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#anyway may i suggest: 'A Lovely Night' from La La Land | 'Bad Little Boy' from Adventure Time | 'Weak' by AJR | 'Sweet Talk' Saint Motel

slapshot-to-the-heart · 4 years

Text

Shotgun - m. tkachuk

And here is 8.7k of a road trip with Matthew Tkachuk, which honestly, is the real dream. Let me know what you think of it, reblog (I love looking at tags!!) and pop into my inbox if you’d like!

Wine pairing from someone with zero authority on the subject: a nice brut rosé - crisp, fruity, bubbly. Plus, I like the vibes.

It all started with a text. What are the chances you can get the week after next off? Matthew had sent. Madison’s brow furrowed. Doubtful, but I can try. Are you going to tell me what this is about? There was a week left in the season before playoffs started, and with the points spread in the Pacific being what it was, the matchups were all but locked in. It took less than a minute to get a response. No :) I’ll let you know once you get an answer. She got approved for the time off two days later. Her phone rang as soon as she texted him the news. “How do you feel about road trips?”

---

Maddy had met Matthew about a little over a year prior, soon after she moved to Calgary from her hometown of Toronto. Having finished her first week of work as a computer programmer, there was nothing Madison wanted more than to let loose and enjoy a few drinks with her friends. She was sharing a two-bedroom with her best friend Emily, who Maddy would swear up and down was the sunniest, warmest, most kind person she’d ever met. Not like Maddy wasn’t a nice person — she was — but where her idea of relaxing meant going out bouldering, or camping, or a last-minute road trip, Emily was more of a homebody.

But going out meant going out, and so Emily was happily dragged along to a bar downtown; which one, she couldn’t really say. Madison walked up to the bar as soon as they entered, catching the bartender’s eye and ordering a Tom Collins. She tapped her fingers on the counter as she waited, glancing around the room. It was ten o’clock on a Friday night, so it was plenty packed. “What are you getting?” Madison asked Emily curiously.

She held up her Molson. “I’m a woman of simple tastes. Plus, I didn’t feel like waiting around for the bartender to actually make me a drink,” Emily added dryly.

Maddy rolled her eyes. “What’s the point of going out to a bar when you’re just going to be drinking something you could get at the liquor store?” Emily stuck her tongue out. The bartender slid Maddy’s glass over, taking her card and swiping it through quickly. “Thank you!” she chirped, whipping around to head over and snag a free table she had seen a few minutes before.

She never ended up getting to the table. Instead, she ran straight into 6 feet, 2 inches of pure Midwestern beef. “Woah!” Matthew said, steadying her as she watched her glass fall to the floor, thankfully not breaking but absolutely spilling its entire contents over the wood. “You good?”

Madison nodded, grabbing a rag from the bartender. Matthew followed suit, joining her on the floor. “Got a little on my shoes, but it’ll be fine. They won’t stain.”

Matthew nodded, giving a final wipe before taking her rag and handing both back over the counter. “Did me spilling your drink all over you ruin my chances of getting your name?”

“Madison St. Pierre,” she said, laughing and sticking out a hand for him to shake.

“Matthew Tkachuk, but—”

Maddy cut him off. “I probably already know that?” Matthew ducked his head sheepishly. “I may be a long-suffering Leafs fan, but I don’t live under a rock.”

He took a sip of his beer, leaning up against the bar. “Not from around here, eh?”

Maddy shook her head. “Just moved a couple weeks ago. I’m from Toronto, moved here for a job. I do computer programming,” she said by way of explanation.

“A smart girl.”

She tilted her head. “You could say that.”

“Well,” he said, “I feel bad about spilling your drink on you, let me buy you another.”

Maddy laughed. “If you insist. It’s really the least you could do.”

Matthew nodded at the bartender, ordering her another Tom Collins and putting it on his tab. “You and your friend are more than welcome to join us,” he gestured behind him to where the rest of his group was sitting, “we were playing a drinking game and could use a few more players anyway.”

And that was how Matthew met Maddy.

---

Day 1

Ten days later, Madison was hefting her duffel bag into the trunk of her Nissan. It was 7:00 on a Tuesday. Normally on a day off she’d be taking advantage of every possible minute of sleep she could get, but lines to cross the border could be long and they wanted to get to Montana by lunch. She waved goodbye to Emily, hopping in the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Matthew had initially suggested they just get a rental car, since it would save Maddy the 20-hour drive back. But a quick Google search let them know that the chances of finding a company willing to let them drop off a Canadian car in Nevada were slim to none. Plus, Maddy had always liked driving, so it wasn’t really an issue for her. They weren’t going to be alone on the trip; Matthew had invited Elias and Rasmus along. She felt a little bit like a school bus driver, stopping at Elias’s complex to pick him up, then Rasmus’ condo, finally pulling into the underground lot of Matthew’s apartment building. Holding one hand up in greeting, he wheeled his suitcases over to her car.

Maddy unblocked her seatbelt, hopping out to help him. “Why on earth did you need so many bags?” she huffed, turning one on its side and wedging it in between hers and Elias’s.

He shrugged. “I’ve got a bag for the trip, a bag of actual clothes and workout stuff for the series, and the suit bag.” He hung the offending article on a hook. “Did you think I’d be able to set my vanity aside for a whole four days?”

“I should have known that would be too much to ask.”

Matty threw his head back, laughing. “Anyone ever told you how funny you are, Mads?”

“Once or twice, Ratthew,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Maddy hopped back in the driver’s seat, jamming the key in the ignition and turning the engine on. “Next stop, boys, is America.”

---

Well technically, the next stop was a gas station off of Highway 2, about twenty minutes from the border. “Wait, wait,” Matthew said, a conspiratorial grin on his face as Madison took the pump out of the gas tank.

She raised one eyebrow. “What?”

He made grabby hands at her keys. “Let me drive.”

“Why?” Madison asked. “I’ve been driving for like what, two hours? I’m not tired yet.”

“I’m the only American in the car.”

Maddy put the pump back. “And?”

Matthew looked sheepish. “Someone said that the border patrol officers will tell Americans ‘welcome home’ when they’re coming back. It’s never happened to me flying so I wanted to see if it would be different in a car.”

“If it means that much to you?” she said, tossing the keys over the hood of the car. Matthew caught them. Maddy rounded the back of the car before she could see him ducking his head, blushing.

They arrived at the Piegan/Carway crossing shortly after. With exactly zero cars in front of them, Matthew pulled straight up to the booth.

“Purpose of your visit?” the officer said, looking into the driver’s side.

“Three of us play hockey, we’re road tripping down to Las Vegas before our playoff series starts in a few days,” Matty answered easily.

He nodded. “And how long will you be in the States for?”

It was clear either this man had never watched a series of professional sports in his life, or he was just following a standard script. “Depends?” Matthew said, fully aware of how questionable that sounded.

Maddy piped up from the passenger seat. “I’m driving the car back, so I’ll be back in eight days.”

“Right,” Matthew nodded, “But this trip to the US, we’ll be back in seven days. We’re flying back on the team plane, so it’s not a land crossing.” He decided to forego mentioning that, barring a sweep, they’d be back again in two weeks.

The poor officer looked bewildered. “Team plane?”

Matty shrugged his shoulders. “We play for the Calgary Flames, the team charters a plane to fly us from Calgary to wherever we’re playing and back. We decided to take the scenic route this time.”

“Okay,” he said, but Madison still wasn’t convinced he actually understood what Matty was saying. If the border officer thought anything of the American, Canadian, and Swedish passports he was handed, he didn’t say anything. Giving a cursory glance, he handed them back. “Welcome back,” he nodded to Matthew, waving the car through the gate. Matthew pumped his fist.

---

An hour later, Matthew pulled into a dirt parking lot on the edge of Glacier National Park. “WE MADE IT!” he exclaimed, putting the car in park and throwing his hands up.

“We drove three hours,” Elias said from the back seat.

“And?” Matty challenged, opening the door.

Maddy grabbed her backpack, stuffed with sandwiches and snacks that they had gotten on their way in. “If you guys brought hiking boots or good tennis shoes, now’s the time,” she said, lacing up her own boots. “There’s a loop around here that’s a little under four miles long, doesn’t sound like it’s too difficult but there is some elevation climb, so better safe than sorry.” People typically didn’t peg her for it, but Maddy was a very outdoorsy person at heart. She had taken up rock climbing in high school, and was a regular at the bouldering gyms back in Toronto until she moved. She’d found a climbing gym she liked well enough in Calgary, but with Banff just over an hour away from the city, the park had become her go-to for climbing and hiking. Matty had come with her on more than one occasion, and had surprised her with a long weekend camping for her birthday in March. The snow hadn’t all melted yet, and waking up to the powder-dusted fir trees outside of their tent had been one of the most beautiful sights of her life.

“Everyone’s got a full water bottle?” she asked, tying up her hair. The last thing anyone wanted was to get heatstroke in one of the most remote parts of the park with only one phone that could even connect to an American cell tower.

The group started off at a leisurely pace, wandering off-trail to check out anything and everything that caught their interest. The edge of the St. Mary Valley served as the perfect backdrop for lunch, Maddy pulling the sandwiches out from her bag and doling them out. “Oh thank God, I’m starving,” Elias said, grabbing his food from Maddy practically before she even had it in her hand.

“Did you not have breakfast?” she asked incredulously.

He nodded. “I did, but I’m still hungry. Should have brought snacks.” Off to his side, Matty snickered.

Day 2

Elias had volunteered to take over from Matthew to drive through the night, switching off sometime around sunrise with Rasmus. “I 100% have a crick in my neck,” Maddy grimaced, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and checking her phone.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Matthew smiled. Maddy groaned, leaning into his side. Almost instinctively, his arm wrapped around her shoulders. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle, taking a few gulps before setting it back down on the floor of the car, where it promptly rolled away.

“Who do I have to blow to get a decent cup of coffee around here?” Maddy groaned. Matthew almost choked on his water. He had to get his mind off of the idea of Maddy blowing anything or he was about to have an issue. He pulled out his phone, jumping on Google maps.

“There’s a little coffee shop a few miles ahead, off of the Spruce Drive exit?” he asked tentatively.

She yawned. “As long as they sell caffeine, I’m game.” They did indeed sell caffeine, and after inhaling two cappuchinos and a small mountain of pastries later, Maddy hopped back behind the wheel. “You sure bear claws and muffins are on the meal plan, boys?” she asked, a smile playing on the corner of her lips.

Rasmus waved her off. “It’s not like you’re going to rat us out, are you?”

She shrugged, wiggling her phone in her hand as she pulled up at a stoplight. “Bold of you to assume I don’t have Coach’s number in my phone.”

Matty plucked her phone from her hand, placing it back by the center console. “Be that as it may, sweet Madison, you neglect to remember that I’m the only one with coverage in the U.S.” He might not strike most people as a particularly sentimental person, but Matthew loved his family, and decided that the extra charge was well worth being able to call his parents and sister whenever he was missing them.

She stuck her tongue out at Matthew. “You ruin all of my fun, you know that?” All he did was grin. The drive to Mesa Falls wasn’t long at all, they had just finished their food — Matty popping bites of muffin into Madison’s mouth as she drove — when she pulled over to the curb by the sign. Maddy threw the boys’ backpacks to them, pointing to the single bathroom stall in the tiny rest area. “Go change, I’ll use the car.”

“Why can’t we have the car?” Matthew complained.

She looked at him. “Three full-grown men, all over six feet, in one car. I know you see each other’s dicks all day in the locker room, but I’d really rather not have that in my car. Think.”

Matty made an “o” with his mouth. “Gotcha.”

Swim trunks were much easier to get on than a wrap bikini, Madison was finding, and the boys were finished changing well before she was done figuring out her top. She bit her lip, poking her head out of the door. “Matty?”

He turned around, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Could you help me tie this?” she asked, gesturing to the halter top. “I think it’s stuck or something.”

Matthew swallowed hard, his eyes widening as he tried to stutter through a sentence. “Uh, yeah. I can do that. For sure,” he said, shuffling over to the car. He gently untwisted the straps, gathering them into a bow at the base of her neck and trying very, very hard to not think about how soft her skin felt underneath his fingers. This was one of his best friends. And best friends weren’t supposed to think about that kind of stuff. Right?

Behind them, Elias and Rasmus shared a glance. They had expected something was going on between them, really ever since the party in November, but this was something new. They had never seen Matthew gone this far for a girl before. And they liked this side of him.

“Thanks,” she said, squeezing his shoulder before disappearing back into the car to throw on a coverup. “How long is the walk to the actual waterfalls?”

“Not long,” Elias responded. “Ten minutes or so?” It was an easy walk to the falls, which were mercifully empty when they got there. They kicked off their sandals, leaving the bags under a nearby bush. Matthew knew Madison was pretty. She wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a saint; she had seen him shirtless more times than he could count and he had seen her come out of his guest room in nothing but an oversized t-shirt of his after she stayed the night. His thoughts hadn’t exactly been innocent. But as she pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her clad only in that damn red bikini, he was convinced he’d never seen a more gorgeous sight.

She turned around just as Matthew tore his eyes away, looking mischievously at him. “Last one in?” They sprinted to the water. Matty let her win.

---

About half of their stops had been planned in advance; the others were pulled from websites or Google suggestions or whatever their waitress’ recommendation was for a local must-see. The Idaho Potato Museum fell into the latter category. Rasmus had floated the idea shortly after they had left Mesa Falls, and seeing as how nobody had anything better to suggest, they ran with it.

“Free taters for out of staters,” Matthew said, reading off of the pamphlet they had been handed at the welcome desk.

“Will they give me extra since I’m Canadian?” Madison wondered aloud. “For all intents and purposes they think you live in Missouri, Matty.” The nickname rolled off her tongue so easily, she didn’t even think twice.

He passed the paper to her, the tips of their fingers barely brushing together, but Matthew could have sworn his heart skipped a beat. “Don’t get greedy, Mads.” They walked down a dimly-lit hallway lined with black-and-white photos.

“Did you know that the first potatoes grown in the United States were planted in Londonderry, New Hampshire, by Scotch-Irish immigrants?” Elias read off of a placard, his voice sounding like a disinterested radio announcer.

Maddy shook her head. “I didn’t, thank you so much for imparting on me this most important knowledge, Elias.”

“My pleasure,” he replied.

“Did you know that you could survive off of a diet of only potatoes and butter?” Rasmus chimed in, reading another sign.

“Really?” Matthew asked, leaning in to read. He turned to Madison a moment later. “Really, apparently.”

Half an hour of wandering later, Matthew and Madison had stumbled into the “artifacts” portion of the museum. “What kind of artifacts does a potato museum have?” Maddy asked, looking supremely confused.

Matthew wiggled his eyebrows at her. “Why don’t we see?” For some reason, he decided it would be a good idea to hold his hand out for her. And for some reason, Maddy took it.

The “artifacts” turned out to consist of some old farm tools, dusty burlap sacks, and the world’s largest potato chip. Elias and Ramsus were on the other side of the museum, leaving Matthew and Madison to drift through alone. “Crisp, actually,” Matthew said, reading the card under the glass case. “Because I guess they’re worried about people stealing it?”

“There’s a difference?”

He shrugged. “Apparently it’s only a chip if it’s a slice of potato. This was made from dehydrated potato flakes, or something like that.” Maddy wasn’t sure if it was the sepia-tinted lighting, or the lingering memory of how Matty’s fingertips burned like fire against her back as he tied her bikini, or if there was something particularly romantic about dehydrated potato flakes, but they were alone in the room and suddenly she was looking at him a little bit differently. Matthew looked at her, gaze soft as his eyes flickered almost imperceptibly down towards her lips. Her lips. His body leaned in, and just as she closed her eyes, waiting for his lips to meet hers, wondering if they were really going to do this in the middle of the Idaho fucking Potato Museum—

“We were wondering where you guys had gone off to!” Elias’s Swedish accent cut through the silence. Matthew threw his head back, silently cursing his teammate’s timing. If Elias and Rasmus realized anything was off, they didn’t say. “The lady at the front said it’s closing in ten minutes, so we thought we should head out and get something to eat.”

Maddy nodded in agreement, her cheeks burning. “Sounds good. I could go for some food.” They made their way back outside, Matthew settling behind the wheel as he steered the car back onto the highway. He tried to shake the almost-kiss from his mind, but the more he tried to forget it, the more the memory stuck.

Elias looked down at his phone. “Yelp says there’s an Indian place coming up on the left if that sounds good to you guys,” he said, shaking Matthew from his thoughts.

Maddy scrunched her nose. “All due respect, I don’t trust this town to make good Indian food. Potatoes, burgers, meat, sure. I buy it. But I haven’t seen a single person of color since we left Glacier.”

“Fair.”

The burgers were good; nothing to write home about, but Maddy was honestly thrilled to eat something that didn’t come out of a bag. The plan had originally been to drive through the night again to reach Salt Lake City by the early morning, but Maddy made it clear her back didn’t take too well to sleeping in the car, and the others agreed. “Rasmus, mind finding a hotel nearby? Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, just somewhere not too far off of the freeway,” Madison asked. He nodded, pulling out his phone. They had gotten tired of passing around Matthew’s phone anytime they were out of Wifi range, so after a little complaining and one of Maddy’s puppy-dog eye looks, he finally relented and turned his hotspot on.

“There’s a Holiday Inn up off of the next exit if that sounds good to you guys,” Rasmus said. He tapped his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the Post Malone song that Matty had plugged in. They switched the aux every few hours.

“Yeah, works for me.” Madison hummed her agreement; Matty nodded. Rasmus flicked on the blinkers, gently cruising down the offramp, pulling into the parking lot of the Holiday Inn about half a mile down the road.

Madison bit the inside of her cheek. “They’re going to have rooms available, yeah?”

“Mads, it’s May in the middle of nowhere, Idaho. I don’t exactly think they’ve got business lining up out the door.” Matty said, looking at her from the side as they walked into the hotel lobby.

The whole trip was Matthew’s idea, so he insisted on footing the bill, handing his credit card and license over to the receptionist. Maddy snickered behind her hand. Matthew turned back to look at her, one eyebrow raised questioningly. “Something you’d like to share with the class, Madison?”

“Missouri licenses look weird,” she commented.

“And Alberta’s any better?”

She scrunched her nose. “We have a dinosaur on ours. Beat that.”

“I’ll let you have that one,” Matty said, the corner of his lip twitching as he thanked the receptionist, tucking the cards back into his wallet. She handed over the room keys, Matthew passing two to Rasmus and Elias and one to Maddy. “I had us together, if you don’t mind.”

Madison shook her head. “Fine with me.” It wasn’t unusual for her to stay over at Matthew’s apartment, either after going out or when their movie nights ran a little long and she woke up to Matty tucking her into the bed in his guest room. She had a toothbrush in his bathroom, a change of clothes in the dresser. She had offered to take her stuff back a few months ago, not wanting any girl he might bring over to get the wrong idea. “It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he had said when she asked, waving her off. Though, come to think of it, he hadn’t brought any girl home — that she knew about — since sometime around the beginning of the year.

They waved goodbye to Rasmus and Elias, promising to wake up bright and early to get the first crack at the breakfast buffet when it opened at 7. Matty swiped his card, holding the door open when the light turned green and the knob twisted. “After you, m’lady.”

“Why thank you, good sir,” Maddy giggled, ducking under his arm into the entryway. She stopped at the end of the hall, eyes flickering into the room.

Matthew stopped behind her. “What’s up?”

“There’s only one bed.”

His head jerked around the corner, not like he doubted her word or anything, but he needed to see it for himself. There was only one bed. One big bed, one very comfortable-looking bed, but one bed. Matty dropped his bag on the floor. “Uh...D’you want me to call down? I can see if they’ve got another room if that would make you more comfortable.”

Madison pursed her lips for a second before shaking her head. “No, it’s fine. We’re adults, we can share a bed without burning the house down.” It wasn’t like Maddy was lying for Matthew’s sake; she really was fine with it. Maybe a little too fine. But they had slept together — in the innocent sense of the word — before, and everything had turned out okay. His arm draped over her shoulder as she cuddled into his shoulder on a late night, her legs tangled in his when some of his friends from St. Louis were visiting for the weekend and took the guest room. He had offered to take the couch that night, but Maddy didn’t want to relegate him to a night of back cramps and drafty breezes, especially when he had an early practice the next day. Nobody ever made it weird, so it wasn’t weird.

She took her bundle of clothes into the shower, relishing in the feeling of hot water raining down on her aching muscles. Maddy was loving the trip, genuinely, but being in a car for twelve hours out of the day took something out of a person. Slipping into an old college t-shirt, Madison thought for a moment about putting on a pair of sweats. It wasn’t particularly cold — the opposite, in fact — but she didn’t know if it would make Matthew feel weird if she wasn’t wearing pants. Fuck it, she thought, pulling up her boyshorts. If he had an issue with it, it was his problem. Throwing her hair up in a towel to dry, she turned the doorknob, poking her head out the door. “Shower’s open if you wanted to hop in,” she said.

Matty nodded, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t be too long, why don’t you find something for us to watch?” he asked, tossing her the remote. It wasn’t quite nine o’clock, and while she was tired, Maddy knew if she tried to go to sleep she’d wake up well before dawn, and that wasn’t something anyone wanted. Madison climbed up onto the bed, tucking her feet underneath her and grabbed the channel guide. True to his word, Matthew was in and out in under ten minutes, rubbing his hair with a towel as he walked out. Athletic shorts. Shirtless. Maddy couldn’t help but give him the once-over, having to jerk her eyes back up to his face the moment she realized what she was doing. Matthew met her eyes, the ghost of a smirk playing on his face. “I can put a shirt on if you’d like…”

“No! You’re good,” Maddy replied, maybe a little too quickly to avoid suspicion.

He ducked back into the bathroom, throwing the towel over the shower curtain. “So, what did you settle on?”

She looked back at the TV. “Diners, Drive-ins, and Dives?”

Matty jumped onto the bed. “Guy Fieri. What a legend. Awesome. Where’s he going?”

Three and a half episodes later, it was almost eleven, and Madison’s eyes were starting to droop. Sometime midway through the second episode, when Guy was visiting an Asian fusion restaurant in Colorado, her head had drifted onto Matthew’s shoulder, where it had stayed ever since. His arm wrapped loosely around her, Matty brought his hand up to brush away a stray piece of hair that had drifted into her face. “Getting sleepy, Mads?”

She yawned, nodding and trying to push herself up. “‘M looking forward to a good night’s sleep in an actual bed.”

Matthew laughed softly. “Let’s get you in bed, then.” He threw back the comforter, Madison crawling under, and reached over to the nightstand, turning off the lamps and TV. “Give me your phone,” he said.

“Why?” Maddy asked, her brow furrowing.

“You always forget to charge it overnight, and I don’t want you to be grumpy when it dies at 10 AM.” She mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like a concession, handing over her iPhone. Matty plugged it in, clambering beneath the sheets. “Sweet dreams, Mads. Good night.”

“Night, Matty.”

Day 3

The first thing Madison noticed when she woke up was the warm, unfamiliar weight slung around her waist. It took her a moment to realize that it was Matty’s arm, who hadn’t woken up yet. For some reason that she couldn’t quite identify, or maybe didn’t want to confront quite yet, it wasn’t unwelcome at all, and she savored the last few minutes of physical closeness before he woke up. And he did, wake up, that is. His cheeks reddened as he opened his eyes, pulling his arm away to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “Sorry about that,” he said sheepishly.

Maddy ducked her head. “Nothing to be sorry about. I didn’t mind.”

Matthew yawned. “What time is it?”

“Uh, just before seven,” she said, rolling over to look at the alarm clock. “I’d love to stay in bed a little longer, but we did promise the boys we’d meet them down at breakfast soon.”

He nodded, making a very concerted effort to not read into her statements any more than he absolutely had to. “Yeah, good idea,” he said, tossing the covers off and walking into the bathroom. “I’ll sit on you if you’re not up by the time I get back out there.” Maddy took the opportunity to change, threading a belt through her jeans and half-tucking a t-shirt. “I like the look,” he said when he walked out, as Maddy was twisting her hair up into a bun. It wasn’t entirely unusual for Matthew to compliment her; she had accompanied him to more than one charity event for the Flames as his date, but she had always been dressed up. Dress, heels, makeup that she probably stressed way too much over. Dressed to the nines, never in jeans and a t-shirt before. But she didn’t really notice, the compliment meaning just as much to her as if she’d been in a floor-length gown.

“Thanks,” she said, stuffing her clothes from the night before back into her duffel. “I packed the rest of your bag while you were in there, figured I might as well.”

It was Matty’s turn to thank her, squeezing her hand appreciatively before giving the room a quick look. “We didn’t forget anything, then?”

Madison laughed. “We really didn’t stay long enough to unpack, but yeah, we’ve got everything, don’t worry.”

---

Elias had volunteered to do the drive down to Salt Lake City. Matthew’s inner six-year-old had returned, insisting that the group stop at a dinosaur park in a rural part of Utah. What “dinosaur park” meant, Madison wasn’t sure, but it made Matty happy, so she didn’t fight it.

The museum was mostly outdoors, with life-sized dinosaur models dotting the massive field. “Were you much into dinosaurs as a kid?” Matthew asked Madison.

“Kind of?” she replied noncommittally. “I always loved learning about them, but never had like a ‘dinosaur phase’ like David or Cody,” she said, referring to her older brothers. “My family used to go to the Canadian Museum of Nature a ton when I was a kid, since it was only a few hours away in Ottawa, and it has like a billion fossils in it.”

“Which was your favorite?”

“Pachycephalosaurus,” she said easily.

Matthew blinked. “Pachycephalo-what?” he asked in confusion. He thought he knew all of them?

Maddy laughed. “Pachycephalosaurus. They had these really spiny heads. But secretly, I think I was a little bit of a teacher’s pet who just liked saying the name. Pretty sure they were actually native to Alberta?” she added. “What about you?”

“Well, now I’m embarrassed to say.”

“Oh, come on,” Madison said, nudging him with her shoulder. “Promise I won’t make fun of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Matty gave in, “it was the brachiosaurus.”

“How come?” she asked curiously.

“I liked the long necks.”

They spent another hour or so at the park, Matty grabbing a keychain on the way out. “They didn’t have a brachiosaurus,” he muttered, half-angry, picking up a T-rex one instead. It wasn’t a long drive to the actual Great Salt Lake, and for some reason, they had trusted Elias with the aux. Much to Maddy’s chagrin, he didn’t end up playing ABBA, and they were instead led to cruise down I-15 to the dulcet tones of J.S. Bach.

Madison looked down at her phone. “Anyone want to go see the Joseph Smith sphinx?”

“Joseph Smith?” Rasmus questioned.

“Sphinx?” asked Elias.

Matthew laughed. “You know those Egyptian statues of like the cat ladies? Where they have cat bodies but the faces of people?”

“Joseph Smith was the founder of the Mormon church,” Madison explained. “Well, technically it’s called the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, but—”

“Know-it-all,” Matty said in a sing-song voice. Madison shot a glare at him from the back seat.

“But most people still call them Mormons. And apparently they made him into a sphinx.”

Elias looked at her, still dumbfounded. “But why?”

Maddy shrugged. “Honestly? Beats me.” The weather had dropped too much by the time they had reached the lake to make swimming very practical, so the four of them settled for taking off their shoes, rolling up pants, and wading into the shoreline.

Matthew bent down, picking up a chipped white rock from the ground, the water just lapping at his fingers. He handed it to Madison. “For you.”

She took it gently, running her hands over the jagged surface. “Aren’t you not allowed to take anything from a national park?”

He winked. “I won’t tell if you don’t.” They stopped at a Chipotle just as the sun was beginning to set, Matthew taking over driving duties from Rasmus. The plan was to drive for another two hours or so, stopping somewhere in southern Utah for the night to spare themselves from another night spent in her Nissan.

They drove in silence for a while, Elias and Rasmus drifting to sleep in the back row, before a road sign caught Matty’s eyes and he spoke. “I’ve never been to the Grand Canyon, you know,” he said as they continued down I-15.

Maddy looked over at him. “Do you want to go?” She didn’t know where the suggestion came from, but it was out of her mouth before she could take it back, and after a moment, she realized that she didn’t even want to.

His eyebrows raised as he glanced over at her before turning back to the road, the car’s headlights the only thing in sight. “You mean it?”

Madison shrugged. “Yeah, why not?” She quickly popped the directions into her phone. “It’s only a few hours out of the way, if we drive through the night instead of stopping somewhere we should have more than enough time.”

“But didn’t you say sleeping in the car made your back hurt?” Matty asked curiously.

She smiled softly. “I don’t mind, really. I’ll drive. You’re more important.” Honestly, Maddy surprised herself with her boldness. She wasn’t shy by any stretch of the imagination, but it hadn’t escaped her that the dynamic between her and Matthew had changed in the past few weeks and was about to come to a boil. Matty wasn’t exactly the type of guy Madison expected to have a lot of friends who were girls. And a part of her hated that, hated that because of his reputation she automatically assumed when they became friends that all he wanted to do was get in her pants. There had only been one time in their entire year of friendship when they’d even done so much as kissed, and it wasn’t exactly what you’d consider normal circumstances.

---

It was November of the previous year, about six months after Matthew and Madison had met. Matthew had been even more in his head than normal; he hadn’t scored a single point since midway through their East Coast road trip over two weeks ago, and the disappointment was really starting to rag on him. It might not have been something he outwardly showed all that much, but those who knew him knew that Matthew was actually a deeply sensitive person, who took pride in his wins and carried losses with him well after they had faded from the minds of the rest of the hockey world.

When it had gotten to the point where his frustration was starting to affect his game, Maddy knew it was time to do something. “You’re so much more than your stats, Matty,” she had said, calling him right before she left for the Saddledome. “I know you take this personally, and you feel like you’re letting down the team, but that’s bullshit and somewhere deep down, I know you agree.” Matthew grumbled something that might have been an agreement. “Your team trusts you, they trust you with the puck and with the A, and you’re never going to disappoint them as long as you’re giving it your all. And if you’re the Matthew Tkachuk I know, there’s never a time when you don’t. And win or lose tonight, there’s nothing you could do to change the fact that your family loves you, and your friends love you, and I love you too. Okay?” Clearly, something in her little pep talk had flipped a switch in Matty, because he returned in spectacular form that night, scoring a hat trick in a roaring 5-1 win over the Coyotes. And he didn’t throw a single punch all game.

A good game without a travel day following usually calls for going out, and a great game with your best friend scoring a hat trick definitely calls for going out, so she dragged Emily along to the bar that Matthew had told her to meet the team at. Matthew had pulled her into a hug the moment she arrived, kissing her cheek and trying his damndest not to spill the beer in his hand on her shoes. An hour and a half into the night, Madison was four drinks in, well and truly drunk, and Emily had wandered off and appeared to be flirting with an extremely oblivious Noah Hanifin.

“How are you doing, Mads?” Matthew asked, coming up from behind her barstool and resting his hand gently on the small of her back.

She looked back at him, a goofy smile on her face, and took another sip of her drink. “I’m good, I’m realllly good,” she giggled. “Did I ever get a chance to tell you how good you were tonight?” Matthew shook his head, very poorly concealing a laugh. He had had more than one beer, sure, but he was nowhere near as gone as Madison. “Because you were really good. A-ma-zing,” she added, punctuating each syllable. Her eyes softened as she leaned in. “I know the points drought was starting to weigh on you, and I’m really glad you were able to do this for yourself. I’m always proud of you, Matty, but I was a little extra proud of you tonight. People sometimes write you off as just another good player without any real subsistence,” she paused, correcting herself, “substance, off the ice, but I know the real you, and the real you is even more incredible than the you that plays hockey. It’s my favorite thing to see.”

“It is?” Matthew asked softly, leaning into the hand that had begun to caress his cheek a little bit imprecisely, but that somehow communicated every kind of unsaid word between them.

Madison nodded, touching his forehead to hers, and then she tilted in. And then she kissed him. Her lips met his, and she tasted like lime and spearmint chewing gum and his favorite kind of tequila. Her lips met his, and it seemed like the room stood still; he barely heard his teammates’ wolf-whistles or Emily’s elated gasp in the background. Her lips met his, and he drank in every second of the kiss until she pulled away.

---

Maddy hadn’t been drunk enough to black out that night, and she came to the next morning with a roaring headache and the pang of regret in her heart. She thought it was shame at her behavior, embarrassment that she could act so impulsively, but the more she thought about it, the more she realized. The fact that she kissed Matthew wasn’t the issue, not to her, at least. It was the fact that she was drunk in a bar after a hockey game and that wasn’t how she wanted it to happen. She pushed her feelings to the side, trying desperately to focus on work and supporting Matty through the rest of the season, but they always tended to flare up when they were least welcome. Like at the Idaho Potato Museum.

Which of course meant that Matthew would choose this moment, driving down I-15 with two sleeping Swedish hockey players in the backseat, to bring it up. “I remember when you kissed me, you know,” Matty said softly, reaching up to brush his fingers over his lips, like if he tried hard enough he could remember what it felt like to have Maddy’s pressed against his.

Madison froze, which isn’t exactly what you’re supposed to do when you’re driving. She thought he had forgotten. He had never brought it up, so she really had no reason to believe he would have remembered. “You do?” she asked, swallowing.

She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Mhm. I hadn’t thought about it in a couple weeks, but back in Idaho, in front of the World’s Largest Potato Crisp…” He let out an airy chuckle.

Maddy breathed in sharply. So she hadn’t imagined that. Her fingers tapped nervously against the faux leather of the steering wheel. “Yeah…” She trailed off nervously. “I was drunk.”

“Oh, you were hammered,” Matthew agreed. “But do you regret it?”

There it was, the million-dollar question that she somehow actually had the answer to. A long moment passed before she answered, figuring it would be best to just rip the band-aid off. Worst case, Matty would hate her and she’d only be stuck in a car with him for ten-odd more hours. No big deal. “No,” she whispered, voice so small he almost didn’t hear it.

“I’m glad, because I don’t either,” Matty said. Madison hazarded a glance to her side; he looked almost nervous, and nervous wasn’t a look Matthew Tkachuk did all that often. “I had wanted to for a few months, but it always seemed like it was never the right time, or something interrupted us, or I didn’t know how you felt about me. But you made the first move, and I’m glad you did.”

“How come?”

He sighed. “I don’t know how long I would have waited to do something, or if I ever would have done anything. I feel like sometimes…,” he searched for the right words, “the confidence that I have on the ice can be misleading. Hockey is about reflexes and instincts and knowing the game, but it’s also thinking three steps ahead, anticipating every possible outcome and preparing for them. And that’s the part that I carry off the ice. I think I was worried if I ever brought it up with you, if I ever mentioned that I so much as remembered the kiss, you might clam up and tell me it was a stupid, drunken mistake, and I don’t know what I’d do if you said that. Because I don’t know how you feel about me, not like that”

Her breath caught in her throat, but she managed to force the words out, as scared as she was about admitting them. “I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” Matthew had never seen Madison like this before, unsure and worried and downright vulnerable, and it meant so much to him that she was letting him see her like that.

Matthew let out a watery laugh. “Only pretty sure? Hurts my ego a little bit.” Maddy opened her mouth, but he waved her off. “Because I’m definitely sure I’m in love with you.” This wasn’t ever how she imagined telling him, and it wasn’t how Matty thought he’d tell her, on a freeway in Southern Utah on their way to the Grand Canyon, but sometimes life throws unexpected things at you and you have to roll with the punches.

“When did you know?” Madison asked curiously.

Matthew bit his lip. “Few months ago? I knew I liked you as more than a friend probably since you kissed me, but it was after that game against Vancouver that I really understood I had fallen in love with you.” Maddy remembered the game. It had gone terribly for the Flames, a 4-0 shutout with more than one fight and the bench racking up penalty minutes. What she didn’t know was what made that one special. Matthew looked over at her, answering her unspoken question. “Why that one?” She nodded. “I think it’s because it was such a shitty game. I wouldn’t have blamed you at all if you had just skipped out after the end of the third, I know I can be hard to deal with after a loss. But you didn’t leave, you stayed. I remember seeing you outside the tunnel, swallowed by my jersey because it’s three sizes too big for you and you refuse to let me buy you another—”

“I don’t want another because it’s yours, and I love it,” Maddy said quietly.

Matthew smiled. “Your call. But when I turned the corner and saw you, I realized three things at the exact same time. You were there for me when you didn’t have to be, and I wanted to be able to do the same thing for you. Second, you’re who I wanted to come home to. And last,” he gathered his thoughts, “I realized if I never saw another girl in my jersey for the rest of my life, that would be fine with me.”

“I think I knew when you introduced me to your family, when you flew me down for the All-Star break?” He nodded in recognition. “Just seeing you with them, how much you love your parents and adore Taryn. You even managed to not chirp Brady for a whole dinner.”

“My mom threatened me.”

Madison laughed. “Even so. It just gave me a whole new side to you. I had seen you with your friends, and with the boys, and with me, but it wasn’t the same. How deeply you cared about making sure I fit in with them, and had fun, and felt included. It was the last piece of the puzzle, really.” Her hand rested on the center console after she downshifted.

“So, are we going to do this? Do you want to do this, Mads?” Matty asked, wrapping his fingertips gently around her free hand.

Flipping her hand around, she interlaced her fingers with his. “I’m all in if you are.”

Matthew bent down, kissing their hands. “I’ve been all in since the moment I met you.” He glanced behind him to the backseat, where Elias and Rasmus were still fast asleep. “What do you think they’re going to say when they wake up?”

“I’m not sure,” Madison said, laughing. “Probably tell us it’s about time. Pass me my phone, will you?” Matthew pulled out her phone from where it was charging on the passenger side.

“What do you need to look up?” he asked curiously as she pulled off of the freeway and into a gas station; the directions were already programmed into the car’s navigation system.

Maddy gave a coy smile, gently putting the car into park. “I’ve got to text the girl’s chat, tell them they’ve got to make me a jacket. They’re going to go wild.”

Day 4

The chat did go wild, even more so after she sent a picture of her kissing Matty’s cheek. After about a half-dozen “we called its” and a promise for her jacket to be ready by the first home game of the series, she turned her phone off, leaning over to ruffle Matthew’s hair; he had taken over driving sometime around four o’clock. “I like that I can just do this now,” she mused, playing with his curls as they crossed the border into Arizona.

“Please, no PDA in front of the children,” he said playfully, gesturing to the backseat. Elias flipped him off.

The entrance to the Grand Canyon was only an hour past the state line, and there were more than a few cafés to grab a quick breakfast at. Most of the day was spent walking around the vast expanse of the park, marvelling at its natural grandeur, and taking more than a few incredibly aesthetically pleasing Instagram pictures. A few minutes before they had to pack up and leave for the last leg of the drive, they had hiked over to the South Rim.

Matty leaned on the barriers overlooking the canyon. “It’s so big.”

Rasmus snickered from behind them. “Duh, Tkachuk. That’s why they call it grand.”

He ducked his head, blushing. “Yeah, I mean, obviously. But it’s just kind of surreal, you know?” Madison nodded, leaning her head on his shoulder. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and if either of them had turned around they would have seen Rasmus and Elias sharing a very “I-told-you-so” look. “Kind of reminds us how small we are in the grand scheme of things.”

It seemed like only a few minutes later that they were pulling into Las Vegas, Rasmus steering the car into the underground lot of the team hotel. None of the boys were expected at practice until the next morning, and they had decided before leaving that the easiest thing to do would just be to book the rooms for the one night.

“Anyone feeling up to going out?” Maddy asked as they walked down the hallway to their adjoining rooms. “I found a tiki bar a couple blocks away, great Yelp reviews.”

“Sounds good,” Rasmus said. Elias nodded.

“I’m in,” Matthew added, unlocking the door. “Meet out here in ten?”

The break allowed Madison to get a much-needed change of clothes while Matthew hopped in for a quick shower, emerging in a T-shirt and very, very nice-looking pair of black jeans. Maddy bit her lip, looking him up and down. “You like what you see?” Matthew asked, expression cocky.

She shrugged. “I don’t have to hide it now.” Madison slipped her phone into her back pocket, grabbing her jacket from where it was slung over the lounge chair. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Matthew said, poking his head out the door. “Boys are already out.”

The walk to the bar couldn’t have been more than five minutes, but it felt like twenty in the best way possible. She was holding hands with Matty, his thumb absentmindedly rubbing over the top of her hand, the twinkling lights of dozens of Vegas casinos in their view. Two and a half mai tais and an hour later, the group sat at a table in the corner as Maddy giggled, retelling a particularly embarrassing moment on her high school volleyball team when she tried to make a dive that instead ended up with a ten minute pause in gameplay and the worst nosebleed of her life. She finished the story to raucous laughter, leaning into Matthew’s side. He bent down, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “What is it, Matty?” she asked, pulling away to look at him.

Eyes soft, he tucked a piece of her hair back behind her ear before speaking. “Just thanking God I invited you on the trip. And for the Idaho Potato Museum.”

Madison laughed, the sound like music as it reached his ears. “We should write them. Thank them for helping to get us together. Maybe they’d give us season tickets.”

“Who needs season tickets when I have you?” Matty chuckled, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. Sure, Madison was a few drinks in when she kissed him. And sure, it wasn’t like Matty was exactly sober either. But this kiss was different. This kiss was the start of everything.

#hockey imagine #hockey smut #nhl imagine #nhl smut #matthew tkachuk #hockey #hockey imagines #hockey writing #nhl #nhl imagines #nhl writing #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk writing #rat king

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neocity-sarai · 4 years

Text

Heartstrings

❂ reader x mark lee (soulmate au, inspired by the film “Weathering With You”)

❂ alerts: fluff, angst, self-blame, mentions of death, drinking, making out, mentions of the dreamies, happy belated birthday to the greatest rapper, laugher, and watermelon-eating fiend ever! this was 40 pages- i’m so sorry

❂ song rec: raining in london by lana condor and anthony de la torre

Soulmates. Weather. Uncontrollable and unpredictable- yet they control your mood and your fate. It’s been this way ever since you’ve been born, even since the beginning of your parents’ time. Your mother and father called it a force of nature- a phenomenon when you’re connected to someone like an invisible string, a syncopation of voices, thoughts, and feelings. Luckily for them, they fell in love when they were just college students and miraculously became soulmates. You always thought it was lucky that they met and were destined to be together from that moment, forming a family by having you in the future. It made you think of the what ifs. What if they didn’t meet or if your mother had someone else when your father was around? What if they loved each other but weren’t soulmates? What if you ceased to exist? It makes you shiver when you think about it.

During middle school, you vividly remember a collection of memories. Happy ones and unfortunately, not so good ones. Your father had died when you were 14, a drunk driver had recklessly crashed into the family van on the highway when your father was driving to work. Even 4 years after, your mom became extremely frail at heart from the grief. She always had a wine glass in her hand, sobbing every night when she’d enter every room of your family’s home. You were just a kid when she told you she saw your father on every wall and every photograph. She missed him. She told you that she wasn’t able to heal so quickly. Understanding, you rubbed her back on the floor of their bathroom, dumping the remaining liquid out of her smeary glass. She just sobbed into your arms, shakes rupturing her entire body. It made you feel broken and somber seeing your own mother like this. Still, you had to be strong for her.

The weather outside was cold and dark. Rain crashed down on the window pane like a series of dashes and lines. The clouds seemed angry, lightning flashing like shooting stars and thunder roaring like a legion of lions. It was extreme and powerful, water flooding the streets and your front yard. You were sure the peonies that you had planted with your father were now washed away in broken stems. It seemed like you had an ocean of water outside and inside your mother’s bathroom. The feeling of hopelessness did not stop. That’s when you heard a pin drop. It was a subtle but also a loud sound, something possible to ignore- it was the sound of a realization: your father always loved the rain. No matter how chilly it was, he always enticed you to dance in the rain as he held his arms out, a grin plastered on his face. His smile always stretched from ear to ear. It’s something you never forgot.

You wiped your mom’s tears with your thumbs, “Mom?”

Your mother coughed, her eyes red and puffy, “Yes, honey?”

“Can I show you something?”

“What is it?”

“Just trust me.”

You took her by the hand, leading her through your dark and empty house. You made way to your backyard door, opening up to your water-logged lawn and a cloudy sky. Everything was a dull grey but was touched with splotches of periwinkle blues, it can’t be all that bad. Letting go of your mother’s hand, you begin to advance into the middle of the grass, spinning and twirling as hard as you can. You spread your arms out before sticking your tongue out to the rain above, droplets cold and fresh. You screamed out to the sky, “I love you dad!”

Your mother watched you with her lips pressed into a thin line, leaning on the pillar of your roof. You motioned to her, “Come on, mom- maybe dad’s up there watching.”

She pauses for a moment, reluctant of what might happen if she indulges in the thought. She decides that there’s nothing to lose. There’s nothing to do but own it anyway. She flies into your arms, your figure supporting her weight. You hear her sigh out when she feels the soft patter on her cheeks. Small water droplets litter her eyelashes, the cold soothing the puffiness of her face. She shuts her eyes for a bit, relishing in the icy, chilling feeling. Both of your shoes are flooded and covered in mud but it doesn’t matter. For the next several hours, you both laugh as loud as you can, running around your backyard. You both lay side by side on the wet grass, the green tufts under your fingers. Your mom turns her head towards you, smiling, “We will be okay.”

You nod, nuzzling your nose into your mom’s shoulder, “I won’t let anything happen to us.”

You hate the world. You hate how unfair it is. You wish you kept your word. That night, your mother had fallen asleep on the couch. Even though you had insisted on running a bath, your mother refused out of exhaustion. That one second has landed you and your mother in the hospital. The doctor had told you that your mother had come down with a severe case of pneumonia- it’s already scarred the lining of her lungs. The damage is irreversible. He’s also told you that your mother isn’t likely to survive due to her past conditions of frail health. You sit in your mother’s hospital room, clutching her hand as she sleeps. You think to yourself: Hasn’t the world taken so much from you already? Haven’t you experienced too many sacrifices? Your mind shifts into shadows. If you hadn’t suggested going out in the rain, would your mother be better? If your mother dies, isn’t it your fault? Soulmates? Do they even exist? You hate the idea of waiting for someone, pining for somebody that might never show up. The world is silly. You cry into her hand until you can’t breath. You let go of it, making your way to the bathroom down the hall. Every doctor and patient that stares at you looks like a blur in your vision and your heart feels like it’s going to explode from it all. You can't stop rewinding your life like a broken movie reel, visions of your mother and you and your dad.

“Whoa there, slow down-”

A pair of arms catches you and an unfamiliar voice makes you bite your tongue on accident. When you look up, you’re met with the view of a boy- a cute one at that. You’re not in the mood to compliment him, to say anything. Still, through your blurry tears, you are wary of him. He seems like a boy that you could get to know but one that could wear the face of an innocent but actually be the devil in disguise. He’s too pretty to be average. His black locks are the color of ash, his eyes are dark and sparkly with innocence. Oh yes, he has sharp features too. His jaw and his cheeks are carved like seared gems, his eyebrows thin lines below his bangs. He wears a pair of denim jeans and a striped sweater. You take note of the annoyingly polished tag pinned on his sweater: “Mark Lee” it reads.

“Are you alright?” the boy asks again.

You just stare up at him, tears running down your cheeks like foggy waterfalls. You can’t smell, see, or feel. All you can do is lightly shake your head. Weirdly, he seems like he understands, “Can I help you find someone or a room? I’m a volunteer at this hospital.”

You shake your head again, a little too violently. You sniffle, your voice sounds small, “I just want somewhere that’s away from people.”

Apologetically, Mark nods. “I may be able to help. I just need to change first, yeah?”

“No, I- it’s alright. I don’t-t need help.”

Mark waves his hands around, “It’ll only take a few seconds, I promise.”

Why should you trust a stranger? Your mom always reminded you that your father was a stranger to her at first. Sometimes, you never know where it leads. You check the time on your phone before turning to see the direction of where your mom’s room is.

“Only a few minutes.”

You let Mark lead you to the bathrooms. He turns to you, frantic and he seems a little nervous, “Give me a few seconds. Don’t leave, okay?”

“Okay.”

When Mark comes out, he’s dressed in scrubs. He wears a grey shirt and matching pants, his tag now on the pocket of it. He looks like one of those hot nurses that helps the pregnant woman who’s screaming her lungs out in Grey’s Anatomy. You don’t say that to him though. He walks with you, “Follow me- uh.. what’s your name?”

“I-It’s y/n.” After passing a series of corridors, Mark unlocks some obscure door that’s a little ways down, shoving his ring of keys into the lock, “I come up here to think, maybe it could help you.”

“Is this even legal? Couldn’t you get fired for letting me up here?”

Mark rubs the back of his neck, his eyes on you, “Well yes, but I think you’re worth it.”

You make a face at him,“Why? I’m a stranger?”

“Not to be all sappy but my supervisor told me that in the medical business, you always have to take chances- this me taking a chance.”

You scoff, “Thank you for your charity, I’ll be going up now.”

Mark’s eyes widen at your brazen attitude, “I’ll wait down here. Just knock on the door when you’re ready to come down.”

When Mark opens the door, all there is a concrete staircase. But when you emerge to the top of the staircase, it’s everything in one place. Your breath hitches in your throat when you see it. It’s a rooftop. The sun sets on the city’s horizon, silver clouds rolling in to threaten waves of rain. Lightning flashes in it again, thunder booming just like that day. You walk around the rooftop, watching how high up you are and how the skyscrapers touch the vastness of the sky. When you turn around, you see something peculiar. A japanese-like shrine stands in your view, decorated with hanging lines of colorful lanterns and photos. Making your way to it, you recognize that the photos must be of victims that have died at the hospital. Flowers and bells hang from the red-painted posts. Under the arch, sits a small fountain that’s been collecting rain. It looks so old, covered in moss and grime. Though, if you peer hard enough, there are names inscribed into the stone. You step forward under the arch of the shrine, the bells ringing in the wind. But, when you do, it doesn't feel normal. It almost feels like all of your emotions and senses have been amplified. Somehow, you can’t hear anything. You can’t hear the twinkle of the bells or any wind. When you stare down at the fountain, you don’t believe it when you see water droplets floating upwards. You use your finger to touch the droplets, the small spheres floating into the sky in a stream. Gravity doesn’t work like this, does it? You try to grab the water droplets, they still continue to slip out of your hands and into the air above. How is this possible?

You dip your finger into the rain water that sits in the stone bowl, ripples forming. Something shocks your veins like electricity, it makes you clutch your heart through your chest. What was that? You run out from under the archway, suspicious of it all. Is it some sort of prank machine? Either way, you want to get back to your mother. You run out from under the archway, one prayer couldn’t hurt. It's silly, you don’t go to church much. Still, you clasp your hand together and you pray as hard as you can. You pray you can walk in the sun with your mom again, that your father is happy, and for everything you’ve ever known.

Opening your eyes, you run back down to the staircase before swinging the door open. You spot Mark tripping, his legs are a tangled mess, “Whoa- what the-”

You eye him suspiciously, “Why’d you lean against the door? I was clearly going to open it..”

“I thought you were going to knock! You just caught me off-guard is all.”

Despite having just met, Mark nudges you, “So, how was it?”

You eye him again, wary of him, “I’ll give you credit for the view- it was beautiful. I wanted to ask though, what was that shrine up there?”

Mark stops walking, cocking his eyebrow up, “What? There was a shrine?”

You stop walking as well, “The big red archway, fountain in the center? Colorful lanterns and photos? Can’t miss it unless you’re blind?”

Mark laughs nervously, his nose scrunching in mock-pain, “My eye-sight isn’t the greatest so..”

“There’s no way you could have missed it, I literally saw it the moment I got up there.”

“Maybe it’s new- I was just there last week and didn’t see anything like that. Maybe you need to check your eyes?”

“I have 20/20 vision, thank you very much.”

Mark raises his hands up in mock-surrender, “Yes sir- I mean, mam’’”

By the time you make it back to the hallway where you had run into Mark, you turn to him, “Well, this has been interesting. Goodbye, stranger.”

Mark giggles, “You know my name though- I know yours. Are we really strangers still?”

“Yes. We met like 10 minutes ago.”

You notice the pink blush that creeps onto Mark’s cheeks, his words coming out it a stuttering ramble, “I-I’d really l-like to ask-”

Before Mark can ask you his question, probably for your number, you're interrupted by your mother’s nurse running out to you both, “Y/n! I’ve been looking for you, it’s your mother. You need to come now.” Her facial expression does not look good.

You nod, “Bye Mark, thanks for uh- your time.”

Mark opens his mouth, “Y-yeah, no problem, uh- y/n, yeah- I’ll see you around?”

You follow the nurse, “Maybe.”

Later that night, your mom had passed away. And two years later, you had blamed yourself for it every single day. Not only did your prayer not work, your mind was absent of the boy who helped you onto the roof. You couldn’t didn’t want to even remember his name or why you had run into him.

2 years later

>I wonder if it’s raining in London

I wonder if the moon looks the same where you are

Still think about the sound of you humming

Singing to nothing in your car

Ever since your mom passed away, everything changed. You started to live with your aunt in her cottage home that was little ways out of the city. She had a rose garden out front, white and red bushes overgrown on the picket fence. Your aunt promised to invest in your parents’ property but thought it’d be good for you to spend the summer at the cottage. You could classify it as a time of healing, though most nights were spent thinking about your parents. You would spend the summer helping your aunt cook meals, plant flowers, and play with her beagle named Mosby in the wheat fields. At least, you weren’t entirely alone.

Eventually, it was time for you to apply for universities- a possibility that wasn’t even your orbit at all. Even so, strange things kept happening. Even when it was raining, no matter where you stepped- the weather changed in an almost too quick of an instant. If you wanted it to be sunny, the moment you stepped outside, the rays would emerge out of the obsidian clouds. If you wanted snow to play in with Mosby, it would snow even in the late June summers. It was odd, like the weather gods were at your beckon and call. This phenomenon only happened after that day you touched the fountain’s water, only after you walked under the archway of the shrine. You decided that there was no use fighting it. Of course, you were bewildered with your newfound power- though after a while, there was nothing to do but embrace it. There was something that your mother and father taught you since you were a child: help those who could be helped. Going around the city for errands, you observed people. For instance, a woman was telling her friend in the grocery store how disappointing that it would be raining during her baby’s 1st birthday. After collecting your items, you walked outside, clasping your hands together. You said in your mind, “Let us have sunshine for today.”

And of course, the weather forecast had announced that there would suddenly be no chance of rain. You could imagine the woman’s joy. You saw a young girl- about the same age as you running past you on the street as she tripped over her heels and fumbled in her tight office outfit, grumbling at how hard the rain was coming down. You wished for sunshine for her too. It was like the gods gave you a gift and it was your duty to use it for good- it’s what your parents would have wanted. Towards the end of the 2nd year, you told yourself that you wanted a change in scenery. It was time to do something worthwhile for yourself. Luckily, you got into the university of your choice and were on your way to moving to campus. There’s this erratic beating in your chest. Is it excitement? Anxiety? Fear? Probably a mix of all 3. As every coming of age movie, it’s all the same. Your aunt had helped you move into your dorm room, reassuring that you could come home or to the cottage whenever you wished. Thanking her, you press a kiss to her cheek before rearranging your boxes of belongings. Perhaps, this was the start of a new chapter.

First day of class

First period is english 101. The university looks nice, it’s very castle-like with high-rising towers and turrets made of carved stone. Students sit in the courtyards in their friend circles, coffees in their hands as they sit under the large juniper trees. Though it is a sunny day, the forecast shows that heavy rains will stir into a monsoon. You keep note of that. Walking into the lecture hall, you take a seat towards the middle row- not too close to be picked on but not too far where you can’t hear. The professor is some old guy who’s been studying philosophy for 3000 years and you hope that you don't fall asleep before he’s done. You rest your chin in your hand, twirling your pencil on top of the desk surface. Suddenly, the entrance door bursts open with a loud noise, causing the hundreds of the students in the room to turn their heads. A boy stands there, he drops his books recklessly. The professor pauses his lecture to lower his glasses, “Mr. Lee? You’re tardy, son.”

The boy scratches the back of his neck, doe eyes pointed at the man, “Sorry Professor Norman, the rain held me up.”

“Go take a seat.”

You hear the girls behind you giggle from the sight. All you knew was that he looked oddly familiar to you. The boy climbs the stairs, standing on his tiptoes to look for an empty seat. When he spots one, a grin is plastered on his face as he makes his way nearer and nearer to you. You realize that there’s an empty seat right next to you. It’s painfully embarrassing as you watch the boy fumble his way behind other students, murmuring I’m sorrys and pardon mes. One of his notebooks falls out of his worn down jansport backpack, a girl batting her eyelashes when she hands it back to him. Smiling charming at her, he whispers, “Thanks for that.”

Finally, after 4 years, the boy manages to make it next to you. You scoff when he accidentally swings his backpack into the side of your arm, “Oh god, I’m so sorry- “

You nod curtly, “You’re fine.”

Now that you can get a closer look at him, you feel sweat bead up on your back when you realize where you’ve seen him. It’s that boy- the one the night your mom died. He reaches his hand out, “Hi there, my name’s Mark. Mark Lee.”

You stare at him for a bit before reluctantly taking his hand, “Y/n.”

As much as you don’t want to admit, Mark looks as endearing as ever. His black locks are still the same, eyes shining from the dim lighting. He smells of the sweet rain, water droplets wetting his hair and his shoulders.

>I wonder if you look any different

And would I see the years that have passed on your eyes?

There’s still a little part of me missing

I no longer recognize

Mark turns to you, his eyebrow quirked when he says your name on his tongue, “Have we met before? You seem familiar?”

You shake your head, “I don’t know anyone by the name of Mark so, I guess you’re the first?” Why did you lie to him?

Mark nods, “Ah, I see.”

Mark ruffles the water out of his hair, opening his soaked notebook, “Ah shit, the rain got in my backpack.”

You can’t help but chuckle a little, “I can lend you some of mine?”

Mark’s eyes widen at you, you swear you can see a faint blush creeping on his cheeks, “R-really? I swear I’ll pay you back.”

“No need, here.” You proceed to tear some sheets out for Mark. His presence is kind of comforting- like some childhood friend. Wait, what? No- you barely know him.

You and Mark listen to the rest of the lecture in silence. When it’s time to go, he zips up his backpack before turning to you. He’s extremely red now. He bites his bottom lip, “Hey, I um, I was wondering if we could exchange numbers? I still want to pay you back for the paper and you’re new right? If you’re not, don’t worry about it but I don’t know, I just in case you needed me-ah, never mi-”

Before Mark can turn away, you look at him, “I’d like that. I could use a friend- being a newbie and everything.”

With that, Mark lights up, “Wait, really?”

“Sure.” You hand your phone to him, “Pick a good emoji.”

Mark’s fingers fumble with your phone, catching it in time before almost dropping it. He chuckles nervously, “Don’t worry, I got it-”

You smile, you’re sure your cheeks hurt from it.

“There you go Mark, you have my number now.”

“Cool. Good. Yeah.”

With that you wave him a curt goodbye, “See you around?”

Mark smiles back at you, teeth gleaming white in between his lips, “Yeah y/n, see you around.”

With that, you go home to your dorm room. When you look out the window before sleeping, you count how many droplets sit on the windowpane. The stormy skies angrily from swirls of obsidian and murky lavenders. You hope that Mark won’t be caught in the rain again tomorrow.

In class the next day, your professor assigns group projects during lecture. Because you happened to sit next to Mark, you were paired up together. You both didn’t mind though. Mark pulls out his notebook and fountain pen, yanking the cap off with his teeth, “So, I wanted to ask if you wanted to go over the project during lunch?”

You nod at him, “That works for me.”

When class is over, you follow Mark to the university’s cafeteria. It’s teeming with students and professors, lunch hour is always chaotic. Mark points at an empty table by the window, “How about over there?”

Before you can answer him, many voices call Mark’s name. He swivels around to see a group of boys motioning him over to their table. He glances at them before waving them off in refusal. You nudge him slightly, “We can go say hi if you want, I don’t mind.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, making it stick up in some parts, “Are you sure? I don’t want to take too much of your time?”

“Let’s go, your friends seem nice.”

Mark scoffs, “Please, they’re hardly my friends.”

When you both make your way to your table, you’re greeted by a series of hoots and hollers. Mark introduces each of them. He points at a taller boy, brunette, and as handsome as hollywood’s greatest movie stars, “This is Jeno.”

Jeno smiles at you, his eyes crinkling into crescent moons. You’re sure your heart made flips at that. The loudest boy is named Haechan, jostling Mark by squeezing his thigh jokingly, “Is this your girlfriend?” he asks. You and Mark simultaneously shake your heads, refusing Haechan’s teasing. The next is Renjun, he seems more stoic than the rest. Similar to him, a girl whose hair is the color of burgundy plums sits beside him. Freckles dot her face, contrasted to the blueness of her eyes- you have to admit, she’s very pretty. Still, Mark introduces her as Lana and when you introduce yourself, it’s like daggers are being shot through her eyes. You suspect it has to do with Mark being next to another girl. When you’re finished introducing yourself to everyone, Haechan lets out a burst of laughter, “Y/n’s so sweet, if you don’t take her then I will!” as he slaps Jeno’s shoulder, Jeno rolls his eyes at the boy. Mark stares him down, grabbing your hand, “Y/n and I have a project to work on, we’ll be going now.”

You shout out a quick nice to meet you back to them, your eyes shifting to Mark’s fingers around your wrist. You don’t say anything as you let him drag you to the library- your hand becoming a little clammy. You hope he doesn’t notice it.

Sitting at some empty table near the shelves, he turns back to you, “Sorry about that back there. They’re rambunctious. They must’ve made you uncomfortable right?”

You smile at him, shaking your head, “Not at all really, they seem fun. You’re very lucky.”

Mark’s mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, his eyes widening. You gesture to his fingers, “Mark, you’re still holding me?”

In a flash, Mark drops your hand, his palm flying to his mouth, “Oh god- I’m sorry, I didn’t even realize-”

You place your hands on his shoulders, “Mark. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

He nods slowly, trying to fight the blush that creeps up his neck and his cheeks. He shakes it off, you realize how endearing he is. He sits down, opening up his philosophy books, “So, what should we do for the project?”

You twirl your pen in your hand, “Well, Professor’s prompt was we have to discover the secret of life right? What does that even mean?”

Mark knits his brows together, pouting his lips, “Good question. I think that’s what the assignment is- discovering it for ourselves?”

“How do we do that?”

“Let’s start making a bullet list. I do that when I’m weighing options.”

Mark starts to scribble on his notebook. “What does life mean to you?”

You look at him, your eyes instantly catching his. You have to look away. Life. Weather. Soulmates. Aspects of your world that you can’t fully understand. Your mouth feels dry. You think back to your parents, moments that you play in the dark by yourself, the things that you would do and experience but can’t. The words kind of tumble out from your lips, “Mark, do you believe in soulmates?”

Mark freezes. He sits in silence for a few seconds. He bites his lower lip, “It’s difficult to say. I mean, my parents are soulmates so I’ve just grown up thinking that I’ll have my own one day? But no, I don’t have anyone.”

You nod. You kind of mumble, “Yeah, I don’t have anyone either. I almost don’t want to believe in them.”

“Is there a reason why?”

“Not really, I just don’t get how two people can randomly become synched.” No, it’s because you’re afraid of love. You’re afraid of what will happen if you love someone so hard and they leave.

“Ah, I see.”

You clear your throat, “Anyways, back to the prompt. What does life mean to you?”

“I think it could be a variety of things, my family, my friends, school? But I’m assuming that Professor doesn’t want generic answers. He said the creative category weighs the most points.”

And then it clicks in your head. Your gift- it’s what ties you back to your mom and your dad, seeing people happy when you are able to bend the weather to your will. You’ve never told anyone before. You thought people would look at you weird if you told them. Should you tell Mark?

Mark scrolls through his phone, long eyelashes accentuating the hood of his eyes. His lips pursed when he presses his fingers to the screen, “Hey- sorry, this is off-topic but what do you think is going on with the weather? Like one day it’s a hurricane and then sunny the next. Everyone’s talking about it on Twitter.”

“Mark, can I show you something?”

Mark snaps his head up, “Is everything okay?”

You smile, “Just trust me.”

You hand him his belongings as he messily shoves them into his backpack, “Where are we going?”

“Just don’t freak out.”

Mark makes a face at you, “When you say that it makes me freak out.”

You lead Mark to the roof terrace of the university, climbing the stairs in the pouring rain. People below run under the canopies as they use their books to avoid the rain. Mark gulps, “You know, I’m not the best with heights-”

You plant your feet on the ground, clasping your hands together. In your head, you repeat the words like a mantra, “I want sunshine today, let the heavens be sunny upon us.”

And like instant magic, glowing white rays start to sear the blackened clouds, the rain starting to cease. In the middle of the dark ocean above, patches of deep blue begin to emerge. Mark runs to the terrace railing, “Holy shit- are you doing that?”

When the rain is completely dissipated, you glance at Mark who’s staring at you with utter awe in his eyes, “I’m going crazy right? Is this some weird trip or something?” Mark’s voice cracks, his fingers clenching the base of his throat.

You shake your head, “No, this is my gift. You’re the only person who knows about it.”

“You have the power to make it stop raining?”

“Not only that, but all weather forms. Whenever I pray.”

Mark clasps his hands together too, closing his eyes as he murmurs types of weather, “How come it’s not working for me? I go to church all the time with my family.”

You sock his arm, “No silly, it’s not normal for everyone. Just me.”

Mark lets out an elongated whoa, “How long have you had this gift?”

Suddenly, your throat turns hoarse, “Since my mom died.”

He stammers, his words coming out in a trail of apologies, “I’m so sorry, I didn't know- I-”

“It was a long time ago. Still, I think I was given this gift to carry on my parents’ legacy, their connection of being soulmates even.”

Mark nods quietly. “That’s so cool. I’ve never met a weather girl before.”

You laugh at his nickname, “Weather girl huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

“I’ll change that to your contact name, you can bet on that.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“So, what do you do with your gift? How do you know when to change weather patterns?”

“That’s the thing. I don’t. When I walk around and I see or hear that someone need’s weather for a specific day, I try to help them out. I thought I’d try to do something good.”

Mark runs his fingers over his hair, “That’s amazing. That’s so admirable of you to do that.”

“It’s what my parents would have wanted. I do it for them too.”

Mark stands up straight, his finger pointing at you. It looks as if a light bulb is going off, “Say- I have an idea for our project. What if we started a business?”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Hear me out- we can call it Weather Girl Service. We can talk about money management and leadership skills in life, because that’s what adults do right? Pay taxes and bills?”

You laugh at his silly idea, “But why Weather Girl Service?”

Mark hops excitedly up and down, “We can make job postings in the city and have people pay us by the hour if you change the weather to fit their occasion! We’d be rich by the end of it! But wait- only if you agree, I don’t want to make you do something like that if you don’t want to.”

Shrugging your shoulders, you smile at him, “I’m up for it if you are. I don’t mind.”

“Really?! Are you sure?!” Mark looks like an overly-excited school boy, his backpack jumbled because of how fast he’s jumping. He scrunches his nose, fistpumping the air, “We’re so getting an A on this.”

“Yes, I sure hope so!”

With that, you and Mark plan to meet at your dorm room the next day to get started on the project. He texts you later that night, “3 pm sharp right?”

“Yes sir, 3p m- my room.”

“Alrighty, see you tomorrow!”

When 3 pm comes, Mark stands at your door, his hands full with a box of materials and supplies.

You giggle, “You sure got reinforcements.”

“I have to be prepared!”

For the next several hours, you and Mark spend time designing different posters and infographics to upload online and staple to bulletin boards. Mark’s got a mark cap in his mouth, brows knit in concentration as he writes on his notebook.

Mark snaps his fingers together, “How about this: Weather girl at your service, you call and we’ll be there to help you get the memories that you want- birthdays, grad parties, work events, you name it! Submit your info to this number here!”

You flash him a thumbs up, “It’s perfect. I love it.”

All day you and Mark run around the city- posting your posters and fliers from anywhere you can find. You post them on benches, town hall bulletin boards, and the street lamps that line the sidewalk. And the whole time, you never take your eyes off Mark’s wide smile and sparkling eyes. You don’t catch that whenever you’re turned away, Mark glances at you to admire your features, your hair, and everything in between. Around 6pm, you walk beside Mark on one of the bridges that extends over the river. The sun sets in the horizon, colors of sharp marigolds and blush pinks paint the sky above. There was no way that you and Mark were going to run around the city in rain. Sighing out, you watch the sun cast a faint glow on Mark’s cheeks and the slender of his nose, making him out to be a painting that belongs in the museum. It’s almost like if you took a paintbrush that you could paint him yourself just to memorize it.

Mark fists the air in victory, “We had a very productive day today, don’t you think?”

You nod, “Of course. I don’t think anyone can resist our offer.”

“Thanks for doing this with me.”

You’re suddenly caught off guard by Mark’s gratitude, though it is not too out of character. “I had fun today with you.”

Mark smiles at the ground, twirling when he walks like he’s skipping to the beat of his favorite song. You hear him mumble a cute, “Me too.”

For the rest of the way, Mark walks you back home to your dorm room. Even though you told him you were fine, he still insisted.

“Well, this is me.” you say.

Mark scratches his nape, readjusting the strap of his backpack, “I’ll see you tomorrow then. The grand opening.”

You nod, “Yes, bright and early.”

You turn away from him as he watches you enter your building. You instantly wish that you could’ve placed a hasty peck to his cheek. It seemed irresistible in the moment. Though, you remind yourself to not get too comfortable. Little did you know that Mark spent the whole night thinking about you.

>But if I had met you today

Would I have loved you the same?

And if I had known it would take

Ten years and twenty-two days to stop loving you

Stop loving you, no

First day of business

“Mark, is this yours?”

Mark sits in the driver’s seat of his sunny yellow van- the kind that you’d make deliveries in. It looks bright under the gloomy, rainy skies. He honks his horn obnoxiously once and twice as he scrunches his eyes together before saying, “Get in loser, we’re going shopping!”

Laughing, you launch yourself into the seat before Mark takes off with a faster speed. You shout, “If I die in a car accident today, half of the money we make goes to my aunt okay?”

Mark playfully rolls his eyes, “Stop it y/n, I’m the best driver in town!”

“Yeah, right-”

The first stop happens to be one of Mark’s dad’s friends. He requested that he was going to surprise his wife with an anniversary dinner and needed sunshine for that specific hour: Saturday, 6pm. When you arrived at the pretty farm home, the man greeted Mark instantly when you got out of the van. He shook your hand, eyes anticipating, “Is it true? You can really change the weather?”

You smile at him, “You need to see it to believe it and I’m here to deliver.”

The man puts his hand on Mark’s shoulder, “Here’s the compensation for your work today. I have to ask one favor of you.”

Mark quirks his eyebrow up, handing the wad of cash to you, “What’s that?”

“My wife and I want some private time, we’ve paid you extra so that you can watch our daughter?”

Mark’s jaw drops, “Watch your daughter? As in baby sit?”

“Yes, that’s right. We will give as much as you need.”

Mark runs a hand through his hair, his eyes widened, “I don’t think-”

Before Mark can answer, you cut in, “We’d love to. What time does she need to be back?”

“8 pm.”

“Deal.”

Mark stands next to you, his face utterly flabbergasted from your confidence of the deal. You can tell that he’s freaking out inside. He’s panicking and it shows on his face.

“Mari, please come out! One second-”

Through the front door, the man guides his 7 year old daughter to you both. And you’re sure that your heart does flips when you see her. She’s dressed in a princess dress, her eyes fluttering from sleep. She’s the spitting image of her father. She drags a blue blanket in one hand, rubbing her green eyes, “Daddy?”

Her dad motions to you and Mark, “You’ll be hanging out with Mark and y/n today. Mommy and I will be back in a few hours.”

“Okay..”

The man tells you about everything you need to know, when Mari needs to go to the bathroom, what she likes to eat, and every little thing she likes to do.

“I think we’re all set now, any questions?”

You shake your head, “No sir, we’ll have her back by 8.”

He nods at you, “Good, see you both later.”

With that, Mari is left in yours and Mark’s hands. You crouch down to her level, waving at her lightly, “Hi Mari, my name’s y/n. Me and Mark will take you out today okay?”

The girl slowly blinks, clutching her blue blanket even tighter, “Are you my mommy for today?”

How have you not exploded from her adorableness yet? “Yes, just for a little bit until your real mommy comes back.”

She reaches up to cling to Mark’s pant leg, plopping down to sit on his shoe, “And you’re my daddy today?”

Mark glances down at her and back to you. He squeezes his eyes in mock pain, running his hand over his hair, “Sure, I’m your daddy.”

You nudge him, whispering, “She’s a kid, try to be nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

When you hop back in the van, you have Mari sit in your lap as you place the seatbelt over her body, making sure she is secure. Mark revs up the engine, driving slowly to the next location of requests. It doesn’t take long for Mari to fall asleep on your chest, you coo at her peaceful face.

“I’m not good with kids- what did we get ourselves into?”

“Don’t be such a worry-wart! She’s so cute, look at her!”

“Can’t, I’m driving.”

“Don’t be grumpy Mark, you’ll have a family with your soulmate one day.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in soulmates.”

“Agh- you know what I mean.”

“Will she be okay when we’re working? We have 2 more requests to do.”

“She’ll be fine, relax.”

The next destination you arrive at is a farmer’s market at the heart of downtown. When Mark parks the car, you wake Mari, “Mari? Mark and I have to work so you just stick with me okay?”

Mari mumbles a disoriented reply, her cheek still resting on your shoulder. You arrive at a fruit stand where an older woman approaches you, “Mark and y/n?”

Mark smiles at her, “That’s us- you called the Weather Girl Delivery Service?”

“Yes. The other farmers didn’t want to believe me but I swear, I wanted to take a chance with this. As you can see, we can’t have our market with all this constant flooding and rain. It’s like the weather’s been on steroids.”

Mark flashes her with a thumbs up, “That’s why we’re here, we’ll get to work right away.”

“Y/n?”

You step forward to Mark, “You’ll have to hold her.”

Mark’s eyes widen with surprise, “Uh, okay.”

He cradles sleeping Mari so awkwardly, you have to guide his hands to support her bottom, “Mark, you have to hold her up or she’ll slip.”

Mark fumbles with his hands before adjusting her so her chin is on his shoulder, “I got her, don’t worry.”

You nod before making your way to the center of the market. Clasping your hands together once more, you pray that the sunshine will blow away the cyclone of the shadows and falling rains. Miraculously, it does. When you turn around, the woman stands next to Mark in awe spreading her arms out in glee, “It works! Haha! Take that you old goons!”

The rest of the farmers stand under the shade of the fruit stand, grumbling at the woman’s victory. You give her a hug once she sends you off with a wad of cash and three freshly squeezed juices for all three of you. When you settle back into the car, Mari still stays rested on your lap.

“See, that wasn’t so bad.”

Mark rolls his eyes, a smirk plastered on his lips, “Okay, you win this time.”

“By the way, is this your first time holding a child?”

Mark laughs, “Don’t even patronize me right now.”

The third destination is a bit more serene. You arrive at an elderly woman’s home, her home similar to that of your aunt’s cottage. It’s decorated with wood and bamboo shoots, bells and windchimes hang from the roof shingles. Knocking on the door, the woman greets you. She’s an elderly Japanese woman, hair tied into a loose bun as she motions you to come inside with her cane, “Come in, come in.”

You both slip off your shoes, Mari awake as if sleep was a distant memory. The woman leads you to her dining room, pots of orchids and perilla leaves grow all over the counters and sink. There’s colorful painted murals of people and sceneries on the walls, smeared from the passing of time. History moves within the walls in a series of blurred colors.

“Something to drink, kids?”

You and Mark decline, prompting Mari to mumble, “I’m thirsty.”

You hear the rumbling noise from Mari’s stomach, it is around lunch time. You ask for the woman for a glass of water but she waves you off with a smile. Instead, she cuts a slice of peach pie for Mari, the crust smells of cinnamon and nutmeg. She passes a pitcher of lemonade to you and Mark, sucking on lemon slices as she works.

Mark sits next to you on the bench by the dining table, “Thank you for the hospitality mam’, there’s no need to pay us for your request.”

You smile at Mark’s words, not wanting to take from the elderly woman either. When she’s done putting away the pie, she meanders over to you slowly as she pats down Mari’s silky black hair, “You kids are awfully young to have a child.”

Mark chokes on his tea, sputtering the liquid into his glass. It sends him into a coughing fit, “S-she isn’t our child- we’re just watching her for the day.”

You jokingly hit Mark’s back to get him to stop choking, “Oh no, we’re not married either- we’re just friends.”

The woman raises her brow like she knows some unspoken secret, “Friends?”

You and Mark glance at each other before awkwardly averting eyes. Even Mari talks with her mouthful of pie, “They’re my mommy and daddy for today!”

Mark mutters, “I’m not your real dad..”

The elderly woman is amused, her smile creating creases on her cheeks and on her temples, “Are you two at least soulmates?”

This time, you answer her almost too hastily, “No! We’re only classmates- friends- that’s all.”

Mark looks at you, the sparkle in his eyes dimming a bit. Was that disappointment? Hurt? His shoulders are drooping and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Did you say something wrong? It was a fact though, you and Mark weren’t soulmates.

You try to brush it off. The woman leans on her cane, “I need you kids for your strength. I would do it myself but as you can see, I’m not as young as I used to be. Help me move the orchids out back.”

Mark makes his way to the kitchen sink, roots overgrown on the counter top. You move Mari off your lap before turning to the elderly woman, “Could you please watch her?”

The elderly woman chuckles, “Sure, I have enough pie to keep her distracted.”

You politely thank her, making your way over to where Mark is putting the orchids into glass vases. He doesn’t say a word. You nudge him with your elbow a bit, “Is everything okay?”

His eyes are trained on his busied hands, “Mhm.”

“Mark, you don’t seem okay.”

“Nope, everything’s good y/n. Are you alright?”

“Well yeah, but..”

Mark bites his lower lip, “Good.”

He grabs both vases in his hands before walking over to the sliding door, leaving you alone with your thoughts. He definitely wasn’t okay, you don’t want to push him any further. Instead, you pot the rest of the succulents and flowers in the kitchen.

“You know, that boy likes you.”

You turn around to see Mari snuggling up to the elderly woman, her dimples popping out from smiling.

“Mark? No, we’re just partners for a school project.”

“That may be true but I’ve lived a long time, I know what love looks like. After all, I had a soulmate too.”

You lean against the edge of the counter, picking off the stray leaves off stems, “Let me guess- they left?”

“To the afterlife if that’s what you’re referring to.”

You stay silent. You’re not sure what to say.

“Child, have you been hurt in the past?”

You snap your head up at her, setting the flowers down, “Why do you ask that?”

She clicks her tongue, “Being ignorant to feelings doesn’t count as being oblivious. Don’t let your past rip you of your opportunities.”

Your eyes shift to Mark standing outside, he sticks his hand out in the rain, water droplets crashing against his palm.

“With all due respect, you don’t know what I’ve been through.”

“Shoot it at me. Guilt? Sadness? Grief? You forget I’m old. I’ve seen things.”

Mari pokes her arm, playing with the ribbon on the woman’s sleeve, “Can I have more pie?”

The woman frowns down at her, “You’ll be sick if you eat so much pie, wait for dinner.”

Mari huffs in response, brows furrowed in annoyance.

“My point is, y/n, you have to learn to accept outcomes and heal. Don’t be stuck on your mistakes and your missed trials. Learn and grow from them. Ask yourself of purpose. Why are you doing this project? Why with that boy?”

Before you can answer her, you’re about to say it’s for the grade, maybe for the extra money. Deep down, you know that it isn’t that. You turn to look at Mark outside. He’s standing in the middle of the woman’s Japanese garden, eyes shut under the falling rain. And you swear, you’ve never seen anyone who’s any more beautiful. He looks so peaceful standing there, hair becoming wet from it. It reminds you of that day.

She continues, “In my time, I’d normally enjoy the rain. But, my flowers are dying so I need you to bring the sun for today. I haven’t felt that ever since the city’s been raining non-stop.”

You nod, you know what you must do. You stroll over to the sliding door, opening it up to the garden. You approach Mark in the middle of the grass, watching him as he sticks his tongue out. When he opens his eyes, he jumps from being startled by you, “Whoa, how long have you been standing there?”

“Not long, I just wanted you to enjoy the rain about longer before I- you know.”

“Oh, right, go ahead.”

You do what you do best.The old woman steps onto her porch, Mari flying past her to catch up with you and Mark. You savor the coldness, the breeze, and the scents of drenched flowers. You want to try something new, something that you can see and feel all in one moment. In our head, you visualize a million colors. You think about the walls of the elderly woman’s home and the sunset glow on Mark’s face, your mother’s familiar smile. You think about Mari’s laugh and all the people you’ve made happy today. It paints tangerine oranges and lavender streaks, explosions of electric blues and sparkling greens. Clasping your hands together, you wish on the stars to send your vision into the sky. When you open your eyes, Mark’s holding Mari in his arms as her mouth falls open from the view. It worked. The sky above your heads has become an ocean of color strokes, clouds and stars swirling together. It’s the best configuration you’ve ever made. It looks like a real-life kaleidoscope.

“Holy shi-”

Mark stops his words when he feels Mari’s small finger poking his cheek, “Look at what y/n made!”

You smile, pressing your hand to Mari’s head, “I made it for you! Do you like it?”

Mari squeals, “ Yes! Yes! Daddy, lift me higher!”

Your eyes fall on Mark’s. He gives you a knowing smile, eyes soft with adoration and glittering under the shooting stars. He lifts Mari onto his shoulders, “Hang on tight!”

She yelps, placing her hands on his head, “I want to catch the stars!”

Mark begins to spin around lightly, making airplane noises from his mouth. You laugh at the sight, turning to look back at the elderly woman. She winks at you, leaning on the pillar of her makeshift watering station for her succulents. After playing around under the cosmos, you finally greet the elderly woman goodbye, thanking her for her advice. Though you and Mark refuse, she shoves her cash into your hands, telling Mark to treat you- she says you're both welcome to her home anytime. Afterwards, you and Mark drop Mari at home as promised. You feel your heart swell when Mari starts to cry, Mark pressing a kiss to her cheek before setting her into her father’s arms. He assures her that you and Mark will come to visit sometime, inviting you both to dinner in the future. Of course you agree.

Mark drives you back to campus, walking you to your doorstep as always. He pulls out the money, splitting it evenly in half before handing it to you, “Your share as promised of course.”

You nod, taking the cash from him, “You know, doing this job- money is a bonus but I’m not doing it for that.”

Mark chuckles, his hands in his denim pockets, “I’m glad we can make people happy.”

A silent beat. “You know, uh, about earlier- I didn’t mean to come off weird. I think I was just in my head about something, I’m not sure.”

You’re not usually someone who makes the first move. The first leap. Mark doesn’t even have the slightest clue about what he’s doing to you, how he makes you feel. Do you like him? You’re almost certain of the feelings. You step forward, your nose almost brushed against his chest. Gingerly and slowly, your fingers find Mark’s hand, it makes him gulp from the sudden contact. His eyes are widened in confusion and you think he’s forgotten how to breathe. Looking up at him, you say, “It’s fun doing this with you- I’d rather not do it with anyone else.”

Mark nods but doesn’t say anything. His hands are shaking. You can hear the erratic beating in his chest and it takes every bone in his body not to grab your face and kiss you right on the spot. When he doesn’t say anything, maybe you think that you’ve scared him. Maybe he doesn’t feel the same way. You step back a bit, the air becoming less tense, “I’ll see you tomorrow okay?”

“Okay, yeah.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something more but you’ve already shut the door. In Mark’s head, he’s let out a string of curses. Why didn’t he do something? Why didn’t he say something? Why is he such a coward? He asks himself. Is it the right time? What if you don’t feel the same way?”

All night, he beats himself up for it, tossing and turning in his bed.

The next couple months in your university fly by. Ever since that night, you and Mark continued as if nothing ever happened. One thing that did change was a gloomy, ominous blanket over the city- it almost felt apocalyptic in a sense. Weather forecasters predicted that with such heavy and continuous rains- the flooding, the city would be underwater in the next coming year. There might be an evacuation.

Still, you took it upon yourself to savor the time you would have left in the city. One of the things on your list was you wanted to get to know Mark’s world better. You know that he can’t eat dairy, he absolutely hates the texture of yogurt and he’s able to eat watermelon flavoring by the shot. It’s gross but it sounds like him. You and Mark eat at all your favorite lunch spots, watch comedies in the theaters, and hang out in each other's rooms. The business is going well, more and more people submit their requests for sunny days and sunsets, sometimes purposeful rain to play in. Mark drives in his sunny yellow van, sticking your hand out the window as your favorite songs blare from the speakers. You even have dinner at Mari's house. Her parents are shocked to hear that you and Mark aren’t together yet. The blush on your cheeks are the shade of ripe cherries. At the school, you sit with Mark’s friends practically for every meal. Everyone is fond of you, except Lana. Every time Mark tells stories about wacky customers or talks about how excited he is because you both received an A in philosophy class, Lana gives you a look. Vice versa, Mark glares at Haechan whenever he gets too close to you, he doesn’t say anything.

You and Mark had started the business in the summer, the weather outside is more autumn-like now. You have to wear a scarf to class because of how chilly it is. Leaves change to shades of burgundies and browns, falling off trees when they’re ready- it almost signifies the start of a new season- a new chapter of your life.

Autumn

>Where did the time go?

You became someone I used to know

Where did the time go?

When you became someone I used to know

Used to know, used to know, used to know

Business Partner Mark Lee: “Y/n, the boys and I got tickets to the new amusement park. Wanna come?”

You text Mark back during your statistics class, “Of course, I’ll be there.”

Business Partner Mark Lee: “Meet us there at 6 pm. After that, can we talk? I need to ask you about something.”

“Okay.”

Going back to your dorm room, you walk with a pep in your step. You wonder about what Mark wants to talk to you about. Will he finally say something? Is it about the business? Does he think you’re too mean with your teasing? Anyway, you dress up in a cute outfit of your choice- nice shoes, a cotton knit sweater, and a corduroy skirt. You even tie your hair with ribbons that Mark gave you as a congratulation for 100 customers' gifts. You bought him a guitar pick then.

By the time you reach the amusement park, you meet up with Haechan, Renjun, Jeno, and Jisung. Chenle had choir practice and Jaemin was on a date with some girl. Mark and Lana are nowhere to be found.

“Hey, guys.”

Haechan sees you first, swinging his arm over your shoulders, “There she is- beautiful y/n.”

You attempt to push his weight off, “Haechan, you’re heavy- you’re going to break my shoulder bone.”

Jeno laughs, “I don’t think that’s actually possible.”

Renjun jumps in, “What should we do first? Ferris wheel? Laser tag? Mini-golf?”

“We’re not doing rollercoasters, not the upside down ones.” Jisung rolls his eyes, chewing his mint flavored gum.

Haechan smirks, “Jeez Jisung, you’re no fun- you can stay on the ground and video record us like a grandma.”

Renjun shoves Haechan, “I’m with Jisung on that one, unless you want puke all over your expensive jacket.”

“Fine, me and y/n will be up there.” Haechan leans down to whisper in your ear, “If you get scared, you can hang on to me.”

You awkwardly pat Haechan’s chest, “I don’t think that’ll be necessary, thank you.” Haechan raises his eyebrows, his lips upturned in a smirk, “Whatever you say, y/n.”

You know that Haechan has a crush on you. Jeno and Jisung had told you so out of curiosity but doubted it from the start- they knew you had your eyes on Mark the entire time. Haechan could never compete.

“Where’s Mark and Lana?”

Renjun snaps his fingers, his eyes lighting up, “Oh yeah- Mark told me he was picking up Lana. I think they were hanging out before this.”

Haechan responds, “I’m not surprised. I think Mark will ask her out today, their families have known each other since birth.”

Your heart sinks. Oh, so there was someone else. It’s probably why Mark brushed you off that day. Probably why he’s never said anything since. You feel a bit sick in your stomach and you haven’t gone any roller coaster yet. You had spent this whole time pining for someone who’s not going to like you even as close as you like them. It’s been one-sided.

You’re interrupted from your thoughts when Jisung waves excitedly at Mark and Lana, both of them side by side. You feel weird about it. Renjun straight up, his finger pointing to the air, “Let’s do laser tag first, I call dibs being team captain.”

Jeno laughs, his eyes crinkling when he does, “Then I’m the other team captain.”

“Hey, y/n.” Mark comes up from behind you.

“Hey Mark. Hey Lana.”

Lana says a barely audible, “Hey.”

Once you’re all split into teams, it goes like this: Jeno’s the captain of your team, you, Haechan and Lana are on team red. Team blue consists of Renjun as captain, Mark and Jisung. To compensate for the lack of team members, team blue gets a head start in hiding. When the game begins, you just try to have your best to have fun. You dodge around the glow in the dark pillars, aiming your gun at Renjun as he angrily fists the air from running out of ammo. Haechan and Jisung fight off to the death, freezing each other out. By the time the hour is done, it’s down to you, Lana and Mark. You try to devise a plan with her but she doesn’t seem to engage with you. All she tells you is, “I’ll get Mark out.”

Was that a warning? A phrase of double meaning? Maybe you’re just overthinking it because of envy. Down to the last three seconds, Lana and Mark face off in the middle of the playground. Before Lana shoots him, Mark fires first- the obnoxiously blaring alarm sounding off team blue’s victory. Jeno throws his gun down in frustration, you pat his back in comfort as you watch Mark laugh with Lana and Renjun. Who were you kidding?

Haechan shouts, “Let’s go on the dragon ball coaster next!”

When you’re all in line for the coaster, Haechan whispers a joke about the man who’s dressed as a clown a few feet away, enticing park-goers into the circus tent. You laugh at the joke. To Mark, he’s burning with jealousy. He watches when Haechan, his friend’s lips almost touch your ear, your giggle from Haechan’s flirting. Mark tightens his fist, averting his eyes from a scene. He has yet to tell you but he’s waiting for the right moment. He doesn’t want to come off as the overly-jealous boyfriend when you aren’t his. He snaps out of it when Lana tugs his arm, “Can we go in the tunnel? I’m not good with coasters.”

Before Mark can answer, Renjun jokingly gags, “The tunnel of love? You guys are bound to moochie mooch in there huh?”

When Renjuns says such a thing, you don’t hear any of Haechan’s jokes anymore. You don’t hear the sound of Jeno jostling Jisung and Jisung whining about it. You just wait for Mark’s response. He stares back at you in silence, Haechan even stops talking to look at Mark looking at you. Your eyes trail down to see Lana’s clutch on Mark’s arm, tightening when she makes eye contact with you, “Mark?”

You can’t hold it in. It just falls out from your lips, “You two should go, there’s limited seats in the coaster cars anyway since we have an odd number.”

It’s like someone’s fed you bitter medicine. You grimace at your words, almost regretting them instantly. Jeno and Jisung give you a knowing look, they know. Haechan laughs, “Very true point y/n, you guys can head along.”

Mark ducks under the cue line, Lana scrambling to follow after him. Everytime she tries to cling on to him, Mark removes her hands politely, declining. It makes you feel even worse. Jisung and Jeno carry on with their conversation. Haechan looks at the pair, “They make a good couple don’t they?”

You just nod. Maybe they do. After the roller coaster ride, you don’t feel any better. Jeno and Haechan are screaming to go again and Renjun and Jisung opt to go get snacks at the candy shop by the merry go round. Haechan nudges you, “Let’s go again?”

You smile at them, “Actually, I think I’m going to go home. I don’t feel well- I think I ate something that expired this morning.”

Jeno frowns, “Are you sure? We can take you home if you want.”

Waving your hands in refusal, “No, no, you guys have fun- I’ll see you in class on Monday.”

You begin to walk away from them, a rising feeling in your stomach. You dig your fingernails into the skin of your hands. Do not cry right now. Mark’s just one person. But you know that it hurts too much to forget about him. You almost don’t hear it when Haechan is shouting at you to wait up, grabbing your wrist.

“Y/n? Can we talk? Oh-”

It’s too late. The dam is broken, your tears are starting to blur your vision. Not right now, not in front of Haechan.

“Y/n.. what’s wrong?”

You sniffle, swiping at your eyes, “Nothing. I’m okay, I’m just tired and stressed about the business.”

Haechan’s face softens, he’s fiddling with the zipper on his expensive suede jacket, “I know this isn’t a good time but if I don’t say it now, I don’t think I can. I really, I mean really, like-”

You cut him off, “You like me. Right?”

Haechan becomes still. He freezes, slow blinking, “How did you know?”

“Any girl who can’t see it is more than oblivious. And, I appreciate it. I love you but not in the romantic way. I love you because you’re kind to me, you’re witty, and you make everyone in this group so happy. But I-I just I can’t- ”

“It’s Mark right? Jeno and Jisung told me.”

An awkward beat. You two don’t say a word. It’s just silence between you two, tears falling from your face and onto the pavement. Your nose is running and you’re sure that the other park-goers who pass by are staring at you two like some spectacle.

“I’m sorry, Haechan. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Hacehan sighs, looking up at the blush pink sky that’s being consumed by inky storm clouds, thunder beckoning rain in the distance. He thinks to himself, I knew it was Mark all along. Why did he even bother? At the time, he thought it was worth the shot. Now, he looks at your crying face, the way your long hair falls over your ears. He takes it upon himself to put one strand behind your ear, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb, “How could you hurt me? We’re friends and I’ll always care about you. I’ll be okay.”

You stare back at him, it makes the crack in your heart widen. The world is so unfair. It’s unfair to you and to Haechan, to your family. At least, Haechan has a chance of finding a soulmate who isn’t as broken as you. He’ll find some nice girl to laugh at his jokes, tease him when he whines, and buys him video games every holiday. You stand on your tippy toes because of how tall he is, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. You whisper, “You’re going to find a soulmate who will love you for eternity- I’m sure of it.”

>I think we must’ve known how it ended

When we wrote it on a napkin with tears and a pen

A couple of kids who pretended

Until it felt real in our heads

Haechan stares at the ground, not saying a word. You take off running, tears running down your face like it matches the hard beating in your chest. It always ends up like this. It’s like the world can’t give you one piece of happiness. You decide to walk home. Call it melancholy or stupid because you can catch a cold, but you’re not in the mood to ask anyone for a ride. You walk on the streets alone, rain coming hard on you. Your hair, your outfit, all of it soaked. And you’re sure that you’ve lost one of your hair ribbons from running. You don’t have strength in you to wish for sunshine. Concerned mothers ask if they can buy you an umbrella and you just decline politely. It hurts, the smell of the rain and mixing of your tears. Your feet are blistered and drenched. In your pocket, your phone vibrates continuously. Mark’s asking where you are and you don’t have it in you to see his stupidly dumb, dorky, adorable face.

Dragging your feet along the pavement, the rain only comes down harder. There’s barely anyone on the streets and cars zip by, splashing puddles onto the cement. Your lungs are choked up from your sobs. That’s when you hear it, a voice calling out to you from a distance. You don’t want to turn around but you can’t stop yourself from doing so. You can’t resist it.

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

“Wait! y/n!”

You freeze in your tracks, your back faced to the boy who’s ran all this way to catch up to you. He’s got his hands on his knees, coughing from how fast he had to move. You still don’t turn around, you just feel it. “Let’s talk Monday, I’m not in the mood.” You speak slowly so he can’t recognize the cracks in your voice.

You feel Mark step closer to you, “Why’d you leave? I was going to talk to you, remember?”

You can’t hold it in anymore. You turn around, your tears blurring the vision of a rain-soaked Mark in front of you, “I can’t do this with you anymore!”

Mark freezes, his eyes trained on you. He doesn’t even blink. He stands a few feet away, a crushed and now wet gift box in his hand. “Y/n, just tell me what’s wrong.”

You sigh, trying to breathe air into your lungs, “All this time, I don’t know what I feel. I’m so confused about all of it. You’re confusing me!”

“What are you talking about?”

“God, I’m so stupid!” You wipe your tears, the thunder roaring above your heads. The water doesn’t cease at all. The weather matches the burn in your heart. You heave, continuing, “I have to go. See you in class, Mark.”

Before you can walk away, you feel a firm hand on your wrist.

“Y/n. Look at me.”

You whimper, “I can’t,”

“I said look at me.”

Reluctantly, you face Mark, he’s still holding your wrist. You gaze up at him. His hair is matted against his forehead, cold droplets on his cheeks and trailing down to his chin. His jacket looks heavy and now, there’s barely space in between you. It all happens so fast, he drops the white gift box to the ground, clasping both of his hands on both sides of your face. He’s so close. You can feel the warmth of his breath, see every detail that makes him himself, every little memory and trait.

You search for some sort of sign, trying to calculate his next move, “What are you-”

He cuts you off by smashing his lips onto yours, powerfully and desperately. You melt and your mind’s being clouded by foggy thoughts, his arms supporting you by holding your body up. You’re surprised your knees haven’t given up yet. Mark molds his lips to yours, it’s a back and forth of wet, open-mouthed kisses under the crash of the rain. You both don’t mind. He continues to kiss you like that, eyes shut, pressing his lips harder and harder until you can’t breathe. Your fingers claw through his soaked hair, noses against cheeks, and you reel back to gain more access. His hands move to the make of your neck, his thumb swiping over your cheek. He groans when your tongue meets his, your bodies becoming hot despite the icy crystals falling down on you. You part from him, Mark chasing your lips in response, “Let’s go home and then we’ll talk.”

He swipes the remainder of your tears away, you nod. The whole time you walk home, Mark doesn’t let go of your hand. In fact, he holds your body close to his. You decide to go to Mark’s room tonight. He shuts his door, handing you a towel, “You shower first. I’ll go after.”

You protest, “I’m okay- I don’t really have anything to wear anyway.”

Mark throws one of his t-shirts and a pair of basketball shorts at you, “Wear these, I don’t want you to get sick.”

You smile, “Thanks.”

After a nice long, hot shower- the rain seems more peaceful outside of Mark’s dorm room window. The only light source he has is a lamp that sits on his desk, the print on the lampshade covered with lions. He must’ve had that when he was little. When Mark’s down showering, he wears a grey hoodie and sweatpants and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t want to kiss Mark again. He sits on his bed next to you, moving his guitar out of the way, “So, what happened?”

You sigh, “When I saw you with Lara, I couldn’t, I don’t know, see you with someone else.” Mark chuckles, “Were you jealous?”

You look at him in the dark, punching his arm slightly, “No- don’t even dream of it.”

“What if I told you I was jealous of Haechan?”

You narrow your eyes at him, “You were?”

Mark rolls his eyes, “Are you kidding? He was practically whispering in your ear and being so close, you know he likes your right? He told me and I told him to go for it but I messed up, I shouldn’t have.”

You play with the frayed thread on Mark’s t-shirt, “He told me, I turned him down.”

“Why?”

“Ugh, you know why.”

Mark presses his finger to his eyes, covering his nose in embarrassment, “I like you y/n.”

You don’t even register when he says it.

You were still talking about something but you pause when Mark’s words echo in your head, “After that kiss? I was hoping that’s what you were going to say.”

You and Mark erupt into a giggling fit, shoving each other. Then Mark pulls out something from behind him, it’s the squashed white gift box. He bites his lip, causing it to glow pink, “I was planning on telling you today and giving you this but someone took off.”

“Sorry about that.”

Mark shakes his head, grinning. He pulls out a tiny, gold necklace that’s in the shape of a sun. Even in the dark, it glimmers. You touch it tenderly, afraid it’ll break in your fingertips, “You got this for me?”

Mark nods, “Can I put it on?”

You turn your back to him, holding up your hair in a ponytail for his nimble fingers to clasp the necklace onto your neck. The cold metal of it soothes your skin.

You touch it, running your fingers over the charm, “It’s beautiful, thank you. For the record, I like you too Mark.”

But in the back of your mind, there’s that shadow that always remains. It takes the form of fear, uncertainty- telling you that you do not deserve happiness or you do not deserve to love anyone. Still, it doesn’t stop Mark from leaning over to you and kissing you once again. He uses his fingers to trace your hair and the hollow of your neck, the side of your arm. It makes you shiver, it makes goosebumps rise in hills. You grasp his black locks, lips once again moving in a syncopated wave. Mark mumbles several hums, addicted to the taste of the way your lips feel. You want Mark. You want him so badly it kills you. You’re afraid to fall and it makes you want it even more. Pulling his hoodie, you fold your legs over his lap, straddling him. It makes him heated, blush spotting his cheeks and his neck. He runs his soft hands over the skin of your thighs and traces the waistband of your shorts. You’re trying your best not to lose self-control. It goes out the window when he removes his hoodie, his skin glowing under the lamp light.

You run your thumb across his collarbone and the curves of his abdomen and chest like you’re connecting constellations. You press your swollen lips to the base of his collarbone, rubbing your hand on the warm skin of his shoulder, “Have I ever told you that you’re gorgeous?

”Mark doesn’t answer, he’s busy tipping his head back, shutting his eyes from the feel of your lips on his skin. He opens his eyes before leaning over to move your hair behind your ear once again, nibbling on your earlobe. You accidentally moan when he moves to the juncture of your neck, it turns Mark on even more. He swipes his tongue by the base of your neck, “I.” A kiss. Don’t know if.” A kiss. “You remember this.” A kiss. Mark parts away to finish his sentence, “I remember you from that night at the hospital. Do you remember me?”

That’s when you snap out of it. You gaze back at him, replaying everything in your head. Your mom. The shrine. The gift. The sun and the rain. You slide off his lap, touching the area of your shoulder. The shadow in your mind, the voice in your mind telling you not to give in.

“Y/n? Is everything okay?”

You nod, “Yes, I remember you. When we first met, I said that we didn’t because everything that day was so blurry that I cut it out of my memories. But for what it is, I remember you.”

Mark looks sad, immediately regretting he even brought it up. You mold your hand to his cheek, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad I met you back then, that will never change.”

Mark opens his mouth to say something but closes it when he finds a spot pinging, a tiny glow appearing on his hand. When you look down too, a glow appears on the same spot of your hand. After a couple seconds, the glow forms into the shape of a sun, Mark’s name glowing above it. Mark’s glow forms into the shape of a raindrop, your name glowing on his hand in cursive letters.

You both look at each other and back to your hands, “Does this mean-”

He lets out a breath he’s been holding, “You’re my soulmate?”

While Mark’s ecstatic, you feel a weight just drop in your stomach. No. Not right now. Mark realizes you’re staring at your hand, you look as if you had just seen a ghost. You almost wished you had.

“Is everything alright? Did I-?”

Instantly, you grab Mark’s hands, “I need you to listen to me carefully okay?”

Your hands are shaking now and you feel like you’re going to burst into tears again. This is the worst thing that you can do to someone, this is why you were reluctant to have Mark in the first place. You love him so much you can’t bear to hurt him like this.

“Y/n… what’s happening?”

Slowly and delicately, you lift off Mark’s t-shirt over your head. Mark’s expression is utterly, painfully blank. He stares at you, unmoving.

“What is that?”

Though you’re in the dark, it shines brightly clear. The skin of your shoulder is completely coated with this invisible matter, tiny bubbles floating through it. It resembles the rain. The thing is consuming your shoulder and gaps of your chest are missing. No person could tell if they didn’t see your naked body.

Mark leans forward, running his hand over your shoulder, his fingers go right through your body like it isn’t there.

“Please tell me this isn’t real. This is just a joke right?”

You place your head in Mark chest, your arms hugging his bare waist, “I found out my gift comes with a price. My body is becoming a part of the weather, a part of the sky above. Ever since that day I stepped into the shrine on top of the hospital, I saw water floating upwards- this is the consequence for toying around with nature.”

Mark doesn’t say anything. He thinks for a moment. He grips the comforter you both sit on top of. Then, he speaks, “Can’t I fix this?! There has to be a way- maybe if I go to the shrine and figure something out-”

You release him, putting your hands on both sides of his face, “You can’t. I’ve tried everything. I even went to a priest, a shaman, anyone I could find. You heard about the forecasters talking about the floods right? As long as I’m here, this city will be underwater. I’m a glitch in the system. I’m the virus in the code, blocking the world from being natural.”

>I guess I don't really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don’t know how to feel

I guess I don’t really know who you are now

I guess that we met with our heads in the clouds

So I look for your name and I say it out loud

Maybe that makes you real

I don't know how to feel

Mark begins to cry. Tears fall from his eyes, dropping onto the skin of your hand. All you can do is hug him as tight as you can, fearful that if you let go- you can’t have him back, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m hurting you. I’m so so sorry.”

Mark sobs into your shoulder for the next hour or so. When he’s tuckered out from crying, you put him to bed, standing up to walk towards Mark’s desk. You decide to write letters to your aunt, Mari, and your friends. You even leave one for Lana. When you’re finished, you slip under the covers next to Mark. You use your fingers to touch his eyelids and his nose, his cheeks and the ruffle of his hair because you know it will be the last time. Pressing a kiss to his nose, you settle against Mark’s chest, knowing the sky will claim you in the morning.

In the morning

The next morning, Mark wakes up from what he thinks is a nightmare. He sweats profusely, he feels dehydrated,and his throat feels like it’s being ripped open. The worst part is when his heart begins to settle, he sees his own hoodie and basketball shorts where you had lay next to him. Though he wasn't awake, he remembers it all. He remembers you sitting at his desk, you kissing his nose. He remembers your warmth. This can’t be the end. Mark takes the first morning train to the hospital. He calls his friends, Jeno, Renjun, and Haechan to the hospital. Over the phone, he tells them he’ll explain later, he just tells them that you need them. They drive there as soon as the train departs. From arriving at the hospital, everything is like a blur. The hospital staff doesn't want to let some random teenage boy up onto the room, warily suspicious of the request.

That's when Haechan, Jeno, and Renjun risk it all for you and Mark, tackling and holding back the employees even if they’re radioing security at that very moment. Mark races up the stairs after grabbing the keys to the door, he remembers when those were his keys. He talks to himself. Please. Please. I have to see her. I have to see her one last time. He even prays to whoever’s up there about it. To his dismay, when he gets up there- he doesn’t see a shrine like you had described. He kicks the metal railing out of anger, screaming into the air as he calls out your name. He demands the sky to give you back. No one answers and it kills him.

From up there, you wake up in an unfamiliar scenery. You sit up, groggy from sleep. Looking down at your hands, you don’t believe it. Water takes the form of you, replacing your skin with invisible liquid. You’re sitting on what seems to be like a cloud, fish made out of rain droplets flying all around you in schools. When you look above you, it’s another world. A whale made of thunder clouds lets out a bellow, voices of children laughing when lighting strikes. There’s a castle floating in the distance, each level of the castle painted with different hues of color. It’s all eerily beautiful. Despite its beauty, no one’s around. You’re all alone.

You touch your shoulder, only feeling nothing but water. Your body isn't real. It means the sky has completely and entirely claimed you. That’s when you feel a cold metal thing hanging around your neck. Mark. Mark’s still down on earth. You begin to hold onto it, the chain slipping out of your fingers and through the cloud that you sit on, you scream Mark’s name as loud as you can. You cry and you scream, sobs wracking your entire body. That was the last piece you had connected to Mark, your soulmate. This is your consequence. What good are soulmates if there’s only one half to the whole? What is the point? Even so, you love Mark so much. You miss him.

Mark screams at the sky, tears lining his eyes. He sees something shine above him, dropping onto the pavement by his foot. When he crouches down for a better look, it’s the sun pendant that he gave you last night. He squeezes it in his hand, screaming for you. There is no answer.

In front of him, some shape materializes from a blurry image. When it focuses, it morphs into a red archway just as you had told him in the library. He runs up to it, desperate for any sign of you. He asks your name. Still, there’s no answer. He takes it upon himself to do the unthinkable. Maybe he’s crazy, maybe people will think he’s insane. He doesn’t care, all he wants is to see you. He steps under the red archway. He feels it within his body. The bells that hang by strings chime, the water from inside the stone fountain begins to flow upwards like slow motion evaporation. Then all of a sudden, he’s falling.

Winds rip his clothes and rip through his hair, he’s screaming. Everything is a blur of white clouds and flying animals made of water. He hears the thunder and sees the lightning too, it’s all consuming and real. He knows he’s not on earth anymore. That’s when the clouds begin to part, he sees you sitting there. You’re crouched up on a cloud, head buried in your knees. He screams for you, causing you to snap your head up at the voice. It can’t be. It can’t be Mark. But it is, the boy who is your soulmate is falling out of the sky above, emerging from the clouds and reaching out for you.

The wind gusts him away from the cloud you’re sitting on, “MARK!’

“Y/N!”

You don’t care at this point. You jump off your cloud, the wind current carrying you to Mark before you’re free falling with him. You outstretch your hand to him, your voice can’t be heard in the screaming wind. He reaches to you, straining his face while doing so. When he manages to grab hold of you, he’s surprised to know it feels like he’s holding a person given your body. You fall together, hands enclasped in hands. You yell, “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here!”

Mark holds on so tight, “I had to see you! I’m not letting you go, I don’t care! Aren’t you my soulmate? You have to stay with me!”

“Mark, if I go back down there, we all have to pay the price. Just let me go!”

“I’m not doing it y/n! I won’t do it! I don’t care! I choose you over the weather! I choose you over the sky! I just need you.”

You smile at him. Oh, Mark. Then, something else happens. Mark’s teardrop starts to glow golden, the light enveloping the entirety of his arm and spreading to his body. Even though your hand is made of water now, your sun starts to ping in syncopation with Mark’s mark. Golden light shimmers, rays exploding like sunshine as Mark holds you close. He’s there and he’s real, you can smell his scent of body soap that he uses, he’s so warm. The world blurs together in a series of colors and emotions, blues and yellows and silvers. It’s layers of rain and layers of snow, it’s as if you’re falling out of the cosmos and it’s endless.The sensation of falling ends. You open your eyes slowly, you find yourself cradled in Mark’s chest on the hospital’s rooftop. Your head aches and it throbs like hell, but still, you jump back when you realize that your body isn’t liquid anymore. Mark pulls your shirt down to check your shoulder, it’s nothing but human flesh and bone. You gaze back at Mark, “You saved me. You pulled me back down.”

It doesn’t take any time for Mark to kiss you the hardest he’s ever kissed you. You both sit there for a while, cradled in each other’s arms. Mark digs his nose into your neck, “I can’t live without you. You’re my soulmate, there’s no one else.”

You nod as you run your fingers through his hair, “You and me against it all then.”

1 year later

>Where did the time go?

Where did the time go?

When did you become someone I used to know?

Where did the time go?

After the day that Mark pulled you down from the sky, you thought that you’d spend every second with each other after. Instead, it was the opposite. Because you were on earth, the rains and the flooding never stopped. You weren’t able to control the weather anymore and the outcome that the forecasters had predicted became true. Almost 50 percent of the city was already underwater and still sinking, many people died trying to escape the floods or had to quickly evacuate. It disrupted everyone’s lives but at the time, Mark thought it was worth it for you. After that day, you told him you decided on something. You told him that you loved him and that you’d always find your way back to him, no matter what. After all, soulmates become linked. During your last semester of university, you wanted to spend time with your family and to travel the world with your aunt- in case the sky were to claim you once again. In case you were told that the world would end tomorrow, you wanted memories that lasted and time to tell all the people in your life that you loved them. You wanted to heal from your past, trying to find ways to connect to your parents like meeting their relatives or reading your father’s journal.

Somehow, Mark took it well. Though he was sad for several days, as were your friends that you were leaving (yes, you explained to them the entire situation, they still have a hard time believing it). You knew that things would change. You’d pick up small updates here and there, graduation was approaching and Mark had chosen to participate in a training program to become a singer. Haechan found his soulmate at his work, the other boys doing their own thing. You hadn’t seen Mark in almost an entire year. Now, today was the day that you and your aunt would be coming back from a backpacking trip in Europe. You knew Mark would also be coming home the same day. On the plane, you thought: Did he forget you? Would he have found someone else? Does he remember it all?

The moment you landed, you changed at home- walking over to the coffee shop where you and Mark had planned business meetings frequently back then. Walking through your city felt nostalgic to you, the way your younger self ran through the streets, praying for tomorrow’s sunshine or the way you and Mark would hang out together most weekends. Even the memories of hanging out with your friends before class, walking Mosby with your aunt during the autumn season, and pasting photographs on your dorm room wall felt like long ago. Upon entering the establishment, you closed your umbrella before taking a seat at an empty table. A barista took your order, who happened to be one of your other classmates from university. Even seeing them after a year, which isn’t too long- still felt surreal.

The bell on the cafe’s door chimes, the barista at the counter greeting the stranger. That’s when a familiar voice makes you snap your head up. There he is, standing in the flesh in front of you. Mark sports black dress pants and a button up, his figure taller, leaner- more muscular, has he been working out? Mark’s hair is gelled back, different from how he looked before. It looks good on him. His familiar smile spread across his face, a teardrop glowing golden on his hand, “You seem familiar. Have we met before?”

You nod, running into his welcoming arms.

@czennienet @neowritingsnet @dreamwritersnet

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shirtlesssammy · 4 years

Text

15x07: Last Call

Then:

In case you forgot, Dean and Cas are f i g h t i n g.

Now:

Texhoma, Texas

It’s bar time at a lonely little dive bar and two friends are stumbling to their car. Well, one is helping the other. Sally needs to vomit and runs to the bushes. Her friend, Angela, gets in the car instead of holding her hair back. I’m side eyeing your level of friendship here, ladies. Sally turns around from her puke-athon to find Angela and car gone.

Cut to Angela tied to a chair in a basement. There’s a line slowly draining blood from her arm --and a monster feeding on it behind a door!

At the bunker, Dean continues his nihilistic spiral by drinking all the beer in his room and surfing the internet for cases. He finds one!

Cut to Dean wandering into the kitchen where a very cozy Sam and Eileen are making all the breakfasts.

Dean knows when he’s a third wheel and decides to check out the case on his own. Sam and Eileen are living their best lives. He doesn’t want to get in the way.

Dean arrives at the Texhoma sheriff’s office and meets Sheriff Dillon. He asks about the disappearance of Angela. The sheriff isn’t convinced she’s gone. Her car went with her. He suggests that maybe she ran away to LA. Kids do that. They usually return within the week. He boasts that he stayed for a month.

Ok, I can’t recap this with a straight (*wink*) face anymore. WHAT THE WHAT was happening here? There is SO much staring and awkwardness. I loved it but also wanted to hide under a rock.

In any event, the sheriff admits that Angela’s friend has issues that usually keeps her at Swayze’s Bar 24/7. Before Dean can head out though, the sheriff tells Dean that he could go to LA and look for Angela. He could give showbiz a try himself. Cue camera zoom and, “You’ve got the look.”

Dean is confused.

That night Dean arrives at Swayze’s Bar. Dancing, drinking, and live music greet him. Also, a flirty waitress asks for his phone. This is a No Phones Allowed bar (guns are ok #AmericaYouAreTheWorst -and what’s even worse? As an American, I didn’t think twice about this line until international fans vomited on Twitter. Sigh.) Dean, who’s currently on a case, just drops it in the basket. I guess he won’t be calling Sam if he needs anything. He asks about the friend, Sally. The waitress, Lorna, hasn’t seen her yet. She does slap Dean’s ass as she walks away though. Sigh. <Insert discourse on all the times Dean’s been sexually assaulted and harassed throughout the years.> He turns around to watch the waitress walk away when he notices the lead singer of the band.

“Lee Webb.”

They’re old friends and ecstatic to see each other. Lee owns the bar. I wonder if they watched Swayze movies together in their youth?

Back at the bunker, things are snoozeville in Research Land. Eileen suggests they stop to do something fun. ooooOOOOOooooo. Sultry looks and awkward glances ensue. Sam takes her hand, she looks expectantly towards him, he leans forward, and...CAS INTERRUPTS! Bless the angel and his timing. Sam deserves it after 12 years of doing it to Cas and Dean. Cas and Eileen meet. Yay!

*Classic SPN Dialog Alert*

Cas: I thought your were…

Eileen: Dead? Yeah, I got...better.

Then Cas asks the important question in life: “Where’s Dean?” Lol, you two are divorced, remember? Anyway, Cas comes with ideas. He thinks that Sam and God are connected through their wound.

At the bar, Dean tells Lee that John died 13 years ago. Damn, when you put it like that, it’s overwhelming to think about how much of their lives we’ve watched. Lee’s sorry to hear it. They toast to his memory. They talk about the last time they saw each other. (A cult thing in Arizona.) Lee did one more case and hung up his hunter spurs. Dean asks if he regrets walking away. Nope.

At the bunker, Cas is going to probe Sam. Well, his wound really. Cas does his angel magic and that leads to Sam getting tossed against the wall. Ooops.

Cas calls and leaves a message with Dean (on all his many, many phones it seems.) Cas growling directly into the phone is all kinds of wonderful.

Dean’s busy reminiscing about orgies Lee and him had with triples. Yeah, they split triplets up “fair and square.” Um? <Insert lady doing complicated math gif here>

Cut to Sergei. Remember him? He sold Cas “archangel” grace back in the day. Cas needs his help. Cas goes all BAMF on him and we collectively swoon. Cas also makes another phone call.

For Hand Porn Science:

At the bar, Dean tells Lee all about Ghost Sickness (ah, that very funny episode, until it wasn’t. Andrew Dabb’s first episode. Lilith makes an appearance.) Lee asks about his current case. Dean shows him a picture of Angela. Lorna sees it and is surprised Lee doesn’t recognize her. She’s in the bar all the time. WHERPS. Someone’s a lying liar. Anyway, the conversation moves on and Lee tells Dean he could have this life. (*crying Rocky’s Bar noise*) Dean wants to know who’ll kill the bad guys? “You deserve a break, bro.” Ok, fair.

Lee then gets the band to play “Good Ol’ Boys” AND convinces Dean to join him on stage. Dean takes another shot and joins his friend. Dean’s on stage, but HE IS FREAKED OUT. Poor boy. He starts singing though.

And he can sing?? Ok. I will accept. Because I have to. Why would he pretend to not be able to sing for all these years? I mean, I guess, why does Dean pretend to be something he’s not is the main question we have about this poor soul in general.

A fight breaks out in the back - Blondie’s getting harassed. “Road house rules?” Dean asks, invoking our lord and savior, Swayze. Hell yeah. Dean and Lee make quick work of the bullies and Dean discovers that Blondie’s actually Sally Anderson, the best friend of the girl who disappeared.

Cas lets Sergei into the bunker. Sergei is positively ENAMORED by the bunker and all the delightful treasures within. Cool your jets, man! “You’re here for a reason,” Cas growls.

“Aren’t we all?” Sergei replies, and my eyebrows go WAY UP high in the air because that is some straight up authorial intent nonsense. They head in to the infirmary and Sergei uses a crystal to scan Sam like it’s a medical tricorder. Sam’s dying, according to Sergei.

Sally spills the details, including the disappearance of the car. “You can’t rapture a car,” Lee protests.

“It was a good car,” Sally tells him and I am definitely not now thinking about the Impala getting sucked up to her eternal rest in Heaven. Nope. Not thinking about that at all.

Instead of Heaven, Lee suggests that the car may have gotten dumped in the lake. Lorna, who is probably a TRUE CRIME enthusiast, suggests the scrapyard, though. Dean marks that as his first stop.

Sergei delivers some truth about Sam’s wound. It’s a soul-deep wound and connects his soul to something that wanders the world. When Castiel probed it, Sam’s soul was squeezed out of his body. Please be like me, and envision Sam’s soul as the toothpaste in a half used toothpaste tube squeezed by Castiel’s fist. If Sam’s soul wanders too far, he dies. Or, as in my analogy, the toothpaste tube of the soul explodes. Soul toothpaste everywhere!

In the junkyard, Dean discovers the victim’s car and more appallingly, her body hidden in the trunk. A gun is cocked behind him. It’s Lee! He knocks Dean out cold.

Sergei smears a potion on Sam’s wound. Sam begins to thrash violently while Sergei chortles to Cas about deliberately hastening his death with his “cure.” Wherps. Shockingly, trusting the villain who cheerfully harmed Jack has backfired! Sam flashes on Chuck’s conversation with Amara - particularly on all the bits where they discuss Chuck’s current weakened state. While Sam flashes, Eileen drives Sergei into the wall and chokes off his airway. FANS SELF.

Sergei demands the “Key to Death” in exchange for saving Sam’s life. It’s a key with a skeleton handle which can open the door to Death’s library. OKAY GUYS THIS IS NOT A DRILL I am very excited! First: a trip to the library! Second: it’s a SKELETON key, pardon me while I savor this pun with all I’m worth. Please, please can we visit Billie with a magic key? PLEASE????

Um. Anyway. Castiel isn’t taking any of Sergei’s bullshit. He pulls out his phone and shows a photo of Sergei’s niece, under surveillance by Bobby. At Castiel’s order, Bobby will kill her. This takes all the wind out of Sergei’s sails.

Cut to Sergei chanting over Sam just before Sam wakes up, mostly intact. “We good?” Sergei asks. Sure! BFFs.

Dean wakes up tied to a chair in a basement with an IV in his arm. “You awake, Buddy?” Lee asks, and isn’t that just an improper endearment to use at this time? Lee heads downstairs to deliver his villain monologue to Dean’s face. No sense in killing him while Dean was knocked out, right?!

Lee reveals that he had a very bad hunt that caused him to despair ever winning against the evil in the world. When he did his last hunt in this town, he found the monster who is now locked up in the cage in the bar’s basement. “As long as you feed it, it gives you money. It gives you health. It gives you anything you dreamed of.” Lee feels that the world owes him for his many monster kills from his younger days. The world isn’t divided into good or bad, nor does it care for anybody’s moral high ground. “But I do,” Dean says, and it’s like a rallying cry for our poor hot-dog-pantsed hero.

Lee releases the blood and it begins to travel up towards the monster’s cage. “Dean Winchester, the righter of wrongs. You’re gonna keep digging. You’re gonna figure me out.” Lee pats him on the shoulder one more time, bro-like, and heads up the stairs again.

Dean sizes up the situation, rocks the chair and shatters it on the floor like he’s made out of granite, and pulls out the needle. It’s monster fightin’ time!

Upstairs, Lee hears the commotion. It’s basically a lot of loud snarling and banging. Just a typical Friday night for Dean Winchester, amirite? Footsteps climb the stairs…and the monster’s head is thrown through the doorway.

They engage in a good ol’ fashioned shootout before confronting each other face-to-face. “I am you,” Lee tells Dean. But he’s a version that realized the world was broken and bought into it.

“Then you fix it,” Dean insists. “You don’t walk away. You fight for it.” And, as it turns out, they fight for justice, I guess. They fight and Dean skewers Lee with a broken pool cue.

“I’m glad it was you,” Lee says about his death which is twenty flavors of fucked up. Look, I know there’s all this meta about how this is Dean’s unrealistic fantasy and it shows him his true calling isn’t tending bar. That is all ABSOLUTELY accurate. But GUYS this also reads like another lesson from Chuck to poke Dean back into hunting and eventual fratricide again. Hot dog pants don’t kill people (EVEN THOUGH they straight up murdered fandom a few weeks ago). What parts of these episodes are meant to be Chuck and what are meant to be “free will”? I have no idea and I’ve never been more in love with this show!

!!!

Um. Anyway.

Dean returns to the bunker. Castiel, just striding innocently through the war room, is ASSAULTED by Dean’s surprise presence. “Dean,” he says, so very softly. GAAAAAH.

Dean asks after Sam. Castiel delivers the good news and can NOT maintain eye contact. WHEN WILL MY SUFFERING END? Castiel strides away and Dean follows him to check on Sam.

Sam, bless this poor clueless bean, is ecstatic with his new knowledge from his near-death visions. He realizes he saw Chuck’s memories, and knows he is weak now. Sam’s ready to take the Team Free Will monster truck and just rollllll it right over Chuck. Easy peasy!

________________________________

Gimme a Bro-Quote, Bro:

Duke? Like put up your dukes?!

I need a break and so do you. Why don’t we do something fun?

Livin’ the dream!

Can’t just keep lip syncing Eye of the Tiger while no one’s watching

You can’t rapture a car

Best friends don’t just leave without saying goodbye

I like this you, Castiel. It’s very…Russian

Good or bad. The world doesn’t care. No one cares, Dean.

________________________________

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#supernatural #spn recap #spn 15x07 #last call #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #cas #eileen leahy #supernatural season 15

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italian-sides · 4 years

Text

“Ombre e Bastoni”, ch. 1

Hello everyone! Today I’m back with a fanfic written by the amazing and wonderful @misslilidelaney almost over a year and half ago?, which i tried to translate in English, while at the same time keeping some key Italian words in it. A huge thank you goes also to @watcher-from-the-heights for being my extraordinary beta all the freaking time. I also @ts-italian-gang because they’re all great people and i hope they’ll enjoy this too! There will be some translations at the end of the fic, but please lemme know if you don’t understand something, I’ll gladly answer your questions! Well, enjoy! Pairing: Deceit Sanders x Emile Picani; implied!Logicality

TW: the italian version of a swear word, mentions of alcohol, and non-consensual staring at body parts (?) Whenever Emilio Picani walked into the Dolce&Remi, all heads turned. Maybe it was his everlasting teenager vibe despite having been in his thirties for some time. Maybe it was the way his light brown hair brushed the frame of his glasses. Maybe it was the bright burst of joy that radiated with every step he took. Or maybe, simply, because he was excruciatingly hot. Everyone, in the clique of Remo Stella's friends, including himself, got a more or less significant crush on the psychologist. His brother Romolo was the first to flirt with him in a rather shameless way, getting knocked down with a feather when the handsome Picani delicately declined his offer. Luca looked at Emilio's eyes - and maybe also at his ass - for a long time in a dreamy way, before placing his own pair of eyes on those surrounded by ephelids belonging to Emilio's cousin, Patrizio, and realizing that those were the eyes he wanted to look at forever. Virgilio never said anything about it, but Remo was quite convinced that his choice to enroll in Psychology at university was not entirely accidental. On his hand, Remo limited himself to get over his crush when he learned that Emilio was looking for someone to share rent with, and decided to offer one of the rooms in his apartment to house the psychologist, at least until he found another arrangement - which didn't happen, not even three years later. While living with him, Remo understood that Emilio was as adorable as he was terribly distracted and messy, and he took him more as a clumsy older brother than a possible companion. And there was the closet situation, of course. Despite hanging out with the most queer souls of Bologna, Emilio never did a coming out of any kind, so in reality only Patrizio could probably know if he spent time with them only because they were interesting lost causes or because, in the end, he was also part of the closet too. Not that it mattered, anyway, because when Patrizio brought the psychologist, who had just moved from Verona, to the bar for the first time, the whole company "adopted" him almost automatically, either because of the Cool Cousin Effect™ or because, in the end, Emilio was a truly exquisite person, who managed to impress everyone. Well, almost everyone. If there was a person who couldn't stand the psychologist, it was undoubtedly Remo's dishwasher-handyman, Giuda Schiavon. After moving from what he called "la terra dei mussatti" [1], that is Venice and his mosquitoes, to study at the University of Bologna, he gave up on it during the second semester of his third year, finding various little jobs before landing at Dolce&Remì and being accepted by Remo and Tommaso. Remo doubted that he really had the chance to have all those work experiences, but Tommaso liked the commitment that Giuda put into doing things, so the owner of the bar agreed to keep him. Giuda appeared like a good person, even if everyone seemed to have noticed that he loved to exaggerate things, especially regarding his past in Venice, and Virgilio once sentenced, sipping his coffee: "He tells things as if they were true.", something everyone nodded to. But if Giuda was good at hiding his emotions behind layers and layers of nonsense, it was clear as the sun that he, unlike everyone else, couldn't suffer Emilio. As soon as the young man got into the bar, or showed up for the clique's nights out, Giuda had always, and invariably, something to do. When they were out, he would get a text that forced him to go elsewhere; when he was at work, suddenly he had to go and do something in the kitchen.Emilio tried several times to speak with him, but Giuda always cut him short in a bad way. Remo found it irritating, but Emilio didn't say much at home about it, and Giuda eventually continued to do his job well. Lately, he made up his mind that the bar's wine list was not interesting enough, and started suggesting typical wines from the Veneto region, which Tommaso decided to try, and that everyone seemed to like. Paradoxically, the happiest of them all was Emilio himself, whom Remo knew was a wine lover: "Really, I would have expected everything, except that here in Bologna I would have drunk such a good Millesimato di Conegliano [2]! Guys, really, I love Emilian wines but here you're really spoiling me. Last week's Garda Chardonnay [2] was divine!" Tommaso gloated and indicated the kitchen boy struggling with a tray full of glasses: "You must thank Giuda, Emi. He's the one who's coming up with Veneto wines." Emilio darkened for a moment, looking down at his feet. Remo didn't even have the time to comment that the veronese came out with a ringing: "Thanks for the wine, Giuda!", which followed up with a disaster that definitely opened the bartender's eyes. "GHESBORO!” [3], the Venetian shouted, while the tray flew out of his hand, shattering the six glasses on it. With his face flushed from... anger?, he turned to Emilio and hissed, mordant: "You're welcome." before leaving for the umpteenth time in search of the broom. The veronese darkened further, and Patrizio put a hand on his back, without saying anything, while the hamsters in Remo's brain slowly started to move. With an agile bounce, he passed the massacre of glasses and reached Giuda in the broom's closet, where he was about to say something before hearing him speak: "Ma ghesboro. [3] That's not possible! Right in front of him!" the young man was saying with bitterness, while putting on his yellow dishwashing gloves to be able to collect the glasses without hurting himself. And it was at that moment that the hamsters in Remo's head understood how to run on the wheel. All the distancings, all the tension, his always getting away but remaining within reach of conversation. Giuda asked the boys to bring more Veneto wines because Emilio often said that he would have wanted to be a sommelier, if he hadn't become a psychologist. Giuda knew it. Giuda always listened. And as they looked each other in the eyes, Remo visibly shocked and Giuda flushed with embarrassment, the roman finally understood. Giuda had a terrible crush on Emilio. [1] transl: "the land of mussatti", in which "mussatti" is the venetian dialect term for "mosquitos" [2]: they're two famous Veneto wines [3]: according to the Urban Dictonary, "Venetian slang meaning literally "I ejaculate on it", an expression of anger or surprise. Expression of very common use." So... did you like it?! I really hope you did, because there will be other chapters later on and I can’t wait to share them with you all! See ya around, ciao! <3

Ciao a tutti! Oggi torno con una fanfiction scritta dalla fantastica e meravigliosa @misslilidelaney, ormai un anno fa, circa?, che ho cercato di tradurre il più possibile in inglese, pur mantenendo qualche parola in italiano. Spero vi piaccia! Quando Emilio Picani entrava al Dolce&Remì, tutte le teste si giravano. Forse era la sua aria da perenne ragazzino nonostante avesse da un pezzo raggiunto i trent'anni. Forse era per come i capelli castano chiaro sfioravano la montatura degli occhiali. Forse era l'aria di gioia che irradiava luminosa ad ogni suo passo. O forse perché, semplicemente, era un figo atroce. Tutti, nella compagnia degli amici di Remo Stella, lui incluso, si erano presi una cotta più o meno pesante per lo psicologo. Suo fratello Romolo era stato il primo a provarci in maniera abbastanza spudorata, rimanendoci di sasso quando il bel Picani aveva declinato con tatto la sua offerta. Luca aveva guardato per un bel pezzo gli occhi - e un po' anche il culo - di Emilio con fare sognante, prima di posare i propri su quelli contornati di efelidi del cugino Patrizio, e rendersi conto che erano quelli, gli occhi che avrebbe voluto guardare per sempre. Virgilio non aveva mai detto nulla a riguardo, ma Remo era abbastanza convinto che la sua scelta di iscriversi a Psicologia non fosse del tutto casuale. Dal canto suo, Remo si era limitato a farsi passare la cotta quando aveva saputo che Emilio cercava qualcuno con cui dividere l'affitto, e aveva deciso di offrire una delle stanze del suo appartamento per ospitare lo psicologo, almeno fino a quando non avrebbe trovato un'altra sistemazione - cosa che, a distanza di tre anni, ancora non era successa. Vivendo assieme a lui aveva capito che era adorabile quanto incasinato e tremendamente distratto, e Remo lo aveva preso più come un maldestro fratello maggiore, che per un possibile compagno. E c'era la situazione Armadio, ovviamente. Nonostante girasse con le anime più gay della città, Emilio non aveva fatto nessun genere di coming out, quindi in realtà solo Patrizio poteva, probabilmente, sapere se girasse con loro solo perché erano degli interessanti casi umani o perché alla fine faceva anche lui parte della Parrocchia. Non che agli altri interessasse; infatti quando Patrizio aveva portato nel bar per la prima volta lo psicologo, appena trasferitosi da Verona, tutta la compagnia lo aveva "adottato" quasi in automatico, vuoi per l'effetto Cugino Figo™ o perché alla fine, Emilio era una persona davvero squisita, che faceva colpo su chiunque. O quasi. Se c'era una persona che invece non riusciva a sopportare lo psicologo, quello era indubbiamente il lavapiatti-tuttofare di Remo, Giuda Schiavon. Trasferitosi da quella che lui chiamava "La terra dei Mussatti", ovvero Venezia e le sue zanzare, per studiare all'università di Bologna ma si era arreso ed aveva mollato al secondo giro di terzo anno, trovandosi vari lavoretti prima di approdare al Dolce&Remì e venir accolto da Remo e Tommaso. Remo dubitava che avesse davvero avuto modo di avere tutte quelle esperienze lavorative, ma a Tommaso piaceva l'impegno che Giuda metteva nel fare le cose, quindi il titolare del bar aveva acconsentito a tenerlo. Giuda sembrava una brava persona, anche se un po' tutti sembravano aver notato che amava ingigantire le cose, specialmente per quanto riguardava il suo passato a Venezia, e Virgilio una volta aveva sentenziato, sorseggiando il suo caffè: "Le racconta che le par vere.", cosa a cui tutti avevano annuito. Ma se Giuda era bravo a nascondere le sue emozioni dietro strati e strati di baggianate, era chiaro come il sole che lui, al contrario di tutti, Emilio non lo poteva soffrire. Non appena il giovane uomo entrava nel bar, o si presentava alle loro serate fuori, Giuda aveva sempre, invariabilmente, qualcosa da fare. Quando erano fuori, gli arrivava un messaggio che lo costringeva ad andare altrove; quando era a lavoro, improvvisamente doveva andare a fare qualcosa in cucina. Emilio aveva più volte cercato di parlare con lui, ma Giuda tagliava sempre corto in malo modo. Remo trovava la cosa irritante, ma Emilio non diceva molto a casa a riguardo, e Giuda alla fine continuava a fare bene il suo lavoro. Ultimamente, si era messo in testa che la carta dei vini del bar non fosse abbastanza interessante, ed aveva iniziato a proporre vini tipici del Veneto, cosa che Tommaso aveva deciso di provare, e sembravano piacere a tutti. Paradossalmente, il più contento di tutti era proprio Emilio, che Remo sapeva essere un appassionato di vini. "Davvero, tutto mi sarei aspettato, tranne che qui a Bologna avrei bevuto un Millesimato di Conegliano così buono! Ragazzi, veramente, amo i vini emiliani ma qui mi state veramente viziando. La settimana scorsa avete messo il Garda Chardonnay che era divino!" Tommaso aveva gongolato ed indicato il lavapiatti, alle prese con un vassoio pieno di bicchieri.

"Devi ringraziare Giuda, Emi. È lui che sta proponendo vini veneti." Emilio si era rabbuiato per un attimo, abbassando lo sguardo. Remo non aveva nemmeno fatto in tempo a commentare che il veronese se n'era uscito con uno squillante: "Grazie per il vino, Giuda!" che aveva dato seguito ad un disastro che aveva aperto definitivamente gli occhi del barista. "GHESBORO!" Aveva gridato il veneziano, mentre il vassoio gli era volato di mano, facendo frantumare i sei bicchieri presenti. Rosso in viso per la... rabbia? si era girato verso Emilio ed aveva sibilato, caustico: "Prego." prima di andarsene per l'ennesima volta alla ricerca della scopa. Il veronese si era rabbuiato ulteriormente, e Patrizio gli aveva messo una mano sulla schiena, senza dire niente, mentre i criceti nel cervello di Remo avevano, lentamente, iniziato a muoversi. Con uno scatto agile, aveva superato la strage di bicchieri e raggiunto Giuda nello stanzino delle scope, dove stava per dirgli qualcosa prima di sentirlo parlare. "Ma ghesboro. Ma non è possibile. Davanti a lui." stava dicendo con amarezza il giovane mentre si metteva i guanti da piatti gialli per poter raccogliere i vetri senza farsi male. Ed era in quel momento che i criceti nella testa di Remo avevano capito come si correva sulla ruota. Tutti gli allontanamenti, tutta la tensione, il suo allontanarsi sempre però restando a portata di conversazione. Giuda aveva chiesto ai ragazzi di portare più vini veneti perché Emilio aveva detto spesso che avrebbe voluto fare il sommelier, se non fosse diventato psicologo. Giuda lo sapeva. Giuda ascoltava sempre. E mentre si guardavano negli occhi, Remo sconvolto e Giuda rosso di imbarazzo, il romano aveva finalmente capito. Giuda aveva una tremenda cotta per Emilio.

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r-ahh-mi · 5 years

Text

He // Chapter 1

Prompt II Chapter 2

Rami Malek x OC(Beth)

A/N: Here is the first official chapter of ‘He’ which is going to be a Rami Malek x OC fic. I have included the links above to two other pieces of writing that go along with this story line - read them if you feel so inclined to do so, which i highly recommend so you can know a bit about the direction this story is taking. Also, although some portions of this fic will depict things that actually happened, the timeline will not be the same as the original time the events took place. Lastly, there will be some flashbacks all through out this story, so the dashes symbolize the beginning and end of flashback. Hope you enjoy & I would adore your feedback xx

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2.3k

I’ll start off by saying that I don’t blame him..at least not entirely. I understand he was simply going after his dream and he had to make sacrifices in doing that - truly, I get it. However, no matter how much I can understand where he was coming from, it still hurts. It hurts that he sent a simple text–no, he had his assistant text me to tell me that me and him could no longer be together. So many fucking years together and he can’t even muster up enough balls to tell me that he doesn’t want me anymore, that he doesn’t love me anymore. It was terribly out of character for him, which only made this worse. Rami was never one to do a thing as shady and unpredictable as that.

People always say you see ‘red flags’ or early signs of a disaster about to strike, but that wasn’t the case with us. We were fine, better than fine, we were amazing. We talked about getting married, having children, where we would want to live when it came time to settle down and enjoy life. Never, ever did it occur to me that Rami would abruptly break up with me when he was away filming the movie that would crank his stardom from a average number to being one of the top male actors in the business.

I stood by him when he was no one to everyone, except to me. To me he was everything. Fuck, he still is my everything.

I guess that’s why I haven’t even thought about anyone romantically since he broke things off. It was the furthest thing from my mind to capture anothers heart like I had thought i’d captured his and, although, I knew at one point he loved me like I loved him, he just didn’t love me anymore. Well…I guess now I wasn’t so sure.

See, Rami was one to fall head first into a relationship and that’s something I could admire him for. He was never really afraid to show someone his heart and who he was; never ever bashful in expressing his feelings and when he knew he loved me he told me right away, without hesitation, despite my own apprehensions about it all. He let me take my time and gradually, my heavy stone wall was broken by this boy who had stumbled into the wrong dorm room one fateful Saturday night after he got drunk off of cheap beer.

I was so annoyed when he had loudly barged into my room and plopped down directly on top of my once sleeping form, now I couldn’t be more grateful that he had accidentally gone to the wrong floor of that old stuffy dormitory. We were crazy back then, we really were. I felt so fearless and he was the one who made me feel that way, which was both scary and intriguing that another could make me feel such a way about life when I was anything but carefree, but with Rami, it was easy. Except now things were different. Everything was the opposite of easy; everything was complicated, really, really complicated.

Of course, I could only really speak on my experience of being apart from him and pretending he never existed and that we never existed. I remember how hard it was to not call him whenever I needed someone, he was always the person that I went to with any issue I had, but not anymore….well, except for last night. My head was still dizzy and tired and at times I was entirely positive I was making the entire evening, of him phoning me, up. However, a quick glance through my recent received texts was convincing, and if that wasn’t enough, my call history was sure to smash it into my brain that it happened.

I’m sure you’re wondering what the call was about and even i’m not entirely sure. It was full of sleepy Rami voice which I had missed dearly, but even more importantly I could hear him crying. That hurt, it really fucking hurt, especially knowing that I wasn’t there to give him whatever he was needing in that very moment, but I had to remind myself that I would have been right next to him had it not been for his actions and his wishes. So, guilt was quickly evaded from my memory and worry soon began to take over and it would never leave, i still felt it right this very moment.

He was vague. Extremely vague to me as he expressed his need to just see me. Even now, a mere night’s worth of sleep, and my pulse was speeding up just thinking about him wanting to see me again. It was just too shocking to process and I wasn’t even sure if I had answered him or not, but all I knew is that he texted me my plane ticket information early this morning, that I suppose he had booked last night and now I was in some over priced Uber to JFK airport headed for LAX.

The shaking was bad, the anxiety was even worse, and I had no clue why I had let myself agree to this (if i even had because, again, i don’t recall a lot of what i said during the conversation), but yet I wasn’t protesting to my driver to pull over. Not to mention, I never once thought about just ignoring the plane ticket purchased and letting that be my revenge for him breaking my heart the way he did.

In fact, I’m scolding myself this very moment for not even letting that thought cross my mind earlier..that would’ve made everything so much easier..I could’ve just continued on working my job and eating the same take out twice a week and running around the same park every morning and wallowing around in self pity on the weekend when I wasn’t attempting to be social with my friends.

Who was I kidding, it wouldn’t have been the same. The second I answered his phone call I knew that I wouldn’t be okay, at least not fully and when i chose to date him, I knew I was letting in this incredible human being that would forever leave a lasting impression on me, I just didn’t know, way back then, that that impression may not have been the kindest to my heart no matter how much I wanted the thought of ‘us’ to be a good thing in my mind. Again, he made that decision though, not me..so I shouldn’t feel any blame for it.

Funny how we repeat things to ourselves in order for them to sink into our brains isn’t it? Not like it ever truly works anyways.

I’d never experienced a plane ride quite like that. The couple of hours it took for me to get from one part of the country to the next felt as though a full twenty-four hours had gone by and I wasn’t sure what I was more tired of; physical exhaustion or mental exhaustion. My leg was still twitching, i’m going to assume, because of the hours upon hours it had been bouncing up and down due to the constant stream of anxiety that was running like a current through my body. Not to mention, my nausea due to my motion sickness that never failed to pop up every time the plane landed.

However, despite the numbness in my leg and the frazzled shock coursing through my blood, I kept persisting as if my life depended on it as I walked through the familiar airport. The smell of the various food vendors and even the plainly colored walls and floors all made me smile and think back to the various trips I had made here to visit Rami before we both decided to move to LA together once we had both graduated college so many years ago.

So much money was spent on me going to see Rami at least once a month, but I never dreaded it. In fact, I much preferred California to my small hometown in Indiana, so I didn’t mind flying out to see him, especially if it meant him getting to show me everything he grew up seeing and doing and loving. Not to mention me and his family had gotten very close since my first visit, Christmas my sophomore year of college, when me and Rami were just friends. California started to feel more like a home to me more than shitty Indiana ever did, which is why I never hesitated when Rami brought up the thought of us potentially moving in with one another in LA.

- -

“So I was thinking..”

“Spit it out Rami, you’ve only repeated that exact phrase three times now.”

As I balanced the phone between my shoulder and cheek, I couldn’t help but hope he was finally asking me the words i’d been dying to hear. After a year of not living near each other, I was half tempted to move myself out to LA all on my own and surprise him. Our relationship was an open one and I was positive he wouldn’t have minded that I moved both to be near him and to further my career as an actress. Lord knows Indiana wasn’t doing me any favors in either of those departments.

“...I was thinking..that you should move out here.”

I couldn’t help but sigh happily at his confession, “You know I would love that.”

“Then why haven’t you moved here yet? Do you enjoy making me suffer and have to live with only having contact with you from a phone.”

“Hey! I fly out as often as my paycheck allows it.”

“I know baby..”, His voice was so tender and thoughtful, it made me feel a little less obsessive as I had already started throwing a few of my belongings into a suitcase.

“So, when should I plan to leave?”

It was silent for a moment until Rami suggested me coming down to visit so we could both look at apartments together, just to ensure this was 1000% something that we both were prepared and wanting to do. Although, I already knew I was ready. Honestly, I never even needed to go see the semi-shitty apartment we were about to live in for the next 5 years because I would move anywhere and live anywhere as long as it meant I could be near him.

You could definitely say I was whipped and i’d proudly admit that.

- -

Suddenly, the airport began to seem terribly overcrowded with both people coming and going and I knew I had to be close to where Rami had told me to look for the driver.

I obeyed every single one of Rami’s requests - off the plane, head for a selected Terminal, and then look for a man holding a sign with his last name on it near the main exit doors.

I still wasn’t adjusted to the fact that Rami had afforded a plane ticket and a driver just for me. Not too mention my plane ticket was one of 1st class, not an easily afforded privilege for someone like me, but I had to remember, Rami wasn’t the Rami I knew anymore. He was Rami Malek, a multiple award winning actor; something I was both proud and jealous of, I had to admit, but I saw this coming. In college, there was no denying the talent I saw the very first I watched him give a monologue in front of our class. Everyone in the auditorium styled classroom had goosebumps, I was positive, and we all saw him as competition, except for me.

Of course, down the road we both engaged in some slight competition with who could get the best roles in plays and who would get the best acting gig right outside of college, but when I first witnessed his acting capabilities, I was more curious than anything. Curious to get to know him and speak with him; just to pick at his brain sounded terribly ideal to me and engaging in a some other activities didn’t sound half bad either..

My shoulder suddenly collided with someone, much to my surprise, dragging me from my trip down memory lane to staring at the man in front of me wearing aviator sunglasses and holding a white board in his hand. I examined the man to make sure he was alright, that is until I saw the words ‘Malek’ scribbled on the object in his hands.

Just seeing his last name written out gave me a pitiful feeling in my stomach and I wasn’t able to blame it on the motion sickness now that my feet were firmly planted on the ground.

“Uhm..are you the driver for Malek?”

My mouth stuttered slightly as I spoke his last name, proving saying anything relatively close to his full name would be difficult. I’ll need to make a mental note of that later before I embarrass myself any more than I already have...

The mystery man gave me a brief nod, “Are you Mrs. Malek?”

I must’ve looked like a purely insane individual as I just stared at him, dough eyed and trying to maintain brain function as my stutters returned.

“I--I’m not--No you see we are not--”

“Or are you just another one of his girls?”

And with a snap of invisible fingers, my mood shifted from frazzled to angered, but I shouldn’t have been shocked, I really shouldn’t have been. Rami was no longer the baby faced young man I grew to love, he was a much older, much more matured male who had grown out of his baby weight and into a muscular, beautifully structured bachelor that, i’m sure, every woman in Hollywood was dying to fall for, or rather get on their knee’s for.

“I’m definitely not one of his girls”, I retorted with possibly too much annoyance as the driver silently turned around and began walking towards the exit. Supposing I was meant to follow him, I got hot on his heels as he led the way out of the large main double doors.

No turning back now.

Tag List: @frami-mercury-malek @hazeleyedbeth @sassystrawberryk @amcquivey @cleopatra-knowles @lovelymalekk @mezzomercury

If you’d like to be added to the tag list for this serious, or to be on my permanent tag list, let me know and I will gladly add you xx

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dru-and-ash · 5 years

Text

Morgenthorn First Date

Dru was happy to finally go out of the institute after days of research and nights spent in library.

She was just going for a walk to the beach because it was much more refreshing than hopeless atmosphere inside.

"Now is not the time to think about bad things" she told to herself and turned her attention to her dedicated companion.

Ash was waking at her right within the arms reach, in case a demon attacks she added professionally then she needed to remind herself this isn't patrol its a date.

Ash had no idea how to start a conversation with her when they're alone, in the midst of a problem sorrounded by others they act like a team and "they are a good one" he said to himself couldn't help but smile brightly to idea of being a part of something same as Dru.

Dru was about to ask Ash if he slept well the night before when she turned to him to see that smile made her think "Wow! No wonder why there isn't a big burning yellow sun in faerie land, it must have been so jealous of Ash's brightness and left." She had to shake her head to sent that thought away, she had never given too much credit to a boy because they wouldn't deserve anyways. Ash wasn't different than the ones before she repeated but she was taking a risk for the first time dating with someone around her family. He was something but Dru just couldn't find the right word for what she felt when she was around him.

Ash finally broke the silence saying "I was wondering if you could show me what does normal teenagers do in LA when they go to beach.." with a small hesitant smile.

Dru found herself thinking "That's the heart winning smile because he looks like a curious child with that face" and idea of teaching new things to Ash made her smile too.

"We are going to walk at the beach and we are going to our favorite ice cream place after that. What do you say to that? Cliche or boring? Well I love beach and I love that place's mint ice cream so you're stuck with me" Dru said.

"I would love to walk with you and I am sure that ice cream is beautiful too. What's ice cream by the way?" asked Ash sheepishly.

Drusilla was bewildered when she realized Ash truly didn't know what ice cream was still she couldn't help but ask "I thought you used to live in LA of Thule. How can you not know what ice cream is?"

"Because my father made sure all the beautiful things in Thule were gone before I even arrive there." he said with no expression.

And that's the prince face he wears around other people by other she meant everybody but Kit, Ty and Dru herself. That made her sad to see him like this standing so close to her and she felt bad for asking. She reached to hold his hand with hers which made him shake unconsciously.

Ash moved fast to hold her hand tight so that she wouldn't leave his hand and kissed her palm so gently, his lips barely touched her skin.

Dru was just staring and trying to grasp what he really feels when Ash pressed her hand to his cheek and whispered "I am not used to being close with people, at least close enough to touch them. But when you touch me even by mistake something inside me cracks and I feel everything more as if you are making me more mortal than faerie. That's why I don't know how to react when I am around you, I want to feel everything but it terrifies me" he let out a deep breath when he finished but it sounded more like a cry.

Dru closed the one step distance between them with the warmless of his words and she knew in her heart that he was telling the truth. She wondered how long had Ash kept these in him to not to make her feel uncomfortable considering all that went down in the past with their fathers. She was still surprised this Ice Prince of Seelie Court as they call him in faerieland opened his heart to her just like that, she could never say these on a first date to anybody. Not that she felt this kind of a connection with anybody before. She pressed her hands at both sides of his face and looked directly into his eyes "Then there are many things you should meet" she said in a very serious manner and broke the mood with laughter letting him go by only holding his hand lightly "We better start soon introducing you to wonders of the world if you intend to learn all before we will go to war again"

Ash laughed out loud to her enthusiasm and followed her.

It was a bright may afternoon and ice cream shop was crowded. They had to wait almost a hour before they had their ice creams but it was fun talking about which books Ash should read and which movies he needs to watch to catch up with other teenagers. To Dru's surprise he knew a lot about books and some classical movies she certainly hadn't thought Sebastian would love Shakespeare appearantly he did loved many classics and he made sure Ash read them too. Maybe parenthood was different than being a good person she thought even the most evil was capable of caring for their children.

About the time she was selecting ice cream for both of them Dru realized the looks to their direction, mundene girls whisper among themselves eyeing two of them behind them. At another corner of Ice cream shop there were a big group of teens staring at them too this time most of them were boys who seemed eighteen-nineteen years old.

Dru became consious that they weren't glamoured and they were atraching unwanted attention for the first time. She cursed and whispered to herself ''Why haven't I realized this sooner?!'' checking Ash as if to see anyone of these mundenes could have seen his pointy ears or his marble like skin. She bought the ice creams and hurried out of the store.

Ash was worried for the first time that afternoon looking at her uneasiness and asked as soon as they were out ''What is it Drusilla? Is there something that made you feel uncomfortable in there?''

''People were staring at us and I am not sure how much they could see of who we truly are? What if one of those mundenes has sight and will report to your mother that you're in Los Angeles working with shadowhunders. I don't want her to....'' she stopped there what was she going to say anyway 'lock you up?' rude 'be over protective of you' too kind besides whatever she can do or say will not chance the fact that she's Ash's mother so she won't speak bad about her.

Ash was used to everyone staring at him in faerie, giving names under their breaths thinking they are unheard, staring him with fear with distrust or even loathing only for being Sebastian Morgenstern's son and the politically risky captive of King Arawn in Unseelie Court. Everyone staring at him questioningly in Thule loyals and endarkened alike because they did not understand how he was Sebastian's son looking only six-seven years younger than him with a shadowhunter as his guard. Those looks from loyals of Sebastian of Thule later turned envy because he did not needed to do anthing to have a place close to their ''prince" he was taken in to his family with no questions asked(not that they know everything).

Ash understood Drusilla perfectly this kind of hide and run was new to her and his mother was a hard opponent to avoid, he came closer and ran his fingers on her hair lightly. He said ''Nothing she could do can ruin today for us, in fact nothing anyone could do...'' and hold her hand for walking to beach as if nothing happened ''But really what happened?'' Dru asked to herself and realized maybe she was worrying too much. Well taking care off four wayward boys was a work that made her worry a lot for the past a few weeks, this one day she could have for herself.

They went to beach their hands locked, happly eating their mint-chocolate ice creams. Okay Dru cheated, she bought Ash only mint but chocolate and mint to herself because she wanted to see what he would think about mint flavor in his first time eating ice cream.

They sat on sand with their shorts and t-shirts and talked about funnier things than the mess they called their lifes, like Kit's obvious crush in Ty and how fascinated Ty was with everything Kit does. Dru would never gossip about her brothers love life with anybody yet Ash directly asked her if they were secretly dating in that open faerie manner her brother Mark also has. She laughed so long to the suggestion because Ty was the last person in the world who can hide such a thing when he didn't need a reason to and she knew he would never hide anything from her. Ty and Kit's cute yet not-so-secret crushes to each other was a light subject for such a beautiful day. They talked about Emma and Julian too, about the last assigment they were asked:Co-heads of London Institute. That was a big step yet Evelyn Highsmith didn't trust many people in the world so she suggested Julian when she was asked who might replace her because of her retirement at age ninety last week. All family was happy about it but none of them wanted to be parted from each other. Ty and Dru were about to graduate in a few weeks and family was supposed to be together again maybe this wasn't such a light subject as they thought at first.

Ash loved mint ice cream and was ready to try all of the flavors in the store right now which she prevented him from returning by dragging him to the shore to dip their feet in the ocean.

Dru took her sandals to her hand a few step away from water and turned to see Ash was looking at ocean with wary eyes, he asked ''How do we know it is not poisoned?'' with a heavy expression. So she stepped into water to prove it is not(to which he seemed to want to stop her) and pointed many people arond them swimming or walking with their feet in the water.

Ash still didn't trust water enough but wanted to be close to her so he dipped his feet in the water too and they walked together splashing water around.

When Ash suggested to sit for a while Drusilla agreed but sent Ash first saying she has a little surprise for him. Ash amazed by his lovely companion went to find a place for them to sit on sands unwillingly. How was he supposted to stay farther than two steps away from her with this feelings in him?

Ash was trying not to seem like watching Drusilla as she bent to pick something from ocean when three mundenes approached to him. Three girls wearing sun glasses, shorts and swimsuits said "Hi!" to him. Never in his life he was adressed with first person by a Forsworn mundene in Thule, they would have been killed if they even try to come close to the family.Off course these people were free and he wasn't in Thule anymore still in his months in mortal world he never spoke with mundenes directly so he wasn't sure what he was suppossed to say in response. He realized staring them ice cold was probably wierd so he tryed to make a friendly smile and said "Hi!" back.

Girls looked very pleased by his made up smile and one of them asked ''Me and my friends think you have a very familiar face so I thought you could be one of the Hemsworth's but Veronica says you look more like Orlando Bloom, maybe his cousin? So we decided it's better to ask you in person.''

Ash opened his mouth to say something but nothing came, what were these people even talking about?! This was worse than he could ever imagine when he thought about making friends or even taking with people in the mortal world. He who have survived years of captivity, many battles and as much death and more destruction felt like dying with not-knowning.

He watched so many movies and read even more books about mortal world, name Orlando Bloom ringed a bell but but wasn't sure from where Was it Lord of the Rings Kit forced him to watch? He had no idea so he desperately looked for Dru to save him not caring the surprise anymore.

Dru picked up the beautiful orange starfish she saw moments before Ash suggested sitting and started walking to where he sat when two boys around Julian's age came and stopped next to her. She realized black haired one had some tattooes when he casually said ''Hey, I am sure I saw you a few times here but we haven't met before.''

Dru said ''No, we have not'' without trying to hide her annoyance yet the continued ''Your tattooes are in Nordic rune form aren't they? I thought I knew all the letters in that language.'' Dru wanted to scream how are these poeple can see my runes now?! But that wasnt the problem, problem was she had a charming green-eyed boy waiting for her a few steps away and these strangers were in her way to him.

So she showed her annoyance openly ''They are not any language and I would not like to share anything about my tattooes.'' and walked past them.

She found Ash hopelessly trying to ran from the mundene girls around him and she was sure she heard one of them say Liam Hemsworth aloud. What the hell is wrong with everyone in the beach today?!

Ash was so relieved to see Dru in front of him so he immidately walked to her and said ''Have I waited long enough to learn what is your surprise, my love?'' letting out a breath.

Dru could have been angry to everything around them if it wasn't for the lost puppy face Ash gave to her when he lightly hugged her. Okay then we move on ignoring intruders to our lovely afternoon, she held his hand as a response saying "You shouldn't have to wait at all, come with me" dragging him back to ocean.

Five mundenes they left behind without saying a word seemed displeased but none tried to interfere after seeing they were together.

Dru introduced Ash to her little orange friend and told him all the things Ty thought her about starfishes a few years ago when they used to look for starfishes in the ocean. "They are hard to find here lately but this one found us I guess" she said.

Ash loved small starfish, it was almost small enough to fit in his palm "It's really beautiful, I have never seen a sea creature like this before. Rivers in faerie are dangerous because of possibly enchanted waters and more dangerous nixies. I remember reading about starfishes a few days ago in the library. Did you know they sembolise infinite divine love? And you just said it found us"

Dru did not know that yet liked the implication regardless but said "I am sure devine love means something about believing and religions". Ash's respond was so natural it broke her heart when said "I know it is, we are the only thing I believe in this world and all the worlds that exist."

Dru slowly left the baby starfish to sea and pulled Ash closer. She asked so slowly "I don't know how or why did we found each other in all these worlds with endless possibilities but I am glad we did" before leaning to kiss him. Ash's last words were "You found me Drusilla, without you I would have been lost like all the ones before me" before their lips met.

#Morgenthorn #morgenthorn fluff #Morgenthorn fic #Ash Morgenstern #drusilla blackthorn #Dru x Ash #Twp fanfic #Dru Blackthorn #Morgenthorn first date #My babies #writing

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jenniferisacommonname · 5 years

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Swallow Your Dreams

All languages, but English especially, like to pilfer foreign words for concepts we wish we’d thought of first. Burrito. Kindergarten. Cul-de-sac. (Direct translation: “ass of the bag” in French. Which I think we can all agree is spot on.)*

But the reverse is also true: we sometimes dislike an idea so much that we can’t stop naming it. Utopia. Shangri-La. Eden. Zion. Arcadia. Erehwon. Cockaigne. Camelot. Xanadu. Beulah Land. Lotusland. Neverland. The Good Old Days. We may think we’re into it, but trust me—the more names something has, the more we despise it.

In the case of utopian fantasies, I think we love-hate them so much because we know ecstasy must come with suffering. Not in a ‘moral justice of the universe’ kind of way, but in a ‘how can you know what wet is if you’ve never been dry’ kind of way. Sometimes the suffering itself gives us hope—sincere pipe dreams tend to crop up when the news is at its worst. Conversely, a lack of suffering makes us nervous, giving way to satirical illustrations of paradise that either chastise our disappointment with mediocrity, or exhort us to fly a little closer to the ground. The only time we drop the subject is when, God forbid, we surpass one standard deviation on the joy curve, at which point our fear of jinxing it forces us into a superstitious, but no less aware, silence. Spectacle is the lens through which we first recognize boredom, and other punning metaphors for what is ultimately a pretty basic philosophical idea.

Anyway. By general agreement, we now find ourselves in one of those Bad News Eras, and the little Dutch boy has long since run out of fingers to hold back the flood. Idealism is rampant, regardless of how angrily it may present itself (and usually in opposition to other forms of idealism.) Meanwhile, the incorrigibly cynical among us can only sigh as we wait for the waters to recede. All of which is to say, I read an article recently. And it annoyed me.

We’ve all heard some version of the old saw that "the world needs garbage collectors;" i.e., polite society has needs that presumably no one would cater to in the cloud-cuckoo land where everyone Follows Their Dreams. Personally, I tend to side with Drew Carey and Mike Rowe on the matter. This annoying article, in contrast, promoted the central thesis that technology would render the “dirty jobs” problem obsolete, thanks to ever-increasing automation. It predicted that in the near future we would achieve, if not Utopia, then at least the particular sliver of it that oversees labor markets.

And honestly, the author could be right. Maybe we'll all have a housecleaning sex robot, and the self-driving firetrucks will aim their own hoses, and the farm machinery will pick the fruit and monitor the soil conditions far better than humans ever could. Maybe we'll all get to be painters, and singers, and writers, and comedians, and movie stars, and the indoor plumbing will sort itself out. There are, we must admit, significantly more jobs in the creative sector now than there were 50 years ago—we're at Peak TV, y'all!—and that pattern can surely only continue.

Aside from the obvious practical considerations, however, this wonderland has a particular Achilles heel that I want to address: everyone will be miserable. (Which, if you’re keeping track from earlier, makes this post one of those Dystopia We Never Saw Coming, Be Careful What You Wish For, Icarus Get Your Ass Back Here kind of stories.)

The thing is, humans like to work. Or more accurately, humans require validation, and hard work provides it with very little outside help. Chop the firewood and feel its warmth through the winter; tend the seedling and taste its delicious fruit. But can you write a song that no one ever hears, and still feel good about it? A few can, and they generally end up draped with popularity they never needed, because output unbridled by fear is the best kind. But most professionally creative people will admit they are inborn approval junkies who have only found success in the business by forcefully taming their instincts—reminding themselves on a daily basis that haters gonna hate, as they say.

The misconception is seductive, though, especially when the known goblin of “fame” is replaced by less vain euphemisms: successful artists are “beloved,” and “respected,” and have “earned their creative freedom” (don’t get me started)… and bystanders tend to assume that all that apparent validation must be pumping through their veins at great speed. To work in a creative field is to install a zen-secreting organ just behind the pancreas, while the rest of humanity is left staring wistfully into the night screens, watching the elite get high off their stash and telling themselves that if only they had the time, or the money, or the housecleaning sex robot, they too could spend all day being creative, and feel just as good as their successful counterparts appear to. Give one of those folks a toe in the door and a deadline, and it won’t be long before they project their individual craving onto us all—say, for example, in an article from a well-known tech platform, which imagines just how great it will be when we can all follow our surprisingly-similar dreams in a tight spiral around one another, gaily refusing to look down at the sink drain below.

But in fact, a microcosm of that supposed nirvana already exists, here and now: it’s called YouTube. Millions upon millions of users with eight views, zero validation, and a numerically-proven feeling of worthlessness. They were creative, and no one cared, which was all they actually wanted in the first place. They tried to make a deal with the devil but even he didn’t bother to show up. And when the milk and honey dispensers become fully mechanized, the pain of that realization will only come harder and faster: creativity doesn’t provide validation. Creativity flows naturally after validation has been secured elsewhere.

When I wake up already knowing that I’m worthwhile, I am able to be creative. When I have the love of a family—biological or chosen—I am able to be creative. When I consider secret personal accomplishments to be as meaningful as public ones, I am able to be creative. Unpleasant tasks and hard work don’t stand in the way of my dreams; they fill a hole that my dreams were never going to fit into properly anyway. To envy a creative person’s life is to look at a garden and assume it’s flowers all the way down, rather than a deep slurry of mud, worms, and fertilizer that allows beauty to spread freely over its surface.

The only real way to follow your dreams is to forge ahead on your own and trust that they’ll keep up. If you can already write the book assuming that no one will read it, congratulations—this message is not for you, and you probably stopped reading a long time ago anyway because you’re not looking for answers. But if you dream of a creative life free from worry, pain, sadness, frustration, and all the rest of the working world’s supposed drudgery, then you’re better off not knowing what you’re missing. And if you’re writing utopic articles suggesting that universal creative employment is a desirable—let alone inevitable—reality, then you’re especially foolish, because you’re promoting a cult of chugging when you’ve already sipped and found it lacking in flavor.

*Side note: Let’s all say a sad farewell to the phrase “literal translation,” whose first half has by now been thoroughly co-opted by the totally-seriously-for-real crowd. Like oh my God you guys, it literally translates that way. Totes McGoats.

#amwriting #creative process #creativity #artist #validation #writers #poets on tumblr #art on tumblr #singerslife #songwriter #actorslife #actors on actors #writers on tumblr #writers on writing #authors on tumblr #artists on tumblr #validate me #validate yourself

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pkmnwater · 7 years

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Thing 39 - Headspace

[A.K.A.: Obligatory La La Land post, Pt. 2] (Seriously, again with the Part 2 without a first part? Yes. I have my raisins.) ~You’re the fear, I don’t care, Cause I’ve never been so high. Follow me, in the dark, Let me take you past our satellites; You can see the world you brought to life, To life.~ [Written February 3, 2017, Rewritten and typed: February 14, 2017]

So about a month ago, I went to see La La Land. And before going on, minor spoiler alert that I’ll be going over the main theme of the movie [duh], but also touch upon the ending, and although I don’t believe it’ll take anything away from the experience of the movie, your mileage may vary. Ergo, preemptive spoiler alert on this one, I’ll mark when I get specific. On a similar vein, if you haven’t seen the movie yet, I highly recommend it. It’s not necessarily the best story or movie, cause that’s preferential, but it’s definitely a worthwhile experience, and I say that without a hint of doubt. Highly recommended with greatest praise. It was my first time sitting in a Cineplex VIP theater; one of those larger auditoriums with huge oversized chairs, where they serve you food/drink and there’s a side table instead of just a drink holder. Since they first announced and started building them in my area, about four-five years ago I believe, I had the desire to go to one. I’ve always had a passion for cinema and for interesting/better experiences, so of course you put that together and I’ll be drawn into it like a fly. Except I wasn’t. For a while, it was too difficult to find the time to go to one, as they’re also pretty out of the way for me, and I didn’t drive back when, and to justify the price was kinda hard for me to do without it being some special occasion, but then I had other plans anyway. Then, eventually, my passion for going to the cinema dwindled, then died, for raisins. Either way, the long short is that for one reason or another, I’ve never been to a VIP up until this point. I had heard about a movie doing its rounds at film festivals, garnering quite a lot of attention. but I didn’t personally take much note of it, being distracted by other things at the time. It wasn’t until around November or December of last year when my sister tackled me and forced me to watch a trailer for this interesting little movie (I hate watching trailers). And I was floored, it was so beautiful, and...happy. That was the moment I decided I was going to a VIP, and it was going to be for this movie. I hadn’t been to the movies in quite some time until fairly recently at that point. It was a joy that was taken from me by a number of things, and despite me honestly trying to still enjoy the cinema, I just didn’t/couldn’t. It just wasn’t something I found enjoyable anymore. And it felt terrible; things that used to excite me and things that I knew would’ve excited me simply didn’t. It was a terrible feeling. [Someone remind me to write of “Devoid” at some point, please.] But, obviously it didn’t stay that way. The timing was strange for me. It was around then that I also came to the realization that I loved movies again. I have a friend whom I’ve known for a very long time, but words weren’t exchanged between us for most of that time. She invited me to go a few times, then I started making plans to go. She managed to reignite the movie-goer inside me, reminding me of something I genuinely enjoyed; the whole experience of it, enjoying both narration and symbolism, and the process of film. I had planned to make a model experience. Having a fun night out and getting a brand new experience, something to remember. It was supposed to be that way. I planned it as a way to say thanks to her for all that she did for me. It was supposed to be a easy trip out, dinner and a movie, and the full VIP experience. Y’know, get there early and take in the atmosphere of the lounge, look at the art around the center and in the VIP halls, that whole shebang. That’s how I planned it in my headspace. But things don’t always go according to plan. It turned out the timing for the movie didn’t quite work out, so I suggested something that got lost in translation, and I ended up having to be a busy up until the time to go for the movie, so I was a bit frazzled on time and timing, and being there early was out of the question. In short, it wasn’t perfect, and didn’t go in accordance to what I planned. This put me in an interesting mindset. I had a flood of thoughts [when do I not?!?!] in the back of my mind that I was still in the process of sorting through, dealing with certain thoughts and whatnot. Coincidentally, the loudest of some of those thoughts at the time were about “what could be” or “how it should be”. This compounded with what I was thinking at the time; how the night should’ve went. I kept fixating and feeling bad about it, but put it aside as the movie began so I didn’t taint the experience any further. I knew little of this movie going in. I just knew it was going to be fun and pretty and bright and musical. But I had no idea of the genre or themes or messages. But boy howdy did it end up resonating with my thoughts. The title really does give it away though, “La La Land”. When is that term used?? It’s quite rather simple to figure in hindsight, the movie’s core theme was right there. Headspace. It got me to realize something. In our minds we build up stories and plans for how things should go. Even the most stout realists still have thoughts of how things should or could be. For me, I think endlessly on how things are, and how they could be different, and how they should be, and how things would be if every step was done “right”. This is La La Land. Once I caught on to what the movie was doing, my mind kept drifting off, thinking about how my personal La La Land would be like right now, in correspondence to my current wants. I often speak of how I save certain memories and experiences in my head for quick access. There’s a reason these are the moments I chose, not only do they remind me most of a particular thought or feeling, but many of them are also of moments in my mind when I could’ve done something different. Reality doesn’t always match how you want things to go, a glaring example being that night, still fresh in my mind, but in my personal headspace, I experienced what I had planned; what could’ve been if things went “right”. I closed my eyes [figuratively] and the flashback starts. I recalled the memory that currently makes me smile the most. I feel the wind in the air, the colours all around, the smells, and what I saw, an image I often think of in my mind. It was beautiful, and of beauty incarnate. I recalled what I wanted to do that day, if things were in accordance to my grand design. I relented that I’m satisfied with reality and how things played out, but I keep note of the (new) memory as well, the “what could’ve been”, it’s -my- La La Land after all. I go though and between a few of my strongest memories, turning them in my mind into the “best” outcome, as per the closing moments of the movie. Piecing together the “perfect” timeline. But it was all in my head. *Spoiler Alert* And then the movie ended, and I was sad. But it’s not a sad ending. If anything, it was quite the opposite. Just because it’s not a fairy tale ending, it doesn’t mean it’s a bad outcome, you can be happy and appreciate things just the way they are, there’s nothing wrong with that. The ending wasn’t even bittersweet, it was happy, just in a non-conventional way. *End Spoiler Alert* That movie messed me up for a good while, because it got me thinking so much about my own La La Land, a concept I sometimes think about, but usually try not to delve too deep lest I get lost. But suffice to say, I feel in the deep end after getting back that night. It too closely resonated with some of the things I was going through already. I am satisfied with how things are and with reality, honest. But despite that, I also can’t shake off the images in my headspace and the thoughts of my La La Land. I was conflicted. I wanted things, things that I know can’t be and I can’t have. I have a particular fondness of and desire for fairy tale endings and for things to just work out. Again, I blame Disney. But reality is harsh, and we rarely get to live in La La Land. That’s what the movie was about. Things have a way of working out the way they’re meant to, and sometimes, despite however hard people try, what someone sees in their headspace just isn’t quite possible. But that doesn’t mean we can’t/shouldn’t have a La La Land, and certainly not that we should give up on it. I conclude that one can be happy with both reality and what could be at the same time. You see, from where I stand, I believe that it’s actually an interesting duality, and both sides must exist to empower the other. We have reality, sometimes cruel and harsh, and separate from what we want and desire. This creates in our headspaces our personal La La Lands, where we see what we want, and envision our lives if things had gone “right”. We can take that image, that dream, and then work towards it in reality. Reality will probably never match the life we have in La La Land, but with enough work and luck, it can come pretty close, right??

~Bouken desho, desho?~ “It’s an adventure, right??” Of course it is. The present of today will be the past of tomorrow, proof that time is magical and each moment a miracle. Just because something stands in the way of where we’re going or where we want to be, it’s up to you to decide to stop. With renewed passion and those thoughts behind me, I’ll move forward with what I have, working for what I want, with hopes that it’ll come together eventually. And even if things fall apart along the way, if I’m happy with where things end up, I’ll have my La La Land -and- my reality. It’s somewhat related to a mindset I’ve adopted recently (something I’ll write about soon), and the timing of seeing this movie just cements it in my mind. I’m a better person for it.

[previous] [next] [If you're new, or want to start over, press here] [I’ll get to fixing my links soon, I swear. Plus posting my backlogs. But, consider this a formal return to form.] [Guh, thinking about La La Land so much again really makes me want to just go off and gush about it some more. It’s honestly such a pretty and happy and fun movie. I can’t wait for the blu-ray to come out.]

#p:ng #png #thing #niceguy #projectniceguy #la la land #lalaland #haruhiism #headspace

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