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#this was in my drafts when i was pulling an all nighter last night

zorosimpclub · 4 months

Text

late night at the office – Zoro NSFW

characters: zoro roronoa x fem!reader (he's your boss)

boss employee relationship, praising, degrading, light choking | smut | 18+ only – MDNI

word count: 5.5k

She glanced at the clock, it was 8PM and most if not all of her co-workers had gone home. She was assigned to this project by her boss, Zoro – the man was ruthless. He made her repeat her work if there was one small error. Sometimes even when there were 0 errors. That's how ruthless this man was. Today was no different, the client deadline was a few days away but he made her scrap her whole progress and start again.

Zoro sat in his office watching cameras his employees like a hawk, checking on each and every coworker he had. Until he looked at her, seeing her upset. His eyes narrowed and opened up his emails to write her one.

I need to see you in my office.

Minutes turned into hours until she received his email. She held her breath when she saw a small pop up flash on the corner of her laptop screen.

This can't be good, she thought. Sighing, she got up and made her way to his office, stopping right outside. She hesitated a little before finally mustering the courage to knock on it.

Zoro leaned back in his chair, checking through emails as he heard her footsteps outside his office.

“Come in.”

He looked up from his laptop, and fixed his gaze on her. He gestured to a small seat in front of his desk and waited for her to take a seat. She gulped slightly and sat down in the chair, she had no idea what to expect. Zoro was usually really hard to read and today was no different.

Zoro had folded his hands on his desk, looking at her with his sharp eyes. He didn’t waste any time – he didn’t believe in sugarcoating things and was a man of practicality.

”I see you work so hard yet you can’t seem to meet my expectations. I don’t know it your not trying hard enough or you’re just not good at your job."

She felt her lip quiver, he was harsh…there was no surprise there. She bit her bottom lip to fight herself from crying and waited for him to continue talking, knowing that he didn’t just call her into his office to just tell her that.

“I want this project done by the end of the week, I don’t want to hear any excuses. If you can’t get it done by the end of the week…you’re fired, is that understood?”

He wasn't really going to fire her, at most, he was planning to transfer her to another department. He didn't know why he was being such a dick to her...well, he did. Lately his bright eyed employee has been pissing him off. She keeps occupying his damn mind... that infectious smile of hers, her beautiful, innocent eyes...all of it. He didn't know how to feel and it was easier to get rid of her than just dealing with.

"I understand." She spoke up meekly, holding onto her composure so that she didn't burst out crying.

Zoro could see her eyes, they were filling with tears. For a brief moment, he almost felt bad for her. Almost. He let out a sigh and spoke softer whilst remaining stern.

“Good. You can leave but I want the first version of the draft first thing in the morning."

She gasped a little and looked at the clock in his office, "But Mr Zoro, it's 9PM now..."

She already knew what he'd say, it didn't matter because he was definitely going to ask her to pull an all nighter if necessary. It's not like he cared since he usually left the office quite late and in fact, this wasn't the first time she was working late. She wasn’t entirely sure that he had a life outside the office. He was the hardest worker she had ever met, always the last to leave but somehow the first to arrive.

Zoro's eyes locked onto hers.

“Do I need to repeat myself? I don’t care if you have to pull an all nighter here or at your house, as long as you submit the first draft tomorrow morning. That’s all I care about right now.”

At least she had the option to take her work home and work from there if needed. She stood up and excused herself, "Understood."

In the end she decided to finish as much as she could before leaving, she did work better here after all. She began typing away before she heard her co-worker Sanji settled down next to her briefly.

"Y/N my love, you're still here? I'm about to leave now, did you want me to give you a ride?" Sanji asked.

Zoro let out a soft groan as her placed his head against his palms, thoughts racing in his mind. He couldn’t take it. After she left his office, his heart pounded a little. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t going to fire her and that he was harsh on her. He got up and walked out only to see Sanji next to her.

Zoro smirked a little sadistically, he knew what was going on with them. He wanted to hear Sanji ask her out and he wanted her to reject him. Again and again. He went to the water cooler to hear their conversation more clearly.

"Ah thanks Sanji but I don't think I'm leaving any time soon, I have this due tomorrow and it's much more peaceful here than home so I figured I'd stay until I get this done." She smiled softly at Sanji before typing away at her laptop.

Sanji huffed and leaned closer to her before whispering a joke in her ear, to which she giggled.

Zoro rolled his eyes as he heard Sanji’s whisper, hearing her giggle. His jaw clenched a little, he didn’t like her so close to another man, especially Sanji. It felt like he was so close to seeing her date this man, she’s too beautiful to be with someone like Sanji.

He drank some water, hearing Sanji make another remark, hearing her giggle again. He was getting jealous by the second.

He walked towards her desk and raised his brow at Sanji – he had always hated this man. Something about the way he spoke to her made him despise him.

"Why are you still here? Aren't you from the sales department?"

Sanji let out a chuckle, seeing Zoro walk towards his desk. A smug face on Sanji, as he spoke.

“Ah, yeah I’m in the sales department. I was just here for a client, I just happened to see her beautiful face and decided to visit.”

Zoro rolled his eyes again, he knew he was trying to make a move on her. Anyone with eyes could see how desperate he was towards her.

Zoro was furious but kept his calm, tone stern. "Yeah? Well she has something due in the morning so why don't you just leave instead of slowing her down?”

Sanji gave him a playful grin, his eyebrows raised.

“Wow! Mr. Zoro you are pretty protective of her, you should be careful otherwise someone might think you have a thing for your pretty little employee.”

Zoro's face got red as his fists clenched, he didn't like when people saw through him. He couldn't even respond to Sanji’s claims.

"Shut up." Zoro stormed off to his office, feeling a little embarrassed. Did that moron just practically confess for him?

Y/N blinked once. Twice. Thrice. What just happened? It all happened so fast. Why did Zoro get flustered like that?

She shook her head and sighed, "Anyway Sanji, I'm going to get back to work, please feel free to leave. Thanks for offering me to take home but I think I'll just get the late night bus back."

Zoro had his fists clenched, he wasn’t expecting Sanji to be so loud and put those words in her head. It made his blood boil in his veins as he slammed the door to his office with one hand. He sat at his desk, pushing his fingers through his hair. Why was his heart beating so fast? Why did he care so much about another man calling a woman beautiful? He didn’t know. He shook his head, this was getting ridiculous.

Time went on as he heard Sanji leave, the office became silent. It was all him and her.

Zoro couldn’t stand it, he watched from his desk. Seeing her stretch and hearing her tired yawns. Something in him got him to stand up and walk over to her desk. He towered over her.

“Its late, you should go home. You look tired.”

"But I haven't finished yet. I work better here." She shot him a soft smile and continued typing, feeling awkward that he was just standing there. She sensed some tension – what type of tension, she wasn’t sure quite yet.

With him, it was a mixed bag. He has been really kind to her but in a professional, stern way. But he’s also straight up been a dick to her, she wasn’t sure what to think.

He let out a sigh, his attention locked onto her soft smile, he couldn’t look away…it’s like he was mesmerised.

“I know I gave you that deadline earlier but I’ll give you more time. Just leave and get some rest, you need it.”

She perked up a little, "Thanks but I think I can finish up in a couple of hours..." It was obvious that he felt bad, he always does and she was grateful that he showed care for her. But she really wanted to prove to him and herself that she wasn't just going take the easy route.

He stayed silent, watching her type away on her keyboard. He felt like time was going incredibly slow, watching her fingers type. His eyes roamed from her hands to her face, back to her hands then back to her face. His face only got redder at the sight, damned feelings he thought.

–

He left the office and grabbed both of them some takeout before returning – he convinced himself that he would do this for any employee and that it was just him fulfilling his duty as a boss. He pushed open his office door with his shoulder and placed the takeout on his desk.

He should email her to come have dinner since it seems that she hadn't already had it.

After hesitating for the tenth time, Zoro opened his email and wrote to her.

I need to see you in my office.

He wasn't going to tell her that he got takeout, she probably wouldn't come if he did.

She sighed and got up as soon as she saw the email pop up in the corner of her screen. Walking over to his office, she rubbed her temples to prepare herself for whatever the man was about to throw at her.

Zoro watched her walk over to his office, the sight of her just walking over was enough to make him lose his mind.

The moment she walked in he gestured for her to sit down, he put the takeout in front of her. She had no idea the amount of willpower he was exerting to not just kiss her.

She raised a brow not knowing what he asked her here for, there's no way he called her in here because he got her food...right? Maybe he was going to eat in front of her knowing that she hadn’t had any dinner yet but he can’t be that cruel…right?

"You called sir?"

Zoro stayed silent, his heart pounded in his chest. What if she thinks it's inappropriate he bought her food? He felt like the air in the office got thicker as he looked at her. He spoke up with a firm tone, trying to get away from his thoughts.

"Eat."

She looked taken aback and looked at him as if he said the most incredulous thing ever, he was joking right? She didn't know what to say but on cue, her stomach grumbled. She had completely forgotten to eat dinner…

He watched her stomach grumbled, making him feel a little amused. His lips twitched, his eyes darted to the takeout and back to her, wanting her to eat. She hesitated for a bit and leaned in to grab part of her portion. He leaned back in his chair, not taking his eyes off her as she began eating.

His lips twitched into a little smile watching her eat, she looked so cute eating. Hell, she looked cute doing anything he thought. Zoro reached for his food and started to eat, his gaze never leaving her form. She ate nervously in silence, the food was good but she didn't know how to take this. Maybe he just felt bad for barking at her earlier.

His gaze was fixated on her eyes, occasionally his stare would wander to her lips as she chewed. Her nervous look only made her all the more gorgeous to his eyes.

He knew she wasn't aware of how attracted he was to her, to be fair, he didn’t know how attracted he was to her until it was just them alone. It was getting harder for him to hide it, every time he looked at her he wanted nothing more than to hold her close to him.

Everything was fine until she bit into the hotdog, causing the sauce to squirt on her cleavage. She panicked and wiped it off with her finger before licking it clean.

Zoro almost bit the side of his mouth as he saw her. She was eating the hotdog so innocently. He nearly lost it when the sauce made contact with her cleavage.

The sight of her innocently licking the sauce up with her tongue was enough for him to want to pin her to the wall and kiss her. But he snapped back to reality, he quickly cleared his mind and coughed a little.

"Thank you for the food." She squeaked, breaking the awkward silence that had built up.

Zoro let out a small chuckle. He looked at what she was wearing and had an inappropriate thought that he immediately pushed away.

“You’re welcome, you still have sauce on you,” He pointed to a spot of sauce on her cleavage that she had missed.

Y/N squealed a little and got flustered as she looked down to the sauce. Zoro got up and walked around his desk, sitting on it. He was directly in front of her now. She felt incredibly self conscious with the sauce still on her cleavage but for some reason she froze. She couldn’t move or say anything.

Zoro could feel himself getting more and more attracted to her. He watched as she seemed to freeze, it made him want to do something about it. He leaned forward, his face getting closer to hers.

“M-Mr Zoro?”

Zoro smirked a little at her squeaky voice. She looked so adorable right now, it made him want to close the gap between them.

“You’re so adorable...” He whispered leaning forward even more, his face inches away from hers.

She was shocked, this is so unexpected. Was she so tired that she was hallucinating?

“Y/N…" He called name her softly. He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving hers. He couldn't help but think about how badly he wanted to kiss her right now.

She closed her eyes, feeling his warm breath on her lips. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t think of him late at night, as harsh as the man was on her, he was often the object of her fantasies. In fact, she’d moaned his name as she pleasured herself countless times.

Zoro couldn't take it anymore, his eyes burning with desire. He couldn't resist any more, he leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the lips. It was more of a teasing kiss than anything else, but it she felt intense sparks.

The soft moan from her only fueled Zoro's passion. He deepened the kiss, his hands gently holding her face. He could feel her trembling against him, and it only made him want more.

He broke the kiss and dipped his head to her chest only to lick the sauce off without breaking eye contact. She gasped at the sight and tightened her grip on her chair. She wanted to touch him but she was too afraid to, she didn’t know how to approach the situation. Zoro pulled back slightly, his eyes twinkling with lust as he looked at her. He could feel the tension in the air, the desire radiating off of them both.

He couldn't help but chuckle softly, "You taste even better than I imagined.”

“Y-you’ve imagined tasting me?” She blushed deeply and locked her gaze onto his eyes.

“Well, you are pretty irresistible."

Zoro teased, his gaze never leaving hers. He wanted her, there was no denying it. He reached out and gently traced his fingers along her cheekbone, his touch sending shivers down her spine. She closed her eyes and leaned it to his touch, which left behind burning heat. Her body ached for him, it wasn’t a want anymore… it was a need.

Zoro could feel the heat radiating off of her, his desire for her only growing stronger. He leaned in closer, his lips mere inches from hers.

"I want you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. "Let me show you how good I can make you feel…”

She looked up at him with those big doe eyes that he loved so much and nodded slowly.

Zoro's heart raced with anticipation as he leaned down to claim her lips once more, his hands running through her hair as he deepened the kiss. He knew he shouldn't go this far with her, but he couldn't help himself. He’d worry about the mess tomorrow. She fluttered her eyes shut and kissed back passionately, letting her hand roam his body shyly.

The kiss was intoxicating, and Zoro found himself lost in the heat of the moment. He groaned softly against her lips, his body responding to her touch. He broke the kiss for a moment, their breaths heavy and ragged.

"You're so fucking beautiful.”

She watched as he loosened his tie and smirked at her. She bit her bottom lip and squeezed her thighs together in response to how attractive he looked.

“Mr Zoro…”

Zoro reached out and undid the first button of her shirt, his eyes burning with desire.

"Don’t you think you need to be punished? For flirting with other men, hm?” he questioned, his voice husky with need.

He took of his tie and tied it around her eyes, blindfolding her. She gasped and stayed still, part of her feeling like it was on fire.He trailed his hands over her skin, unbuttoning more of her shirt as he went.

"I can’t believe I get to do this to you.”

She didn’t stop him, after all she did want him in every way. He took this as a sign to continue unbuttoning her shirt. His heart pounded in his chest as he exposed more of her skin to the cool air. His hands were shaking slightly, not from fear or hesitation, but from the overwhelming desire coursing through him.

"You’ve been driving me crazy.”

She gulped visibly and leaned her head back, exposing her naked neck and clavicle. Zoro's fingers brushed against her soft skin, tracing delicate patterns on her skin as he leaned in closer. His lips grazed her neck, his breath warm against her skin.

"You're making this very hard for me," he murmured against her skin.

He leaned down and took one of her nipples in his mouth, flicking his tongue sensually around it. A moan escaped from under her blindfold as she arched her back, offering more of herself to him. Her other nipple hardened at the sensation, begging for the same attention. He chuckled darkly and grazed his teeth against her as he gave her other nipple a pinch.

Her body trembled with anticipation and need. "Zoro," she panted, her voice filled with desire and longing. "Please...”

“Patience sweetheart. I did say that you were going to be punished didn’t I?” He sucked, bit and licked her nipples before lifting her skirt and moved her panties to the side. His rough hands slid over her mound, teasing her sensitive folds with his fingers.

"Look at you, dripping for me to touch you." he growled against her skin. "I'm going to fuck you until you scream, is that okay sweetheart?”

She grinded her hips on his fingers and nodded, begging to feel them inside of her. Unable to resist any longer, Zoro thrust his fingers inside of her, groaning at the feeling of her slick walls squeezing around him.

"You're so tight," he moaned, his pace becoming rougher.

She moaned and bucked her hips faster. It felt so good, she couldn’t even think straight. That however changed as soon as he slipped his fingers out of her, she moaned in protest and she heard something ruffling near her. She felt herself be lifted from the seat by her waist and laid down on the table.

“I think I have some space for dessert.”

Before she could ask what he meant, she felt something wet trail along her pussy. In an instant, she gripped his hair and ground herself against his tongue. Zoro moaned around her clit as he alternated between licking and sucking, loving the way she was writhing against his mouth. He moved to the side, sliding his tongue inside of her as he thrust two fingers inside of her.

“Mr Zoro!" she cried out, her body shaking with pleasure. Her hips bucked against his hands as she came undone, her moans echoing in the empty room.

As she finally came down from her orgasm, Zoro pulled his fingers out of her and stood up. He gave her a wicked grin.

"Now it's my turn." He pushed his pants and boxers down, freeing his already hard cock.

He took off her blindfold and yanked her to his chest.

“Now look at me when I fuck you," he growled, his voice dangerously low. He pushed her chin up, forcing her to meet his eyes as he thrust into her, claiming her body completely. Her body was slick with their combined fluids as he slowly started to pick up speed, slamming into her with a primal groan.

He gripped her hair, pulling her head back as he took what he wanted from her. He peppered kisses and bites on her neck as he pounded mercilessly into her tight hole.

“Do you know how many times I’ve dreamt of fucking you like this?”

She gasped, her body arching into his as he hit her sweet spot. "Mr Zoro…" she moaned, her voice filled with desire and lust.

"T-Too much." she panted, her body trembling under his relentless thrusting.

“Good. Your punishment is cumming over and over again until you can’t think straight, are we clear, princess?”

“Yes," she whimpered, her body throbbing with need. "Please.”

He thrust into her so deep, she swore she could feel him hitting her cervix. She could feel every inch of him pulsating inside of her, claiming her like he would never get to touch her again. His fingers found her clit, rubbing it roughly and sending waves of pleasure through her.

He withdrew from her slowly, only to push back in hard, his muscles rippling as he hit the spot that made her scream out his name. His hips snapped with each hard thrust, driving him deep inside of her.

She held her breath as his balls slapped against her ass in all the right places. She could feel herself getting closer but the pleasure was overwhelming, making it nearly impossible to think straight. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around him in anticipation.

Her cries of pleasure and pain mingled together, echoing through the room. Her climax hit her hard, her body shuddering underneath him. Zoro’s own climax was imminent, his cock throbbing inside her.

“Look at you, you’re such a little slut aren’t you? Pretending to be innocent with those big pretty eyes but here you are, taking dick from your boss like a cumslut.” He chuckled dryly and pushed her against the door, her chest rubbing against the door every time he thrusted into her.

Zoro lightly gripped her neck and fucked her senseless, he wanted to have her like this every day. Everyday whilst everyone outside had no clue what was going on inside. Her eyes widened, both from the pleasure and surprise of his grip on her neck.

She couldn't help but moan loudly, her body arching off the door in response to his rougher actions. "Y-yes, Mr Zoro!”

"That's it, moan my name princess." He groaned out, thrusting harder into her. His grip on her neck tightened slightly, not enough to hurt her but enough to leave a mark if anyone were to find them like this.

She moaned his name, her body trembling from the intense pleasure and the sensation of being taken by him. "Ahh...”

Her eyes rolled back in her head, lost in the pleasure he was giving her. "Mr Zoro!" She cried out, her body shuddering under his rough treatment. She couldn't believe how much she craved this dominance from him. Zoro leaned in, his free hand running up her leg and over her thigh, his fingers finding her clit again.

He circled her clit slowly, teasing her further as he continued to fuck her against the door. "You're mine to claim whenever I want, understand?”

Her body convulsed around his fingers and his cock, her voice barely more than a whimper now. "Y-yes, Mr Zoro!" She panted, her eyes locked onto his. There was no denying the truth in her words—she belonged to him completely.

Feeling her submission, Zoro groaned deeply, his hips snapping faster as he took her roughly against the door.

"And you'll always remember this, won't you?" He asked, his voice thick with lust and possession.

"Y-yes, Mr Zoro," she panted, her voice barely audible over their heavy breaths. "I'll always remember this."

Hearing her confirm his words, Zoro felt a rush of power course through him. He gripped her tighter, biting his bottom lip as he drove deeper into her, claiming her in every sense of the word.

Her cries of pleasure mixed with his name filled the room, echoing off the walls. Her body arched off the door, meeting his brutal thrusts with unyielding desire. This was their dance—one of dominance and submission, pain and pleasure—and she was his perfect partner.

“I’m going to fill you up with my cum, got it?”

"Please, yes!" she whimpered, feeling his thick cock throbbing against her sensitive walls. The thought of him filling her up with his seed sent shivers of anticipation down her spine.

"That's my obedient princess." He groaned out, his voice low and rough with lust as his hips pistoned into her. His pace grew more rapid, his cock sliding in and out of her with brutal speed as he prepared to unleash his seed inside her.

“Fuck! Take my load!”

“Mmph!" She gasped, feeling him pulsing inside of her. His cum filled her up, claiming her in the most intimate way possible. She cried out his name as the intensity of the sensations washed over her.

She screamed, her body shuddering under the pleasure. Every muscle in her body was taut with anticipation as he continued to empty himself into her. His hips bucked wildly against hers, driving him deeper still as he claimed her completely.

"Look at me when you take my cum."

He snarled, yanking her head back by the hair, forcing her to meet his gaze as he exploded inside her. His words snapped her back to reality, and she finally registered the loud grunts of his orgasm echoing around them as his cum shot into her, filling her up and making her sob out his name again.

He pulled out of her and carried her to his chair before sitting down with her in his lap. Panting heavily, she felt him shift her so that she was now sitting in his lap, her legs dangling slightly. Her body trembled from the aftermath of their intense lovemaking, her heart still racing from the sheer intensity of it all.

“So…” she started.

He looked down at her, his eyes dark and smoldering with lust. "So," he drawled, running a rough thumb over her swollen lips, "you just fucked your boss huh?" His voice was rough with satisfaction and pride.

She blushed and hid her face with her hands.

Chuckling softly, Zoro wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer.

“It's alright, I won't fire you.” he teased, his other hand traced gentle patterns on her stomach, trying to soothe her blush. “In fact…from now on, this is your duty.”

He growled low in his throat, nibbling on her earlobe as he started to grind his hard cock against her still-sensitive core.

"Every day during work, you come to my office and let me have my way with you, understood?”

“Y-yes, Mr Zoro," she whispered, shivering in pleasure at the thought of the things he would do to her.

“Good girl." He murmured approvingly before leaning down to capture her lips in a slow, deep kiss that left her reeling. As he held her close, he couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction knowing that from now on, this beautiful woman was his to claim whenever he wanted.

“Oh and your work is actually good, I was just being harsh on you because I wanted to not like you." He admitted sheepishly “I was never planning to fire you, sorry for being rude to you.”

She blushed and cuddled against him, her heart fluttering with happiness. "Thank you, Mr Zoro." She looked up at him, her eyes shining with adoration and desire. "I'm glad I didn't disappoint you.”

“Zoro.”

“Hm?” She looked at him, a little puzzled as to why he was saying his own name.

“Just Zoro.” He smiled at her and captured her lips into a sweet kiss.

"Yes, Zoro," she breathed, returning his kiss eagerly. A warm shiver ran down her spine as he continued to touch her in ways that made her body tremble with anticipation. She was his now, completely and utterly.

"That's a good girl." He whispered against her lips before pulling back to look into her eyes.

"Now, let me drive you home." His tone was both commanding, leaving no room for hesitation or refusal. He wasn’t going to let her get the bus alone, definitely not at this hour. She nodded.

–

Once they reached her home, he parked the car carefully. His hand gently guided her out of the vehicle, their connection undeniable. As they stood on her porch, he leaned down and captured her lips once more, his tongue teasing and tasting her mouth.

He pulled away and stroked her hair lightly, “In all seriousness, this wasn’t driven by lust. Well, part of it was… but I do like you. A lot.”

His words sent a shiver down her spine, making her heart race even faster. She looked up at him, her eyes shimmering with desire and a hint of admiration.

"I... I like you too, Zoro…do you want to come inside?" she whispered softly, biting her lower lip nervously. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he took her hand,

"Alright then, let's continue this inside." His voice was sweet but seductive, his grip firm yet gentle.

-–

As always, feel free to request a fic! :) Here's my third Zoro fic (I cannot stop writing about this man helP RJSGIOEJ) anyway, please lmk if you enjoyed this one! seeing comments on my last few fics made my day (maybe that's why i'm churning out these fics so fast??? LMAO) <3

#roronoa zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro x reader #zoro smut #zoro x y/n #zoro imagine #roronoa zoro #one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #one piece x reader #op smut #zoro #zoro reader

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perverse-idyll · 1 year

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Fic authors self-rec! ✨ When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you’ve written, then pass on to at least five other writers ❤️

Thank you to @yletylyf and @danpuff-ao3 for the invitation and reminding me to think about fic! It’s one in the morning, I had four hours sleep last night, and I’m going to entertain myself by seeing how coherent/interesting I can make this.

Anyone else want to play? @ac1d6urn, @writcraft, @liladiurne, @squibstress, @titconao3 - do you have favorites?

The first two picks are easy:

1. When the Rose and the Fire Are One - My first fanfic! Snape/Harry, my OTP before I knew what the acronym meant, my first experience of fandom, a love letter to the pairing and the Snape-centric LiveJournal community I had serendipitously stumbled upon. Written for the Snarry Games, thus finished on a (several times extended) deadline after pulling an all-nighter. I was talking shop with a writer friend recently about themes, as in “in 20 words or less, tell us the theme of your story,” and we agreed that it grows organically out of the writing and we have no idea what the theme is before we muddle through the first draft, nor do we care. (My friend writes pro fic, but she never condescends when I talk about my fanfic as if the creative process is the same - because it is in many ways, with the exception of professional editing in her case.) Well, I lied, because this fic was consciously and passionately written with the themes of freedom and beauty in mind. In canon, Snape is a character who never gets to experience adulthood free of masters; he signs up to be a pawn not once, but twice. I wanted to give him - for Harry to give him - that freedom, while at the same time presenting the temptation of a third master. The fact that Harry loves him by the end doesn’t make that beholden-ness less true. I was also determined to show that even someone raised in financial and emotional poverty, associated with ugliness, trapped in an ugly life, was capable of beauty under the right circumstances. Yes, I was up my own arse about this fic, but that’s okay because it made it more personal and intense. It was also, as I’ve mentioned elsewhere, my first time writing a sex scene, and I jumped in at the deep end with glorious abandon. As one may gather from subsequent fics, I proceeded to make up for lost time and contribute to the mainstream perception that fanfic = smut.

2. The White Road - If there’s one fic I’m known for among Snarry readers, it’s this. Why? Because it’s set in Lily’s POV in the afterlife? Because it positions her as a voyeur, a mother watching the fork in the road of her child’s future, someone with the right to judge Snape? (The voyeurism aspect turned a lot of readers off.) Because it has a cracky premise treated seriously? Because it’s nonlinear? (No. For some, this was a bug, not a feature.) Because, as a recent bookmark proclaims, it’s “such a weird fic”? Mostly it was me wresting a different ending out of the ruins of Snape’s canon demise and the utter bollocks of the epilogue; it was a purgative experience. I think for Snarry readers at the time, in the year after the series ended, it touched a communal nerve. Snape fandom remained in turmoil for quite a while after the Lily reveal and Snape’s redemption by death (a redemption currently much disputed). At this point, 15 years down the line, perceptions of Snape have changed so drastically the fic no longer has that cathartic effect, if that’s what it was. Readers are less inclined to be consoled or sympathetic. But the chutzpah of putting Lily’s voice at the center - of turning her into a Snarry shipper, to be flippant about it - well, I’m still surprised I pulled it off. And this fic, like Rose & Fire above, vibrates with so much of my joy in fandom at the time, love for my OTP, for the stories being written about them, for the exuberant emotional engagement on all sides, that I'll always be able to dip into it and be transported back to that creative ferment and sense of belonging. I think it’s one of my best fics, but my love for it goes deeper than its relative worth as a story. It’s a memento of one of the best periods of my life.

Now things get tricky. I’m pretty sure the five, arrrgh, five WIPs I’m working on would be eligible for this list, but since at this stage only I can know what makes them favorites, I have to make other choices. And I haven’t written very many fics, you see.

3 & 4. In Infinite Remorse of Soul (Snape/Dumbledore, Snape/Harry-ish) and And Mine the Gall (concluding the Dumbledore arc from the earlier story, and going further with the Snape/Harry-ish mess) - I put these together because they were conceived as a single narrative, but In Infinite Remorse was written for a fest with a word count limit, so I posted the rest of it as a separate fic. Which turned out to be the right choice since the second fic is the darkest thing I’ve ever written. These linked stories were inspired by Dumbledore’s words to Snape in The Prince’s Tale - “You disgust me” - and how he condescends to and sometimes makes a fool of Snape in the books, when the poor bastard is simply trying to abide by Dumbledore’s expectations. Dumbledore is a fascinating character, but his lack of generosity toward Snape - his tendency to treat Snape’s moral worth as disposable when it’s clearly one of the things Snape struggles with throughout his life - caught my attention. It’s a counterweight to all the examples of Dumbledore’s wisdom, his concern for other characters. Even Draco has more charity and protection bestowed on him than Dumbledore ever gives Snape. And I decided to run with that idea because surely what Snape suffers and the loyalty he demonstrates deserves more than a “Poor Severus...” afterthought. What would it have done to his soul to never once be thanked, to have Dumbledore pass over his sacrifices while lavishing time and explanations on Harry? Yes, Voldemort’s defeat depends on Harry going back to fight. But what would Snape’s reaction be to learning that Dumbledore knew of a way for Harry to survive - counted on it, in fact - and lied about it to Snape’s face? From there I decided to chart Snape’s moral collapse and his “fuck it all” desire to go after something (someone) he wants for himself - destroying every moral gain he’d so painfully acquired because in the end the authority figure who was his role model took it so much for granted he even forgot to say “thank you.” And then I went for something twisted and frightening because I think a Snape who no longer believes in anything - who feels nothing he did in his life ever actually redeemed him - would be terribly destructive.

On a less dark note, I enjoyed writing a florid and heavily metaphorical prose for Dumbledore��s POV, mostly to suggest the complex and not always praiseworthy workings of his mind. He’s one of canon’s most intelligent characters, bent up into plot contrivances for the consumption of children, and I didn’t want to rehash his canon schemes because they rely too much on coincidence and authorial fiat. (Plus: word count.) I tried to show how his calculations and his roots in the Victorian era might influence his interior monologues. As for Snape? I just enjoyed letting his worst impulses off the leash. (Some readers haaate And Mine the Gall.) (Where is my evil grin emoji?)

5. Hmm, the last choice should be split between my creepy massage kink/character study Soft Touch, but I’m feeling rather listless about that one at the moment, so No Room for the Weak it is. Another oldie, functionally a gen fic with pre-slash Snarry vibes, it evolved from my interest in Snape’s mum Eileen. Snape fans often assume she’s dead in canon, probably because she’s not referenced past a certain point in his childhood and doesn’t appear in the Spinner’s End chapter. So I wrote this fic about Eileen trying to come to grips with her son’s violent death and all the contradictory rumors clouding his reputation. It was a chance to explore what kind of mother would produce a kid like Severus and to ponder how he seems to lack any instinct for distinguishing right from wrong. His upbringing left him morally deficient - in fact, clueless. I also tried to pull off a bit of a plot twist, just to see if I could string readers along. Also, tip o’ the hat to Joy Division. Best of all, IMO, I nailed the ending. I found exactly the words I wanted, and I’m pretty confident the story earned them. (Same with The White Road. And Mine the Gall … maybe.)

#blathering about my fic #five personal favorites #self-recs #another reason to finish my wips and concentrate on short fic #I would have so much more to choose from

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boiling-potato · 1 year

Text

Warning: possible stalking

Characters: Y/n, Madison Cortwell and Salem Whitlock

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Creator's note: huh it's been a while since I've written something. This also had been sitting in my draft for a while now and it's just now I tried to finish it... I just gave up in the last part but anyway hope you guys still like it!! ^^

Also here Ace! Come get your man! (⁠ ⁠ꈍ^ꈍ⁠)🫴✨

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Salem Whitlock (my oc) x Y/n

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Late night study session

"Jesus... h... Christ.."

You mumbled, starring at the stack of papers that your supposed to finish overnight. Being in a private school can really be a pain in the ass since you have to live up in everyone's expectations being in a school full of destined to success people, not to mention you also really need to join the student council because your parents are pressuring you thinking that it will higher the chance of you being the top and the most respectable student in your class. 'why can't they just give you a break?' you thought to yourself sighing.

"Is this all of it?" You ask. "No, it's just the half. I don't want to give it all to you and expect to finish it overnight so I'll just give the rest to you tomorrow afternoon. You are dismiss." Said the blonde girl in front of you. Madison Cortwell, the student council president and the daughter of the man who owns this school. Though she's very smart and had a great skill in leadership, she wasn't really the easiest person to get along with. She always points out unnecessary mistakes and gives you unwanted advice and opinions, not to mention the fact that she's very demanding and sassy whenever you're talking to her. 'God help these entitled narcissist' you thought while putting the papers in your bag standing up and heading to door. You walk through the hallway passing classrooms heading towards the front of the school.

You collapse on your bed after a long relaxing hot/cold shower, just what you needed before you pull an all nighter. Finally After preparing yourself for it you grabbed your bag and pull out the paperworks.

Finally! After 4 hours you finally finished, stretching you looked at the clock on your nightstand at the side on your bed. 1:00 am, you sigh relief that you still have time to do your homeworks. You then grabbed your bag and reach in to grab your homeworks. 'Oh no, no, no, no, no, no no..' you frantically rummage through your bad trying to find it. "Fuck.." you said out loud. Trying so hard not to slap yourself for being so forgetful.. You sat there for a few minutes thinking..... which one would you rather do: go back in school and do your homeworks on the school library or be humiliated tomorrow by your strict professor........

You grumbled walking on the sidewalk while trying to warm your hands by rubbing your hands together. Yeah you hate that professor, he will not take any excuse when a student didn't do their homework and will literally spend half of the class's time to lecture them... Ugh that's a private school for you... Yeah no you'd rather loose sleep rather than dealing with that. Luckily (not really) though, the gates of the school are not always locked because is full of all nighter teacher and maybe even students.... ok maybe not full but there's always three-five teachers or students who's always stays at school to do homework and paperworks and unfortunately you have to be one of them..

Finally reaching the school you showed your ID to the nightguard and explain them your situation and finally send you on your way. You entered the library sitting down on the nearest desk and setting down your homeworks and start suffering. After a while you looked at the clock in the wall, 2:00 am, yeah your pretty exhausted and you're definitely not going to get back home anytime soon... But maybe you could just take a nap here? You're still not finished but it feels like you're going to collapse at any moment now. You need a rest.. you then close your eyes and started dozing off....

"Your answer to number 17 is wrong."

"Fuck!" You hissed, jumping at the sudden voice behind you, you then turn around looking at the tall stranger in front of you.

"Oops..."

You looked at him, too shocked to reply. He looked like his about your age, maybe even older? And judging by the uniform he was wearing you assume that he's one of the few students who stays in the school for reasons like what you have right now. He has a shaggy pink hair, yellow piercing eyes that looks like he could see right through your soul and looks... Incredibly pale, he also has bags under his eyes supporting your theory. He was hovering over you like a wolf ready to have his meal. Even though he wears a small smile and looks like he has no bad intentions, you still got the creeps and can't help but feel... Unease...

"U-umm what..?" You ask, trying not to sound scared or shaky. "..... The answer to number 17, it's wrong, the great depression didn't start around that time, it's too early. It started around 1929 and ended around 1939.." he said eyeing your homeworks. You looked at your homeworks looking at the thing he's pointing out. "Oh.." you said "umm.. thanks...?" You said looking back at him, not knowing what to say next. "Are you ok? You look like your really tired.... Do you want me to help you?" "Umm.." if you're being honest.. you really don't need (want) this guy's help since he gives you the creeps and you really just want to get this over with and go home, you immediately brainstorm of an excuse on why you don't need it but you don't have to worry! it doesn't matter! Since he already took a sit next to you...

You sighed

'this is going to be a long night..'

It's been 30 minutes since he's been helping you with your homeworks.... well you didn't really do much since he was the only one answering the questions and explaining to you why that's the right answer so throughout the time you literally just nod and agree while trying so hard not to doze off. You don't even know why he's doing this.. Is it really just the fact that he wants to help you or is it the fact that he's bored and just wants to play teacher with a lonely student who's in the library at 2 in the morning.. Not to mention you don't even know his name.. yeah.. who is this guy anyway?

"Umm Would you mind if I ask you a few questions?" You asked ".. Not at all, ask away." He said not looking up from your homework. "... What's your name?" He stopped and looked at you confused "oh.. I.. haven't told you my name yet?" "Umm no? I don't think so.." you said. "Oh.. sorry about that I.. forgot.. my name's Salem, Salem Whitlock." "Oh I see well my name is- " before you can even say your name he interrupted you "y/n, y/n l/n. I know.." you looked at him stunned, he must've noticed it because he lift your textbook were you saw your full name there.

"Oh.."

He smiled and got back on finishing your homework. You looked at him thinking of what you can ask him next... then it clicked "what are you even doing here so late?" He pause, he looks like he's thinking of something to say and after that he looks at you and smiled "same reason as you, I have homeworks to do.. I just finished early." "Oh I see, but why do it here? Can't you just do it in your house?" You asked. "Ah yeah... I could but..." He paused "Umm.. I just... Really like the school when it's night.. it's.. quiet... And very empty.. Unlike the daytime.... it's perfect.." he said without breaking eye contact while smiling. You looked back at him unsure of what to say back. What he said does make sense, a lot of people enjoy the creepy environment that the school gives during nighttime but.. there's something about how he said it made you unease.... maybe it's the fact that the way he pause whenever he says a word? Or the fact that he didn't break eye contact while telling you this.

"Does anyone have ever told you that you look very pleasant to look at?" He then said out of the blue. You looked at him confused. "Umm... thank you?" You said Also not breaking eye contact. You then hear a loud thud-like sound that made you flinch and looked at Salem's hand, the sound is coming from your textbook being slammed shut "anyway, I'm finished! Here." He said handing you your homework. You took it from his hand and examined it. They all seemed correct and the explanation throughout the whole question sounds like it's really coming from an encyclopedia down to every single detail. You looked at the clock in the wall 2:56 am which means this random guy just finished most of your homework in the span of almost an hour. 'ok maybe he's not so bad after all..' you thought looking at him

"thank you. This is a really big help for me." You said giving him a small smile "your welcome.. so does this means we're friends?" He said standing up "sure!" you said putting your homework in your bag "Hmm good, well I better get going then." He said walking towards the library door, but before he leaves he stopped and turned around looking at you "oh right, one last thing before I go. Be careful on your way to (Street name) I heard there's a lot of crimes being committed there so be sure to carry something to defend yourself while walking there."

You smiled pulling out your pocket knife from your bag showing him. "Don't worry I always have something to defend myself whenever I'm out." He smiled nodding and finally leaving. You put your knife on your pockets and finally headed out.

You got home at 3:20 am so you still have 4 hours to sleep. You dropped your bag on the floor and threw yourself on your bed thinking about your encounter with Salem. You started dozing off while recalling your conversation with him but then stood up remembering something that made your heart dropped.

How... How did he know your street address?

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lizziestudieshistory · 1 year

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hi! how do you recommend i should prepare myself for college? im currently in the final year of high school. in what capacity would i need to change myself for college? i plan on developing habits this year which can help me in college. your suggestions will be helpful.

Hi, sorry for taking a while to respond, I've been ill all week and wasn't sure what I wanted to say. I was partly uncertain because I think you are from the US? (Correct me if I'm wrong!) And your college experience is very different from university here in the UK. However, there are a few universal tips I can give for anyone leaving compulsory education and entering into higher education for the first time.

Firstly, don't think about this as changing yourself! It's just another step and you will naturally fall into it. Everything I THOUGHT university would be like ended up being a lot of nonsense. You'll naturally fall into your working rhythm and find your place wherever you end up going! Be your authentic self and you'll have a blast. Seriously, going to university should be the best thing you do for yourself, otherwise it's not worth it!

Secondly, habits/learning tips. This is an easier one to give advice for, but it will probably feel incredibly vague right now:

Learn to how to skim and scan texts when reading (they are different!). Start practicing now and you'll thank yourself during your first term! You rarely need to read a whole text, so learn how to quickly and efficiently find what you need by learning how to find key words and arguments. Make skimming and scanning your first instinct when reading academically. It's hard and you'll find yourself slipping into reading the whole book/article a lot to start with, but I promise you it will save you A LOT of time and frustration.

Start developing a good routine for you to study. Learn when, where, and how you're most productive and make this a routine. I've learnt that I CAN'T concentrate properly in the afternoon, my brain gives up! But it took me YEARS to internalise this and I wasted so many hours trying to work in the early afternoon. Now I structure my study days around when I work best (seriously I get up at 5:30 so I can be working between 6:00 and 11:30, then have the afternoon off before doing a couple of hours around 8:30 at night) it can be irritating but I have a good study/life balance now AND I'm more productive!

Experiment with note taking styles. I've gone through SO many different systems, platforms, and techniques for note taking. It took me a while to work out that I need to take linear, bullet pointed notes BY HAND to remember information. I used to type everything and it went in one ear and out the other. Now I take notes by hand and it's been revolutionary.

Start everything EARLY. Don't let yourself be that person pulling an all nighter to get an assignment in on time. Start early, give yourself time to reflect on what you're doing, and finish a couple of days before the deadline. This way you have a buffer in case something goes wrong. I was never the person working up until the last minute (I'm too anxious to do that to myself) but I watched friends have breakdowns because they didn't start early enough.

Learn to draft anything you'll submit for formal assessment. Don't be the idiot who writes an essay and submits it without checking it... It makes you look stupid and you'll lose marks. Take the time to do a second and third draft, your grades will thank you. And proofread (I say having not proofread ANYTHING on this blog...)

Get out of the habit of thinking I don't want to go to X lesson/class. You might think it's harmless now, but as soon as you leave compulsory education and don't HAVE to go to that dreaded class you won't. Then you start skipping lectures, fall behind, and risk failing. Again, I watched too many people do this...

Practice self-discipline and motivation. Right now you HAVE to work on things, so you do. When the external motivators go away all you're left with is your own drive. For some people (me) this was GREAT because I hated performing to school systems. However, for others they can crumble without a teacher encouraging you to work... Learn to motivate yourself. If you take ANYTHING from this list then work on this one, seriously it'll be a life saver!

Honestly, the rest will come with time. The biggest thing you can do is work out what kind of learner you are, how do you LIKE to learn when away from the routines of school. When, where, and how do you like to learn? Practice notetaking and reading skills. Otherwise, the rest will depend on what sort of college/uni you end up at and what course you're taking.

The final thing I want to say is not really a tip, but something I think EVERYONE on the cusp of going into higher education should hear. Find out why you want to learn. Higher education is a big investment. It's years of your life and A LOT of money (especially in the UK and US with tuition fees and living expenses!) It's a lot of time, energy, and resources to throw into something if you're only doing it because it's expected of you or you don't know what else to do with your life.

So take some time to think about WHY you want to learn. What is it about your specialism that makes you love it? Why is it your passion?

I live and breathe history because I can't face living without it. For me it's the discipline where I really get to understand humanity, explore what makes us "tick". I feel connected with people through history. I'm fascinated by, and a little bit in love with, humans. I don't necessarily like speaking to people! But I love trying to find out who we are through what our history says about us. Fundamentally, humanity is both terrible and beautiful! And through history I get to see the best, worst, and crucially the most mundane of human existence... And it's in that mundane space where I find myself happiest because that's who we are. It's why I study popular religion, not high Church movements... But it is the curiosity about people that drives me to learn more. THAT'S why I study, THAT is why I bothered to drag myself out of bed a half 5 on a freezing January morning in 2018 to get to an 8:30 lecture and listen to a truly MAD man tell me about 17th century English preaching styles (real story, I loved that lecturer deeply... I was the only person at that lecture and it is the reason I am the historian I am today, I have so much respect for him and I am STILL inspired by what I heard that morning!)

Anyway... Find your reason to keep going with your studies, even when it seems pointless and you'd much rather give up. I'm not saying it has to be a grand, abstract desire to understand humanity - I'm a pretentious humanities student who is far too fond of religion. Your reason could be anything, a dream job, a desire to "get out" of a situation, academic brilliance, spite! Seriously, it doesn't matter! As long as it gives you a purpose and drive to learn. Without that reason you'll be wasting your time.

So, before you go, have a think about why you're going to university at all and make sure it's strong enough to get you out of bed ridiculously early on a freezing January morning. That way you won't miss the most inspiring moment of your life. Or you'll get a fantastic degree. That's also nice 😉

#studyblr #gradblr #i may have gone off on one at the end there #i stand by what i said #asks #anonymous #try not to think too hard about going to uni #it will work itself out #i promise!#and enjoy your time! I'm very jealous and want to be an undergrad again!#long response

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absoluteseanarchy · 1 year

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Hot Coffee- part 1- SFW

Just a little something that had been sitting in my drafts waiting for the inspo to finish

Summary: A busy barista meets a friendly firefighter who can't seem to get enough of her coffee and conversation... or is it just her?

WC- 1441

It’s another late night, turned early morning after pulling another all-nighter. She's in her second year of grad school and it’s not getting any easier despite what her colleagues and professors say. She just can’t seem to do her research on time between juggling a morning job and classes the rest of the day. The only time she can seem to do anything is when her insomnia hits and she can’t sleep. Dragging her laptop to her so she can catch up a little.

Staring at her computer screen of some pre recorded lecture she missed, she wrapped herself in her thickest blanket. Ignoring the sun starting to rise out the window, she can feel her mind begin to shut down. Finally, she thinks to herself, letting her body sag against the wall she’s leaning on.

This time when her alarm starts going off the sun looks like it’s barely moved. She looks at her phone and the time says 6:55, groaning as she rolls out of bed to start getting ready for her shift at the local cafe.

An hour, I’m only running on an hour of sleep.

At least the uniform was lax, not lax enough for her to get away with wearing her pajamas out but enough that she didn’t have to put in as much effort. she just slicked her hair up into a bun at the top of her head. Starting the coffee she goes to brush her teeth and pick out her outfit for work, some gray leggings and an oversized pale pink hoodie with her most comfortable pair of sneakers. It wasn’t freezing in the city but with winter approaching she can never be too safe. Pouring the coffee into her thermos she makes off for work.

She didn’t love working in the coffee shop but the pay was passable and the free drinks were better. However, the best part of her job and the reason she volunteered for the opening shift every morning, wasn’t the free drinks or the morning sunrise. It was the nice, quiet fireman that comes in every morning for a dark roast. He never knew what he wanted but instead of it being annoying like every other customer it endeared him to her.

It was by complete luck that she worked that morning when he first started coming in. She wasn't even going to go to work that morning, after a really gruesome bout of insomnia she was just gonna call out. But by absolute sorcery she crawled out of bed and made it to work on time. When he came in he was with a friend, another fireman buddy. Both dressed up in full uniform. She assumes they’re just stopping by before duty calls. The man in the front is tall, almost six foot with dirty blonde hair cut short, sort of long on the top, and matching dark blonde eyebrows furrowed, framing his brown eyes. He’s handsome but more in a boy next door sort of way.

His friend though, the man who walked in after him? He was just her type, tall, mysterious and handsome. He had dark brown hair that was tied back in a low ponytail, strong eyebrows that complimented his dark, kind eyes well. While the blonde appeared self assured and confident, his friend looked more reserved and stoic.

“What can I do for you guys?” She said sweetly to them.

The first guy just reads off his order; A tall dark espresso, no cream, no sugar. Simple enough, she thinks as she punches it in and her coworker starts making it behind her.

“That’ll be $5.25 sir,” She said to him.

“That’s steep for a coffee,” The blonde says hotly, while handing her cash.

“Yeah it is, the price went up last week. Something about supply costs going up,” she shrugs nonchalantly.

She turns to the other and he’s already looking at her. She wonders if he’s been looking at her this whole time and starts to get uncomfortable. She has the WORST resting face, and with the lack of sleep she’s been getting she knows she looks like a vampire, all pallid with dark circles. Not someone who should have the attention of literally the most attractive man she’s ever seen.

“Uh can I get a- um, sorry. Um, can you surprise me?” He asks nervously, blushing slightly. She notices his friend rolling his eyes and turning his body away to get his coffee from off the counter.

She usually hates this question because she only gets the same thing every other basic college girl gets. Not even to mention she sucks at reading people and their tastes. This time though she thinks for a second then turns around to the coffee makers and makes his drink. It was some sweet drink that she's had once or twice but seemed like something he’d like.

Once she passes his drink to him he takes a sip and his face lights up. “Thanks a bunch, coffee girl”. Him and his friend then turn and leave after paying, throwing a passing glance behind him.

That was the first time she saw him and everytime after she made sure to have the early morning shift to get another glance. He came in practically everyday for a month, sometimes with his friend and sometimes by himself. Even once and a while buying coffee for his whole squad and each time he gets what she made him the first time. Everytime he comes in he always finds time to talk to her, usually just small talk but even that manages to brighten her day.

This morning though it was later than he usually comes and she thought he wasn’t coming, but as she’s in the back, in the storage area her coworkers turned into a makeshift breakroom, her coworker sticks her head in grinning greedily. “ Your boyfriend’s out front, looking for his favorite barista,” she says in a singsong voice.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” she says confusedly, standing up and walking towards the door.

“Oh you know who. C’mon he’s waiting for you.” She says hurrying, her coworker out of the closet. When she rounds the corner she feels her face fill with heat. It was slow in the cafe today so it was easy to see the lurking figure in the corner of the room sitting at an empty table with just a danish on his plate. Her fireman was looking around and when his eyes caught hers he immediately stood up and walked to the cash register.

“Hey coffee girl, I thought I missed you today.” He said quickly, he was fidgeting around with his sleeves. He wasn’t wearing his usual fire gear, today he was wearing a dark blue long sleeve shirt and a coat over top and some loose jeans with a pair of boots. It was weird seeing him out of his work wear whenever he was. He usually came to the store before work, so he was probably off today. “I overslept my alarm and I usually come early so I didn’t know if you would still be here.” It almost sounded like he was relieved I’d be here still, she thought to herself.

“Hi,” she said nicely, “No I was just hiding out on a break in the back. Can I get you anything?”

“Yeah Love, my usual and your name, if you would be so kind.” He says it so smoothly she almost didn’t notice his request. Hearing his words she gets unbearingly hot, mostly in her face.

It wasn’t that she hadn’t wondered about his name before, her mysterious stranger, but she was always too shy to ask him herself and she didn’t think he thought of her past these little encounters. At her pause he starts stammering and she can see his ears getting red, “I-I mean if you want- you don’t have to- “.

“Clarisse,” she interrupts his rambling. He pauses and turns to her with a small smile on his face. “My name’s Clarisse.”

“That’s a beautiful name for a beautiful girl. My name’s Alec, nice to officially meet you.” Blushing harder and smiling back at him and she begins to make his drink like she does every morning, adding a small treat for him to find near the bottom of his cup. As he’s reaching into his pocket for his wallet she stops him by passing him his drink.

“This one’s on me. It’s good luck for a new friendship,” she says grinning. He smiles back at her as he turns to leave he calls over his shoulder, “Have a great day.”

#my writing

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mthoughts2 · 2 years

Text

why can I not finish anything?

I recently came across the files for a documentary I'd been making for awhile. it's about my Senior Year of high school during the pandemic; part-vlog part-retrospective part-memoir part-documentary part-diary part-coming-of-age. I started work on it in August 2020, and started editing in June 2021. I finished a very rough draft (but mostly complete) version of the film in early January '22. Showed my parents the draft, took some notes on things to touch up, and then never touched them up. or anything else -- I haven't made any edits to the film since January.

Why?

Why did I not finish it?

Why did I not finish the one thing in my life I said I'd finish?

Should I finish it?

Not only is it a documentary about my senior year, but it's also a memoir of my life up to that point. various points throughout the film revisit nostalgic home videos with my childhood self, and draw parallels between things I grew up doing and things I was doing senior year. it definitely played on the "senioritis" nostalgic and coming-of-age feelings seniors tend to get in high school.

the film is very personal, and reveals things nobody else ever knew about me (not in a bad way). I recorded as much of my senior year as I could (er, as I remembered -- there are some parts of the film where I didn't get as much footage in a particular period as I'd hoped, so it's attempted to fill with motion graphics of explanations (or even bad recreations showing a since-grown Micah trying to act like it was taken during senior year, shhhh) to fill that awkward gap void.)

there's some awkward and uncomfortable moments in it. some parts awkward because im cringey and was a cringeworthy awkward high schooler (note I dont mind sharing that, irdc how ppl take me now) but also some parts awkward because of events and such that have transpired since the film has been edited. for example, the prom sequence -- that girl and I broke up a few days later and we dont talk anymore. another sequence involves me meeting an online friend for the first time ever, something that is only uncomfortable in retrospect because of some heartbreak I've experienced since January, when I last touched the film. (rewatching the film the other day I skipped that part over to avoid going to a weird place mentally)

I debated cutting some parts out, even if it means adding to awkward gaps -- simply either because of timing/unimportance to the overall story and development, or just because of awkward feelings after the fact. there already is some stuff cut out -- and out of order -- so this isn't out of the realm of possibility.

because of all this im not entirely sure id release it to anybody, except for maybe a few close people, family and friends. or anyone who would want to watch it, idk who would want to? it's more a film for myself than anything but if there's an audience for a nearly 90 minute autobiography of a significant year of my life, by all means I'll share it.

there's not really too much to do to finish it, but is it worth it?

an ex of mine once told me that I was slowly "killing myself" over trying to finish this documentary. and she was right -- there were nights I was pulling all-nighters trying to finish some sequences, some grades were affected my first semester of college because I was devoting a lot of time to editing the film, I made dozens of phone calls and wrote many emails trying to clear some song licenses to use in the film for copyright purposes (because I initially planned a public release of the film, for, get this, September 2021), and I'd spend an absurd amount of hours recording and animating segments (not that the latter is necessarily a bad thing -- it just shows I put a lot of attention to detail -- but its still something to consider when you factor in how much I really was metaphorically killing myself over finishing this film.)

what happened to that drive?

···

song while writing: Green Eyes - Coldplay

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secondhand-trash · 3 years

Note

noooo but imagine, you pull an all-nighter with Osamu because you both suck at math and it's the finals tomorrow and while coming back home in the train you doze off on his shoulder and the sunset is warmly hitting you on your back that's it bye

A/N: omggg anon🥲you didn’t send this in as a request but I kinda want to extend on this a little because this is🥲

Pairing: Miya Osamu x reader

Word count: 1019

17. pulling all-nighters together + 19. study dates

Two negatives make a positive, even a math idiot like you would know that, but sadly that’s not the case for most things in life.

“How many questions did you have to skip?” Osamu’s voice came out slightly mutated over the video call, his face half out of the frame as he slid lower and lower down his chair since the start of your online study session. He had to hold the speaker of his earbuds right to the side of his lips to keep his voice down in his broad living room, where he was alone with nothing but messily opened notes and bunched up draft paper as a company. His twin had forced him out of their shared room when he showed no sign of ending his call with you far past Atsumu’s bedtime, shoving Osamu out with a pillow grumpily about how you should both sleep early to save your brain cells instead.

The biggest shame and anger Osamu had ever felt about the cruelty of the world was over the fact that despite coming out of the same womb on the same day with basically the same face, and with him arguably being the more emotionally intelligent twin (according to himself), Atsumu won the academic race by a tiny slither.

You sighed, the irritated tapping of your finger on your calculator drumming against his ears. “It would be easier if you ask me how many questions I managed to not skip,” you blinked harshly to try and brush off the soreness in your eyes, “I skip the questions I didn’t know how to do in the hope to save time for the ones I do, only to realise that I had skipped lost questions without even moving my pen.”

Osamu groaned in agreement, running his hand violent down his face as he stretched his arms upwards. A glance at the clock on the very edge of his laptop made his headache. It was already 4 in the morning, with another 4 hours to go until the you have to be back at school.

4 hours was a lot for two sleep-deprived person and not nearly enough for two students who were hanging on by the last thread.

“Should we go through the questions we don’t know together?” You suggested weakly, your shoulders shaking as you tried to sit your back straight for better morale, “Then we give up and get some sleep.”

“Sure,” his voice was starting to get hoarse and with how close he was hiding his mic, it was like he was breathing right into your ear. The soft vibrations made you shiver. “Did you manage to get question 16b?”

“I think so? I managed to get a legit-looking answer so I’ll just assume that I did it right,” you yawned, rubbing your eyes with your sleeve as you flipped to find the question in midst of your messy scribblings.

Osamu had become familiar with the little habits you had when you were tired after many restless nights battling with school work over calls. You drank water as an excuse to take breaks and you always got cravings for junk food an hour in. At first, you’d try to look pretty for the camera but you would also give up gradually, lumping to one side on your chair as you curled up more and more.

Sometimes you would fall asleep without even knowing it and he wouldn’t cut the call right away, just because he liked the way your cheeks squished out on your arm as you slept, which was his own little secret.

“Let’s hope this actually does something,” you mumbled, “can’t really afford to fail again.”

“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” he said, “we have each other.”

In most cases, that would be sweet, but right now it just filled you with a tiring sense of dread.

“That’s not very reassuring, isn’t it?”

“Hm…”

You knew instantly that your all-nighter didn’t do much when you walked out of your classroom after your final and met Osamu at the main gate, sharing the same blank expression as you did.

You stayed in silence until you sunk onto the plush seat of the train, your school bag thumped against the ground as you let it slid down from your shoulder in defeat.

“I kept hearing people talk about whether the answer was 90.5 or 105,” he sounded awfully calm as he spoke, “I got 86…”

You linked your arm with his, slumping against him as you pulled your body along with each step. “I took a glance at the other people’s multiple choice answer sheet when the teacher was collecting the answer scripts and I kept seeing a row of c’s in the second page,” you sighed, “I didn’t have a single c on that page.”

The train compartment shone gently as it drove out of the station, the turning of the wheels knocking into your brain as a comforting rhythm.

“We should really get someone actually good at maths to help us next time,” you said as you leaned your face against his arm, closing your eyes at the texture of his sweater rubbing against your cheek.

You felt his body shuddered when he sighed, and nodded. The sun was setting behind you and the golden hue painted the fabric in a soft warm glow. He always smelt of softener, reminding you an awfully lot of your old teddy bear that was always tugged next to your pillow. Only that he could hold you back gently when you were about to slide off his shoulder.

“Do you want to study for literature later?” You could feel the vibrations of each curl of his tongue.

“Hm,” you replied, wrapping your arms tighter around his and squeezing your eyes tight, “but only after my nap…”

“Don’t blame me if you get past your station when you can’t wake up when I’m telling you to,” Osamu joked, but still sat lower against his seat so you could lean your face on his shoulder.

“You’d just have to take the opposite line with me then…”

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu x reader #miya osamu x reader #miya osamu imagine #miya osamu imagines

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mywritingonlyfans · 3 years

Note

ok i spent 20 minutes trying to find my angst prompts christ

so a long while ago (think before iwbys mv dropped) i share some angst prompts of what i think each of the band members would be anxious about

we are picking up damiano cause i am writing about him in parallel to this

i had made the assumption of damiano always overworking himself to succeed. he sees overworking himself is the only way he will trully have any chances to produce great work

"i feel like damiano is more likely to stress work, like burning himself out cause he thinks thats when he does his best work." to quote myself lmao.

personally, when im overworked i tend to be mor aggravated and moody, snapping easily and feeling sad and shitty

so imagine as his s/o, you see damiano working on lyrics from home over the winter. he sits on the couch, scribbling furiously every few minutes in a notebook of some kind

the next morning, you wake up and damiano isnt in bed. and he wasnt there when you went to sleep last night

so you go to the living room and he is sitting in pretty much the same spot, coffee on the table and a cigarette burning in the ashtray

you ask him about and he says he did sleep but woke up early to work

you doubt it at first but then you decide to believe him.

the entire day, dami is just sitting on the same spot on the couch, he hasn't moved in a certain 7 hours and he still is scribbling in that lyric notebook.

after some persuation he eats something and drinks something other than energy drinks or coffee (water) but he goes back to work instantly after that.

you understand he has to work but you are still mad that he is working non stop, giving almost no attention to you

you go to bed earlier that day, and you wait for him to come to bed until around 2am, when you lost hope and slept.

the next morining he is still there, with the addition of too many cans of energy drinks and too many finished cigarettes.

he actually looks dead and you try and talk to him but he doenst even aknowledge you.

for the entire day you tried to get dami to eat something or drink some water or to go lay down but he just shakes his head and works on the lyrics.

at this point hes been working non-stop for 3 days consecutively and you are worried

by night he keeps sighing loudly and scribbling on the notebook, getting mad at himself, sometimes even softly hitting his head. you know its from frustration but you couldn't break him out of the mindset. you had talked to vic and she had told you about this 'state'

at some point while you are sitting inside the bedroom, on your phone, you hear damiano curse very loudly after something fell on the floor.

you thought it was just a glass, so you got up to clean up and you just see damiano sitting on the godforsaken couch, this time looking down at the floor where water was spilt and where some tissues lay

(tw blood and mention of intrusive thoughts) (i am self projecting yes shush)

when you go there there you see the tissues on the floor also had ink on them

it was weird and it was weirder there was so much ink you could see from the kitchen

you go there and damiano is covered in water and ink, and on top of it, his hands are bleeding.

that was a traumatising sight in and of itself but seeing him with tear stained eyes made it worse

you slowly help him up from the couch to the bathroom to help him wash off the ink and to see why his hands were bleeding

while you tried to clean the ink from his chest, he explained how he was so stressed cause he forgot a deadline with the band (it was the next day)

so he pulled 3 all nighters to hopefully get different drafts of some lyrics, and every day he was slower but he didn't allow himself to rest in any way cause his brain thought it would slow him.

as a coping mechanism he would scratch his hands a lot, hence why they were bleeding, especially where his tattoes are

he couldn't get work done since his in his mind "finish the song, meet the deadline, no matter what" played on repeat and he was really mad at himself and thought he just sucked at lyrics

he was so worried about not meeting the dealine and disappointing the others that he didnt allow himself to do anything but try and write lyrics, all because his stressed brain made him think the others would be really mad at him and hate him (yay anxiety)

he bit down on his pen too hard while he was thinking and broke it, and got his face covered in ink

he still didnt want to get up so he tried to take it off with tissues and water but he dropped the cup and the water.

he didnt want to bother you either cause he knew you would try to break his 'concentration' (anxiety fueled all nighters) and he wouldnt get anything done, plus he thought you were mad at him for ignoring you while he worked

this whole time you were washing the ink off you re-assured him constantly, both about himself and the band members forgiving him for the dealine, and also about his self worth as a lyric composer

then you help him out of the bath and to your bedroom, putting some cream on the irritated skin to help it somehow heal and you forced him to stay bedbound while you cleaned up

then you go lay with him and obligatory cuddles ensue

he falls alseep almost instantly and you just sit there petting his hair, still in disbelief cause you didn't know damiano got so stressed so bad

you made a mental note to always supervise him when he seemed stressed

it scared me a but but it looks good, i mean worryingly good... you're doing great babe!!!

#måneskin #maneskin talk

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buntycake · 4 years

Note

Hey I really liked your writing so I decided to send in a prompt. What do you think the brothers would only reveal about themselves to MC after a long time of dating? Maybe a different side of their personalities or an embarrassing interest? Thank you for the hard work 💕

I’m glad you like my writing! I hope you enjoy this headcanon.

What the Brothers Reveal to You After Dating You for a Long Time

Pride:

Lucifer never seems to struggle. True, he has his fits of irritation as he tries to run Devildom while bringing Diavolo’s machinations to fruition. Even so, to an outsider he always seems to have a plan Z for everything.

The first time you saw him in a less than orderly state was when he called you to his office during one of his all-nighters. It was three in the morning and he had asked you to bring him a coffee spiked with poison. (This would have been alarming to you if you hadn't lived in Devildom for quite some time.)

Hunched over his desk and surrounded by paperwork, he looked exhausted. He didn’t even take the time to save his coffee like usual. It was gone in one gulp. When you asked what was keeping him up so late, he told you about Lord Diavolo's new idea. It had him ripping hair out he tried to figured out how to implement it.

Though he tried to shoo you away, you sat with him until 6 am, when he finally called it quits. This became a semiregular occurrence. (You talked him out of his all-nighters when you could.) Just your presence is enough to make the process of figuring out the impossible better.

When you're more settled in your relationship, he'll start asking for your advice and help. It's hard to believe that someone as persnickety as Lucifer would allow someone to do a job that he could do better, but he trusts you.

It's not always about work either. The conversations you two have about his relationship with his brothers are when Lucifer seems the most vulnerable. He wants to be close with them, but struggles. You are one of the few people he allows to know that.

Greed:

Mammon being completely serious is still an uncommon occurrence in your relationship. He has his more reserved moments, sure, but not bouncing off the walls is not the same as having that solemn, focused look in his eyes.

There are really two occasions when this side of him comes out. One, when he's in DEEP trouble with the witches. You'll know that his debt with the witches has become serious when he's pacing the length of his room and muttering a string of numbers and calculations you can't follow.

Two, when he's trying to comfort someone, most often you. (After all, his brothers aren’t the type to admit when they’re feeling down.) There was once you had gotten to ruminating about the past. Those memories had whirl winded into something ugly. All your past regrets and embarrassments built up and weighed down on you until you began to cry.

Luckily or unluckily, Mammon came barging into your room at that time. He was ranting about some new opportunity for making money. In your melancholy daze, it was hard to remember. You must have looked awful because the switch was immediate.

Mammon gathered you in his arms and rubbed your back until you calmed down enough to talk. At first, he seemed agitated since he thought one of the brothers had done something to upset you. However, as you explained what happened he settled down. He was silent as you spoke and his eyes never left your face as if he was trying to gather up your every word and reaction.

Mammon is surprisingly insightful when he wants to be. What he said to you after your rant was thoughtful and wise – completely unlike his typical persona. You knew the typical fun-loving demon had returned when he said, "Anyway, forget about all that stuff. You have the Great Mammon looking out for you now."

Envy:

Levi is extremely capable. Being an otaku shut-in, it's an aspect of him that isn't immediately apparent and that you've probably only seen glimpses of.

Levi's ability to keep up with all things otaku, while perhaps not impressive to anyone outside of the anime community, is a testament to his persistence. And no matter what normies think, Levi isn't without ambition.

It's actually a little while into your relationship that he brings up an old goal of his: creating an otaku podcast. He was timid as he began to explain his vision to you, but about an hour in it was clear that he knew EXACTLY what he wanted to do. He just needed a little nudge.

After many reassures, some words of affirmation, and a pretty drawn out planning session, he got to work. For the next couple of months, he was busy - completely hyper focused on this goal.

He reached out to some smaller creators in the otaku community to find others interested in making a podcast. The two of you went searching for a place and some equipment to rent out. There were many late nights with just the two of you drafting up some beginning podcast topics.

Levi was a nervous mess before the first recording. You sat in on the first one just to be a calming presence, but in the end, you don’t think he needed it. He had a BLAST. Everyone seemed to play off each other so well.

When the podcast came out, it was a modest success. Those that liked it were begging for more. He was practically vibrating from excitement and overflowing with new ideas after that.

Levi undoubtedly did most of the leg work, but he'll insist to his last breath that it was all because of your support. To him, he can jump any hurdle with you by his side.

Wrath:

Satan is disgustingly romantic. For all the rage he can store in his body, honeyed words and sweet sentiments take their place there, too. Blame it on all the romance books he's read over the millenniums.

This aspect of him was probably the clearest during your dates, where he’ll take you to some unknown, but beautiful place. Even as you take in the environmental or astronomical wonders that Devildom offers, his eyes can’t seem to part from your form. It’s as if your existence is even more surreal.

This sentiment bleeds into your daily life the longer you're together. Most notably when you start finding small notes everywhere.

In the morning you found a note on your dresser, scrawled in his neat cursive. It read, “Your smile is as refreshing as the morning dew.” The smile in question appeared on your lips and you could almost see Satan’s amused smile in your mind.

Another note that said, “Your curiosity is something to be admired and feared,” had you giggling in the middle of RAD’s hallways. You got a few odd stares for that.

Surprise, surprise, there were more in your backpack, textbooks, around your room, everywhere. Each contained a small snapshot of his feelings about you.

At the end of the day, you found him tucked away in the library with a book like usual. When you asked him why he hid all those notes, he simply said, "So, that you would have at least one happy moment each day.”

Lust:

Asmo takes pride in his appearance, but more than that, fashion and beauty are a defensive mechanism. If he looks less than perfect, then there might be merit in what people say about him. They might have good reason to hate or resent him.

When he's at his most beautiful, he can pass those reactions off as people being envious of his perfection. It may seem like a small thing, but it's a privilege to see him before all the primping and preening.

So, when you woke up after one of your rendezvouses and found him still in bed, you were surprised. Usually, he was already up and about, wrapped in one of his silk robes.

He always looked like he woke up fashionably messy. Hair that was perfectly mussed, robe that was draped lazily over his shoulders, and eyes that seemed dewy with sleep, but the smell of bathing oils and perfume always gave away his morning preparations.

Seeing him with bedhead, rubbing at his bleary eyes, and yawning out morning breath was surreal. You thought you were dreaming until he pulled you closer and nuzzled into your chest. His lack of pretense went unmentioned for cuddles and an extra thirty minutes of sleep.

Every time he does this, know that he's choosing to be vulnerable with you. And perhaps more importantly, that he's opening himself up to your criticisms. Ones that he can't/won't deflect and will take to heart.

Gluttony:

Beel is rarely angry. As the peacemaker of the brothers, he's often the one pacifying the others. It doesn't leave him much room to express his own anger.

More than that, Beel doesn't like to hold grudges. It makes him feel guilty. There's already so much animosity among his brothers already; he doesn’t want to add to it.

You were really worried the first time he came to vent to you. He had entered your room a bit solemnly and gathered you into his arms. Then, he’d asked your permission to disclose something to you.

At first, you thought he was sad. Beel had commonly shared moments where he felt sad or upset, but this quiet simmering anger was new to you.

He started off quietly. It was lucky his mouth was right by your ear or else you'd have never heard what he was muttering. The whole rant started off with him confessing how frustrated he was with Lucifer for still withholding information and not leaning on the brothers for help.

As you nodded and encouraged him to go on, he got more confident. The conversation drifted away from Lucifer, to his qualms with the rest of the brothers. All of them for condescending his intelligence on a daily basis, Mammon for always going through everyone’s things, Asmo for constantly stealing his cake, and so on.

Beel had completely cooled off by the end of his rant and was a tad bit embarrassed. However, as he gets more comfortable venting, he'll let you know about small things that irritated him that day. It becomes like a daily confessional ritual between the two of you.

Sloth:

Belphie is notably cynical. However, this gets toned down by his aloof, sleepy persona. As adorable and soft as he is, he harbors numerous negative opinions of the world.

He doesn't trust easily and often expects the worst of people - demons, humans, angels, it doesn't matter. To his credit, when he isn’t blinded by his temper, he’s often right in his assessments. However, for Beel's sake, he typically suppresses this response.

With you, he feels he can air out his grievances. The first of these occurrences happened after a post-nap in the attic. The two of you were curled around each other and he began to let his woes slip out into the space between the two of you.

He talked about everything from his brothers to the exchange program to even his reservations about you. The dichotomy of Belphie cuddled into you, surrounded by a mountain of pillows while lamenting the woes of the world was frankly jarring. But when he finished, he seemed to sink deeper into your embrace like a weight had lifted off his shoulders.

As he continues to talk to you about all his less than optimistic views, they become a sort of philosophical debate between the two of you. There’s something satisfying about throwing each other’s ideals around and deconstructing them. More appealing to Belphie is that the two of you can have these conversations without judging each other (too much) or forcing your morals down the other’s throat.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me gender neutral mc

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morimakesfanart · 3 years

Text

Sindria's Prophet #13

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12]

[AO3]

((edited because I figured out to add some more history facts that I think are important))

~POV Sinbad~

"The Kou Empire, huh?"

"That is going to make things risky."

With all of the Generals caught up with what happened in Balbadd, they needed to start planning for King Sinbad's trip to the Kou Empire, as well as catching him up with everything that had happened in Sindria while he was gone.

"LadY YamuRAI H AA AA A" A yell came from the hallway accompanied by the sounds of running.

((Sinbad is hidden on the left. There's a hint of him poking out.))

A panting magician gave apologies for disturbing their meeting and ran to the head of Sindria's magicians. "I wish I knew you were here so I didn't search the tower first~" Then he started explaining about some magical proof. Most of his words sounded like gibberish to the rest, but it was clear that he had made some kind of break though.

Yam jumped out of her seat. "How did you finally figure it out?! Who figured it out?!" She whipped her head to her King, "Sorry your majesty," and then looked back to the other magician.

"It was the work of the Prophet!” the magician answered. "We were talking about her illness and she pulled out scrolls that- you just have to read them for yourself!”

Mori had said that she had written other scrolls before she started coping down Fate. This must have been what she was working on.

Both magicians bowed out to go test out this new information. Before they could leave, Sinbad ended the meeting; there was no way he was going to wait to learn what other information Mori had blessed them with. Ja'far followed as did a few of the other Generals.

When they got into the court yard, the doctors that had been sent to take care of Mori were already pushing their supply cart back to their main building. The magician that had stayed behind spotted them and raised two scrolls up triumphantly. "She let me take the scrolls!"

---

News of the scrolls written by a Prophet spread throughout the Black Libra Tower within an hour. Yamuraiha and the doctors explained their significance to King Sinbad.

If even a fraction of the theories in the scrolls proved true it would completely changed their understanding of how illnesses work. If Mori wasn't sick she would undoubtedly be swarmed with questions and demands for proof. According to the magicians, nothing in the scrolls went against any known information. Instead, they gave explanations to why certain things that had been attempted in the past had failed. What she wrote about 'cells' was what really caught the eyes of the white magicians and doctors. As an example, according to Mori's writing there were blood types and most couldn't mix; that would explain why most past attempts at blood transfusions had failed.

The 2nd scroll showed a break down of even smaller particles, and how the structures of different particles made up everything. This was going to bring alchemic magic to a whole new era. Sure, such things would most likely be limited to high magicians, group efforts, and the Magi, but it looked possible now. A lot of common magic of the current day took extreme amounts of magoi in the past because they hadn't found the right formula yet. Mori's writing -if true- could easily be used as a guide to finding the right order of commands for many spells.

And even more than that, Mori had said that she had even more information to share; she had just ran out of scrolls and ink.

Mori's presence in Sindria, and everything that went with it were Fate and the Rukh's guidance. King Sinbad could see it -the future he wanted.

---

~POV Mori~

In Sindria's Palace there is a Great Bell. It is rung during celebrations, and to signify the King returning home like it did earlier that day, but it's main use was to ring every 2 hours to tell everyone the time since clocks weren't invented yet. So even though I was a sick person trying to rest during the day, I was woken up by the Great Bell every 2 hours... which of course is also situated right on top of the guest tower.

For obvious reasons, I was awake again.

I wish I knew how the others responded to the scrolls. I really wanted to know Yam's opinion most. Those scrolls basically gave away the secret to Yunan's signature alchemy magic.

I still had the first scroll I had worked on -the one on the science behind blimps-, and the last science scroll I had started. That one was on DNA, and reproductive systems. It was the last one I started in Balbadd. I hadn't started working on it until sunrise on my 2nd sleepless night and it showed; there were missing words everywhere, many incomplete sentences, and I couldn't stay in topic.

These mistakes were too great to fix with an ink knife. Editing was going be super annoying and time consuming since I couldn't work digitally. I'd have to physically cut up the first draft to put everything in the right order before making the next one.

Wait- Did this world have scissors???

Back home the first evolution of shears that could be labeled as scissors was in Roman barber shops in the last hundred years or so before Rome fell. China would spontaneous also create something akin to scissors not long after. Reim and the Kou Empire seemed to line up with Rome and ancient China for the most part, so I tend to use them to place the time period, but the dress Princess Dunya wears is centuries off and throws all historical accuracy questions out the window. Rome was long gone by the time boning was added to women's undergarments, and that dress had all the signs of boned corsetry.

Fuck it. I'll ask for scissors and if they don't have them I'll just invent them myself. I had been drafting professionally for the past 4 years. That may have been for microelectronics, but it uses all the same skills; I could do this. I needed to get a ruler -or at least a straight edge- and a drafting compass which they probably have based on the look of maps in the series, and pencils, or at least colored inks if they had them. I probably needed to reinvent the French curve(stencil tool used in art & drafting)...

Since I was struggling to fall back asleep I moved to the table and pulled out my test scroll. It was full of random marks and some of my early drawing attempts that I used to practice with the dip pen -it's also where I wrote down the dreams from the Rukh. I'd write the list of things I needed, rip the section out of the scroll, and pass the list to someone who could get me what I was asking for. I added some living necessities too like sleep wear and a comb.

The maids that came to give me dinner, and next dose of medicine were not pleased that I wasn't in bed -I was an important guest who was sick after all. And I wasn't pleased to have to drink more of that bitter medicine, but we can't have nice things all the time, now can we?

My voices was strained but I managed to communicate enough. I gave them my list, and laundry (the clothes I wore on the boat) before they left. They'd get me the things the next day. I was instructed to sleep until someone brings me breakfast the next day... which is what I was going to do anyway since the sun was practically gone. I might be a bit of a workaholic but I'm not going to let myself pull an accidental all-nighter when I know I'm still sick. I'm far more self aware than that.

And besides, the Great Bell didn't ring at night.

---

Maids brought my breakfast (& meds) the next morning and let me know that my clothes would be cleaned and dry by the end of the day. I guess they didn't use magic for everything.

They also gave me all of the drafting and inking supplies I asked for except for scissors. In one of the omakes Sinbad was shown cutting his hair with a knife as a part of his normal grooming. I had hoped he was just old fashioned.

For the greater good and the future of my own hair care, I drafted up detailed designs for a few different types of basic scissors. They wouldn't look fancy, but hopefully I had put enough of a detailed explanation on everything for the smith to figure out what I was asking. Steel wasn't developed until the middle ages and some of the counties of this world matched that so I hoped

that God and anime were on my side. I really wanted scissors that would be a good quality.

And if that didn't work I'd just have to get used to using knives and bladed rollers like a regular person.

The Great Bell rung for 10 am. There were at least another 2 hours before someone would show up, to give lunch, that I could ask to take my draft for the scissors to a black Smith.

I should be resting as a sick person. I should be more exhausted and in pain as a sick person. What was making me recover this quickly?

I still didn't feel like laying back down, so I decided to start drafting up the materials and equipment for proving everything I had written in the scrolls I gave the previous day.

Globally, micro-organisms, viruses, and bacteria were not really accept or proved until the late 1800's. Since Magi seems to take place some time around our 100AD-1300, and Yunan hinting at chemical compounds was seen as shocking by Yam, I knew that my bio scrolls were probably causing an uproar in the Black Libra Tower. I refused to use actual people or wait for an outbreak to prove it like how it happened in history -like how John Snow proved it when finding the cause of cholera outbreaks in 1848 and 1854 England. No, I needed to show how to prove these things in a lab, and to do that I was going to need to explain how to keep samples and invent a way to see microorganisms.

First was for a glass petri dish and other containers for samples. I'd need at least 3 -preferably more. I know glass works have been around since BC, and that this world had glass windows in some scenes, but I worried about the quality of the glass contaminating the experiments. I was going to have to boil them beforehand to sterilize them anyway.

Gosh I wish I had access to nonporous, air tight containers, and a temperature controlled environment. The heat and humidity of Sindria could easily mess everything up.

Wait... I suddenly remembered a scene from the Magnostadt arc when they showed how a sample was being stored. They already had good enough glass. I knew there were magic bio experiments but I had no idea how they worked.

With the realization that I was getting ahead myself, I switched to writing about how to use the scientific method to test for germs. It was basically the bread in a bag test to teach young children about germs but with petri dishes. I also wrote about how to analyze samples with a microscope to see micro organisms so I was going to have to figure that out next.

Lunch came as the perfect break.

Just thinking about reinventing this thing made me nervous. I knew magnifying glasses existed in ancient Rome, but they would be nothing like what I was used to. I had to explain how light moves and made multiple diagrams showing how concave and convex lenses affect light as well as the material of the lens. I ended up also showing how to make a telescope even though I knew Yam already had one.

Magicians were the only ones shown with glasses. Maybe now the rest of the world could have them too.

4 o'clock came and so did 3 doctors and a magician. It was less than yesterday, but still more than necessary to treat or analyze one person. I only recognized one of the doctors from the previous day. All of the new faces looked nervous. None of them looked young by any measure, so I really doubted this was their first time treating someone.

They weren't happy to see me at the table and made me return to my bed -their loss.

The doctor from the previous day was the one doing most of the talking. "Your recovery is amazing. You will most likely be better in another 3 days at this rate if not sooner. It's practically a miracle."

I smiled. "It's pretty shocking for me too." As long as I spoke quietly and kept my comments short, I found I could talk again for a bit.

The doctor was silent for a moment before changing the subject. "I know you need rest, but would you be willing to answer a few questions about those scrolls from yesterday?

The 3 other men looked expectant. This was why they were here.

"I don't mind as long as you don't make me talk too much."

Then came the question I was expecting since I had first made the scrolls. "I know you are a Prophet and the information came from your visions but is there any way you can prove what you wrote?"

I pointed to the table with the scroll I had started earlier. "I can't prove it with the current equipment I have, so I've been drafting up the needed equipment and processes for proving it."

They all turned to look at where I was pointing.

I added, "It's not done, but you're welcome to read what I have so far."

I was thanked as they went to the table they had called me away from when they entered.

'He called it 'visions?' Really?' I had to ask Sinbad later what he was telling his people about me so I could keep the story straight.

The magician confirmed for the others what I wrote about light bending. There was magic to do that, but not everyone is a magician. I had just invented a way for non-magicians to bend light.

Just wait until I show them a prism that can split light into colors. Or teach them how light is perceived in the eye. Or even better, show them the double slit experiment that proves that light is a particle not just a wave... Did they know light was a wave yet?

"Lady Prophet."

I was pulled out of my thoughts.

"You said this isn't finished and there is plenty of space in this scroll for more, but would you let us take this back to the tower so we can get started?"

I wanted to say 'no.' I was still coming up with things to add to it, but I also knew that holding things back because I wanted to save paper was a fool's game. Besides, I could always add more to it later.

I nodded and they thanked me before making me promise not to leave my bed. They were grateful for this new scroll but not at the expense of my health -they were doctors after all.

And then they left.

It was probably about 5pm if my internal clock was on schedule, so I had about an hour before the next ring of the Bell.

Even if I wasn't a man of my word, I would have lost the motivation to work with my current project taken from me while I was still in the middle of making it.

So, I did the thing I grew up doing when I was bedridden from illness: I looked out the window. From the bed I could only see the tops of the buildings on the other side of the courtyard. The Tower that was just poking in from the left had to be the Black Libra Tower.

The waves in Sindria were calmer yet stronger than those in Balbadd. It was probably due to Sinbad's influence. He brought stability and security to his people. I could understand why so many chose to follow him or ally with him. But I knew where all this would lead. As he obtains more power and influence he will stop being able to see himself from the pedestal that he and everyone else put him on; his greed will make him blind to the wants and needs of others, and like a middle aged parent that isn't ready for their child to leave the nest he will take out his frustration on the world that was moving on without him. When Sinbad dies at the end of the manga, Drakon realizes that they all put too much on Sinbad's shoulders.

To change Fate, I was going to have to make sure I never put him on that pedestal nor rely on him for much. And I was going to have to convince the 8 Generals to do the same -or at least to start pulling more of the weight.

The 6 o'clock Bell came faster than I expected, as well as my dinner not long after. They brought my clean laundry, a sleeping gown, and some other common clothes and things for my convenience.

I would have preferred something much shorter for the night gown since I hate having a lot of extra fabric around my legs when I already have blankets. I was not going to risk being walked in on by doctors or whoever when sleeping naked, so I would make do for now.

There was no way King Sinbad wasn't going to reward me for those scrolls. If it was some kind of treasure I'd sell it and buy a new wardrobe for myself that actually suited me, and if the reward was a request then I would ask that he pay for everything directly.

The light coming in my windows changed, and I watched my 2nd sunset in Sindria.

When Sinbad found this island 10 years ago, he completely terraformed it. He didn't get rid of all of the vegetation that was here, but he did break down one of the sides to allow for easier access by boat. The side he carved out faced northish towards all of the other known countries, so no boat would have a reason to circle the island. It was a decision that would benefit the merchants and make it easier to defend.

It also meant that my windows faced west, so I could watch the Sun set every day. I couldn't help but see that as a blessing and a curse. Sure not getting the sunrise meant I'd need to put more effort into

waking up in the morning but that wasn't the part I was worried about.

See- The thing is... I have synesthesia (having 2 or more senses overlapping). I see sounds, letters, and numbers as colors and textures. I have it mild enough that I can normally block it out so it's not too distracting (thank God because music is a main stim), but sometimes I'll hear something and get overwhelmed by how it looks.

Each letter and number is a color. So every voice can make every color, but language, pitch, tone, and accent all affect the colors and textures I see from a person's voice like a filter. There have definitely been some people that I struggled to give my full attention to when I first met them because I was entranced by how their voice looked. The more I hear a person's voice the more I'm able to move its visuals to the background so I can focus -desensitizing myself to it.

Luckily, Sinbad's voice is normally not so distracting that I stop paying attention. Since it's like a merger of every voice actor I've heard play him (All the characters I had met so far were like this.) I'm already desensitized. The similarities across all of the VAs meant that his voice looked like a sunset -full of deep purples and magentas, and bright reds, peach, and gold, and with a smooth and flowing texture like painting in acrylic with a wet brush -like a painting of the last moments of a sunset.

His voice was as pretty as he was.

I hadn't actually gotten to see or hear him for a whole day. But I'd get to look at his voice's equivalent every day while living under his protection.

It was frustrating to admit -I barely knew him as a real person- yet I couldn't deny that I missed him. I feel asleep watching the sun set.

((I wasn't going to write about my synesthesia, but this is my fanfic and I thought it might be fun to reference the colors peoples voices make when the characters talk. I'm not going to paint every VA and head cannon, but I will describe them as I go. Ja'far's Japanese and English VAs have voices that look very different so finding the middle ground is proving tricky.

Also, anyone who noticed that the purple I see in Sinbad's voice is the same as the purple I've been using for the illustrations and comics is super smart and cool.))

#magi prophet fanfic #magi fanfiction #magi fanfic #sinbad magi #king sinbad #magi sinbad

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wordsandshawn · 4 years

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Midnight Drive

Here’s some fluff that has been sitting half-finished in my drafts for what feels like forever. I really like how it turned out, so I hope you enjoy!

|| message me || masterlist ||

word count: 1.5k

The kind of tired you’ve experienced over the last six months since the twins were born is the type of tired you had never experienced before in your life. It’s the type of tired you didn’t think it was possible to feel. Pulling all-nighters to study for exams or staying up all night because of jet lag doesn’t even come close to the kind of exhaustion you feel now.

Shawn took the first few months off after the twins were born, but he went back on the road when the twins were three months old. You’ve spent time on and off with him on the road because you and Shawn agreed that you wanted to keep your family together as much as possible.

However, after a month on the road with the twins, you and Shawn decided together that it would best for you to return home and for him to finish out the next couple of months on his own. Traveling with the twins was more difficult than either of you imagined or could have predicted and it was taking its toll on both you and Shawn. With his attention divided between being a husband and father, helping you with the kids and also being a performer and putting on a show every night, it was affecting his performance in both areas.

So after a rough month of traveling that wasn’t good for anyone, you and the twins returned home to Toronto. Shawn has come back home as much as he possibly could in order to be with you and spend time with the babies, but it still feels like he’s rarely ever home. You have your family’s support and Shawn’s family’s as well, but everyone has their own lives and jobs, and you could never ask them to drop it all to help you with the babies.

You and Shawn have discussed the possibility of hiring a nanny, but you haven’t found the right person yet, meaning it has mostly been you and your twins for the past few months with the occassional visits from family members, and Shawn’s short breaks at home.

Its nearing one am, and both babies appear to be wide awake for a reason you can’t quite comprehend. Both have just eaten and had their diaper’s changed/ You’re exhausted, but the decision basically makes itself when neither baby appears to be going to sleep. You don’t want to wake up Shawn, since he just got home last night, and he has to be feeling pretty jetlagged and exhausted himself. Trying to keep them as quiet as possible, you strap both babies into their infant car seats, hushing them and quietly talking to them the entire time, hoping they’ll be tired enough to sleep soon. You’re almost out the door when Shawn comes padding down the stairs. He seems only half awake, but he must have woken up, noticed you weren’t in bed, and come searching for you. When he sees the babies in their carseats, he seems to be more alert.

“What’s going on?” He questions, rubbing his eyes then yawning.

“I’m taking them for a drive.” You respond.

“Now?” He questions, his eyes widening.

You just shrug, this isn’t the first middle of the night excursion the three of you have been on and you’re nearly certain it won’t be the last. Shawn knows that you sometimes take the twins out for drives when they’re fussy or won’t go to sleep because it’s one of the only things that actually calms them both down and almost always puts them right to sleep. He just didn’t know so much that you do it in the middle of the night like this.

“Yeah, they’re wide awake and I can’t get them both down at once. It’s easier to take a drive. I got it Shawn, go back to sleep.” You say, putting both carseats back on the ground before closing the space between you and Shawn to hug him briefly.

He hugs you back, but when he lets go, he doesn’t turn to walk back upstairs like you expected. Instead, he grabs the carseats, “I’ll take them, you go back to sleep.” He says determined.

“No, it’s okay, Shawn.” You try to argue.

He pauses for a second, the two of you, both tired just standing there at the foot of the stairs. “We can both go?” He offers, adding, “I’ll drive.”

The suggestion sounds nice, so you immediately agree. Five minutes later, Shawn is backing out of the garage, both babies safely strapped into their carseats, and you get comfortable in the passenger seat, admiring your husband and hoping the babies fall asleep soon.

Shawn turns the radio down so only soft sounds are coming through the speakers. The predictable movement of the car serves to not only lull the babies to sleep, but you find yourself dozing off as well.

You’re not sure how much time passes, but you open your eyes with the intention of checking on the babies and telling Shawn its time to head back home, when you notice Shawn turning into a parking lot of a fast food restaurant.

“What are you doing?” You question.

He startles a bit, not realizing you had woken up, before saying, “I thought you were sleeping.” He pulls the car into the drive-thru lane that has only one car in it. You can only assume it is full of drunk and/or high college kids since the University isn’t far from here. You remember when that was you and your friends, but it feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Remember when I first got my license.” Shawn reminisces.

A smile crosses your face remembering being sixteen, but it turns into a frown. “And then you left for LA the next day.” You respond.

Shawn smiles, shaking his head a bit. “Yeah, but when I got back. Do you remember that?” He persists, trying to jog your memory, to see if you still remember.

You can’t stop the smile that crosses your face. Of course you remember. “I don’t think my parents know about that to this day,” You shake your head at the thought of being a teenager and Shawn showing up at your house in the middle of the night because his flight got back late, after your curfew on a school night, so you weren’t supposed to see him until the next day.

It wsa close to one am when Shawn texted you saying he was outside, and he just really wanted to see you. Practically giddy with anticipation of finally getting to see your boyfriend again after two weeks, which felt like a lifetime back then, you snuck out, got into Shawn’s brand new jeep, and he took you through a drive-thru where he bought you french fries and ice cream.

The car in front of you moves forward, and you glance into the backseat to see your twins both fast asleep. Shawn rolls down his window and orders a large fries and two ice cream cones. He asks for an extra cup on the side knowing about your strange way of eating ice cream, and then he turns to you, asking, “Do you want anything else?”

You shake your head and he turns back to the screen, “That’s it. Thank you.” He tells the cashier. She lets him know the total, and he starts driving forward, pulling his wallet from his pocket.

After Shawn pulls out of the drive thru, the bag with the fries in the console between you two, and you holding the two icecream cones, he parks the car in the parking lot on the side of the building. Both you and Shawn know that you could easily go back to the home you now share, with no threat of waiting parents to bust you for breaking curfew or to tell Shawn to go home, but instead, the two of you sit in the car, your two babies fast asleep in the backseat, reliving what had become your tradition back in high school whenever Shawn returned home from a trip.

Once you got older and had more freedom, you stopped sneaking out to see Shawn in the middle of the night. And for the past few years, you only had to roll over in bed to be closer to him. You don’t even remember the last time you did this. It was definitely long before the twins were born, maybe even before you got married.

Shawn hands you a spoon from the bag with the fries and you take it, moving some of the ice cream from the cone into the cup and then eating from the cone. Shawn just shakes his head a bit at your weird habit, but he still smiles. You and Shawn eat the ice cream and fries, quietly talking so you won’t wake up the kids. So much has changed since the two of you used to do this together, but you’re still every bit as in love with Shawn now as you were back them when you’d risk being grounded for breaking curfew if it meant you got a few stolen moments together.

#ive been kind of obsessed with dad!Shawn lately if you havent noticed #I dont know why #Shawn mendes #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Peter Raul Mendes #Shawn Mendes blurb

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lady-wallace · 3 years

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Whumptober Day 29: JJBA

Here’s some overworked Rohan for today’s prompt

~~~~~~~

Day 29: All Work and No Play

Prompts Used: overworked

Fandom: JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure: Part 4

Character: Rohan

~~~~~~~

Read on Ao3

Read on FF.net

You can also find me on:

Instagram or if you’re enjoying my fics this month, consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi (I also do commissions!)

~~~~~~~

Rohan had a very bad habit of working to excess. At least, that was how other people tended to see it—not him. He considered it a virtue to add to his talents. It was a lot of work plotting manga, making sure the story-lines would work, and then drafting, writing scripts, and finally drawing the official pages. He would often finish weeks in advance so he could take time to research and travel or work on other one-shots.

The fact was, Rohan liked to be busy. He had never been fond of sitting around doing nothing. If it looked like he was doing nothing, it was because he was contemplating plots, often muttering to himself, even in public, trying to figure out where to go with the next arc of Pink Dark Boy. Boredom was the only thing that really scared Rohan. He didn't like to be left alone with his and only his thoughts, trying to poke at childhood traumas he would rather not recall in detail.

That certainly didn't mean he never overworked himself though, and sometimes, even Kishibe Rohan bit off more than he could chew.

Like needing to finish up five chapters of Pink Dark Boy in a week in order to have enough time to finish a one-shot (for a special edition that would be in full color on top of that) and then the publisher had also asked him to do the cover for the month so he had that on top of everything else.

His desk was completely covered, the script for both his manga and one-shot sitting in semi-neat piles, the thumbnails for the cover set to one side where a large Bristol board sat for him to start working on as soon as he was ready for that. As soon as he finished up the pages for the chapter he was working on. After this one, only three more to go.

Rohan's hands were covered in ink; he was starting to feel an annoying cramp in his thumb and wrist, which he ignored. He had been working since early that morning and it was nearly night and—when was the last time he had eaten?

It didn't matter, just one more page to go…

The phone rang and he almost didn't pick it up but when the message machine started playing and he heard the voice of his editor, Rohan growled and grabbed it.

"What?" he demanded.

One of the other mangakas featured in the monthly bind-up had injured their hand and would be going on hiatus. Did Rohan have another chapter ready so they could insert an extra one instead?

Of course he had one ready. However, that meant he would have to do one more chapter for his own backlog.

Rohan grunted in annoyance as he slammed the phone back in the cradle. Rubbing his eyes. They were feeling quite dry and strained. He would make more coffee perhaps. He would pull an all-nighter. He was quite used to those and there was no problem at all. He would get his work done like he always did.

He pulled out the second chapter for the week and started doing the lettering.

It was a monumental task to some, yes, but he was Kishibe Rohan. He would get it done if it killed him.

XXX

The next time he looked at the clock it was around eleven the next morning. His hand felt swollen. His eyes heavy, and yet, there were deadlines he had to meet. His editor was expecting the first draft of his one-shot that day, and he had only just started to work on that.

His back ached, but he just shifted in his seat. He should probably break to eat at some point, his hand was starting to shake too. Annoying thing being human, sometimes. After he finished the thumbnails for the one-shot he would take a break for lunch. And maybe a nap later if he had the time.

Otherwise, he would just grit his teeth and keep working no matter how much his hand cramped. It was only a little longer.

XXX

Josuke groaned as Koichi dragged him and Okuyasu toward Rohan's house on their way home from school.

"I don't see why you have to run errands for him," Josuke grumbled. "Is he paying you?"

"No, I'm doing it as a friend," Koichi said. "Rohan asked me to pick up some groceries yesterday. He's really busy working on multiple projects so he doesn't really have time."

"Whatever," Josuke sighed, stretching his arms over his head.

When they made it to the mangaka's house, Koichi rang the bell, but they got no answer. He knocked a couple seconds later, and Josuke was already getting impatient.

"Just leave it on the porch, he's probably not going to disturb himself enough to come to the door unless he's ready."

"Yeah, I gotta get home," Okuyasu added, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hold on just a second," Koichi pleaded and summoned Echoes. "I just want to let him know I got the stuff."

He sent his Stand up to the window on the second story where Rohan's office was and tapped on the glass. Josuke was already leaving the porch when he saw Koichi's eyes widen.

"Josuke! Okuyasu! I think something's wrong!"

"What do you mean?" Josuke asked with a sigh.

Koichi reached for the front door, finding it unlocked and hurried inside, throwing the groceries down by the door.

"Koichi!" Josuke said, having to follow now out of curiosity if nothing else.

Koichi ran up the stairs with the others behind him and when they got to Rohan's studio, Josuke finally saw what had gotten Koichi so worked up.

Rohan was lying on the ground, his chair tipped over, a pot of ink spilled across the floor beside him.

"Rohan!"

"What the hell?" Okuyasu asked as the three of them rushed forward, crouching around the mangaka.

Koichi checked his pulse. "He seems to just be unconscious, but…I wonder why?"

Josuke frowned. Rohan did seem to just be sleeping, his breathing was regular and everything, but he looked awful. His skin was pale—paler than usual since he never really went out into the sun—and he had bruise-like circles under his eyes. Looking around further, there was no evidence of anything but work. Papers strewn in what looked to be a haphazard manner and a copious amount of used coffee mugs but no food to be seen.

"If I were to guess, I'd say he overworked himself," Josuke said grimly.

"We should get him into bed," Koichi said and shook his shoulder. "Hey, Rohan? Rohan!"

The mangaka's eyes flickered open, giving all of them a little relief and he let out a soft groan. "Ko-Koichi? Did I….fall asleep?"

He started to push himself up and winced, pulling his right hand to his chest, cradling it. "Shit," he muttered before he swayed slightly.

Josuke and Okuyasu swooped in to help keep him upright. "Whoa, hold on, you look like crap, Rohan," Josuke told him honestly, no malice this time.

Rohan glowered at him. "You're one to talk. Help me up."

"Rohan, you need to rest, it looks like you passed out," Koichi said.

"I'm fine," the mangaka snapped but as he got to his feet, his wobbled, eyes rolling slightly, causing the others to have to grab hold of him again.

"I really think you should rest," Koichi said insistently. "How long have you been working?"

Rohan glanced at the clock and calendar. "What day is it?"

"Friday."

Rohan paled even further. "About…three days?"

"Without sleep?" Koichi demanded.

"I had work to finish, I don't have time for sleep," Rohan protested.

It did little good. The three teenagers practically carried him to his bedroom and installed him in the bed that looked like it hadn't been used for a while. After finding out Rohan had hardly eaten anything in about as long, Okuyasu hurried out to pick up something from Tonio's while Koichi found Rohan's brace for him to wear to help his wrist.

"Can't you fix this, Josuke?" the mangaka asked in annoyance.

"I don't know if I should," Josuke said, folding his arms. "At least not until you eat and get some decent rest."

Rohan ground his teeth at him, but slumped back against the pillows. "It's called work ethic. Not that I would expect you to know what that's like."

Josuke plopped down at the foot of the bed. "I know when to take a break to eat and sleep."

"I have too much to do, I can't sit in bed all day," Rohan protested, sounding desperate now. "I still haven't finished the thumbnails for my one-shot and they're due today! I have ten pages left!"

"Well, what if we help?" Koichi asked.

Rohan snorted. "You?"

"Yeah, they're just thumbnails, right? They just need to give an idea of what's going to go on the page and how to set it up."

Rohan narrowed his eyes, but Koichi was already heading into the studio and he came back a little while later with the previous pages, extra paper, and pencils. "We'll help."

When Okuyasu got back with some warm, hearty soup Tonio had sent for Rohan, they all sat on the bed and, per Rohan's instructions, took turns sketching out the thumbnails with varying degrees of artistic talent.

Rohan groaned tiredly as they finally finished the last page. "I cannot believe I'm actually sending this to my editor…"

"You met your deadline though!" Josuke said with a grin. "Just say you have some new assistants."

Rohan groaned again, throwing an arm over his eyes. "Let's not make a habit of this."

"Maybe you should worry about taking better care of yourself then, and we won't have to," Josuke told him.

Rohan snorted, but peeled his arm back enough to look at all of them with one eye. "I guess I have to say thank you."

Josuke grinned. "No problem."

Rohan sighed tiredly. "Just leave the envelope with the thumbnails on the porch with a note. My editor is used to picking up my stuff like that."

They nodded and got ready to leave, making sure there was food clearly left out in the kitchen for Rohan to find. He had been asleep before they left his bedroom, and Josuke, as promised, had Crazy Diamond heal his hand before he left.

He had a feeling that Rohan had hopefully learned his lesson.

#whumptober2021 #no.29 #all work and no play #overworked #jojos's bizarre adventure #diamond is unbreakable #fanfiction #rohan kishibe #jjba part 4 #josuke higashitaka #okuyasu #koichi hirose #tired rohan

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curious-menace · 3 years

Text

Rogues all nighter headcanons

i did my first night shift the other week (5 weeks ago at time of wring lmfao). it was actually really fun! i think i much prefer it to regular hours, especially since its only one day a week. it was quiet, i got a lot done and i didnt have to deal with many customers. i spent the time coming up with headcanons and some stories i wanted to write so i was wondering what all the rogues would do with an allnighter? why are they up so late anyway?

Penguin

penguin does a LOT of all nighters. in fact id say he does more nightshift stuff than dayshift. the lounge is a demanding mistress, he likes to be there to oversee things and he’s even been known to help out if theyre short staffed. i know he’s a fancy guy who likes luxuary but hes not above mucking in when needed. he can go all night if he’s just sitting in the managers room but if he’s helping out on the floor he needs a coffee every hour on the hour or he starts to get grumpy as shit.

twoface

as a rule, he doesnt anymore. when he was younger, taking the bar exam he’d have quite happily done an all nighter. whether it was partying or studying he could do it with no repercussions. nowdays he’s STAUNCHLY against it. mans in his 40′s if he sleeps funny once he’s got to turn his entire body to look at you for the rest of the week . hes not about to take a chance fucking up his sleeping pattern just because he wants to watch one more episode of antiques hunter on bbc1 . IF he’s staying up all night, its under duress. its gotta be because he’s in the asylum and someone is screaming or he’s been arested or because he’s pulling a job that can only be done at night. Harvey copes better than twoface without sleep but they both agree its a shit situation and refuse to do it again anytime soon.

ivy

the last time ivy pulled an allnighter was at college and shes not willing to do it again in a hurry. she doesnt sleep at night persay, she doesnt really need it. but she does like to lie in a hammock and doze or just listen to music with her eyes closed. night is a time for relaxing, she doesnt want to be up working late. If you made her stay up ,she gets hella grumpy by around 3am and usually starts chugging sugar water to keep her peppy.

Riddler

sleep schedule? don't know her. he just works until he passes out. maybe thats an all nighter, maybe its not. he doesnt know, his workshop doesnt even have a working clock. why is he up all night? work, cant sleep, forgot to sleep, take your pick. he’s kinda hyper, he lives off energy drinks, coffee and sheer determination. He has a lot of nightmares, so even if he DOES go to bed hes usually up again a few hours later. expect him to take powernaps in random places to keep himself going

Scarecrow

this lunatic is even worse than riddler. but, unlike ed, jon actually doesnt need that much sleep. pulling an allnighter isnt that out of the norm for him. He does drink a lot of coffee but honestly? i think fear toxin being a stimulant has left him permanently sort of buzzed. i doubt scarecrow could go back to a normal sleep pattern if he tried.

Harley

Ah. poor harl. she starts off so strong then crashes spectacularly like a led balloon around 2am. i dont think she’s even actually made it all night, even in her college days. she’s so peppy and full of energy during the day, she just never remembers to take it easy so she can last longer at night. the only reason i can imagine her being up is because of joker or ivy and even then she’s likely to fall asleep on the job at some point.

this was kinda dumb but i just wanted to get it out of my drafts instead of deleting it. its been half done for weeks, it seemed a shame to give up half way.

got something you wana talk about? send me an ask or a dm!💜💙💛🧡💚❤️

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dropsofletters · 4 years

Text

do i even know you?

title: do i even know you? pairing: im changkyun/reader genre: aspiring actors!au/scriptwriter!au/best friends!au/forbidden love!au summary: The idea comes to them after one of their classes, making them widen their eyes as they scurry to start the first draft of the movie of their dreams. Changkyun promises to her that if this movie ever airs for the world to see, they are going to take part on it and how ironic it is that he does get a role in it once the script is accepted, but she is suddenly erased from his life. Will Changkyun pick fame or friendship? type: angst/fluff/humor/romance word count: 22,689 disclaimer: this is part of my august special called ‘the anti-love club’. each story can be read individually, however, you’d be getting a little bit more of backstory along with some easter eggs if you read each of them, as well as helping me with support. the masterlist can be found here.

The most beautiful stories never happen.

As a recent graduate, she holds onto the words she heard at two in the afternoon once, cold coffee on one hand, a pencil on the other and when the professor said such words to a group of sophomores willing to give their lives out for the art of scriptwriting, she had to jot it down. Most people believe that, in some way or another, they have to pour their souls out into their writing—as if words are only meaningful when felt, but she wonders if when there is too much sentimentalism in a piece, it loses meaning.

The notebook that she used for that class now rests on top of her kitchen counter. Next to it, a recipe of lemon meringue pie reminds her that time has passed by, for she doesn’t even remember watching said recipe on YouTube. Whenever she has an idea, she likes to grasp that same old notebook and jot something down, in scribbled notes that will definitely be read in the future in complete confusion. She has never understood her handwriting when she’s rushing, and her mind just never connects with the feeling that once existed. Maybe, that’s what the professor was trying to say—that the best writers are the ones that can convey feelings that they haven’t gone through, while those who need to sense in order to inspire an idea will live with the doom of being detached from it with the passage of time.

Instead of trying to remember the good old times of being more youthful than today, she should really wake her friend up with a cup of coffee to continue the script that has been the cause of their issues for the past seven months. Or a year, because Changkyun was the one to speak the plot while in a drunken night, and she had been the sober one to make it into something bigger while he slept.

Changkyun is that one stain in her life, exact like the one on the counter, beside the notebook that she has now closed. He has always been there, sometimes faintly, sometimes strongly. In the bubblegum that once caressed her hair when she was thirteen thanks to a devilish smile from him, and the bob cut that followed soon after. In the days of high school in which they would write the worst of stories and make their theater club friends play them out for groups of people, nothing ever to big. In her university days, most of the time spent dating around, once even dating each other for the sake of not being alone, only to break up a week later. And now, in her room, limbs interlocked with her blanket as if hugging someone’s body, cheek squished to the plaid material and the curtains of his black hair make his closed eyes disappear from her eyesight.

Though, she could recognize Changkyun’s face anywhere, for the simplistic existence of him is just second nature to her. Even in the times in which he could have left, he stayed—and vice versa. A pull that brought the two of them together, like gravity, so strong that her mind liked to imagine that it could never be broken.

If she knows the kind of coffee he likes in the morning—more milk than coffee, mind him—, then she really has to have a grasp into the kind of person he is.

One smack of her hand against his thigh is enough to have him open one eye, only to stretch his legs, joints and bones cracking alike, before his feline-like eyes are closed again. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t move, and after an all-nighter of re-writing the last scene of their final draft for their script, she is not surprised that tiredness seems to cling to him in his comfortable clothing. Around midnight, something of the like of the number two, asleep had ridden her to forget about the existence of their beloved work, the one that they had put their entire hopes into. Changkyun, however, must have fallen asleep later.

Resting the coffee on the bedside table, her weight fell on top of his, horizontal when reaching for the curtains next to her bed. Pulling them open coats her with the image of a city that holds her dreams, and yet seems too small for them. After all, making it as a scriptwriter is already difficult, but paying the bills is even more so. The tall buildings seem too tiny for her daydreaming, but the groan under her is loud enough to ground her and tell her that she is still, very much, tied by the wrist to the one man that has been almost crucial to her life…and that, clearly, none of them have made it.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asks, voice empty and with no feelings behind them. The light of that professor’s eyes, Changkyun used to be. He feels, of course he does, his body count is enough to say that the man feels with his entire heart—and in the depths of those, she likes to believe the fan of conspiracies believes in love—, but he has always been intelligent enough to differentiate his craft from his everyday life. She doesn’t.

With one hand resting over his face for the purpose of annoying him when she puts weight on it to bring her body up and straight, she answers. “Waking you up.”

“Don’t, then.”

And with his two fire eyes sending a look of despair towards her, he brings the sheets up his face to dim the sunlight that she had gladly welcomed him to. “Changkyun, we really need to finish this script today. Tomorrow’s Monday and you know I have to work—” No response, that is what she receives, to the point her hand has to bring another harsh smack to his thigh. It rings, probably leaves a red mark behind with the way he pulls the blanket away from his face, a frown painted on his features.

“Of course I do, I work with you.”

She imagines it, then, conceives it from her reality as she always does. Two recent graduates from university that had, thanks to the power of unemployment, ended up as teachers in some high school for the dramatics and lovers of shitty musicals and TV shows. They are too young to be taken seriously, most of the time, and Changkyun loves that part of his job…but that is not what has been imagined by the two of them. Cheap costumes and Shakespeare lines are not less important things, but they are not her priority, much less her dream.

Every single morning since she was twelve, she has gotten to see Changkyun. Sometimes, she doesn’t even realize he has grown up along with her. However, growing up in one thing—growing is another. As artists, scriptwriters to be exact, they have gotten stuck. Perhaps, their ideas are not enough for consideration, or the industry is closed enough to leave them out, but each morning that she gets to see him…to work with him, she knows that they deserve better.

That, in reality, her professor was never wrong.

The most beautiful stories never happen…

But fuck, she will do anything to make their dreams come true.

Sitting down beside him, she really studies him. Changkyun has his eyes closed again, the black strands of his hair a bit lengthy, the shadow of some facial hair appearing if she looks at him from close enough. His gray hoodie has a mark on it, perhaps saliva if she is judging him from well-earned knowledge, and his hand reaches out for her. It rests on her knee, weights that part of her down to remind her that no matter how many times they argue, they will always be together.

That’s the promise life brought to them.

“If you want to keep working as a theater teacher for the rest of your life, go ahead, keep sleeping, but you know that Kwon told us that he has some connections to have our script reviewed by very important people so—help me finish it?” Kwon is more of a friend of Changkyun’s than he is hers. Older than them by a few years but not wiser, the man still keeps believing that he is nineteen even when he is nearing his thirties, but his party-going ways has led Kwon to have a name in the industry, albeit important. Less of a scriptwriter and more of a costume designer, it wouldn’t surprise her if he ends up working internationally in a few years from now.

Changkyun finally opens his eyes, pointing at the tablet on top of her bedside table, near the coffee cup that must be getting cold by now. “Finished it, now let me sleep.”

Her heart feels as if it has momentarily stopped. “Finished it? What do you mean?”

“That I finished it.” Changkyun’s deep voice gets rough, the lack of water getting to his throat when he takes matters into his own hands and picks up the tablet before giving it to her. “It’s in our shared document. I finished it at five…I don’t know, six in the morning?”

With fear, as if the world is too fragile for her astoundingly strong hands, she lets herself unlock his tablet and look through the document. Through the cracks of the screen, all caused by the disaster that is Changkyun, she reads the art that he has crafted. The scenery, the dialogue, the description, all powerful, spoken into existence for the characters that have been brought to life by them. Every breath taken by the main characters is harsher than the last one, stronger, leaving her speechless with every sentence given, every line that finishes it off with a bow and a twist that fits perfectly.

When she looks at him, Changkyun has one arm splayed on top of his eyes. His other hand still rests on top of her knee, though the fingers hold her looser, as if he’s off and very close to arriving to dreamland. Tired, perhaps too much so, she realizes that this idea that had been begun by him could have only been finished by Changkyun. He has always been a better writer, she repeats as a mantra, but he begs to differ. If anything, Changkyun defends it as saying that he simply sees the picture with other lenses and the different perspectives created something out of a movie. Something worth of being turned into a movie.

“Kyun…” She says, only hearing a faint hum from her best friend. Almost as if she is back to the days in which they were both teenagers, she launches herself into his arms. Her head looks for leverage on his bony shoulder, lips pressed into a tight smile the more she feels the warmth of him. Somewhere on the bed, the tablet blinks for her attention, and Changkyun can barely place his other hand on top of her back when she speaks again. “How the fuck did you even get that idea? You wrote such a beautiful ending—”

“Ah, you were sleeping and I was listening to music and it just popped inside my mind.” Changkyun says, seriousness in his voice when her hair cascades around his face, pulling her body away from his to look at him, their ribs connected while she remains seated on the bed, but still caging him into the mattress. “You like it?”

“I think—whew, I’m just surprised!” She speaks in a louder tone, realizing that a lazy smile has appeared over his face. His mouth parts the slightest and it wouldn’t surprise her if he’s breathing through his mouth, typical of him. “Changkyun, I really could kiss you right now…if you were another person, that is.”

Changkyun quirks an eyebrow at that, soon after doubling in laughter. “We’ve been there.”

“When we were twenty.”

His shoulders, wrapped tightly in that hoodie with the unknown stain, shrug at her retaliation. “Not too long ago. You can’t make fun of it when we were both all in for it at that moment.”

Thinking back of that day, she can’t help but feel her toes curling, her spine shivering and her neck folding the slightest to stop the motion. “We lasted one week, that’s enough of a confirmation that we shouldn’t do it again.”

“Most likely.” Changkyun chuckles, sitting up on the bed before tossing the hoodie up his head, throwing it somewhere in her room. The white t-shirt underneath clings to his slim body as he moves through the place, knowing it as if it was his. A sense of nostalgia may not cling to him, but it does to her—recently, her thoughts have been invaded with the reality that she will have to move away from this shared apartment soon. To find a life that is more fitted for someone that is not in university, and hence, should probably follow the societal rules of living alone. “I’m going to go pee. Check for spelling errors if you want to.”

Her back touches the surface of her bed, looking at the document on the screen per his request. “On it.”

For a moment, perhaps seconds, words merge into their own momentum in front of her—she feels as though she is reliving this last scene again, saying her goodbyes to the characters that oh-so-pleasantly had been crafted by her best friend and herself. Nonetheless, the sound of Changkyun’s feet jumping against the thin wood of her flooring has her looking away and towards the door, not surprised to see her small, yet incredibly extroverted roommate.

Jiyoung is one of her closest friends, as well, companion of her life since university, the source of the music around her house, the one to sing at the top of her lungs and to constantly have her dyeing her hair, because Jiyoung can’t do it herself—or doesn’t want to—. Something about leaving Jiyoung behind to look for another home makes her heart ache, but her roommate remains ignorant to her advances. Instead, her liking of Changkyun has inflated into one big balloon the last few months.

If Changkyun is interested, he doesn’t show it.

So, that leaves her to believe he really is not interested.

Not to say the woman is not attractive. Jiyoung, now with a bob in a blond shade, is just too pushy for Changkyun’s liking. Hence, watching her standing in front of his best friend’s door with a glass in between her fingers must have given him the clear sign that she must have been eavesdropping to whatever they were saying. It wouldn’t surprise her one bit if that was the case.

“Changkyun—”

“Sorry, need to pee.” But behind the complexity of Changkyun, he likes to play ignorant more than he likes to play with a heart. Not outspoken enough to sit Jiyoung back on her seat and ask for some privacy, he scavenges away to the bathroom, leaving her roommate with a pout on her lips and said glass in between her fingers.

“Do you think I freaked him out?” Once, she nods and that is enough to have Jiyoung sighing and pressing one hand to her forehead. “I just wanted to listen to what you were saying.”

“Did you listen to us?”

“No. This didn’t work.” Almost exuding rage towards the glass on her hand, Jiyoung tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I’ll go make breakfast so I can make myself look better.”

Hiding a laugh on the depths of her throat, she nods once again. “Good idea.”

With one last turn on the balls of her feet, Jiyoung is away from her room, leaving her with an opened door, an annoyed sigh and a script to revise. Thankfully, the conclusion of such a prolonged project is enough to have her resting back on her bed and taking a sip of the cold coffee that must have been for Changkyun.

Her companion, the only person that artistically gets her, Im Changkyun.

###

For the past hour, she has been looking for one box in the colors of red and white. Enough to distract her in the party-obsessed crowd that she finds herself in, but also a way of fitting in that doesn’t get her out of her tracks. In between empty bottles of alcohol and people blowing smoke into her face, concentrating comes with difficulty, pushing through said bodies until her hand clutches the desired cigarettes and she is off to find her best friend, though an almost impossible task.

Not that she is much of a smoker, she has possibly had around four in the entirety of her life—to try them out and concentrate on something else when her anxiousness is up the roof. The taste is not the most tranquil one, the smoke does capture most of her attention, pushing it out in little rings that never come out as perfectly as Changkyun’s. Then again, a beginning is also an ending, and the first person to ever steal a cigarette from a party to try them out had been Changkyun, sharing it with her to have that first experience together, as well. One of many, and hopefully one in a million.

Once, she had taken the time to read some myths off of a book in the library in high school. She was bored, and it was around that time of her life in which reading came easier to her. In the back of her brain, she can remember saying that losing a friend is even worse than losing a partner, a soulmate, one’s life even. As if our hearts are tainted, deliberately looking for someone who is always there, something in a stronger presence, sometimes duller. Past kissing, past hugging, past presents…to be listened to intently and to listen with equal interest is more than anyone could ever hope for. And she has that.

Seated on the same place that she had left him in, near the entrance, his body dragged down until he is on the floor. No seats are left and the backyard of this big mansion smells like rotten egg and something of the like of puke, leaving them by the door with the need to have Kwon finally making some time for them. To spend time, however, she lets her weight rest back on his side, crossing one leg over the other to avoid flashing anyone and getting a good glimpse of Changkyun when he turns to look at her.

When she was twenty, she could have really fallen for him. Or not. She likes to believe that what happened was the best—them fearing and scurrying away from the possibility of being together and losing their friendship. Changkyun said that once everything became serious, it would be too difficult for them to keep it, and she had added that maybe, they were just curious to feel for the other, to kiss until their lips were sore and their hearts were aching for a break. Now, she realizes that there had been some kind of attraction in the past, a reason as to why Jiyoung wakes up earlier than usual to get ready when Changkyun comes by.

His black hair is pushed away from his face elegantly, a few strands out of place, matching the sweater that covers his body and causes a layer of sweat to rest on top of his forehead. He wipes it off, but the clothing may have been a bad option in such a packed party. Shoes scatter around him, around them to be exact, the walls bathed in the glow of lights that are far too artificial to settle well in her eyes and when she shows him the package of cigarettes, his lips quirk up in a recognizable smirk.

“Aren’t those the brand that we stole when we first smoked cigarettes?” Changkyun asks, his attention to detail often misunderstood—he remembers the most random of situations, just not anything special like dates or exact momentums that are more important for other people.

Back at the time, when they were seventeen, he had insisted on bleaching his hair and she remembers it because the image of Changkyun wearing a beanie on top of his hair to cover the disaster that he had made, even making some strands fall out in the process, can’t ever leave her brain. At the time, he had been better than her with smoking, even going as far as impressing the older kids with the rings he could blow into the thin air. On the other hand, the sound of her throat contracting when blowing the cigarette wrongly had been enough to dust her skin in embarrassing heat. “I thought it’d be fitting to have some cigarettes for good time’s sake, considering that you’re not balding now and we haven’t done this since we were seventeen.”

Changkyun rolls his eyes, perhaps mockingly, as he smacks his index finger on top of the closed box of cigarettes after opening it, the cig popping out at his motions. “So you can choke again, homie?”

“Don’t homie me.” Watching as Changkyun reaches for the lighter that she had almost managed to snatch away, the flames take over the cigarette in between his lips. The smell is horrid, and part of her wonders why she even wanted to craft that memory back to life, but watching him is more of a sight. His thin lips almost shyly wrap around it, taking his index and middle finger to push the cigarette away. “Come on, do the little rings.”

He lifts a finger from his free hand up in the air, putting his lips into an ‘o’ shape and almost as if he had never stopped smoking, he blows four rings into the air, dissipating into the crowd of people in front of them, not caring about their existence. In their little bubble, they are, when she cheers for him and Changkyun has to cough out the excess of smoke that he managed to swallow accidentally, only reacting when her fingers reach for the cigarette and puts it between her lips.

His eyes, windows to the soul, concentrate on her lips as they play with the cigarette, taking it away from her mouth before she could even let it burn the slightest. “You shouldn’t be smoking these.”

“It’s only one. I’m not getting addicted.” She replies, her chest coming in contact with his when she puckers her lips to reach for the cigarette, only to have him twisting it around and taking another drag himself. “Besides, I was the one that stole them.”

“You shouldn’t steal.”

“Well, I was bored.” Finally relenting, just when she rests her head on top of his shoulder to further accentuate her boredom, she feels his fingers slipping the cigarette in between her lips, grabbing it properly to have a taste. “It’s your fault that Kwon had us coming to this horrible, rich party just to check if he has gotten out script.”

But Changkyun is deep in his thoughts, as if the lights in front of them, the smell of beer and cocktails, the people dancing are the ones trancing him. He doesn’t pay attention to the smoke that appears in his line of sight, not when he lets out a fragile smile appear on his face. “I don’t think it’s a horrible rich party.”

“Why?”

“They have money.”

“Yeah, and?”

“That’s all everyone needs, right?” Changkyun asks, perhaps a bit lost in the way he raises his eyebrows, looking into her eyes for the briefest second when he voices out something so…volatile. In a way, she knows that money is important, but even thinking about the weight of it makes her sick in the stomach. Another difference of theirs—she escapes, while he roams the world to look for his one light. She looks at the city from far away, wishing to have a bigger dream, while Changkyun makes himself silently known in between the buildings. “And wants, actually. If we had money, we wouldn’t be teaching a bunch of teenagers how to be or not to be. We’d be…I don’t know, you remember how Matt Damon and Ben Affleck were back in the day? Like the closest of friends but rich? We’d be that.”

She pushes the cigarette towards his lips, as if to shut him up for a second, and she tells him the truth from up close. “I’m happy with being your friend, no matter how much we earn or how famous we are. We may not be famous celebrity friends, but we’re amazing friends.”

And then, she switches her mind. Part of her begs for him to say something, to agree that there is nothing more than there shall be needed in between the two than relishing over memories and creating new ones, than knowing each other to the core. Instead, Changkyun hums, taking the cigarette from his lips and looking at it. “You’re doing it wrong.”

“…Life? Yeah, I know.”

With laughter from him relishing his lack of response to her previous statement, Changkyun shakes his head. “No. Smoking. You blow the smoke out too fast; you’ll never get to do the rings if you just spit everything out.”

“Teach me.” Fixing her posture, she twists until her legs are interlocked with his, watching as he takes the cigarette once again and like second nature, blows out three smoke.

“Put your lips up, like blowing a kiss, but control the air you’re letting out. In little spurts, you know?”

She doesn’t. Not when she gets to see Changkyun from up close and realize that there are angels in him, singing choirs, making it dangerous to get too close…but knowing that he’s the same man she has always known. Her friend. Growing up doesn’t mean he has changed, but uniting the past and the present made her realize that, in most occasions, there is never a future. The finalization of their script taught her that there will always be a perfect ending, and beginning to think of hers—hers alongside Changkyun’s, has a knot forming on her throat, not distinguished by the man that laughs when she, once again, can’t blow rings into the air.

To control his laughter, she says: “Shut up, you’d look hotter doing that little trick of yours if you had a lip ring, but you look dumb now.”

Pushing the cigarette onto the floor to dull its flame down and extinguish it, Changkyun replies: “At least, I get to do the party trick.”

“…You don’t have to be a dick about it.”

“I’m not!” He adds, grinning widely when he takes the package of cigarettes and tosses it somewhere on the dance floor. “Now, let’s pretend you never stole anything now that you had your fun.”

“Now that you got to make fun of me?”

“That, too.”

With light following after him, as well as a lover for the night, a particularly known head of brown hair appears in front of her. Long strands, a bit wavy at the edges, only pushed back by the fashionable pink sunglasses that are doing nothing to conceive the blessed-out look on his eyes. Kwon is a sight to see, someone that is made for fashion and has conceptualized it. The pristine red shirt with some buttons opened, paired with some nicely shaped pants already make him the highlight of the night, taking her by the hand to have her up her feet and away from Changkyun.

“Guys, you don’t have to sit on the floor. Come on, you’re my friends!” But this elongated slur on Kwon’s tone just lets her know that he has been drinking too much, and while she welcomes the hug by the shoulders that he gives her, his lover of the night doesn’t seem equally pleased.

Changkyun dusts the back of his jeans before speaking up. “Sorry, the backyard just smelled like shit and we decided to stay here.”

“As per usual. These parties get crazy.”

The interest on the situation perks up when she realizes that Kwon is in front of her. Growing rich Kwon, who has been an excellent friend to the two of them—more to Changkyun than her—but his pleasant personality is only the cause of a million questions inside her head. “Changkyun told me this is your mansion now. You’ve really made it big, huh?”

“My boyfriend helped me find it,” Kwon says, not caring that someone is holding onto his arm at that moment, or that he takes a sip of his beer right after he says it. “You know, he gave me all this to shut me up. It worked.” Yet, the laughter that leaves his lips sounds a bit strained. This fear of richness has always existed within her, and it may come from a place of deep, rooted jealousy that she has never explored in her, but fame, money and having everything in life is just too much for some people. Too strained, too fake, surrounded by people who rarely cared about them…and knowing about that destroys whoever is in that position, too.

“I like it!” She says, trying to change the subject, placing her arms over her chest just in time to have Kwon nodding at her words.

“Just like how I like your dress. Is it thrifted?”

In such a place, it may be a sin to say what she just did. “It is!”

“I like the whole putting a shirt under the dress situation. Makes it look more fashionable.” Kwon explains, swatting his companion’s hand away and wrapping his arms around Changkyun’s and her shoulders, the smell of alcohol dense in the air. It worries her, for no matter how close or not close Kwon is to her, he means a lot to Changkyun. His innocent face, rounded, going together with his pair of twinkling brown eyes and huge grin, has now transformed into something more somber. The typical smirk, a dark glance, and a tinge of pain beneath those eyelids. “How have you two been? Changkyun, you’ve been taking care of her, I imagine.”

“…Of each other, I guess. We’re always together.” Changkyun explains, walking towards the main hallway, much quieter than the rest of the mansion. “By the way, did you read our script?”

“Twice.” And that excitement that characterizes Kwon reappears, letting go of them to grasp his own hands together. “Couldn’t expect anything less from you guys!”

“So?” She asks, biting down on her bottom lip out of pure curiosity, only to have Kwon looking at her.

“I’ve sent the script to some of my friends. Connections, you know, I’d do anything for two of my real friends.” The pain behind that statement is brushed off by the man who says it, but she can’t help but stare at him in awe. How she wishes she could talk to him once sober, and make him feel as though he is more worthy than he lets himself on. Some stars lose their light, dulled in the skies and losing themselves in their darkness, and Kwon is one of them. “But it may take a while. Three months minimum. You know how big producers are, much more if they are companies, but I’m doing my best here.”

“That’s more than we could ask for.” Changkyun speaks, already patting Kwon’s back. “Man, thanks for helping us out!”

“I want to be in the speech when you win an award, that’s all I ask for.” Kwon says, stopping on his tracks. “And a drink, you guys want one?”

“How about…some tea? Just so you can unwind…and not get drunker.” She replies, a chuckle to her tone to seem more amicable, and the way Kwon smiled at them breathed all senses of hope out.

“I haven’t had tea in so long. Sure!”

Because Kwon may have earned a million friends, but none of them cared as much as a real one did. As much as she cared for Changkyun, and vice versa, the reason as to why she believes that it is harder to find a friend than for it to rain in hell.

And it may be hell for her to live without her best friend.

###

“You know that one movie with the pants and the girls?”

Changkyun lifts his eyebrows from his position on the couch, legs too parted in the cramped space, her knees pressed to her chest, heartbeat unmatched to the crickets making their noises outside. The wind blows on the window obnoxiously, far too old for it to stand upright with the commotion, trembling under its weight before falling silent and repeating again. However, her mind is off to one of those corners of her brain that goes unexplored, only opened when around Changkyun—the only person that brings a sense of comfort that only comes with the candidness of her favorite denim jacket.

His eyes don’t divert from the screen, instead speaking with that patience that characterizes him. “You have to be more specific,” But lastly, he decides to look at her. His face turns to her, eyes inspecting her quiet stance the more she tries to think about that one movie…now roaming her brain with images of watching it on a girl’s night with some friends that are no longer in her life. Nostalgia, what a curse for her, a lover of vintage things and then, some. “I am sure that almost every woman in movies wears pants. Unless we are talking about…I don’t know, The Little Mermaid? I doubt she wears pants, but that’s because she is not a woman but a mermaid instead.”

“You know the one!” She tells him, her fingers absentmindedly reaching for his arm, touching the taut and delicate skin there before tugging at him. “The one with the friends…and they have these pants that represent their friendship—”

“What?” Changkyun asks in a whisper. “What kind of movies are you watching?”

“I’ve watched it a long time ago, but it has come to me that maybe our friendship would be stronger—”

“With a pair of pants?”

“Jeans, to be exact.”

“…Don’t.” Changkyun has lifted his voice to an amused tone now, laughing to his heart’s content. Sometimes, she wonders why she is so sensitive to sound—the reason as to why she enjoys (and fears) horror movies a lot more than the normal person. Her ears can pick out the noise of him perfectly well, the ruffling of the fabric of his shirt, the sigh that barely leaves his lips as he rests his head on top of hers and gently lowers down her face to his shoulder. The spot that she normally takes. “We don’t need fucking jeans to strengthen our friendship. There’s nothing to strengthen there.”

But, perhaps, this is just the rom-com equivalent of a best friend—and while those friendships last a lifetime, and include memories of looking for that one love affair for the main character. Only that she is not worthy of being any movie’s main character, and this is reality that she is talking about. The harsh one that reminds her that there is a world of badness outside those windows, in streets and in houses alike. “Don’t you…? I want to word this correctly…” She says, pulling away from him to look towards the ceiling. “Don’t you wonder if we’re…going to be friends forever?”

“I never think that far ahead,” Changkyun says. “That’s one of the reasons why I haven’t even given Jiyoung the time of the day.”

At the sound of her roommate’s name, she perks up. Jiyoung had proclaimed to be out for the night to run some errands, and by errands it must be that she has gotten tired of chasing around Changkyun and to ease the stress of not being paid attention to, a man had fallen into the traps of her perfectly manicured nails. “Ah, she’s only like that with you. Feel honored that you have an almost sex goddess right behind you.”

“It’s not pretty when she’s eavesdropping on every conversation we have or when…when she tries to become this image of the typical girl anyone thinks I’d like.” Changkyun confesses…and those are the moments in which the wind almost whispers to her that Changkyun has standards. That slim, somewhat pensive, sometimes intelligent and unknowingly funny man has thought about real love, or at least, has made an image of it inside his head. “To answer your question, though—”

“Please, do.”

“If I had to think that far ahead, like me…all wrinkly…on the verge of dying…one of the people I’d see right beside me is you.” One would think that there is a hidden meaning behind his statement, that Changkyun laughing at his words soon after makes it lose its sincerity, but the image is so clear in her head that she cannot imagine it not happening. Not with hands interlocked, not with a band around her finger, but chuckling to her heart’s content at the mere presence of him. Dreaming of the youth they had once lived, and not regretting it once. That is the real future she expects to have.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t think the same thing.” She answers, placing one hand over his thigh when she goes stand up. For a moment, when she looks over her shoulder, his smile pulls her in. In moments like these is when irrational ideas make sense inside her head, like the one time in the midst of a conversation, they had opted to date. Something about Changkyun would always tell her to take a sip of life and let it simmer in her mouth, to breathe and relish in the feeling of having a new day to exist…and one new day with him. “I can imagine you as an old man. The one uncle that tells you about how he always knew about the existence of aliens.”

The infamous part of their friendship is that she knows him and that knowledge comes with the hindsight of feeling Changkyun trailing right behind her, just like she expected, when moving towards the kitchen. Jiyoung must have left some of her chicken leftovers somewhere for them to enjoy. “Let’s be honest.”

“Sure.”

“Aliens do exist.”

“They do.” She utters, hands already reaching for the refrigerator for something to pair up with cereal, for the leftovers are not in her line of sight, when the coldness of it all makes her feel…small. In a world in which she is simply one woman and her friend. Two people, two souls, only the two of them. For the longest time, she had wondered if there were friendships that felt as substantial as the one that has lasted her since the early days of her youth, and the answer is always inconclusive. Not a lot of friendships reminisce the most meticulous of things—she remembers the first meal they shared together, bowls of rice made by themselves, and still remembers the nights in which the conspiracies of the world were more interesting than homework. “I could be one, and you wouldn’t have known. Aliens are clearly more intelligent than us.”

Seated by the counter, waiting for his own serve of food, Changkyun answers: “That’s the reason why you’re not one.”

“Are you calling me dumb?”

A glint on his eyes and a shake of his head are the answers she gets: “Maybe.”

The sugary treat enters her mouth thanks to her spoon, not concentrating on the taste when she speaks with her mouth full. “I’m not that dumb.”

“We’re equally as dumb, I’d say.” Changkyun unites them in a sentence, almost as if their friendship was meant to be, leaning forward until his mouth diverts another spoonful from her cereal to his lips, only chuckling when her hand comes in contact with his shoulder. “Hey, I’m joking. Are you unable to take a joke?”

Before she could respond to him, the sound of her phone ringing has her perking up. A pointed glare towards him does nothing to push him away from her meal, instead opening his mouth to take another spoonful. Struts are what bring her closer to her phone, catching one glimpse of the contact name before leaning against the counter swiftly. “Kwon, how are you doing?”

The pop of the man’s lips is the first answer she gets. “Much better now that I get to hear your voice. Haven’t heard that sincerity in a while.”

“Three months, you say?”

“You haven’t visited me.”

“Been busy.”

“With your students, I’m guessing.”

“Entirely. Also, with finding an apartment, I’m trying to move out soon…and grow up, you know?”

“Please, don’t.” Kwon adds in between a chuckle, perhaps leaning his head back, the sourness of his voice mixed with alcohol. “Growing up is not a nice thing.”

“I know,” She conquers, voice softened at the edges when she looks at Changkyun. Once smaller, shorter, much more innocent, with his eyes looking for the art in the shape of movies—for wanting to create stories of universes he has yet to explore. Given the chance of sharing a snippet of Changkyun’s mind, she could not be more thankful of meeting him. “How’s your boyfriend?”

“Ex?” Kwon asks, a tilt to his voice and then, the movement of curtains being drawn open captured her attention. “Forgotten. I’m in Paris, living the life of a single man in the city of love.”

Music blurs in the background, far too distant for her to catch when a smile spreads through her features. “I see, better lonely than with a bad man.”

“Exactly.” Kwon breathes out before chuckling to himself. “But that’s not why I’m calling. I actually have a reason to bother you.”

Taking the spoon from Changkyun’s fingertips, she takes a bite and lets the crunch fill the air as she speaks. “You don’t bother me…or us, really! Changkyun is right beside me, stealing my food.” The man in question sends a screamed greeting over the phone, warmth brought to her chest when she imagined reuniting—the three of them—in a place in which there weren’t as many people, in which conversations could take place better than at a party.

“Put me on speaker, I have huge news for you.” Back when she was younger, she had learned how to not get excited. Her heart is not beating rapidly, imagining that Kwon is going to talk about one of his rendezvouses while in Paris, but Changkyun’s face is glued to the phone, eyebrows furrowed when listening intently. “I got a few replies for your script, actually. Mostly no’s, and three yes’s.” Kwon indicates, her eyes widening at the image of producers—out of the best places in the world—thinking of their project as worthy of a positive answer. “So, I kept going. I reunited with a few of these people and I got you a contract with the best of the trio, and the one that gives you the most money, as well. They are in love with your work and would wish to meet you to go over the contract with their lawyers and the lawyers I’ve contracted for you.”

The generous soul of Kwon is the least of her worries when images flash through her eyes. Getting out of a limousine with Changkyun right behind her, cameras flashing, the posters on the red carpet showing the pictures of their film—theirs, crafted by their own two hands, actors and actresses in love with the film, the reviews coming in whether negative or positive. Reviews, nonetheless. This is what makes her let the phone rest on the table, soon after expanding her hands to cage Changkyun in a hug that is welcomed by him immediately, hands settling on her waist when he leans her back—enough to be considered a tango when her lips part in delight and let out the biggest of cackles, almost smiling at life and the beauty of it.

Changkyun is equally as excited, thanking Kwon from the top of his lungs as he twirls her around on the kitchen and it is the most beautiful of moments when her hair is tousled, his chest is heaving and Kwon is speaking in the background, the two friends staring at each other’s eyes. Two worlds that are now part of the huge universe of future stardom. “I’m so happy that you two are getting this opportunity.”

“It’s all thanks to you, man!” Changkyun speaks in his deep voice, moving over to where the phone is resting before laughing to himself. “Oh fuck, you really did not disappoint us one bit.”

“Wait until you see how much you’re getting paid and how in love they are with this film. They couldn’t believe they were written by two theater teachers.”

“They better believe now.” She replies, looking to the side to see Changkyun already staring at her, whispering in a low, almost unbelievable tone.

“We will make it.”

The word ‘we’ holds so much weight, two people united to the end of the world…but one will always be left alone.

We will make it, he says, and she chooses to believe that is the truth.

###

Her head is tilted down, chin resting on the crook of her elbows, both arms spread on top of the table as she stares at the other groups of people. Quite a lazy, yet somewhat childish, pose…but waiting for Changkyun always comes with its downsides. For one, he is late to this ever-so-awaited dinner they planned to have the night before they meet with the people that want to take their script to the big screen, and secondly, she can’t text him more times without getting blocked on the end. Intense, she is, and Changkyun is still very much late.

The restaurant is not quite as expressively elegant as one would believe. If anything, the cheering of children, the cackles of couples and that one alone costumer that is too occupied on their phone feels far too homely. She has been there before with Changkyun, plenty of times, sometimes deciding on something like a pizza, other times thinking that the biggest dish on the menu is their way to go. Adventures spoken in between food, she’d like to call it, and it is such an excellent contrast to be there to celebrate other than, obviously, eat. To worship the idea of finally getting to be just like the people they used to look up at when younger.

A woodened wall that covers half of her body is what separates her from the main area, instead opting for the one that carries most of the drinkers of this bar-restaurant. A man is shouting about the game that she couldn’t care less about, but with the boredom clinging up to her, she decides to rank the soccer players from most handsome to least. Something about athletes has always caught up to her, after all.

Her body perks up at the weight of someone’s lips pressing to the top of her head, turning around to scream at whoever has decided to break this barrier of personal space. However, Changkyun’s arm is already wrapped around her shoulder, their friendship bracelet caressing her shoulder. His reads the first two digits of the year in which they met, while hers has the last two. The white fabric of his t-shirt covers her vision until she decides to lift her gaze, watching his eyes from under the cap over his black hair, an apology in them.

“Sorry, I was getting ready.”

“I can tell,” She says, staring into his eyes before taking the fabric of his shirt in between two fingers and sniffing it. “You smell like you are a walking deodorant. Did you really want to get that dolled up just for me?” The teasing tone of her voice earns her a laugh from him, sitting across from her to take the menu from between her fingertips.

“One of the waitresses here is hot,” Changkyun starts, pointing with his shoulder to his left and indeed, there is someone right there that is—at the very least—a ten on his mental scale. A bit over six feet, the over-the-knees socks looking good on her, displaying the same soccer t-shirt as the men on the game and the ones screaming for them, long hair touching the edge of her shorts. “Do I really smell that strong? I think ladies like it when a guy smells like this.”

“We do,” She says, pushing her weight forward to squint at him. “Rapunzel over there is such your type. You really don’t change.”

“Ah, you know I don’t have a type—” Changkyun has already put the menu down, calling a waiter over and with a raise of his hand they order two individual pizzas, never able to share one without fighting for the last piece.

“You’re what I like to call the ‘book example of a guy’.”

With a cackle, he takes a sip of the Coca Cola he ordered ahead. “How so?”

Crossing her arms over her chest, she spares another glance to the long-haired waitress. “She’s so attractive, for one. Two, you’re a legs guy—and she’s got some pretty strong pair, I may ask for her leg workout.” There is a bit of comedy in her tone, wanting to ease the night as something to enjoy. Two friends having conversations that are not rare for them. “And you have this thing for the ‘two sides of the coin’ girls. That can give you both the innocent look but with some spice.”

“Those are all pretty general things!” Always one to defend his point of view, Changkyun stared at the TV screen and almost like he read her thoughts from earlier, he says: “I’m sure you’ve checked out one of those soccer players.”

“I did,” She admits, shrugging her shoulders before quirking an eyebrow. “But since I’m so secretive about everything, I doubt you’d know which one I liked the most.”

Changkyun continues watching the game for a while longer, his ring-cladded fingers playing with the edge of his bottle of soda, the perspiration clinging to the skin and reddening it when his mind is made up in about a minute. “Son Heungmin.”

Much more knowledgeable on the sport than her, the name rolls off his tongue easily and she has to look over her shoulder to catch a glimpse or repetition from the goal he just scored. And indeed, shown in the screen in high definition is the man that she had deemed as attractive earlier, only studying his expression while playing, the layers of sweat on his face doing nothing to conceal the clear beauty of him. “Maybe…” But the way she bites on her bottom lip has Changkyun clapping his hands and pointing at her as he cackles.

“I knew it!”

“How?” Suddenly interested, she asks him. Changkyun leans back on his seat, quirking a smile up.

“Wouldn’t you wanna know, love?” He sings, only to have her kicking his shin from under the table.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“Changkyun—” Whining, she continues. “Please, I need to know how you guessed that.”

Relenting takes a few minutes and only after a lot of insistence and when the food gets to their table, Changkyun finally surrenders. His mouth is already muffled with a big bite of his pepperoni pizza when his theory is spoken into the easygoing air in between them. “I based it off something you once told me,” His cheeks are dusted in pink thanks to his laughter, his lips coated in grease while the cheese parts ways with his slice, chewy in just the way they like it. “He has good hair, and styles it exactly how you like it.”

Hair? She doesn’t recall ever talking about hair, frowning deeply when she shakes her head. “I never said that…when? What? I never said that!” That doesn’t mean it is not true. While it is not the first thing she notices, nor is it a deal breaker, she loves a good hairstyle on men.

“You so did, I remember.”

“When?” She whispers, trying to recall one of the drunken nights in which they would speak about various matters, but her thinking is cut to an end when Changkyun says—

“You said that once when we were dating.”

Oh, the one-week-trial that they had, of course it had been at that time. While recalling if Changkyun ever dolled his hair up that way while they were together, her mind makes out the image of a younger version of him laying by her side, her fingers trailing over his jaw and to his hair, gripping the thick strands that had been styled back, playing with the soft hairs that had slipped the hairdo and feeling the soft sigh that had left his lips at the time. Changkyun is one good of a kisser, but the memory comes to her because she doesn’t think she has ever seen Changkyun that dolled up around her since then. “Oh, right! We made out once because you had styled your hair like that.”

He shrugs, taking a bite of his pizza. “I got what I wanted, and ever since then I just knew that you loved hair like that. Without knowing, but you do.”

With a chuckle, she pours some sauce on top of her pizza, not putting it up to her lips until after she spoke. “You should style it like that more often.”

“So we can make out?”

“No! Gross!” But the tone of her voice is a bit too high. He may not have noticed it, neither does she think it is that important, because she knows that something like a relationship with Changkyun just wouldn’t end well. “Tomorrow you should do your hair like that. After all, we should be elegant when meeting these people…and we want to make the best impression.”

“That’s not a bad idea, actually.” He answers, pointing his chin towards the waitress. “Do you think she would like it?”

“I think she is way over your league.” She sarcastically adds, only to have Changkyun throwing one of the slices of pepperoni to her face.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes.” Changkyun finishes, only to have her doubling in laughter and throwing her head back.

Absentmindedly, she may have known that Changkyun was getting that number on the end…and that, of course, the waitress would send a smile his way in hopes of seeing him again. It is exactly what happens, the reason as to why she stands on the sides and watches him grow away from when they were twenty, from that one-week-trial that should not mean anything, and it never did.

###

This part of town is unknown to her, far too pretty to ever match her small neighborhood and her equally as tiny group of friends. The cars that pass by Changkyun’s seem to be fresh out of the shop, doors opened by buttons, the big wheels not once turning, looking as though they have not been used—ever. The houses, not to be spoken about, are on the hills far away. Mansions that are separated from each other, probably some pools to match the unnecessarily immense glassed windows. This is the way, Kwon said when giving them the address, but the more she nears the offices in which they are supposed to meet in, the more scared she feels.

Kwon would have made her feel more at ease, but the man beside her is equally as nervous, deep in thought and not once reciting the words to his favorite song of the month. Instead of paying attention to Changkyun, she plays with the edge of the skirt Jiyoung had given her. A sixties moment, she had called the flared skirt, dots on it scattering in delicate pieces, black and white to match the red of her shirt, snug to her body, long sleeved, paired with a necklace that screams faux. Probably a gift from some relative, if she can remember correctly.

It doesn’t feel better when getting out of Changkyun’s old Toyota, the sun touching their skins, the wind too strong as they move accordingly to the guide that they have been assigned. Buildings too tall, not differentiated by color but in a strong beige instead, almost caressing a shade of orange. The guide speaks and speaks, rambles too much and all she can think about is the expanse of the person in front of her, Changkyun, who had styled his hair exactly like that one night in their twenties, and while no romance was held in her heart, her hand extended to interlock with his.

Dropping his voice to a mere dance of his tongue, he speaks near her ear when she keeps up with his steps. “What’s going on?”

“I’m about to shit my pants.”

“Skirt.”

“Same thing,” She replies, selling a smile to the guide that looks over her shoulder to look at them. When opening one of the doors, her grip on Changkyun’s hand grows so strong that the rings on his fingers dig into her skin, breathing closely to his face, his lips parted when she says: “Don’t let go of my hand, please. I may pass out if I ruin this opportunity for us.”

And with the certainty of a man much older than him, Changkyun answers with a simple: “I won’t.”

These producers that Kwon had spoken about as the highest beings in the world are nothing but wolves, she realizes when she meets them. A screenwriter is there, as well as some director that she recognizes but Changkyun plays off as if he does, unknown to her best friend. The meeting room welcomes such few people in a big table, copies of the contracts given to the lawyers that had been waiting for them, and the lawyers of the company themselves. The host, the producer in this case, speaks with such mightiness, going over the most important parts that sound amazing. They sound as if they were taken out of a movie, quite literally.

Her hand is cramped, a bit sweaty, but still being held by Changkyun. Seated by her side with his black button down and some trousers, Changkyun has crossed one leg over the other and has let her own rest in between his thighs, near his knees. The contract is brought closer to his face, studying it with intent, while she tries to concentrate on her own. Instead, she looks at the director, then listens to the movies they mention, feeling as though her heart is about to burst with the excitement and awestruck of being given an opportunity.

Her own chance to shine—and not alone.

The producer, Byungho, stops in his tracks right in front of his seat, hands expanded over the black table when he points at the last part of the contract. “My lawyers can explain this last clause in further detail, but I personally asked for this one to be highlighted after Kwon gave me the pleasure of watching some of Changkyun’s performances from his days in university.”

Her best friend stops his ministrations, finally uncovering his face to the people at the table by lowering the contract down. His fingers untighten and had it not been for her, he would have let go of her hand when he leans forward and says a confused: “Pardon?”

“Kwon said you were an actor back in university, too. Never took it too seriously, but when I saw the talent you had—” Byungho stares at Changkyun dreamily, bills painted in his eyes to worship money. “I just knew you had the talent to be the main character of this movie.”

“Ah, Mr. Jo—”

One of the lawyers speaks then, a woman with a heavenly voice and a set of long lashes behind her glasses. “If I can further explain Mr. Jo’s intentions…he was not planning to originally have one of the scriptwriters as an actor, but Mr. Lee Kwon insisted. After watching the recordings, Mr. Jo concluded that it would be a revolution of the cinematography era to have one of the writers acting out the scene. Less complex, more understandable, raw and hardworking in a way. It’d be a story that magazines would love to talk about—give the press something to bite into and you can bet your movie will be a hit.”

At the presence of Changkyun’s silence, she speaks up for him. This opportunity shall not be dismissed, much less when Changkyun does have that talent for acting—one that he often only uses for one scene or another when preparing the theater students. “That idea sounds great. I think Changkyun could do justice to our troubled main character, as well as his features being able to fit into the physical portion of the character.”

“There is a catch, though.” The lawyer says, standing up and rounding the table, her arm resting under her crooked elbow. “It would be unbeneficial to this plan for us to just say…Changkyun and his friend wrote the script, because we’re looking to build an acting career here, but only for one.”

“That’s okay, I don’t want to be in the movie—”

“But the credibility of Changkyun as a mastermind or a hidden talent of both worlds, writing and acting, would be lost if we have you in the credits.” The lawyer finishes, leaving her astounded at what she is trying to hint at. Not being in the credits? “We offer you money for your work, of course, but you’re not going to be displayed in the credits, neither will you get any kind of exposure. We want Changkyun to have that light…since he’s the actor we want, of course.”

“That’s the only thing I ask for.” Mr. Jo says, his hand coming forward to pat Changkyun’s hand. “Think about it, son. We’d make you a superstar in a second, and we just need…that rawness. The public does not want scripted celebrities anymore, they want thinking beings. Woke individuals, one would say.”

Changkyun’s neck extends, looking towards the ceiling and his blank yet pensive stare is enough to break her heart. That dream that she had fought so hard to have is being given entirely to Changkyun, and while her movie would be on the big screen…she’d never get to see her name on it. In a way, she’d have to be that one woman that everyone would think is a liar when speaking about her experience with the famous actor and screenwriter Im Changkyun. “We’d have to see if she’s okay with it.”

“Kyun,” She whispers, only connecting their gazes when his head lolls to the side. “…Are you okay with this?”

“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” He starts, and the weight of those words reminds her of the little plays they would have at school…or how Changkyun had been the one to have the initial idea, one that she had added herself into just because she had always thought they’d be the perfect Gemini. Two sides. One coin. But it is not always like that, holding him there, she realizes that there is so much more to Changkyun than just being her half. “But I’m not doing it if you are not okay with it.”

All eyes are on her, and the lawyer dares to prick at her recently opened wound with a comment. “Come on, it’s a lot of money if you think about it—and people in the industry will know that you had something to do with Changkyun. I am sure you’ll get a second chance.”

“But Changkyun just has one chance.” Mr. Jo pushes, patting his hand against the table. “So, I want an answer. Yes or no?”

The tip of her tongue comes wet her lips, swallowing thickly when she closes her eyes and lets go of Changkyun’s hand. The star, one bigger than she could ever be, the one rising celebrity that she needs to feel proud of. Some friends just deserve that much. The slip is almost symbolic, as if for the first time since she was around twelve to thirteen years old, Changkyun doesn’t need her…and she has to stop needing him. “I think I’m willing to do that for him.” She answers, opening her eyes to see the big smile on Mr. Jo’s face. “I’ll settle for the payment and an invite to the recordings, of course. I’d love to see him play that character that we’ve worked so hard for.”

We have.

We.

Changkyun and her are no longer a ‘we’.

“Thank you.” Changkyun says, sending a smile her way before turning to the wolves, the ones that are taking him in and making him one of their own, but eating at the flesh of her biggest insecurities. “We’ve got a deal, then. Where do we sign?”

The shivering of her hands scares her, her heart racing and pumping so harshly that it almost feels like she may die at that time. Why is it that it bothers her so much when she’ll have a big amount of money and the happiness of her best friend? The question roams her head when she watches the ink splay on the piece of paper, letting go of her dream to give it entirely to Changkyun.

His first chance and her last.

###

“Changkyun!”

Silence follows the call of his name and just when she uses her key to open his apartment’s door, her shoes knock against an empty box. The sound startles her, bringing one hand to her chest to look at the rest of the boxes sprawled on the flooring. One month of not going to his apartment and he’s already changed everything?

“Kyun! What are all these boxes for?” She asks, moving further into the room when hearing a shout of her name, somewhat excited with a screech at the end. The thought of seeing Changkyun again after a month of preparations for the movie shoot brings a sense of tranquility to her chest, only breathing properly again when Changkyun skips a few steps when getting out of his room, not knocking a few boxes over in the process, but greeting her with a half-hearted hug instead.

“You finally decided to visit your old ass friend!” Changkyun announces, sounding a little too much like something Kwon would say—and she would know, because this past month she has found more companionship in Jiyoung and Kwon than she has done on Changkyun. Something about script-reading and acting classes must be taking too much time on his agenda. “Just in time to help me move out.”

Time freezes at that moment, but it really doesn’t. Instead, she paralyzes herself like a picture as she watches Changkyun write ‘clothes’ on a box before taping it securely with quick motions. This apartment has been Changkyun’s home since he was around twenty-two, when he decided that roommates were not his thing and he was in that time of his life where hooking up needed to be more private and mature. Nonetheless, the single-man home never lost its meaning, the pictures of his friends that must be saved in some box and the scent of him that is now changed for the smell of old and dusty furniture. “M—Moving out?” She asks, taking a seat on the plastic-bag covered couch and extending her hands when hearing the rustle. “Since when are you moving out?

“If you had visited me, you would have known.”

And there he goes with that same bullshit again, the smile on his face irking her because she had visited him, just that he was not there or he was occupied at the time, and whenever they texted—often, to be exact—, he had never mentioned moving out. “Stop with that, I did visit you. A bunch of times, but you were either asleep or out.”

Changkyun tilts his head to the side at that, quirking up the corner of his mouth in confusion. “I was?”

“You were,” She adds, placing her hand over his after standing up, stopping him from closing another box with duct-tape. “And you could’ve told me through text. Also, why are you moving? I thought you told me you wouldn’t be moving out any time soon even as I was looking for an apartment.” It still takes a toll on her to find the perfect home and leaving Jiyoung in this time in which she spends less time with her friend—and her partner in class that is no longer working at the school—is almost impossible. Heart-wrenching, if anything.

“This new place is huge, and closer to the recording studio. I managed to pay it with a bit of my payment, nothing crazy.” Changkyun concludes, continuing his ministrations with the boxes. “And I am sorry if I didn’t tell you, but the moving truck will be here anytime soon and I would really appreciate it if you helped me.”

She does as he says, sadly this is what she has come to, believing that Changkyun needs to grow and become more of the man he has always wanted to be, and if she has to be in the sidelines for it, she will—but not without complaining. “Changkyun, this is not about me, this is about you. You’re almost never around and when you are, we don’t hang out anymore.”

Carrying one of the boxes, his delicate muscles popping out with the action, Changkyun answers as he moves towards the door. “I’m just busy.”

“I get it but—”

“You’re not getting it. You’re using that tone on me.”

“What tone?”

Changkyun may not be angered, face stoic when he returns to his actions of finishing with packing, but her blood starts to boil when he continues speaking. “The tone you use when you’re being petty. I just have more responsibilities than hanging out at the moment.”

“Oh, hanging out with me.” She tells him, correcting him when he tries to move towards the door, and she realizes that her grip on the duct-tape he had given her becomes stronger. “I don’t see you having any issues to hang out with your little cast, because they’re famous and that’s all you fucking wanted—”

“What?!” Changkyun asks, his voice rising when he hears the sound of her voice, and he finally spares her a glance when he stops working on the boxes and pays attention to her. His steps are slow when he nears her, as if he is afraid he cannot tame the beast that now exists thanks to betrayal, envy, or abandonment. She doesn’t know which. “I have to hang out with my cast because I will spend the next few months recording with them, and I don’t want to be the weak link. This is not about me wanting anything, you’re still as much as my friend as the first day.”

“Then, why doesn’t it feel like it?”

“Because you’re clinging to material things, it’s like you’re missing someone when I am right here!” Changkyun announces, taking her by the shoulders to shake her out of her thoughts, and her hands loosen up at the realization of it all. Maybe, nostalgia had played with her—she had judged the new version of Changkyun when in reality he had just grown up. He is becoming a successful man, one of pride, with stars in his eyes and zeroes in his bank account, with new friends to enjoy and possibly love affairs better than some waitress at their favorite restaurant.

“I do miss you,” She can’t help the softness of her tone when her arms wrap around his waist and her head rests on top of his shoulder. “I’m just afraid that you’re going to stop talking to me or something. If you do that—”

“I won’t.” Changkyun tells her, holding her with delicacy, taking one of the pieces of duct-tape in between his fingers and sticking it to her hair, earning a well-deserved smack and laughter from her. “I can promise that much. I may be moving, but this apartment is not who I am. That job I had at the school? That’s not who I am. I’m your friend, and that you have to be sure of.”

With those promises she clings to Changkyun again, happy to have her friend even when it is a new version of him. Perhaps, this may be a push for her to finally continue with her life and stop depending on other people. When seeing the apartment rid of all the utilities, she realizes how many memories she had there—but maybe, she will make more of those in Changkyun’s new home. Pushed to the back are the days in which she would wake Changkyun up, or when they would watch movies while seated on that old couch.

Because Changkyun is the person beside her, not the memories that she clings onto.

###

“Party at my place tomorrow. 9pm. You’re invited.”

Reading that text, she knows Changkyun must have mass-sent it. Not surprising, three months into his little stardom life and Changkyun had more friends than she could ever count. More than when he was in university and the word had spread around about how much of a cool guy he was, but money and importance must have taken some part on it, as well as connections. Something more interesting, he must have found, in the apartment that is far too huge for her—yet to small to have her around, or in the groups of people that he is now clinging onto.

In a miniscule second, she really does think of not going. Changkyun, this one that exists right now, is just too busy for her to tag along to a party that will have too many people all gathered together thanks to him. But then, when looking up at the ceiling of her own room, now completely alone in a place that looks like a shoebox in comparison to Changkyun’s, her mind trails until her eyes are landing on the picture by her bedside table. Framed. Two best friends from when she was sixteen, wearing uniforms that were loose on their bodies, big smiles on their faces as they held each other with the beauty of naivety and youth.

That is the friend that she has tried to reach out for in the past few months and while she has not been able to voice it out, far too afraid of losing the little minutes that are given to them when talking on the phone, she has wanted to. Scream at him? Maybe, that is something that has passed her head a few times, when she suddenly sees Changkyun in pictures on the internet, articles read about him…and there is this sense of pompousness that comes with his silence that does not settle well on her stomach. Sealed are his lips, just like his feet at the floor, unable to move to where she is, but definitely willing to go around with his group of famous friends.

The bass vibrates through her body when she enters the apartment—being honest, it may be bigger than some people’s houses—. A nice set of stairs that are chic and gray, the railings made out of silver and glass, matching the spacious windows that she has always complained about (sue her, they may be perfect for interior designing, but for someone who has lived in poor neighborhoods, they just call out robbers). The white walls do not hold lights to indicate a party to be exact, but the atmosphere is enough to make it feel more expensive than a club, but not far away from its recklessness. People there are begging to have a good time, some at the terrace in the apartment, others in the center of the room and some at the kitchen doing body shots, from what she can guess from the cheering and the small glimpse she had of two people making out on top of Changkyun’s counter.

Kwon is by her side, thankfully. She would have probably run away in fear at the rich people around her, but his hand settles on her waist, laughing joyfully at the image in front of him. It may have been a while for him—after going to Paris, he settled on working on perfecting his craft as a designer and moving out of that huge mansion bought by his ex-boyfriend, he moved somewhere else. Tranquil, away from the party lifestyle he oh-so-bluntly misses.

Not drunk like the last time she saw him partying, Kwon has styled his hair back, a few pins placed in his hair to match the button down that he had picked to color-contrast with her dress. Yellow and red, made to stand out. “Whew, I’ve been to parties like these before.” Kwon says, moving her along the groups of people and sending some waves to a few of them.

“Are they bad?”

“Well, I wouldn’t really say they’re bad. The last time I was in one of those typical rich people’s parties, I ended up having a threesome at three at the morning. Commemorative, you know.” Kwon speaks with facility, talking about those memories that have her laughing sometimes. If he ever gets to the day of his oldest days, he will surely have stories to tell the younger generation. “They’re even worse than normal parties. You see, most people here have access to anything they want, so why not use it to their favor when partying?”

That may be more interesting to Changkyun than their usual movie nights and their talks about cinematography. Hell, even more important than planning some high school students’ prom as a theater teacher. When they reach the small bar, cramped in between a few groups of people, she juts out her bottom lip as Kwon orders. Whatever cocktail he chooses to have is heaven in a cup, a man of nice tastes. “…Oh hell, tell me why I am not surprised that you were in a threesome.”

“Because no one would be surprised to know I was in a threesome,” Kwon clinks his martini with her, the taste caressing the back of her tongue, letting it simmer before pushing it down. The drink may help her ease into this night. “But you know…just a heads up, parties like these get crazy.”

Worry settles over her, and she doesn’t know why. Changkyun is fully capable of taking care of himself—an adult, he is, for fuck’s sake, but something inside her heart just tells him to keep him away from such a world. As in she doesn’t trust anyone in that room, all strangers that appeared in the blink of an eye. “One question,” She takes a sip of her drink. “And don’t call me dumb for it.”

Kwon lets his weight kneel against the counter, licking the edge of the cocktail before scoffing. “Depends on what you’re about to ask, love.”

“Kwon!”

“What? I just know that I’m bound to call you dumb if you ask something stupid, that’s all!”

With a shaky sigh, she looks down at the drink on her hand. The only reason as to why she is there is to prove a point—that she can, also, join this life that Changkyun is now part of. The other reason reads on the fact that she hasn’t seen Changkyun in well over a few weeks, and even then, the greetings were short, the conversations even duller. “Why does Changkyun prefer all these strangers over me?”

Something that characterizes Kwon is that he is so unfathomably himself that she just knows every word that leaves his lips is the truth. For a moment, his innocent expression lets his smile drop little by little, inspecting her features before downing the rest of his drink, barely a hiss coming soon after. “Because he has a chance that he’s never had, but all these years he’s always had you.” Kwon answers, as if it was that simple to comprehend, interlocking his hands and keeping his elbows upright. “And it’s your choice to feel betrayed, but Changkyun is just trying something different out. You two have been glued by the waist ever since you were like…I’d say fourteen? I think he just needs some space.”

“He’s having a whole universe, sometimes he doesn’t even talk to me.” She plays around with the word ‘space’, rolling her eyes and taking another gulp of her drink. “Look at this! We got here and he’s nowhere in sight.”

“Or we just aren’t where he is,” Kwon replies, taking her hand in his and once again using his own body as shelter for her, the fabric of her tight yellow dress making it a bit comfortable for her to walk without it riding up. So much for Kwon giving her something to match him just to fit in. Expensive, it may look, but it sure as hell is uncomfortable and too shiny for her taste. “He must be somewhere around here. It doesn’t seem like people are fucking upstairs at this hour, it’s only ten.”

Sighing deeply, she tilts her head back. “I think I should just let him be, he probably—”

“Changkyun!”

Looking over Kwon’s shoulder, grasping the man’s forearms in the progress, she watches the man that he had just called. His hair is not pushed back, but definitely done a mess, a bottle of beer dangling from his right hand, his other fingertips letting go of the waist of a woman right beside him. A few buttons of his shirt were open, the glimpse of a choker around his neck shown when he moved—but it was made out of gold, and she doesn’t even want to question how much he spent on it. Not to be misunderstood, because the smile he sends to his two old friends shine brighter than the chandeliers on top of them, moving over to grasp Kwon’s shoulders in a tight hug.

“You’ve made it!” The happiness of his tone has her moving away from Kwon, looking at Changkyun with expectation in her eyes. With the alcohol dense in his breath, he pulls away from their mutual friend—now more of her friend than his—to beam at her. His fingers carefully rub at her cheek, pinching it in the process with a lift to his tone. “Oh, and you’re here, too. I think I’m seeing a ghost; I haven’t seen you in so long.”

But that may be partially his fault, if not entirely. “Likewise, Changkyun.” She replies, going over to wrap her arm around his waist to receive a hug, but two taps on her back reminds her of her distance in between the two, only pushed further when Changkyun looks over his shoulder to his new catch, sending a smile her way. “Mhm, I’m supposing Rapunzel is forgotten.”

Changkyun stops looking at his girl, from the longish legs in the high waisted and expensive blue pants, to the marvelous white top paired with a fur coat and short hair. Chic, styled straight and in a dark color, matching her cat-like stare. “Who?” He asks after humming, and Kwon shows equal interest.

“Rapunzel, the waitress.”

“Ah!” Changkyun parts his lips, laughing in response. “Over it. Now I have Hana.” The glint in his eyes reminds her of the time in which his mischief would take the best of him, but now that he is using it with people that she doesn’t fully like, neither does she think that they like the real Changkyun, she bites back.

“Hana? More like Cruella de Vil, I’m sure an animal died just to have that coat on her.” Trying to suppress his laughter, Kwon doubles over beside her and she takes this moment to take the last sip of her drink.

“You don’t like her?”

“You’ve done better.” She retorts, quirking a styled eyebrow at him.

With a whine, he responds. “Who?”

Me. She wants to say, but instead she shrugs her shoulders, the fabric of her dress hugging her arms tightly. “Not saying.” She answers, licking the inside of her cheek before pointing her chin at her. “Introduce her to me.”

With an ounce of hesitation, Changkyun spares a look in between the two, soon after going over to where Cruella de Vil was standing. Pushing her chest forward, the little bit of classiness that she possesses comes through when the sound of sweet laughter fills the air. Now from up close, she can realize the beauty of Hana and the image of her clicks in her mind well. The loved actress on the rise, star of romantic movies, that push of comedy coming to her easily. For someone who looks so pompous in real life, her movies are to die for.

“Isn’t this Changkyun’s best friend?” Hana asks with delight, leaning down to grasp her hand in a tight grip and the action alone has her pushing her lips together. Something about that smile screams jealousy, perhaps it is a spray Hana is trying to use against her to keep her away from him. “I have not stopped hearing about you. You’re in all of Kyun’s stories.”

“Well, that’s what happens when you know someone for years. You just have…more story.” The sound of her voice shouldn’t have been quite as pointy, but the bite on her tone surprised her.

Hana tilts her head to the side, her long earrings almost tangling with her perfectly styled hair. “I don’t know. Some memories can be made in a shorter time.”

“I suppose—”

“One night is enough.” Hana says it with an innocent tone, ending with a giggle that has her smiling tightly. She tries to suppress the frown on her features by interlocking her hands behind her back, joining in the laughter that Hana has created.

“I suppose,” She repeats, still smiling forcefully. “Ah, I’m a big fan of your work. Changkyun did not tell me that you two were seeing each other.”

“It’s fairly recent,” Changkyun explains, sparing a glance to Hana before resting his hand on her waist. Her eyes go from the mere touch to Changkyun’s eyes studying Hana’s expression, and her blood boils for a reason. Changkyun has had girlfriends after her, plenty, as well as various friends with benefits and a few dates, but something about Hana makes her fear about a future Changkyun may have, one that doesn’t include her. “But…we met thanks to an interview. We’ll see how this goes.”

“Well, I’m so happy for you two.” Her feet move back and forth, unable to stay in one place, and Kwon remains silent by her side, perhaps feeling the tension in the air. “…Not so happy about the animal you’re wearing on your shoulders, though. Someone died just in the name of fashion.”

Hana pushes the fabric up on her shoulders, scrunching up her small nose. “It’s just—You know, yes, it’s not a good choice of clothing but—”

“Doesn’t matter. Anything you wear looks perfect,” Defeated by not even being able to spend time with her best friend, taken away by some woman that he has only gotten to know recently, she takes Kwon by the arm and drags him along with her as she says her goodbyes. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Hana, but I really just came here to get drunk and have a good time, so I’m going to do just that.”

“Wait—” Changkyun starts, but the sound is drowned the more she moves towards the terrace, away from the couple.

Or couple-to-be. Whatever.

The terrace is not as spacious, a table of ping pong right in the middle, a few people crowded together with smoke blown into the air and the smell of alcohol thick. Even as she is walking, she feels as though she has stepped on a puddle of beer—or she hopes that is beer—. Though, her heart is going a mile per minute, looking for the answers as to why her ears are heated and her head is enraged.

Misplaced anger, it may be, at herself for a reason. Changkyun, growing from himself, has done nothing but live his life and she has stayed on the side, watching like a hawk ready to take a prey. Never had she imagined that a villain would be made out of her heart, for her best friend had always been someone sacred to her—but that is what she feels. Hatred, misplacement, a sudden need to be more…to be exactly the kind of people that Changkyun wants to hang around with.

And the kind that Kwon tells her to keep away from.

Colored blue is the bottle of beer that she takes in between her fingers, finding that sense of tranquility within her with the taste of the drink, but her fingers are shaking, Kwon’s voice worrisome as he speaks.

“What was that?” Misunderstood she shall remain, and by the way Kwon widens his eyes and inspects her features, he has no clue about what may be going through her head. “Are you jealous of Changkyun having a fling?”

For a moment, she bites her tongue—because she likes to believe that people understand her, even when she doesn’t capture exactly what she feels. It’s something she hates about her—she asks to be comprehended, but she never makes what bothers her obvious. “I don’t even know,” She admits, staring at the seas of people around them, the cheering people by the ping pong table, some shirtless, others without pieces of their clothing on. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”

Kwon leans back against the railing, taking a beer of his own. “Try.”

When she is alone is when she misses him the most. Now that he has entered the terrace, lifting his pierced eyebrow when he smiles at someone that greets him, she realizes that her best friend is still in there, the only thing missing is that she is not with him. Not clinging to his side as usual, neither is she the first thing that pops inside his head early in the morning. Changkyun no longer needs her, and that may be such a selfish thing to miss. “I’m so fucking angry because—look at him, it is as if he doesn’t miss me!”

“Because he doesn’t,” Kwon says. “I’ve said it already…he has you, why would he miss you?”

“He doesn’t have me all the time—”

“He does,” Kwon answers, shrugging his shoulders and looking forward, towards the people that are now putting on their clothes and messily arranging new cups with alcohol in them. “It has always been something I’ve envied,” His pretentious tone indicates, the honey in it making such a harsh truth feel drunken. “Changkyun has that kind of friend that everyone wants in you. You’re always there for him, you’d drop everything just to see him happy.”

The image of her signing the contract that gave away the rights to her own script had her taking a shaky breath. “…Why does it feel like he would not do the same for me?”

“I like to believe he would.” Kwon finishes and for a moment, she watches Changkyun near them. If it had been him put in her position, one of forgetfulness and complete invisibility, would he have stood still?

In the heat of the moment, she walks towards the table of ping pong, greeting the two guys in front of her. One taller than the other, lanky and a good head over her height, the oversized flannel on his body stylish, too much gel on his hair to uncover tanned skin with some imperfections on his chin, a smile that could blind a light just in the way he sends it towards her.

“What’s this game about?”

“Stripping beer pong.” The shorter one says, earning a bit of a dusted blush from the other man, who chuckles with drunken nature. “You wanna play?”

In retrospect, it has been a while since she has played beer pong, and she is not even that good at it. The only thing she has on her apart from her yellow dress are some socks and a pair of boots, and this may be a loss for her, but one glance at Changkyun sends a rush of competitiveness in between her, as if she wants to prove that she can also be fun. “Yeah, I’m feeling some drinks. If I drink, I don’t have to strip, right?”

“Already thinking you’re going to lose?” The taller one indicates, extending his hand to arrange the bottles on his side of the table. The brown strands of hair are perfectly put, as well as the glisten behind his eyes when he looks up. “It’s simple. If you get the ball inside the cup on this side, I have to drink and strip off something. New rules, just to make it more fun.”

“Huh, so one on one?” She asks, only to have the man in question shaking his head.

“On pairs. It’d be better for you; you only have a dress on.” Something about him is fairly bashful, the tips of his ears reddened and it must be the drunkenness inside of him speaking. “The name’s Changmin. My friend is Hyun. Who you’re playing with?”

Looking over to Kwon, who is already talking to someone—typical of him, really—she finds herself in awe when she feels someone’s presence next to her, a deep voice that she recognizes very well speaking into the colorful air of a party. “Me.”

“Oh, no, no, no—” She starts speaking when looking at Changkyun, pointing her chin towards the door. “Hana is probably waiting for you, just keep being with her.”

“You’re going to end up naked if you play this alone.” Changkyun answers, crossing his arms over his chest while he gets closer to her. For a moment, it feels as though her old friend is back—but the one from university, that had wanted to make sure she was alright after every party they attended to.

“What’s the problem with that?” She retorts. “I’m an adult.”

“You’re my friend.”

“And?”

“I know how mortified you are going to be if you end up losing this.” Changkyun turns around, taking the ball in between the table before looking at Changmin’s eyes. “We start.” That authority in his tone must have indicated that he is mad about something, perhaps her attitude towards him or this unspoken tension in between them, but a swing of his hand he throws the ball directly at one of the cups, smiling a bit to himself.

“I can take perfect care of myself.” She says from her spot, her eyes wandering down when Changmin takes his shirt off, the tattoos on his waist and chest hidden thanks to his flannel. “You know, speaking of…maybe, I should make a move on one of your rich friends.” Not that Changmin is her style, or that she is inherently interested in hooking up with someone today, but if Changkyun can do it…then, so can she.

Changkyun scoffs from his side, speaking lowly when Hyun misses his shot, giving her the ball without much of a thought. “He’s not your type.”

“Hana was not your type.”

“What’s your problem with her?”

“I don’t know her,” And when she throws, she misses the cup, sparing a glance to Changmin who is already looking at her by the time she does so. However, there is more interest on looking at Changkyun when she punctuates her issues. “And I didn’t even know that she was in your life.”

“It’s nothing serious.” Changkyun speaks lowly, taking the ball and throwing it without a care and hence, missing. “When did it become a rule in our friendship to tell you everything and anything I do?”

“Since we started being friends, we’ve always told each other everything.”

“I’ve just been busy.”

The plop of a drink splashing on her has her looking at the culprit, Hyun smirking in delight when getting the point. “Okay, one of you two: drink and strip.” The night is cold, she realizes then, the skin of her thighs presenting little goosebumps at the mere touch of the air. Her fingers wrap around the drink, meaning to own up to it when the red cup is snatched away from her hands and downed in one go by Changkyun, who had already tossed his shirt somewhere on the floor, not caring about the expensiveness of it.

“What a gentleman!” Someone whoops from far away, but her eyes are simply squinted at him, once again repeating the rules of the game, not caring about the outcome but concentrating on the task at hand. A score, and Hyun is the next one to take something off—his pants, since he had already lost his shirt in some previous game.

“Hana is not that important,” Changkyun whispers. “We just fuck and that’s it.”

“Doesn’t seem like that to me.” She tells him, eyeing his face up and down before breathing deeply. “I don’t mind you dating anyone, but you don’t tell me anything anymore. I didn’t know you had met someone called Hana, that’s a wrong start already.”

“I said it’s not that important.”

“It’s important to me!” She says, putting her hands up in the air before looking at the pair in front of them. “But go ahead, I don’t blame you. You prefer people with money, after all, and I’m some stupid fucker with a dress that makes me look like mustard. It’s okay.”

Changkyun tries to continue to speak as the game develops, but the conversation goes dull as he takes pieces of clothing off, only left with his jeans, his jewelry scattered on the table by the time the game is over, all drinks downed on Hyun’s and Changmin’s side. With quickened steps, she returns to where Kwon is, head dizzy and the image of Hana appearing beside Changkyun suddenly becoming the only thing she can see. Her head lulls back, the fresh air touching the skin of her cheeks, the heat clinging to her body in an uncomfortable way.

What he doesn’t notice is that everything has changed, from the moment they met to now—and it was bound to happen, but it gives her whiplash with how fast it was. As the night develops, staying around for the orders of pizza that came soon after and some other drinks, as well as a group of friends that Kwon found in the middle of the dance floor, she waits for a miracle. For some reason, she expects Changkyun to go over to her side, place one hand over her thigh and speak about the most random of things, perhaps catch up on the latest films they have watched on their own, but that doesn’t happen.

The bass is strong when she dances with some strangers—in a moment, she is in Kwon’s arms, in the other she thinks she has danced with Changmin, sharing a cigarette in between the two like she would have done with her best friend, and then she has passed her alcohol limit, finding solace in an empty spot in Changkyun’s couch, away from people as she lays down and lets sleep take over her. Her dreams are a mess, far too forgetful by the time the sunrays appear through those damned windows, annoying her beyond comprehension when she realizes what happened last night.

She talked to Changkyun. Drank. Danced. Smoked. Knocked herself out.

The feeling of a silky fabric running over her thighs makes her open one eye, draping her arm over the other to look down at a familiar button down. Her bones crack when she extends, her eyes inspecting the room when she hears the sizzling of food, the smell of vegetables thick in the air. When her legs decide to move away from the couch, she watches Kwon’s sleeping body on the other couch, arms wrapped around himself…but he is wearing his shirt.

A few steps away makes her scrunch up her nose at the mess, though her head is too dizzy to care about the mess that Changkyun is probably going to have cleaned up for him. Her fingers let themselves knot around the fabric of the button down that had covered her legs when speaking and realization kicks her when she notices whose it was.

Changkyun’s.

The one he took off when playing stripping beer pong.

The sizzling comes from the kitchen and the image of Changkyun making sure she is well covered and making breakfast for her brings a smile up her face. That is the kind of thing her best friend would do. Walking over the rope of hope, she walks towards the kitchen, expecting to see Changkyun with simpler clothing and a pan in between his fingers, but fuck, that is what dreams are made for…not a reality.

Arms that wrap around a small waist, and a similar shirt dropped over Hana’s body, cladding her perfectly. Her hair is put up in a small ponytail, little kisses scattered around her neck and collarbones while she cooks. Changkyun seems to be delighted, fingers pulling her closer until he takes a good scent of her, speaking something against Hana’s skin…unheard, but yet so powerful.

She doesn’t know why this hurts her, because she has seen Changkyun be with other women. This should not be news, but something about the entire replacement of her in every way drops at her stomach harshly, to the point she clears her throat to call out for their attention.

Changkyun pulls away from Hana, smiling at her when he takes the shirt from her hands. “Good morning!” He cheers, clearly in a good mood, if the lipstick stains on his neck are something to go by and the messy hair are indicators of his late morning activities. “You passed out on my couch. Had a great night partying?”

As if they had not spoken at all, he acts. Perhaps, he doesn’t really care about the tension in between the two—he thinks that some nice actions are going to save him, and the worst part? They might have had she not seen this. “Yeah. Kind of.”

“I’ve made tea for the hangover.” Hana points out from her spot, her manicured hands signaling the teapot somewhere in the kitchen. “It’s my magic potion. Been there, done that, girl. I’m sure you’ll love it.”

Before she could deny, Changkyun is already pouring a cup for her, but she stops him by placing her hands over his. “Put it in a plastic cup. I’ll be out the door in a minute.”

“Why?” Changkyun asks, his faint smile dropping when looking at her. “Listen, I know you must feel bad because you drank a lot last night and you were cranky but—”

“Kyun—” She closes her eyes, correcting herself. “Changkyun, I need to leave.”

“But why?”

“I need to get rid of this headache and go over some scripts I asked the students to write.” She’s coming up with whatever excuse appears in her head, taking Changkyun’s place and accepting the nice smelling tea when pouring it inside a plastic cup, one of those that had been used for alcohol last night.

“So, you’re not staying for breakfast?” Changkyun asks while he goes behind her, her fingers already hooking around Kwon’s hand to wake him up, speaking his name softly to help herself out.

Just when Kwon opens his eyes groggily, she answers. “We’re not staying for breakfast. I’m going to use Kwon’s car to drive him home and I’m going to get him to sleep comfortably. His back must be killing him.”

Kwon doesn’t say much, simply trails after her towards the door, but Changkyun speaks loud enough for the two of them to hear. “You’re lying to me.”

She stops on her tracks, clutching at the end of her dress when she stutters out a: “I—I’m not.”

“I know when you’re lying to me.”

Does he even know her at all?

“But I’m not.” She answers, looking over her shoulder before sending a wave at him. “Bye, K—Changkyun.”

###

You see, Changkyun is not the only person she misses in her life. Though a bit out there, definitely louder than a normal person, and as clingy as it can get, Jiyoung is one of her closest friends. With the lack of a male best friend that sits down with her and watches the matutine news or a dumb reality show, she is left to enjoy more time with another woman. Jiyoung, for example, had insisted on bleaching her hair even more, the color far lighter and her hair much drier, but the smile on her face is as welcoming as ever as she lays her head down on her shoulder and looks at the screen in front of them.

Jiyoung changes the channels too much, and even though she hasn’t seen Changkyun in well over a month again, through her texts she can feel as though he is still the same about his tastes in TV watching and shows. Something about inspecting everything and picking just the right thing is something that exudes his energy, but Jiyoung is quite the opposite. Settling on some stardom interview show just because she thinks the host is hot? That’s something Jiyoung does.

Her old place is as intact as ever, and she wishes she had the strength to erase the image of Changkyun from her brain. When in front of him, she can act as though she is tough, as if she doesn’t care that he doesn’t have time for her anymore, but give her a phone and those blinking three dots that indicate that he is texting her and she is head over heels, stopping everything she is doing to answer to him.

For a while, she has thought that this is normal—that she just holds onto Changkyun because that is what friends do, but this also reminds her of how different their friendship is now. She gives, he takes, and she never receives. He prefers cities with angels, diamonds with brightness, words of intelligence and people who speak too much about themselves. That was his dream, he always said it, their friendship would be better if only they could make their dreams come true, make money out of something they love.

So why is it that when he appears on the screen, being interviewed for his new movie about the release in a few months from now, she feels as though she is living a nightmare instead of a dream?

Changkyun promised they would be together through their dreams, but that wasn’t the case. His hair is placed in the way she likes it, standing out with clothing that mixes the eighties with something modern. Something about his face is a beauty of the sixties, a young thing ready to take over the world. His voice drops more than usual, there is an air of knowledge to him, and he seems less excited than she would have imagined him to be. He thinks that he belongs there, and strangely enough, he does.

Maybe, she had imagined that Changkyun would be different…and he was just like everyone else. With pain inside her heart, she brings her fingers up to press on the remote, turning off the TV with quickened motions. The black screen showcases her reflection, uneven breaths and shaking shoulders, a face that reads turmoil accompanied by someone by her side.

“He’s so lucky.” Jiyoung never sounds this serious, and for a moment she thinks she is speaking about the job that he has been given, the stardom that had accumulated even before his debut as an actor. A pretty face with a creative mind. “Not a lot of people get to have someone love them as much as you love him.”

She loves Changkyun, in the way a friend should love each other, willing to be there for the one that has always taken a part of her heart. This much she knows, making her frown when she looks over at Jiyoung. “Of course I love him, he’s my friend.”

“No,” Jiyoung chuckles, tucking a strand of her almost white hair behind her ear. “I like Changkyun. I’d love to have him as a lover, but…you love that guy.” Splashed in front of her are the ideas that Jiyoung has, but the attraction she once felt for Changkyun cannot be appearing again, much less can it be translated into something like romantic love. That has never existed for them. “You stay, and you’re patient for him. Your eyes get all shiny when he is around, and you can’t stand seeing him turn into someone else…but you still accept him. That’s love.”

She scoffs, covering her face with both hands as she imagines the first time that she saw Changkyun, and now she pictures the last time that they saw each other, barely there to start with. His name is up in the sky, written for people to read it as stars, but she is not shining with him. “That is lack of dignity, not love.”

“Maybe,” Jiyoung shrugs from her spot, playing with the volume buttons of the remote. “I think it started before this whole actor thing came around.”

“How so?” She asks, half interested in what Jiyoung is saying when she uncovers her face. For some reason, she tries to imagine the romantic point of it—if maybe she had not understood the signs her body had given her, had screamed at her to comprehend over the years, and Jiyoung had the key from a viewpoint of someone that had seen it in a friendly spot.

“You dated, but you finished it off because you didn’t want to lose each other, not because you only considered yourselves friends who wanted to be with each other physically.” Jiyoung, ever the clear one when staring at people, responds. “And you stayed with each other over the years. In a way, I gave up on him because of the connection the two of you had.”

“Really?”

“I didn’t stand a chance.” Jiyoung cackles at her own answer, rubbing her chin in the process. “Changkyun…he always seemed to come back to you. He’d date, go back to spending time with you. He’d fuck someone, go back to you. Even when he was in a serious relationship, he was always with you. I thought that he had caught feelings,”

This time, she looks up at the ceiling and she can’t help but smile at the reminder of their first kiss. Changkyun had done it absentmindedly, moving at the same time that she did and capturing each other on a kiss, soon after came the idea of being together because of loneliness. All she knew for that week was that no one had kissed her quite as softly as Changkyun did, as if he wanted to savor every piece of her, making flavors out of their union. “Why me? Why him? Why us? I doubt—”

“You have to look at it from my way,” Her friend says, running her fingers through her scalp to ease her mind. “You know people are in love when they say each other’s name while staring at the other. That doesn’t happen often, but there is a little breath that is taken whenever the person you love says your name and vice versa.” The caress of his eyes roaming her face when saying her name awakened memories inside her, bringing a flutter to her stomach. Could it be? “It’s cute. You’d look at him and lighten your voice when saying Kyun, and he’d look so in place…in peace when you said it. When I noticed that, I thought I stood no chance.”

She chuckles at Jiyoung’s antics, resting her head against hers as she laughs. “I don’t know…”

“Do you think I’m right?”

For a moment, she ponders on everything that has changed and everything she misses, but the thought of always staying for him keeps being repeated. The world has been painted blue for her, and she still held it on her shoulders—just so he can live inside of it and have a beautiful life. “I may…” She replies, closing her eyes tightly and feeling the back of her throat contracting, feelings bursting from a part of her that had been hidden. A single tear rolls down her cheek when she remembers, and God, nostalgia has always been her weakest point. “All I know is that I don’t want to lose him, and I want to have him all for myself. How it was. How it was in that one week we were together.”

Jiyoung’s fingertips run over the expanse of her cheeks, taking away the tears that had piled in there. “Can’t believe we’re bonding about a man that I wanted to sleep with, and that you love.”

That brings laughter out of her, pouring rain coming from her eyes when her phone rings momentarily, the idea of Changkyun being the one to text her having her hands moving with precision, pulling the device away from the coffee table to look at the screen. A picture taken on the night before she lost him, in that restaurant where they had talked about their types and their dreams, and the light in her eyes was different from the dulling tone she has now, seeing that it is a message from a fellow teacher.

She just wants her best friend back.

Even if it’s to love him in silence.

###

Chasing after a dream of wealth, success, fame had been what had united them. As long as it’s not what separates them, the dream still stands.

Last summer, that thought had passed her head. This summer, she can say while being in Changkyun’s arms that she had never felt quite as separated from him as that moment.

Even when the windows are big in Changkyun’s room as well, the birds chirping outside cannot take her mind away from the movie that is being displayed on the screen for them to see. Theirs. The one script that had come to life only one year after they finished it. His fluffy and brown blankets are brought up to her jaw, her head resting on his shoulder while his back is placed against the bedframe. She doesn’t spare a look at Changkyun, but he is silent, perhaps judging himself or enjoying certain lines he said—but she has finally come to the conclusion that Changkyun’s future was always meant to shine with the stairs.

He deserves this, she realizes. The big apartment, the too-cold air conditioner, the birds singing only for him and the people that go around him, the fanbase that is growing slowly but surely. All of those he had worked hard for, and all she had done was give him the opportunity to live such a beautiful life. Their character needed to be portrayed by him, all the aches and the beauties of it showcased in his expression. When she wrote it, she never realized Changkyun could convey such emotions, but now…there she is, always coming back to him and now, extremely proud.

Because she is alone with him, watching the credits that read him and not her, and she couldn’t be more tranquil with her decision. Another opportunity may come for her, but for now…Changkyun is the only light that she dares look from up close.

“I think it’s cringy to watch myself act,” Changkyun says, his voice deep after turning off the device and twisting to his side. Months ago, Jiyoung and herself had spoken about the possibilities of loving Changkyun, and with him by her side she can confirm that it may be a reality. All these months, their meetings had been brief and non-substantial, but when she has him like this…it feels like she can reach for him. His laughter is brief, his cheek resting against his fluffy pillow. “I’m surprised you didn’t cry.”

“I kept it in,” She tells him, playing with the loose strands of his hair before sighing deeply. “And don’t cringe. You’ve always been a great actor.”

“I overact.”

“You don’t.” She replies, the sound of the ice in her drink filling the air when one of them drips into water and makes the one at the top fall down on the glass. She had forgotten she was even drinking soda on the first place. “And if you dare say otherwise, I’m going to kick you out of this bed.”

“It’s almost impossible, it’s too big.” Changkyun answers, extending his arms to further prove his point before closing his eyes tightly. It is at this moment, in the softness of the situation, when the coconut scent of his body wash takes over her and has her wrapping her arms around him, caging him in a hug that has almost all of her weight laying down on him. This steals a breath from his lungs, his arms coming around to cage her body when he chuckles softly. “What is it?”

She separates just slightly when she presses a kiss to his shoulder, through the white t-shirt to speak to him. Once again, face to face, she feels like they are at the beginning of this journey, her bottom lip jutting out to stop a cry. “I’m so proud of you and I am so sorry I haven’t shown that lately,” She whispers, her heart weighty because, once again, she seems to have her friend back. “I was afraid I’d lose you…and I felt like I did, so whenever I would see you, I would get…angry.”

His hands trail over her hair, patting it down softly, making sure that every fine hair that stands out is pushed away and down. His brown eyes are chocolate ganache when he stares at her, dewy and dulcet, looking at her with all the sentiments in the world. To name them? She can’t. “I’m never going to leave you.” He whispers. “It may feel like it, but you’re my best friend…”

“I know,” She mumbles back, caressing his jaw with her fingertips, going over the memories of his days of worsened skin, wanting nothing more than to kiss the imperfections into his soul and claim them as loved. “It’s not like you could forget me.”

A nudge to her waist has her laughing after her sentence, Changkyun joining in with ease. “Try being around you for more than ten years. You’re hard to forget.”

“Am I?”

“…Yes.”

“What makes me so memorable?”

“What?”

“You agreed that I’m hard to forget,” She says, pushing her hair to her back before sighing. Insecurity drips from her, something that she has always hated about herself, but when she is over him, barely separated from his face, the air becomes perfect for secrecy. Lovely, even. “What makes me so hard to forget?”

“I will never think about anyone the way I think about you.” Changkyun replies, and it’s such a vague answer that she almost finds herself asking about said thoughts, but the angel wings on him appear the more she looks at his face after those words, a glisten to his eyes that hadn’t been there before. “You’ve loved me as a friend even before all of…this. You gave up your dream for me. No one would do that.”

“I did,” She whispers, leaning down the slightest, breaths mingling together when she nods. “Because I really do love you, Kyun.”

And there it is, the sweetness of it all, the promise of the lack of an ending. Changkyun doesn’t realize it, simply hums in response when he takes her by the back of her neck and in his tone, there are no signs that he claims to know the weight behind those words. “I love you, too.” A love that goes past souls and friendships, one that has him leaning forward until the ghost of a kiss rests on her lips. First, Changkyun lets their skins touch, his lips part just the slightest, a shaky breath given before he kisses her as if he wants to eat her whole. Suddenly, the sky is dancing, the sunrays becoming one with the warmth of her body when Changkyun pushes her further on top of his body, her thighs caging his body to the mattress, the happiness of being kissed by him again returning.

Insomnia takes up on her when his hands work their way down to her waist, gripping softly, subtly, laughing against her lips for the briefest seconds as his body moves to his will.

“…You’re kissing me.” Changkyun throws his head back with a soft gush of breath leaving his mouth. “Are we going back to that one week of dating?”

“We’ll see.” She chuckles, pecking his lips softly before he turns them around. Her hair splays on the pillows, a squeal leaving her lips when his teeth accidentally graze her bottom lip, his body now keeping her against the bed. Her hands twirl around his neck, keeping the dance of their lips when he breathes softly against her skin.

He whispers the beauty of life in his touches, and for a moment, she thinks she has him once again. What a disgrace it is that Im Changkyun is a story that never lets a twist last too long, keeping the side characters as that—and she has become secondary, a day with him could not change that, the feeling of his fingers slotting away from her, because a breath from him is only the touch of a promise that lasts a second.

One week. One second. One lifetime.

What is it with him?

###

Redeemable, whenever she starts something with Changkyun that goes a different way from their usual stream of time, it always seems to last too little.

The hotel in which they are staying in is the complete opposite of packed. Lining the brown and white, tall walls of the hotel are windows with white railings, though that is the least interesting point of its infrastructure. From her position inside the pool, she thinks the most beautiful part of this hotel that Changkyun had boosted about—and for a reason, it’s expensive and breathtaking both at the same time—is that it feels as though she is inside a beach. The water in the pool is not too cold, clear and rich, and when she swims right towards Changkyun, she gets to see the big palm trees, the attention to detail that comes with the faux sand, and of course, she gets to see her best friend, days after that day of watching his movie. Their movie.

His arms are extended on each side of him, chest covered in droplets of water, rising up to inhale, deflating to exhale. His relaxed expression glosses over, listening to the wind moving the trees, his eyes half-lidded as he is immersed in his own thoughts. Only when her fingertips caress his waist, Changkyun snaps out of whatever thought has been clouding his brain.

So like himself, she dares ask him: “What are you thinking about?” Her hair, clinging to her skin, is the least of her worries when she finds her place on his shoulder, pecking the skin with utmost care. Changkyun lets his arm wrap around her waist, the movement of the water calming them into their position.

“Nothing really.” Changkyun replies, lowering his gaze and igniting a flame inside her that makes her feel alive. An ashamed smile appears on her face, one that he returns as if he doesn’t regret the kiss they shared a few days ago, the feeling that now has appeared after a couple of years. “I’m just surprised. You agreed to come here with me.”

“As long as it’s the two of us, I don’t mind where we go.” She answers, turning around to swim away the slightest, the water clashing one against the other, but her eyebrows move the slightest when she feels a few droplets landing on her from above, too tiny to be noticed. “Come here, let’s race.”

“That’s not such a bad idea. Let’s go.” But what surprises her is that Changkyun starts swimming with rapidness, arms extending to move his weight with precision. With widened eyes and a flutter to her chest, she chuckles at his actions, screaming his name at the top of her lungs while moving right behind him.

The pull she has towards him is so strong, and Kwon may be right when he says that she will always be there for him. Changkyun has never lost her, because she had not left for a single second. This that they live is a song that repeats itself, the sweet existence of a lesson that they continuously learn. She will always go back to him to be stronger, to connect to those roots of her that show in the smile he gives her when he wins, back leaning against the tiles of the pool.

She will never forget his face, one that had grown out of his old features, rounded cheeks and thin lips parted as he doubles over, and she joins him. The world doesn’t care to bathe them in rain, goosebumps rising on her arms when she wraps them around his shoulders to plant the seed of a kiss on his lips. To grow from the place in which they are standing, watered by memories. Returning the kiss briefly, Changkyun looks up at the sky before laughing.

“I won!” He says with all the excitement in the world, but she cuts him off as she slips out of the pool, reaching for the towels they had placed on one of the seats nearby.

“Yeah, yeah, let’s get out of here before you get sick.”

With the biggest towel wrapped around both of them, his arms caging her to his chest as he stands behind her, walking after her trail, she thinks that all the things that went wrong were only meant to unite them more. This is a song that she will never forget, the shivering of his body behind her as they leave a trail of water behind her, something that the maids at the expensive hotel will probably complain about as they move through the lobby, both the water from the pool and the rain mixing as they keep laughing the night away.

The lessons she has learned in life have always been tough, and in a way, she blames herself for always staying. In the same job. Almost in the same house with Jiyoung. Always clinging to the past, with ex-boyfriends…and with Changkyun, one of the few people that rarely disappointed her. Maybe, it is because Changkyun never quite forgot her that she stayed, or it was because she knew that she knew she’d never forget him if given the chance.

But with him by her side when they are nearing the elevator, she realizes that her life went wrong a hundred ways, but Changkyun is one of her best decisions. One that life put in her way and she always picked above everything else. Even above her dream.

The sound of his name being called makes him stop on his tracks, the towel almost slipping from her shoulders, retreating to look at the source of such noise. Seated by the lobby, on the immaculate-looking leather seats, are a group of people drinking from filled glasses of champagne, some with suits, others with dresses—all clearly more dolled up than the two youngest people there, Changkyun and herself.

“Long time no see!” Changkyun greets immediately, wrapping the towel entirely around his body, leaving her only with the small one she had around her waist, almost to shelter her from the prying eyes that had been sent her way when her best friend pulled away from her. Best friend that, if continuing down this path, may become her boyfriend once again.

A few handshakes, some bows, and Changkyun is back at being inspected by the socialites, some with smirks on their faces. For some reason, she feels as though Changkyun is a puppet to them—someone to bend to their will, but she may be just seeing them as villains out of conceptualizations she made inside her head. “I’m guessing the rain caught you and your friend when swimming.”

Changkyun’s chest shakes as he laughs, nodding at those words. “Kind of.”

The oldest looking man of the group takes a sip of his champagne before speaking. “I’m so glad to see you, we’re about to head towards a party right now…and given that your film is doing so great, I think we could introduce you to some people.”

Her body freezes when she hears those words—because a party that night doesn’t sound like a great idea. Changkyun had promised dinner, had spoken wonders about the music he had prepared for them to listen to, the tourism spots they are supposed to be visiting the next day, but Changkyun hums almost immediately. “I’d love to go.”

“I imagine your friend wants to go with you.” The same man concludes, and she wraps her arms around her chest when she is being stared at by the rich individuals in front of her. “I don’t think I’ve heard about you. Are you one of Changkyun’s longtime friends?”

“Yes, sir.” She answers, bowing uncomfortably before taking a breath in.

“It must be a delight to have known him while he was writing the masterpiece that is his movie.”

“Actually, we worked on it together—” The words escape her lips without much thought, but her heart skips a bit when Changkyun turns to look at her, eyes inspecting her expression silently.

“She means that she was there for me as I wrote it.” And there is an apology on his eyes—again, a plea to keep the secret that has given him the life he always wanted. Somewhere, Changkyun grew stronger…and that word is so damned, because he also did not change, just that his dream came true…and there is no more space for her in this world that has captured him.

“Yeah, Changkyun has always been a star in my eyes.” She tells, hoping that the weight of her words reaches him, nearing him with careful steps as she scans his face. Changkyun is not looking ahead but at her instead, and in the way her eyelids keep fluttering, she feels a force behind her ribcage that begs to be released in the form of a sob. So strong, she had been, coming back to him for an entire year, whenever he wanted, never asking for him…but maybe, it is time to leave that behind. “He was built for this world,” She whispers, loud enough for the people in front of them to listen. “And I am so happy he got this opportunity instead of anyone else.”

“Whoa,” One of the women there says. “That is really a friend.”

“Yeah.” She answers, extending her hand towards Changkyun whilst waving her fingertips. “Give me the keys, please. I’m going to grab my things before you go to the party.”

Finally downing the situation in which he is caught in, Changkyun lifts his hand in the air, as if asking for a second from the socialites before moving her to the side, standing right in front of the elevator, she presses the button to call for the elevator, her palm still opened to welcome the keys. “Wait, no. You can go to the party, too—”

“I don’t want to.”

“Why is it that you never integrate yourself into my life?”

Opening her lips in surprise, her hand comes up to cover the sarcastic cackle that leaves her lips, too short to even be coming from a place that does not speak about dread. “Me? Changkyun, I’ve spent an entire year following after your footsteps because you don’t look for me anymore. You don’t need me.” She speaks, not caring that the doors of the elevator open, shivering at the coldness of the lobby. “Do I even know you anymore? Because this is not the person that I had as a friend. I didn’t fall in love with all of…this.” Pointing at him as if he is an outcast, Changkyun shakes his head at her words.

“Hey, no, you’re mistaking it. You know how people will get if someone knows the truth—”

“I’m not asking for fame, Changkyun. I’m asking for my friend, I’m asking for you to settle for something. Do you want me as your girlfriend, your friend? Do you want people to see you around me?” Her voice is too fast, snatching the keys that had been dangling from his hands before sighing. “Changkyun…I’ve had people wreck me. A hundred times. It’s all I’ve known.” Her voice lowers, rubbing at her eyes when the tears start to appear, a shaky breath leaving her.

“Well, sorry for growing up. You gave up your dream for me, it’s not my fault that you don’t want me to live mine when you pushed me to do so.” Changkyun speaks, lowering his voice when his fingers wrap around her wrists to uncover her face.

“You know what? I should’ve expected it the moment you signed that contract that you’d break my heart.” She says, placing her fingers against the button of the elevator again, breaking her gaze from the man that she had given everything for—the one person that accompanied her through every moment of her life, only to abandon her. “And it’s okay, really. Do as you fucking please, but don’t drag me along with it—” Her name is called softly, but she walks inside the elevator, tapping the button uncontrollably as if that will make the doors close quicker. Something rips inside of her, her fingers clutching at her chest when a sob leaves her throat, soft, unheard of, but watched by him. “I’m not coming back to you anymore.”

With the doors closing, she expected him to stop her, but he didn’t. He let her go.

When she picked up her items, caging them in the confines of her bag with tears streaming down her face, she expected to hear raps of knuckles against the door, to have him begging for her to listen to him. He let her go, instead.

And when getting out of the elevator again, cladded in clothing, dry and with her bag in between her fingers, she expected to see Changkyun bothered, at the very least, but he was simply seated in between the socialites, drying himself up with his towel, only sparing her a glance when she appears in front of him, and once again, she feels as though it’s metaphorical. Only when she is in front of him, he remembers the weight of the heartbreak he had caused her.

The keys slip in between his fingertips and that man right there, seated in between the riches, with eyes that glisten as if money were in them, is not the man she knows. That’s not her friend. Not the man she loved. Not the man she stayed for. Yet, as she gets out of that hotel with the silence of him not following after her after so many opportunities to do so, she realizes that it was never his priority to go after her, but hers.

But she’s in love, and maybe she will always be. With this version of Changkyun and the previous one, with the one person that had kissed her soul as if it was supposed to be cherished…

Was that version even real?

#i.m scenarios #i.m #monsta x scenarios #monsta x #kpop scenarios #writing #the anti-love club #monsta x au #monsta x angst #monsta x fluff #i.m au #i.m angst #i.m fluff #last installment!!! which one was your favorite?

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