to say about this?”

“My brother trusts me on this matter,” said Jung Joo-Sung before patting Yi-Jae gently on the shoulder. “And I trust Yi-Jae. She wouldn’t lie to me about something like this.”

“She lied to you about Kang Shin-Ho, didn’t she?” I couldn’t help but say.

Jung Joo-Sung’s eyes narrowed as they found mine, but he said nothing. He didn’t need to either. Bang Si-Hyuk didn’t seem very convinced by my words, and I could see that he was leaning more in the same direction as Yi-Jae’s head manager.

That’s when I decided to finally say it.

“There’s another reason why I can’t get engaged to Yi-Jae.”

Yi-Jae’s focus lifted from her lap, and though her eyes were initially bemused, it didn’t take many seconds for her to realize what I was about to say. Meanwhile, the two men merely seemed confused.

“Go on.”

I cleared my throat and suddenly felt very warm again. “I’m… I…”

“He’s in love with that rich family friend of his. The girl that’s gone missing.”

“ What ?”

I glared at Yi-Jae, but she huffed and looked away. I would have snapped at her, furious over the lack of sympathy in her voice, but was cut off before I could even start.

“So you were cheating on Yi-Jae, too?” asked Jung Joo-Sung, his eyebrows climbing high over his forehead.

“No, actually--”

“Worse,” interrupted Yi-Jae, and though she tried her best to hide it, I very clearly discerned the hurt in her voice. “He used me as some kind of morbid way of making her jealous.”

“Jungkook,” said Bang Si-Hyuk firmly when I paused to calm myself. “You’d better explain yourself now.”

And so I did. Without mentioning my father or other dark details surrounding my childhood, I told them everything about my arranged marriage with (Y/N) but that my feelings long predated the exchanging of rings. Though, I had to admit that it wasn’t with my head held high. Because although Yi-Jae’s words had been sharp, they hadn’t been untrue. They pierced into my heart like tiny needles, harming not only my pride as a guy and person, but also my self-image.

I knew I wasn’t the best there was out there - not even close - but I liked to at least see myself as a good guy. I did what I was told by managers, I practiced as hard as I could both to develop myself as an artist but also an entertainer, and I would always think of my fans. I knew I could be a little immature and selfish and bullheaded at times, but what twenty-year-old - soon-to-be twenty-one-year - wasn’t?

Oh yeah, (Y/N) wasn’t.

Sure, she had a temper and a bit of a violent streak, but she always thought of her parents first, her company second and herself third. And while I had been amnesic, she had put me and my well-being far, far above her own health and opinions. I had hurt her deeply by cheating on her with Yi-Jae, yet still, she had come for me at the hospital in the middle of the night. Yet still, she helped me back on my feet, both figuratively and literally, and returned me onto a path I had dreamed of ever since I was a kid. Looking back, I couldn’t believe how difficult it had to have been for her to handle me in addition to all her other duties.

When I was done, silence befell the boardroom. Yi-Jae’s jaw had dropped sometime during my explanation, but as our eyes locked, she hurriedly closed her mouth and looked elsewhere. She couldn’t hide all of her emotions, however, and I wasn’t surprised to distinguish both shock and confusion and hurt in her eyes. After all, I had never told her the extent of my relationship with (Y/N).

“So,” said Bang Si-Hyuk, eyes wide, “to summarize, you’re currently engaged to Miss (Y/F/N), daughter to the CEO of Phoenix Incorporate?”

“I think she’s already stepped up to the position,” I said. My heart ached at the mention of her name and had ached even while I spoke of her, but I forced the words out anyway. Although (Y/N) was missing, I had to be strong. “And no, we’re not engaged at the moment. But we’re going to.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

I slanted a sharp look at Jung Joo-Sung. “With all due respect,” I said as politely as I could, “I think you’re a bit out of line saying something like that. I’m not even a part of your company.”

Jung Joo-Sung took off his frameless glasses to polish them but his eyes never strayed from mine. “I’m thinking about your career,” he said in a tone that would have, in any other circumstance, resembled gentleness and perhaps even sympathy. However, all I heard was the distaste lacing every syllable as he continued. “And of course, the image of your company.” He nodded toward Bang Si-Hyuk.

“What do you mean?” I asked, not bothering to cloak the ice in my voice.

“Haven’t you seen the news lately?”

“I have, actually.”

“Then you should know that Phoenix Incorporate is in a catastrophic situation right now,” said Jung Joo-Sung, aiming his words perhaps more at Bang Si-Hyuk than me. “Not only are their stocks dropping like dog feces, affiliating with them will make everything too politically charged. And although I can understand that you would like to live an easy life and marry the currently richest heiress in South Korea, she’s going to lose all of her company’s holdings and money if the investigation continues to uncover more dirt about their illegal trading business and bribery.”

I swallowed my initial retort, which involved an insult - or ten - and had to pause to breathe before replying. “It’s not about the money or influence,” I said through gritted teeth, then looked at both Yi-Jae and Bang Si-Hyuk, not understanding how they could listen to Jung Joo-Sung talking without reacting. I could see that Bang Si-Hyuk was calculating something in silence as he regarded Yi-Jae’s manager, but Yi-Jae wore an almost insultingly innocent look. As if she didn’t understand - or didn’t want to understand - just how weird the conversation suddenly had become.

“Then what?”

“As Yi-Jae just said,” I said venomously, “it’s about love. I love (Y/F/N), and I’m not going to let her go. Especially not when she’s gone missing.”

“Listen to him,” said Jung Joo-Sung and gave Bang Si-Hyuk an apologetic look. “Young people these days…” When the latter wouldn’t respond, he merely sighed and shifted his attention back toward me. “Look, Jungkook, don’t you understand what I’m trying to do? I’m just trying to help you keep your and your company’s image clean, as well as Yi-Jae’s and ESStar’s and INU Entertainment, alright? I want to help you. And come on, just like you wouldn’t want to board a sinking ship, you shouldn’t want to get near anything even remotely close to Phoenix Inc. and Miss (Y/F/N) and her parents - her father in particular.”

I was standing before I knew it and slammed my palms against the table surface. “Did you seriously just compare (Y/N) and her parents to a sinking ship?” I demanded, anger rushing through my veins like fiery alcohol. “Is this some kind of joke?”

Taken aback by my sudden outburst, Jung Joo-Sung sat glued to his chair, as far away from me as he could get. The fact that he was obviously frightened almost triggered me further. How could he be scared after the bullshit he had just told me? I was a hair’s width away from stepping around the table in order to punch the man but was interrupted - fortunately, or unfortunately - by Bang Si-Hyuk.

“Enough!”

He, too, stood and held out his arm toward me. His face was hard, but underneath his fury, I saw that he was just as startled as Jung Joo-Sung - and even Yi-Jae. She hadn’t uttered a single noise for a while now, and now stared up at me with her eyes wide open.

Before I could say or do something that I would maybe regret, I stalked out of the boardroom. Behind me, I heard Bang Si-Hyuk call for me, but I ignored him and stormed down the hallway, desperate to get away from Jung Jo-Sung - and the horrible, horrible feeling his words had incited within me.

For there was a part of me that couldn’t help but agree.

“Jungkook!”

I didn’t get very far before Yi-Jae caught up to me. She managed to grab my wrist, but I tore myself free without an issue. Refusing to look back despite her pleading, I continued toward the elevators, needing fresh air as soon as possible. Before I went back to the boardroom and did something I would definitely regret.

Unfortunately, what with elevators being what they were, I couldn’t get away from Yi-Jae in time. She slipped inside the car just before the doors closed, wincing slightly when her hoodie momentarily came in contact with the metal. Breathless, she leaned over on her knees as she looked up at me.

“You didn’t have to get so upset,” she said, her fine brows knitting together above her defined nose bridge. “I know he can sound a bit nonchalant, but Joo-Sung-manager was only trying to be honest. And he wouldn’t try that if he didn’t care about you.”

“He cares about you ,” I snarled, unable to stop myself from answering even though I inwardly had promised to stay quiet.

“Yeah, but he knows I care about you so that makes you his priority as well.”

I shook my head and crossed my arms over my chest. “That’s some bullshit.”

“Jungkook--”

“Just leave me be. I need air; I don’t need you.”

Yi-Jae opened her mouth but then quickly closed it. She tucked her hair, which she had colored black at the beginning of summer, behind her ears and glanced at the elevator buttons.

Then, without warning, she slammed the emergency STOP button with the flat of her hand.

As the elevator came to a rough halt, my heart nearly jumped out of my chest. “What the hell are you doing?” I exclaimed, admittedly with more fear in my voice than I had hoped.

“You and I need to talk.”

I stared at her. “Did you really have to lock me into an elevator to do that?” I wondered, completely incredulous. “What if you destroyed the settings? What if we can’t get out of here?”

Yi-Jae frowned. “Well, if you wouldn’t always try to avoid my texts and calls, this wouldn’t have happened! Damn it, Jungkook, last time I saw you was when I told you about my pregnancy!”

Without answering, I started toward the elevator buttons but she stepped in between. “I’m not letting you touch those buttons until we’ve talked,” she said sternly.

I considered darting past her, but since I didn’t want to risk hurting her, I stayed back. “Are all pregnant women this crazy?” I asked instead.

Her eyes narrowed. “Only when they have a childish and selfish boyfriend.”

There it was again: childish. And a majority of me pushed it out of mind. It was nothing more than a mere coincidence that Yoongi and Yi-Jae both had used that word to describe me.

Yet, there was still a part of me that couldn’t help but wonder if they might actually be right.

“Fine.” I backed away until I hit the wall furthest away from Yi-Jae. “Let’s just get this over with. What do you want?”

“Do you have to talk to me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you hate me,” she said quietly.

Guilt pierced my heart. “I don’t hate you,” I said truthfully and in a lot gentler voice. “It’s just…”

Yi-Jae’s gaze dropped to the elevator floor and she wrapped her arms around herself. “Yeah, right,” she said as she chuckled joylessly. “You… let’s say dislike me because it seems like I’m constantly getting in the way of you and (Y/N).”

It wasn’t a question and it wasn’t a conjecture; it was a simple statement. And a true one.

“Yeah,” I admitted after a pause. “Yeah, that’s exactly it.”

One of Yi-Jae’s hands flew up to her face and she whirled away from me. A stifled whimper still managed to escape the confines of her fingers, however, and I instantly felt worse for confessing what I had struggled to keep inside ever since I first met her.

“I…” Unsure of whether to approach her or not, I simply stood still. “I’m sorry.”

There was a snort but Yi-Jae wouldn’t turn around yet. “Is that all you’ve got?” she asked with a sniffle. “You’ve played with my heart and my body for more than two years, and this is the apology I get? The apology you think I deserve?”

I pursed my lips. “I really am sorry. What else am I supposed to say?”

Yi-Jae wiped her face but her eyes were still glittering with dampness as she peered over her shoulder. “That you feel something for me. That I mean something to you.”

I swallowed. “But I really don’t feel anything for you. I never have.”

“You’re lying.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told her dismissively. “I… I love (Y/N). I always have. That’s all there is to it.”

Yi-Jae flinched but she didn’t back down. Instead, she turned around fully and took a tentative step toward me.

“I’m not saying that you aren’t in love with her.” She couldn’t hide the pain that her sentence inflicted on her but that didn’t stop her from steadily eliminating more and more space between us. “I’m just saying that that doesn’t mean you feel nothing for me.”

“What are you trying to say?”

She suddenly blushed and averted her gaze, stopping half an arm’s length away from me. “I think you’re lying when you say that you’ve never loved me. I think you’re lying when you say that you still don’t feel anything for me.”

For some reason, my heart started beating faster at this. “I’m not,” I said, however.

Her eyes flickered up to meet mine. She regarded me closely for a few seconds, then shook her head. “You’re a really bad liar. Has anyone ever told you that before?”

I stiffened. “No,” I lied.

Despite her teary eyes, a giggle still escaped her lips. “Wow, you’re really bad at it. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed it before.”

“Stop this,” I said, more out of fear of my own involuntary reaction than anything else. My heart was probably just acting up because I was exhausted from the inside out. Not because of what Yi-Jae said. Because I couldn’t, I just fucking couldn’t feel anything for her.

Right?

“Jungkook, can you really look me in the eyes and tell me you feel nothing, absolutely nothing, for me?”

“Of course.”

“Then do it,” she challenged. “Prove that you feel nothing for me.”

“How?”

A small smile spread across her lips. “Kiss me.”

“Very funny.”

Before I slip away and gain some distance, Yi-Jae spoke. “If you kiss me and can tell me honestly that you feel nothing for me, I’ll end all of this. There will be absolutely no talk of engagement from my side and I’ll tell Joo-Sung-manager to try his best and convince Bang Si-Hyuk-huijang-nim.”

I frowned. “But you’ll still force me to be in a relationship with you, right?”

“It’s your son,” answered Yi-Jae instantly, seemingly repelled by my response. “How can you not want to take care of your own child?”

I clenched my jaws. Yi-Jae was offering a gift from the heavens, really. So long as I kissed her one final time and told her I felt nothing for her, I could avoid an engagement with her. And she was right about the child. I was nowhere near mature enough to even consider having a child - to be completely honest, I would have preferred a life completely childless. Comfortability aside, there was this horrible weight on my shoulder as soon as I thought of a baby or kid. The kind of weight no exercise or sleep or fun in the whole world could disintegrate.

Fortunately, there was a smart and easy solution to the child issue.

“I want a paternity test done,” I said. “And I want it done as soon and quickly as possible.”

“Deal.”

For a millisecond, Yi-Jae had hesitated before answering. But the pause went by so quickly, it could have just been my imagination.

“Also,” I said, “I want you to know that our relationship will end the very second I find out the child isn’t mine.”

“That’s not going to happen.” Yi-Jae smiled as she gazed down at her stomach, which was barely noticeable underneath her thick gray hoodie. It wasn’t until when she caressed her midsection that I discerned the slight bump. “He’s yours, I’m a hundred percent sure.”

“I mean it,” I said coolly. Any other guy would have probably felt something more toward the heartwarming side at the thought of their firstborn. And though I wasn’t exactly disgusted, the thought of a child frankly horrified me. “No matter what happens here and now, you and I will be history if someone else is the father.”

Yi-Jae’s eyes were round when they found mine again. “Wait, did you just admit that something might happen right now?”

I swore inwardly. “I was just trying to be as clear as possible,” I lied.

Yi-Jae’s smile widened. “You’re lying again.”

“All I need to do is kiss you, right?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“Kiss me and tell me you don’t have any feelings for me,” she murmured. “Kiss me and tell me the truth.”

I didn’t respond. I was too scared of what my voice would relief if I did. For as soon as I began bending down, I almost jolted in shock. The movement was so natural, so… obvious . It was like I didn’t even have to think about it.

I didn’t even have to think about kissing Yi-Jae.

And despite the fact that I had only gotten involved with Yi-Jae in an attempt to flee from my growing feelings for (Y/N), that wasn’t the case. Not right then. And though our lips touched only momentarily, forming nothing more than a gentle kiss, that in itself said so much more. If I were inexperienced, it would have been awkward and perhaps longer than necessary. If I were appalled by Yi-Jae, it would have been no more than a peck, something even children could exchange.

If I were indifferent to her, I wouldn’t have had a tiny spark ignite within me as soon as our lips locked.

I almost laughed out loud. Was I intentionally trying to fuck myself? Why couldn’t I ever be consistent with what I said and did and felt?

Why couldn’t I be faithful even now when (Y/N) was who the fuck knows where?

When I withdrew, I was on the border of crying. Not because I was sad or upset - I was frustrated. Beyond frustrated. Because how could I tell Yi-Jae I felt nothing? How could I feel something for her when I loved (Y/N)?

How could I lie?

Yi-Jae’s face was flushed and a triumphant light shone in her eyes. She must have probably gauged the answer on my face, however, she said nothing as I turned away from her. If it was out of shock or happiness, I did not know. Either way, I was glad for her silent patience since it allowed me enough time and space to get my mind sorted. I didn’t speak until I was completely sure of what I wanted to have said.

Until I had a plan.

I knew I had to make some kind of public announcement regarding Yi-Jae’s pregnancy, especially since we were “together”. But I couldn’t tell people the truth, which was that I honestly did not know whether the child was mine or not. It would harm the reputation of everyone that was involved - but mostly Yi-Jae. In fact, I was pretty sure it would ruin her career if people found out she had cheated on me as well as gotten a child out of that affair, and that was the last thing I wanted. Because even though that was an archaic way of thinking, I couldn’t deny that it was still very much the main opinion in South Korea yet.

On the other hand, I didn’t want to lie - okay, it might not be a complete lie, but I wouldn’t be telling the public the truth either - and straight out say that the child was mine. Announcing that I was having a child would hurt my image and fans, and I didn’t need news sites reporting on all the details of the child instead of our upcoming album and promotions. However, these were still the least of my problems.

What would (Y/N) think about Yi-Jae’s pregnancy?

And yet, despite all of the above, I couldn’t exactly deny the existence of the child. That would be the worst thing I could do. It would seem like I shied away from responsibility - especially if the child actually proved to be mine.

That would ruin my career.

“Fine,” I said finally and rubbed my nose bridge. “I can’t believe I’m saying this… but let’s get engaged.”

“ Really ?” Yi-Jae sounded skeptical, stunned and overjoyed, all at the same time.

I nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it all. Get out on talk shows, do interviews - everything. But only on one condition.”

“Anything.”

And so I told her that condition. Even though Yi-Jae tried to protest at first, I refused to back down. I even made a voice recording and told her I would get a lawyer involved unless she followed through on her part. When we finally came to an agreement, she wrapped her arms around me - and I let her.

It was a bit tricky to get the elevator going again, but Yi-Jae managed to get it going before my worry could turn into anxiousness. We returned to the boardroom where I announced the engagement to both Jung Joo-Sung and Bang Si-Hyuk, who both seemed pleasantly surprised over the quick development. Yi-Jae was beaming, and judging by the startled looks I received from all of my hyungs - except for Yoongi - when I returned to the dance studio, so was I.

But inwardly, I was terrified. I had regretted my decision as soon as I opened my mouth in the elevator. As soon as I announced the engagement in the boardroom before both Jung Joo-Sung and Bang Si-Hyuk. As soon as I saw Yoongi’s unreadable guise.

And although I wasn’t the religious type, I sent a prayer that night to whoever might hear that (Y/N) would understand and forgive me - and that my plan would be successful.

#MCAF #Ao3 #Wrienne #bts fic #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #Jeon Jungkook/Reader #Jeon Jungkook #Reader-Insert #MCAF2 #My Cheating Amnesic Fiancé 2

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welcomexyearxzero · 2 years

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Ghost Ritual

I’ll try to post some coherent thoughts.

Just some random stuff first:

-Our seats were stage left (a.k.a., Dewdrop’s side)--the section nearest the stage. Five rows back, which turned out to be just perfect for making eye contact (real or imagined).

-Speaking of, real or not, I stand by believing I made eye contact with Papa IV several times during the ritual. Most importantly at the end when he was blowing his goodbye kisses and I blew one back. I will also stand by making eye contact with Dewdrop and Rain a few times as well, the two ghouls who were over there the most often.

-Speaking of Dewdrop, I almost got one of his picks but, alas, it wasn’t meant to be. At least now I know where I should try to sit for future rituals because I for sure can never do GA because of my claustrophobia.

-Another near thing: getting money from “Mummy Dust.” Security guards picked up a bunch and handed out a few to each of the people in the front row but only one of those people kept just one for himself and handed out the rest to people behind him. Everyone else just kept all they were given, which wasn’t cool but I get.

-I missed Spiritbox so I don’t when things went off track but I’m pretty sure Ghost started later than they should have because we didn’t get the guitar duel before “Cirice” and Papa IV didn’t banter all that much with the audience. As much as I love all of the little extra stuff, I do much prefer them having gotten all 20 songs so I can’t be upset about that.

Now onto the songs that stood out for me as big highlights of the night:

”Griftwood” - I posted earlier today (technically, yesterday) about this one being a surprise bonus song because they added it in four rituals ago. I’m so happy I got the chance to hear it because I was a little bit bummed when I checked the setlist after the first ritual of this tour and didn’t see it there. I don’t know why they decided to throw it in for the last stretch of the tour but I’m very glad they did.

”Hunter’s Moon” - A special song to hear for me because it’s the song that reminded me that I still needed to finally start listening to Ghost. Thank you, Halloween Kills. And it also reminded me that the Hunter’s Moon is on my birthday this year (October 9th) so I have to spend all day long listening to this song and will make sure to sit outside at night and listen to it, regardless of whether or not I can actually see the moon that night.

“Ritual” - I figuratively had front row seats to Aether basically telling Dew to shut the fuck up. I didn’t record the full song. Just the beginning and that ending because I knew it was coming. It was just so great to be right there for that. I love those two so much.

“Con Clavi Con Dio” - One of my favorite songs that I was glad to see they added back in to the setlist. This one holds a special place in my heart because it was the first song Popia sang after becoming Papa IV. So hearing him specifically sing it...Just yes.

“Year Zero” - Not just my favorite Ghost song but one of my favorite songs of all-time. Singing “hell Satan” with 5,000+ other people = a religious experience in its own right. It was a wonderful moment that will be cherished by me forever.

“He Is” - Definitely another religious experience here. Slowing things down, all of the cell phone flashlights out, everyone singing a hymn to Lucifer together with Papa. Simply beautiful.

That covers the big things I wanted to say. I really enjoyed the entire setlist and think they did very well in choosing what they chose and even the order they were played in.

I can’t really think of anything else I wanted to say at the moment. It’s 1:00 AM so I’m just going to bed because I can’t afford to lose too much sleep, seeing as I still have to work on Thursday and Friday this week.

#ghost #the band ghost #papa emeritus iv #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #aether ghoul

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trektraveler · 2 years

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Nightingale Chapter Twelve: The Party

Summary: Jensen Ackles seemed to have it all. A hit television series fifteen years running, a budding music career and a stunning wife. To the casual observer, his life was perfect. But it was a façade. No more real than the supernatural world created on a soundstage.

That day on the lake had started with uncertainty, but when he pulled you from the water everything became clear. The truth was, he’d been the one drowning.

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Jensen x Reader, Jensen x You

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Jared Padalecki, Genevieve Padalecki, Misha Collins, Reader

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Hospitals, Drowning, Fluff, Angst, Smut, unprotected sex

Chapter Twelve: The Party

Word Count: 6492

Author’s Notes: This is a complete work of fiction about a real life person. The circumstances are totally made up and are in no way a commentary on the fantastic Jensen Ackles or his family.

This is also a unique reader insert story as I have given the reader a physical description including hair color, eye color and body type. Hopefully you can still lose yourself in the utter fantasy where Jensen is the hero and you are ripe for rescuing!

Additional Notes: The response to this story has been beyond my expectations! You guys have been the best! Thank you for continuing to read my work and encourage me, its kept my eye on the prize :)

Series Masterlist

It had been two months since your idyllic getaway in the mountains and life had settled into a lovely, normal rhythm. Jensen was quickly thrown back into a grueling filming schedule, fourteen-hour days, obscenely late nights and physically draining fight scenes. Most nights he was a zombie by the time Clif dropped him off at the apartment. But then he would crawl into bed with you, and all would be right with the world. It was so natural. So easy. As if it had always been.

You made good start on becoming the doctor you once were. Once you returned to Vancouver, you hit the books hard. You made exactly one trip back to your old apartment to retrieve more medical books and your scrubs, then you locked the door behind you and walked away. You still paid rent on it and kept the key on the ring next to the key Jensen gave you. Even though you hated it and had no intention of going back, it was a reminder that you weren’t lost or dependent anymore. You were a capable woman with a bright future and while you didn’t have your memories, you at least had the framework of your past. And that was enough.

Your days were full. Your life was full. You had friends, you had work, and you had Jensen. During the workweek, your conflicting schedules kept you from seeing each other during the day, but you always found each other in the night. Sometimes it was a strong arm wrapped around you and a whispered goodnight. Other times he’d kiss you awake and make love with you until the alarm heralded the start of a new day. Either way, you never lost track of each other. You found ways to communicate when you were apart and celebrate when you were together.

It was perfect. Except for the nightmares. The little girls plagued your nights with their children’s games and sing song rhymes. Jensen was a deep sleeper. Coupled with work related exhaustion, you thankfully never disturbed his sleep. It wasn’t until he came home early one night that he even found out about it.

Jensen slipped the key out of his pocket as he approached the apartment door. Fatigue hung heavy around his shoulders, but he still had a spring in his step. He finally had a light day which meant the two of you could actually have dinner together. You’d spent the day going through your first physical and basic cognitive test with Doctor McMillan and he was anxious to hear how it had gone.

His key was hovering just above the lock when he heard your scream. He nearly tore the door from its hinges in his panicked haste.

“YN?!”

You were passed out on the couch. Medical texts were littered around the floor, and one was open on your chest, suggesting you’d fallen asleep while reading. A common occurrence of late. Your face was twisted in unconscious fear, and you cried out again, “No! No, please!”

Jensen was by your side in an instant. “Y/N. Sweetheart, wake up.”

Your whimpers broke his heart, you murmured a string more incomprehensible words, but a few came through clear. “No… Frankie! Frankie….”

When tapping your cheeks didn’t wake you, he gently shook you, “Y/N, come on baby. Come back to me.”

“No… Frankie!”

After several minutes of coaxing your eyes flew open. Wide and brimming with unshed tears. You were looking at him, but Jensen could tell you weren’t really seeing him. Whatever you had seen in your sleep had you absolutely terrified. Not wanting to scare you further, Jensen kept his voice low and steady.

He cupped your face with one hand, his thumb soothing your temple, “Y/N. Hey, are you with me?”

Worried, green eyes bored into yours and suddenly you were back. “Jay?”

Seeing the recognition on your face, he breathed a sigh of relief. “Yeah, Sweetheart. It’s me, I’m right here.”

You launched yourself into his arms and sobbed. You couldn’t explain the heartbreak and the terror. The nightmare had awakened a fight or flight response that was near a panic. You clung to Jensen as if your life depended on it, shaking in his grasp. While he did his best to soothe and calm you. After an eternity, your heart quit trying to beat out of your chest and your breathing evened out.

“I’m going to get you some water,” came his voice from above your head. “You be okay on your own for a minute?”

You nodded and made use of the tissues he handed to you. When he returned, he exchanged the tissues for a cold glass of water and instructed you to drink it. You were suddenly hyperaware of his attention. You felt exposed and embarrassed.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered for lack of anything better to say.

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said, taking note of your downcast eyes. “I heard you screaming from the hallway.”

“I’m sorry.”

He pulled you to his side and tucked your head against his shoulder, threading his fingers through your hair in a way that he hoped would comfort. “Baby, you’ve got nothing to be sorry for. Nothing.”

At your shuddering breath, he moved his hand up and down your back. You wrapped your arms around his chest and tried to ground yourself. The images usually faded the more awake you were, but this time they didn’t. The girls weren’t playing anymore, they were at a funeral. A wake. Two tiny girls with sunshine hair in the middle of a swarm of adults, all in black. There were two caskets, the dark wood polished to a high gleam. The lids were thankfully closed and covered with beautiful sprays of fresh flowers.

It was tangible. You could feel all of it; the coldness of the room, the brush of suits and dresses as they passed you, the hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

Jensen’s voice rumbled in his chest, “Was this a repeat of the nightmare you had last night?”

You silently cursed yourself, so much for not disturbing your sleep-deprived boyfriend. “I didn’t think you knew about that.”

“You’ve been having them for a while now. But this one was worse, wasn’t it?”

You didn’t reply. Was it worse? This was what you’d been wishing for, memories. Even if this was just a dream, you knew it was tied to something in your past. The old phrase be careful what you wish for came to mind.

“You were talking in your sleep this time. Kept calling out for Frankie.”

“Frankie,” you repeated, equal parts relieved and confused when the name didn’t ring any bells. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Do you remember anything from your dream?”

“Nothing worth repeating.” At his concerned frown, you sighed. “I’m sorry, it’s just all a jumbled mess and I don’t want to talk about it. None of it makes any sense anyway.”

He studied you for a long moment. “Okay. You don’t have to talk about it. But when you want to, I’m right here.”

You brushed a kiss across his lips, “Thank you.”

“Any time,” he replied, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “How’d your tests go?”

That got a smile from you, “Flying colors.”

“Yeah?”

“Yup. I am in excellent physical condition and all of my cognitive functions are up to snuff.”

“I could have told you that,” he murmured, nuzzling your neck. “Does this mean you’re moving on to the multiple-choice round?”

“As well as shadowing the residents, like an internship. Which means I’ll have an actual work schedule.”

Jensen beamed down at you, “I’m so damn proud of you.”

You shifted to sit on his lap, “Well, I couldn’t have done it without my study partner.”

“Hey, any time you want to study, you just let me know.” He kissed you, slow and deep. God, he never got tired of it. It was that feeling of connection. It wasn’t just kissing, it was everything. Every touch. Every glance. Every word. It was the subtle scent of your favorite lotion that still clung to his shirt hours later. It was the unconscious smile that crept over his face when your name popped up on his phone.

Jared called it the ‘honey’ period.

“You mean a honeymoon?”

“No, this has got nothing to do with wedding bells or trips to Bali. This is when everything is just golden and sweet. Warm and flowing and perfect,” Jared waggled his eyebrows. “And you only got one thing on your mind.”

“Honey.” Jensen said it before Jared could. “Yeah, I do think about honey a lot.”

“You’re thinking about it right now, aren’t you?”

Jensen grinned down at his phone, then schooled his features. “Yeah, well you brought it up.”

Jared held up a hand in mock defense, “Hey man, I get it. You’re entitled to a little honey time. And I’m entitled to give you shit about it. Especially after Gen.”

“Please! You can not compare me to your pathetic puppy dog routine,” Jensen laughed at the memory. “Gen married you just to put you out of your misery.”

When Jensen’s phone buzzed, he answered it on the first ring. Earning an I-told-you-so bitch look from his co-star.

“Shut up,” Jensen muttered before turning his attention to you, “Hey, Sweetheart…”

“So, you got enough pull with McMillan to get a night off?”

“I’m sure I could make a case for a worthwhile cause.” You tilted your head, “Why?”

“Every year right before the winter break, the studio throws us a little shindig. But with this being our last year and all, they’re making a big deal out of it. A gala.”

God, I feel like a teenager asking her to the high school dance!

“A gala?”

“Yeah! Like fancy dresses. Tuxedos. Champagne. The whole nine yards. So, what do you say? Wanna go to the prom?”

“So long as I go with you,” you replied with a wink.

A week later, Jensen was deep into the honey period and loving every minute of it. He even loved Jared’s ribbing him about it. There were only a few days of shooting left and then the cast and crew were free until after the new year. He felt like a kid riding out the end of the school term, just waiting for that last bell to ring that would signal the beginning of the holidays.

Jensen usually made a trip back home to visit his family and this year would be no exception. He conspired with Doctor McMillan and got you a chunk of time off that would match up with his. Just enough for a good, old-fashioned Christmas. God, he couldn’t wait to see the look on your face when he surprised you with the plane ticket! First class, of course. He was going to show you everything. His favorite stargazing spot, the tree in the backyard he fell from and broke his arm, the lake where he learned to swim.

His mom had been asking a million questions about you already. What did you like to eat? Did you have any allergies? What size pajamas did you wear? They were going to love you, just like he did, and his heart swelled every time he thought about it. He been spending most of his down time between scenes online, ordering Christmas presents and having them shipped to Texas. Jensen hadn’t been this excited about the holidays since he was a kid, and damn… It felt good!

He and Jared were done for the day. Another late night, but worth the price. The fans were going to love this episode! Jensen hummed an acknowledgement when Jared hopped out and said goodnight. A few minutes later, Clif was pulling up to Jensen’s building.

“Thanks,” Jensen yawned as he reached for the doorhandle. “See you in the morning, bud.”

“Hang on, I need to talk to you about something.”

“Can’t it wait until morning? I’m beat, man.”

Clif put the vehicle in park and turned to face the backseat, “Its important. It’s about Y/N.”

Jensen’s fatigue instantly vanished. They hadn’t spoken about you since that day you visited the set, and that hadn’t been an easy conversation. “What about her?”

“I did some digging…”

“Clif, if this is another Y/N bashing session, don’t bother. You know where I stand.”

“This is girl is not who she says she is. Just hear me out, please?”

Jensen set his jaw but stayed seated. A silent signal that this was the only opportunity Clif was going to get.

“I have a buddy who used to be in law enforcement, runs his own P.I. firm now. I had him run the name Gabriella Baines along with her picture through the national data base and she doesn’t exist.”

“What the hell does that mean? She obviously exists, I’ve been to her hospital, met her co-workers.” Jensen’s brows drew together in a frown. “Kinda hard to fake that, Clif.”

“But that’s just it, that’s the only place she exists. Her resume says she was on staff at three other hospitals before Vancouver General and none of them have any record of a Gabriella Baines.” Clif’s bushy, gray eyebrows rose with excitement. “Now, her picture did match up with other hospitals. Five other hospitals all over the country had her on staff, all under different names.”

Jensen was stunned for a moment before denial set in, “What? No, that doesn’t make any sense…”

“I’m telling you… your little Nightingale has more aliases than Jason Bourne.”

“No way.” Jensen was adamant. “That’s… that’s nuts! So, what…. Y/N changes her name, works at a hospital, saves a few lives and moves on to the next town? Is she wanted for something? She got a record?”

“No,” Clif admitted, “She left on good terms, so far as I can tell. But come on man, this is all kinds of suspicious.”

“If what you say is true, then yeah, its… odd.”

“Odd?! Jay, this girl has got you so turned around you can’t see that she’s a con! She’s playing you!”

“Alright! That’s enough!” Jensen snapped. His mind was racing, trying to come up with a viable reason you would do this. When he couldn’t panic set in. “I meant what I told you. I said if you had an issue with Y/N that we were done. Don’t bother stopping here tomorrow, I’ll drive myself.”

A look of worry and hurt flashed across the bodyguard’s face. He had known the boys for a long time and despite the difference of opinion, he still considered them family. And he always would.

“Jackles, come on man. I’m just trying to look out for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I don’t know what Y/N ever did to get you to go after her like this, but she doesn’t deserve it. And neither do I.” Jensen stepped out of the SUV and paused, desperately trying to keep his emotions from overflowing. “Have a Merry Christmas.”

The apartment was mostly dark when he walked through the front door. He quietly made his way down the hall and poked his head into the bedroom. Relieved to see you fast asleep in the huge bed, he thought back to the first night. The night he brought you home from the hospital. You were so banged up you could barely walk. Black and blue with fractured ribs and a damned concussion. He felt guilty as hell for putting you in that condition. He and Jared both did, but there was more to it for him. Jensen wanted to rescue you from day one. Wanted to protect you. To be your hero.

He headed back to the kitchen and poured himself a hefty glass of bourbon. Maybe he had been primed for this. He had this desperate need to play the hero in real life that made him a target. He didn’t want to believe it. Regardless of Clif’s accusations, Jensen loved you and he wasn’t going to just throw that away.

His phone buzzed and a text came through from Clif. A sense of dread and foreboding settled in the pit of Jensen’s stomach. Against his better judgement, he opened it.

-Before you tell me to go to hell, at least read the files and draw your own conclusions.

There they were. File after file filed with exactly what Clif had said. Your unmistakable blue eyes stared back at him from every picture, although your hair cut and color changed. It was you. Without a doubt, it was you.

Miranda Tyler, M.D. – Royal Victoria Hospital, Montreal

Rachael Scott, M.D. - Mount Sinai, Toronto

Alexandra McQuiston, M.D. - Saint Boniface Hospital, Winnipeg

Stephanie Jacobs, M.D. – Rocky View General Hospital, Calgary

Jennifer Atkins, M.D. – Jeffery Hale Hospital, Quebec City

Jensen tossed his phone down on the counter and downed another glass. Letting the whiskey burn away the sick feeling in his gut. It didn’t make any sense. No matter how he looked at it. Why would you do this? What was the point? And… what the hell should he do now?

Clif was right. It killed him to admit it, but there it was. Hard proof. But proof of what? Unless you had a legion of doppelgangers out there, you had a past littered with aliases. No normal, law-abiding person did that. To try and reconcile that hard truth with the person he knew you to be was impossible.

You were honest, hardworking, vulnerable, and real. You were real! Damn it, you were real! Jensen knew it in his bones. You made him feel things again, you made him hope for things again. You loved him. That didn’t just vanish because some ghosts from your past came knocking.

Jensen silently slipped into the bedroom and stripped down to his boxers before sliding into bed next to you. You never woke but flipped over towards him and let out a contented sigh. He wrapped his arms around you and held you tight. As if anything less and you would vanish during the night. As if you and the world the two of you created were nothing more than a dream, too good to be true.

Sleep never came for him that night, and when morning broke, he left before you got up.

You couldn’t quite put your finger on what was different, but something had shifted between the two of you. You never saw each other, which wasn’t all that much of a change really. You still kept in regular contact throughout the day, but Jensen’s responses were short. Fine, but not flirty or fun as they used to be. You chocked it up to work stress. You knew that certain material could be emotionally taxing on actors, and the last thing you wanted to do was make that process more difficult.

When you did see him, it was more of paths crossing than anything else. Although, he did ask you lots of questions about your work. About your past work, which you could remember very little of. It was so confusing, you felt as if you were failing him somehow. Like there was a test and you kept getting the answers wrong.

Before you knew it, the night of the gala had arrived. True to your word, you arranged to have the evening free. You even took off the day. Since you had no idea what was expected of you, you enlisted the help of Kimmy from the Supernatural makeup department. With her help, you were confident that you at least looked the part. Even if you didn’t feel it.

You were in the shower when Jensen got home. You decided to use your old room as a staging area. To keep your dress a surprise and to give him as much space as possible to get ready himself. You really hoped that now he was done with work for a bit that he would relax again. That the two of you could recapture the closeness you found at the cabin.

You felt a little silly, but you wanted to have one of those movie moments. The girl comes out in the dress, the boy sees her, and they feel… magic. Life wasn’t a movie, but there had been so many magical moments with Jensen. It couldn’t be out of the realm of possibility to have one more. Surely, he was missing you too.

Jensen’s voice filtered in through the closed door. “Y/N? The car’s here.”

“I’ll be right out,” you replied, checking your reflection one more time. You recalled the first time you stood in front of that mirror; a stranger stared back at you. Bruised and broken in more ways than you were even aware of. The difference was obvious and not just in how you looked.

Jensen was adjusting his cufflinks when he heard your door open. “We should get going, I don’t want to be…”

You were wearing the blue dress. His dress. He still had a picture the stylist sent him that day, but that picture was nothing compared to you in real life. Standing there with a soft smile just for him. Your remarkable eyes glowed, echoed in the fine silk that skimmed your body. You worked your hair into a twist that gathered behind your left ear and cascaded over your shoulder. Blonde. The prettiest shade of wheat blonde, and damn if it didn’t suit you.

“Sorry… I kept you waiting.”

Jensen shook his head wordlessly. He took three steps to close the distance between you, his eyes drifting over your body. Committing every detail to memory. When his gaze found yours, he saw the worry and uncertainty lingering there and he hated himself for it.

“I don’t deserve you.”

Your hand instantly came up to cup his face, “You deserve every good thing this world has to offer. And I know you’ve been beyond stressed lately.”

He didn’t reply but took both of your hands in his and kissed your knuckles. It felt sorrowful, almost like an apology. Something really wasn’t right.

“Jay, are you sure you’re up to this? We can cancel, I’m sure everyone will understand.”

He kissed you properly then. It was bittersweet and filled with longing. He felt like you were completely out of reach even though you were standing right in front of him. All he wanted was to get back to where things were before Clif and his damn files.

“God, just look at you. You look like an angel.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically, “Don’t say that! The angels are dicks!”

Jensen laughed, grateful for the release of tension. “Not in my world, they’re not. In my world, they’re a blue eyed blonde with legs for days.”

“You like blondes, then?”

“Love ‘em.”

“And I’m not too tall? I was worried about the heels…”

“Sweetheart, to change anything about you would be a sin.”

That he was still able to make you blush with just a few words was an encouraging sign. It was such an unconsciously honest reaction. He watched you with hooded eyes as you ran your slender hands over the shoulders and down the lapels of his tuxedo jacket. By this point in his career, Jensen was used to wearing black tie and to the attention he received when he did. An expensive suit perfectly tailored always served him well.

But that was nothing compared to how he felt when you looked at him. Like he was everything you had ever wanted. In that moment, he didn’t care about anything from your past. None of it mattered. If you could put your faith in him so completely after everything that had happened, he at least owed you the benefit of the doubt.

“Wow,” you whispered.

“Yeah?”

Your smile lit your whole face, “Yes.”

“Hey, I better make an effort if I’m going to show up with the most beautiful woman on the planet by my side.”

He helped fix your wrap around your shoulders with a wink and you slipped your hand through the crook of his elbow when he offered his arm. Once again, the two of you fit perfectly together and that was how you faced the night.

Jensen had it right when he called it a gala. The network had spared no expense, they booked the prestigious Shaughnessy Country Club, and it was decked out to the nines. Every surface was dripping with silver and gold decor. Crystal glittered like diamonds from the trays of the waitstaff passing through the crowd. The massive fountain dominated the space and provided a stunning light show while a who’s who of Supernatural milled about in their finery. Show runners, writers, actors, set designers, even the creator Eric Kripke was there! There was no paparazzi or red carpet, but there were plenty of photographers and Jensen had already pulled you to his side for pictures several times.

You knew you were holding onto Jensen like a lifeline, but there were so many people! You felt like a county cousin come to the big city.

“Hey, there they are!”

To your relief, the impossible to miss Jared was making a b-line for you with a petite brunette at his side. Although you’d never met her, you immediately recognized the beauty as his wife, Gen.

“Wow, Y/N! You look fantastic!” Jared said, kissing your cheek.

“Thanks Jared, its great to see you.”

“This is my wife, Gen,” he looked adoringly down at the woman beside him. “Babe, this is Y/N.”

She shook your outstretched hand with a megawatt smile, “It’s so nice to finally meet you in person, the boys have been going on and on.”

You couldn’t help but smile in return, “That is kind of their pre-set.”

“Tell me about it, we can’t even go to the movies without them getting us kicked out for talking.”

“That was like ten years ago!” Jensen exclaimed.

“Yeah, the first time,” Gen replied before linking her arm through yours. “Come on, let’s get a drink and I’ll tell you about the time the boys snuck out of the convention center and got locked out on the roof for three hours.”

“Great, the Denver story,” Jensen grumbled as the two women walked towards the bar.

“It’s always the same when girls meet up,” Jared said with a smirk. “They either tell every embarrassing story they know about us, or they hate each other.”

The two exchanged a look that said volumes about the rough waters they navigated when Danneel was part of the mix.

“Right,” Jensen nodded. “This is better.”

Gen was an absolute ray of sunshine. Bubbly and fun and a lot like Jared in many ways. She effortlessly introduced you to several of the other actresses and spun entertaining stories of her life with J2.

She titled her head thoughtfully at you while taking a sip of champagne, “You know, you look really familiar.”

“Yeah? Is it the hair? I’m not quite used to it.”

“No, it’s not that. Jared showed me your picture a while back and I swear I’ve seen your face somewhere before,” she gave an airy laugh. “It’s my mom brain! Three little ones have me so turned around I can barely remember my own name!”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you shook your head in amazement. “Honestly, you’re a superwoman.”

“Well, it’ll come to me eventually. I feel like I went to school with you or saw you in a coffee shop. Seriously, it’s been driving me nuts!”

You glanced over Gen’s shoulder and saw a group of people you didn’t know all looking really intently at you. They talked amongst themselves and then looked at you again.

“Looks like they know me too.”

Gen followed your line of sight and frowned. She knew a few of them, but not all. Then she saw they were all looking at their phones.

And so it begins.

“Don’t pay any attention, Y/N. It’s just something that comes with dating someone in the public eye. You and Jay have been seen around town here and there, they probably recognize you from a paparazzi picture.”

The more they stared at you the more uncomfortable you became. This was not just a celebrity sighting thing, everyone here was in the business. On a hunch, you dug your phone out of your clutch and opened your homepage.

Your face went chalk white, “Oh God…”

Gen grabbed your arm in alarm, “Y/N? What is it?”

No wonder they were staring at you. Your picture was headlining the top story out of TMZ.

Supernatural Star’s Mountain hideaway. TMZ has the exclusive on Jensen Ackles love life as his new girlfriend tells all.

You felt sick. There were so many details, things only someone who had been with him intimately would know. Pictures you recognized from your phone. Ones you’d taken across the breakfast table, ones of him from your trip to the set. The video you took of him shoveling the deck. What the hell?!

“Oh,” you heard Gen say from your side. “Oh no.”

You scanned the crowd and locked eyes with Jensen. The violation you felt at seeing your private pictures on a public website was mirrored in his beautiful eyes. The two of you pushed your way through the people milling around, desperate to get to each other.

“Jensen,” your voice cracked as you reached him.

He took a firm hold of your arm and pulled you away from the crowd, “Come on.”

Before you knew it, the two of you were through a set of velvet curtains and in some sort of staging area for staff. Stacks of plates and glasses stood at the ready should the servers need them. The thick fabric muffled enough of the music and cheerful voices that you could hear yourself again.

He was faced away from you, his hand raked through his hair and rested on the back of his neck. “Jesus, Y/N. What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry, Jensen. I don’t…”

Jensen turned to you, his face a mask of anger and hurt. “How the hell could you do this?!”

Your mouth gaped, nothing coming out for a moment. “Jay…. I didn’t! I would never!”

He held his phone in his hand, shaking it for emphasis. “There are things in here only you would know. Private things. Not to mention the pictures… Christ.”

“I know, I read it but Jensen… I would never tell anyone about that! Let alone leak pictures to the press! Why would I? That’s as much a violation of my privacy as yours.”

“Money,” he spat. “There’s big money in that sort of thing.”

You were stunned, “Are you serious? You think I sold… that’s absurd! There’s no way! Jensen, you know me. You’ve seen me, I don’t even like being approached by your fans, why would I put myself in the spotlight on purpose? Let alone betray you like that!”

You grabbed his hand, desperate for him to believe you, “I love you; I would never, never do that to you.”

Your words had the opposite effect, Jensen looked absolutely gutted. He looked down at his phone, his thumb swiping at the screen.

“I want to believe you, and maybe it’s true. But then there’s this…”

He handed you the phone and watched your face as you read through the files on your past. You paled and tears welled in your eyes. You suddenly shoved the phone back to him, as if just holding it was painful.

“I don’t understand.”

Jensen let out a humorless chuckle, “Yeah. Neither do I.”

The two of you stared at each other as the heartbreak stretched out in the silence.

You finally found enough bravery to ask, “This why you’ve been so distant?”

“Distant,” he repeated. “A reasonable response to discovering the woman I’ve been falling for lied to my face.”

That snapped something deep inside. You blinked back the tears and leaned into the anger. “I have never lied to you. Not once. I have no idea why I changed my name or moved around so much; I wish to God I did… its yet another piece of my life that doesn’t make sense. And it scares the hell out of me. But what scares me more is that you kept it from me.”

“I didn’t know what to do with it! When Clif sent it to me…”

“Clif?! Well, that fucking figures!”

“It doesn’t matter where it came from. Jesus, Y/N! Can you think of a single reason anyone would have that many aliases?” He held his arms out then let them drop to his sides in defeat. “Give me a reason. Please! Tell me how this doesn’t add up to you conning me?”

“Me conning you.” You shook your head in disbelief. “So, I run around the country. Changing my name and working as a doctor, looking for opportunities to worm my way into the private lives of celebrities so I can sell the intimate details to the press?!”

He said nothing so you added, “Did I concoct this devious plan before or after you almost killed me?”

Jensen dropped his chin to his chest and pinched the bridge of his nose, “Fuck. I don’t know… I don’t know what to think.”

“Jensen… I love you. If I had answers, God knows I’d give them to you. But somehow, I don’t think my lack of answers is the problem. You find it easier to believe that I am here for some ulterior motive than for the simple truth that I am with you because I choose to be. Because I love you and that is all I want in return.”

“I don’t care about your money, or your fame, or even Dean fucking Winchester! I would never sell you for a quick buck and I sure as hell wouldn’t sell myself. I wish you would just believe me, even if I can’t prove it.”

Jensen’s green eyes shone with unshed tears, “I wish I could.”

Your heart shattered. It was a miracle that you didn’t collapse on the spot. But something happened to you, it started when you woke up in a hospital bed without your memories. You rebuilt yourself from the ground up. You couldn’t rely on your connections, or your reputation. You had to start from scratch. Brick by brick, day by day, you did the work of making yourself over into someone you wanted to be. Someone you liked, someone you respected. You fought hard to love yourself. Jensen had been instrumental in that process, but that didn’t give him the right to take it away from you.

He loved you still, you could see it radiating off him along with the hurt and suspicion. And God, you loved him too. So much. But you weren’t going to sacrifice your self-respect to keep him. It would cheapen and undermine everything the two of you had meant to each other.

You desperately wanted to hug him , kiss him, run your hand over his cheek one last time just so you could commit it to your memory. After this moment, that would be the only part of him you would have left, and you knew it.

Instead, you squared your shoulders and gave him a watery smile, “I should go.”

Panic instantly closed off Jensen’s throat so tightly that he couldn’t make a sound. He wanted to stop the train wreck of events that were unfolding, but he couldn’t. All he could do was shake his head as you whispered goodbye and disappeared through the curtains.

You were halfway down the main staircase when you heard someone calling your name from behind you. You knew if you stopped, you’d never find the strength to keep going so you picked up pace. You held up the train of your fairytale dress and dashed down the stairs with impressive speed given your impractical shoes.

The wind was bitter as you pushed through the glass doors into the night.

“Y/N! Wait!”

A strong hand caught your elbow, forcing you to stop. You knew exactly who it was, “Jared… I have to go…”

Jared saw you from across the ballroom and knew something was terribly wrong. He quickly followed and barely caught up with you. Never underestimate a determined woman.

He softened his grip when you turned your tearstained face to him. “Y/N, what’s wrong? What happened?”

You shook your head, your blonde hair pulling loose in the wind to whip across your face. “I have to go. Please… please.”

“Let me take you home.”

“No. No. You should go back inside. Jensen’s going to need you.”

Jared frowned at that. The wind picked up again, causing you to shiver. He took off his tuxedo jacket and draped it over your shoulders. “Okay. At least let me get you a cab.”

At your slight nod, he signaled to one of the taxis that was parked at the ready for tipsy party-goers. He walked you to the curb just as tiny snowflakes began to fall. It would have been beautiful, except it instantly remined you of the cabin and everything you’d just lost.

Jared opened the back door of the cab, “Why don’t I go with you? I want to make sure you get home alright.”

Home.

The word struck you and your heart cracked again. You riffled through your sequined clutch and pulled out your keys. Although your fingers trembled, you managed to work Jensen’s apartment key free.

“Will you make sure Jensen gets this?”

“Y/N…”

You pressed the tiny, metal key into Jared’s palm. “Please. I’ll text you when I get home.”

Left with little choice, Jared took the key and stepped back, allowing you to climb into the back of the cab. The car sped off and he went back to the party in search of his friend to hopefully repair whatever had been broken.

You were well and truly numb by the time you climbed the stairs to your old apartment. You went through the motions of unlocking your front door and stepping over the threshold. Still in Jared’s over-sized jacket and your party dress, you felt like Cinderella after the ball. The magic world you’d immersed yourself in now nothing more than a memory. The carriage was a pumpkin again, the horses shrunk into mice, and the prince… The prince was in his castle. Surrounded by finery and modern-day nobility. As he should be.

Looking around your bare apartment, the difference was blatant. But it wasn’t fireplaces or the flatscreens that you were lacking. The silence pressed in on you and you felt your strength seep away.

You leaned your back against the front door and slowly slid down until you were sitting on the cold tile floor. You drew your knees to your chest and sobbed, not stopping until the sun rose.

#jensen ackles x y/n #spn fic #dean winchester fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfiction #supernatural #dean x reader #nightingale #jensen x reader #dean x you #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader

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hmspogue · 3 years

Text

Outer Banks season 2 Official Trailer shot-by-shot rundown

A comprehensive post where I scream about analyze the entire trailer frame by frame for clues, theories, and plot. Just my own opinions and general tin foil-hatting

These are screenshots from Netflix’s trailer for Outer Banks season 2. I do not claim or own any of these.

note: this post is tagged as a long post if you wish to avoid having to scroll until your thumbs break.

“My old man used to tell me, ‘it’s best to never say you’ve hit rock bottom’.”

(Putting all of these shots together since they’re scenes we already know but-) Holy shit, okay let’s just....start off like this I guess, damn.

“'Trust me’, he said...”

Kiara looking back and forth between the boys like this really just feeds the headcanon I have that her form of grief this season is going to be her trying to hold it together for their sakes (and eventually just snapping).

JJ just looks fucking furious someone give these kids a hug? I already know this scene is going to ruin me.

“You can always go...”

JJ back working at the hotel. He looks literally so angry again in this scene I could see him self destructing at work and losing his job? (Please do not be isolating yourself you beautiful son of a bitch even though I know you’re going to).

Pope in the Twinkie (costuming wise they all are in warmer looking clothes for some of the shots, so just confirming it’s a little bit into the school year when this all takes place).

“Lower”

Big John was real big into pep talks, I see. (seriously can you imagine Big John having this conversation with like 8 year old John B after he fucking dropped his ice cream cone or some shit I shouldn’t be laughing).

I’m just-

These poor kids, I wanna know how the police all the way down in the Bahama’s knew about them?

Their calves....

“RUN!”

Are going to be so fucking jacked by the end of this season I stg.

Fuck you.

“The gold from the Royal Merchant....it’s here.”

For a while, I had thought that maybe they didn’t even make it to the Bahama’s at the front of the season and ended there (because everyone had been filming in there). But I guess they’re going to be making two trips.

If I were a bird from this POV I’d shit right on that house no questions asked.

oooooh ho hokay. Just so we’re clear. Ward Cameron not only get away with murder and about two dozen other felonies, but-

“Half a billion.”

HE STILL FINDS THE GOLD IN THE CRAIN HOUSE AND GETS TO KEEP IT?

Not the polo with the snap back, I just know this man has a playlist called Sad Boi Hours that is just Juice WRLD’s top 5 songs on Spotify and he tells his friends they wouldn’t know the underground artists he listens to.

Sh, you have lost screaming privileges. Go inside and take a nap maybe.

“John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country.”

So, previously, I was talking about how I was confused how they would still be trying to find him is everyone thought he was dead, but here the wanted poster clearly says “presumed lost at sea”. I think that will be interesting to see how the Pogues all interpret that.

Especially because they already had a memorial for John B and everything, I wonder if there will be any part of the Pogues holding out hope that they both could still be out there OUCH.

I’m going to circle back to this, but it looks like John B and Sarah are going to get separated for a little while in this man hunt, I could see my idiot himbo son trying to sacrifice himself so Sarah can get away but in reality just....stranding her.

��Promise me you won’t do anything stupid?”

Oh, sweetie....

“Well, Sarah Cameron, I do stupid things all the time without realizing it.”

The volume of his self awareness is astronomical. sir, that is your whole character summed up in your own words.

GOD, IT’S ME AGAIN. PLEASE LET THEM LEAN INTO COMPLETE HIMBO JOHN B THIS SEASON I’LL DO ANYTHING-

nyyooooOOOOOOOOOOOOM-

“Hold on!”

The complete abject terror I would feel having John Booker Routledge driving get-away and then saying the words “Hold on” while reaching fro the gear shift? The english language fails me.

Sarah, bestie, I’m so sorry.

I just wanna know-

what the plan or objective was in this situation. What was the reason for being this dramatic.

Rest in piss, bozo <3

“Ward’s still out there...”

Okay, same conversation they were having as before. I wonder what makes them decide they need to get back to the OBX for this tho.

“I can clear my name. This can all be over in one shot.”

It looks like Topper watching this but way more concerningly, correct me if I’m wrong but this 100% looks like....John B gets caught. And the DEATH PENALTY?! He did have a mug shot for the fliers in s1 and the one above but he was never brought in? Plus he just looks super dirty and dishevled in this one so I-

Jail break anyone?

I also still want to know if they’re going to go with a Topper redemption arc this season. like, does he know more than he should just from being around Rafe and his big fat mouth? Is he going to help out the Pogues even if it’s just for Sarah?

This shot just suddenly made me really sad. The thought of this all started because Big John left one last thing for his son to find, his literal life’s work. And when it all started, it was just a fun adventure John B and his best friends were going on together and having fun with. Then it all got dragged to absolute shit and turned into what it did, including the remaining 3 Pogues thinking that this treasure hunt took their two best friends away from them. And it’s nothing like Big John intended it to be.

Why my eyes wet?

Now we’re edging into what I was talking about earlier with John B and Sarah getting separated.

“If you think there is anything I wouldn’t do...”

Once again, John B is no where to be found. Also, just in case y’all didn’t already know or forgot Ward is an actual psychopath.

I believe this one of the new character, played by Jontavious Johnson (Stubbs). Based on the voice over it lowkey sounds like they’re implying Ward maybe hired Stubbs and Cleo to find and bring Sarah back. My theory would be I bet they do go to retrieve her, but she somehow convinces them that it would be more beneficial for them in the end to be on the Pogue’s side instead.

Miss Girl you gotta be keeping your head on a SWIVEL. Especially when you’re a FUGITIVE of the LAW-

“...you haven’t been paying attention.”

My guy, who are you clarifying this for?

It’s what you deserve for monologuing.

in all seriousness, the idea of them coming to face to face with Ward in Nassau after thinking they finally escaped him is genuinely terrifying.

“SARAH!”

It kind of looks like they’re either hiding their faces or covering their noses? I don’t know maybe it was from some tactic to get away from Ward.

What did I literally jsut say about yelling privileges, you unhinged mother fucker?

“I’m calling the shots now. I’m driving.”

The following progression of scenes made me actually snort-

“I can’t drive stick.”

PLEASE THE FINGER GUNS LAUNCHED ME INTO ORBIT I LOVE THEM, YOUR HONOR.

Alright, so now it looks like we’re in Charleston. This is the same scene with Heyward’s truck that got leaked from BTS (read: JJ and Kie shoulder touch).

One of the main things that stuck out to me in the following scenes which, you will see, is it lowkey looks like Pope is kind of heading up this part of the operation, or even going in alone? The following clips are just very Pope focused.

I don’t know what it means, it’s just an observation.

“John B was not the only one that Ward double-crossed.”

LIMBRY-

Bro, we have been hearing about this woman for literal months and I just have....so many questions?

Who the hell is she? How is she connected to Ward? Why is she in South Carolina instead of the OBX? How do the Pogues even learn about her and how to track her down? How is she meant to “help” them? GAH I JUST WANNA KNOOOW. I already know I don’t trust her though and no I will not be offering up supporting evidence.

Sir, that is my son please unhand him.

“I think you know what I want.”

.......no? But feel....free to explain yourself?

The print on the paper is the same one that’s on the ceiling tiles in the following scene. Obviously, with a key on it that most likely goes to the place a few shots from now.

Hell yeah, son, let’s get SLEUTHING.

“The treasure belongs to the Pogues.”

DAMN STRAIGHT.

Bestie’s I’m not going to lie, I stared at this frame for a solid 10 minuets and I have no idea what it says on there I’m sorry. Someone in the comments is welcome to enlighten us.

“We gotta find it first.”

I can’t tell if that’s just dirt or if he hurt his head? But he look GOOD right now for one thing. For another, same outfit as the one in the Twinkie from the beginning of the trailer.

Look at her. LooK AT HER! LOOK! AT! HER! I MISSED HER SO MUCH even in that damn smiley face top that continues to haunt my waking hours she is in it so much and it stresses me out for literally no good reason I’m sorry-

I could literally cry right now and I think that speaks volumes to how little we actually see him genuinely happy. Have I mentioned how much I love that red hat?

Also, probably not that important, but this is not from the same scene as the shots of Pope and Kiara were. This is from the next one-

“Woogity-woogity?”

“Give me some woogity, baby!”

Yeah, this pushed me over the fucking edge, the way that they’re actually happy and laughing? The fact that they kept woogity-woogity and made it A Thing? Yes.

I am, however, going to be intentionally ignoring what appears to be the very intentional stagingof having such an obvious space between where Kiara and Pope are sitting adn where JJ sits, even including the level they’re sitting on because I don’t have the emotional capacity to face those implications right now. Thank you for your time.

Yes yeeeeEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!

GIVE ME ALL OF THE SCENES OF THEM ACTUALLY GETTING TO BE TEENAGERS AND JUST BREATHE AND LAUGH AND HAVE A GOOD TIME AND NOT BE RUNNING FOR THEIR FUCKING LIVES!!!!!!!!!!!

before Rafe comes in and literally starts shooting because they can’t breathe for more than 7 seconds but we’ll....get to that.

They refer to Sarah as a Pogue this season or I burn Netflix to the ground. Your move, Jonas.

50 bucks says John B is driving the Twinkie again for the first time since being back.

I deadass think the Pogues JUST got Sarah and John B back and they’re just having the time of their life. Kie was in her smiley face outfit when Pope was in this one a few clips ago, and I still hold to the belief that that one still they released of JJ and Kie hopping over a fence is the Pogue reunion so-

Ward? I have no idea what he’s looking at behind the wall paper and I’ll be so honest I don’t care my eyes are only seeing Pogue content right now.

“This is a map of the whole island.”

This fit, when will John B learn how to operate buttons, stay tuned for season 5. Also my previous theory of this being their reunion outfits and stuff because Pope is in the back in the same jacket as before.

The plot thickens and so has JJ’s hair, Rudy drop the shampoo brand.

Please, dear God, tell me they’re back in the sex church. For @jiaaraa sake.

Kiara, your Madison is showing.

Okay, I really did try but all I can make out is Something to the tomb begin something something.

You’re welcome.

I am no expert but I do not believe boats operate on land.

John B looks like he is in the same outfit here that is in his mug shot we saw on the TV screen so I have a sneaking suspicion this is where he gets caught.

“John B is back-”

Once again with the damn sexual tension that’s always between Barry and Rafe in every scene they do are we about to kiss right now?

“-it’s him or me.”

First of all, no.

Second of all, I’m just....so very confused about this time line this season. It kind of looks like Ward and Rafe follow and find Sarah and John B in Nassau (unless those scenes by the truck were actually back in the OBX). So did they....go to Nassau, then just come right back when they did? I’m just confused.

Put that thing back where it came from or so help me.

Literally when will you stop at this point I am begging you.

This looks like the same scene the Pogues were, ya know, literally just having a good time at so fuck me, I guess.

Yeah, no, it’s going to be a no from me, I’m just going to pretend like I’m not seeing this and moving on.

I have simply no idea what is going on here or who that is on the bike but maybe JJ? Maybe Luke even? I think that’s JJ’s bike.

The sewer scene. The SEWER SCENE-

For months sicne that tiktok leaked this damn scene has been genuinely all I could think about. So (obviously) it seems like they’re sending Kie down into the sewer to go do seomthing and things go horribly, horribly wrong.

If you haven’t seen the tiktok, essentially all it was was JJ and Pope screaming and trying to lift up the man hole cover while Kie is begging for them to hurry from inside. I’m cheating a little bit as this isn’t a shot from the trailer but this picture was posted and it’s from the same scene.

I’ll just....leave this here. Back to the trailer shots.

Nice. Also, same shirt as mugshot.

Hey, um, what?

Kiara’s car, she’s driving, I can’t tell who’s in the back seat or the front.

Holy God what is going on and how can I as an audience member put a stop to it?

So, same scene as we will see and was in the teaser but, for some reason, they’re all jumping off of a giant ass boat into the little life raft where it looks like JJ gets hurt later but don’t you worry we’re getting to that.

JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE JJ AND KIARA WITH THE POGUE HANDSHAKE THEY BOTH LOOK SO DAMN GOOD AND THEIR LITTLE SMILES SPARE ME-

Cleo 🥵

I’m so excited to see her arc and what it brings this season you guys have no idea.

Please for the love of God be about to get Ward Cameron’s ass like he deserves literally punt him into jail right from Tanny Hill.

Sarah at My Druther’s with what looks like a bloody bandage on her side? Same outfit she’s wearing when they’re running from the police on the beach and she has the bandage there too so. Interesting.

Topper hugging who I’m pretty sure is Sarah, being a general douche because he’s clearly looking at John B like 😏

Clips like these serve to remind me just how many of my worldly posessions I would gladly give up to be able to punch Topper Thorton in the throat one time.

I think this is Cleo jumping off the boat with Pope after John B and Sarah.

Absolutely busting a lung at Pope’s form in this one.

John B and Sarah waiting in the life raft, still Cleo and Pope coming after them. The obvious next question is where are JJ and Kiara. The scene I’m sure you all have been waiting for is coming up and clearly takes place in the life raft as well.

So, I really think JJ and Kie get left for last, something horrible happens as they’re trying to jump (my head instantly goes to JJ maybe like pushing Kie out of the way and getting hit on the head instead or even just some accident).

And, oh my GOD a scene of him falling off the boat after it happens and Kiara diving in after him immediately, having to desperatly try to stop him from sinkingand get to the life raft holy shit-

Girl CATCH HIM?????

Because why wouldn’t this be Rafe’s fault. Part of me wonders if this isn’t related to JJ being hurt.

I am going to try and unpack this as calmly as possible because behind my computer screen I am vibrating at a frequency that could shatter glass but respectfully.

WHAT IN THE FUCK IS TIAUEWFHLAILA

Okay, so scene wise, JJ’s hit his head somehow (probably while he was jumping with Kiara) it looks like and now they’re back on the raft.

In my opinion, this is either:

A) JJ is in really, really bad condition after getting hurt in the jump and they’re not sure he’s going to make it. So this is a “Please stay with me, stay awake, please don’t die” hug OR

B) They very narrowly just avoided a deadly situation (my first thought is JJ hits his head while jumping, passes out in the water, maybe almost drowns but Kie and the others get him onto the life raft in time) and this is more of a “Oh my God, you’re okay, you’re safe now, we’re okay” hug.

I honestly lean more to the second one based on the little bit of Sarah’s face we saw in the background. To me, it almost looked like she was smiling thru tears, which, fits way more with the second option than the first.

Anyways. Moving on before I burst a lung again.

(also, before anyone comes at me, no, I’m not happy JJ is hurt, obviously.

(Once again, arrest outfits). You can still see the bandage but it looks like Sarah’s limping now too so...good Lord give the girl a break maybe?

Everything in this trailer just went to shit so fast I think I have whip lash, can we go back to the Pogues hanging out and being happy now pkease I liked those scenes.

“I get it. You guys are scared.”

“No.”

She’s cute but, uh, hello sewer scene outfits. Seems like them planning to do whatever the hell they were going to do in the sewers but the boys are starting to get cold feet as maybe they should but hind sight is 20/20 I suppose.

“It’s kind of cute.”

“I’m not scared.”

“You should’ve just led with that.”

I will never be able to express how much I adore Pogue banter and general dumbassery and I have a feeling this season will not be lacking in either department

I high key don’t think these two are actually going to be there for this scene to go down but I’ll let it slide this time because-

They do be kinda cute.

It both feels like I’ve been waiting for this damn show for 3 years and also like I just watched season 1 last month explain that to me.

Either way holy shit. I missed this dumb show and these dumb kids so much it physcially hurts and WE GET THEM BACK IN T-MINUS 16 DAYS.

Also. Where The Hell Is Wheezie Cameron And When Will She Have The Rights She Deserves.

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gallifrey1sburning · 3 years

Text

Muggle Technology Through the Ages:

A vague and incomplete timeline of what people were using when for writers who want to avoid anachronistic technology use in their canon timeline-compliant Harry Potter fic.

Keeping track of the evolution of technology is hard! Here's a cheat sheet for those of you who either a) like me, have trouble keeping track in your head even though you lived through it, or b) are young enough that you didn't live through a lot of it at all.

Phones:

Land lines were the norm well into the 90s. Not only that, but CORDLESS landlines didn’t even become prevalent until the mid 90s; they still cost hundreds of dollars in 1994, and the frequencies on them were weird, so you would sometimes hear your neighbors’ phone calls by accident. Ours used to turn on my little sister’s remote control Barbie car. We thought it was haunted.

Although cell phones have been around since the 80s, they were uncommon until the 90s, and then they were nothing near as ubiquitous as they are now. In 2000, when I was in high school, I had ONE friend with a cell. I got my first one in 2002, and it was only for emergencies while driving, because when I’d get lost I would have to pull over and use a pay phone otherwise.

Unlimited calling wasn’t a thing until 2002; until then, all plans were pay per minute. A lot of plans stayed that way for many years after. “Roaming” cost more. (Roaming was when you were outside of your own area code, basically.) When you moved, you got a new number.

Texting was expensive and difficult for ages. You used your normal phone numeral keys and a system called T9 tried to figure out what you meant, because every number stood for 3-4 letters. It was a giant pain in the ass.

The first full QWERTY keyboard phones came out in 1997, and most people didn’t have them until the early 2000s. I got my first one in 2007, and no one thought anything of it.

There was NO internet capability of any sort on mass market cell phones until 2000/2001. After that, it was still pretty limited until the iPhone came out.

Texting didn’t really become a big part of how we communicate until 2002/2003 for most people. And, like calls, they charged per text, so you were VERY careful and would get super mad at your friends who pushed you over your limit, because that shit was expensive. I can’t find info on when unlimited texting started being offered, but I didn’t get it until 2007/2008.

The first iPhone also came out in 2007. It was the first phone with full internet access. It was also the second full touchscreen phone ever, and the first one (the LG Prada) was only announced a month before.

Camera phones have existed since 2000ish, but weren’t the main method people used for pictures until much later, mostly because they were super shitty. I still had a separate, physical digital camera in 2008/2009.

Internet:

Consumer access to the internet was virtually nonexistent until 1995. My family got it circa 1997. It was all dial up.

Dial up was slow, sometimes you couldn’t connect, and it USED YOUR PHONE LINE. Remember, from above, the fact that landlines were the predominant phones until the early 2000s? Yeah. If you didn’t have multiple lines, you weren’t likely to be online for very long at a go. My parents limited us to 20 minutes. Also, sometimes, if a call came in while you were online, you’d get kicked off.

Broadband came out in the late 90s, and people were still commonly using dial up until the mid 2000s

WIFI wasn’t common for consumer use until the mid 2000s, either.

We may not have been texting, but we were all VERY into instant messaging. Pretty much everyone had AOL Instant Messenger (AIM) or ICQ starting in the late 90s as well. I did a lot of late night chatting when my family was asleep and I wouldn’t be tying up the phone line.

Social media & popular websites:

Here are some key dates for when various things that seem like they’ve been around forever actually started!

Google: 1998

Livejournal: 1999

MySpace (it was huge before Facebook and not mostly for musicians!): 2003

Facebook: 2004, and you had to have an email address from a college or university that had been formally included until 2006.

YouTube: 2005

Twitter: 2006

Spotify: 2006

Tumblr: 2007

Instagram: 2010

Tinder: 2012 (before that, the biggest online dating services were Match.com (1995), eHarmony (2000) and OkCupid (2004).)

Bonus: Netflix came out in the late 90s, but it was a physical DVD mail order subscription service. They didn’t introduce streaming until 2007!

Music:

CDs came out in the early 90s, but a lot of people kept using cassettes for a long time afterwards. I got my first CD player in the late 90s; portable CD players weren’t popular before that because the CDs would skip if you jostled the player. My first car (a 1991 model I bought in 2001) only had a cassette player, so I had this weird converter thing to hook it up to my CD player. Mostly I just listened to the radio, though.

Digital music wasn’t super big before the late 90s/early 2000s, and even then, we were mostly downloading (read: stealing) it and burning it to CDs. Napster was the main service we used for piracy at first; it came out in 1999. That’s around when mix CDs started overtaking mix tapes for wooing people with pointed song lyrics.

The first MP3 player came out in 1997. iPods (which were JUST for music) were introduced in 2001, and CDs only started to lose popularity around 2003. I got my first iPod in college (an iPod mini) and it was SO COOL. It came in 4 or 6 GB versions.

Some of this info is from research, some from personal (and American) experience, but hopefully it’s helpful! I didn’t bother to go into computers or TV here, but they’ve changed a hell of a lot, too, and I’m happy to do a run down some other time. Suffice to say that the TV I took to college with me in 2003 was a 12” screen tube TV with a built in DVD player, and that before leaving for college, I didn’t have my own computer—I shared it with my entire family. There were six of us. Yeah.

#harry potter #technology #writing resources #tech timeline #anachronistic technology #ravenclaw life #why am i like this

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wincore · 3 years

Text

act iii, incomplete | ten

pairing: ten x reader

summary: it’s the same vivid dream every time — you, a feline constellation that keeps smiling at you and a boy who won’t ever forgive you. autumn, spring and everything in between come to save part of that but the truth is this: no amount of time spent at your small town theatre with your once best friend is going to speak the words for you.

alternatively,

best friends aren’t meant to be lovers and ten, despite the millions of roles he’s played, keeps trying for the one role he won’t ever get.

genre: childhood best friends to lovers, slight theatre au, reincarnation themes, fluff, angst

warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries, mentions of death

words: 23.9k

a/n: hello i’m so glad i actually completed this !!!!! i’ve never written something like this before !!! also longest fic let’s gooo ahaha special thank you to miss cat for reading this and making it at least infinity times better i am in indebted to u <3. playlist here.

part of the almost collab by @hyucksie !! (thank you for hosting this, it was lovely to be a part!!)

ACT I: HOMESICK

act i scene i.

For the first time in years, you hold your breath at the local theatre, the walls more and more debilitated each year. It’s the only place, perhaps, that is so vibrant in its dull shades. The key is memories. Memories keep you alive in a way death and life and sickness cannot interfere.

A single drum beat resounds through the theatre. A second one follows before a tune from a flute sets the mood. A voice speaks out, that of a woman, and it strikes you as somewhat sad. In that moment, you believe Ten would have pointed out to you that she is meant to do that, she is meant to play the part of someone sad. The curtains stare at you as undulating as a calm sea of red and you hold your breath.

This is a modern play and you’ve only kept up with them for the sake of watching Ten play a part in them. As for other plays, high school Shakespeare was the most formidable text you’ve ever read and you’d rather not fight for your life again.

“Has the world ever seen a woman’s love unrivalled?”

A projector displays a flower, peonies, on the curtains.

“She once fell sick, dreaming of a lover; and once sick, she grew worse. Love is not love at its fullest if one is not willing to die for it.”

You don’t think that’s quite right. The curtains are drawn right then, their velvet sheen accentuated under the bright theatre lights and two characters appear on stage.

Your first thought is that he’s grown far too much. The second is that he hasn’t changed much. Ten stands in the character of a play you haven’t finished reading yet, in clothes that accentuate his dancer’s figure and with the look of someone that isn’t him. You had tried to read the play earlier but you might have gotten a little too excited to complete it.

You bounce your legs in anticipation, the music and his voice fading out—it’s not like you can focus much with the high school kids giggling and making out in the seats right behind yours. You could always make a scene but it’s not like you to steal the spotlight away from your dearest friend. Besides, you need to reiterate through the list of things you have to help him catch up on since he’s been gone. Ten wouldn’t want to miss out on some spicy gossip. You chuckle to yourself, pressing your palms to your cheeks to cool yourself.

Ten likes overwhelming responses. You like to be overwhelming. You’re the perfect pair.

The play ends in a way you can’t tell if it was a tragedy or a comedy. You could have if you paid more attention but this isn’t literature class. You can do whatever you want now and you’re a little preoccupied with your own thoughts. Ten. Your best friend is back from Broadway after a year of barely talking. You can’t wait to hear the stories.

You get up as soon as the lights are on but when no one else does, you sit back down. The curtains part now and the cast comes on for their final bow. You shift around to see if Ten is looking at you, the older people beside you grunting in annoyance and muttering something about the youth. He’s not but Sicheng is and when you send a wink his way, he shakes his head.

You pout at the lack of attention but it’s time to make your way backstage now. The crowd is exiting and you need to get there before Ten leaves.

Once outside, you make a beeline to the back of the theatre building and mess up Sicheng’s hair as he leaves for home.

“He’s inside,” he informs curtly and makes as much distance possible between the two of you.

“Oh, don’t be shy, Sicheng,” you coo to annoy him. “You performed so well. Not as good as Ten though.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “Were you even paying attention?”

You cross your arms and push him onto his track. He shrugs and you watch his figure disappear behind the corner before taking a deep breath. With anticipation, comes a little unrestrained droplet of anxiety. You shouldn’t be worried, you tell yourself. This is Ten, after all.

The crows sing a song to themselves under the purple evening sun and you feel annoyed at the sound. It’s a song for ghosts. You hate the sound of it.

You rub your temples, trying to hush away the headache. You can’t wait to see Ten.

You swing the door open in an attempt to sneak up on him. However, you take a few moments to see him barefaced, the stage makeup washed off and a red undertone running through his nose and cheeks. That dark mop of hair sticks out every which way, and no attempt has been made to rectify it. It was once your job, actually. He rubs at his sleepy eyes, a yawn escaping his lips as he stuff his belongings into a worn-out satchel bag. You gave it to him when you skipped prom night. You smile.

“Ten!” you yell at the top of your lungs. You’ve missed him so much—an old greeting should warm him up. This town started feeling more like home once you heard the news Ten’s back.

He looks at you so cold that you stop dead in your tracks. You freeze up, the words suddenly collapsing into themselves like wilting flowers. You don’t recognize Ten all of a sudden. He wears a deep frown and empty eyes, something you cannot understand no matter what angle you look from. Everything’s changed now, hasn’t it? You truly understand what that means when you meet his eyes.

“Ten,” you repeat at a more respectable volume. “Hey. I… I missed—”

“Hey,” he responds a little too quickly. Eyes less sharp than usual, he averts his gaze. “I- I need to get home early.”

Ten grabs his bag and leaves the room, his shoulder brushing against yours. You stand there for a few extra moments, breaths shallow and quiet. When you regain the sound of your heartbeat, you leave the practice room, throat dry and a frustrated sigh on your lips. Consequences, every time it’s the consequences biting back.

The crows’ song goes unheard.

act i scene ii.

“So… you want me to get Ten to talk to you?”

Sicheng looks at you in disbelief, the ice cream in his hand starting to melt. You’ve never met anyone who enjoys ice cream in mid-autumn as much as he does. Sore throats are foreign to him.

You nod, crossing your arms. “I don’t know why he’s avoiding me.”

Sicheng scoffs, choking on the ice cream and taking a few moments to regain his composure.

“Thanks,” he says when you rub his back in pity. “But… you really don’t know why he’s avoiding you?”

You shake your head. It’s a lie. But the only thing you can think of is the summer he left, when he confessed his feelings and you rejected him after a few seconds of contemplation. You had good reason. You just can’t tell him that. You’re still young and there’s so much to look forward to.

"You obviously have feelings for him!"

"Yeah, anger! Why would he just ignore me like that? We've been friends for, uh…"

"Stop counting, you suck at math."

You punch his shoulder and his ice cream almost falls off. He looks at you with a glare so strong, you have to take a step back.

“Sorry,” you mumble. “I thought we were like any other pair of best friends.”

Sicheng snorts. “Yeah, best friends in love with each other. Didn't you suggest getting married once?”

“As a joke,” you interject, feeling heat on your cheeks. “Actually, do you know how useful a marriage of convenience is? It's got convenience in the name. Think of all the tax benefits.”

Sicheng rolls his eyes. “The way you looked at each other wasn’t a joke—you know what? I’m not going to be the supporting act to your whole romance charade. You figure this out.”

You pout. “So you’re saying you won’t help?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. You won’t know if I did.”

You furrow your eyebrows, groaning in exasperation. This was supposed to be a happy reunion and yet, you’re here moping to a theatre kid, hoping he helps you. You expected Ten to not take it well but right now, you wish you weren’t so blunt. You could have said it nicer.

You’re joking, right? Haha, nice one. Best friends don't fall in love.

Oh, this is all your fault. You knew him better than anyone else. You should’ve known the consequences too—you could scream right now. In your defense, you thought college made him lose a few brain cells. You still have to make it right.

“Fine. Whatever you might do, better do it soon.”

Sicheng shrugs, turning back to his ice cream and browsing lazily through one of the magazines. He’s supposed to be watching the store—he gets paid for it but he couldn’t care less about this place. Sicheng is something of a theatrical actor too, traveling around and performing with his theatre group. He never cared for Broadway as much as Ten did.

However, you’re all here now. This autumn is going to be spent with your best friends no matter the cost. You smile as you think of the time you and Ten surprised Sicheng with a whole bag of ice cream and he cried although most of it ended up melting. Sicheng raises an eyebrow at your expression but doesn't question.

“There’s a reunion party by the woods,” he announces. “Next week. Saturday. You have to make up before that. You know they’re going to be brutal.”

You shudder. Your classmates certainly won’t let go of the idea of your relationship with Ten. Teasing aside, they’re going to be making either one of you uncomfortable. All your excitement drains itself. Your shoulders slump and you think that perhaps, asking for forgiveness would be a better out. You recover quickly though. This has to work out, Ten has to be your best friend again—what choice do you have? You missed him and you’re going to let him know.

The first attempt begins right in the evening. Sicheng texts Ten after his shift, asking him to get some snacks. Lucky for you, you work at the local snack store, also called the convenience store. There’s nowhere better to get snacks. There’s also nowhere else to get snacks.

You stand behind the counter, fiddling with the drawstrings of your hoodie while your eyes trail to the hands of the clock on the wall. Sicheng texted him half an hour ago. Ten might not be the most punctual but you know he listens to Sicheng, even if it’s reluctantly.

Your impatience gets the better of you and you leave the counter to peer out the glass door. Unfortunately, someone pushes open the door right then and you clutch your nose, eyes watering at the painful impact.

Ten looks petrified for a moment before turning around and leaving. You furrow your eyebrows, tears brimming from the pain in your nose and mixing into the exasperation from getting so bluntly ignored. Come on, Ten. You curse on your way back to the lonely counter. There goes the only thing you were looking forward to this evening. Sicheng walks in a while later, a sour look on his face.

“He actually gave me a mouthful,” he mutters angrily. “Can you believe that? Me. Who’s listened to all his lovesick ramblings about y—theatre.”

You slump onto the counter further, the bright orange background of the store more headache-inducing than optimistic.

“God, this is so much more difficult than I expected.”

“What happened between the two of you anyway? I thought you promised to call him every day.”

“I tried, okay? He wouldn’t pick up.”

Sicheng raises an eyebrow. “Woah. Haven’t heard about that one.”

He places the single pack of Lays onto the counter. You get up to pull the chocolate ice cream from the cooler.

“Don’t bother. It’s so depressing getting shut out like this.”

Sicheng mutters something under his breath you don’t quite catch. It’s his complaining voice though, so you don’t question him.

“He’s going to be at the Bridge tomorrow,” Sicheng notifies. “Something about getting fresh early morning air. Now, there’s no way you can run into him and call it coincidence. So don’t do that.”

You cross your arms. “So what do you suggest I do?”

“I mean, if you’re accompanying Mr. Yang to the dahlia fields for flower shop business… that’s a different story.”

Your eyes brighten and you sit up. “You’re a genius!”

“I’ve been telling you guys since—”

You hug him and he chokes, almost dropping the Lays pack. The door opens and you hurriedly wave at Yangyang, who’s here for the next shift before running out the door in a hurricane of bad decisions and good intentions.

“I hate being the middleman,” Sicheng mutters to Yangyang who offers him a pitiful look. The evening returns to its pink skies and you race your feelings to your destination.

“Mr. Yang,” you whine. “You don’t need a single dahlia? I’m offering to help.”

The older man scratches his spotless white beard and looks at you in confusion. “I gathered a whole cartload just three days ago. There’s no way I need more. You know this place—no one buys flowers anymore.”

“I’ll buy them! A whole cartload.”

“And where will you get the money, child?”

“Uh.”

Mr. Yang shakes his head at your immaturity. “If you’re so eager, get me some chrysanthemums from Mrs. Leong’s sh—”

“No. It has to be from the other side of the Bridge,” you interject.

Mr. Yang is further perplexed but you’re glad he doesn’t ask further. Having to explain your love and friendship troubles to a senior citizen has never been an ideal situation. You make a face at the thought.

“Alright,” he says and takes a few moments to ponder. “You want an errand to run, right? Could you get me some sunflower seeds from Goodwin Park?”

“That far?”

He sighs. “Do you want to go or not?”

You nod reluctantly, checking your phone to see the time. It’s early as fuck and the only person you’d wake up this early for doesn’t even know you’re doing all this.

“It’s to feed the birds, isn’t it?” You raise an eyebrow.

Mr Yang nods.

“You know, you don’t have to do all that to get Mrs. Leong to notice you.” You offer him a cheeky grin.

“I’m assuming it’s also a person you’re doing all of this for,” he hums in reply.

You drop your grin and take the errand money, heat rising in your cheeks. Exiting quickly, you check the time again. Ten better not have left early.

Shortcuts are better when there’s someone with you, you decide. You have gained around five long scratches at five different places on your body trying to best the hill beside Maple Street in order to get to the Bridge faster. If Ten were here, he'd laugh at you for being so graceless.

The Bridge is empty when you arrive and you sigh deeply. You’re not sure if you’re early or he’s late or you’re astronomically late. The grass is still a golden green in colour, for autumn never truly comes in when you’re expecting it. The little stream below the Bridge is almost dried up but the wooden structure stays. You remember Sicheng broke his leg once, trying to catch Ten’s family cat pawing at fish in the stream when it used to be fuller.

You greet Mr. Santello at his garden and buy the sunflower seeds. Your errand is complete but the rising agitation in your chest makes you kick a rock on the way back to the Bridge. This side of the town is bleak except for the garden and the only fun you’ve had here is when a beehive dropped on Yukhei’s head (he poked at it himself with no provocation from your side whatsoever). The scenery is much prettier with someone to appreciate it. You, on the other hand, cannot wait to leave this town. You walk back with certain memories playing in your head, the smell of nostalgia rising with the sun. You’ve always hated early mornings; but you did have fun in them when you had to wake up for school trips. You hold your breath, stopping right before the beginning of the Bridge.

Ten leans against the wooden rails of the Bridge, Starmill Bridge, with eyes gently closed and white earphones plugged in. You smile to yourself. When the sunlight draws across his cheeks, he seems brighter than golden skies and softer than late afternoon clouds. You see the boy from your childhood, messy unbrushed hair and his favourite grey sweater. He’s so full of colour. You wouldn’t mind staring at him for as long as you can.

You take a step and your hoodie catches onto a stray nail, making you stumble onto the wooden floor of the Bridge. You look at your scattered boxes of sunflower seeds with horror but not before finding Ten plucking out his earphone to look at you. He’s so pretty even in a daze.

“Hi?” you offer. “I was on an errand, promise. Not stalking you and trying to get you to talk to me or anything. Hah.”

Ten shakes his head at you and quietly stares for a few more moments.

“I don’t want to talk to you right now,” he answers finally. “Stop trying.”

You look at him with a flickering guilt though you’re not sure why. He sighs and walks toward you, frowning. He takes out the cloth of your hoodie stuck in the nail with tentative care. Gathering the boxes of sunflower seeds scattered on the floor, he glances at you once before getting up.

You grab his hand before he can walk away again.

“Ten,” you say, your voice coming off more pitiful than you would like.

He turns back at you with lips pursed and a sorrowful look in his eyes.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I need to work some things out.”

Ten leaves you hanging for a third time in your life and you pull yourself together enough to stand up. You can’t imagine—you don’t want to imagine how much longer this’ll go on. Ten used to be an amenable boy; it shouldn’t be taking this long.

Somewhere the wind comes tumbling in, whispering the words that everything has changed and everything is still changing.

The third and last attempt is outside his house. Ten’s mother is bound to notice you at some point, right? Considering you’re camping out like a homeless man from the nearby gas station, that is. You hope she’s out for grocery shopping and you can just pretend you were on your way home and ‘accidentally’ bumped into her. Being the kind soul she is, she’s going to invite you to dinner since it’s late already. And where else can you spend your time while she cooks but in Ten’s room? It’s perfect and there’s no way he can avoid this.

“(name)!” Ten’s sister yells in glee.

“Tern!” You smile at her.

“Mom’s sending me for grocery shopping. Do you wanna come help?”

You want to go inside the house but patience is quite possibly a virtue. You haven’t tried it out yet.

“Sure.” You grin. “I’ve got time to kill.”

So, you are aware that Ten’s sister tends to shoot off at the mouth with the right person but you somehow cannot get her to talk about Ten. Apart from his life in New York, that is, which you had hoped to hear from him.

“So… how come you’re not in our house already? No offense, it’s just you and Ten… you know.” She looks at you with an inquisitive quirk of her eyebrow.

Ten must be a really good actor. Not like you ever doubted him but for his sister to be so blissfully unaware, he must have put on quite the show. Either that, or he really has forgotten you. You try not to feed fire to that thought.

“Uh, you know, been busy with the snack shack. We’re redecorating. Mr. Kim is going to boil me alive if I slack off.”

She giggles at your expression. “I heard it from Yangyang. He said the redecorations are ugly though.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Ten let you talk to Yangyang? A boy?”

She crosses her arms with a disbelieving laugh. “He can’t tell me how to live. Besides, he doesn’t care.”

You laugh. “Right. You have no idea how overprotective he can actually be. Older brother instincts or whatever.”

She suppresses a laugh. “And you must be facing the boyfriend instincts.”

You stammer out a response but it doesn’t make any sense. It’s alright to get laughed at, you suppose, if Tern is in fits beside you.

The rest of the conversation is about things less important. It would be rude to not engage though so you talk with enthusiasm all the way back. Part of you sees Ten in his sister. How terrible of you to see someone else in a person right beside you.

“(name)!”

Ten’s mother looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good evening, ma’am!” You curtsy in an exaggerated manner, and she laughs, patting your arm.

“How come it took you so long to visit? You hardly ever came over these few years, and I’m a little upset about that by the way, but I thought for sure, you’d be in the house the day Ten came back.”

You scratch the back of your head sheepishly. “You know. Work and stuff. Mr Kim is redecorating the store.”

She exhales in annoyance. “Is that man exploiting you children again?”

“I’m—uh… I’m an adult—”

“Hush,” she instructs, voice strict and you zip your mouth immediately. Never question a mother’s statement.

“Ten’s in his room, by the way. Should I call him?” she asks, after a minute of complaining about Mr. Kim, which you would have loved to join but there are other matters at hand. She has all the gossip in town and yet, she’s somehow blissfully unaware of the silence between her son and his best friend. Are you not as important? It makes you pout but you quickly neutralize your expression.

“Ten!” she shouts when you don’t respond, a little lost in your own thoughts.

“Uh—oh no, you don’t have to do that!” you say quickly. “I’ll just go to his room.”

You hurry up the stairs, just in time for Ten to open his bedroom door and jump back in fright.

“Oh my fucking god,” he mutters, like the soul has been kicked straight out of his body. In any other situation, you would’ve loved to give him a scare.

You walk into the bedroom and lock the door behind you.

“Ten. We need to talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. You notice the change in his features—his hair has grown out, his face is more chiseled and he has an angry quirk to his brows. “I told you I need some space. You never know how to listen, fuck.”

His voice is a low whisper, in the short space between you. You don’t move from your spot, with your back against the wall and feet nervous. You shift from foot to foot and look him in the eye before looking away. You’ve never felt this way around him. You’ve never actually pissed him off this bad. You don’t know what to do.

“Just leave. God. I can’t believe you think you can just walk in!”

You frown at his words. “Ten. I just wanted to talk to you again. We’re friends—”

“How does it matter if we are? Everything’s changed. This whole place has changed. I’ve changed.”

“But… that doesn’t mean we have to pretend we’re strangers—”

“Leave. Please.”

His voice is so low and odd that you don’t recognize it anymore. You sigh. You can’t convince him when he’s so defensive. You open the door to his bedroom to find Ten’s mom and sister in the hallway trying very hard to pretend they weren’t eavesdropping. You offer them a sad smile and thank his mother for the dinner before taking your leave. You feel too ridiculous to cry.

How do people put in all that effort in romantic comedies? You don't even know where to start. Maybe you should follow the King's advice from Alice in Wonderland.

Begin at the beginning and go on until you come to the end; then stop.

No. No, you can't be thinking of ending scenes right now. There's a much bigger problem at hand. Saturday. You better brace yourself for the unpredictability of former prom queens and class presidents, and the predictability of this small town that never changes.

act i scene iii.

High school reunion parties here aren’t exactly mawkish affairs. There’s alcohol, people who are meant to be adults but haven’t quite grown into it yet, the looming woods, and more alcohol. There's no room for sentimentalism when your former classmates, seniors and juniors—those who could be here, at least—are back together and it feels like nothing has changed at all. However, college-age boys always pose problems.

“Look, if Johnny can do it, so can I,” Yukhei tells you.

Johnny smacks his shoulder encouragingly, and a few of your friends giggle at the two lanky men, looking like they’ve discovered something priceless beside the campfire light.

“This beer tastes like crap,” you mutter before returning to a regular volume. “But go ahead and try chugging two bottles in under a minute if you want.”

Your backhanded statement backfires almost immediately because he does exactly as you said. Pinching the bridge of your nose, you try not to peek at Ten, sitting beside Johnny and looking rather sleepy. It’s the bedhead, you think to yourself. It’s cute.

“Alright, who’s next?” Yukhei asks, voice booming enthusiastically.

Yeri sighs beside you, tired from the late night and not so much from the alcohol. Speaking of which, the alcohol table is somehow still stocked and Sicheng stands beside it, looking sour from being forced into guard duty.

“Tell him to pipe down,” Yeri mutters, pressing her forehead against your shoulder and you look at her apologetically.

“(name) hasn’t answered anything yet!” Sooyoung pipes up and you shoot her a look she ignores. “Neither has Ten, by the way.”

A bunch of “ooh”s pass through the crowd of roughly twenty people, and you would bury your face in your hands were it not for that stubborn pride of yours.

Truth or dare is quite possibly the worst game in the history of mankind. Ten looks somewhat flustered under the attention but he just sighs.

“Get it over with.” He looks at Yukhei expectantly.

“Kiss (name)!”

Your heart drops and you glare at Yukhei. You should have expected it. There is no one more unimaginative than drunk boys. His cheeks are flushed when he grins at you, encouraging you with a thumbs up gesture.

“He doesn’t have to do that.” You cross your arms. “Consent is important even in fun and games.”

The sentence is so didactic of you but you hope the seriousness in your voice makes him back off.

“But you guys are, like, in love with each other,” Yangyang blurts before covering mouth as if he said something scandalous.

A bunch of chuckles follow, though Johnny shows some concern towards Ten. You remember why you hate high school reunions now. Apart from the fact that almost everyone gets to tell their stories of big cities and big dreams they get to live in, everyone turns into a child again when at a reunion. Perhaps it’s the burst of memories or the vivid glow of old connections returning but you can’t stand childishness. Even if you’re the one to act like a child sometimes.

“I’m gonna go drink,” you say. “That’s the punishment, right? I’m not playing anymore.”

Yukhei groans. “Come on, (name). You wouldn’t be such a bore.”

“I would,” you snap and get up from your seat, Yeri muttering in annoyance before leaning onto Sooyoung’s shoulder.

Ten is glowing in the cheeks, you find when you look at him. He meets your eyes once and looks away, playing with his fingers.

You pour yourself some beer into a cup and lift it up to show to Yukhei before striding off to a place farther than the warmth of people and the campfire. The giant log is a nice enough seat by the edge of the woods. It is cold and mossy though, and you hug yourself, sticking your hands into the pockets of your cardigan.

The sound of footsteps over dried leaves catch your attention and you look up. Ten takes a seat beside you in silence. You move the cup of beer so that it doesn’t spill from any sudden movement. It’s quiet for even longer, your pulse the only rhythm to follow.

"Ten." You smile, looking away from him and into the ceaseless stretch of woods. He hums in response, as though a habit yet to get rid of. It makes you bite down your lip to prevent the smile from turning into something sadder.

You miss him. You miss the years you spent with him. You're drawn into him, into something old, familiar and safe.

No one can save you when you’re homesick.

However, you do not give up easily. What is broken can be mended with enough love and care.

Ten sighs, taking the cup from you right before it touches your lips. "Don't drink that. You hate the taste and it makes you go crazy."

You pout, but can't really find something snarky enough to say. Not when he looks like that—with dry, still-red lips and tired, apologetic eyes.

“Your forehead is so oily,” you mutter.

Ten looks at you, furrowing his eyebrows. He proceeds to hesitantly wipe at his forehead with the sleeve of his sweatshirt before shaking himself out of it. Instead he just glares at you.

“It’s not oilier than your nose,” he shoots, annoyed.

“At least my nose isn’t titan-sized.”

“My nose is perfect. Do you- do you know how many people fall in love with my perfect nose every day?”

You laugh, covering your face. His features soften and he returns his gaze to the comfort of the endless forest. It does have an end, at the fences by the railway tracks but in believing that something can be infinite, you find comfort.

"New York treated you well. Too well. But then again, you were always a narcissist."

You smile smugly at him and he gives you an unamused look.

"I'm… I'm glad we're talking," you offer after a few moments of unacknowledged silence.

He tenses ever so slightly, running a hand through his already messy hair and looks at you. He looks away again as if in an internal debate.

“You rejected me, (name),” he says, exasperated. “How do I recover from that? Don’t answer. It was so embarrassing.”

You close your mouth. If only you could tell him the truth. You had to reject him or your sentimental boy would never leave for acting opportunities. He doesn’t have to know that. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly.

But the truth is, it’s too scary to think about. You’ve been refusing to look at your feelings for a long time now. It’s only a cliche; it doesn't happen in real life. You’re too good of friends to be in love. Isn’t that right? It certainly couldn't have been you to fall in love with Ten. There were a million other people to do that in your stead. You feel shy all of a sudden.

“That was pretty embarrassing,” you mumble, pressing down your smile and he rolls his eyes.

After a few moments in silence, a sigh escapes his lips. “I’ve had enough time for closure though. I can’t believe I actually said that. Oh, the over-sentimentalism. Yikes.”

He makes a disgusted face.

You giggle. “I can’t believe it either. You do look cute blushing, by the way. You find any lover in the big, scary city? Any rebound?”

Ten rolls his eyes. “Too busy. And are you going to tease me forever about this thing?”

You laugh. “That’s the Ten I know. You’re always working. Sometimes you should have fun.”

“I have plenty of fun. You’re the one that used to cry at birthday parties.”

“I was six years old and it was one time, holy shit.”

The two of you break into laughter. The cold makes you draw nearer to him.

“Hey, wanna go to the mall this weekend?” you suggest.

“Wait, it’s still there? Wasn’t it supposed to get knocked down?”

“Yeah but the townsfolk didn’t want that so they delayed it. There’s, like, barely any employees though. It’s like a ghost mansion at night.”

Ten makes a face. “The afternoons there were so bright, like, there was so much sunlight, remember? I remember you always drinking my banana milk at the food plaza.”

You laugh. “I miss skipping class to go there. Now there aren’t any classes to skip.”

“Oh my god, remember when Mr. Wilson actually caught us?”

You laugh louder. “We had to pretend we weren’t his students. Which was futile acting because he knows every student.”

Ten sighs.

“I missed you. God, I’m so fucking sorry—I was in over my head. I thought I ruined everything.”

“Hey.” You scoot closer, wrapping your arms around him. “I missed you too. Besides, it’s not you if you’re not being a bit of a drama queen.”

Ten elbows you in the side at the comment and you yelp, moving away and glaring at him in response.

“Just because I’m in theatre doesn’t mean I’m a drama queen.” He mocks the tone of your voice and you giggle.

“So any special Broadway stories you have in mind? I wanna hear something funny.” You rest your head on his shoulder comfortably.

"Well, one time this actress' dress caught on fire—"

"That's not funny, that's horrifying."

Ten purses his lips. “Okay. Uh… I got told to fuck off by an eighty year old man in drag after I threw raw steak at his window?”

You snort, eyes widening and Ten throws up his hands in exasperation. "How is that remotely funny?"

"I'm pretty sure that's as funny as it gets with you."

"I can't believe you're pretending I didn't carry our sense of humour on my back for all of middle school and high school."

“I missed you," you say quietly, and he flusters, scratching the back of his head awkwardly.

"Really? You're not just saying that?"

You sigh, inching closer. "Yes. I did miss you, you know? I called."

"And I didn't pick up. I know. I'm sorry."

"I think you've apologized to me more times now than you have in our first twenty years of friendship."

Ten rolls his eyes. "And I mean it. It's not the 'sorry I ate your cookies' apology."

"I fucking knew you were the one eating stuff from my bag back in high school."

Ten presses his lips, making a zipping motion and you push him in exasperation. The two of you laugh, loud and clear, before Johnny's voice comes in, telling the two of you to "stop fooling around near the woods" and that it's "unhygienic".

Seasons change but people don't. You walk home with Ten for the first time in a year and suddenly, you’re in love with the idea that things can just lie in complete peace once they fall back into what was always meant to be. Perhaps it’s the writer’s utopia, but you think it’s much more meaningful this way. Ten's hoodie smells just like home.

prologue.

It was a sunlit morning when you first met Ten, but it was only a sunlit morning. There were no birds chirping or faceless adults on that sidewalk or even your friends because you don’t recall them. You recall a child with two very important teeth missing and your sudden urge to run to his side. You’d pulled his cheek with a huge grin on your face because, and you still stand by this, they were too cute and plump and red to resist.

You were three and a half years old when you met Ten and you parted when you were twenty. One year later, you're back to linking arms, joking about each other and talking about life as though it's a passing stream.

You were six years old when you cried at Ten's birthday party because no one was talking to him. It gave you an evening's worth of attention and a huge smile on Ten's face. You still think kids are mean as hell but they care for things like they have never cared before.

You were eleven years old when you started to lose a little bit of touch with yourself. You talked less, you looked at people more. Ten's face was still the most comforting out of all. He said he liked to listen no matter how annoying you sound. Somehow, by the time sixth grade was over, when you were almost twelve—you talked at least twice as much.

You were fourteen years old when you dated a boy out of curiosity and left on an awkward note when he moved away. You weren't sad for some reason. The idea of life passing meaninglessly by was engraved into you, like the waves that carve the beach. Ten was distant the whole time, with a scowl and more sarcastic remarks than usual, only warming up when you showed up at his door with a homemade cake. It tasted horrible and had the texture of a mossy pebble but you laughed over it anyway. Suddenly, life wasn't meandering but a river full of vigor in spring, beside a garden of fresh crested irises.

You were sixteen when you were pushed to audition in a play by your best friend. The play was about life and death and love, and it didn’t make sense to you the way it did to him. You had good fun backstage with the costumes and the makeup, and it was all that mattered to you. However, some part of you didn't like it, hated it even when he kissed the female lead of the play with eyes full of adoration. You looked on as Villager B and you hated every part of it.

When you were eighteen turning nineteen, you decided to save up for college. It would take time—years perhaps but you would get there. You would get an apartment with Ten in New York City or any city full of bustling, busy life and you would tend to your rooftop garden. Small town dreams, however, die and they die and they’re buried in unloved, unplanted soil.

You finally understood what your tenth grade English teacher meant when she said everything is theatre.

The night he left, you had a nightmare. It was a play and you were the protagonist. You couldn’t make it in time for the night of the performance, anxious and afraid as you arrived. You’d been replaced. You hated to see him on stage with someone else. You hated it. You hated it. You hated it so much.

Of course, you knew it would be a showstopper the moment that fight broke out between you and your replacement. You were cruel in that dream—almost as if you were someone else. But you felt comfortable in that skin, like you were meant to play that part after all. As if you were the villain all along and not the sweetheart of the show. You felt comfortable and it scared you so much that you woke in cold sweat and cried for an hour straight.

It hurt how lonely you felt. It hurt without Ten and you hate that you let him go. Something took shape inside the cavity of your chest, the shape of a weed sprouting in the pulsing garden of life—you won’t make the same mistake again. You’re going to hold on with all your might, till your hands ache and till your heart has had enough.

ACT II: YOUTH

act ii scene i.

“Have you ever actually shoplifted in your life?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Ten tries to suppress his smile and fails, moving so that his back covers you from view instead. A conversation about New York subways led to a conversation about anarchy which led to… this. You’ve been trying to swipe the butterfly pin from the display for the past half an hour. You weren’t actually going to steal it—you just need to prove you can.

The mall is always eerily empty. It shouldn’t be this big of a hassle. Ah yes, apart from the fact that the souvenir shop has stationed the most number of employees for some goddamn reason. You’re not even sure why it’s there; a souvenir shop for your town might as well be a forgotten relic.

“What? No,” he says quickly. “I’m not doing that. Causing trouble is your thing.”

You snort. “Right. Because everything we got into trouble for was done completely by me.”

“That’s actually true.”

You elbow him, giving him your most offended look.

“You can’t be serious about never causing trouble. You broke Mrs. Leung’s famous ruler, remember? And you always stole your mom’s Halloween cupcakes. Those were for all of the theatre crew, by the way.”

“That doesn’t sound right, darling.”

When you look up at him with eyebrows furrowed in annoyance, you find him smiling in somewhat tranquil thought. It has been rather long.

“Yeah, I helped you way too much,” you respond, distastefully.

The two of you straighten at the cashier’s call. Responding that everything’s fine, Ten turns to you with a pointed look.

“If you’re going to do it, better do it before she gets suspicious.”

The hint in his eyes reminds you that he is indeed the devil you know, and you quickly pocket the little butterfly hairpin. This is not ethical in any way and even so, you feel the childish exhilaration. This is to prove a point to your dear friend.

“See?” you whisper to him, exiting the shop. “I could totally pull this off.”

“Not if I start screaming ‘thief!’”

“Did you ever get to play a villain at Broadway? It’s closest to your personality,” you jab.

He sends you a sardonic smile before sticking his tongue out. You should always beware a childish man and his childish smile. You never know if he’ll take you seriously. Ten is the absolute worst and you love him all the more for it.

“Are you actually not gonna pay for it?” he asks, tilting his head.

“And let all those proceeds go to our corrupt overlord mayor? Nuh-uh.”

Ten laughs. “We should go vandalize his campaign posters again.”

The mayor has had, you don’t know how many, little scandals accusing him of embezzlement and every time, he’s escaped easy as pie. All the things you can do with money and you decide to hoard more money; you will never understand people like him. Besides, you won’t have to worry about that any time soon.

“See? You’re the troublemaker. I can’t even vandalize good enough.”

“It’s not my fault you have zero artistic talent.”

You place your hands on your hips. “I’m sorry? I’m pretty sure I taught you how to paint.”

Ten rolls his eyes, a sneaky smile on his lips. “Yeah. You taught the whole class how to paint when you smacked Mr. Cheng with that paintbrush.”

You can’t help the laugh that comes to you, despite trying your best to hold a serious expression.

“You’re a disaster,” he adds, staring incredulously at your fit of laughter.

You look at him and start laughing again.

“Oh my god, what’s so funny? I wasn’t even trying to be funny.”

“Okay, emo boy,” you say, finally straightening and messing his hair.

“I was going to get a haircut.”

“Don’t. You look pretty.”

Ten hums, raising an eyebrow. “But I wanna look hot.”

“That’s going to take a lot of effort.”

Ten grabs you in a chokehold, messing your hair with his hands in the most obnoxious way possible. Finally able to loosen his grip on you, you look at him with your most fearsome glare. He has to stop treating you so gracelessly.

It’s not unusual for him to behave this way; in fact, you welcome it when he’s warm and much lovelier than the usual. But something feels amiss, something dangerous like the passage of time.

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“I thought you’d be talking much more about New York instead of our boring old town.”

He hums, eyes scanning the vicinity of the mall’s first floor. There’s an ice cream shop opposite to the souvenir shop, unvisited due its lack of variety in flavours, and a spacious marble floor with most of the shops closed for renovation. The other two floors are closed off completely but you’re sure that with enough effort, you could sneak in. The glass ceiling at the centre allows for sunlight to wash in as gentle waves, settling on your heads like golden crowns. There are little potted plants lining the walls to make the mall space look less dilapidated but it gives off the same effect as that of something abandoned, left alone and waiting.

“You want me to brag about it?” He addresses you with a slightly cocky grin.

You roll your eyes. “Never mind.”

The mayor wanted to turn this place into some sort of religious campus but you detest the idea of that man getting his way. He’s the very same man to reprimand little girls for their outfits and to say “dancing is not manly” so you do owe his nauseating sexism for your distaste for him. That, and he has absolutely no sense of aesthetics. You would die before you let him remove the gardens or the livelier buildings blessed with the only colours you can bear to look at.

“Hey, (name)?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Angry Cashier is making her way towards you.”

You snap your head to the souvenir shop and the cashier is indeed eyeing you suspiciously. You reach to pat your pocket but you’re stopped by Ten.

“You are, by far, the stupidest thief I’ve ever known.”

You puff your cheeks in annoyance, crossing your arms instead. Just when you think the cashier is going to call you out, the two of you sprint over to the mall exit with a plausible enough speed.

“We didn’t have to run, you know?” Ten complains as soon as you’re out and a street or two away.

“What’s the fun in committing a crime if we don’t get to run?”

“I don’t know, it could be a brain exercise—oh wait. You don’t have one.”

You stick your tongue out at him, walking faster to get away from him.

“Hey!”

He jogs up to you, eyebrows furrowed and ready to spit some sass at you, no doubt.

“I thought you’d be more athletic. Dancing and all.”

“Yeah, no.”

You fix the hair in front of his eyes as he leans over on his knees, a look in his eyes as though caught off guard. They’re a lovely shade of honey, his eyes. They look at you with emotions you can't quite fathom and with the innocence of a love borne between friends who have been forced to endure the mediocrity of this town together. It’s a good reason, you believe, to be friends. Friends are meant to help each other, to save each other and to be there at the lowest. You can check all the boxes. It might have been a while but you’re friends and friends that grow up together stay together. The idea is naive but you cannot possibly look into a future without Ten. There must be a reason behind everything that is given to you. Even right now, as the silence starts to nip at you, you believe you were meant to make full circle. Fate is a funny thing and you wouldn’t believe in it ever, even for a surprise twenty dollar bill vending machine miracle, but it’s comforting enough to let settle on the two of you.

The lead actors go hand in hand.

“Are you going to keep staring at me? I know I’m tragically beautiful—”

“No, you’re beautifully tragic. Your face, that is.”

“I stopped listening after beautiful, so I believe you agreed with me there.”

You roll your eyes.

“You and your unyielding confidence can go fuck itself. I’ve seen you cry over a cat movie.”

Ten sputters out a response. “But- but Garfield saved that dog despite every fiber of his being telling him not to. He could’ve lived a happy, peaceful life but he saved him. How is that not incredibly touching?”

“You’re weird. Garfield’s cute though.”

“Like me.”

You wrinkle your nose. “What are we, twelve?”

“I was having my rebellious punk phase then, so no. I would never have said that when I was twelve.”

You laugh. “God, you looked so funny back then.”

“I thought we agreed to not bring up stuff from our teenage years.”

You press your lips together in an attempt to stop the laugh but a tiny giggle comes out anyway. The sun is going to set in an hour. You better make use of your time.

“Ready to go vandalize some posters?” you ask, grinning.

“You know what? I have a better idea. We should go pick some flowers.”

You blink at him. “That’s not remotely punk or rebellious.”

“Shh. You like picking flowers. Remember how we used to joke you should be hired at weddings instead of the flower girls?”

You make a face. “Why on earth would I fling flowers in the air at weddings? That’s not even a respectable job.”

“It suits you.”

“We should be kinder to our arboreal friends.” You cross your arms. “I’d rather tend to a garden than pick flowers for stupid occasions.”

“Tree-hugger.”

You pull up your middle finger and he laughs, fixing his hair right back into the messy waves.

“Why do you hate weddings?” he asks all of a sudden.

“Oh, you know. Icky stuff.”

“No one’s having sex at the wedding.”

“That’s not what I meant by icky stuff. It’s that gross feeling in the air. What’s it called?”

“Love?”

“Please, there’s hardly any love at weddings. It’s all pretend.”

Ten rolls his eyes, chuckling. “You think all the brides and bridegrooms in the world are pretending at their own weddings?”

“If you say it like that…” You grumble. “I don’t believe you need to celebrate love, that’s all. It’s always there, you know?”

You look up to see Ten pressing his fist to his mouth to keep himself from laughing and scoff in disbelief.

“What’s so funny? Seriously, stop laughing—oh for fuck’s sake.”

Soon enough, Ten is crouching by the sidewalk in a fit of laughter which causes a hot flush rising over your neck. You weren’t trying to be cheesy. Now, your best friend is hellbent on making you feel embarrassed.

“It wasn’t that cringe. Come on. Get up, asshole.”

“You were- you were just so—” He takes a moment to catch his breath, a few short laughs erupting from him nonetheless. “You looked so serious when you said that.”

Your face is hot enough for you to look away now. “Whatever,” you mumble.

“It was cute. You looked really cute,” he continues, somewhat sobered up. “And brave. You always say things with so much confidence that it’s brave. I’m glad you are the way you are.”

You look at him, slightly dazed before your cheeks puff up to prevent yourself from laughing.

“I regret saying that. You are the big, hideous regret of my life.”

“I thought I was cute?” Your snickers turn into laughter again.

“Fuck off.”

“Thanks, Ten. You’re really good to me.”

Ten shakes his head before walking away, leaving you to call after him in phrases of ‘wait up!’ and ‘when did you get so fast?’ as you try to catch up. You sometimes wonder if he likes being chased. You reach the busiest crossing in this town, with about four cars waiting at the stop sign. You’re not sure why anyone follows the traffic rules if there isn’t even any traffic.

Looking up, you gasp at the moon peeking over a still young sky. You're suddenly reminded of those afternoon naps you had in Ten’s room, the both of you fascinated by the idea of waking up and seeing the sky a whole different colour. The idea that time changes everything was still fresh in your minds then, the impact gentle if not loving. It’s quite late you found that time can steal just as much as it gives.

“Remember when we dyed your hair red?”

“I will, and I shit you not, physically assault you for saying anything about that.”

You laugh at the memory of his awkward hairdo. “No, the other time. When we were seventeen.”

“Oh yeah, I received like eight love letters for that.”

“No, you didn’t.”

He did look pretty, and just in time for Valentine’s day’s theme of red roses and nauseating pink hearts.

“I have proof.” Ten leans his elbow against the street lamp, missing it completely and stumbling backwards till he regains his balance. He gives you an impish smile, running a hand through his hair and breathing out.

You roll your eyes, ignoring his words. “I think we never took pictures of that.”

“So… what are you suggesting?”

“One good picture,” you answer, pulling out your phone and taking a picture of him off guard. Looking at it, you pout. It’s so unfair that he gets to look nice even in a hazy evening picture.

Ten rolls his eyes, snatching your phone. “Let me show you how to take good pictures. Not whatever crap you have going on.”

You cross your arms, huffing but agree nonetheless when he forces you to pose by the street light. He blabbers on something about composition and colours that goes straight over your head but you can’t deny that the picture came out ridiculously well. You might have to change all your socials with a new profile picture.

“See? You can thank me with a kiss,” he says, a cheeky smile across his face.

You press your lips to his cheek in a swift motion, a smack sound resounding from it. It was uncalled for, you think, because Ten freezes for a few seconds in an uncharacteristic manner. He shakes his head, a scream dying in his throat before turning to you with the most scandalized look.

“Oh my god, what did you do that for?” he says, rubbing at his cheek in a teasing manner.

You wrap your arms around him, furthering his protests although he ends up smiling wide. “You asked for it, honey.”

“Nicknames are my thing. Stop trying to copy me, it’s embarrassing.”

"Okay, now let's take a picture together," you suggest pulling him closer.

He clicks his tongue and takes the phone from you, and when his hand rests upon the small of your back, you try to freeze up. His face is near yours, not unlike the usual but you feel your heartbeat hike up. It's a strange feeling.

"Now, can we go home?" Ten asks, handing you your phone. "I can't believe your background is rilakkuma."

"I'll change it," you respond, voice strangely quiet. You're only half smiling but Ten's smile is full and bright, eyes honey-pure. "To us."

Ten hums in satisfaction and offers his hand like a gentleman from another century, something you tend to exaggerate and you take it with a laugh. The two of you walk with entangled arms and playful skips over the pavement, getting the same old looks from passersby as you did as children and teenagers. The traffic lights glow a gentle hue below the mature blue evening sky, fading easily. You realize as gently as waves lapping at the shore that you missed Ten so bad it still hurts in the hole he left.

act ii scene ii.

Any weekend in a boring little town of flowers starts with the news of parties. It used to be Johnny sending invites but now it’s mostly just Yukhei calling people for impromptu college parties. Now, you are aware that college parties are horrendous in every shape and form; you are also aware that the two hour car ride to the city college isn’t safe. But it’s easy to ignore hackneyed advice to stay away from parties and alcohol and weed when you’re young and have a ridiculously large group of friends.

The drive isn’t the worst part. At least the drive to the party isn’t; the drive back is usually too hazed to be memorable. Sicheng’s driving this time and with a lot of grumbling but he gets enough pitiful pats to the back and cheek to stop it. Ten has his feet up on the dashboard, having called shotgun before you by one fucking second. You’re stuck with Sooyoung and Johnny in the backseat, sandwiched uncomfortably at that, but you lean forward enough to nag Ten the whole time.

“(name),” Sooyoung calls in a sing-song voice. “Your overly affectionate looks for Ten are showing and it’s not even eleven yet.”

You furrow your eyebrows, stammering out a response and regretting it immediately. “You’re- You’ve been teasing me about this forever.”

“No, she’s right,” Johnny joins in. “Come on, there isn’t even alcohol involved. Yet.”

You roll your eyes, shrinking into yourself as the two of them laugh on either side of you. Sicheng says something along the lines of ‘nauseating’ and ‘idiotic’ but he gets an elbow jab from Ten.

“I’m driving,” he hisses.

“Into every sidewalk we come across?” Ten shoots back.

Another bout of laughter rings through, and this time you can smile too. It’s not that you’re particularly bothered by the teasing; it’s just uncharted territories you have no desire to chart. You always thought you’d meet Prince Charming on a balcony in a summer evening, and this is optional, but it should happen with ‘Love Story’ by Taylor Swift playing in the background. It’s quite inane to assume it would be your best friend, whom you have spent countless summer evenings listening to old Taylor Swift songs with.

Before you were aware of college house parties, you thought things like these would be more of a less-people-more-booze sort of situation. Turns out, the alcohol to people ratio is nearly the same. Stumbling out of the entrance to the frat house, Yukhei greets the lot of you with a dazed smile before promptly throwing up into the bushes. Rolling your eyes, you pat his back while Sooyoung gets some water from her purse.

“How many drinks was it this time, Yukhei?” Ten teases. “Half? Three-quarters? No wait, that’s a stretch.”

“Very funny,” Yukhei mutters, somehow still upbeat despite his continuous retching. “I bet you’d be drunk after a shot of whatever the hell I had too.”

Adjusting his jacket, Ten narrows his eyes at Yukhei with an incredulous look. “Okay, you’re on. Let’s go.”

Sicheng raises his hands alarmed, but Ten has disappeared into the swarms of people before any sound can leave him.

“He was supposed to drive on the way back,” Sicheng complains. He opens his mouth in sudden realization and then turns to you. You look from him to Johnny and Sooyoung who share a look and walk briskly into the party with a thumbs-up gesture.

“Oh. Oh no,” you say.

“No, yes,” Sicheng responds.

You shake your head and laugh before sprinting inside, Sicheng’s yells of protest fading out.

Yukhei wasn’t kidding when he said his frat hosts the craziest parties. There’s far too many people here, at least far too many for Ten to have fun. You like the energy of the crowd though, all in their own zones and dancing to old party pop songs. The smell of alcohol hits you so strong at first that you have to take a breather in the little garden space they have. It’s more of an overgrown shrubbery instead of a garden but any green will do. Walking back in, you feel much more comfortable when you take a shot of vodka from a girl passed out on the couch. Laughing, you look around for familiar faces. Parties, however, are not the place to look for faces at all. You think you just spotted a fur neck warmer tied around a dude’s waist while he performs some Neanderthal variant of belly dancing.

You bump into a guy of fairly tall stature, a polite apology tumbling from his lips.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you chuckle in amusement. “You’re not a party kind of guy, are you?”

He stares at you with a placid expression, intrigued. “And how would you know?”

“First, you’re not drunk. Two, you look grossed out by those dudes on the bar table. Three, you’re making conversation with me instead of dancing.”

“So you’re saying I can’t make conversation and dance at the same time.”

“I’m sorry, Mister, but you look like you’d rather not dance at all.”

He laughs. “That’s your way of saying I have a stick up my ass, isn’t it?”

You shrug, giving him your friendliest smile. “I prefer talking to drinking too. What’s your name? I need to know the name of the only sober guy in here.”

“Doyoung,” he answers. “Something tells me you’re not going to give me the same pleasure of knowing your name.”

You smile, pressing your index finger to your lips. “Names at parties are better left unknown.”

Something about him is inherently attractive, and you find yourself drawing nearer. Perhaps you could have a more fun night this way. “It’s much more fun to guess. Now, I’m guessing your party-loving best friend dragged you in here so you could get laid.”

He sighs, smiling at you. “I’m actually part of the frat.”

You gasp, hand covering your mouth. “No way.”

“Someone sober has to oversee whatever the hell’s going on here.” He shrugs. “Now, and this isn’t a guess, but you’re not from our college.”

“Nope. I’m from that little flower town nearby.”

“Ah, I heard there’s a lovely dahlia field there.”

You nod. “And me. Just as lovely.”

You bite your tongue. That was certainly not sexy enough flirting. Ten has been rubbing off on you with his lame comebacks. Doyoung, however, laughs really loud at that. He must have a worse sense of humour than you thought.

You turn sharply at the sound of your name. Ten seems to be waving at you from a table of beer pong, looking rather distressed. You wave back with a bothered look on your face, aggressively signaling for him to handle his shit alone. He pouts and signals more desperately for you to come. Sighing, you turn to Doyoung.

“Sorry,” you say. “My friend seems to be in a pinch. Either that or he’s attention starved again in a record time of eight minutes.”

Doyoung laughs. “I liked talking to you.”

“I liked talking to you too, plot twist.”

“Is that what you’re calling me now?” Doyoung smiles at you. "Ah, I tend to forget but someone always comes along and shows me how friendships are made."

With one last smile, you leave him and walk halfway through to Ten before realizing you forgot to ask for Doyoung’s number. It’s too late to turn back now for the crowd blocks your version and you begrudgingly make your way to Ten. So much for your fun night.

“What was so important that you had to pull me away from the only attractive dude in this party?” you say, crossing your arms.

“Who, Doyoung?” he asks. “I’m at least six times hotter. And anyway, help me win this.”

You roll your eyes. If Ten knows Doyoung, you can somehow finagle your way into getting his number.

“I suck at this game,” Ten mutters. “How the hell is it supposed to hit its mark when the cup is so far away?”

“You have shitty aim,” you say, taking the ping pong ball and throwing it right into the cup. Smirking at the dude who’s already wasted on the other side, you turn back to Ten.

“That’s how you play.”

“Maybe you just have magic hands. Kiss my balls for good luck—wait, fuck, I didn’t mean that.”

You throw your head back and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. Sometimes Ten forgets to think before he opens his mouth and it might be surprising, but he does think before most things he says. He’s always been careful in the subtlest ways.

“I hate this game,” Ten says after missing the cup again.

“Let me teach you,” you say, moving behind him and taking his hand holding the ball. He stiffens before letting you guide the angle of projection as you throw. It lands right in despite the wobbly beginning and you grin at him.

“I’m so done with this party,” he whispers, hands on his hips and stretching much like a cat after a nap.

You giggle. “I didn’t drink enough to forget everything that’s ever hurt me though.”

“You’re hurt?” he asks, before clearing his throat. “If you wanna stay, I’ll stay too.”

“I’m not a child, you know?” you say, smiling incredulously. “I don’t need you babysitting me.”

“I don’t need you talking to any more Doyoungs. You know his body count?”

“That guy?” you ask, jaw dropping.

“It’s not that much actually,” Ten continues, smiling deviously. “More than what you expect from a guy in law though. You can shut your jaw.”

You huff. “How do you know though? Did you sleep with him?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “I would rather eat your baking than sleep with him.”

“Hey.”

Right then, the two of you are approached by a now-sober Yukhei. He must have vomited enough alcohol out of his system by now. Johnny stays beside him with mild worry across his features. Sicheng on the other hand looks like his social battery has drained out already.

“It’s time for a drinking game!” Yukhei tells the two of you. “With the… uh… not so drunk people.”

“So just the five of us? Where’s Sooyoung?”

“Doting over Yeri,” Johnny answers.

“Ah.”

“Let’s play something if you guys actually want me to stay and not die of boredom,” Sicheng mumbles in annoyance.

"Truth or drink?" Yukhei suggests.

"Hell no," you mutter. "I've had enough of that."

"What, no dare this time," he insists with a wide smile and arms outstretched.

You hum. "What are you curious about anyway? I know you wanna know something."

Yukhei scratches the back of his head before glancing at Ten. "Well… have you two ever… I don't know, experimented with each other? Like you're best friends, right, so no hard feelings."

Ten furrows his brows, a gaze that's somewhere between a glare and a confused look.

"Experiment…?" He asks, almost afraid to.

"In bed," says Yukhei bluntly.

Ten turns a few shades darker in the face, noticeable even under the multi-colored party lights. You, on the other hand, pray your stunned expression isn't mistaken for the embarrassment you feel. You're not sure why the feeling arises.

"(Name) wishes," Ten jokes, playing it off.

You roll your eyes. "You wish, asshole."

Yukhei pulls a face and raises a hand to interrupt. "Please don't start another lover's quarrel."

Sicheng snickers at the side, although you thought he wasn't listening. How on earth does this joke not get old to them?

"Anyway, my question is answered," Yukhei says. "Best friends who are in love with each other cannot sleep together but friends who are not… they can right?"

Sicheng hums in response, a teasing smile already on his lips. Ten groans and places his hand to the back of Sicheng's neck, almost threatening.

"What would you know about sex, Sicheng?" He bickers. "You're like virgin supreme."

You narrow your eyes. "And what would you know?"

Ten opens his mouth then closes it promptly. Sicheng and Yukhei on the other hand break into laughter, mentioning something about digging graves before taking their leave from the two of you. You really don't think either of them should be drinking—considering Yukhei's a lightweight and Sicheng is supposed to drive.

Ten smacks the back of your head and you yelp, smacking his shoulder as hard as you can.

"I was trying to help us there," he complains. "You're so unfun."

You mimic his statement and he tries to pinch you in the cheeks, which you expertly avoid.

"So tell me," you say. "Have you or have you not had sex?"

Ten sighs. "Okay, yeah fine. Guilty. Whatever."

"What happened to no flings in New York?"

"Didn't feel like telling you."

"Oh, I'm so hurt."

The two of you look at each other and burst into laughter, easy to forget the scores of people around you in the moment.

“So you definitely had a few flings in New York,” you say, crossing your arms with a smug smile.

“Like three, yeah,” he answers, shaking his head. “What does it matter?”

Some part of you is satisfied with the way he doesn’t look too interested. It’s the ridiculous part of you. The clementine light over his features make them seem even gentler than usual and you smile, pressing the back of your hand to his cheek.

“Wha—”

“Mhm. Your cheeks are so warm.”

“Oh, so now I’m your personal heater.”

Ten places his hand over yours and your heartbeat hikes, and so easily too when he looks at you with his honey eyes.

“You know what, you’re right. This party’s getting boring.” You look around, as though pretending will help you any better. But then again if Shakespeare was onto something and all the world's a stage, then you never stop pretending, right?

Ten looks at you for a suggestion and the moment pauses, contemplation on both of your faces.

“Let’s just get Sicheng to drive us back,” you say finally. It’s not like you can stray too far for fear of Sicheng leaving behind the two of you (he’s done that before).

Sicheng jumps at the idea of going back and all of you have to participate in dragging drunk Sooyoung into the car and away from a slightly worn out Yeri. Thanking you and fixing her disheveled hair, she walks back into her own corner to what seems to be aggressively coding on her laptop and flipping the finger to any dude who approaches her. When work calls, you simply cannot hang up.

You and Ten are forced to sit together in the backseat now for Johnny sits shotgun, massaging his forehead from whatever hellsent concoction he made for himself and his friends. The drive is mostly quiet and you lay your head on Ten’s shoulder while Sooyoung snores beside you. It’s quiet like the laps of water between ripples. It feels so secure to stay like this, like the world cannot interrupt. You’ve missed your best friend. You’ve missed him so much.

You and Ten part ways with the others at the crossing and you don’t skip over the path as you used to, with the jovial youth you contained then. No, your steps are slower and perhaps more mature but still in pace with Ten’s just as ever. A cat waits by the entrance to your door, the same calico that has won over your mother’s heart and now waits patiently for treats. In a way, you kept feeding it because you thought of Ten whenever you did.

It seems these days, the only way to get kisses from Ten is to be a cat. He pets the cat with tender strokes and presses his face to its forehead with no fear of cat-borne diseases.

“Hey, Ten. What about me?” You pucker your lips at him and he presses his palm to your lips instead, snickering.

In these short moments, moments that barely last, do you feel the three years he’s been gone. It’s funny how people change and never realize they do. It’s funny how you’re in awe of every person he becomes.

“I missed your rooftop the most in New York,” Ten says.

You chuckle. “You hid there when your mom was mad at you.”

“Do you know how many slippers your rooftop has saved me from? I think your rooftop is more of a best friend to me than you are.”

You place your hand over your heart in mock hurt and he shakes his head, grinning.

“Well, let’s prove I’m more worthy of the best friend title then,” you say, grabbing his hand, the skin so soft to you, and dragging him into your house in quiet tiptoes. You remember coming up here back when you pretended to be pirates, when you acted out Shakespeare and when you wanted to forget the world, the terrible, cruel world you found yourself hating often. This is your hiding spot, a safe place. Ten makes it more so.

Lying down against the rooftop, you trace the sky from star to star. The good thing about small, dimly lit towns is the clear view of the stars. So far from troubles, it must be easy to play the audience.

“That looks a little like Felis,” Ten says, taking your hand and tracing a particular arrangement of the stars.

“Is that a… cat?”

“Yeah. It’s not a constellation anymore,” he tells you. “But I like to think it is.”

“I wish things never end too,” you mumble. “Like Brooklyn Nine-Nine. Or that new Taylor Swift song. I wish some things went on forever.”

Ten laughs airily. “I wish too.”

You turn to look at him. The curve of his nose is pretty as ever, eyelashes hanging close to the skin of his cheeks as he breathes with eyes closed. There’s a significant number of words you haven’t exchanged yet. There’s so many words you’re holding back.

“You seem tired,” you note.

He hums in response.

“Was New York that hard?”

He opens his eyes to look at you. “A little… tiring, yes.”

“Well, I’m glad you can rest now.” You smile and he returns it.

“I’ve been running for so long and telling myself I’m still dancing,” he says, a sigh escaping afterwards. “I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“You’re with me,” you respond. “Right here. On my rooftop.”

“Watching the stars again,” he completes, laughing aloud. “God, I wish we were kids again. All I cared about were the flavour of my cereal and how many constellations I could memorize.”

“The stars don’t give a shit about you, Ten,” you tease, repeating the line you used to tell him.

“The stars might not give a shit about us,” he agrees, “But that’s why I’d like to watch them a little longer.”

“Me too,” you say softly.

You take a deep breath and let it out. These are the moments between the bloom of a flower and when it is picked. These moments are serene and warm and gentle, however ephemeral they may be. These are the moments between the flapping of a butterfly's wings—times when you and Ten fell asleep in detention in fifth grade for something that was very much your fault, or when he pets your head with the biggest grin after pissing you off on purpose or the proximity of the baby blue sky after your latest shopping mall mischief. But the flower will be picked someday. To live is to live in fear, and no matter how you try to buzz out the idea of it, it will come and it will prove itself.

“Sometimes I wish I were an angrier person,” you say quietly.

“What for?”

“They just seem so much more driven.”

“You’re driven enough. I think you do everything right already.”

“Working at plant nurseries, maybe. I’m not even a good enough cashier.”

“Flowers suit you.”

“You know, I could spend my life picking flowers and arranging them if I could,” you say, sitting up. “Everything moves so fast that the garden’s gone by the time I get to smell the flowers. You get me?”

“Yeah,” he replies. “I wish time could stop. Sometimes it does. When I’m on stage.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s very beautiful,” he whispers, eyes fixed on you.

It's quiet, the sounds of the night filling the space between you and him.

"You know, in dance," he starts, "the most powerful thing you can be is still. It's also the most difficult."

You hum in response. "I find it easy to be still with you though. It's like I don't have to perform anymore, you know?"

Ten laughs. "I know. I wish I could say that about my ambitions."

You place your palms against his cheeks, holding his face gently. You're not sure if it's because you're a little tipsy or Ten's lips that are driving you crazy, but you smile wide.

"You are like a flower," you begin rather wisely. "And spring hasn't arrived yet."

Ten blinks before snorting and then laughing like you just said the stupidest thing ever.

The downside to getting along like a house on fire is that the house is still on fire and you don’t know what to do about it. Your heart is burning and you want to tell him the words you’re holding back. But if they escape your mouth, the wind might carry it away and leave you with a heavy response. You can’t say anything yet. Not until you’ve mustered enough courage to leave this town behind with him. Not until you have enough financial confidence to fall in love.

“Hey, Ten.”

“Hm? Don’t ask me something stupid and ruin the night.”

You giggle. “Will you stay with me wherever I am?”

“A little overdue but yes, until death do us part.”

The two of you laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes brimming with an unsaid emotion. This is how you fall in love. You fall in love like flowers blossoming and withering, like you have only each other to withstand the test of time.

“Should we dance?” Ten offers. “This time, maybe you’ll finally learn to not step on my feet.”

“That just makes me want to step on your feet more.”

It's so easy to fall in love that you fall asleep to the feeling—like the nights after you watched cartoons well past bedtime and thought that Ten was the prettiest boy you'd ever seen, after reading illicit internet horror stories in seventh grade that only made you huddle closer, after creating a pillow fort in the name of memories the night of your graduation when you couldn't say out loud that Ten really is the prettiest boy you know. The feeling slips in like you slip on your night clothes and you forget they were ever off at all. Comfort is a fleeting thing but in that moment, it felt forever.

act ii scene iii.

Halloween is undoubtedly the greatest time to spend with friends. There’s spooky stories shared, an abundance of favourite candies and if you happen to be friends with theatre kids, there’s most certainly a fun play going on. The crisp autumn air is vaguely nostalgic, brimming with memories in this town.

Evening creeps in and once you’re done with the day’s chores, you get dressed with such speed that your mother has to convince you to slow down. It’s like you’re a kid again, and you'd like to enjoy this morsel of your childhood before you're forced to grow up.

Greeting Ten’s mother as you rush into the house, you run up the stairs and into Ten’s room, opening the door with a loud bang. Somehow, Ten’s scream is louder than that. He’s wearing a towel around his waist (only a towel), hands covering his chest with a horrified look on his face.

"Stop screaming," you say, hands on your hips. "We've seen each other naked, what's the big deal? Actually, do that pitch again, you sound like Meryl Streep from Mamma Mia."

Ten chokes, covering his mouth with his knuckles while he coughs.

"We were like four and a half! How does that count?"

You giggle, turning around. "Change. Quick."

"I mean, you can see if you like, darling," he calls, liltingly. "I know you can't resist me. Ugh. Can't stand all this pining from a friend."

You make a gagging sound and he laughs. It seems like he’s gotten over the initial shock of you barging in. The sound of the wardrobe opening and Ten shuffling through clothes follows. You are glad, however, that he can't see the look on your face. You must be looking ridiculous. You wonder if he can see how tense your shoulders and torso are. This is not the way you wanted to start the evening. Can he tell apart the distinct nervousness in your voice? It's suddenly difficult to play it cool. And isn't playing it cool something you do in front of a crush?

You catch a glimpse of his naked back and it makes you shake your head violently to get rid of the thought. How ridiculous. You can’t be lovers yet.

“Alright, you can turn around. What the fuck are you even supposed to be?”

"Say hello to the wicked witch of the West!" You exclaim, grinning ear to ear when you jump around.

"Oh, you don't have to dress up for that."

Your smile turns into a pout and you pull hard at his still-soft cheeks. He lets out a pained whine, grabbing your wrists and gently tugging them off. His skin turns red easily, however, and you're left with an image of rosy-cheeked Ten just like when you first met.

“You’re a demon spawn,” he hisses, rubbing his sore cheek.

“No, that’s definitely your thing. Can’t borrow that,” you say, crossing your arms and smiling smugly. “Why aren’t you dressed as one? Actually, why aren’t you dressed as anything?”

Ten shrugs. “I have to wear some ridiculous ghost outfit for the play so I decided I’d rather play the part of a sexy pirate ghost.”

You snort, looking at the half-buttoned white shirt tucked neatly into black trousers. “You? A ghost? A poltergeist is the word you’re looking for.”

Ten rolls his eyes. “If I were a ghost, I’d definitely haunt you for the rest of your life.”

“Okay, ghost boy, let’s get going.” You loop your arms through his and pull him out, leaving in just as much a whirlwind as you walked in. You do walk back in though—to stuff a few of the cookies Ten’s mom baked in your mouth and walk right out with a muffled ‘thank you’ and your hand still around Ten’s wrist.

Arriving at the theatre, Ten catches his breath though he tries to not look worn out before squinting and making a show of searching for something.

“What are you looking for?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“The train you thought we were going to miss.”

You stick your tongue out and finally let go of his hand. He pulls it to himself, rubbing at his wrist with an exaggerated look of pain.

“Oh, it’s still intact. Thought I’d have to bid farewell to my dreams of being a professional calligrapher.”

“Eat ink, Ten.”

“Ooh, it’s the rare PG-13 (name). Nice.”

A loud bang emanates from the back entrance, Sicheng looking like a rather mortified Count Dracula (which is strange because Dracula is immortal, right?) with fake blood splattered across his jaw and two little fangs poking out. Ten no wastes no time in complimenting them, making Sicheng rather flustered.

“It was bad enough having to listen to your flirting through the door,” Sicheng mutters. “Get in. Quick. Sooyoung pulled out and we need someone to fill in.”

Your eyes light up and Sicheng is about to deny your wishes when Ten intervenes.

“(name). You get to play a slightly deranged witch with a most definitely existing bloodlust. You in?”

“You bet I am! I was born ready. Except in sixth grade when I had that meh phase and I wasn’t born ready. Then I was born ready again!”

Sicheng makes a face. “Yeah sure, just get in.”

“Aren’t you glad I’m dressed for the occasion?”

“Not really, no.”

Ten whistles when he walks in. “How much fake blood did you guys get?”

“Enough to re-enact Red Wedding from Game of Thrones,” Johnny answers from a corner, in a costume which you can’t tell if it’s a werewolf or just a fursuit. You can never seem to guess when it comes to Johnny.

Ten laughs before turning to you, the sound tuning out. “I have never watched Game of Thrones.”

You pat his shoulder, laughing. In the next moment, Sicheng pushes a script towards you, expecting you to actually read.

“Sicheng, you know I’m going to improvise.”

Sicheng groans. “Shakespeare was right. Hell is empty and all the demons are here.”

Throwing a pointed glare at you when he says the word ‘demons’, he crosses his arms. It’s easy to convince him though—he’s quite amenable when he’s stressed out about details and both you and Ten know he just needs some reassurance and good, gentle shove.

You and Ten sit on either side of him on a really, really worn out couch that you’re not sure can hold the weight of the three of you.

Sicheng holds up his hands in both of your faces before you can open your mouth.

“I feel like the child of a really immature couple who is forced to grow up at a tender age because his parents are so immature.”

“Uh,” Ten starts. “That’s very specific.”

“The character I’m playing has daddy issues,” Sicheng responds casually, and a little out of it. “Actually he’s got mommy issues too. Why am I playing an eight year old?”

“Because children are crap at acting,” Ten answers and you reach your arm to smack the back of his head.

“What? Ow, that hurt.”

“Sicheng, it’s our stupid Halloween play. We do it to have fun,” you say, placing your hand

“You going all motherly is freaking me out,” Sicheng says, wide eyes staring at you.

“You’re right,” you say, dramatically sighing. “Motherhood changed me. I can’t do evil black magic anymore. Aha! That’s a good dialogue, isn’t it?”

“Harrowing, actually, but I guess that’s what you’re going for.”

You and Ten share a fond smile, laughing to yourselves till Joohyun calls you and gives you basic stage direction. She’s almost never home except for Halloween and it makes the holiday even more exceptional.

“Ready, Wicked Witch of the West?” Ten nudges you before he has to go on stage.

“Wait, is that actually my character?”

“No. No, it isn’t. For the love of cats—the animal, not the musical—please just keep speaking and make it worse on stage. I need a recording to laugh at.”

You roll your eyes and push him on. He looks so at peace there, the conversation from that night coursing in remembrance. It’s like everything is still, the lack of motion driving him to move.

You never understand it yourself, however, when you’re on stage. You blabber like an idiot, as Ten says, and the audience laughs and that is it. You don’t experience what he does and it sometimes drives you a little crazy. Of course, you adding a pregnancy narrative to your witch does throw the rest of the cast for a loop but they handle it well. You just have to make sure you run as fast as you can from Joohyun after the play is done.

“Good job there,” Ten snickers after you duck behind a curtain as Joohyun passes by with furrowed brows and a frown.

“I know right? I’m literally Oscar-worthy,” you whisper-yell and Ten shakes his head.

“Come on.” This time his hand grips your wrist. “I know the best way to sneak out of this theatre.”

Taking a flight of stairs that you were previously unaware of, you plunge into the darkness of what seems to be an attic. Ten turns on the flashlight of his phone and you yelp, the lighting not helping his already spooky makeup. He laughs before navigating through a bunch of boxes.

“I heard they used to use this room as an execution chamber,” Ten whispers.

“They did not. Get the fuck out of here.”

“Okay fine. I did cry here though after reading an internet article about ill-fated lovers in ancient Asia.”

“Ugh. Truly horrifying.”

“Yeah, yeah. Emotions terrify you.”

“They do not.”

Ten stops walking.

“Oh yeah? Got any proof?”

You stop yourself before you can do something embarrassing. The first thought that came to you was to kiss the smug look off his face and it does terrify you. The bastard is right.

“I… cried at your birthday party.”

“You were six. Everyone cries when they’re six.”

“Alright, fine. I cried after you left.”

The silence makes you look up and for once, you don’t really want Ten to be so speechless. You punch his shoulder lightly.

“I missed you a lot,” you say quietly. “Is that so surprising?”

He opens his mouth but no sound comes out.

“Hello? Anyone inside?” You knock at his forehead before holding his face between your face. “You’re shivering. It’s pretty cold here.”

“I’m not cold,” he says quickly, the red rising in his face.

“Of course, you’re cold. Your cheeks are aflame, that’s how cold it is.”

Ten shuts off the flashlight and you scream at the abrupt darkness.

“It’s not from the cold,” he mumbles.

Now left with only Ten’s warm hand around your wrist, you let him guide through wherever the hell it is you are before emerging onto the second floor of 1075 Building.

“What the hell?” You gasp. “Why wasn’t I aware there was a secret passage here? Is this what archaeologists feel like? ”

Ten smiles, in some sort of victory. “You don’t know a lot of things.”

You walk into the empty room, or rather wiggle in through the window—this building used to be some sort of housing apartment before being torn down halfway for renovation. Some ghost stories spooked the workers too much to continue. However, having been here long enough, you know that the only thing haunting this place is the abundance of cats. In fact, you can see a few eyeing the two of you from the other windowsills. The room is fairly well-lit and maintained so you guess the renovation will start again soon.

“You got us pizza?” you exclaim at the pizza boxes and cans of cola resting over a little picnic blanket.

“Yes, I did. Wait, crap, I forgot the candy.”

“Nah, that’s okay.” You show him the Reese’s peanut butter cups and Snickers you had pocketed from some unsuspecting children. They get way too many anyway. This is completely morally justified—you’re doing this to save them from cavities and poor health.

“I can’t believe you’d ever want to escape a theatre,” you say before humming at how good the pizza tastes. Pizza is always better when you’re having it someplace you’re not supposed to be in.

“Sometimes, it’s suffocating.” He finally bites into his pizza, an unreadable look over him. You don’t like it. Shifting closer so that your knees touch, you lean in a little.

“Oh, really? After all that talk about how beautiful it is.”

“It is. It just wears me out sometimes. Like you.”

Ten flushes red immediately. “I didn’t mean it—I, I… uh.”

“Aw, you think I’m beautiful.”

“Gah, I knew you’d say that.”

There’s a pause.

“I got kicked out, actually,” he says quietly.

“What?”

“I had some disagreements with the writers and… and here I am.”

You look at him in stunned silence. “They did fucking what? I’m going to kill them.”

“No, (name). I was at fault. I overstepped. I guess city air made me a little greedy.”

“You were always greedy though.”

“If that’s your example of sympathy, you are horrible at it. Never try again.”

“Well.” You smile reassuringly. “You’re quite beautiful on stage. Too. Like me, as you said.”

“I’m a performer,” he says, a hint of satisfaction in his voice when he leans in. “You can’t beat me at that.”

“Then put on a show for me, darling.” You raise an eyebrow, a cocky smile over your lips.

Ten’s cheeks colour. It’s silent for a few moments and you take notice of the lack of distance between your noses, your lips. He seems to lose touch with reality when he gently cups your cheeks and presses his lips to yours. A soft gasp escapes you, not quite ready for the contact.

Ten pulls apart immediately, a look of horror in his eyes.

“I- I’m sorry… I got caught in the—I’m sorry.”

He gets up abruptly and you still sit there in shock. When your senses are back, the room is empty and you hug yourself, feeling colder. God, you’re an idiot. For the first time in your life, you’ve come to your senses and you decide to let the only person you’ve loved walk out the door.

Your texts to him that night aren’t even left on read but you know he’s read the notifications. He always does when he’s avoiding someone. You feel the weight slithering in, pinning you down and making it hard to sleep that night. You have so many things you want to say to him and this time, you’re ready. Even if fate doesn’t let you, you will speak the lines you should have chosen much earlier.

act ii scene iv.

You don’t have anyone to show it to but the news broke you.

The idea of him keeping it all to himself, bearing burdens that are better shared makes your heart collapse its walls into itself. You’re supposed to be there. You were supposed to be there from every pitfall to the top of the world. You were supposed to be at every stage, at every afterparty and for every bout of performance high. You didn’t mean to leave the seat empty.

You were supposed to be there at every rejection and every failure, making fun of all the troubles.

You get a text from Ten two mornings later to meet up at the new cafe everyone’s been talking about. It takes you the rest of the morning to practise what you’ll say, what you won’t and how you’ll say it. You’ve never done this much for actual plays. But you’re not acting—you just need the words to come out right.

The wall of the cafe is covered in ivy, but you cannot waste time admiring it. Your nerves have the best of you. You stop at the entrance, backtracking to say your entire speech in your head once again. The most important friendship of your life depends on this stupid monologue you came up with a night before in front of the mirror.

“(name).”

You jump, finding Ten behind you. His nose is a little red from the cold but he looks fine apart from that. You can’t believe you’re early. This might be the first time in your life and you breathe out, slightly more confident.

“Can you… uh, not block the door?”

“Right. Sorry.”

The two of you walk in, a nervous tremble over your fingers but you clasp your hands together tight. He still remembers your favourite drink and you take a moment to try and understand why it’s surprising at all. You wish he never left.

“Ten,” you begin. “If you want to talk about that kiss—”

“Stop. I’m sorry. That was so out of line.” He lets out a distressed sigh, leaning back in the chair.

“It’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,” you say quickly. That was not in the speech.

He sits up. “I… Am I taking things too seriously? You’ve been my longest friend, (name). You should tell me.”

You frown. “I didn’t mean it in a harsh way. You just think it’s bad because you kissed your best friend and—”

“No. What do you think?”

You gulp.

“See, (name)? I lied because it fucking hurts right now. I don’t want to play this part.”

“No, Ten. I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so many things but there’s the city, your job—oh. I- I don’t mean to bring it up if the wound is still fresh. Ten—”

“You don’t understand,” he cuts. “You’ve always been happy here. You’re happy wherever. I’m not… like… that.”

There’s a pause. You pull your jacket closer, the temperature dropping despite the smell of warm baked goods and hit coffee.

“I thought you knew me,” you whisper coldly.

Ten looks away. “I don’t. I don’t know. I don’t know anything about you. I don’t know anything about anything.”

You breathe sharply. “Ten, I know the city was tough but it’s all you ever wanted.”

“I don’t know what I want,” he whispers. “I don’t know where I belong and- and it just keeps getting harder.”

Your eyes soften. “At least, you were there at Broadway. You took the first step and maybe… maybe you can make a priority list, you know? Work things out.”

“(name), stop. You keep trying to cheer me up in the wrong way.” He dips his face into his palms, rubbing at it and sighing.

You purse your lips. This conversation is going nowhere and you’re holding onto the last shred of your empathy. You just want him back with you.

“You got to go out there, Ten. You went to college, you went to New York. You got to go out there and live your dreams, for whatever it was worth, while I’m stuck in this nothing town. Forever.”

“That’s… that’s not true,” he says, voice breaking. “You were saving up for college. We would live in the same city, in the same apartment with the cats and the hot pink curtains and a coffee maker—oh god, I’ve ruined it.”

It’s painful. You don’t know what to say. If this were a movie, the beautiful, romantic kind, you’d be confessing your long-kept feelings. But you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anything. It’s been a year and he’s changed in a way you don’t know and you can’t throw it onto him like this. This isn’t a movie, and you don’t have a script. Your practised words are forgotten as soon as they reach the tip of your tongue.

People change, and you’re holding onto someone he’s already buried. He’s not in love with you; teenage love is shaky, wobbly at the foundation. He misses the years, not you. You’ve known him your whole life and yet a year’s difference makes you see things differently. You were lonely without him. You were lonely when you had to keep yourself from calling him, when you finally decided to stop sending daily texts, when you couldn’t find the same comfort in any of your other friends. You hurt him and now, you have to face it.

You pick wilting flowers at an overgrown garden.

No, even if it isn’t you, you want him. You want him and him only, the years be damned. The past pales in comparison to what is now.

“I’m in love with you,” you blurt. “I was just shocked last night because I didn’t think you were in love with me.”

“You’re not in love with me,” he counters. “You’ve been in love with so many people but none of them were me.”

“You. It’s you—oh my god, it was always you.”

Ten glances at his untouched cup, yet undecided on what to do with his fingers when they stop tapping against the bright red plastic table abruptly.

“So what? So what if it was me? I don’t know what it’s like to play that part.”

You breathe out. There’s a silence between the two of you, one which you remember hanging stars upon. Now it's quiet in a way that has nothing to do with astronomy, or art, or music or anything, really. It’s empty. Like every other silence.

“I loved you,” you whisper in an attempt that is more delirious than for closure. “Do you really not know what that’s like?”

Ten shakes his head. “I… I don’t.”

The memories of him smiling under the sun, only memories keep your tears from brimming up. There was meant to be closure. There was meant to be an explanation. You were supposed to be closing that door you opened into each other. Ten looks at your shaking hands and for a moment, you think he might even reach out and warm them up with his sunlit ones. You press them to your face and breathe into them.

“You brought me all the way here to lie to me?”

Ten furrows his eyebrows.

“I’m not lying—I can’t care about you. You know that, right? I’ll ruin your life. Like I’ve ruined mine.”

You laugh, partly in exasperation and partly as an attempt to alleviate the pain in your chest.

“You’re my boy. I know you better than anything else I know.”

“Don’t- Don’t do that. Don’t make me want something more.”

"Why would you kiss me?" You bite down your lip to stop yourself from crying.

Ten seems at a loss for words, looking at you with parted lips and guilty eyes.

"I love you. I'm sorry."

With your eyes downcast, you take a shaky breath. It's now or never. Never, never, never. The word chimes like wedding bells and you think for a moment, to lie. If you pretend, if you act, you'll live it out. He cannot stay and you cannot leave. What a ridiculous pair you are.

You squeeze your eyes shut, get up and lean over the table to place a kiss against Ten's mouth. You pull away with reluctance, looking at the quiet surprise in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," you whisper. "I got… I got caught in the moment."

Ten stares at you soundlessly, mouth moving and yet no words come out. Instead, he runs his fingers through your hair before placing his hand on your cheek and leans in again. There's a red flush over his cheeks and it makes you feel at ease.

"I didn't want to hold you back," you say after parting. "Or at least, that's what I told myself. But this year without you has been so painful."

Ten doesn't say anything.

"I… I didn't know what I felt and- and I was so scared… I didn't mean to hurt you. I hate that I did."

“I was afraid,” he says, breathing out like he was holding it in. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t care if I came back.”

Time treats everything poorly. This time, you’ll try your best to win against it. Ten breaks into a wide, relieved smile and you laugh, rubbing at the tears that collected. God, you were so afraid you wouldn't ever be able to talk to each other anymore. Every room you’ve been in without Ten has been so empty that you had stopped opening doors at all. The coffee is hot and tastes better than ever.

You dream of something as ridiculous as the love you feel for Ten.

There's a cat in the sky, made of stars and with a booming, deep voice—and you, you are little and insignificant on a forgotten rooftop. It is serene, in quiet contemplation, and you are looking at it like a neglected child at its mother. You ask something without words and it responds without words.

All of sudden, the image disappears and you find yourself in a garden, picking flowers. The clothes you wear are not yours, the face you wear is not yours. But Ten, you'd recognise him anywhere, any time, in another lifetime.

You could see the clear distinction between the two of you however. You wore robes of royalty, the auspicious gold embroidery glistening, and he, that of a performing artist in quiet sage green. The blue irises that grew around you paid no heed to your colours and you had the thought that you should be like them. Vivid, smiling and never alone.

Ten greets you with a smile first and then stretches out his arms. You run to him, with enough force to knock the two of you onto the soft, grassy ground. No one will find the two of you here, in this flower bed. You remember thinking that royalty puts on just as much a show as theatre actors.

You didn't have to remember all of it to know that the story was a tragedy, carefully crafted by divine writers and painters. It was cruel, as is every writer's hand. You see him last under a beautiful sunset before an execution, the words ‘please’ on his lips and no hint of resentment in his smile. It was unlike him. It was so unlike him.

You hug yourself. He shouldn’t have forgiven you so easily. It takes you a few moments to come back to your senses; this is not you. That person in your dreams wasn’t you—why did you have to feel all that pain? That person in your dream watched their lover die—no, let their lover die as though discarding a messed up sketch. Cruel. It was so cruel.

The burning idea sprouts in your mind that it was the original script. That perhaps you were cruel and he was not and it’s been that way since forever. That if you don’t do something about it, you’ll be the villain once more. It's as scary to be young as it is lively—and not for once, did you ever think that villains were children too.

ACT III: HAPPINESS

act iii scene i.

If the world were to end tomorrow, Ten would spend tonight dancing with you. He says it so easily that you forget to tease him about it.

“Not like that,” he instructs, eyebrows furrowed. “Do this.”

“I am doing this.” You huff, crossing your arms.

“No, you’re not—holy shit, your arms are made of lead.”

You punch him in the shoulder and he stumbles, losing his balance. He sits down on his bed, leaning back on his arms and laughs. You join him and sit down on the fuzzy rug. He gets off immediately to sit beside you.

“I mean, you’re not that bad,” he says with a shrug.

You mimic his statement, rolling your eyes and he attacks your side with an unannounced bout of tickling. The last time you did this, you were a foot shorter and no high school dating rumours were flying around. The last time you did this, you didn’t end up kissing, limbs entangled with each other. December feels like June.

Ten pulls away from you, hovering over to kiss you once again before kissing turns into giggling which turns into laughter.

“I like this," you say quietly.

"Kissing me?" He asks with a sly grin.

"It's actually a little disappointing. Thought you'd be a ten at kissing."

"Atrocious. Disgusting. Vile. Never say that to me again."

You stick your tongue out at him and he does the same, the afternoon torpor settling in heavy as you cuddle into each other. It’s nostalgic almost but at the same time, so very new. You want to talk to him for hours and hours but when the hours end, it never feels enough. An ending is what you despise. Your thoughts meander.

“I had a nightmare,” you confess suddenly.

There’s a very brief pause. Before Ten even says anything, his arms reach out, pulling you into him. It’s warm and you smile.

“Was it your own face you saw?”

“Fuck you. You ruined the moment.”

“We were having a moment?”

You elbow him in the gut and he lets out a grunt of pain, the two of you moving away from each other just to glare. Ten caves first, sliding closer to you and placing his palm against your cheek.

“Can we resume our moment?” he asks, eyes crinkling when he smiles.

You press your forehead to his, your breathing in perfect coordination. This feels easy. This feels right. You pull away and look at him, the silence encasing your moment with him.

“I saw you in it. I… I lost you in it.” You bite your lower lip, avoiding his gaze.

“Hey. It was just a bad dream. I’m right here.” Ten draws closer, his breath mingling with yours and the warmth seeps into you just enough to forget the cold night.

“You know what would cheer me up from a nightmare?” You nudge him.

“If you say visiting the graveyard—god, fuck, you’re gonna say visiting the graveyard. My suggestion is that you see a therapist.”

“I would if I had the money,” you retort.

Ten shrugs before furrowing his eyebrows. “Are we actually going to the graveyard? You know there are like graves there.”

“That’s… why it’s called a graveyard.”

“Don’t get smart with me, you failed seventh grade English.”

“You failed sixth grade math, Ten. Sixth grade. They teach you like fractions and shit then.”

“Do I look like I need to add three-fourths and one-eighths ever in my life?”

You shake your head before getting up with a burst of energy, and pick up your jacket from his bed.

“Let’s go! Let’s go!” You start to chant at Ten until he reluctantly gets up. The sun is quite far from setting down yet and everyone knows the perfect time to visit a grave is twilight. Maybe the stone will give your life enough perspective to ease your anxious thoughts.

The town cemetery is located by the bed of dahlias which have withered in the seasonal cycle of life and death. There’s a light breeze and your jacket is just enough to withstand it. The sky is orange and pink and the graveyard doesn’t seem as looming as it does in the dead of night (which you know because you’ve visited at two in the morning on a stupid bet with Johnny and somehow Ten was the one scared shitless). You’ve heard stories of the soldiers who were buried here, the women who led the first revolution and everyone else who never got to grace history books. You’ve never enjoyed history much but you can’t gainsay that it puts everything into perspective.

Nothing else matters at the wedding altar and at the grave.

Ten makes a face at the iron gates of the cemetery. “Okay. We’ve had our adventure. Can we please go get our evening snacks?”

“I love it when you’re antsy, Ten.”

He gives you a sardonic smile. “And I like it better when we’re in my bedroom.”

You gasp dramatically, placing your hand in front of your mouth lightly. “That’s quite scandalous of you, good sir.”

He smiles, eyes crinkling. “I consider myself something of a modern man, you see?”

You skip over the steps to the gates and do a curtsy before gesturing to the entrance. He complies with a sigh of reluctance and lets you take his hand as you pull him in.

A loud voice startles the two of you and Ten smacks his mouth before he can scream and embarrass himself.

“What business do you have here, trespassers?” The voice echoes through the graveyard.

You look around at the trees and squint at what seems to be some children wearing masks and giggling to themselves. You roll your eyes. Johnny told you some of the town kids were mucking about near the graveyard to spook passersby.

“You really should get back home for dinner, kids,” you say, crossing your arms.

“Silence, trespasser! You will answer our questions to pass.”

Ten bites back a laugh. “Alright, kids. Shoot.”

“Are the two of you criminals married?”

Ten wrinkles his nose. “Do we look that old?”

“Okay! Next question. Did the two of you ever… do it?”

“What?” you ask, tilting your head.

Ten groans. “You can say sex, you know? Don’t be pussies.”

You elbow him in the side and he yelps.

“Those are kids,” you whisper.

“I think they’re old enough if they’re asking,” he whispers back.

“No,” you answer the same time he answers “Yes”.

“What?” You look at him in surprise.

He shrugs, somewhat guilty. “New York,” he responds in a meek voice. “You know?”

You snicker before it turns to laughter. “Why do you look like that? It’s not a crime to have sex—how the fuck did you even get some though?”

“It’s called having sex appeal. Ever heard of it?”

You roll your eyes, opening your mouth to say something when one of the kids clears his throat.

“Okay! You may pass.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “You really just the wanted to ask us about sex, didn’t you?”

“Let’s go, boys!” The kid declares before stopping abruptly. “And girl.”

A group of kids emerges from behind the trees and flock to a hole in the stone wall, laughing amongst themselves as they run out.

“Wow. Kids these days, huh?” Ten says.

“When we were their age, we convinced Yukhei to poke a beehive.”

“Okay, we were asshole kids but no one ever really told us bees were deadly.”

You walk further into the graveyard, beelining towards the same graves you visit often. They’re unnamed but they died sometime in the nineteenth century. Time passes in a way that is hard to comprehend—all these people and stories are never remembered and time is the only witness. Perspective is a luxury to those who have the time to look.

“Why do you like coming here?” Ten asks quietly, eyeing the gravestones with an unreadable look in his eyes.

“For perspective,” you answer truthfully.

He hums, a somewhat understanding note in his voice.

“They only lived for twenty-four years,” you note.

“The world ends too soon sometimes.”

“Kind of sucks.”

“Really sucks.”

The wind is cold when it passes the two of you by. Ten shivers and zips his jacket before checking up on you, fixing your jacket to cover you better.

“When I leave this place, I hope I have a nice farewell,” you whisper.

Ten raises his eyebrow. “Don’t you want it to be an awful, everyone’s-crying sort of affair?”

“No,” you respond, giving him a confused look.

“I want at least one person to be crying,” he replies, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“That’s kind of—wait a minute.” You glare at him. “You don’t have to use that against me. I wasn’t crying crying.”

“I’m not! I mean it. Like, I want to mean something to someone.”

You draw near enough to link your arms, sighing at the warmth emanating.

“And you’re lying. I know you sobbed right into the pillow like a dramatic ass Disney princess.”

“You’re the one with a flair for drama.” You chuckle.

Ten makes a reluctant sound of agreement, crossing his arms. As he looks at the graves, there’s an expression on his face you can’t quite fathom. It could be mourning—but the graves are nameless, or it could be pity—but he believes that pity is not a positive emotion to feel. You want to ask but something keeps you from it. Something tells you that the answer won’t be pleasant for either of you.

“I hope I cry too,” he whispers. “When I leave and the curtain falls and the world ends.”

You look at him, pondering.

“When I leave,” he begins again, “I want it to hurt. When everything changes, I want it to hurt bad. Then I know it meant something.”

You slip your hand into his and squeeze. “If it means anything, you know I’ll cry if you leave.”

Ten laughs. “Yeah. So when you cried, was it the ugly snot cry or the silently sobbing kind of cry?”

“Fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to retort but gets a full kiss on the mouth instead, good enough to make him forget it. It’s a nice thing to get used to. If time permits, you could do everything together forever.

You return at twilight, grabbing some snacks and arguing whose Netflix account to use and the sun sets before you come to an agreement but it’s not winter anymore inside his room. In fact, it doesn’t feel like winter at all till you look outside and see the naked trees and darker skies, and you remember when you decided last year that you don’t like winter.

Before you can have a change of heart, you turn to him with sparkling eyes.

He smiles before you even say anything, reading your face as easily as the back of his hand. “You have good news? Or, like, a gift?” Chuckling in breaks, he runs his fingers through your hair.

“I just wanted to talk about our future.”

“Hm?” He seems a little surprised.

“I’m sure we’ll work something out for the both of us. I have faith in you. And in us.”

Ten’s smile falters but he doesn’t let it fall. “I’m glad you do.”

His ringtone startles the two of you just as you lean in, Ten muttering curses at the device. Pausing for a bit when he takes out his phone, he signals you that he needs a minute and leaves you alone in his room.

Nothing much has changed. There's his cluttered ash wood desk with sketchbooks of varying sizes and colours, shelves with small plushies and, you notice carefully, the butterfly pin you stole. Beside it is the panda soft toy you had found at the side of the road walking back from school and felt so bad, you had "adopted" it. You let out a chuckle.

“Ten?” you call, holding the little panda soft toy.

Ten paces outside his room, speaking in a hush. His features are tense, shoulders stiff and eyes focused when he talks to the caller. Noticing you, his eyes soften for a bit and he makes his way towards you.

“I’ll- I’ll talk to you later,” he speaks sharply into the phone.

“Who’s that?” you ask, walking up to him.

“Sicheng,” he replies briskly.

“Oh.” You remember the doll in your hand and pick it up to show him. “Remember how we got this?”

He smiles but something is amiss in his eyes. “Of course I remember.”

Whatever it is, it must not be important. After all, he’s your best friend and best friends tell each other everything. Morning will come and everything will be alright.

The night is cold and the moon is missing. The clothes you wear are not your own once again. This dream begins when the sun has just set and you can taste bitter defeat, but of what battle you don’t know yet.

All you know is that there is a war and you are caught in the crossfire. It hurts; you can’t feel your limbs anymore and another injury won’t matter anymore. Maybe this is the only life you won in.

No one dies in a way that matters. No one dies for anything at all. It just happens and that is a truth lying within the reach of the universe. Yet then again, when you find your last breath escaping you as you hold hands with the love of your life, you think there must be some meaning to it. You’re only twenty-four and you will be buried in a nameless grave for a war that was the fault of neither of you.

It dawns on you the moment you wake up, brushing away the tears on your cheeks. The universe is forgetting you, and the universe is being forgotten, until there is nothing left to be remembered.

All you can think then is that you will miss Ten in the next life, and in the next and the next.

act iii scene ii.

Ten has to tell you. He knows. He knows how the story ends.

But he’s afraid. He didn’t know how long he’d been walking facing forward till he’d turned around just to find you gone. New York was fun and he made new friends but it’s difficult to be anywhere without you. You’ve been attached at the hip for so long, it’s become strange to be apart.

Ten thinks about the call. The director was very particular about his role and chances come by as rare as diamonds. Ten breathes out heavy in annoyance, covering his eyes with his forearm. He loves sunny winter mornings and this is the worst one he’s ever experienced. He can hear his mom cooking downstairs, the sound soothing and he groans, running his fingers through his hair.

He should tell you. He knows he should tell you. But fear never walks in on stage with full gusto, it creeps in, slithers in till he feels a shadow behind him on stage and suddenly, he can’t see the lights anymore. Ten is afraid. He is afraid of losing his sense of self to the millions of people he’s played, and to your vibrant world of flowers and colours. You are always front stage centre. You are at the bottom of everything and he can’t let himself fall deep enough. He’s not enough.

Ten turns to face the collection of DVDs on his shelf, untouched since he'd left. What did he start performing for again? Was it the time you and him pretended to be pirates in his room, his bed your gallant ship, or the time he watched his first movie on a sweltering hot summer day, or the time he sang to you the first time (it was a birthday song remix, made by Ten himself). Surely, it was for something beautiful and not for something like greed. At that time, he thought that maybe if he stole enough lives and stuffed it into the gaping hole, it would sate his envy of the people around him. The bright vibrant colours, he made his own and yet still, he feels like a thief with his nimble feet and a stash of paint bottles in his arms. He's not satisfied at all.

It was a sunlit morning and Ten thought to himself, wouldn’t it be nice if he could paint with all the colours of the rainbow? You, who are so full of vibrance, couldn’t understand this epiphany of his.

"You keep getting on my nerves," he mutters in this empty room of his. "Everything you do gets on my nerves."

Ten decides that he’ll tell you this evening. After all, best friends tell each other everything. The theatre means the world to him but the whole world is out there, ready to be his stage. Eventually, this loneliness will turn into a performance and he’ll be grasping at identities trying to find familiarity. He will take his masks off over and over again, and he knows he’ll still be wearing one. He wants to greet you with his real face.

The world spins at the rate of a thousand miles an hour. It never stops, and that must mean everyone on it can’t stop either.

The crows are singing a song, or talking amongst themselves. You can never know. The song is dyed red as the evening, and with a splash of purple. It’s the season to miss flowers and warm hands and the sweet taste of ice cream. You don't know why but the "let's go to the gardens" text from Ten gave you the most awful feeling, much like the morning after your nightmares.

“I have to go back to New York.”

You look up at Ten from the park bench beside the dahlia fields. The flowers are asleep, not in bloom until next autumn.

“What?”

“I got a call… from someone I know.”

Your first reaction is to smile wide and jump up. “That’s great! You’re not jobless anymore.” You laugh.

But then the corner of your lips twitch and your smile drops. The word ‘goodbye’ hangs at the tip of your tongue and you look at him, slightly perplexed. Ten, who looks at you with so much kindness, will never understand this envy of yours.

“When… when do you come back?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. It depends on how well I do.”

You laugh despite the heavy feeling settling in your chest. “That- Let’s hope your acting is shitty then, hm?”

Ten frowns. “This isn't a joke. For once in your life, can you look at me with sincerity?”

You grit your teeth at his words.

“I’m trying to lighten the mood, god dammit,” you murmur bitterly.

“And I’m saying you don’t have to.”

There’s something looming over the top of your heads, something eerie like a clock that never stops ticking or a clock that never ticks.

“Can I kiss you?” you ask, surrender in your voice already.

If you kiss him where you hurt him, will everything be alright? Can you grow the flowers he likes over his scars? Flowers… flowers—which were his favourite again? Irises or daisies? It must have been the prior; you’ve glanced over a hundred times at the endless fields of sleeping blue irises in his sketchbook. And yet, you doubt. Were those flowers chrysanthemums? You’re grasping onto memories and your knuckles are starting to hurt.

Ten looks at you with a gaze that is of the past. He looks at you like he’s mourning, like he’s keeping something grave from you. So you lean in, your lips brushing against his before you can kiss him fully. You want to feel him and for him to feel you, the idea of a relationship foreign and close to you as ever. Even so, you feel like a ghost as you run your fingertips over his skin and through his hair. He knows how to kiss you, how to hold you—and he’s known you for years.

Ten pulls apart for a few moments, breaths weaving into each other. It’s only five centimeters between your lips but it’s still five centimetres. You don’t know if you were meant to be apart or if you were not. The show must go on.

You brush the hair from his face, a lingering smile on your face from the kiss and the way his features align so perfectly. It’s easier to avoid his gaze that way.

“I’m tired,” he whispers. “I’m so tired. I feel like my skin is losing its grip on my bones. Everything’s falling apart.”

You hum, choking up at the sound of his voice. Soft and yet, so heavy.

He takes a sharp, shaky breath. “I don’t want to go.”

Forever is the sweetest lie you’ve told each other.

“You’re going to go,” you pronounce the words into realization. “You’re going to go away again. And I’m going to be right here.”

Your broken heart is making it much more difficult than it should be.

“Don’t go,” you whisper hoarsely. Maybe if this time you didn’t lie. Maybe you’ll be his number one, his lead finally.

His breathing gets erratic, and he takes a step back to cover his face with his flushed hands. It’s painful to watch him this way and you want to take your words back. But you knew. You knew what the words would result in, what the words would grow into. You feel cruel.

“I… I can’t give up,” he says finally, “I can’t- I can’t. I’m sorry, oh god. Why can’t you come with me? Why do I have to go back alone?”

You swallow, your eyes downcast.

“I’m not going to wait,” you say finally. “We should… we should stop now. It’s been long enough for us to go our own ways.”

Ten doesn’t move, at a loss for words.

“You… I'm sorry,” he says, choking on his own words.

Your lips tremble and you wipe at your eyes. He cups your face, thumbs swiping away the tears before you can muster enough strength to push him away. You’re a complete mess, in a way you haven’t been before. Even now, he’s the only one you can face.

“We’re not,” you say, regaining some control over your tongue, “We’re not supposed to be like this. Do you think we would even be friends if we didn’t grow up here together?”

“What- What does that matter?” He furrows his eyebrows, drawing nearer.

“I’m saying that everything could just be a coincidence and maybe… maybe things should just end sometimes.”

You just want to kiss him, in the way a romantic story ends in a sweet kiss and it’s a happy ending.

“You don’t mean that,” he whispers. “But if you want distance, I’m giving you thousands of miles of it.”

You clench your jaw. “Don’t blame me for pushing you away.”

Ten throws up his arms in exasperation. “I’m not blaming—why are you so defensive all of a sudden?”

“You made me that way,” you answer, pitch low. Your throat hurts.

Ten looks at you with disappointment in his eyes, baby pink lips in a frown you hate. "I'm sorry. I have to leave."

You nod and let the words 'see you tomorrow' slip the same time 'goodbye' slips his. He turns his back and walks forwards as he always has, and you look in from the same place as you always have.

Eventually, you get the energy to go home. You greet your colourful room with the same look you always have before something catches your eye. The colour of your room mostly comes from the polaroids stuck to your wall—you and Ten at your high school graduation dancing to Nicki Minaj, Yukhei and you looking done holding the caricatures Ten painted of you, Sicheng and Ten and you after your first theatre performance together. There are so many smiles that you end laughing, a little crazy with the sound. Perhaps spring isn't as far as you think it is. Perhaps you will be okay.

Everything has an end. You know that. It hurts so fucking bad.

Ten was right. Because it hurts this bad, you know it meant something now. It meant the whole world to you. Winter tumbles upon you at full force even as you hold autumn dearly in your arms.

This time, you close your eyes to find yourself in a field of dahlias. The dream is meandering with colours and sounds so quiet that you feel like you’re stuck in time. Then a loud vibration resounds throughout the field; it is not a field at all.

You are sitting atop a bed of stars, in the belly of something much larger than you are. There is a place in the universe for everyone but you cannot find yourself in it.

So you sit at the places you’ve always known, at gardens and children’s parks, waiting till your hair turns grey and your skin starts to wrinkle. Time flows around you, faster with each second but you sit so still that you're not breathing anymore. You're so jealous of those who move, dance and play. Does it have to be this painful? You don't want to be all these people in your dreams. You want to paint your own mask.

The world is so busy and you are completely still. You think of sunshine in New York and how he must be loving it and for a moment, your plastered lips quirk upward.

When you wake up, Ten is on a flight to New York with a text that reads: "I'll come back. I promise." The sunset after a farewell—even you understand the beauty of it and so, you watch him chase his dreams into the sunset.

act iii scene iii.

You know an ending scene when you see one. It’s the only scene you didn’t end up sleeping through. But this doesn’t feel like one, no matter how deep the despair runs through you. This third act love was never supposed to work out and yet, something is amiss.

Ten doesn’t come back even when the billboards proudly show his face and he’s the star of the show. In your opinion, he always has been. But people get comfortable in the present, sink their feet into it, and when they do, they forget the past.

The world spins at a thousand miles per hour but nothing seems to move for you. Everything stops and life goes on.

epilogue.

Your youth starts to run out.

Sorrow grows into anger, then into resentment. You’re not sure what you hate so desperately but you hate it nonetheless. You’re pissed and you don’t know what to do with yourself except wake up shaking and wanting to shout and cry at the world. You were supposed to have Ten by your side even then. Even when you’re against the world, he was supposed to be there. Now you’re all alone in a world that’s crashing and burning, in a world of your own making and in a world that is no longer in the palm of your hand.

You wish you were an angrier person, you wish you could curse and scream and fight as easily as they do in movies. At least he didn't make a villain out of you when he left first.

You don’t really have nightmares anymore though. When you have nothing to lose, you start to fear less. You tend to a little garden of your own making after Mr. Yang passes away. There’s a quiet funeral and a will written with your name on it. You did spend most of your time there after Ten left. It’s your flower shop now and you can tend to whichever flowers you want to keep alive.

Sometime in your late twenties, you get a call from an old friend. You meet Doyoung at a coffee shop near the college he went to, and he tells you he got your number from Yukhei that night you met. He says he’s glad your number hasn’t changed in all these years—he found it going through his contacts. You find it cute the way he becomes flustered when trying to explain himself. He’s a lawyer now, finished all those tough years to complete his dreams.

It makes you smile. You think that dreams shouldn’t be kept in a bottle but your shelves are full.

You go on dates at the cutest new cafes and the most ambient restaurants, sometimes to amusement parks so you can laugh at his fear of scary rides. It feels like having a friend once again and you cheer up for the better.

But Doyoung doesn’t understand history the way you do. He doesn’t understand a lot of things—but it’s not something you expect anyway. He’s rich and he doesn’t know what small towns are like. You think you can be in love again. He proposes to you on a yacht and you nod, paralyzed from your fear of the ocean. Your parents are so happy for you that for a brief time, you feel happy too in the shadow of their joy.

You don’t visit your hometown anymore after the wedding. You don’t visit theatres at all.

Sometimes you remember the night at the rooftop after the party with Ten and smile. But it was one night, one thing you did in a lifetime of nights and things you did. It dawns on you just then that loneliness makes you fragile, fragile enough to push people away instead.

Every time you close your eyes, you’re still dancing with him on the rooftop below the stars that are yet to fade from your memory. You now pick wilting flowers at a wilted garden.

“A play?” you ask, confounded. Doyoung has never been one for theatre.

"Your mom said you liked theatre," Doyoung answers, eyes inquisitive.

"Did she now?"

He smiles. "If you've grown out of it—"

"No. No, I've always wanted to watch a show on Broadway."

"That's settled then."

You start to understand the meaning of this place to Ten. You haven't called him in years and you didn't keep in touch after the first year. Life was as busy for him as it was still for you and you understand some of it now. After all, who would ever want to leave this place?

Being a part of the audience runs a chill up your back, with certain memories drawing to the surface of your thoughts as you sink into the seat. It's a popular musical but you can't say you've ever heard of it. Time runs differently in your little bubble.

It hurts just about as much as you expect it to. Watching Ten on stage hurts so bad you almost look away. The nostalgia scratches at your throat, filling your head with memories you shouldn't be entertaining anymore. You should've kept in touch. You should've done something. You were friends before everything else.

All you want from him now is forgiveness. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with loving him quietly. You’re fine with—

You start to cry before you can do anything about it. Doyoung doesn’t notice beside you, dozed off already to the soft orchestral music.

You must seem delirious, mourning as though you’ve buried a loved one. With a shaky breath, you force yourself to look. It is the tombstone of your childhood love that stands on stage. You were rash. You were so, so young and rash. Your lips tremble again and you cry, chest rising and falling as you remember something so forgotten that it seems a dream, something so warm that’s now six feet under in the cold ground. You mourn.

But he seems happy—and that's all you ever really cared about. That's all you should have cared about.

The play ends on a wonderful musical note and you find yourself in better composure. Shaking Doyoung awake by the shoulder, you look at him expectantly. He seems partly embarrassed to have dozed off and partly apologetic.

"You want to meet Ten?" Doyoung asks quietly.

You blink in surprise.

"You grew up in the same town, right?"

"Yeah… Yeah, we did."

Doyoung smiles. "We went to college at the same place."

"Oh, I know. Most everyone from my town goes to college there actually."

Doyoung hums.

"He invited me, actually," he says after a while.

"Oh."

It hurts only a little that he didn't invite you first. Did all those years mean nothing beyond a little romance? If you were years younger, you could be chiding him for it. If he were years younger, he would greet you with a Cheshire cat smile.

Backstage smells of sweat. A little perfume and powder but mostly sweat. You know that already. It's just that even the backstage here is grand.

Ten looks as pretty as ever, even with half the makeup off his face. He looks as pretty as billboard posters, where he was meant to be, and in smiling Instagram posts and articles about how perfect his smile is. He's pretty but in a different sort of way.

Ten doesn't seem surprised. In fact, he greets the two of you with a poster smile.

"Doyoung," he says first. "(Name). I hope, no wait. You guys better have liked that."

Doyoung laughs. "You'll bully me into liking it even if I didn't."

Ten rolls his eyes. "Law makes you so boring. Or maybe you were always boring."

Doyoung sighs, shaking his head. "Not everyone wants to be the life of the party. There's quite a bunch of wild stories about you on the internet."

Ten snorts. "I don't know why but you saying 'the internet' makes you sound thirty years older."

"There's no arguing with you, is there?"

"Learnt from the best."

You clear your throat. "If the two of you are done with your homoerotic banter…"

Doyoung chokes the same time Ten makes a gagging sound. What the two of them have in common is that they easily become flustered around you.

"I'm going to go wash my face." Doyoung excuses himself, exiting the backstage.

In any other time or place, it would be fine being just the two of you.

"Ten," you acknowledge. "You look good."

"I always do."

You roll your eyes. "You don't have to mask everything with humour."

"Like you did?"

You fall silent.

“Does it hurt?” you ask.

“It does,” he whispers before raising his voice something more audible. “When I look at your—our old pictures, it does.”

"You've kept them?"

"Of course."

You look at your feet. The reality settles. You’re not going back to the way things were. You’re married to another man. Ten’s not in love with you anymore. If you had taken the step forward back then, if you had kissed him before he took that step back—would things have turned out differently?

The stars will now gaze at lonely rooftops and empty flower gardens—an audience you never wished to entertain. But now, you're glad to have been part of his play, part of the play you made together.

“Are you happy these days?” he asks. There is no malice, no resentment in his voice.

“Almost,” you answer. “There’s just one thing missing.”

To ask for forgiveness does not mean erasure. You can't move on by letting it go and pretending it was never in the palm of your hand.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t me,” you say quietly, rubbing your forearm.

Ten smiles. “We were a little confused, I think. We wanted to be loved, appreciated and found the easiest way.”

You smile back. “Yeah. It was always easiest with you.”

Ten pauses, looking around with a familiar feline look in his eyes before whispering, “So, Doyoung? Really?”

You straighten, crossing your arms. “He’s really nice. And he’s always asking me how I am, what I ate, and he buys me all the soft toys I want. And he’s a better kisser, by the way.”

Ten places a hand over his heart in mock indignation. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”

You roll your eyes before a short giggle turns into chuckling into laughter, and the two of you find yourself with smiling eyes, the look of childhood on your faces and memories unkempt.

It is better to grieve than to never have loved anyone enough to.

It doesn’t hurt anymore but maybe it stopped hurting a long time ago. But it meant something to you, meant so much to you and that's all that makes sense now.

notes.

the words to the play at the beginning of act i scene i is taken from tang xianzu’s preface to his own play, the peony pavilion, however they are not exact quotations. the graveyard scene and the “when everything is gone, i want it to hurt” dialogue are inspired by indie game night in the woods by infinite fall studio and i love that game pls check it out if you have the time and money!!

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quiet-onset · 3 years

Text

New Suit

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Black!Reader

Word Count: 3.8k+

A/N: it’s been forever since I’ve posted, but I have been writing since I was stuck at home with covid 😅 Hopefully I can post something else next week too! ANYWAYS, this fic does not have any TFAWS spoilers and (as usual) does not give a fuck about Endgame, meaning our favorite dysfunctional couple Tony and Steve are alive. Steve simply passed on the mantle. Enjoy!

So Sam was Captain America. And he was proud of that fact.

The day that Steve decided to retire and give him one of his most prized possessions was a day Sam would never forget. A whirlwind of emotions had swelled in his chest. Shock, unworthiness, gratitude. But after talking it over with Steve — and surprisingly enough, with Bucky — Sam agreed to take in the role.

The thing was, no one knew yet. At least, no one outside of the Avengers facility.

Immediately after Thanos, there weren’t really any Avengers level threats. Most threats could be handled by one team member, and it was usually one of the newbies — Peter, Scott, even Wanda. That being so, Sam didn’t have much of a reason to even make public appearances. So he didn’t.

Sometimes, he’d stand in the training room, the red, white, and blue shield strapped to his arm, and just stare in the mirror. Something felt wrong. Out of place. Like the reflection before him was almost right, but he still couldn’t tell what was wrong. Tony had caught him one time as he stepped into the room, a sports bottle full of ice cold water in his hand. “Mid-life crisis?”

Sam jumped at his loud voice and almost scrambled to detach the shield from his arm, like a kid caught with his grubby little hand in the cookie jar. “My bad, I’ll just—“

“No no, keep it on.” Tony waved a hand. “I gave it to Steve, he gave it to you. It’s yours, no give backsies.”

Sam nodded but took the shield off anyway. He decided that he didn’t need to train anymore and headed toward the door. “I’m just gonna go put this back.”

“What is going on with you, Wilson?”

“What do you mean?”

Tony raised a brow, “What do I mean? You staying cooped up in this facility. Barely training with the shield. Opting out of assignments. That’s what I mean.”

“There’s not much of a need.”

“There is. You just don’t see it yet.” Tony walked toward him. “Look, I know being the new Cap has you freaked out—“

“I’m not freaked out.”

“Sure. But Steve chose you and that should be good enough.”

“It is.” Sam huffed as he turned the shield in his hands. “I don’t know, man. I just… It’s just hard to believe. Hard to put in action, I guess.”

“Well, seeing is believing.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“Head to room 626 when you get a chance.”

“What’s in room 626?”

“You’ll see.”

—

Sam exited the elevator on the sixth floor to loud muffled music. Looking around, he realized he’d never even been to that part of the facility before. The white walls and obscure art seemed strange and misplaced in a building full of superhumans. Too clean, too elegant.

Each of the rooms seemed that way too. Sam paused in the hallway, glancing through some of the glass doors with people’s names painted neatly at the top. Hardwood floors and marble countertops in each room. So impeccably clean that even dust bunnies wouldn’t dare step foot inside.

Yet, when Sam approached room 626, he realized this was where the loud music was coming from. Different from the other rooms, this one was messy and colorful. He slid the glass door open, flinching at loud volume.

He recognized the track — his father used to listen to it all the time when he was growing up. He could almost hear his dad’s deep voice teasing him: “You don’t know nothin’ ‘bout this, son. This was before your time.” Of course Sam knew the song. His dad was the one who put him on. Still, Sam’s dad always got a kick out the playful fight he put up.

The long, seemingly endless hallway was painted a blinding white. He could make out a peculiar smell as he walked toward the end of the hall. Wet paint or fumes, he wasn’t really sure. He just pulled his shirt over his nose and kept looking for… well only God really knew.

Finally, he arrived in the main room and saw you and your controlled chaos. You had ten or twenty different fabrics pinned to one wall and sketches of different outfits pinned to the opposing one. Against the back wall were mannequins wearing your works in progress. And just in front of Sam on a large wooden desk were schematics and what looked like engineering tools. Soldering iron, wires, circuit boards, and the like.

Everything seemed like a tornado of colors, clothes, and fabric. But you? You were as cool as a cucumber with your expensive looking spray painting mask strapped on as you sprayed the back of a jean jacket with bright pink paint. Sam chuckled when he heard your muffled voice sing along to the song, not noticing his presence. “Sherry bay-yay-by. Sherry, wontcha come out tonight.”

Sam pulled his shirt back down with a small grin on his lips, debating whether he should disturb you. In the end, he decided to save you the embarrassment, but by then, you’d already moved on to the next verse. You dropped your voice down low in an attempt to sound just like Nick Massi, singing, “Why don’t you come on.”

Sam let out a loud laugh, only covering it with his hand as you jumped, finally realizing someone else was in the room. “Sorry.” Sam chuckled. “Didn’t mean to interrupt your concert.”

You pulled the mask over your head, revealing a nervous smile. You jogged to the desk and grabbed the remote to switch off the stereo. “Concert’s a flattering choice of words.”

“Well you were really nailing that Massi.”

You raised a brow as you set down the can of spray paint. “You listen to Four Seasons?”

“Growing up, it was a staple in the Wilson household.” He offered his hand. “I’m Sam, by the way.”

“Y/N.” You shook it, an impressed smile on your face. “So what can I do for you, Sam?”

“I’m actually not sure. Tony just kinda sent me up here.” He raised a brow when you gasped, amused with your excitement. He smiled as the cute squeal that pushed past your lips. “I assume you know what that means.”

“I’ve been asking him forever if I could design your new suit!”

“New suit?”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it.” You added.

“I just don’t see why I need a new suit is all.” Sam shrugged as he looked around at all your work. He knew, way deep down in the rational part of his consciousness, that he needed a new suit. There wasn’t anything wrong with his Falcon suit, but wearing a new suit seemed too definite. If he put on a new combat suit, it meant that he was fully stepping into this new role. That he would be Captain America in more than just name. People would look at him, at his suit, and recognize that he was the Captain America.

“How about this?” You stepped toward him, prepared to bargain. “Let me make you a suit. If you don’t like it, I’ll just give your Falcon suit an upgrade. Deal?”

He let out a nervous chuckle at your offer. He had nothing to lose, really. Either way, he got upgrades. Still, he looked over at you and decided he couldn’t be the one to snuff the ambitious look in your dark eyes. He shook your hand, smiling softly at the triumphant grin that broke across your face. “Deal.”

“Great!” You were bouncing on your toes when he agreed. You practically raced back to your desk and started shuffling through your sketches and until you found the folder you were searching for. You handed them to Sam, “You can come back tomorrow morning so I can take your measurements. Till then, look through these sketches and tell me what you like.”

“So you’ve been working on this for awhile?” Sam asked, briefly flipping through the many colorful sketches.

“Ever since Tony told me about you.”

He let out a breath of amusement through his nose. Of course it was Tony, trying to set things in motion before Sam was even sure of what he wanted. Still, he knew Tony was trying to help. Sam gestured with the folder. “I’ll take a look.”

“Cool. Tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow.”

—

When Same woke up the next day, he found himself immediately thinking about meeting with you later. He felt weird. Nervous, even. Whether it was due to the idea of a new suit — of being Captain America — or seeing you, he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt like a swarm of butterflies had flown from his stomach to his throat and decided to make a home there.

After stepping out of the shower, which took twenty more minutes than usual, he fumbled around for something to wear. What was he supposed to wear to fitting anyway? Sweats? Jeans? As his mind wandered, he thought of you. Rather, he thought of how you would see him. Maybe I should wear the green shirt, he thought. Girls always seem to like the green shirt.

He paused. Why was he thinking that?

He’d just met you. He knew a total of two facts about you: your name was Y/N and you listened to Four Seasons. That was hardly enough for Sam to be worried about how he looked for you. Yet, there he was, slipping on the dark green shirt that seemed to stretch ever so slightly across his broad chest. He settled on a pair of dark jeans before heading down to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

As he stepped into the communal kitchen, Bucky was already sitting at the island, back facing Sam. He had just returned from his daily run, still in his sweatpants and white T-shirt with a cup of coffee in front of him. “There’s still fresh coffee in the pot.” Bucky mumbled into his cup as he flipped to the next page of the newspaper.

“Thanks.” Sam walked past him, slapping the newspaper into Bucky’s face as he walked by. “Why are you reading a newspaper?”

“To keep up with the news. Like a normal person.”

“There are these great new things called cell phones. Most people read the news on those now.”

“Well, I’m not most people, am I?” Bucky lowered the newspaper and furrowed his brow at the sight of Sam. “What girl are you trying to impress?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Green shirt.”

“What about it?”

“That’s your ‘I want a girl to like me’ shirt.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sam scoffed as he poured a second cup of coffee. “This is just a shirt.”

“The shirt.”

“I’m not having this argument with you.”

“Not much of an argument when you know I’m right.” Bucky smirked. “Who’s the second cup for?”

Sam paused as he realized he’d been caught, but quickly recovered with an eye roll. “For me. So I don’t have to come back and hear your annoying ass voice.”

“Mhm. Tell the girl I said hi.”

“Screw you.” Sam left the kitchen to the sound Bucky’s chuckles, reluctant to admit that he was right. Moments later, he was waiting for the elevator, tapping his shoe to distract himself from the butterflies that were starting to flutter around again. When the doors slid open, Tony briefly greeted Sam before stopping and pulling off his glasses. “Green shirt?”

Sam stepped past him. “Shut up.”

Every step closer to your workspace had him jittery. Not only was he forced to deal with these unfamiliar feelings for you — if that’s what they were — but he was finally being confronted with his new position. One step closer to replacing Steve. To being Captain America. Yet, he couldn’t deny, he could envision himself in some of the suits you had sketched for him. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

When he entered 626, there was loud music playing once again. Another old song he recognized, Van Morrison. He smiled at the thought of you dancing around your space again, singing along to Brown Eyed Girl. It wasn’t so much about him catching you in the act. It was nice, a privilege really, to see the natural you. Eyes closed, arms up, hips swaying. Seeing how you act when you believed no one was watching was like strangely endearing.

And there you were, almost matching his wandering thoughts to a tee. You were setting up for work, once again not noticing Sam’s arrival. You danced across the room as you moved things from place to place. You began to sing out the words as you prepared to lift your tri-fold mirror. Sam broke from the trance and called out your name. You jumped and placed a hand over your heart, laughing quietly when you saw it was only him. “Caught me again.”

“To be fair, you seem pretty easy to catch with the way you get lost in music.” Sam smiled, placing the coffee cups on your desk, far from any of your papers. “Let me get that for you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to—”

“It’s no problem. Just tell where you want it.”

You stepped away from the mirror, tossing a stray braid over your shoulder with a smile. “Just over there, in front of that pedestal. Thanks.” When he went to lift it, your eyes were drawn to his arms, watching his biceps flex. You caught yourself before you could begin to stare, heat rising to your cheeks as you went to look for your measuring tape.

“Oh, by the way, I brought you a cup of coffee.” Sam mentioned as he set the mirror down. “You know, if you drink it? I didn’t know what you put in it, if anything, so it’s black. Is that okay?”

“That’s perfect, actually.” You sighed happily. “I’ve been trying to replace coffee with loud music in the mornings, hence the dancing.”

“Of course.” He chuckled in response.

“And while I love to blast Morrison at nine in the morning, it’s not the same without a hot cup of coffee.” You took the cup he offered with a smile. “Thanks for thinking of me.”

Sam couldn’t help how his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t mention it.”

You took a sip, “So, you ready to get measured for your new suit?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Great, just step onto the pedestal for me, and relax.”

“Got it.”

It was quiet as you brought the tape measure under his arms and around his chest. It wasn’t exactly uncomfortable, but Sam was sure his nerves had to be radiating out of him. The butterflies were beating against his ribcage as you pulled just tight enough on the tape measure. You took note of the number and bent over to write it down on your notepad. Being so close to you, Sam felt himself tense up as you measured around his waist. You chuckled and looked up at him. “You gotta relax.”

“I’m relaxed.”

“If you don’t loosen up, your new suit is gonna be super tight in all the wrong places.” You joked. “Talking usually helps.”

“About what?”

“Anything.” You shrugged. “Like why are you so opposed to a new suit?”

Almost as if it was a reflex, Sam tensed up again with a nervous and playful chuckle. “Way to get me to relax.”

“I’m just saying.” You laughed, adjusting the tape once again. “It’s not like you’re not qualified. I mean, Steve chose you.”

“Yeah, he did. I wish it were that simple in my mind.” He admitted.

“What’s your mind saying?”

“What isn’t it saying?” Sam rolled his eyes at himself. “It’s just… I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t want to put that on you. That’s not your job.”

“It’s not.” You agreed with a chuckle. “But that’s not why I asked. You can tell me.”

Again, with a wave of confusion, he felt the tension melt away. He didn’t know why he felt this way, like he could tell you anything and everything. There was a familiarity about you, like you were someone he’d known his entire life despite only meeting twenty hours ago. His father probably would’ve called you an old soul. Maybe in some other lifetime, in another universe, you knew each other. Or maybe, this was just fate coming to pass. Destiny finding, not two halves, but two wholes — putting them together like some sort of experiment to see what would come of it.

“It’s just… how am I supposed to follow after Steve?” He asked. “He has such a huge story, this legacy just hanging over my head. He’s been saving people since before either of us were born. And now here I am, some dude from the Air Force that met Steve completely by accident, about to take up his shield. It just seems unbelievable. Literally.”

You nodded as you measured around his left thigh. “First, let me say that your feelings are completely valid.”

“Why do I feel like you’re about to decimate everything I just said?”

“Not decimate!” You laughed. “Just gently prove wrong.”

“Oh, in that case.” He smiled down at you.

“Shut up.” You snapped him with the tape measure before measuring his other thigh. “Steve is not the only one with a story. I mean, Sam Wilson, the guy who grew up in Harlem, lost his parents and his best friend, and still managed to not give up? The guy Steve Rogers trusted with his life almost immediately after meeting him? The same dude who stole a top secret government project and used it to become a superhero? I think that’s pretty badass.”

Sam considered your words with a small smile. Sure, he may have seemed normal — maybe even mundane — to himself, but the fact is that he had also been through a lot. Just like Steve, Sam realized that his life was no walk in the park. Not many people couldn’t have lived Sam’s life and come out the other side not just okay but strong. He wasn’t Steve Rogers, but that didn’t matter. He was Sam Wilson, and maybe that was okay.

“You’re good at that.” He commented quietly, looking down at you. He just about caught himself staring at you. The bright smile across your ruby shaded lips, the almost childlike excitement in your eyes. And your eyes — jesus. They were the same color as his, a dark brown. Yet, he couldn’t help but find yours so much more interesting.

“At what?”

“Talking to people.”

“Not everyone. Just...” You shook your head as you stood up straight. There was something indecipherable in his eyes — or maybe you wanted to believe it was. Still, it was there. Admiration, confusion, gratefulness? You weren’t sure. But the intensity of his stare made heat spread across your cheeks one more, and you ducked your head, moving to the side to measure the length of his arm. “Just people like you.”

Minutes later, you finished his measurement and moved on to the designs. You and Sam went through each and every one, noting his likes and dislikes. As time went on, it became very apparent that he was ready to be Captain America. Even if he wasn’t sure yet, you were. Much too soon, every detail of his new suit was planned out, and it was time for Sam to go.

“If I make this my top priority, I can have your new suit finished in two weeks, tops.”

“You don’t have to do that.” Sam said bashfully. “I’m sure you have other work to do.”

“None as exciting or as important.”

“Now you’re just stroking my ego.” He joked.

You scoffed painfully, “Like you need me to do that.”

You walked beside him, down the hall and to the elevator. He couldn’t help but wish he had some sort of excuse to stay, but leading the Avengers meant a mountain of responsibilities. Still, he wanted to see you again. Not for work and not for designing a new suit. He wanted to get to know you away from the fabric and tape measures. He wanted to find out how someone as sweet and breathtaking as you could even exist in a world filled with such evil left and right. So, he rocked back and forth for a moment before turning to you.

“And um, Y/N?”

“Yes?”

Sam fully intended to ask you out just then. But he felt like he couldn’t move. A feeling of nervousness he hadn’t gotten since he was a teenager, he was frozen. Staring at you like a deer in headlights, his brain screamed at him: Just ask her, you dumbass! Then, the elevator announced its arrival with a ding and broke his concentration. He cleared his throat and smiled nervously. “Thank you again. You’ve been a huge help.”

You blinked in confusion but stammered out, “Glad to be of service.”

It wasn’t until a few days later that Sam had gained the courage to do what he should’ve done in that moment.

The city was in danger — some high-level Hydra threat — and the Avengers were needed. Everyone rushed off to suit up, including Sam. That’s when he saw it. You had just finished his suit, and it was more than Sam could’ve ever imagined. A shiny white breastplate with red decals on the torso, blue pants lined with bulletproof material, and to top it off, his signature red wings. That was something he wanted to keep. They reminded him of his humble beginnings, of what made him the man that Steve chose to be Captain America.

And Captain America he was.

Sam was aware of all the stares he got as he fought the Hydra agents and ended the crisis with the rest of the team. He knew it would take some getting used to. But he was pretty sure — no, extremely sure that he could do this. He could be the symbol that the public needed.

He strolled back into the Avengers Complex, handing a handcuffed Hydra agent off to be questioned, when he saw you. You were usually there waiting, ready for feedback on your new toys and inventions. But what Sam said surprised you.

“Hey Sam,” You started. “Did your new suit fare well? I was already thinking of some modifications based on —“

“Would you like to go out with me this Saturday?”

You blinked, lowering your clipboard in shock. “What?”

“Would you like to have dinner with me on Saturday?” He smiled wide and unabashedly. Then, with no hesitation, you smacked him on the arm with your clipboard, making him bark out a laugh.

“Took you long enough.”

#sam wilson x reader #cap!sam wilson x reader #marvel x reader #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson x black!reader #cap!sam wilson x black!reader #marvel x black!reader #sam wilson fanfiction #cap!sam wilson fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x black!reader

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gwynrielendgame · 3 years

Text

Gwyncien headcanon

Okay so my headcanon is that Lucien would try to be understanding about Elain and Azriel being together. The mating bond would be the only thing that would make him want to enact the blood duel but he would fight it cause he knows he isn’t owed Elain. Anyways this was the outcome of that.

Gwyn did not know why she was here. She told herself it was for Nesta, but she knew her friend would be occupied with her mate for most of the night. It was true torture to endure this night at the court of nightmares. She insisted that if she couldn't handle the court of nightmares there was no way she could handle the rest of the world. It was a test for herself. She couldn't tell if she were passing or failing though.

"Could definitely be worse." Gwyn whispered back. She tried not to stare. It only made her pathetic she told herself. Luckily though, no one was watching her too closely. No one knew that Azriel and Gwyn were mates which meant they weren't over analyzing the situation right along with Gwyn. When she had dreamt of finding a mate, she never imagined this. The way the bond could actually hurt Gwyn was almost too much to bear. No wonder mates never rejected each other. Gwyn had been so lost in her head, she hadn't noticed Lucien approaching her.

"You look beautiful tonight, Gwyn." The male gave her a shy smile before bowing. Gwyn frowned while looking down at herself. She was wearing her priestess robe with the hood pulled down to cover most of her face for once. She wasn't sure what he was playing at, but decided to play along. Anything to distract her from that wretched couple. Only then did it hit her that perhaps he was doing the same.

"Thank you. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?" Gwyn lifted her hood off her head and smiled at the red head. Similar in color to her own hair.

"I was hoping for a dance." He held out his hand. His smile turned more confident. He truly was handsome even with that terrible scar running down half his face.

"I don't know how to dance." Gwyn didn't want to make a fool of herself, especially when Azriel and Elain looked so graceful together.

"I'll lead. Don't worry. I won't do anything crazy." He sent her a smirk that told her he would, in fact, do something crazy.

"Okay." She found herself agreeing. Emerie sent her a wide look while nudging her. Gwyn sent a casual smile back. Lucien would never hurt Gwyn. She had over heard the story from Feyre herself. Lucien was one of few males who understood her pain.

He led her off to the floor and swept her into the ongoing waltz. He was close, closer than she had let any male before. Yet there was still a respectable distance between them for a dance. He kept his hand high on her back and she knew it would never veer from that spot. Her heart picked up out of conditioned fear. She took a deep breath to calm herself. He would not hurt her. They were slow and clumsy, but they were dancing which was surprising enough for Gwyn. She figured she would have stepped on his toes by now.

Azriel tried to ignore the mate bond as it tugged sharply. It didn't help that his shadows were angry about the situation as well. He kept making brief glances as his mate ineloquently danced along with the autumn lord. He knew Lucien was doing this on purpose. Azriel was unaware how the other male learned of his ties to Gwyn, but this was Lucien's payback for Elain and damn did it make Azriel feel guilty.

"What's wrong?" Elain spoke quietly. She glanced up at him through her lashes before focusing back on the dancing. She looked beautiful tonight, opting for red instead of black which he had to admit suited her much better. He hadn't told Elain that the mating bond snapped into place for Gwyn and him a little over two months ago. He didn't know how to tell her, although if anyone could understand, it was Elain.

"Just keeping surveillance." Azriel wished he had his shadows right now, so that they could keep track of Gwyn. Unfortunately, they still disappeared around Elain. He thought that had been a good thing. Now he wasn't so sure. "What is it like to watch Lucien dance with someone else?" He couldn't help but wonder if it felt the same for her as it did for him. He felt miserable yet had no right to be. Gwyn gave him an option. He just hadn't realized how insistent this bond would be.

"Uncomfortable." Elain decided after a long pause. "I don't really know him, so I should feel indifferent. But I can feel the bond tugging as though it's mad at me." He hadn't expected her to be so honest. He appreciated it anyways. Azriel did know Gwyn though. She was his friend which could be the reason the bond is much more painful than a mere uncomfort. He twirled Elain once more before she announced she was tired of dancing. They both retreated back to the dais where their friends were joking.

"It's not funny." Nesta groaned with a scowl gracing her face. Feyre, Rhys, and Mor were all laughing.

"What's not funny" Elain asked looking towards her oldest sister. Mor decided to answer when Nesta refused.

"It appears that the first man to pique the priestess's interest also happens to be the man that annoys the shit out of Nesta." Amren drawled after taking a seat. A bloom of anger rocked the bond so hard that Azriel's shadows came to life for a brief second before hiding again. The tight squeeze of Elain's hand into Azriel's let the Shadowsinger know that she felt the same way he did. It angered him to think that the first male to catch Gwyn's eye would be Lucien rather than him.

"It's not like that." Elain squashed any relationship theories right then. "Lucien wouldn't parade another female in front of me like that." While Elain's proclamation was true, it still made him frown. Perhaps Elain felt a little more than just uncomfortable seeing the pair dance. The rest of the group eyed Elain, but it was Feyre who came to Lucien’s defense.

"You refuse to talk to Lucien and are in a public relationship with our spymaster, Elain," Feyre was frowning as she spoke. "I think he can ask Gwyn, of all people, to dance with him." She finished by rolling her eyes at Elain. Azriel didn't like the insinuation Feyre made but kept it to himself all the same. The conversation quickly cut off as the group watched the pair end the dance with a bow.

"It sucks, doesn't it? Watching them be happy together?" Gwyn eyed Lucien. He couldn't know. Gwyn refused to tell anyone, mainly out of embarrassment. She supposed that didn't mean Azriel kept quiet though.

"I'm unsure I understand." She would play dumb for all it was worth. It made Lucien chuckle. He twirled her before pulling her back and continuing the conversation.

"I guessed you two were mates awhile ago. But you confirmed it for me tonight. You watch him like I watch Elain." He gave a sad smile before twirling her again. "I'm surprised he rejected you though. Azriel has been waiting more than 500 years for a mate."

"Not for A mate." Gwyn snapped. She couldn't control her rising anger. Not when it came to the mate bond. "He waited 500 years for the mate bond to snap in place with Mor and then Elain." She used her mind-stilling to calm herself. Lucien watched her intently with his one russet eye.

"He didn't technically reject me." Gwyn started the story she hadn't uttered to anyone before. "I knew he was still hung up on Elain though when the mate bond snapped into place. I told him I didn't want him to feel forced into this. So if he wanted to be with Elain, I wouldn't hold any resentment." Gwyn chuckled along with Lucien at that. The mate bond was not as forgiving. Gwyn hadn't realized how painful it would be to watch him with Elain when she uttered those words to him.

"The bond can be a fickle thing can't it?"

"Why didn't you challenge him to the blood fight? You had every reason to?" Gwyn couldn't stop herself from asking. She was glad he hadn't. It still didn't make sense to her though.

"Besides the fact that he would kill me and Elain would feel that pain? Would finally understand the true torture of the mating bond? Same reason you told him he could be with Elain. I don't want someone to be with me out of obligation." He twirled her once more and she was suddenly overcome with such sadness for the autumn lord. He deserved a mate that chose him. His eyes softened as they made eye contact again. Neither said a word for a solid minute.

“You are quick to underestimate yourself. Is that on purpose or do you truly believe you would lose?” Gwyn believed that at the very least, Lucien would put up one hell of a fight. He was raised by high lord Beron of all people, who was known for his cruelty. A sly smile quirked Lucien’s mouth.

“You’re the first to call me out on that.” It wasn’t technically an answer, but it told Gwyn all she needed to know. He allowed everyone to underestimate him. To believe he is only proficient in fighting. It should have made her nervous, but for some reason it had her laughing.

“I would love to see you kick Azriel’s ass.” It would be the kick to his ego that he needed quite honestly. Lucien laughed before a round of silence fell over them. Lucien was the first to break it.

"You could come with me. We call ourselves the band of exiles. It's just Jurian, Vassa, and I, but it would be better than watching their love story unfold." She was shocked by the invitation. She knew her face showed it as well. She knew she couldn't accept. At least not right now. She didn't want to leave Nesta and Emerie. She didn't want to stop her Valkarie training. The song was coming to an end and Gwyn knew that as soon as it did that this conversation would have to end with it.

"I have something I want to do." Lucien's brows furrowed in confusion, so she elaborated further. "I want revenge. But I'm not ready yet. Would this invitation still extend when I am ready?" Her voice was unsteady due to nerves. She hadn't mentioned her revenge plan to anyone before. A gleam entered Lucien's eye. He knew what she wanted and he would support her through it. The song ended causing Lucien to step away from Gwyn and bow once more.

"I'll be waiting." And then he was walking away. Gwyn floated back to the dais, to her spot by Emerie. She was so lost in her new plans, new plans that Lucien helped establish that she hadn't realized the entire inner circle staring at her. Including Elain and Azriel. Both had unreadable expression but both made her skin crawl uncomfortably. One of Azriel's shadows whipped out at her, barely grazing her wrist. It barely stung, but enough for Gwyn to know the shadows were upset with her. She frowned at them.

"What?" Redness rushed to her cheeks at the attention. She knew it wasn't good attention either.

"What was that about?" Nesta inclined her head to the dance floor. Gwyn didn't want to talk about it especially in front of the inner circle.

"He asked me to dance so I said yes." Gwyn shrugged as though it meant nothing. Truly the conversation had meant a lot to Gwyn. Finally being able to talk about it to someone lifted a weight that she hadn't known was there from her shoulders.

"Is that why you were making goo goo eyes at him?" Emerie teased while nudging her. Gwyn didn't see why this was being openly joked about. Azriel and Elain only went public with their relationship a month ago. Before then the entire inner circle was sure that this would cause war. Gwyn chanced a glance at Azriel, but his face gave nothing away. She looked to his shadows because she knew that those were much harder to control around her. Unfortunately the shadows had disappeared.

"Lucien is my friend." The words were colder than Gwyn had meant, but it turned the teasing air into awkward silence. Nesta and Emerie were searching Gwyn's face for any tells. They came up empty though. It was Rhysand to respond next.

"Sorry Gwyn. We weren't trying to imply anything." His words were kind but it only made Gwyn's face flame brighter. Of course they wouldn't imply anything like that with her. It reminded her of how they all see her. Trauma first. Person second.

She wondered if any of them, besides her two sisters, would ever look at her and see anything other than that day in Sangravah. She peeked a glance back at Lucien and saw him for what he could be. A fresh start. He knew about her experiences, but he wasn't there that day. He didn't see with his own eye what they had done to her. Perhaps Azriel's rejection was a blessing in disguise. Azriel himself had saved her that day. Maybe one look at her face and he found himself back in Sangravah, lifting her weak body into his arms. Before she could sink too far into the memories, she felt the mate bond being tugged at. Her eyes snapped to Azriel's where he was already staring softly back. It only fueled her anger though. She knew he had done it to pull her away from those memories but he had no right. He didn't get to use the mate bond unless he wanted to be with her.

"Stop looking at me like that." It was meant for Azriel, but applied to most of the group as well. Gwyn pulled her hood up and turned back to the dance floor. Her silent way of telling them to fuck off. She felt Emerie link their arms together. Nesta found herself on Gwyn's other side, grabbing her hand.

"I swear if you like Lucien I'll rip all my hair out." Nesta muttered in her ear. It had Gwyn laughing out loud. She gripped her friend's hand harder.

"I'd expect nothing less."

#gwyneth berdara #gwynriel #lucien #acotar #acosf #fanfic

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miss-authorcita · 3 years

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A/N: So, I'm obsessed (once again) with Taylor's Fearless album and I've decided to write one shots of each of the songs. They probably won't be that good cause I'm literally just writing them down and posting them. (No spellcheck, no beta reader, no nothing) I just wanna get back to writing and this came to mind.

SUMMARY: It's been almost 2 years since Civil War. You and Steve have grown closer while on the run, but you can't help missing the roller coaster love you and Tony shared. (Inspired by: That's The Way I Loved You)

I was sitting by the window of my ratty Motel room, simply staring at the wet cobblestones of the empty street barely lit up by two lamp lights. My thoughts kept drowning me, it was a new thing with me when I was alone. I made so many mistakes in my life and now the solitude seemed to bring them all to the forefront of my mind.

A knock brought me out of my stupor and I was instantly in alert, gun out of its holster and aiming towards the door.

"Y/N, it's me and Nat." Steve's voice was heard muffled by the wood.

I relaxed, letting my shoulders fall. I reholstered my gun and unlocked the door, letting both of them step into my room. As soon as I locked the door behind them Steve pulled me by the waist and kissed me. Just a quick peck. I blushed and stepped away.

"I got you something." He smiled and pulled out a packet of skittles from his pocket.

I couldn't help, but smile. "I haven't had these in years not since..." I trailed off not wanting to mention his name.

Steve nodded and kissed my forehead.

"I have to stop by Wanda's and Sam's just to check in. I'll be back later tonight, alright?"

I nodded still staring at the bag of skittles in my hand. Steve opened the door and waited for Nat to walk by first. She stopped beside me and squeezed my forearm making me look up. She gave me her signature side smirk. She always voiced her support. She was mine and Steve's biggest shipper.

After the two of them left, I waited till I couldn't hear their footsteps anymore before collapse on the bed. Once again, while in solitude, I let the memories of my mistakes flood my mind.

It was a few hours later when Steve knocked on my door again. I opened and stepped to the side to let him in. He locked up and once again pulled me towards him by my waist. This time he just holds me.

"I know this life is hard. I know how hard...how difficult leaving was..." He's hesitant with his words, always sensible and caring of my feelings.

I just nod, unable to use words, afraid I'll just start sobbing.

"You know I'm doing everything I can to make this as easy for you as possible, right?"

I pull back and stare up at him. I let my hand caress his bearded jaw as I look deep into his blue eyes. "I know, Steve and I appreciate it so much" I whisper and stand on my tip toes to kiss him.

I fall asleep in his arms that night like many before and again like many times before we have to leave suddenly. Sam is the one to wake us, urgently banging on the door. We'd been tracked and we needed to move out quickly. All of us are out of the building in less that 15 minutes. We head to our cars and Steve opens up my door, helping me step in like a true gentleman.

"You look beautiful tonight." He says with a grin and I roll my eyes with a chuckle and close the door. He jogs to the driver side, and we're all off to find our next hideout.

The ride is long and before I know it I've fallen asleep.

"Tony!" I yell as soon as the elevator doors open. "Tony Stark!" I shout once again.

"What!? What!? Why are you shouting?" He asks, coming out of the kitchen. His hair is wet , he's wearing a black tank top and sweats and holding a bag of chips.

"Why am I shouting!? Have you seen the news!?" I yell again. His confused face only makes me madder. The rage is building like the rain and thunder outside like it's mimicking my mood.

"I was showering...so no?" He smiles and that is the last straw. I explode, my voice basically shrill.

"All the news channels are showing the explosion! The one of the building you and the Avengers were in! They don't show you guys coming out of it! I called Tony!"

"Sweetheart, I'm fine. I'm alive." He says like my tone isn't a very obvious clue to my state of mind.

"You didn't answer when I called! You what? Came home, showered and were gonna eat fucking chips! Did you even think to let me know you were okay!?" I couldn't seem to lower my voice even if I wanted to. I was so upset.

"I was gonna call you as soon as I sat on the couch." He excuses.

"Fuck you, Tony Stark!" I hissed and started walking to the elevator to leave.

"Friday close access to the elevators." Tony said as he made his way towards me. I dodged him and made my way to the doors that led to the hall.

"Friday if you could, please." At his command the padlock turned red, obviously meaning they would not open, at least not for me.

We stood a few feet apart, me glaring and him smirking. I must've lost my mind that night because I looked out towards his Ironman platform and made a run for it. He followed me out, both of us instantly soaked by the rain. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to face him.

"Are you insane!? What was your plan!? To jump off of the building!?" He yelled over the roar of the rain.

"You're the one who locked all other exits."

"I was bloodied, bruised and covered in soot and cement and dust, okay!?" His change of tactic threw me.

"What?" My eyes were wide. This whole conversation was an unpredictable rollercoaster.

"That's why I didn't call you. I...didn't want to scare you. I don't want you to worry eveytime I go save the world...So I came here, hid the suit, cleaned up and then I was going to call you."

"I always worry about you, Tony."

He sighed and looked away from me. I'd always known his fear. He lost Pepper because she couldn't handle his Ironman life, so he tried to keep me out of the loop thinking he was helping, but it wasn't.

I stepped closer and wrapped my arms around him. "Call me. It helps me to know how you are. Even if you're bleeding out." I said locking eyes with him

He chuckled. "I'll be sure to do that. I love you, Y/N."

"I love you too, you insufferable man."

And with a laugh he kissed me in the rain at 2am we were so in love back then.

"We're here." Steve's voice roused me up from my dream, or more like memory.

"Where is he? I mean 'here.' Where is here?" I ask still groggy.

"One of Nat's safe houses." Steve fills in and starts unloading the car.

I'm not sure if it was the dream, but the memory of Tony crushed my mood. Steve must've noticed my shift because he asked if I wanted to sleep alone tonight and I agreed. They're so different that sometimes it's shocking to me. Steve respects my space, Tony was always there even when I didn't want him to, but always needed. Steve has never made me wait, Tony was known for being late. I started telling him the wrong time to try and trick him into arriving on time. They're opposites. Steve gets along so well with Nat who is basically my sister, while her and Tony were never the best of friends. Steve is just charming and endearing and even while being on the run for almost 2 years he's managed to make me feel comfortable. But I can't help it, I miss Tony.

It's while sitting on my bed alone, opening my bag of skittles that the tears come as I remember him. I fall asleep, sobbing that night.

I had been sitting in the couch for an hour. Dressed amazing if I may add. Heels and everything which I hated and he wasn't here. He was always so late and I was more than frustrated. I heard the elevator doors open and I didn't even glance. I was gonna strangle the man.

"I know I'm late. I'm sorry, I was--"

I interrupted his apology "Let me guess, you got tied up in the lab? Again."

"Actually no."

His answer suprised me and I turned to glare at him, but my eyes widened when I saw him holding a huge jar full of red skittles.

"W-what is that?"

He smiled and walked closer to me, setting the jar on the table next to the couch.

"I know you only like eating the red ones so ta-da."

I laughed. "Are these the reason you were late or are these a gift to make up for being late?"

"A little bit of both? I forgot to pick the order up earlier today...cause I got tied up at the lab...so I went to pick them up after and that's why I'm late."

I sighed and kissed him. "You drive me insane."

"But that's the way you love me." He teased.

I nodded and kissed him. That's the way I loved him.

As I sit outside with Steve, leaning on his chest, I can't help but wonder if he knows. My smiles aren't real, and I've gone numb over the months. I barely feel anything anymore. The numbness worsened after we started whatever this is. Steve has always been looking for someone to fill the emptiness since Peggy and conveniently I needed a balm for the pain of losing Tony. We weren't in love, or at least I hoped he didn't love me...because my heart doesn't feel anything anymore.

"You're...you're siding with him?" The crack in his voice made me wince.

"Tony, I can't sign the Accords."

"Why not!?"

"You know what being under the governments control has done to me!" He knew of my past, of the millions of tests I was subjected to, the betrayal, the rules that were only there to hurt me. I'd confided in him every dark moment.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "We need to be held accountable." He repeated to me what he'd said at the conference room.

"I know, but not like this. Tony--" I went to touch him and he flinched away. That simple move broke my heart.

"If you side with him, it'll break us."

"Tony..."

He locked eyes with me, begging me to stay, but I didn't. I couldn't and I lost him.

I had decided that morning that I needed to talk to Steve. He was my friend before we became anything more and even if it meant making our runaways situation awkward, I needed to be honest with him. I couldn't keep sleeping wrapped in his arms. He needed to know that my heart belonged to Tony. He needed to know that I spent my days dreaming up plans of how I could see him without getting arrested. He needed to know that I looked for him in every person we passed by. He needed to know...or at least I needed to tell someone. I took a deep breath and started walking towards him when a ring broke the peaceful morning silence.

He looked at the number on his burner phone before locking eyes with me. "It's Tony."

#tony stark x reader #tony x reader #avengers x reader #avengers imagine #tony stark imagine #ironman x reader #ironman imagine #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #post civil war

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phlox238 · 3 years

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i wrote a pretty long rymin fic and half of it is min being anxious and getting advice from a lesbian at a gay bar,,, it sucks but here it is anyway

2.5k words this is the most ive ever written

"So," The girl began, gesturing wildly with her hands. "You think you're in love with your best friend, who you've known since you were born, and you're in a band and traveling across Canada and the USA with. What did you say your name is?"

"Oh, fuck." Min-gi sighed, letting his head rest in his hands. "This is weird, isn't it? I barely know you."

"Nah, I just thought that, if we're going to have a slightly drunk chat in the back of a gay bar, then we should know each other's names. I'm Eryn, and you?" Eryn stuck out her hand, the many bracelets she wore on her wrist clanking together.

Min chuckled a little, then took her hand and shook it. Her dark skin was warm, which was surprising, since this part of the bar was near freezing. "Min-gi. But you can call me Min."

"Awesome. So, tell me about it, Min." Eryn tightened her ponytail, leaning forward on her arms.

"Tell you what about it? There's so many things that I could say." He was so caught up in this gay crisis stuff that he hadn't even considered stopping for a moment to really think about it.

Eryn shrugged. "Whatever you want to say. Get stuff off your chest, just let it out, if you want to. There's like, nobody else back here. Doesn't really matter, right? I'm not judgy."

"Okay...well, he has a girlfriend, first of all; has had many of them. So he's not into dudes." Min crossed his arms.

"Hey, he could still be. Just because he dates women doesn't mean he's straight. Could still be into guys. Don't give up hope just yet, okay?" Eryn laced her fingers together, as if she was planning something. The dark lighting of the bar didn't help anything.

“Damn,” Min rubbed his eyes. “I didn’t know you could like both.”

Not without laughing at him first, Eryn started to explain. "Oh, wow, you really are new to this, huh?" She chuckled a little more, shaking her head. “That’s okay. There’s a lot of different ways to love people, you just gotta figure out what works for you. Oh, also; it isn’t just both. There’s the genderqueer people, too, don’t forget about them!” She smiled.

Min didn’t quite know what genderqueer meant, but he figured he could find out later. He was asking too many questions already. "Damn...how do you know all of this? I only realized I was, er, gay, like six months ago." Min marveled at her, the same way a nerd at school would marvel at the 'cool kids.' And honestly, she really looked like one, with her ponytail and undercut, her yellow, patched leather jacket, even the flashy jewelry she wore.

It made Min want to start dressing differently. Dressing cooler, like Ryan, like Eryn. Maybe he could.

Eryn grinned wider. "Oh, you know. It's just things you pick up along the way. I've known that I'm lesbian for a long time, since I was like 11. And I'm 21 now, so that's a long time. Lots of experience." She shuffled a little in her seat, taking another drink of beer. "Anyway. We're getting off track, aren't we? Keep talking, man."

Min laughed, a real laugh. "Okay, okay. A year ago, we, er…" He reached desperately for an explanation for the train, but decided that, just maybe, he could tell her. Really, the worst that she could think of him is that he's a drug user. "Can I tell you something? It's going to sound absolutely insane, probably, but I just. Need to tell someone."

She looked concerned, her dark brown eyes wide, but nodded anyway. "That's real ominous. But sure, go for it."

"Okay. So. Stick with me, here. A year ago, him and I got on a train, right? But then, there was another train door within the train. We just...went into the door. Well, the bastard threw my keys into it and then ran in, so how could I not follow?" Eryn was looking at him intently like she understood. Min could tell he was pretty drunk by now; he'd never be able to open up to someone this much sober. But that's okay. More than okay, really.

"It gets even weirder from then on. Ryan- that's his name, by the way- and I woke up on a giant, infinie train in the middle of nowhere. Gotta be pretty unbelievable, though. You probably think I'm on drugs." Min sighed.

Eryn was silent for a moment, but it was obvious she was getting ready to explode. "Dude, no fucking way!" Yep, there it was. "I got on that train! When I was eleven. I was super conflicted on my sexuality, had a shit ton of internalized homophobia as a result of having homophobic family. I felt like a disgusting person. So I got on the train, and it actually helped me through it." She'd completely lit up when Min mentioned the train. Looked like she was going to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

For a moment, Min was speechless. Soon, though, he regained his voice. "You're kidding," was all he could muster.

"Nope." Eryn's grin nearly reached her ears. "Did you have someone to help you along, too? There was a white cat named Samantha for me. She was French, for some reason. But I miss her."

"Oh! Yeah, Ryan and I had a floating, talking bell named Kez. Weird, right?. I miss her, too. Wonder how she's doing." Min thought for a second, completely and utterly relieved to have met someone else to share an experience with. Then something clicked. "Hold on...I might have met this cat you speak of. Yellow eyes? Uh, blonde...hair?"

"Blonde hair? Well, she didn't have that. But yeah, yellow eyes, French accent." Eryn nodded. They were silent for a moment.

Min chuckled, suddenly getting the urge to continue on with their story. Telling someone about the train would feel wonderful. "We had a lot of...issues...regarding our friendship, at the time. That's why the train picked us up in the first place." He fiddled with the hem of his shirt. "The train did help us. But we had a lot of weirdly intimate moments on it, and that's where my sexuality crisis started. Like, there was a car where we had to perform a song with each other to get out of it, and of course I got stage fright right before it. I left him alone on stage. Again." Min paused, the guilt almost making him feel like he was living through that moment again.

Eryn nudged him. "And? That doesn't sound intimate. What happened next?"

"I hid in the bathroom. So he came in, and at first he was angry, but I was having a full on anxiety attack. We sat in the bathtub, hip to hip, knee to knee. It was weird, but nice. He helped me calm down. And like...in our last year of Highschool, I gave him a shirt with our band name on it. In that bath tub, he had it with him. He kept it. Said he'd never done a show without it." Min laughed, but there wasn't much humor about it. "Man, I wanted to kiss him so bad right then and there. But I didn't."

Eryn had a soft look in her eyes. "I dunno about you, but that sounds pretty damn gay to me. Maybe he's just dating other people to distract himself from his crush on you, who knows! All I'm trying to say is, don't give up on this, Min. You two have something going on, I don't know what, but it could blossom into a relationship." She patted him on the shoulder, then took another drink of her beer.

Min did the same. "What if he's not gay?" His voice was small. "Worse, what if he's homophobic? I don't know...fuck, it's terrifying. I could lose him because I'm gay."

"Well," Eryn paused for a moment, "you could try and subtly bring it into conversation. Maybe, like, bring up a celebrity who's gay. See his reaction." She gestured with her hands a lot, Min noticed.

Min nodded. It seemed simple in theory, but he knew he'd manage to fuck it up somehow. The logical part of his brain knew Ryan wouldn't leave him for being gay, but at the same time, there was this voice in the back of his head. Irrational thoughts, irrational fears; that's all it spoke of.

"Thank you. Really. It's been nice to talk about this, especially with someone who's been on the train. That thing is...a freak of nature. Maybe not even nature, I don't know. I'll try that with him, too." Min said finally, after some silence. Eryn laughed.

"Yeah, it absolutely is." She smiled widely. Eryn glanced around, her eyes finally landing on the only visible clock in this part of the bar. Her eyes widened. "Shit, I should really get going! Sorry. I told my girlfriend I'd be back around now." She, out of nowhere, gave Min a hug. It'd been a while since he'd hugged anyone, he realized, and it felt nice. Although, very unexpected.

Min hugged her back, sort of awkwardly. They separated soon after.

"That's okay. Again...thank you, so much. I should get young too." By now, it was almost 11 pm, and he figured he should leave as well. Ryan should be back at their apartment soon enough.

Min was about to turn and leave, but Eryn stopped him.

"Hey! How about we exchange phone numbers? This was a good chat, eh? I'd like to stay in contact." Eryn searched her pockets for a pen and some paper, but only found a marker. "Can I, like, write it on your arm and you can do the same?"

Min knew Ryan would tease him over it, but oh, well, he made a new friend. "Yeah, that's fine." He laughed, offering her his arm. She quickly scribbled her number on it, and honestly, it was barely legible. But he could read it, somewhat.

He then wrote his number on her arm, they exchanged goodbyes, and were on their way. Min dreaded returning to Ryan, who would definitely start to go on and on about his girlfriend, and just prove to make Min feel worse about his stupid crush.

But maybe, just maybe, Eryn was right. Maybe things would finally go his way for once.

•••

Min's walk home was quiet (as quiet as New York can be at night) and cold, it being the middle of November. Snow was just beginning to fall. Being outside Eryn's words stuck in his head like glue. Talk to him. As if he could do that. The idea of even just mentioning anything close to being gay made anxiety rise in his throat like bile.

He couldn't. Probably.

Before he could think much more on it, he was home. Home. Back to the decent one bedroom apartment they'd scraped up all of the money in their pockets to buy. Back to the scent of cigarette smoke in the air, back to the strange stains on the carpet in the hallway. Most importantly, back to Ryan. No matter how much resentment Min-gi might hold to him for having a girlfriend, Ryan usually made things better.

He walked up the stairs and down the hall to apartment number 202, ironically. Unlocked and opened the door to find it dark inside save for a single lamp. Min walked in, curious, just to find Ryan curled up in the fetal position on the sofa. That really made him anxious.

"Hey...Ryan? You good, man?" Min sat on the empty portion of the sofa, near his head.

Ryan stirred, rolling over onto his back. His head was resting a bit on Min's thigh, and it felt kind of nice.

"I dunno…" He mumbled. "She broke up with me."

"What?" Min looked down at Ryan, surprised. "Lisa? You're kidding."

"Nope, not kidding." Ryan laced his fingers together over his stomach. "The thing is...I'm like, kind of relieved that she did it? How fucked up is that?"

Min tilted his head in confusion. He really wanted to run his hand through Ryan's hair, but that was a really inappropriate thought for the moment.

"She, uh...said some things. When she broke up with me." He sighed. "Called me a fag." Ryan laughed, like he found it funny. Min didn't.

"Dude, what? Why?" Min's voice was a little shaky, for no other reason than that they were talking about gay people.

Ryan sighed. "Take a good look at us, Min." He brought his forearm up to cover his eyes. "We're two dudes, living in a one bedroom apartment together. We do everything together. Of course she's gonna think there's something going on."

Min felt like he was going to fucking disintegrate. "U-Uh...and that's a bad thing?"

"I mean...no. It just kind of clicked that...maybe she's right. Maybe I am gay." Ryan sat up, his back facing towards Min. He didn't look back. " I always assumed that I'd be straight, but this...it makes sense. None of my relationships have ever worked out. With women."

Min reached out and gently touched his shoulder. "Ryan...it's okay."

Ryan looked back, now, and his eyes were watery. Min frowned.

“How could it be okay?” His voice cracked as he spoke. “It’s just another reason for people to hate me. For my parents to hate me. Hell, maybe even you.” By the time that he finished talking, his voice was almost inaudible.

"No!" Min almost shouted, jolting forward. "No. Ryan, I could never hate you." Fuck, how was he supposed to tell Ryan he's gay now? Part of him wanted to shout it out impulsively, but the other part, it just wanted to keep hiding. Because what if something goes wrong? What if Ryan's in love with someone else? All what ifs. He really needed to stop.

Min inhaled deeply. Here goes. "This is gonna sound really coincidental, but...I'm gay too."

Quickly, Ryan turned around to face Min. His eyes were wide behind his glasses.

"What? No fucking way. You're kidding." Ryan was leaning forward, using his fists to prop him up.

Min shook his head. "No...I'm not. I was gonna tell you soon anyway, but now seemed like a good time." He scratched his head awkwardly.

Then, Ryan launched at him, hugging him. Arms wrapped around his neck, knees touching Min's thighs, the whole package. Min was sure he'd die with how flushed his face was; but thankfully, he didn't.

After what felt like a while, Ryan finally spoke.

"I love you." He mumbled into Min's shoulder.

Min paused. "In a gay way, or…?"

Ryan laughed. "Yeah, you idiot." He shook his head in amusement.

"Good. That's...great." He hugged Ryan tighter, finally letting himself run his fingers through his hair. It was soft, just like he expected. "I love you too."

#rymin #infinity train #infinity train book 4 #ryan akagi #min gi park #infinity train season 4

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peeterparkr · 3 years

Text

perennial;tom holland|ten.

chapter ten: aconite

↳ flower meaning: [beautiful flower, poisonous] be cautious

chapter summary: reasons to love, reasons not to and conversations that should be held.

pairing: tom holland x y/n

warnings: it’s slightly angsty, slightly fluffy, the chapter begins at some point but will not be at that point, you’ll see

word count: 10.2K

SOCIAL MEDIA BEFORE THE CHAPTER:

masterlist & profiles

nine: in which we get to know who Clark is

previous chapter next chapter perennial masterlist.

perfidy ( series masterlist)

wanna be tagged?

Hey guys! So as you might have noticed I took a break, school has been super demanding and honestly I wasn’t as eager to write this, kinda lost motivation to write perennial because it got too demanding and honestly, well you know it... But I’m back on track! I hope you like this chapter, it’s slightly different.

Sometimes life is ironic, like winning the lottery after you die, or meeting the love of your life and finding out they’re married, or rain pouring down on your wedding day.

Ironic by Alanis Morissette had been the first song that had played when they’d arrived to that bar, James remembered.

Ironic.

But the most ironic thing to y/n at least was Dancing Queen being sung in the background by two—no, three drunken girls, the bright notes buzzing, as they were too boozed up to hit any kind of decent note or any kind of lyric. It was ironic, as y/n was trying to hold back the tears as she rushed through the dancing crowd, a very unaware crowd, that was sweating and dancing and cheering and singing to the beaming to the cheerful song as she tried to swim her way through to finally get outside.

Y/n knew Tom and her had never been fine. It just wasn’t a word in their relationship vocabulary. It was usually chaos. Like what it felt at that precise moment. She knew that Tom and her were chaos, that was true. But this.

She couldn’t breathe.

It was something she already knew would happen, eventually, though it’s stupid to walk into a relationship knowing you’redoomed. It must have been a figment of her imagination. What she had seen. And on her birthday. Her very own birthday.

But it wasn’t.

She hadn’t imagined it.

But what exactly had led to the chaos? Why had it come so easily? Everything had been particularly lovely.

But of course, she knew that the fact she was crying outside a stupid bar trying to catch her breath, as she could still hear the faint music from the inside was no coincidence and was no surprise. Her sorrow had had a beginning and this chaos had been building up since James’ arrival, this was the ending she definitely didn’t want.

Not that it had to do with her brother per se, but it came from that moment. Or maybe she was just trying to blame it on someone else rather than on Tom.

She did blame it a bit on James.

“Y/N, here you are,” James said as soon as he had walked out of the bar. “It’s—“

“I don’t want to hear it right now,” she stated before looking up to see her brother. “I know it, James—“

“Y/N—“James wanted to calm her down. “I”

“I know, you told me so-”She snapped. “I fucking know that. Go and search for your fucking boyfriend that’s the only think you care about-”

Clark had walked out as if he knew he’d be mentioned. Clark had arrived days before, apparently James announcing his engagement hadn’t exactly been to share it, but rather a warning to y/n.

“Y/N, are you alright-” Clark had tried to ask.

“No, get out of my face, I need to… Where the hell is Emma?” Y/N didn’t mean to snap at him but she couldn’t care any less.

“It wasn't him,” Clark had tried to say.

But it had been. However, y/n guessed she knew what he meant.

“I don’t want to hear it,” she said. “Could’ve been any other day but no, everyone fucking decided to ruin my damn birthday, I didn’t even care about it! I just—Need to leave.”

“But I’m sure Tom—“

And even though y/n knew it wasn’t... it felt...it had hit too close to a feeling that she was too familiar with. A deja-vu if one must say. A nightmare that she had once forgotten.

Of course, nobody did understand why she had reacted that way.

Correction, they did. They would expect her to react that way because what she’d seen had been hell. But they didn’t understand what she truly felt. Maybe Sam, probably Sam. Who had seen her all those years back, way too long ago. Yet it seemed like just yesterday. But Sam had seen a very different y/n back then...Not stronger but a y/n that kept her feelings. Not like this, running away from it, wasn’t y/n supposed to be stronger now?

He guessed that reliving it wasn’t easy, especially by what came afterwards. There was a slight difference this time, however, huge difference, actually.

Tom did run after her, and he was probably still searching for her.

“You don’t get it,” y/n said. “I—I need—It just felt—It felt just like that time.”

James saw Tom rushing out of the bar, too. He pitied Tom for once this week.

This wasn’t Tom’s fault… allegedly. Technically, it wasn’t. Now, if you look at the background of course he was to blame and he was an idiot, but this was something that James… could understand. He could, in a way, team up with Tom.

James knew this would eventually happen. This chaos was ticking and it was only a matter of time till the chaos exploded.

Relationships are complicated, but they’re bright most of the time. When two people are in love what else can you do about it?

James knew it, love was a bitch and love can make us do impossible things. Some people often confuse love with possession or love with passion or love for a caprice. James was particularly scared y/n would confuse love with a memory.

Love shouldn’t hurt. That’s why he was probably too worried about y/n. And too angry at Tom for making a fool out of his sister. He, however, was impressed by that. But not really since James knew that from a very young age y/n was stupid enough when it came to Tom. But to make a fool out of y/n when she was the one to almost usually keep her sanity?

James was impressed by how easily it was for Tom to make y/n go stupidly crazy when it came to him. Even now, he had been so impressed by his sister’s stupid infatuation. James did, however, like that Tom managed to get that smile he hadn’t seen in a while. But she looked very stupid while at it.

Tom was an idiot, too. Y/N also managed to make Tom the most stupid man on the planet. Not that he needed help with that, though.

However, just as fast as Tom could make y/n smile he could be just as fast to break her heart. Most of the time he didn’t mean it, and James was sure Tom didn’t mean to this time.

It’s the backstabbing disadvantage Tom had for being an idiot.

James had been one of the few people who had seen the true nature of their relationship. He had indeed noticed Tom was so foolishly in love with y/n from an early beginning and he had been the one to point it out when she was just a kid. He wished he hadn’t because the moment y/n had heard him say those words, she had turned into a very stupid little girl.

He had, however hinted it out to Tom, several occasions, that he did notice.

“Y/N looked pretty, huh?” He had asked once after seeing the boy blush.

“Breathtaking much, Tom? Please close that mouth.”

“You and y/n looked awfully good together in those pictures from prom.”

“Stop staring at my sister, eyes up here buddy.”

James did notice. Tom had even once told James about it. In his own way.

“I don’t actually hate your sister, not really.”

But he didn’t quite understand why they acted like that. Why had they been so full of pride to admit they were in love with each other? How bad would it be for both of them to admit that their eyes followed each other? Why did it hurt them so badly to admit they made each other blush and smile?

James had seen it after y/n came back from Rome, from both sides. Y/N would hum songs, Tom would be smiling more.

They’d be talking. Not fighting. Even laughing together.

And James had seen that this week, and he had been proven wrong. They truly were in love, even after all, even after everything. He could see them both, trying to fight for each other, the simplest of things he’d seen like Tom pushing y/n’s hair back if she was reading the script and it bothered her sight, or y/n gently squeezing Tom’s arm when she saw he was nervous about directing. Or both of them giving each other a look, with probably an inside joke of theirs or as if they were speaking with only their sight and then looking away and smiling to themselves.

They were in love, and James knew it. James knew love.

Love for him was Clark.

His damned secret, kept for too long from y/n. He would’ve kept him a secret for longer, not because he was ashamed, and not because he didn’t like him. But because… Clark was something so personal for James and sharing him meant losing their intimacy.

Clark and James were fine by themselves, they didn’t need anyone intruding in their relationship.

Clark is the love we all dear and yearn for, the kind of love you only see in movies in the background, nor even the main characters, just the one perfect couple that’s always in the cafe, quietly smiling at each other. The kind of love that’s cozy, and that though it may be troubled sometimes, it’s truthful. The one love you never want to give up.

He’d seen the way Tom looked at y/n, it reminded him of the way Clark looked at him.

Maybe that’s why he wanted to side with Tom this time.

James was getting married and though it might had come to a surprise to y/n, he knew that if he were to tell Tom, Tom wouldn’t be surprised at all.

Tom had introduced Clark to James. Maybe he owed him for that.

“This guy, I swear, he’s the perfect catch for you, you’re gonna thank me one day, maybe on your wedding day,” Tom had said with mischief.

“You know you don’t have to introduce me to every gay guy my age you meet,” James had sassed. “Besides, where did you meet him—?”

“Golfing, his dad—“

“Oh, he golfs? Hard pass, I hate guys who like golf,” James had cleared. “Pretentious idiots.”

“Hey!” Tom had frowned, “no, but he doesn’t golf, he hates it, but his dad dragged him along so that’s why I think he’s perfect for you! I swear I had two words with the guy and I—“

“No.”

“I already gave him your number.”

He had hated Tom at that point but… he guessed he was very thankful for that and that’s why maybe he was having such a hard time trying to convince himself that Tom wasn’t meant to be for y/n, because if Tom had been so right about Clark, how wrong could he be about y/n?

James wanted y/n to have a Clark. And though, he had initially loved the idea of Tom and y/n, he now saw how it could end up so badly if they didn’t get rid of the baggage, which was unmistakably very heavy for both of them to ignore. It's baggage that’s been built from years now.

Baggage that James and Clark didn’t have, because they always talked it out. Baggage that had shown up at that very particular night.

But he had told y/n about it, he had warned her on his very first day in LA.

“You’re getting married, oh my god,” y/n had said for what James was sure was the hundredth time. And she had been even more excited when she’d learned he’d be coming.

“Yes, can we move on—“

“No!” She stopped him. “Why do you want to move on?”

“Because—“he couldn’t quite explain it. Clark was his. He didn’t have to say anything else.

“James!”

“The same reason as to why you didn’t want to tell me about Tom,” James said.

“So you have baggage?”

“Not—“James closed his eyes. “When you were—Back in Rome.”

Y/N watched him. “Oh, because—it’s,” y/n understood about it. Love is between the people in love and that’s it.

“Or—no, no, look, it’s—“James sighed. “I’m—it’s my thing you know?”

“I’m your sister.”

“It’s not about not sharing it with you,” he rolled his eyes, “it’s about keeping him to myself, you know? To be lucky enough to know what we have.”

“But—Clark? I thought you—I didn’t know—You said you hated the guy!”

James glared at his sister waiting for her to see the irony.

“No, my case is different,” she pointed out. “Tom and I-- well… You said you hated him!”

“Well, I lied alright? I just never wanted to admit—I mean you knew I was dating him, why does this come as a surprise?”

“Because you— hated him?”

“I didn't. I just didn’t want to admit that I fell in love with someone Tom introduced me to.”

She looked away. “See? He’s not that bad. I mean he—he introduced you to him, he's not as bad.”

“I know he isn’t,” James agreed. “But you have to talk to him.”

“Everything was simpler when we pretended to hate each other,” y/n had said, melancholically staring at the ceiling as she had a flower pressed to her chest. “Maybe I—understand it, spreading it out is difficult.”

James rolled his eyes. “Why is it so hard for you to tell him that you’re not okay?”

“Because I feel like he knows already,” she admitted. “But we're trying to pretend we are okay, so we… I don’t know, fake it till you make it.”

“Y/N—“

“I’m kidding, I mean—I guess we haven’t really had time to talk, we—We already kind of talked the Timmy thing which—“

James could tell y/n was the one who didn’t want to talk, they were very much alike in that matter. “The Timmy thing?”

“He’s incredibly jealous of Tim,” she rolled her eyes tiredly, “which I don’t—It’s stupid.”

“Is it, y/n, didn’t you tell me you slept with him?”

“Yes but—I—Look,” she coughed. “It’s—Not something—I… I don’t know, when… I saw Cherry, I guess I wanted to get over him, but I can’t… I...it always comes back to him, you know?”

James watched her, confused.

“It’s funny, how we translated the bad parts into good ones, and I am so scared that I won’t get to say everything I feel for him for yet another chance…. And he is just...The love of my life, and it feels...there’s no other explanation for it, you know? He just is. And I look back and even though we were always fighting I just…” She took a deep breath. “And it did break me, the Cherry thing, him moving on with someone else just, I guess I wanted to move on, too, I thought… It’s gone, you know? Then he comes back and it’s another spark, you know? I just get out of my stupid senses... but I just did it because I couldn’t bear the thought that we are not meant to be.”

James remained quiet.

“And no matter what everyone says, I’d still choose him, you know? It’s so…” She cleared her throat. “So stupid, but then I just remember that feeling with us laughing and smiling and the...The first time he ever said he loved me I couldn’t quite… Believe it, you know? And it’s not… Gosh I hate that we are both so stupid but we’re doing our best, and he…I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid but I think… I like to think we both missed waking up beside each other.”

“That’s not love.”

“No, I know, not that, but it is love, in our own very particular way, but we’re so much more than that, yes the pieces are all scattered around, but I know I want to fight for it, and… I think our problem is we aimed too high or… I can’t help but be confused about the script you know? Because if it hadn’t been for it… I would’ve never had a chance yet it seemed like I… It’s a very delicate subject, but I don’t know, love is complicated, that’s it. But I love him more than anything.”

James knew that y/n knew that Tom and her probably didn’t work out. She knew she’d broken Tom’s heart. It was no secret that y/n felt that the worst thing that she’d ever done was breaking his heart. She knew that, and though everybody said it, she should forgive herself, she knew that it wasn’t easy.

James didn’t know what to answer.

“I don’t want to lose him.”

“Yet you’re loving him as if you are going to,” James intruded.

“You never know, and i think that’s the best way to love, love as if you’re gonna lose each other, then you know you’re really loving them…. Life has taught us both that we can screw up,” she gulped. “And I don’t know, I know...there’s a part of me that thinks it won’t last even if we try to, you know? But then again, I think about it and I know we’ll eventually end up together again. And I know I… look, I know I shouldn’t be saying this because I need no man but this time in L. A., I felt… numb, you know? And I guess I was sad because there was nothing holding us together, and… I would put on a smile every Friday, you know? Pretend I was okay, and I was healing of course, but I still had so much love left for him. Still do and I don’t want to let go of my chance. Might as well be happy, I’m tired of listening to me crying anyway.”

Y/N did say ‘you know’ a lot, and James did know. Not sure how.

“Why do you love him?” He asked.

“He’s just too good to be true,” y/n smiled slightly, to herself. “I don’t—know, I just do, he’s the only one that gets through to me, and I feel alive when I’m with him,” she bit her lip. “I feel like I am a teenager all over again, but a good way, like when you’re excited about trying new stuff and excited about growing up, and being rebellious, and” she closed her eyes. “As cheesy as it sounds, I just lose all my defenses, but with him, I don’t feel lonely, he’s like… I don’t know, he’s just a song written by the hand of god.”

James only listened. Y/N wasn’t… this, usually. Y/n never really said things like that. It was odd.

“Y/N, that’s—“

“I know, I’m being ridiculous,” she blushed. “But I do love him. Because he’s—a moment, he is… I love him because I know him, and even with his flaws I completely love him.”

“He’s an idiot, y/n, he slept with Cherry.”

James didn’t understand it. Not really. Or not completely, for that matter. But he knew it. It was so complicated but he didn’t blame her, he guessed that y/n wasn’t a quitter, maybe that’s why she was trying so hard. And maybe she was right, and he knew it, Tom wasn’t that bad… But the fact he’d slept with Cherry was completely inappropriate.

“I never thought I’d need him,” she admitted. “And I missed him, but I didn’t miss the heartbreak.”

A broken heart can blind us.

He’d seen Tom once back in London, and he wasn’t alright. Tom wasn’t doing fine with y/n being away, and with the heartache, his eyes always looked tired, and he was paler, and quiet.

Tom was never quiet.

And yet just as James had arrived in Los Angeles he’d seen a very different Tom, one with bright eyes and pink cheeks again. Like y/n, too. Her voice over the phone sounded off, always too distracted, or not there. Now she seemed… better, but still broken.

James knew there was no use on trying to convince y/n and she had promised that she wouldn’t continue unless she talked to Tom about it. James knew she was so good at avoiding it.

Y/N had taken James to set the next day and he’d seen them again, very different, very professional. He saw it in their eyes, though. Eyes looking to lock with the other and that shy smile.

James had to look past that, as he saw his little sister’s dream come true, and he could tell that she didn’t quite believe it herself. And it was like seeing that little girl just from years ago with a hope and a dream and her always bossing the Holland boys around as she wrote a script for their home made movie.

He saw them all like kids, Tom, Harry, Sam and y/n. It was like them being kids again. In a way.

Now it was a real set, with real actors, a real movie, a real script and Harry was directing, he couldn’t believe it. Y/N and Tom were discussing over with some of the actors and Harry talked to the crew.

James guessed Tom and y/n had a lot to say between the chemistry of the actors. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, how they did work together, at least in the professional way, as Tom was directing them.

Did it hurt? James wondered as he watched Tom, directing Gregg, telling him how it should feel:

“She’s the love of your life and that guy over there took the chance when you blew it up, of course you hate him, he’s the worst person in the world because… What makes him so bad is that… he is perfect for her,” James had heard Tom say.

James had time to observe y/n and Tom. From afar and when y/n was not hiding. On that particular day when they were rehearsing that one scene when Valerie and Teddy were together, when they were supposed to be in love, dancing, all while William had to watch in the distance.

Odd scene to see, considering his conversation with y/n. Did y/n have feelings for Tim still? Even if she assured she loved Tom?

All of James' doubts were clearly erased as soon as he’d seen them.He’d seen them laughing with each other, shyly looking away, and y/n… giggled.

Y/n giggled?

It bothered him. Because it felt like Tom didn’t care, as if they’d simply erased it, in a way. But James was very aware that y/n was only bottling it all up, and y/n is dangerous, if she bottles too much she would end up losing control.

James had seen them walk away together to have lunch, Sam and Harry had gone separate ways after but stayed far enough from them. Emma had joined James instead, they were close to y/n and Tom.

Emma seemed sad. James couldn’t ask much about it, but from what he’d gathered from Harry, things weren’t going fine. Harry had only mentioned how it would take him a lot of time, that there was hope but that Emma just didn’t want to give in. But James could tell Emma did love Harry, and he admired Emma, her bravery and strength. She had to break off an engagement because her fiance wasn’t sure about it. Of course she wouldn’t forgive him that easily, Harry had been an idiot.

James wished y/n was a bit more like Emma, y/n was too forgiving, and y/n was too stubborn and too blinded by the stupid boy to see it.

James and Emma were eavesdropping, because both of them probably didn’t have a conversation themselves, and because both of them had gone close so they could hear, but hidden enough not to be seen.

Nothing interesting about their conversation, the script, the set. Until...

“I was going to take you camping,” Tom mentioned out of the blue.

Y/N had chuckled. “What?”

“Yeah,” he gulped. “For your—for your birthday.”

She grinned. “Camping?”

“Yeah,” Tom cleared his throat.

“That sounds so—cool,” y/n said, a bit confused by the idea.

“But guess that idea is off the charts now.”

She scowled. “Why?”

“I am pretty sure your brother doesn’t want you alone with me,” Tom laughed nervously.

James nodded in agreement to Tom’s statement as Emma tried to hide a snicker.

Y/N sighed, rolling her eyes, shaking her head and letting out a very forced laugh. “He’s an idiot.”

“No, no, I—I understand it, you’re his little sister and he’s always been very protective.”

“He hasn’t,” Y/N chuckled.

“Oh, he has, even I know he had a talk with Tim,” Tom hissed the name.

“What?”

“Didn’t you know? He told him that if he broke your heart he’d chop his dick off,” he assured her.

James shrugged and looked at Emma. “And he didn’t,” James whispered. “Because Timmy is a good guy.”

Emma scoffed.

“I… oh my god, I didn’t know,” Y/N sounded embarrassed.

Tom coughed. “I’m terrified of your brother.”

“Good,” James mouthed to Emma.

“Hm but what were you planning?” Y/N asked, getting back on the subject. “Camping, really?”

“I dunno, rent a cabin, go for a hike, spend the day and night together,” Tom had changed his voice and gotten slightly closer to y/n.

“Hm tell me more,” y/n had grinned.

James motioned as if he was going to puke.

“And I thought we could have time to ourselves you know? I know we work best when we are alone,” Tom had continued before getting his lips close to hers.

“Hm we do,” y/n had closed the gap between them.

“My sister’s an idiot,” James told Emma. “Why are you letting her do that?”

Emma rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I can’t stop her.”

“And well I thought it’d be romantic,” Tom continued.

“Hm why don’t we go?”

Tom laughed. “And take your brother?”

“We wouldn’t-”

“We would have to, y/n,” Tom laughed.

James nodded again.

“But yeah that was my idea, you and me in the woods with no distractions,” Tom commented to y/n.

“Hmm…” Y/n had leaned yet again to kiss him.

James scrunched his nose, he really didn’t understand how Tom managed to get y/n so stupid.

“You know, the cabin I had seen was really romantic,” Tom explained.

“Was it now?” y/n blushed.

“Yes, hm... it had a fireplace, and it was so cozy,” he continued. “And I know it’s not 80’s type of aesthetic you like—“

“No, no, shut up! I would’ve loved it, it sounds so romantic,” y/n had chanted.

James was confused. “It doesn’t, ew,” he whispered to Emma.

“It was,” Tom agreed with y/n.

“And what were we going to do?” Y/n asked.

James closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Hm, there was a nice place to go hiking, uh, fishing, maybe? and you know relax, talk, get...cozy,” Tom continued.

“Oh,so he was right?” Y/n asked.

“Who was?” Tom frowned, confused.

“James,” Y/n said.

James raised his brows at the mention of his name.

“About what?” Asked Tom.

Y/n giggled. “You were planning on giving me your—”

Thankfully, Tom hadn’t let her finish the sentence. “You’re taking away all the romance out of it when you say it like that!”

James wanted to die.

Y/N laughed, loudly. “But were you?”

Tom was embarrassed. “I—I mean it may have been on the schedule yes hopefully—I mean don’t say it like that, oh my god, y/n—But—“

“Was it on the schedule then?” Y/n asked. “How did you write it? Sex at 8?“

“No! No, I—it was—Not planned—I mean I wasn’t going to assign like a time but I mean it would I—kinda thought I—mean I knew—I assumed—“

“Oh, so you assumed it?” Y/N laughed. “So you just assumed I was going to ride you?”

James seriously thought he was going to die.

“No, I didn’t!” Tom was red. “Y/n! I—I no!”

“So you didn’t want to then?”

“Yes! But—I thought it could be an open possibility?” Tom was nervous. “I—“

Now it was y/n’s turn to not let him finish as she had already kissed him again. Emma was so entertained by the conversation and James’ reaction that she couldn’t hide a lighter for not longer. James lost it by then, so he quickly stood up and walked to them.

Emma followed, curiously.

The couple was still kissing.

James cleared his throat loud enough for both of them to hear him and quickly separate.

Y/N frowned. “James for god’s sake!”

James walked over to them, “We are having lunch and I don’t see you eating, so Emma and I should join you.”

“Sorry y/n,” Emma whispered to her friend.

Tom and y/n were red, so, so red, and Tom was shaking. James only glared once at Tom before Tom moved away from y/n, just as James sat between them.

“Your food is intact,” James pointed out.

Tom moved away. “I—we were.”

“No, Tom, eating my sister’s face is not lunch,” James cockily said.

“James what the fuck,” y/n snapped at her brother.

Tom laughed nervously. “James, c'mon man.”

Emma felt awkward. “Why don’t we—eat?”

They stayed quiet for a bit.

“So, what are you guys?” James asked.

Tom almost choked on his food. “What?”

“James!” Y/N complained.

Emma just smirked.

“yeah, what are you? Have you guys talked about it? All your emotional baggage?” James pushed.

Tom coughed. “We have been.. discussing it.”

Y/N turned to Tom. “don’t answer”

James smirked. “No, no no no, y/n, I wanna know.”

Tom nodded. “What do you want to know?”

“What is going on,” James reminded him.

“I love your sister,” Tom answered.

Emma watched between all of them.

“Doesn’t answer my question,” James raised his eyebrow, as if challenging Tom.

“James,” Y/N hissed.

“I—it’s it’s true I am deeply in love with her and have been for a while now,” Tom said as if defending himself.

“Are you a couple?” James asked.

“Yes,” Tom said.

“No,” answered y/n at the same time.

Both of them turned to each other, with confusion.

Emma blew her cheeks in.

“Um… What did you think of the… I saw you guys were working on Jesse’s girl today!” Emma quickly intruded.

James clicked his tongue. “No, wait Emma… This is interesting,” James continued.

“What-” Tom frowned watching y/n.

Y/N shook her head. “James can you please leave us alone.”

“I… Well, I’m just confused, and I have more questions… A, y/n why do you keep making out with this man if you’re not a couple I mean you can do whatever the fuck you want with your life but this man may I remind you has broken your heart and hurt you in so many possible ways—even broke your bones?”

Tom coughed. “That was accidental... all of those.”

James shook his head. “Eh, I haven't finished pretty boy, and b) why are you Tom, saying you’re a couple when you haven’t talked about it?” He pushed.

Y/N glared at her brother. “James this isn’t any of your business.”

Tom only clenched his jaw.

“Uh, er… Guys, I’m gonna….” Emma had awkwardly stood up, “I’m gonna pretend they need me over there,” she announced before leaving.

“You’re fucking insane,” y/n declared at her brother before storming off, following Emma, leaving James and Tom alone.

Tom avoided his gaze.

“I know you hate me, but-” Tom started.

“I don’t, I care a lot about you and that’s why I’m doing this…” He said.

Tom scoffed. “Oh, so you’re helping me out with this?” He glared.

“I’m not,” James said. “But you perfectly know what you did to y/n, and I’m sorry Tom but you can’t-”

“It’s between me and her,” he said.

“But I know you both, and you’re both so stupid, Tom, for fuck’s sake, and you slept with Cherry,” James snapped. “I’m not letting that-”

“Who told you?” Tom asked.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jamessaid.

“Did you tell her?”

“Didn’t have to,” James said. “She knew it already. And if you don’t have the balls to talk about it with her, which honestly-”

“I want to, okay?” Tom barked. “I can’t believe I did it but I want to work it out!” He snapped. “I thought you were fine with us!”

“No, Tom I’m not—fine with this,” James explained. “And I can’t believe I’ve let you hurt her this much and I swear Tom she might believe you but I don’t-”

“Look we want to talk it out, I mean it alright—your sister is the love-”

“Love of your life! Then why have you been such an asshole to her?” James wondered. “Do you even know it Tom? How badly you broke her? After Rome? Do you even realize-”

“Yes I do! And that’s why I bloody want to do things right this time, okay? I want to give her the entire world, alright? I’m not… I’m not joking, alright? I actually… I want to make it up to her, I’m… so in love with her, and I just want the best for her,” he said, gulping. “I…” He sighed. “Maybe we haven’t talked about it because we both know it’ll break us apart, alright?” Tom looked away. “And I just want her to know about it, everything, how she’s been my everything… Since we were children, okay… James you know me, you’ve known me my whole life and you know I’m not lying to you, I love her,” he sighed. “I don’t want to hurt her and I know I’ve fucked up. I just… I know it, it’s so hard, and I…” He gulped. “I guess… I know I slept with Cherry, I know, I did it, I’m not denying it, and I have no excuse but I… When I did it it was… I thought she had left to move on with Tim again because... “ Tom looked away. “I know it, alright? I’m not… good enough for her and you’ve shown me that, because you didn’t fucking act this way with Tim, and no one has said it with me, I know I’m the bad guy here, Harry doesn’t approve of me, Sam doesn’t approve of me, Emma doesn’t approve of me, you don’t… like me,” Tom gulped. “But I genuinely love her, and I know I’m a fucking mess, but… nobody knows about us, alright?”

James clenched his jaw. No, it wasn’t alright no matter how many times he said it.

“And it’s difficult to apologize, you’re right, I probably don’t have the balls for it, I’m a fucking coward, and I know, but I’m just trying to be honest with her, and with you, I genuinely want the world for her, and if I have to go back to the start then I will,” he sighed. “And I don’t know how to talk about it with her, and I don’t know if she feels the same way,” he took a deep breath. “And it’s killing me that I don’t know where she’s standing, and she avoids talking and I know how… She works, you know? She’s always been so reserved.”

“The problem with both of you is you both think it’s you against each other,” James said.

Tom looked up at him.

“It’s always been that way, y/n against Tom, and I feel like you’re doing it again,” James said. “I am just telling you both, to realize it, it’s both of you against the problem not you against each other,” James said.

Tom nodded. “I know that, and I’ve tried talking to her, but she… Ignores it, or someone comes in, or we have to-”

“You’re searching for excuses,” James said, he seemed calmer now.

“I’m not,” Tom said. “And I really mean it James, I don’t want to break her heart, I don’t want to hurt her anymore.”

“And if she ends up hurting you?”

“I’ll work it out,” Tom said.

“Why are you directing this?” James questioned.

Tom didn’t answer that, instead he took a deep breath.

“If this is another one of your stupid plans—“

“It’s not, and not even a plan to try to win her back,” Tom explained, “it’s not—not like that. I want to give her the world,, and I know this—This whole thing is the world to her, you—you really underestimate me, Jay, as if I were some kind of stranger to you or to her, but—I’m not,” he repeated.

“Maybe it’s time you both move on.”

“I don’t want to move on, and—I tried, I—that’s why it happened, everyone said it: Move on, Tom, she’s just another girl… and fuck.”

“She’s—“

“She’s not, I’m very aware of that, but even Haz and Harry said it, I fucked up, she fucked up, move on man,” Tom mocked their voices, angrily. “Just another girl, and, and I tried to… move on, thinking yeah, it’s only a stupid thought or whim, yes and I thought—if she’s really just another girl, then why the hell can’t I move on? how—Even other friends said, hey, you’re Tom Holland,” he let out a soft dry cackle. “a million girls are dying to be with you and—“Tom closed his eyes, “maybe it was that, me trying to—Trying to move on, but I don’t—want it, I don’t want another girl, James.”

James only watched him.

“And I’m telling you this not because you are her brother but because you’re my friend and I’m—I’m just—You know me, James, you know me perfectly and you’re acting as if you didn’t, yes I’m—I am an idiot, and yes I know I’m probably the worst option for her, and I probably tick every single bad box but—at the same time I’m—“ he gulped. “I just can’t believe how stupid I am, and I—I am” Tom meant it, James could tell. “When I’m with her, I feel like myself, and I don’t often feel that way, and she’s just this… incredible person. And I’m—terrified, I’m terrified of it. But I need her,” he gulped. “Not—in—I don’t know.”

Maybe James needed to hear that from Tom. Though he still—James couldn’t forgive Tom. Even if it wasn’t his business, he could forgive him for breaking his sister.

“And I’m very aware that I’ve lost her before because I know it, I’m an idiot, but maybe I’m too stubborn to admit that I lost my chance. Because I—I haven’t, alright? And this might be my last one but—I can’t admit it to myself, but I know about it, Jay, I know that what we could’ve had is gone so maybe just let me cling on to whatever we’re holding on until she decides to let me go, alright?”

“I don’t understand why you’re both in a relationship where both of you think it’ll end up badly,” James had questioned.

“You see, I’m trying for it not to end up that way,” he said,

“But you think it’ll end, then?”

Tom hadn’t answered him.

“Why do you love her?”

“She’s my home,” Tom shrugged as he quickly answered, he didn’t have to think about it. “I—I was always scared of growing up but it doesn’t hurt when I’m with her, when life is—getting too hard she was always there with those pair of old jeans and bright smile and yes, initially she was there to call me an idiot but she just made time stop, completely,” he shrugged. “Because she just—“ he smiled sadly, “she helps me find my heartbeat in the middle of all the bustle.”

James didn’t know Tom could be so poetic. But he meant it, or at least James hoped he meant it.

James didn’t push it any further. After that, y/n had ignored him. Y/N was excellent at doing so, if she wanted to ignore someone she’d make sure they noticed. And she was angry at her brother. Besides when it comes to siblings, it feels even more personal and very immaturely done. y/n had ignored James and made sure to make him feel ignored. She would avoid his gaze, and she’d pretend she didn’t listen to him.

She hadn’t even offered him a ride back to aunt Eliza’s.

Tom had been the one to offer it.

James had apologized to Tom, and he had only shrugged it off.

“She’s your sister. I get it, she deserves the world, you’re only trying to give it to her.”

Harry said he needed a beer, maybe they all needed one.

Maybe James had to give it to Tom, y/n was one to ignore people and her problems per se. Tom had also ignored James, not like y/n, Tom was probably angry at James. James didn’t care for that.

“I love the chemistry between Gregg and Auli’i,” Harry had said when they were at the bar, all of them beers in their hands. “They’re—really—“

“It’s too familiar,” Sam had laughed. “Very familiar.”

“Not—there’s something missing,” Tom said.

“Is it weird?” James asked.

“What?”

“Come on, the script?” James said.

Tom shrugged. “It gives me a better understanding of her,” Tom admitted. “It’s—She really did write her heart out in there.”

Harry watched between them.

“What happened today?” Sam wondered. “I saw y/n storm off with Emma.”

“I was a jerk,” James said, “to her and to Tom.”

Sam and Harry side-eyed each other.

“What’s going on with Emma?” Sam asked, quickly trying to avoid the subject.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, it seemed like an old bad joke hearing about it.

“She’s… She says she’s not ready,” Harry said. “She just says she’s not ready, and she…” Harry took a deep breath.

“You two are the most stupid men in the world,” he said, staring at Tom and Harry. “You both come here, without giving them any warning, and you expect them to run after you? And don’t--Emma’s reaction is logical,” James continued. “But you have to understand that Emma came here to heal, Y/N came here for her dream, and you two came in barging just to shove it, the two men they came running away from just shoved in their way to say ‘Hey, y/n, I’m in charge of your dream now’”

Sam took a log sip from his beer, with a big smirk. “Thank you, James, that’s what I’ve been telling them.”

“But… Okay, yes, but you don’t know all the facts,” Harry sighed. “Look, if we hadn’t taken the project probably nobody else would!”

James blinked. “What?”

Tom looked away.

Harry bit his lip, nervously, shaking his head. “I… We called the studio looking for her project and apparently there had been a lot of directors and producers rejecting the project,” Harry said.

“So yes, we decided to barge in, and we said we’d be the stand in directors until someone showed up,” Tom explained. “We worked with the casting and everything and we’ve been behind the stage but we--And, I know that y/n never wanted us to be involved but the thing is it’s… It’s a hard project, and she’s unknown, and… It’s an amazing story, you know? But it’s… Films these days are all about superheroes, I should know, or too serious, and--It’s got potential, it’s got a lot of potential, and--” Tom sighed. “Maybe it was a mistake but at least this way we can be assured it’s get done her way. So at the end… we did accept the project because I’m just... “

Harry watched his brother and then turned to James. “Yeah.”

James had really underestimated Tom, probably everyone did. Maybe that’s what Tom was so stressed about.

“I do--” Tom clenched his jaw. “I might want to change just a few bits but I…”He looked away. “We’ve been talking about it with her, to make William more human, less of an asshole.”

Harry nodded.

“I think,” Sam shrugged. “Well, I don’t know much about films or whatever, but I think he’s human enough, and at least you understand it, I think y/n actually did a great job on him,” Sam continued. “I…think he even made him even way too nice,” he chuckled. “Like, there is a point where you understand why she loves him, I think, the story is built so you think you need to hate him but I guess the audience is supposed to fall in love with him as Y/N-- I mean, Valerie falls, hell, she even made me want to fall in love,” Sam laughed. “But I mean it’s purely fiction, in real life I don’t get how the hell she’s in love with you.”

“Shut up,” Tom rolled his eyes, he had chuckled slightly, but James saw that Tom was slightly hurt by those words.

James had read the script only once, he hadn’t really read it because he felt like he was reading y/n’s diary, which he had done once when they were younger, and she had been so angry at him. The script had felt like getting into y/n’s deepest feelings. He remembered a particular line which had stuck out from the rest.

“I love him and I’ve run out of reasons to say why, I just know that even when there’s no music playing we will find a way to dance.”

Maybe Tom needed everyone to know the backstory, see past his actions. And probably y/n didn’t know this, James knew she’d get angry because she wanted to get it out herself, not be helped by him, make a name for herself, however in the industry it was difficult enough. But maybe it made sense, the reason why y/n loved Tom so much, because she didn’t need reasons to, she just did, and he kept giving her reasons to.

“But….Emma, then?” James asked, trying to get back on the subject.

“Well… she slept with Josh,” Harry continued.

“What?” Tom interrupted, angrily. “She did what?”

“That night after the movie,” Harry bit his lip. “I-”

“And you’re okay with that?” Tom questioned.

“They’re not together, Tom,” Sam quickly said. “Besides, it’s most likely because-”

“Because she was nervous about Harry coming here,” James ended the sentence.

Harry shrugged. “She was honest about it, and I mean--I don’t, I know she doesn’t love him, and yes, I was jealous but…”

James watched Tom who nodded, knowingly.

“I mean she chose a random guy to have sex with because she was stressed,” Harry nodded. “And she did tell me it meant nothing and I mean, it’s… It’s her body, she can do whatever she wants, and we… are not together.”

“Where does one draw the line, though?” Sam questioned. “With rebounds, I mean.”

James scoffed and shrugged. “It depends, on how soon, how the relationship ended.”

“The whole, are we in a break or not,” Harry shrugged.

“Yeah,” James laughed. “Classic Ross and Rachel, we are on a break type of situation, like, of course, they were on a break but it was too soon, because-- there are breakups that last for a day, y’know? The argument says it all, and right away… Gives the wrong impression, as if, I didn’t love you anymore so I hooked up with the first person I saw, either in spite or-”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, also who it is with.”

“Oh, yes,” Sam nodded. “Right, like.. If it’s with another ex?” Sam clicked his tongue.

Harry scrunched his nose. “I think that’s normal, you know?”

“Is it?” Tom frowned. “Why would it be normal?”

James saw it as an opportunity to defend his sister, not sure whether Tom knew it or not. “Because it’s something familiar,” James said. “Like, you don’t have to search for something you might not like so just go to someone who once you know… Knew you.”

Tom coughed. “But like, that should mean they have feelings for them.”

“Nah,” Sam tossed a few fries into his mouth. “Well, depends on the ex, but like, if you’re only hooking up with them, I mean,” Sam rolled his eyes.

“It could awake feelings,” James nodded. “But if you’re searching for an ex it means you’re not up for someone new, it means you’re stuck somewhere there and sleeping with an ex means not wanting to move on.”

“And alright, if you-- You’re still dating Clark, right?” Tom asked. “If you broke up and he slept with his ex would you forgive him?”

James scrunched his nose. “I mean,” he shrugged. “As long as he doesn’t sleep with any relative.”

Tom opened his mouth to say something but then exhaled defeatedly.

“Like, for example, Sam,” James said. “That’s crossing the line on rebounds.”

Sam nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s… fucking up, by the way Cherry’s coming and well--”

“What exactly happened between you both?” James questioned.

Tom bit his lip, he took a deep breath as he tried to map his thoughts out, knowing that what he was about to say would change a lot of things.

“We were friends,” Tom said.

Sam and Harry only watched his older brother, probably nervous to the outcome of the conversation.

“I--Well,” he sighed. “She said she wanted someone to show her around London and…” Tom shook his head. “I… Well, she did flirt since the beginning and I… I didn’t answer at first, but then…I was so angry, I… I thought about it and thought hey, I lost my chance and y/n ran back to Tim and she is probably moving on.”

“Why did you think she was moving on?” James questioned. “She literally told you she loved you and only you.”

Tom took a deep breath. “I’m an idiot, and… I dunno,” he sighed. “I thought she would end up going back with Tim.

Harry widened his eyes with surprise, awkwardly asking for a second beer.

“I don’t know, I was heartbroken, I was stupid and… I missed her too much and I...And I felt lonely and and everyone here sees me as the bad guy, and I continue to be the bad guy, but she was someone new and someone who didn’t know me and she was... And then I saw Tim posted a picture and it was… Undeniable taken by her, you know?” Tom looked down. “And I… Well, that’s how they started last time, her taking pictures of him and I thought she would again and so in spite, or full of rage and so I tried to move on and the option was right there in front of me and Tim kept posting you know, and even if he didn’t say it I just knew it was y/n, and one day after way too many beers I finally gave in to Cherr’s flirting and it--”He squeezes his eyes shut. “And I told her that whatever happened, it didn’t have to mean anything I told her, no strings attached, no feelings and… it happened,” he sighed. “And I….But it didn’t feel… I don’t even remember how it happened and I just didn’t feel good with it, it made me feel even worse and lonelier and then she kept wanting to hang out and I just shut her out because it was a mistake and then, I thought I was a rebound to her as well, she had just broken up with her girlfriend and I thought I was just a rebound but she then… Showed more and I just… Gave her no explanation, not… I don’t know, I told her I wasnt in a good place and that I was still in love with someone else and that wouldn’t change and yes, I’m the asshole again and…”

All of them stayed quiet. What were they supposed to say?

It was ironic, how both Tom and y/n had assumed they’d move on, and the reasons why they did it, both of them sleep with an ex and a relative, because both of them assumed the other one would move on. Why? Maybe that’s why they were so stubborn right now because both of them realized neither did and they probably never would. As if they were just happy to find out they still loved each other but were too afraid to admit it out loud.

They remained quiet.

“Eh,” Sam had cut the silence, too awkward for him to handle. “Not that I don’t want to talk about a conversation that will probably end up giving Tom a mental breakdown, and don’t get me wrong I love having awkward silences, but I need… I need to know, Jay,” Sam smiled. “May I know what’s that on your finger?”

Harry and Tom finally landed their sight on James’ finger, a silver band wrapped right around his left ring finger.

“Hm?” James quickly hid his hand.

“Is that an engagement ring?” Harry questioned with a smirk.

“Uh-”

“Wait, uh--” Tom shook his head to shake away the sad feeling. “Are you engaged?”

“To Clark?” Harry asked.

Though he didn’t want to talk about it, he knew that the other conversation wasn’t for him to know. The other conversation was something Tom had to work out with y/n, which, yes, the reason had been very stupid, y/n had to work out with Tom how Tom felt about Tim.

Probably James and everyone else did, maybe they really had made Tom feel unworthy of y/n’s love and that’s why he kept sabotaging himself.

James did end up telling them, and he even finished the conversation thanking Tom for introducing him to Clark. Of course he didn’t have to tell them all the details, they were three straight men too stupid to care, and James was grateful he didn’t have to share as much, because it was his story, not anyone elses to know, it was his relationship and it was his Clark.

James had, however, explained to them that Clark would come, too, James was slightly nervous about it, given that he knew that y/n was definitely not going to be welcoming and that she’d keep ignoring him. That’s how y/n worked with James, no matter if he tried to apologize, she wouldn’t talk to him.

James knew he had made a mistake with this, but he needed to hear it from Tom, and though it wasn’t technically any of his business, he knew that Tom was more understanding, in his own way, than y/n.

Tom could talk to James, that’s the difference, and Tom hadn’t talked to James for a while and so James didn’t know, and of course it drove him crazy not to know why or how this was happening.

Tom, Sam and Harry all offered James a room in the house they were renting to stay there with Clark, he had accepted it because he knew Cherry was coming.

James didn’t want to face Cherry. Because James had this one habit that he couldn’t ever get rid off, he was too nosy when he wasn’t asked, and he had talked to Cherry about Tom, and warned her that Tom was just too important to y/n.

Y/N, as expected, kept ignoring James. But he had seen that Tom and y/n had gone out one night, alone, together. He had heard them walk into the house, and as much as he had tried to avoid eavesdropping, he had walked out, innocently to the kitchen and he’d seen them, on the couch, talking.

“I think we need to add a scene,” Tom had said. “It’s… important.”

“But… I don’t get it,” y/n said. “You want me tro write another one, I thought you’d said it was too long.”

“But this one is important y/n, it gives… backstory to William.”

“So you want me to make something up? Just to….”

“Yes, I told you, William searches for her after the whole London thing.”

“But that didn’t happen,” y/n said. “And that’s why Valerie-”

It seemed, Tom had told James, that Tom had found a loophole to talk without talking. Tom had explained to James that y/n would be avoiding the conversation, that didn’t surprise James. But Tom found a way to use the script to go over it, Tom had told James that they hadn’t really talked much but he had figured how to make them understand each other.

“It did happen, so let’s add this scene, right before Jessie’s girl scene, I need it,” Tom said. “And I talked about it with Harry and he says he wants it, too.”

“So he searches up for her? And then what? She shuts him out-”

“She’s not the one answering the door,” Tom explained. “But William does go to mend things and then T… Teddy opens the door.”

y/n had stayed quiet, as James was still wandering in the kitchen.

“James will you please leave?” She asked her brother. “I won’t continue this conversation until you leave, I know what you’re doing.”

He had left, but at least they had opened a conversation. He had seen them the very next day, asleep on the couch, so peacefully y/n laying on top of him. She had woken earlier than him and seen James in the kitchen.

“Good morning,” James had said.

“Morning,” y/n had answered sheepishly, as she stretched out.

“Oh, are you talking to me now?” James had asked. “I made tea.”

“No,” y/n had said before getting a glass of water.

“I’m sorry,” James said.

“No, you’re not,” Y/N answered. “You got it your way, didn’t you?”

“I just want the best for you,” James said. “Have you talked already?”

“About some things,” y/n said. “But it’s none of your business, as you said it before, it’s like Clark for you, Tom is mine, and my relationship is mine.”

“So there is a relationship?” James asked.

“There’s a hope for one,” y/n said. “And yes, I fell asleep on him, and yes, I keep kissing him but I simply want to, alright?”

As soon as Tom had woken up and walked up to them, probably sore from the couch too as he was stretching out his arms, y/n ran over to him and gave him a passionate kiss, probably a very dumb way to prove to her brother that she was being rebellious.

And if that hadn’t been a message clear enough, she’d flipped James off before walking away.

“I’m--” Tom probably wanted to apologize to James but was still left too dumbfounded with the kiss.

“Don’t,” James had rolled his eyes.

That kind of behaviour continued, y/n trying to prove something to James.

Cherry had arrived three days before y/n’s birthday, and Clark had arrived the next day after she did.

They hadn’t had any contact with Cherry, not James at least. James was too busy exploring LA with his fiancé. It felt weird saying it.

“Fiancé.”

Y/N didn’t know Clark was in town, but as soon as she learned it, she had seemed to forget she was angry at James. She’d met Clark before, of course she knew of his existence and that her brother was seeing him, they’d met but y/n had learned from James’ pasts relationships to not get too attached because ‘James changed couple more often than he probably showered’, which was too different from y/n, and y/n, though she had noticed about Clark, and though she did mention it from time, to time, James had tried to avoid it, because he’d finally fallen in love and he didn’t know how to act around it.

Clark, however, had shown up to Harry’s engagement party, and that hadn’t gone well. Of course James was skeptical of showing his family, and the Hollands because he… Well, he didn’t want Clark to think they acted that way. Of course, that’s why he was reserved.

Tom had been the one person who had had contact with Clark.

Clark had said it to James once, “Tom is deeply in love with your sister.”

“They hate each other,” James had answered.

“No, if he did hate her he wouldn’t pay that much attention.”

Clark was right, obviously. Clark, actually was someone who liked to observe and he was the one to calm James.

As soon as Clark was in town, he had listened to James’ stress and said: “She’s been in love with him her whole life and the dude, too. And you’ve said it, y/n tends to save it all for herself.”

He was right. But James still thought that y/n and Tom had to talk about it, otherwise the chaos would come, but maybe it could wait.

But y/n’s birthday arrived.

Although the chaos was supposed to be coming, James wouldn’t have guessed it would come this way. And he wouldn’t have guessed it would come that way.

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