#I should use a pinhole next time
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Just scanned some bw film that I tortured four years ago. It was developed in instant coffee and fixed in pickle juice. This is horrible
#and i'll do it again#I should use a pinhole next time#film soup#film#amateur photography#analog#fomapan#monochrome
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cameras & 3d
belatedly learning how to actually use a proper camera. it's funny I know a reasonable amount about geometric optics and I could explain mathematically how a camera works, but I hadn't managed to connect that to practical knowledge of 'how aperture priority mode works'.
so no wonder so many shots at the concert turned out blurry, I hadn't twigged that you're supposed to adjust the aperture and ISO until the auto shutter speed becomes reasonable (and the focal depth is appropriate for your intent). I also wasn't really using the different autofocus-area settings to full effect so I'm sure it sometimes focused on the wrong thing.
I had it on auto ISO and f/2.8 the whole time. does explain why it was fairly easy to get the bokeh since that's the lowest f-number available on this lens (apparently very good for a zoom lens). but I should probably have manually cranked up the ISO to better handle the darkness of the room.
still, I have learned what the buttons and dials on the camera do now so hopefully the next lot of photos will be nicer. and hopefully learning a bit more about photography will also help me get better at 3D rendering lol.
in a real camera, the ISO, exposure time and aperture size all affect the brightness of the image, and each comes with drawbacks. increasing aperture size increases the amount of bokeh (equivalently, narrows the focal plane). increasing ISO (sensitivity) increases the amount of grain in low light. increasing exposure time increases the amount of motion blur.
3D graphics is simulating a camera, but it comes with its own parameters and language. in 3D, by default you get pinhole-perfect sharpness. in rasterisation, depth of field is a postprocessing shader which blurs the image based on depth. in pathtracing, it's a setting you can turn on which I believe affects how rays are traced from the camera. in Blender, you can input an f-number, but it's just another slider you can fiddle with so I don't tend to pay much attention to the exact number when I adjust it.
ISO and exposure time is not really a thing in 3D. the brightness of your scene is something you choose when converting from the scene-referred floating point output of the renderer to the final display-referred integer colour (blender offers a handful of presets here). every real camera sensor has a limited dynamic range, but since the rendering is done in floating point, in 3D you have a near-infinite dynamic range at the 'sensor' stage.
motion blur in 3D is completely optional - again it's something you'd do in a post-processing shader which blurs the image along motion vectors, or by adjusting your renderer settings in a path tracer to trace some rays at different simulated times. the graininess of the image in a pathtracing renderer is really more a function of how many samples you trace, which has no connection to the duration of the simulated exposure in the scene.
so while 3D rendering prepares you for photography in some ways, it definitely leaves some gaps! but knowing a bit more about how real cameras work will be useful if I want to render something realistically or fake it in a painting.
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I think the sun is doing what the Sun does, maybe I should seal my lips in a journal,
it’s skipping in through the pinholes in the forest coloured trees, it’s creeping down the window pane.
If I could toss a coin for every single time I miss you, I’d build me an island of lonely, the kind where you starve to death among all the plants and poison berries and saltwater.
But Lonely is such an ugly word and I want to say love instead and love is such a cringe word I want to say lifetime instead and if I pluck each word off me, I’m left with Little.
Little rain. Little hope. Little, little, little.
Riddles.
I tell Universe, can you stop speaking in riddles please? She doesn’t answer, she just rains on me real hard and at night I catch movement in the room.
Do you know what it feels like to be chased? I think I dislike myself for chasing you. It’s not the same to be hunted. But it feels that way in the veins.
Am I predatory if I want you so bad?
Could I not just want those that wanted me? Should I have given myself away to disgusting men who desired me at sixteen? Would that bring me…?
Unbecoming.
Dirt.
It’s dirty. It always has been.
To be desired has always felt dirty. In a way I can’t explain and yet not being desired has always felt nauseating.
It has always ached.
Today when I was lying on the bathroom floor in the water I wondered what it would feel like to be crushed slowly by a wall or a steamroller. How the bones would crack, would I feel the skin being torn first or the bones being crushed? What would I think if anything?
Why does it feel so easy?
I don’t understand it. I don’t want to be wanted if the only time I’m wanted is when I’m as useful as a dildo or a hand. I am desired in the dirt, for the dirt.
And I want you without it and yet I want you where dirt isn’t dirt. Where I can touch your face and not shiver and not cry.
When I was twenty one, a boy mimicked a girl crying in his bed. The sounds and the mimicry prick holes in the soft bones of music in me. Like a wall, they come slowly and start to dig holes. The luminescent membrane of my music starts to glint in water that pours out. Tears everywhere sparkle like stars. It’s terrifying and heartbreaking. I want to turn the clock and tell you I’m only 22 and yet I keep calling myself thirty.
When did I turn thirty?
I am only 27 officially.
I keep thinking how much it hurt to know that dirt isn’t being touched in the right places by wrong hands, it’s water.
At 22, why did I ever believe in dirt?
Why did I ever believe the tears were worse than the trembling? Why were tears worse than tornadoes? Why were tears the worst of all…when there have been teeth involved?
He must’ve ripped her sentiments open, I think now. His dirty voice and mimicry a noose around my neck, his disgusting existence churning, thorny ropes around my music bones.
I couldn’t breathe for a month.
I feel so weak now when I think about it. Why do I always feel so weak about it? Timid?
I understand now. I could kill someone if I wanted to. But I cannot want to. Because if I want to I just might.
Is there anything in this world that spins and spins so fast that the next time I wake up from the long spell of fainting and not existing, can I wake up in your orbit?
Can I do anything to walk the thin halo rings around your world, it’s okay if I lose my balance and if I’m scared of looking down, can I come covered in dust and defeat and land on your door? A ragged little thing looking for home?
Would you atleast notice me a little bit?
If you do I can walk away knowing you exist. That something in the world spins and has brought me to you.
I am for now, cold, and the music bones in my head are vines and veins, and together we try to drink the cold August air and not let the thorns come too close.
It helps to know you exist.
It helps to know I can hear music and sometimes it feels like I can hear you.
From Dirt to Halo.
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Hehehe lol
this is so on-brand for you..... anyway they're the Harkers now lol, wifeguy who might dubiously be semi-vampire and his incredibly devoted wife :) also for context during the time Scully was abducted Mulder was... seduced by a vampire I guess??? idk I've never watched the episode so I'm just guessing this is remotely plausible
~~~~~
If it wasn't for the photos, she probably wouldn't have noticed.
Their office doesn't have windows, anyway, and Mulder is enough of a recluse that it isn't a surprise that he burns easily when out in the sun. He's preoccupied with the cannibalism and near-beheading, but she distracts herself from yet another trauma by fussing over the angry red sunburn on his forearms. In the airport before they fly back from Arkansas, she buys a tube of aloe vera gel and makes him take his jacket off so she can rub it into his skin. She tells him to use sunscreen next time.
For the sake of an undercover assignment, they need to collect a few pictures of the both of them, and it strikes Scully suddenly that she doesn't think they have any photos together. She thinks it's only right that they should, so borrows Melissa's little Polaroid camera and insists that Mulder squeeze right next to her so they can take a picture. She doesn't anticipate the sudden white brightness of the flash and flinches maybe a little too hard, maybe enough for Mulder to notice, but he doesn't say anything.
The tiny printed picture fades slowly into clarity, or at least, it halfway does. Mulder's image is blurry and half-corporeal, like the photo paper hadn't developed properly. They try again, with the same result. Scully turns and snaps a picture of herself, then one of him. Hers develops pristinely, but if she didn't have that as proof she would think something was wrong with the little camera. "Weird," Mulder dismisses, pocketing the small picture of her like he thinks she doesn't see him doing it; he probably thinks she doesn't see the perturbed expression on his face, either.
It isn't until they have to have their badges reissued, and new I.D. photos taken, and Mulder's comes out looking strange again, that she finally asks what he thinks is going on. He's had a look on his face all day, like he's thinking hard enough to give himself a headache, and it worries her. "Mulder?"
"Yeah?" He glances over at her, a little absently.
"What's wrong?"
He stares at her for a long minute, and she stares right back. He rubs his neck and sighs before speaking again. "I never told you about the vampires," he eventually says.
Scully frowns. "Vampires?"
Mulder nods. "When you were... gone." He glances at her sheepishly. "They were uh... the seductive type."
Scully closes her eyes for a long moment. "Oh no," she says flatly. The depths of his recklessness frighten her sometimes.
"Yeah." He motions to the side of his neck and she steps closer to see the tiny pinhole scars there. "Did you know," he whispers, almost against the top of her head, "That those bitten by a vampire are said to not show up properly in photographs? Bram Stoker may have been writing from experience."
All she can do is laugh, breathlessly, in complete and utterly disbelief and a little bit of nervousness. "You're not saying that you-"
"No," he replies quickly, placing a hand on her shoulder as if to steady both of them. "But I'm not saying it's outside the realm of possibility. I mean, the photos speak for themselves, don't they?"
Scully bumps her head against his chest before stepping away. "It is outside the realm of possibility, Mulder. Vampires don't exist."
Neither of them is sure which of them she's trying to convince. And she keeps aloe vera gel around every time they travel from then on.
AU prompts
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What You Should Know About Excellent Car Body Restoration
It's not unexpected that our vehicles pick up small dings and dents, scrapes and scuffs, with ever-increasing congestion crowding our roads and people all attempting to park 4 x 4's and other vehicles into apparently smaller car parking places. So, should we wait for them to accumulate and diminish our car's resale cost, or do we take some action and find a reputable auto body shop? Once you have a better concept of what you are searching for, finding a reliable Car Body Work Near Me is simpler than you would think.
Characteristics Of A High-Quality Auto Body Repair
Where do you begin your search for excellence when visiting a vehicle body repair shop? The first thing I would like to have is a car repair they have recently completed, or, if they allow it, a walk around their facility. You can tell if repairs will last by looking at autos in various states of repair.
So, first, what should we look for while inspecting a done car body repair? Give it your best shot, look over the project, is there anything that stands out right away, and is the color matching nice? If not, that is a decent place to start; otherwise, everything should appear organic and unaltered. Examine how it was masked; are there any painting splatters on the rubbers or around the edges, for example? Bend down and inspect the surfaces; a good Car Accident Repair should be smooth and free of ripples. If it is not smooth, it is not competent, and a professional auto mechanic should always use a sanding block. Look closely at the painting to check whether there are any fine cracks or pinholes. If these are present, they are referred to as sinkage or mapping out; if they are not, the work is done well.
Next, check the general texture of the painting; does everything match? A good car body shop will aim to match the appearance of the paintwork as closely as possible to the original. This may be done by modifying the spray pressure or altering the paint composition. I know it's nitpicky, but low-quality repairs will lower your car's sale price. Lastly, do not be bashful while interviewing for a job (but do not be arrogant or obnoxious either); being curious and asking appropriate questions can help you understand the types of people you will be working with. They are likely no good regardless if they are upset and defensive with you.
Here are a few recommendations if they are good enough to let you wander about the workshop and look at some fixes in the process. Do they utilize dust removal blocks and polishing equipment, and are the vehicles well masked and dust-free on the inside? When it comes to dent repair, the bodywork filler must be finished with fine scratching before applying the paint. Fine body filler scratches usually sink over time; therefore, be wary of repairers who coat the deep scratches in primer to seal them. Check to see whether the body shop has a low-bake oven. If you want your bodywork restorations to endure a long time, you will need to dry the primers and paints in an oven or with infrared light.
I hope you found these tips helpful. A good vehicle Car Body Work Near Me shop is essential if you want to keep your car's bodywork in good shape. You are set for life whenever you locate a good one and establish a connection with them.
For more information car accident repair and car body work near me here.
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Politicians are like engine oil... 👨⚖️🏛️🛢️💩 We should change them early & often aaaand for the same reason. They become full of sh!t relatively quickly 😛😂🤣 With 437,000 miles on the clock the mighty Metrosexual Cheez Devil is a true testament to staying on top of your maintenance schedules and using high quality products such as @Amsoil oils and @K&Nairfilter 🚗💨🧀😈🎉 I brought this B-E-A-utiful three cylinder all aluminum G-10 engine into the shop thinking it would be a quick & easy oil change/air filter clean buuuut after talking with Ernest (a Geo Metro enthusiast & master who sadly just passed away last week) he recommended to look at the EGR valve because apparently they can get pretty clogged up with carbon from the exhaust & not function properly... Who knew? 🙈🤣😂🤣 Weeeeeeell I pulled my beautiful EGR valve out & found it was so full of carbon literally nothing could flow through. A few hours of scrubbing and cleaning with some alcohol and good old-fashioned elbow grease got these ports in the cylinder head cleaned up & looking good. After putting the ole girl back together this dream machine was once again purring like a brand new baby kitten full of milk 🍼😹🐆🐾 I'm glad I was working on the car on this particular day because for no apparent reason one of the 30 year old radiator hoses decided to have a pinhole leak & was dumping out virtually all the coolant 🤯💦🌡️♨️ I got crazy lucky on this & changed out all of the radiator hoses in this area. We should be good for another half a million miles now ❤️🔥🤩🤘 The temperature gauge never once showed hot but the extra coolant reservoir was almost completely empty soooo probably in the next few miles there would be some potentially not optimal driving conditions occurring. It's always better to be lucky than good 💪 On this day I was lucky 🤞🍀🌠 Also on a freakin' hilarious side note the Cheez Devil is now famous being tagged several times in the last few months on different Oklahoma City car groups or from friends driving down the road snapping & sending me pictures of this lovely lil car when they are passing me by 💜📸📲🏷️ On a seeeeeeeerious note go change your oil fam 🤜💥🤛 (at Oklahoma City, Oklahoma) https://www.instagram.com/p/ClePYJ7rqnA/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
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If I were rich one of the job I wanted to do would be car repairing
I used to do prep job at a small auto repair shop in San Francisco for 2 and a half yrs
Here was the background,My job usually started with cleaning dust before i picked up the case that is processing, boss would like us to do little bit on this car and change to another’s depends on which owner is calling to complain.one of the only three workers was not happy with boss not letting him work due to slow business in the start of the pandemic left,only two people with a lazy painter which is the boss couldn’t handle the amount of cases,so we suffering stress and always overtime just to finish the whole thing in one day so boss could paint them at the end of the day/night.
Most of my prep job involved sanding,with parts that were old and damaged,we needed to sand down the surface,make the spot that needed to be fixed clean and with stronger adhesion,if the part was scratched of dented too much we needed to fix it first so the latter process would become easier to do.once the parts were ready,we put body filler on the damaged spot and waited till it was hardened,in cold days we needed heat lamp to speed up the process.
we usually started by taking off trims and irrelevant moldings and prepped all the edges, sanded the the spot and laid fillers in the morning then sanded it after lunch,we couldn’t sand it too early otherwise filler would shrink afterward,it always shrinks more or less depends on the thickness and the time for it to harden.I sanded filler and putty with 3M golden dry sandpaper with 120,180,320,even 80grit depended on the case.i could not do complicated parts because they had doubt on my ability,they were scared of messing up and redoing things.so i didn’t have much chances to improve my filler sanding skill
.once it’s properly sanded and shaped,i just wipe it down with wet towel,blew and dried the whole thing and hit it with some degreaser/solvent then it’s ready to be primed.thick primer applied on the clean spot with good foundation for bonding filler and primer together.that’s what i call a good prepping for old part
Once the part got primed and cured over night,it is fully ready for the next step which Is sanding again.but this time i use wet sandpaper and proper soft pad to smooth things down,bridging the surface connection between the original paint and the primer.but since the boss liked laying down thick primer so it’d fill up all the pinholes and imperfections,most of the time we need to use 320 dry first to do the thinning work because it was much more effective.after sanding it down flat with the help of guide coat, the next step of wet sanding start to be harder to quantify,i needed to measure things with my experience.
I meticulously using my arm with long strokes sanding the primer with equal pressing force and overlap places over and over minding the thickness of it,merging two layer of paint together smoothly with another hand keeping fresh water running down the surface to make grey stream of primer powder went down with the flow to help sanding more clean and effective.then sanded the whole part with rough scotch pads both with hands and DAs,clean it with final sand and rinse it throughly,which is the hardest and messy part because with air blowing water ran and flew everywhere but you have to make it bone dried.
After made sure the whole surface is smooth and spotless,double checked the shorted plank—the place that was still glossy or dirty,the whole part should be lusterless evenly just like a fresh mat-finished paint. All i wanted is a good foundation for the next part,all steps were linked with one another,so i had to mesure twice then cut it once,always over killed thing just to make sure it would be a perfect prep job. it’s tiresome and slow crafting if you want the paint to be perfect.
After throughly dried and cleaned,the part was ready to be painted.new parts needed sealer or another additive depended on the paint provider instruction that mainly aim at providing strong adhesion between the raw surface and the layers of paint.so did the old part.prepped old parts with primer were ready to get color and clear coated,with heat baking letting solvent out and hardener did its job,a beautiful paint job is out over a night,but it was not ready to go yet, painting in professional paint booth didn’t mean it was fully impeccable,and clear coat follow the shrinks of the under color coat which makes the clear coat look cloudy,so the final step is sanding imprecation and polishing.
With the experiences of sanding primer by feeling,clear coat sanding is just a warm up exercise to me,using 2000 with proper tools cleaned up and the dust nips and orange peel,then mat finished it by DA with 3000 foamed sand paper.polished it with straight rotary polisher with two types of 3M compound and chemical guys foam polishing pads.i knew its an old-fashioned way to get the job done but it’s good enough to satisfied our clients with surpassed OEM paint quality.
Beside masking all the parts and cars,which was another time consuming,experience required job,I also did a little RnR and RnA,taking off most of the parts off doors including themselves,i also did both bumpers and fenders,trunks and hoods which were relatively easier with only a main wire, plugs and stuffs. so we could prep and paint them with ease,laying parts flat on rack when spray painting could make paint ran smoother by itself.i did it mainly on Asian cars because they were much much easier to figure out where the bolts and nuts located,relation with other parts and taking them off only with common tools.(ps we hated working on German and American cars we often spend half of day just to find all the hidden bolts and parts to take off a front bumper )of course if the core support got damaged and my Sifu couldn’t place all the parts and their location,i always pitched in and helped him found out the repair diagram.doing small things and reinstall head lamps,re-clipped wires,assemble parts back to bumper and stuff,them put them back to the cars.
In short i had done all the removes and reinstall with those regular cars but not the juicy part witch was engine bay/core support repair that involved collision cutting and inertia release,repairing and replacing.of course nor securing parts and welding,sanding metal and final finish were not in my field too i could only be a side kick in the process.sometime i got the chance to do the next process which was applying and sanding rough body filler on the new finished metal parts because it was a dirty job and wouldn’t do much damage if i did it wrong.
So i got No skin/parts welding,structure fixing,core support parts changing,fancy car RnR,not much filler/putty sanding,no primer nor painting,not even thought about mechanical repair in this shop,before i left I only got 19 an hour and a promise of letting me worked at the offer doing paper work.that’s what i had during the first few years of pandemic.not really happy but i still learned a lot from it, and I realized how many steps and procedures it took to have a nice result of car paint and how much time and effort it took.
with the emerge of AI driving,the rates of car accidents are expected to be lower.with the rise of self driving,car repair industry is time to close its curtains slowly and gradually,and i think it is a good things for the earth, all the resources and pollution just to make a decent car paint that has no usefulness that is ridiculous.
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Night owl camera setup
#Night owl camera setup 1080p#
#Night owl camera setup android#
#Night owl camera setup software#
Ive tried to look for pins I can jump, no luck. With a range of products from residential devices to corporate settings, the company also provides. Since its beginning in 2009, Night Owl has become a very popular and preferred brand when it comes to safety and security of your home.
#Night owl camera setup 1080p#
For AHD10, HDA10, HDA30, NVRH5, NVR IH8, NVR IC8 Series: Go to DVR/NVR Main. Night Owl Security 8 Channel 1080p HD Video Security DVR with 1 TB HDD. Ive tried to take out the cmos battery for some time but nothing changed. Answer: To Reset your DVR/NVR to the Default Settings please, follow the next steps: 1. Im trying to remove the password, there is no reset button, no power button. remember to pinhole your firewall to the port you set in MOBILE settings on the IP of the device itself. I purchased a used night owl dvr with all of the cameras and cables. otherwise, you'll have to do it on the NightOwl unit itself. reboot your NightOwl and it should "stick". so if you change the settings via web interface, after it says "SUCCESS". View live footage from your connected cameras. Easily configure your alert settings, so you get the notifications you want. Receive real-time mobile alerts when a human, face or vehicle is detected. NOTE: IF you setup these items via the web interface to your NightOwl. With Night Owl Protect, You Can: Quickly and easily set up your product with our Secure App-Based Bluetooth Setup. Ģ] Setup username & password in MOBILE settings you'll have to do the following as well on your NightOwl unit. that if it didn't match the DeviceName in the NightOwl setup field found under System->Advanced->Info.
#Night owl camera setup android#
then select model you have (this gives you the ASee.apk file required for your Android that connects to your model)Ģ] Save that ASee.apk file to your phone (I connected via USB Storage and saved to SD root directory)ģ] Go to Market/Play and download the apkInstaller application (just like it is spelled here, there's only one with that spelling)Ĥ] Run apkInstaller, select your ASee.apk file and it installs the Mobile Viewer app on your phone (you may have to enable Download/Install Unknown Sources in your phone settings temporarily)ĥ] When you setup the "config" settings in the ASee Application, IP/PORT/USERNAME/PASSWORD are what you setup on the NightOwl Unit itself.
#Night owl camera setup software#
The software relates to System Utilities. I don’t know what to do, I’ve restarted my network and checked if the cable that is connected to the Camera. Every time I try to add the feature to see the the cameras on my phone it says add failure. The actual developer of the free software is Night Owl Security Products. Night Owl, can’t connect using phone app. Our built-in antivirus scanned this download and rated it as 100 safe. Also the tool is known as 'Nightowl View'. is here:ġ] NightOwlSp dot com is the locatoin of the support/files for NightOwl Products. The most popular versions among Night Owl View CMS users are 1.1 and 1.0. GREAT POST! It's nice to see someone actually READ and answer the question that is a functional response! Your post pointed me in the perfect direction.
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Trading Spouses Teaches Relationship Building Through Cooking
As the name suggests, soy sauce is made from soy beans. Light soy sauce is a thin, dark brown sauce. A dark brown rich sauce, oyster sauce is made from steaming spices and oysters and also is used to improve the taste of lots of tasty foods such as meat and vegetable meals. Generally brunoised products are leeks, carrots and also turnips that might be made use of as your garnish in many recipes. They are utilized to create sauces. Red red wine is one universal sauce matched with supplies. After that pack about an inch of Clay well-rounded potato and hidden in the coals for about an hour. The time is up, split off the baked on clay (mindful not to melt on your own), remove the aluminum foil in current potato if required. You should have a perfectly the vicious baked potato ready to consume right away. You can expect to double the cooking time to about two hrs if you pick to use this method but place the Clay potato on TOP of the coals. You can utilize the same concept to hardcode can make (like a hard-boiled egg, just it's not boiled considering that we're not utilizing water). To cook an egg by doing this you'll first require to make a pinhole in a bigger as well as so that air stress can be released throughout the cooking process in your egg doesn't explode everywhere. Next off, just like with the potato, and also again buried in the coals. This moment you leave it for regarding 20 to thirty minutes. And also much like above, if you place it on top of the coals you can expect a time to be double; roughly 40 to 45 minutes. Additionally, if you select this latter strategy of positioning it on the top rather than hiding it in the coals, you'll need to turn it regarding halfway through cooking time. If you've never ever prepared this means, as well as especially if you children have never prepared in this manner, I can assure you you remain in for a treat. It's incredible just how fascinating cooking food all of a sudden becomes when you placed a new spin on it, especially when it entails cooking in the dirt. Work in the eggs, one at a time. Begin cooking and also baking at 190C till set and also lightly coloured. The time depends on the size and also form of the cake, usually 25-30 minutes. As the name recommends, soy sauce is made from soy beans. Light soy sauce is a slim, dark brownish sauce. Dark soy sauce can be made use of to flavor a dish and additionally to add color. Be careful not to include too much dark soy sauce at when as its dark color can ruin the appearance of the meal. A dark brown abundant sauce, oyster sauce is made from steaming spices as well as oysters and is used to improve the flavor of lots of savory foods such as meat and also veggie recipes.
Read more: https://thinkhealthylivecreative.com/
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#cooking-classes-near-me#cooking-classes-nyc#cooking-classes-jersey-city#cooking-oil#cooking-oil-option#cooking-mama#cooking-bacon-in-oven#cooking-games#cooking
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cherry blossom avenue.
❀ genre: angst/fluff; arranged marriage!au; f2l!au;
❀ pairing: jin x reader;
❀ length: 23.0k;
❀ synopsis: college would’ve been unbearable if it weren’t for your wallowing sessions with your best friend jin over a shared “forever alone” woe, so it really was only a matter of time until the two of you sealed a shoddy promise to betroth the other at the age of 27. perhaps it was only a silly joke to you then, but you should’ve known better nonetheless; because when a wedding invitation arrives five years later down the road with his name signed next to another’s, feelings that were once buried begin to blossom once again.
“Don’t be a homewrecker.”
What was supposed to be a light-hearted tease over your fleeting glimpses in his direction bears much more weight than even reality should have; and unbeknownst to her, even if your friend’s commentary strikes a fear in you, a fear that has some creature eating away at you and a horrifying drop in the twisted pain of your chest, the daunting knowledge of a potential truth behind her words pale in comparison to the anguish brought upon by a familiar face of the past.
Because even as you stand far and hidden behind the crowd of overly dressed classmates and unacquainted businessmen all painted by a silhouette of dimmed black, you manage to observe him through the few albeit sure opportunities; for when the passersby chatter, cross, and weave through the lavish ballroom floor at the perfect time, place, and space for you to peep through the pinholes seemingly formed by pure happenstance or a cruel wish casted upon by fate, the clock returns to a buried state of mind.
It’s a state of mind seven years stale, mistakenly manifested and deliberately buried. It’s a transition in mindsets when fondness sours into a longing for something that could never be, for his reciprocation of affections means much less than its origins. It’s a heavy moment when you’re finally sure he would never come to speak the language of your enamored being. It’s that fractured frame in time when everyone freezes in their tracks but a reverberating pain transcends the laws of the universe, almost as if on a personal quest to oust you; and even if you vehemently down yourself with another magical shot of liquor, nothing can quite ease the internal war stirring within.
One hand grasping a glass of red wine worth much more than a month of your salary and one arm crossed under the bosom draped over by your only presentable black satin slip dress, you’re almost numb to the turmoil that is irony. How cruel is it that even after seven years of having believed you had moved on, nothing has really changed after all? Your heart still melts in the wake of his dorky grin, your chest still winces over the buried buds of a coveted love, and your blood still runs intoxicated by the presumption that this phase of infatuation would pass with time.
Your friendship, your feelings, your shared promise, a youth that no one had paid witness to except for you, him, and that cherry blossom tree down that street, nothing has really changed. In fact, you feel as though you could still march across this room and nonchalantly probe at your best friend’s cheek with the ultimate goal of eliciting a shriek from your best friend.
And yet, the circumstances that have brought you back to him in this very room must have been the one cruel exception.
“A ‘homewrecker?’” you feign a light-hearted chuckle, swirling your drink and taking another sip as you peek at the distorted glass-image of the man and the woman beside him. “And why would you say something as horrifying as that?”
“Didn’t you say you and, what’s his name,” Alex pauses before nearly gasping, “ah, Seokjin! Didn’t you say you two used to be best friends in college? You might have been his best friend but she’s his fiance now, Y/N! Plus, she’s got a baby in her, too.”
She might have been joking, and it really should have been if you had been truthful about your feelings for said best friend, but maybe this is the price you’re paying for so dutifully holding onto your dignity; so, instead, the deep undercut of her remark instigates a stirring irritation within you. Raising a questioning brow at your friend is all you can muster without spilling your secret as well as your brewing storm.
“Oh, so you actually do remember what I say when you’re only a minute from blacking out?”
“Hey,” your friend recognizes the anger seeping through your body language, stifling a giggle as she tries to bump your elbow and stumbles over her heels, “it was a joke, okay? I’m just looking out for my friend!”
“Right, what is there to even look out for?”
“Well,” she points a finger at the direction you had just been staring off into a minute prior and leans in to whisper, “you’ve been staring at the newly engaged man for much longer than the woman beside him, if that says anything—”
“—uhuh, as if, hey!” you almost yelp as you help her stand upright once again. A scoff of disbelief escapes your lips over the sight of your friend letting herself go. Grabbing her glass and swiftly placing it onto the tray of the many passing waiters, you squish her cheeks and give her a light pat or two. “The only person you need to worry about is yourself. Why are you even wearing those ungodly stilettos when you can’t even wear kitten heels without whining all day at work?”
“Hey,” Alex pouts, bending one knee and jutting her hips to show off those torturous pink devices on her feet. “I told you about my ex from high school, don’t you remember?”
“So it’s okay if you’re trying to impress an ex from high school, but I’m not even allowed to glance at my old best friend?” you quip, pressing your lips into a thin line as you take another gander at your friend up and down. “And what does excessive drinking even have anything to do with it?”
She flashes you a mischievous grin, “for confidence.”
“I can’t with you,” the roll of your eyes must have agreed, “and what about the classmate friend who actually invited you to her engagement party?”
“Oh,” Alex glances at the woman beside Jin and shrugs, “she’s alright. She’s that typical good girl. Too smart, too kind, too good at everything that you really want to hate her but have no reason to do so. I’m sorry, Y/N, but your best friend is devilishly handsome and I’m not surprised she’s marrying someone of her league.”
“Pfft, why are you apologizing to me?” you scoff, ushering her to the washroom and shaking your head along with the stream of confusing emotions that hit you like a truck. “Go wake yourself up before she or, gasp, worse yet, your ex spots you.”
“Oh my God, you’re right,” she gasps, shuffling in her skintight red bodycon dress and whirling around once more to call out before finally disappearing, “let me know if any boy comes looking for me!”
“Uhuh, yeah, sure,” you shoo her away, taking another sip from your glass and muttering under your breath, “...how am I supposed to recognize your high school classmates?”
Now that your friend is gone and you’re left all alone to your thoughts, you go against your own advice and down another glass of liquor.
You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance.
Well, if Alex is a good judge of character, then at least a good man like your best friend has found an equally respectful woman. It might have hurt to hear her words, but Alex isn’t exactly wrong. At the very least, you could sigh in relief having known you’re genuinely happy for your best friend’s future.
It’s just that the truth hurts sometimes.
Relief isn’t an excuse for lingering onto a soon-to-be-married man, regardless of when these emotions came about.
People are chattering all around you, strangers and former acquaintances are bustling about, familiar college classmates are greeting the bride-to-be’s high school classmates, and yet here you are: aloof and isolated even in a room of hundreds, fixated and more distant than you have ever been to the boy you had once cherished as the closest anyone could get to knowing the real you.
No one would know but Jin.
The real you.
The you who could not have moved on because she couldn’t recognize her own feelings until seven years down the road with a wedding invitation in hand, seven years after the buds had been sowed, seven years too late.
The one who stands pathetically here in the corner of a room, secretly hoping for him to approach her but also wishing for the night to pass unnoticed just like she had wished for her buried affections to pass.
So you shuffle in place awkwardly, pondering whether you should’ve caved into Alex’s pleas and attended this posh get-together, debating whether you should dip once your friend realizes her high school ex just isn’t worth it, sipping the remainder of opulent liquor and taking one last peek at the boy, when, your heart strikes loudly against your chest…
...because his eyes catch yours, a pair amongst hundreds, one invitee amidst an endless swarm of crowds, almost as if on a planned rendezvous, a secret unbeknownst to everyone in the room but the two of you.
Eyes widening in shock, the drums of your chest hammer against you, each strike pumping a nearly painful high that fuels your fight or flight mode. The debate between confronting your longtime friend and fleeing said friend did not even cross your mind at the start of the predicament. Quickly whirling around, head down and hands gripped to your drink, your feet move on its own.
A familiar series of clicks echo against the polished marble tiles. You don’t even have to turn around to recognize those homecoming footsteps, those awe-inspiring confident strides as he makes his way across the room. If this were you from seven years ago, you would have welcomed him with open arms and he would have claimed you were just acting sweet to bargain for some fresh pastry, but the unfamiliarity of a stranger you have yet to reconcile with has you in an unexplainable panic.
After all, it’s hard to explain why exactly his persistent pursuit after you, after seven years of distance, both emotional and physical, frustrates you to no ends.
Your hands form fists, your feet storm down the halls, and your mind could repeat nothing but the words you had excused as “just a light-hearted joke.”
You may have been his best friend but she is his fiance.
Don’t be a homewrecker.
A baby in her.
A baby.
His fiance.
A homewrecker.
The accusations echo and echo, as though screaming at you in the endless cave that is your mind, until the party fades, the crowd disappears, and the ear-piercing classical music wanes against the walls of your temporary solace, the bathroom. Finally, entrapped in a world of black—black tiles, wine colored walls, and dark red roses perched on top of what seems to be a black granite sink—you’re left alone to your thoughts.
Alex wouldn’t understand a seven-year-long regret because she doesn’t know the real history between you and Jin. In fact, no one invited to this engagement party nor does anyone in this whole mansion know of the soon-to-be groom’s past.
It isn’t as simple as people might make it out to be on the surface, because no one but you, Jin, and the street down your block had paid witness to a shoddy, spontaneous promise that should have never been made.
Turning on the faucet and splashing a fresh handful of cold water onto your face, your eyes eventually wander from the stream of water that flows down the drain up along the glass bowl of a sink and into the mirror to meet the sullen eyes of a girl, seven years older with a stain of regret that spans much longer that a mere seven years.
❀ ❀ ❀
“Waaah,” the boy exclaims as you watch your own reflection narrow its eyes at the image beside you. The spectacle persists to angle his chin every which way until he’s finally satisfied with the protrusion of his jawline; and as the boy resumes his daily activity of marveling at himself in awe, you have to wonder once again, for the hundredth time by now, just how you two had possibly become best friends. “Looking good, Jin. Looking real good.”
“Ugh,” you roll your eyes and feign nausea, “narcissist.”
Jin pauses in the midst of his inspection, allowing his phone to settle into his lap and turning to glance at you with his head as high—well, almost as high—as his ego. “When you look as good as this,” he gestures at himself and your eyes follow his crafty fingers up and down, “don’t even try to tell me you wouldn’t be all up in yourself.”
You blink your eyes blankly and start with the most accusatory tone you could muster, “excuse you, Kim Seokjin, but are you saying that I don’t look good?”
“You’re insisting that yourself, not me! It’s not my fault you can’t appreciate your God-given looks,” Jin raises his hands mercifully and you almost miss his latter, back-handed compliment when you become entranced by those double-jointed fingers of his. “Plus, I said ‘when you look as good as this.’”
“Psh, yeah,” you mumble, “and yet here you are, still as forever alone as ever.”
“Hey,” he snaps, narrowing his eyes at you even as he raises his phone to take yet another selfie, “and what does that say about you?”
“...and that’s exactly why,” you chirp as you hastily smush your cheek against his and throw a peace sign just as he snaps a photo, “we’re gonna be forever alone together!”
“Hey, why’re you ruining my selfie—” he pauses in the middle of his camera roll “—oh, we actually look good.”
Glimpsing at one of many candid photos of you and him, a helpless smile spreads across your lips. A warm breeze blows and you can practically smell the impending spring that breathes life into the pink buds hovering on the cherry tree above you. The sun’s embrace against your bare legs that lie beside your best friend’s on the red and white checkered picnic is a perfect compliment to the equally bright phenomena that are his high-pitched giggles; and like the many days you’ve spent the past year, the only thing that could possibly elevate this moment of serenity would be a bite of his weekly pastry batches.
Speaking as you chow down on the carbs, you quip, “you mean you look good?”
“That, too, but I meant us, together—” he articulates, cutting himself off abruptly when he snaps his head to find you digging into one of his many bread “—hey, who said you could start testing without me?!”
“Too many selfies, too slow, too hungry,” you lean your head back to plop the remainder of the custard-filled bread into your mouth, “shmorry Jin, but dish ish delicious.”
Just as you lean forward and take another large bite out of the batch, Jin catches right up to you, snatching the remainder and plopping it right into his now-stuffed cheeks instead. Lips falling agape at the disappearance of your bite-size donut, you gawk at your best friend whomst chomps happily away with your piece in his mouth.
You can still recall the heat of your cheeks after the first time he had ever proclaimed something that was yours as his—in fact, it wasn’t much long ago when Jin had nearly regurgitated a mouthful of mocha frappuccino after discovering you had sneaked in a sip or two prior—but now? Sharing commodities has become such second nature to you two that sometimes you wish he could return to his germophobic days just so you can hog all the food…
...and maybe to relive whatever magical flutters that had befallen you on that very first day.
“Of coursh ish delicious!” he manages to exclaim incoherently. “Kim Sheokjin baked it afta all!”
“Yeah,” you take a long moment to gulp and make room for more food, “I think I prefer the ones with custard—”
“—so it’s a perfect batch just like m—”
“—almost perfect.”
You could see yourself wink through the prideful glint in his eyes quickly plummet into a glare that has you laughing at the downfall of his indestructible ego. His playful glare through the corner of his narrowed eyes silently commences yet another one of your daily staring challenges. Maybe that’s why the two of you made such a perfect pair amongst the thousands of classmates at school. After all, how would Jin ever find someone as tolerant of his incessant dad jokes and perpetual ego as you are? And how would you ever find someone who would bake you goods and cook you lunch and, not to mention, spout such peculiar humor?
All of your classmates had dubbed the two of you as the perfect comedy duo—the dumb and the dumber, the silly and the sillier—that, apparently, is the essence of a match made in heaven, albeit probably meant to be more platonically than romantically.
Both too stubborn to lose, even in a meaningless game of a staring contest, not even the heat of the sun rays that has you two nearly sweating bullets could deter the match. Eventually, seconds turn into minutes and minutes turn into a frenzy frozen moment in time as you start to fall into the sudden abyss you found yourself in that is the warmth pool of his eyes.
Perhaps it’s the angle at which the rays strike theatrically on the apples of his cheeks, illuminating his dewy skin and enhancing the chocolate hues of his orbs hidden underneath the matching brown locks of his all whilst his eyes happen to be staring right back at you. You’ve never quite felt this way before—heart palpitating, throat constricting, and mind panicking—but for the first time ever, you’re hesitant in allowing your best friend to peer through the windows to your soul.
This isn’t good. What would he do if he were to discover your frenzy? Would he tease you to no ends?
Worse yet, would he falsely assume that you’re hardcore crushing on him…?
“Oh God,” you blurt out, breaking eye contact to avert your head to the side across the street. Your lips begin to mumble whatever comes first to mind, “uh, wow, look at that couple. Ugh, PDA—” your eyes flicker to find Jin raising a brow just before your eyes avert once again and he follows your line of sight “—am I right?”
“Oh c’mon! Just admit it,” Jin chides. “You’re only using this to disguise the fact that you were just about to blink, weren’t you?”
“I was not about to blink,” you insist but your shifty gaze tells the both of you otherwise, even if the true lack of confidence is unbeknownst to Jin. “You suck at staring contests. How many times have I won before? I was just distracted, okay?”
“Oh yeah?” Jin crosses his arms. “Distracted by what, then? Huuuh? By my devastatingly good looks?”
“No!” you exclaim almost too adamantly that you have to add in a nervous laugh at the end, which only has Jin staring at you in utter disbelief. Feigning an apologetic pressed smile, you gesture your hands in the direction of the couple supposedly hidden behind a fence but clearly exposed to those on a hill, otherwise known as you two. “I meant them—”
“—ew!”
The both of you exclaim in unison, selflessly covering the tarnished eyes of the other and ducking away from the moment of intimacy that you two had just intruded on.
“Aw, cmon! Even after graduation, too?” Jin remarks, mouth gaping and hands falling from your shielded eyes only to be thrown to his side in bewilderment. “Does everyone really have to remind us just how lonely we are even on our last day?”
“You mean how lonely we are and how lonely we will be for the rest of our lives?”
“For the rest of our lives?” Jin quirks a brow at you before shaking his head and shrugging. “Dang, that wasn’t exactly my plan, because the world will be forced to acknowledge my looks sooner or later, but I mean, in your case…”
“What?!” you gasp in disbelief, slapping his arm hard enough for him to wince. “What do you mean ‘in your case?’ I bet you haven’t even kissed someone yet!”
Jin snarls at you as he pulls his arm back and retorts, “yeah? And I bet you haven’t either!”
“Actually, I have, with Joon at that party last year,” you say smugly, crossing your arms with a chin held high, “and you just admitted you haven’t had your first kiss yet.”
“Psh, yeah, I haven’t, and?" the boy holds his head high akin to a child arguing with his body and not with his words. “Because I prefer to save it for something meaningful unlike someone here.”
“Hey, are you insinuating that it wasn’t meaningful?”
“You’ve always told me how much you hated parties!” he throws his hands up. “Plus, you don’t even like Joon! You said his breath stinks!”
“Well—” you pause but no words come to you except for a loud grunt “—ugh, fine. You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” he turns away, leaning into his right hand with an elbow propped against his crisscrossed lap. “I’m Kim Seokjin, after all.”
Following suit, you mumble into your propped hand, “I guess that’s why we’re friends in the first place. Together and, yet, still forever alone.”
“Hey, I said I don’t plan on being forever alone.”
“Right, right,” you brush him off, “tell me that when you actually get a girlfriend—actually, tell me that when you find someone to marry who doesn’t run for their life just one month into your relationship.”
“‘Marry?!’” he gawks at your demand. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and you’re talking about marriage?!”
“What?” you turn to face him, cheek resting in hand. “Didn’t you say the world would soon recognize your charms?”
“Hmph, well,” he says with a jutted lower lip, “definitely sooner than you.”
“Really?” you gape at his bold proclamation despite clearly being the one with the upperhand. “You really think you’re gonna get married before me?”
Your best friend doesn’t even bother glancing at you before answering, “bet.”
“Okay, if you win, then I’ll eat the crust to your breads whenever you want. I’ll even throw in a bonus for you and spare your wife from having to see fetus photos of you in college,” you can only snicker at the lightbulb that goes off in his widened eyes. “And if I win, then you’ll have to eat my crust and delete all the ugly photos you have of me on your phone.”
“Sorry, can’t do. That would take me an eterni—”
“—shut up.”
“Okay, fine, bet,” he cackles, straightening his back and stretching his arms out before him, “and what if neither of us ever get married?”
“Hm,” you purse your lips, “good point. Should we set a time cap to our bet? Ideally, if I want to have a stable job and income by 25, have children by 30, enjoy two or three years of marriage without kids, then…”
“Why do you have to have children by 30?” Jin frowns. “Why set all these unrealistic standards on yourself?”
Putting a finger to hush his lips, you almost find yourself distracted by the plush warmth against your skin. Quickly, you answer, “long story short: parents.”
“Ah,” he utters even as your fingers are pressed to his lips, “ditto.”
“Let’s set the cap to 27,” you propose. “If neither of us get married by the age of 27, then we’ll just call off the bet. But damn—” the two of you simultaneously lean your chins into your palms “—that means we’re really gonna be a disappointment to our parents forever, huh?”
A loud, heavy sigh escapes the both of you; and while you stay pouting into your hands, staring into the fresh green grass on the downside of the hill off in the distance, Jin props his hands back against the blanket and cranes his neck back to look off into the distant sky. You hadn’t noticed it until now, but for a devilishly dashing guy like Jin—broad shoulders, facial features that could only be gifted, and a prominent Adam’s apple, especially with his head rolled to the back like this—you have to admit his lonely status must have been much more of a choice to Jin than it is for you; because even for someone like you, his best friend who gets to stare at his profile for as long you desire in all its glory, you have yet to become desensitized to his dazzling visuals that is anything but normal.
As much as you hate to admit it, even now, with a clear blue sky, an array of warm pastry aroma, and a field of freshly cut grass, you can’t help but become enamored by the person before you.
And when another sigh befalls his lips and the two of you have settled into a comfortable silence and a breeze passes by the both of you, rustling a dozen or so of the hovering cherry petals to grace the surrounding air, he speaks.
“Let’s get married if we’re still single by then.”
“...huh?”
“I said,” only his eyes move to peer down at you effortlessly, “if we both lose the bet, then let’s get married.”
Your eyes pop and you can only utter the few words that reach you, “to each other?”
“No, to food,” he says sarcastically, grabbing a piece of his bread and stuffing your face with it when you continue to stare at him and he shuffles awkwardly in place. Looking away, he mumbles, “of course to each other, who else, dummy?”
“Uh….huh,” you blankly nod your head as a series of laughs are stifled by the bread. “Okay, and you’re being serious?”
He doesn’t look at you when he answers, “uhuh.”
“Pffft, and you’re saying you would keep that promise? That you would even remember this moment? We’re just gonna marry? Like that? And you’re assuming I’m just going to agree?”
“Hey,” he turns to frown at you, “why wouldn’t you agree? I’m offering you a once in a lifetime opportunity!”
Munching down on the bread, you continue to play along in amusement, “really? And what exactly are you offering me? You know I have high standards, right? I’m not just going to accept any proposal.”
“I know. That’s why you’re still single…” the boy deadpans, even as you glare at his remark, “...but, that’ll all change when you witness my proposal! Hear me out. First, I’ll cook every meal for you for the entire day.”
“You almost already do that except for breakfast.”
“Okay, but I’ll hone my skills by then. It’ll be even better than any restaurant we’ve ever been to.”
You raise a brow, “so you think food is the way to my heart?”
“No offence, but yes, that’s why we’re friends,” he quips before continuing, “second, I’ll bring flowers to you at work. Everyone at your job will be burning with jealousy!”
“Because of your public display of affection, which we both clearly disdain?”
“No, because they would wonder how you have such a handsome boyfriend like me!” he wags his finger. “Plus, who doesn’t like a little PDA when they’re about to be proposed to?”
“Okay, fair enough, but those are two promises you’re making for the proposal. A marriage is a lifelong commitment. Why would I want to marry you just for food and flowers?”
“Hmmm, even for someone like you, I’m surprised you have so many requirements,” Jin hums, tapping his finger on his chin. “How about this, I’ll make three more promises for our marriage.”
“Quit saying ‘our marriage,’ I keep shuddering at the thought of it,” you remark as you rub your arms.
“Third promise, I won’t break your achey breaky heart,” he deliberately emphasizes each word in a fruitful attempt to send shivers down your spine. “Fourth promise, I’ll remember all of my promises.”
“Okay… and fifth?”
“I’ll keep all of my promises! And I’ll do it all right here at this spot. Our spot.”
“What? That’s dumb,” you giggle. “Just keep it at four, then.”
“No,” he grabs the bagel in your hands and fills his mouth without a second of hesitation, “ish eashier to wememba fibe promishesh.”
“Right, right, right,” you nod, pressing your lips in a vain attempt to muffle your chuckles. “And what promises would you want me to make?”
“You?” he quirks a brow before shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re fine. I like you just the way you are.”
Huh. Has Jin always been this nice? Because you don’t quite recall ever feeling the heat of an oncoming blush of your cheeks or the bashful flutters that come with your best friend’s witty remarks. Maybe the topic of marriage has thrown you off today or maybe it’s the aftermath of a high having just graduated college and being thrusted into adulthood, but the stretched smile that adorns your lips is an undeniable fact that your confidence and spontaneity has reached its pinnacle.
Grinning, you lean across Jin’s lap to grab and unlock his phone to access the camera, “okay, wanna take a photo to commemorate this moment?”
“Gee, if you want a photo of me that bad, you could just ask me to send you a selfie, y’know—what the,” Jin starts to cackle when you raise the phone into the air and suddenly press your cheeks against his without warning. With a side-finger gun to frame his cheeks and chin, your best friend readies his pose as you wear a mischievous smile. “Hurry up and take the picture already, Y/N. My time is money.”
“Hey Jin,” you call out to him with your eyes still fixated to the phone screen, as does his.
The boy almost drags his words, “now what?”
“You’ve never had a girl kiss you on the cheeks before either, right?”
“What—”
—click.
“There,” you chirp jubilantly, grinning at the stunned look on his face, his eyes popping and his lips just slightly parted but failing to utter a single word as his hand grazes the spot on his cheeks where your lips had just touched, “now you have zero excuses to forget our promise!”
❀ ❀ ❀
That must have been the last time you had met up with Jin in person. Shortly after graduation, the two of you had parted ways as many are forced to do in order to embark on their lives as full-fledged adults. Being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, Jin had been lucky enough to receive a job offer straight out of college with the help of family connections; although, even without his family name, you whole-heartedly believe he still would have managed on his own based off of his unparalleled work ethic that you had the chance to witness firsts-handedly.
On the other hand, your parents had advised you to stay home, which happened to mean you would be stuck in the same town of your college, until you finally landed a decent job where you had met Alex and established a new life. Unfortunately, like life always does, all that busywork meant sacrificing contact with your best friend somewhere along the way.
“Hey, Y/N! Wait!”
“Ah, shit,” you mutter under your breath as you stop in the midst of your tracks down the black-marbled hallway, gritting your teeth and composing yourself just as you’ve done countless times around your less than friendly colleagues. Taking a deep breath in and out, you put on a pleased smile and whirl around to find the face of a familiar boy in your most recent reveries. “Ahh, hey, Jin... It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
“Ah,” the man, who seems to have grown at least or three inches since you had last seen him, scratches the back of his head. “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight… how have you been?”
This is awkward. So painfully awkward.
“Me? Oh, I’ve been alright. Life. Adulting. You know the drill,” you press a thin smile. “Actually, I’m surprised to be seeing you here tonight. I still remember us whining all throughout college over being forever alone, and yet here we are… at your engagement party… life can be funny, huh?”
“Y—” he stutters, scratching the back of his neck “—yeah… it can be.”
“So,” you chirp in a fruitless attempt to lift the suffocating atmosphere, “the wedding is coming up pretty soon! Feeling good or is someone getting cold feet?”
He shakes his head weakly, “I wear socks to sleep.”
“Wh—” you pause for a quick second, blinking blankly at his soft chuckle and following suit shortly after “—why do your jokes sound like you’re 22 again?”
The man shrugs with a helpless smile hinted in the corners of his lips; and when it happens—you don’t know how or when the silence had whisked you away into a past time—you find him gazing at you with that fondness of a sole friend who endlessly shared and fought informidable woes with you. Perhaps you’re a hopeless romantic frozen between the fork of two roads that have long closed, for you swear you can see your own reflection through his warm brown eyes and you surmise the only possible answer to the question that lingers in your mind.
He must see the same friend in you, that girl he would only call friend.
“You’ve been preparing your whole life for this, or, actually, maybe I should say we’ve been preparing,” you smile to stifle the lurching ache in your chest, “I guess I’m the only fool waiting for her turn now.”
A weep cracks the laugh you force out of your knotted throat. Immediately, you turn your head to avoid his watchful gaze and tuck a lock of hair behind an ear whilst discretely ridding any traces of waterworks welling in your vision. You think you must have gotten away with the feigned laugh and turn, a routine you had mastered at your previous work, but the gradual dissolution of the curve on his lips settles into an unreadable flatline more resembling a frown than anything; because even after all these years, he can still read you like an open book.
So, if he could see through your every facade even now, then why does he not remember? You know you shouldn’t hold it against him, such a silly promise built on a lonesome pair of naive hearts, but you can’t help it when a single word paints your conscience.
Why?
Why can’t he remember?
Your shared promises, your birthday, your memories, and... you?
“Y/N,” Jin begins gently, hesitating in place once he takes a step forward and you flinch, “about the wedding date…”
He waits for you to reply, supposedly for ‘whenever you were ready’, as he always does during those fragile lows of yours.
To avoid letting loose any more unneeded drama, you can only manage a hum, “mm?”
“I…” he pauses and sighs. “I know it’s your birthday.”
A hitch in your breath is audible. You clamp your lips tightly and nod, uttering lowly, “yeah.”
“I want you to know I didn’t decide the date, Y/N,” he says firmly, “my father did.”
“And?” you quip suddenly, eyes darting to shoot a glower deadly enough for him to twitch in evident hurt. There, you went ahead and did it. As hard as you had spent the past months muting your rawest reaction to the envelope in your mailbox, all the pent up frustration and sheer sorrow for a lost future came whiplashing just as hard. “And you couldn’t tell your father to change the date? Maybe one day after? Or two?”
“You know I would have asked if I could, Y/N,” he bites his tongue to state sternly, “but how would he understand? Change it for… for what—” he laughs cruelly in the midst of his burst “—for the birthday of a best friend I lost contact with for five whole years?! That’s so… so dumb—”
“—dumb…?”
The crack in your voice leads to a stagnant silence over what is clearly a no man’s land. Betrayal visibly paints across your face, the momentary display of having wronged his closest ally stains his own.
“Sorry, I didn’t meant that...”
“‘...yeah, you’re right,” you scoff, “I’m dumb for waiting five whole damn years’ because you wouldn’t fucking text me or call me to ask how I was doing!”
“Me?” he asks in disbelief, gawking and pointing an accusatory finger. “You wouldn’t even pick up your phone! I called you for a month after I moved!”
“I couldn’t pay for my phone, alright?! I was living with my parents and scrambling to find a job, any fucking low wage job, and I couldn’t sit all day in my room waiting for your calls because I’m not born with a silver spoon stuck in my ass!”
At this point, the conversation had somehow contorted into an all out brawl of words, a challenge to see who could blame the other for the unsaid confessions lost in communication. The two of you staring down the other, chest heaving and jaws clenching and brows knitting, if it weren’t for your fortunate location tucked in the hallway hidden from the main room, you would not have allowed yourself to fall, lost somewhere in the depth of his eyes.
“Why are you so upset?” a weak, hopeless laugh tumbles from his confused, pained expression. “Aren’t you supposed to be happy for me?”
“I—” something gets caught in your throat and you have to choke it out “—I am. I am happy for you. I’m not upset, no…”
Jin reaches a hand out to your cheek when he notices your tears but immediately retracts his notion when you flinch backwards. The boy frowns in concern, “Y/N… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. How did I upset you?”
“Nothing,” you frantically shake your head that hangs low, using the back of your hands to smear every sign of contradiction on your face. “I just—” your breath shakes and an impending series of hiccups begins to kick in “—I’m silly. I should be happy for my best friend. I mean, I am happy. I’m just being dumb.”
“What?” Jin carefully takes a step forward. “No you’re not—”
“—I’m dumb, okay, Jin?” you finally muster the courage to lift your sights to find his own confused ones. “It’s been five whole years and I’m embarrassed for taking a joke of a promise so seriously when my best friend doesn’t even remember making it!”
The scrunch in his brows and lost resolution only reverberate the deafening ache in your chest. “The promises…? Y/N, I—”
“—it’s fine,” you blurt. Shaking your head and stumbling backwards, you look him straight in the eyes to say your last words before the fading knocks of your heels against the wood are all that he hears. “It's my fault for believing in a foolish fairytale anyways.”
❀ ❀ ❀
It’s almost like a fever dream when you recall just how confidently you had spat those spiteful words and furthermore dared to depart with that sheer satisfaction and the slightest aftertaste of alcohol residing on your tongue that night; but now that you’re awake, sober, and without the power of liquor, there’s nothing that can pull you out of your greatest nightmare most recently manifested into reality.
“Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do that?”
The incessant grumbles tumble freely from your lips whilst you pace back and forth in the corner of the office. Typically, your colleagues would describe you as composed, reserved, and the level-headed half of an otherwise wild pair with Alex. This morning, however, they begin to question everything they’ve ever known about you as they watch through the corner of their averting eyes.
“I knew I shouldn’t have left you alone!” Alex hisses under her breath along with the threatening glares she shoots at the audience. Considering how long you’ve been going at your mental breakdown, it doesn’t take very long for your shuffling footsteps and mumbling gibberish to transcend into yet another white noise in the office; and once the majority of the passersby settle on the new revelation of your hidden crazed nature, Alex hastily storms to your side as you begin banging your head against the wall. “Why would you throw a tantrum at your best friend’s engagement party?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying…” you pause momentarily to groan before proceeding to damage whatever is left of your seemingly deteriorating brain. “Why the hell did I do that? Why the hell did I do—”
“—not to mention, an ex best friend who never even knew about your unrequited feelings—”
—she comes to an abrupt stop when she finds the deadliest scowl in your dart-like eyes. No words are exchanged but the lethal consequences are clear enough to grant you her silence and the continuance of your destruction.
“Why the hell did I do that, Alex?” you whimper, taking a break from your antics because, damn, your forehead is really starting to hurt. “Whyyyyyyy did you have to leave me alone? Maybe Jin wouldn’t have found me and I wouldn’t have had to confront him over something that shouldn’t even matter anymore! I-I barely even know him… it’s been five years and, suddenly, here I am, voila! At his engagement banquet, yelling in his face and getting mad over feelings that aren’t even his fault!”
“I told you to go easy on the alcohol.”
“I told you to go easy on the alcohol,” you retort. Taking a deep breath, you let out a sigh along with the scowl plastered across your face. Your next words come out more as a helpless confession of fear than a rhetorical question to be answered. “Do you think he… hates me…?”
Alex observes you for a lingering second, perhaps contemplating between a merciful albeit exacerbating answer and a merciless albeit helpful answer. She speaks carefully, treading dangerous water, “well… would you like him to?”
“I don’t know,” you shut your eyes to heave yet another sigh because that weight in your chest refuses to leave you alone. An unapologetic swinging of the door and a series of loud, wide strided footsteps that follow have your brows furrowing and it takes everything in you and Alex, judging by the sudden shuffles you hear by your side, to finish the rare heart-to-heart conversation. “I think… I think if he hated me, maybe that would extinguish that part of me from the past. If he hated me, I would be able to get over it. Maybe I would hate him too, out of spite, but at least I would be able to get over—””
“—it…? Over what, Y/N?”
Over what? It takes you much longer than it should have for you to surmise the most probable answer to her question, an answer you were never willing to admit and an answer you aren’t quite sure you’re ready to admit even now.
“You know what I’m implying, Alex,” you sigh, shutting your eyes even tighter when a rising heat marks your cheeks. “I want to get over—”
—but your words are cut short by a familiar voice that has your heart racing and striking an unprecedented strife in the mayhem that is your systemic state...
“You can’t possibly hate me, Y/N,” he proudly proclaims and you can practically hear him smiling, “no one ever hates Kim Seokjin.”
...and when your eyes finally flutter open, you find the man, who had only seemed like a phenomenon of your feverish dream a second ago, standing before you and adorning that signature smile with raised cheek apples and crescent-like eyes that has yet to change under the influence of time and distance.
“W-What are you doing here…?” you barely manage to utter. Eyes flickering around your surroundings, from Jin’s broad shoulders that shield nearly the entirety of a helpless albeit buoyant Alex, to your colleagues who fail to discreetly whisper over the lavishly suited mystery of a man, and finally back to the bouquet of pastel flowers wrapped with a bright pink bow. Brows furrowing, you struggle to organize your thoughts and even go so far as to check for the dent in your reddish forehead in a vain attempt to dispel the mind tricks. When the mirage before you fails to dissipate into thin air like sand, you slowly turn to face the wall again only to have your antics disrupted by his refreshingly cold hand on your burning forehead ; and when you turn, you find Jin’s mischievous smile growing wider by the second. “H-how do you know where I work…?”
“I’m your best friend, Y/N. Have you somehow forgotten after all that head banging?” Jin scoffs in disbelief, gawking with a chuckle. Suddenly, he leans in to grab your right hand firmly in his own, squeezing twice as he had always done and leading you toward the exit. “C’mon, let’s go recover those memories of yours, eh?”
“Wait, wait,” you nearly stumble over your own feet at the pace he’s going, struggling to catch your breath when he bursts through the last door and a blast of freezing wind envelops the clash of the heat reverberating from your beating heart. “I have to go back! I still have work! And, and… and where in the world are you even taking me?”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Y/N, so many dumb questions for someone who always topped my grades,” the boy holds the bouquet of flowers out toward you, refusing to continue until you reluctantly accept his gift with your left hand against your chest. Smiling at your reluctant acceptance, Jin turns his back on you and proceeds to march into the parking lot but his now warm hands intertwined with your now cold hands never loosens its grip.
It’s been a long five years of waiting to finally relish in the hold of his familiarly slim, often teased albeit self-praised double-jointed hands, but, now that you’re finally living in it, you’re sure it was all worth it… even if the crashing flames at the end of this road is an inevitable, foreseeable future.
“Jin,” you frown as you stare at Jin’s opening of the car door and gesture of an invitation, reluctantly seating yourself in his sumptuous car. “I failed half of my exams... remember?”
The boy’s laughs can still be heard even through the closed door as he makes his way around the car front, all whilst swinging the keys in his forefinger. His cackling steps an abrupt many levels of decibels higher when the opposing door opens and he plops into the driver seat. “That never stopped you from boasting, did it?”
Without the flare of your usual clever quips, you purse your lips in silence and subconsciously hug the bouquet closer to your chest to keep his space as unoccupied by your presence. The sudden turn of events has your head spinning and your heart racing enough for the thumps to be felt by your hands.
How did he find out where you worked? Where was he even taking you and what was he planning to do with you? Why was he acting as if you had not angered him just two nights ago?
You don’t think you’ll be getting the answer any time soon, particularly the latter question, but when your stomach growls loudly, eliciting a crackle of a laugh from Jin, the awkward tension in your muscles eases ever so slightly.
“...s-sorry… I skipped breakfast.”
“I know,” he puts the car into neutral at the red light and turns to peer at you with a smug look that says he could still read you like an open book, “because you always skip breakfast. I hid some pastry in the bouquet.”
“What?” you scrunch your nose but immediately dive your scavenging hands into the flowers; and sure enough, you find your favorite cream-filled bread of his warm in your hands and you can’t stifle the smile that spreads on your lips. “Why would you even do that?”
“Well, in case you suddenly got really jacked and physically refused to come with me, then at least you would have something to eat.”
“No,” you giggle, “I meant why would you hide the bread in the bouquet…”
His eyes brighten like a lightbulb, as if only now recalling the genius plan he had crafted himself, “oh, because then you can sneak a bite without having to leave your desk! It always worked with our backpacks, didn’t it?”
Your sights fall to the bouquet and you can only reply with a sheepish grin, “right… it sure did.”
The engine purrs to life again when the light turns green and the remainder of the car ride is filled with the smooth drift of his ride and the ceaseless albeit completely welcomed humming from his lips. The old Jin never had enough of an incentive to drive, although his parents always suggested gifting him a brand new car and you had begged him to take the offer out of boredom and a never-ending desire to escape far away from university, but something about this moment in time has you feeling cozy, belonging, and at home. It’s almost like it was meant to be.
But the silver ring shining around his finger under the angle of the sun is a dreadful reminder that it isn’t.
So, as a slap to yourself back into reality, you fracture this perfect moment you would have once framed in that hopeless mind of yours, “so… how did you find out where I worked?”
“Ah,” his right hand casually slips onto the back of your headrest. “Still haven’t figured out, rank 292?”
“No, I haven’t, rank 295.”
“First,” he raises a finger, “I asked some people through the grapevines and eventually your friend Alex gave out.”
Grumbling under your breath, you curse, “damn it, Alex.”
“And second,” he raises another finger before proclaiming firmly, “I’m proving you wrong.”
“Proving me wrong?” you articulate with a scoff. “You’re going to prove me wrong? Right, keep dreaming.”
“I’m not going to prove you wrong, I am proving you wrong," he insists before shifting the car to neutral and leaning in toward you, gaze brimming with conviction locked with your own wary ones, as if ready to spill a secret sworn by the two of you and hidden from the rest of the universe.
He's close enough for his minty breath to graze your burning cheeks, to breathe a vigorous life previously unknown by your dull five years. Heart pumping and lungs barely working, daring not to budge for being caught under the sway of his gravitational force, you can hardly catch him when he finally speaks.
"I haven't forgotten, Y/N,” he utters, “I'm a man of my word."
❀ ❀ ❀
Promise one.
"I'll cook every meal for you for an entire day."
Promise two.
"I'll bring flowers to you at work."
His unabashed, overly detailed tactic to ask for your hand in marriage still echoes from a time long past. Hopes for those promises were weakened by each passing second but unequivocally unassailed at birth. Eventually, smothered and disheartened, you had been forced to cut ties and confront the reality of broken promises and broken dreams. You had once somehow convinced yourself things would never return to the ways they once were, and, yet, here he is having returned by your side and here you are enraptured by the utter joy in his laughs after all this wavering time.
It's like a dream come true; and if this indeed all just a nightmarish dream bound to death, you wish you never swore allyship to this alcohol, for now your only wish is for it to succumb you into a deep, long slumber.
“I toooooooold you I don’t like paaaaasta!” you whine, the drag of your voice manifesting in white puffs in the still chilly spring air. The sudden transition between the warmth of his house to the frozen world outside has you spiraling into a series of trips and stumbles; and as always, your best friend Jin is the only one to hold you up, which is a good thing considering how you would’ve been tumbling into the death trap of a river beneath this bridge. “So whyyyy did you make me pastaaaaaaa? Whyyyyyyy?”
“What? Why’re you blaming me?” he retorts, obviously taking offence. “You always loved pasta! You ate it every single day at uni!”
“I diiiiid love pasta,” you say through barely parted lips, “but it’s all just… just carbs, carbs, carbssss…”
“Since when did you care about carbs?” Jin frowns, poking your cheeks that lean against his sturdy arms. “Should I call the police?”
Your brows furrow and you lift your head to narrow your eyes at him, “what? Why?”
And as soon as those words slip from your lips and he raises his finger-gun hands, you wish you hadn’t asked in the first place.
“Because I think you’re an impasta,” his finger guns transform into jazz hands after you stare at him in dumbfounded silence, “...badumtsss….”
A series of empty blinks are exchanged, as if neither of you had just witnessed his most tragic dad joke to date; and so, you swiftly continue with a sigh, “I think… I think I started caring ever since heee mentioned I was getting fat.”
“I can’t believe you just ignored my unprecedented joke…” he grumbles to himself but lets out a little huff when he catches you from tipping over. Wordlessly, he hooks his arm with yours to keep you close to him. “And this ‘he’ you mention, who’s he?”
“Heee.”
“Who? Who’s ‘heeee’?” he spouts with pouty lips and a raised chin, flailings his body, and therefore yours, about every which way like a toddler. “Who’s this man I have to beat up, huh? He better square up!”
“I don’t think you could beat him up…” you mumble, eyes heavy but determined enough to reach his own flabbergasted ones. “It’s Jooooon, dummy, Kim-Nam-Joon, the boy I shared my first kiiiiss with…”
“Kim Namjoon?!” his eyes widen. “You think I wouldn’t be able to beat up that nerd?!”
You almost manage to push Jin away the foot of the bridge if it weren’t for his firm lock around you. “Have you seen his muscles?! He might not look like it with his books and all but he worked out all the time!”
“Yeah, well,” his lips sputter, “well, have you seen my muscles?!”
“No—” you freeze when you realize the sturdiness of his arm against your head is existing proof against your word, and maybe it’s because of his obvious flexing at this moment, but you could not believe just how built his arms had grown in the past five years, “—and I don’t want to.”
“Hah! You just don’t want to admit that I’m right. C’mon, I’ll show you. You feel it, huh? You feel it?” he flexes persistently, twisting and turning to maximize his little showcase. “So? You think I can beat him up now?”
“Well…” your voice trails off, mind clearly preoccupied with sticking your cheeks to his arm like glue in a somewhat fruitful attempt to hide the flush in your face. “You don’t really need to beat him up…”
“What?” he almost yells. “Why not? He called you fat!”
“Well, he…” your shoulders rise with each confession, “he said one of my dresses looked tight on me…”
“And?”
“...and he wasn’t exactly wrong…”
“So?”
“...so he didn’t actually say anything offhandedly…”
“What? You should’ve told me earlier!” Jin exclaims, arms thrown high into the air and consequently pushing your helpless self onto the hillside grass beside the run of the river. Lips gaping and eyes popping, you watch him in full offense as he mumbles to himself before resuming his stroll down the hill. “And here I am getting worked up over nothing… can’t believe I thought I could play hero for once…”
“Hey, Jin, what do you mean by that?” you call out to him. “Wait! I said wait for me, Jin!”
When your rhetorical questions are answered with silence, you hasten to your feet in order to catch up with those damn wide strides of his. Damn it, how did he make it halfway down the hill already? Each of your exclamations are unsurprisingly disobeyed by the boy who just throws his head back over his shoulder with that cheeky grin of his as he quickened his pace. Following suit, your strides turn into a jog and your jogs turn into a full out sprint until the both of you are full on running the 100 meters dash, one chasing and one fleeing, wind blowing refreshingly into your heated face and into your tangled locks and inflated lungs that relish in the breath of life.
In the midst of all the chaotic bliss of an epiphany, you find yourself screaming and laughing at the top of your lungs...
“Hey! Jin! I swear I”m gonna kick your ass!”
...and it’s at this moment in time that you realize having forgotten what it means to be a fool who lived and not to live to be a fool.
At some point in time, after having caught up to the knucklehead and giving a piece of your mind, the two of you settle down along the concrete ledge beside the river after a jittery, welcomed high. The sunset that followed was a pleasant surprise that had you two reminiscing over the countless mornings and evenings you had spent watching the sun rise and set together whilst churning throughout tireless exam nights. Pink, golden streaks now hidden behind a thick coating of midnight blue embellished by magical glitters all throughout, tonight’s stargazing becomes a first for the two of you.
As much as you hoped you could numb yourself from the inevitable aftereffects of this death wish of a dreamy day, you can’t help but smile, thankful to have been completely sober to engrave this night into memory.
“So...” Jin’s utter is the first to break the silence. He turns his head to give you a playful look of eyes that beams with wary curiosity, “...you started dating Namjoon after I left?”
“Mm… maybe,” you hum, “why? Got a problem with that?”
“What? Psh, what? Why would I have a problem with that?” he snorts. “The only problem I would have is the fact that you never asked me for permission.”
Your eyes widen, almost threateningly, “are you saying I need permission from a man to date another man? Not to mention a man who abandoned me without warning!”
“Okay, first of all, it’s not my fault you cancelled your phone plan! I called and called, I tried everything I could even though I was deadbeat tired every day. It’s not my fault I thought you hated my guts! So please just understand that I didn’t abandon you, alright?” he spills in an endless stream akin to a water faucet left on the highest setting, clearly a performance either practiced in private or incited by years of pent up pressure. You can practically see the steam shooting out of his fiery red ears and the accompanying whistle manifesting into words; and by the time his chest is heaving, his lungs are panting and very dramatically so, and his eyes flicker nervously between you and the passing water, you can’t help but snicker. Unsurprisingly, your lack of empathy elicits an unamused look on his face. “Hey, hey, what’re you laughing at, huh?”
“Me? Oh, nothing,” your hands move into your laps and you bat your eyes innocently, “it’s just that I can’t believe you’re blaming me, a helpless, poor girl with absolutely no connections, for cancelling her phone plan as a last resort to make ends meet.”
“Hey, hey, hey,” he warns with an accusatory finger, “don’t you dare think I’ll fall for that eye blinking and whatever cute act you’re playing up again!”
“Why?” you pout, almost cringing at your own antics. “Am I not cute?”
“No, you’re hurting my eyes. Plus, if anyone’s cute here,” he declares adamantly before puffing his cheeks and poking one with his forefinger, “it’s me.”
The both of you stare at the other for a stagnant few seconds, one completely dedicated to his performance and the other utterly flabbergasted by what plays out before her.
The only word you manage to crank out is a, “uh…”
“What do you think?” he raises another finger to poke his other cheek. “I practiced just for you.”
“Um… you’re 27 now, Jin.”
“So?” he tilts his head in the other direction. “Still 22 and young at heart.”
“Yeah? Then I’m still 22 and still equally disgusted by aegyo—” just as he parts his lips to provide another rebuttal, you quickly add in “—by your aegyo.”
And just like that, the man drops his boyish character just as quickly as he had stepped into it. He mumbles, dropping his hands and shooting an equivocate look at you, “okay, tough crowd. Sorry, ma’am.”
It shouldn’t have been that hilarious nor should your response been so delayed, but it only takes a split second of his surrender for a thunderous cackle to slip from your lips. Throwing your head back and peering at the dangling stars above, you allow yourself a moment to close your eyes and take a deep breath of the incoming wind. The fresh petrichor of spring and the earthiness of mowed grass whisks themselves into the cold, clean breeze from the vast body of water. Thin locks of hair grazes across your cheeks, swaying in the wind as does your spirit. Years are lifted from your shoulders and all that is left is the heaviness that remains in your chest; nevertheless, you have never felt so free from the past.
“Also,” he adds nonchalantly, cocking his head to look at you, “I wasn’t speaking from the position of a man. I was speaking as a best friend. As your best friend.”
And just like that, sitting side by side and sharing a cool breeze, it’s almost as if all these moments of remorse, spilled tears, and unreleased frustration were made to build the climax to this grand finale: the night you can finally speak your truth.
“It’s funny how things never change, huh?” you say when your eyes flutter open and you find Jin looking over with a fondness identical to the one you’ve spotted years before. “We can split for five years, thinking one hates the other’s guts, and reunite again as best friends… as if nothing had ever happened.”
Jin chuckles, hands grabbing to the ledge and head lolling back to join you but his eyes remain fixated on you, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Are we vampires and we just don’t know it?”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure either… not sure about the good thing and not the vampire thing, that is,” your laugh settles into silence when you spot the reflected light inflicted by the ring around his finger, sitting on the ledge just an inch away from yours. Close enough to touch but far enough to confirm an unequivocal truth. Sighing, you turn your head to meet his intent gaze with a bittersweet upturn to your lips, “normally, I really despise the idea of change; but lately, when I think about how things might never change between us, how we’ll always banter as a pair of stupid best friends, I start wanting it more than ever.”
Is this the moment? Is it all really happening right now? Judging by the course of your blithe actions, if change is what you’re looking for, then change is what will surely ensue after tonight. Whether for the good or for the worse, you’ll take a reluctant guess of the latter.
The man scrunches his brows before playing it off with a nervous laugh, “what do you mean things haven’t changed? You dated Namjoon, probably got it on a few times here or there—”
“—what—”
“—please don’t confirm,” he butts in with a raised hand, “and I have, too. Sure things have changed!”
“Ooh?” you raise a brow, genuinely shocked. “You finally got some experience under your belt? I’m impressed, Mr. Kim.”
“Hey,” he scolds, “what do you mean by ‘impressed?’”
“Well, I should’ve known… figuring you’re about to be a married man and all…” you mumble, forcing a smile despite the sudden dip in your mood. Turning your head to stare off into the opposite end of the river where the black silhouette of skyscrapers lie, you curse yourself mentally. You really thought you could get away with the inevitable truth for the entire day? “You know, I can’t believe I almost forgot that you’re getting married in less than a week. Almost like how I couldn’t believe you almost forgot our promises.”
“I told you Kim Seokjin is a man of his words.”
“You sure about that? Promise one: cook for me for an entire day. Check. Promise two: gift me flowers at work. Check,” you turn around once again to look him firmly in the eyes and it’s almost as if the both of you know what’s about to come next. “What about the three other promises, Kim Seokjin?”
“Y/N…” his voice trails off but his gaze never leaves yours, almost as if too afraid to be misconstrued as another betrayal.
Quick-mindedly, you chime, “stop looking at me so seriously! I’m just joking! Promise three: you won’t break my heart. How could you after a wonderful day like this? Promise four: you won’t forget our promises. Clearly, you remember. And promise five: you’ll keep all your promises. Check.”
“Y/N,” he stifles every wince but you can tell by the way his feet have stopped kicking into the void. “I don’t think I’ve kept all those promises.”
“Well,” you shrug, pressing your lips into a line tightly, “I only see checks in my book, Jin. You’re good to go—”
“—no, Y/N, you need to listen to me,” he says sternly; and when your mouth falls agape and your head slightly nods, his wary eyes searching for a steady sign in the windows to your soul, he continues calmly, “my marriage is actually an arranged marriage.”
“Your—” you blink blankly, jaw almost falling to the floor “—your, you, what?”
An arranged marriage.
All this time, all this pain, all this heartbreak of wanting to do something about your feelings but remaining hopeless because of an unrequited love… turns out to be an active, fully conscious decision? Not a falling out of love, not a helpless affection for another woman, but a matchmaking handcrafted without the heavens?
“My,” he has to stop himself just as his breath hitches, “my father... arranged it. ”
“What? Why? Is it because he prefers you with a well off family?”
“What? No,” he shakes his head with a slight upcurve to his lips that you’ve never quite seen before. Watching him hook a hand to the nape of his neck, clearly avoiding your eyes, you have an inkling of something much worse than the presented news. “You know my father would never do that… it has nothing to do with money...”
“But you left this town for money, didn’t you? For a better job, a better pay, a better life, and for the sake of your dignity as a dutiful son, are you telling me none of those were related to money?”
His eye twitches by your name-calling, clearly pained once again despite knowing very well of your precedent dislike toward his silver spoon background and his nonnegotiable obedience. Each second of silence culminates a tension even more formidable than the last. Guilt intoxicates your boiling blood enough for you to bite your tongue and hold yourself back; because after accusing him of holding onto his dignity, you, yourself, could not forfeit that of your own either.
Worse yet, you’re a complete hypocrite.
“Why can’t you just tell him to call it off?”
You never knew silence could be so deafening.
“So… so do you...” you begin hesitantly. Usually, with your eyes locked with his, a thousand words would have been exchanged with each passing second; but now, with gazes that wade through the tides of the unknown, for the first time ever, you don’t recognize the mystery before you. “Do you... love her?”
His lips part slowly, but no time in the world would be enough for him to find the right words. To you, his silence is as clear as any possible answer. Something sinks in you, perhaps after acknowledging the implications behind his choice to leave your question unanswered, but your blood boils from the audacity of those apologetic eyes that, even now, never stray from yours… as if this minute of sincerity would be enough to mend the inevitable decade of scars.
You begin slowly, failing to hide the shakiness of your deep breaths, “...then what about the baby?”
“What baby...?” his face contorts with a frown until, out of the blue, something flickers across his numerous expressions: confusion, remembrance, contemplation. His hesitation that ensues might have been fleeting but its infliction upon your shattered trust will surely remain. “Oh, that… that was just a rumor my aunt spread because of the sudden marriage.”
“And,” you force yourself to breathe, scattering for something, anything to throw at him, “and you don’t think you could’ve told me sooner?”
The man scrunches his brows, “and that would’ve helped, how?”
“‘How?’” you repeat, as if it was the dumbest question you had ever heard. Mirroring his expression, your eyes avert between him and the river as scoffs of utter disbelief escape you. “‘How?’ What do you mean ‘how?’”
“I mean exactly that!” his voice suddenly escalates to a level of frustration you’ve never quite heard from him before. “How would it have changed anything? Why would you need to know earlier?”
Gawking, you exasperate desperately, “you know why!”
“No, I might be your best friend but don’t expect me to just read your mind!”
“It’s cause...” you swing your leg over the ledge to face the sidewalk with your back on Jin as soon as you could feel an incoming constriction at the back of your throat, a notorious sign shared just between the two of you that waterworks were about to appear. Breathing slowly and doing just about everything to keep your voice from shaking, and fruitlessly so, you mumble before standing to your feet, “...you know what? I don’t even know anymore. I’m sorry. Nevermind.”
Why did you ever think you would have a chance?
Is this it? Is this really it? The end?
The questions come crashing into you as you make your retreat, head hanging low and palms drying the inconvenient tears that mark your face. After all the confidence you had built up, after finally thinking—actually, believing—you could get over him tonight, how humiliating is it that you’re now running away from a reality that would eventually and inevitably engulf you?
The worst part of it is, Jin, like the best friend and good man that he is, persists to chase after you. You don’t have to hear the quickened footsteps of his usual wide, well-paced strides to know he’s coming. You don’t have to hear the calls he makes on the top of his lungs for you to know he’s on his way.
As someone who so helplessly fell in love with their best friend, you just know he would be there through thick and thin—whether you like it or not.
“Y/N!” Jin hollers; and when he finally catches up to you, having to sprint and consequently inciting for you to surrender with an abrupt stop to your path, every bit of air is knocked from your lungs. Arms wrapping over your waist and enveloping you into a tight hug, you can feel his heart pounding against your back.
To most, it should have been the perfect method to comfort a crying friend; so, damn it, why does it only make you cry harder?
“What?” your voice cracks as you just barely manage to smear the following tears within the wrap of his bear hug. “Damn it, Jin, why can’t you leave me alone for once?”
Head resting on yours, his voice is muffled by your hair as he murmurs, “I can’t just leave my best friend crying like that. I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m sorry.”
He embraces you. He embraces you not only physically through the silence but also through the emotional rollercoaster that comes with it. He, Kim Seokjin, your best friend, holds you through the ups and downs and the rights and the wrongs. He even holds you now, comforting you in the hurricane that you brewed without ever knowing and never caring that he had, in fact, not committed any wrongdoing. If anything, you must be in the wrong.
And when you put it that way, how could you blame yourself for falling in love with him?
“Jin… I’m sorry, I tried everything to stop myself but,” your voice shakes but your courage prospers, “but I just, I just really, really love you.”
A second passes.
Now, two.
Then, three.
Something strikes against your chest when the surreality of the situation settles into reality. His silence could mean many things, but the tightening of his embrace could only mean one. Blood flushes your cheeks as you lament over his sensation of your fervent heartbeats. Secrets thrown out into the spring air, your heated cheeks are equally exposed to the passing, chilly zephyr.
He knows you love him. At this moment, he can physically feel the proof of your love and there’s nothing he can do about it.
“Sorry,” you manage to blurt under your breath, “I shouldn’t have said anything. Forget I said—”
—the remaining words dissipate into thin air when he places his hands firmly on your shoulder and whirls you around. Face just inches away from his, you barely catch wind of his declaration before the unthinkable occurs…
“Too late. I don’t want to.”
...and his lips meet yours.
It’s everything you have ever imagined. Years of admiring those plush lips, wondering what it would be like to feel the warmth of those wonders pressed against yours, are finally coming to fruition… except they don’t. His hands fall from your shoulders to the small of your back, but your hands don’t intertwine behind the back of his neck like you imagined. Instead, they hover in midair, hesitant to embrace him in your arms. Why? With your eyes and his fluttered closed and an audible deep sigh that signals a desire finally satisfied from the both of you, reality still manages to twist a dream-come-true.
Does he actually love you or does he only pity you?
Finally, and ever so suddenly, your hands firmly push against his chest to plant an arm’s distance from you and him.
“Sorry…” you pant, avoiding those intense eyes. “We… we can’t do this.”
“What?” Jin raises a brow, taking a step forward as you take one back. “Why not?”
Wordlessly, you point at his ring finger.
“Oh,” he chuckles nervously, hand scratching the back of his neck. You can only watch his every move, your stare gradually becoming a glare. Rosy hues coloring his cheeks, he speaks sheepishly, “I forgot we’re in public.”
His nonchalance irks you to your core. There isn’t any other way to put it. Blithe and dense have always been your favorite traits of his, but now that he’s here? Planting buds he could never sustain and sending mixed signals despite knowing of your feelings in an unfitting circumstance were never things you knew Jin for.
“I-I don’t get it, Jin,” you shake your head. “I don’t think we should see each other any more. In any context. Not even after the wedding.”
With his hands buried into his pockets and shoulders high enough to hide his reddened ears, he glances up at you, alert. “What? Why? What don’t you get?”
“It’s ‘cause... I just don’t get… this. I don’t get us,” you articulate, struggling to find the right words. “Why are you so… nonchalant about this? Why are you kissing me? Is it out of pity? Is it because I said I liked you—”
“—Y/N,” he says lowly like the drop of his previously cheerful mien, “you know I would never do something like that.”
“Then why?! Why are you doing this to me? Do you love her or not?” you pause for a second to stifle the crack in your voice but, alas, all is in vain. “...and do you even… love me?”
He frowns, the tension in his body evident by the knitting of his brows as he struggles, “I… Y/N...”
“So you can’t admit that you love her and you can’t even lie to say you love me. So why the hell are you throwing away an entire marriage just to kiss me?” your scoff comes out more so like a plea. “You’re confusing me, Jin—”
“—that’s,” he abruptly pauses to stop himself from exploding, taking a deep breath before continuing, “that’s exactly why I can’t say it, Y/N! I don’t want to confuse you. I don’t want to disappoint my father. I-I don’t want to complicate matters more!”
“Then why the hell did you kiss me?!”
“I don’t know, okay?!” he throws his hands in the air. “I don’t know! It was a spur of the moment! I couldn’t stop myself from chasing after you and when I hugged you—I-I just wanted to, alright? I’m sorry.”
He’s... sorry.
Sorry for kissing you, sorry for acting as if your feelings had been reciprocated, sorry for breaking all the promises he made and pretending like he was going to patch things up again tonight. Speaking your mind and hearing his words are all that you need to finally understand what you need to do. Your heart drops but you hold your head high because your final verdict is the right thing to do. Maybe this time you’ll finally be able to cease these useless feelings. What's the point in pursuing a hopeless love?
The only one you would be hurting is yourself.
This epiphany, in itself, is enough to drape an ephemeral clarity over your frenzic self; and just like a bandaid over a scar, you’re able to function, if only just temporarily.
“Hey, Jin?” you call out softly to the boy kicking at nothing on the bare sidewalk. It’s hard not to melt under the delicate glance he throws over his shoulder. “I’m not… mad. Well, I kind of am. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m sorry for everything that I said about your upbringing. I know how close you are to your family. I’m sure you’ve been under a lot of pressure…”
“No, Y/N,” he shakes his head, turning his body to face you with a low hanging head, “it’s my fault. Even considering all that, I still shouldn’t have done that or any of this. I… I’m sorry for confusing you.”
Forcing a composed smile, you persevere, “do you have your fiance’s number?”
Head lifting with a frown, he answers, “yeah, what kind of a fiance would I be if I didn’t? Why though?”
“Right,” you say to yourself under your breath, hearing his ‘fiance’ echo relentlessly in your head. “I just need it, okay? To… to sort out everything...”
And just when you wonder how insensitive could this boy get...
“What?” he chuckles. “Are you going to fight for me?”
...it gets worse.
Rolling your eyes, you give him a hard, well-deserved slap against the chest before snickering at his loud wince and declaring your one last confession of the night.
“No, I could fight for us, but I won’t singlehandedly fight for you,” you then declare with a bitter smile, “I will, however, tell her how jealous I am.”
And that's your most irrefutable confession, one that has Jin stupefied for the future midnights to come.
❀ ❀ ❀
Morning arrives much sooner than you had anticipated. White puffs mark the air whilst you wrap yet another layer of scarf around your neck. It seems as though the breeze from a night ago had intentionally danced around town, lingering and spectating on the resolution of your five year long love conundrum. Ironically enough, the two of you reunite at the very spot where everything had first started… except this time, everything will finally end.
The pain he had marked in you inflicted by the words he could not bring himself to say still stains your every waking second.
“You have to do this. You can do this,” you incessantly chant to yourself, pacing back and forth beside the most prominent cherry blossom tree in town. “You have to do this. You can do this—”
“—Y/N, is that you?”
What you presume to be Youngji’s voice perks your ears. Looking up, you spot her holding a phone in her hands as she flickers between you and her screen. A quizzical quirk of the brow plasters across your face as you wave at her and she jogs over to you as quickly as she could in that pink, wool poncho and those tan, fluffy boots. “Hey, Youngji, right?”
“Yeah,” she says in between each pant of breath, “that’s me.”
Her hands immediately find refuge on her knees whilst she bends over to catch her breath. Typically, you’re the very self-aware type, but there isn’t anything you could do to stop yourself from staring. The girl strikes you as… flamboyant. With her dark red pigtails, bright smile, and dainty attire, she’s everything you’ve always imagined a female version of Jin would be like. It’s hard not to wonder… maybe an arranged marriage really can be a match made in heaven, but you force yourself out of that rabbit hole before having another breakdown in front of an innocent stranger.
The tang of jealousy, however, refuses to budge.
“Sorry, for,” she pants, holding her hand up to show you her phone screen, “calling out to you like that.”
“No, it’s fine,” you squint at the sight of the screen displaying a candid photo of you, taken on this very street on that very day, as you stuffed one of his breads in your mouth. Drawn on your face is a mustache and a unibrow. “Did Jin do—”
“—Jin gave me a terrible reference photo.”
Scoffing, you cross your arms, “damn it, Jin.”
Youngji crackles into a firework of uncontrollable laughter, rendering you stupefied. After a literal minute passes by, she finally manages to speak in between the bursts of giggles that follow, “you two—” giggle “—really are—” giggle “—close, huh?” And as a grand finale, she slaps her stomach with a loud sigh of relief that her laughs have come to an end. When she notices you staring at her bewilderedly, a light bulb flashes through her as she gasps and feigns a whimper, “o-oh! Ow! M-my baby!”
“You know you don’t have to pretend, right?” you can only let out a laugh of disbelief because you still can’t take in the mirror image your best friend. “Jin already told me about the fake pregnancy.”
“Oh, in that case,” she smiles widely before giving her stomach one more big, satisfying slap, “see, you guys really are so close!”
“I… I guess. I’m not sure if taking me out for one day after five years of radio silence really counts as close, though,” you then quickly add in with raised hands, “he only did so out of obligation, though! I swear it was nothing more!”
“Hmmm?” she hums, leaning in a curious ear with a cheshire-like smile. “Is it because of those promises he made?”
“...yeah, wait, he told you about those?”
Of course he did, idiot, they’re engaged.
“Well, something like that,” she shrugs, “so how much did he tell you?”
“About?”
“About the wedding, silly!”
“Uh, nothing much really. The pregnancy was a false rumor, the marriage was arranged by his father…”
“Father?” she inquires, watching you closely with those big, round eyeballs of hers.
“Yes?” you hesitantly nod. “Father?”
“Ah,” she nods, as if she finally catches drift of something, “I see.”
“Oh yeah,” you add, “I also found out it’s on my birthday.”
“What?!” her eyes grow wider, if they even possibly can. “Jin never told me that! What the heck, man? A wedding? On his best friend’s birthday?!”
“Yeah, yeah, I know right?” you nod passively before coming to an abrupt stop. “Wait, what? Why does it matter to you?”
“Of course it matters to me! You’re Jin’s best friend, aren’t you? You have no idea how much he talks about you back home. I know you so well that sometimes I feel like you might be my best friend,” she chimes before reaching out to cup your hands in hers. “Let’s celebrate properly with Jin after the wedding, okay?”
“Um, sure…”
But you don’t exactly plan on unnecessarily sticking around his life for any longer than the wedding… except, seeing how close she must be with Jin in addition to her loose-lip impression, you decide not to tell her that.
“So,” she drops her hands to the side, “what did you need to tell me?”
Why did you call her to meet you here again? After witnessing her flamboyant entrance, it’s hard for you to keep yourself from derailing.
“Oh, um,” you scratch the back of your head awkwardly, “I just wanted to meet my best friend’s fiance, that’s all.”
“Ahhh, I see.”
The woman pauses, nodding at you intently almost as if waiting for the real intentions to be revealed. Damn it, either you’re a literal open book or she reincarnated from the same soul as Jin’s.
“So…” you purse your lips. “Are you okay with it? The arranged marriage, I mean?”
“Well,” she shrugs, finally dropping the smile from her lips. “At first I hated the thought of it. I felt like I didn’t really have a choice, but… when I met Jin—” a smile is hinted in the corner of her lips and in the sparkle of her eyes “—I thought ‘I’m pretty lucky girl, aren’t I?’ I think the world must have finally taken pity on me.”
A soft, stifled laugh slips from you as your eyes fall to the ground and a bittersweet smile accompanies your lips, “yeah, you’re pretty lucky.”
“Don’t get me wrong though,” your eyes immediately shoot up to find her raising defensive hands, “it wasn’t some sort of a love at first sight. He’s handsome, sure, but—”
“—a marriage is a lifelong commitment—”
“—exactly,” she sighs, “I didn’t really know him, but when I was forced to spend time with him… I thought if I had to get married, then he would be the best option. He’s not a bad guy.”
“No,” you smile in your reverie, shaking your head, “he's not a bad guy at all; and when you really get to know him, his stupid dorky self, I think it’s impossible not to fall for him.”
“Yeah?”
“He’s mean when he jokes around but he’s actually very kind, he’s sensitive when you poke him where it hurts but he hides it deceptively well, he’ll apologize for being wrong when the both of you clearly know you’re in the wrong, he’ll cook and wear the hottest pink clothes he can find because ‘to hell with societal norms,’ he’ll tell you the dumbest dad jokes but I promise you’ll get used to them eventually, ” you let out a reminiscent laugh that comes out more like a sigh, “and, sometimes, very rarely, he’ll hurt you unintentionally, of course, but he’ll always go out of his way to make it up because that’s just… that’s Jin. That’s my best friend.”
A breeze passes by to perfectly mark the end of your cadence. Branches rustle above you and freshly budded cherry blossom petals flutter their way toward the grass underneath the two of you only to be risen once again by a following zephyr. Having been there throughout his and your lives, it’s almost as if the long-standing tree is agreeing to attest to your words.
“Wow,” Youngji finally says after witnessing your truthful albeit embarrassing spoken love letter, “I… I wouldn’t doubt any of it… but why are you telling me? Shouldn’t you be telling Jin?”
“I’m telling you, because,” you emphasize, “because I'm jealous of your position but I can't do anything about it so I want you to take good care of Jin. I just… I need to know he’ll be in good hands. I want him to be loved like the way that he loves. You’ll do that, won’t you?”
Youngji just nods. It’s the most somber response you’ve ever seen from her. Almost like the joining of hands in marriage has finally become reality.
“Do you…” you struggle to squeeze out of the knot in your throat, “do you love him…?”
“Y/N—” she begins but suddenly lets go of whatever she must have had planned “—yes, yes I do.”
“And… you’ll take care of him?”
Youngji bobs her head lightly, “yes, I will.”
“Promise?”
“...promise.”
“Okay, then I’m entrusting him to you, and,” you smile, leaning forward to shake her hands before heaving one last sigh, “and this time, please keep the promise.”
❀ ❀ ❀
A curse sinks into the thickness of the sapphire dusk that quickly descends upon the hushed city. Keys tinkle to decorate the silence of tonight’s resting wind, a silence that would have been accompanied by an equally passive woman and an oblivious man whose hands persist to fumble to his guest’s dismay.
Standing before a small willow, vintage-looking store tucked away in the corner of downtown, an inaudible breath ascends a cloud of white that momentarily shrouds the grand interior peeking from spotless windows that line the exterior. Golden warm studio lights illuminate the gorgeously exquisite ivory gowns from the trailing trains up to its waterfalls of dainty veils. Velvet suits and satin neckties accompany each headless mannequin, welcoming each passerby to imagine themselves in their wildest fairytales… your hand in his and his in yours as a fleeting moment becomes a sealed promise of a lifelong loyalty.
Breath completely taken away, you, yourself, almost fall prey to your own far-fetched dreams.
“I thought I said we shouldn’t meet up anymore,” your forced mutters drag you from your short-lived reveries, “why did you bring me here?”
“You said we shouldn’t meet up anymore, yet here you are,” Jin chirps before cheering to himself under his breath once the key finally clicks into place, “yes! Old man must have purposely given me these rusty old keys.”
Crossing your arms, you retort, “I came because you said your close friend from home would be here, too.”
Turning around to face you with his back to the door and a hand on the golden knob, he raises a quizzical brow, “and… are you not my close friend from home?”
“I thought you meant the other—”
“—this is my home, Y/N,” he says firmly, looking straight at you, “and I want my best friend to see me in my wedding suit before anyone else.”
“But why me…?”
“Because I only care about your opinion.”
He answered without hesitation, but in your head you figure he must have forgotten about Youngji, the true spotlight of the show.
Gritting your teeth, a staredown begins between the two of you; but the longer you face those unequivocal looks of determination in his eyes, the hotter your cheeks become in the middle of a contrastingly chilly night.
“Alright, fine.”
“Thanks,” he gives you a small, lopsided smile before pushing the door open with his back and ushering you in with a slight bow, “ladies first.”
Your eyes roll but not for very long when you step foot into the store and your mouth falls agape. The ceiling is much higher than you had perceived from outside, the sides are lined with grand, wooden staircases that lead to a second floor where hundreds upon hundreds of white dresses and black suits find purchase along the hangers, and the click of your heels against the marble tiles of the entrance floor echo into the extravagant expanse.
The wooden insulation of the store proves infallible when the door closes behind Jin and the shrewd air leaves you to a much more bearable surrounding. Standing affixed to the entrance, you watch as Jin strides toward the carpeted floor where a taupe curtain hanging from the ceiling drapes over a raised platform sits across its partner platform in the opposite of the room.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so enraptured by something aside from me,” Jin chuckles as he begins stripping the suit off of a black, velvety mannequin before pointing at the mannequin standing beside the opposite platform, “oh, why don’t you try on some dresses while I’m at it?”
“What?” you scoff, finally taking a step onto the carpet. “First off, I never stared at you like that before. Second, why the hell would I do that? It’s your wedding, not mine.”
“I asked the store owner for permission and picked a dress for you to try on,” he continues, finally stopping in the midst of unbuttoning his white, collared shirt when he looks up to find the fear in your eyes. “Hey, haven’t you always wanted to try one of these?”
“Yeah,” you laugh in disbelief because he actually listened to your past rambles, “but never under these circumstances.”
“C’mon, you never know if you’ll ever have a chance like this again,” he gestures once more when he notices the start of your contemplation, “c’mon, go on!”
You really don’t want to. It’s that nagging feeling of something going completely wrong tonight if you were to succumb and let yourself go. After all, your worst fear is yourself. It doesn’t feel right and you begin to wonder if it’s alright for you to hold onto this moment you’ve always dreamed about: dolling up and swearing your vows side by side with Jin.
If you were to live out your fairytale, just for tonight, would you finally be able to sleep dreamlessly at night?
“...fine,” you groan and storm across the room, tossing your purse into the ruby sofas and stepping onto the platform. Turning around to face a gleeful Jin, you’re about to scowl at him until your eyes flicker between the cheeky grin on that youthful face and those sculpted abdomen of his elevated by the lighting above. Cheeks flushing red, you gulp at the unseen sight before clutching the curtain in your hands and swinging it closed with a mumble, “and at least have some decency and use the curtains, God damn it…”
The freezing touch of your hands doesn't hold a candle to the heat of your face. Trying to calm your racing heart, you curse to yourself at the way he merely cackles at you and, even worse, the way your heart intensifies in response.
“Yes, ma’am!”
“...shut up,” you say more to yourself and your deafening heart.
The gown standing before you, however, is no help to your case either, for when you glance over the dress, the long train that could awe an entire room, the complimenting silhouette that doesn’t scream too over-the-top but enough to fulfill the little girl within you, and the classic lace sleeves that you’ve gushed over whilst skimming through magazines, you realize Jin had always been attentive even when he was stuffing his face with bread or even when he was being petty over an argument and you tried to rectify with incessant small talk.
It’s at this moment that you acknowledge the rabbit hole you had just willingly fallen into and the impossibility of its towering escape.
“So,” Jin calls out to you as the sound of rustling clothes fill the silent air, “what do you want for your birthday tomorrow?”
“My birthday? Oh, right,” you slam palm to your forehead, having dwelled over the marriage and consequently forgetting your own birthday. “Uh, nothing really. I haven’t really thought about it this year.”
“Really? You? Y/N? Not planning her own birthday?” he gasps. “Who are you and what did you do to Y/N?”
“Oh, shut up. With age comes other problems to deal with...”
...problems like you.
“C’mon,” he chuckles. “You have to have something. You can’t tell me you’ve gotten every single thing checked off of that old ‘birthday gift ideas’ list you gave me.”
“I mean… I wouldn’t say I’m very far from it and it’s not like you were actually going to give me everything I asked for. Say, what did I even have on that list?” your eyes wander to the towering curtains that envelop you as your hands reach behind to the buttons on your back. “A bowl of your tofu soup, some pocket money, a matching sweater, a pair of earrings, a necklace, and a… ring.” The word slips from your lips and it floats in the stagnant air before you can even do anything about it. His silence rings in your ears, so you quickly add in, “but I don’t want materialistic stuff like that anymore.”
“...oh, really?”
“Nope,” you heave a heavy sigh and pat the poofy material of the skirt down, “I think I’ve come to realize that… I just want to be loved. I don’t need a dress or a necklace or a ring… you wouldn’t understand, but I don’t just want to hear those words. I want to feel them. I want to be loved.”
But only by him.
A lingering silence drifts long enough for you to start panicking until, finally, he answers, “no, I understand.”
“...well,” you quickly chirp as you fumble with the lacey material of your dress, “enough about me, what do you want for your big day, hm?”
“Why would I need a present from you?” he remarks. You can hear him finishing his final touches and you can barely stop your heart from leaping out of your chest. “You’ve given me enough already.”
“You mean I’ve given you enough earfuls and tears,” you retort, clutching onto the curtains as you shut your eyes to muster every courage within you. “Isn’t there anything I can give you? Anything you want?”
Counting down to yourself, the curtains and drawn open in one, swift swing; and when your eyelids flutter open, you find him standing on the platform across from you, dressed in a classic black and white suit with the curtains clutched in his hands like a mirror image of you. He glances over you from head to toe, as you do to him, until the both of you settle in each other’s gazes for what seems like an eternity, willingly lost and ever-so-enraptured.
You almost forget this isn’t actually your wedding.
“This,” he answers with a soft smile, “this is enough.”
“...stop it.”
JIn frowns, “stop what?”
“Stop… looking at me like that,” you articulate, hands covering your bashful grin. “It’s making me feel self-conscious.”
“Hey, it’s not my fault I have such a good eye at picking clothes for you!” he says whilst pointing an accusatory finger. “I guess 22 year old Jin had a pretty good sense of fashion after all.”
“You picked this five years ago…?”
The man shrugs but his high chin says otherwise regarding his humility, “I told you Kim Seokjin is a prepared man of his word.” Eyes peering across to wink at you, he continues a bit more seriously, “I might not be able to fulfill all of our promises, but this is the closest I can to it.”
“Jin… you’re…” you laugh in disbelief, bashfully avoiding his intent gaze, “...you’re so incredibly stupid that I can feel it from all the way here.”
“Oh, yeah?” he grins mischievously and takes a step toward you and off the platform. “How about now?”
“Stop it, don’t spread your stupidity to me.”
He spreads his arms out wide whilst taking another few steps forward, “why not? Aren’t we supposed to be together through thick and thin?”
“No, not really,” you adamantly shake your head amidst a hysterical fit of giggles, “don’t come any closer.”
“Oh, no,” he feigns worry. Another footstep. “I can’t stop myself.” He approaches even closer. “The stupidity is spreading!”
With him just a footstep away, you cower behind the shield of your hands, “stop it, stop looking at me like that—”
—and just as you squeal, his arms wrap around you to pull you into a tight embrace.
Like two lost puzzle pieces, his hands fit perfectly in the small of your back and his chin rests comfortably in the crook of your neck. His hair grazes against your burning cheeks. His scent envelops you into a rosy haze. He could probably feel the beat of your chest against his, but you wouldn’t know when you’re preoccupied by the thuds of his own. You had never been aware of the lonesome emptiness you’ve felt all these years until now, under the warmth of his touch that completes your other half.
You almost forget to breathe until he takes a deep breath and lets out a slow, dreary sigh.
“You are so beautiful.”
Under any other circumstances, you would have smacked him for lying. Perhaps it’s the stir of the starry skies or the impending occasion or even the look he made on his way to you with a gaze that oozed with absolute adoration, but something tells you he’s being his genuine self tonight… and that’s what you fear the most.
“You shouldn’t be saying that, Jin,” you say, stroking his head buried in your shoulder, “and you shouldn’t be looking at any women but Youngji with those eyes.”
Whether he’s quietly reflecting or stubbornly disagreeing, Jin remains silent. His breath entangles with yours, syncing with the wavelengths that you two have been running for an ongoing seven years and, perhaps, beyond.
He frustrates you to your wits’ end. There’s nothing he hasn’t made you question. At times, when you’re tossing and turning in bed and hoping for a way out of that cavern of a mind, you wish time could skip to a year in which the voices no longer haunt you at night; and yet, when you’re here buried in his arms, you would do anything to freeze and relish this fragment in time.
It isn’t right. You two aren’t right and you know it isn’t right… but how do you deny yourself of the cure to those deep scars when he, himself, wishes to be downed?
It takes everything in you to finally drop your hands from his locks to his shoulder. Just as you’re about to deny the tempting elixir, Jin lifts his head along with his gaze that now meets yours, “Y/N, I have something I need to tell you.”
“...y-yeah?”
The windows to his soul twinkle underneath the dim chandeliers above. Those starry dark brown eyes simply take your breath away.
“My dad,” his voice quivers like the water that wells in his eyes; and when you know he’s about to bawl, you pat his head ever-so-endearingly. Gulping, he finds the courage to continue, “he’s sick.”
“Oh... oh, Jin,” you murmur, quickly wiping the few tears that drop onto his flush cheeks before bringing him into another tight embrace. “I’m sorry.”
“I only moved—” and that’s what cracks his buoyant front into a full on bawl “—I only moved to take care of him!”
“I understand.”
He shakes his head, “I didn’t want to abandon you!”
“No, Jin, I know,” your voice is buried underneath his whimpers, “I’m sorry for saying that. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“I didn’t know things would turn out like this!” he cries, holding you even closer. “I didn’t know!”
“It’s okay, Jin. Really, it’s okay. It’ll be okay.”
“No, it won’t be okay,” his voice hitches in the midst of his hiccups, “my father is dying and now I’m walking down the aisle with a woman I don’t even love!”
Your strokes come to a temporary stop because how could fate be so twisted? Who is it to decide whose time shall begin and whose time is up? You have to hold your breath along with the waterworks that sour your eyes. You can’t cry now. He needs your stability.
He needs you.
“Did you…” you take a shaky breath, leaning back to watch him cover the messy state of his face, “did you tell your dad?”
“I-I couldn’t,” he stutters, voice muffled by his voice, “you know how long he’s been waiting for this.”
I know,” you ponder for a second before hesitating to continue, “...why didn’t you consider me?”
“I—” his hiccup interrupts him as he roughly smears his tear-stained cheeks with his palms “—I thought you hated me. I didn’t think you would agree. I thought our promises were just a joke. But when you confessed that night, when you said you would fight for us—” his voice cracks again as he laughs at himself, eyes to the ground “—I thought damn, fuck, how did I mess up so hard? I should have fought for us. I’m so stupid—”
“—no you’re not—”
“—so fucking stupid!”
His self-reprimanding curse echoes in the room. Each of his demeaning scorns inciting a fiery justice in you.
“No,” you state, “you’re not stupid.”
Without the dignity to face you, his hands clenched into fist and he continues with bangs shrouding his sorrowful eyes, “I’m sorry, Y/N. I hurt you—”
“—no, Jin, you did not—”
“—I messed us up—”
“—no, Jin, look at me, hey, look at me,” you place a finger under his chin to lift his spirits until those bloodshot eyes of his find refuge in yours. Smiling, you speak, “see? I’m okay. So what are you apologizing for?”
“Aren’t you… mad?”
“Mad? No, silly,” you laugh, wiping another tear. “Sad? Maybe.”
“See—”
“—sad because I wasn’t there by your side when you needed me… and maybe a bit sad that I won’t be the one holding you like this tomorrow,” you apologize with a soft smile over the latter jab that incites a wince from the boy. “Why didn’t you tell me about your father?”
“I didn’t think it was that serious,” he hiccups, “and when I found out, I tried to call you but it didn’t go through.”
“Shit,” you curse under your breath, “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he takes a deep breath to calm his high, “it’s not your fault.”
“And it’s not yours either,” you affirm, breaking out into a laugh when you take another look at his reddened eyes and dampened cheeks. “Look at you! Why are you looking like a mess on our wedding day, huh?! At least let us be ignorantly happy for one day!”
“What…?” he frowns whilst hastily smearing every last evidence of his breakdown on his face. The result is an equally red, irritated skin across his cheeks. “What’re you talking about? Kim Seokjin never looks like a mess… hey, what’re you laughing at?!”
“Look at your tie, idiot! What kind of a rich son are you if you can’t even tie it correctly? Come over here,” you say just as you grab the end of his necktie to pull him up onto the platform. With his necktie now at your eye-level, you begin to unravel whatever knot he had attempted. All the while, you can feel his gaze as he watches you do your thing, completely enamored. This time, it’s your turn to turn red. To distract yourself from the rising self-consciousness, you clear your throat, “call me whenever you’re going through a hard time, okay? I’ll give you my new number…”
The piece of fabric flails around into equally atrocious knots that Jin had previously created until you groan in frustration and disassemble everything. You had practiced this so many times while he was gone, foolishly believing it would come in handy the day he returned, but why does nothing ever work out the way you want it to?
“I swear it worked last time I tried…”
Your best friend just watches silently, chuckling as you wrap the fabric around your own neck this time; and when he speaks, much steadier like the Jin you have always known, he looks you directly in the eye. “Youngji told me about your guys’ conversation.”
“Huh?” you pause as soon as your embarrassing declaration of love begins reciting itself in your head, but not even the resumed work of your hands could distract you from the ever-growing shade of red. “O-oh, that… what about it?”
“I heard what you said about me.”
“Yeah?” you hum nonchalantly, even though the trembling of your hands and the avoidance of your eyes from his give you away. “Well, did she tell you about all the complaints I made, too? About you being a stupid dork?”
“She did,” he utters before placing a finger below your chin to avert your attention to those dazzling works you desperately avoided, “but would you still be willing to marry this stupid dork?”
“This isn’t even a real wedding,” you feign a frown under the spotlight of his intent gaze, “why are you asking me a question like that?”
“Sorry, I didn’t have the funds to hire a real priest.”
“You don’t need to for a fake wedding.”
“I thought you said we should be ‘ignorantly happy for one day?’”
The bantering just never stops, does it?
“Okay, well… to answer your question,” you mutter, eyes averting to the side, “under normal circumstances…”
“Under normal circumstances…” he repeats.
“Where you aren’t engaged…”
“Where I’m not engaged…”
“And your father approved of me…”
“And my father approved of you…”
“Then yes,” you say without hesitation, eyes returning to find a newfound comfort in his relieved gaze, “yes, I would marry you.”
“And that’s why I love you,” Jin smiles, chuckling softly. “I’ll always want to marry you.”
And just as a nearby clock tower strikes its church bells to signal the stroke of midnight, Jin grabs the end of your necktie and pulls you in to press his lips onto yours. The body of his warmth and the acceptance of an inevitable end to your paths serve as the last page of a book never to be read again; and yet, he holds himself close, refusing to let you go.
But when the end nears and the magic of the bells resume time once again, the two of you pull away to catch your breaths. Forehead against yours, Jin gives you one last, fleeting kiss.
“Happy birthday, Y/N.”
❀ ❀ ❀
Deja vu would be the perfect term to describe this feeling. You can almost see yourself in the room of hundreds, stealing glances at the man from afar. It only takes one blink for you to relive the rollercoaster of jubilance and confessions and tears. In the split second of darkness, the past week flickers before you like a film reel: breaking down in the middle of the hallway right in front of Jin, staring bewilderedly at the large bouquet in the hand of a man at the office, confessing with tears that stain your face and sobs that conquer your voice, meeting the woman who had stolen your spot beside Jin, and holding him in your arms as he cries his heart out at the stroke of midnight.
And just as quickly as the whirlwind of memories had taken you on a trek of time, your eyes flutter open to find yourself in another suffocating room of hundreds once again.
Youngji [8:39 P.M.] Hey Y/N do you think you can visit me real quick?
The glaring text on your phone screen glows in an otherwise dimly lit reception room. Thumb hovering over the screen, your mind goes blank. People pass by you, commotions and laughter fill every corner of the room, and you stand there frozen and affixed to the floor beside the table of food with a glass of red wine in your hands.
“Hey, Y/N,” someone whispers into your ear and you immediately turn your phone off only to find Alex on her tiptoes, “what’s the matter?”
“Oh, um, nothing,” you respond under your breath, “it’s just that someone wants to talk to me.”
“Well, you better hurry then,” she ushers you with a gripping hand on your left arm, “the ceremony is about to start anytime now.”
“O-oh, okay,” you nod, allowing your footsteps to follow the momentum of her push.
This isn’t exactly what you had planned, for the original plan involved your complete avoidance of the groom and bride, but it’s unsurprising that things never quite go your way. Nothing could quite topple you like last night’s revelation anyways. Taking a deep breath, you weave through the audience, wandering about the venue until you finally find yourself in front of a door with a “BRIDE WAITING ROOM” printed in gigantic black letters taped to it.
Hesitantly, you knock, “hello? This is Y/N…? Youngji called for me—”
“—Y/N!” The wooden door swings wide open with a highly distressed Youngji hiding behind it. Before you can reply or even confirm the identity of the woman, her hands clutch yours and pull you into the room with a force unimaginable for a human of her size. Practically lurching forward, a heap of air is knocked from your lungs just as the door slams closed. Coughs force their way through your throat, but Youngji wastes no time to rush to your side. “Y/N, this is an emergency! I need help!”
“W—” you wheeze, peering up at her as you’re doubled over “—what in the world are you talking about?”
“I don’t know,” her hands jitter as she paces back and forth, “I don’t know why I feel so… so nervous!”
“Hold on,” you frown, finally straightening your back, “that’s perfectly normal. It’s your wedding—”
“—please don’t say that word again,” she begins biting her freshly white-coated nails.
“What word? Normal? Wedding? Your—”
“—I can’t believe it’s my wedding…” she says repeatedly, hands flying to her head and disheveling her previously perfectly conditioned curls. She suddenly turns to face you, eyes wider than ever with a look that screams of an epiphany. “I-I don’t think I can go there. Y/N, I don’t think I can go out there!”
“What?!” you almost yell, flabbergasted. Recoiling from your outburst, you start much more softly this time. “Are you sure? I’m sure it’s just your nerves getting to you. You’ve been okay with it for at least a year, right?”
“Why?” her eyes widen to unprecedented diameters as she grabs your arm for support. “Is it because it’s too late? Do you think I should back out, Y/N?”
“What? No, no, no, calm down, follow me,” you shake your head, grasping her hand and guiding her to the chair in the center of the room where an entire photo shoot has been set up. Lowering yourself to a squat, you give her a squeeze as firm as the smile on your lips. “Hey, you’ll be okay. It’s just the jitters. Everyone gets them. I’m sure Jin is freaking out in his room, too.”
“...okay,” she nods, pouting as her eyes lower to your hands that hold hers. Peering up at her from below, you can’t help but notice how beautiful she looks dolled up on this special occasion. From the extravagant poof of her princess gown to the gorgeous glow of the bride herself, you find yourself lost in a trance that burns with heart-panging jealousy. You almost miss her when she murmurs, “how are you so calm, Y/N?”
“Huh?” you raise a brow and laugh. “Why would I be nervous? I’m not the one getting married here.”
“But… your best friend is getting married,” she shifts to get a clearer look of you but finds you with your eyes to the floor, “are you sure you’re okay with that?”
“Of… of course. I’m happy for him,” you say through barely parted lips and stand to your feet before making your way to the door. “It’s not exactly traditional, but do you want me to get Jin? Maybe he can calm you down—”
“—do you know why Jin agreed to this arrangement?”
Freezing in your tracks, you throw a glance over your shoulder to meet her distraught gaze.
“Why are you asking me that now?”
“Because,” she blurts, clearly without thinking as words fail to follow through, “because I want your blessing! I want you to be okay with it!”
“Blessing...?”
“Yes,” she nods. “I can live with marrying a man I don’t love because I know I’ll come around, but I don’t think I can live knowing I’ve broken your relationship with Jin.”
Your weight shifts from your left to your right but the force of burden weighs immeasurably heavier on your very being. There’s nothing that would have prepared you for her request. Preparation, however, proves unnecessary, for your mind runs on its own and the words come to you as if rehearsal is all it's ever done.
“I don’t think I’m in the position to grant you permission. That’s your decision and Jin’s,” you say, “and if my blessing is what you’re asking for, then I can give you it as many times as it takes to convince you. But if you’re asking for me to be okay with it, then I’m sorry. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to give you that.”
Those are your last parting words as you slump on the wall behind you and a heavy sigh is shared between the two women on opposite sides of the door. Head low like a woman unjustly ashamed for speaking her truth, you take a deep breath with those heavy shoulders that carry the weight of a woman who had essentially cursed the joining of two hands. Nevertheless, somehow, you persist to make your way through the halls just as the ceremony begins; but as the audience settles and the light dims, something tells you the guilt that intoxicates your blood would have a longer-lasting aftermath than you had first expected.
“Hey,” Alex leans into you, whispering, “is it just me or does Jin seem really jittery?”
“...no,” you answer, making sure to keep yourself hushed amidst a room of seated spectators. From the second bench to the front, fortunately on the opposite side of where Jin’s parents sit in the front row, you get a clear view of Jin and Youngji in between the black silhouettes of a couple heads; but anyone in the room can tell the bright studio lights and elevated platform don’t help his constantly shuffling case. “I don’t think it’s just you.”
“I see… so both the groom and bride are getting cold feet, huh?”
“Well,” you utter, quipping, “in Jin’s case, he’d probably just say he forgot to sleep with socks on.”
Alex turns to you with sheer confusion across her furrowed brows, “huh?”
But before Alex could inquire further, the priest clears his throat and begins the opening ceremony. The officiality of it all, a long-dreaded image of Jin standing by another woman’s side manifesting into reality, has you subconsciously sent into a frenzy.
“Dear Beloved, we are gathered here today in the presence of these witnesses, to join Kim Seokjin and Heo Youngji in matrimony commended to be honorable among all…”
The clearing of his throat strikes once and hard against your chest. Each word that reverberates in the room echoes the vibrating pain in the blood pumped from a gaping wound. Your chest heaves and heaves and your lungs struggle to maintain composure, and while your breakdown may have gone unseen by the rest of the universe, you know for sure only two would catch sight of your state.
You and him.
“...if there is any person who can show cause why they should not be joined together…”
The priest continues and the tension in the audience rises by the second of a stress-inducing prompt, but the moment Jin catches your eyes and the panic painted across it, his every attention remains on you. Guilt should’ve painted your expression now, having stolen the groom’s admiration from the rightful bride by his side, but all you can do is relish in a fleeting moment you deem the least this cruel world owed you.
Maybe he feels the same way, because something catches in your throat like the hunch that has chills running down the nape of your neck. You don’t dare move an inch. You fear any movement would give you away, though you’re sure he already knew the second he met you halfway.
His eyes, those dazzling eyes that could single-handedly freeze any moment in time, they ask you for a permission only he could grant.
“...let them speak now or forever hold their peace.”
No one speaks but the thick air that engulfs every witness in the room is telling enough. Holding a shared, bated breath, everyone awaits and prays for the quick passing of this deafening silence. Your heart is pounding so hard you worry your passing out would be the one interruption to the ceremony, if not anything else. It takes everything in you to remain hidden, glued to the chair. You can hear every single movement in this room, the squeaking of a nearly retired bench, the rustling of clothes amidst a fidgeting audience, the anxious tapping of someone’s heels against the wooden floor, yet no one dares to speak now.
The priest sighs a soft breath of relief.
Everyone but you follows along.
The priest clears his throat and pro—
“—I would like to speak.”
A loud gasp travels across the room. Every witness, including the priest himself, stares at the young man, wide-eyed. The knot in your throat inhibits you from following suit, but the hammer against your chest works harder than ever; because there he is, your best friend, standing boldly before the audience with a puffed chest and a tightened fist that brace for the repercussions.
It all happens so suddenly, so swiftly. The strings that were left raveled now unraveled, the paths that were abandoned now explored, and the love of a lifetime whomst once bid you farewell now holds on with a determination that tells you they aren’t quite ready to let go, by happenstance or by conviction, everything falls into place.
You had reprimanded yourself relentlessly for envisioning a moment like this and you truly believed this would be the worst case scenario, so why is it that only now, as your peering eyes are enamored by the sparkles in his, you find yourself smiling proudly and thinking to yourself… that’s your man.
“Father, mother,” Jin turns to face his parents in the front row, declaring loudly and firmly, “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.”
“What,” Alex shrills under her breath as she clutches your hands, “what is going on, Y/N?!”
Her voice doesn’t reach you and neither do her cold, nudging hands. The ongoing commotion around the room are like white noise in your background. You can’t even spare a second of your attention to the picturesque vision before you, the man who fights not for you but for the two of you.
Jin bows, head hanging low to his parents and the audience, “I’m sorry for saying this too late.”
Everybody watches as his mother attempts to hold her husband in place. All is in vein, however, when one look of the baffled expression on her husband’s face conveys enough to everyone of the mayhem that is soon to ensue. He rips her grip apart from his arm and storms to his feet, pointing a finger at his apologetic son.
“W—” he struggles to find his breath “—what are you saying? You said you were okay with this just last week!”
“I did,” Jin affirms with his head still hanging low, “I thought I was okay with it until this week.”
“How—”
“—honey…” the mother murmurs.
“No, changing your mind is one thing, but changing it at the very last second is another,” his father shakes his head, yanking his hand and stumbling on his feet before his distraught son could lend a helping hand. “Did I teach you to inconvenience others like this? Do you know how much trouble you’re causing Youngji and her family?”
“I do,” he says. “I’m sorry.”
His father grunts, “don’t you see, Seokjin? ‘Sorry’ can’t fix everything—”
“—actually, Mr. Kim, it’s not just Jin,” Youngji bounces to Jin’s side then pivots to bow to her parents who sit in the row before you, “I, too, don’t want to marry anyone until I really know them.”
Physically, the spotlight remains affixed to the stage. Mentally, it feels as though everyone’s attention is gradually creeping its way toward you. It takes everything in you and the grip of Alex’s hands not to run from the prying eyes.
“What?” their parents gasp. “Didn’t you say you were okay with it if it were Jin?”
“I did!” she insists, suddenly retracting. “I did, until…”
“I’m sorry,” Jin lifts his head to turn to Youngji’s parents before bowing once again, “this is all my fault.”
“No, no, you wouldn’t do this... tell me, son,” his father takes a step toward the stage, beckoning for an explanation, “tell me who did this to you?”
Jin lifts his head, brow furrowing and lips thinning as he chooses to remain silent to his father’s question. Suddenly, it’s everyone’s duty to catch the perpetrator. The audience begins craning their neck every which way to skim over the possible candidates. Your heart sends threatening waves of pain that foreshadow the inevitable chaos you’re about to be dragged into.
You can barely move from staring at the floor in between the groom and bride but you can spot the gradual direction of his mother’s eyes making its way toward you… and when they finally spot you, a lightbulb flashing across her eyes the second you make the lethal mistake of meeting her gaze for the first time in many years, it’s as though her son’s rebellion is the only thing that makes sense in this universe.
Only naturally, his father catches onto his partner’s maternal instincts along with the rest of the crowd as their diverged attention converges, one head turning after another, to stare you down—some with awe plastered across their jealous front, some with ghastly colors than drain their face of blood.
“Is that… you, Y/N?” his father’s voice echoes in the room. “Seokjin, don’t tell me…”
“No, father!” Jin jumps in, holding up a defensive pair of hands as he attempts to quell the fiery in his father’s temper. Wide-eyed and panicked, he glances between you and his father. “It isn’t her fault. I swear. I”ll explain—”
“—don’t tell me you’re going through all this trouble for a childish crush from five years ago?”
A loud shriek began the chaos the second Jin’s father exploded, lurching forward with a vexing fist. Everyone in the front rows jump to their feet to hold him back, whereas people in the back rows stand to their tiptoes to get a better view of the climactic show, which includes a once-to-be-groom insisting his father punishes him and a once-to-be-bride slapping her ex-partner in the head for his submission.
People are hysterically laughing, crying, screaming, yelling, fighting, but you sit there, frozen and petrified, until a hand shakes your entire being to your feet.
“Y/N, Y/N, God damn it Y/N, earth to Y/N!” Alex raises her hand, just about to give you one hard slap to the cheek when you suddenly flinch awake. She then hastily pushes you toward the door in the corner of the room whilst everyone is too distracted to notice your discreet escape. She looks you directly in the eye, “you need to run before things get too crazy. I’ll handle things here for now.”
“But Alex, I’m at fault here—”
“—yes, I mean, maybe,” she corrects herself with the shake of her head, “but you being here doesn’t help matters. I’ll help Jin and Youngji.”
“But—”
“—now go,” she starts your momentum with an encouraging push, “go!”
Nodding, you begin your long trek of the night. You run and you run and you run. Your mind runs blank but your feet run a mind of its own. You sprint down the dimly lit streets, you pay no mind to the traffic lights of endlessly empty streets, and your hair twirls in the wind that impedes your speed down the hills. Your surroundings become a blur as your arms swing desperately, your chest heaves incessantly, your eyes sting with tears, and your lips spill anguished sounds of incoherency until somehow, under the sway of the town’s cold spring air and your flux of emotions, you find yourself in a familiar street of your greatest dreams.
Depleted of gas, your feet stumble into a trot that has your knee nearly buckling, which then turns into a jog that then drifts into an untroubled walk in which your lungs try to catch up and your mind is scrambling at a hundred miles per hour but you, yourself, have gone elsewhere.
The luminescence of the full moon is blinding but all the more soothing as you navigate your way through this street you’ve walked one too many times before. For some reason, perhaps out of habit or a hope for something waiting at the end of the tunnel, you begin to count each passing light post. Seven fluorescent lights, you count, seven lights resembling the rays of moonlight until you finally reach your old acquaintance of many years at the corner of the street.
Leaning your head back to stare at the familiar white text on a green sign post, you smile at the homely sight.
CHERRY BLOSSOM AVE
A comforting breeze blows by you, the branches above you rustle in the wind, and the cherry petals from your old pal flutter into the air to envelop you in a solace you had long sought but failed to obtain. It’s like the calm after a storm. Not quite disconnected from the string that loops around your fourth finger to those of another man’s—no, you couldn’t unravel it after all this heartache—but at least away from the prying eyes that could tear you apart and away from the people who whispered gossip of matters they had none in.
Hours seem to pass in the clouds that retire to reveal patches of new twinkling ornaments. You would have believed it if someone were to tell you all control of time lies within the blink of your eyes. The silence was calming initially; but the longer you stand here and the more the numbness begins to fade, the more you become aware of your lonesome circumstances.
The silence is deafening. It knows your greatest fears and your innermost thoughts. You can’t handle it. You can’t bear the thought of being left alone to that voice in your head.
You have to go.
Where?
You don’t know. You just know you have to go somewhere. You can envision all the places you can run to but all the roads lead you to one destination. Yes, anywhere would be fine, anywhere that leads you to him.
“This marks the second time you’ve ever been so enraptured by something other than me.”
Whirling around, seconds seem to become milliseconds and gravity becomes a law unbeknownst to earth, for you can’t believe the sight your eyes lay upon. There he is, standing by the tree just a few meters away with a loosened necktie and disheveled hair, almost as if a pitiful albeit wondrous mirage crafted by your shoddy prayers to the moon above.
“Hey dummy,” he simply utters, taking a step or two toward you before poking your forehead, “what? Why’re you staring at me like I’m a ghost?”
“What?” you manage to say under your breath. “I’m not staring…”
“I was just joking, you know?” he chuckles. “I wouldn’t be jealous over a street post. Psh, I’m not that dumb—”
“—why…” you frown when he quirks a brow, “why are you here? How are you here?”
“Oh no, she’s gone crazy,” Jin laughs at the stupefied look you give him. “At least an hour or two has passed since you left. Somehow, I managed to sit my father down and explain myself.”
“And… what did he say?” your hands begin fidgeting. “He must hate me, doesn’t he…”
“I wouldn’t say ‘hate,’ per se… he’s perfectly okay with you. In fact, he likes you, really. He’s just mad at how things happened. After he calmed down, though, he understood where I was coming from.”
Cautiously, you peek at those eyes that peer down at yours, “and your mother…?”
“She said she saw it coming from a mile away. Apparently she saw us arguing at the engagement party and knew right away,” Jin purses his lips. “Psh, yeah, as if I’m that easy to read.”
Allowing yourself the smallest of laughs, you still can’t seem to rid yourself of that panging guilt. “And… what about Youngji?”
Jin stares intently at your expression before cracking a smile and chuckling, ruffling your hair, “don’t go crying on me now, Y/N. Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”
“But I just,” your voice cracks, “I just hate myself for ruining everything for everyone—”
“—hey,” he cups his fingers underneath your chin to lift your gaze to his, “you did not ruin anything for anyone. I did this. I chose to fight for us.”
Hesitantly, you nod and he smiles in response.
“Youngji’s still explaining to her family right now. She told me to find you and Alex told me you would probably here.”
Frowning, you mutter to yourself, “how did she know…?”
“Well,” Jin drops his hand from your chin to raise them in the air, “we did promise to swear our wedding vows here, didn’t we?”
“So what?” you deadpan. “You’re gonna marry me now after all this mess?”
“I know you really want to marry me as soon as possible, but I think I’m gonna have to take a break from weddings for now.”
Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “ditto.”
“But hey, I may have already broken the third promise,” one corner of his lips curve into an apologetic smile before he shrugs, “but that doesn’t mean I can’t marry you in the future! Plus, I may or may not have promised my father I would marry you in the near future to make up for it, so...”
Scoffing, you gawk, “and who said I would marry you?”
“Who wouldn’t marry me?!”
The two of you stare at each other in silence, but the mirrored grin that stretches across your lips are undeniable. Soon enough, a loud fit of giggles and cackles fill the air. It happens all too quickly. The banters come to you like second nature, the conversation flows like a river through time, and somehow you find yourself lying beside him on the blazer he had laid out on the grassy hill and star-gazing for hours on end.
It’s almost like you’ve seen this all before, just five years aged.
“So,” Jin speaks, “how’s your birthday been?”
“Oh, shut the hell up.”
“What?” he cackles, getting up to lean on his arm whilst hovering you. “You know it’s not too late to tell me what you want for your birthday!”
“I already told you,” you narrow your eyes at him, “I wasn’t joking when I said what I said.”
Jin smiles, “in that case…”
He leans in to diminish the distance between his lips and yours. A lulling zephyr blows gently on the cherry petals as you close your eyes and you can picture the way they gracefully descend upon the two lovers below. Having witnessed the unforeseeable promises from start to finish, it’s almost as though an old accomplice was applauding a long-awaited finale.
And when he finally pulls away, eyelids fluttering open just as yours do, he speaks, “happy birthday.”
“What was that for?” you giggle.
Jin’s mouth falls agape, “I’m giving you what you wanted for your birthday!”
“Well,” you purse your lips, “where’s my ring to confirm it then?”
“After all this time, do you really need a ring at this point to confirm my love for you?” Jin rolls his eyes. “You know I’ll always want to be by your side, married or not.”
A fit of laughs escape you as your hand reaches up to squeeze his cheeks, “I know, I know. I’m just joking.”
“Well, good, cause I’m bankrupt at the moment,” Jin sighs, plopping back onto the grass beside you. A momentary silence passes before he turns his head to look at you, “just to make sure, you said you wanted love, right?”
Turning to meet those sparkles in his gaze, you answer, “yeah?”
“You said you wanted to feel love, right?”
Your grin grows wider by the second, “yeah?”
“Well,” he says, “do you feel it?”
“I do,” you answer. “What about you? Do you feel it?”
The vows hold a truth much closer to his heart this time around, and he smiles as he swears...
“I do, too.”
#bts scenarios#jin scenarios#bts angst#bts fluff#jin angst#jin fluff#jin x reader#jin x you#seokjin x reader#seokjin x you#bts x reader#bts x you#bts x y/n#jin x y/n#seokjin angst#seokjin fluff#bts au#bts imagines#jin imagines#seokjin scenarios#bts fic#seokjin fic#bts fanfic#seokjin fanfic#jin fanfic#bts oneshot#bangtan fanfic#bangtan fluff#bangtan angst#bangtan jin
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What You're Looking For (myg)
Summary: Yoongi's definitely falling in love with you, but he's hesitant to tell you because as an idol, he can't give you what you're looking for.
Warnings: public sex, some possessive behavior, vaginal fingering, little bit of degradation
Word Count: 3633
A/n: A Yoongi commission, hope you enjoy!
Being an idol isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sure, the money is nice, he doesn’t have to worry about bus fare or how he’s going to eat each week. He can write songs anytime he wants to, has use of all this impressive equipment that his pre-debut self would have lost his mind over. The fame, on the other hand, is something that Yoongi struggles with.
He can’t exactly leave his apartment and go to the store for ramen and beer anymore. He can’t exactly walk to the bus station and go down to the park, feed the birds like he used to. He also can’t take anyone out on a date, which pre-debut Yoongi would have never dreamed of doing, anyway.
But now he’s on the wrong side of his 20’s and actually dating is something he wants to do and can’t, not just because of his fame but also because of contracts. It isn’t as if their manager had sat them down and said absolutely no dating, but it’s certainly implied. Their schedules are tight enough that there’s only a few hours of free time per week, and that’s not on accident, Yoongi knows.
Pre-debut Yoongi had been so focused on music, so focused on making it that now, once he’s made it, he longs for something more simple. Writing lyrics on bar napkins while chatting up a girl, for one. Taking someone out on a dinner date to that diner he likes by his apartment. He imagines that he might take her hand while they walk there, swing it back and forth, make her smile.
He does, in fact, meet you while he’s scribbling song lyrics on a bar napkin, but instead of taking you out on a date, he has to sneak you back to his apartment in a black car, pulling his cap over his face. You know who he is, he knows that much by the blush on your cheeks, but you keep insisting you don’t know much about kpop and he believes you.
Yoongi blames the soju for how he kisses you in the elevator, aggressively, backing you up against the door, but you lean into him, make this little sound into his mouth and the next thing he knows he’s waking up with your bare arm across his waist and he’s panicking because he’s got practice in less than an hour.
“Fuck,” he curses softly when he extricates himself, because you look so pretty and peaceful and he’s got to wake you up and usher you out like some kind of dirty little secret and it makes his heart clench in his chest.
He calls your name, softly, and when you stretch he can see that tattoo on your stomach, the one he'd traced with his fingers last night, and then his tongue.
Yoongi knows he's blushing, can feel the heat in his face, so he turns his face away.
"Um," he starts, and then he hears the sheets shuffle.
"Oh! Sorry, I should go." Your voice sounds husky from sleep and Yoongi almost reaches out to grab your wrist as you pick up your dress from the floor.
He doesn't, and you go with an awkward peck on his cheekbone that he swears he can feel on his skin for days.
Things go on like that, for the weeks he's on break and after, through texts and Facetime calls, for months. It's always rushed and sexy and he always has to go before he wants to, and he hates it.
He finds that the girl he'd thought about taking on dates and holding hands with seems to now have your face, after a while. All his fantasies, sexual and otherwise, start to involve your smile.
Pre-debut Yoongi only fantasized about music, about standing on a stage belting out his truths, cutting pieces of himself to bleed onto paper so that someone would see him, finally, so that someone would know him.
Pre-debut Yoongi would have scoffed at him for wanting only one person to know him, one person to see him.
Pre-debut Yoongi would have called him an idiot, for falling in love.
You never imagined yourself in a situationship with an internationally famous rapper, despite the fact that you weren't overly familiar with his work when you'd met.
You certainly can't call it dating, since it culminates in having a few drinks and hooking up at his apartment or, during one particularly hazy night, in the backseat of a hired Escalade.
He's often out of the country, and on occasion he'll call you in the middle of the day, which is the middle of the night for him, ask you how you are, and eventually, what you're wearing.
You're trying not to look too far into it, not read into how soft his voice sounds when you Facetime and he tells you how beautiful you look, not think there might be something more in the way he wraps you in his arms after sex, plants soft kisses on the back of your neck.
It's fun, it's casual, and there's no reason to need more.
There are other guys that you've had similar situations with, and this is no different.
Maybe it's Yoongi's face that floats in front of your eyes when you're just about to fall asleep, but he doesn't have to know that.
You find yourself stopping yourself from texting him first, and you tell yourself it’s because he’s so busy but you know it’s because you feel too much.
You know his schedule, he emails it to you once a month, and while that seems like a good sign it isn’t as if after months of hooking up, you’ve ever had a conversation about where your relationship stands.
So, one Friday night, you know he’s in town and you know he’s free and when he doesn’t text or call, it feels like bees are buzzing under your skin.
Instead of staring at your phone in an effort to will it to ring, you call a friend and plan a girl’s night out. That’s what you need, anyway, a night where you can drink with your friends and flirt with men you’ll never see again.
You don’t need Yoongi’s low mumble in your ear, making you feel like you’re the only woman in the world.
Yoongi tells himself he doesn’t spend every moment of his free time with you, but he definitely does spend the majority of it at least thinking about you. The way your skin feels under his hands, the slow tilt of your crooked smile. The way sometimes you snort when you laugh too hard and you’re not even ashamed about it.
He babbles all of this out to Jimin and the younger just raises an eyebrow at him.
“Hyung, you have a girlfriend?”
Yoongi feels his face flushing. “N-no. She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Hm. Okay, hyung.” Jimin says dryly, and Yoongi shoves him playfully with the heel of his hand.
“You going out tonight?” Yoongi asks, suddenly, and immediately regrets it when Jimin’s eyes light up.
“Are you gonna come with me this time?” Jimin bounces on the couch excitedly and Yoongi groans.
So that’s how, between the need to stop sitting at home and daydreaming about you and Yoongi’s inability to say no to Park Jimin’s pout, Yoongi ends up at a club.
A loud club. A crowded club.
He orders a whiskey at the bar, people shouldering up against him to order as well and God why did he do this, anyway?
Jimin disappears somewhere within half an hour and he’s stuck looking around the bar for him awkwardly.
Yoongi recognizes you by the line of your jaw, and it’s a rush, the pleasure that shoots through him, the butterflies in his stomach, better than the glass of whiskey he’s been sipping.
You don’t see him, and he wonders if he should go up behind you, plant a kiss on your shoulder, but in the end he doesn’t wade through the sea of people, just watches you sway to the beat, talking and laughing with your friends. It’s interesting, seeing you out and about like this, somewhere he doesn’t have to hide you, and longing spears through him because as much as he hates clubs, he’d like to take you to one, see the way your body moves to the music, how your eyes light up when you laugh.
As he’s watching, entranced, a man puts his hand on your hip, stands from the bar, and Yoongi’s hands grasp the bar hard enough to whiten his knuckles. He’d never considered himself a jealous person, had never been so in past relationships, but there’s this little ball of something vile in his stomach and it isn’t just the whiskey.
He knocks the rest of his drink back, orders another, tries to focus on the bartender but he can see you in his peripheral vision and when you move he turns his head to follow you as the man leads you out onto the dance floor.
It occurs to him that he’d never had a conversation with you about exclusivity. He hasn’t seen anyone else since he’d met you, but he’d been gone more than he’d been with you and maybe you were seeing someone else. Maybe it was this guy, with his hand on your hip so familiar.
Yoongi doesn’t feel angry, exactly, but there’s a rock in his gut and his throat seems to have closed to a pinhole when he takes a gulp of his new drink, watching you dance.
You sway your hips slow, as if moving to a beat in your head instead of the music, and Yoongi would smile if he felt physically able to do so, watching the man behind you with both hands on your hips now, fingers splayed out.
Yoongi has this awful image, wonders if you’d let him put his hands on your hips like that somewhere more private, and he finishes his second drink too quickly, slams it down on the bar. The bartender blinks at him and Yoongi mutters out an apology, orders another.
Three drinks were his usual limit in crowded places like this, throughout the night, and now that he’s downed them within a couple of hours, things are a bit fuzzy around the edges. He tells himself he should stay seated, wait for the alcohol to hit his system, but he’s up and walking toward you on the dance floor before he can talk himself into staying on the bar stool. He’s only unsteady for a moment, a lifetime of enjoying alcohol has given him a good tolerance that he’s grateful for tonight.
Your eyes widen when you see him, a ghost of a smile playing along your lips.
“Can I cut in?” Yoongi asks, and it seems like a stupid, formal thing to say at a club that was blasting hip hop, but it makes you smile wider.
Yoongi doesn’t even look at the man, doesn’t hear his mumbled response, just replaces his hands on your hip with his own.
“That your boyfriend?” He knows he sounds like a petulant child but you laugh and it lessens the tightness in his throat.
“Mm, no. I don’t have a boyfriend.” You answer, coyly, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying to the music.
“That so?” Yoongi leans down, presses his mouth to your collarbone. He wants to suck a mark there but he resists. “Do you want one?” He mumbles it against your skin and you make a sound in the back of your throat.
He can’t hear your response, can’t touch you like he wants so he takes your hand and you follow him without a word.
When he pushes the door to the men’s room you tug on his arm, though.
He looks back at you and you scrunch your nose and pull him into the women's bathroom instead.
"There's an etiquette to hooking up at a club, Yoongi."
He laughs and finally that knot in his stomach loosens. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. The women's room is cleaner."
You beckon him into a stall, locking the door before backing him against it, kissing him hard, nipping at his bottom lip.
He moans into your mouth, it's been weeks since he'd been able to kiss you, touch you, and he's enjoying it until a flash of memory of that other guy's hands on your hips, fingers splayed, pops into his mind.
He calls your name, softly, and you pull away to look at him, this little pout on your mouth that he has to resist kissing.
"Are you seeing anyone else?"
You'd been fiddling with the buttons on his shirt but you freeze at his question.
"Not really," you reply, and the air feels thin suddenly and Yoongi trails the fingers of his right hand along your spine.
“That’s not really an answer,” Yoongi retorts, and his ears feel hot.
You only smirk, unbutton part of his shirt so that you can slide your hand inside to feel his skin.
“You jealous, Yoongi?”
He scoffs, and then his breath hitches when you place your palm on his bare chest. He pulls you closer by your waist and you lean into him.
“You’re jealous,” you say confidently, moving your hands to unbutton his slacks, and Yoongi’s mouth goes dry.
“I am,” he admits, feeling flushed all over.
“Why’s that? Territorial?”
Yoongi thinks it’s unfair of you to be asking things like this when he’s tipsy and horny, half hard from your kisses and your hands on his skin, but he puffs out his cheeks and lets out a breath through his nostrils and answers anyway.
“No,” he manages, it’s a croak because you’ve slipped your hand into his slacks and underwear, pressing your palm against his cock.
“Hmm. Well in that case, I got asked out tonight, think I should give him a call?”
“No,” he says again, empathically, taking your wrists and moving his body to pin you against the side of the stall instead of allowing you to pin him.
Your breath catches, your eyes dark with lust when you look at him.
“Why not?”
You want him to say it, Yoongi knows you well enough for that, has spent months learning all about who you are, he knows that much, but it’s hard to spit it out, especially like this, in a club bathroom stall with music booming overhead, muffled slightly by the bathroom walls.
Instead, he kisses you, hard, moves his hips against yours, shows you how hard you’ve made him and you whine into his mouth, clutch at the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Want you,” he murmurs, and it isn’t an answer but it’s closer than silence and it’s as close as he can get right now.
“I know you want me,” you breathe, something exasperated in your tone.
Yoongi doesn’t have a condom, had no plans on coming out to meet anyone, and bemoans as much to you.
When you rummage around in your purse and pull one out, smirking, then he is mad, even though he’s not sure he has any right to be upset.
“So you came out to get laid tonight?” His voice is calmer than he’d expected with how his heart is pounding.
You shrug. “So what if I did?”
“You’re lucky I was here,” Yoongi says darkly, and your smirk only widens.
You don’t move a muscle, just tilt your chin up at him. “Why is that?”
Yoongi bunches your dress around your hips, roughly pushes your thong aside so that he can cup your pussy. He slides two fingers inside when you spread your thighs, moaning loudly.
He doesn’t respond to your question, kissing along the side of your throat and nipping at your earlobe instead.
“You’re lucky,” he murmurs, “because no one can fuck you like I do.”
You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin, and he kisses your throat again, sucking and biting there to make a mark. You’re loud, rocking your hips against his hand.
“I bet everyone can hear you moaning like a whore for me,” he whispers into the shell of your ear.
“Yoongi,” you rasp, trembling.
“Hmm?”
He can’t deny it’s a rush, the way you’re shaking, desperate for him, all but begging him to fuck you. He always feels so out of control with you, the way you make him feel, the longing in the pit of his stomach, the way he’d follow you to hell if you’d asked him. He knows how easily you could break him, and he’s afraid of it but he keeps chasing you anyway. It’s nice to see that he can have some manner of control over you, too.
“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from your throat, wonders about the logistics of fucking in a bathroom stall. It certainly wasn’t his normal scene, but he figures it out, wrapping your legs around his waist, lifting your ass to press you against the wall. Applying the condom is the awkward part but you’re panting, clutching at his shirt, kissing along his neck and he manages.
Your hands move between you, guiding his cock into you and he groans so low in his throat that it almost hurts.
“Always so wet for me,” he says into your ear, and you buck your hips, almost unseating yourself until he rights you with his hands on your hips.
“Fuck,” you curse almost mournfully and he can’t help but chuckle as he starts to roll his hips up into you, the angle making him spear into you deeper than he ever had before. All of your hookups had been quick but none against the wall. Yoongi thinks he likes it, loves the way you look with your dress bunched up, your tits heaving against his chest, makeup sweating off.
“Look at you,” he groans. “You’re so desperate for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” you agree in a short breath. “Yes, yes, please make me come, Yoongi.”
Your dirty talk makes his balls draw up and he thinks it might be over before you do but that’s okay, he’s good with his hands and his fingers.
Then you tug on his hair, your teeth gritted. “Harder,” you demand, and Yoongi’s eyes widen.
It’s quick after that, he’s fucking you hard and fast against the door, your ass sliding up and down with a squeaking sound.
He’s close and he lets his mouth run away with him, your cunt clenching around him.
“I want you to be mine,” he gasps. “Not just your body.”
“Yoongi, I’m coming, I’m coming, don’t stop,” you whine, and he isn’t sure you’re listening. Part of him hopes you aren’t, because if you don’t feel the same way he doesn’t want to know, at least not yet.
And then, just as he spills inside you, it comes bursting out of him like a dam has crumbled.
“Y/n, I’m falling in love with you.”
You kiss him, then, taking his face in your hands, your tongue sliding against his and he keeps rolling his hips into yours as you pulse around him.
It’s thirty seconds before he starts to come down, and a full minute before the horror of what he’s said starts to descend upon him.
Lowering you to the ground is more awkward than it should be since he has to pull out of you first, but you giggle when he puts you down on the floor, stumbling a little on shaky legs.
After you each adjust your clothes, you open your mouth to speak. “Yoongi-”
“Don’t,” he pleads. “Please don’t say anything.”
You frown, little wrinkles appearing between your eyes. He wants to kiss them.
“But-”
“Jagiya, please,” he all but begs, and he’s never called you a pet name but it slips out and he wants to disappear through the floor.
“Yoongi.” You say, fiercely. “Stop it.”
Yoongi groans, covering his face with his hands.
“I want to be yours, too.”
He peeks at you from between his fingers, his face flushed.
“You do?”
“I do.” You’re smiling, widely, and he’s not sure he’s ever seen you smile like that. It makes his heart soar.
“What about that guy?” He knows he’s pouting so he doesn’t fully uncover his face.
You laugh. “What guy? He just asked me to dance.”
Yoongi drops his hands from his face. “You...you made me think…”
You shrug. “Well, I didn’t know what you wanted from me. I had no idea you had feelings for me.”
“I’m in love with you,” Yoongi says incredulously. “I’m crazy about you. I’ve been crazy about you forever.”
“You didn’t tell me that!” You insist.
Yoongi laughs, loud and open, his heart feeling lighter, but it’s a short reprieve. His face falls.
“I’m just...I’m gone so often. I can’t give you what you want, what you’re looking for-”
You silence him by kissing him, just a peck on the lips. “Yoongi, you’re what I’ve been looking for my whole life.”
That rush is back, the fluttering in his chest and his stomach that he’s come to associate with you.
“Yeah?” It’s stupid, but it’s the only thing he can think of to say, looking down into your eyes and he’s sure he’s got the goofiest grin on his face.
But you grin back and it makes him feel better.
“Yeah.”
He still doesn’t get as much time with you as he likes and sometimes he still worries that you might meet someone else while he’s away, but you call him every night that you can, facetime him, and he keeps the butterflies, keeps the rush that reminds him of you, even when he’s busy making music or onstage.
You're always happy to reassure him that you've found what you're looking for, and you don't need anything more.
#min yoongi x reader#yoongi x reader#suga x reader#yoongi imagine#bts imagine#noonasinnetwork#btswritersclub#btscreatorscorner
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I have a potential prompt for a one shot if you are interested.
Would you write a fic where Rick (and the rest of the JSA) are worried about Beth but she finally shows up safely? Everyone is so relieved, especially Rick... so much so that he goes to hug her but he forgets that his hourglass hasn't completely run out yet and squeezes her too tight. Beth is all like "Uhh, Rick? I can't breathe!" So he quickly (and awkwardly) lets her go.
I think it could be slightly angsty but also cute.
The Disappearing Act
They meet back up behind the garage as planned. Yolanda slinks in from above a roof with Courtney blazing in on the seat of her staff behind her, not nearly as concerned for stealth.
Rick shakes his head at the two. “Where’s Jennie and Beth?”
“I’m here!” They all raise their heads up at the sound of her voice floating in the air.
"Wait." She quickly powers down, setting down her lantern as she shakes out her hand. “Where’s Beth?”
“What do you mean?” Rick questions. “She’s supposed to be with you.”
Jennie glances up from her ring with a sharp breath and glowing eyes. “No, she left me to find Courtney after you called.”
Courtney swerves around. “Me? I didn’t call her!”
Yolanda raises an eyebrow. “What call? I was with Court the whole time, she didn't call.”
“I don’t know, she got it through her goggles, so she left.” Jennie took a step back. “I would’ve gone with her, but we were meeting up here now anyway. I thought she’d be here.”
“So Beth’s gone?” Courtney cries. The cosmic staff flares up as she gets more agitated. “How could you lose Dr. Mid-Nite?”
“I didn’t lose her, Courtney, I trust Beth to make her own decisions. This isn’t my fault!”
“Alright!” Rick snaps, stepping between the two of them before things get out of hand. “It’s only been five minutes. How about we try actually calling her?”
Yolanda’s already on it, pressing a hand to the side of her helmet to get a signal through the coms as she stalks. “Dr. Mid-Nite, It’s Wildcat--Do you copy? Or hear me? Anything? Mid-Nite? Beth? Hellooo?”
Rick pulls down his hood and rakes his hand through his hair. “Where were you when this happened, Jennie?”
Jade light leaves Jennie’s eyes as she backs against a wall, holding herself stiffly. “I-I don’t remember."
"Well." Rick gives her five seconds. "Think harder."
"Okay! Okay! Um...I think we were near the office building for The American Dream.”
“Was anyone suspicious with you? Or around you?”
“What kind of question is that? Why would Jennie be with anyone suspicious?”
Courtney rolls her eyes. “I meant did she notice anything?”
“Beth this is Yolanda, this isn’t funny anymore. I’m serious, please say something....”
“No! I don’t think so!”
Rick spins on his heel.
“Where are you going?” Courtney yells after him. “We can’t split up now! What if there’s actually a villain out there?”
“That’s exactly why we need to find her instead of wasting more time.” Rick flips his hourglass. “You get Pat. I’m going to the American Dream with Jennie.”
“I’ll stay here,” Yolanda tells them. She whacks the side of her helmet again. "Dr. Mid-Nite, do you read me?"
Courtney points out her helmet isn’t broken. It’s just Beth not answering, which doesn't get well received by any of them.
"Geez!" Courtney hugs the staff to her chest, with a grimace, properly scolded. “Get Pat and shut up. I got it!”
~.~
Pat jogs out of the Pit Stop, wiping his sweaty brow with a rag when he hears the loud noise coming in from outside. “Did you find her?”
Rick kicks at the garbage cans lined up at the curb.
“I know you’re stressed.” Pat surveys the trash now littered along the sidewalk. “But you’re picking that up. And replacing those bins.”
"Fine!" Rick kicks another one.
Pat’s mouth thins into a straight line, evidently not being listened to.
“That would be a no,” Yolanda fills in with a frown. “Courtney’s circling around her neighbourhood. Pat checked the school. I’m still not getting anything from the coms.”
Rick lists off his search efforts in anxious detail, counting them out on his gloved fingers. “I tried the tunnels since her goggles don’t work down there. The ISA lair was empty. The cells were unlocked. I knocked down Grundy’s old cage, nothing.” He's frantic, tugging at the base of his hourglass, as though getting choked by his remaining time. “There’s nothing! I thought I could find that her goggles fell off or one of her gloves, anything—”
"Dr. Mid-Nite? Please answer. Make a noise if you can hear this. This is Wildcat, are you okay? Dr. Mid-Nite?"
“And I went back to the last place I saw her.” Jennie wilts, sinking down to sit on the steps. She wraps her arms around her knees, the lantern firmly placed at her feet. “This is my fault.”
Yolanda gives up on reaching Beth for a moment, taking a seat beside Jennie to console her.
“I should’ve paired with her,” Rick mutters, just barely loud enough for the others to hear. “We always do these stupid patrols together.”
“The patrols are not stupid!” Courtney butts in with a scoff. The Cosmic Staff charges at Rick in her defense. Unthinking, he swats it away with his strength, sending it flying out in the other direction.
“Hey! Don’t hurt the staff!”
“Whatever, Court!” Rick snaps. “Beth is actually missing and none of us have a clue as to where she is, we’re not going to be talking about your staff’s feelings—”
Yolanda wrings her hands and gets up abruptly. “Maybe the goggles malfunctioned again and she got lost somewhere.”
“She’s literally biked to every square foot of this town.”
“The goggles malfunctioning is a good theory, Yolanda.” Rick opens his mouth to retort and Pat continues before he can start another fight, “I’ve already given Barb a call in case she calls our house. Girls, why don’t you check your cell phones?”
The girls file back into the Pit Stop. Rick hovers by the door, reluctant to go in with them.
“Pat? Why aren’t you worried?” The tone borders on accusatory. Rick’s face is still covered by the dark mask, blending into the dark night, but his concern is transparent through his eyes.
Pat sighs. “It’s only been 2 hours. Beth is a smart girl.”
“She’s a smart, small, pretty girl in Blue Valley. A town full of murderers.”
“I’m well aware of that, Rick.” He pulls the rag out to wipe his face again. “But freaking out and hurting people’s feelings isn’t going to help anybody find her.”
“But—” Rick turns his face away, twisting the chain hanging from his neck again. “Sitting here isn’t helping either!”
We’re gathering clues and searching the town. I didn’t say we’re giving up.” Pat takes his time. “Look, I know you care about—”
“I just don’t know what I’d do if something bad happens to her!” He gestures at himself. “Or if this runs out and I can’t help her. It isn’t like Beth to….go silent.”
Pat claps a hand over the shoulder of Rick’s golden cape. “I know.”
“Pat!” Yolanda bursts out through the side door. Courtney and Jennie quick at her heels. “She’s okay! I heard her voice through the helmet! She’s on her way back!"
“What?” Rick shot up. “Where?”
Though he doesn’t have to look far. She’s at the corner, stumbling in her haste to get to them in the dark. The girls all scream and run and fly out to her, ignoring Pat’s insistence that Courtney and Jennie should at least try to conceal themselves in the middle of the road.
Rick sits back down heavy on the step, flooded with relief.
When Beth makes her way over, Pat checks to make sure she’s not wounded, but she waves him off, yanking down her green cowl. “I’m fine, Mr. Dugan. Just thirsty.”
“I’ll get you water!” Jennie practically shouts, rushing to the kitchenette inside the garage. “We’re never splitting up again!”
“What happened?” Pat exclaims. “We’ve searched the whole town!”
Her eyes slide to Rick and the glowing sand in his hourglass.
“You were all looking for me?”
“Yeah,” says Rick. “I was about to throw up.”
“Someone hacked into my goggles and faked Courtney’s call.” Beth cringes. “The Shade uh...wanted to talk?”
“The Shade?”
Courtney's curls whipped back violently. “He WHAT?”
“I’m okay!” Beth reassures them all again when they panic. “He messed up my goggles so I couldn’t use them until he finished what he had to say. He even dropped me off in his car by Richie’s when we were done talking.”
Courtney prompts, impatient, “And he talked to you about…?”
Beth sighs. “He’s giving Barbara an ultimatum about the Zarick artifacts.”
Yolanda grips onto her arm. “He kidnapped you to make a business arrangement?”
“He let me go afterwards!” Beth drops her gaze to her brown boots, feeling a bit embarrassed now that she sees how long she’s been gone. “He really wants that wand, Mr. Dugan.”
“I’m sure,” Pat says, rolling his eyes. “Barb and I will worry about the Zarick stuff tomorrow. We’re glad that you’re safe.”
Jennie returns with water and a snack. Beth takes a sip then excuses herself to change out of her Dr. Mid-Nite costume. When she returns, she settles next to Rick, who hasn’t said a word since their short exchange.
“So…” she starts timidly. “You were gonna throw up?”
Rick pulls her in for an embrace. She gasps. “Only you could have a whole civil conversation with a supervillain and walk out unscathed.”
“Rick! You’re crushing me!”
“Shit!” He lets go immediately when he feels the hard edge of the hourglass glowing in the wedge between them, reminding Rick his hugs right now would hurt. “Shit! Sorry! God, I’m sorry. I just didn’t—”
“It’s okay.” Beth throws her arms around his neck, squeezing tight. Rick closes his eyes, eased. He’ll let her do the holding. “I thought you were going to be mad.”
“What?” He turns to look at her. She’s so close, still hugging him, he has to look away. “No, I was worried. I turned the tunnels upside down for you.”
“Oh.” Beth lets go, but taps on the glass as the final grains of sand slide through the pinhole. “Really?”
“I’d do it again.” He clears his throat and adds, “For all of you, I mean. If you disappeared, um…” He trails off, unsure of why he’s feeling so awkward.
But Beth merely nods, seeming to understand. “Thank you. That means a lot to me.” They both look down at his chest, watching the hourglass to power down. Beth shoots him a timid smile. “Want to try that hug again?”
“Sure.” He stands up and extends out a hand, reeling her in.
#hournite#fluff#angst#yes i can do both#stargirl#beth chapel#rick x beth#stargirl spoilers#hn fic#rick tyler#jsa#thanks for the prompt!!!!
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Deathworlder Down
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AO3
based on @delimeful wibar
Warning for some disturbing imagery/body horror this chapter. Virgil’s having nightmares.
...
Fear.
Pounding, aching fear.
Shadowy figures surrounded him, discussing him in words he could almost hear, hushed voices he could almost understand, and it grated at him, it hurt his ears. He tried to cover them, but found he couldn’t move, not a muscle, his eyes were open but he couldn’t even blink, his fingers wouldn’t even twitch, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest, but despite his panic his breathing remained steady and even. The shadows moved closer, their whispers growing louder, echoing in his head, screaming tempests against his ear drums, and he wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop, but it just grew louder, and louder, and then it was the suited beings again, holding a scalpel, and he screamed, as his chest was sliced open, the flesh peeled away to reveal the organs beneath, his heart visible through the blood leaking from him, and he realized though he was screaming in his mind, he wasn’t making any sound, his vocal chords as paralyzed as the rest of him, and he couldn’t look away, as they started ripping out his insides, tearing him apart, the pain splintering through his being, blacking out his vision, and he tried, he tried desperately to writhe and claw and fight his way free, but couldn’t even lift his head, and he was aware of them adding new parts, shoving metal and wires and circuit boards into him, the pop and crackle of electricity against his skin shocking him, sending him into spasms that somehow defied whatever drug they’d given him, back arching at the intense, radiating heat flowing up his spine, and he finally did break free, break out of whatever drug they’d used, a keening, desperate wail shoving past his lips as he shoved himself off the table, as he snarled and clawed and bit and slashed, anything, everything, to get free, until he’d fought off the beings, his breathing ragged and uneven as he looked at the monster they’d made him, all mechanical parts and twisted limbs, broken bones and spasming muscle.
“Virgil?” Suddenly a shadow Logan was there, looking down at him, head tilted and eyes empty, hands strangely still, assessing him like the specimen he was and he shuddered, twitching uncontrollably.
“No. That isn’t Virgil.” Patton, voice hollow, and he screamed again, because his feathers were torn from his body, bent and broken nibs trickling blood down his wings, though he didn’t seem to care. “Virgil wouldn’t do this to me. And he did.” He shook his head, trying to deny it, but memories rushed back, his hands, moving against his will, the metal twisting around his bones, jerking him around like a marionette, Patton, begging, pleading, but he couldn’t stop, the single thought in his mind echoing destroy, destroy, destroy. His hands, ripping handfuls of feathers, feathers flying around the room, getting stuck in his grinning teeth, his manic laugh, his twisted soul.
“No… nonononono…” He curled tight on the ground, ignoring the fire racing through him, the intense, burning, heat, trying to make sense of this, of anything, noticing for the first time his hands were stained red, seeing Patton’s agonized face in his head, his hands on his throat, pressing down, down down-
“Virgil!” Roman’s voice rocked his world, and suddenly his eyes snapped open, hissing at the sudden brightness, too confused to understand anything, vision blurry, from tears, he realized, his breathing stuttering in and out, barely enough to keep from passing out, his throat tight, barely a pinhole of space for air to wheeze in and out of, his chest felt so tight, so constricted, and there wasn’t enough air, and he was hot, why was he so hot, the wires, the wires twisting through his veins, no, he had to get them out, they would make him hurt them, hurt Patton, he couldn’t hurt Patton!
He started scratching at himself, clawing at himself frantically, uncaring of the wetness slipping down his face, he had to stop it, he couldn’t-
Bloody feathers, crushed neck, broken wings, shattered body, he couldn’t-
Hands. Hands on him. He hissed, growled, tried to shove them away, but he was weak, so weak, he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get away, and they were stopping him, and he was going to hurt everyone, he had to let go, he had to stop himself, he was just a monster, just a toy, just a broken sack of bits and pieces that didn’t even fit together right anymore, why couldn’t they just let him stop?
“please. Please, I can’t, I can’t, I won’t, i… i…” He doubled over, curled into a ball, shaking so hard his teeth were chattering, feeling as if he was shattering into a thousand pieces, broken and stomped on and wrecked.
“kiddo. I need you to breath.” He flinched back, away from Patton, eyes wide with fear, shaking his head frantically, as he scooted away, the grip on his hands letting him go.
“n-no… no! I’ll h-hurt y-y-you they’ll m-make me h-h-hurt-“ he broke off, running out of air, all of it dedicated to keeping the spots in his vision from growing larger, from taking over and plunging him into black.
“virgil. You have never, never ever, hurt me. And they can’t hurt us, anymore. Do you remember that? We’re safe now, remember? You broke us out of there, and kept us safe. You’re safe, Virgil. We’re safe. We’re ok. We’re ok.” Patton repeated softly, using the gentle chirp of his native tongue, ruffling encouragingly when Virgil finally looked up at him, struggling for a few moments, before tentatively chirping it back.
“We’re… we’re… ok.” He echoed slowly, tongue thick in his mouth, head pounding, it hurt to think, it hurt to do anything, but he forced his mind to remember, to remember what he was missing, flashes of a slim, multi armed figure, of a bulky, scaled one, of a… a ship, and he managed a slightly larger, shaky breath.
“M-Mindscape?” He managed, and Patton nodded, eyes soft with worry.
“That’s right, kiddo. You got sick, do you remember that?” He remembered feeling not great, but that was normal. He remembered being dizzy, but that was all. He shook his head, feeling confused again, feeling slow and tired and hazy.
“That’s ok, Virgil. I just wanna help, ok? Will you let me do that?” Patton asked, taking a small step closer. “Will you let me help?” His gaze flicked to the others in the room, pulling at a dull memory, at familiarity, he knew them, knew them and they didn’t spark… fear. Not quite. But the scaled one’s gaze was sharp and angry, and the crystal one’s gaze was sharp and piercing, and both sent unease tingling down his spine. But Patton was asking, and he trusted Patton, and if Patton trusted them, then they couldn’t be bad.
“O-o-Ok.” He managed, letting out a soft sigh when Patton closed the distance between them, resting a hand on his leg, and instantly, the fight and stress drained out of him, eyes fluttering shut.
“You’re gonna be ok, kiddo. I promise.” Then nothing.
…
“He's hotter, Lo.” Patton said, voice shaking, as he felt Virgil's forehead. Sweat coated his skin, and he was panting for breath, shaking, obviously in pain, not just from the lines of red up and down his arms, where he'd started clawing at himself, before Roman stopped him. “he’s getting worse."
“We need to get him to drink. He’s severely dehydrated. I… hate to suggest this, but IVs may be the best option here. I know, it will cause added emotional strain, but his body does not have the strength or resources right now to fight off this illness. And I’d rather have him be upset or afraid than… than dead.” His words caused Patton to draw in his feathers, shrinking to nearly half his normal size, and he buried his face against Virgil’s side. Roman’s scales shifted, scraping against each other as they flattened, conflicting emotions racing through him.
He didn’t like Virgil. Didn’t trust him, wouldn’t have him here, if it had been up to him, but the thought of him… dying, still sent a spike of unease through him, one he could pretend was just for Patton, who was so attached to Virgil.
“ok. If it’s the only way, ok.”
He disinfected and bandaged Virgil’s arms first, before letting Roman shift him back onto the couch, fetching the medical supplies and hooking up the bags. Finally, he was standing over Virgil with the IV line in hand. All he had to do was insert it. He found himself incredibly resistant, now, to the idea, now that he actually was doing this, mind flashing to the moments he’d seen in the vidi, the pain and agony that had accompanied nearly every experience with a needle, but this was different. This was to help.
So he swiftly located the vein on the human’s wrist, slipping the needle in and securing it with gauze and tape, relieved when Virgil did no more than moan slightly, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. He doubted the reaction would be so placid when he actually woke up to find a needle in his arm, but that was a future worry.
“Alright. That should help hydrate him, as well as give him some of the basic nutrients he is sorely lacking in, as well as some very moderate medicines. I doubt anything we have would do him any harm, but I don’t want to take chances and accidentally make things worse. Patton… you need to sleep.” He added, looking at the disheveled ampen, who shook his head.
“No, no, no! I have to stay! What if he wakes up?”
“He won’t for a few hours, at the very least, which is long enough for you to get some sleep. You haven’t slept since we found him.”
“Well neither have you! You’ve been pacing yourself silly!” He sighed, shoulders slumping.
“Alright. You’re right. If Roman stays on watch and promises to get us if anything changes, will you come rest with me?” he asked, knowing Patton wouldn’t turn down that offer, not with how rarely he was willing to offer tactile comfort, but they could both use some, right now.
“Ro? I know you don’t like him, but-"
“I’ll take care of him. I promise, Patton.” Roman swore, kneeling down so Patton could hug him, smiling as he butted against the underside of his chin, before stepping back, chirping an ampen thanks, hesitantly following Logan down the hall and into his room, Roman hearing the door slide shut.
He let out a low breath, scales flattening as he tried to calm himself, staring down at Virgil’s unconscious form.
“I don’t know what to make of you. I will never say this out loud again, but you terrify me. And I will not lose another family, to humans. But… every time you panic or lose control or lash out, it’s always at yourself. It’s always to protect Patton. You always choose to harm yourself over any of us, but you’re still a human, a death worlder, a dangerous, violent, creature.” He said, though it sounded much less convincing now, that it usually did in his arguments with Logan or his silent fuming.
Virgil moved slightly, his breath hitching, and his face creased, as if sensing Roman’s displeasure.
“no… please… m-mom…” Virgil mumbled, trying to reach out to something that wasn’t there, something only in his mind, and after a moment, Roman realized Virgil was crying, curling tighter.
He’d known Virgil had been stolen off his planet, but he’d never thought about the implications of it. He hadn’t considered that Virgil had clan, would have a mother or a father, that he’d lost everything, to aliens, without even having a chance to fight to keep it.
Roman knew how it felt, to lose everything, in the blink of an eye.
“and then you go and say something like that.” He sighed, shifting into the chair left beside the couch, hesitantly reaching out to brush back the human’s hair, mimicking the motion he’d seen Patton do countless times, to soothe or relax the human, surprised as Virgil instantly settled, a shaky breath escaping him before his body seemed to go lax once more, leaning into his touch.
“this doesn’t mean I like you. It’s only because I promised Patton.” He grumbled, not moving away, despite himself.
#sanders sides#wibar au#wibar#patton sanders#roman sanders#logan sanders#virgil sanders#sympathetic patton#sympathetic roman#sympathetic logan#sympathetic virgil#anxiety attack#flashbacks#trauma#abuse#nightmares#Blood#injuries#mild body horror#accidental self harm#angst#virgil angst#angst for days#eventual happy ending#sickfic#sick virgil#disturbing imagery
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Short- ABO universe!
Keigo Takami x (gn) reader
Hawks x (gn) reader
Warnings-mostly SFW, only one sentence where hawk's mind goes to the gutter. That's it.
Note- if any one likes it I'll continue 😁
Letting him see them was the commission's biggest mistake.
Hawks contemplated calmly as he soared high above the city. From time to time when the avian man had a lot on his mind and not enough patients to deal with every fan he comes across, he would take to patrolling the skies. From high up keigo had a great view of the city and thanks to his sharp eyes could easily see what activities the bustling city was going through. Citizens on their way to and from work, some hanging out with friends after school and some walking their little ones accross the busy intersection. The pro hero couldn't help but let his eyes linger on the parents fawning over their children. It made him Think back to his own bleak childhood.
He couldn't help but wonder what it Would feel like, having a family to protect and fawn over. To make matters worse his rut was super close. He could already begin to feel himself pant and sweat, the usual symptoms befor his rut fully hit. It was a good thing patrol was almost done. He needed the week long vacation he was promised.
Having been traned by the commission since he was a child, the people in charge of him had to find ways to deal with his more avain tendencies. When puberty hit keigo takami, they had to learn the hard way quickly that some born with animal like quirks were increadably difficult to handle during mating season. They tried giving him suppresants and for a while they worked. They're biggest mistake however was letting him see the small creature they'd brought in to train.
The incident keigo will never forget came when he was fifteen. during his highschool years they found his ruts were getting more difficult to control. Keigo had been training in a massive out door obstacle course (courtesy of the funds donated by the hero commission) when he'd first caught the smell. It was tantalizing. It made feathers ruffle. He couldn't describe the smell but knew that it was intoxicating. He couldn't help but search for what it was. This scent had him swooning with each inhail as he made his way closer to it as fast as he could. This smell made him feel safe. Like a long forgotten memory used to comfort your anxieties. Keigo had never felt this way. His whole life was filled with neglect and abuse and that was before the commission took him in.
The smell and the feeling it gave him was something he could not pass by. He needed it. He needed it like he needed air. He vowed to find what ever it was and keep it for eternity.
As he brushed through the thick forest, he could feel the branches of trees scrape his wings, but paid them no mind as he gained speed. Coming in to a small clearing, he could see people standing around in a small semi circle clearly whispering among themselves. They were toadies and doctors from the commission and there beside them was a smaller creature with beautiful little white wings. His abrupt intrusion however startled the group of people who all grabbed the smaller child and shoved the tiny thing behind them before he could get a better look.
"Hawks! What are you doing here? Your not scheduled to use the obstical courses until after classes! " the doctor in the coat yelled up at him with a slightly panicked look.
Hawks lowered himself to the ground as he spoke .
"Sorry classes were let out early today so I figured I'd get a head start. You know, fastest man around and all that. "
It was the mantra they'd been drilling into his head for years now. Part of his conditioning to make him the best hero.
He landed with gentle feet on the grass so as to not alert them. Judging by their behavior he'd say they were definitely scitish and they were definitely hiding something.. or someone he thought as he heard a small whimper.
The few adults in the back began to usher that small someone further away from him. He realized they must have been testing the quirk of a new recruit. But why hide it from him? He's eaten and trained with other kids here before, why was this one a secret? And why did they smell soo damn good? Keigo felt a jolt of panick run up his spine. Why were they taking them away? His breathing became heavier. His body started to sweat and he could feel a painful pressure in his fingertips and gums. A glance down told him his nails had elongated and by running his tongue over his teeth he could tell that his canines were longer too . What was happening to him? The delectable scent was invading his nostrils to the point that he felt his brain go foggy. The rest was a blure.
When he awoke the next day it was in a hospital like room. But he could tell he was still with the hero commission. It was only logical they had their own hospital wing considering they put minors through extreme training. He looked down at himself to asses the damage but only found a small pinhole surrounded by a bruise on his chest. So they'd tranquilized him. He had to have been very close in range , practically right on top of them for it to have left that kind of mark. It made him shudder. What would have happened if they had not shot? Or if they had taken the shot with a real bullet . He tried to think back to what happened but could only recall a few flashes like pictures and emotions from his memory before his head started to pound.(must be from the drugs he thought bitterly) And that scent that would not leave his mind.
Who were they? Why did the commission want him to stay away? Why did he lose control?
When the doctors came to check on him he figured he'd ask if they knew what happened. And for onec they were thankfully honest. From what they could tell Hawks had a secondary gender that usually showed up in those with animalistic like quirks. Hawks was an alpha. And the tasty smelling person they were assessing in the woods was an omega. They told him it was a normal reaction but he didn't fully believe it. Even now as a full grown pro hero, Hawks had smelled quite a few omegas around different cities but none of them smelled the way that the forst one did. Who were they? He only caught a glimpse of small white wings.
Hawks never caught sight or smell of them again... Until recently.
The commission must have moved them to a different location. For years keigo tried to smooz information out of the commission about other children they had taken in to train. But they stayed on top of their game, never letting a speck of information slip but, Japan is small and he finally caught the sent he'd been searching for, for years.
He'd followed it to a quaint little apartment building the next town over. It was a small town more on the impoverished side of the tracks but keigo didn't mind. It would only help him locate them easier. The only thing that stopped keigo was the shout of a woman in distress. He should have figured, crime never takes a break. He altered course and flew to where the commotion was coming from. A petty thug trying to rob a middle age woman, hawks already knew it wouldn't take long for him to defuse the situation, take the criminal in and get back to his hunt before his rut fully kicked in.
That was until, a beautiful creature with wings white as snow swooped down faster than even him and took the criminal out with one hit. That may have been over kill thought hawks before he completely lost his train of thought when that sent hit him again... Oh no, his mind was already fogging. Why did they have such an effect on him? Years of mental discipline flew out the winow every time he caught taste of that smell on the wind. Could he hold out? Could he control himself so close to his rut? What if he ended up hurting them? He stopped to rethink his plan when he heard their beautiful voice ring out.
They were consoling the womam who had been attacked. That's when Hawks finally realized he'd been hovering mid air for at least a few minutes deep in thought. He'd never been so off his game. Finally, the other hero turned to him and their voice rang out.
"Sorry pal, didn't mean to steal the spot light. I mean this is my area to patrol today."
Hawks was flabbergasted. There they were. He'd been searching for so long and here they were and of course his mind wouldn't function. They were beautiful. (Hairlength (y/h/c) curled in soft waves and your (y/e/c) eyes looked up at him with amusement. How had he never actually seen you before. A rush of anger towards the commission had him breathing heavier. How could they keep you apart? You were perfect. Your costume hugged you perfectly and accentuated all the best places. Hawks was shook. He panicked momentarily.. What was he even supposed to say?
'Hi I'm hawks you don't know me but I've been hunting you for years. '
Funnily he couldn't see that going over well. He tried to think fast.
The first Impression they had of him was probably when he attacked the commission members. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you off now. Not now that he finally found you. Think! He told himself.
"That's alright pretty bird. I was just in the neighborhood after patrol, thought I'd lend a hand."
Hawks lowered himself slowly to the ground a distance away. He didn't want them smelling his pheromones which were surly escaping without his consent now.
The other hero finished clapping some quirk canceling hand cuffs on the villain and made sure the woman was okay to leave after taking a brief statement and calling the police. They did everything perfectly, efficiently. And hawks had to use all his self control to not rush over and begin sniffing their neck like a weirdo. Every thing about them screamed at him to take them, to protect them, to make them his forever. To burry his cock so deep inside them that they never thought about another. Keigo shook his head. Don't scare them off he thought.
'Take it slow, no rushing this. You can do this'. He told himfelf with confidence. He's flirted and gained people trust before, this would be easy for him.
"Always the hero even on your time off?"
They asked with a chuckle.
"Guess I shouldn't expect anything less from the number two hero. "
They shot him a cheeky smile and continued to help the police officer load the villain in the vehicle.This was going to be harder than he thought...
But no matter. He could have patients, he's waited this long after all and good things do come for those who wait.
"Well baby bird. How about I get your number? Or I could give you mine incase you ever need a hand. "
Hawks panicked... That was apparently the wront thing to say. They quirked an eye brow at him and took a more offensive stance by folding their arms across their chest. And what a beautiful chest it was Keigo thought. Then tried desperately to shove that though away when they finally answered.
"Thanks but I think I'll be okay. " they turned to walk away but kaigo panicked!
"Wait! " hawks nearly yelled but composed himself quickly. "You live around here? I could walk you home."
Keigo rubbed his neck sheepishly trying he's best to seem cool but instantly wanted to shove his foot in his mouth. Why did he say that? He knew he came off as creepy and deprate. He's never had anyone knock him off his game before.
"No thank you, I'll be fine. " they responded as they turned to leave. Well what was he supposed to do now? He couldn't let them disappear again but at least he had a good idea where they lived, if the stronger scent surrounding the building he'd found a few weeks prior was anything to go by. For now he'd have to play it cool until he could figure out a good plan to ask them to date. Date? Or was it courting? He'd never had to before in his life. He'd become very accustomed to the fast lane- instant gratification kind of life style he's been living since he broke out on his own. But for them.. He'd wait an eternity. Their scent lingers even after they've left. But hawks didn't move, still trying to breath in the last of the fading aroma and when it had finally faded he felt a very deep pit like whole in his chest. How was he going to survive without them? Could he survive taking things slow? He could tell they weren't some fan that usually tried throwing themselves at him. He'd have to take his time, he told himself. He'd have to for them.
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What You Should Know About Excellent Car Body Restoration
It's not unexpected that our vehicles pick up small dings and dents, scrapes and scuffs, with ever-increasing congestion crowding our roads and people all attempting to park 4 x 4's and other vehicles into apparently smaller car parking places. So, should we wait for them to accumulate and diminish our car's resale cost, or do we take some action and find a reputable auto body shop? Once you have a better concept of what you are searching for, finding a reliable Car Body Work Near Me is simpler than you would think.
Characteristics Of A High-Quality Auto Body Repair
Where do you begin your search for excellence when visiting a vehicle body repair shop? The first thing I would like to have is a car repair they have recently completed, or, if they allow it, a walk around their facility. You can tell if repairs will last by looking at autos in various states of repair.
So, first, what should we look for while inspecting a done car body repair? Give it your best shot, look over the project, is there anything that stands out right away, and is the color matching nice? If not, that is a decent place to start; otherwise, everything should appear organic and unaltered. Examine how it was masked; are there any painting splatters on the rubbers or around the edges, for example? Bend down and inspect the surfaces; a good Car Accident Repair should be smooth and free of ripples. If it is not smooth, it is not competent, and a professional auto mechanic should always use a sanding block. Look closely at the painting to check whether there are any fine cracks or pinholes. If these are present, they are referred to as sinkage or mapping out; if they are not, the work is done well.
Next, check the general texture of the painting; does everything match? A good car body shop will aim to match the appearance of the paintwork as closely as possible to the original. This may be done by modifying the spray pressure or altering the paint composition. I know it's nitpicky, but low-quality repairs will lower your car's sale price. Lastly, do not be bashful while interviewing for a job (but do not be arrogant or obnoxious either); being curious and asking appropriate questions can help you understand the types of people you will be working with. They are likely no good regardless if they are upset and defensive with you.
Here are a few recommendations if they are good enough to let you wander about the workshop and look at some fixes in the process. Do they utilize dust removal blocks and polishing equipment, and are the vehicles well masked and dust-free on the inside? When it comes to dent repair, the bodywork filler must be finished with fine scratching before applying the paint. Fine body filler scratches usually sink over time; therefore, be wary of repairers who coat the deep scratches in primer to seal them. Check to see whether the body shop has a low-bake oven. If you want your bodywork restorations to endure a long time, you will need to dry the primers and paints in an oven or with infrared light.
I hope you found these tips helpful. A good vehicle Car Body Work Near Me shop is essential if you want to keep your car's bodywork in good shape. You are set for life whenever you locate a good one and establish a connection with them.
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ao3: “the mirror is a lie”
rating: T
warnings: food, eating disorders, self harm, self hatred, sympathetic deceit, analoceit
genre: hurt/comfort
description: Logan has an eating disorder. (for anon prompt: "Okay so: analoceit with V or Lo (you pick which) who struggles with an ed(specifically ana). problem is no one knows because they've never "followed though" with it because they fight it all the time(bonus if fighting it is 'easier' bc they fight s/h / suididal thoughts anyway) so they have to barely keep together everytime someone mentions their weight bc they're 'chubby' (no unsymp anyone please) and they get soft affection and comfort from the boyfs sorry if this doesn't make sense") (song lyrics are from “empty” by boyinaband and jaiden)
Mirror mirror on the wall, yeah
Tunnel vision on the flaws
In the scale of things it's unimportant
So no talking, but it's still an intrusive thought
It isn't logical. He knows that. He knows his routine isn't very logical, either. It's fine when he wakes up and brushes his teeth (for precisely two minutes, and he always uses the same amount of spearmint-flavored toothpaste on the medium-firm bristles). Dressing doesn't take long- it isn't like he's some kind of fashion icon. The most complicated step is fixing his tie, and at this point, he could probably do it in his sleep. The next step the others know about is breakfast and he will get there, but before that step, Logan has a secret one.
And it's one he knows isn't very rational at all.
He stands in front of the mirror in his attached bathroom. It's a full-sized mirror, lingering on all his flaws in painful detail. He lifts up his shirt, exploring the contours of his pudgy stomach with ruthless fingers, squeezing and pinching until he frowns at the sting. He welcomes it, too, though, because if he were better at this, he would have nothing to grab. Don't eat thumps in tune with his heartbeat as he tucks his shirt back in and runs a comb through his hair. That thought's not logical, either. He needs to eat. Well, he doesn't technically need to- none of the sides need to eat, they aren't real that way- but they perform better if they do. It helps Thomas when they eat and how can Logan deny that?
"Chocolate chip waffles!" Patton chirps in response to Roman's inquiry as Logan makes his way downstairs, heading straight for the coffee pot. He has to get there first, or Patton will serve him sugar and cream just the way he likes it and he knows he only deserves it black.
Staring down at a plate filled with three waffles, Logan feels sick. He doesn't want to eat any of it. Even breathing the aromatic air above it feels laden with empty calories. He takes a deep breath in through his nose, pretending he doesn't see Virgil's and Janus's concerned looks, to either side of him. He cuts off a piece of waffle with his fork and raises it to his lips, chewing automatically. It feels like he's eating chocolate-scented couch stuffing.
"Are you all right?" Janus asks him, softly, under the clamor of the others. Logan tightly nods, but he knows that it's not reassuring. He wouldn't believe it either. Today was supposed to be a good day.
Been getting even worse
All the days begin to merge, yeah
Just a blurry haze and now it's
Almost second nature to ignore the urges
It gets worse that night. Dinner is shrimp alfredo pasta, heavy and cloying. Logan feels his throat narrow to a pinhole as he attempts to shovel it down. He wishes he could blame the sensation on a shellfish allergy. He knows it's not.
The others choose a movie to watch. He isn't sure what it is. Some Disney movie, naturally. With Roman around, it's hard to choose anything else, although technically, they all get an opportunity to pick a movie throughout the week. Logan's choices are rarely approved of by more than Janus and Virgil (and occasionally Remus, oddly enough).
"Can I sit by you, Lo?" Patton asks. "You make the best pillow!" He doesn't mean anything by it, Logan tries to convince himself, static roaring in his ears. Don't be irrational. It's a simple question, Logan, it only requires a simple answer.
"Of course, Pat," he croaks out, through dry lips. "I'll be right back." He walks up the stairs- walks, but doesn't run- and he doesn't notice the glance his boyfriends exchange, nor the similar string of excuses made as they trail behind him.
When he reaches his room and the door is safely tucked shut, he collapses by the foot of his bed, doubling in on himself and cursing every inch of his disturbing fat, squishy body. He doesn't have to be this way. He shouldn't be this way. He wouldn't be this way if he wasn't such a coward. He drives his fists into the tops of his thighs as hard as he can, relishing the pain. He doesn't hear the door behind him open, or the twin intakes of breath seeing him disheveled on the floor, muttering self-hatred into his lap.
I can reach out
To someone not like me
I can help my mind learn to trust my body
"Lo-" and Virgil is there, softly coaxing him back into purple-clad arms, and Janus is facing him, concern bright in mismatched eyes, and then it all blurs in a wash of kaleidoscope colors, and Logan realizes he's crying.
"I just-" He stops, hiccuping and hating himself for it.
"Take your time," Janus quietly encourages. "No one here is judging you, Logan. No one is pressuring you. Take as long as you need."
"I hate myself," Logan blurts out. "I'm sorry, I know it's not logical, but I-" He stops again. Virgil rubs slow, soothing circles on the tops of his hands, steadying him. He can feel Virgil's breath stirring his hair.
"I hate myself," he repeats, starting anew. "I hate my body. It's disgusting. It's too fat. It's wrong. I should look more like Thomas and I don't. I- I like Crofters too much and I hate it and I wish that Thomas had never found that jam brand in the first place because maybe that was the start of my downward spiral and maybe I wouldn't be this way if it wasn't for Crofters." He shakes his head, staring at the floor.
"We love you," Janus says. "No matter what you look like, Lo. We love you. I could stay here a thousand years and never run out of things to say about how much I admire you and your body. But I know that self-hatred and body dysmorphia aren't so easily shaken." He looks down at ungloved hands and Logan can see the spattering of scales there.
"I love you and I love your body," Virgil chimes in. "And whatever we can do to help, we want to."
"You- you do?" Logan stammers in surprise. Janus scoots closer, taking one of Logan's hands.
"Of course we do," Janus says. "You're our boyfriend. We might not have taken wedding vows but I, for one, still apply that whole 'sickness and in health' thing."
"Even if it takes months? Or- or years?" Logan asks.
"Even if it takes eternity," Virgil says. "You're worth it, Logan."
The world goes out of focus again, thanks to another steady wash of tears, but Logan can't bring himself to care.
"Do you want to go back to the movie?" Janus asks, a long while later. Logan nestles himself deeper in Virgil's arms.
"If it's with you two, I'll go anywhere," he says. "Thank you."
tag list: @k9cat @paravigilant-virgil @croftergamer @airiervessel @littlestliu @matthindavick @ambersky0319 @yalltookmyurlideas @did-he-just-hiss-at-me @ihateitwhenyourejustvague @bexxbeauty @killjoy-3000 @the-sunshine-dims @sneaky-slytherin @reesiereads @rabbitsartcorner @quackerz-creations
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