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neo-culture-mafia · 4 years

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Skincare (n.jm)

— Warnings: flirty jaemin all over

— Genre: fluffy, friendstolovers!au (almost a enemiestolovers!au tbh)

— Words: 3.7k

— Summary: “Jaemin has been trying to get your attention for a few months. He misses your friendship, but since he decided to also confess his hidden feelings towards you too, he’s been trying to get you to go on a date with him as well, which is not the easiest thing to do when you are the biggest moody he knows.”

“You know I won’t stop this until you say "yes", right?” Jaemin walked faster till he could block your way. The son of a bitch had a smirk on his face while he stared at you with his tilted head. How dared him to appeal to cuteness? You had to fight against the desire to punch it out of his face. “Come on, just say you'll go have dinner with me. It’s just one date, it will be fun.”

This was the third time in a week. You were starting to lose your patience with him.

“Breaking my heart won't be fun, so, I pass.” You tapped his chest twice before giving him a forced smile and bumping into his shoulder when you walked past him.

You heard him take a deep breath and the first thing that crossed your mind was “Finally.”, but did you speak too soon? Hell yeah. A second later he went after you again.

“I'm not gonna break your heart, why you think I would do that?” You heard his voice right behind you. You could literally hear him smiling when he spoke. What on earth could make that boy just leave you alone?

“You're bad news, Jaemin.” You turned to face him, making the boy stop walking. “I've been there, done that and now I just don't want to do it all again when I know exactly where it takes. There is too much negativity in our work already, have you looked around?” You mentioned everywhere around you two. "I don’t need more negativity in my love life as well. Besides, I’m seeing someone tonight.”

“Bullshit.” Jaemin chuckled, expecting that your attitude would change, but when he saw you remained still, his smile disappeared. “Wait, for real? Who are you seeing?”

“I'm seeing myself.” You replied, with a now sincere smile on your face. “I spend too much time on missions, I’m taking the night off to take care of myself. Just leave me alone, okay? Go practice, punch some people, set the whole place on fire,” You started to list all the things he could do, counting each one of them with your fingers. “I DON'T CARE, just go live your life!” You pointed your finger at him before turning your back at him and continuing your path, smiling at yourself when you sensed no one following you.

...

“Just a second!” You said after you heard someone knocking on your door. You had just finished your bath and there was still a towel on your head, involving in your hair. You thought about quickly drying your hair with it before going to the door, but when you heard knocking again, you just rolled your eyes, imagining that it has to be Jeno looking for his games again. “Jeno, I've already told you I did not take your games, go ask someone else.”

Knock. Knock. Knock. Again.

And then it started to become louder.

And noisy.

And annoying.

“OKAY, FINE! I'll let you scan my room if that makes you stop slamming--” You stopped yourself when you opened the door and saw Jaemin, leaning against your wall.

He automatically smiled when he saw your face.

You automatically wanted to punch his face.

You had no makeup on and a freaking towel on your head! This had to be Jaemin's worst move ever.

“Before you ask or curse at me, I'm seeing someone tonight.” He proudly announced.

Great, he came here to brag about his newer conquer. Or the most foolish girl in the base. You would much rather him doing this than following you around like he was your shadow, so you thought you could go along with.

“Oh, really? That is amazing, who is the idiot?” You faked an excited tone, as you smiled at him, leaning your head against your door.

“You.” His smile grew bigger as your smile faded away. “I mean, you’re not an idiot, I’m just seeing “yourself” tonight.” He motioned the quotation marks with his fingers, reminding you of the words you had said earlier. The next thing you knew, he was in your room.

You closed your door with the biggest scowl on your face. Just when you thought you had ended this nonsense. Jaemin went straight to your bed, letting a few plastic bags laying there as he started to take out a bunch of products.

''Excuse me, but this is my room and I do not remember inviting you over." You started your lecture, in crossing arms as the boy pretty much ignored you. "Hello?" Your voice tone went higher, making him stare at you and restrain himself from giggling, letting just a small smile appear on his lips as he went back to ignore you.

He wanted to laugh at you, and you were not feeling it today.

"Jaemin, what the hell? I thought I told you to leave me alone! What are you even doing here?!" You exploded, clearly annoyed as both of your hands went to your head. You were on the edge of beating him all up and the thought of hearing Taeyong's lecture after it didn't even bother you. Listening to Taeyong's "You can't beat family up." speech would be damn worth it.

"What type of facial cleanser do you like the most? One with salicylic acid or one with aloe vera?" He looked at you for the first time since he had entered your room, showing you two cleansers on his hands. You were, again, shocked and angry at his capacity of acting normally. "Don't stare at me like that, you said the reason why you couldn't go onal a date with me was that you were taking care of yourself tonight, so I also decided to take care of myself, with you." He smiled at the end of the sentence, turning back his attention to the plastic bag, and taking a few more items out of there.

Unexpected wasn't even the beginning to explain how that situation felt for you. You wanted to feel shy about being only in your pajamas and no bra on. You wanted to feel angry at his persistence. You wanted to feel ashamed for having no makeup on. You wanted to stain his ridiculous pink hair into red with his blood...

"I didn't know what type of moisturizer you liked the most, so I brought one of each. A serum, an eye cream, an essence... I don't really know what they do. I barely know how to wash my face properly." he added, giving himself a little chuckle and still acting like everything was okay.

You wanted to yell at him. Punch, kick, scratch his whole face, broke a few of his bones... but at the end of the day, you knew it wouldn't work, so you decided to try the easy way. You sat down on your bed and watched Jaemin while he finished his apparently enjoyable process of putting all of those products on your bed — you also took this time to calm yourself down as well — and when he finished, he sat on your bed and looked at you.

"Jae, I thought I'd made myself clear earlier. Why are you here?" You questioned in the calmest voice tone you could.

"I told you, I'm here to take care of myself."

"Why don't you just take care of yourself in your room?" You asked, mentally scolding yourself for sounding a little rude. You were trying the easy way, so no snapping at him.

"Because I've just realized I don't really know how to. Look at this amount of products, I don't use half of them and to be honest, I didn’t even know they existed in the first place! So I thought maybe you could teach me."

"And what makes you so sure that I know how to use these? Just because I'm a woman you think I'm obliged to know how to do it?”

"Of course not. I overheard you teaching Jisung how to use a facemask and I thought maybe you would know how to help me." He explained, taking a sheet of facemask and swinging for you to see it, but your stare remained only on his face. "This is not a date. This is just two childhood friends doing a skincare routine together." he reassured you, pointing at a picture frame with an old photo of you, him and the others on it.

"No second intentions?" You asked him.

"Not at all. My only focus here is learning how to... How do they say? How to chemical exfoliate my face?" His face twisted at how weird that sounded like. "I think I might have skipped a few chemistry classes, I would die without knowing I can apply something like NaCl to my face."

"You really don't know shit about this, do you?" You asked, not believing that you were actually considering not kicking the pink-haired boy out of your room.

You watched him shrugged and for a moment, you really tried to remember the last time you had cultivated your friendship with him, and although it seemed like a dumb question to make, the awareness that it brought made you feel guilty: You couldn't even remember the last time you and your childhood friend had done something together. You have avoided him so badly for the past few months that you completely ignored the fact that the two of you are still friends.

"Okay."

"Okay?" He asked in shock.

"Okay." You repeated the small word, silently hoping that you wouldn't regret that decision. When Jaemin started to celebrate, you took your pillow and pointed at him. "But if you try anything else, I'll suffocate you." You threatened him with the most serious expression you could pull off.

"Suffocate me from kissing? Oh, I wouldn't mind being out of breath for that." Jaemin smirked at you, quickly pulling the pillow from you before you could throw it at him, causing you to give him your usual death stare that burned his whole face. "I know, I know, no flirting. I will not do it again, I promise."

...

"So, you're not that bad of a hairdresser yourself, huh?" You amazed at the view of your own image in the mirror. Jaemin was putting your blowdryer back to its place in your closet; however, he came back in a heartbeat when he heard you complimenting him. He had to make you he wasn't going crazy and listening to non-existent words. "You actually managed not to destroy my hair completely, I'm surprised."

"Excuse me, sweetie?" Jaemin inquired in an offended tone. "Have you seen this little masterpiece right on top of my head? If I didn't know how to take care of it, I would be walking around with my hair looking like Jeno's burned pasta."

"Ew. You didn't have to go there." Your disgusted face at the mention of Jeno’s attempt of cooking made Jaemin laugh. It was nice to be around you again, he missed you, but before he could say anything about it, he started to check on his face mask on your bathroom's mirror. "I think this is almost dry, should I take it off and wash my face?" He wondered at himself, making your eyes go wide-open when he finished his sentence. "What? No, no, no! You can't wash all the moisture away." "Then what do I do?" "Stay still." You demanded as you walked closer to him.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been this close to Jaemin. Maybe when you were 13? 15? To be honest, you didn’t even remember how nice it was to have him around. You two had become so busy with the mafia schedules and missions, that every time the boys wanted to get together and chill a little, you would say you were tired, which means: You hadn’t had spent time with any of your friends for about some years. And every time one of them tried to talk to you about something, you’d be annoyed. Just like you did with Jeno about his lost games.

The award of the best friend of the year? You weren’t getting it.

As your mind was drowning with those thoughts, you spaced out as your hands massaged Jaemin's entire face with the lotion that had remained on his face from the sheet mask.

When did he become so tall? You quietly wondered to yourself.

Your hands were gently sliding through his entire face and when you decided to bring a little bit of the lotion down to his neck, you really regretted that decision. How have you not noticed his jawline before?

“Ooo, that's nice.” Jaemin let a deep breath get off of his lips, tilting his head to the side, so you could continue pressing your hands to his neck.

“They say the warmth in our hands helps our skin to better absorb the product.” You addressed.

He’s... handsome.

YOU COULD NOT BELIEVE THAT YOU WERE THINKING THOSE WORDS. But you were. And the worst part? You were also enjoying the moment. With him. With Na Jaemin. The stubborn boy who had annoyed you for months asking you for a chance. A chance you had thought he didn’t deserve. But who were you to determine whether he deserved or not when you didn’t even know who he truly was anymore? He wasn't the same from years ago and neither was you.

"Thank you." You were shaken up from your thoughts by the feel of Jaemin's hand touching yours, that was still placed on his neck. He was smiling at you, and dammit, even his smile was beautiful. Did that boy have any flaws at all? "I really was missing out a lot from this whole skincare thing. I’m glad you taught me how to do it.” He chuckled, getting up from the small chair you had to bring to your bathroom earlier so he could blowdry your hair properly.

You literally had forced him to seat down so you could massage his face with the remaining lotion. And you didn't notice it. You were too busy getting drunk from the smell of his perfume. It smelled nice.

And you were indeed going crazy. You even shook your head trying to stop yourself from thinking too much, but what Jaemin did next forced you to make a decision about these thoughts.

"Well, time to leave." He announced, taking up the chair from the floor and leaving you almost heartbroken behind. You... didn't want him to leave.

As confused as someone in your situation could be, you followed the boy out of your room and watched Jaemin packing up his many skincare products back to his plastic bags, debating if you should say the words that were crossing through your mind.

Would you regret it? Probably.

“Unless you want to stay and eat some snacks with me.”

Jaemin froze.

“Are you serious?” he asked, which surprised you who had thought he was going to make a little comment with that damn smirk on his face.

“Yeah, I always keep some snacks in my room in case I want to watch tv shows or movies at night.” You shrugged, trying to act like it wasn't a big deal. “What do you say?”

...

"I still can't believe you eat these!" Jaemin exclaimed, weirdly staring at all the Twix on your bed. "What do you mean by that? You're eating them too!" You pointed at his mouth full of chocolate, making Jaemin almost spit everything out as he contained his laugh by placing his hand on his lips.

"In my defense," He started, after swallowing. "I didn't want to offend you by turning down your invitation, but I can't leave this room without pointing your 5-year-old taste for chocolate."

"I'm glad you didn't point out the fact that I still watch cartoons because then I would have to punch your face." You stated, causing Jaemin to really feel offended and to look at you like you had three more other heads on your neck. "What? Never! Just for you to know, I think Adventure Time is the best cartoon ever and I do not trust anyone who says otherwise."

"Bow down to the king's wise words!" You exclaimed, pretending to bow down, and proceeding to laugh when Jaemin waved at you in slow motion.

“As much as I would love to tease you about the fact that you just called me king, I should probably get going, it’s past midnight already.” Jaemin announced after checking on his watch. “And you’re probably tired so I should no longer annoy you.”

“You surprisingly didn’t annoy me tonight.” You replied, repressing the urge to laugh at Jaemin’s shocked expression. “Not as much as usual.” His face literally dropped.

“I knew something was coming.” He whined and rolled his eyes at you. “Why can’t you just admit that you enjoyed my company?” He questioned, with a serious look on his face.

“Because, if I admit that, I will have to apologize for being a bitch to you earlier,” You started. “which I’m really sorry for, by the way. I shouldn’t have said I didn’t care about what you do, you’re my friend and I do care about everything that happens to you.”

Jaemin listened to every single of my words with attention and when in the end he didn't show any type of reaction, you started to regret what you'd said.

"There's nothing to apologize for. We're cool." He shrugged, giving me a big warm smile as he took the last chocolate bar from my bed and pointed it to me. "Besides, if you intended to take me to your bed, you've picked the easiest way to do it. How could I say no to snacks AND chocolate on your bed? It almost feels like I'm daydreaming." He added with a grin on his face, quickly unpacking the last chocolate and putting half of it in his mouth and offering me the other half. "Peace offer?"

"No." You forced a smile and before he could see it coming, you moved quickly and pushed him out of your bed, causing him to fall and push you with him. Result? You were lying on top of him. And as surprising as it may sound, you didn't care or panicked as much as you thought you would.

"Sorry, field reflexes." He apologized and for the very first time, you noticed his cheeks turning into pink pigment.

Na Jaemin was blushing. He just couldn’t get any more adorable than that.

"Is that dinner still available? I would take it as a peace offer." You wondered, staring right at Jaemin's lips. You mentally scolded yourself from looking too straight-forward, but your eyes just couldn't focus anywhere else, not from this close.

"So, let me see if I got this right, I've spent the last hours being threatened of death, only for you to accept to go on a date with me in the end?" He asked, with a confused but cute expression.

“No, you’ve spent last hours proving me wrong about you. I haven’t been exactly the friend of the year-” “Years.” He faked coughing, giving an innocent smile right after it. “Okay, YEARS.” You rolled your eyes at him, not believing that you were really having that conversation in THAT position. “But what I’m trying to say is, I know I haven’t been around much aside from missions, and tonight you remembered me that you can still be resting while having a friend around, but since it’s been a while since the last time we actually had a proper conversation, I guess it's time for us to get to know each other again.” You finished, finally noticing how his hands on your waist were causing you a tickle feeling. Along with some insisting butterflies who were starting to appear in your stomach.

“Does that mean I have a chance with you?” Jaemin asserted, with a smile on his face.

Yes.

“No, it means I’m giving you the chance to earn that chance.” You faked an excited tone as Jaemin face literally dropped, you had no choice but to laugh at that point.

“Not what I aimed at, but I'll take it, especially after you I’ve seen you laugh like this.”

He just knew how to say the right thing. You didn't know if you hated or liked him for it.

“Soooo, can you get up? I mean, I can totally move you away from the top of me, but I’m too scared that if I accidentally touch your butt, I might not survive till our date.” He forced a chuckle and putting his hands up next to his head.

"You're not wrong, but," You gave him a quick slap on his face, causing the boy to instantly touch his forehead and letting an "Ouch." out of his mouth. "this, is for you even thinking of touching my booty." you warned him, before sitting on his belly and getting yourself on your feet right after it.

"I don't even want to ask what would you do if I'd thought about kissing you..." he murmured, sitting on the floor as he caressed his forehead. "which I didn't. I'm a gentleman, so, no need to merciless murder me." Jaemin quickly completed when he felt your stare burning on his head.

You wanted to laugh at him, SO BAD. But he did have a point: He had been hours alone with you, and not even for a second he attempted anything or looked at you differently. He respected you, and you appreciated that.

"So, see you tomorrow?" you casually asked him after opening your door. "Yes, if you don't change your mind till there." Jaemin bickered, making you roll your eyes at him.

You somehow felt a mixture of feelings: You deep down didn't want to let him go since you had enjoyed his company, but at the same time, you were excited to see what was about to come next. You wanted whatever the future had planned for you, and that was a feeling you weren't familiar with.

"Just don't make me change my mind then." You snapped with a little smile on your face. "I'll try." Jaemin smiled back at you, turning his back and then starting to walk.

(1) Text Message from Jaemin: "I'll try not to change your mind about tomorrow's date. Just hope I can change your mind about going out on a second date (yeah, I know your immediate answer will be "no" to this one)."

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random-mha-thoughts · 4 years

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Truth (Todoroki x Reader)

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Crack, fluff

Summary: By some dumb luck, Todoroki’s drank some truth serum, and it’s the only way anyone finally hears what’s on his mind aka my excuse for making Todo act like an incorrect meme

Word count: 1,802

Tags: @yuki-osaki @liviitehe @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog @bunnythepipsqueak

a/n: I’m back on my Todoroki BS. Only because I had no other ideas and I was babysitting most of the day so I had to pick something that I can passively write without any intense feelings. And because Todo deserves some crack. Not terribly proud of it, but it was a good idea in my head so, here ya go.

"It was a mistake! Honestly!" Hatsume cries, backed against the wall at the group of students confronting her.

"Well, YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO FIX IT!" Bakugou yells, the most ticked off of all of them, sparks popping in his palms.

"How could you do something so irresponsible? What were you even doing with something like that?" Iida reprimands the girl, chopping the air as usual.

I was planning on asking Hastume for some adjustments on my hero costume, but instead I'm standing in the doorway watching a confrontation. In addition to the two boys, Uraraka and Midoriya stand behind them, slightly flustered but still cross. Yaoyorozu stands with them, arms crossed over her chest in disappointment.

"Uh...?" All of their heads snap towards me. "What's...going on, guys?"

Before anyone has a chance to respond, Bakugou bellows, "THIS IDIOT MADE ICYHOT INTO A RUDE EMO BASTARD!"

Huh? I blink and turn to the three standing aside for a better explanation while Iida continues reprimanding the support girl for her wrongdoings.

Yaoyorozu rubs the bridge of her nose. "Hastume-san made a truth serum for some reason and left it in a cup of tea, which he drank."

"I thought he would've liked it to cheer him up," Uraraka twiddles her finger nervously, "He seemed more stoic and quiet than usual today. Deku and I came for some upgrades and we saw it on the table."

"Hastume-san said I could have it, but we figured Todoroki would've liked it instead," Midoriya whines out. "It's all my fault, I did this."

"You had no way of knowing, Midoriya, don't beat yourself up," I assure the poor boy and I quirk an eyebrow. "But, if Hastume said you could have it, and there was a truth serum inside it, then what was she trying to...?" I slowly turn to the girl in question.

At my train of logic, Bakugou growls and steps closer to her. "YOU BETTER START TALKING, PINK HAIR!"

Her face becomes flustered. "I just needed to ask him a few questions, that's all!"

"You should be ashamed of coercing your schoolmates for information like that! That's way beyond unethical!" Iida chimes in, truly the class representative.

"Guys, why she did it is a whole side issue, the bigger thing is that she makes something to fix it," I cross my arms in front of my chest and give her a harsh stare.

Hastume waves her arms around. "I promise it's only temporary! It should wear off by itself in an hour or less!"

"If you're wrong, I won't have any qualms about the two of us roughing you up," I crack one of my knuckles and she nods frantically. I turn to Bakugou. "Wait, so what do you mean Todoroki's a 'rude, emo bastard'?"

"I think it's unhealthy for you to be eating all those sweets, but it's part of your quirk, so I guess you can't help it."

Frankly, Sato doesn't know how to react to that. The confused guy was just coming out of his dorm with freshly baked cakes ready to share with his classmates when Todoroki, quite literally, violated his quirk with such a stoic expression.

"Okay, I understand the rude part," I whisper to Midoriya, covering my hand with my mouth.

"Just wait, it gets worse."

Mineta casually walks down the hall towards the two boys and waves, "What's up guys-"

Todoroki looks down at the little purple boy. "I'd love to file a restraining order against you on behalf of every girl in this school, it's a good thing you're not pansexual or else I would've done it myself."

Mineta's jaw drops to the floor. "I- Where-"

Kaminari laughs from behind, patting the boy's back. "Todoroki got you good, Mineta!"

Todoroki sighs. "I don't know how to sugarcoat this, Kaminari, but I'm afraid that being around you might make me lose brain cells. Sero should probably tape your mouth shut. At least then he would be a more notable classmate."

My jaw drops to the ground and I shrink back a little behind the corner so they can't see us. "Oh...my...god." Half of me doesn't want to go out there for fear of what he might say to me.

Kirishima eases up to the sharp-tongued boy. "Hey, hey, where's this coming from, dude? We're your friends."

His mismatched eyes downcast. "Unfortunately, I was never taught how to be friendly because I was isolated for most of my childhood. Not to mention my father isn't the most personable or kind either."

The hallways falls silent. What is anyone supposed to say in that situation?

"I'm going to bed. At least in sleep, I can feel a percentage of the sweet relief of death," Todoroki casually turns on his heels and walks off.

"Holy shit, it's worse than I thought," I mutter. I've always wondered what's inside the usually quiet and proper boy's head, but this is something else.

"OI, ICYHOT!"

"For fuck's sake, Bakugou, you couldn't have just left him alone?!" I whisper-yell at his sheer stupidity.

Todoroki turns around to face the spiky-haired hothead. "Yes, Pomeranian?"

Bakugou growls at the insult. "I'm still not finished with you from earlier!"

There's still the same cold expression on his face. "What more do you want? Do you want me to say that if I wasn't hesitant to use my left side at the Sport Festival, I would've been the 1st place winner?"

The ash blond pops sparks from his hands. "You wanna test that theory out right now?!"

Todoroki puts his hands in his pockets, still keeping his cool. "I'd rather not waste my energy ruining this building to appease someone with a deeply rooted inferiority complex."

"You better shut up before I smash your face in!" He bends his legs into position, about to spring.

"And I'd still be considered better looking than you."

I come out from behind the wall to calm the situation down before it escalates anymore. "Alright, that's enough." I glare at Bakugou. "You didn't need to egg him on, stupid, you just made it worse for yourself." I brace myself and turn around. "Todoroki, just-"

"I like you."

The rest of my words catch in my throat. Huh? I had to look up to make sure he was looking at me.

His heterochromatic gaze fixes on me. "You can be just as aggressive as Bakugou at times, and it's frustrating how you have so much potential to be a great hero with such a strong quirk, not to mention that you can be such a mess during practice." He steps towards me so we're standing arm's length away. "But you're charming and sweet as well. Just seeing you smiling makes me feel warm on the inside. Sometime's it's the only thing I need to see in the morning to make my day better. And I can look into your eyes..." He trails off suddenly.

My heart's already pounding and I can feel the heat from my blush reach my ears. When he stops, I finally let out a breath. I thought I was going to die if he continued.

Todoroki's expression morphs into slight confusion before his eyes widen and he looks around at all the slack-jaws and smirks around us. A blush as intensely red as his left side colors his entire face and neck. When his gaze finally rounds back to me, he nearly bursts into flames and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Pardon me," he murmurs before retreating to his room.

I'm dizzy enough that I could faint, from both embarrassment and joy that the guy I like has feelings for me too. My legs are about to give out until Midoriya holds me up. "I guess...the serum's...worn off now," I let out shakily.

"Are you okay?" The freckled boy looks concerned trying to balance me back onto my feet.

I nod, my thoughts a little scrambled, but I still need to address the rest of the students. "So, uh, Todoroki was under a truth serum, which is why this all happened. Just thought I'd let you guys know." I lean over Midoriya's ear. "Can you take care of the rest?" The weightlessness in my stomach tells me I should go knock on a certain someone's door and talk to them.

The boy nods and I stumble over to Todoroki's door, leaving Iida's signature class rep voice to deal with damage control. I take a deep breath to calm my rattled nerves as I stand there. I'd say we're friends by association, since we both talk to Midoriya, but we've never really been alone to talk before. Somehow, I'd developed a crush on him, but I'd never really planned on confessing.

I gather my wits and knock gently. "Todoroki? It's me."

There's rustling of clothes very close to the door, which means he was probably sitting behind it, before the boy opens it a crack. He clears his throat, "Yes?"

It's cute how he's trying to sound like everything's normal. "Can I come in? I'd like to talk."

Without another word, he opens the door fully to let me in, closing it behind me. He doesn't meet my eyes, trying to hide his face behind a closed fist. The image of this normally cool guy falling apart embarrassed is priceless. "I'm...sorry...I embarrassed you. And I wasn't very kind to everyone else either. My behavior was completely out of line, and I'd like to take back everything-"

"You want to take back what you said about me, too?"

His face turns even more crimson. "If it makes you uncomfortable..."

"It doesn't, actually."

The boy finally looks at me, childish shock clear in his eyes. It makes me want to hug him and not let go. "Really?"

I nod, "I'm just a little upset that you cut off where you did." I close the distance between us and tug the fabric on his sleeve. "What did you want to say about my eyes?"

It seems I might have asked too much of him. He's the complete opposite of how he was 2 minutes ago, but that's what makes this more genuine to me. "I...was going to say...I can look into your eyes...all day." And he finally does so. "Because they hold the entire soul of the person I'd like to get to know."

My heart flutters at the cliche but sweet line and throw my arms around him. "Was that so hard to say?" I tease.

"Somewhat..."

I rest my head on his shoulder. "I like you too, Todoroki." The words coming out of my mouth feels almost like a liberation. And when his stiff figure finally loosens up to envelop me too, I smile. "You know, you're gonna have to apologize to everyone formally tomorrow."

His body becomes hotter. "I know..."

#todoroki x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #todoroki shouto #todoroki fluff #crack #todoroki imagine #todoroki scenario #gender neutral reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction

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thexfridax · 4 years

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Translated interview

Adèle Haenel: 'Sex in cinema is usually quite pathetic’

Wenke Husmann, in: Die Zeit, 31st of October 2019

Additions or clarifications for translating purposes are denoted as [T: …]

Our understanding of art? Patriarchal! Eroticism in cinema? Stunted! The actress Adèle Haenel about her new film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’.

In the film ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’, the young aristocrat Héloïse literally catches fire. Around 1770 she falls in love with a young painter, who is supposed to portray her. The role of the shy former convent student seems unusual for Haenel at first glance, who otherwise plays very assertive female characters: an AIDS activist in ‘120 BPM’, a martial artist in ‘Love at First Fight’, a doctor who solves a murder in ‘The Unknown Girl’. But Haenel also interprets the role of the muse as a very active one. The actress had her breakthrough in 2007 at the age of 18 with ‘Water Lilies’, the debut film by film-maker Céline Sciamma. The two were a couple for years. ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ is their second collaboration, which was awarded the Best Screenplay (for Sciamma) at the Cannes Film Festival.

Haenel speaks German very well. She learned the language almost perfectly for Chris Kraus' feature film ‘The Bloom of Yesterday’. However, whenever she speaks German, she will always be so categorical, Haenel warns, and after a very German expletive slips into the conversation, she switches to French.

ZEIT ONLINE: In ‘Portrait of a Lady on Fire’ you play a restrained woman at first. Your Héloïse is supposed to be portrayed by a painter. She is the more experienced, a self-assured artist you fall in love with. But then you reinterpret the role of the muse.

[T: Short bio of Adèle and description of the film is inserted here, but I didn’t translate these, as y’all know everything already 😏]

Adèle Haenel: It's about equality. I believe that the role of the muse is in fact active - and as important as the official role of the artist.

ZE: What is the active part or equality in the relationship between you being the portrayed and the painter? And what's new about it?

AH: I think in art history, being a muse was the role that women were allowed to play. That's why men said, ‘Oh, it's a passive role, the muses are just in the room, and we're dreaming and fabricating great ideas in our heads.’ It was their way of saying that as men, they are the only ones who create art. That's Scheiße [T: 💩 💩 💩] in my opinion. I’m sorry. Whenever I speak German, I am always a bit more categorical. But that’s the way it is.

(Continues the conversation in French)

I believe, however, that muses have always been active. They were just not presented like that. This also has a lot to do with a certain notion of art. Art is not just an ideal sphere that comes down to earth through an artist who is both absolute and ingenious. Art is created by questioning your own choices over and over again, as well as the reasons that led to them. Thus, there is something sacred and something entirely unholy in art. Questioning postulates, constantly questioning your own work, makes art powerful. And that is much more the result of collaboration than of anything else.

ZE: In this case, collaboration is based on love. Muse and artist are on equal terms. Your connection acts like an engine and unleashes the creativity of the artist. Is that the reason why the first portrait that the painter Marianne made of you as Héloïse is technically good but rather conventional? [T: the interviewer uses ‘not befitting’ here]

AH: It's not even about the progression, where only love makes art better, but it’s actually about the process. That's why you constantly ask yourself questions. Of course, at some point a portrait will come out, but in the film it’s not about whether that’s a good thing or not in the end. The problem of the first ‘failed’ portrait is that it avoids any questions. It does not ask exactly: Who is this person? What attitude did the painter take towards her? Does the model have an essence that we try to capture and bring to the canvas? Or is it just about capturing a specific moment? At this point, the collaboration begins. My character Héloïse begins to question Marianne, the artist, ‘What's that supposed to be?’ And when Marianne answers, ‘That's the way to do it,’ Héloïse retorts, ‘What do you mean, that's the way it is done, how do you find yourself in it, what's your attitude towards it?’ And you cannot just take that stance, you have to feel it.

ZE: Is this relationship comparable to what you have as an actress with the director Céline Sciamma?

[T: The above was taken from a translation on the Teller Report website and revised where necessary, my own translation continues below.]

AH: Yes, absolutely. Our collaboration is based on that idea. There are also parallels in terms of content, because painting in this film also has a lot to do with cinema. As it’s also about sequence, scene and so on. The screenplay was very detailed. Improvisation as a method wasn’t intended. But I had a certain amount of freedom to shape my character. The point wasn’t to do this behind closed doors, but the idea was developed in exchange to centre my character around the gaze and into three phases: At the beginning of my journey, I saw myself more as an object, then there was the phase of questioning, and at the end I’m more of a subject. This means that I used my face like a mask at the beginning of the film, very solemn, almost sacral, with little emotion, reserved. The warmer Marianne’s gaze becomes at Héloïse, the more I change the way I’m acting. I become more active and animated. I gave myself a very clear structure. Céline went with this kind of idea. And then we start to discuss about specific and precise things.

ZE: That seems quite practical and unpretentious.

AH: Oh, I’m a very impatient person and get annoyed very quickly. That’s why I can’t stand some of the questions that I get (mimics a stupid tone): ‘How do you endure just being looked at the whole time?’ I do retort then: ‘Have you even seen the film? It’s about the exchange of gazes!’

ZE: There is a narrative framework in the film, where Marianne remembers this love several years later. It’s about the impact of that encounter. How important is such an echo for the arts?

AH: You could say that every human being contains something like an eternal truth inside of them, but that this cannot manifest in a person in its pure form. The potential is there. So, you can develop, change, grow. It’s almost our responsibility to become a better [T: bigger is stated here] person, who exhausts all possibilities to become what makes us human. A romantic relationship [T: love affair…] also makes us feel the possibility to become someone else, more than what we were before. I’m thinking in particular of Spinoza in this context.

ZE: In short, he talks about the necessity of individuals to evolve so that they become more perfect. [T: ‘Vollkommenheit’ is difficult to translate, but I understand that Spinoza meant that this is the ideal state of being, see: The Ethics, Part 4. Of Human Bondage, Or The Strength Of The Emotions, Preface]. Looking at your career, it seems that you and film-maker Céline Sciamma, who was your partner for a long time, also helped each other very much in that sense to evolve.

AH: Céline and I have an extremely close connection and always had an intense intellectual exchange with each other. And an intense emotional exchange, but of course that changes over time. When it comes to what I said before about the search for and questioning of what’s underneath, and how we make choices in terms of our work, then Céline and I understand each other well. We agree about the questions and how we can communicate about them.

ZE: The film takes place around 1770. Back then, the first female artists’ associations were found such as the school of Adélaïde Labille-Guiard. Marianne also worked in such an art school. It was only a few years that women could work as painters. Before and after, female artists could only do that in a limited capacity. Why was that?

Adélaïde Labille-Guiard, Autoportrait avec deux élèves (1785) © Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York

AH: You get the impression that the female gaze is somehow threatening for male colleagues, that’s why they always tried to ban it. And besides, that is still the case.

ZE: How?

AH: Because some kind of natural order is being postulated. We have very much internalised this patriarchal order, in our intimacy, our desires, in everything. Indeed, challenging this perceived natural order is dangerous, because the entire patriarchy virtually depends on this everywhere. The trick to avoid answering questions that women are asking is in pretending that women really don’t have any reason to ask these kind of questions: They are doing well after all. If it wasn’t that pathetic, it would be really funny.

[T: Two of the below bits were extracted (for ease of reading) from @hedawolf‘s fantastic gifset on Adèle smashing the patriarchy, please head over and show some love.]

ZE: It seems that many big film festivals are now more open to show films that are about interesting and diverse female characters. Aren’t there more of these stories these days?

AH: Indeed, the problem has now come to the surface of society – two years after the Weinstein affair and #MeToo. You can see the facts. These are hilariously pathetic: 100 per cent of women, who use public transport in Paris, have experienced violence or abuse. 100 per cent! You always hear: ‘No, not all men are like that.’ Yes, of course. But all women have experienced this. And men also feel it. They’ve started to question the structures, in which this was possible, and in which they also lived for a long time. They also question their own behaviour. It’s not about locking up all men in a cage, but that we all evolve. It will make us all freer. But you have to let go of your little privilege of always being in charge. I understand that this is tough. [T: 😏]

ZE: You’ve really shown us one of the most wonderful scenes on this topic in your film, without men.

AH: This scene is sexy, inventive, created in collaboration – we were also quite satisfied with it. That’s why I was so happy at the premiere in Cannes: There are 2,000 people in the audience, who will see something completely different.

#Die Zeit #October 2019 #German interview #NGL this was tough to translate #But would I do it again #YES #Adèle Haenel #was not amused in this interview #about male privilege #and worse #Portrait of a Lady on Fire #Céline x Adèle #for life #Relationship goals #Intellectual and emotional #My translation #long post

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iwrestlenow · 3 years

Text

Many More To Die - Chapter 4

TITLE: Many More To Die (Chapter 4)

FANDOM: Sanders Sides (Necromancer AU)

SUMMARY: Roman discovers that even the power of a king has its limits--but at least he has the power to help Logan in one critical fashion.

Logan is a needy wreck, and can't figure out which way is up, and as desperately as he needs someone--one man--to hold his hand through it all? It only makes things worse somehow.

Meanwhile, through all of this, another chess piece steps out of the shadows and onto the game board--and he's not going anywhere until he gets what, and who, he came for.

SHIPS: Logince (Logan/Roman), future Moceit (Patton/Janus) and Dukexiety (Remus/Virgil)

WARNINGS: Panic attack, but that’s it for this chapter. It’s mostly me having feelings, being TOTALLY UNABLE TO STOP WRITING WHAT THE HELL SOMEONE SAVE ME XD, and more self indulgent garbage that just felt good to write. So there. :P

Also, no betas, we die like men.

NOTES: This is based on the gorgeous piece of art by @gretacticdraws that can be found here. I ended up writing a ficlet for it, and then my brain got swallowed up. Breathe at me wrong, and I’ll write more…hell, who am I kidding? I’ll write more anyway because this? Is self indulgent drivel. XD

Also located at AO3 over here.

“Lord Janus? I want this man dead.”

“Certainly, Your Majesty.”

“Please—mercy, Your Majesty!”

“Now hang on there just a gosh darn, berry pickin', mother lovin' moment, buster! Janny, if you know what's good for you, you will just stop with this nonsense and put the flippin' sword down!”

Roman would have burst out laughing if he wasn't fighting so hard to keep his composure. It could hardly be helped—Patton came up to Logan's shoulder, but only just, and was standing in his cell with his hands on his hips, glaring at the captain of the royal guard like he was a child being scolded for a broken dish.

Janus hardly looked intimidated—but the fact that he stilled after drawing his sword, leaving a terrified guard trembling against the bars of the cell next to Logan's was telling. Seven years, Lord Janus had served as the head of the assassins' corps before retiring to become the captain of the royal guard. Roman had heard stories, but never met the man until today, which was hardly unusual given that Janus was a drake—the son of a human and a dragon. They were notoriously gifted shapeshifters, even with a handicap like his.

Lord Janus was powerful, deadly, and highly skilled at remaining an enimga...but a hobbled child necromancer in a cell had the power to stay his hand.

Janus raised an eyebrow at Patton, but finally glanced at Roman.

Roman nodded. Janus refocused on the guard, pushing the tip of his sword against the hollow of his throat, hard enough to draw blood.

“Majesty, I beg you! I don't want to die!” the guard begged.

Roman let out a bemused little laugh.

“How strange,” he replied as calmly as he could manage, “I was under the impression you did, given the fact that you refused, a second time, to obey a direct order from your king.”

“The Necromata must be bound! It's the law!”

“I am the law!”

Storming up to the guard, Roman let his emotions fuel him—exhaustion, grief, anger, confusion, and the tearing, unspeakable ache that throbbed through him every time his gaze ventured too close to the open door of the cell where Logan still leaned.

The wail he'd let out when Roman pulled free of his grip to order the cell door opened was going to haunt his sleep. The way he stood now, so carefully still, features so meticulously schooled into calm, unfeeling lines, was going to rob him of that breath of life Logan had only just returned to him.

“I am the king now, and I am the ultimate authority.” Roman spat. “Now, I fully understand the need to shackle a prisoner being removed from his cell, but as far as I am concerned, this man is no longer a prisoner here.”

“You can't--”

“I think you'll find that I can.”

“Your Majesty.”

Roman turned at the sound of Logan's voice, cool and even but too quiet, hoarse and thick with the tears he'd finally managed to stop from streaming down his face.

“The law is such that the king cannot overrule it.” Logan declared with deceptive calm. “The Necromata, once imprisoned by the royal family, can only be pardoned for the crimes of their birth with the blessing of the people. A vote, if you will...and no such vote has ever been successfully passed.”

“How do you know this?”

“I have been here for ten years with little more to do than read. I have the entire legal code of the Kingdoms and the criminal rules of order memorized, along with the family tree of the royal family and all available star maps of the area.”

Roman wanted to scream. He wanted to hit something—for a terrible moment, he wanted to order Janus to proceed with the guard's execution for real, rather than just trying to make a point.

Then inspiration struck—bright, blinding, and blessed as it filled him with light.

“My order will still be obeyed.” Roman announced. “These two necromancers—they may not be pardoned, but they will be imprisoned at my pleasure...and it is my pleasure to have them confined to guest quarters upstairs. Have extra guards posted at all available palace entrances. They are not to leave the grounds until the vote has been passed. Successfully.”

He shot a look at the offending guard.

“And the first person to shackle either one of them without violent provocation will be hung at dawn.”

Janus lowered his sword and slid it back into its sheath—the cane he'd been carrying with him—before moving to Roman's side.

“Bit extreme, don't you think, Majesty?” he murmured once he was close enough to ensure that only Roman would hear him.

“My father is dead, Lord Janus.” Roman shot back bleakly. “I have yet to shed a single tear for him--'extreme' feels like an appropriate response right about now.”

“Touche. Of course—and it has nothing to do with the traumatized necromancer you're apparently well acquainted with?”

Roman didn't answer as he moved towards the open door of the cell. Standing before Logan, he extended his hand...

...then suddenly realized that was a bad idea as he put his hand back down again.

********** More.

Logan could hardly string a single coherent thought together around the constant chant in his mind, his marrow, his soul for the prince to touch him again. He couldn't let him, not when it was so agonizing, fire and pressure and somehow affecting every nerve in his body when it was focused on such a small area...

More. More. More.

He didn't understand why restraining himself was so hard. It hurt, it was clearly doing him some kind of physical and psychological harm...and yet he wanted. Needed.

He couldn't remember ever experiencing the sensation.

It very nearly caused another panic attack when the prince dropped his offered hand—and that was another problem entirely, standing before a cell door standing wide open, and the use of the word pardon being thrown around like it wasn't capable of changing the world as Logan knew it—but the pause that seemed to last for an eternity must have only been a few seconds long.

Because a moment later, the Green Man—the prince—was reaching into his pocket and producing a pair of pristine white gloves. A missing piece of the military uniform, how had Logan not noticed? He usually noticed things like that...

When he finished tugging them on, he offered his hand to Logan again. He said nothing...just waited.

Logan shook with the force of effort it took to reach, slowly, to accept the offered hand. The gloves blocked some of that heat from skin to skin contact—and when he gently folded his fingers around Logan's, barely any pressure, it was still intense...but better.

“All good, Berry?”

Logan looked into his eyes sharply, the name ricocheting around in his skull in a manner he hadn't experienced in literal years—not since he'd first discovered his power was awakening again, all concussive force and electricity crawling against the underside of his skin.

All at once, the years fell away, and he was asleep in his cell that first terrible night, dreaming of every monstrous shadow transforming into a protector as green eyes lit the dark.

He opened his mouth to answer yes, he was fine—then realized...

“I do not know which of the princes you are.” he admitted with a bemused huff.

That got a smile from the other man—too brief, far too brief before it fractured to pieces, a crystal goblet slammed to the floor, raining shards of razor sharp light.

“Roman.” he replied. “Pr—King Thomas Roman II, but you may address me by my name.”

“Hardly acceptable, is it, Majesty?” Janus mused.

“Given that my life is currently in this man's hands—and the future of my father—I'd say he's earned a few niceties, Lord Janus.” Roman announced, raising his voice to ensure everyone within earshot was aware of it. Logan had a strange feeling that Lord Janus spoke up for precisely that purpose, to make his situation known.

Logan's, not Roman's—Logan knew that anyone with a shred of loyalty to the king would probably kill him if given the chance. There was no question that someone would likely accuse a necromancer with ties to the crown prince of the murder. Fear for Roman's safety would keep him protected.

Janus was that kind of man, shrewd and shameless—Logan knew precious little about Prince Roman, but to discover that he was equally blessed with the gift of strategy was...intriguing.

“Lord Janus, see to it that Logan's cell mate is made comfortable, and shown around the north wing of the palace. That is where I would prefer they spend the bulk of their time.” Roman declared. “I will take custody of this prisoner myself. When you are done, I want you, the dungeon master, the head prison mage, and a heart healer in the war room, immediately. Send for my brother as well.”

“Yes, Your Majesty—but I cannot send you alone.” Janus replied. Surveying the guards in their presence, and grimacing with impatience, he finally took a few steps down the corridor and flagged down another guard.

“You! Fetch the cadet from the graveyard patrol, now! I want him on the king's detail.”

Roman nodded his thanks, finally turning his attention back on Logan. Between those green eyes and the warm pressure enfolding his hand, ravaging his nerves and making his chest throb with pure emotion, he wasn't sure he could stand it much longer without losing his composure.

“Are you all right?” Roman asked quietly, stepping closer and into Logan's personal space. Strangely, Logan realized he could feel that as well, radiant heat and buzzing static crawling across his skin, too close and not enough and everything.

More. More. More.

“I am not.” he admitted. “Hardly unusual, given that touch starvation is a common condition among the Necromata, to say nothing of the Claim.”

“The Claim? What's that?”

Logan's mouth snapped shut, very real panic rising in his chest again.

“Whoah—Logan? Logan, breathe. Look at me, you need to breathe.”

The Claim. He knew, knew what Logan had done, was holding his hand and Logan could feel it, but now he'd spoken about the Claim, about his power, and he was going to die this time...

...two...three...four...hold for one...two...three...four...five...

“That's it, Logan. There you go, can you do it again?”

...good job, now again: in for one...two...three...four...

Pressure. Pressure, pressure, pressure, everywhere, pressure pressure unrelenting pressure...

“Hey!”

Logan blinked, attention snapping to the young man suddenly standing in front of him. He was nearly Logan's height, with straight black hair that hung in dark eyes, flinty as stone.

“Name five things you can see.”

“I...what?”

“Do it. Five things.”

Logan shook his head, and almost immediately his gaze was drawn back to Roman.

“Green Man.” he managed to reply. Roman smiled, and Logan felt that mantra start tattooing itself against the inside of his skull, blotting out the fear and panic.

“Okay, keep going. Let's keep going.”

Logan only realized they were moving because Roman still held his hand, was tugging him with the barest of pressure—and Logan's traitorous body followed. Between the cadet, demanding Logan name more things he could see, along with touch, smell, hear, and taste, and Roman's silent encouragement, he found himself moving out of his cell and towards the stairs of the dungeon.

Moving up each stair. Moving through the gate, and into the palace...moving, traveling, with only Roman's hand to restrain him.

Then he was in the palace, above the dungeons...and if he never saw the outside world again, Logan still felt like he could call himself a free man.

********** “Thank you.”

The cadet flinched a little, looking towards the king. “What?”

“Thank you.” King Roman repeated, still crouched motionless by the chair the prisoner had all but collapsed into. He'd basically passed out when they reached the war room, but didn't seem to be in any distress—just exhausted and overstimulated.

“That trick, focusing on his surroundings—it's greatly appreciated.” he went on, his gaze never leaving the sleeping man's face. He still held his hand, like he might vanish if he let him go. “How did you know it would work?”

The cadet had to grit his teeth for a second, finding himself watching the sleeping prisoner despite his best efforts not to. He looked...well, he looked like shit, and it was hard. It was so hard to watch, but he had to do it.

He was finally here, and he had to make sure that he didn't screw up again.

“I have anxiety.” he finally replied, keeping his tone even. “Nightmares, panic attacks, the works. My brother used to help me through them with tricks like that. He'd have me focus on my surroundings, or make me pick out colors—he even made me a special blanket to help me sleep. It, uh—it might be good for him? The guard who got me mentioned that this necromancer can feel your touch? If he's not used to contact, it could...”

“You'd be willing to do that?”

“Of course, sir.”

“Go and fetch it, then.”

“Sir, I was ordered to stay with you.”

“I'm the king. I overrule your orders.” King Roman replied.

The cadet lifted his gaze to the king's face, his stomach sinking when he realized he was being stared at. Hard.

Ohhhhh, shit.

“You don't call me 'Majesty.' Why?”

The cadet tried to be discreet about taking a steadying breath as he shrugged. “You have a pet necromancer now. All due respect, but I don't think you'll have the job long.”

“What do you know about necromancers?”

“I know they're not evil. Only reason I'm still here is that you seem to know it, too.”

King Roman nodded, gaze flicking down before it returned to the sleeping necromancer.

“Cadet...do you know what a Claim is?”

The cadet swallowed thickly. No...oh no.

“It's a binding ritual.” the cadet replied. “The Necromata are capable of manipulating death, but when they can't? They take it.”

“Away?”

“No—into themselves. They take the victim's dying breath, infuse it with their blood, and return it to the person it belongs to. That way, when the victim's time comes, they survive it.”

The cadet looked to the necromancer again.

Gods, Loganberry—what did you do?

“And the necromancer dies in their place.”

To his credit, the king paled, his free hand lifting to touch Logan's hair like the cadet itched to—so close for the first time in ten years, but he couldn't even comfort him.

He had to stay put. By the door, protecting the king and his charge.

After a decade, Virgil was finally, finally within reach of Logan in every way that mattered, and he would die before he jeopardized his one chance to save him.

Virgil was the one who got his big brother caught and imprisoned in the first place—he was damn well going to make sure that he was the one to set things right.

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captainshazamerica · 3 years

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If this Bruce doesn't adopt Tim I will! But I'm kinda scared for Tim I mean he's either gonna end up with Buce or the titans at some point, im afraid that something terrible is gonna happen his family and then titans/bruce takes him in? That boy loves batman and robin so much like even his family seeing the news knew how much it would upset him although I will say that for the brain that kid has he makes some pretty stupid decisions, hes driving around GOTHAM plastered in the bat-symbol that's not a good idea! the amount of lunatics that roam free in Gotham (and possibly have escaped from arkham) and hate the bat and hes driving around with the bat symbol on him KID be careful!

Some kind of Anti-fear toxin does seem more accurate cuz he's clearly taking something to not be afraid. Maybe it's something he found in Gotham and decided to try it and got addicted so he's using that lab place to try recreate it? and maybe he can't recreate it perfectly cuz in the crowbarring scene he seemed kinda anxious about his surroundings and he'd just taken that inhaler thing to overcome fear so I dunno?? Or maybe he went to arkham to see Crane for some reason and Crane has orchestrated the whole thing and told him about the drug but then wouldn't Crane have to know everyone's identity then? Dude I dunno I need more episodes even tho the low quality glitchyness is painful lol

There's probably an abundance of rooms to choose from at Wayne manor yet Jason takes Dicks old room and keeps the flying graysons posters up! I like to think that he does view dick as an older brother and just took his room to kind of have a connection to him and that he admires him hence the graysons posters being left up, yooo dick calling him his brother! I really want a nice family reunion with dick jason and bruce 💕

Babs was too mean to bruce when she went off like I get where she's coming from but yo lady his son just died dial it down like a notch yikes but also babs being like 'i wonder how long it'll take for bruce to replace jason and dick is all 'what no the last thing bruce is gonna do is rope another kid into this mess'. Cut to scene of Bruces potential robin folder 😅 but I also like that dick was trying to be considerate and compose himself for bruce but once he found out that bruce is idiot enough to pull another kid into this, that that's when he got mad and bruce so brokenly begging dick to come back and be robin 😢😢😢

I know the show is constantly trying to push bruce out/sideline him cuz it's a titans show not a bruce wayne show and I know they're going for a different portrayal of bruce which I'm not complaining about I do like this version of bruce (more than I thought actually) and this universe but I feel like they could have gave more cracks you know, I like that they showed him trying to avoid the reality of jasons death and just not stopping not even for a second and just immediately jump into another case and that breakdown verge where he's begging dick to be robin and then when he finally I guess let's the weight of jasons loss sit on him to the point where he whacks in jokers head with a crowbar just like he killed jason (he could have killed joker so many other ways like a less violent bullet to the head but oh no brucey crowbars him to death!!)

There's a lot of character stuff that i do like but that scene where he's in the cave on his knees scrubbing his sons blood out of the suit he died in, the suit that he only ever wore because of batman. 😢 I feel like they could have had him crack there and let out a gut wrenching scream and then just continue on doing what he was doing as if nothing happened and dick walking in on that should have had more of a reaction!? like he could have stopped in his tracks at the sight of his brothers blood all over his father and bruce screaming, dick could have like took a step back almost like he's gonna run but forces himself to stay there, because who wouldn't want to run from that and no matter how much horrible things you've dealt with before sometimes your brain does just take over against your will and makes you react, the rest of the scene just could have played out the way it did. Literally one ounce more emotion is all I wanted.

No one really emotionally cracked at jasons death. I get that it just happened and that people put walls up and denial can be such a prominent thing when a loved one dies but it couldn't have been that difficult to put in little mannerisms now and again to show that everyone is deeply hurt but holding it in. Honestly gar seemed more hurt to me than dick did. But I do like that dick reacted in detective mode and started trying to figure things out from jasons side so at least there's that.

This redhood is defo not an anti hero he has well and truly landslided into villian territory and I dunno how that's gonna be reconciled? they better not kill him off! and they better not just straight up keep redhood/jason as a full on villian! but if they do get through to jason and bring him back a little how the heck is that little man gonna deal with what he did to Hank?? I feel like they had a bond you know and for all Hanks talk about putting Jason down I really don't think that Hank would actually have killed him even if it came down to Hanks life vs Jasons I think Hank would rather die than kill Jason (but that's heavily biased cuz in my mind jason is my son and I freaking love hank sooo) but Hank to me puts on a hard front like 'yeah I'll get in your face I'll come at you b*tch' but internally he's like 'yeah I'll come at you to help you' 😅 like internally he defo has a lot of soft spots though that's not to say he'd be like this for someone like the joker or scarecrow or whatever guys like that he'd be like no screw you you die or go to arkham like byeee

Nevermind how jason is gonna come back from this though HOW IN THE ACTUAL SH*T is dawn gonna come back from this!!?!!

Random side note here but imagine Jasons first time in the batcave he would be so excited and trying to mess with everything and being like ohh what's that do and pressing random buttons and bruce having a hernia trying to get jason to stop before he accidentally blows the cave up 😅 also he has probably been caught several times trying to 'borrow' the batmobile, I can just picture him trying to sneak down the halls of the manor without the floor creaking and making it all the way into the cave and doing a victory dance cuz he didn't get caught and he hops on into the batmobile in his pj's and let's out a scream cuz alfred is sitting in the freakin passenger seat waiting for him and then they just hang out in the batmobile alfred had the good foresight to bring a flask of tea books and a blanket for jason

Speaking of Alfred I think it would have been more angsty and hurtful if Alfred died shortly after Jason and after a few days Jason claws his way out his grave and the first thing he sees is Alfreds headstone and that's how he finds out Alfred died : (((

This is so long girl I'm sorry I know it doesn't seem like it but I did restrain myself 😅 one more thing before I go maybe this Dick is the absolute worst mf and the reason babs feels betrayed by him and is so upset with him could be that he left her (or cheated on her) with Dawn cuz of that weird flashback thingy in the other season where dick dawn was a thing I dunno I hope not though that would be ughhh

Oh crap, you right about probably something bad will happen to Tim for Bruce or Titans to take him in, I was gonna say he could just demand to be in their lives to save Bruce/Dick like in the comics but he also has kinda shitty parents normally and these people seem cool so really it could go either direction, but like it’s Titans so it doesn’t look good lol. Also, I wonder if it’s gonna be Dick who is basically gonna adopt him this time since we already had a huge track record in just 2 seasons lmao. But I know right, true I like how his parents knew immediately how much the news would effect him 😭 I hope he goes down the making himself robin and forcing himself in Dick and Bruce’s life xD I love that route. Lmao, the kid is all book smart, very little street smart when it doesn’t have to do with outsmarting someone XD

I was also rewatching and that gas he takes def has to be some anti fear toxin cause he mentions fear so many times and flash backed to his near death fall, which he felt was probably holding him and back and thus had to prove himself and adds to whatever is influencing him. But ohhh he did seem pretty dang anxious at the carnival grounds, that’s a really interesting theory but recreating something he found hmm, I can see that.

Apparently according to a YouTube who got to see the first 5 episodes, we find out what his deal is a lot more in episode 5, so one more week hopefully

Brooo trueee, I couldn’t believe jason took dick’s room and like didn’t even change anything. Like Jason looks or at least use to look up to Dick SO much, like in his first episode in the first season, he went on quite a lot about how much he had always wanted to meet him and how much he looked up to him, which is probably also fueling his red hood rage, being hurt by your idol and brother like he did in S2 must have really just killed the boy. But yes omg, there freaking better be a dang family reunion scene like, after so much angst we deserve that 😭

And yesss, I loved seeing how mature Dick is getting and just how much he is growing as a character, the fact he was so calm and considerate with Bruce at first really shows that compared to s1 Dick, only breaking when Bruce tried to get more kids involved. That scene by Brenton was sooo well acted omg, the way he yelled that he doesn’t want to robin again, heartbreaking man. And Bruce begging like that omg

Yeah, this version of Bruce is def so different than any Bruce we have seen on screen before, like def the most emotionally constipated, and that’s saying something xD But I like how they are taking a risk, it also helps Dick’s character more and give him more of an arc, as he seems to be taking on Bruce’s normal role with Jason and red hood. Bro, you are so right omg, like the fact Bruce could have killed the joker in any way and he does it with the dang crowbar. It really shows how broken he really was and why the man shouldn’t depressing any and every damn feeling and emotion lol.

Omg, I love how you have the exact details of what you wanted to happen in that one Bruce and Dick scene 😂👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 bro if you dont already you should totally write fanfics cause that was so detailed, I love it

Yeah, I do wish someone cracked (other than Bruce lmao) a bit more, but I do think each character reacted in character though, like it is very Dick(at least this version of Dick, other versions may break down tbh) to put everything into solving the case and figuring out what was up, that’s more this version’s way of caring than just breaking down, like he rarely ever has broken down completely. I think dawn could have been a little more emotional about the death (tho she has enough coming for her lmao). Connor didn’t know Jason that well so it makes sense he would just be sad. Gar seemed pretty sad and in character about it, maybe could have had a bit more, same with Kori, tho she showed it by being almost angry and fiercely protective of everyone else, so I think that makes sense for her. It would have been interesting to see how Rachel and Rose would have reacted though (where did rose go btw?! She would so have a reaction to Jason’s death). But yeah, i wish there was more resolution and break downs for Jason, but also it may have just not felt real since they weren’t there? But I agree

You think? Idk, I think they could def still make him an anti hero towards the end, especially if it’s crane behind the whole thing. Cause if they don’t they are gonna have to go down the gosh awful overused villain gets redeemed while he dies/only to die right freaking after , and I will be so freaking livid if they do that omg. Like they better freaking not. But true, he would be broken by what he did to Hank, oh yikes. But I can see him then that leading to the anti hero path, like he would never go back to be on the titans cause he would feel too guilty, thus giving more of a reason for the anti hero life. But I know, I loved Jason and Hank’s love hate relationship 😭😭😭😭 You know Hank secretly loved the kid and probably saw himself in him.

Yikes poor dawn, you right. Like I have no idea how she is gonna be now like wow.

OMG GIRL, You are on a hc angst train today!!!! That scenario of Alfred dying right after jason and Jason climbing out to see Alfred’s?! Heartbreaking!

But I can’t believe they killed Alfred off so casually tho😭

Omg I swear if they freaking show Dick having cheated on Babs I will be so freaking pissed omg, he better have not! Im hoping they had a more high school romance thing/grew up together then got together type of thing

And omg don’t apologize I LOVED IT and reading your asks!!! I feel ya too!

#batanon #titans #titans spoilers #Titans S3 #titans season 3 #Titans speculation #speculation #ask #Meredith gets an ask #Jason Todd #dick Grayson #Meredith thoughts

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the-cookie-of-doom · 3 years

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Good morning! Whats your favorite show/movie? Who are your favorite characters? Why do you like them so much? Also!! Did you have a good sleep?

Okay so I was a film major for a while, and I have opinions.

Penny Dreadful

I love this show. Like, so much. I adore it. I can not get enough of that show. Just all of the imagery, and the fantastic writing and acting. The episode intro alone is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen. Eva Green is a goddess and I love everything she’s been in. The take on classic horror stories is So Good, and it actually became the inspiration for my Gay Frankenstein story! (Started as a stitch AU, and then went completely OC after I had Ideas) but the show itself is so intimate? I think it’s largely that the period they’re in, everything was so repressed and restricted. So when the characters break out of those moments, it’s more meaningful. And the love-hate relationship between Ms. Ives and Malcolm in season one? Exquisite. I could literally write essay’s about this show, but I’ll restrain myself and just say: it’s the best ensemble show I’ve ever seen. The characters come together, but they also each have their own distinct lives that sometimes intersect, but in s2 especially, are quite separate. They are constant with one another like ensemble shows usually portray. Also gothic horror and romance? My absolute favorite.

Anything by Guillermo del Toro

This man Owns My Entire Soul. I’m not even joking, everything he writes and directs is perfection. Crimson Peak is probably my favorite (I have a stitch AU for this too ;) ) because again, Gothic horror and romance. I’m a slut for that shit. Also Tom Hiddleston and Jessica Chastain? Delightful casting. I think it’s obvious by now that I love tragic relationships, so their dynamic is *chef’s kiss* amazing. they’re so damaged. And this quote right here is one of the BEST things I’ve ever read:

“But the horror... The horror was for love. The things we do for love like this are ugly, mad, full of sweat and regret. This love burns you and maims you and twists you inside out. It is a monstrous love and it makes monsters of us all.”

Engrave that on my headstone, please?? I’ve got a sort-of Dorian Gray AU (it’s delightful) that’s basically built on this entire premise. Mitch makes the mistake of falling in love with Stiles, and does many terrible things because of it. Mostly to himself, at least.

I think my love of Crimson Peak is very closely tied with The Shape of Water. another beautiful movie, I could wax poetic about this forever. it was beautifully written, and such an artistic movie. I love the way it was filmed, and the set design, and all of the subtle imagery. Such as Elisa’s apartment being cast in cooler tones, it always felt very damp and had evidence of water damage, compared to Giles’, a mirror image of her own, in more warm tones. This is another one I could (and have) write essays about. There is so much packed into this movie, from the themes on toxic masculinity and entitlement, to the conversation on queerness and race and disability, and how all the various relationships are portrayed. Like. there is so much to pick apart in this movie.

Aside from that, ofc Hell Boy deserves an honorable mention because i grew up on those movies. I’m pretty sure the Golden Army especially is responsible for who I am today, given all the lore on the fae in that universe. Wow, that explains so much about me... Also one of my first WoW characters was an elf named Nuala xD I still have her, too, and it’s been like 12 years lol

Near-Future Sci-Fi

Sci-fi is one of my favorite genres, I am a huge nerd for theoretical and astrophysics. But my favorite kind of sci-fi is the stuff that still takes place on Earth, rather than epic battles in space. Ex Machina and Annihilation are at the top of that list. Alex Garland is another writer/director that I love. He has the same kind of approach as del Toro, where he puts a lot of fine details into his work. And I love that it’s very cerebral; there are so many layers to Ex Machina. My English 101 prof actually refused to analyze it in class when I suggested it to him, because he didn’t think my class could. Basically handle? Dissecting that movie? Because a lot of it comes across as very surface level, but in some cases when you look deeper, it’s actually suggesting the opposite of what you might think at first glance. (And he was right, my fellow students were awful. I miss that class though, it was one of my favorites T_T Mr. Ryder was an awesome dude and super chill.)

Morgan is another good example. As you can see, I fucking love androids lol. Which brings me to another of my all time favorite movies: Cloud Atlas. I could literally watch this movie endlessly, I love it so much. The acting, the writing, the filming, all of it is top notch. And one thing they did in the movie that didn’t come across in the book, was reusing the same actors through the different eras in the book. That was just so neat, because it really encapsulates how connected these souls are, as we follow the threads of their story throughout time. If you haven’t seen the movie, I can’t recommend it enough.

Another one I always think of alongside Cloud Atlas, even though they aren’t related at all, is Predestination. It’s a great movie that explores the idea of fate and free will in a really clever way, utilizes time travel in a very organized way that I think was neat (think Umbrella Academy. They even use briefcases! As you can see, I love sci-fi bureaucracy, it’s fun. In fact The Bureau is another movie I enjoyed) and the main character is actually, explicitly trans, which was cool. You basically get to see the entire story of their life, and I don’t want to spoil anything, but it’s just. So good. Mindfuckery galore.

Shoot, and I almost forgot! Arrival! That is one of the best movies, and another one I could watch nonstop. It focuses on mathematics and linguistics and I swear to god, I almost altered my entire college course because of this movie. Amy Addams is brilliant, Jeremy Renner is so soft and nerdy, and again, it has an amazing take on time travel. I am very particular about how time is handled in Sci-fi, and this portrayal was one of my favorite. (Most of my physics studies have been dedicated to the theory of time, so like. Strong Opinions.)

Fantasy

Stardust! It wasn’t until Good Omens can out that I realized Neil Gaiman is responsible for most of the stories I loved as a kid lol, and I had no idea he wrote stardust! But that is such a beautiful movie (I have a Stardust AU lol) and it’s definitely one of my comfort movies. Captain Shakespeare is one of the best characters ever, bless Robert de Niro. I would die for him. Fun fact, i had no idea Ipswitch was a real place until like. 2019. I 100% thought it was made up for the movie 😂

Alongside Stardust, I’ve always loved The Golden Compass. It’s fantasy, but also with that old-timey steampunk science feel, which is so fun and surprisingly difficult to find!

Mortal Engines also has the same kind of feel, and it was such an epic movie in every sense of the word. I’m a little sad that after all the work that went into it, it didn’t get a dedicated following or fan base, because I feel there’s so much potential in it. But at the same time, fandom tends to gather around media that has plenty of flaws for us to repair with gold, and there wasn’t much room for that in Mortal Engines.

I’m going to put Jupiter Ascending here even though it technically fits with the sci-fi, because that section is long as fuck and also this movie has such a fantastic feel. Mila Kunis? beautiful. The CGI? beautiful. Eddy Redmayne? One of the best villain portrayals i’ve ever seen. The whole oedipal vibe he had was immaculate, as was their portrayal of reincarnation, and just. The world building. GOD. I get so weak for through world building. Also the fkn intergalactic bureaucracy when they’re basically at the space DMV? One of my all time favorite scenes in movie history.

Horror

I have very little room in my life for horror. As I said, I have strong movie opinions, especially when it comes to horror movies. I don’t like how most of them rely on cheap jump scares and overused gore and gratuitous rape scenes, instead of, y'know, actual good writing.

Which is EXACTLY why I adore It: Chapter 1 & 2. It has none of those things, but still manages to be so terrifying. They are my favorite horror movies, and I’m saying this as someone who has genuine childhood trauma bc of the novel. Like. I couldn’t shower/take baths alone until I was almost 10 T_T When I was 6-7 and saw kids play by storm drains, I would run over screaming about how Pennywise was going to get them. Like, I had issues man. I was terrified to see the first one, and wouldn’t go until I could go with my best friend after she had already seen it, so she could warn me when something scary was about to happen 😂

And, one of my favorite aspects of the movie, and the thing that gave me Mad Respect for Any Muschietti? The way he filmed Bev and her father. They have a character who is literally being molested, but they never once have to show it. And yet their interactions are still so viscerally upsetting to watch. Sexploitation puts me off of most horror, and the fact that Muschietti doesn’t use it here, even when it would be actually somewhat justified? *chef’s kiss*. I love him.

I love horror as a concept, I’m just really picky about it because I expect the writing to be good. I don’t like short cuts. But in a lot of cases, even if I don’t enjoy the movie itself, I love to watch analysis videos on youtube! I love to see the philosophy and symbolism in different horror movies, even if i don’t like to watch the movies themselves. It’s a fun hobby.

Misc.

Then in general, some other stuff I love in no particular order:

The Internship (Bless Dylan, Stuart is such a bitch and I love him)

American Assassin (ofc. The writing itself is eh, but Mitch is my man)

Dylan’s episode of Weird City. (I actually have a lot of feelings about this one. Jordan Peele is another amazing writer/director, I really need to catch up on his works.)

Dorian Gray (*chef’s kiss*)

Rogue One (Makes me cry every time)

WARCRAFT (Obviously this is a fav. It made me so happy, words cannot express.)

Coraline and most other stop motion animation. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for that.

Literally anything associated with Tim Burton. Fun fact, when I was 12 and in middle school, I planned to decorate my future house inspired by tim burton. Like, i had Plans.

Most adaptations of Alice in Wonderland!

So! this got long as fuck! But you said you like that kind of thing lol 😂 I had kinda Eh sleep since I was up so late lmao, and I kept waking up (as usual, rip). And I’m so mad I go up for nothing! The dude I was supposed to show my listing to never showed, and is refusing to answer my calls >_> It’s been 2 hours now, and I still haven’t heard from him. But whatever, I already have a full price cash offer on the house so who cares. And that means I can play WoW all day, now!

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silverlightqueen · 4 years

Text

21 Things To Do This Summer PJM

y/n has a week left to live and 21 things she wanted to do this summer. Jimin vows to help her do them all before she dies and give her the summer of a lifetime.

jimin x reader - angst, fluff, comedy, non-idol!au

Part of BangtanHQ’s ‘Bangtan Boardwalk’ at the ‘Summertime Sadness’ booth!

Rating: Mature (heavy themes and strong language - read with caution)

Word Count: 16.9k+ (she’s a monster omg)

Warnings: death and illness, discussion of death and illness, jokes about death and illness, brain tumour, discussion of eating disorders, brief mention of murder and crime (y/n jokes that Jimin could be a murderer or a thief), explicit language throughout, I think that’s it but please let me know if you noticed that I missed anything

a/n: here’s the first part guys! if you enjoy it, make sure to check out the other fics in the Summertime Sadness booth, and the other booths on the Bangtan Boardwalk! a huge thank you to @silverlightprincess for proofreading this massive fic, I love you so damn much x

silverlightqueen masterlist

y/n’s Summer Bucket List

21 Things to Do This Summer

1) Make a new friend

2) Dye my hair

3) Go on a road trip

4) Do pavement chalk

5) Get everybody I talk to to sign a shirt

6) Have s’mores at a bonfire

7) Get drunk and skinny dip at the beach

8) Make a wish balloon

9) Go to a fairground

10) Have a picnic

11) Get a tattoo

12) Sleep under the stars

13) Cloud watch

14) Try camping for the first time

15) Have a water fight

16) Make homemade ice cream

17) Have a pyjama day

18) Send a message in a bottle

19) Watch fireworks

20) Go to a drive-in movie

21) Make a photo album of it all

‘Hey! Hey, excuse me! Hey, wait, you dropped something!’ I can hear someone shouting and, despite the tears running down my face, I roll my eyes, wondering why the idiot who dropped something doesn’t stop to get it. ‘Excuse me! Hey, wait!’ I hear, the voice getting closer, before I feel a tap on my shoulder, and I realise; I’m the idiot.

I turn around to see a boy. The first thing I notice is the piece of paper in his hand. The second thing I notice is that I already know him. ‘You dropped thi- oh, y/n! Hey! Long time, no see. Wait, whoa, are you crying?’ he asks, and I roll my eyes again as I frustratedly wipe away my tears. ‘No, Jimin, why? Does it look like I am?’ I spit out sarcastically. ‘Okay, I’m going to ignore how rude that was because you’re clearly upset about something, and I’m going to be a good person and return this to you,’ he says, holding out the piece of paper. When I realise what it is, I snatch it from him, tucking it safely into my bag and mentally chiding myself for nearly losing it.

‘Thank you. Sorry for being rude,’ I say before I turn away, continuing to head home. It’s only after a few seconds I realise he’s walking beside me, and I speed up, trying to get away from him. He speeds up too. I slow down. So does he. I stop in my tracks, turning to shoot him an annoyed look, and he merely grins back at me, blinding me with his annoyingly handsome smile.

‘What do you want, Jimin?’ I ask tiredly, deciding not to be rude after he returned my list to me. ‘Well, it’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, so I thought it’d be nice to catch up. And I also know you, and you’re clearly upset about something, and I’m not going to abandon somebody who I have history with if they’re crying. And, as well as being a very caring and empathetic person, I’m very curious, and so I have to find out why you’re upset,’ he says, and I frown, continuing to walk, even more annoyed when he continues to walk alongside me.

‘It’s none of your business, Jimin,’ I say sharply, hoping he’ll leave me alone. ‘Well, obviously. It’s your business. But the nature of being curious is wanting to know other people’s business,’ he says as though he’s speaking to a little child, and I shoot him another look. ‘You’re practically a stranger.’ ‘I am not! We had classes together through the whole of high school!’ ‘I’m not going to tell you my business,’ I say with a note of finality, hoping he’ll leave the subject. And leave me, for that matter.

‘Would you tell me if you knew me better?’ he asks thoughtfully, and I roll my eyes. ‘Probably, yes.’ ‘Okay. I’m a Libra, I hate spinach and 13 is my lucky number. Oh, and I dance,’ he says, and I literally want to bash my head against a wall. ‘That does not mean I know you better. It just means you overshare.’ ‘Well, you can’t say I’m practically a stranger. Maybe only half a stranger,’ he says, and I let out a humourless laugh at how persistent he is, and he grins, mistaking it for a real laugh.

‘God, what is it with you? What do I have to say to you to get you to leave me alone?’ I ask, stopping in the street and putting my hand on my hip. ‘If you tell me why you’re crying. Or, should I say, were? Because, if you haven’t already noticed, you’re no longer crying. Thanks to me,’ he grins, and I actually didn’t notice that I’m not crying anymore.

‘Well, your stupid ass has distracted me,’ I admit, and he laughs, the sound quite… endearing. ‘So? Tell me then. I think I deserve to know. Considering I cheered you up,’ he says, and I roll my eyes yet again. ‘I said that you distracted me. That is not the same as cheering me up. Listen, Jimin, I’d appreciate it if you left me alone. It’s nice to see you again, and I hope everything’s going well in your life, but it is not a good time for me right now. My patience is seriously wearing thin,’ I say, continuing to walk, but he still walks beside me, making me want to throttle him.

‘I think your patience was already thin. And I’m a good citizen, so I would never just let a pretty girl crying pass me by without asking what’s wrong. Especially if I already know her,’ he says lightly, and I roll my eyes. Is he seriously trying to flirt with me? ‘Jimin. Leave me alone,’ I say seriously, putting emphasis on every word as the anger begins to bubble up in my stomach. ‘Not until you tell me what’s wro-’ ‘I have a week left to live!’ I shout, losing my temper, and his face instantly transforms from teasing and light, to shocked and guilty as tears fill my eyes. That’ll teach him not to pry into other people’s business.

‘Oh. Oh, gosh. I’m sorry, y/n. I wouldn’t have asked if that’s what it was. I thought you were gonna say you’d broken up with your boyfriend or something. I’m so sorry,’ he says, sounding sincere, but I merely roll my eyes, turning and walking away, and hoping he’ll leave me alone now. ‘How’d you know?’ I hear him say from beside me, and I sigh aloud, having to physically restrain myself from hitting this boy with my bag.

‘What?’ ‘How’d you know you’ve only got a week left to live?’ ‘I went to the doctor a couple days ago, for chronic headaches. They did some scans, and then I got a call this morning to go to the hospital. They told me I have a brain tumour. Terminal. They said I’m lucky if I have another ten days,’ I say tiredly, a couple tears falling down my face which I wipe away hastily, and he takes a deep breath. ‘Wow. I’m really sorry. That’s… terrible. Is there no treatment?’ he asks, and I sigh again. ‘Yes, but they said it’s unlikely to cure it, it’ll only delay my inevitable death, and it’s… painful. I’d rather die sooner than later if later’s gonna hurt. Or it could get rid of the tumour, but it could ruin my future quality of life; I might not be able to speak the same, walk the same, even think the same. So I’ve refused treatment,’ I explain, not sure why I’m opening up to him, and he nods. ‘Reasonable. I’d do the same.’

We walk in silence for a few moments before Jimin starts speaking again. ‘So. Where are you going now?’ he asks, and I side-eye him. ‘Home.’ ‘To your boyfriend?’ ‘Don’t have one.’ ‘Girlfriend?’ ‘Don’t have one of those either.’ ‘Spouse?’ ‘I’m single.’ ‘Parents?’ ‘Don’t live with them.’ ‘Siblings?’ ‘Only child.’ ‘Friends.’ ‘Don’t have any.’ ‘What about all your friends from school?’ ‘I matured; they didn’t.’ ‘Oop. Roommates?’ ‘Nope.’

‘You live alone?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘I have a dog. If that counts,’ I say, and he grins. ‘Of course it counts. What breed?’ ‘A miniature husky. His name’s Coco, and he’s literally tiny,’ I say, a small smile coming onto my face at the thought of my baby, and he holds a hand to his heart. ‘That’s a cute name. My friend, Taehyung – you remember him, right? – he has a Pomeranian who’s tiny, called Yeontan. Tannie for short. Tan for even shorter,’ he says, and I smile despite myself.

‘That’s so adorable. Maybe Taehyung can have Coco. He’ll need a new owner,’ I say jokingly, and Jimin winces. ‘Don’t you feel like it’s too early to make jokes?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘It’s never too early. By the time it’s okay, I’ll be dead,’ I say bluntly, and he lets out a strangled laugh, as though he wants to hold it back but can’t.

I still feel a little shocked, but mainly numb. I went through the stages of dealing with bad news whilst I was still at the hospital. I started by denying it, and telling the doctor that something in the scan must be wrong. And then I got super angry that it hadn’t already been identified and screamed a little at her (it was my own fault, though – I’m the one that didn’t go to the doctor until it’d been months of me having headaches). Then I tried to bargain with the doctor, and ask if there were any treatments that don’t hurt or wouldn’t cause me irreversible damage, or if there was any chance I would survive any longer. And then I cried. A lot. And by a lot, I mean a lot. I got through a box and a half of tissues. I was at the hospital for three and a half hours, and spent two hours of that crying. And I was still crying when I left.

I guess I’m now in the acceptance stage. I didn’t know it was possible to move through the stages that quickly.

‘What was that paper you dropped? Your diagnosis?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘All my paperwork was in a folder, loads of it. I threw it in the recycling at the hospital.’ ‘Glad to see you’re looking after the planet for those of us that’ll still be here when you’re gone,’ Jimin says, almost tentatively, and I burst out laughing, covering my mouth. ‘That was funny,’ I admit, and he grins, relaxing. ‘I do try.’ ‘Yes, you’re very trying.’

‘Anyway. What was that paper then?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘Do you, like, make it your life’s mission to pry?’ ‘No, it comes naturally. A lot of girls receive it well, actually. They like it when someone good-looking seems interested in their life,’ he smirks, and I shoot him a disgusted look. ‘Big-headed much?’ ‘Just truthful.’ ‘Well, I’m not receiving it well. Clearly.’ ‘I guess you’re not like other girls then,’ he muses, and I shoot him another look. ‘Please don’t tell me you think that’s a compliment, because it isn’t,’ I say, and he laughs. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. Let me rephrase it. You’re not like the girls that I’m used to being around.’ ‘You’re probably used to being around girls just as pretty as you.’ ‘You think I’m pretty?’ ‘Shut up.’ ‘Well, you’re right. But it’s okay, because you’re not just as pretty as me. You’re prettier.

But anyway. Are you gonna tell me what that paper is?’ he asks again, skimming over the fact he’s now called me pretty for the second time, and I sigh, giving up. ‘It’s a summer bucket list. I saw this girl reading a book with the same name in the waiting room at the doctor’s surgery the other day, and it inspired me to write one,’ I admit, and he grins. ‘That’s cute,’ he says, and I roll my eyes, looking away from him. ‘Well, I’m gonna die before I get to do any of them anyway,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Oh. Yeah. Forgot about that,’ he says, voice small, and I nod.

We continue walking, his shoulder a few inches from mine, and I distract myself from the slightly awkward silence by looking at our surroundings instead. It’s a lovely summer’s day today; warm and sunny with the most beautiful breeze. Families are out in force despite it being a weekday, little boys running around shirtless and barefoot, and little girls in cute summer outfits. Chill ‘vibey’ music floats through open car windows, couples share ice cream at the café we walk past, birds chirp in the trees that line the road. It’s such a beautiful day. I even shaved my legs and put on a cute floral playsuit. So much for sunbathing in the garden.

‘Hang on,’ Jimin says suddenly, stopping in his tracks. ‘What?’ ‘Who says you can’t tick off your bucket list?’ he asks, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘I’m going to die, Jimin,’ I say slowly, and he lets out a frustrated noise. ‘You have a week. That’s more than enough time for us to do it all,’ he says, and my eyes widen. ‘Us? Who said anything about us?’ ‘I’ve taken it upon myself to help you tick off this bucket list.’ ‘And I’m taking it upon myself to refuse your help.’

‘Um, rude. Why?’ he asks with an amused glint in his eye, and my eyes widen even more. ‘Are you kidding? We barely know each other. The closest we ever were was when Nayeon and Jungkook dated and we all planned at their joint birthday party, and when we got paired together for that History project. That was years ago; I have no idea what kind of person you are now. You could be a murderer,’ I say, and he raises an eyebrow. ‘You’re going to die anyway,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘Okay, I’m allowed to joke about it; you are not. You could be a thief.’ ‘Again: you’re going to die anyway. But, I’m not a thief, so don’t worry. You’ll still have all of your belongings to put in your will.’ ‘Excuse me. Stop joking about my imminent death.’

‘Listen, I want to help you. Let me help you tick off your bucket list,’ he pleads, and I’m surprised at myself for actually considering it. I’m going to die anyway – I might as well spend my last few days having fun. Even if it is with an unbearably curious person from my past. ‘Please let me help you. I’ll consider my life a waste if you don’t,’ he says dramatically, dropping to the floor, making enough of a scene for people to look over at us. ‘Jimin, get up,’ I hiss, and he scrabbles at my shoes. ‘I’ll die if you don’t let me. Please, y/n, please let me,’ he wails, and I look around embarrassedly, feeling lots of stares on us.

‘If I say yes, will you stop making such an embarrassment of yourself?’ I hiss, and he looks up at me with wide eyes and a grin, nodding. ‘Then, yes. I’ll let you help me,’ I sigh, and he jumps up from the floor, a wide smile spreading across his lips. ‘Okay, let’s see what I’m working with,’ he says, and I look at him blankly. ‘Let me see the list,’ he prompts, and I pull the list out of my bag, handing it to him tiredly.

‘Okay, let’s see. ‘y/n’s Summer Bucket List’. Cute. ‘21 Things to Do This Summer’. Only 21 things? This’ll be easier than I thought,’ he says, before his eyes scan down the rest of the list. As he reads it, I look him up and down, inspecting him. He’s changed since school. A lot. He’s now around 5’8’’, with clear golden skin, chocolate brown eyes, plump pink lips and ink black hair swept back from his forehead (must be dyed because I remember his hair being a lot lighter than this). He’s dressed in a pair of grey shorts and a plain white t-shirt, a loose grey jacket over the top of it with pair of sunglasses at the back of his head. ‘Okay, well, you’ve already achieved number one. Making a new friend,’ he says, pointing at himself with a grin, and I roll my eyes exasperatedly. ‘I don’t know you well enough to call you a friend,’ I say, and he sighs.

‘That’s the best bit. You barely know me, and I barely know you. We can be whoever we want to be. All I know about you is the vague stuff from school, and I know that you had high hopes for this summer, but you’ve been diagnosed with a terminal illness. And you’ve only got a week left. And that you’re grumpy and get annoyed easily and are not receptive to strangers. And you’ve got a dog called Coco. All you know about me is the vague stuff from school, and that I’m a Libra, I hate spinach, my lucky number is 13, and that I dance.’ ‘And that you’re annoyingly curious and persistent and stubborn and think a lot of yourself.’ ‘Exactly! That’s literally nothing in the grand scheme of things.’

‘So you think we should lie to each other about what and who we are?’ ‘No, no, you’re misunderstanding. Haven’t you ever wanted to be like someone, but you’re too scared to, or you’re too stuck in your ways?’ he asks, voice soft, and I nod. ‘This is your chance. We barely know each other, and we have no more than a week together. You get to be whatever you want to be, y/n, and we’ll tick off everything on your list. We can be like those reckless teenagers from all those stupid films. What have you got to lose?’ he says gently, his eyes big and his words convincing.

‘We can’t do all this in a week,’ I say, and he sighs. ‘Can’t is not in my vocabulary. And neither are cannot, unable to, won’t, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, mustn’t-’ ‘Who in this century says mustn’t?’ ‘We can easily do all this in a week. Even less than a week,’ he says, and I raise a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Ambitious, but I don’t think so.’ ‘And that’s not in my vocabulary either. But… give me four days,’ he says, and my eyes widen. ‘Four days?’ ‘Easy. I could probably do it in three, but I’ll say an extra day just to be sure,’ he says confidently, and I roll my eyes.

‘Haven’t you, like… got a job? Or, like, studying? You can’t just devote four days – or more – to helping me tick off my bucket list,’ I say, and he rolls his eyes. ‘Why are you so sensible? Trust me, there’s nothing I have to do,’ he says, and I raise an eyebrow, not believing him for a second. ‘Fine,’ he sighs, ‘I work with my friend – Hoseok, remember him? – at his dance studio, but he’ll let me have some time off,’ he says, and I’m still slightly sceptical, but decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

‘Why do you want to help me? Haven’t you got better things to do with your life?’ I ask him, voice small, and he smiles, seemingly endeared. ‘There’s something tragic about you, y/n. You went to the hospital alone to be told that you’re going to die. And you don’t live with anybody. And you have a list of things you wanted to do this summer, but won’t be able to do them without help. My help. Of all the places you dropped that paper, you dropped it in front of me. And of all the people that could’ve picked it up, it was me. We haven’t seen each other since we left school, and even though the odds of us seeing each other again were slim, look where we are. Fate works in mysterious ways, y/n. Let me help you. For old time’s sake,’ he says softly, and I feel that little voice in my head whisper, ‘why not?’

‘You know what? Let’s do it,’ I say, throwing caution to the wind, and feeling a little bit of excitement bloom in my chest. ‘Wait, really?’ he asks, surprise on his face but also… hope in his eyes. ‘Yeah. Let’s do it,’ I say with a small smile, the excitement in my chest flooding out into my veins. He jumps up and pumps the air, whooping and shouting in celebration, and I don’t even feel embarrassed of him, finding it quite endearing.

‘Okay, let’s get started. It’s 12.32, so we have until 12.32 on Sunday to tick the whole list off. Let me look at the list again. Um… well, number one’s done. And the last one, the photo album, we can buy a photo album now and take pictures as we go along to put in it,’ he says, thinking aloud, before he turns abruptly. I look around in alarm before rushing after him. ‘Where are we going?’ ‘There’s a supermarket just down the road that we can get a photo album from. Oh, and we can buy an instant camera too! Cuter pictures,’ he says, and I roll my eyes with a small smile on my face.

‘We should just scrap that one. It’s not like I’ll be able to look back at it, so what’s the point?’ I say, and he frowns at me. ‘Well, we could say that about all of this, but it’s about making your last few days exciting and fun and an experience of a lifetime. So don’t say ‘what’s the point’, because there is a point,’ he says firmly, and I keep my mouth shut, unable to stop a small smile from appearing on my face.

We enter the supermarket, the change in temperature making me shiver in my skimpy outfit, and Jimin looks over at me. ‘Oh, my God, my mum would kill me if she knew how ungentlemanly I was being right now,’ he says, taking his jacket off. ‘No, Jimin, it’s fine,’ I try to stop him, but he’s already handing it to me and taking my little backpack from my hand. ‘Let me. Have you ever been treated like a princess?’ he asks, and I shake my head shyly. ‘Then take the jacket and let me hold your bag. It’s the least you deserve,’ he says, and I smile to myself as I shrug on the jacket without further complaint, watching amusedly when he puts on the backpack.

He leads us towards the electronics, the back corner of the store, and makes a beeline for the camera section. ‘What’s your favourite colour?’ he asks, and I hesitate. ‘It’s hard to choose a favourite,’ I say quietly, and he rolls his eyes, an amused smile playing at his lips. ‘Okay. What’s your favourite colour out of these?’ he says, motioning to the instant cameras, and I think before answering, ‘that one. The pastel blue.’ ‘Ah, nice choice,’ he says, picking one of the boxes up and heading over towards where the photo albums are, and I follow after him. ‘This one’s perfect!’ he says, pointing at one the same colour as the camera, and I nod, Jimin picking it up with a grin.

‘Right, let’s just double-check this list and see if there’s anything else we need,’ he says, getting the list out of his pocket again. ‘Hmm, we could buy some chalk to do number 4. And we can buy a shirt and markers to do number 5,’ he says, thinking aloud again, walking ridiculously quickly to where the art and school supplies section where the chalk and markers will be, before rushing off towards the clothes section, having me running around behind him.

Once we’ve picked out a plain white button-up dress shirt, we head over to the counter, Jimin chatting amicably with the cashier as I hang behind, surprised and slightly envious of his ability to speak to strangers like they’re close friends. ‘Would you mind doing us a favour?’ Jimin asks, and the cashier nods instantly, scanning through the shirt. ‘Can you sign this shirt? Just, like, with your name and your… job, I guess. We, um, we’re doing a project,’ Jimin says with a grin at me, and the cashier nods again, looking a little confused as Jimin hands her a marker from the pack. She writes ‘Soojung –supermarket cashier’, before handing Jimin the marker back with a grin.

‘Have you got film for this camera?’ Soojung asks as she scans it through, and Jimin looks to me, both of us exchanging an embarrassed glance. ‘No, but it’d probably help,’ I say frankly, and Jimin nods with a laugh. ‘I’ll go and grab them for you,’ the cashier says, getting up and running off. ‘We could’ve gone and gotten it, she didn’t have to,’ I say, and Jimin grins. ‘Perks of being a nice person – people do things for you that they don’t have to,’ he says pointedly, and I scowl at him. ‘Was that a dig?’ I demand, and he grins even wider. ‘Not at all, my dear, y/n,’ he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders, and I roll my eyes in response, the cashier reappearing with a couple boxes of film.

‘Do you want just the one or…?’ ‘We’ll take both,’ Jimin replies, the cashier nodding, scanning them through. ‘Gonna make some summer memories?’ the cashier asks, and we exchange another glance, a small smile playing at Jimin’s lips when he replies, ‘something like that, yeah.’

‘Okay, let’s have another look at this list,’ Jimin says once we’re seated in the back corner of his favourite coffee shop, pulling the list out of his pocket and reading it through. ‘So you’ve already made a new friend. Me. We’ve got the chalk for number four, and a shirt and markers for number 5. I should sign the shirt, right?’ he says, and I nod, thinking this’ll be easier if I let him do what he wants, and he grins, writing ‘Park Jimin - y/n’s fabulously beautiful assistant and school friend’. I raise an eyebrow, and he raises one back, challenging me to say something, but I just shake my head with a small smile.

‘Let’s look at the rest of them. Number 2, dyeing your hair… I have a trillion boxes of dye at home, that’s easy. Number 3, go on a road trip… we can do that, and tick off the others as we do it. Number 4, pavement chalk, we can do with Taehyung on his and Namjoon’s driveway because Tae’s good at art and their driveway is huge. Number 5, get everyone to sign a shirt, won’t be difficult, we just have to remember. Number 6, have s’mores at a bonfire… let me think about that one. Number 7,’ he begins, before looking up at me with a smirk, and I roll my eyes, a little embarrassed.

‘Don’t laugh. It’s something that so many people have done, and I never have,’ I say defensively, his mouth falling open. ‘You’ve never gotten drunk?’ he asks jokingly, and I laugh despite myself. ‘No, idiot, I’ve never skinny-dipped, but I’m pretty sure I’ll only have the courage to do it if I’m drunk,’ I say, and he nods, looking at me thoughtfully. ‘You can leave me with that one too, I’ll think about it.

Number 8, make a wish balloon, that’s easy. Number 9, go to a fairground… that may be a bit more difficult, but I’ll get it done. Number 10, have a picnic, easy. Number 11, get a tattoo, ooh, that’s fun. I know the perfect place. Number 12, go to a drive-in movie… difficult, but I’ll find a way. Number 13, cloud watch, super easy. Number 14, try camping for the first time, that’s easy too. Number 15, water fight… that’s easy as well. Number 16, homemade ice cream, easy. Number 17, pyjama day, even easier. Number 18, send a message in a bottle… should be easy. Number 19, run through sprinklers… shouldn’t be too hard. I hope. Number 20, stargaze and fall asleep under the stars, should be easy enough. And Number 21 is well under way already,’ he says with a grin.

The photo album already has two pictures in it; one of Jimin and I smiling and squinting in the sunlight, and one of us with the cashier, who looks a little awkward, but it’s fine. Nothing will be more awkward than telling her we’re trying to tick off a summer bucket list within a few days because I’m going to die soon. I was right – Jimin has a serious habit of oversharing.

‘Hi, welcome to the Sweetbrew. I’m Yoongi, I’ll be your server. What can I get you?’ a barista says, sounding like he wants to die, his entire face hidden behind a menu. ‘Yoongi,’ Jimin says, snatching the menu to reveal a boy with porcelain skin, mint green hair and brown eyes. I recognise him as one of Jimin’s best friends from school – Min Yoongi.

He was always one of the quieter members of their friendship group. Not shy, but more calm and laidback – it was easy to seem like that when surrounded by his friends, every single one of them having been big and loud characters. But he was just like the rest of them in that he was definitely popular, and desirable too. Everyone saw him as this sensitive and kind boy, his passion for music reinforcing that even more, and there was always somebody that was crushing on him, his look unique and intriguing. And he’s only gotten better looking since school, more mature and manly, yet still with the soft and delicate features that he had back then.

‘Oh, Jimin. Hey,’ he says, sounding a little more lively, before he turns to look at me. ‘Ah, y/n, right? From school?’ he asks, and I’m surprised at how quick he recognises me. ‘I told the group chat about you. Sorry,’ Jimin says, and my eyes widen, Yoongi sitting in the spare seat at our table. ‘What? When?’ I ask, and he grins. ‘While you got distracted playing with that puppy outside the supermarket,’ he says, and I frown.

‘Did you tell them everything?’ ‘No. Well, nearly everything. I told them what we’re doing, but I didn’t say why. Obviously,’ he says, and I fix him with a glare. ‘Oh, it’s okay to tell a random shop worker, but not your best friends?’ I ask, Yoongi shooting him a look too. ‘Not cool, Park,’ Yoongi says, and Jimin scowls. ‘I already apologised for that. I have a serious problem with oversharing,’ he says, Yoongi and I exchanging a glance as we chorus, ‘we know.’

‘Why are you doing this? If you don’t mind me asking,’ Yoongi asks, curiosity in his eyes, and I sigh. ‘I’ve got a brain tumour, so I’ve got, like, a week left to live,’ I say bluntly, Yoongi’s mouth falling open. ‘Oh. Oh, God, I’m so sorry, y/n, that’s awful,’ he says, sounding a little awkward, but I wave him off. ‘It’s fine. I’ve already gone through the five stages, and am now sufficiently distracted from my impending demise by your stupid friend,’ I say, Jimin scowling.

‘Well, at least he can make up for being stupid by helping you tick off your list. Anyway, you guys want drinks or you just chilling?’ Yoongi asks, and Jimin looks to me to answer. ‘I could do with a drink.’ ‘What would you like, y/n?’ Yoongi asks, and I hesitate, not quite sure. ‘Um… I don’t know. Jimin, what do you have?’ I ask, but Jimin already looks like he’s cooking up a scheme. ‘What fruits do you like, y/n?’ he asks me, and I think for a moment before answering, ‘berries, pineapple, mango, kiwi, peach. I like everything.’

Yoongi and Jimin exchange a glance, talking without words, and Yoongi nods before disappearing into the back. ‘Anyway. We need to get Yoongi to sign your shirt before we leave, remember. And then… we can go to Tae and Joon’s to do pavement chalk. And we should be able to make the ice cream at Tae and Joon’s too. Then we can go and pick up stuff from our houses before we go on the road trip,’ he says, and I hold up a hand.

‘We’re gonna have to go to mine before we go to Taehyung and Namjoon’s, because I’ve left Coco with the neighbour. I told her I’d only be a couple hours and it’s already been… nearly four,’ I say, Jimin nodding, and I can practically see his mind working. ‘We can get Coco and take her to theirs, and she can play with Tan while we get on with ticking things off. And then we can take her on the road trip with us the next day,’ he says, and I nod, getting more and more excited with his ideas.

‘Are you gonna drop me home tonight and then pick me up in the morning?’ I ask, and he thinks. ‘How about… we sleep over at Tae and Joon’s? You can get all your stuff when we go now, and then we’ll be able to leave first thing in the morning,’ he suggests, but I’m sceptical. ‘Won’t they mind?’ I ask, and he shakes his head instantly. ‘They’re so chill about this kinda stuff. They really won’t mind. We all sleep over at their house all the time because it’s the biggest. There’s more than enough space,’ he says, obviously trying hard to convince me, and I nod. There’s no point worrying about intruding at their house when their best friend seems to be the most intruding person in history.

Jimin looks back down at the list, thinking hard, and I smile to myself. It’s sweet that he’s putting so much effort in to try and tick off this list, even though we barely know each other. The most we ever said to each other at school would’ve been ‘d’you have a spare pen?’ or ‘can you pass me the bottle opener?’

Yoongi reappears after a couple minutes with two plastic cups in his hands, the drinks within them vibrant pink and orange. ‘I call this one… ‘y/n’s summer bucket list’. I put in the syrups for all the fruits you named and a lot of sugar and ice,’ he says, putting them down with a flourish, my heart warming as I smile at him. ‘Thank you. It looks amazing,’ I say, taking a sip, my eyes widening as the flavours explode in my mouth. ‘And it tastes amazing too,’ Jimin says, having already taken a (large) gulp.

‘I’m not the best barista here for nothing. But, y/n, you gotta take the credit. It is named after you,’ Yoongi says, and I roll my eyes with a smile. ‘Get out of here. But, for real, it tastes great, Yoongi,’ I say, the boy giving me the cutest gummy smile, and then I notice Jimin fiddling around with the camera. ‘What are you trying to do?’ I ask, stifling a laugh, and he sighs defeatedly. ‘Take a picture of us with your drink,’ he says, and I hold back a smile, ‘get someone else to take it.’

He ropes in an innocent woman sat beside us with her friend, and she takes a while to focus the camera on us and get the three of us in frame, but when the photo develops, it’s pretty good. ‘Perfect. Right, let’s head back and get Coco,’ Jimin says, and I hold out a hand. ‘Wait. Yoongi, will you sign this shirt?’ I ask, and he looks a little confused. Nevertheless, he signs it as ‘Min Yoongi – creator of the iconic ‘y/n’s summer bucket list’ drink and y/n’s school friend’.

Jimin looks thoughtful as we rise from our seats, and I side-eye him. I’ve noticed that a little bit of panic appears in my chest when I see that look on his face. ‘Yoongi, you busy tonight?’ Jimin asks, and Yoongi shakes his head. ‘I’m never busy,’ he says, and I stifle a laugh. ‘When d’you get off work?’ ‘4.’ ‘Come ‘round to Tae and Joon’s. I got an idea,’ Jimin says cryptically, wiggling his eyebrows at me, and I give him a look.

‘Okay. See you guys later then,’ Yoongi says before turning to head into the back. ‘Wait. Don’t we need to pay?’ I ask, and Yoongi smiles at me, a little sadness behind the expression. ‘It’s on the house. I might even speak to the manager about getting this drink put on the menu,’ he says, and I smile at him, trying to ignore the tears in my eyes. ‘Good idea. Thanks, Yoongi. See you later,’ I say, Jimin bidding him goodbye as he disappears into the back. ‘Okay,’ Jimin turns to look at me with a grin, ‘let’s go get Coco.’

‘Oh, y/n. Oh, my angel, I’m so sorry,’ Mrs Choi says for the eleventh time, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief, and I smile sadly. ‘It’s okay, Mrs Choi,’ I say, not sure what else to say, when Jimin appears at my elbow. ‘Everything’s in the car now, so whenever you’re ready,’ he says with a grin as he hands me the house keys, Mrs Choi looking him up and down. ‘Oh, Mrs Choi, this is Jimin… an old school friend. Jimin, this is Mrs Choi, my lovely neighbour who my dog likes more than me,’ I say, Mrs Choi laughing as Jimin shakes her hand, bowing his head politely.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, y/n, Coco adores you. He cries whenever you leave him with me,’ she says, and I raise an eyebrow. ‘And then cries when I come to pick him up,’ I point out, and she waves a hand dismissively. ‘It’s because I feed him so much,’ Mrs Choi says, and I laugh, Coco appearing in the doorway behind her. He comes bounding up to me, my heart filling as he rests his front paws on my leg, and I bend down to pick him up. ‘Hi, baby. You okay?’ I say, showering him in kisses, and ducking away when he tries to lick my face. I hate when he licks my makeup off.

‘That is the cutest dog ever,’ Jimin says, and I hold Coco out to him. He instantly takes him into his arms, and giggles when he licks the tip of his nose. Coco leaps out of his arms, and he panics, trying to catch him, but he does it all the time, bounding around the front garden. ‘Here,’ Mrs Choi says, handing Jimin the little tennis ball she keeps beside the door for when she plays with Coco. He instantly throws it and Coco bounds after it, running straight back to him with it in his mouth.

‘He’s handsome,’ Mrs Choi observes quietly so Jimin can’t hear, and I roll my eyes. ‘And doesn’t he know it?’ ‘Are you… and him…?’ ‘Oh, God, no. I… there’s a list of things I wanted to do this summer, and he’s helping me get through it all before I...’ I trail off, and she nods, blinking furiously, obviously trying not to cry. ‘That’s lovely of him. Make sure you take lots of pictures to show me,’ she says, and I grin. ‘We’ve already started a photo album. Actually. Hold on,’ I say, getting the camera out of my bag as Jimin bends down to pet Coco who jumps on him, the unexpectedness making him fall onto his back. I get a really cute picture of him lying down, laughing, with Coco on his chest, trying to lick his face.

‘Lovely. Well, I’ll let you get to it. But make sure you come to see me again before… well, when you get back from ticking off your list,’ she says, pulling me into a hug, and I screw my eyes shut, trying my hardest not to cry in front of her. She’s been like a mother figure to me since I moved out of my parents’ house, always coming over to check if I’m okay, bringing me food and inviting me around at least once a week, looking after Coco whenever I need her to. I’m heartbroken that I’m going to be leaving a hole in her life when I go.

‘I will. See you later, Mrs Choi,’ I say, pulling away from her, and we exchange a sad smile. ‘See you, y/n. Be careful, dear, and have fun,’ she says sadly, pressing a kiss to my cheek, giving me one last long look before she disappears into her house. I don’t blame her; I’d be struggling to deal if I were in her position.

‘Okay. Let’s go,’ I call to Jimin who’s sat cross legged on the floor, Coco running towards him with the ball and dropping it beside him. Jimin’s standing when I reach them and he hands me the ball, Coco’s eyes never leaving it. ‘Do you want Coco to sit on my lap or do you mind him sitting in the back?’ I ask, as we walk towards his car, and he shrugs. ‘He can sit in the back, I don’t mind,’ he says, and I pull open the back door, putting the ball in there, and Coco leaps in without hesitation. I shut the door behind him before climbing into the passenger seat, Jimin already sat in the driver’s seat.

‘You ready?’ he says excitedly as he starts the engine, putting on the radio which is currently playing Justin Bieber. ‘Yep. Let’s do this,’ I say, sneaking one last look at Mrs Choi’s house. And then it hits me. This might be the last time I look at her house. I might die before I get to see her again.

My body goes cold all over, tears prickling in my eyes as my throat constricts painfully. It just repeats in my head again and again; ‘I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die. I’m going to die.’

Coco realises I’m upset before Jimin does, and he begins to whine from the backseat. ‘Is Coco okay?’ I hear Jimin’s voice distantly, and when I don’t reply, I hear him coo, ‘Coco? What’s the matter, boy?’ And then he looks over at me.

‘Oh,’ he breathes out, instantly pulling over. ‘y/n,’ he says gently, reaching out to take one of my hands, and the second his skin touches mine, I burst into tears. He shuffles as close as he can, the gearstick separating us, and he leans across the gap, pulling me into his arms. I sob into his shoulder, letting him hold me as the tears come in an endless flood, whispering the words ‘I’m going to die’ every few seconds.

Once I’ve calmed down (and feel ridiculously uncomfortable in the position we’re in), I gently push away from him, and he releases me, still holding one of my hands in his. ‘Sorry,’ I whisper, and he frowns. ‘Don’t apologise. You’re allowed to be upset. Like, you’re going to die, for God’s sake; you can cry about that. Cry as much as you want, you’re entitled to do so. Just… tell me when you’re upset so I don’t say something stupid,’ he says ruefully, a small laugh falling from my lips, and he grins.

‘It’s just… it’s not fair. There’s still so much I wanted to do with my life. I’ll never work in my dream job. There are so many beautiful places I’ll never get to see. Tokyo, Mexico, Portugal, Bali, Dubai, India, Australia, Brazil, Hawaii, The Caribbean, The Maldives, Greece, Morocco. So many things that everyone does that I’ll never get a chance to do. Fall in love, get married, have a family. I’ve never even been in a relationship,’ I say with a harsh laugh, and Jimin sighs.

‘You’re right, y/n. It’s not fair, it’s not fair at all. You deserve so much more, so much better. You’ve been robbed of the rest of your life. You’re allowed to be angry. I’m angry,’ he says so simply, and it feels as though his words just… make it all okay. It’s hard to explain, but they feel like a consolation. They make me feel like the way I’m feeling isn’t me just being irrational, or a spoiled brat, because I know that it could be worse. They make me feel like I’m justified in my thoughts and feelings. And that’s what I need right now.

‘Thank you,’ I say, sniffling a little, and he smiles at me. ‘You’re most welcome, y/n. Now. Are you ready to go to Tae and Joon’s or would you like to cry for a little longer?’ he says teasingly, and I laugh, shoving him gently. ‘Drive, you moron,’ I say, and he gasps as he starts up the car, a small grin playing at his lips as he says, ‘Moron? I’m about to give you the summer of a lifetime in four days. Do you think a moron could do that? No, of course they couldn’t.’

‘y/n! Oh, my God, girl, it’s so good to see you!’ Taehyung exclaims the second I open the car door, running over from the front door and throwing his arms around me. I was always a little closer to Taehyung than I was to Jimin, because we had quite a few classes together. I hug him back, my face practically smushed against his chest as he holds me in a bone-crushingly tight embrace.

‘Hey, Taehyung. How have you been?’ I ask as he releases me, his hands still on my shoulders. He holds me at arm’s length, looking me up and down, before an appreciative grin spreads across his face. I hold back from pointing out that he still has the same adorable boxy smile from high school. And then I register his bright blue hair, stifling a laugh at how eccentric he still is. ‘I’m good. You got hot, y/n!’ he exclaims, and I feel blood rushing to my face from embarrassment.

‘Thank you. But look at you! You’re so handsome, Tae,’ I grin, and he grins back with a little wink. Everything about him is just as appealing as back then. Tae was definitely a ladies’ man… and a men’s man too. He was loud and bubbly, his personality easily grabbing the attention of everyone in any room, and his laugh was crazy infectious. He was the perfect mix of cute and hot, and he’s only gotten hotter, with his manly features and strong build.

‘Thank you, babe. Come in, come in. Jimin, do you need a hand with the bags? No? Good,’ he says, not even waiting for an answer from Jimin before he drags me up towards the house, the other boy muttering behind us as I hear him pop the boot open.

The second I step over the threshold, a ball of fluff appears and begins yapping at me from behind Tae, and he bends down to pick it up. ‘y/n, this is my beloved son, Kim Yeontan, or Tannie for short,’ Taehyung says, introducing me to his little Pomeranian, who has now quietened down and is staring at me with a curious look in his eyes. ‘Hi, Tannie,’ I coo at the dog, reaching a hand out to stroke his head, and he lets me with a contented little growl low in his throat.

‘Ah, he likes you! He rarely likes strangers. Little coward,’ Taehyung says affectionately as I slip off my shoes, Jimin appearing in the doorway with my bag (a suitcase, actually – yes, I might be dying soon, but I wanna make sure I look good when I do, so I had to bring plenty of clothes) in one hand, and Coco in the other. And then the barking match starts.

Coco and Yeontan incessantly yowl and woof at each other, both of them scrabbling to get out of Jimin and Tae’s arms. And then Taehyung puts Tan down, and Tan instantly shuts up, hiding behind his dad’s legs. Jimin does the same, putting Coco down, and he tries to get Jimin to pick him up again. ‘They’re both cowards,’ I mutter with a smile as Taehyung leads us down the front hallway, Yeontan trotting along beside him as I follow behind, Coco hanging back with Jimin as he takes his shoes off and shuts the front door.

We enter the kitchen, and if it wasn’t clear from the outside of the house, it’s made clear now; this house is beautiful, and expensive. It’s roomy and spacious, modern and clean, with classy and tasteful furnishings. ‘I love your house, Tae. It’s so nice, and I love the way you’ve decorated,’ I say, and he beams at me, eyes nearly disappearing behind their lids. ‘Thank you, y/n. It was all me – Joon has no sense of decoration,’ he says, sounding genuinely touched, and Jimin raises an eyebrow at me as he walks in. ‘Look at you sucking up,’ he mutters with a grin, and Tae and I both shoot him dirty looks.

‘You want something to drink, y/n? Before we get started on the chalk?’ he asks, and I shake my head. ‘I’m okay, thank you,’ I reply, but he’s already distracted with the list that Jimin’s put in front of him on the marble island counter. ‘Ooh, so this is the list? Let’s have a look,’ he says before reading it intently. Once he’s done, his eyes flit up to me, before flitting back down to the page.

‘Don’t take offence to this, okay?’ he says, and I already brace myself for a mocking remark. ‘Some of this stuff is, like, basic teenager stuff. How have you not done all of this already?’ he asks softly, and I feel a little embarrassed. ‘I don’t know, I just… after high school, I drifted from the girls – I still talk to them every now and then, but it isn’t the same – and I didn’t really… make any new friends to do these kind of things with. I have my work friends, but the most I’ve ever done with them is a night out. And in high school, I guess I was… too cautious and too scared to join in on these kind of things. We went on a group trip to the beach – I was the only one that didn’t skinny dip. The end of school prank was dyeing our hair in the school toilets – I was the one of the only ones that didn’t dye mine. Everyone planned a camping trip together – I didn’t go. I was, and still am, a little… uptight, I guess? I wanted to change that this summer, but…’ I trail off, and Tae surprises me by nodding sadly.

‘Jimin told me on the phone while you were talking to your neighbour,’ he says, and I shoot Jimin a look. ‘I thought it’d be better if you didn’t have to keep telling people!’ he exclaims defensively, and I nod with a roll of my eyes, thinking his reasoning is fair enough. ‘I’m really sorry, y/n. There’s not much someone can say in these kind of situations, but I just want you to know that I’m so sorry, and that it’s so unfair,’ he says gently, and I smile sadly. ‘Thank you. I appreciate that.’

‘Now, anyway. Shall we get on with this list? I know Jimin said that we can start with chalk and ice cream, but…’ Tae says, voice a lot more cheerful as he sidles over to me, twisting a lock of my hair around his finger, ‘I think we should dye your hair first.’ ‘Dye it?’ I say, lifting a hand to pat my hair protectively, having not yet worked up the courage. ‘Yep. I have trillions of box dyes upstairs – you can choose any colour you like,’ he says, and I look over at Jimin who grins, nodding encouragingly.

A few minutes later, I’m sat on a stool in Tae’s lavish bathroom, a towel resting over my shoulders as I inspect the boxes laid out on the counter in front of me, Taehyung and Jimin stood behind me as Coco and Tan play in Tae’s bedroom (they seem to be the best of friends now). ‘I’m thinking I shouldn’t go too wild considering it’ll be my funeral in a little while and my parents will probably want an open casket,’ I say musingly, Taehyung choking on air as Jimin holds back a smile.

‘Good idea. Maybe… highlights or ombre rather than the whole head?’ Jimin suggests, and I nod, feeling a little more at ease at not having to take the full plunge. ‘Okay… what colour then?’ Taehyung asks, and I look at all the colours. ‘Um… I don’t know. It’s really difficult,’ I say a little timidly, both boys nodding reassuringly, trying to give me a little more confident. ‘You’re right, it is difficult. How about… two platinum blonde streaks at the front of your hair?’ Taehyung asks, and I nearly choke.

‘Blonde streaks… like an e-girl?’ I ask, and Tae laughs, nodding. ‘It’s on trend, and I think you’ll be able to pull it off really well,’ Tae says thoughtfully, and whilst I’m still not convinced, Jimin nods excitedly. ‘Yes, that’d look amazing! Go on, y/n, you should!’ Jimin urges, eyes locked with mine in the mirror, and I sigh before nodding with a small smile. ‘Why not? Go for it,’ I say, the two of them exchanging a grin.

Before I know it, the front sections of my hair have been bleached and foiled, and a timer has been set for 20 minutes. And Jimin is contemplating dyeing his own hair. ‘I mean, I’ve had black for so long, and I need a change, right? I’ve been wanting to go bright for a while. But do I go a natural bright, or a colourful bright?’ he muses, Tae fake yawning at him in the mirror, coaxing a giggle from me, but Jimin doesn’t notice, too busy inspecting the dye boxes.

‘If it helps, I liked it when you went blond at school. You look nice blond,’ I say, and he looks at me in the mirror with a thoughtful look in his eyes. ‘Bright blond, or platinum blond, or dirty blond?’ he asks, and I think for a moment before answering, ‘bright blond.’ ‘Okay, let’s go bright blond then,’ he says instantly, disappearing off to get a towel from Tae’s airing cupboard.

‘That was… interesting,’ Tae says with a smirk at me in the mirror, and I look back at him confusedly. ‘How so?’ ‘He never takes anyone’s advice when it comes to his hair dye. And he never decides that quick,’ he says, his smirk even wider, but Jimin reappears before I can reply. I try to shake off Tae’s words as Jimin looks for the right box dye.

‘Maybe I should dye my hair too,’ Tae says, looking at his blue locks in the mirror. ‘I like you with brown hair, Tae. I’d like it if you had brown hair at my funeral,’ I say, and his eyes widen slightly at the mention of it again. ‘Yeah, I think that’s a good idea. We should all have natural colours for the funeral, out of respect,’ Jimin says, and I frown. ‘No, I don’t mind if you guys had the craziest colours ever. I just think you look so… classically handsome with brown hair, Tae,’ I say, and he looks smug at my compliment. ‘Okay,’ he grins, reaching for a box dye, Jimin and I exchanging a look in the mirror as he says, ‘guess I’m going brown then.’

‘When did you go brown, Tae? And you blond, Jimin?’ a voice suddenly says, making all three of us jump. There’s a man stood on Taehyung’s front garden, and I remember him as Jung Hoseok from school. He was cute back then, but he’s handsome now with his golden skin and his silky brown hair. ‘About… 90 minutes ago,’ Taehyung says, currently drawing what looks like a heart but could also be an alien, and Hoseok nods as though it’s perfectly normal.

‘Hey, y/n. Your hair looks nice,’ Hoseok says, shooting a heart-shaped smile at me, and I smile back. I’m still not used to my hair being blonde when it falls into my face, but it does look nice – Tae and Jimin did a good job. ‘Hey, Hoseok. Thank you. Tae and Jimin did it.’ ‘Please, call me Hobi. Anyway, how are you?’ he says before wincing, obviously already aware of my situation. Jimin really can’t keep his mouth shut. ‘I’m okay. How are you?’ I ask, and he nods, replying, ‘I’m good. Excited to work on this list.’ ‘Well, get some chalk and get your ass down here to help us,’ Jimin says from where he’s sprawled out on the gravel, drawing a dog (or attempting to, anyway).

We’ve been working on the chalk for just over an hour, listening to music from Taehyung’s speaker that’s sat in the doorway (Coco and Tan have already knocked it over several times whilst they’ve been playing). Bright chalk covers nearly all of Taehyung and Namjoon’s driveway – except for where Tae and Jimin’s cars are – rainbows, flowers, hearts, clouds surrounding us (as well as a bunny, a pineapple, a unicorn, a slice of watermelon and Jimin’s dog).

‘It looks like you’re nearly done,’ Hoseok observes, and I nod, wiping my forehead clean of sweat. ‘Yeah, we are. This isn’t as fun as I thought it was going to be,’ I say frankly, the others all laughing. ‘The fun comes from taking pictures with the chalk,’ Taehyung says, and I get up instantly. ‘Okay, let’s just take pictures and then carry on with the list,’ I say, the three of them laughing again as Jimin and Taehyung get up from the floor.

Taehyung instantly goes into director mode, making me lie down in a gap in the chalk. Jimin stands over me, one foot on either side of my waist, taking pictures on both the camera and his phone whilst Taehyung directs him on how to take them and me on how to pose, Hobi using his phone torch to give us better lighting (it doesn’t make much of a difference, but he’s trying).

I start to feel a little embarrassed, wondering what we must look like to Tae’s neighbours, before I remember that life is short – mine especially – so I should make the most of it without worrying what people think of me. After a few minutes (and a few dozen pictures), I get into it a little more, and the boys all begin hyping me up, Jimin making a few flirty comments here and there.

And then Jimin joins me, Taehyung taking the camera and Hobi directing us (he’s even more… bossy than Taehyung, instructing us down to the simplest things – the positions of our fingers, the direction we look in, the angle of our heads. Everything.)

‘You guys are gonna make her regret asking for help,’ a voice comes from the driveway, all of us looking over to see Namjoon and Jungkook from school stood there, leaning against the Jimin’s car. ‘Watch the car!’ Jimin exclaims, both of them heading over. ‘Just for the record, I didn’t ask for help. Jimin forc- I mean, Jimin volunteered his help,’ I say, correcting myself when he shoots me a dirty look, the others laughing.

‘It’s good to see you guys again. Did you walk here?’ I ask, and Namjoon nods. ‘It’s good to see you too. Jungkook picked me up from work, and then we dropped his car off and walked here. We all live really close to each other. Jimin, Jungkook and Hobi live on the road up there, and Jin and Yoongi live on the road down that way,’ Namjoon points, and I nod, thinking how sweet it is that they all live so close together.

‘JK, the blue’s gonna have to go,’ Tae says to the baby of their group. He’s changed more than all of them; he still has his big eyes and his cute bunny teeth, but that’s where the similarities end. He’s so handsome, and his body is lean and tall. Not as tall as Namjoon, though; he always was tall, but he’s grown even more now, and he’s gorgeous, with his dimples and blond hair. It’s like only beautiful people are allowed in their friendship group.

‘What?’ Jungkook asks, confused, his eyes wide. ‘You need to dye your hair brown again,’ Tae says, Jungkook frowning. ‘Why? I’ve only been blue for a couple days. Don’t you like it?’ ‘It looks great, but we’re all going natural out of respect, for y/n’s funeral,’ Jimin says casually, Jungkook choking and Namjoon slapping his back with wide eyes. ‘Jimin. You can’t just drop it in like that,’ Hobi reprimands, but I wave it off. ‘It’s fine, I’d prefer if we just spoke about it normally. Anyway, you don’t have to go brown, Jungkook, it’s okay,’ I say, Jungkook nodding, still looking a little shell-shocked.

‘Can we get up now?’ I say to Hobi from where I’m lying on the floor, shoulder-to-shoulder with Jimin, and he shakes his head. ‘If you want to make a scrapbook, you can’t just have pictures of you and Jimin in it. You need to get pictures with all of us,’ he says simply, and I bite my tongue, knowing I’ll just have to suck it up. Twenty minutes later, I’ve taken several pictures with all of the boys, and it was a little fun, I guess. We’ll have run out of film by the end of the day at this rate.

But my head’s starting to hurt a little, and I know I can’t take anymore. ‘Can we stop now? I’ve got a bit of a headache,’ I say, sitting up, and they all look a little worried. ‘Is it from being under the sun for so long?’ Hobi asks, nervously, but Tae speaks before I can reply; ‘no, it’s probably the hair dye.’ Jimin looks at them both incredulously. ‘I think it’s the tumour in her brain,’ he says slowly, and I can’t help but share his exasperation at their stupid suggestions, the boys all falling into a shocked silence as Jimin looks to me with thinly-veiled amusement.

‘Yeah, I think you’re right, Jimin, it probably is,’ I say, holding back a laugh. ‘Do you want some painkillers?’ Tae asks weakly, and I smile, shaking my head. ‘I’m okay, thanks. I might just have a little lie-down, if that’s okay?’ I ask, Tae nodding straight away. ‘I’ll show you to one of the guest rooms and you can have a shower, or a nap, if you want?’ Tae suggests as Hobi and Jimin help me up, my head dizzy and light, and I nod. ‘That sounds perfect.’

I blink in the slices of soft sunlight that fall between the blinds onto the bed, sitting up carefully. My head feels a lot better after that nap, which was the best nap of my life, by the way. Tae and Joon must be seriously rich, because this bed is the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in. And the room is super lavish, monochrome and clean, with a deep carpet and expensive looking furnishings. The bathroom was nice too, and I dragged out my shower a lot longer than usual, my skin smelling fresh with Tae and Namjoon’s expensive passionfruit body wash.

I slowly climb out of the bed, looking at myself in the floor to ceiling mirror on the wall opposite me. I still can’t get used to the hair, but it does look good. Tae has good taste, and he and Jimin put the dye in really well – the front sections of my hair are the perfect vibrant blonde. Tae put all these different haircare products in it after he washed out the dye, and it feels healthier than ever before. It’s obvious he’s dyed his hair plenty, because he’s clearly an expert. He could be a hairdresser if he wanted to.

I open my suitcase and get out a bralet to put on (my pyjamas are satin, and I’d rather not have my nipples visible through them in a room full of childhood friends I haven’t seen for years) and put it on beneath my black button-up pyjama shirt. I quickly splash some water over my face to wake myself up a little before I head downstairs, following the loud voices that lead me into the kitchen. Namjoon’s stood at the counter, making coffee, Jungkook, Jimin, Tae and Hobi sat around the breakfast bar with two new arrivals; Yoongi, and Seokjin. Seokjin literally hasn’t aged a day, and he’s somehow even more handsome than he was back then, with his plump lips and swept back dark hair.

‘Sleeping beauty awakes!’ Jimin exclaims when he sees me walk in, and I smile softly, still a little sleepy. His blond hair really does look good, the perfect summer colour, and Tae’s looks really good too – the dark brown locks make him look like a model. ‘y/n! They were right, you really are gorgeous!’ Jin exclaims, jumping up and pulling me into a hug, and I try to supress the embarrassment I’m feeling at them talking about me, and telling Jin I’m gorgeous. One thing I remember about Jin was that he never used to feel embarrassed, at anything. Sometimes he’d get a little shy, and his ears would go red, but he’d never hesitate to do something, even if it was embarrassing, if it would help to ease any awkwardness and make people feel comfortable.

His hugging me, despite us barely speaking when we went to school together and not having seen each other for years, is just what I need, and a perfect example of how kind Jin is.

‘Thanks, Jin, but look at you! You’re really handsome,’ I say honestly, feeling at ease after his hug, and he grins at me. ‘You didn’t call me handsome, y/n, but you called Tae and Jin handsome,’ Jimin pouts, and I roll my eyes at him. ‘She knows Tae and I are the best-looking, that’s why,’ Jin says, and Jimin scowls at him before looking back at me, still waiting for an answer. ‘Just because I didn’t say it out loud, doesn’t mean I didn’t think it,’ I say matter-of-factly, and he grins proudly. ‘What about the rest of us?’ Hobi asks, all of them flashing smiles at me, and I blink a few times. ‘You’re all handsome. Now stop smiling at me before I faint,’ I say, all of them laughing.

‘Coffee, y/n?’ Namjoon asks, but I shake my head. ‘I’m trying to cut down on my caffeine intake. Thanks, though,’ I say, and Jimin frowns. ‘y/n, it’s not like it matters,’ Jimin says, everyone wincing, and I laugh, nodding in agreement. ‘You’re right. I will have some, please, Namjoon,’ I say, everyone laughing again as Namjoon nods with a smile, getting another mug out for me. ‘Sit down, y/n,’ Tae says, patting the empty seat between him and Jungkook, and I sit in it, feeling a little self-conscious. I’m in my pyjamas, with no makeup and slight bedhead, and they’re all just… so handsome.

‘What do you guys do? For you all to be at home at… 5.38 on a Wednesday?’ I say, reading the time on the clock. I have all of the boys on social media, so I vaguely know some of what goes on in their lives, but not much. It’s hard to keep track of everyone from school. ‘Um, I own my own photography business. We do photography for weddings, parties, photo shoots, etc. and we’ve had some pretty high-profile clients, so we’re quite successful. And I do some art on the side, and some of my paintings have sold well, hence the fancy house. I get to work from home most of the time, because I mainly do editing – I’ve hired photographers, but I do a couple weddings here and there,’ Tae says, and I’m impressed, though not surprised. Tae always did have a talent for art, and he was the photographer for the school newspaper, so this career is perfect for him.

‘I own my own dance studio, and we only open on Monday and Tuesday 6-9, Thursday 3-6, and then Saturdays and Sundays,’ Hoseok says and, again, I’m not surprised; Hoseok always loved his dancing and he put more effort into dance than into his school work, but I guess it paid off.

‘I work for Hobi and Tae. I teach classes every day that it’s open, and then I do some photography work every couple weeks. And I do some shifts here and there at a tattoo shop,’ Jungkook says, and I think it’s really cute that he works for his friends, though I wonder if it sparks any arguments between them. I look at Jimin when Jungkook mentions the tattoo shop, and Jimin grins with a little nod, my stomach turning. Obviously, he was referring to where Jungkook works when he said he knew the perfect place for me to get a tattoo.

‘I do all the finances and admin and paperwork for Tae and Hobi, and I work for a small record label, producing and rapping,’ Namjoon says as he puts my coffee down in front of me, and I thank him with a smile, quite surprised to hear Namjoon’s career choice. To be fair, Namjoon excelled in all of his subjects, so he’d be good at whatever he chose to do.

‘I’m a part-time chef at this restaurant in the city, and I’m also studying to become an actor,’ Jin says, and I’m impressed. I didn’t know Jin was interested in cooking or in acting, but now that I look at him, he really does look like an actor, and I could imagine him as a chef too, with one of those big white hats.

‘I’m a barista, as you know, I teach a couple piano lessons a week, and I do some rapping and producing at the same company as Namjoon,’ Yoongi explains, and I remember how good he was at piano. He was chosen to play at one of these awards’ evenings we had at school, and we were all so impressed at how good he was. Rapping, though? I never knew he could rap.

Everyone looks at Jimin to answer, but he looks back blankly before saying, ‘I already told her my job.’ They all nod before looking back at me. ‘What do you do, y/n?’ Jin asks, and I roll my eyes. ‘I work part-time as an assistant at a law firm, and I’m studying to become a lawyer. Or I was anyway,’ I trail off, a little sad that I’ll never be able to do my dream job, and the boys all give me pitying looks. Except for Jimin, who says, ‘damn, y/n, you’re clever. Law student, huh?’ I nod with a smile, and he grins. ‘You could’ve got in on the family businesses, and done all the boring legal shit for us,’ Jimin says, and I grimace, internally endeared at him calling them the family businesses. ‘I’d have passed. Sorry,’ I say, the boys all laughing.

‘Okay, enough chit chat. Let’s carry on with your list,’ Jin says, picking it up from where it sits in the middle of the island, and I take a sip of my coffee. ‘Should I wash the chalk from your driveway?’ I ask Tae and Joon, and they both shake their heads. ‘I was about to, but Jin stopped me. He wants some pictures with you and the chalk,’ Tae says, and I let out a sigh, all them laughing. ‘We’ve literally spent all of our time on the chalk so far. Your four days are gonna fly by,’ I say to Jimin, who waves it off with an easy grin.

‘Stop trying to worry me. Four days is plenty. You go take some pictures with Jin, and Yoongi, while I set up the next thing for us to tick off,’ Jimin says, getting up and pulling me off my seat, pushing me towards the door. ‘Make sure you get plenty of good pictures,’ Jimin says to Tae with a mischievous glance at me, who nods, and I roll my eyes. ‘We’re gonna run out of film,’ I say, but Jimin shakes his head with a grin. ‘I went out whilst you were asleep and got some more supplies, including a few more boxes of film,’ he grins, and I let out a deep sigh as Tae and Jin drag me outside, Yoongi trailing behind, and Jimin waving at us from the doorway.

‘Done with your photoshoot?’ Jimin asks as we walk into the living room. ‘Yes, thank God,’ I say, throwing myself down onto the sofa. ‘Jin, you’re way too demanding. We were out there for forty-five minutes,’ Yoongi says, flopping down next to me, and Jin scowls at us from the doorway. ‘Tae wasn’t getting my angles!’ he exclaims, and Tae’s eyes widen. ‘You’re not blaming this on me. I own a photography business, so don’t accuse me of being a bad photographer,’ Tae says, Jin opening his mouth to speak, but Jimin interrupts; ‘don’t argue. y/n’s dying.’

They go silent, and I burst out laughing as Jimin grins at me. ‘You can’t drop that into every conversation, Jimin,’ I laugh, the others relaxing a little, and Jimin shrugs. ‘I can. Just watch. Anyway, before you get comfy, we need to go into the dining room,’ he says vaguely with a knowing grin, and I narrow my eyes at him. ‘I don’t want to, because of that look on your face,’ I say suspiciously, and he laughs. ‘Come on, y/n, we gotta tick the next thing off your list,’ Jimin says amusedly, holding a hand out to me, and I take it after a moment of hesitation, letting him pull me up. He doesn’t let go of my hand, dragging me behind him into the dining room, and it takes a little while for me to register what’s going on.

The table is set up with these different machines, and Jungkook sits at the table with an empty seat beside him, a lamp set up to cast a bright light onto the empty chair. And then I spot the little book on the table, sat beside a bunch of needles lined up on a small white sheet.

Jungkook’s about to give me a tattoo.

‘Oh, hell no,’ I say, turning around, but Jimin grabs me around the waist before I can walk away, picking me up and carrying me over to the door as I struggle around in his arms, the other boys watching amusedly. But Jimin’s freakishly strong, and my struggling doesn’t work. He puts me down in the empty chair, and I pout at him before looking around at the others. Tae, Jin and Yoongi are stood in one doorway, blocking it, and Namjoon and Hobi stand in the other, blocking that too. I literally cannot leave, and when I look down at the needles, my stomach turns.

‘Do you want to look through the book?’ Jungkook asks gently, and I sigh. ‘Not really,’ I say, all of them laughing as he hands me the book, and I flip through it. ‘Can you all stop looking at me? Or at least put on some music so I don’t feel so tense,’ I say, more laughter rippling around the room as Taehyung gets his phone out of his pocket and taps the screen a couple times, gentle RnB music floating out into the room from the ceiling. They must have a built-in sound system – their house really is boujee.

I scan the book and some of the designs are cute, but none of them really stand out to me. ‘Struggling to choose one?’ Jungkook asks quietly, the others having conversations between themselves, and I nod. He rolls up his sleeve, and shows me the various tattoos that cover his arm and hand. He has a flower, a skeleton hand, the word ‘Truth’, the woozy emoji, a purple heart, a little crown and some black stripes with various numbers and letters on his hand. ‘They all stand for different things. Like, for example, this is the tiger flower, which is my birth flower, and the letters all stand for the guys. So you could get some that are meaningful to you, or you could just get something that you think looks pretty. It’s up to you,’ he says, and I nod, thinking.

I decide on getting my birth flower, a little bolt of lightning and my parents’ initials. ‘Why don’t you get something summer related?’ Jimin suggests softly, and I think before nodding. ‘Like… the sun, or something?’ I ask, and he shrugs. ‘Whatever you want. You could get a picture or a quote, anything you want. It’s up to you, y/n. It’s your body,’ he says, and I nod, thinking about the first idea I had for a tattoo when I wrote that list. ‘How about ‘we’ll always have summer’… or is that silly?’ I ask, and Jungkook shakes his head straight away.

‘Of course it isn’t silly,’ he says, but Jimin looks at me thoughtfully. ‘Who’s we?’ he asks, and I sigh. ‘I don’t know. A general ‘we’, I guess? Like… as bleak as life gets, as boring, as sad, as hard as life is, there’s always the hope, the promise, the excitement of summer. So no matter what happens, we’ll always have summer,’ I explain, Jungkook’s eyes widening, and Jimin nodding at me with a small smile. ‘Wow, that’s so deep, y/n. You’re so clever,’ Jungkook says, and I laugh, waving it off.

‘Have you decided yet?’ Hobi asks, and I nod, feeling a little nervous. ‘I’m getting my birth flower, a bolt of lightning, my parents’ initials, and ‘we’ll always have summer’. What do you think?’ I ask, and Hobi smiles, looking impressed. ‘You’re getting four?’ he asks, and I laugh. ‘Might as well.’ ‘Where do you want them?’ Jungkook asks, and I hesitate. ‘Where does it hurt least?’ ‘Your ass,’ Jimin says with a grin, and I swat at him whilst the others all laugh. ‘The least painful is usually your back, the outside of your arms, the inside of your forearm and the outsides of your thighs. Hands aren’t too bad, and nor are shoulders,’ Jungkook explains.

After a lot of deliberation, we make the decision as a group of where I should have them; birth flower on my inner forearm, my parents’ initials on my right ring finger, the lightning bolt on the side of my ribcage/side-boob, and the quote on the back of my left shoulder. ‘How long will it take, Jungkook?’ I ask as Jungkook sets up all his equipment, the others arguing about what we should have for dinner. ‘Please, call me JK, or Kook, or whatever. And, it shouldn’t take longer than a few hours, because they’re all quite small. The quote will take the longest, and I can usually do quotes in an hour and a half, so I’d say… three hours, maybe three and a half?’ he says, and I feel dread at the thought of being in pain for that long. But it’s fine. I’ll be fine.

‘Are you still not done?’ Taehyung demands as he enters the room, Jungkook’s eyes still fixed on my finger as he sighs. ‘Relax, I’m doing the last one now. I’ll be done in a few minutes,’ he says, and Tae huffs. ‘You’re taking ages. We want to do the next thing on her list.’ ‘Don’t rush me, Tae. Tattooing is an art,’ Jungkook says calmly, Tae rolling his eyes from behind Jungkook’s back, and I hold back a laugh.

It actually wasn’t that painful, surprisingly. The worst thing was having to stay still for so long. He started with my birth flower, and it was fascinating to watch the ink appear on my skin, at first. The fascination soon wore off, and I was itching to move, but I knew I’d just ruin it if I did.

Then he moved onto the quote. I had to tie my hair up into a bun and sit backwards on a chair whilst he did it, and Jimin fed me some of the Chinese food they’d ordered, keeping me entertained with his stupid antics. Jin tried to feed Jungkook, but when he choked Jungkook with a chopstick, Jungkook decided he’d just eat afterwards.

And then he did my lightning bolt. I had to take off my top and unclasp my bra, holding it in place with my arm out of the way so Jungkook could get to my side-boob easily, and I told the boys that none of them could come in whilst he was doing that one, because the bra kept slipping. Jungkook was very professional though, and I can’t even imagine how many boobs he’s seen over his time working as a tattoo artist.

And now he’s doing my fingers. I’m used to the stinging pain now, and I’m very proud of myself for not crying. Tae shows me some funny videos on his phone whilst Jungkook carries on with the tattoo. ‘And… done!’ he exclaims, sitting back in his chair with a sigh. I look at my hand, pleased with how the tattoo looks. ‘Thank you, JK, it’s great.’ ‘No problem. Right… let me give you the aftercare speech,’ he says as he begins to put the weird jelly stuff and a bandage onto my finger. It’s weird how professional he is – I saw him passed out drunk at house parties more times than I can remember, and now he’s giving me tattoos and telling me how to look after them properly.

‘Don’t remove these bandages for 24 hours, and when you do, wash the tattoos, gently, with an unscented soap and water, and pat it dry afterwards. Put on some of this ointment twice a day, if you can, but you don’t need to put on another bandage. Wash them a few times a day, gently, with unscented soap and water, and always pat them dry, and then put on an unscented sensitive skin moisturiser. Obviously, you’re going to tick those things off your bucket list, and I’m sure a couple involve being in the water and sun. We usually advise against being in the water and sun, but obviously, you’re not going to do that, so just don’t be in the sun for too long, and put plasters over them when you go in the water, to try and stop them being infected. It’s not really that big of a deal if they do get infected because…’ ‘I’m dying anyway.’ ‘Yeah, that. So don’t worry about it too much, but just try your best to be careful with them. Oh, and don’t go into hot water, if you can help it. Have cool showers, and not for too long, either. I think that’s it, but if you have any questions, just get my number from Jimin and text or call me. Do you have any questions now?’

‘Only one; would you rather I transferred you the money, or do you want cash?’ ‘y/n, don’t be ridiculous. I’m not charging you,’ he says as though it’s obvious, and I frown. ‘Jungkook.’ ‘No, y/n, I’m not taking money from you.’ ‘Why not? I haven’t got anything else to spend it on, remember? And it’s taken you ages!’ ‘It doesn’t matter. I’m not accepting any money from you, and that’s it. I do free tattoos for the boys all the time – Jimin’s got several from me. Just see it as a gift from an old friend,’ he says simply, with a grin, and I can’t help the small smile on my face. ‘Thank you, JK,’ I say, and he grins even wider, his cute little bunny teeth on display. ‘No problem, y/n.’

‘Are you done now? Can we move on to the next thing?’ Tae says excitedly, Jungkook nodding with a laugh at his eagerness. ‘Come on, then,’ Tae says, grabbing my hand and pulling me up, dragging me out of the dining room. He leads me towards the back door, pushing it open and moving aside to let me out first, and I gasp when I see the garden. ‘I know it’s not that big but it’s the best I could do,’ Jimin says as I slip on the sliders that he puts down on the floor in front of me, stepping out onto the light wood decking.

Tae and Namjoon’s garden is beautiful – it’s obvious at least one of the two loves gardening. The decking has steps down onto the grass which is healthy and neat, a dark, rich green, and there are trees and flowers of all different colours lining the light wood fence that runs around the garden. Fairy lights are strung up around the fence, casting a warm yellow glow across the space and there’s a fire pit in the middle of the garden, a small fire inside it with a garden furniture set placed around it, four armchairs and two two-seaters.

‘Oh, my God, this is great! Did you already have a fire pit?’ I ask Tae who shakes his head. ‘Jimin went out to buy one earlier,’ he says, and I look to Jimin with a frown. ‘You shouldn’t have. Let me give you the money for it,’ I say, and he shakes his head before I even finish speaking. ‘I don’t think so. Come on,’ he says, holding out an arm to me, and I take it with a begrudging smile. He leads me down the decking steps, across the grass to the bonfire and he sits down in an armchair as I sit in the two-seater beside it, Tae and JK following behind, the leftovers of the Chinese food in Jungkook’s hands.

‘Where are the others?’ I ask, and Jimin looks a little sheepish. ‘I, um, went to get supplies when you were sleeping, right? Well, I bought the fire pit, but I forgot all the other stuff,’ he explains, rubbing the back of his neck embarrassedly, and I hold back a laugh. ‘What other stuff?’ I ask, just as Jin and Hobi appear through the back door. ‘The biscuits, the chocolate, the marshmallows, the roasting sticks. Everything else,’ Jin says exasperatedly, the two of them coming to join us.

‘Where are the other two?’ Tae asks as they take their seats, Jin taking a prawn cracker from Jungkook’s lap, the boy shooting him a dirty look. ‘Putting the stuff onto plates for us, because a couple of us are too messy and, apparently, we’ll drop melted marshmallows and chocolate onto the grass and ruin it,’ Hobi says with a roll of his eyes, and I have a feeling he’s quoting Namjoon. ‘Am I wrong, though? There’s still the patch of grass that’s discoloured after Jimin spilled beer on it!’ Namjoon exclaims, holding blankets in his arms, Yoongi following behind with a tray in his hands, paper plates atop the tray. ‘How many times do I have to apologise for ruining your grass before you forget?’ Jimin asks tiredly as Namjoon and Yoongi take their seats, and Namjoon gives him a hard look. ‘As many times as it takes for the grass to return to its proper colour,’ Namjoon says, and I can feel an argument brewing so I quickly change the subject.

‘Shall we get a picture?’ I ask, not realising that another argument is about to start, over who’s going to take the picture. ‘Oh, my God, we’ve been arguing for five minutes! Just let me take the picture!’ Yoongi exclaims (after five minutes of arguing), his annoyance only half-hearted, and I pout. ‘No, Yoongi, I want you in the picture. I want us all in the picture,’ I say, Jin sighing and grabbing his temples before sending Namjoon to ask their nice neighbour, Mr Lee. I feel bad for disturbing him at 9.09pm on a Wednesday, but they insist. It’s more than a little awkward when he starts asking questions and Jimin says with a grin, ‘we’re ticking off y/n’s summer bucket list because she’s got a brain tumour and she’s going to die in a week.’ It’s like he can’t take the pictures quick enough after that, practically sprinting out of the garden once he’s done.

Yoongi gives us all our plates, Jungkook balancing his on one knee whilst he eats his Chinese food, and I feel pretty stupid when all of them instantly know how to put their s’mores together. ‘Have you never had s’mores before?’ Jimin asks, and I shake my head sheepishly. ‘Here, let me show you. You gotta just put a marshmallow on a stick,’ he says, and I copy the way he spears it on the stick. ‘Then you hold it over the fire for a little while, until it goes a bit brown, and then turn it over the other way,’ he says, holding his stick over the fire, and I do the same, turning it the other way once it’s browned a little. ‘And then you get a piece of chocolate and put it on top of a biscuit. And then you put the marshmallow on top of that. And then you put a piece of chocolate on top of the marshmallow, and another biscuit on top of the chocolate. Then you take it off the stick and… you got your s’more!’ he says, holding his s’more up with a flourish. It looks a lot neater than mine, but I’m still proud of myself for managing to not set fire to anything. ‘Just wait a little for it to cool down. Kook learned that the hard way,’ Jimin says pointedly, the other boy pursing his lips embarrassedly as we all laugh.

The sky is still high and light with clouds, though the sun has disappeared over the horizon, the moon a pale white circle against the soft blue. The air is still warm, but not with the humidity of earlier today, a cool tinge to the breeze that glides across my skin. It’s the perfect summer evening, made even better by the light conversations we have and the alcohol that Taehyung brings out for us – Jimin, Yoongi and Jin drink their soju like it’s going out of fashion, Jungkook, Namjoon and Hobi nursing beers instead whilst Tae and I sip on our Malibu and coke (very little Malibu actually in it). The s’mores are amazing, the warm gooey marshmallow, rich melty chocolate and crunchy sweet biscuits a perfect combination – whoever came up with s’mores is an actual genius.

‘Do you want some more s’mores, y/n?’ Hobi asks once my plate is empty, and I groan, the boys all laughing. ‘I think I’ll explode if I have another. I’ve eaten more today than I have in the last week,’ I say, clutching my stomach. ‘I’ll have one, Hobi,’ Jungkook says with a cheeky grin, and Hobi shoots him a glare, no real venom in it. ‘Get yourself one.’ ‘You offered to y/n!’ ‘You’re not dying in a week,’ Hobi says, eyes instantly flitting to me to see if I mind, but I’m already bursting into laughter, my head falling onto Jin’s shoulder which is shaking from his laughter too.

‘Are we terrible for joking about death?’ Jungkook says once we’ve all calmed down, and I sigh. A cold breeze rushes past us, biting at my skin, and I shiver, pulling my blanket closer around me and shuffling forward in my seat so I sit closer to the bonfire. It’s gotten so much cooler so quickly, all of us wrapped up in blankets. ‘What can we do but joke about it? I think I’d cry if we didn’t,’ I say into the silence, the boys all just listening as I stare into the flickering flames, deeply inhaling the smoky scent in the air.

‘It still doesn’t feel real. How do you prepare yourself for death?’ I ask, voice a little shaky, and Jin puts a hand on my shoulder gently. ‘I wish we could tell you, y/n, and make it easier for you, but it will never be easy to see someone of your age die. Old people, who have lived their lives, they can prepare for death. I don’t think you can. And I’m sorry for that, I really am. We all are,’ he says softly, his kind words bringing a sad smile to my face. ‘Thank you. Thank you all, for doing all this today, and Namjoon and Taehyung, for opening your home to me,’ I say, all of them reflecting my sad smile back at me.

‘We’d have done it even if you weren’t dying, y/n. Please, don’t think we’re only doing this because you’re dying. We’ve all known each other since we were kids. And look at all you did for us. We’d have done all of this for you regardless of your health if you asked us to,’ Namjoon says, and I look at him in confusion, wondering what he means. ‘What did I do for all of you?’ ‘We were talking about this whilst you were asleep. Remember when I was riding my bike past your house, and I fell off it?’ Namjoon asks, the others laughing at the mention, and all of a sudden, a memory I didn’t even know I had appears in my mind.

We must’ve been around 7; I don’t remember what I was doing, but I saw Namjoon on the floor outside of my house through the window, clutching onto his knee with his bike beside him. I ran and got the plasters from where they were in one of the kitchen cupboards, and practically sprinted outside. I sat down on the floor beside Namjoon, and there were tears in his eyes, and his knee was bloody. Not knowing that you’re supposed to clean a cut and disinfect it, I’d just put a plaster on for him, and then my parents saw what was going on, and took Namjoon inside to properly clean the cut, me following them in with his bike in my arms, and then they phoned his mum to let her know what had happened. Our school was a tight knit community and all the parents were friends with each other – they all had each other’s phone numbers.

‘How do you remember that?’ I ask, smiling at the memory, and he grins. ‘It’s the first act of kindness I remember experiencing. And it might have been simple, but it taught me to be kind, and do things for people when I didn’t have to, because that’s what you did for me,’ he says, and then all of the boys share the stories of things I did for them over the years we went to school together.

For Jin, I’d lost one of his crayons and then I’d brought in a whole new pack for him. When his mum mentioned it to my parents and thanked them for buying Jin a new pack, they’d had been confused; they hadn’t bought a new set of crayons. I’d taken in one of my own sets for him without telling them. Jin brought it into school every day and shared it with me and only me, and wrote both of our names on the packaging so that everyone would know that they belonged to the both of us.

For Yoongi, I’d recorded his piano performance at the awards’ evening because I’d overheard his mum saying she’d forgotten her video camera at home and didn’t have a smart phone to record it on. I’d sent it to him that night, letting him know why I’d recorded it, and he’d thanked me before showing his mum. I never knew this at the time, but apparently she was so happy that she cried, and made Yoongi give me a present to thank me. I didn’t know that Yoongi was the one who put the thank you card in my locker with a necklace in it a couple weeks later – he’d been too shy to give it to me face to face (I’d been so confused, wondering who was thanking me and for what). I still wear the necklace sometimes – it’s a silver chain with a little butterfly pendant that rests between my collarbones.

For Hobi, I’d spotted a random bag in the school car park, and checked the belongings to see that it was Hobi’s – his wallet had been in there, along with a load of money and some dance clothes. I’d brought it in the next day and gave it to him, and he’d thanked me profusely. What I didn’t know at the time was that his mum had worked multiple jobs in order to fund his dancing, including buying him all that dance gear, and that he’d thought that someone would’ve stolen it all because they were worth a lot, as well as stealing his wallet. But instead, it’d been returned back to him, with everything still in there.

For Taehyung, I’d been the only one to say I liked his drawing, back when we were little kids. It was of a little alien cartoon character, with a heart shaped head (the same thing he’d been drawing in chalk on the driveway earlier), and everyone else laughed at him and called it silly and said it looked nothing like the real cartoon. But when I told him it was nice and that I thought it was really good, it made him want to draw it more, before he started drawing other things too, and his passion for art had been sparked, all because of a little compliment from me when we could barely write our names.

For Jungkook, I’d been helping clean Dahyun’s house after her house party, and I found him passed out in the upstairs bathroom. I got Dahyun to help me get him into my car, drove him home (I knew his address from a party he’d had once), used his house keys to get him in his house, helped him lie down on the sofa, forced him to drink some water and then left a note beside a full bottle of water to letting him know who’d dropped him off at home. And then I’d locked up after myself and posted the keys through the letterbox. His mum had phoned my parents the next day to thank me profusely, and brought over some cupcakes – they were amazing, by the way.

And for Jimin, maybe the most important of them all – I’d done my end-of-year presentation on eating disorders. We had to do the presentations for our language grade, to show that we could speak with fluency and precision and accuracy, and we were told to do it on an interesting topic so that we would be motivated to write an engaging presentation. Almost everyone else did theirs on superficial things, like their hobby or their favourite celebrity. Mine was one of the only serious ones. Everyone had praised mine – I always was good at language – and I got one of the highest two grades (Namjoon and I competed for the top of the class in every lesson we had together). But what I didn’t know was that, thanks to my presentation, Jimin realised he had an eating disorder. He was virtually starving himself, not eating for days at a time, whilst over exercising, because he hated the way his body looked. And because of the helplines and websites I put at the end of the presentation, he sought help, and spoke to his parents about it. He went to the doctor with his mother, and they put him on a diet plan to get him back to being healthy. I helped him to be healthy again.

My eyes are teary when Jimin finishes speaking. I’m so touched that he remembers, that they all remember the acts of kindness I did for them. And whilst Jimin’s was unintentional, it was still so important, and I’m proud of young me for deciding to do her presentation on a serious topic. I’m proud of her for being such a kind person all the time. This truly is karma – I did these nice things for them back then and they’re repaying that kindness back to me when I need it most. And then I realise why Jimin was so desperate to help me – he just wants to help me like I helped him.

‘So, really, y/n, don’t thank us. We owe you,’ Namjoon says, all of them nodding in agreement, and I beam at them, tears beginning to spill down my face. ‘Don’t cry, because you’ll make me cry!’ Jungkook shrieks, all of us laughing as Jin hands me a tissue, and I dab the tears away. ‘God, what’s wrong with me? I never cry this much usually,’ I say embarrassedly, and Jimin grins. ‘Don’t be embarrassed about crying. I think I’d have cried out all of the water in my body if I were you,’ Jimin says, coaxing a laugh from me. ‘Me, too,’ Jungkook says, sniffling a little, and we all burst into laughter when we see that his eyes are full of tears. ‘My God,’ Jin says, his lip curled up in mock disgust, ‘you really are a cry baby.’ ‘Can you blame me?’ Jungkook asks defensively, wiping his eyes, and Jin’s eyes widen. ‘Yes! You’re not the one dying!’ he exclaims, setting the rest of us off again, our laughter carrying in the cool summer air.

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hanadoesstuffbadly · 4 years

Text

‘Online’ ch I - RS&t7D University AU

Hello, I was looking for Red Shoes fanfiction when I discovered that there are little to no Modern AUs being written. So i figured, screw it, I’ll do it myself because I love modern AUs.

This is the first chapter and it is very long, so if you don’t feel like reading it, fair enough. I’m planning to write the whole thing anyway because I also love writing and it’s good practise.

Small warning if you do want to read this: Merlin is British. I am British. British people are very sarcastic and very moody all of the time. This entire first chapter is from Merlin’s perspective so there are a lot of British phrases and idioms used. If you are fortunate enough to not be an eternally grumpy Brit, don’t worry, the next chapter will be a very bad written impersonation of an American!!

Also, this is my first ever fanfiction so please don’t judge me too harshly, I am but a young peasant girl.

Sooooooooo.... Summary.

Merlin is a twenty year old student at Southend University. To combat his detrimental narcissism, his counsellor suggests online gaming. Merlin tries to cheat by using an ancient game called Fairytale Island, which designs your avatar to match a photograph. This plan falls apart when his laptop explodes, turning his avatar tiny and green. He ploughs on regardless, sure that he will encounter nobody. Little does he know, that a newly moved student from the States is coming online the very same night. :)

(It’s kinda switched so Merlin is the last of the F7 to get his attitude set right.)

With that done... I hope you don’t hate it!

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Merlin couldn’t stand mornings, especially Friday mornings. Because for the duration of his first year of Uni, Friday’s lessons had always begun at the reasonable hour of 2 o’clock in the afternoon. This left Merlin a good half hour to be awake, out of the door and on his bike, zipping past the crowded Southend beaches. In short, Merlin hated Friday mornings because he had not seen one in fifteen months. Needless to say, it was not a welcome reunion.

Approximately twelve minutes prior to commencing with today’s zipping -at the unlawful hour of nine in the morning- Merlin had been idly stirring shredded wheat into a depressing gruel (much to the disgust of the ever-vigilant, ever-attentive, red-haired cook,) basking in his own tardiness.

Had he asked for counselling? No.

Did he need counselling? None of their business.

Did he want to be dragged out of bed at half-eight by six overbearing housemates who apparently believed it was "necessary" or "overdue"; to be packed off to the Resource Centre so that they could “Evaluate any and all emotional or psychological issues which may have arisen for you, as a student whom we have identified as being at risk, before the beginning of this new academic term”? No, he did not!

Contrary to a promising forecast, the sky was a sapphire pool overhead. Thus, the fantasy of motorbiking down empty seafront roads, the brassy drumming of thunder and the gurgle of saltwater smothering his roaring engine (Hans called him a madcap but personally, Merlin preferred the term Raptor-trainer) was squashed. And given that a motorbike charging down the road in the wee hours of the morning was frowned upon, Merlin was forced to content himself with walking at a purposefully counter-productive pace to the bus stop down the hill. Stubbornly, he insisted on himself that he wore a cobalt-blue, long-sleeved shirt with grey trousers; dressing not for the weather he had, but the weather he wanted. This was a stupid idea and the sleeves were rolled up before he reached sea-level. He had to restrain himself from missing a bus entirely. It wasn’t crowded, because of course it wasn’t. Everyone else in Southend had better things to be doing.

Like sleeping.

The bus didn’t even go all the way to the college, stopping at least a dozen yards from the entrance like a noncommittal shrug. It took everything in Merlin to not keep his butt planted securely in his seat; let the busyness of British public transport whisk him away to the Leigh on Sea station; catch a train to Fenchurch street; disappear into Central London; never be seen or heard from again, especially by Dr- as a student whom we have identified as being at risk- LeFey; then inevitably die from water pollution at a ripe old age of thirty-five. It took everything in him, but he walked down to the building, through glass-doors ornamented by a million sweaty fingerprints, and into a waiting room that smelt of Sellotape.

Unsurprisingly, the stately woman at the desk gave him barely a passing glance, handing him a form to fill in with the enthusiasm of an automatic door sliding open. Also unsurprisingly, the assistant behind her paused in rearranging a filing cabinet to brush a couple of sandy hairs behind her ear and chew the end of a pen like it was made of liquorice. She even wandered aimlessly away from her task altogether, sidling up to the front desk most inconspicuously.

Merlin's mood brightened. While he leant down to scribble his name and address on the paper, he winked discreetly in her direction. In spite of definitely not looking at him, her cheeks turned beetroot crimson and what might have been a giggle or the beginnings of a small heart attack escaped her lips.

Against all of the shoddiness of his day so far, Merlin grinned inwardly, sizing her up with half of his attention. Tall, slender, twenty-one, twenty-two most likely. Stray blonde curls framed a thickly tanned face, the rest piled atop her head in a bun. In all, not a bad picture, although her wardrobe did leave something to be desired: Bell-bottomed jeans and a T-shirt reading "Darth Vader was framed", betraying that

A. She still thought that bell-bottomed anything was a good look, and

B. That she had never paid more than six quid for a shirt.

However, her figure and the hang of her hair more than made up for those discrepancies. Perhaps he could get something out of this counselling after all. With this in mind, he cleared his throat loudly,

"I'm terribly sorry, Miss," he waved the form vaguely in front of his face, "but I have a small problem."

Perhaps knowing exactly what he was doing and being used to it by this point, the woman, Ms Marion- who had decided that underneath a lace cardigan was the place for a name tag- ignored him completely, leaving miss bell-bottoms to round the edge of the counter and come to stand by his side over the offending form.

"What's the matter?" She asked, sincerely.

"Y'see," Merlin began, fixing her with a smile that even Jack admitted made anyone weak at the knees, "right here it's asking me for something that I just don't really get." He pointed accordingly, and bell-bottoms leant in closer. To get a really good look at the text, of course.

"We need your mobile number."

"Oh, I see, now here's the thing." Wearing a look of utter helplessness, he faced bell-bottoms completely. She appeared confused, her face becoming redder by the second. "I don't have one of those."

"What?"

"A mobile number." He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You wouldn't mind terribly giving me yours, would you?"

If he squinted, Merlin was fairly certain he would see her bell-bottomed soul leaving her body and fluttering out of the window. He took her lack of reaction as an invitation,

"Lin Pendragon." He extended one hand, still cloaked in a fingerless glove the colour of wet bark. Despite his housemates deciding otherwise, Merlin was in fact not his actual name, and he would sooner be caught dead than introducing himself with it to an attractive young woman such as this. "Part time Ancient Historian, full time Romantic."

Bell-bottoms took the hand and shook it with unexpected firmness,

"Gowlle Delocks. Part time assistant, full time, um..." She seemed a little lost, floundering like a GCSE English paper "Full time-"

"Doctor Morgan LeFey. Part time tolerator of tardiness. This is not one of those times Mister Pendragon."

Spinning on his heel and effectively knocking the form onto the floor, Merlin faced the speaker, who stood in the doorway of a side-office like a disgruntled flamingo.

One thing came to mind when Merlin looked at the counsellor and that was the smell created when someone burns popcorn in a microwave. Forehead too small; nose too large, a hairy wart taking up most of it; everything that should end in a curve ending in an acute, needle-like point. She looked like a bad imitation of a Picasso painting come to life. Yellow hair that might have been blonde hung from her scalp, which he could almost see for how thin the stuff was; and her olive skin was definitely closer to a pale, sickly green from where Merlin was standing. The murky, sky-blue gown that would have looked excessive in the nineteenth century certainly didn't help. Summed up, she looked like a creature one would throw something at if it approached them on a dark night. Merlin felt his nose wrinkle in disgust.

So, he had been forced into counselling by a literal witch. Today was just going swimmingly wasn't it.

Dr Lefey's "office" was exactly what Merlin expected. Save of course for a cauldron, broomstick and small children in display cases. Indigo curtains rather than blinds hung at each side of a wide picture window that looked out on a garden peppered by horrendous little gnomes. Their China faces were stained green by years of mildew build-up. Her wooden floor she had covered with gaudy, knitted rugs, and the sides of her desk had glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to them. On the off-white walls hung various, tasteless frames of all sorts and colours, each depicting a photograph taken by somebody who was evidently not a professional photographer. One such picture especially caught his eye.

"This you, Miss… Lefty?" The question was stupid, of course it was her, every other human being on the planet had at least managed to look like one. The photo showed the woman sitting in a cluster of children underneath a cobbled-together shack, a paper tiara on her head and a wand made out of several plastic straws. "The fairy princess in the mauve cardigan?"

"First," She answered, pushing the door shut behind her with her pointy hip, "It's Doctor Lefey, but you will call me Morgan in these sessions." Merlin couldn't help but smirk internally when she assumed there would be more than one of these nightmares. "Second, yes, that is me in the photograph, November, four years ago, Uganda, a recycling activity. And third," The slam of a hefty file being dropped unceremoniously on to a desk made Merlin jump. "I was the fairy Queen."

"Well, your majesty," he ducked his head in a mock bow, "you've aged..." At first, he searched for an adverb but then realised, he didn't particularly need one.

Morgan gave Merlin that pinched smile that he'd seen Arthur's girlfriend, Gwen, give customers at The Golden Goose Cafe when they told her she had no idea who she was dealing with. Also called the 'booting-you-into-next-Thursday-would-cost-twenty-pounds-an-hour-but-i-am-legitimately-considering-it' face. Merlin ignored her easily. He'd had years of practise doing so.

He plopped himself down onto a teal green sofa with a ketchup stain running up one arm. It wasn't a comfortable seat, but the garish pixie cushion did help somewhat. Morgan paid him no attention, leafing through the thick file which she had retrieved moments before. She paid him no attention for a little too long.

As aforementioned, Merlin was fine with ignoring people. Even enjoyed it sometimes. Unattractive waitresses, bin-collectors, overweight people at the gym, pedestrians. Being ignored, however, was a far less comfortable experience. Probably because it was such a rare one. He coughed into the pasty silence.

"Those your medical records?" The room was quiet enough to facilitate a pin drop sounding like a bowling ball being dropped. A long, controlled intake of breath was easily made out. “Cosmetic surgery?”

"No." She said shortly, continuing with her browsing, "but they are yours." Merlin quickly stopped ignoring her. "And your birth records and your parents birth records and every other detail of your stimulating life story, Merlin." He short-circuited momentarily.

"That's not my-"

"No, it isn't your given name, but it's what your roommates call you and according to them, the one you prefer going by." Alright, those googly snitches were going to pay later. He recovered from his surprise gracefully as always, but that left him no less indignant.

"I- I wasn't aware that you'd have access to that information."

"Several reliable sources have identified you as being at risk, Merlin, everything in this folder is strictly need-to-know." A smile that could have been genuine spread across her features, and it may have been nice if it weren't so nauseating to look at. He crossed his arms and sunk lower into the sofa, muttering to himself,

"You hardly 'need-to-know' about the name though."

"Obviously, anything said in this session doesn't leave this room and the values and standards of Southend University are to be observed at all times." With quick strides on legs like skipping ropes, Morgan left her desk and placed herself gracelessly on a trademark shrink chair.

The ‘So, Merlin.’ Was audible on her spindly lips before they left them.

"So, Merlin. First, I'd like you to relax," Difficult, I'm sitting across from a gorgon, I'm a man moments from death, "and tell me about your background, where you're from, your family." He gave her a blank look.

"You just told me that you have a massive file telling you that stuff."

"Yes, but I'd like to know that you also know that stuff. Reviewing your case will prove very difficult if we aren't on the same page. Now, if you please." With an exasperated puff of air into his cheeks, Merlin leant forward so that his elbows braced against his knees and his hands clasped together.

"Fine. I was born in Seoul, South Korea; my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was brought to England to live with an aunt in Ipswich."

"And you were comfortable with this change?" The interruption caused Merlin to blank for a second.

"Wha- I was three. I was comfortable sitting in a tumble dryer with knickers on my head!" This retort was not appreciated, judging by the tapping of Morgan's pencil against a green clipboard that had seemingly materialised out of thin air.

"These are regulation questions, try not to overthink your answers." With this she returned to drawing writing utensils from the ether apparently, a silent signal for him to continue. Already, Merlin's mind was going through fantasies of sprinting down the hill, across the high street and off the end of Southend pier.

"Alright then, the aunt was arrested when I was six-"

"Why was she arrested?"

"Are shrinks meant to interrupt their patients?"

"I'm not a shrink, I'm a University counsellor, why was your aunt arrested?" Nothing about this experience was relaxing. Getting a Frostino with Miss Delocks, the part-time-assistant would have been relaxing.

"Possession of illegal firearms. Just a taser. Five years in prison under the law of the United Kingdom. Happy?"

"Yes, this is very helpful. So, your guardian was arrested and…"

"I went into care, obviously. Seven foster homes over six years. Adopted after my eleventh birthday by Igraine Pendragon and her husband. I moved into their home in York, Summered in Cumbria; went to school with their son. Igraine died when I was fifteen, Uther when I was seventeen. Arthur and I moved out to one of the cottages we own in Leigh two years ago. It was all perfectly fine and now here I am at Southend University in a counselling session I didn't ask for with a counsellor that I'm certain nobody has ever asked for." Okay, the last bit slipped out half unwarranted, but he might as well be honest.

Long, mole-flecked fingers curled and tightened around the edges of her clipboard, leaving dents in the malleable green cork like it was plasticine.

"Right." Came a snarled response from between smiling teeth. "Now, on to some more current information: Who do you live with during your time at the University?"

"Igraine’s son, Arthur, and the five student tenants who rent out rooms." That felt weird to say. For some reason, whenever Merlin thought about the six other occupants of Stanrocc cottage, it was hard to remember that they weren’t all related in one way or another.

“Right, and are you comfortable with these living arrangements?”

“I’m a University student who gets to live in a fully catered house free of charge, what do you think?” The pinched ‘threaten-to-speak-to-my-manager-again-and-I-will-hit-you-with-a-shoe’ smile returned.

“Okay then.” A rustling of paper signalled that the background questions were mercifully coming to a close, as, Merlin hoped, was this entire experience. Unfortunately, the next words out of the witches’ mouth weren’t, ‘thank you for your time, Mister Pendragon, I hope you and Miss Delocks have a splendid afternoon.’ Instead she intertwined her grotesque fingers and looked him in the eye. The fact that he didn’t turn to stone was a shock.

“Now, Merlin, I’d like to know what features you look for when meeting new people.” Alright, not what he’d wanted or expected to hear.

“Is this a personal interview-”

“Just-” Morgan closed her eyes and pressed her lips together until they completely disappeared into her face. “Answer the question, Merlin.”

“I look for the same things anyone looks for. Do they look approachable? Would I want to be seen with them out and about? Those kinds of things.” He darted his eyes from Morgan’s varicose ankles to her sloping forehead.

“So, you base the value of other people’s company solely upon their outward appearance and draw any and all judgements from those assets?” There were too many words in that sentence, was all Merlin could think in response. When he did finally puzzle out what the question actually was, he gave the woman a jovial nod. Finally, they were on the same wavelength.

“Of course I do, how a person looks tells you a lot about who they are, doesn’t it?”

Morgan must have been writing something down, but it still felt as though her eyes had not left Merlin for a second. An intake of breath through her wide nostrils filled the room.

“To some extent, maybe.” She shifted on her chair and the look in her eye of a person who had gotten exactly what they wanted was unnerving. “Merlin, do you think you feel this way about other people because these mentalities could have been forced on you in the past?” Her nasal voice had become one of understanding and professionalism, the Northern accent thinning considerably. Merlin didn’t like it at all. “Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look?”

Throughout this entire, stupid session, Merlin had been wanting to avoid answering questions. Now all he wanted to do was say something so devastating yet so on point that it would shut this witch up for the rest of her career. And yet his tongue remained still, rooted to the floor of his mouth.

“I see.” The counsellor stood and shook out her skirts with the smug air of a woman victorious. Merlin wanted to throw something at her. Like a shoe. She went around to the back of her desk and retrieved a post-it-note shaped like a unicorn. “I’m giving until the beginning of the new term to combat this problem that we seem to have here." In one motion she ripped away the post it note and was making her way back towards him, brandishing it like a literal curse rather than simply the figurative one that it clearly was. She handed it to him unforgivingly.

"I'd like you to try a social activity that is purely audio based. Interactions with others that don't allow them to see your appearance." The urge to crumple the note into a ball was strong. “I’ll schedule another session three weeks from now.”

"And what if I'm perfectly happy with the way things are? I don't need to change anything." Merlin shot back, and control of the situation brushed his fingertips before Morgan's condescending smile dragged it out of reach again.

"Tell me, Merlin, how many reports do you think I received from your professors and peers of this self-important, judgemental behaviour?" Merlin was already standing as he milled the question over for a full couple of seconds.

"One or two, I'd imagine." He finally mumbled. The witch drummed her pencil against her crossed arms and shook her head. "Well," Merlin started, "it can't have been-"

"Twenty-four." She didn't look victorious now, just a little sorry. That was so much worse. "Twenty-four different people, who you have known for only a year or so. Still think you don't need to change anything?"

Merlin didn't want to look around at her ridiculous face again. He didn't think he even knew twenty-four people well enough for them to report him. Her voice carried on no matter how much he wanted it not to.

"If I don’t see improvement three weeks from now, regardless of how you feel about it, I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely."

The facts stung like poisonous, green smoke in Merlin's head. He pulled at the ornamented door handle, dismissing himself. Then a question came into his mind and forced itself to be asked.

"What activities would you suggest, then?"

"Start an interactive podcast; volunteer for a University chat-line; Online gaming." Merlin's humourless scoff punctuated her list.

"Yeah, no. I'm not an ‘over the phone’ kind of guy." He stepped out into the hallway and noticed Miss Delocks' head spin in his direction. The last ten minutes had dampened any mood he might have been in for going out, but that didn't mean he couldn't at least try to cheer himself up. He heard one last reply from the witch before he strode off in the assistant’s direction,

"Keep that attitude up and you won't be a "Part-time Ancient Historian" either."

In case the presence of a pale pink fiesta with mermaid stickers running along the doors wasn’t indicative enough, the loud guffaws and scattered shouts told Merlin that his housemates had company. This was before he even reached the top of the hill. Night was creeping across the sky already. Merlin would have liked to stay out longer, but the witches’ words had stuck a little too keenly to him, and a college bar surrounded by five beautiful young ladies was not, it seemed, the best place to process things.

Stanrocc cottage was one of a kind really. It was called a cottage because it managed to be too small to be a villa but also too pretty to be a house. The walls were brick, covered in an artsy kind of cement stuff with shells mixed into it, then painted white. Kingfisher blue window frames peeked out from beneath an overgrowth of marble-like gladioli and ballet-slipper foxgloves. The diminutive front garden was mostly taken up by the wild-cherry tree that had looked hurricanes and landfalls in the face, released a string of angry expletives and stayed precisely where it was with zero intention of ever going away. Around its ankles sprung up Snowdrops every Winter, but right now, in the twilight of August, the space was taken up by a hoard of decaying daffodil corpses.

Through one of the windows, a blonde head was just visible. It stood up haphazardly and came to the door when Merlin knocked. Jack appeared in the doorway, but he’d barely laid eyes on Merlin before he was leaning back inside and shouting into the noisy fray, his accent thick, probably from laughing,

“Ee’s back!” With that he left the door hanging open. Merlin entered, a little disgruntled at the lack of welcome, until he got inside and found out why. Seated on the various beanbags, chairs, and sofas, were their usual six occupants, but with them were four less usual ones. Alright, not that unusual, three of them Merlin knew he recognised.

First was Arthur’s fiancée, Gwen. She was a common recurring visitor. Whenever Arthur wasn’t following her around the café, she was following him around the cottage. The other two present were less clearly defined by engagement rings or Facebook relationship status’.

Upon sitting back down on his very expensive armchair, Jack had one-hundred-and-fifty centimetres of pink-leggings wearing, ashen skinned vegetarian seating herself comfortably on his lap. That one was Viviane… Or Niniane. Merlin never actually paid attention when Jack gushed about her, but he was almost sure her name was one of those. She was Jack’s “study partner'', both of them being up and coming chemists. Funny, because to Merlin’s knowledge, studying didn’t usually involve reclining on each other’s laps; playing with each other’s hair (or her playing with his, at least) and going out on spa trips together. If they weren’t together, Merlin couldn’t blame Jack. All spread-out, round eyes and large lips, she did look a little like a fish with legs.

Lastly there was Briar. Nobody actually knew what Briar was. Was she Hans’ friend? His girlfriend? A kind of omnivorous goat? It was a mystery. Altogether they knew seven things about her: Like Hans, she was German; she took fencing lessons; her wardrobe consisted entirely of ankle-length, floaty skirts and a special talent of hers was tripping over literal air. She slept with a baseball bat, wore purple contacts in her eyes and, while you wouldn’t imagine so from her physique, she had the appetite of a full grown horse. They didn’t even know what she was doing at the Uni. With her legs folded in front of her, she leant on her maybe-boyfriend-maybe-friend’s signature bean bag chair, one hand holding a row of scrabble pieces. The other was surreptitiously burrowing through Hans’ homemade bag of steak flavoured crisps, which famously tasted like dog food to everyone but those two. The curly-headed bag-holder didn’t seem to mind at all.

There was one other girl with them, seated on a folding chair between Briar’s feet and Arthur’s elbow. Merlin gave her barely a passing glance however, taking in a round figure, cherry-pink shorts, and shoulder-length brown hair before he lost interest.

Maybe you feel as though you personally are liked or disliked for nothing besides how you look.

The counsellor’s stupid voice drove through his thoughts unbidden like an off-rail train. He shook his head and shoved them back down into his subconscious where they belonged, ready to be forgotten.

The ringing of the words, however, was replaced by his stomach gurgling irritably. A muffin and a salted-caramel hot chocolate were not enough to go on for a whole afternoon. His eyes fell on the Chinese food containers strewn about the coffee table and surrounding floor. A takeaway was a rare occasion in Stanrocc cottage. In the entire county of Essex, there were exactly four fast-food establishments that Hans trusted and respected, and thus, would allow them to purchase from. Two of these were fish-and-chip shops; one- Merlin’s particular favourite- did flame-grilled kebabs; and the last one was the Jade Dragon Restaurant. Very expensive- meaning Jack was probably to thank for it- and very, very good Chinese food. It dawned on Merlin a little late that this uncharacteristic treat might have been meant to make him feel better, judging by the sizeable stack of barbecue kebab boxes that could be seen just inside the kitchen door. Nobody else liked barbecue kebabs.

But he was too tired and too hungry to feel bad for not coming back. He’d been busy.

The energetic game of scrabble had come to a standstill when his arrival was announced. Now ten pairs of eyes were on him and six of them were concerned. Merlin made for the kitchen, the multitude of expectant faces making his chest knot.

“Don’t worry about me,” he insisted, half-heartedly when he noticed both Arthur and Hans shifting as if to get up. “I’m going to bed.”

Noki, the second of the triplets, swept up a container filled with Prawn crackers and extended them in Merlin’s direction. He waved them away dismissively.

“Really, it’s fine, I’ll grab something from the fridge.” And with that he left the room.

Much to his dismay, the fridge was a sorry sight, being mostly bare save for half a watermelon and an empty milk carton. It was a Friday, he soon remembered, which meant Hans would be grocery shopping tomorrow. Also, Briar was there.

Footsteps came thudding along the short passage between the living room and the kitchen. Merlin didn’t have to look up to know that an orange vest with arms was blocking the door.

“What do you want, Arthur?” Even in the fridge, Merlin could feel the glare in the back of his head. Crossed arms also wouldn’t be a surprise.

“I want to know where you’ve been, and why you didn’t feel the need to tell us you weren’t coming back?” Merlin finally selected a yogurt cowering at the very back with a best-before date of yesterday. He shut the fridge door with his foot, searching for a clean spoon on the draining board.

“You know you aren’t actually my dad, right?” He plunged the end of the spoon through the paper covering and started ripping the excess away. “I can go where I want.”

“No.” Arthur had now moved completely into the room. “But you’re still one of us, mate, and we were all worried. The triplets almost got in the truck to come pull you out of whatever ditch you’d fallen into.” Merlin actually looked him in the face this time. He was scratching his ghost of a goatee the way he always did when he felt in deep water. “You didn’t exactly leave in great spirits this morning.”

“Lurrk, uum fyrn.” Merlin said through a mouthful of yogurt. The stuff was absolutely repulsive, but it was the best conversation avoidance technique he had without a book to hand. He manoeuvred around Arthur, trying desperately to keep from openly weeping at the foul stuff. The best-before date ought to have been the may-not-kill-you-before date.

“Yeah,” Arthur sighed behind him. “I can see that. But you’re-“ Merlin dashed up the stairs, discarding the yogurt discreetly in the kitchen bin as he passed it.

Arthur had changed since meeting Gwen. It was like something had been plucked out of him. The thing that had made Merlin feel close to him while everything was happening: The adoption, losing both their parents. It was like Arthur had grown up, changed somehow. And had left Merlin behind.

And from what he had seen in the other room, Arthur wasn't the only one.

Merlin emptied the yogurt out of his mouth and gargled mouthwash to get rid of the lingering flavour of overripe strawberries. A knock at his bedroom door interrupted him.

“What did the counsellor say?” It was Arthur again. Merlin had honestly had enough of today. Why couldn’t everyone just leave him be? He wasn’t hurting anyone.

He poked his head out, startling his friend who still had his fist raised to knock again.

“She suggested I take up gaming.”

-*-

Hours later, Merlin turned over his pillow again, trying his absolute hardest to fall asleep. He’d tried relaying a movie in his head, but thinking about the ending just made him sad. He’d tried reading his new book, but Neil Gaiman wasn't particularly relaxing. At last he had just shut his eyes and told himself to sleep, with real authority and gumption. That just made him more awake because his brain hated him.

Eventually he sat up and tugged the string on his lamp. The clock on his desk told him it was 2:26. Merlin’s bones told him that he was actually in a void in which time was a construct of society, and he felt much more inclined to believe the latter. Seeing as somebody, probably Hans, had left a plate of reheated kebabs in front of his door, Merlin hadn’t starved, so he couldn’t explain the hollow discomfort that was plaguing him now.

Actually, he could, he just didn’t want to.

Twenty-four people thought he was a self-important, narcissistic idiot.

Walking around his room to clear his head quickly turned into walking downstairs and into the kitchen to get some shreddies. There were still a few chocolate ones left, them mercifully being the one cereal that Briar didn’t love more than life itself.

As he dejectedly spooned the stuff into his mouth, green smoke came unfiltered through his head again, spelling out: I won't have anything to present against a decision to remove you from your course entirely. Merlin groaned and pulled at his bark coloured hair.

Ancient and Medieval History, while not a popular course, was still difficult to get into. Only twelve or so universities in the country even offered it. And even then, Southend alone offered the module on folklore and mythologies. So many essays, so many projects, so much time spent reading about the sordid love-lives of ancient deities. For nothing apparently. All because some people he didn’t know thought he was self-obsessed.

Nothing added up.

And gaming? Really. Podcasts and chat-lines were an instant nope, but gaming. In his entire twenty years, Merlin had played one game and one game alone. And well, that one was…

Next thing he knew, Merlin had left the congealed cereal lonely on the sink and was fighting his way through a wall of cobwebs into the storage room. The lights hadn’t worked in there for years, so Merlin clasped a battery powered torch from Colchester castle like a lifeline.

With his finger and thumb he gingerly shifted bicycles, boxes of DVDs and even a taxidermy rabbit that had gone to holes, until he saw it. The shiny, green corner of a laptop-games-console-hybrid emerged from the darkness. And then was immediately plunged back into it when the torch exploded in Merlin’s hand, the light flickering away with a puff of smoke. Merlin had expected this, but that didn’t stop him from grabbing the game and high-tailing it out of the storage room before the shadows could grab his ankles and eat him. Safe in his own bedroom again, Merlin intrepidly opened the game.

Fairytale Island was created by Avalon Games nine years ago. In its entire run, localised in Southern England, it sold about three-hundred consoles. These consoles were box-like laptops, but a more accurate comparison would be an oversized Nintendo DS. The keyboard-space was taken up by the controls, while the screen was above. Graphics-wise, it was surprisingly ahead of its time. What you did was you uploaded a full body photograph of yourself, lined up the limbs and head, and voila, you had your avatar!

This particular console had been bought by an incredible woman named Igraine, for the eleven year old boy whom she had fearlessly rescued. Merlin ran a finger gently over the sticker, feeling the scratchy remnants of its glitter-glue border. On it was a simple little message, rounded off with a clumsy smiley face and the letter I, in wide swirling print.

For the most handsome Prince on Fairytale Island!!!

Obviously his avatar had to change, lest he wanted to continue with the slenderman-esque creature created by his imaginative twelve-year-old self.

Merlin had to stand on his bed to get himself into the frame of his plug-in webcam. Not really knowing what to do with his arms, he did the only rational thing and T-posed. In his pyjamas. In front of a game for preteens. At twenty past two in the morning.

If one of his housemates came in now he would kill them and dissolve the body in acid.

The screen counted down, readying the camera.

Three… Two… O-ghlowhfsajfhlsdkhlhdsjfh…………….Error………...rebooting, thank you for your patience.

Well. That seemed fair.

Hopping down as quietly as possible, Merlin watched the static clear from the screen like ghost lightning. He should have expected it. Motorcyclists had long said that ‘Love is when you like someone as much as your motorbike.” Merlin was inclined to disagree, because his bike was the one piece of mechanical equipment that didn’t figure it should explode whenever he dared breathe nearby. No bond would ever be able to trump that kind of loyalty.

Reservedly, he fiddled with a Rubix cube until the screen returned to normal. Nothing seemed that wrong with it.

Until his avatar loaded again.

A brief visit to the bathroom mirror was made so that Merlin could examine both his eyes, but when he came back they found the same sight.

Where there should have been a tall, thin, carrot-shaped, Merlinish mage character, there now resided a tiny, stout- if still Merlinish- one. And it was green. Not even a nice green, like fern or emerald or sage. This was a green that reminded a person of snot and nothing else… Except maybe a dehydrated basil plant.

Merlin bashed his head against the edge of his desk. What had that witch done to him? Why was he concerned about this?

Giving up on answering that question, he looked up to face the diminutive monster that bobbed in place like an excitable pea with legs. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, he tried to reason. If he didn’t focus, it almost looked like an obese, unwell Gollum. But hey, maybe the other players will like that kind of thing?

Without realising it, Merlin scoffed out loud at himself.

Other players? This game had a range of a thousand kilometres squared and was being handled by a technopollyon (a word that was not a word until Merlin discovered there was no term for a person who inadvertently breaks technology, but there were a multitude of Greek words that he could misuse in its place.)

The chances of another pathetic Englishman within his third of Essex being in possession of and online on Fairytale Island at two-thirty that night, were not worth thinking about. Because they were nonexistant.

With that in mind, Merlin took one last bitter look at his avatar, and continued resolutely on to game.

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Wow! Thanks for reading that!!! I hope you enjoyed it!

(Btw, Gwen, Viviane and Briar are my headcannons for the end credit characters and Morgan LeFey is the fairy princess)

Again, thanks so much. I’m putting the next chapter up at some point, this one from Snow’s perspective.

50 notes · View notes

igirisuhito · 4 years

Text

Title: Collar Relationship: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito Rating: Mature Summary: Komaeda and Hinata decide to go through some of their old possessions. Hinata has a burning curiosity. Trigger Warnings: PTSD, Flashbacks, Triggers

[Ao3 Link]

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

"Oh! I… I didn't realise I even kept this."

Komaeda mused to himself as he reached into the cardboard box in front of him, struggling to pull out the object he was so intrigued by. He jiggled it slightly, shifting it out from beneath the things weighing it down, before finally yanking it out with a triumphant grin.

They had been encouraged by Kirigiri to sort through some of their things as a form of 'spring cleaning.' Hanamura had experienced a panic attack upon finding a familiar electric knife which led to the remnants realising just how much stuff they still owned from their despair days. So Togami, the good one, took charge and paired them up to go through their things together.

Hinata knew all he owned was his reserve course suit and the barrette he had taken from Nanami. They were what he had awoken with, after all, since he had brought nothing else to the island. So he was just here to help Komaeda sort out his things.

Hinata returned the smile before gazing down, curious as to what had gotten Komaeda so intrigued. The other boy's fingers were now wrapped around a heavy steel collar. From the front, a long metal chain dangled, dragging across the wooden floor noisily as he brought it closer to examine.

"That's from your time in Towa city, right?" Hinata watched him closely, anxious that Komaeda may be set off by the object.

A small sound escaped him, an involuntary noise that was rather croaky and high pitched. It only further deepened Hinata's fears, the seconds feeling as though they had been dragging on forever since Komaeda last spoke.

Cautiously reaching out, Hinata gently placed his hand on the small of the boy's back. "H-hey…it's alright…"

It was an understandable reaction, one that didn't surprise Hinata in the slightest. Komaeda was still rather prone to despair spirals even after all these years of being isolated on Jabberwock. But that's why they were doing this, why Hinata was here; to make sure he wouldn't hurt himself when something brought back memories of the atrocities they'd committed and horrors they'd lived through.

Komaeda made the noise again, and again. And before he knew it, he was giggling. It was a happy giggle, not like the ones that cracked through the depths of his soul and spewed from his mouth like toxins during a breakdown. The light-hearted and wholesome sound left Hinata finding himself confused, but pleased Komaeda seemed okay.

"I'm sorry, it's just…I really let myself wear just whatever huh? Despair does awful things to people." A bright smile had stretched across Komaeda's face, one of genuine warmth. He wiped at the tears in his eyes, seemingly unaware that Hinata was currently skating right off the side of his emotional half-pipe.

You literally sawed off your own hand but you're more upset about how you wore a collar…?

Deciding to keep that thought private, Hinata asked something else instead. "So uh... was it more of an edgy thing or a kinky thing?"

Komaeda's head snapped around to playfully glare at Hinata. "It wasn't kinky! Do you really think so lowly of me, Hinata-kun? Even in throes of despair I could never be so depraved as to force my sexual desires onto those around me, especially not the Warriors of Hope." He paused, a couple of breathless laughs escaping his lips. "I couldn't have done something like that, they would have bullied me for it in an instant. Children are merciless…"

"No no, you know I don't think of you like that, Komaeda." A small chuckle left Hinata as he thread his fingers through the front of his hair. "They were really awful kids, huh?"

"Victims of circumstance."

"I mean, they did kill thousands of people."

"So did you!"

"Yeah but I--!" Hinata sighed loudly in defeat as he realized the worthlessness of arguing about such a thing. "No...You're right."

Seeming pleased with his victory, Komaeda smirked cheekily as he set the collar down on the floor beside him. With that over with, he returned to rummaging through the box.

Hinata, however, didn't seem to be able to let it go. His eyes were still fixated on the shiny metal, poring over every detail and slight scratch. "Does it…hurt to wear?"

"Hmmm," As Komaeda spoke he continued sorting through his items, not stopping to look up at the other. "Not really, but if you have children yanking at the chain all day it's likely to cut into your skin a little."

"I see…" Even as Hinata gave a gentle nod of acceptance, he didn't seem to be able to peel his eyes away.

Something about that collar intrigued him, something he couldn't put into words. Perhaps it was purely just because of how odd the garment truly was. It weighed on his mind with a strange familiarity he couldn't place, one that he could only guess was due to his merge with Kamukura. A past memory?

"Do you want to try it on?"

The offer was enough to snap Hinata from his daze, heat rising in his cheeks as he shook his head wildly. "N-no…that's weird…"

Komaeda picked up the collar again, the metal making a soft tink against his fibreglass fingers. He unclasped the collar, allowing it to bend into its two halves before holding it out towards Hinata's neck. "I'll help you put it on."

Swallowing hard, Hinata stared at the metal nervously. Looking at it made him feel strange. Fuzzy, almost as though a static was settling over his brain. Was he getting…close to remembering something? Or was he… turned on by it? After all, a human on a collar and leash was unnatural, yet a popular fetish. And Komaeda was someone he was sexually attracted to...

He could sit and ponder the possibilities for hours, but it would be an unproductive use of time. Hinata expelled all the thoughts swirling around in his head, instead focusing on the situation right now. This strange feeling intrigued him, despite the fact it made him anxious as hell for no discernable reason.

As per usual, Hinata's curiosity outweighed his anxiety. "O-okay…"

With a small smile, Komaeda shuffled a little closer. He pressed the cool metal to the front of Hinata's neck, watching as the chain pooled in his lap. He then closed the collar before doing up the clasp with a loud click.

Hinata seized, every muscle in his body suddenly tensing with an intense sensation of panic. The kind of panic that made you think "This is it, I'm going to die."

The world seemed to fall out from beneath him, quickly being replaced by a vibrant green room, filled with the noisy hum of electronic equipment running and observational monitors beeping.

Strange men in white coats were looking down at him, faces going unrecognised.

"N-no…"

This will be the final part of the procedure. Are you ready, "Hinata-kun?"

"N-no!! Don't touch me!"

He furiously attempted to swat away the arm reaching for him, but he couldn't. After all, they'd strapped down any part of his body that was capable of movement. His left cheek itched immensely from the electrode stuck to his skin.

"It's okay, Hinata-kun." The procedure will be mostly painless, it's likely you won't remember a thing. This the final stage, after this you will be released and reborn as the Ultimate Hope.

I'm barely hanging on as is. I-If you take away any more I'm going to die. I'm going to forget who I am…

I don't want to forget her!

Hinata desperately tried to grab at the restraint around his neck. He could feel his knuckles against his skin as his fingers gripped onto the metal, but he knew his arms had been restrained.

It didn't make sense. None of this is making sense. What is going on?

Somebody pulled his hands away, probably angry at his lack of cooperation. Fingers dug sharply into his chin and lips, forcing his mouth open as they pressed hard against his teeth.

Why were they doing this? This wasn't part of the plan.

He let out a loud noise of discomfort, struggling to shake himself free of whatever held him. But before Hinata could push free of their grip, something hard was forced into his mouth.

Huh?

His mouth was suddenly so...cold. Ice cold. Stinging and burning into his tongue. He thrashed and whined, attempting to remove the object from his mouth, but instead his jaw was forced shut.

"Hinata-kun!!"

Who is that? The voice sounded too young to be one of the surgeons.

"It's not real! Whatever's going on right now is just an illusion!"

He could almost laugh. He must be in denial, hoping that this nightmare wasn't turning out exactly the way it was meant to. After all, it was him who wanted this

badly.

"The Kamukura project ended a long time ago! You're safe now, Hinata-kun!"

The… Kamukura project?

Ah, that's right. I've already become Kamukura Izuru. I've been Kamukura Izuru. There's no reason for this to be happening.

Then that means…

This isn't reality.

Click. The soft sound of the collar's clasp being undone was what finally pulled Hinata back.

He could feel the ice melting against his tongue. The restraint had been removed from around his neck, yet the sensation of pressure and cool touch of the metal still lingered.

He should… try to open his eyes.

Cracking one open, Hinata found himself surprised by the flood of bright warm sunlight. The sharp contrast between that and the harsh neon green of the neuroscience institute surprised him.

It was almost as if the warmth of the world was welcoming him with open arms.

He could hear seagulls, the rhythmic thud of the washing machine, the sound of metal chain clattering against the wood floor and heavy breathing.

Ah, that was his own breathing.

A mess of fluffy, white hair was above him, knelt down and leaning over him with a look of panic on his face. It was a familiar scene, one that reminded him of the time when he woke up on the beach within the simulation.

"Komae-dah…"

The boy moved the instant he heard his own name, practically throwing himself at Hinata in a tight hug and pulling him upright off the floor. As Komaeda pressed his chest as close to Hinata's as possible, he whispered apologies quickly and harshly, fast enough to barely sound like coherent words.

"I'msosorryI'msosorryI'msosorry!!"

Despite his best efforts to speak, Hinata's voice was barely above a whisper. "I-it's alright…not your fault…"

He was still shaking and his hands were grossly clammy from all the sweat. He wiped them on the back of Komaeda's shirt and hugged the boy in return.

"I-I should have known…" Komaeda mumbled, squeezing tighter.

Hinata wasn't sure of what to say to reassure him, he really didn't want Komaeda to fall into one of his deprecation spirals, not right now. His head was pounding and he could still feel the electrodes attached to various places on his head and chest.

"Ko-maeda...I think I'm still…"

Komaeda leapt out of his arms, shuffling back a little before grabbing Hinata's right hand. "Ah sorry, I was…scared. But please don't worry about me right now Hinata-kun. Focus on getting yourself back down."

After nodding in response, Hinata took a deep breath and glanced around the room. He idly scratched at his left cheek as he took note of the objects around him.

Bed. Bookshelf. Messy stack of books. More fucking books. There's a gas mask under the- breathe. There is no gas mask under the bed. It doesn't matter. There's a coffee table. A desk that we added more recently.

Hinata swiveled around on his butt

The obnoxiously see-through bathroom. The toilet, bath, shower, towels. I think…I think I'm okay.

He let out a long sigh, relaxing his body enough to let himself fall back and lay down on the floor. Letting go of his hand, Komaeda continued to watch him cautiously. "Are you okay, Hinata-kun?"

He nodded. Still feeling a little uncomfortable with using his words, he opted to idly suck at the ice cube, reveling in the cool water dribbling down his throat.

Komaeda simply laid down next to him, wearing a gentle smile on that pale face. "We can stay here as long as you like, this was my last box of stuff anyway. If you wanna talk about it, you can. If you don't, that's fine too."

"I…" Despite the ice cube in his mouth, Hinata's throat felt unbearably dry and tight. "You were right. In your assumption…"

"Ah, so it was about the Kamukura project then." A soft sigh escaped Komaeda, one of dismay rather than frustration. "I couldn't think of anything else that would cause that kind of reaction. And I don't believe Kamukura did much during his time as a remnant."

Nodding again, Hinata found himself bringing his fingers to his neck. The skin was irritated, sore. He could still feel the collar sitting heavy on his Adam's apple, slowly crushing his esophagus…

"Hinata-kun."

Right. He took a deep gulp of air, having not realised until that moment he'd even been holding his breath. He was so grateful for Komaeda's attentiveness to detail that seemed to continue to save him time and time again.

"Do you like the weather here on Jabberwock Island?" The question came completely unprompted, out of the blue.

Hinata recognised this from one of their therapy sessions with Naegi, where he helped them learn methods on how to cope with these kinds of incidents. A subtle reminder of where the person was wrapped in a question designed to distract oneself. It seemed Komaeda had finally bitten back his curiosity in order to prioritise Hinata's fragile mental state.

"It's a lot like Japan's weather during the summer. Humid. I've never liked humid weather, it makes me sweat too much." He decided it best to answer the question, actually giving it a solid amount of thought. "Though it can be really nice when it rains and there's a humid heat, the atmosphere feels so strange."

Komaeda found himself smiling a little as he analysed Hinata's reaction. "Ah, I can understand that. The tropical thunderstorms we get here are quite interesting."

"It'd be nicer if they didn't trigger Saionji's panic attacks." Finding his mood suddenly souring again, Hinata muttered to himself.

"Trauma has unusual effects on people." Komaeda let out another one of those dry laughs, the kind he did when remembering something less than pleasant. "You and I both know this well."

There was a moment of silence in the room as Hinata blinked a few times, attempting to fully process the words as they were spoken.

"Yeah… I uh, I shouldn't have said that. It's not her fault, after all."

"You're allowed to have these kinds of feelings, you know? You're allowed to be angry that these things happened to us." Speaking in a tone of full yet agonisingly painful sincerity, Komaeda gently placed his right hand over the stump on his arm. "You're only human. You've always been human. It's better for you to express these emotions, especially after what just happened."

"I know… I just…" Gesturing vaguely, Hinata trailed off for a moment, unable to find the right words to describe his thoughts. "I just feel bad about everything that's happened. I'm kind of responsible for all of this. There's so many things that I wish I could change, wish I could have… done differently, I guess."

The other boy paused for a moment before speaking again, an expression unreadable to even Hinata painted onto his delicate features. "Hinata-kun…may I touch you?"

Hinata nodded in consent, and Komaeda wiggled himself closer. He wrapped an arm around Hinata's waist, humming softly as he snuggled up against the other.

"In all honesty, I just wish… I wish I didn't stop you at Hope's Peak. I should have let you shoot her. We wouldn't be in this stupid fucking mess if I just let you." Hinata's rage surged suddenly and he dug his fingers tightly into the fabric of Komaeda’s loose green jacket.

The anger within him eased as he clung to the other. Taking a moment before he groaned and buried his face in the other's chest, reciprocating the hug Komaeda had graciously offered him.

Once Hinata had noticeably cooled down, Komaeda spoke up again. "I don't think I was ever capable of killing her, even if you hadn't stopped me. My luck never planned for me to have an easy ride."

"Still, if I hadn't helped her at all-"

"Nothing would be different." The sudden stern tone made Hinata flinch. "You played less of a role in the whole thing than you care to admit, Hinata-kun."

Ah, he wasn't wrong.

All he had been used for was to manipulate the Reserve Course and put pressure on the faculty. She had other means of doing it and his denial to get involved would have just brought Enoshima more despair.

Hinata sighed loudly, moving his face up to Komaeda's neck and nestling his face into his untamed ivory hair.

"You're right…I'm sorry."

"It's fine, we all feel that way sometimes." Komaeda whispered, looping his other arm around Hinata.

As compelled as Hinata felt to object, he decided to accept it. Enoshima would have found other pawns to play her sick game with. They were lucky enough to just be alive.

They laid there in comfortable silence for a short while, basking in the warm rays of sunshine streaming through the window. All that could be heard was the sound of one another breathing and the ocean waves rolling into shore.

Fingers were threaded into the back of Hinata's hair, stroking through the strands soothingly as he succumbed to Komaeda's familiar touch and allowed himself to calm down. The gentle hold put him more at ease, pulled him back into reality, back into a world where everything was okay. Where there were no doctors here to hurt him, no anti-social scientists ready to break into his head, no creepy girls giggling as they tried to bludgeon him with a baseball bat.

It seemed as though Hinata's breathing had begun to slow down, his grip loosening as he was no longer desperately attempting to ground himself against Komaeda. It seemed he had calmed down enough to maybe talk about it, so Komaeda decided to pop the question.

"So, it was the collar that triggered it? Or a coincidentally timed flashback?"

"The collar. They used something similar to strap me down when they imbued me with my talents." As Hinata began to speak, his voice took on a dull and logical tone. "I believe any kind of restraint would likely elicit a similar reaction."

It wasn't unusual for Hinata to speak differently when recalling the operation or any of the events during the Hope Cultivation Project. It was as if he were trying to distance himself from the memories, to put up an emotionless front in order to make it hurt less. But at the end of the day it was more likely that he just saw things from an impersonal perspective.

Kamukura was always like that.

He never truly believed himself to be a part of society, a person of talent, a human. He was simply an outcast. Everything that he did or that had happened to him were just things that took place, nothing more, nothing less. Whoever's hands it were that dealt these actions meant little to him. The fact Hinata still tended to do this was likely just another side effect of the merge. Komaeda was just grateful that the tone of Kamukura's voice didn't frighten him anymore.

Before Komaeda's thoughts could spiral too much further into the contemplation of Hinata's actions, he spoke again.

"I'll keep that in mind. We'll make sure to add it to your profile's information, okay? That way this shouldn't happen again."

"Flashbacks are an inevitable part of having PTSD." Hinata mumbled the words into Komaeda's neck, seeming deflated.

"I know, but figuring out what triggers them helps." He ruffled Hinata's hair in an attempt to comfort him. "Once everyone knew not to use a hand saw around me, my stress went down immensely! I'm still so grateful everyone would do something like that just to ensure the comfort of somebody as worthless as me!"

There was another grumble from Hinata, who seemed unamused by Komaeda's comments. "You're not supposed to say stuff like that about yourself anymore…"

"And thus proves therapy isn't a perfect science either. At least it improves things bit by bit with time, like your triggers will." Knowing Hinata wouldn't be able to object to the argument, Komaeda found himself smirking a little.

He was right.

Hinata sighed loudly and snuggled closer into Komaeda's arms, groaning softly all the while.

"I know you think it's your job to protect all of us, Hinata, but having these issues doesn't make you weak. You're an Ultimate!" Upon seeing the other wince, Komaeda chuckled softly before directing his reassurance down a different path. "You do so much for our class, and we all love you dearly. Everyone wants to help you the best they can, Hinata-kun."

"Hm… do you think they would want to help me out with how cold my mouth is now?" Hinata squeezed the other boy tightly, keeping him firm in his grip.

"I can think of at least one who might-- Ah! Hinata-kun!!"

A cold tongue laved across the skin of Komaeda's neck, causing him to yelp and squirm. He attempted to push Hinata away, but was unsuccessful when the other boy suddenly rolled on top of him, straddling and pinning him in place. Leaning in close, Hinata eyed Komaeda's lips.

"May I?"

There was a soft huff of defeat from the boy beneath him, followed by a breathless laugh and that ever familiar smile.

"Of course."

Hinata pressed a light kiss to Komaeda's lips, causing the other boy to grin even wider as his cheeks flushed pink. "I love you."

"I love you too."

There was a moment of peace, perhaps the first true peace the two had felt all morning. Hinata felt hyper-aware of everything in the silence; the now lack of gentle thudding and swishing from the washing machine, which must have finished without them noticing. Dust particles danced in the golden rays of sunlight that always seemed to cut through any curtains they hung up. The gentle grey of Komaeda's eyes as they glistened slightly with tears after being the victim of a tickle assault, the slight red flush of his cheeks, the way his messy hair looked so nice with his bangs pinned back in order to keep the hair from his face and show off more of his forehead.

A warm sensation bubbled in Hinata's chest as he leaned his weight further onto Komaeda, allowing himself to relax with a soft sigh as he nuzzled further into the other boy. It felt as though he could fall asleep right there, completely calm in this perfect little world of theirs. Of course it couldn't last forever, but even so, it felt as though things were gonna be okay.

As long as Hinata and Komaeda were together, things would turn out okay.

It was no surprise that Komaeda was thinking the same thing, staring into those gorgeous mismatched eyes of his. There were scars on Hinata's face, scars that would continue to serve as painful reminders to both him and everyone around him. But Komaeda loved those scars, he loved every part of Hinata Hajime and Kamukura Izuru. No matter how many times they disagreed, fought, or got hurt, they always found solace in one another.

Komaeda had to pause to piece his train of thought back together. "Now, how about you get off me and let's pack everything back away, okay?"

With a gentle nod, Hinata shifted off the other's torso. Despite his mixed feelings on the loss of comforting heat and weight from Hinata's body, Komaeda sat himself up before rising to his feet and extending his hand towards the other. Hinata took another moment to recollect himself, before taking his hand and carefully rising to his feet.

Together they packed away all those memories, memories that would haunt them for a lifetime.

Your Handbook has been updated!

#Danganronpa #Komahina #komaeda nagito #Hinata Hajime #Ficgiri #Hinakoma

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