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zmediaoutlet · 3 years

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in support of Texas relief, @mystifiedgal donated $10, and requested Sam developing mind-reading and learning what Dean wants. Thank you for donating!

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(read on AO3)

It starts as dreams, the night after they lose Ava. They drove straight from Lafayette to Peoria and after Peoria they move one town over so as not to be newcomers in a town that just had a homicide, and they work all through that day, in Bloomington, calling contacts and putting out feelers, trying to see what might've happened to a short sweet dark-haired girl, a secretary, who'd never done a thing to deserve this. Sam couldn't stop thinking that, no matter how stupid it was. How Ava, how all the rest, hadn't done a single thing to merit this kind of punishment.

He falls asleep though he didn't think he would. Dean's reading at the table with the lamp turning the backs of his ears, his neck, pure white, and Sam's looking at him and thinking about Ava's face shocked-white in the neon from the motel, and then he's asleep, and he's dreaming but it doesn't feel like dreaming. It doesn't feel like a vision, either, how that vicious sharp reality climbs down his throat. In the dream he knows he's dreaming, and he isn't really there, and not even the vague protagonist-body that's usually in his dreams, when he dreams he forgot to study for an exam, or is standing in a rotting house with an empty gun and ghosts slipping through the walls, or smiling at a clever girl with her blouse unbuttoned just right. Instead this dream is—feeling. A wash of dark, and water lapping at the edges of a boat he can't seem to see beyond. Dean, sitting in the stern, his head in his hands, and because Sam isn't really here he can't yell or act or splash the dark water into Dean's face, but—as soon as Sam thinks that, about splashing the water, the surge of fear is so overwhelming that the world turns black. Dean's fingers curl against the side of his head, his ring flashing, and his lips are parted and wet and something unknown flashes through Sam's gut and when he wakes up, dragging in air like he's been running a mile, the room is dark and Dean's a curled lump on the other bed and Sam carries that strange, fearful feeling with him all through the next day, like a fresh-broken bone, throbbing.

Dean frowns at him when he's snappish at lunch, but doesn't call him on it. Dean's being careful with him, which Sam—hates, is grateful for. So Sam maybe didn't have the best reaction to finding out their dad's last words, and maybe the thing with Gordon was—a lot. Gordon was a lot. Ava, poor Scott Carey, Andy and Ansem, Max. It's all been a lot. Dean maybe has been struggling with the secret he was carrying but Sam's struggling with how his mouth tastes like metal all the time, thinking of yellow eyes looming up out of the dark, and so he'll take some concessions, maybe even a little pity, if it makes Dean focus on what they really need to focus on. Dean's letting him direct, not looking for other hunts, staying right here in Illinois and keeping his nose to the ground for Ava or for any hint of another 1983 kid with unexplained powers, and Sam doesn't need anything else, beyond that, not right now. They'll work out the rest later.

Trouble is: Sam's focus is split. He spends the day casing details of Ava's life, job and fiancé and family history and any single second where her life might have brushed against the dark, and at night his dreams are a flood. Black water, rising. Dean, terrified, and his skin that kind of white that comes from a flare of too much exposure, and his eyes dark hollows, and the bones standing out in his hands, clutching at his head. On the fourth night of everything the same choking claustrophobia Dean turns his face and Sam sees that he's bleeding, from the ears and from the corner of his mouth, and the blood is so dark it looks black, too, and Dean covers his mouth with one hand and then though the surrounding water is the same endless expanse the boat becomes that cabin where Azazel rode their dad's body, the shift seamless and unexplained in the way of dreams, and Dean's got a hole in his stomach, the blood flooding out onto the dry wood of the boat/cabin floor, and he puts lax fingers against it that don't stop the bleeding at all, and Sam wakes up that time and has to scramble for the bathroom, retching, although when he clutches the sides of the sink nothing comes up and his mouth just tastes like—saltwater.

That day Dean brings him coffee in the morning and tries to be circumspect. He's bad at it. "Starting to smell like a dorm room in here, man," Dean says, mouth quirked. "Laundry stank and BO and, uh, making like the Lone Ranger?" He makes a vague gesture around his lap, but his heart's not in it. "Gotta air it out, dude. See some sunlight for twenty minutes."

"I'm working," Sam says, but to be honest he's not. He's sitting there with Ellen's half-remembered list of demon sightings in the last six months and instead of working the map he's been staring at the closed curtains for the whole time Dean's been gone. He drags his good hand over his face and lets his heavy casted arm thump down over the notebook. Dean raises his eyebrows, letting a glance over the empty map make his point for him, and Sam sighs. "Making like the Lone Ranger?" he says.

Dean's smile gets more real. "Unless you've got a pretty little Tonto around here, somewhere—" he starts, and Sam rolls his eyes and flicks a crumpled ball of wasted notes at Dean's face, and while he's sputtering Sam says, suddenly desperate for it, "Yeah, okay, we could use some air. Laundromat around here?"

"Hey," Dean says, sitting up, "I don't think I heard myself volunteer for laundry duty—" and then, twenty minutes later, they're installed at a laundromat, empty at nine on a Tuesday morning, Dean bitching still about whose turn it is to fold the whites but looking decently happy, stretched out in one of the shitty plastic chairs with coffee resting on his belly and a morning talkshow on the crackling TV mounted in one corner of the ceiling, and Sam feels it.

Sam feels it. There's a chair between him and Dean, piled with a box of donuts and the police folder Dean went out and stole yesterday, and Sam grips the armrest on the side Dean can't see and squeezes so hard the metal edges hurt his hand, and it's welling up in him. A grey clouded day with a shaft of sunlight slipping through and warming a patch of cold dirt—that's what it feels like, Dean's happiness. Sam licks his lips and breathes shallowly, controlled. When he glances over Dean's watching the show—some sponsored segment about a special vacuum for pet hair, in which he seems completed absorbed—and he's relaxed, in that way that Sam's only ever seen Dean relaxed when they're alone. Completely in his body, unselfconscious of how he's taking up space, boots kicked out on the grimy floor, his eyes clear. A fleck of pink donut frosting on his top lip. There are shadows under his eyes because he doesn't sleep enough and there's a bruise at his temple where Gordon hit him, but he's okay, for this moment. Sam can feel it, in a completely distinct way to how he feels his own body, his own aches and tiredness and worry, and he sits there in ringing panic until the washer buzzes. Dean blinks, the spell of the daytime anchors suspended, and frowns at him, and says, "Hey, earth to egghead, I am here in a strictly supervisory capacity," and Sam has to roll his eyes again and stand up and deal with the laundry, and there's Dean, again, the happiness muted and rolled under—a dragging pull at the chest, an ache long-held and familiar. Worry, concern. Annoyance, too, and then as Sam's dumping their load of jeans and jackets into one of the rolling baskets that twinge of annoyance slips away into guilt, and he has to brace his hands on the sides of the basket and breathe again, slowly, trying not to crawl out of his skin with the violation of it.

"What?" Dean says, while Sam's silent over the wet clothes. "Did I leave gum in my pocket or something?"

He knows Dean. He has known Dean, from when he was little and running around after him thinking his big brother was the coolest smartest person in the world to when he was a sad kid thinking his brother didn't actually like him that much to when he was an angry teenager wishing his brother would take his side in anything, ever, for fucking once. Dean was always a known quantity, no matter what. No surprises. Sam knew when he was cheerful and angry and hurt and he knew how to deal with every version. This is—more than that.

No signs, still, of Ava. They move outward. Day trips, stretching out into different towns, different precincts. They split up, Sam renting a car, and on the state highways with the radio silent Sam tries to think, with Dean not around with his thoughts filling up the air between them.

He catches hints, with other people. A sheriff who's not sure why some U.S. Marshal is asking questions, and he's clearly annoyed but there's an undercurrent Sam catches, a sapping weariness and sorrow that Sam blinks over before he excuses himself, wondering. A search: a wife, recently dead at forty. Sam chews the inside of his cheek raw on the drive back to Bloomington, and Dean texts and says dinner? back in thirty and Sam replies I'll pick up pizza and he waits in the lobby of the pizza place with his knee jogging and a waitress smiles at him, professional, and Sam takes a deep breath and looks at her, taking in her sneakers worn around the edges and her muscular legs and the greys pulled back into her ponytail and she says, "Can I get you a Coke or anything while you wait, hon?" and a swirl of heat curls into Sam's stomach, slants down queerly low, and he sits up straight and watches her eyes flick over him, his chest and lower, and he blurts out, "No," and then, too late, "thank you," and she frowns and the heat fizzles out into disappointment and he thinks, fuck. Fuck. What now?

With Dean the feelings bloom raw and real and present. Sam doesn't have to look. A day of frustration and no leads but Dean doesn't actually feel the frustration, not really, because he's humoring Sam's obsession over finding this girl Dean never even met—and there's a little satisfaction there, too, something that makes Sam set his beer down a little too hard on the table when he recognizes it, because they're spinning their wheels here, Dean thinks, and that means that Sam's being kept here, safe, away from demons and whatever plans there might be, so he's getting what he wanted, after all. The second Apes movie is on the motel TV and Dean's watching that, scratching his belly idly after too much pizza, and Sam goes into the bathroom and sits on the closed toilet and presses his fingers into his ears so hard he can't hear anything but the beating rush of his own heart, and even through a closed door and quiet and dark behind Sam's eyes he can feel it: his brother, content to be here with Sam, on a night where nothing's yet gone wrong. Little does he know.

Is this some new shift, in Sam's visions? Not only to see the future but to see—what? He doesn't know how to define this. He's seen in movies when people read minds, like that terrible Mel Gibson thing that Dean loved even if he pretended it was shitty—it's always narrated dialogue, someone's thoughts piped directly into the psychic's head. What Sam's getting isn't as useful as that. Emotion, shifting sensation, the ebb and flood and draining drag of how people move through the difficult world. Guilt, misery. Contentment. Fury, brief and shocking, enough to make Sam snap the pencil he's holding, and he looks up to find Dean leafing through Dad's journal, his face a calm mask, and Sam thinks, jesus, he has to tell Dean. He has to, and yet: what can he possibly say?

The dreams are still bad. Sam comes awake like out of a sucking bog and he breathes slow, eyes on the ceiling. Dean's small snores in the next bed. The fear's a pool, lapping against Sam's skin, and he turns his head and says, very quietly, "Dean." There's no answer because of course Dean's deep asleep, of course he's dreaming, and Sam rolls over, watches the slow rise of Dean's chest, concentrates. The dark rises thick, miserable, but Sam already knows that part.

He gets up, keeping quiet, and takes the step between their beds. The room isn't all that dark, the parking lot lights seeping bright behind the curtains, so it's easy to see the gilded line of Dean's cheekbone, his lips parted in sleep, his eyes closed and still. His face tipped toward Sam's bed. Sam wants to touch it so abruptly that his fingers are already reaching out but he stops himself. He leans over, instead, bracing a hand on the headboard, and tries to focus, tries to pin down the amorphous shifting haze of Dean's thrumming head. When he closes his eyes he doesn't see the black lake, the creaking boat, but the fear slips, slides, lapping against him. Against them both. Sam can't grasp it. He's not Andy, to push thoughts into someone else, and he doesn't see how he could get control of this—to ease the fear, or tell Dean somehow that it's going to be okay even if, really, Sam's not sure that's true. He stands up and turns away, goes to the window to look out at the silent parking lot and breathe, waiting it out. The dream swells and subsides, around him, and maybe that's Dean slipping down into a different REM cycle or something but it's a relief. Sam presses his forehead against the cool glass. Visions, and now this. His pointless, stupid powers, that don't let him do anything except see shit he can barely hope to change. Whatever powers the yellow-eyed demon was after them for, Sam hopes he won't be disappointed that Sam's in particular are completely impotent.

By the time two weeks have gone by Sam's—used to it is maybe not the phrase, but he can deal. Still in Bloomington, still searching. Waiting around, now, mostly, for Ellen's contacts to get back to them, for Ash to come up with anything on a scrape of, as far as Dean could relate, the entire internet. If Sam's honest with himself he thinks they're never going to find Ava, and if they do certainly not alive, but they're looking anyway. Dean doesn't suggest they move on, doesn't argue for anything else. He keeps them fed and caffeinated, finds new badly bowdlerized action movies to watch on the room's TV, follows Sam's leads when Sam suggests a new avenue of searching. His dreams are a little calmer, maybe just from the fact that they're stalled in place—a vacation, of a sort, like Dean asked for even if they're doing nothing remotely fun—and during the day Sam sits surrounded by his thoughts and it's… comforting. Sort of.

Happy isn't the word, Sam realizes, for that thin sunlight feeling. Contentment, maybe. Dean has it when they're quiet together, when they're doing stupid chores like laundry or taking a break in research to make some salt rounds, when they're arguing over Stallone versus Van Damme for the tenth time. When they're working Sam's gut tightens without his say-so in random spikes of anxiety, of worry. His heart clenches and he actually puts a hand over it, and he's just reading the police blotter in the paper, so when he looks up and Dean's got his half open to the obits, Sam frowns and says, "What?"

Dean jerks, like he was caught at something. "I didn't say anything," he says, and his face is calm but his hand's spread over some thin column, some family's sadness, and when he gets up to piss Sam pulls the paper around and sees it's an obituary for someone's father, dead a little too early, and Sam sits back and puts his knuckles into his eyes and breathes out, trying to shake the lingering ache of it.

Coming out of the shower that night, Sam wraps a towel around his waist and steps out into the bedroom. "What's for dinner?" he says, thinking he'll argue for Chinese whatever Dean says, and thinking that he might try searching up more information about Ansem's family, in particular, to see if there were any patterns there they could use, and he's in his own head enough that it takes him a minute to feel how the room has shifted around him. He pauses, leaning over his duffle bag, trying to pinpoint.

"There's that cheesesteak place over on 15th," Dean says, easy, but he's not at ease. Sam's feeling that same unexpected swoop in his gut, that low achy pull, and this time it's not from a woman but from a guy and so it's a tightness in his nuts, his blood heating. Sam grips his t-shirt in both hands, tight enough that his broken wrist aches. His cheeks have flooded hot and he stands up, shrugs his shoulders and feels the cold air on the water still on his skin, and the—the lust, because that's what it is, this thick wanting that's pulsing up through his stomach—it swoops low, shifts, and the flooding rise of guilt and fear that follows is so fast that Sam coughs, shocked.

"Yo, Marlee Matlin," Dean says. "Cheesesteak?"

"Yeah," Sam says, not turning around. He doesn't want to see what face goes with this feeling. "No onions on mine."

Dean snorts. "Heathen," he says, and there's a rattle of the keys being dragged off the table and Dean swinging into his leather coat, and he says, "Have clothes on by the time I get back, you exhibitionist," and the tangled mix of wanting and terror and shame is so thick that Sam can still feel it when the door's slammed behind him, when the car's rumbling on, fading only when the sound of the engine does, and Sam turns around then finally and looks at the empty room and thinks—nothing. His brain doesn't know what to do with this.

The cheesesteaks are decent. They watch the local news for any blood-and-guts, and then Frasier reruns. Dean's content has been blasted away by what happened earlier but he's acting fine and Sam's wondering, now, how often he's been fine when something raw and bizarre was rearing up in him. How long it's been in him. "You okay?" Dean asks, at some point, light but careful, really asking, and Sam dredges up a half-smile from somewhere and shrugs, says, "Just thinking," and Dean rolls his eyes and says, "Oh, god help us all," and Sam throws a balled napkin at him, and Dean grins and swings into the bathroom and Sam hears the sink go on but when he closes his eyes his head is full of Dean's head, and he can almost see it: Dean braced over the sink, his head hung between his shoulders, his cheeks hot and his hands clenched and him saying to himself something like stop.

Sam blinks, back in the room. He did hear that. Stop, Dean says, inside his own head, loud and deliberate, but his thoughts swirl somewhere else and he's imagining—there's Sam's back, broad and damp and golden in the light, and the low line of the towel around his waist, and the wet curl of his hair around his ear, and how Dean wanted to put his mouth there, so badly he could almost taste the water—and then the harsh wave of recrimination floods the image out and Dean looks up into the mirror and thinks to himself, in clear words that he doesn't say out loud, you pathetic fucking freak, and Sam has to get up off the bed and slam out of the room and stand in the parking lot with freezing air on his bare arms and he holds his hand over his mouth so he doesn't curse out loud and he thinks jesus, bad enough that one of them is thinking it—the self-hatred that's tightening up his chest is hardly easing, from getting some distance, and soon he'll have to go back into the room because Dean will wonder what the hell he's doing, standing outside in his socks like a weirdo, and Sam has to say—he has to—this isn't fair, to either of them—but how can he say it without Dean knowing exactly what Sam must have overheard—overfelt—and Sam knows his brother, always has, and he knows what'll follow. A freakout, to say the least. Recrimination, reflected blame, anger and then fear—always the fear—that Sam's slipping further away, or worse that Dean will have pushed him further away—and Sam can't do this, he can't live like this, without Dean. He can't handle this stupid, terrible year, not without his brother on his side.

He takes a deep breath, cold in his lungs. Jesus, is that what he's going to do? Just live with it, because—

"Dude, what the hell?" comes Dean's voice, behind him. Sam turns and finds Dean, yes, standing in the open doorway, his hair a little damp at the edges like he splashed his face, his eyebrows high because here's his little brother being a weirdo like always. Except that he's more worried than his face lets on, and there's a rising tide of is something happening, is this something about the demon, the tang of fear that fills every night.

"Thought I heard something," Sam says, trying to interrupt it before it gets too bad. "By the car. I think it was just a dog or something."

He's a better liar than Dean gives him credit for; already it's working, the fear sliding into warm exasperation. That thin, frail beam of sunlight. "Freaking out Fido, now?" Dean says, while Sam walks wincing back across the parking lot, scattered gravel poking through his socks. "New low, bro."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam says, brushing past where Dean's holding the door open, and there's a thrill—in his chest, in Dean's—that he clamps down on, ignores, but he can't ignore the misery around it. That's a problem.

Sam stays awake that night, waiting for Dean to sleep. The black lake, the blood. Sam turns on his side and watches Dean's face and closes his eyes slowly, thinking of that moment just before the guilt, the shame—the clear, unadulterated want—and when he dreams they're in the cabin, again, and Dean's bleeding with his unconcerned hand holding nothing inside, and the water surges hard against the sides of the boat, floods the floorboards, and Sam opens his eyes and slides off his bed onto the floor and lays his hand onto Dean's stomach where in the dream he's dying, and he presses his forehead against the mattress and shudders, aching with how much it hurts, and the dream—shifts.

He breathes in, still halfway in sleep himself. Dean's hand covered in blood and his shoulders hunched up, but his face turns up and he sees Sam, standing there in the doorway watching him. He says something but Sam, the real Sam, can't hear it; the Sam-of-the-dream comes closer, looms. He looks a foot taller than Dean, broader. Monstrous almost. Sam catches his breath and the dream-Sam puts his hand over Dean's hand, holds it tighter against the wound, and Dean tips his head back and murmurs something and the Sam of the dream presses their hands tighter, hard enough that it should hurt except in the way of dreams there's no real pain but only the knowledge of being torn open—and then the Sam of the dream leans in and presses his mouth to Dean's, a chaste strange kiss, like kissing marble—and their hands sink into Dean's stomach, tearing—and when the kiss ends Sam lifts up and Dean opens his eyes and Sam's eyes are yellow, from edge to edge, and Sam shoves away from the bed, scrambling so fast he slams his shoulder into the frame of his own, and by some fucking miracle Dean doesn't wake up so Sam's left panting, alone on the carpet in the dark, a remembered warmth against his lips and his hand feeling an echoed-ghost slickness of black, dripping blood.

He puts on his sneakers, a hoodie, sticks his phone in his pocket but turns it off. He goes for a run. Three a.m. is silent around here and he needs that, needs no people. He runs hard enough and long enough that it's hard to think beyond the burning in his thighs, his lungs. His hurting shoulder where he's going to have a bruise.

When he gets back Dean comes awake at the door opening. "Where were you?" he says, bleary, and Sam says, "Out for a run, go back to sleep," and Dean's tired enough that he blinks at Sam heavily and mumbles, "Okay, freak," and subsides, turning over and hugging the pillow close. Sam stands with his back to the door, his hands fisted around the knob, watching as Dean slips back down into sleep, and it's deep, dreamless, a relief.

Sam showers and takes his time about it. He's not getting back to bed today. He washes his hair and his face, not bothering to be careful about keeping his cast dry anymore—it's almost time for it to come off, anyway—and his brain won't empty, won't let him forget. He can't get the image of his own eyes out of his head. Glinting gold. The version of him in the dream wasn't cruel, because it wasn't human. Peeling Dean open and giving him what he wanted and killing him, all at once. It's not hard to interpret.

He washes the rest, streaking soap. Takes his limp dick in hand, running his thumb under the foreskin, and then holds himself, his cast braced against the tile wall. He hasn't jerked off in—he can't even remember, the last time. It could clear his head. He squeezes, sliding wet up to the head, but what he imagines is—Dean's mouth, in the dark, barely parted. His own shoulders, gleaming inside Dean's head. He lets go of his dick and wipes his hand over his lips, trying to get the sensation out, and shuts off the water. It can't go on like this. Not like this.

He dries off in a half-assed way and tugs on boxers and nothing else. Out in the room Dean's still asleep and dawn's not yet rising. Sam shuts off the bathroom light and in the mostly-dark goes over to Dean's bed and sits on the edge of the mattress, and puts his hand on the back of Dean's neck. A blurring shift, coming on like a slow dimmer switch, as he rises up out of whatever dreamless space he was in. "Dean," Sam says, very quietly, and Dean's eye slits open, gleaming. He turns his head, rolls back a little, and Sam's hand drags along to his shoulder, fitting there on the smooth warm round of it. Dean blinks and is still almost entirely offline, the fog of his thoughts nothing but grey sleep, and Sam leans down and kisses him, then, catches his mouth a little off-center with his lips dry, his breath sour, his body warm and loose and unable to stop him.

No reaction for a few seconds, either in his body or his head. Sam opens his mouth and presses Dean's lips wider and gets the morning-taste of him, thick and strange, soft. He touches Dean's chin, the damp edge of his cast dragging against his skin, and it's that which seems to wake Dean up—his body going stiff, his mind flooding with—god, Sam can't untangle it all. "What," Dean says, against Sam's mouth, pulling back, but Sam grips his shoulder and presses him flat against the bed, leaning over him, keeping him here. Flicker of his eyelashes in the dark and his mouth's shining now, too, from Sam's mouth. Sam's stomach turns over to see it.

Sam doesn't say anything. Dean's breathing hard, looking up at him. Fear, pooling around the bed, flooding the room like the bed's the boat and the room's the lake, and Sam maybe doesn't get it entirely—he thinks of his eyes, yellow in Dean's mind, and his hand clenches hard enough on Dean's shoulder that Dean cringes away, grips Sam's wrist. "Sam," Dean says, uncertain—wondering if he's still dreaming—and Sam leans down and kisses him again, ignores Dean's stiff scared lips and licks inside, knocking him open, his cast heavy on Dean's chest, his wet hair dripping cold. He feels it, of course, when it starts to wake in Dean—the sensation of his body, his mouth, the warmth rising south, the shock of getting this—the confusion—and he pulls away, enough that he can look into Dean's eyes, says, "Feel this," and breaks Dean's grip on his wrist and slides his hand down under the blanket and past Dean's flinching belly to his dick, heavy in his underwear, swelling. Dean takes a shuddering shocked breath and the rise of want is so thick that it chokes out the fear, the guilt, his mind going full and focused at getting his dick held by someone he wants as badly as he wants Sam. God. To know that.

The want is so intense that Sam knows it won't matter that he's never done this before. A dick is a dick, though, he figures, and he slips his fingers inside the waistband, finds the pole of it—thick, the skin unexpectedly soft—and Dean's body arches under his, his breath hot and fast already. Sam doesn't want this, not in the same way, but it hardly matters when Dean's desire roars high between them. "Touch me," Sam says, and Dean goes for Sam's chest, his shoulders, grasping in fumbled shock, while Sam gets a better grip, pumps, finding a rhythm. Awkward with his left hand but clearly doing the job, from how Dean's already shaking, his thighs spreading for it under the blanket, his fingers tight in Sam's skin. Sam leans down, finds Dean's mouth again, and Dean opens for him easy, letting Sam inside, his hands finding Sam's jaw. His fingers careful, uncertain—sliding up into Sam's damp hair, holding—and his hips jerk—and Sam licks into Dean's mouth and pumps him faster, his shoulder sore and aching, his fingers getting slick—jesus, Sam runs his thumb over the head and feels the wet leaking—and Dean jerks under him like touching a live wire and comes just like that, hips shoving up into Sam's grip, wet heat that spills over Sam's hand and against his wrist. Sam gentles his grip and Dean jerks into his palm, getting the last of it out. His chest is heaving, under Sam's cast. Sam kisses him, again, and Dean's teeth drag against his lip, and Sam slides his hand up out of Dean's shorts and presses his palm firm against his bare belly, heedless of the mess.

When he lifts up Dean's staring at him, fixed. The room's inundated with his thoughts, a whitewater crush. Sam's mouth tastes like metal. Dean's fingers reach up, white, and touch his cheek, and Sam drags in air and lets himself be touched, and Dean doesn't know what to do with this. He wants to tackle Sam back to the bed and he wants to crawl under something and he wants to be not who he is because who he is has ruined—

"Stop," Sam says, pressing his palm harder against Dean's belly. "Stop thinking."

Dean licks his lips, looks back and forth between Sam's eyes. Distracted from the misery but just as bewildered, and worse. "What are you thinking?" he says, after a few seconds. Scrape of voice, thick and unsure.

"I'm thinking I want you," Sam says, and Dean blinks and this terrible curl of hope goes through him, another kind of light like a brush of rose-fingered dawn at the edge of a dark landscape, and Sam hasn't felt that, hasn't come close to that, this whole awful time. Sam bites his lips and hopes Dean doesn't hear the next part as qualification: "I want you here. With me. Not—freaking out. Not worried about—whatever it is you're always worrying about."

Dean swallows. His face turns away a little. "Me, worry," he says, breath of a scoff, and there's that rawness again, the shame pulling at his gut. Afraid of this and afraid of Sam in equal measure.

Sam can't stand it. He won't have it. "Don't," he says, and Dean's eyes flick at him sidelong, his mouth turning to some unhappy shape, and Sam pushes in and spreads out over the top of him and kisses him again, his wet gross hand sliding up Dean's side, his mouth crushed hard against Dean's mouth. Dean kisses back this time, for real, and he's—softer, tenderer, than Sam would have ever imagined Dean would kiss, if he had ever imagined it.

It's Sam who breaks the kiss—every part of Dean, body and mind, is full of the feeling that he would never, ever stop unless the room was on fire, and maybe not even then—and when they're breathing against each other Dean's hand worms up out of the blanket and finds Sam's side, over his ribs. Squeezes there, very lightly, his heart thrilling terrified at the presumption. "Sammy," he says, one word a complicated snarl of a question, and Sam shakes his head, can't answer. He moves his right arm, bracing the cast instead by Dean's head, and Dean's chest rises under the release of the weight. A release, all over, and that dawn keeps rising, though the lake's still black and its depths are impossible to see.

Sam tucks his head down, his face in Dean's throat, like they're hugging, like something familiar at least, and Dean's arm goes around his back, holding him. "Sam," he whispers, against Sam's hair. Sam closes his eyes and feels the surge of it: tender, violent, aching. A glut that presses against the back of his teeth with all he wants to say and won't.

He doesn't know if that feeling is his, or Dean's. Behind his eyes it's black and dawn's still not here. On a lake, in the dark, there's a boat creaking, the water surging high but not yet spilling over the side.

#ffcc #wincest #pining!dean #psychic sam #mildly dubious consent #my writing

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gashinabts · 4 years

Text

The Deal

Word: 8.8k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Entering your room you immediately lay on your bed sighing with exhaustion, you lift the money and start counting the money. “ 20,40,60,80...what the fuck…” you continue counting the money until it’s to five hundred dollars. “ Here I come, Jungkook.”

Warnings: Mature language

A/N: AHHH I’m soooo sorry I haven’t been posting lately due to this crazy pandemic a lot of unfortunate things have happened to me. I hope you guys like this fic, it took me awhile to plan it and write it, and I’m still disappointed in it :( I wish you all good health and please be careful!! Make sure to always wash your pretty hands!!!

“ Her parents have been married for twenty years but she thinks her mother is having an affair. She still wants to find love like them well...at the moment when they were happy. Her favorite movie is Fight Club because she thinks it makes her have good taste in movies. She doesn’t kiss on the first date because she doesn’t want to seem too easy,” you finish your statement and hold your hand out. “ That would be a hundred dollars.”

Jimin hurriedly reaches from his back pocket and looks for cash in his wallet. He’s about to give you the money but stops himself. “ Is that all? Did Heejin say anything about me?”

“ Well I can’t just randomly say your name in our conversations. You know how long it took me to be her friend and I had to listen to her complain about everything.” Jimin gives you a sad pout and gives you an extra twenty dollars. “ Fine okay. We were playing truth or dare and she said she wouldn’t mind getting on

her knees for someone on the football team…”

“ And…”

“ It was you. Happy now?” You smile once he hands you the money. You smirk while counting the money. “ There’s also one more thing but I don’t think I should tell you.” You sigh and put the rest of the textbooks in your bag

He slides you another twenty dollars, “ Tell me.”

“ She lost her virginity in a small car and she regretted it. It was to some random guy. Well she wants her first boyfriend to think she’s a virgin so it can be special to her. She only told me since we are ‘close friends’. Now it’s your time to woo her or whatever.” You grab the cash and put it in your wallet. You quickly say bye to Jimin and walk out of the library.

You enter the classroom and take your notebook out. “ Hey. Wanna hangout afterschool? My parents aren’t home, we were thinking of throwing a kickback?,” Heejin asks you as she takes her notebook out.

“ Uhh... can’t I’m really busy with homework.” This was the hardest part of doing this ‘job’, trying to get rid of your relationship with them.

Heejin shakes you lightly, “ C’mon you can worry about your homework another time. And guess who’s going to be there?”

You look at the time on your phone wondering when the teacher is going to come. “ Who’s coming?” You fake a smile and twirl your pencil.

“Jimin’s coming. He asked me out on a date so I asked him if he wanted to chill.”

Wow he works fast. Heejin always has alcohol at her place; one drink wouldn’t hurt. “ Okay I’ll go but I can only go for an hour.” The teacher comes and class starts.

You show up to the kickback forty five minutes late. “ Y/N. Nice for you to show up,” Taehyung says while giving you a drink.

Taehyung is someone you rarely talk to, he’s the guy who just casually nods his head at you when you see each other around the hall. He’s also the guy you gave a handjob to.

“ Hey. I had to walk here. Thanks.” He looks out of place wearing oversized sweats and a hoodie. “ Where’s Heejin?” You should at least say hello to her ,stay for a while, and leave. He holds your hand and leads you upstairs to a door that is slightly ajared.

He whispers to you in your ear, “ She’s in there with Jimin.” You look in the small opening and you see her on his lap making out. So much for not kissing on the first date you think to yourself.

“ Is she drunk?” You whisper back to Taehyung.

“Most likely she had like five shots and a beer.” He opens the door slightly more, “ Aren’t you going to help your friend?”

Oh yeah she’s your friend. You opened the door more and walked into her bedroom. “ Heejin! I’m here!,” you smile at her as she turns her head at an angle to see you. Heejin smiles brightly and gets off of Jimin, and hugs you tightly.

“ You're here! I thought you weren’t going to come.” She pouts while holding your hands. Jimin coughs lightly and stands up from the bed. “ Oh this is Jimin. I don’t know if you guys like properly know each other.”

You know Jimin quite alright, you probably know him more than she does. He’s the guy who paid over hundred dollars to get to know her more. Know her more than any instagram post. “ Hey, you're the guy that throws the football across the field and hopes that someone catches it. I’m Y/N,” you smile at him

Jimin laughs and smiles brightly at you. You got to admit he’s an attractive guy and he’s stacked with money. Jimin and Heejin will make a good couple, they are both the same. “ Yeah that’s me. Nice meeting you.” He grabs his cup from the desk and looks into it, “I should get a refill. Anyone want more?”

Heejin is about to say something but someone interrupts her. “ No, I think they are good.” You turn to see Taehyung still waiting by the door. Jimin lets out a small okay and walks out kissing Heejin on the cheek. “ Alright, I should get home. It was nice seeing you Y/N. Thanks for the party Heejin.” With that said Taehyung leaves.

“ Are you and Taehyung something?” Heejin giggles at her own question.

“ No way. He was just talking to me.”

You ended up staying the whole time and helping Heejin clean up. Heejin knocks out the moment she lays on her bed. It’s really late, you should get home. You're about to lock Heejin’s front door until a girl yells to stop. You’ve seen her around campus. She's really pretty but you don’t know her name.

“ Hey I left my wallet in the house, I’ll be quick.” She goes into the living room and grabs her wallet. “ Hey, your Y/N, right?” You are surprised she knows your name, she’s way too popular, more popular than Heejin.

“ Yeah. That’s me...,” you say to her while walking away from Heejin’s house. “ And you are?”

She gives you a flash of surprise, “ Chaeyoung. Do you need a ride?” Chaeyoung points at her shiny black jeep.

“ Yeah, that would be great,” you smile at her. She is pretty and nice, huh.

When you enter her car it has the lingering smell of a new car. The dashboard was nice and shiny. You told her where you lived, looking outside the window you hum a familiar tune on the radio.

Chaeyoung asked softly while looking at the road,“ So Y/N how’s business these days?”

You froze at her question only a selective amount of people know about your so called business. If everyone knew of you what you do, then there would be no point in this business. You only had a few clients at school and mostly were rich boys wanting information on girls so they can date or hook up. Yeah, it sounds sleazy but it’s going to help pay for college.

“ Don’t freak out on me Y/N. It’s just a simple question,” she laughs while she looks at you at a frozen state. “ It was Hoseok who told me. I couldn’t believe that Hoseok managed to have sex with Miyeon. I know Miyeon, she’s sweet, pure, saving herself for marriage. And I asked myself how’d did Hoseok, a guy who likes to have sex with a new girl every month, have sex with her. I forced an answer out of him.”

That asshole can’t keep his mouth shut. What are you gonna do now, maybe you could try to lie and find a way to get out of this situation. You need this job.

“ I-,” you start to say.

“ I gotta admit it was pretty incredible that you managed to do that,” she lets out a whistle. “ Don’t worry Y/N, I won’t tell anyone.”

You felt a rush of a relief, “ Okay thanks.” You wipe your sweat from your hands and take out a piece of gum from your purse. You gave her a piece, she laughs while putting it in her mouth.

“ Since you're so good at your job, can I be your client,” she asked, tapping her light pink polish nails against the steering wheel.

This was the first time a girl asked you she wanted information on someone. “ It cost money,” you advise her.

“ I know a good amount of money, and I have a good amount of money,” she smiles and turns left. “ I need information about Jungkook.”

There’s no way you can do this job. First he’s a male and the chances of me trying to become him his friend would be impossible. Second he’s way too popular, he has his own group of friends that wouldn’t allow me to talk to him. Third, he's rich and powerful if he finds out that you did this to him, you don’t even know what will happen to you. Let’s try to veer her away from this person. You laugh cooly, “ Trust me you don’t need my help. You have a pretty smile, nice legs, and a new car. Plus, I see you are already close to Jungkook. You guys sit together at lunch with his other friends.”

Chaeyoung doesn’t say anything for the next few minutes and you think that she forgot about this subject but unfortunately she doesn’t. “ You know I have been Jungkook’s friend...or whatever he claims I am for like three years?,” she asked you. You hum for her to continue on. “...I want to be his girlfriend, something official. He’s very hot and rich, and his father has his own law firm and his mother is head surgeon of that new hospital. I think we will look good together...no I know we will look good together.” Chaeyoung parks her car in front of your house. “ I know I’m all those things you described me as but the problem is...I can’t seem to get to really know him. You know after we have sex he takes a shower and he just leaves. No pillow talks and even when I try to talk to him he puts up a wall, a fucking wall I can’t get over. So that’s when you come in Y/N, you do the impossible, and I need you to do this for me.”

“ I understand but—”

Chaeyoung interrupts before you can finish,“ I’ll pay you whatever you want. Does five thousand sound okay?” This girl is really desperate and really rich.

“ Okay, it sounds like a deal,” you stick your hand out and shake her hand. You can’t believe you are taking this deal, wow money does change a person's mind.

You are about to leave until her hand gently grabs your elbow. “ Here, consider it a deposit.” Chaeyoung gives you some cash. You bid your goodbyes and enter your house.

Entering your room you immediately lay on your bed sighing with exhaustion, you lift the money and start counting the money. “ 20,40,60,80...what the fuck…” you continue counting the money until it’s to five hundred dollars.

“ Here I come, Jungkook.”

“ Wait we really did make out! I’m so stupid you think I would have known the first time I did this,” Heejin says while placing her head in disappointment.

“ Wait, you were drunk when you lost your virginity?,” you asked. Stop pretending you care Y/N, she’s not your friend, you were paid to be her friend.

Heejin gives a sad glance and nods her head. You place your hands on her back rubbing it soothingly. “ Hey, it’s okay. If you ever want to talk about it, I’m all ears,” you smile at her and she smiles back.

“ Thank you, Y/N. I never had a good friend like you.” You roll your eyes jokingly, trying not to take the compliment to heart. “ Y/N, I really mean it. I gotta go to Calculus, see you later!”

You enter your Chemistry classroom sitting down on your assigned seat.

“ Okay settle down class. You know what today is? It’s lab day.”

You look to your left to see that your partner isn’t here. What was his name? Jinwoo no it wasn’t that...Jinhwan—“Y/N, Sangchul transferred to another school, go find another partner,” the teacher said loudly.

Looking around you see another student with an empty seat next to him. You stood in front of him and was shocked to see him. Jungkook. How convenient for you. You never knew he was in your class. “ Can I be your partner?,” you ask him. There was no one beside him so you naturally assumed he'd say yes.

“ I have a partner already,” Jungkook says it curtly. His eyes briefly make eye contact with yours and then he looks back at the textbook.

“ My bad I didn’t see him sitting right next to you, oh wait he’s not,” you sarcastically speak. You didn’t mean for it to come out like that he was being rude first. Jungkook looks at you and rolls his eyes. Fuck, he can’t hate you, you have to get close to him. “ Sorry I didn’t mean to sound like that. But can I please be your partner. It's only for this lab day. I may be shit at chemistry but I’m good at helping…,” you timidly smile. Jungkook ignores you and you are about to leave until he sighs loudly.

“ Fine. You can be my partner,” he pushes the chair out beside him. You silently cheer in your head. Jungkook is different from all the other people you work with. He’s harder to approach almost not welcoming than the others. Placing your things beside you, you stay at a safe distance from him. The teacher hands Jungkook the lab assignment instructions and he reads it for about three minutes, then hands it to you.

You briefly scan it and look at him, only to see his side profile, and he’s writing things in his lab notebook. You don’t want to bother him since you don’t want to get on his bad side. Occasionally Jungkook would make comments related to the lab and you would quickly jot them down on your own notebook. “ Sorry, I wasn’t much help,” you tell Jungkook.

“ It’s fine,” he says and reaches for the lab assignment paper by your hands. You give it to him and he quickly says thanks, handing it to the teacher.

He takes your lab notebook along with his and turns it to the front desk. You quickly slip your history notebook in his backpack before he comes back. “ See you later,” you leave with your belongings.

Chaeyoung is smoking in the school parking, leaning against her car. “ How’d it go?,” she asked once you got closer to her.

She offers you a cigarette and you shake your head no, “ Great, Jungkook said five sentences to me,” you kick a rock that was by you.

You look at her blow out the smoke in a different direction and she laughs, “ Sounds like him. At least he said something, when we first met he was silent the whole time.” She throws the cigarette on the floor and steps on it, “ We had sex this morning.”

“ Okay…” you say awkwardly. You didn’t need to know that but okay.

“ He’s being more distant than usual. I don’t mean to rush you but I’m running out of time here.” Chaeyoung grabs the mirror from her purse and reapplies her lipstick.

How the hell are you going to make him get closer to you? Jungkook is a difficult person to talk to and now Chaeyoung is rushing you. “ Okay, I’ll work faster.”

She smiles, “ Good.”

You walk back to the cafeteria and look around for Jungkook, he’s sitting down with the rest of his friends and he’s laughing. You walk closer to the table and Jimin is the first person to greet you. “ Y/N! How’s it going?,” he swings his arm over your shoulder. Jungkook looks towards you and is surprised to see you.

“ I’m doing good, Heejin told me you looked cute today,” you come up with an excuse. Jimin blushes and scratches his head. “ By the way is it cool for us to join you guys for lunch?,” you ask curiously.

“ Yeah join us!,” he exclaimed excitedly.

Heejin is talking to one of her other friends and you interrupt them “ Hey Heejin, Jimin invited us to eat with them.” She looks at you in shock and flushes when you drag her to the table.

Jimin invites her to sit with him, you stand along the table searching where you should sit. “ You can sit here,” one of Jungkook’s friends said. You sit between Jungkook and his friend. “ What’s your name?”

“ Y/N. And yours?,” you ask politely. You feel your thighs brushing up against Jungkooks and you scoot closer to his friend.

“ Namjoon. I think you are in my AP Physics class, you beat me with the highest mark on the test,” he jokingly states.

“ Oh, that’s you! You were always a point ahead of me so I finally decided to study a little bit. Wow, it feels good to see the person I beat,” you smile. Jungkook looks invested in the conversation but doesn’t say anything.

Namjoon barks a laugh, his dimples fully on display, “ A little bit? I’m impressed, you gotta show me your ways,” he nudges his elbow against you.

“ How do you suck at chemistry but not in AP physics?,” Jungkook asked you and you turned to look at him. “—Sorry it doesn’t make sense to me, physics is way harder than chemistry.”

Finally he decides to talk to you, baby steps Y/N. “ My dad is a Physics professor,” you tell both of them. Both of their eyes widen and you laugh, “ I’m kidding. I’m not sure why I’m really good at physics. What are you good at Jungkook? You look like you're good at Literature.”

Namjoon intervens, “ He’s good at everything.” Jungkook subtly rolls his eyes but Namjoon doesn’t see it, only you.

“ Oh is that so. Must be sad to be good at everything,” you say indirectly to Jungkook.

“ How so?,” Namjoon asked, pushing his glasses up. “ Being good at everything means you can accomplish anything.”

You think thoughtfully, “ People will always have this high standard of you though. If you don’t meet their expectation won’t you be useless since you are supposedly good at everything? Even if you could accomplish anything would you be accomplishing things that you want? I wouldn’t want to be perceived as someone who is good at everything, they must be really lonely.”

You look back at Jungkook and he stares at you for a long time. “ Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.” He leaves quickly and says goodbye to the rest of his friends.

“ Wow, he’s in a rush. So Y/N about that upcoming physics test…” Namjoon scoots closer to you.

You lay your head against the table in the library listening to your music and softly hum. A blue notebook comes into your view when it’s placed on the table. You sit up and see Jungkook standing by the table, you take your earphones off, “ I found your history notebook in my backpack, I don’t know how it got there,” he gives a skeptical look.

“ I’m not sure either, thanks anyways,” you lay your head back down. Jungkook looks at you closely and you laugh, “ Need company?”

He shakes his head and is about to leave but then turns back and sits right next to you, “ What’s wrong with you?”

“ Nothing just tired. I feel like I’m always tired, I don't know of what,” you continue to lay your head.

He taps his finger against the table lightly, “ It sounds like you're depressed.”

“ Probably.” Your fingers go beside his and lightly tap with his. “ Are you good at everything Jungkook?,” his fingers stop tapping.

“ Why do you care?,” Jungkook said defensively.

“ I don’t care,” you bring your hand closer to you. Any minute he’s going to give you a tragic story but then again he’s not like the others. Jungkook is cautious of you and he should have every right to be. “ What’s your favorite color?” You switch the conversation to ease the tension between you two.

“ Black,” he says quietly. You ask him why as you close your eyes. “ Black is simple, it’s not complicated. There’s no light or dark black. It’s just black.” You hum an okay and smile when he asks you what’s your favorite color.

“ Today it’s blue. I don’t have a favorite color because it always changes when different people ask me,” you sit up and look at him. “ I have to go, it takes forever for me to walk home. It was nice talking to you Jungkook.”

You start sitting next to Jungkook more often and Chaeyoung watches from the side. It goes on for weeks and your surprise that he hasn’t pushed you away. He talks to you in short sentences, never anything deep. You both are in the library individually listening to your own music. Your head is once again against the table, you feel Jungkook tap you on the back, you take your earphones out as a sign that you are listening. “ Y/N, what’s the thing that you are most afraid of?”

Why should you tell him? Jungkook is like every other person, someone you pretend to be friends with. He shouldn’t know anything about you but you tell him anyways. “ Getting old. Seeing yourself get old and people dying around you, wondering when your time is up. What about you Jungkook?”

“ You know the first time you hangout with us at lunch, that scared me the most. I like how closed off my friend group is, it scares me when new people come into my life. I don’t know what they want...I don’t know what I’m saying,” he sighs and lays his head next to you. Both of you stare at each other and his eyes are shining, you hate how hopeful it looks so you close your eyes.

“ You fear me?,” you ask softly.

“ No,” he clarifies.

It is silent for a while and he finally speaks “ I was in middle school when my dad introduced me to one of his interns at his work. Areum, that was her name, she just got out of law school. She was nice and pretty...I saw them having sex in my dad’s office. I hated her so much I slashed her tires and broke her mirrors.” You open your eyes and his eyes are closed. “ My mom knows that my dad has affairs, she just lets it happen.”

He must be lonely at his house. “ What’s your favorite food?,” you ask Jungkook.

“ Pork belly. Yours?,” he smiles for the first time at you.

“ Today it is kimchi fried rice.”

He sighs, “ Why do you always do that Y/N?”

“ Do what?”

“ Tell me things that other people want to hear. You did it with the ‘what’s your favorite color question too’. I really want to know what you like and hate,” Jungkook says softly.

You flush a little, never ever having to tell what you want or what you like. “ I like Sundubu-jjigae. My Dad used to make it for me when I was younger,” you smile to yourself.

Jungkook chuckles, “ When you were younger, you make it sound like you're in your mid thirties. Why doesn’t he make it for you anymore?” He is disappointed to see your smile disappear when he asks this question.

“ He’s busy,” you want to tell Jungkook all your troubles but you swallow them. “ Wake me up in 15 minutes,” you close your eyes and rest on the hard table.

Chaeyoung invites you to her party and you really don’t want to go but you have to. Once you enter the party you go straight to the alcohol, taking two shots before looking for Chaeyoung. She’s smoking outside and standing beside her, she offers you a hit and you take it.

“ How’s it going with him?” she immediately asked.

You blow the smoke away from her, “Good I guess, he’s gotten closer to me.” You hand the blunt back to her.

“ I can tell. Anything important he said?”

There’s always a small part of you that feels guilty when you have to tell the clients shared secrets. “ His dad is having an affair with his interns. He hates that his mom doesn’t say anything. He’s sad that he can never love or be loved.”

“ Hm, good work. Do you think he’ll ever love me?” Chaeyoung gives a new blunt and you take it.

No Jungkook will never love Chaeyoung. “ Yes. Just give him time.”

“ Okay.” She smiles bashfully to herself. “ Keep up with the good work.” And with that she leaves you. You look at the blunt in your hands and put it in your pocket.

You walk around her house looking at her pictures that are against the wall. She looks like the only child, the house looks big and pristine despite all the people here, she must be spoiled. You go upstairs to use the bathroom and then you stay there for thirty minutes watching videos on your phone. You get a text from Namjoon to see if you were at the party, you tell him yes and go downstairs. “ Hey Y/N! Studied hard for the test tomorrow?”

“ Of course not, I’m here partying,” you smile at him giving him a drink. Namjoon laughs and goes to the dance floor.

“Hey Y/N.” Jungkook says.

“ What’s up. Wanna get high?” You take the blunt and wave it in front of his face.

He laughs and smiles at you, nodding his head yes. Jungkook leads you to a bedroom and you assume it’s Chaeyoung because there's pictures of her and her friends. You go towards her window and open, you feel a cold breeze and you shiver. “ Here,” he pulls his hoodie off and hands it to you.

“ Uh, Thanks,” you put over you and immediately feel warmth. It smells like him. You don’t know how to describe it but it’s nice. You light up the joint and inhale the smoke letting it consume your lungs. Jungkook takes the joint and does the same. He blows it out and sighs in content.

“ This is some good shit. Who did you get this from?,” Jungkook sits down on the bed.

“ Your girlfriend. The tall pretty girl who always wears red lipsticks,” you laugh and lay on the bed with your joint close by. He doesn’t say anything and you pass the joint to him. It goes on like this for a while just passing it back and forward until there wasn’t nothing left. You throw the butt in the trashcan by the bed. Jungkook lays beside you looking at the ceiling and chuckles.

“ She’s not my girlfriend. Just someone who’s using me,” he turns sideways to look at you. “ But it’s okay I’m using her too,” he says softly.

The weed makes you feel light and you are not functioning straight. And for that reason the words that came out his mouth made you laugh. They are all using each other including you. Jungkook gives you weird stares but smiles anyways asking you what’s funny. “ Nothing I’m just really fucking high and I haven’t been high in a long time,” you try to wipe the tears in your eyes but you feel his hands wiping them away. His fingers brush against your cheek and he is staring into your eyes. If this was a romantic novel both you guys would've kissed but it’s not. The warmth of his hand is gone and it feels cold, you don’t deserve to feel his warmth. “ If you don’t mind me asking how are you guys using each other?”

Jungkook sighs, “ Chaeyoung only wants me because I come from a rich family. I would be like a prize or something to her. I only use her for sex. Just meaningless sex,” he looks at you to see if your expression has changed but it didn’t. If Jungkook can see it so easily then why doesn’t Chaeyoung see it. “ Have you ever used anyone Y/N?”

“ You,” you say mindlessly. What if you told him the truth would Jungkook still want to be your friend? He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “ Yeah, when I asked to be your partner in chemistry.” Jungkook laughs at your statement and scoots closer to you.

“You’re so pretty,” he lets out under his breath.

Your heart skips a beat but you shouldn’t feel this way. “ And you are high.” You laugh while pushing his chest a little. Your hands feel his toned chest blushing you pull your hands away.

“ I am but you are still pretty. I thought you were pretty the first time I saw you. Also a little bit mean,” he smiles thoughtfully. His hand reaches to the fallen strands of your hair pushing it back from your face.

“ Of course you would remember being mean,” you roll your eyes.

“ Yeah you made a bad impression. It’s okay I like you.” He continues to make eye contact to see your reaction.

Fuck Jungkook likes you. Why does he have to make it so much harder than it already is? And why do you feel happiness when he confesses to you? “Why do you like me?”

“ You understand me. I could talk to you about anything and you just know how I feel.”

“Jungkook I—”

“It’s okay you don’t need to say anything,” he pinches your cheek and laughs. “God I’m so hungry we—”

“Jungkook can you kiss me?” You bite your bottom lip nervously and play with the string of his hoodie.

He doesn't say anything but leans closer, “ Are you sure?” Nodding your head and closing your eyes, you hope that this kiss doesn’t affect you in any way. His lips kiss you carefully while his hand holds your cheek. It feels nice, it’s not like that kind of kiss that makes you feel like you're in heaven or that you find the answer to every unsolvable question. But it feels like you can kiss him and you won’t have to worry about anything.

He pulls back with hazy eyes and a smile, you pull him back for a second kiss. His tongue traces your bottom lip asking for permission to enter, and you grant him. The position is uncomfortable since you are both laying on the side so he hovers over while you keep kissing him. His lips leave yours and you whine a little, and he laughs but continues his kisses to your neck. The feeling of lips on your neck makes you feel warm all over your body. He bites your skin on a sensitive part of your neck and you gasp.

“ Jungkook…” You sighed. He groans and you place your hands on his hair, tugging it lightly so he can return to your lips. One of his hands goes to rest between his hoodie you’re wearing and your shirt, caressing your stomach. The kisses become more desperate and you start to feel his hard member against your core.

He pulls back from the kiss and looks at you with a fond smile,“ Y/N, I like you a lot. I haven’t felt this way with anyone before.” He rests his head against your neck, laying completely on you.

Laughing you play with his hair, “ You’re heavy!”

“ Just let me stay here for a while,” he muffles against your neck. You turn your head to the side and see the picture of Chaeyoung and her friends. Fuck what are you doing Y/N.

You are walking to your Literature class and feel someone pull you into a classroom. It’s the art classroom where students normally work on pieces and leave them there to be secured. Taehyung locks the door and stares at you with a deadly glare, crossing your arms. “ What the hell are you doing Y/N?”

“ What the hell am I doing? What the hell are you doing?” You try to leave but he steps in front of the door. “ Move, Taehyung.”

“ What are you planning to do with Jungkook?”

You scoff and look around the room, “ Nothing.” You weren’t surprised that Taehyung knew what was going on, he was always suspicious of you even with Jimin.

“ Y/N, don’t fucking play dumb. You especially don’t want to fuck with me,” he says sternly.

“ Why does this concern you?”

“ Because Jungkook is my friend! I don’t want him to get hurt because of this stupid game you like to play.”

You laugh bitterly, “ A game? You think this is a game?”

“ Well I’ve seen the shit you do Y/N, you’ve done with Hoseok and Jimin. And now Jungkook. Just to have fun playing with people’s feelings. Stay the hell away from him,” he turns his back from you.

“ Wait up asshole,” you grab his wrist so he can look at you. “ You don’t have the right to talk to me like that. You think I do this for fun? Huh, you think I like fucking do this. Not everyone is as privileged as you,” you rant and there’s angry tears starting to fall out.

Taehyung’s face shows nothing but confusion, “ Y/N...why are you crying?”

You wipe the tears away, “ I don’t like it Taehyung. I really don’t. I just need the money for college.” You push him to the side so you can exit the classroom but he stops you.

“ Y/N, I can help you. My dad knows people that can give you high paying job-”

“ Stop, I don’t want your pity.”

“ Shut up and listen to me,” he says and you give him a glare. “ Sorry, but I just don’t want you to do this anymore Y/N. I can tell it’s hurting you. Please stop this and tell Jungkook the truth.”

The library is empty and it’s just the two of you silently working on school work. “ Want to play Xbox at my house?” You stop typing your essay when Jungkook asks you this.

Sighing you close the laptop, “Yeah, I’m beat with this essay.” He helps you pack up your stuff and leads you to his car. It’s your first time in his car and it suits him. As he continues driving to his home you pass through multiple affluent neighborhoods. Finally when you arrive at his place your eyes widen. It's bigger than Chaeyoung and it’s front lawn looks so green and spacious.

After silently gawking at the inside of his house he leads you to his room. You immediately are fond of the scent and the pictures of the room. A picture frame is placed on his desk, grabbing it you smile. “ That’s me and Taehyung. When we were younger.”

“Kim Taehyung?”

“ Yeah we are great friends, he doesn’t hangout with us during lunch since he is busy finishing touches on his art portfolio for college,” he says while setting the Xbox on. “ You two know each other?,” he looks back at you with a curious gaze.

“ Not really. We had art history together ,” you casually say while you sit on his bed.

Few hours passed and your multiple losses with his video games had made you upset but it was fun. You never had this much fun in a long time. He laughs when he kills in the video game and you throw a pillow at his head. “C’mon don’t be a sore loser,” he grabs your remote and places it on his console.

“ I have every right to be, you don't even give me a chance,” you pout and lay down on his bed. Your skirt rises showing more skin and Jungkook stares at it. His fingers brush your thighs carefully, you flush at the nice sensation. He looks away from your legs and throws a small blanket on them, and sits on his bed with his back against the headboard. You copy his actions and lay your head against his shoulder just looking at his black screen tv. “ Have you ever cared for someone, Jungkook?”

“ I would say no but I would be lying to myself,” he touches your hair carefully. You lean into his touch like a needy kitten. “What about you?”

“ I’m starting to care for someone but I’m scared I might hurt him—“

“Then don’t,” Jungkook said sternly. “...Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt me,” this time he says softly. You turn to look at him and he looks beautiful with his soft features but determined eyes. He closes the gap between you two and kisses you gently. It’s warm, you feel warm like everything is perfect but it’s not.

“ Jungkook we shouldn’t,” you lightly push his chest. He looks at you with hurt and confusion but backs off.“I just...I don’t want to complicate things.”

He looks lost and searches for your eyes, “ I don’t understand… I thought you like me… I like–“

“ Please Jungkook, you don’t like me. You say you like me but your having sex with other people. You're just fascinated with me because you're lonely…you don’t like me. No one will,” you say quickly and rush to get your things.

“ What the hell are you talking about?,” he voice rises. “ Chaeyoung is nothing to me. I haven’t had sex with her since we like met. Don’t you dare call me fucking lonely when your fucking lonely yourself. You analyze people thinking you're better than everyone, guess what you're not. You're just good at lying to yourself,” he finishes and pushes his head hair back in frustration.

You don’t say anything because all of those were true and it hurts to hear him say it. “Goodbye Jungkook,” you quickly walk out of his house despite him calling your name.

—-

It’s been a few days since the fight with Jungkook and you’ve been dreading to get up each morning. The rainy weather fits your mood and you're done with all this shit. You send Chaeyoung a text if you can talk to her and she invites you to her house.

You're in front of her house door and you open it since she said she left it open for you. Walking upstairs you hear moaning and you halt. It’s coming from her bedroom and your heart stops. “Fuck–Jungkook! Please don’t stop!” The sound of the bed frame hitting the wall is making your head hurt so you back down stairs to the living and wait there. Listening to Jungkook and Chaeyong have sex put a pang on your heart. You really thought Jungkook liked you and now you feel like a fool.

You hear them stop wiping your tears and fixing yourself up, you hear footsteps coming down stairs. Pretending to type vigorously on the keyboard on your phone you make yourself look busy. “Y/N?,” you look up to see Jungkook and it hurts even more to see him. He’s lightly shining because of the sweat and there’s red marks on his neck.

You try to smile at him but it's just filled with sadness, “ Hey. I just needed to give her something.”

“ Y/N, it’s not what you–fuck I’m stupid. Can we talk later or something? Please I want to talk to you,” Jungkook pleads as he tries to grasp your hands. “I’m sorry about everything and this meant nothing I was sad and she–

“ It’s okay. I’ll see you later,” you squeeze his hand. Jungkook gives you a hopeful look.

You walk upstairs and Chaeyoung is lying down naked on her bed with her phone in her hands. You see her clothes on the floor and you hand it to her. It hurts to see her lying in bed breathless because of Jungkook. She dresses while you talk, “ I don’t want to do this anymore. The contract is cancelled.”

Chaeyoung's eyes widened, “Why?” You don’t answer her and look away as she throws away the used condom on the floor. “You caught feelings for Jungkook, huh? I can tell the way you look at him and the way he looks at you. I didn’t pay you to fucking make him fall in love with you Y/N.”

“ It’s not that...he doesn’t like you, okay. He already knows that you want him because he’s wealthy and hot. It’s pointless to continue this”

“ And what about you Y/N? He likes you because you are not using him? Last time I checked you were getting paid to use him.”

“Whatever I’m done.”

“I’ll tell him what you do,” Chaeyoung threatens you.

“ I was going to tell him anyways. Don’t forget you are the one who paid me to do this, we are both not innocent,” you leave her house.

You lay in bed for a couple days not bothering to go to school. You tell your mom that you have bad period cramps and she doesn’t attempt to force you to go to school. Jungkook texted you multiple times but you're too scared to read his messages. After three days you decided to go to school and you dread it, you purposely walk slower as you walk there.

“ It’s lab day guys! Nice for you to come to class Y/N,” the teacher welcomes as you enter the class late. You are walking to your desk until she interrupts, “ Y/N sit by Jungkook, his partner isn’t here today.”

You walk towards the empty desk beside him and look at the lab assignment that was on the desk. “ Where were you these past days? I kept texting you but you didn’t answer. I’m sorry that you saw me at Chaeyoung’s house. I still mean what I said at the party... ” Jungkook bites his lip trying to see your face but you're staring down at the assignment. “Y/N…”

You hear every word that he says but it still hurts that he had sex with her but then it wasn’t like if you guys were together. “ The first answer has a frequency of 1.9 GHz,” you say. You did the calculations in your head. The first time you met you lied to him saying that you were bad at chemistry. “ I lied to you Jungkook, I’m good at chemistry. I’m sorry.”

He looks at you with confusion, “ It’s okay... but are you okay? You don’t look well,” he checks if you have fever by letting his hand rest on your forehead.

“ Are you really okay with me lying to you?,” you say quietly. His hands leave your forehead and look at you carefully. “ I need to tell you something.”

“ Jungkook, Y/N! Are you guys done flirting, the assignment is due after class,” the teacher yells out from the front of the class. You hear a couple students chuckling and Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“ We will talk about this later, okay? He pats your thigh and continues to solve the problems.

You are both outside for lunch sitting in his car. “ You can tell me anything Y/N. I’m here for you,” Jungkook stares at you and grabs your hand.

“ I was paid to get close to you Jungkook,” you say without taking breath.

“ What?,” he laughs incredulously. You don’t laugh with him, “ Is this a joke?,” he says seriously.

“ No it’s not. I get paid by certain people you want to be with a person. I get their secrets and what��s so important to them and tell the person who’s paying.” You look at him and there’s a million questions that’s going on inside of him. “ Chaeyoung paid me, Jungkook.” He stops holding your hand and gives you a hard stare. “ I’m sorry, I am really sorry. I wish I could take it back but I can’t.”

He lets out a humourless laugh, “ Wow, and I was stupid enough to tell you everything. I told fucking things that I haven’t told anyone and you tell her. And to believe that I actually thought you liked me, cared for me--”

“ I do care! I like you so much Jungkook that for once in my life I was happy and I wasn’t tired,” you plead with tears in your eyes.

“ Get out. You used me, I don’t think I can ever so your face again. Leave.” Jungkook looks out his window not wanting to see your face as you leave his car.

“ Hey Y/N, where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere--,” Heejin says but you hug her crying into her shoulder. “ It’s okay let it all out,” she pats your back soothing your whimpers.

“ I’m so sorry Heejin. I’m sorry, thank you for being my friend but I ruined it all,” you cry out. You feel Heejin looking around the halls and she leads you to the bathroom.

“ How...what have you ruined?” Heejin softly asks while pushing your hair out of your face.

“ I do awful things. You won’t like me after I tell you.” You look at her and she looks like an angel with her white dress.

She shakes her head, “ Tell me and I will find a way to understand.”

You tell her what you do and she looks confused half the time as you explain it going through each client you had but never stating their name. You expect her to yell at you, to look at you in shame, or just to simply leave but she doesn't do either of those things. Instead she hugs you tight, “ You must have been going through a rough time being all by yourself.”

“ Heejin… Jimin paid me to do this to you. I’m sorry, I don’t deserve your--”

“ But you told me the truth right now, you understand what you did was wrong and you are apologizing for it.” You shake your head and the tears are slowing down but your heart still hurts. “ It takes two people to make a transaction, you shouldn’t be the only one hurting, Y/N.”

“ Thank you Heejin. I..I uh I want to thank you for being a good friend. If we can still be friends…”

“ Y/N stop. We are still friends. Let’s get out of the restroom, it smells like weed,” she smiles and grabs your hand. You walk together towards her car and she tells you what’s been going on with her cat. It goes silent when she mentions Jimin. “ I have to talk about this to him,” she sighs and you squeeze her hand lightly.

The weeks pass by and you’re in your AP Physics class when Namjoon decides to sit next to you. “Why haven’t you’ve been sitting with us anymore?” He whispers while the teacher is lecturing.

“I’ve been busy with college admissions,” you tune out the teacher’s voice. He does a bad job at teaching anyways.

“Something happened between you and Jungkook, right ?”

“Why would you even need to ask me if you knew it already.” You roll your eyes and solve the problems for today’s homework.

“ You know I wanted to ask you out after you started hanging out with us.” He gives you a cheeky smile and you laugh. “ I told Jungkook that I was into you this was before the Chaeyong’s party...and he told me that you’re not into people with glasses.”

“Why would I not be into people with glasses when I sometimes wear them?” You stifle laughter with your hand.

He barks out a laugh and the teacher looks at you two but continues on. “ Jungkook doesn’t think through things. But I caught on that little Jungkookie had a crush on you.”

“ Not anymore,” you sigh.

“ Talk to him please. He looks like shit, he always looks at your table at lunchtime. Contemplating how to talk to you,” he looks at your homework and checks his answer.

“ What if he doesn’t want to listen to me?” You look at his answer to see a significant difference.

“He’ll listen. If he doesn’t tell him that you are going to date me,” he says jokingly. “ Y/N please help me with this,” pointing at his obvious wrong answer.

Heejin is waiting for you in the school parking lot wanting to eat at a new ramen place. Walking to her car you hear your name being called and it’s from Chaeyoung. What does she want, walking to her you, you see her smoking. “ Make it quick.”

“What a way to greet me,” she chuckles. “ How are you?” She flicks the cigarette on the floor and steps on it.

“ Good. See you later.” You say and turn around to leave.

“ We are still having sex.”

You stop and feel anger and sadness rising within you but you put it aside, “What do you want?”

“ I heard him cry when he was in the shower after we were done. I also heard him moan your name once when we were doing it.” She rolls her eyes and sighs, “ It’s meaningless sex anyways. I’m always facing away from him so he won’t see my face.”

“ Funny how he’s still talking to you,” you scoff. Jungkook doesn’t even look your way but he’s able to have sex with Chaeyoung.

“ He’s not talking to me, he fucks and just leaves. I guess that’s my punishment,” she arches her brow and shrugs her shoulder.

“You shouldn’t be punished like that Chaeyoung. It's not healthy for you,” you tell her softly.

“ I know,” she smiles tiredly. “ I’m putting an end to it, I can’t do this to myself, to him...to you.” You nod your head and part ways until she stops you, “Here like I promised.”

“No I don’t want it,” you stop her from giving you money. “ Chaeyoung it will make me feel bad.”

“Okay. See you later,” she goes into her car and walks the opposite way.

“Finally you're here! I’m starving!” Heejin yells with excitement as you enter her car.

“ This place better be good.” You tell her and she rants on how she always picks good restaurants. Your phone lights up and you see a notification from your bank. Did you forget to pay a bill. $10,000 has been transferred to your checking account.

---

The next day you decide to approach Jungkook during lunch and you get very nervous, shaking your leg throughout class. You walk with Heejin to his table and Jimin greets you. “ Hey Y/N,” he nods at you and whisk Heejin from you, greeting her with kisses all over her face. Heejin confronted Jimin that day you broke down, they were able to talk it out and now they are dating.

“ Y/N! Sit here,” Namjoon pats next to the empty space between him and Namjoon. Jungkook doesn’t look at you just staring at his phone and browsing his social media.

“ Hey guys,” you sit down trying not to bump into Jungkook. Namjoon tells you how he fell down his bike while showing you his scrape. Jungkook doesn’t join the conversation just silently watching you both talk. You catch him a few times looking at you and your heart races a little.

The bell rings indicating lunchtime is over and everyone disperses while you take your time throwing your trash. “ Hey.” Jungkook is standing beside you and throws his trash away.

“ Hey,” you say back quietly. “ How’s your day?”

“ Good.” He scratches his neck and looks around the cafeteria. “ Are you going to the library?”

“ Yeah… you want to join me?” Please say yes.

“ Yeah I’ll come.” Jungkook walks beside you whistling lightly. The library is empty and you chose a table near the back.

“ I miss you,” Jungkook speaks out and looks at you.

Your eyes widen, “ I miss you too.”

“ Why do you do it?”

“ What?”

“ I just want to know why you do it, is it for fun or money?” Jungkook scoots closer to you wanting to hear you clearly.

“ I don’t have enough money to go to college. I don’t want my parents to worry about paying for it. They work too hard. Adding my college tuition to their bills will take a toll on them. I don’t like what I do but I do it anyway.” You cut off the eye contact, looking away in shame.

Jungkook sighs and grabs your hand, “ I’m sorry. I got hot headed and ignored you. It would’ve been easier to not get mad at you if I heard your reasoning.” You look at him and he wipes your tears. “ Y/N...I uh I had sex with Chaeyoung during our time apart. I’m sorry I was mad and I wanted to hurt the both of you. I realized how much of a dick I was…”

“It’s okay Jungkook. I’m sorry too,” you sheepishly smile.

“Can we start all over?” He gives you his signature bunny smile and the butterflies flutter in your belly.

“Yes please,” you lean forward and hug tightly. He rubs your back and your entrance with the feeling of comfort.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Do not repost, translate, or alternate my work in any way, onto any platform. I do not take plagiarism lightly.

#bts #btsfluff #btsfic #jungkook #jungkook smut #btsangst #angst #fluff #jungkook fluff #jimin #hoseok #taehyung #taehyung smut

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greennct · 5 years

Text

lab partner from hell | park jisung

badboy!jisung fuck yeaaaaaa!!! okay so basically i posted this about 100 followers ago as a sneak peak and got too busy to finish it - but here she is now!! I'm v happy w how it turned out!! absolutely cheesy and classic maybe thats why i love it so much you’ll never know. (also if no one knows who jiwoo is, she's also known as chuu from loona.)

fluff, enemies to lovers, hopefully some humour, 5.3k words

song rec: conversation by catfish and the bottlemen

Starting a new school was scary for most people, however, by now, you were pretty much used to doing so on more or less a biannual basis. Your parents worked for a company which required them to move around extremely frequently, and subsequently your childhood and adolescence had been spent trying to keep up with an endless stream of names and faces. Apart from your immediate family, there were no constants in your life because of how frequently it was turned upside down.

Having friends was not an option, as far as you were concerned. After the first few years of tearful goodbyes that seemed to break your heart a little more each time you had to leave, you decided that wasting your time and emotions on people who, no matter how nice they might be, would leave you sooner or later, was pointless and exhausting. Therefore, you made sure to be polite, outgoing and perfectly friendly for the months that you were there, ensuring that you at least had people to sit with at lunch, however, made sure to keep your distance so that no one ever really got attached.

Straightening your rented uniform in front of the mirror by your front door, you smiled wryly at your reflection. Compared to other blazers that you had worn in previous years, this one wasn’t too bad in comparison in terms of style, however the thick wool felt itchy and unnatural on your skin. Oh well, you thought, I only have to wear it for a few months anyway.

Your dad drove you to school, a tiny yet longstanding tradition that the two of you sustained each and every time you had to endure the tedious admin of your first day. However, this custom did not always work in your favour, as this morning you ended up being late due to the copious amount of traffic blocking the roads.

You jumped out of the car just as another vehicle pulled up to the now empty parking lot. It was a huge minibus, with tinted-out black windows all over it. You suppressed a scoff at the display of extravagance, preparing yourself for a month of sucking up to entitled heiresses, until you watched a skinny, scruffy boy stumble out. Not bothering to wave at the driver, he simply shrugged a faded backpack over his shoulder and started loping towards the school building.

Snapped out of your trance by your realisation that the boy was walking away from you quicker and quicker, you startled yourself into an awkward half-jog, as you called after him.

“Hey! You!” You tried, however he kept marching along without so much as a glance backwards.

Now flat-out running, you almost fell over your own feet as you came to an abrupt stop just by the boys shoulder. You tapped it, and he turned around slowly, removing an airpod hidden under his shaggy haircut from his right ear.

Panting more heavily than you cared to admit, you introduced yourself between gasping breaths. Met with radio silence from the boy, you took his reluctance to introduce himself as confusion, so you tried to explain what you were actually doing.

“I’m new here. I’m supposed to find the headmaster’s office, and then my classroom, it’s 49B, on the fifth floor I thi-”

You interrupted yourself, stopping your sentence short as you stood with your mouth open at the boy’s behaviour.

He had listened to you babble on for a while, shrugged and rolled his eyes, before slouching off, headphone already back in his ear.

You scoffed in disbelief. Moving from place to place to frequently had also equipped you with more than sufficient skills to deal with all types of people. You had fought back against bullies, brought spoilt brats down more than a peg or two, however, you had never encountered someone who had been so rude in such a casual way. He didn’t know you, and there was no one around to impress with this show, however, he decided to be mean anyway. His indifference towards your request for help shocked you so much that you forgot to be angry.

Instead of plotting your revenge against this newfound enemy, you found yourself instead wondering what you had done to upset him so much. You felt bad for disrupting him. There was something about how frankly he had rejected your friendship that made you wonder whether or not you had done something wrong.

About half an hour later, you found yourself standing in front of your new form room class. Most people had politely pretended to be at least mildly interested when you had walked in, but before you had even introduced yourself, one certain student, tucked right into the back left corner of the room on a table all to himself, let out a groan so obvious when you walked in, he had your cheeks burning.

“Something to say, Mr. Park?” The teacher reprimanded, as the class tittered with gossip about the disruption. Met with silence, he continued.

“Thought not. In fact, why don’t you welcome your new classmate to share your desk with you, since you seem to eager to get to know them.”

He shot you a friendly smile as you trudged over to your new assigned seat. He probably thought that she was doing you a favour. If only he knew how wrong he was.

The entire first hour of lessons you spent in silence, determinedly focused on meticulous note-taking and nothing else, so that you would have as little interaction with whoever this ‘Park’ boy was as possible. Daring to sneak a glance at him whilst your maths teacher wrestled with the projector, you discovered that he in the midst of all of your pedantic studying, he had fallen asleep. Scanning his face properly for the first time, you took in his now peaceful expression, his chest rising and falling softly. You noticed the way his shaggy fringe was covering practically all of his eyes. It was much too long, he seriously needed a haircu-

“Quit staring at me.” The boy drawled, without opening an eye.

“I- I wasn’t!” You protested, your voice at a noticeably higher pitch than usual.

“Denying the fact only makes you look more creepy, you know.” He replied, still without moving his position at all.

“Well... You drool when you sleep, so...” You trailed off, embarrassed with your weak comeback.

To your surprise, he sat up sharply, wiping furiously at his now bright red cheek with the sleeve of his blazer. “No I don’t.” He muttered.

“You know, denying the fact only makes you look more creepy.” You smirked, satisfied with how well you’d managed to shut him up.

“Psst!” Practically the minute that the bell rang to signify that class was over, you were yanked into the corridor by a flash of auburn hair.

“How do you know Jisung?” A pair of wide, shining eyes blinked at you from behind rounded glasses.

“How do I know who?” You asked, frowning slightly.

“Park Jisung! You know, the guy you’ve been flirting with the whole of the last lesson!” She replied earnestly.

“What?!” You spluttered. “I have certainly not been flirting with anyone, let alone him, I-”

“But don't you guys know each other?”

Okay, now you were seriously getting confused. “I met him about an hour and a half ago.”

“Seriously?” The girl blew her fringe out of her eyes exaggeratedly. “Wow. He must really like you, huh.”

You tried not to scoff. “Listen, I don’t think you’ve got the right-”

“That’s Park Jisung. He’s the maknae of NCT Dream!” The girl’s eyes were so big now, you wouldn’t be surprised if they popped out of her head.

You searched her face for some sort of clue, puzzled. She let out a gasp at your cluelessness. “How do you not know NCT?! SM’s latest boy group? The ones that are basically taking Korea by storm? Pretty much the most sought-after set of teenagers in Asia?!”

“Sorry.” You replied, smiling awkwardly. “My last school was in the countryside. Everyone loved BTS there.”

Ignoring your response, she ploughed on. “I don't think you understand. Jisung’s so busy with his schedules he only comes into school, like, once a month. He talks to literally no one, and sits and eats and studies all alone. You’re the first person he’s ever talked to since enrolling here. And you’re telling me you’ve known him for ever less time than we have?! Woah. You must be magic or something.”

You struggled to form a reply to this girl, partially because you were trying to absorb all of this new information, but also because at that moment, Jisung barged out of the classroom, sending students scattering right and left as he strode down the corridor.

“See what I mean?” The girl continued. “He’s ice cold.”

“I don’t know...” You sighed, watching his towering figure disappear down the corridor. “Maybe he's just lonely.”

As the week passed by, you spent your break times swapping homework answers and the latest gossip with the red-haired girl, who you later learned was called Jiwoo. Your new friend was bubbly, vivacious, and completely obsessed with Kpop. Spending the majority of your time with her, you couldn't help but learn the names and faces of all 21 members of NCT. You tried to stay completely impartial to the group, yet no matter how hard you tried, you still caught yourself humming along to their title tracks. You felt embarrassed every time. After all, wasn’t it a little creepy to know every single intimate detail of your desk-mate’s life? Besides, you still couldn’t stand the boy, each week he became more infuriating than last time. His label must’ve said something to him, because instead of gracing the school with his presence once a month, he was now sitting next to your for almost two days a week. And every time, he found a new way to make your life a living hell.

“Hey, new kid.” He whispered, poking your side with a pair of tongs. “What does this do?”

You supressed the urge to roll your eyes as you turned towards your lab partner. Unfortunately for you, your chemistry practicals were all carried out with your deskmate, so you couldn’t escape Jisung, even in a science lab. Instead, you were forced to make desperate eye contact with Jiwoo across the room whilst Jisung berated you with questions you were certain he already knew the answers to.

“You know my name, Park, stop calling me new kid.” You hissed, glancing over at where the teacher sat, almost falling asleep over grading papers. You caught sight of the chemical he was holding, and gasped, immediately tried to snatch it from his grasp. “Jisung, that’s hydrochloric acid! Where did you even get that?”

He laughed at you, simply raising his arm, and the acid, far from your reach. “Prof’s desk. Why’d you ask?”

“If it touches our magnesium, it’ll burst into flames! Exactly what she told us not to do!”

“Relax, nerd-”

“I’m not relaxing until you put that fucking acid back! I’m not losing my A in chemistry just because you suddenly have a psychopathic tendency for arson. I’m serious, Jisu-”

You didn’t finish your sentence. It was too late. You saw the acid hit the metal in slow motion, the flames spring up in technicolour vision. As the teacher ran for the fire extinguisher, and the students hurtled out of the laboratory, all you could see was the stupid, know-it-all grin on Jisung’s face when he first tipped the conical flask.

That infuriating expression was still burned into your vision half an hour later, when you found yourself in the principal’s office.

“What were you two thinking?!” She reprimanded. “Putting not only yourselves, but your fellow classmates in danger?”

“With all due respect, Miss,” You interjected. “I told Jisung not to pour the acid, I was against the idea from the beginni-”

“Not true!” He interrupted.

“What do you mean?!” You turned to him, raising your voice. “What part of ‘Don’t pour the acid, Jisung, it’ll catch on fire,’ did you not understand, huh?”

“It’s not my fault you’re so infuria-”

“Both of you, calm down!” The principal’s voice rose above your clamour. She let the silence sit for a few moments, whilst the two of you squirmed in your seats.

“You're behaving like children! I don’t care whose fault it is, or what happened, the point is that you almost set the school on fire! Now, I have some very concerned parents on the line, and an absolutely fuming Chemistry teacher beating down my door. She wants to fail you both, you know.”

You couldn’t help but try to save your academic career. “Miss, please, I can’t fail chemistry, you don’t understand, I-”

“Please don’t interrupt me.” She chided, sighing and rubbing her temples. “Look, I know you're both good kids. It’s almost impossible to have such perfect track records as you two these days.”

Huh. You had never really pegged Jisung as the studious type. Whenever you were in lessons together, all he did was ask you annoying questions.

“Guys, I don't want to fail you. So, I have a proposition. It’s clear that this accident occurred because the two of you couldn’t communicate properly. So, I’m going to give you one last chance to save your chemistry grade. An extra-credit project. A paired project.” She continued over your groans. “If the two of you can't work together properly, then how can I trust you to be safe in the labs? This is for your own good.”

You tried again. “But-”

“No buts! You two will present a project on a famous pair of scientists, and how their teamwork led them to success. I want it ready to show your chemistry class in two weeks. Now, get out of my office.”

Returning to your form room, you ran into Jiwoo’s waiting arms.

“Are you expelled?” She asked.

“Worse,” You moaned. “I have to present a project with him. Correction, I have do an entire project by myself, while he takes all the credit. I mean seriously-”

“Um-”

“-who does he think he is? It’s like he thinks he can-”

“Maybe you should-”

“-walk all over me?! This is ridiculo-”

“Turn around!” Jiwoo almost yelled.

You did, and came eye-to-eye with the very person you had just been complaining about.

Shit.

“Are you free on Saturday night?” Jisung asked.

“What?”

“I said,” he leaned a little closer to you, slowing his pace. “Are you free on Saturday night?”

“Uhh...” You were malfunctioning. You thought Jisung hated you, why would he ask you-

“For the project.” He continued. “I don’t want to fail chemistry.”

“Oh, right.” You tried to hide the flush that had crept onto your face. “Well-”

“Hang on a second,” Jisung crowed. “You weren’t seriously thinking I was asking you on a da-”

You shoved your hand onto his mouth. “Shut up!” You hissed. “No, I wasn’t, that’s so typical of you, thinking the whole world...” You trailed off. It was clear from the mirthful expression on your deskmate’s face there would be no convincing him that wasn’t the case. Especially when you weren't entirely sure yourself.

Moving your hand out of his face awkwardly, you tried to subtly wipe it on your jeans. “I’m not free on Saturday, anyway. I have plans.”

“What, a different date?” Jisung immediately replied. “Who is it? Joshua from philosophy? I see you looking at him sometimes. Or Changbin from maths? He likes-”

“What?” You finally collected your thoughts enough to answer him. “No! I'm hanging out with Jiwoo.”

“Oh. Right.”

A pause.

“Can you do Thursday evening?” You tried to brush over the discomfort.

“Um... I have music bank in the afternoon, but I think I could do after seven?”

You tried to ignore Jiwoo stiffening beside you at such a casual mention of such a well-known show, and nodded. “Sounds good. My house?”

“Um, I actually can’t leave my dorm without a manager, so is it okay if you just come over?” Jisung sounded sheepish. You simply nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak and avoiding eye contact as he walked back over to your desk.

You barely opened your mouth to speak, when Jiwoo had dragged you into the deserted corridor.

“Oh my god!” She squealed. “Did you see that?”

“See what?” You frowned.

“He’s clearly head-over-heels for you!”

“What?!” You laughed. “Have you been paying attention this entire term? He hates my guts!”

“Have you been paying attention throughout that entire conversation?” She shot back. “He went crazy when he thought you were going out with someone.”

“So? That doesn't mean anything.”

“I see the way he stares at you, when you’re not looking. Like you're the only person on Earth.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” You shrugged her off, heading to the nearest bathroom.

You tried to disregard everything Jiwoo had said, you were sure it was nonsense. However, you had to admit, it had been weird. Jisung had been... almost nice. It made you uncomfortable.

Despite Jiwoo’s words crossing your mind every so often throughout the week, you tried to dismiss it, especially on Thursday. However, you couldn’t help but change after school into a nicer outfit before you went over to Jisung’s. Giving yourself a once-over in the mirror before you walked out the door, you sighed. A week ago, spending time with Jisung for a project would’ve been tedious and annoying, but nothing get worried about, let alone primp yourself for. Why were you suddenly so concerned about your appearance?

You had exchanged numbers earlier on in the week, but aside from texting you his address a few days ago and confirming a time, there had been radio silence. You had to stop yourself from sending him a message just to confirm you had indeed gotten the right day - it was written right there in front of you. Besides, you didn't want to sound eager to spend time with him.

Ringing on his apartment doorbell, you were buzzed up almost instantly. However, you stood outside his actual front door for a good few minutes, trying not to listen to the shouting you could hear. Unfortunately, you couldn’t really help yourself.

“They’re not meant to be here yet!” Your ears perked up at Jisung’s voice. Immediately, you went bright red.

“Let me answer it then, while you get ready!” Someone roared back.

You were turning around, ready to just wait it out for another hour in some café nearby, when the door flew open. You turned, and gasped.

It was Jisung, but - different. He looked - the only way you could think to describe it was ethereal. His hair was suddenly a candyfloss pink, and his eyes were a baby blue. His skin, usually adorned with a pimple or two, was flawless, glistening. Your eyes travelled downwards, and immediately flew back up. He was in some kind of blazer, with no shirt underneath, a lower neckline than you had ever seen a boy in before. Slightly out of breath, his chest was rising and falling rapidly, and you struggled to find something on him to focus on that didn’t make you want to run away.

“Um, hi.” He rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Hi.” You breathed.

No wonder he was so cocky all the time, if he looked like this.

“Sorry about- all this,” he gestured awkwardly to his outfit. “I thought you were coming for 7:30.”

“You texted me 6:30?” You brandish your phone wildly at his face, your nervousness at talking to this new Jisung rendering you unable to reply with a snarky comment.

“Shit, you're so right. I can’t believe I fucked this up, I’m so-”

“It’s fine.” You clipped, now wanting to get this entire ordeal over as quickly as possible.

“Do you mind just waiting here while I shower?” He asked.

“Oh, don't worry, I’ll just find somewhere to sit. I think I saw a convenience store down the road, so-”

“Don’t be stupid.” He interrupted. There was the Jisung you knew. “Do you really think I’m that mean? Just sit in the living room.”

He turned, walking back into the apartment, and was halfway down the corridor before you even had the chance to formulate a response.

“Are you coming, or what?”

His rude tone snapped you into motion. Shoving your shoes by the ridiculous amount of pairs already piled up by the door, you followed him in.

Entering the living room, you were met by five pairs of curious eyes spread out across the room. You had not expected any of NCT Dream to be home, let alone all of them lounging on various sofas. You tried not to stare too hard. All of them, except a slightly older boy with big brown eyes were wearing outfits that matched Jisung’s to a varying degree. You both stopped in your tracks.

“Mark?! What are you doing here?”

“It’s movie night.” The brown-eyed boy replied.

“No, that’s Sundays, Mark.” Jisung used the exact same tone you were used to hearing when insulting you.

“Oh. Must’ve got confused. Oh well, might as well stay. And since I’m here, why don’t you introduce me to-”

Mark said the first syllable of your name before stopping himself. “I mean, your friend here. That you've never mentioned before.”

One of the boys (with brilliant orange hair you thought might be Chenle), sniggered.

Jisung groaned. “We’re working in the kitchen tonight. If I catch any of you trying to bother us, I’m going to call up your mothers myself.”

“Why don’t you stay with us and watch something while Jisung showers?” Jaemin (You thought?) asked.

“Oh, um, I have other homework I should probably do instead while I wait.” More like panic text Jiwoo you thought. “But thanks.”

Jisung seemed to be satisfied with your answer, so grabbed your wrist and dragged you into his kitchen. The skin he had come into contact with seemed to retain the warmth of his fingers long after he had pointed out the snack drawer and disappeared down the corridor.

Too scared to investigate, you sat at the tiny table tucked into the corner and opened your laptop. After opening a word document, to at least give the illusion that you were actually attempting homework, you pulled out your phone and started spamming Jiwoo.

You were halfway through an in-depth description of the precise shade of blue Jisung’s coloured contacts had been, when you heard his voice at your shoulder.

“The packet said aquamarine, rather than azure, if that helps your friend out.” He quipped.

You almost threw your phone across the room in your haste to shove it into your bag.

“Don't read people’s texts, that’s rude.” You blustered. “I wasn’t even talking about you.”

“Sure.” Was all he replied, sitting down opposite you. You almost sighed in relief. This Jisung you were used to. The candyfloss pink hair was still damp, now a dusty rose. The makeup was all off, and the contacts were out, but you were mostly relieved about the worn grey hoodie he had on, dwarfing his frame and covering any previously exposed skin. However, you still weren’t completely safe - he smelt ridiculously good, even from across the table. What was wrong with you?

Clearing your throat awkwardly, you opened the powerpoint slides you had already worked on. “So, all the scientific pairs I could find were couples, so instead I think we should just do two people who were significant contributors to one topic, for example-”

“Why can't we do couples?”

You stopped short. “What?”

“What's wrong with doing couples? They have good teamwork. Marie and Pierre Curie, Jerome and Isabella Karle, loads of others.”

“Well, I just- I thought you wouldn’t want to talk about like, romance, and stuff, I guess?” You suddenly felt extremely foolish. Making such a big deal out of not doing couples had suddenly created the exact drama you had tried to avoid.

“I think we should do couples.”

“But I’ve already done, like, five slides!”

"So? That won’t matter if we still get zero. The point of the project was teamwork, not actual science.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before I did half the project then?”

“I didn’t ask you to do half the project.”

“You’re- you’re infuriating!”

“Well, you’re a know-it-all!”

“Park Jisung, you are, hands down, the rudest person I have ever-”

You were cut off, because Jisung grabbed your face with both his hands and kissed you.

You froze for a few seconds, but surprised yourself by starting to kiss him back. You broke apart to catch your breath, just staring at each other. Jisung opened his mouth to say something, but you just leaned in again to kiss him once more. The two of you edged closer to one another, you tangled your hands in Jisung’s hair, and he pulled you to sit side-saddle on his lap. You were about to wrap your arms around his chest when the door opened.

“Woah, there!” You shot around to face Haechan in the doorway to the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”

Your heart suddenly returned to your chest with a thud from where it had been floating somewhere in the night sky above you. What were you doing? Sitting on the lap of the the most sought-after celebrity in East Asia, who you were pretty sure you hated about half an hour ago, making out with him, on a school night, no less. Even worse, you had really enjoyed it.

“I think I should go.” You blurted out. “This- this was a mistake.” You shoved your laptop into your backpack, ploughing past the boy in the corridor. Jisung followed you, trapping over his own feet as you practically ran down out of his apartment,

“Wait, don’t-”

Jisung’s plea was cut off by your door slam.

Sitting on the bus on your way home, you cradled your head in your hands. Shit. What had you done? How were you supposed to pass chemistry now? Why, despite your grade on the line, were you more worried about Jisung?

The following two weeks were the most probably stressful of your entire life so far. Jisung did not show up to school. He did not answer your calls or texts. He essentially disappeared off the face of the Earth. And your project due date was looming closer and closer. Even worse, was the realisation that you had made a huge mistake.

Sure, Jisung had annoyed you to no end, but he had always made you laugh, even if you hated to admit it. It only took him literally grabbing and kissing you for you to realise that those butterflies that appeared in your stomach every time you saw him were manifestations of love rather than hate. It turned out, the time you spent obsessively wondering where he was, and what he was doing was not in order to protect yourself from future insults, but instead because you genuinely cared. And of course, every time you thought of Jisung now, all you could picture was the expression on his face when you had told him you thought his kiss was a mistake.

That was even worse than the prospect of failing chemistry.

Jiwoo kept berating you to simply show up at his apartment, but to be honest, you were too scared. What if Jisung wasn’t in and you had to try and explain yourself to his group mates? What if he was, and he wouldn’t forgive you? You had never liked anyone as much as you liked Jisung, but you had never hurt anyone as much either.

The morning your presentation was due, you paced the hallway outside your chemistry lab. You had nothing. You had been unable to think of anything to do with couples, and your project was therefore nonexistent. You had no Plan A, let alone Plan B.

You walked up to the front desk, with a blank mind. There was no way you were going to be able to save yourself.

“I see your partner has decided not to grace us with your presence today.” You chemistry teacher remarked, already making a note on your mark sheet. “He will not be graded. What do you have for us today?”

“Um- well, Miss- Please don't fail Jisung, it’s my-”

“Sorry I was late, Miss, traffic on the way.” You almost cried when you caught sight of Jisung sauntering into the classroom. “I’ve got our project right here.” He held up his phone, already plugging it into your computer before you unfroze yourself.

“Hi.” You whispered.

Jisung ignored you. Your felt your heart crack slightly.

“What are we doing?” You tried again. He handed you a stack of cue cards. You glanced over them. He had written you lines. He had highlighted them.

You still had a chance.

To be honest, you barely remembered your presentation. You kept staring at Jisung, who kept staring determinedly at the audience in front of him. You answered questions, and the bell rang for morning break. You turned to pack up, but had barely switched off your computer when you looked up to see his figure leaving the door.

“Jisung, wait!” Abandoning your belongings, you started to sprint after him, however your endeavours were completely blocked by the entire student body filling up the hallways to enjoy their break time.

“Excuse me- Sorry- Can I just-” You weaved in and out of cliques, trying desperately to keep Jisung in sight. however you only managed to reach him in the parking lot. The irony dawned on you, that this was where you had met hi in the first place, tapping his shoulder on your very first day of school. It was pouring with rain, he was hurrying to his waiting minivan, but you couldn’t give up, not when you were so close.

“Jisung!” You yelled, and he finally stopped.

“Please, just leave me alone.” He didn't bother turning around. Your ears just caught him muttering “Don’t make any more mistakes.”

“Don’t you get it?!” You shouted, desperate. “Haven't you read my texts or listened to my voicemails? I panicked! I got scared! I don’t get close to people, Jisung. I’ve spent my whole life moving from place to place. When you kissed me, I-” Your voice broke, “I realised you're the only person I’ve ever met whose made me fell like more than just ‘the new kid.’ I’ve always been scared of trusting people, of opening up to those I know I’m going to have to leave behind eventually. You’re the one person who would ever make me stay. I want to give my heart to you, but I need to know. Will you forgive me? Will you keep it safe, forever? Please, Jisung. I’m so sorry.”

You stood in that parking lot, dripping with rain as you despaired. You couldn’t believe that after pouring your heart out to him, to showing him how earnestly you wanted him, he would just... walk away.

“I can’t believe you.” Came the reply at last. “You arrive at my school, the prettiest person I’ve ever seen, you make me come in twice as much as I used to, just to see your face, even if you hated me. I finally get you alone, I finally kiss you, and you tell me it was a mistake, you run away. You call me incessantly, I never open the messages, I can’t bear talking about the project with you, I’m still so fucking whipped I do it anyway,” He turned around to face you slowly. “And you’re telling me if I had just picked up a god damn call I could’ve had you in my arms weeks ago?”

You let out a sob. You couldn't help it. You ran towards him, smashing into his chest and just holding him in the rain.

“I’m so sorry,” You murmured, again and again.

He simply rocked you from side to side, shushing you. “Don’t be sorry, baby.” He grinned. “This never would’ve happened if I had known how to talk to my crushes in the first place.”

386 notes · View notes

gellavonhamster · 4 years

Text

journeys end in lovers’ meeting

Dark || Aleksander Tiedemann/Regina Tiedemann Boris Niewald/Regina Doppler || post-canon

ao3 link eng || ao3 link rus

There hasn’t been such a heavy thunderstorm in a long time – even the power went out for a while. As they raise their glasses to the world without Winden, the rain outside is beating down in slant lashes, and the black silhouettes of trees are bending menacingly against the evening sky. Regina doesn’t have the heart to let the guests out into the storm; driving in such weather and with such state of local roads is a suicide, and Peter and Bernadette even came by feet. So she offers everyone to stay over. No one is really discontented with such turn of events – everyone’s cracking jokes as they share out the places available for sleeping. It feels like they’re all kids again, and this is an adventure.

Peter and Bernadette get the couch in the living room, and some armchairs put together make a quite comfortable improvised bed for Katharina. Wishing for her pregnant friend to have the most comfort for the night, Regina gives her own bedroom to Hannah and Torben, takes all the necessary things, and moves to her mother’s room. Claudia has retired early, having told “the young” that she’s going to bed, but when Regina steps quietly into her room with a heap of bedclothes in her arms, the light there is on, and her mother is working on her laptop – no doubt writing another post for her blog on the history of Winden or taking part in a meeting of the members of Anonymous or whatever else the seniors who are more tech-savvy than most twenty-somethings might do on their computers.

“There’s a raincoat on the chair in the living room. A yellow one,” Regina says, settling her pillow on her mother’s wide bed. “Where did it come from?”

“A yellow one, you say?” Claudia echoes, her eyes glued to the screen. “I found it in the attic. I put it aside to think which neighbourhood kid to give it to, and forgot about it.”

“How come we have it? I don’t recall myself or Peter wearing it.”

“My dear, how long have we been living in this house? Do you remember thoroughly all the junk we have? Because I don’t. I wouldn’t be surprised if your father bought that raincoat forever ago to give it to you, then stuffed it somewhere and forgot.”

“Maybe,” Regina muses. For some reason she’s dying to know where the raincoat came from. Or it might rather be the wine she has drunk that’s dying to know that.

Later, when her mother is already asleep, when everyone in the house must already be asleep, Regina is standing by the window, listening to the cacophony of rain, staring at the pool of light that keeps dancing under the swinging lantern. It’s weird, about that raincoat, and she feels weird, too. Hannah’s words about the end of the world come to her mind, but that’s not it, not really – it is more like something is about to start, but there is no knowing what.

When she’s already in bed, it suddenly dawns on her what this is reminding her of: she used to feel something of the kind in her youth when she sensed she was about to dream about that boy again.

***

The first time it happens, she’s fifteen, and the boy is not a boy at all – more like a young man, two or three years older than she in appearance. It’s her classmates that are boys, but this one looks almost an adult, almost a bad guy from a movie, wearing a leather jacket, dark hair falling on his face. That is what Regina thinks when she sees him in the woods that night. Not “What am I doing in the woods, actually?” of something like that, because you don’t ask yourself that kind of questions in a dream. If you are in the woods, then you are meant to be in the woods.

“Hey,” Regina says gingerly. The young man, who was looking around, gives a start, turns around, and finally notices her.

“Hey,” he says. Anyone would expect such a guy to have a haughty smirk and a contemptuous look, but he just smiles at her when he sees her, calmly and friendly. “Where on earth am I?”

“In Winden,” Regina approaches him. Again, it does not occur to her in a dream that talking to a stranger in the woods might be a bad idea. “Are you lost?”

He shrugs. “I guess. I, uh, came here from the highway? Can’t remember clearly. I just left home and came here somehow.”

“Sounds like you’ve hit your head,” Regina remarks, which is yet another proof that she’s dreaming: in waking life she would never get smart like that with a strange guy who looks older and stronger than she. It doesn’t look, however, like the strange guy in question has taken any offence, because he just grins in response.

“Perhaps I have. And what are you doing here, robbing the lone travellers?”

“Perhaps I am,” Regina fires back, and smiles hastily to make it clear she actually isn’t. Heavens, she doesn’t know how to talk to boys at all. If Hannah and Katharina saw her now, they’d die on the spot – if not of shame, then of laughter. “If you don’t remember how you got here, then maybe you should go to the hospital? I can lead you there.”

“What about taking a walk first, since I’m already here, and then hospital or whatever? It’s nice here. Back where I’m from they’ve chopped all the woods down.”

The latest in the series of proofs that this is a dream: in real life such words would only have persuaded Regina further that he has to go to the hospital.

But all of this is not real, so she says, “Then let’s go, I’ll show you the caves.”

And they head for the caves, and Regina tells her new acquaintance about Winden – how dreary and dull it is, with mostly nothing to do and nowhere to go, but at least the air is fresh and the trees are tall and ancient. Then they talk about school and music and some other nonsense, until Regina finally realizes that she forgot to ask a very important question.

“Wait,” she stops at the very entrance to the cave and grabs the young man’s hand, and blushes at once, but doesn’t let go. “What is your name?”

He opens his mouth to reply – and she wakes up.

***

The feeling is so similar that the next morning she is even a little disappointed that the night had passed without any dreams. That’s silly, of course – she hasn’t dreamed about him for what, thirty years? And there have been enough men of flesh and blood in her life for her not to worry about the one who never really existed.

But the slight disappointment doesn’t disappear, and the feeling that something important is about to begin doesn’t go away either, and that Monday Regina brings them along to work.

Waldhotel Winden is facing hard times – frankly speaking, Regina cannot remember if there have ever been any other times. Father converted his estate into a hotel when his young new wife, Regina’s mother, refused to live there. Claudia has never elaborated why she rejected that elegant old building, but the older Regina gets, the more often it crosses her mind that deep down her mother didn’t want to live under the same roof with ghosts – not just Bernd Doppler’s late first wife, but also the memory of herself as a child coming there to tutor little Helge. Sweet shy Helge who, according to age, should have rather been Regina’s uncle not her half-brother; who also refused to live in that mansion that smelled of ancientness and dignity with his equally sweet shy wife. Memories had driven the former residents out of the house, leaving it fit only for the strangers who come and go without any trace other than the payment for the room. Unfortunately, there have always been few such strangers: the comparatively pristine nature and the caves steeped in legend are not enough to turn an otherwise ordinary underdeveloped small town like Winden into a popular tourist destination. Presently, for instance, the only guests at the hotel are an elderly couple who checked in three days ago.

It makes no sense to keep a lot of personnel in such situation, so it is Regina herself who is at the reception, while looking through the depressing financial statement for the last half-year. The only guests have gone out, the maid is cleaning upstairs, and when the bell rings above the front door, Regina looks up in involuntary annoyance – she has grown so unaccustomed to visitors that she has almost forgotten their arrival is supposed to make her glad.

“Hello,” she says, having quickly collected herself.

“Good afternoon,” says the newcomer, a man about her age, broad-shouldered and imposing, in an unbuttoned black coat. “I’d like a single room, please. Surely there are any available at the moment?”

“Oh, more than enough,” Regina can’t help commenting, smiling unhappily. “Your name?”

“Boris Niewald.”

Regina cannot explain why, upon hearing this, she immediately thinks there must be some sort of mistake. It is a name like any other – why couldn’t he be called that? And it is not that she was expecting him to have some other particular name – yet still she cannot fight the feeling that he was supposed to be called differently. That would have been explainable if she had met this man before, but she is sure it is the first time she sees him.

…almost sure. Something in his features seems vaguely familiar. But that must be just déjà vu – nothing unusual for her and most of the people she knows. She remembers being extremely surprised back in the day that her friends from the university could not recall ever experiencing it. Maybe Winden has some special aura. Ley lines, geopathogenic zones, that sort of thing.

Maybe it’s just some collective mental health issues.

“I can offer you several rooms to choose from,” she tells him. “You may leave your suitcase in the luggage room for now, so as not to carry it with you.”

***

“You know what I think?” Hannah begins in a sing-song voice. “I think,” she glances at Regina over the history notebook, while wearing her signature sly smile, “that our Regina has a crush.”

“What?!” Regina frowns in confusion. That’s so unrelated to what they were just discussing, where did this even come from? “I think you’re thinking wrong.”

“And I think Hannah’s right,” Katharina declares. Great, now it’s two against one. It would have been an option to stand up pointedly and go to the kitchen to grab more cookies, but, firstly, then the girls would definitely decide they’re on the right track, and secondly, Katharina is currently painting Regina’s nails vibrant dark red – how would she leave with her nails not dried yet, and just with three of them to boot? “Spit it out, girl. Who is he?”

Sometimes Regina cannot believe she’s really friends with these girls. They couldn’t be more different from her in their nature: the rebellious Katharina, quick-tempered and defiant, with bruises under the layers of face powder and sharp words for everyone who dares to look at her the wrong way; the elfin Hannah with her fox face, ambitious and perceptive, prone to imitating the older and more badass Katharina. And then there’s she – so… ordinary. The only remarkable thing about Regina is her good marks, but no one ever likes exemplary students, not even when in need of their help – especially when in need of their help. If it was not for her friends who are more adjusted for survival at school, it would have probably been tough for her, particularly in her childhood and early teenage years, when she used to wear thick-rimmed glasses.

Regina loves her friends, but there are some things she prefers not to tell them.

“I don’t understand what makes you think I have a crush,” she tries to fight back weakly.

“It’s just that every time I look at you at the lessons lately, you’re always up in the clouds with such cute zoned-out little face,” Katharina says, and tries to demonstrate at once just what kind of little face that is. Hannah giggles. “Come on, it’s not like it’s bad. On the contrary, we’re happy for you. Who is he? Does he know?”

He must know, Regina thinks. We see each other once a month or two, go on walks, talk, hold hands, but all of this doesn’t matter because he disappears every time I try to ask him what his name is or tell him my own. Besides, there’s a tiny problem: I only dream about him, and he doesn’t actually exist.

“There’s no one to know,” she tells them with an apologetic smile. Katharina and Hannah hang out with real guys after school, real guys who buy them ice cream and let them wear their jackets when it gets cold, so they don’t need to know that silly Regina (yes, it’s alright to be silly at sixteen, but not sillier than her peers, after all) is in love with someone who only exists in her head. “And I’m up in the clouds because… I keep thinking that school will be over soon, and I’ll be able to leave. We all will be able to leave. And there’ll be no more Winden for us.”

“No more Winden for us,” Hannah repeats dreamily, and Katharina nods in agreement. It’s a perfect way to change the subject – the next instant they’re already sharing plans for the future, discussing where they’re going to enrol, where they want to go on holidays. Indeed, no crush looks as attractive as the prospect of leaving their native shithole for good.

None of them will ever leave Winden for long, but at the time they do not know it yet.

***

Boris Niewald has come to their town as a representative of the company that is building a new shopping centre in Winden. He stays in Waldhotel Winden for a week, and as he comes back every evening that week, he and Regina spend some time talking before the night porter arrives and she goes home. Regina is not in the habit of making close acquaintance with the guests, but when he returns on the evening of the first day, she cannot help asking what his first impressions of Winden are, and then it all happens as if by itself. On the third day, they switch from Sie to du. On the fourth day, she unlocks the liquor cabinet to take out a bottle of expensive brandy given a few years ago by her father’s friend, and offers him a glass on the house.

On the seventh day, when he was supposed to check out, he asks her if it is possible to extend the reservation.

“I still have some three days free,” he tells Regina. They’re sitting in the armchairs in the lobby; the elderly couple has already checked out, the maid has a day off, and it seems as if they’re not at the hotel at all, but at home. Her home or his; possibly theirs. “With all this construction I never got a chance to see the town.”

“I’m afraid this town hardly has anything to offer you,” Regina laughs, toying with the glass in her hand. “We don’t even have a museum. Except the caves, perhaps.”

“The caves? I’ve heard something about them. The ones where someone is said to disappear every year?”

“Well, not every year, but there have been several cases. Usually these poor things get found after a day or two, however – dirty, hungry. Apparently there’s an entire labyrinth of natural origin, and the walls cave in sometimes. There are some weirdos who believe that there is the way to…”

“The centre of the Earth?”

“More like the other dimensions. About ten years ago, some TV people even came to make a documentary, God. I don’t think it was ever released.”

“That sounds appealing,” Boris chuckles. Regina likes his smile, his silver beard, his striking blue eyes. Perhaps she has a type, and her new acquaintance is the perfect match. Both of her husbands looked similarly – both the one who married her, as it quickly came to light, hoping to make a career at the publishing house of the only Winden newspaper, which was headed by her mother back then, and the one that cheated on her a year and a half after their wedding. In other words, both the one that she still never says hello to and the one she still exchanges birthday and Christmas greetings with. The latter and his wife had some kind of unprecedented abundance of currant in their garden last year, and they gave Regina two jars of currant jam; oh the small towns where everyone knows each other in many different senses.

Perhaps her type was shaped by the fact that at the age of fifteen to approximately twenty she frequently dreamed about a handsome boy with precisely such beautiful blue eyes. What of it.

“You don’t hurry home lately, I see” Claudia observes in the morning while Regina is making breakfast. Her mother is reading a fresh newspaper – undoubtedly thinking that without her being editor-in-chief, that newspaper has gone to shit. “Is he trustworthy?”

“He? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regina replies flatly as she puts oatmeal and dried fruit into the bowls.

“What, a she? Didn’t think you’d take after your grandmother, but it’s never too late to get to know yourself, I guess.”

“There’s no one, Mama,” Regina says determinedly. In two days Boris returns to Marburg. There is no point in starting anything.

There is no point in starting anything – yet when on her day off Boris asks her out for dinner, she says yes.

There is no point in starting anything – yet when he kisses her in the hotel corridor it takes her some time to make herself pull away.

“Forgive me,” Boris says when he sees her face. “I suppose I shouldn’t have done this.”

“That’s right,” Regina says and forces a smile. Tomorrow he’s leaving.

There is no point in starting anything – yet when he closes the door after himself and she takes a few steps down the corridor, she realizes suddenly that she doesn’t care. Then she turns around and goes back before letting herself change her mind and knocks on the door of his room. He opens at once.

That night she feels madly young, young and loving and loved.

“I’ll come back as soon as I can,” Boris promises her when he puts the key to the room in her hand the next morning.

There is no point in starting anything, yet she thinks: come back to me.

And, for some reason: come home.

***

At the high school graduation party, the girls from Regina’s class dance with their boyfriends or with the boys they hope to make their boyfriends, lay their heads on their partners’ shoulders, bodies pressed together, hearts full of excitement. As to Regina, she gets asked to a dance by Peter, her nephew-who-looks-rather-like-her-cousin, which is very nice of him. They keep stepping on each other’s feet and laughing about it, and then Take My Breath Away gives way to lively disco, and Regina dances with Katharina and Hannah and then with Peter again and then with some kids who she hasn’t exchanged a word with throughout the entire school year. There are no more couples, just a single happy crowd, and they spin and throw their hands up in the air, like a record, baby, right round, round round.

Officially alcohol at the graduation party is banned. Unofficially, part of the parents and teachers who are chaperoning them all in the festively decorated gym does not care and another part is sneakily sipping something from thermos bottles and flasks themselves. Regina drinks a couple of glasses of the wine that Katharina brought with her in a juice carton. She doesn’t drink often enough to know much about such things, but two glasses mustn’t be too much. It mustn’t be enough to explain why, when she steps out to the porch to take the air and raises her eyes up to the sky, she sees what she sees and stumbles and almost falls down, taken by surprise.

“You all right?” she hears a voice behind her back. Charlotte Tannhaus approaches her, looking rather curious than worried. “Are you going to be sick?”

“N-no,” Regina tells her, with something that should ideally pass for a reassuring smile. “It just seemed like…”

“Like?”

She and Charlotte Tannhaus have never been close, but now both of them are drunk, and besides, Regina is going to leave for the university soon, and whether anyone in Winden thinks her crazy shall lose all importance.

“Like there were two moons in the sky,” she says. ‘Then they merged into one.”

Charlotte nods pensively, as if Regina has just said something extraordinarily deep.

“Maybe that was a vision,” she points out. “Like… we’re all at the crossroads now, right? School is over, life is beginning? Maybe the two moons are like two different paths.”

“That merge into one because they’re actually one and the same?”

“Possible. Or it might even be the third path, another one. Maybe.”

Yeah, Regina thinks, they’re definitely drunk.

“I thought I’d be just leaning up against the wall for half the evening, but it turned out quite great. I wish you were there,” she tells her stranger in a dream that night.

“Yeah, I’d love to go with you,” he says, and then adds something strange:

“It’s a shame you’re not real.”

***

A month later – a month of phone calls and Skype calls, a month when Regina keeps reminding herself not to hope too much and still hopes more and more with each day – Boris comes back.

“I have to tell you something which will make you think that I’m not quite right in the head,” he tells her on the first evening after his arrival. This time he isn’t staying in Waldhotel – he’s staying at her place. “Or that I am lying and being incredibly bad at it.”

“Try me,” she suggests merrily.

“When I was young, I would often see the same dream. Or rather, different dreams about the same girl,” Boris comes up to her writing desk, picks up a framed photo – Regina with her mother and grandfather – and looks at it thoughtfully. In the picture, Regina is sixteen, she has voluminous curls and bright eye shadow in the true spirit of the eighties, and, in the opinion of adult Regina, she’s very small, funny, and good. Better than she thought herself back then, probably. “I wouldn’t say I used to be lonely at that time – I had friends, I had everything, basically – but every time I woke up hoping I’d see her again. I believe I was a little bit in love with her – as if with a singer or a teacher, you know, without any hope that my feelings might be returned. What kind of return might be there if she didn’t really exist, after all?”

He puts the photo back on the desk, and turns to Regina.

“At least I was sure she didn’t exist. And now we’ve come to the part that will make you think me either a liar or crazy,” he smiles at her, but eyes her earnestly, clearly preparing to say something important, clearly wishing for it to be taken seriously despite all the jokes. “You look like her. Judging by this photo, you’re spitting images of each other.”

“What was her name?” Regina asks with bated breath. Boris frowns; he must have been expecting anything but such question.

“I don’t know. I woke up each time I tried to ask her.”

Regina gets up off the bed and comes up to him.

“I think I also have something to tell you,” she says, “that will make you think me either a liar or crazy.”

Now, as luck would have it, it would be the time for the dream to end – but they are really there, really together, and what has started will not end at the crack of dawn, will not end if they let it go on, will not ever end.

#dark netflix #regina tiedemann #aleksander tiedemann #regina x aleksander #aleksander x regina #uhhh an atempt was made #english is not my first language etc. etc.#the title is from twelfth night but also from the haunting of hill house #my fic #gella talks dark #talk talk talk

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toofaketobeplastic · 6 years

Text

Beghairati

Woh saamney waalon ki larki hai na, Zoya? Raat ko gaari main beththi hai, waapis hi nahin aati.

Barri beghairat hai, Allah maaf karey, barri beghairat hai.

When I was 17, my best friend told me to not wear my Lady Gaga t-shirt to a chota sa get together.

Merey bhai or uskey dost hon gey, awaien tumhari bund maarein gey.

Baat toh uski bilkul sahi thi magar meri samajh sey thori baahir;

Bund kyun maarein gey? Lun pey nahi charhthay?

It’s a Lady Gaga shirt, I’lll wear it fucking everyday.

But kher I didn’t wear it that Wednesday and forgot about it, muted my gay

Made chummy with the big boys to smoke a few Js,

I smoked a few Js, confused purrey dil sey keh

This is the entirety of fun promised? the Falcon main cruising, the boys beer boozing,

I was taught to straighten back, heavy my voice and yes, still subtly, to mute my little gay

Because have you heard about the gashtiyan and the kanjariyan, these Lahoris would say.

Aitchisonian friendships are all boys, the girls are nothing but our toys —

You take one out at a farewell afterparty, I’ll take one on the drunk ride back and phir

Issey pehlay keh gets attached, I’ll tell all my boys her pussy trash:

I sound like Post Malone or Eminem at best, don’t know how big is yey taste test

She’s an ugly gashti yaar, buhat time waste.

Beghairati hai.

Which LAS boy killed which bitch driving drunk after a Model Town shindig?

Which of them escaped and which of them stayed? Beghairati hai.

Which new boy says that loose moral larki raped them yesterday?

I was so fucked man, woh charh gayee merey pay. Beghairati hai.

Barra bhai is studying at Queen Mary and chota wants McGill,

No one fought for the distinction scoring bhehan, larkion key liye LUMS fits the bill.

Tum 30 saala kojay ban jao toh business aur bachi tumhari,

Hashtagged wedding with the 16 saala “heard she’s a beghairat” kawaari.

Boy key saath barra hand hua, woh rave pey jaa key puking galore

Bachi dying on a roofied drink, what a fucking stupid whore

He cheated on her for two whole years, boy was horny but so in love

She made out with that loser once, dirty filthy ugly slut

Ammi I’m going to stay the night, drunk drive all over the streets

Don’t you think it’s dangerous for aapa to drive home alone as a 2AM feat?

Feminism’s a joke, yaar, like everything else these so called women condone

Humari maa ko dekho, sacrificed everything for the home.

Crop top pehna, what a chutiya!

Ghar late aayi, how ghatiya?

Make up sey randi full obsessed, look at me i was my gym’s most overdressed.

But kher, buhat hogaya. Mera tumhara phadda nahi hai.

Don’t you dare tell me what the rules are, call me a chakka or whatever you’ve got

Meri jaan merey boy we don’t play the same game a lot, maybe bhenchod not at all.

Toh party pey toh jaana hai, dance bhi maachod karna hai

Gaana mainey bajana hai, naach bhi dekhana hai

If I need your brawn to hold the flicker light,

I’ll counsel you how to hold your liquor right.

Mesh wali crop top toh meri dost pehan rahi hai,

Highlighter toh main laga raha hoon.

Just like you, she might slut it out

If you’ve got a chull, shut it out.

Saari baajiyon ko bata doh key unki sharafat nahi maang rahay hum;

Hongay hoe, hongay gashti but tumhari zaat ko honi nahi chahiye problem.

Kurrion ki tarhan tumhari izzat utaroon ga, haan merey jigger:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Saarey boyz ka naam mitti main mila doon gah, yes my champ:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Saarey raaz tumharay khulwa doon ga:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Aitchison main rape kar key dikah, apni history bana keh dekha,

Yain machani hai toh yain hai, embarassing details hazaar hain, sun merey naraaz dost:

Beghairati hai, toh beghairati hai.

Meri dost Zoya hai na, she just likes to have fun. She also likes to write, roam the raat.

Her interests and wants were probably never a feminist propaganda, more so dil ki baat.

Woh apni Uber khud bulati hai, harr party pey puhanch jaati hai.

Holds for me my flicker light, teaches me how to hold my liquor right.

Taught me how to Kanye rap and mix magic with my own two hands.

Hates when she has to tell her friends to cover up cause the men around won’t do the same with their lies,

But I’ve seen her scare the launda type with the bat of her loving eyes

Meri dost Zoya hai na, gaari main bheththi hai, kabhi waapis nahi aati:

Jee haan beghairait hai, toh beghairati hai.

Nahi boloon ga main deeper, nahi ugaa raha main daari,

Watch me fucking fight this city driving in my gaari.

Phel dena hai, tey, phel dai! Phir, uth jayein gey.

Thappar maaray ga, teh maar ley. Phir, beghairat bunn jayein gey.

Baad main jo bhi hona hogay, woh merey pey chorr dey tu.

Tub tuk main awaara and this has nothing to fucking do with you.

#urdu #pakistan #spokenword #poetry #english #bilingual #feminism #sexism #lgbtq #culture #leftist #propaganda

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bullybyulyi · 6 years

Text

all the time in the world for you

merry christmas moos! got this written just in time it seems ^^;

read on aff | ao3

In the 6th year since their debut, Yongsun gets caught in a dating scandal. Or, it’s not really a scandal, because Yongsun and the company very cleanly and softly deliver the news, but she’s an idol. Everything is a scandal.

Crushed, my heart is broken. Solar how could you ㅠㅠ

Why did this happen?? I am so sad ㅠㅠㅠㅠ

Her reputation’s gonna die. Dating? Should know better. I give up.

I still love you Solar!!!

She had expected negative feedback, a lot of it, but there was less backlash than she had anticipated. Somehow, despite that, it still hurt. She was a human being, and almost 30 years old to boot. Shouldn’t she be allowed to love?

But she loved her fans dearly too. She loved the ones who understood, and she even still loved the ones who got angry, because she could understand, to some degree, the feeling of betrayal that comes simply from realizing that the people you idolize are human too.

She’s home alone and she reads the news, the comments, and she feels bad. And as always, like telepathy, Byulyi arrives and pretends to annoy her when Yongsun clearly knows she’s just trying to make her feel better.

When Yongsun takes a shower, Byulyi gives her a glamorous photoshoot afterwards. Soon enough she’s changing through different pajama sets and onesies and dancing like she’s the sexiest woman alive and Byulyi jumps around with the camera to get all her best and worst angles. She’s happy, and tired. Byulyi singing her praises fills her up with love and assurance. They throw all the comforters she has onto her queen bed and Byulyi fluffs them around her so much she feels like she’s sleeping on a cloud. That night, amidst the thousands of posts in mourning of Solar’s status as single, there’s an update in the fancafe. A simple picture of Solar in silk white pajamas, melting into her bed, face bare and hair tangled and just a hint of a smile.

A woman of many charms Solar-unnie who loves Moomoos dearly! Moomoos rest well tonight too, the sun is setting

(Posted without permission, ㅋㅋㅋ)

#1 Yong-fan MB

Before she falls asleep that night, Yongsun feels a kiss on her temple.

Seven months later, a month after their latest comeback, Solar ends up on the news again.

MAMAMOO Solar ends relationship after 7 months!

It happens because of Byulyi, of course. The news part, not the breakup.

They’re in her apartment, doing a VLive because it’s been a couple of weeks since they got to interact with the fans. They were randomly humming and reading comments when Byulyi suddenly turned to her and looked just a bit too smug.

“Unnie how’s your love life?”

Yongsun glares at her, tries really hard to make it look real, but Byulyi opens her eyes wide and innocent and she cracks.

It feels just like when she explained her Best Couple Award with Eric a few years ago. She’s happy it happened, but she doesn’t really think she should talk about it, especially to Moomoos. But as usual, Byulyi is tactless and blunt.

“It’s nice right? Being single.”

“Okay, Byul-ah. Whatever you want me to say, Byul-ah.”

But she giggles and leans her head on Byulyi’s shoulder anyway.

ㅋㅋㅋ forgot she even had a bf

Was the bf even real? ㅋㅋㅋ never saw him ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

Moonbyul looks so happy <3

Solar please go out with me!!!

Did Moonbyul scare him away? Yongfan Byulie won’t have it

He was real. They didn’t break up because of Byulyi, and the thought of it makes her laugh. They had gotten together because he had understood. He understood she wasn’t just personality extremities packed into one, that flipped like the page of a book depending on what outfit she had on. She was multifaceted and human, just like anyone else. He saw that, and he dropped his ideals and his expectations and got to know her, and she really, really liked that. So, they dated.

If Yongsun could describe him in one word, it would be ‘compliant’.

There was once that she and Byulyi were taking a walk around their neighborhood. New lights had been strung about in preparation for the holidays and the twinkling canopy made their stroll a little bit magical. The lights had been out for a week already, but lately Byulyi had been busy working, trying to help produce an album. Yongsun wanted to see them with her first, so she waited.

The ran into him. Yongsun smiles, because they hadn’t met up in a while, only texting sweet nothings. Byulyi bows a little and greets him nicely. Yongsun goes for a hug and a kiss and they talk for a little bit before she realizes he wants to take this chance to spend time with her.

And she realizes she doesn’t really have the energy to be with him right then. She says something that’s subtly dismissive, and he smiles, because he understands, goes in for one last kiss (just on the cheek) and is on his way. Byulyi gives her a quick side-hug after he leaves, and they continue their walk undisturbed.

That’s when it starts for Yongsun. The realization that she doesn’t need him.

“Am I a bad girlfriend?”

“I don’t know Yeba, you’re not my girlfriend.”

Yongsun throws a pillow at her. “I’m being serious.”

Byulyi smiles and catches the pillow, because she saw it coming. “I am too. I don’t know if you’re a good girlfriend or not,” She reaches over and squishes Yongsun’s cheeks with both her hands. “But you’re a good person.”

Yongsun still looks unsure, so Byulyi pushes her cheeks around for extra measure and Yongsun lets her.

“You might even be the best person, unnie.”

The next day, she breaks up with him. He nods when she finishes talking, not like he’s sad, or conceding, but like he’s thanking her for her time. Yongsun looks into his eyes and sees that the more he understood who she really was, the more he probably realized they weren’t meant to be together. When they depart, he squeezes her hands (and his own are so much larger) and wishes her all the happiness in the world. She realizes she did love him, loved how he never pushed and loved him for the fact that he loved her too, despite the fact that they were never in love.

The first time Byulyi comes out with a relationship, they really can’t say they’re a girl group anymore. They haven’t technically disbanded, sure, but the last time they promoted as Mamamoo was a couple of years ago. They don’t really hit the news as hot topics, aside from when they release new music, or if Moonbyul and Solar star on yet another reality TV type of deal. They’re a duo that can’t be missed. Everyone knows, they’re just good together.

But when Byulyi’s relationship is revealed to the public it takes the industry by storm. She’s not the first to come out, but she’s the biggest name to do so. Legally it’s been okay for almost two years. Socially, things are still on the rocks.

It stresses her out so much, they break up a month later. The girl cries, and so does Byulyi. She spends the next few days at their company, and then Yongsun takes her home because she wrote six songs and they’re all sad and she hadn’t eaten in three days.

She wasn’t necessarily in love with the girl, but it was the first time in a long time that she let someone in like that, and in the end, she was the one to shove them back out into the cold. Byulyi thinks it proves her thoughts that she’s a bad person.

When Yongsun opens the door to her apartment, Daebakkie and Haengwoonie run circles around their ankles and jump up.

“I brought them over while you were gone.”

Byulyi kneels down to pet them and they stop jumping to lick at her palms. She can’t believe she left them while she was off being depressed on her own. It doesn’t make her feel better.

“Thank you, Yongsun-ah. I’m sorry you had to take care of them because of me.” Yongsun is quiet behind her. “I should have been better. They don’t deserve to be left alone.”

She feels arms slide around her sides and the gentle pressure of Yongsun leaning against her back.

“Byul,” She speaks softly. “You can’t be perfect. You can’t live your whole life without hurting others and being hurt. But you don’t have to punish yourself like this.” Yongsun slides one of her hands from Byulyi’s waist, to her hand that’s stroking Daebakkie’s fur. “And you don’t have to be alone.”

Byulyi turns to her then and Yongsun can tell she’s ready for a real hug. They lose their balance and fall back against the wall, but Yongsun pulls Byulyi into her lap and Byulyi lays her head on the older woman’s chest and they stay like that for a bit, Yongsun stroking Byulyi’s hair. Daebakkie and Haengwoonie snuggle themselves onto either side.

Byulyi stays with Yongsun, and after three months she cancels the lease on her own apartment. It’s a non-event, really. She’d told Yongsun she was going to save up and buy them a new TV, and Yongsun had jokingly asked her how she was going to do that when she was throwing money at an empty flat. Over the weekend they clear out her old place and donate away all the furniture what wouldn’t fit into Yongsun’s apartment. Their apartment.

At age 35, Byulyi officially claims that she’s off the market for dating. Really, she hasn’t seen anyone in over a year. But she makes the big sweeping statement to Yongsun one night when they’re doing a movie binge because Yongsun, yet again, got dumped.

“You know, I always thought Daeyoon was the best.” Yongsun sighs.

“But you still dumped him.”

“Exactly. But everyone since him, they hadn’t even understood me, or who I had to be. Maybe it’s unfair, but I can’t devote so much time to them like, I don’t know, other people can.” Yongsun doesn’t mention how she notices a pattern that they text her with anxious questions every time she’s with Byulyi, and how annoying it becomes. Every time it begins to fall apart she wonders why she started a relationship in the first place. But she’s 36, and she should be in a steady romance, even if she doesn’t feel like it.

Byulyi shifts so her body is facing Yongsun.

“Aren’t you tired of dating already? Yonghee-unnie’s got three kids now doesn’t she? I don’t think your parents are pestering you for children. There’s not anything pushing you to settle down.”

“What about you? Isn’t it weird that Seulgi has a son? Your younger sister got married and had a kid before you.” Yongsun huffs. “I feel like a relationship is the last thing I want, but shouldn’t I at least try?”

Byulyi shrugs. “My parents have stopped trying to tell me what to do. And I don’t know, I kind of realized I wasn’t really dating to make myself happy, I was just doing it because I thought I should be married by now, like a certain somebody,” She gives Yongsun a pointed look that the other woman pouts at. “Once I stopped trying to chase that idea…” Byulyi takes one of Yongsuns hands and lays it flat against her own. They look almost the same, except Yongsun’s palm is rounder.

“I don’t know. I’m happier now.” Byulyi interlaces their fingers and Yongsun feels something click. Like so many times, when their conversations become deep, Byulyi is right. Yongsun is happy now, happy in ways that she was always fighting to be when she was dating people. But right now, it’s effortless.

Yongsun hums in thought, but really she’s made up her mind, too, that she’ll stop looking around for something she doesn’t need. Everything that completes her, she already has. Her career, the people she loves

And Byulyi.

#moonsun #moonbyul #solar #mamamoo #mamamoo fanfiction #ff

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thxyx · 6 years

Text

[thiya’s trash] 012; 2jaenetwork intro

This is late, isn’t it? Ah, I’m sorry, I just wanted to finish this fic.

Anyway, hi! My name is Thiya (you can also call me Thi) and I’m from India. I’m a huge 2jae enthusiast and I write a lot of fanfiction about them. I’m pretty shy and intimidated easily by people so if you’re up for talking do approach me because I will not no matter how badly I want to talk to you. I got into K-pop early 2016 and into GOT7 during December 2016. I was sold to 2jae that easily. I love them so much. I’m also not very good at talking about myself, can you tell? I’m going to quit the intro now - I think my writing says a lot more about me than anything else I can say.

Title: Symphony

Word Count: 4,598

Genre: Fluff, mostly. It’s very cliche stuff, jeez.

Other notes: I wanted to make it six posts but I don’t have that much patience. Also the parts are named after songs, but I accidentally referenced so many other songs and I was laughing about that. This hasn’t been proofread. Super cliche stuff.

1. Rewind

Sharing an apartment with someone who has a tendency of hopping onto your train of thought often means that that person will never leave your thoughts, and Choi Youngjae knows that better than anyone.

Work is his haven of solace, where he can focus on computing the numbers on his screen and his heart can keep itself together without melting into a gooey mess all over his rib cage. Back at his apartment, he has to face the sight of his housemate—a ridiculously beautiful sight, that much is true—, and he gladly would if it wasn't for the effect it had on his heart and his mind.

Im Jaebum is unfair to Youngjae, and he doesn't even have a clue that he is.

It's in his lazy gait, his relaxed exterior. It's in his smile that makes his eyes crinkle into crescents. It's in his bad jokes and blatancy. It's in his quiet caring manner that one can't detect very well under the tough appearance, with the ripped jeans and the multiple piercings. It's in the way that he can't pass a cat without petting it.

It's even in his faults, from his fiery temper to his firmness about right and wrong. It's in the way he's a stickler for respect. It's in the way he leaves his books all over the apartment and the sheepish way that he asks Youngjae if he's seen his fourth Harry Potter book.

It's in the small moments that they share, that they can't keep from sharing, since they're confined to the same small space for quite a significant portion of their time. The small moments that Youngjae's mind has the habit of replaying too many times over, just pulling it back and rewinding every time.

It's in the way he wakes Youngjae up, with shaking progressing from gentle to merciless, a small murmur of “Jae, wake up,” to “Choi, if you don't wake the fuck up right now, I'm eating your breakfast too.”

And this morning is no different.

“You know, I spend so much energy just waking you up every morning, it's surprising that I don't have a six pack yet,” sighs Jaebum with a shove to Youngjae's shoulder.

Youngjae, who's almost awake by now, tries to not think about that. He sleepily attempts to lash an arm out at Jaebum, but it comes off as more of a defeated flap.

“Okay, that's it, I'm done.” Youngjae doesn't realize fast enough when Jaebum slides his arms below Youngjae's knees and neck to pull him clean off the mattress.

With a yelp, Youngjae wraps his arms around Jaebum's neck, eyes snapping open at the shock of being separated from his mattress. Jaebum laughs, and Youngjae can feel the vibrations of his chest, which causes such a wave of emotions in him that he presses his face into the side of Jaebum's neck, only to take an almighty inhale of the scent of Jaebum's soap and realising that he just made his situation worse.

Jaebum's chuckling softly all the way until the living room, where he dumps Youngjae in a not-so-gentle manner on the couch, prompting an annoyed whine from the younger. “You're mean, Im Jaebum.”

Jaebum smirks, and Youngjae's heart combusts a bit inside his chest. “And you're cute, Choi Youngjae.”

Youngjae groans and covers his face with his hands, but his brain is at it again.

Pause. Rewind. Play.

2. A

As Jaebum catches Youngjae's eye for the seventh time in ten minutes, he wonders if the younger knows that he's being that obvious.

It's frankly quite amusing to Jaebum, who is—fortunately or unfortunately—highly observant, and has thereby picked up the indications that point to a very obvious conclusion: His housemate has fallen for him.

Does Jaebum have a problem with that? Absolutely not.

For one, he is the gayest gay to ever gay, so that part of the problem is non-existent. For two, Youngjae is probably his best option, on an absolute scale, not a relative one. Jaebum thinks that he could wait ages, but would still not come across someone as crazily sweet and adorable (the adjectives ought to be in italicized, bold, triple-underlined letters, because that's the amount of emphasis that Jaebum would like to place on that), or someone who was good at advice despite being younger, or someone who was just good company. Youngjae wasn't ideal—then again, no one was—, but his positives definitely outweighed his flaws.

So yeah, Jaebum definitely doesn't mind. In fact, he might just be falling himself, a progression that's causing him to do things that emotionally infuriate Youngjae, like being unnecessarily close or touchy. There are obvious ulterior motives here, because all that is what Jaebum wants too. He likes being close to Youngjae, falling asleep on Youngjae's shoulder when whatever they're watching gets too boring, catching Youngjae's gaze and receiving a guilty smile.

Jaebum would say something himself, but he wants to give Youngjae the moment, and that's annoying him as well, because Youngjae just won't take the prompt, no matter how obvious it is.

Which is ridiculous, because even without the words, Jaebum has figured it all out. When will Youngjae stop acting like this? Unbelievable.

They're up late on a Friday night, celebrating the end of another work week, and like usual, Jaebum falls asleep after the third episode of the TV show that they're making their way through, which currently is Riverdale.

When Jaebum blinks his eyes open, he suffers through the usual sleep-induced confusion stage, registering the identifying factors of his surroundings, like the fact that Youngjae is curled up and tucked into his side, and the fact that Jaebum fell asleep with his cheek resting on Youngjae's head. The laptop has been shut down and the only noises he's hearing are the tinny noises from the game that Youngjae's playing on his phone.

“Oh shit,” swears Jaebum in a mumble that makes it seem like his mouth has been stuffed with cotton. “I fell asleep again, didn't I?”

“Yup,” deadpans Youngjae, with an undertone that suggests that Jaebum might be more than a little stupid if he can't figure that out by himself. “You didn't even stay up long enough to find out who murdered Jason Blossom.”

“Fuck.” Jaebum rubs his eye with his fist and lets the world sink back into focus. “Don't tell me, then.”

“Mhmm,” hums Youngjae absently, focused on his game. “We can watch it over tomorrow afternoon, if you're not planning to fall asleep then.” Youngjae never minded watching something over as long as it was up to his standards, so Jaebum doesn't blink before agreeing.

“Now go sleep, idiot,” chides Youngjae, tearing his eyes away from his phone as the victorious game music plays. “You've barely slept the whole week, and you're causing me to worry.”

“Wouldn't want to do that,” smiles Jaebum playfully as his heart flutters in his chest like a restless bird in reaction to the concern shown. He leans over to press his lips to Youngjae's forehead. “G’night, Jae.”

There's a slight stutter to Youngjae's voice as he returns the words, which is the reason for Jaebum's self-satisfied smile that he wears as he walks to his room.

Now it's just a matter of time.

3. Confession Song

Trust me, Youngjae, Mark had said. It may seem cliché, but it will work, Youngjae, Mark had said. Easy for Mark to say. So easy. If Youngjae had been in the music industry instead of giving up that dream for him accounting degree, he would’ve had it as easy as Mark when the older had asked his fellow producer out (Jinyoung, Youngjae recalls the name to be).

Youngjae stares at the iPod in his hand, the name of the recording (which is 'Um, you should maybe listen to this’), and he wants to die. Did he just write a song to confess to Jaebum? Well, he didn't just do it. He stayed up for three whole nights to finish the whole thing, having to recall all the things he had to do to put together a song (the last time he'd done that was in high school), and recording over and over until his voice resembled ragged ribbons ruffled by the wind.

His hands shake as he places it on the kitchen counter with a pair of earphones. The iPod has been emptied of all tracks except this one, and Youngjae's heart is beating so loud that he can hear the drumming in his ears. He's two seconds away from shoving it into his pocket and disposing of it when he gets the chance, but no. He's put this off for too long.

He stares at the device again, then picks up his backpack and leaves. Jaebum's still in the shower, and Youngjae hadn't been lying completely when he had explained last night that he'd be leaving early for work this morning. He did have an early meeting—maybe not one that warranted leaving that early, but early regardless.

Youngjae spends the entire day feeling like he's walking on glass. He thanks every star of his that he forgot to take his phone with him this morning, because he'd run it down the previous night nervously playing games whenever he needed a break. Now he'd have to wait the whole day until he saw Jaebum and witnessed his reaction.

God, his neural endings feel like they’ve been set on fire, because every sound is making him jump. If Jaebum’s eventual reaction doesn’t kill him, the nerves just might.

Jaebum hums a small tune to himself as he takes the steps up to the apartment, a take-out bag hooked in his hand. He got to leave the office early enough today and decided to pick up dinner from Youngjae’s favorite restaurant on the way back, just because.

He’s just unlocked the door and placed the food on the dinner table when Youngjae walks in, tie hanging off his neck with the top button undone, his jet-black bangs a mess over his forehead. He looks like he’s been to hell and back. Jaebum wants to give him a huge hug and a couple forehead kisses and make him smile again.

And now Jaebum wants to punch himself in the face because when did he become so cheesy when it came to Youngjae? Jeez.

Youngjae gives him a odd look when he meets his eyes. It’s one that’s calculating, cautious. Jaebum doesn’t really understand it. “Hey, you,” he smiles. “I take it that work was as usual?”

“Mhmm, yeah,” answers Youngjae, his eyes narrowing by the tiniest fraction, as though trying to analyse Jaebum, pick some damning hint from his expression. Jaebum doesn’t get it. “Did you listen to…?”

A crease forms between Jaebum’s eyebrows. “Listen to what?” He’s confused now. What did he miss?

“I left, uh, you know what, never mind.” Youngjae pinches the bridge of his nose as though regretting all of his life decisions, and suddenly his phone starts ringing from the corner table where it's been connected to the charger.

Youngjae strides across the room to pick it up. “Hello?” Pause. “My folder? Yeah, I left it at work but I'll pick it up tomo—Oh, you have it?” Pause. “You're downstairs? You didn't have to do that!” Pause. “Okay, I'll be down in a minute.”

Jaebum raises his eyebrows, asking for a explanation as Youngjae puts his phone down. “Yugyeom has the files I left at work, and he's downstairs, so I’m going to pick them up.” Jaebum shrugs, and Youngjae walks out the door.

Jaebum wanders to the kitchen to fetch two sets of cutlery when he sees Youngjae's iPod sitting on the edge of the counter, tucked behind the sugar container and almost completely hidden from sight. Jaebum frowns. He's generally the one leaving stuff in all weird places.

He yanks the iPod out of its hiding place and a pair of earphones trails behind it. The screen lights up when Jaebum clicks the power button to see if the device is still functioning, displaying a rather oddly named song.

He stares at the screen for a couple seconds and then bursts out laughing. Youngjae did not. Youngjae did not. Jaebum can't believe him. This must've been what Youngjae had been referring to earlier.

That cheesy, cliché male. Jaebum’s smile turns a little softer as he puts the earphones in and clicks play. Youngjae's blissful singing voice filters through the earphones, and Jaebum can tell right off the bat that this is exactly what he expected. A soft, melodious backing track and lyrics that warmed him from head to toe pronounced in Youngjae's honest and emotional voice.

Jaebum buries his face in his hands because it has turned scarlet and is burning so much that he's pretty sure that he's radiating enough heat to raise the temperature of the entire apartment. The very thought of someone writing a song for him has been unfathomable his entire life and then this? God, Jaebum doesn't even have words to describe his feelings at the moment.

Once the song has ended, there's a pause, like a microphone is being adjusted, then a tentative voice speaks. “Uh, hyung? I'm pretty sure you understand the context of all of that. I am rather obvious, am I not?” A small guilty laugh, and Jaebum grins like an idiot. “But anyway, all of this is a hundred percent really, and I guess that scares me in a way.” A pause. “Maybe I shouldn't have said that. It's just—jeez, I like you so much, okay? I had to say it. If you don't feel the same way, just wrap the earphones around the iPod and leave it where you found it. I'll understand, and you can just forget about all of this. I don't think I'd be able to handle the conversation. Alright.” A beep, and the recording ends.

Jaebum places the iPod back on the counter, contemplating on what reaction to exhibit once Youngjae came back upstairs. Yugyeom tends to talk a lot, so Jaebum knows he still has a couple minutes. He picks up two sets of cutlery and sets them next to the containers of food, sifting through scenarios in his head.

The front door slams just as Jaebum has come up with an elaborate plan to feign ignorance at first, and then drop a reference a little later to fluster Youngjae and successfully let the cat out of the bag.

However, that plan goes to shit as soon as he meets Youngjae's eyes, and a smile ripples across his face—an unbridled force of nature, emotion-heavy and resistant to any attempt to suppress it.

Youngjae narrows his eyes. “What are you smiling for?”

Jaebum presses his lips together, wanting the huge bubble of feelings in his chest to stop trying to come up his throat. “Nothing,” he attempts to shrug nonchalantly.

“You're turning red,” points out Youngjae slowly. He digs his fingernails into his palm. “Are you sick? That's one of two explanations I can think of. Did you listen to—?”

“No,” lies Jaebum, before a waterfall of giggles begins spilling out of his mouth.

“You're a really bad liar,” comments Youngjae with an embarrassed laugh, as Jaebum walks over to him.

“I am, am I not?” grins Jaebum, stopping a couple inches in front of Youngjae.

“Totally,” says Youngjae, placing his hands on either side of Jaebum's smiling face. “Holy fuck, your entire face has gone crimson.” His hands slide down Jaebum's face and neck to finally rest on his chest, Youngjae staring at the fabric of the shirt instead of Jaebum's face.

“Your doing, I believe,” teases Jaebum, wrapping his arms around Youngjae's waist and pulling him closer. “That song was insane. In the best way. Didn't expect you to do that.”

A small embarrassed laugh escapes Youngjae's mouth. “Didn't expect myself to do that either.” His breath catches just the slightest, but then he lets out a relieved sigh, which Jaebum can feel because they are in proximity that close.

And Jaebum can't resist the urge to tease Youngjae a bit. “Honestly, I thought you'd never say anything. I was on the verge of giving up hope and confessing myself.”

“Shut up. I'm an obvious procrastinator, I know,” grumbles Youngjae, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh, you don't say. So obvious that—” Jaebum's words are cut off when Youngjae presses his lips to his in a sharp, sudden kiss, a short one that Jaebum doesn't even properly register until it's over.

“Kindly cease your harping on that,” grins Youngjae, evidently proud of himself.

“I thought I'd have to take first turn,” says Jaebum, looking a little shell-shocked, but very, very pleased.

“You can be the second. And third. And so on and so forth,” says Youngjae, a smidge of shyness creeping into his words.

Jaebum laughs and leans his forehead against Youngjae's. He doesn't say it, but he wants to be Youngjae's last.

4. It Hurts

Nothing is perfect. No task, no option, no situation, no relationship. There is a relative scale of imperfection, from a slight misalignment to survivable to seriously, we can't fix this. The ranking of anything on this scale depended on how the subjects concerned treated it. No more, no less.

Disagreements also have a scale. There's bickering. Then there's plain disagreeing. Then there's arguing. Then there's fighting. Then there are the full-blown fights that rattle the infrastructure of the very relationship, the fight version of an earthquake, negating the surity of the future of the relationship.

One progresses to the other, when neither party manages to call a ceasefire, or makes any attempt at all to stop the snowballing.

Jaebum is a stubborn person. Youngjae, not so much, but the characteristic is simply exhibited to a lesser degree in him, not really non-existent. Fights are inevitable—they always have been—and mostly they find their way around them. But there happens to be one sore topic that they simply cannot see eye to eye on, and that causes all their problems—the future.

Jaebum is always one to plan way ahead, jumping decades ahead to decide outcomes for then. Everything is a long term problem with him. That's just the way he is.

Youngjae, on the other hand, is not that kind of person. Living in the moment is more his thing. Simply living, making decisions in the moment, without worrying about the consequences.

Which is why Jaebum reacts that much when Youngjae can't give him a straight answer on how serious it is, what they have. Is Youngjae a part of his future plans? Because that's what Jaebum wants, though he won't say that out loud because he's not sure of what Youngjae thinks. Whenever he voices the question, Youngjae will tell him to stop overthinking, give him a soft kiss, and tell him to just enjoy what they have in this very moment.

But that's difficult, isn't it? Because what if Jaebum makes all his plans around this boy, only to figure out that what they had was nothing but a fling? Fleeting. Ephemeral. No forever. So he persists, calculating his timing and phrasing, but it all goes to shit every time.

It'll start off with a comment from Jaebum, accidental or otherwise. Youngjae will make his comeback, because when it comes to this he simply cannot resist. Thus begins the downward spiral into a fight, until one of them says that they're tired of it, and they simply stop talking about it, no attempt of resolution made.

Shoving a problem under the carpet is the worst possible way to handle it, so it's no surprise when one day the metaphorical carpet is ripped away and the problem makes its presence known in the ugliest of forms, resulting in one extremely large fight where every negative mental receipt kept comes up, when they stray so far that they forgot where they started.

Jaebum shuts himself in his room—the one he hasn't slept in for ages—and Youngjae goes to his, throwing a set of clothes into his backpack along with his laptop and files from his latest client, and texts Mark once he slams the apartment door behind him, informing the older that he's staying the night with him, because he really needs a break right now.

Then out of spite, with fury burning through his veins, he switches texts to send another few texts.

Jaebum <3

[ last seen one hour ago ]

you believe you asked for an answer<<

here it is<<

we're over<<

He stares at his screen for a few seconds more, until the words blur into ambiguity. He's about to put his phone back into his pocket when it buzzes once.

Jaebum <3

[ online ]

>>best news i've ever heard.

>>have a great life, youngjae.

Jaebum stares at his phone as the ticks next to his message change color to confirm that they have been read, tear after tear trailing down his cheeks.

He got his answer. Now he thinks he could've gone the rest of his life not knowing.

5. Sign

They say the words uttered in anger are the ones you most regret.

They're right, because if there's one thing that Youngjae has been feeling nonstop for the last one week, it's pure, unadulterated regret.

He's been staying with Mark since the fight, and Mark had been nothing but accomodating, and Youngjae tries to repay him the best he can. Mark's boyfriend is sweet as well, babying Youngjae by making him eat second helpings and making sure he doesn't stay up working too late and tire himself of—Youngjae feels like he's found a second mom in Jinyoung. The ache of familiarity that fills his chest when Mark looks at Jinyoung with absolute fondness makes Youngjae realize that it'll take him more than a while to get over Jaebum.

The night of the fight, Youngjae had sat up talking to Mark until three in the morning, verbally contemplating at length about how big a mistake he made and the fact that this is all his fault. Mark is one of the best listeners, and he doesn't have much advice to give, the only thing he had to say being “Well, it all comes down to what will make you happy. It's just that simple.”

What makes him happy? The answer is simple, and he can feel it in his bones, his nerves, his muscles,every time that he goes back to the apartment to fetch something or the other of his, when he knows Jaebum is at work. His subconscious murmurs that he keeps making excuses just to go back there, and he has nothing to say to contradict that.

He misses his home, with its walls painted in pastels, with its sense of disorderly order, like order was attempted to be maintained, emphasis on attempted. He misses his home with Jaebum in it. He misses Jaebum.

If home is where the heart is, then Jaebum is Youngjae's home. Youngjae already knows that he's not going to be moving on anytime soon, that the possibility of him doing that is next to zero, because he doesn't even want to do that. He wishes he could tell Jaebum that, ask for another chance, but he's afraid that Jaebum's pride will prevent him from taking Youngjae back.

Until ten days after the fight, when Youngjae goes back to get a USB drive of his, and he finds a piece of paper taped to his bedroom door.

Jae, I know you've been dropping by. When my books are suddenly straightened and my jacket is not draped over the couch, I know that's your doing. Either that or some other neat freak has been sneaking into my house and I need better security. I'm hoping it isn't the latter.

Anyway, we were stupid to fight, and I can't go on like this. I was so focused on the future to realize what I did have. I'm leaving work early today. Come back home in time for dinner, okay? I miss you.

Youngjae stares at the note and lets the words sink in, smiling as he reads them over a second time. That's all the cue he needs.

6. Never Ever

Youngjae swears at the traffic in front of him. Then he swears at the thought of his boss, who thought it was okay to keep Youngjae late on the one day that be wanted to get out early.

He pauses in front of the apartment door, key frozen next to the lock. He takes a second to smooth down his hair, knowing that he looks like a mess. He just wanted to get that fast enough, and the sensible side of him reminds him that Jaebum anyway does not care how he looks.

He inserts the key into the lock and twists, letting himself in. Jaebum, looking freshly showered in a large hoodie, is by the island countertop of the joint kitchen, emptying a bag of chips into a bowl, an act he pauses once he notices Youngjae.

The air between them hums with a nameless energy, neither good nor bad. It's laced with the slightest bit of acceptance, because they both figured they'd end up back here.

“So I know I fucked up,” starts Jaebum, words slow and disjoint. Huh, just like him to blame things on himself. “And we have issues to discuss.”

“But please, none of that now,” interrupts Youngjae with a soft sigh. Just seeing Jaebum again has triggered in him so many emotions that he can't even begin to separate and analyse each one. “I'm just so tired.”

Tired from working so many nights, just to prevent myself from thinking about you. Tired of running. Tired of being angry. Tired of being away from you.

Jaebum understands that, so he simply holds his arms open so that Youngjae can walk into them. Burying his head into the hollow of Jaebum's neck, Youngjae lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. Jaebum smells like cherry soap and minty cologne. He smells familiar and welcoming.

A feeling of relief washes over Youngjae. It feels like he's come home.

“I missed you, Jae,” whispers Jaebum, leaving a kiss on Youngjae crown. “So much.”

“I love you,” blurts out Youngjae suddenly. It's a thought that he'd been meaning to mention for a while—ten days to be exact. Only living without Jaebum made him realize how much he actually cared for Jaebum.

A pause. “You mean that?” The words are laced with suppressed emotion, uncertainty, a plea, a hope.

“Of course I do,” smiles Youngjae, giving Jaebum a little squeeze for emphasis. “And I am going to love you the same in the future.”

“Oh.” Youngjae can hear the smile in Jaebum's voice, in that one syllable. And all their arguments, they’re all solved right there. It’s an admission of defeat, but not a sad one. One that feels more like a treaty, a peace offering. Something that makes both sides happy. “Okay then.”

“That's it?” asks Youngjae, feigning offence. “I tell you all that, and that's how you reply?!”

“A bit… overwhelmed,” admits Jaebum, a little relieved laugh escaping his lips. “But I’m glad I don’t have to let you go. Ever.”

“Never ever?” asks Youngjae.

“Never ever ever,” adds Jaebum, beginning to giggle. It’s contagious, so Youngjae also starts laughing.

“Never ever ever ever?” asks Youngjae between wheezy chuckles. God, he’s so drunk on the feeling of contentment. “This chain is never going to end, is it?”

“It doesn’t have to,” obliges Jaebum, ruffling Youngjae’s hair. “We’ve got all eternity.”

#2jaenetwork #2jaenetintroevent #2jae #fanfic #mys #thiyablogs #012 #January 2018

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makebelievetimeformymind · 6 years

Text

Don’t believe me, ask him. Pt 1

THIS IS JUST A RE-BLOG BECAUSE I WENT AHEAD AND MADE A PAGE FOR MY WRITING. For now on I will be posting it all to this one... so please follow :) again, thank you all for reading writing!! <3<3<3 @soythedemonqueen @dragongirl420 @srj1990 @deathly-smirk @sofreddie

Update:: shout out to @soythedemonqueen for the Aesthetic, forgot to leave the credit! All other gifs were found through google.

Characters: Dean & Sam Winchester, Jaslyn (OFC), Silas (OMC), Unknown Characters (due to still making my mind up): Daddy & Mama

Word count: 2,014

Summary: After skipping town after town Jaslyn finally found one she could see her self settle in. For awhile that is at least. Only for the normal supernatural life to follow her there due to her normal old habits always catching up to her. She didn’t see this coming a millions miles away though. Was her luck about to change for the better or was she gonna be stuck packing up going off on the run again? Only this time with the Winchester's on her trail?

Warning: (Not too sure what all to put here) Language, speaking of drug use and alcohol, simple flirting, (18+ only), this one don’t apply too much for this one but there's no telling what may come.

A/N: I do not own supernatural or any of it's characters besides the OFC's I have created. Do not repost my work anywhere without my permission please. That is if it is even good enough for such wanting. This is my first try at any fan fiction writing. Please be honest with how you feel about it. The only way to get better in my mind is by taking others opinion's into thought. Unless it's just hate crap, then save it for the birds.

I was walking up to the bar when I spotted him. A place I said I'd never be at but right now I was desperate and this was where Silas wanted to meet. 'Of all towns…'

From time to time I just want to feel... feel.. Well, just fucken feel something. Anything! Sometimes I need to remember what it is like to be able to have feelings. To have emotions pump through and fill my body with ounces of adrenaline. Living the boring life of work and home is starting to wear me down. Maybe he was right, perhaps I'm not meant to live the normal life. 'I'll be damned if I wasn’t gonna prove his ass wrong’ I just had to find the right amount of balance.

He was sitting at the bar alone, a file in one hand and a glass in the other. Judging by the lineup of upside down glasses he done had his share of a few and then some, food taking up the rest of the space. Looking like he hadn't ate in days.

"Double shot of Jack, please sir." I said, casually leaning up on the bar with my elbows and fist under my chin. The bartender nodded silently. 'I hope I'm not about to be waiting forever an a day' Peaking down his shoulder I could see the picture of a chick laying face down on top of a bloodstained mattress. Next to it was a covered end table full of beer bottles and an over flowing ash tray. Blood covered the side of the wall and head board; a murder scene. My stomach twisted into a knot forcing myself to watch the bartender instead. He wasn’t in any rush about getting my drink made either. Taking his time pulling the glass from under the bar and strolling over to the ice bucket, few cubes later he was finally pouring my liquor.

There it was. The reason I was here…. The image of her body was drilled into my head already. Seeing those didn’t help my case.

I slammed it back quickly while the gentlemen watched me from the corner of his eye. Slowly drinking his drink it didn't take long for the file to be put down. I couldn't help but eye ball his arms through the mirror in front of us. My lord, those biceps. 'Wouldn't Daddy looove that!' That thought alone gave me tingle up and down my spine.

"Another one please sir, if you don't mind." I called out to the bartender as he was passing by. Giving me a slight glance he poured a shot. "A double please my good man." I said, in the sweetest voice possible. He poured some more. I put it back as if it was water. "You might as well go ahead and pour another one", I said quickly before he walked too far away. Digging into my pocket to slide him a twenty all I could think was this fool next to me must think I'm a basket case. 'Hope this covers it… where in the fuck is his ass'

"I'll take a refill before she finishes off the bottle.." He said, tilting his glass back all the way. "You might wanna slow down there little lady. Wouldn't wanna end your night too quickly. I haven’t even got your name yet." A chuckle slipped through his lips. His eyes started to trail from my head to feet. Narrowing my eyes back he smirked licking his lips. "I don’t mean any disrespect." 'Rumors hold up to be true, no doubt'

I brought the glass to my lips taking a small sip this time. Looking down at the table I rolled my glass around on its bottom. I could feel the numbness start to creep up my feet through my ankles. If tonight wasn't a success the pain would soon be unbearable. He would only be right if I didn't succeed. I kept checking my phone for any sign from Silas every five minutes it seemed, still nothing. 'Small sips are for bitches' I thought, back the liquid gold went.

"The faster you toss em back the quicker the buzz hits." Truth was if I didn't get a quick buzz I would walk out. I hated places like these. So dirty. The low lighting making the thick smoke seem thicker than it already was. I had a stab in my chest as I inhaled it and the clouds always irritated my eyes. So much fucken smoke. The fact that it wasn’t even the good kind was a deal breaker for me. I'm no saint and will cut a line or two with the best of them but that's one thing… I just can't stand cigarettes.

The smile he flashed sent sparks through me. Pure perfection. I heard the rumors through the grapevine but they didn't give him any justice. Forcing me to look elsewhere my heart fluttered. 'Where did that come from??'

"Honestly, I don't drink much. I'm more a natural type of chick myself. But that’s just like a man, to assume.” I said. My phone started to go off. 'Awesome this loser is bailing' I know the look on my face was unpleasant as I glanced at my phone. Holding my words took some work but was do able. Keeping my face expression under control was a different story. It could a story of its own.

"Sorry, I gotta take this." He nodded at me as I turned my back to him. I could feel my jaw clinch.

"Where the fuck is you dude. You know I don't like waiting at these places" my voice was a little louder than tended and Dean did a cough to signal he heard my insult. Giving him a small tender smile to say I'm sorry, I slowly got up to give some space between us. Getting mentally ready for Silas's excuse I make my way to the junk box. Just as I posted up against it… in he walked. "You little slim ball. How are you going to just sale me out like that" The anger flowing through me made me lose all thought that I was in public right now. Black was all I saw. My own friend leaving me high and dry was enough but for him to call daddy on me is a whole new level of low. This was the last thing I saw coming.

"Jaslyn, I don’t expect you to understand and it's not what you think. I had no choice.. He showed up when I was walking out the door. What in the fuck was I suppose to do?!" His voice sounded guilt free. And had every right to be, sadly. There was nothing he could of done in his power to stop him. "You can only skip so many towns before getting caught up to. How long did you expect this one to last? He’ll always know you know. Just let him talk to you so he feels his duty is done. Plus, I got that if you still want it…." Silas words stung.

"Yeah. Well, you're still a bitch ass pussy in my book though." was all I said. Hanging up I walked back to the bar ignoring the fact he was watching me from the shadows. Taking my place next to Dean again I hoped he wouldn’t come waltzing over. But how would he explain his presence for being here? What was he gonna say?

'Fuck’

Flagging the bartender down I called out as loud as possible, “Two doubles please…" I couldn’t finish my statement before Dean was making chuckles. 'Bet you don’t come say a word.. I dare you'

"Hell of a phone call I take it. Boyfriend problems. Or is it girl…" tilting his head down at his empty glass he frowned. "Let me get in on that." He said to the bartender who was already in top of my command. Guess the look on my face said I didn't have time to wait on his slow ass this time like before.

I rolled my eyes at him grabbing both glasses in hand. "You sure do live up to your reputation" 'Shit, shut the fuck up Jas." It was already too late. His attention was more than caught and his narrowed his eyes made panic rush over me. One after another down the hatch they went. His eyes stayed squinted at me. "As a normal man" I quickly said. I peaked over Dean’s shoulder to see if daddy was still among the shadows. To my surprise he wasn’t. A little of relief eased through my shoulders. I'll see him later. No doubt. If I know Daddy he was outside next to my car.

"Well, what can I say. I am a man, doll face." His face said it all. He done forgot all about the dead broad in his folder. Poor chick. Victim to an unfortunate event that landed me in this bar to begin with. Didn’t matter if I took Silas up on his offer or not her death was out of vain. It was still partly on my shoulders. I couldn’t help but glance at the folder ever once in awhile. "So, you never gave a name" His voice was of tone like he had been trying to get my attention. How long had I been looking at the folder full of gruesome photos?

"Uh, Jaslyn..." I said quickly. Something wasn’t right. Why would Silas give me up to Daddy but still hits me up with his offer. That doesn’t add up. There is no way anybody else beside father was on his trail. "What about you? Do you have a name?" I tried to give a smirk but I just can’t over ride this feeling deep in my pit. Good thing I wouldn’t have to keep this act up for long. On my fifth or sixth glance over Dean’s shoulder checking for Daddy again I saw Sam walk in.

"Names Dean" His eyes followed where my eyes were over his back side. "And out the window this goes”

"Okay, get this. Rene wasn’t alone when she left her last bar stop. Looks like she...” Dean jabbed him in his ribs to hush him quickly. "What the hell was that for?"

Dean nodded over toward me sitting on the bar stool. "Meet Jaslyn, we were just enjoying a small chat before you came and interrupted." I couldn’t help but laugh. It's always nice to see firsthand instead of going by rumors.

"That’s okay Dean. Perhaps I'll see you around sometime. I gotta jet. Anyhow." 'More like I need to find Silas before Daddy finds me'

"Aww, you're not really gonna go just because he shows his face. Look, your ugliness scared her away" He motioned his hands to Sam's direction. I let out another giggle. The liquor surly was setting in. "Come on lady, you just gonna leave? Let’s have one more shot.."

Sam rolled his eyes smiling at me. I repeated and did the same. "It looks to me as if you have some work to tend to Agent Dean..." I let the words 'agent dean' linger off my tongue. Leaning over his arm holding the drink I tapped on the ‘FBI’ folder. The look on Sam's face almost made me lose all composers. Him trying to study my faces as if he is gonna get a read on me. "If you don’t believe me, ask him."

Nodding to Sam I got up off the stool and searched my pocket for another twenty. I gave Dean a wink, "Keep the change." I said to the bartender. Turned around and made my way toward the front door.

Mama always said, "Never turn around as you're walking away." But Mama wasn’t here was she… and I've never been as strong as her. Making a quick glance over my shoulder while pushing the door open I caught Dean looking up in my direction. Sam was already back into detective mode. 'Not the only weak one perhaps.. '

part 2, coming soon!!!

#fan fic writing #dean winchester #supernatural #sam winchester #ofc #dean x ofc #fan fiction #winchester #omc

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turqrambles · 4 years

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I watched all 26 episodes of an obscure Australian cartoon in one week and I’m not okay - My journey with Wicked! (2001) PART 2 - The Actual Review

Hello again! I just checked my watch and I noticed that it was time to talk about the cartoon with the apple-headed guy some more!

When I last talked about this delightful piece of obscure media, I went over the origin story of how the show was created, introduced the cast of characters, and then talked about the main draw of the cartoon that makes it unique of other cartoons of its quality.

And then, at the end of the blog post, I mentioned that I think that the cartoon is merely “Okay” rather than anything Amazing. It has a great idea but ultimately, it really is just an alright show.

So now, after introducing this beautiful cartoon and explaining to everyone just what the hell is going on, it’s time to break this whole thing down.

The Good, The Bad, and The Apple-Flavored

Wicked! is a weird show to grade. The animation itself fluctuates in quality and there’s some very obvious cut corners from how frequently animation is recycled in some of the episodes, scenes can have weird editing or continuity errors, and sometimes they’ll even recycle sound bytes like insults that Dawn and Rory shout at each other or Gramps reminding everyone about Normandy. I feel like I heard The Appleman mention that something was “100% real nightmare” like five times while watching this whole thing in quick succession.

Information for this cartoon is practically nonexistent, but my theory is that this happened because the animation was all produced in a single in-house Australian studio rather than shipping bits of it overseas to get tightened up. Again, I could be wrong, and if anyone has any better information, please send me an ask, but a lot of the techniques that Wicked! use reminded me of Filmation, which also famously kept everything in one studio.

Just be warned, similar to when someone watches He-Man and go “oh hey, I recognize that talking animation from the second episode”, there are shots that get reused often to save time. Get used to that one scene where Appleman is laughing and running across the steel walkway suspending over the refinery vats, it’s used a ton.

That being said, when they give them the budget to add a little polish to the show, they do a pretty good job!

Don’t be fooled by my talk of He-Man - this show actually looks pretty great. Most of the time the animation is pretty fluid and the decision to constantly use shadows to wrap around the characters really works in its favor and gives it an extra layer of moodiness.

It just reuses animation on top of that.

I think that, in many ways, Wicked! is carried more by the strength of its ideas over its actual execution. Even if this show gets super goofy at times (this is a show where the Appleman literally infects the Internet by taking a piper and dropping glowing green goo on a CD-ROM), there is a definite horror undertone to the show that gets carried through its entire season.

Dare I say it, the show actually gets a little scary at times. That scene where the kids discover that their pets are nothing but empty skins with all the organs and bones sucked out in the first episode actually sets the mood really well and feels extremely faithful to the original books.

Plus the concept of The Appleman being able to tinker around with a living virus and create something that can mutate literally anything is a fun as hell idea, even if it doesn’t make sense most of the time and seems like a weird mutation (hah) of the conflict from the books. It’s just fun that this guy can create literally anything out of thin air as a weapon just so long as he goes to his lab and makes something that allows him to do so.

The Pros

*The Appleman. Yeah, there’s a very good reason why the only thing people remember about this show is The Appleman. He’s just a fun character and a fun villain. His design does takes a bit to get used to on account of how uncanny he can be, and there are times when they draw him off-model and make him look just horrendous, but once you see how far they go with the apple-theming, you kinda start to vibe with the apple headed monster.

Sure, he’s basically your run-of-the-mill cartoon villain but with a bonus tragic backstory, but his vocal performance by Bill Conn really sells the whole package. You can tell that he’s greatly unhinged and that he’s not exactly playing with a full deck. It’s only until the last episode that they flat-out say that he’s being controlled by the same virus that he’s been using to infect other creatures, but I’m pretty sure your average cartoon-watching kid is able to guess that just from the small hints that they drop.

Also all of his vehicles are apple-colored and I love a villain that takes the time to make sure he has a proper theme.

(The “starting out with an island with apple trees on Animal Crossing: New Horizons” moodboard)

*The Family. I liked that, since this show is about terrorizing one particular dysfunctional Australian family, all five family members of this show get enough character development that the mom and dad feel like they’re more than “the mom and dad character”. Save for that one episode where Gramps was constantly bragging about how back in his day, he didn’t need electricity, he was a fun, lovable grandpa, and I like that the kids get someone to talk to about mutant frogs and such.

They’re definitely dysfunctional and, as I mentioned in the previous post, Rory and Dawn constantly insulting each other in every single episode can be grating at times, but I like that their level of dysfunction is not because of the mom and the dad having an emotionally abusive relationship. If anything, the mom and the dad have the most stable relationship in the whole show! Eileen and Jack love each other and I hate that I’m at a point where I see this husband and wife genuinely enjoying each other’s company and I go “Yes, this is something refreshing”.

Also, gotta give the show points for having the family be two single parents from past relationships finding each other and getting married and for having Eileen be totally cool with her new in-law Gramps.

*The Slobberers. Expanded from the first creatures from the books, I like that the apple-headed monster has giant worms for pets (again, gotta aggressively keep to the apple theming) and, while there’s a couple episodes where they’re just something to give The Appleman something to talk to, their designs are fun. Gives the animators an excuse to draw slime.

In a later episode, he mentions that he considers them his only friends and boy...that’s rough, buddy.

*There’s an episode where characters travel into the Internet and fight a buff video game avatar of The Appleman in a late 90′s dungeon crawler computer game. I looooove late 90′s Internet imagery in cartoons, what can I say. You even see the dial-up pop window and a clunky late 90′s webcam!

*This is a show where a divorced man keeps bugging his own son and ex-wife while sometimes trying to kill his ex-wife’s new husband - all while keeping to a strict apple and virus theme - and honestly, this is a pro on its own. The Appleman is such a petty bitch at times and I love it.

*The Appleman is allergic to medicine. Minor touch, but I like that, since he’s a virus-themed bad guy, they apply “Revive Kills Zombie” logic on this guy and he literally can’t take painkillers because it’ll only cause him more pain and agony. This comes up in an episode where he’s screaming in pain and wishes he could make the pain go away but just can’t.

*The Title Cards. This is one of those shows that freezes on eye-catching artwork for each episode title before they continue with the rest of the episode and they’re really nice.

*The Accents. Forgot to mention this anywhere else, but since this is an Australian produced cartoon that aired primarily in Australia, everyone is rocking a very noticeable Australian accent and say things like “Oi, you two! Come and get a wriggle on!”. It’s fantastic.

They were definitely at the level where, if this show ever did make it to the states, they would’ve dubbed it to sound more American. And probably flip the animation so that the characters are driving on the opposite side of the road.

The Cons

*The Reused animation and sound clips. This is unfortunately the show’s biggest strike against it. Once your brain picks out which scenes get reused and which voice clips get reused, you’ll notice that some of the episodes have a noticeably smaller polish than others. The episode “Decayed” in particular felt like 50% footage from previous episodes and boy, did it stick out like a sour thumb because of it.

That being said, I didn’t mind too much (watching a lot of B-list anime and Filmation shows will do that to you) and I feel like you would’ve noticed this a lot less if you weren’t blazing through all 26 episodes in a short period of time like I was. But it is definitely a bummer that they had to cut corners like this because again, when they don’t cut corners, this show looks utterly fantastic.

I guess the lesson here is that the animators of this show didn’t get paid enough, but really, you can say that about literally every animated project in existence.

*Weird continuity inconsistencies. This goes into a weird nitpicking “you probably only noticed this because you’re an adult with too much free time/boy I sure hope someone got fired for THAT blunder!” territory, but sometimes this cartoon does a thing where something minor is established and then the cartoon subtly retcons it.

Mostly I’m using this space to complain about how Dawn explicitly mentions that they don’t own a cat, but then in the “character shrinks to the size of an ant” episode, they have a pet cat! They have a pet cat that lasts a grand total of one episode and no one says anything!

What happened to the cat, Rory? What happened to the cat?!

(my theory is, like his father, it ran away from this family)

*Some episodes use stock cartoon plots. There is an episode where the main characters shrink to the size of an ant. There is a camping episode. There is a school dance episode. There is a Halloween episode. There is an episode focused on teeth. There is an episode that talks about the dangers of too much fast food.

Like the reused animation issue, depending on the episode, you end up not minding too much about this on account of how utterly bonkers The Appleman is when he’s concocting his evil schemes. The “characters teleport into the Internet” episode ended up being one of my favorites, as did the school dance episode.

But at the same time, two of my least favorite episodes are the stock episode plot episodes, so it’s definitely a mixed bag.

*They use real photographs in background shots and it bugs me. Come on, guys. Just have the blank wall or scribble in some posters. Anything will look better than this cartoon character standing right next to a still image from Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest, especially when you clearly had the time to draw that cartoon skull on the door.

*The three plot-heavy episodes unfortunately have weaker animation. This just seems like weird planning on their parts, but Episode 1, Episode 4, and Episode 26 are all episodes that deal with backstory of The Appleman and this wacky dysfunctional family and, for some reason, they didn’t bring their A game in regards to actually animating these episodes.

I feel like if you’re dealing with heavy backstory, you need to make the episode look good, because that’s going to be the stuff that the audience remembers. You need to have the flashback of The Appleman’s horrific transformation while he was working at the old refinery look amazing, but instead it just....doesn’t.

(picture unfortunately related)

Just to make a note, the episodes with the most fluid animation are the following: The one with the mutant plants, the one with the mutant sheep, the Halloween episode, the episode with the dinosaur bones, and the episode where The Appleman learns how to make clones. None of these episodes are important to the overarching plot.

*One of the episodes is unfortunately popular because it depicts animation that caters to the inflation fetish. Just...noting this for posterity. It makes google image searches of this cartoon a bit awkward. I’m not going to elaborate much further.

*There’s a minor transphobic joke in one of the episodes. In the episode “Decayed”, The Appleman dresses up like a nurse, tries to adopt a more feminine voice, and puts on makeup and fake eyelashes. Thankfully, this only happens for like three seconds and is never mentioned again.

The rest of the show otherwise passes the “can this still fly in 2020″ test. I’m just making a note here because it is pretty shitty.

Closing Thoughts

Wicked! is not the best show in the world, and I struggle to call it “great”, but it is a solid and enjoyable one and honestly, the things that it has going for it are unique enough that I recommend giving it a shot despite its shortcomings.

If anything, my main takeaway from watching this whole show is that this show does not deserve to be as obscure as it is. At the very least, the concepts and characters introduced here are strong ones - the villain is a bitter divorced man transformed by a hate-feeding virus after all - and I feel that, in a more fair world, this show got the small but dedicated fanbase it so woefully needs. It doesn’t deserve a huge following of fans, but I say it definitely deserves a Fanfiction.net tag with 200 fanfics total and a lot more fanart than what it does.

While I’m not sure I could recommend it as one of the great obscure cartoons that everyone missed, I think it’s definitely worth checking out for anyone looking for a fun time. It’s definitely a hidden gem, even if the hidden gem has a few imperfections. If anything, this show is a definite wild ride and I think it’s time for everyone to give this cartoon a shot.

Anyway I got to see The Appleman playing Second Life and moving the muscle slider all the way to the right, so I obviously had a blast.

Next time, I talk about the actual episodes!

#Turq watches a cartoon #Turq Reviews #Wicked!#Wicked! (2001)

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rishyabaney · 5 years

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I'm proud of myself

So... Idk y I'm making this post... But here goes nothing... Tl/dr at the end..

So, flashback a few months and you would have probably seen me hiding from the world in my room. At the time, I felt as if the world was too much and in a way, I was able to relate to all those pics about how 'the world is scary as an adult, and thus I wanna be a kid again'.

I was in college studying econs, a new language (French), and 2 psy subjects l, in which one of them was driving me mad. I would now say it was just due to the way I overthinked my assignments, coursework and tests, and how I mismanaged my time due to finding everything burdening and thus pushing it aside to deal with them when I'm ready, and guess what?

I never allocated time for them. And so they piled up and I panicked until one day, I was running late for one of my classes. My mom was yelling at me, I was trying to put on my pants, and it just happened. I knew how to get away from it all. I would just drop out.

It seemed so simple. Just stay in my room and don't open the door. Then it would all somehow magically go away. So, I stopped yelling back at my mom to inform her that I'm coming. I shut my door, locked it, took of my clothes, and just laid on my bed, staring at the ceiling as my room got brighter as it was in the morning.

And then the hell ensued. You see, I have done this all before, skip a few classes and what not. But that was in school, which is kinda free in my country. But this is college. My parents worked so hard to ensure we had the money to go to uni and this is what I'm doing. And yes, I was a very spoilt brat.

My mom first started to make sure that I really know how much $$ I'm pouring down the drain. Then she called my dad, who said this may only happen for 1 day as he knew last night I was awake on my laptop (I was watching code geass.. Although I do remember watching it when I was a child... So I guess it's rewatching), so I would have been tired (which I was... So this could be one of the reasons)

You see, while I did say this may have a way I "escape from it all", at the time, my plan was to skip a few days of uni and catch up. Which certainly wasn't the case. So like old times sake, everytime I went down, I got my usual lecture on how I'm wasting my life (told in a sad tone), how others are working so hard to try and get a life as good as mine (told in a frustrated tone), and how my "friends" were missing me (which I don't even have... Wut??), by my mother.

But the real kicker is that I just did not catch up at all. I just thought I'll do it later. And again, that never happened. After 3 days, which was the normal amount of days I would skip continuously, my mom kinda realise that I ain't gonna head beck to uni.

So, I don't really remember the sequence of events, but it went a little something like this.

1) my mom called up the uni to try and figure out what happened (like if there was bullying or anything... Idk... I didn't even know she called until later on)

2) my mom started to find if there is a place she can dump my sorry ass at (I think I'll elaborate on this topic later on)

3) she started to see if she can block only my electronics from the house wifi (cos the in Internet is always the root cause of all "youth deviance"

4) "pled" with me/tell me how she hates me for doing this

5) everyone branding me a freeloader

6) stop letting me have any food/eating up all the leftovers so I would not have anything to eat anymore if I sneak downstairs to eat late at night when they are asleep

7) keep reminding me about how my parents won't live long (they are very old and both have health conditions which have also been passed down onto me and my sister [.. Yay])

So, you may say this is normal for family to do this to guide you back to go to uni. But not for me. I still do not know the rules in Malaysia and if how my parents were planning to boot me out was legal. But they were getting there alright. Now at the beginning of last year, I got my phone replaced with a new one, and this new phone already had Instagram downloaded. So I started to go back into Instagram. I would post regularly and such (like the post underneath this is).

But during this time, I felt so ashamed that I decided to hide the fact that I have stopped going to uni from my school friends. I only posted food related pics such as the one from deepavalli. I even deleted the posting I made about the invitation I got to go to a ceremony (?) for getting on the deans list during my 2nd semester (I'll elaborate on this topic later).

But after some time, I kinda got uses to it. My mom gave me a deadline that if I did not continue next sam (the sam that has just passed), she was kicking me out. I started to find places to stay and work opportunities. And that was when it kicked in. There isn't really any good future of you don't have at least a degree in Malaysia. Like you can barely find anything. Many jobs that pay less are often given to kids who are still in school for a part time job, or they don't pay enough for you to survive if you are to live on your own, till you would need to get a few part time jobs, or go to the dark side (underground stuff... Something that idk how to get to). So basically I'm screwed.

And then a few days later, I found a song back fom the mid 2000's. It was a song about a child dying (the song is called "Terlalu Istimewa"). It just got me thi King about how everyone's gonna go, and throughout my parents last few years, do I really want them to have to wonder what is going to happen to their failure of a daughter? I went to my parents bedroom when my mom was in it alone, and I told her the golden words she was wanting to hear for some time (I forgot what exactly I said though).

"I think I'll go back to uni"

Of course I knew what all is gonna happen. At the time I thought my grades were gonna be flopped as I definitely f'ing failed. But to my surprise, my mom said that she will call in and see when we can see the head of my course. She said they already prepared for this and that it is all going to be well.

Remember when I said my mom wanted to send me somewhere. This is where the truth is unfolded. So I was diagnosed with asperger's syndrome when I was 13 in 2012. She had sent me to a home for 2 months when I did a similar shenanigan in 2015. But it costed my family a lot so they brought me back home. Till this day I still do not quite comprehend what my syndrome is (eventhough I'm majoring in bloody psychology), and how I was diagnosed with it.

So why is this important, you may ask. Because I was literally DYING when she told me that she had "explained" to the lecturer (the head of the department is also my lecturer... And I'm getting her again next semester). I just wanted a metroid to hit earth and kill me. I don't like it when people say "oh this person has something wrong with them" and etc. I feel as if they look down on me (but not y'all on Tumblr as you dont see me in real life). When I registered to join my uni, I specifically told my mom to never, ever mention about it. In fact, I found it quite hilarious that someone like me is studying psychology.

But the fact that she has told that made me so scared. I just wanted to hide under my blankets for the rest of existence. But then again, I'm gonna turn 20 soon, so I better act my age (this year I'm turning 20... All this time I felt as if if I still had a 1 in front of my age, I was still young... But I'm now gonna turn 20, a quarter of the average human life expectancy is over 😭😭😭).

So I went in the next day and got found out that mom was ready for my lil' shitty "tantrum" and stopped me 1/2 way, so she dropped me out of the subjects instead of making me fail them for not finishing my assignments and such. She also got back some of the tuition fees. My lecturer did not judge me that much (but let's see this coming semester), and I did not bump into my group mates (we have a lot of group assignments... So yeah... I let the down a lot).

So now that all of that is out of the way, you may be wondering what happened this sam. Well, let's say I was really bloody scared during the first few days as I thought I was going to bump into my old group mates and such. That was not the case of course. Other than the librarian exclaiming that I skipped 1/2 the sam out loud to a few kids, nothing else happened. I retook the psychology subject that gave me a hard time last sam, rekindled a few friendships that drifted apart due to time, and kinda mended back my relationship with my mom.

Some of my group mates this year seemed a little tough to deal with, but hey, it ain't a group project without someone (or in my case, some people) slacking off. I had to do some spoonfeeding to some of my group mates eventhough I too was lost at some parts, but I can vow that when people say teaching others help you comprehend the topic better, it is true but can only be done if you have patience and good blood pressure.

But of course there were also some stuff that ticked me off. I would often claim myself to be a lazy, procrastinating perfectionist. This is because I'm very lazy and I always want to show the best, I mean who doesn't. So when it came to the deans list this that was mentioned earlier, I wanted to go. But for my 3rd sam, I got out of the deans list for not maintaining my cgpa. In fact I only got in due to getting a 3.52 for my cgpa (to get in you need a 3.5), so I was already ashamed for that. I did not feel as if I was worthy of it I guess. So when I came back this sam, I was determined to get back in.

But as things got tough and I say the nice GPA slipping away from me with every orang and red grade I got (not godd grades to get), I felt myself returning back tk my old ways. Sleeping late doing nothing. There was even a lime in which I skipped a class, but I lied and told mom it was cancelled. She bought the lie as usual. It was at that moment I realised that many other uni students were like me. You can see that the new students always aim for high grades but the seniors just aim to pass the subjects. I know that is a crappy attitude to have, but my sister was also able to graduate just be receiving the passing grades all the way. I realised that this is the way we need to be in order to survive. And it is not wrong.

I know if my mom were to hear me say this she would be disappointed and I k ow many of you would be saying "you need to be the best person you can be" etc. But honestly if it means breaking down like that again, then no. I do not wanna make other people worry about me and such if it means I can't always be the best so be it. If it means I would not need to always be worrying if the way my sentence could be better and such instead of "having fun" etc, then yes, I would gladly give it all up. Honestly, I feel as if going to uni has made me a different person. I felt so self-conscious and it made me feel like shit.

But I guess what I'm trying to convey is that if you feel like the world is too burdening, don't f'ing kill yourself (like some weirdos tell you to on Tumblr [srsly, you would rather get rid of porn instead of the real cancerous negative on this platform... I see that your priorities are as straight as ever Tumblr]). Instead try to find something to inspire you, or maybe if you are not a bloody social pariah like me, you may find friend to support you. And always remember, there are others who have it worst that you. So STOP BEING A F'ING CRYBABY, GET OUT FROM UNDERNEATH YOUR BLOODY COMFORTERS, AND REJOIN THE REAL World. Cos guess what, no one is gonna spoonfeed you and take care of you till the bloody end. You need to stand up for yourself cos this world is a disgusting and cruel place.

Tl/dr: I stopped going to uni, found some inspiration to go back. Then things got tough again, I stopped caring, bacame a husk of who I turned into since entering the competitive world of uni, and now I have found happiness.

#rbg90g #@rbg90g #self motivation #motivation #motivating quotes #nevergiveup #never quit #cheer up #be more chill #chill #chillout #perfectionist #stop being a perfectionist #reality #reality check #realization #crybaby #spoilt brat #confession

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nehapatel64 · 7 years

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Devakshi’s Guide to Friendship

Devakshi have one of the most realistic of stories because it progressed from hatred to cordiality and sprung forth from a deep rooted friendship. This friendship is what helped them flourish in their dating days, and the regression of this component is what killed them in the end. Throughout their marriage, Devakshi worked so hard on being husband, wife and DIL, that they forgot how to be friends. Years later, we are again seeing bittersweet cordiality sprout into the beginnings of a friendship. Here are a few lessons Devakshi taught us about friendship followed by an analysis on what they had lost as spouses and are regaining again.

1. Given the right circumstances, even the dearest people who you trust the most can fail you. Not because they started loving you less but because something along the cores of friendship (communication, patience, understanding), started faltering.

2. It’s never too late to apologize or to forgive. Don’t regret the lost time. Make up for it. Forgiveness may take time and won’t be complete immediately, but with baby steps, it can happen.

3. Some people are more prone to forgiveness and less prone to long-lasting anger than others. People need their time and space, but only communication can eventually revive what was lost. In this case, Dev is far more optimistic and eager than Sona for full recovery of the “good old days”.

4. Mistakes, though some worse than others, are never one-sided. The quicker you can accept this, the easier it will be.

5. Love is not unconditional- friendship is. It’s friendship that makes you respect a person at all costs and friendship only that gives you the right to kick someone to reality AND help them back up.

6. Friendship is the foundation of all great relationships. Making friends may come easy for some, but staying friends is a true attestation to love. Never forget to cherish that above anything else.

“LOVE IS FRIENDSHIP THAT HAS CAUGHT ON FIRE...

Every love story incorporates a deep friendship, but not all friendship is necessarily romantic. In the last three episodes, we saw Dev’s misunderstanding about Jatin clear up and a bond of friendship reforming between Dev and Sona. Upon seeing Jatin and Sona’s bond, Dev did perceive Jatin as a friendship that had amplified to something more. As much as he tried to believe Sona (and boy did he try to believe her), overhearing two shady conversation and seeing Jatin and Sona together at Devakshi’s favorite date place tipped him over the edge. The first of 3 episodes started with a drunk Dev saying “Ms. Sonakshi Bose. Tum yehi thi. aur yehi ban ke rehna chahti thi”Aur aaj ke baad to Ms. Sonakshi Bose ban ke hi rahogi.” De is implying that Sona was inherently inclined to break her relationship with Dev, and to break relationships in general. In the next second, Dev had a repeat self-realization that he has no right or reason to think she shouldn’t move on or there was something between them left to mend. As expected, Dev at this point decided he is never going to try to win her back, as if he is convincing himself to move on.

Jatin was circumstantially dragged into this mess and stayed there as Sona’s guardian and best friend. When he showed up with the police, Dev did a double take , as if he was gauging whether he should be upset that Jatin is helping Sona or thankful that he did so much for his family. To be honest, I thought it would take time for Dev to believe that Jatin and Sona weren’t together. But Sona had proved her trustworthiness at various points before Khatri’s arrest that he was ready to keep and open mind when listening about her and Jatin’s collaboration.

IT IS MUTUAL CONFIDENCE....

As friends, Devakshi had a confidence in each other’s judgement, strength and kind heartedness. This included things as small as Dev calling Sona about taking sleeping pills or the way he took care of Sona during her accident. In fact, this was one of the biggest reasons they started falling in love with each other. Devakshi’s greatest asset as lovers was their confidence in each other’s love and the unhesitant promise to stay together forever. It wasn’t until after marriage that Dev and Sona stopped talking, understanding and listening. For Dev, explaining his intensity, his past and his family dynamics became an exhaustive task he barely tried to do. Sona, on the other hand, struggled to make Dev understand her intentions as a new married woman of the house and how her marriage to him can’t be separated from her marriage to his family. This became most prominent with the jhula track, where neither Sona understood how fast she was trying to change Dev nor Dev maintained the honesty required of a husband, and it only got worse from there. (This is where Asha aunty and my FAVORITE Dev and Ish hug come into play :) ). With worsening communication came decreased trust. Weakening of trust led to decreased confidence in each other and their promises. Dev and Sona had no doubt, that they really loved each other, even if that was the easiest bitter accusation to make 7 years later. If anything, they were disappointed with themselves and each other that they couldn’t maintain the promises or confidence in each other that had started brewing with their friendship. Seven years later, Dev and Sona started off showing off that they don’t need each other, trust each other, love each other and never did. However, Jatin and Khatri’s secret brought a turning point to both of their psyches that brought them to something resembling friendship. When Khatri asked Sona what Dev was to her, she confidently admitted that they have a relationship of maan, maryada and dosti. Even thought she hadn’t yet confronted a raging Dev since the fight, distance from Dev made the heart grow fonder, and Asha’s words on trusting brought a new epiphany and ray of hope for Sona. She wasn’t ready to love him again but became aware of the advantages of opening up to her friend and trusting him again.

Sona herself was wondering how she could get Dev to believe and react appropriately to Khatri’s and Jatin’s truth. In order to stop Dev from killing Khatri (as expected from him), Sona started by establishing her trust on him rather than asking him to trust her. “Maine zindagi main tujhse zyada kisi pe barosa nahi kiya”. The fact that she paused in completing this sentence showed it was something even she hadn’t fully accepted in a long time. But with Asha’s recent emphasis on trust, and Dev’s recent distrust, she subconsciously found the perfect point on which he could believe her. By not telling him how he should feel but rather showing her faith in him, Sona got Dev to calm down. Having Sona accidentally call Ishwari maa during her explanation yet again served a similar purpose. Dev started sensing how Sona had truly accepted his family’s problem as hers and how Sona still feels that emotional connect with the people who he knows had hurt her so much. From that point on, Dev became more prepared to verbalize his guilt and appreciation. Dev saw Sona standing with Khatri and couldn’t even dream that Sona would have come there just for his well being. This made Dev think she was involved in Khatri’s planning, and Jatin showing up could have also ended in something worse. However, all of these small moments collaboratively helped Dev be grateful to Sona and again cleared Dev’s doubt on Jatin’s role. Dev’s helplessness, guilt, fears, faults and regrets started coming out like uncontrollable word vomit post Khatri’s arrest, and he was once again taken aback when he saw Sona TRULY meant it when she said she trusted him. Dev was shocked seeing Sona consoling him and worrying about him, which forced him to recognize that his Sona, his best friend, was again at his side.

IT IS QUIET UNDERSTANDING...

A friend will joke with you confide in you and love you. But only a best friend has the patience, generosity and foresight to make you understand something about yourself better than you do and to tell you how they feel without needing to say much at all. In many cases, the body language ends up speaking louder than the words. There were several instances where Sona’s actions were more effective than all her explanations, but I’ll just discuss the best ones that come to mind.

As stated before, we saw Dev’s breakdown soon after Khatri’s exit. As soon as Khatri left, Dev assumed that his mom’s crime must be money related, as money was the one thing that the family could have been desperate enough for. That doesn’t mean that this is all there is to the crime, or that what Dev is assuming is actually true. Now coming to Dev’s assumption that Ishwari robbed a family. Immediately after it dawned on him that the crime could have been a robbery, Dev started describing the desperate situations of his old life. Dev understands the plight of a poor person, and can see Ishwari’s act from that angle. Furthermore, it is an initial instinct to be in shock and denial when the mother you worshipped for so long may have potentially been involved in crime. Dev never once claimed this crime as okay. Rather, he emphasized just that he wishes he could have done something to prevent it. Dev has always been selfless. Even when he has hurt people, it’s because he didn’t know how to find a permanent balance between all the people he loved. In trying not to break hearts, he broke several. It’s this trait that makes Dev reprimand his 10-year-old self for not being the man of the house and made him confess to Sonakshi that he was unable to fulfill whatever little she had demanded of him. Sonakshi tried to reason with Dev regarding all his issues, but Dev only wiped his tears once she grabbed his arm and said, “It’s fine. It’s ok.” All of Sona’s previous words, though true, sounded like justifications to what Dev considered his faults. But when she grabbed his arm and said nothing but “It’s ok”, the cloud seemed to have lifted for now. It was as if Dev didn’t need someone telling him where he was right but a best friend who would patiently stand by him even when he was wrong.

Dev started outwardly expressing this comfort by subtly holding her hands a few time. Eventually, his emotions took over, and Dev couldn’t resist wrapping Sona in a bear hug. He thanked her not only for helping with Khatri but for coming back as the best friend he has needed for years. Golu was the closest to this kind of support Dev has ever had, but neither he nor Sona, could calm his heart’s turmoil like Sona did. Sona, on the other hand, only half hugged Dev. She was not fully ready to allow Dev into her bubble but knew how much he needed that at the time.

We see Dev’s second breakdown when he thought about how unaware he was about the inner guilt that Ishwari had suffered through by herself. Ishwari’s secret lends to why she was so overprotective of her children, and potentially to why she had such a paranoia of Dev leaving her or no longer loving her. Dev is now realizing that this aspect of Ishwari’s behavior runs far deeper than basic insecurity and is feeling guilty that this was something he could never tune into or relieve. When Sona walks into the room, she immediately recognizes that Dev needed to release all of his emotions and for now just needed a shoulder to cry on. Therefore, she initially sat there with a hand on Dev’s shoulder while he continued his conversation with himself. We see Sona’s squeezes Dev’s shoulder even harder when he says he was a bad husband, as if to non-verbally assure him that neither was his love meaningless nor was her hatred for him real. Sona served as his silent shoulder to lean on until Dev had run out of things to say.

Devakshi had their first light-hearted conversation as friends after the anniversary celebrations. Here we saw how Dev approached Sonakshi so carefully and started opening up upon seeing her smiling phase and receptive mood. Dev became so hopeful that he leaned in for a hug when Sona was only willing to to give a handshake. While this did lend to a humorous moment, we also saw the most understanding exchange between the friends, which happened just by picking up on each other’s indirect cues. When Sona silently offered her hand, Dev immediately admitted that it will take time for them to open up, but they will start to understand each other more with time. When Dev was unable to let go of her hand, Sona picked up that he didn’t actually want her to go and actually gave him a few chances to hold her back.

This ability to understand what the other needed or wanted better than he/she could was something Devakshi possessed prior to their marriage and started dying in their relationship. The scene that immediately came to my mind was when Dev quite literally asked Sona to understand his heart’s desires, which was something he knew even he couldn’t do. In comparison to this, Devakhi’s marriage showed increasing disconnect between the two in which even things said directly went insanely misunderstood or ignored.

SHARNG AND FORGIVING ...

Devakshi have again reached a point where they take time to reflect on things that happen in their lives. They have reached a point where they can at least share their feelings, if not forget about them, and show each other a mirror where it’s most required. I love how Sona was able to compare Dev to Ishwari without a single ounce of bitterness. Instead, Sona took it as a moment to show Dev that he is doing to himself exactly what he regrets Ishwari doing: keeping all her pain contained and releasing it in an unwise way when he can’t take it anymore. To this extent, we can say Sona has forgiven Dev. She is not ready to forget and make the same mistakes again, but she is able to talk about the people who hurt her the most in a way that will help them the most. She was always able to identify Dev’s flaws, but after 7 years is attempting to at least understand what she can’t fully justify.

Even Dev, who was keen on calling Sona the obodro that left him, had huge moments of self reflection he was able to confess. When Devakshi were at the farmhouse, he admitted he was the reason that Sona had become an obodhro, and that she used to be the girl who laughed at his stupidest jokes.

We see in the conversation after the anniversary, that Devakshi aren’t just opening up about their problems but actually taking time to enjoy each other’s company. Sonakshi is sitting here laughing at Dev’s stupid joke when, not even hours before, he was regretting that he changed her from the woman who laughed at his stupidest jokes to an obodro. Dev is almost more hopeful for full recovery of "the good old days”, and Sona is more hesitant. He doesn’t take long to ease into making jokes and friendly conversation once she welcomingly smiles and gives him the green light. By the end of the conversation, he’s even prepared for a friendly hug that she, albeit politely, declines.

It seemed throughout their entire marriage, Devakshi grabbed at the small happy moments they could to flow through the whirlwind called life. Devakshi stopped appreciating each other’s presence and stopped reflecting on those happier moments. Positive vibes became a needle in the haystack that they struggled to find and had no moment to cherish before the next problem arose.

IT IS LOYALTY THROUGH GOOD AND BAD TIMES...

Trust and loyalty are two components that require all the previously mentioned characteristics. When the understanding goes down, the confidence in each other decreases as well. When the confidence in someone decreases, it’s hard to trust them, and lack of trust makes loyalty all the more difficult. We aren’t talking just about a dying love or an extramarital affair. There was nothing in Devakshi’s relationship suggesting they loved each other less or really had plans to move on. Even though the circumstances for the break up had been building for eons, the intention was there to be with each other through everything. Devakshi stopped trusting each other’s ability to be there with each other against all odds. That’s why by the end, when Vicky put the blame on Dev for the prenup and losing Bose house, Sona believed it. As much as Dev had tried to balance his life, he had failed to do it and failed to realize that he had failed. At this point in time, Sona had reached the maximum point of her tolerance and was willing to believe that Dev could do anything of any caliber (even hurt her) for his family. Dev, who was still ether oblivious or in subconscious denial of his faults or his family’s faults, trusted his log-changing, superhero woman to be by his side through all difficulties. He didn’t think there was any problem so big that they, especially she, couldn’t handle.

Eight years later, Dev is standing outside of the farmhouse admitting that he had failed as a husband and couldn’t provide Sona with what little support required through good and bad times. He is questioning why she is still there standing by his side when he couldn’t do the same and realizing on surface level, where he went wrong in their relationship and where he has gone wrong since they reunited years later. On the other hand, Sona voices that “Ek problem kya aa gayi, aur maine haar mani.” I’m sure many of us raised our eyebrows at how Sona reduced their marriage to one problem. However, the idea of that statement was that she was recognizing from what angle Dev would say that she left him too. Both had made promises they couldn’t keep. The main difference is, while Dev’s was a gradual downfall, Sona’s tolerance started declining exponentially. The Dev who had broken down his hard shell for this woman became so soft, he couldn’t handle the necessary struggles. The woman who found a best friend in her enemy and considered him her first and last love even when she was losing him to Natasha, couldn’t stand up to the promise she made once she had him. Now, Sona is able to be that person again, and Dev is able to recognize and appreciate that.

At the end of this anniversary day, Dev is laying awake in bed, worrying about all of his new revelations. Conversely, Sona is unable to sleep while thinking specifically about him. She was there to hold his hand and wipe his tears. In some time, we should be seeing Dev do the same.

IT SETTLES FOR LESS THAN PERFECTION AND MAKES ALLOWANCES FOR HUMAN WEAKNESSES.”

Some of my favorite scenes of all time have been when Dev or Sona are sitting below and against the other. These scenes are always full of impromptu calming motions such as holding hands, caressing the face and playing with fingers. Furthermore, seeing one kneel before the other amplifies the helplessness of the tormented person and portrays how they are with each other through their ugliest cries and weakest moments. Sona loved Dev even more when he was able to show her his weak side. Dev loved Sona even more for accepting it wholeheartedly. The first time we saw this was during Neha’s wedding. As a boyfriend, Dev had plans to keep his pain within and not worry his girlfriend, But he immediately broke down when she reminded him that she will always be a friend first. This was followed by a very appreciative and intimate “thank you” by Dev the next morning. In this instance, and in Dev ki Deewangi, Dev poured out his woes as non-stop tears. In both instances, Sona worried for him from within but stayed strong and practical to (quite literally) help him get back up on his feet.

We never saw such effective release of emotion through Devakshi’s entire marriage. When they said something, they fought about it. When they had a breakdown, it was more accusatory and usually resulted in the other person denying it or the hurt person forgetting it. The most recent example was just prior to Devkashi’s break up, we saw Sona’s least effective breakthrough of all time, She yelled her heart out, only for him to divert from the main point. They forgot it all in the heat of a romantic night, and it only became worse when Sona jumped up with joy at the thought of seeing Ishwari the morning after.

Today, Sona is kneeling before Dev. We have seen in the past that the one having the roughest breakdown is the one usually on the ground. But this time, Sona came and kneeled down in front of him. That’s when I realized it’s not the person having the breakdown who is always on the ground. It’s the person who is ready to have all the emotions (whoever’s emotions they may be) come pouring out. Dev was stressed, but stoic. Sona showed up to hold his hand, comfort him and make him accept what was still bothering him. With her help, Dev was able to reason through the fact that Ishari’s past may have tarnished the hard work Dev put into this family but does not define it. By talking to Sona, he realized it’s time to stop blaming himself for not being able to prevent Ishwari’s guilt, and that the only way she would be able to absolve from any sins or guilt is the face the problem up front. As Sona always used to, she provoked Dev to release his deepest worries and used this knowledge to strengthen him rather than judge him or his family.

#krpkab #kuch rang pyar ke aise bhi #devakshi

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dailrpwmf-blog · 5 years

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Seniors, did your car insurance go up because you had the gall to live to retire?

My driving record is spotless. I have liability on a beater. They told me that, because I m on Medicare, don t work, etc., etc, that I have to pay more. BS! I drive 24 miles a month to Kroger and back. That s it! I live in Michigan, so if there are any Michiganders out there, please advise. There are many companies that won t touch Michigan with a 10-ft pole.

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